Random Story From Writing Exercise

       Dailee’s legs were starting to go numb as he forced them to push past the pain. His breath completely out of sync as his lungs desperately pulled at the stinging, cold air. He was running against the wind now with erratic gusts threatening to knock him off the rocky path.

       The sky, a sea of gray with hints of amber as the light of day started to diminish. Dailee suppressed the rising panic. He needed to stay focused. He needed to stay logical and use the information to maneuver around the situations. He couldn’t afford to become swallowed up by emotions rising from what "could" happen, or what "might" have already happened. Regardless of what may have transpired, Dailee had to do what he could to keep the situation from reaching a point of no return.

        Sticks and fallen branches crunched underfoot as he entered the dead forest. The naked trees, pale gray, skeletons of what they once were, loomed around him. People who venture through this forest always felt as though the trees were watching them as they passed. Dailee felt no different. It was known to be dangerous to be near this place at nightfall, to be stuck in the middle of it would not help his situation. He just had to keep running. Keep his mind on not stopping.

        It was completely silent. The only sounds coming from Dailee’s breath and footsteps. "How much further?" he thought to himself, "I must at least make it out of this cursed place." It was becoming increasingly difficult to see the ground in front of him. Every step seemed to be coming down slower and slower.

        Dailee’s strength of will no longer reached his body as the cold and fatigue took its toll. He told himself to keep moving even if he had to crawl out of here. Then he heard a crunching sound between his footsteps. "No," he thought to himself, "It was probably from the irregular steps my numbing legs are causing." Dailee just kept running. But before he knew it, he could no longer see the forest floor or even the sky. The only things strangely still visible were the pale trees surrounding him.

       *SNAP* Dailee tripped over the dark, uneven terrain and tumbled to a stop. He coughed and slowly started to get up again then, *CRUNCH.* Dailee froze. Something has been following him. He tried his best to suppress his breathing but failed. *CREEEEK* another noise sounding like wood under pressure.

a moment in autumn

The smell of the cool autumn air as you walk through golden fields accented by the red and gold canopy of the forest... the very scent of the trees and grass as they shed their colors for the season bring you peace. in the cold air, rays of warm sunlight reach through the leaves and branches caressing your form as you walk on a blanket of colors. As the sun sets, you secure the scarf around your neck and walk back to the shelter where someone had already started a fire. The familiar smell of burning straw and Gingko wood adding to the autumn air. Shifting the embers, a familiar face pulls out roasted sweet potatoes. She hands you the hot sustenance and although the heat stings the evening-chilled hands, you welcome the warmth as you begin to peel the food. Sitting around the fire with people of trust, you find your heart warmed before your hands

mother

looking up at the night sky, watching the stars as some seemingly flicker... many times, as a child, i have looked up, watching familiar patterns year after year, and remembering the nights from years past when i watched and wondered where i'd be later in life. i wondered if i would still be alive or dead the year after. things were pretty bad. but i hung in there. cuz my mother would be sad if i disappeared. watching each star, star to star, i think back and pull from memories i have with my mother there...

i remember...

the warmth of my mothers back, as she carried me.

the height of the black umbrella as it shielded us from the heavy rains.

the firmness of her hand as she held mine next to her.

limping alongside her as she silently cried in the dark, dark night.

mixing powdered medicine in a spoon and nursing me back to health

following her through the green metal gate at my grandmothers country home.

sitting with her in a very quiet house, eating gummy bears.

i think of how bewildered she must have felt. raising me alone with a tyrannical husband in a foreign land. powerless to protect her child, and having nowhere to take refuge. wishing the world could have been a better place... i do wonder, what kind of life she would have had, had i not been born. she's been through much, my mother. whenever i see a single mom raising her child and doing it with love, i say in my heart, "bravo." and look upon them with admiration and gratefulness.

twas a random note.

love

Monday, September 20, 2010 at 5:40am

learning to accept the pain with the smiles and appreciate them both...

to speak softer, listen and be gentle.

Love is patient,

love is kind.

It does not envy,

it does not boast,

it is not proud.

It is not rude,

it is not self-seeking,

it is not easily angered,

it keeps no record of wrongs.

Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth.

It always protects,

always trusts,

always hopes,

always perseveres.

1 Corinthians 13:4-7

fantastical reality

fantastical reality

Tuesday, April 6, 2010 at 8:02am

let us shatter reality,

~ all existence in an endless dream~

spiral into fantasy,

~ every color a magical gleam~

dance right into worlds unseen,

~ all your steps living a mystery~

forever soar through worlds pristine,

~for this is now our reality ~

pieces of you

Thursday, March 18, 2010 at 12:29pm

as the mirror shatters, how much of yourself can you see?
little bits of hundreds of shades?
the broken pieces you try to fix cutting you at every turn.
but still, you see yourself staring back at you...
it hurts to try but you wish to be whole again.
with fingertips lined with open wounds,
tears start flowing and blood mixes with your emotions
someone calls from behind you.
you rise and turn to see this voice
only to see yourself complete again in a new reflection
you turn to look at the broken pieces but see someone else
you are no longer what was in pieces
facing the new you, you step forward into a new world. a new future.

old poem

Lifes Flight

day and night, long to be free.
living, dying, ideals within me.
the mask i wear, stem a will of its own.
many things it forges unknown.
dreams, ambitions...an endless sky.
fear, sorrow...slithers nigh.
wishing to fly, spread broken wings.
with silent cry, my heart sings.
through pain, anguish, and memory's despair,
come wisdom, and minds repair.
rising higher, fear sets in,
radiant voice calms storm within.
breathing again, wings restoring.
sigh of relief, but pain remaining.
Voice of mystery, pouring strength inside me,
says, "strength I give, but your life you must carry."

- Pranchisco Ko Castro -

just something that i found.

An old Persian Apothegm.

He who knows not, and knows not that he knows not is a fool; shun him.

He who knows not, and knows that he knows not is simple ; teach him.

He who knows, and knows not that he knows, is asleep; wake him.

He who knows, and knows that he knows, is wise; follow him.


something like this should be common sense no? but how often are we 'common' anymore?

changing hearts

There are people in this world with hearts stained black as twilight and colder than the winter chill. Their actions disgust anyone with some form of conscience intact. Destroying lives everywhere they step, misery and agony are their footprints. With hands dyed deeper than scarlet, they extinguish life all around them, each act with less meaning than the last. It is not just these I would love to tear to pieces. Those who prey on the weak. Those who drain the life out of children like parasites then discarded once they no longer find them useful. I do not use the word "hate" lightly. But I use the word without hesitation when I say, "I hate them." When I "hate" someone, I will have no trouble applying a slow and painful death. And I know much about torture.
I say all this, however... I am put to shame and regret for thinking this way whenever I witness God's hands at work. When I see one of such darkness painfully step out of their former image, on their knees, in tears, as blood flows through a once dead heart, it grips me deeply. It is these people who later lead the battles against their former kind all the while doing their best to fill the emptiness of the very smiles they ripped out. The hand that once knew only destruction, builds and rebuilds in its own imperfect way, wishing all the while that it was more qualified to do this work.
Whenever I witness this kind of change, it reminds me of what true power is. The greatest power in this world is not in the form of strong arms or military might. It is not even missiles or nuclear firepower. True power is the kind that can change people. Change their hearts, and you change their world.

Though the walk was long, I love it this time of year. I reach the village square and watch as people gathered at the oaken platform. Looking up as the gold begins to give way to cerulean skies, I listen to the wind, the leaves, the children's laughter... passing low stone walls and wooden fences, I look to my home, an empty place. A young Jindo runs to greet me.

A Moment In Autumn

The leaves have already changed from the vibrant green to hues of red, yellow and gold. Rustling in the wind, the sounds of an ocean roar. My hair dancing wildly as i walk this dirt beaten path. Looking down at the river, running alongside me, I watch as the little fish make their way out into the branching streams between rice fields covered in straw. With dusk approaching, the clouds give off a golden reflection over the fields. People pass by on old fashioned bicycles with the familiar clicking of the chain and pedals. The elders out on a walk under the sunset enjoying the cool evening air filled with the scent of the season. With the harvest festival over, everyone seems content and happy.