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Freeing My Creative Muse short fiction stories in the making....
Here are some tantalizing snippets of fiction stories brewing in my cauldron.of creative juices!
The characters in this short fiction were inspired by my travels and encounters. This is an imaginative story of two young lovers - refugees at the crossroads of their lives who were torn between love and freedom. The story continues to brew...in my head!
All I could see outside from the window of the lodging house was a swath of darkness that was blacker than black. I glanced swiftly at my wristwatch. The luminous hands were inching closer towards the third hour with every tick.
Two hours from now, I would be out of Mae Sot, a dust-swept town bordering Thailand and Burma. The once sleepy backyard of Thailand has become a rough and tumble Thai trading outpost where people from different tribes eked out a self-consious co-existence. Mingling alongside NGO workers were Thai gem traders and Thai security police, Karen and Hmong refugees, and token western tourists seeking a Lonely Planet adventure.
I washed and got dressed quickly. I unzipped the navy blue backpack, a parting gift from a Canadian NGO worker, and started counting for the last time, my two weeks' food rations. The list: a small bag of uncooked Thai rice, four small canned baked beans, some dried vegetables and fish paste wrapped in yesterday's news, two bottles of water, and some matchsticks, candles, a pocket knife and a small cooking pot.
With the survival backpack and a hand-woven, traditional Karen bag slung across my shoulders, I began to thread noiselessly into the silence of the deserted streets towards the small Burmese teahouse.
Another snippet of the same story ...
Emilia said she wanted to walk. I wouldn't say the two-mile journey from the Internet cafe to our lodging house was a pleasant, leisurely stroll. The main streets of Mae Sot, a bustling frontier town at the Thai-Burmese border, were clogged with delivery trucks coughing thick gray clouds of toxic fumes. My nostrils recoiled from the pricky sharpness of the acidic air .
Alright, I said. We ambled along, side by side, in total silence; our warm bodies slightly touching, our fingers gently brushing against one another. A familiar charge shot through my body. I quivered. I haven't seen Emilia for over a month. She looked beautiful with her long black hair coiled into a bun to reveal the soft, contours of her neck. I longed to grab her small, slender fingers and whisper words of tenderness. An iron fist squeezed the knot in my heart. Break the news, whispered a voice in my head.
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