Friday, January 16, 2009

A Dream Once Upon A Time (Part 1)

This a just a one of the short stories I've written at some point or another. Partly it's to update this blog and well, so that I don't write the same kind of brooding and thoughtful posts all the time. So, enjoy.


I hate waking up. When you’re asleep, reality seems less painful; unconsciousness drifts over the throbbing hurt of life and softens it. It’s the only time where you can be someone who isn’t you. And that’s the ultimate gift I could ever wish for.

Waking up is like returning to a nightmare – my life. I have tried so many times to trick myself into thinking that the day will only get better; there is always a silver lining in a dark cloud. Well guess what?

It never does.


The door bell rings. The mailman greets me with a sheepish smile. He passes me a package and hastily bids me a good day. Humph, I know I didn’t manage to comb my hair yet and my breath probably stinks but there’s no need to act as if I was a primitive gorilla. Anyway, I stared at my package and found it strangely heavy. How intriguing…. I traipse back to the kitchen and began to untie the strings which held the package.

A note fell onto my lap. I pick it up and start reading.

To my beloved daughter,

By the time you read this, I’ll probably be gone. I wish I had many more years to spend with you but well, I guess there were other plans. Don’t grieve for me. Instead, pick up the pieces of your life and start anew. Have faith that God will always be there for you, no matter what. Bear in mind that faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we don’t see. And don’t give up your dream, no matter how impossible it seems now. You have to have a dream or you go nowhere.

I hope this will remind you of it. And remember, this is only a temporary goodbye. I’ll always be in your heart and you will be in mine. I love you. I wish I could say it for all the times I won’t be here anymore. But you must always know that I love you, I love you, I love you….

Live well, my child.


Wiping my tears on the back of my hand, I open the book and read page one.

Written by Tuen Tze Quan

Copyright reserved

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