An Inspire Me Feature : Ghosts

Italo Calvino said: The more enlightened our houses are, the more their walls ooze ghosts. Describe the ghosts that live in this house: Image credit: “love Don’t live here anymore…” – © 2009 Robb North – made available under Attribution 2.0 Generic

I couldn’t tell if its night or day,

Light, does not reflect on my eyes…anymore.



She usually sits by the left window sill. Then takes a sip from her teacup, and immediately her eyes would zoom straight into mine. I would be sucked into her and then I would be beside her, with my hand in hers.

Crazy hair that stands in all direction would softly graze my face as she cuddles up to me. She wears only a large t-shirt, moving closer to me.

Everything about her is cold. Her lips look cold, her hands are cold, her feet are blue and her nipples would show. She’s very cold and she wants my warmth.


His sound of laughter would echo from the back door, beckoning you to explore the source. A ball would bounce across the house and then rebound to back to the other side.

He wears a blue shirt and black shorts with strangely muddy socks and shoes. His dark hair straight and long, tied behind in a pony tail.

He smiles, and pulls you to the nearest bog.

“Come, lets play” he says

“It will be fun” he says

“you won’t ever want to go home” he says


Golden curls reflecting the sunlight would blind my sight when she appears around noon. Her flowing pink dress with its frills and thrills. Her beautiful pink smile, and beautiful pink teeth.

She’s soft, graceful and genial. The white mare that accompanies her is never too far from her, grazing contently.

A pink puppy would bound about, through her, above her.

She smiles and starts to undress, showing her pink porcelain body all cracked and smashed with its gaps and holes.

“come” she whispers



The storm hits and you run into the house, disregarding the past 3 days. Then suddenly, a creak of wood startles you.

Lightning strikes and a silhouette of a person seated on a rocking chair would appear.

Your heart hammers frantically against your rib cage as you debated between braving the storm and staying to find out.

“what… doing…in my…HOUSE!”

Thunder roared and lightning strikes fiercely again.

You didn’t stay to find out this time.


You stared at the house again and notice that everything looks different.

Yesterday seemed to be a turning point and you wondered about that. Had everything always seem that way?

You recalled a scene on television, it was a scene during the war where everything was fuzzy, unclear and black and white.

That’s how the scene look like now, everything was fuzzy, unclear and black and white.

“I couldn’t tell if its night or day, light does not reflect in my eyes…anymore”

Now my dreams are against me

I have not been well the past few days, missing in training and sweating myself at night. It wasn’t comfortable, but I always look forward to sweet sweet sleep.

My dreams are always relatively normal. The dragons, adventures and the occasional love story always pop in or I get the cool darkness of R.E.M. sleep. So I don’t always remember my dreams after lunch.

The dream started with me, in a large institution, in the midst of battle preparation. I was in the arms of the person in charge of the battalion. A badass but a good leader. He was rough but he showered me with attention. I got random kisses, sudden hugs and hand grasping.

Then, with all the love in my eyes, I looked up to him and said “Would you go on a date with me?”


The reply was swift and stabbed through my heart and before I could think of a retort I hear the sound of the alarm…

Bloody clock.

Good morning and bugger me. What a way to wake up.

Half an hour before shut eye

My favourite part of each day – aside from all my evening activities :

  • cardio
  • jiu jitsu classes
  • boxing classes
  • meeting up with friends
  • dinners
  • drinking parties

is the half an hour before I sleep.

During that 30 minutes, on my bed with my duvet pulled halfway across my body and my pillow arranged to comfortably support my back – I would look around my room. Drink in the sight of my memories, my books (and pondering if I should get a page or two in), my iPad, and the ceiling.

Out of all that I listed (yes, I love lists) – my top favourite would be staring up at the ceiling.

On my bed, finally tucked under my duvet and the lights turned off, the windows opened and the blinds drawn down. Stories will come to life. My imagined love life would become reality, the wondrous house I drew in my imagination would substantiate. Best part of all that? The adventures I would be in, the journey itself would be crafted in detail. From the clothes I wear, to the people in my party and the weapons I would be master at. Our quest would always be to defeat something and by some twist of my mind, the something would become my destined one. Then a whole series of comedic acts would be born and I would reduce myself to chuckles.

My eye lids would start getting heavy by then, my breathing getting deeper, and deeper. The sounds of the city would slowly simmer down and soon, I hear nothing at all.

Until morning breaks and my alarm clock welcomes me to a new day.

Sleepy Adventures

A few nights ago after having too much wine, food and chocolate my eyes involuntarily decided to close the shutters.

I appeared in a village that’s deep in the jungle. People were dressed in colourful clothes and feathers on their head or waist. They seem to speak in a different tongue, but as dreams goes, I understood it. And in a strange way, I’m a stranger and at the same time a part of the villager’s community.

What conspired after was a very important ceremony. Something needed to take place and somehow I was involved in a horrible deed that was treacherous to the people of the village. A man, who turns out to be my only supporter, ended up catching a terrible disease, or was poisoned. Also my fault, I can’t remember how – – I’m doing my best to recapture the adventure in my dream.

The people outside my temporary wooden abode were starting to get restless. They were angry and they needed to vent, shouting started and chaos ensued. The chief or the ring leader climbed up the bamboo ladder leading to the living room I’m in, my friend wasn’t looking too good as he sat beside me. The chief was not impressed. He gave an ultimatum, followed by a threat, images of a noose and many sharp pointy sticks conjured in my head. I had to solve the problem or give my life as a way of compensation.

It didn’t help that my friend is an important figure in the community and is in this situation…with me in the picture. Things were looking from bad to worse.

The chief left and I had to find a way to clear my name. A solution came strangely, by way of a floating dandelion stalk that landed on my table. Then a light so bright shone, I squinted my eyes to try and see. A person stood before me and spoke in the loveliest voice.

The being (I couldn’t tell the gender) advised me of the tasks I need to fulfill, the exotic ingredients I need to find, and the spirits I need to appeal to. All this leads to only one thing, the one thing that can save me, is to save my friend first.

Easy peasy.

The whole searching, finding, pleading and torment was shortened in my dream but I had no doubt I had almost a months worth of effort in it. Somehow I had favour from the spirits and beings in my dream, coincidences and sudden helping hands came to my aid. Soon, I had everything that was needed, and as dreams normally do I don’t need to journey back to my hut, instead a new scene appeared and I was in front of a giant black cauldron. Green fumes rose from the pot as everything was already added into it, some words were chanted and a wooden spoon was used to stir the concoction. I poured the liquid into a beaker (modern items seem to appear without my knowing, I never question it) and let it cool.

My friend was lying down on a mat and was feverish, he has taken a turn for worse and was sweating profusely. His lips were discoloured and he was mumbling a lot. I wasted no time and quickly fed him the elixir. I prayed with all my heart and with everything that is in me.

Another scene appeared after that and I was standing near a stage. I seem to be in the middle of a theatrical play and the village people were there but in modern clothes, the only ones with the colourful clothes and feathers were actors, entertainers and workers for the event.

My friend bounced next to me still in his traditional outfit, he smiled and said everything is back to normal, I did it!

I don’t know exactly what I did but it was all good. Everyone didn’t recognise me except for my friend, he held my hand as we walked and then…

I woke up.

Naming a Pet

A short break from my Fun Times at Home series here’s a random snippet! 

Its fairly important to think of a suitable and easy name for your pet. Something acceptable and dignified for your pet, even though they don’t understand words the way we do.

My sisters and I were pondering over “If we have a dog, what would we name it?” 

Melanie (youngest) : I definitely want to call it Ceberus, imagine how cool it sounds? Here Ceberus, FETCH!

*images and roars of fire pound in the quiet room*

Panda (second in line from the throne) : I think interesting and funny names are the way to go. That way the pet would think they’re already making us happy! I like names like Momo!

Both youngest and I shrugged, its fair enough since it suits her personality. Then both sisters looked at me expectantly.

Me : …..Neng…

Both sisters : What?

Me : I would name it Neng. Its a syllable, there’s no pet with that name and you can use several inflections with this name to express different emotions.

Both sisters : *dumbfounded*

Me : I think its a cool name…

Surprises and Roses

She returned home late after a weekend of drinks, dance and eating. Her soul was filled and so was her mind, she tosses her bags in the corner of her room, slips into her night things…going to bed was still a far away thought really.

The salty oily smell of Mcdonald’s french fries wafted passed her nostrils and stirred the monster in her tummy. “Yum” she thought happily to herself as she whips out a comic book to enjoy.

Her phone pings, she wonders who would be texting so late at night and it turned out to be a reminder for a dinner meet up with a friend. This should be fun.

Next day rolled by and she received more texts from the friend confirming dinner and that she’ll be picked up from home.

“It feels like a date” she thought wistfully to herself. A small smile form as she while away her day with that fantasy. The evening light dims the house and she starts preparing. Sweet smells permeate the air as she emerges from the bathroom, her clothes were strewn all over her bed as she tries to go for “sensual but not too desperate”. Final touches on her make up to brighten her eyes and a quick slip of her heels — the door bell rings.

She grins as her heart hammered hard against her chest, she opens the door to see a huge bouquet of red roses.

“Surprise” Behind the bouquet stood a man she never met. Wide eyed and confused she carefully spoke “You might have the wrong house, but I bet she would be extremely happy to see you.”

His arm shot out to stop the door from closing “No, I got the right house. I got the right person, you just haven’t met me yet.”

She stares as he continues.

“Come” he extends his hand “Come to me and meet me”

Slowly, her hand moves to his and powerful fingers immediately envelope hers as he pull her into a full embrace.

They disappeared into the night with trails of roses scattered on her door step.

A Song Request

She squeezed a slice of lime into her bottle of Savannah. The juices slick against her digits, she wipes them off.

Tiredness plagues her after many nights of late nights, but it was a good tired. Yes, a good tired tinge with a teaspoon of sadness.

Good things did come together as she wished though, she prayed and hoped that her friend would still remain her friend and it happened. They met up and listened to good music that night, to the honeyed voice of the vocalist and his incredible fingers serenading beautiful melodies from six strings. It was a good night.

But late, is late even if she wants to stay, its time to go. Like Cinderella and the spell for midnight, she prepares to leave, and her friend suddenly said “How about one more song?”

One more song then, the spell could break for all she care. Bravery suddenly infused her being as she stood up and walk towards the stage. She smiles at the talented vocalist and requested for a song.

He was kind and before singing he mentions “This, actually, is one of my favourite songs…”

The rest of the words didn’t matter, because music took command. Gently and reverently, his voice wrapped around her soul, the combined air of the guitar, bass, piano and drums whirled around the room. She was entranced to the very last note.

She felt important, she felt cared for, she felt the longing for the song. It was enough, and she was glad that she did what she needed, and made a song request.


Dark. Its dark, everywhere
She wiggles her fingers in front of her
Her wiggled fingers remain unseen
Its dark, very dark.

Yet, she closes her eyes
to concentrate better
to understand her surroundings
to feel.

Her hands hugging in her knees
she breaths in deep
dank, pine, woody – a brown smell
she exhales

Quietly, she breaths, shhhh, quietly
She listens
silence pierces the air, like a flash of lightning
painful, like a long silver needle breaking skin

Ow, she thought as she rubbed her ears
Her arm shifts and rubs against thick, bristly surfaces
She pauses
And freezes

The rough, bristly surface moved
up and down
in and out
hot air blew against her ankle

Wet leather swiped up against her cheek
A trail of wetness remained on her skin
Then a cold nudge onto her elbow
A bark

Its dark, very dark
But her friend is right next to her
Nudging, shoving and guiding
She finally made her way out

Random Story #5

It was a ridiculous thought that passes through little Miss Barnaby’s mind that cool afternoon.

A ridiculous thought indeed.

Who would have thought that becoming a serial murderer to be a life ambition?

No one stopped her, for no one knew about it. That was enough for her to start her learning.

She sought out suspicious people from nasty places; pick pockets, liars, cheats and the occassional stabber in the neighbourhood. But to no avail, did she find one who would make her into a serial murderer.

What does one entail to fulfil this position she wonders. What does one need to equip with to go on, and also she wondered how does one progresses to become one?

Is it enough to wield a weapon? Would it make her a better serial murderer if she specialises in one murder weapon or would it be better to be flexible in that aspect?

She asked around, she poked in and popped out. Until one day, she chanced along an old dingy pub, just behind Crow Street. A rather lonely alley led her to a pasty green door. Pretty unwelcoming entrance really, but her heart began to throb as the prospects of finally meeting a professional to kick start her ambitious career.

She knocked on the door, ‘tap tap’. ‘Hello there, is anybody home?’ The door creaked open, and before she knew it, she felt something solid slide through her person. Fast and sure, and red hot patterns began to swirl at the front of her bossom. She coughed once, gurgled and finally slumped onto the step.

Her eyes glazed over as a voice muttered, “Number 26”.

Random story #4

Everyday is a new discovery. For new things, old things, for a sense of belonging.

She lies back on her bean bag, her hands running up her short hair and closes her eyes as Eva Cassidy serenades her soul.

She thought she didn’t feel a thing, but a little twinge still remains. And she smiles, because it reminds her again and again, what a lovable person she is.

Music has always been her comfort, her pick-me-up, and her constant reassurance. For a while she sought other means of relaxation; buying more books, meeting more people and learning different things. But the pull of what she is, of what her body responds to naturally, rings true.

A name jumped out  as she was reading a story and she searched it on Youtube to have a listen. Like an addict finding a pot of his fix, she’s completely drowned.