Nuclear Winter

A short love story? I’m not sure. I did enjoy writing this piece. As always, this has not been edited so it’s filled with mistakes. You have been warned.


Waving crashing on the road leading to the nearest town, tiny stars glimmering in the darkness of the night sky; mother was right – this was truly the best time to mend a broken heart. The leaves on the apple tree, rustling as a gentle breeze caressed its silky texture; slightly undulating grass blades bowing before the breeze, glistering underneath the sandy shores of the aether. Sliding his hands out of his pocket, he struck the ground with his pocket knife; holding his breath, he let out a long sigh. A light haze sprang forth from his mouth; his mind wandered into the past as it materialized into a voice. “Hope, Hope, Hope” it whispered. A warmth touched his shoulder as he turned around. Nothing. It was a warmth long gone.

Sirens off shore, echoing in the distance; he tried to listen to its warning. It sang of an impending danger, it sang of an uncertain future but most of all… it sang of a long forgotten past. As a small firecracker set off, his instincts sprang forth. Turning around, grabbing a hold of his knife, he saw her: dressed in a striped, long, flowing dress, she grabbed a hold of her sun hat. He could barely distinguish her face amidst the darkness but it was that scent. It was the way she moved. It was the way she held her bag. It was her intoxicating spirit that called to him.

She stopped a few steps away from him, taking off her hat. A powerful wind threw her off balance as he sprang towards her, holding her side. She looked up at his face, gazing at his eyes; he smiled back as his flustered face tried not to waver.

“Do you always hold on so gently?” She asked, grabbing her long dark hair as it covered her face. Holding it with one hand, her lips formed a smile, “I remembered you were the clumsy one.”

Holding on to her, he grabbed her hands, helping her to her feet. “You didn’t stay long enough to find out, Hope.”

Hope turned away, looking at the road as it snaked its way along the sea. Waves crashing on the road, agitated, scared; something had intimidated Poseidon. She remembered almost as it was yesterday: she was standing in this same spot, holding her weight against its rough surface. It was cold, no, it was freezing. She couldn’t feel her finger tips or her legs. Her breath raising through the echoes of a feast. Firecrackers and booze; it all clouded her judgment. Hope couldn’t remember what words came out of her mouth but she knew what they meant.

“It was my fault… all of it,” she held the tips of her fingers, it wasn’t cold. “Francis, it was entirely my fault,” tears fell down her cheeks, “it’s funny how I’m still crying at he same old spot.”

Francis looked down at the road, the same road he traversed twelve years ago. He was young and fooling; madly in love with a young woman as foolish as he was. He walked that cold road, barefooted, as waves crashed and water splashed before him. Feet wet, pants soaked; he trembled from cold’s frigid embrace. A cigarette in his right hand, it’s fire had long since been dozed by the salty spray. He remembered being so disheartened, so ashamed of himself. How he begged and cried but not even God listened. Words that still echo in his head – don’t chase that which you can never obtain.

“You seemed pretty happy at that time.” He said. “I guess love’s never really been a solution to anything.”

“The next day, you left without saying goodbye.” Hope replied.

“I didn’t have anyone to say goodbye to.”

“You had me.”

“I had nobody.”

“I waited for you here, I asked you to stay.”

“I asked you to come with me, that’s why I never came.”

Francis remembered looking out his window and seeing her standing beneath the same tree, crying. He knew it was for the best. He knew Hope was a pillar that would soon collapse upon him. Smiling, Hope looked at the carving on the tree’s bark, caressing the shape and the initials inscribed within it. Francis knew he’d only have one last chance.

“Francis, isn’t th-” Hope’s lips made full contact with Francis’ cold lips. As cold became consumed by the warmth, she held him in her arms, slowly sliding the tips of her fingers along his back as he caressed her sides down to her buttocks. Her eyes reflected the stars in the darkness of oblivion as she became hypnotized by a bright light. Looking back, Francis gazed at the horizon as it light up in a spectacular golden hue. Several bright spheres of light slowly falling down the earth, farther away from the mainland.

“What do you think that is?” She whispered.

“Not a clue.” Francis replied.

The sirens sounded in the distance, as he finally understood why they rang. Bright red flares rose from the mainland as sirens soon invaded the silence of the night. The surrounding towns and cities contaminating the night with their desperate plea for help. Flare rose from even closer settlements. The siren from their hometown shattered the remaining silence as flares rose from the town hall.

“What’s going on?” Hope held on tightly to Francis’ arm, “Is something the matter?” She looked up at Francis’ face, he had grown pale as the bright red light illuminated his face.

Large explosions were heard on the distance as a bright flash engulfed the nearby city. A bright dust cloud came rushing over the water as the sea receded. Throwing Hope into the ground, he kissed her forehead one last time as the light consumed them both.


“And then what happened?” A small child’s voice whispered into her old ears, “Did they survive?”

“That is a story for another night, okay?” She replied.

“But, if the nukes fell sixty years ago, then… they must be old right now.”

A young woman walked into the room, holding a small pillow. “Honey, go to sleep. Your grandmother’s tired, she needs her medicine.”

“Okay…” The little girl muttered.

“I’ll continue tomorrow, okay?” Her grandmother reassured her. “After all, not even fire could keep this strong body down.”

Ciudades Do Destino – 1 – Girl with the Ashen Wings


This story will probably be entering a competition, pretty soon. It’s still 1/5 completed but you guys will be able to see how it develops.


The lines lead to nowhere in the map. How in the world was she going to distinguish it from the rivers and the roads? She looked up at the ceiling, staring at its old, eroded surface. She sighed. If they wanted her to do this work, they’d have to help. Taking out a piece of paper, a pen, a pencil and an eraser, she started doodling on the side, figuring out which was which. Bridges and rising elevations, probably a river not a road; intersections, roundabouts and houses, probably a road, not a river – this was starting to feel a bit more simple than it usually was.

She looked at her watch, a small Mickey Mouse figurine moving his arms around, pointing with his small hand at the number twelve and the longer at the number six: twelve thirty in the evening and nobody bothered to call her. Untying the pink band of her wrist watch and placing it on the table, she got up and stretched. Bending over, touching her toes, her hair falling over, touching the ground like grey bristles.

Back again, stretching as far as her body could take her. She could see the entrance of the classroom, upside-down, and the world seemed unchanged. Spending all morning figuring out what to do with the map of the city, she begged for help but no one seemed to care. Handicapped was for people with missing limbs or those with special needs but color-blindness never seemed to be an issue.

Her phone vibrated, she quickly slipped her hand into her pocket. It was no use, her pants were too tight. Scratching with her long fingernails, she finally managed to take a hold of it but by that time, it had stopped. Tapping her password, she looked at the log: an alarm. Great, she was excited over an alarm clock, whoopty doo. Searching through her contacts, she found him.

You left me behind with a map…

That should get his attention, after-all, he deserves her frustration. Tapping her finger on the soft, jelly protector that covered her phone, she flipped through her photos. Sighing, she smiled at the one photo that made her day- her in a beautiful white dress and her boyfriend next to her in a tuxedo. Too bad it was all for a play, but she still hoped it would someday become a reality. Her phone vibrated. About time!

Sorry hun, there was something I needed to do. So, how’s the project coming along? Any ideas?

Unconsciously, her face met her palm at the blink of an eye; a reflex action that quickly infuriated her friends? She wasn’t that good at holding her temper. He knew exactly what was going on; he had to. How in the world could he expect her to figure out what the map was about? She was struggling as it is, with the colors. This was one class she hated the most: geography. The mathematical aspect of it all was so simple, yet why did she have to take a class like this?

Basil! You know I’m color-blind… How in the hell am I supposed to figure this out? You need to help me. 

How could he be so insensitive? Of all people, he should know better. A small chill ran up her spine, she was afraid, paranoid, probably over thinking things but it was all within the realm of possibilities. Recently, he had grown cold to her affection. Could he have someone else? Was he seeing someone? What would that mean to her? Was she the ‘other girl’ or was she the person he’d return to when there was nothing going on with the other girl?

I’m sorry hun, I’ll be there okay? Love you, wait for me XOXOX

No, what was she thinking? He wouldn’t write like that if he was with someone else, would he? It must all be some sort of mistake, yeah, that must be it. After all, he’s been with her through thick and thin, there was no way he’d just get up and leave. They had plans, they had dreams, they wanted a family; everything was moving on so perfectly, there was no way in hell that things could go bad.

Get over here, babe. Miss you.

That should fix things up a bit. An angry tone could get him angry, then she’d be angry, they’d have another fight, they wouldn’t speak to each other for the rest of the day and then she’d… O my god! He never seemed to text her when they got in a fight, as a matter of fact, she’d be the one doing the texting and apologizing. For Christ’s sake! She looked around for something to beat him with. A broom? No, too long. A chair? No, too heavy. She had made-up her mind to just scratching his eyes out. Yeah, that should do the trick. How dare he betray her trust! After all they’ve been through, after all the time she’s saved his ass from flunking. No, either he comes through that door with chocolates and a bouquet of roses, white roses to be exact, or she’d have to go Animal Planet on his face.

She hears the door open. Placing her phone on her chair, she rolled up her sweater’s sleeves. As she was about to scream out everything she’s ever thought about him, the unimaginable happened: a bouquet of white roses, some chocolates and a few heart-shaped balloons? Idiot, why did he do that? She was about to tear him a new skin and her goes on being so romantic and… and… and… she ran up to him and kissed him. How could she have doubted her one and only love?


The flowers where inside her favorite pink vase, which she had labeled as such so as to distinguish it from the rest of her vases; it had always been a hassle to ask for that grey item when the whole world saw in a whole spectrum of colors. The chocolates were inside the fridge, the balloons had all popped; she loved popping balloons. Now, for a goodnight’s rest… today wasn’t as bad as she thought it would be.

A strange sound awakened her from her sleep. She swore that she’d been dreaming about unicorns. Looking around, everything seemed so different: a field covered in flowers. Different types of flowers, with different colors, yes, for the first time in forever, she had finally seen colors. How could she know what colors were? It was strange, like something she knew but was unable to confirm. Colors, who knew she’d see them in a dream.

No trees, clouds covering a beautiful blue sky, sunlight piercing through their fluffy white texture, tearing a veil of white with a golden shower of light. The flowers followed closely the movement of the sun. A soft breeze picked up speed, rushing though the field, taking with it a rainbow of petals. As soon as she was about to speak, a dark object covered the sun, as darkness enveloped the field.

Cold sweat running down her chest, the sky was still dark, with the monochrome twinkling of stars just outside her window. What had happened? Searching the small drawer next to her bed, she took out a small container. Sipping from a cup of water, she swallowed a small pink pill. She promised herself that this would never happen again, but in the end, her depression would always win. Cassandra, keep it together, it’s just a dream, a bad dream, that’s all it is.


“Mom! Mom! Mom!” She shouted, her voice echoed through silent hallways and abandoned rooms. “Mom! I’m stuck, again…” She sighed.

The wheel screeched, as she tried leaning to a side, trying to see what was wrong. It couldn’t be the gear, no, she checked it a while back and everything was fine. Could something be stuck underneath the wheel? No, impossible… It’s too thin for something like a marble to be stuck within its surface. Groaning, she grabbed both wheels again and pulled, forcing out air from her lungs, burning as it left her nostrils. She gave up on the matter. Holding her head with her arm gentle supported on her wheelchair, she closed her eyes. I won’t get mad, not today, today I need to be happy and at peace.

“Mom! I’m stuck! Help me! I’ll be late for the presentation!” Once again, she let out a long, exasperated sigh. “Mom!” She shouted at the top of her lungs. Nobody answered.

Taking out her cellphone, she dialed her mother’s number. After three attempts, her mother answered.

“Hello dear, what’s going on?” Her voice seemed peculiar.

“Mom! Where are you? I’ve been calling for you for the past forty-five minutes!” She tried to hold how annoyed she was at the present issue. “I need you to help me out of this crack or whatever is holding my chair. I need to get ready for the presentation.”

“Honey, I’m not home.” Her mother giggled. A giggle definitely not aimed at her. “With the current traffic, I’ll be there in an hour, if I trying running through red rights.”

“You know what, never mind. Just… be there when I present my painting, okay?” She cringed at the tough of what was going on. “Tell Antonio I said hi.” Her mother was probably in the middle of something, right now. If she interrupted her, she’d have to listen to her gross stories afterwards.

Somehow, today was definitely not her day. Sitting alone, she looked around, hoping to find the source of her frustration. The door was really small and the tiled floor was smooth, at best; not something that could keep her from advancing. Leaning over to the right, she stared at the wheel, at the checkered floor and her surroundings; nothing. Leaning to the left, she did the exact same thing, except that this time, she poked around a bit, hoping to find the source of the problem. Her phone rang.

Picking up her phone she saw the ID: Mother. What would her mother want with her, this time?


“Honey, I forgot to mention.” She could hear whispers in the background, “Stop it-”

“Mom, focus.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m okay.” She cleared her throat and continued. “The guy that does maintenance on the wheelchair, and not a bad pick if I do say so myself-”

“Mom! Again, focus!”

“Well, Nathan came to fix something on your wheelchair, or was it maintenance? I’m not sure, but he removed a part and took it with him.”

“Mother! Why didn’t you say so?”

“Well, it was your day with your father and I didn’t want to bother you with-”

“You should have told me! I could have taken the wheelchair dad bought me and I wouldn’t be having these sorts of problems.”

“Well, if your dad…” There she goes again, she rolled her eyes. Blaming dad for something she did. No wonder dad left her, she’s just so immature.

“I know, mom. Talk to ya later, I need to get dressed.”

Gently slipping down into the floor, having made sure that the breaks were still in use, she slowly crawled to her bed. Unbuttoning her light blue, semi-transparent shirt, she flung it over her shoulders, falling atop a pile of plush toys. As she unhooked her bra, she looked into the mirror, ashamed of her own body. A large scar ran down the middle of her chest, as she traced, with the tip of her fingers, down this aberration stopping at her belly button. Her legs were so thin, her fingers so long, her breasts so small and her lips too thin to charm anybody. Looking away, she grabbed a pillow, burying her face on the small pink, pillow; she screamed with all her might.

“Now then,” she tossed the pillow over to a side. “It’s time to get ready. Pricilla, focus on the issue at hand… You are lady, no; you are a painter, so act like one. Grace of a swan, patience of a cat and the cunning of a fox. You can do it.”


Later that night, she lay on her bed, still awake though it was way past her bedtime. Looking at the clock, she could see its small hands tick-tocking their way through the night. She was too anxious to get any sleep but as soon as the clock hit midnight, her eyes felt heavy. Strange, this never happens. She was perplexed but above all, happy. For the first time, she’d get a good night’s sleep.

Closing her eyes for just a second, the next time she opened them she saw something unlike anything she had ever seen before. A large cave covered in massive crystalline structures much bigger than her. All of different colors and forms, she could identify as few crystals, mainly quartz, pyrite and probably zirconium crystals. She was impressed when she saw the floor, not only was she standing on her own two legs but the ground was dotted with rare jewels, as lakes were made of gold coins, crowns, pearl necklaces and other rare jewels. The surface of the floor was coarse but at the same time, warm and gentle. She wiggled her toes, it was a miracle, no; a dream. As soon as she took a step forward, a strong icy gale pushed her back till she awakened. Lying flat on the floor, she realized it was all a dream. Still, the idea of being able to just stand for a few seconds was enough to make her shed a tear. She still remembers a time when the ground wasn’t as cold as it was now.




Ne Pleure Pas: Chapter 2 – Let Them Loose – Part 1

anime girl, monster 155086

Another piece… what, two short stories in one day? What must I be drinking? I guess I was either very bored or had too much time on my hands. I’m going to fix a small continuity issue… I did not number the chapters. Oh, and do remember: Ne Pleure Pas is a gore/sci-fi story while Cara Mia Addio is a horror/paranormal story… totally different, keep that in mind while you read either or both stories (short series).



Its insides were still wrapped around my arm. It was soft, sticky, compared to its iron-like skin. Four ribs popping out of its soft tissue, as all other bones had either snapped or shattered by the sheer force of the blow. He gazed at his pray, its muscles were still twitching, lungs filling themselves with precious life-giving oxygen and its heart beating faster and faster – could it be in pain? Must be, maybe tormented by the sheer size of karma’s assault.


His hand, soaked in crimson liquid, running down his palm, dripping from his fingertips; it was an unattainable ecstasy. The night was still young, as he scanned the street for any bystanders – none in sight. The splatter on the walls of the nearby graffiti-infested structure and the organs on the ground could mean only one thing: another Nero was here. He should have known, after all, calamities come in threes and they were no exceptions. Every single shadow seemed to advent an evil that could easily take his life, just as he did to its brethren. Looking down at the creature twitching in agony, he grabbed its heart, ripping it’s aorta along with other tissue, and smashed it in the palm of his right hand.


They would mistake him for prey when the reality of the situation was just the opposite: they were the hunted. The trick to it was choosing the bait. No Nero would dare ignore a young helpless girl in the middle of the street, even more so if she was completely covered in Nero pheromones. Little did they know that that girl was even crazier than him. He was the puppet master not to control the puppet but rather to restrain her from going wild. Intact Nero samples were very valuable, all the more reason to keep a short leash before someone butchers it beyond recognition.


A low sound of metal banging against the floor, footsteps, short and steady; it was going for a sneak attack, like a cat cornering a mouse. Too bad this mouse knows exactly what to do. A black viscose substance crawled up his arm, hardening into for large blade-like fingers and a long fin shaped structure running down his forearm. Light pink connective tissue that held everything together was semi-exposed from the hardened white inner structure that created a cage for support and the black outer skin that provided the external protection.


The little girl’s body changed into a large dog covered in scales similar to those on a pangolin and a large hammerhead shaped cranium that provided the much needed protection to her skull. It growled, sensing a Nero nearby.


“It knows we’re watching.” Her growls hid the icy voice of a stone-cold killer within a little girl’s body. “Let’s eat him…”

“No, he’s expensive and I don’t need something this big coming out of my paycheck,” he replied. Looking around, he walked over to the beast. “It’s being overly protective and focusing on self-preservation. Its link to its overseer might have been severed.”

“All the more reason why we should just rip him apart.”

“A severed neurolink is something we’ve been waiting to study for years! A rampant Nero: a Nero Führer.”

“What do you want me to do?”

“Break its legs, but do not harm it’s head…”

“You’re no fun-”

“This is not a play date, this is a mission so act like it’s important even if you’re just enjoying cutting them open.”

“Lie to yourself, lie to the boss, you can even lie to that girl of yours but you can’t lie to me… You love this as much as I do… To cut them open, to rip their beating heart out,” she snickered, slowly moving past me. She knew me too well, it was scary. “So, shall we have one last dance?”

“First, don’t ever assume you know me, Second, she’s not my girl and, Third, yes we may.”




“Son of a bitch!” He tossed his saw on the floor, smashing a shattered test tube into even small pieces. “I told you to leave the goddamned Nero intact!”

“We brought its head and what was left of his torso… intact,” the little girl replied.

“Torso? Only a lung and its heart remained!”

“For what it’s worth, its esophagus and trachea were left connected to their respective organs. Its beating heart was left intact so as to preserve the brain, plus I insisted on keeping a lung.” He was direct and straight to the point. “You got your brain, we got our money and a good hunt.”

“A win-win situation, nevertheless.” She peeked from the corner of her eyes, searching for some other mischief.

“Just go… Let me do my work, you butchers.”

“Call us-” He fixed his tie and buttoned his shirt, “-wolves for hire.”

Cara Mia Addio – 04 – Golden Stardust, It Falls on Thee


I’ve been absent for a while… Yeah, I know… but, here is something new! With exams looming over the horizon and homework still pouring in – the only way for me to have some quality time with my writing materials will be summer.



The wind, there was as no wind, there was no sound, no smell or taste or touch… It was bland, it was dark, it was silent; death was an uncomfortable peace. Miles, no, distance was a thing of the past, so was time. Human creations had no place in this inhuman realm. As soon as despair settled in, the darkness was shattered by a sudden burst of light. Matter zoomed in, like a hurricane force wind, as she was soon faced with a very familiar scenery. The tree, the sky, the rain and the lightening – they were all the same as before. Perplexed, she searched for a way out of her fear. Light bathed in crimson and violet, poured on her ‘body’. A warmth settled in, the scent was too much to take… it was blood. Not just any blood, her blood. Never in her wildest dreams had she smelled something so putrid and vile, coated in several layers of colors and lights – her blood was the only marker she could use to find him.


Somewhere in this town was someone who could help her, but how? Squinting, she saw what appeared to be a twinkling star. It was a small glimmer of hope, but that was all she had. Running past cars and rampant street cats, she saw it. That house, she knew whose it belong to. Stepping in through the front door, fazing in was more up her alley. Running up the stairs she saw that room – a tear fell from her eye. Her heart broke at the sight of him. Laying on the ground, crying, she could hear her name being called out; it was a whisper, no, more like a whimper, but she knew that feeling. The heart-wrenching desire to rest her forehead on his, like they did only a few weeks ago – or a few seconds, time had somehow faded from her mind.


The twinkle was as dim as it had been before, it was calling out to her. Looking inside the drawer, she saw it – a flip phone, her flip phone. Why was it shinning? She wasn’t carrying it with her when it all happened, nor had it been stained with any blood or anything of the such. Why would it twinkle when there was nothing of her body smeared or impregnated within that electronic device? She sat on the soft bed, though the impression of softness filled her body, the bed did not sink… she was weightless. As her fingers reached for the phone, the phone began to vibrate. Strange, it shouldn’t be on. The battery as missing, she made sure of it because that phone had been replaced with her new phone; unfortunately, the other phone had been left in the scene of the crime.


Thinking as to what she could do, where to go from here, she was hit with a great idea! Her other phone had been recording what was happening to her, she now remembered. She slid it underneath a crack in the floor. If it was still there, it would contain the voice recording and possibly video recording of everything that had happened that night. She needed to contact him, one way or the other. There was no way he’d play on a Ouija board, even if he did, the chances were pretty high of him contacting some old man from god-knows where rather than her. Could she call him on the phone?


Running to their family’s corded phone, she touched it. It rang. This mother picked up the phone, waiting for a replay. There was no reply on the phone, all that could be heard was static. So, it was a one way street… She could call them but they could not hear anything beyond static. She could not give up, she would not give up; this was all she had to rest in peace, or so she thought. All she knew was that somehow everything needed to be ship-shape before she could head on to the afterlife.




Later that night, she headed on to the cemetery, after finally giving up on making contact with a corded phone. Who knew being dead could be so inconvenient? Faced with an overwhelming curiosity, she set off to find her grave. On the edge of the cemetery, she saw a dark pillar of ash, fire and a dark mist pouring it’s acid clouds over the cemetery. Falling to the floor, the dark haze covered her. She could not believe it, on the tomb stone it read:

Here lays an innocent damsel, taken away by the claws of sin.

Farwell, rest in peace: Heidy Merriam Kerrigan.

Seeping Red Hope II



Okay, so this is the second part of Seeping Red Hope. Hope you enjoyed this two part story! 😀



Cold hard steel close to his flesh, the night was closing in. Shadows covered by the tears of those close to him, twisted in agony with the sunset’s orange hue. The sounds of diesel engines and boots, the constant upheaving of dust and gunpowder, the red band and the blue lifeless eyes; the Germans were close.


Trailing behind a set of tracks, his division followed an eerie convoy. Silently, no diesel engines, just the echo of mud trotting boots and chattering. A scream or two, from time to time, and enemy laughter; they had grown too cocky.


“Sommes-nous encore là?” A solider tapped him on the shoulder.

“Ta geule!” Alphonse looked back at him.


No one dared speak back or anger the captain. He was focused on blood. His home, the paradise he and his beloved had constructed, lay in ruins. What little dignity he was left with lies somewhere amidst the shattered buildings and damaged infrastructures. The Nazi had taken most of the people in this area as hostages.


“Mon Dieu, au secours.” Alphonse whispered to himself.


Up on the distance, a truck with several soldiers stood in wait, he motioned his squad to hide. He could hear their constant chattering. What were they doing? He needed to get closer; his beloved Raphaëlle could be amongst the captives.


“Was ist das?” A German solider sat on a piece of rubble playing around with a golden pendant.

“Hören!” Another soldier grabbed him from the neck of his shirt. “Schrieben!”

The smaller solider quickly handed over the pendant and continued on writing on a piece of paper.


On the distance, a solider dragged a lady from her arm. She kicked and screamed, as she was flung on the dirt floor, falling on her chest. Her dress was ripped and dirtied, but he could identify it anywhere! “Raphaëlle!”


“Am fünften vierundzwanzigsten, freitag.” The smaller solider wrote as fast as he could, stopping from time to time. ““Von dreizehn Uhr bis zwanzig Uhr, ich finden acht Französisch Personen.”


Raphaëlle lay on the ground, looking up at her captors. Alphonse loaded his gun, as his squad members readied the attack.


“Laissez-moi tranquille!” Raphaëlle shouted at her captors. They laughed and neared her, grabbing her arm and her long golden locks.

“Sie ist schön!” A German soldier commented.

“Je ne comprends pas.” She hid her face away, as the solder tugged her hair even harder.

“Sie ist mein!”

“Non, Non, Non!” She pushed and tried to pull away.


A shot pierced through the helmet of the solider, falling stiffly on the ground. Blood splattered over her face, as she crawled away. The German’s tried to find cover but the barrage of bullet fire overwhelmed them.


Raphaëlle looked in awe as soldiers marched towards their position. She could hear their chattering, though she couldn’t understand what they were saying.


“Bloody Nazi blokes!” A soldier walked up to her, extending his hand, “Are you okay, Miss?”

“Est-ce que vous pouvez m’aider?” She replied.

“I am so terribly sorry, but I think we are not on the same page.” Turning over to his comrades, he shouted, “Bring the damn translator!”

Alphonse ran to where she was, falling to his knees and holding her in a tight embrace. “Tout va bien. Je suis ici maintenant.”

“Je t’aime de tout mon cœur,” she replied.

The English soldier looked away, “No need for the translator! Go back, boy!”

“Vous êtes mon tout” His lips, broken and dry, touched hers, filled with dust and tears.


Holding her close, he flung his rifle over his shoulder and walked her over to his squad. The invasion had begun, but atleast the person he loved was safe. The red mantle of destruction and terror was slowly consuming their beloved homeland. Alphonse’s days of fighting had just started as Raphaëlle’s waiting had slowly prolonged. This blessed reunion was a sign that there were souls out there who longed for the same thing but were unable to attain it.


The rivers are still dyed in red, the soil is still saturated by the black stain of gunpowder and death, the skies still echo with artillery shells and uplifted dust, but atleast he still has her.

Seeping Red Hope I



A short love story based on the Nazi invasion of France. The limit was 1500 words, so this first part is approximately 747 words or so. I decided to do something different and make the dialogue native to those languages. If something is not well written, tell me about it. 🙂  Part 1 of 2.


The images still linger inside her mind, the smell of licorice and mint, swirling beneath the façade of roses and tea. A cookie crumb laden table adorned with porcelain cups and plates.  A single napkin stained with her favorite tea: apple and cinnamon. She looked around, gazing at the evenly cut grass and the artistically trimmed rose bushes brimming with red. The gentle sway of the peach tree above her, still without its generous offerings to her family yet covered in cute pink flowers.


The sheet rock beneath her small mahogany chair continues on to the back gate. The sun’s rays piece the tiny spaces uncovered by the tree, each flower glowing beneath the light. The echoes of yesterday dull the carefully orchestrated song produced by the erratic movement of the tree’s branches under the influence of the composing wind.


Tiny birds, covered in brown feathers with a warm yellow underbelly and small black and white stripes on their head, flutter to and fro, pecking at the crumbs. It was still midday, the butterflies flew to and fro between rose bushes, tiny black ants ran mindlessly on the surface of the stained napkin, and a hummingbird provided her with the needed afternoon entertainment.


A constant banging on the distance, resonating at the back of her mind; too low to be a nuisance, too high to be ignored, she gazed at the horizon. A horizon still covered in blue, crisscrossed with light white clouds that seldom traverse the sky, like a painting by her grandmother. She read a letter, sighing at the last sentence. Sorrow was nothing compared to loneliness.


They told her there was a world that people like her would never understand. A world beyond silk clothing, silverware, porcelain and mahogany; where chocolate never caresses lips and tea flows tasteless and cold. A world without molasses or sugar, no biscuits or sweets; where the sound of music is dulled by the constant tune of war and misery.


She knew very little of that world, that’s why someone close to her heart ventured off into that realm. He promised memories and a fine story to tell but above all, he promised peace for her. Now, he’s somewhere where the rivers run red, the ground is soaked in black and crimson, the skies are filled with grey despair and the sun rises above the souls of those who wander aimlessly into the night.


Holding her dress between her legs, as the wind blew stronger, she shuffled into her summer home. Looking at the calendar, she scratched off another day: May 24th. Falling lifelessly on her bed, she looked up at the wooden ceiling, now a red stain started spreading down to the walls, engulfing her in a sea of scarlet, white and black. She woke-up screaming, soaking in sweat, covered in Goosebumps, back to 1940.


The constant banging and thumping in the distance grew louder and louder. She closed her ears with the palm of her hands, looking outside her window. The soothing light-blue tone had slowly been overwritten by a grim orange stain. Smoke rising, staining the sky with grey, she held on to her rosary and prayed that the world she did not know of would not consume her.


Loud motors growing closer and closer, the house started shaking. The distant bangs become loud explosions, shattering windows, blasting away trees. Battle tanks broke through the fence, crushing the rose bushes she had carefully worked with for over a year, bathing the old peach tree in a shower of flames, and breaking away everything that was before them. Men in masks, a familiar red band on their arms, rifles ready, backpacks with weapons and sin; these were the men that Alphonse had warned her about.


“J’ai besoin de vous ici avec moi,” she whispered.


A loud crash shattered her peace of mind. Hiding inside her closet, she could see, from the crevices of the furniture, these men wandering around her home. They didn’t steal anything but rather burned and broke everything they could find; vandalizing her home.


Closing her eyes tight, she held on to the door of the closet. A strong force tried to pull the doors, but she grabbed on to them as hard as she could. Finally, a strong force pulled her. She let out a scream as someone grabbed her by the hair. She opened her eyes, staring into the gaze of two lifeless blue eyes. His clear skin covered in dust and soot, a few strands of golden hair peeking from underneath his helmet.