Creative Diversion: A Halloween Tale

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Lovely readers, as some of you know, I’ve been blogging for some time now (since 2000! time flies when you’re having fun đŸ˜‰ ). I’ve transitioned from one blogging platform to another: Livejournal, Xanga, Typepad, and WordPress. Each blog had a different theme: my emotional 20s (self-discovery and love found and lost), poetry, creative writing, young-adult fashion (cute, rather than classic), my dating adventures.. which serendipitously evolved into the love story of how I met my husband!), and now, lifestyle and philosophy/mindset thoughts. With each blog, my writing style evolves to reflect the subject matter.

With this blog, I speak as I would if we’re having a comfortable, cosy face-to-face conversation (hi!).

Previously, I’ve enjoyed creative, abstract, sensory-based writing that captures the essence – the minute details, feel, and emotions – of the snapshot of a moment.

So in celebration of Halloween, here’s a short piece I wrote in October 2004.

She is soundless. Ceaselessly bombarded with discordant voices, grating instructions, dismissible details, and the frenzy of life around her, her liquid eyes scream for the faucet of drenching water to be turned off.

You see it as a flinch, nothing more.

‘Do not come near me’, her eyes warn you impassively, sharply. You see her through a rain-splashed window capturing shadows of thunderstorm clouds. Water runs in rivulets down the window pane, blurring the tears falling off the cliff of her cheekbones. Her eyes are glass marbles tinged with pink, bounded by heavy paint strokes of blackest matte kohl that emphasize their unnatural shine. Her mouth is parted. You see the frosty condensation of her breath beading on the glass, but what you can’t see are the torn wisps of her soul being exiled into the brittle air. She keeps breathing out. But is she breathing in?

Her eyes stare at you, unblinking, daring you to intercede. You can’t move. Your feet are mired in soggy pools of mud, and you don’t want to come closer because her chalky skin and round, doll eyes have chilled your muscles into frigidity.

She and you stay like that for an unendurable moment. Silence from the world that has ceased to exist.

And then she droops forward, her long, dark hair covering the pale planes of her face and neck. You blink, and blink again, shaking water off of your eyelashes. Re-focus. It’s hard to see where her hair ends and the darkness begins. You think you can still see her silhouette.

You blink again, squinting. The window is dark.

And the condensation halo has vanished.

Happy Halloween!


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