The Mover: Episode III

            He took a deep breath and held it. Slowly, he opened his eyes and saw the television turned on to a static channel. He exhaled—his heart was suddenly beating fast, he felt goose bumps running across the surface of his arms. He swallowed his throat and began to breathe a little faster than normal. His palms began to sweat as he lay on the couch bewildered and scared at the same time.

The Mover: Episode II

            Ava—the daughter of the man who dared to expose the corrupt officials in the city, practically everybody knew who she was and what her father did. Her father was an idealistic lawyer, he worked hard and long to find ways to nail down those lowlife third-generation thieves. Though he successfully rounded up a few of them, he was found dead a few days later in his office. There was no evidence of murder and the cause of death was undisclosed, but he was still dubbed as a patriot and left a legacy that has been remembered since.

The Mover: Episode I

He could feel the strong wind following the contours of his face while it was blowing from his right. The smell of the air was refreshing, very different from the city streets below. The light was as if trying to break through the clouds and he felt some of the sun’s rays emanating his cheeks while the dead leaves of the trees behind him were falling to the ground. He was right there; literally standing on the edge and the sight across was a majestic afternoon view of the entire city.

The Mover: Preview

What keeps us alive? What is our reason for living? What are the values that we are seeking?

"He was right there; literally standing on the edge and the sight across was a majestic afternoon view of the entire city."

FINALLY!

After several grueling days of brainstorming—thinking of how the story should flow through—I have finally done writing the master-plot. I'm just so sorry it took me this long when I said in my last post that it would only take me a couple of days. There was just one part that was very difficult to crack, but when I got past that, everything else went smoothly. The title of the story is; The Mover.

A Passion

I am often asked a question that I could easily answer but nobody would believe. A question that has haunted me for as long as I could remember. As you would continue reading this, you probably would think of me as an arrogant bastard who shows off the little of that he knows. But I know that we all have felt that sense of not having something that you would have probably had if it weren't for certain circumstances. I just wanted to share and to express this feeling that I have had for a long time in writing.

Music has always been an influential part of my life, and I do think it will remain that way ‘til my last breath. Every time I listen to it, especially the ones that I think sounds beautiful, I get a feeling of ecstasy that would flow through me. I could sometimes feel goosebumps develop on my arm and I would remain in that suspended reality until the end of the piece. It is like a drug to me. Often times I would repeat and repeat that piece by whistling, humming, and sometimes even singing(when listening to songs with lyrics) even long after the end of the piece. I have always had this deep passion for music since my first memories.

But the sad thing is I could never really consider myself as a musician. Sure, I can play the guitar fairly well, know a bit of piano, know the basic rhythm of the drums, can learn a song by ear, and whatnot. But all of that means nothing. I have just a very small idea with regards to the most basic theories surrounding the realm of music, I have tremendous difficulty when trying to read notes, and I only know the very basic of terms. I have always been frustrated from that fact even up to now.