I do not know.

I don’t know about you guys, but I think I am hacking into websites better than I thought I am because I have been nominated for the Versatile Blogger Award! And yes, while writing this, I was pronouncing versatile slowly and I still got it wrong. Please check out Lynyo! What I love about Lynyo’s blog is that the poetry written is expressed in two different languages. English isn’t my mother language, and for the life of me, I can barely write a proper couple of sentences in my mother language. Is it because of my lack of trying? I don’t know. I’m trying to get better though. Anyways, that’s that.

Also, the wonderful and inspiring blogger, Tryst with mind, has to be visited as well. She is merely a step short of being a best-selling author. Yes, I’m urging her-forcing, really- to write a novel. She better.

Thank you Lynyo and Tryst with mind for offering me the honour of your nominations!


Versatile Blogger Award:

The Versatile Blogger Award was created to celebrate blogs who have unique content, strong writing, and beautiful images or photographs.


1-Thank the person who has nominated you and share the link to their blog;

2-Share 7 facts about yourself;

3-Nominate some blogs you love.


1-As you may know, I’m currently writing a novella. What inspired me to put pen on paper is the fact that I always had favourite characters, fictional scenarios going through my head and a wish of a plot’s proceeding of my predictions. So, why not create this world by myself?

2-I love black coffee-no sugar- and very dark chocolate. I chose the bitter willingly, I promise.

3-Calories don’t bother me as much as it bothers other girls my age. I mean, someone is always going to be prettier than you, smarter than you, richer than you, so do you really have to kill yourself to reach an invisible throne? I don’t mean that you shan’t push yourself to be generally better, but that doesn’t mean for you to not live, merely exist. That’s not life.

4-I’ve often disliked people who judged by one’s reputation or upbringing. Like, for example, if he’s royalty, he surely hadn’t fought with poverty, right? A man in war is facing bigger troubles, so the prince’s dismay on anything is purely selfish. Wrong. This isn’t the scale to measure on. For someone who hadn’t ever lifted a finger in their early days, it would be surely hard to bare the whole weight of the kingdom, with its shadows, on their lone shoulders. For some one who had never starved or had gotten abused, it is still hard on them if they got bullied or disconnected from someone they love. Yes, they hadn’t faced the scars the abused did, but the scars embedded on their bodies is just as deep due to the bump in their luxurious lives. The cause of misery in the worst’s life is not the same as the cause of misery in the best’s life; nevertheless, pain forces both of them to bow down and beg for release, no matter the circumstances.

5- I’m a bit too talkative when I’m in the mood, as you noticed in fact (4). If I’m reserved around you, that means I’m not in the mood to talk so do not piss me off, or I’m uncomfortable around you.

6-With anyone I’m chattering away with, I give them a piece of myself. Whether they cherish it or leave it, it is their choice. Their choice to gain another one, or lose them all.

7-I’ve been wanting to take 3 majors: Math, Chemistry and Biology. I also planned to take English and Business as an off-course. Students around the world, or anyone really, what do you think? Too much pressure?



1-All Things Uncanny

2-In mind and out

3-A piece of me


And anyone who wants to. Who am I to pick?


I know you’re not supposed to ask questions, but I’m curious. You’re free to answer and not answer, the nominated and the readers alike =D


1-To be always cold or always hot?

2-Ever hugged someone you though you knew, but it was not them? Who?

3-What is the funniest/worst prank you did, or had been performed on you?

4-Fave 3 songs?

5-Which year would you like to live in for a bit? Like, for example, the 1960’s.


Blurred Lines

This isn’t going to be easy. She’s already horrified. But, she’s empathetic. Not sympathetic. I figured as much. With a backbone of steel and a mind of stone, there should be a story behind it too.

I exhaled, “I’m going to spare you the details, but, basically, the same story happened to my brother.  My sister is an undiscovered legend.”

I looked her in the eyes and did not break eye-contact for a good minute or two.

She sighed, “I do not pity you.”

She’s always two steps ahead.

I growled, “Fancy last words.”

Just as I turned to leave, I heard her lilting, deceptive voice, “Sometimes, Caine, we are not from the lucky ones. Aren’t the ones who got silver spoons and golden platters. Aren’t the ones who didn’t need to fight for their rights. Aren’t the ones who never had to protest against unfairness. Aren’t the ones who faced several battles that didn’t require a sacrificial of self, honour and family.

“We are the ones that crawled from the underworld. We are the ones with claws to replace our broken nails, with canines instead of soft teeth, with bloody knuckles and scarped skins, with breaths of fire, with faces of scars, with bodies like cougars, ready to pounce on a predator and with consciences of blood because that’s all we ever won with, all we ever understood, all we ever traded with, all we have drunk here-in the underworld- and all we ever saw.

“We-you and I- aren’t monsters, or shadows or other-worldly creatures. We’re humans; we’re just a different kind. Alas, no matter how clearly the mirror shows the truth, we choose to stay in denial. We’re vicious, desperate and aggressive, but we’re still humans, Caine.

“Pain may have been our salvation; you shall never despise it because of simply being so, for a true monster is the one who does wrong and feels nothing at all; the one who, no matter how much unrighteousness they saw, chose silence as their weapon, spilling no justice at all.”

I closed my eyes, hugged her words close to me, and left her tent. She never said goodbye.

Mystery Blogger Award: I’m Sure I Accidentally Nominated Myself.

AHHHHHHHHHH. Yes, I am genuinely freaking out. This is my third mystery award! Sometimes I wonder if I somehow were the people nomitaing myself because people can’t be serious about nominating me. seriously.

Thank you, Aspiring Author, for doing me this huge favor. Please pay him a visit; it helps with your self-discovery, trust me.



Put the award logo/image on your blog

List the rules.

Thank whoever nominated you and provide a link to their blog.

Mention the creator of the award and provide a link as well

Tell your readers 3 things about yourself

You have to nominate 10 – 20 people

Notify your nominees by commenting on their blog

Ask your nominees any 5 questions of your choice; with one weird or funny question (specify)

Share a link to your best post(s)


Three things about myself (I swear this makes stalking much easier):

I don’t like cakes that come from shops; I only like homemade.

My favourite female character is Aelin from Throne of Glass written by Sarh J. Maas

I dislike strawberry icecream.



What makes you write? What’s your inspiration?

My one reader. I once read that Stephen King judges each passage he writes by predicting what his wife will think. My inspiration is to please and make my one reader happy.

What’s at the top of your priority list? Could be a task, idea, principle.

To always stand up for what is right, even in the face of a loss.

Which quote inspires you the most?

“Be you.” There’s only one you in this world, so why would you pretend to be somebody else and cause an imbalance in the rate of individuality?

Which is your craziest desire that you would like to fulfill?

Finish my book and meet with several authors and bloggers!

What defines your personal integrity? Your values?

To be kind, or to be right?


My nominees:

1- Forgetting a Vorrath

2-Reflections of Life


4-Mercury the Scribe

5- Whispers of a poet’s heart

6- Self-Confidence Africa


My questions:

1-Which has more effect on people, usually: words or actions?

2-Do you wish to have good dream and nightmares or have neither?

3-Which is bad and which is worse (or good to better): big nose or big ears?

4-Algebra or geometry? You can’t say neither.

5-Do you accept the action of mercy killing and why (yes or no)?


Sarah J.Maas

Hai! Do you remember this note?

“*Scherezade’s Labyrinth had asked me to write any type of writing that concerns:
empathy, sympathy, antipathy, energy, and laughter. And yes, I had to search up the meaning of some. Hopefully, soon, I’ll be doing as she requested. Since she hasn’t asked anything, I decided to put some more random questions, picked off from nowhere. Here goes nothing =D.”

That was a rhetorical question. Anyways, soon is now =). I decided to choose laughter from her list of words. This poem describes what brings me laughter: a library and its books. Hope you like it!


Old aromas and high shelves

Ancients stories, please do tell!

History foretold and fictional fantasies

To reap our sane and unleash the insanity

For wherefore hiding it away?

Blushing cheeks and secretive smiles

Hearty chuckles and barely heard cries

A damsel in distress, oh what a vile

Living she was in, a center of a lie

Thankfully, it was only a story that kept us busy for a while!

Cheerful exclamations and happy endings

A bitter character blending

In the ploy

Of mischief, oh what a coy

World they weaved!

A whisper into the night

An adventure against the light

Darkness and the Mafia’s

Secret roads we travelled

And oh, how they marveled

Us, mystified we turned the pages

One after another, until goodbye

Had to be said, for it’s the end

Of the book, releasing you back into reality

Take a breath and see

Which person had a similar story.

Shallow (Snippet #2)

Hey. I wanted to know your opinion about this snippet from my on-going novella, Shallow. This is very dark and…gore-ish, so f you don’t like a bit of horror, do not proceed. I warned you. Please share your opinions in the comments!

Snippet #1:


I hated the fact that I should lift the burden alone. The fact that heroes are the ones supposed to be the ones who hold scars and haunted memories. I did not want to be a hero. My conscience won’t allow me to sit idly though, no matter how much my logic and human nature rebels against it. I was so deep in my musings that I didn’t hear anyone trudging towards me until they cleared their throat.

I glanced up and found Caine, watching me through narrowed eyes, a twitch in his hands that betrayed his nervousness. “Yes?”

“We need to talk.” I padded the bed next to me, gesturing him to take a seat.

“Please do not interrupt me. You and I must acknowledge our betrayals. You ran away. You left school and me in 10th grade. You did so because of me. I told everyone every single secret you told me. They started making fun of you. It wasn’t only cyber-bullying; it reached to a very violent physical level.

“It hurt you. A lot. After all, I displayed what I wasn’t supposed to, on your expense. I thrived on the attention it got me. I mean, I was a nothing, and suddenly, I’m the golden boy. The legend who is a busybody, sharing the juiciest gossip ever heard of. I’m aware I invaded so many lines, I can’t even count them, and that wasn’t because of my difficulty in math.”

My lips didn’t even twitch.

“I’m sorry,” he knelt on his knees, but he was not begging for forgiveness. He was doing a warrior’s stance. It was when you were weaponless, and your body was the only hindrance for the blows given, which was particularly a way of saying that the warrior’s pride was still fighting and he would cower to no one, ask mercy from no one. Caine knew I understood. Did he think I was that pathetic that his sorry would send me stumbling to forgiveness? Just as I was about to kick him out, he-

“Let me finish,” There was no kindness in his gaze, “Did you ever wonder why I did all of this? Perhaps you thought I wanted fame. I don’t. I’ve had enough of that.” Cocky arrogant fool.

“I won’t ask for your forgiveness. I don’t deserve it. I only want you to grant me one thing…”

I’m not giving him the satisfaction of seeing my curiosity. I’ve long learned to master my emotions.

He cleared his throat, “Allow me to foretell a story. There was once a little boy, eleven at most. He lived with his brother, sister and parents. He was immensely happy; he had a wonderful family. On one of the quiet nights, when the moon was almost full, he heard a voice hum and sing like usual. But instead of his mother’s voice singing the usual song, he heard,

“Hush little baby

Don’t you cry

Come kiss your mother goodbye

She was butchered by a knife

Oh, her wails were so high

Pain was her parting gift

Because she couldn’t lift

Herself up with all the blood on her hip”

“The little child was scared, so scared that he couldn’t move. He heard one last blood-curdling scream before the house quieted down. After a few minutes, the boy tiptoed downstairs, to find the kitchen heaving of a metallic smell. Blood was everywhere. On the cabinets, the open fridge, the floors. Hand prints were marked on the walls, some whole, others not. He turned slowly, to find some words scribbled on the walls. He slowly read, “Hush little baby, don’t you cry. Come kiss your mother goodbye…” He tried to clean it all away. He frantically got a mop and attempted to clean the floors to no avail.

“Then, he heard footsteps. He got up and hid in the corner, praying. He never let a tear drop though. Thankfully, it was his father and siblings waking up from their slumber to check out the noise. They were heavy sleepers. The boy rocked, back and forth, until his silent family picked him up and tucked him into bed.

“His father kissed his brow and told him goodnight, but kept the lights opened. The boy got up, clicked the light switch backwards, and tripped to his bed. Maybe the darkness would like to be his friend; after all, it was always there, always following him; it had never left him like everyone else did.”

I was horrified. Speechless. This was my normal, not anybody else’s. I bared the weight so the others wouldn’t. This couldn’t have happened.

“The boy never slept more than three hours a night after that incident. After a year, the same thing happened. The horrible voice sang the same song, but she added some words,

“Hush little baby

Don’t you cry

Come kiss your father goodbye

He was butchered by a knife

Oh, his wails were so high

Pain was his parting gift

Because he couldn’t lift

Himself up with all the blood on his hip

Oh, his blood tasted so vile

Because he wasn’t innocent, he had been killing for a while.”

“He watched the same scene. He was too old to be picked up like last time, so he, and his siblings, cleaned the kitchen and slept in their rooms. He didn’t dare ask them anything. Some things were better not known, his father had once said. His siblings did not offer an explanation, so he didn’t try to ask. He was too young to make his own decisions and so naïve. He didn’t know that sometimes, you can’t follow them like a sheep. People didn’t understand that, either. Still, the boy never cried.”

Who is that boy? I wanted to scream. But the words won’t get out. I will shamefully admit that I’m too scared to know. I’m a coward.

Still, I sat back and listened.


Please inform me if I have any grammatical or any mistakes in general!