The Mover; Episode IX

            Orange glints danced across the dimming sapphire ocean. The radiant sun laid tangent on top of the vast horizon. Seagulls squawked as they flew by in flocks. The sky divided. Like a blanket that was laid above the earth with three different colors. Each gradually becoming the other as distance was obvious. The segment nearest to the sun burned a bright orange hue. Lines of light rays were visible, trying to reach and break through the clouds. The sky directly above was reddish and the outlines of the great clouds were like interwoven roses that floated overhead. The opposite horizon was tinted dark blue. Night had already fallen on the other side. Far, in the middle of the ocean, just beside the column of orange glints, was a silhouette of a cargo ship. It moved slowly across the baring sea towards the north where the Queen City was at.  The breeze was gentle and continuous. Ian ran his fingers through Ava’s hair as they sat side by side on the edge of the Centennial Park just a few feet above the waves.

The Mover: Episode VIII

            The dining room was filled with flavorful aromas and laughter without any presence of unease.  Ava’s mother was very sociable, even to an introvert like Ian. She didn’t seem to run out of questions to ask. Sometimes she would crack up jokes; ones that would really make them laugh it all out. But there was something peculiar, she mentioned about Ian being special—that he had a unique gift, and that the moment she first saw him, she was reminded about her husband.

The Mover: Episode VII

            Two of the intoxicated men held Ava each at her arms while the rest of them were laughing at their enjoyment. She struggled to liberate herself from their grip but she wasn’t strong enough to break free. All the store-owner could do was watch and plea for them to let her go, but the men didn’t listen. They wore nothing but their shorts and sandals. One of them had a necklace hanging on his chest. It was a golden cross and a glint of sunlight reflected into Ian’s eyes. He could not believe such act of desecration—to be happening just outside the majestic Parish Church.

The Mover: Episode VI

            “Our heart is truly a magnificent machine,” Mrs. Enriquez declared, “It is responsible for the perpetual movement of the blood which transports vital nutrition from the food we eat and distributes it to various parts of our body. The blood is also responsible for carrying the crucially needed oxygen to our individual cells. It also delivers waste out of our system. Without the heart, the blood would not serve its function. It is unlike any other muscle in the body. It doesn’t stop beating, because if it did, we would die.

The Mover: Episode V

            He had been lying on his bed—staring at the ceiling for hours already. He couldn’t sleep. The funny thing was that he was awake for two days straight and now that he has finally decided to relax, he feels restless. He was troubled about what Ava said to him earlier. He didn’t even believe her until she took out a pen from her pocket and directed him to do the impossible. He refused at first, but he eventually did. The moment that pen moved by itself, he just couldn’t take it. He didn’t know whether it was some trick of sorts, or whether it actually even happened. He thought his mind was playing tricks on him considering his feeling of fatigue. He thought maybe this dilemma was all just a dream and that the moment that he would fall asleep, he would wake back up in the real world. But he knew that this was as real as it gets.

The Mover: Episode IV

            The heart: a machine of wonder and awe. For centuries it was shrouded in mystery by the unknown. Primitive men attempted to fill that obscurity with superstitions—some still endure up to this day. It has been widely associated with love—with passion. But what it really is—is an organic engine that keeps us alive. Each pulse it creates makes one stronger. And each accidental or deliberate attempt to corrupt it makes one weaker. It has already started beating since long before a person is born. It does not stop, it does not rest—it just continues to beat on until the last moment of life.

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.