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Creative Writing Portfolio

Retail Therapy

a villanelle

Everything is tolerable when I consume

What will I buy today to cure the blues?

It’s only sunny when I throw away my money

Tons of online shops I browse, creep and lurk

Seeking euphoria from latest shoes

Everything is tolerable when I consume

When I find something I desire, I smirk

Pull out my credit card and pay my dues

It’s only sunny when I throw away my money

Once again, I return to my glum work

Endure more fresh capitalist abuse

Everything is tolerable when I consume

Follow this steady cycle like clockwork

Empty wallet for things I hardly use

It’s only sunny when I throw away my money

Once again, despair goes beyond berserk

Once again, e-shops I peruse and cruise

Everything is tolerable when I consume

It’s only sunny when I throw away my money

Creative Writing Portfolio

The Perfect Face

a dramatic monologue

As soon as I wake up

I must apply makeup

Steps done in exact order

To soothe my appearance disorder

I’m hiding behind a mask

To escape scrutiny’s grasp

One day I’m too thin

The next I’m too fat

People criticize my skin

Everyday feels like combat

Stand in front of the mirror

Start with prep and prime

Next is some shimmer

Then my eye I outline

Foundation applied as a base

Wrinkles I rid

Redness I erase

Brows are full

Shadow on the lid

Lips colourful

Once I’m done

I step back 

At myself I stun

I swear I’m not a megalomaniac

Then a million pictures I take

Where my face is all fake

“So why all the makeup?” one may ask

Appearance is my ultimate task

Because my life is over publicized

Without makeup, I would never be prized

I’d be no one

I’m just trying to keep up with the Kardashians

Hoping my name too will have meaning for eons

Creative Writing Portfolio

Unconventional Love

NYC Midnight Microfiction Challenge Competition, 250 words, 2020 submission.

Alexandra and Drew stroll across the Charles Bridge, hand in hand. They stop beside the Madonna statue and look at Prague. 

“Did you think about what I said?” Alexandra asks. 

Drew grimaces. “I did. I still don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“Why not? We get along, we’re happy. Isn’t that what marriage is all about?” 

Drew sighs. “I suppose. But your family doesn’t like me, I’m too ordinary. They’re always complaining about how I dress and what I say. You deserve someone better.” 

“You know I don’t care about any of that,” Alexandra reasons. 

“I know, I know. But wouldn’t it be better to be with someone wealthy?” asks Drew. “For Christ’s sake, I can’t even afford a hotel or bloody dinner! It must be embarrassing for you.” 

“Drew. Look at me,” Alexandra says, now facing Drew instead of the water. He turns to her. “I don’t care about money or what car you drive or where you work. My parents have been trying to set me up with a capitalist drone for years! It’s just not me. I love you and that’s why I think we should get married.”

Drew faces the water again. Pause. “Okay. Let’s get married.” 

“Really?” Alexandra’s face is a stifled glow. 

“Really. I love you.” 

Alexandra throws her arms over Drew’s shoulders and shrieks with warm passion. She grabs his hand and walks towards the Prague market. 

“C’mon, let’s go ring shopping,” Alexandra says. Drew smiles.

Creative Writing Portfolio

A Dog Walks Into a Bar

The dog, Walter, saunters into the bar. He’s greeted by the drunken guests.

‘Oooooo look, a doggie!’ One woman said with intoxicated excitement. 

A man made a clicking noise with his tongue and cheek, his hand outstretched.

Overwhelmed by the shouts and commands of cock-eyed people, Walter retires to a small room at the back of the bar. The tipsy crowd moves on to the regular mode of entertainment, hockey. 

The bar owner had come to know Walter. One day, Walter came inside the bar because of the blistering cold. He just wanted somewhere warm to stay. Ever since that day, the bar owner always left him an old pillow to lay on in addition to a bowl of water and food. 

Walter liked the bar owner, Jerry. Unlike the drunken crowd that he served, Jerry is reserved and quiet. Walter often wondered how he got into the bar business. He was too kind to be working long nights with nasty crowds. Perhaps it was good money, Walter often thought while he stayed in the back room. Or maybe he inherited the bar? 

After washing down treats with water, Walter lay on the pillow to warm up. Through the thin walls, he could overhear booze driven conversations. Most of it was slurred nonsense or small talk, but then he hears something interesting. 

‘Did I – did I tell you about-about the hidden t-t-treasure?’ One man said, heavily slurring his words.

‘Wha? Hidden-den treasure?’ Another man replied, equally intoxicated. 

‘Well not tre-treasure, but loootsss o’ money. A couple d-died several years-s ago. They were m-m-murdered and the money was s-s-supposedly left.’ The first man said. 

Walter wondered, could it be real? Or just two drunken men shooting the shit? Walter decides he wants to find out. He leaves the comfort of his pillow to find Jerry. 

Creative Writing Portfolio

Boundless White Sanctuary

Her snowshoes, a deafening crunch in the expansive silence. 

Heart racing, she enjoys the boundless white sanctuary. 

Accustomed to the blaring of traffic and idle metropolis racket, hush is a sound long forgotten. 

An abundance of coarse, crisp, crystalline snow encases the wavy ground. 

Broken boughs, rocks and trees poke out where the inescapable snow permits. 

The white blanket unwrinkled, aside from faint prints of lonesome animals and wads of fallen snow shrugged off by woody evergreens. 

Peculiar shaped peak holes within forest thick allow for peering at the pure, hardened body of water. 

Barren and icy branches are grotesquely demented next to coniferous feathers. 

Through a peak hole, a murky mist swallows the ebb and flow of black trees. 

Endless, ghostly clouds lace with the mist and barricade sunshine. 

Snowflakes lazily float down. 

Several fleks land on her cheeks and melt into fabricated tear drops. 

The polar pang soothes her puffy face. 

Hues of black and white are often thought to be macabre, but she feels the cosmic, intoxicating power of nature.

A chilling breeze whirls by, a shiver crawls down her spine. 

Trees answer back with weary moans and groans. 

After leisurely sways, trees come to a halt and the unfamiliar tranquility returns. 

She breathes in the sharp air and wiggles her toes – it’s time for the next step forward.