I Miss..

I miss hearing characters' voices in my head, the countless insomniac nights in which I'd be trying to quiet a story plot over the other. I miss the excitement I get when a new scene forms in my mind which jolts me off my place to write it down.

Those days were amazing, I get so hooked up on my stories that I feel the presence of my characters, feel the need to be their voice and have words written on the blank ms sheet. It was incredible, the amount of time I spent in writing so much and deleting most of the lines only to add more of them later. I miss reading my stories as if for the first time, I try to put myself in the reader's shoes and find faults in everything.. It usually works, though most of the time, I end up feeling exhausted and I'd stop writing for a while. But the urge to end a story kicks in just in the right time, or not, in some cases. Above all, I miss the feeling that I get when all's done that I could have done better than this. Way better. Then I end up publishing it anyways.

Keep Writing!

When your mind can't come up with something to write about, you feel like you've no longer got it.. But guess what? You do, it's all part of the writing process. It's only natural that we go through writer's block.

So I've been asked about this quiet a lot, how do we get over it? Writing! Yes, pick up your pen and scribble whatever you could think of. Names, adjectives, recent events, anything but the point is to keep writing.

If that didn't do much help in racking your brain, try writing exercises, ask for topics and try as hard as you can to write about each one of them, as long as your pen is moving and you're pouring out your ideas then you're fine.

The first step that might be hard for all of us writers is the starting point. You do have an idea, which is brilliant but for some odd reason, you just can't start, mainly because you have no clue on how to go on about it. Don't think about it too much though, the starting point is very essential but the content matters too. Hence, once an idea hits your mind, get it down on paper! Who knows, it might be your inspiration in the upcoming struggle. Start plotting, then think of your audience, who are you targeting it to and most importantly, how do you want it to be read? Once you got the hang of it, you'll find that words come out so effortlessly.

I understood this from one of my favourite Young Adult author, Mary Hogan who when I asked for an advice about writing said that the only way to do so is to keep writing. The trick is to get both your pen and ideas flowing at the same time.

Happy writing!

Missing My Best Friend

I have lost touch with my best friend. He used listen to me, be there whenever I needed him. He used to offer me his shoulder to cry on and I appreciated his forever-lasting silence. He could not speak but the state of mind he put me in did not need any spoken words.

Whenever depression clung its claws on me, I would sink into total darkness, a blackout, whose light of hope was him. He would take me out with such grace as if I did not go through what I did before his arrival, just like my own knight in his shining armor. No matter how far I have distanced myself from him, he would welcome me back, arms wide open, reassuring me that I belong right there, with him. He would stay with me all night long, listening to everything I had to say. Regardless of my many imperfections, he stuck with me throughout, reminding me of my perfections.

When everyone used to turn their backs on me, he was the one I would immediately head towards. Even though it was almost impossible to let my heart out at first, he never failed to make me feel at total ease.

Again, he remained silent: something I have always adored about him. Sometimes, the best conversation is that of pin drop silence. I used to do all the talking and it did not bother him one bit.

Often, I can not help but think that I am getting good at chatting with him. I even believe it's a special talent of mine. With him around, I discover my hidden thoughts, what I would not dare to utter out loud to anyone. I know he would not answer most of my questions but I never gave up trying for he gives me hope and teaches me patience.

Here's a promise from me: I shall get back to my pen, my best friend without whom my life would be meaningless.

3 Things I'm Grateful For

There are a lot of things I'm extremely grateful to have in my life but career wise, here's the ultimate 3;

Getting Published: I never thought, not in a million years, that I’d actually see my name in print. Sure there’s the dream of publishing my own novel after being discovered in a so-hollywoodish kind of way but to have my own column is something I’ve never foreseen before.

Winning Cubscribe: I know I was supposed to be optimistic about the whole thing but I wasn't. The topic we choose was alright though the approach we took could have been different. Nevertheless, my team and I won the The Week's challenge for Best Design and Overall Winner.

Writing and finishing stories: The only story I've ever written and finished was Perspective just because it was a school project. When I started writing after that, I've scribbled plots here and there and a couple of stories but it is when I posted them on here that I had the courage and the drive to work on them further. It has a lot to do with my readers' comments that I saw my potentials in the true sense of the word. So a huge THANK YOU to all of you out there who stood with me since the first days of my noob-ish attempts.

Dear Someone...

Dear Someone,

You've been ruining my life ever since I was 6. Sure, it was fun playing around with you, even I can admit that but sometime later dealing with you just became very hard. I've thought a lot about killing you, destroying you but knowing that I don't have the power to, I couldn't. You started possessing my mind and thoughts ever since I realized I was doomed. You're the first thing I think of in the morning. Not because I love you, no, the amount of hate I have towards you is so much bigger that I can't see others when you're in line.

When you're around, I become very weak. My mind goes off to different places all at once just by feeling your presence. I've avoided all those who were related to you for the fear of being reminded of you as with them your odor filled in, your scent that changed the whole atmosphere for me. A lot have urged me to change my attitude; maybe then you'd soften up a bit. Maybe, they said, I'd fall in love with you just like others have.

Know that I've tried, more than you'd ever know but I've been failing repeatedly. You've never captured my heart. I tried to admit you in, keep a place for you, hoping that someday, somewhere you'd finally belong there. Above all, you should know that I did all of this not because I wanted to, on the contrary, because I had to. There was no other way to survive than admitting you're a part of me; an essential one at that.

You confuse me to bits. I can’t think straight without messing up big time. You shatter my self-confidence into a tiny, million pieces. When asked about you, my heart beats a billion times per second that I could feel it bursting out of my chest. Even though I might not know everything about you, I feel like a total idiot when speaking about you. Your problems puzzle me, your words are unfathomable. Reading your expressions is as hard as a dyslexic reading a first grade textbook.

I could go on and on about the things that irritates me about you but I’m afraid the ink would rip this letter and you wouldn’t get to read what I wrote above. It saddens me that we’d never gotten on terms before but I’d like to keep it that way. God only knows how I’d end up if you’re going to spend the rest of my life with me.

One last thing dear Math: I hate you with a passion.

Not yours truly,
Kitten.

Dilemma

You know that feeling when you feel like writing but you just don't know what to write about exactly? (Noticed how I used the word 'feeling' and 'write' twice and now thrice?) I'm not talking about updating this blog or about my column. It's just that I used to write a lot before; poems, thoughts, stories, book reviews, etc but I've gave up on that now and I hate myself for it.When I really think about it, I realize that I've adored writing only because it helped me take my mind off things; kept me busy and occupied as long as I have fingers moving and there are words on the paper. With having days off for the past 2 weeks, not only have I been careless but I've spent most my days and nights in front of the TV screen. I've watched movies, shows, and a lot of news channels that had to do with Egypt's revolution.

There's just too much going on in the world and I hate how we're not giving them any support. You'd see some of us Arabs blaming those young people who gave up on everything and sacrificed their lives in order to have a dignified living when others out there call this destruction and causing chaos and disruption. I'm not one to get into politics but to see all these protesters holding on for more than 2 weeks is truly magnificent and utterly inspiring for all of us here. It's more than mere pleas of help; it has a lot to do with claiming ones' rights and speaking up their mind no matter how dangerous it is.

The past weeks have never been easy on the Egyptians in Tahrir square; they've fought mobs, thugs, tear gases, bullets, hunger, discomfort amongst other things. All of this to let their voices heard to those who have forgotten how to listen and might never will. Such heartless people exist everywhere but it didn't stop the protesters from doing what they believe to be life-changing to live decently and in peace once again.

Last night's interview with the detained (Head of Marketing at Google in the Middle East and Africa) Wael Ghonim gave a new meaning to the revolution. He was arrested by the Egyptian military for 12 days and have been blindfolded for that amount of time. Ghonim was released only last night and this was his interview with Mona, a show presenter on Dream TV 2; Part 1, 2, 3 and the emotional, tensed final part of the interview here if you've missed it:

Spark Of Inspiration

Imagine what you are writing about, see it and live it. Do not think it up laboriously, as if you were working out a mental arithmetic. Just look at it, touch it, smell it, listen to it, turn yourself into it. When you do this, the words look after themselves , like magic. If you do this, you do not have to bother about commas or fullstops or that sort of thing. You do not look at the words either. You keep your eyes, your ears, your nose, your taste, your touch, your whole being on the things you are turning into words. The minute you flinch, and take your mind off this thing, you begin to look at the words and worry about them..then your worry goes into them and they set about killing each other. So you keep going as long as you can, then look back and see what you have written.

The above was a quote by the great poet Ted Hughes which I found in a book whose name I can't seem to remember that revolved around improving your poetry skills. Funny how a single paragraph can excite that living creature inside you who have been waiting for the exact moment to get inspired back and help you get on with what you enjoy doing the most; writing.

I believe my writer's-block have stayed for so long and I know I must do something about it. I'm glad to say that I haven't got out of the zone totally as I still write my article every week but story-wise, I've missed the thrill and excitement I get over scribbling down the next scenes and scenarios through my characters words. Good news is, a couple of days...Thursday, tops, I'd post a new chapter of Hiatus Lane, inshAllah.

Article Topics Needed

These lack-of-inspiration moments occur to me more than any person you've ever met (or will, in fact). So here I am once again, asking for topics to write about on my column. Almost every Monday an idea just pops to to my mind out of nowhere but I'm trying to stop procrastinating and so far, staring at the blank MS Word sheet didn't do any good to me.

Generally, I feel passionate about writing topics related to society; things like local issues, etc.. though I can't seem to think of anything right now. Your help will be appreciated.

/End of blog post.

Untitled Post

I'm sick of checking my blogger account, as if I'm waiting to read a comment or two when there's absolutely nothing in it that deserves commenting. I'd be honest if I said that Twitter took Blogger's place for me but I have a good excuse for it: My PC crashed two weeks ago, my brother's laptop battery has gone mad and I hate working on Dad's PC or sister's laptop. My phone acts as a great way of tweeting but sadly to say, it's really hard to write a blog post through it.

I've been on a roller-coaster lately given the school work and the numerous quizzes I have to take. Although I'm extremely grateful for the national day events that kind of decreased the stress a bit. Attending the Students Parade has to be the most important highlight of the past couple of weeks along with the Fireworks championship, plus my siblings' school celebration. I wish I had the time to upload the pictures I took during those occasions but as always, I'd do what I'm good at; procrastinate.

Muharam's 5-long-holiday was okay; full of laziness, unscheduled routines and a bit of reading here and there. I'd wanted to tag along with my family to Dubai but the whole packing dilemma pulled me back. What can I do? I'm just lazy like that. Holidays aside, school starts tomorrow. Like people my age, as much as I hate going, I know I'd have to at the end of the day. Let's just keep our fingers crossed for it to be enjoyable. No, scratch that. For it to end as soon as it started.

Speaking of school, I literally haven't written for a while now and I missed it epically. Hearing a Lebanese accent the other day made me realize how out-of-it I've grown to be and especially reminded me of completing my latest story, Hiatus Lane. When? Can't make any promises so stay tuned anytime soon from now on.

[Poem] Once Again

The crouching murmur fills the air,

An echo hisses within the walls,
A lady weeps underneath the blanket of darkness.
Protected by its secretiveness,
The crying continues.

Hours and seconds,
Misery corrupts the wave,
And an absolute stillness takes control.

She stops,
Notices the indifference
The scene then is a blend of both,
Crying and silence,
Once again

Note: You've probably noticed how short and simple this poem is (if it can be described as one) After all, this is my second attempt in poetry after Isolated Soul.

What Keeps Me Going...

With days passing by so fast, my writer's block keep occurring more often. I'd be clueless on what to write about for my column and on every Sunday night, I switch on my laptop and place my fingers on the keyboard, waiting for some miracle to happen and hit me with ideas.

Last night, while my Dad and I were cutting and pasting his own articles and placing them in a portfolio, this mini conversation happened:

Dad: What day is it tomorrow? Saturday?
Me: No, it's Sunday.
Dad: Okay.
Me: Why?
Dad: You haven't written your article yet.

I should have known, one way or the other, that he'd bring it up even though I had repeatedly asked him not to.

While I was browsing through his articles that dated back to 2003, I'd noticed how, over the years, the papers have turned to yellow-ish brown. He'd had 2 pages full of his coverage on a specific event and I had asked him if he really did all of that in one day. He'd said yes: He'd attend an event at night and would come back home, note down the details, even if it meant staying up till mid-morning, because, he said, he is supposed to turn it in by the morning.

I wondered if I'd be capable of doing that when I'm reluctantly writing for my column before the day of submission it self. Dad showed me his column; it was full of interesting articles and plots, rich in meaning and vocabulary and I wondered if I could ever live up to his achievements.

If Dad, I decided, wasn't pressing me in about sitting down to write up something for my column over the past few months, I know for a fact that I'd become careless by the day and forget all about it. Keeping the fact of having asked him that it truly bugs me aside, I am happy to realize that this is exactly what keeps me going: Him.

Neoteric Glance [Finale]

Neoteric Glance ~ Finale
By Kitten

A/N: The final part! Yes. Too soon? I understand and because I do, I chose to end it right now. Another idea of a story jumped into my mind two nights ago and I just knew I had to finish this one or the latter would vanish and this would clash with my thoughts for the upcoming one. I tried as hard as I can to lengthen the story but luck wasn't on my side during the process so why would it hit me now? Without further ado, you may proceed to find out what happens...

Ryan

I wanted to stand there, in case if she felt like coming out but I didn't know what to tell her exactly because, I decided, I was the stupidest man alive, a total failure, which is no surprise, at all. Even though I couldn't have known, I regret acting foolishly and admitting about what bothered me, I only knew later that I should have kept it to myself.

I hurt her beyond measure and I took full responsibility for that but I couldn't allow that scene to be the one that would end our relation. I wanted to be there for her no matter what, even if it were outside the borders of the school. At least, of that, I was sure.

Giving her time, I fought the urge to call Sarah for two long nights in which I spent in and out of sleep, reluctantly. Only on Sunday did I build up the courage to pick up my cell.

'Hello Kate. Can you send me Sarah's address?'

~*~

Nearly two minutes passed till I heard light footsteps on the other side. 'I'm coming', Sarah said.

She opened the door and was surprised to see me, of all people, standing there. 'Hey', I said immediately. It didn't take long for her to whisper back, 'Ryan. Hi'.

I then asked a simple question 'How are you doing?'

'Fine', was the word that pierced my ear the most as I knew for a fact that she wasn't.

'Sarah', I wanted to cut right to the chase and say it, 'I'm so sorry for your loss, I wouldn't have said a thing if I knew'.

'I am too', she said, in a distanced-voice that wasn't hers.

Then she gestured for me to come in. I walked inside her house knowing that there were people who lived here but no longer did. People whom were so dear to Sarah that she might have taken a long time to get over them and I brought their memories back, ignorantly.

The living room had a nicely decorated shelf containing over two hundred books, I assumed. The bookshelf was so wide that it covered the entire right side of the room and gave it a rectangular outline.

She followed my gaze and said, almost soundlessly, 'They used to be my Dad's'. At that, I couldn't breathe.

'They passed away in an accident', she whispered and I didn't bring myself to look at her face, her used-to-be cheery face that I forever distressed.

'Oh, Sarah', I exhaled heavily and went up to her this time. Sitting next to her made me realize how pale her face had become since the last day I saw her. She kept staring at her hands while speaking, 'A young driver hit their car. My Dad was driving and Mia and Lizzie were playing rock, paper or scissors at the back seat'. She smiled halfheartedly and continued, 'They all died at once'.

'Sorry', I choked out the only words I can say even if it wouldn't make any difference. Without thinking, I opened my arms and she fell right into them. She hugged me back so tight that I nearly gasped for air.

'They left me all alone', she sobbed, tears flowing right into my white shirt. 'Shhh', I wanted her to shake off this idea, 'if they had the choice, they wouldn't. No one would. I know I wouldn't ever leave you'.

We sat there for several minutes, Sarah crying and I, well, trying my best to sooth away her pain. Suddenly, she backed away from me and eyed my now-ruined shirt. 'I'm sure you didn't come here so that I could ruin your shirt', she said and reached her arms for some Kleenex. She wiped away her tears with trembling hands. 'If you ever felt like talking to someone', I started saying, 'then know that I'm here'.

When she nodded, I held both her hands between mine and said, 'Sarah, I know this isn't the time but, when I first met you, I knew you were different and that's when I became a different man. I had insomniac nights in which I began thinking of what I would do about my feelings, the ones that I have for you. My parents divorce forever changed me, made me sulk in a whole other world where its population was one person; me. And you, well, you amended that. Watching you every day with the kids made me get in touch with my little siblings that I haven't heard of in weeks and overall, enjoy the little things I had'. I felt like I said all of that in one breath. What the heck, I thought and finally said it, 'I like you, Sarah, very much, and I even think I'm falling in love with you'.

She seemed to digest all of this. God! This is way too much for one night, she must be thinking.

'Ryan' she said my name with a special tone that made me adore her every time she uttered it. 'I think I do too'. She smiled right this time because it reached to her eyes. 'Your arrogance and stubbornness makes you unique', she said and I felt my heart pounding hastily.

'Is that a good or a bad thing?' I asked, grinning.

*****

This may sound bossing around but, I would like you to give me honest comments on how to improve my writing. That being said, I also tried to get into the male character here (Ryan); Let me know if I did. And special thanks goes to Squinty, Naba and Rummy.

TheWeek's Cubscribe Challange

The Week challenges different school teams to write up a story for two pages that its due to April, 15. Yesterday, my team and I attended the workshop at Muscat International School with a group of The Week editors to discuss what should be done and ask questions regarding the matter.

Due to crazy traffic, we arrived 30 minutes later but were glad to make it at last. The workshop lasted for an hour and a half and we knew what we’re supposed to be doing exactly. On the other hand, I met Nabsj, Aswath and Filly for the first time. Later that morning, my friends and I walked to QCC and had total fun.

The workshop made me realize that we have lots to do regarding the story and the layout of the two pages and the fact that it’s not going to be easy.

[Book Review] The Time Traveler's Wife

A story of a man who suffers from a disease where he goes back to the past or to the present and future. He’s trapped in the battle of time, trying to stay put as much as he can so he could hang out with his wife, Clare.

At the beginning, he struggles to go back and meet Clare, the young version of Clare (starting from 5 years old). Henry emphasizes on how the force of love brought them together, and that nothing, not even the dislocation of time that occurs to him unexpectedly can tore them apart, but I did not think that was exactly true. Clare got to meet a man at the age of five, who claims to know every single detail about her and was obliged to be-friend him…till she was sane enough to fall in love with the older version of Henry, probably at the age of 40. It was an unusual kind of relationship between Clare and Henry considering the huge age difference in Henry’s past and Clare’s present, almost gave Henry the pedophilia impression.

Writing style wise, it was a new one. Audrey has this bold type of writing that forces you to read and blinds your eyes on the many flaws of the story plot.

A time traveler seemed like a good story as a science fiction but ruining it with a wild type of love relationship between two people was too much for me. 4/10.

I wouldn't waste my time in watching its movie because...well, just take a look at the stupid trailer.

Isolated Soul

Total darkness is all I’m seeing.

I walk my way through the absolute sea of black…I try to make out the shapes that is appearing out of no where. They are not clear. A blur of white colour blinds me…and mixes the scene with blackness…or is it gray? I cannot tell.

A whoosh of noises…

I trace my palm on the wall on my right side; it’s the only solid thing I can touch and feel….where am I?

My left arm is stretched…reaching for something that is not there…

And suddenly, I am in the middle of a room with a low ceiling. An old dusty room, I observe later. My palm is still resting on the wall, clenching it so tight because I am afraid it might disappear just like my feelings.

I stare and turn around myself a couple of times, like a dumb cat trying to catch its own tail…

The room is black. Its sofa and table and books are all black in colour with a slight shade of grey on them…this place is very old.

Without realizing why, I start running towards the door, to the way out; the exit. I swing the door open and I am on the roof of a high tower. I am about hundreds of meters off the ground.

Is this a trick?

Every corner is covered with webs…some pieces of broken glass and wood are lying here and there too.

What is this place?

Laughter; a wicked one shrills down my spine and ears and everything go back to a blur and black all over again.

I let out a wild scream and there is no way I can stay quiet anymore.

I deserve to have some piece of mind,
If not all the time, than at least once in a while,
I grew up into this world,
With no fears and no sins,
I was innocent as a bird,
Free and determined

Why can’t I just go back in time?
I would choose where I stand,
And with whom to be,
I would take my choices wisely
With such care and thought
As if was a matter of live or die

While I am here, I cannot comprehend,
The meaning of free will,
Everything is planned and I am,
Waiting anxiously, still,

Suffocation fills my lungs,
As though my world is full with smoke
Because of it I can’t breath
Or have my own clean space

Don’t I deserve to have a painting of my own?
One that I would frame and hold,
Or some beautiful flowers,
Which I would watch over,
And take good care.

Don’t I deserve to be human?
Am I not a human being?
Or am I just another isolated soul?

+ An attempt of trying to write poetry even though it didn't turn out to be one. Nonetheless, I wrote this when I was in an utterly crappy mood.

Before You Know it

Time passes by like lightning. Before you know it, you’re struck down.

The same quote applies to my situation. I’ve been on a two weeks break and before it, I had all sort of plans to make the most of it, and guess what? I’ve only accomplished two of them:

1. Re-read The Deathly Hallows.
2. Write and finish a story [Shattered Hope]

~ It was planned that I’d get to attend the Disabled home-care centre, where I’d help out for 2 weeks, but I had transportation problems so that ruined the whole thing.

~ Visit our Quran’s school and help in teaching. The same above reason prevented me from doing so.

Also, start working on Harry Potter’s fanfiction starting from this section, precisely:

Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix
Chapter: Beyond the veil
Page: 710

Scene:

At the department of mysteries where Harry had fallen into the impression that Sirius was locked up with the Death Eaters on Voldemort’s order. Harry had seen through Voldemort’s mind that someone was being tortured and the dreams he saw were all of a tall corridor leading to the door of the Department of Mysteries. It’s then when he found the prophecy that has his name on it, as a group of Death Eaters close around him, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Neville and Luna.

I only wrote half a page and realized that I can’t compete with Rowling’s intelligence, although that’s not the point of it all, but I just created an excuse of my own, if you know what I mean.

Normally, I don’t watch TV unless a movie I’ve seen earlier is aired, so recently I got back to the habit of staring at the screen whenever.

::Movies::

Never Been Kissed
The whole story plot was lovely, and Drew pulled the young-ish look just fine. 9/10.

Fever Pitch
Basically, it was all about baseball and that was the point of the movie, till a bit of romance between Drew and her boyfriend was introduced. It’s wasn’t all that great, though. 4/10.

In Her ShoesOne of the best movies I've watched in a long time, and I wouldn't mind watching it again. Cameron Diaz shined in this movie. 10/10.

:: Shows::

The Simpson’s

Before, I couldn't watch 5 minutes of it and now I just can't get enough. I'm hooked, and you can blame Fox Series for it. It's on almost 24/7. Also, I watched it's movie and meanwhile, Fox series had the Simpson's series on. See? It's not my fault.

Make It Or Break It
It's a shame that it's on every other Thursday

American Idol
I don't know why I've started following it since day #1, as I've never been a fan of the show. Anyways, I think Lee has what it takes to win it, besides his hotness, of course :P





Though I don't believe in the whole Valentine's Day crap, I'm looking forward to the movie! Just take a look at all the stars cast!

Starring: Bradley Cooper, Jessica Alba, Anne Hathaway, Julia Roberts, Ashton Kutcher, Jessica Biel, Jennifer Garner, Emma Roberts, Joe Jonas, Topher Grace, Patrick Dempsey, Queen Latifah, Jamie Foxx, George Lopez

And I'm a fan of romance comedy, not cheesy and entertains you at the same time.

The official trailer:


Here's for a bit of amusement on the same occasion,

Police in Saudi Arabia rid stores of red roses, heat-shaped things as Valentine's Day nears

Religious police in Saudi Arabia are cracking down on stores selling items that are red or in any other way allude to banned celebrations of Valentine's Day.

A Saudi official says policemen are inspecting shops for red roses, heart-shaped products or gifts wrapped in red, and ordering storeowners to get rid of them.

Such items are legal at other times of the year, but as February 14 nears they become contraband.

Saudi Arabia bans celebration of Western holidays such as Valentine's Day, named after a Christian saint said to have been martyred by the Romans in the 3rd Century.

Saudi has it's own way of dealing with this, but would it really stop people from celebrating it if there were not gifts to be gifted? I think not.

Shattered Hope [Finale]

Something so important that he could not text it…

Curiosity crept its way through me, making the wait unbearable. I never wished for anything so badly as much as I wished for owning some sort of magical ability of reading minds at these pregnant seconds.

'Hello' his deep voice echoed through my ears when I picked up the phone immediately after the first ring. It showed how desperate I am and I could not care less about it.

'Hey, what is it?' a yet clear demonstration of my anxiety though there are other thoughts that raced their way to my mind, taking control of all my senses.

'I…' He could not hide his hesitation either, and the doubts I had moments ago became crystal clear in front of me. 'I want you to be honest with me…do you really remember me from school?'

'Yes, I do' I answered, blindly.

'I know it was ages ago, as I also know that this might sound ridiculous but I do not give a damn…' he said it so fast that it sounded as though he was struggling for air, 'is there anything you want to tell me?'

'What!' I could not form the words or take control of anything that my mouth uttered, 'I mean, no, you said you had something to say', even though I was clearly stalling and lying, I hoped I was not that transparent and at the same time I reminded myself of how bad of a liar I was.

'Maria,' he breathed into the phone, sounding frustrated and I hated it. 'I know what I said…But, you did not answer my question yet' I could predict how his face might have looked like; eyebrows ceased, looking more curious than hopeless.

I sighed heavily, leaving him hanging in there and said after few seconds, 'yes, and it is not of highly importance than what you are going to say'.

He weighed his chances then said, 'I doubt it. Go on, I'm listening'.

'Just say it'.

'Okay,' he made up his mind and I was stupid enough to continue the conversation. 'You know back at school, I had a crush on you,'

Mohammed had a crush on me! ME!

'And... 'He wanted to finish, but I saved him only to realize that I've pushed myself into further troubles, 'I did too'.

Why, Maria, why!

My mouth acted before my brain, 'We were teenagers back then, Mohammed'.

'Ha-ha' he let out a nervous laughter and I joined him, and for a couple of seconds, it was just me and him on our own, laughing at our haunting past.

'When I first met you,' Mohammed said and my brain stopped functioning, 'Those feelings' he was finding the right words, 'sort of…came back'.

The world suddenly dissolved, containing me within it. Salty water streamed down my eyes and it was then that I knew I was crying. I walked to my room and hid beneath the duvet, not caring whether he was waiting for a reply or not.

I was speechless.

'Maria,' he said, and I opened my eyes and ears ready to hear what he had to say because I did not have what it took to reply.

'Aren't you going to say anything?' I had kept him waiting for one solid minute but what do I have to say?

'Listen', he continued, 'I don't expect you to have the same feelings. Just say something'.

'No, you listen to me!' I sobbed. It was the first time in my entire life to cry in the presence of someone other than my own self.

'You cannot just come up and say that!'

Why am I being so defensive?

'What we had before was nothing, and that was when you thought I was nothing'. I sobbed even harder, 'Were you even aware of my existence?'

'Please…' he pleaded, 'do not cry'.

'You cannot tell me what I am supposed to do' I snapped back.

'I'm not supposed to, yes, but I cannot bear the fact that you are crying because of me. I am not worthy of you....' he trailed on.

'I had a crush on you for four years', I said out of the blue, 'I do not expect you to know that'.

'I did too, Maria, I really did,' He confessed, 'but you had made sure that none knew any means of contacting you. How did you expect me to get to know you?'

He wanted to say something. I could not wait any more, 'Yes…' I urged him.

'And…' he said finally, 'and now that I did, I want us to start over'

'Mohammed, we were teenagers and I do not think that that was anything. It was just a crush' I said, wiping away my tears and sounding serious.

'You said it. I do not know about you, but there were some feelings left for me, and when I saw you again, I fell in love with you'.

This is not fantasy, wake up: He loves you.

'I love you, Maria', he finished, and my head spun around.

'Please tell me what I want to hear,' He pleaded again, 'Please…'

'Stop' I said it to the world, to myself, and to Mohammed, because I wanted things to be right when I said this, 'I have always loved you'.

'But,' I was not done yet, 'There are no second chances in love. Thanks for everything, Mohammed'

Click!

And that was the last time I ever talked to him again.

[Shattered Hope: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4]

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A/N: A friend of mine was surprised that I had actually included some sort of romance in a story, as she thinks that I don't 'believe' in this kind of things.

To make it clear for all of you, as every other piece of writings I've written, a dream inspired me to write this one too. The characters were all there and their emotions were portrayed, which made it rather easier for me to scribble them down and add a bit of my own take on it.

Thanks to everyone who followed Maria's story, and as you have read, she did not believe in second chances in love just as I don't like happy endings.

P.S I had lots of fun writing it; insisting on staying at my cousin's place because that's where ideas hit me, waking up at 2 AM to note the first few lines of every chapter, finding the right black-and-white pictures, not to mention, the constant excitement of wanting to know what would happen at the end, because Mohammed did seem to be a nice guy, don't you girls agree?

Planning Techniques?

Here’s the thing, when I start working on a story or something similar, an idea pops up in my mind. Minutes later, I’d find myself scribbling it down like a lunatic. It’s like a sudden urge comes out of nowhere and forces me to write, even though it was the last thing I had in mind.

After this crazy 30 to 45 minutes of being absent-minded completely on what the hell is wrong with me, I stop. Just like that, As though my mission is finally over. That much is understandable. Later, when I want to complete what I started, I just feel…blank. I would have no idea about the letter of the next word. And that is why I stop in the middle of things; because, at the time, I feel totally clueless and ironically stupid.

My question here is, once an idea comes to my wacko mind, should I scribble it down as points only, then sit down and arrange the whole story line and its plots? Or write the whole thing from the beginning?
Is it okay for a writer to be clueless on what the next chapter is all about?

Enlighten me, fellow readers.

My Article On Muscat Daily

While I was going through Muscat Daily on Monday, I found the ad about ‘Citizen Journalism’ and thought ‘why not?’ I then submitted my article based on the post: ‘Jump’, They Said via E-mail. Later that day, I got the acceptance letter.

And yesterday, Wednesday, Oct 28th, it got published on Muscat Daily:

Short Stories

Here’s a list of my writings:

(Click on the title to view the page)

Her Fairytale

Chapter 1

Chapter 2


Perspective

Teenager's Memoirs


Part 1

Part 2

Shattered Hope

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four [Finale]