Flash fiction: Still Holding On

So, this is a surprise of including one of my flash fictions. It’s rated for general readers. Let me know what do you think. Thanks…

Noises and commotions coming from all over the place during the photo shoot session. There were reporters from different media coverage to catch a glimpse of you. Glitterings in every corner. The media had set their very eyes on you in this beautiful morning. I adjusted the lens of my camera and aimed directly at your breath-taking feature and took a couple of shots. As the spotlight shone at your way, it once again captured my meek attention.

You’re nevertheless special…

Many fans have dreamt about marrying you. Models and actresses dying to be your partner, purely on sex or marriage. There was at least one woman to warm your bed each night. The choices are varied. They love you and your professionalism. Physically and mentally you’ve touched them in every different angle. They placed you in their hearts. The worshipped and admired you. But there was only the ‘one’ you’ll choose. The one whom you share your body with. The one you’ll call her your companion, best friend and lover.

I knew. I’ve been there and done that.

After the photo shooting session, my colleague and I went for a quick lunch at the nearby cafe. I spotted your girl left unhappily, brushing me passed. I assumed it was some argument going on between you two. I precisely looked over at the seat besides you. Empty. You saw me standing there. You took a deep breath and looked deeply into my eyes. Your lips wanted to say something but your mind weren’t allowed it.

“Why I don’t stand another chance honey,” my mind said.

As I walked down the street later that evening, I spotted the photo you snapped with her for this summer’s Dior Homme collection. My feet were pleading to stay and had my eyes forwarding at your dashing expression. I’m in pain when I saw you both. I closed my eyes and tears trembling down.

It was last autumn when I was fooling around with my camera in your apartment. You were on your bed, sheets covered your lower self, I had to take several candid shots of you. I could see your natural laughter from your heart deep within your mind. Your childishness betrayed your celebrated self. My heart skipped a beat when you held me to you. We were then lost in each other’s eyes when you put my camera aside.

“May I taste your lips?”

Your voice melted me, turning inside out. I felt the vibe of love pressing against my dignity. I’m losing control the further our lips came together. You treated me like a princess and I truly cherished that. Those were the days when I drew myself into your arms, perchance falling asleep just by listening to your heart beat. You’ll never whine or wake me up though you maybe tired. You found yourself closing your eyes, asleep with me. I should know right now that you wouldn’t let me into your arms again.

But I wouldn’t show my weakness of being without you. While listening to this beautiful piece of sentimental tune, my mind was singing with it, illustrating my inner feelings for you. It still hasn’t cease. It’ll never will. I still pray for a place in your deepest heart that you’ll take me in your memory, for all we’ve shared, our closeness and the touch we unveiled.

At home, your presence still haunting me, the fruit bowl where you took the red and green apples from. You washed it and asked me to share with you. Bite by bite. Bitterly, I tasted it without you right now. I looked over to the couch where we used to sit, and discussing about your next photo shoot layout. I could still see us, our luminous silhouettes. I walked over to take a seat and run my finger tips on where you sat. Your scent deeply intoxicating my mental faculty. My school of thoughts had your images. I frowned deeply when I felt your whispering words tickling into mine.

I’ve finished my latest assignment of photo shooting in Vienna. I remember telling you this is my dream come true if I have the lifetime opportunity to travel to this place. Notwithstanding it’d score more blissfulness if you were beside me, share my happiness.

I strolled by this news-stand and spotted a magazine which has you as the cover model. I was reading and browsing through your interview with the press. Your charisma, a mass weapon of destruction. Your hidden treasure of commitment in your work reminded me the reason why we bid farewell to our love. You said we’re not meant to be because you want to concentrate and be dedicated by build up your career.

Innocently, I still hope for a place in your heart. Would it be too greedy for me to ask for only one simple place? Although that place maybe too low for my level of intensity, but you should know that I wouldn’t mind. I prayed for your blissfulness and supporting you in bittersweet symphony. Perhaps it was difficult for me to accept such cruel Fate. Though my heart will ache each time I thought of us…

Months later, I was in the record store. Recently I watched the stage performance of ‘West Side Story’ in London and I was totally falling head over heels with it. I’ve watched Andrew Lloyd Webber’s ‘Cats’ and Shakespeare’s ‘Romeo and Juliet’. It reminded me of you the first time when you and I shared the common interest in contemporary neo-classical drama performance. It gripped so much of your interest. As I looked up, a familiar hand was on mine grabbing the similar piece of Sergio Mendes’s latest. We never spoke a word, but staring deeply into one another’s eyes.

Your eyes reflected our memories us.


A pair of strong arms came just in time. For me.

“Why you have to be disappointed?” my mind wondered.

Our eyes divorced each other’s presence as you heard her calling. Please forgive me for I couldn’t confess how much I love you still. I’m still holding onto our memory though I’ve moved on. Too absured to quit this love, for I’ve understood you more than your former celebrated partners.


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Yangsze Choo

Likes to eat and read


“Trusting God turns the deepest crisis into the highest praise.”

Random Musings

Poetry by Pooja Alok


Keeping Cantonese alive in Norway

Graham Lawrence

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Sincerely, Shalom

我除了與我的根重新連結, 也種植我的新生活。

My Hong Kong Husband

Third culture wife: Polish girl married to a Hongkonger, fresh off the airplane in Ireland. AMWF, lifestyle, culture, food, Asian fashion and a little bit of Cantonese

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