Archive for the ‘english’ Category

Poem

For many lives

I’ve searched,

I’ve looked for,

I’ve sought.

 

For many lives

I’ve defied,

I’ve battled,

I’ve dared.

 

For many lives

I’ve cared,

I’ve adored,

I’ve loved.

 

 

July 28, 2thousand14

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Prompt about books from Cygny

 

beast_libraryThe bookstore was enormous for a place that didn’t look so big from outside. However, as soon as she walked in, she felt as if she was Beauty admiring the Beast’s library for the first time, like in her kids’ movie last weekend. She smiled to herself, feeling silly. Books had never really been something she truly enjoyed; books had been tools to learn from, to allow her children to play with.

However this place, it felt as if she was home, making her feel happy and exhilarated. There were all kinds of books, new on a table, waiting to be cataloged, old ones on shelves incredibly clean and apparently in good conditions. She walked around, observing covers in every colour and material. She tentatively touched some, feeling a slight tingle in her fingertips as an invitation from a book or two for her to choose them and read them.

The woman smiled widely even though no one was around to see her. It was definitely something new and she’d have to thank her brother-in-law later on for having dared her to go to this place and find something to read. She knew the girl at the entrance would be willing to help her pick something, but she wanted the book to call on to her.

One more round, she told herself and walked towards the books at the end of the store. James Joyce’s Ulysses caught her attention. She remembered a friend had once told her that book could only be read after you’re forty and she had just turned that a few months back.

Another big smile told her it was the right choice and she took the book under her arm.

It was an old edition, the girl was telling her, and since mice had been having it as a meal in the past, the price was laughable. The woman didn’t really care. She was excited.

She walked out of the bookstore, for the first time, she wanted to make hot cocoa, get in her old sweat pants and sweater and sit in her couch by the windowsill and just read away.

Lovely, she said to herself, her newest adventure was about to begin and she couldn’t wait to getting started.

 

 

Marge

January 11, two thousand fourteen

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Rain

Whenever it rains, it means it’s time to celebrate. Celia picks her child up; she makes him wrap his tiny legs around her waist and he clings to the left side of her body as she rushes inside the kitchen. She sets the water to boil and pours some coffee in it. It brews slowly and she smiles as the smell spreads all over the small house. She sighs resigned when her baby cries; she coos him, trying to make him stop. She succeeds.

Her husband is long gone to the fields. He didn’t have anything to eat before leaving—as usual­—but he’ll be back soon, she mused; and then, they’ll have some meat and the four of them, yes, even their unborn son—or daughter—will last for a little longer. They will grow old and strong and their family will always be together. They will be fine.

The coffee is finally ready. She pours some in a cup and tastes it. She looks for the chocolate she made powder during the last moon and takes a pinch of it, putting it on her coffee. She inhales the steam coming from her cup and smiles.

Outside, the rain keeps falling and yet she feels warm thanks to her baby next to her and her drink in her hand. It has been raining since the night before. Their hearts have been filled with joy by such a simple act. She knew that by now, the other women in the village must be getting ready to meet at the main square and dance in celebration. Celia reprimands herself; she must be getting ready as well.

It will be a good year, after all.

 

 

June 11, 2thousand11

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Hello world! // ¡Hola Mundo!

It was about time I changed this place, and that’s what I’ve just started doing. Labrys is now the place for my original stories. *so excited about it*

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Ya era hora de hacer cambios por aquí y es lo que estoy haciendo. Labrys es a partir de este momento el lugar de mis historias originales. *muy emocionada al respecto*

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Reveries Anthology

I started writing the Memoire series a year ago, but it’s like I can finally put my mind into them. So far, it’s a “mini-anthology” since it’s got only 5 stories, but don’t think that they’re just short stories. The average length is 12 pages and only one of them is 25 pages!

I’m happy with the name, because the stories are basically that; reveries; it’s going back in to the past and let some things come out to the open 🙂

I hope someone might like it, you know?

This is kind of how it looks now that’s still a word doc:

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Sacred Forest II

I’ve continued with the “Memoire Series” and this time, I’ve finally finished the story I wrote about before…it’s just taken a lot from me. Writing the ending was very hard for me. I’ve loved this story ever since it began to be and now, when I know it’s finished, it’s left me with a whole in my chest.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m not complaining about the story at all; I’ve just laughed and cried and felt so many things while I wrote it. And none of that prepared me for writing the ending. I just cried and cried…

Now I know I hadn’t finished it before because I was afraid of letting it go.

I’ll update Minos soon so that everyone can read it.

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Sacred Forest

That’s the name of the new story I’m writing, though I might change it by the time I put it on the website. This tale the story of a forbidden love between a German old man (he’s in his thirties) and a young gipsy girl (she’s in her late teens) during the 1400s in Belgium.

This is a story that has turned out to be very emotional for me. It’s made me study for some things and at the same time, it’s charged with a lot of love; and I don’t tend to write this type of stories. I write “weird” things, yet I believe this story in particular is coming out nicely.

I think I’m leaving a piece of my heart here. I don’t think I’ve ever been so involved with a story, and yes, that’s thrilling, but at the same time, it’s scary.

I’m sure a friend of mine would’ve loved reading it. Well…maybe he’d laugh at the writing liberties I’m taking with it, but I’m sure that whenever he is, he’s enjoying it.

For now, D and I are calling this story “the Belgians story”. I just hope I am able to finish it.

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