37: The Hope


The Hope

He wiped his tears slowly and passionately. He sobbed for a moment, a kind of sob where loneliness lingered. He folded the letter and kissed it so tenderly.

A knock on the door echoed the room. “Mr. Nicholas Thompson?” A lady in a black executive suit came in. She hugged him so tight and he too in return.

“Can you please give this to your mother?” He beamed with great hope. Staring at the woman in front of him and reading the name tag that says Summer Jordache. He can’t believe how this precious soul had grown to such a wonderful lady. “You know you had your mother’s eyes and and smile, don’t you?”

“I know. “ She smiled and gave out a wink from her hazelnut eyes. “Don’t worry Dad. I got your spirit and heart and you know it.” She hugged him again and whispered. “I hope Mom’s gonna remember all this.”


37: The Letter

Love Letter

Photo Credit: Everyday Lovely

* * *

Dear Natasha,

How you doing?

I’m getting older now if I may tell. I counted the years that had lapsed from us and it’s 37. If fate would not be cruel enough we could already have beautiful children. I could still remember how you used to tell me that if you were to have a son, you’ll probably call him Summer. The season where we first met, isn’t it?

 You’re so beautiful back then and I couldn’t certainly forget your sweet smile and your hazelnut eyes. God knows why selling ice cream in your neighborhood is the most fulfilling job of all. You asked me if I was new in the place and you never hesitated to help me finding my way. I was 19 back then and I was so in love with you.

August, I asked you out and it’s magical seeing you your brightest smile. I stopped selling ice creams that time since summer is over but I never stopped seeing you. We went to the park, talked about music and how many children you wanna have. November, you told me you’re leaving and you’re never coming back.

I could feel your pain and how it hurt us. I kissed you, probably our last kiss that time as far as I could remember and we make love. Morning came and you’re gone.

I still miss you Natasha. Your smile, your hands and the way we share ice cream.

I always love you and hope you’ll remember this.






37: The Number

The Number

“I will miss the future I might have had with you.”

He read and slowly folded the parchment which seemed to be yellowed by age. On a separate piece he inked ‘I miss you too’ under the pile of the same phrases.

He counted them. 37.

He laughed. “I miss you for 37 years.”

So again, just like what he’d been doing for the past years, he tucked himself on the table started composing a reply. His 37th letter. His 37th reply to a letter he had from her, 37 years ago.



The Precious Present

I guess, some of you might notice I’ve had posted this story a long time. But since that Christmas is approaching, which is the season of giving and sharing, allow me to provide you a great inspiration through this story which inspire by the time I went in a bookstore for a book and author hunt.


Read. Enjoy. Be inspired.

Once, there was an old man who lived alone in a little cabin. Everyday a little boy would always visit the old man to play and hear stories. One day, the child asked the old man. Continue reading


She looked up the stars. By the static twinklings of the moonless night, she wondered how many wishes did the sky have collected this time. She bowed down and lay over the floor of the autumn meadow. She focused her eyes towards every star and found what she was looking for.

She laughed.

“You’re bigger now.”  She talked to the star.

“Guess I’ve been wishing a lot this year, huh? Seems that I’ve been feeding you a lot.”

She had been silent for minutes, gazing solemnly at the gallant light that twinkled in pride.

“Thanks.” She whispered.

She closed her eyes, inhaled the sweetness of the night breeze. For a moment she felt herself light and happy. It wasn’t a surprise, but it’s something she had never felt a long time.

She stood and held herself into an apt composure. She decided to take a slow pace back but as soon as she took her steps, she started running.

Life Behind 2: Behind Doors

continued from Life Behind 1: Behind Music

If chances are just seeing falling stars at night, I think this was the moment where she had a tight sleep, unable to see some in the sky. For he was there, the man who intrigues her, her neighbor, the man he just known by the name Connor- right there in front of their house knocking, pushing the doorbell, patiently waiting.

Too bad for her, she’s always been sleeping like dead during weekends, (really did have a tight sleep) she never heard the noise of his existence right before her door. So by the tease of the moment again, she never had the great chance of meeting him, face to face.

Hours later, she’s in the kitchen with her cereals and the journal she left from the library.

“Who gave this?” She asked while examining at her journal.

“Oh. He said he’s been with you in the library yesterday and you left that journal.” Her mother smiled. “Good thing you had your address written inside, he was so surprised knowing about it.”

“What do you mean?” She ate the last spoon of her cereal looking perplexed by her mother’s words.

“He said he just stayed right there, just beside our house and he was so surprised knowing that we are neighbors.” She answered back. “I never really thought that Martha has a pretty looking nephew.”

“What? He’s the guy at the Thiel’s?”

“Yeah? What’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing!” She jumped from where she sat and ran toward her room.


Hi Amie! I just got your name from this journal. I guess you’re going to be as surprised as me too. This is just crazy knowing all of this and I can’t even believe myself how our paths just crossed again.

I believe you had my CD. Yeah, just maybe you will ask, I was the blind boy in the train. Surprise isn’t it? I was also surprised as hell yesterday as you told the story. It gave me the chills and all throughout your story, I was like a kid staring at you imagining what you look like back. I hope you didn’t notice it.

I guess fate has been too good to us then? Another thing, I just learned that we’re neighbors, which really made all this stuffs crazier.

As soon as you read this please don’t hesitate to knock at my door. You just knew me by the name Four and I haven’t even known yours. So maybe we could give ourselves another chance to meet. Where we could formally introduce ourselves. I hope it sounds cool to you.

Hoping to meet you again.

It’s me,

Four/ Connor.


P.S. Sorry for making some writings here in your journal.


She closed the journal and stared blankly at it keeping herself still for almost 10 seconds. After that silent moment, she ran outside her room and screamed out loud.




Life Behind 1: Behind Music

behind music

She had been doing it for almost a month. She can’t tell why, but she seemed so intrigued with the new guy next to their house. He just moved in about six weeks ago at the Thiel’s. Staying with his aunt Martha for college. Although he had spent some vacations in the neighborhood before, he had stayed aloof and silent so he hadn’t really created any friends and that nobody really knew him at all. Fact is that he had just been so invisible to everybody, every in and out of him in the house is unnoticed and that the only thing people knew about him is his name – Connor Stevenson.  The very reason why she didn’t bother to give a care of his existence.

But things had changed lately. He had been so bold for her, so intriguing which caused for her interest to just fire undying desire. And just two weeks after his arrival, she had started her secret stares.

All those days where she could take the chance, she settled herself hidden behind the curtain of the window of her room, overlooking the Thiel’s house. Yet, since then she had never ever caught a glimpse of his face. Always the back of his head or his body. Blame it to whammy or misfortune or fate, but she always end up viewing him with boxes, books, newspapers or anything that could possibly cover his face from her direction. Or in the time where she could have the chance for a look, that’s when the moment a phone rang, her mother called, a friend shifted in front of him, a dog just barked or his auntie called turning his head in directions. Yet she continued her adoration for him.


So there she was that Friday afternoon in the public library, struggling for multiple assignments and researches. It’s just a typical day for doing studies, a typical day where everything is silent, every head is down, every hand is writing – until a phone rang.

♫ When the night has come and the day is done. I’m always thinking of you. ♪ What a ring tone!

That time every head was into her. She seemed so dumb letting such a humiliating thing happened. She’s been like singing oh-no oh-no oh-no oh-no oh-no oh-no inside her head. Yet she’s still lucky enough, it isn’t Thursday, not the library-is-too-full day. There have been like 16 or 20 students scattered in different places.

“Cool ringtone!” Someone whispered.

She unfolded the book that’s been covering her face to take a glance of the voice’s owner. It was a guy sat opposite her. If books would speak for his self, probably he’s a medical student.

He winked at her, she looked at him sheepishly. Yeah a very cool shame tone. She chuckled in her thought and just smiled at him wryly.

“You’re great!” He smiled back.

“Excuse me?”

“I mean. The song is great.” He stood up and motioned to sat beside her. “It’s Forever and a Day by MLTR right? It had been my favorite since…since the day. I just can’t believe I could meet another girl listening to that song.”

“Yeah. It’s a great song. I can’t even believe it myself that I had loved it that much.” She beamed. She can’t tell why, but she seemed so buoyant with the guy in front of her. It would be creepy to talk like this to strangers and it seemed so absurd to just have an abrupt conversation. But it is music, she seemed to be not herself when it comes to music. This man also loves her song and that’s just enough against the odds. Then, she just can’t help to tell the story behind the song.

“Actually, everything is just an accident. How I met this song is magic.” She moved her head away from him, facing the blank page of her notebook. As if that there were scenes showing her what to tell. She continued.

“It was like eleven years ago.  I met this guy once in a train, he was heading to Le Bruke with his grandmother.” She paused, trying to dig the significant images of her memories, yet she failed. “I can’t really remember how he looked that time, but he had a different smile. A smile that could lead you to smiling, a feature I think he got from her grandma.

“He was the one who introduced me to this song. I remembered, he had the purest expression that time. It was silent, not much people inside and the only noise was the chug-chug of the train. Then he talked to his grandma and his grandma talked to me until we were already talking to each other. I learned that he is blind, such a cruel fate for a soul like him. He got it when he was 12, two years ago before we have met, it was retina weakness as they say. But that didn’t stop him to be cheerful.

“Between our great laughter, he then introduced to me this song. He was holding a music player, he turned it on and I listened to it. He said he really liked it. The harmony, the melody, the voice of the singer, the lyrics – everything seems to be magical to him. It changed his world that every time he listens to the song, he can’t see darkness anymore. What he sees are colorful shades of the world. The beautiful images he had gathered before his blindness.”

She chuckled in sweet tone. Then she continued. “His earphone seemed to be grating that time, so I gave mine to him. As a gift and as a sign of friendship, in return he gave me his CD.” She ended in wink of her left eye.

“So, are you still seeing him?” He asked winking back.

She smiled and fixed the books in front of her. “The thing is, I just known him by the name Four. And we never met each other again since that day. It is just the CD, the song and memory I got from him. That’s the reason why I’m listening to this song always. So that he will never be forgotten, until the time we meet again.”

“So you’re still hoping?”

“Yes. Until we meet again.” She stood up, grabbed her books and left the man without saying goodbye.

…to be continued.




Whispered Harmony 3: The Tears

whispered harmony 3

Continued from Whispered Harmony 2: The Piano

All was in harmony. Obviously, there was something to thank after Spring departed. She left the beautiful land with bunches of sweet blooms, lovely renaissances of the hibernated trees, the joyous laughters of the grass dancing on every field, blue skies painted with muffled fluffs of cotton ball and the sweet smiles in every creature’s heart – the very nostalgic moment where everyone breathed in celebration – or perhaps, not all.

Esther was silently praying in the very entrance of the church, holding a bouquet of lavender and golden asters. This time, she lost her senses, the understanding of her deep emotions seemed to fade. As a woman, instincts were what she needed in times like this. But she couldn’t, the absence of understanding what she felt blocked all what she wanted to do, the thought that her body was betraying her, made her realized she woke up in a different flesh, a body seemed not her.

The bell rang, the moment she prayed must never happen. On the third bell, the door opened and appeared in front of her were the great smiles of people, mostly she didn’t even know or haven’t met for years. She took her first step on the great aisle dashed by a red carpet towards the familiar altar.

“Sorry.” She whispered before she took her second step and offered a proud head high. Then the chorus started. Continue reading

Whispered Harmony 2: The Piano

Whispered Harmony: The Piano

Continued from Whispered Harmony 1: The Touch

“Why do you always have to manipulate my life?” Esther stroked heavy-heartedly to her dad after hearing the news.

“Because I’m your father!” Esther’s dad blurted out.

“Yeah! You’re just my father! And that’s it!” Now, she was losing her respect. She was deeply angry and didn’t care that she was shouting to her dad.

Surprised, her dad stared at her fiercely. “I can’t believe that I’m hearing this from you Esther!” There was a long pause, a silence that brought awkwardness to both.

“You’re going to marry him.” He continued.

“No I’m in love with someone else and he’s the one I’m going to marry!”

“For Christsake Esther! He’s an orphan! He’s useless!” He shouted back.

“But he is the one I love! And he is perfect!”

“I don’t care about love! You’re going to marry and that’s final!” He blasted angrily. Now, with that tone of a master. It wasn’t a thing to argue but an order to follow. She was terrified. She felt weak and she was muted. Tears started streaming down and all she could do was cry.

* * *

It was Monday night and Crisford was all alone inside the church. Alone in the holy realm. Playing his songs of love, hope and happiness. Singing praises to God. He loved this night. He can sing out loud the feelings he felt. Until his angel heard it and came to him at last. He heard footsteps, and he stopped playing his songs.

“Esther?” He shouted out. It wasn’t a question. It was more than a greeting of his heart. Then she appeared in the stairs, walking solemnly towards him with teary eyes, and pale. But she managed to smile. Grateful that Crisford was blind, that he didn’t have to see her in pain.

“Crisford? I need to tell you something.” Her voice was serene, but the sadness of it lingered.

“Another story of angels?” Crisford hurriedly replied like a child hungry for bedtime stories. Esther didn’t know what to tell. She thought of possible ways, of excuses that they will not be meeting anymore.

“Is there a problem?” Now he felt the sadness in Esther’s heart. He was worried. No. He was afraid.

“Crisford, don’t get mad. I’m leaving away from here.” She was fighting her tears. She didn’t want to cry.

“I’m leaving you.” She said in a soft whisper.

“Just because I’m blind?” Crisford can’t think of any possible reason but his blindness. He was acting like a kid now. He played his hands angrily to the keys. The piano was mad. And he was sad.

“No! It’s not that! You are perfect and I love you. I don’t want to hurt you anymore. I’m leaving away from here and I don’t want you to look for me.” She was crying now. Great emotions mixed in her tears. And it dropped on his hands.

“Please forget about me. Everything about me!” Tears were streaming like a wild river.

“Don’t cry.” Crisford said in a calm, smooth tone. His voice was lifeless, but it’s full of understanding. He always had to understand everything.

“I don’t want you to be sad.” His voice was affected by pain. It hurt him. Hurt that only his heart could feel. But he had to do it.

Love is sacrifice, love is pure, it is not envy, and it is not selfish. He thought of these things. The things that he always thought when he was still a child. He thought of his childhood days. His father left him in the church. His mother that neglected him and didn’t even care to have him back. He thought of all the pain. The pain that once healed by Esther, and now the pain brought by Esther.

“Can I kiss you?” He twisted the long silence. It seemed that it was the only thing he must do –or can do.

Esther wiped her tears, and she kissed him. Their lips tasted each other’s love. His lips driving passionately her whole senses. Kissing bit by bit her neck, to her shoulders and down to her breasts. She started to let go of the pains and hurts –he was too.

They were both on the top of the piano, naked, toes on the keys. The piano released a playful harmony as their toes touched the piano keys, along with their rhythmic movements. It was the moment, their last moment. A soul to soul harmony. A body, heart and soul secret where the piano, the statue of the angels and God had witnessed.

To be continued….

Whispered Harmony 1: The Touch

Whispered Harmony: The TouchRomance had filled the empty room of the church as the two hearts rejoiced the recognition of their unspoken love. It was Crisford who played the keys. He would always be delighted in playing his piano. Every song that he played brought him to the world where his own mind could see. He was always happy. Soaking every finger as the key made a magical and sweet voice of his heart. It was like the piano and him, united as one.

Esther, the angel of his heart brought out the words as Crisford played. She had the voice that only a deity can possess. She had the feature of a perfect angel. Deep dark eyes like precious ebony. Red lips smooth and fragile like cherries that brought life to her angelic face. And a voice like the soothing wind of the Atlantic that brings warmth and serenity to the cold hearts. But Crisford doesn’t care about everything. It was the voice, the kindness, and purity that made him fell in love. He fell in love to Esther; to a girl he didn’t even see and didn’t even know.

“Uh, Esther?” He muttered in a slowly shaky manner. He was hesitant to form his sentiments into words.

“Yes?” Esther replied in a sweet sensible way.

“Can I t-touch your f-face?” At last! The words went out. But his voice conveyed how shy he was. He was like a toddler who found difficulty in speaking. Then Esther smiled, grabbed his hand and brushed it solemnly over her face. She was happy how Crisford touched and caressed her face. Her cheeks, her lips, her nose and her skin. He was the only man in her entire life that brought vigor to her senses. Where she felt love in just a touch.

“Even though my eyes couldn’t see, my hands and my heart know that you’re beautiful.” He was proud of his words. He knew and believed that Esther is an angel. The angel that comes to him every night and just fly back to the sky every time the bell rang at night. The angel that sings his songs and always bring aster to him. Her favorite flower –and his too. They always have something in common. Something that binds them together. They share of interests, they share of music, songs, they share of stories about angels and they share of love.

“I need to go!” This was her last words for the night. Words that told him that she had to fly back. Words that promised that she will come back and sing their songs again.

* * *

“Why do you always have to manipulate my life?” Esther stroked heavy-heartedly to her dad after hearing the news.

“Because I’m your father!” Esther’s dad blurted out.

“Yeah! You’re just my father! And that’s it!” Now, she was losing her respect. She was deeply angry and didn’t care that she was shouting to her dad.

Surprised, her dad stared at her fiercely. “I can’t believe that I’m hearing this from you Esther!” There was a long pause, a silence that brought awkwardness to both.

“You’re going to marry him.” He continued.

“No I’m in love with someone else and he’s the one I’m going to marry!”

“For Christsake Esther! He’s an orphan! He’s useless!” He shouted back.

“But he is the one I love! And he is perfect!”

“I don’t care about love! You’re going to marry and that’s final!” He blasted angrily. Now, with that tone of a master. It wasn’t a thing to argue but an order to follow. She was terrified. She felt weak and she was muted. Tears started streaming down and all she could do was cry.

To be continued…