Short Stories

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18 articles in category Short Stories / Subscribe

He turned twenty-two today.

Sally woke up with a tremble in his feet. She didn’t know why, but her whole body was shivering like it was winter in July. But winter in July? Sally laughed. It had been a dry week.

Yet she shivered, the coldness piercing her bones.

She kicked her blanket and began her morning routine. First she would knelt beside her bed while folding her blanket into a perfect square. Then she would place it slowly above her pillow. She brought two fingers from her right hand to her lips and placed them on her blanket. Then Sally would get up and go straight to the mirror, as if trying to remember the girl she was.

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This story is a sequel to One day. And it’s a story about hope. But most of all, it’s always been a story about love.

9.51am. She was on her way, but she was restless.

Nervous. Her hands sweating, her heart pounding. She checked the time, 10.01am. Don’t worry, she said to herself, you’ll get there on time.

She closed her eyes and tried to sleep, but couldn’t. She looked out of the window, but her mind was racing.

Soon, she said to herself. Soon.

She felt like it was the longest bus ride she had ever been.

The girl began to look at her phone, and stared at the background photo. Her smiling happily while resting her head on a guy’s shoulder, and the guy who is kissing her head while wrapping his right arm around her.


Soon, she mumbled. Soon.

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Two years ago, I made this poem to commemorate a girl who died on a car crash, way before her untimely death. Somehow, I remembered it today. Dedicated to all to you who have lost somebody.

The pastor comes and done is done
The only child, yes, the girl is
and through the cries, weeps, tears and moans
The girl murmurs, “forget-me-not”

Then Death comes and asks her hand
“No,” she says, “I’m not done yet”
Death nods but says no words
“forget-me-not, I want them to do”
and Death is gone,
is found no more

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