Rainy Day

Ever since I can remember, I have always stayed up to listen to the rain on the side of my bed. Not so much look at it, but rather stare out into the darkness and listen to the pitter-patter against my window and the constant trickle down the gutter. At 3AM, the rain drowns out all other noises. The complacency of the stillness and silence gives time for contemplation.

Thunderstorms are a whole different story. I can’t help but smile as a heavy one rolls directly over me. It’s exhilarating yet at the same time comforting. I get chills all over just thinking about it. I feel like the lightning is a flashing sign that says, “Hey! Get ready! The thunder’s coming. Wait for it…”

BOOM! goes the thunder.

Being from California, thunderstorms are a real treat. I’m sure anyone reading from Texas could care less and probably scoff at my naïve enthusiasm, but over here it still holds a novelty factor.


There are those devastating mornings when I would wake up to see the puddles of drowned earthworms and realize that I had missed last night’s rainfall. But the rain would greet me (almost apologetically) with that clean-smelling aroma that’s probably one part asphalt and two parts acid rain.

There are so many kind of rains. There’s tropical rain. The kind you can strip to your underwear and dance around in (given you’re a child and it’s culturally acceptable wherever you are). There’s windy rain. The kind that gives you a friendly smack on the face time to time and gives the rain bursts of energy and dynamic. Then there’s weekend, winter rain. The kind that makes your heart jump out of your chest and dance as you imagine shredding down the slopes the next day with powder all up in your face. Or maybe that’s just me.

Then (if you’re really, really lucky like I am right now) there’s rain at the crack of dawn, when the birds come out to join in it’s chorus.


Space Team

“Engage the freaking Tachyon Drive!”

“Stop yelling at me!”

“Newtonian Photomist to full power!”

“My station is falling apart!”

“Wait! Wait! Everyone flip! Incoming wormhole!”

“We’re all gonna die!”

“NO! Not like this. Not here!”

And that was a brief example dialogue one would expect during a game of Space Team. The exclamation points are understatements of the loud chaos that ensues. If I could only recommend one thing for the rest of my life, it would be this game. I literally want to add exclamation points to every sentence, but just assume that from now on. Accept the excitement that is oozing out of me right now.


Here’s a quick rundown of the game:

You and up to 3 other people are in a spaceship. Commands are listed on each device (phone or tablet). It may be for you or another member, but everyone must communicate and collaborate to get it done before the timer for each instruction is up. Too many mistakes and you all die a painful, fiery death.

It’s a ridiculously simple local multiplayer game with retro 8-bit style graphics, but probably the most intense and interactive game out there on the app store. It’s easily overlooked (took me a year before I finally tried it out), but once you and a couple friends download it, it’s SPACE PARTY time! For added chaos, they have a “Massive Mode” which doubles the max amount of player but is prone to crashing.


Now let’s get deep (since this post can’t just be a game review).

Although this game teaches the wonderful and vital concept of teamwork, it also brings the worst out of us. The further we hurtle into the “heart of darkness” of deep space, the more chaos rises to the surface. I probably get the worst with my patience. I’m the guy that is playing on other people’s phones in addition to mine and screaming out commands. And this is just a game. I can’t even imagine (or rather I do not want to imagine) how crazy I’d get in the face of actual life-threatening danger. Would I be the first to abandon ship and grab the only escape pod? Would I be the one that betrays the crew to the alien bounty hunters chasing us? I hope all this psychoanalysis doesn’t kill the game for me, but that’s some food for thought.

We truly get to know ourselves when inhibitions are forgotten amidst chaos.

Chapter2: “Moon under her feet”

The thing’s mouth unhinged and an airy rasp came out in place of a groan. OK. Not the time to panic. I pulled out my wand and blasted it with some Lacarnum Inflamarae.

Damn it! Still a muggle.

With the bitterness of old wizarding dreams crushed long ago, I sprinted across the room as the thing got its head through the window. I gave it a shove and felt my hands pass right through it. Its decayed flesh crumbled between my fingers like dry sand.

I couldn’t stop. My body kept going forward as if I had passed through little more than a cloud of thick musk. The momentum carried me over the ledge and out into the biting winds.


Cold air whipped my face for a split second. This might be a good time to mention that my room is on the second (and three quarters) story.

The thing’s snarling was quickly replaced with the crunch of my ribs splintering. The thing about Newfoundland’s winter nights is that the fluffy white powder we all know and love freezes over pretty hard. But hey. Instant ice pack, right?

My lungs were emptied along with a good deal of my bladder. I took half a breath in and felt my limbs go numb and my chest explode with burning pain. My blood pumped faster and harder against my battered insides, forcing me to let out the little air I was able to take in.

The thing had disintegrated underneath me, and the dust from its remains filled my throat. The particles hovered around me, eager to replace the dust that I managed to feebly cough out. The ringing in my ears was fading now, and I was able to pick out some faint moaning. I shifted my weight to the left where I felt like there were fewer broken ribs. Sheer horror washed over me as I rolled onto my back. There were more. More of the things. Zombies. Walkers. The undead. Whatever you want to call them.

I screamed for help. Loud. I don’t know what nonsense people tell you about being so scared they can’t make a sound, but through the splitting pain and all, I yelled with everything I had.

It felt like the desolate town absorbed the sound of my desperate cries and ravenously devoured every thud from their approaching footsteps. Not an echo. A blanket of silence had fallen over, muffling, suffocating me.

I had never felt so alone, so helpless. The cricket chirps ceased. The snow felt warm between my bare toes. I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. With every exhalation I could feel the life leaving my body. I was trapped.

As my vision faded in and out I saw the corpses become corpses again. Their limp bodies fell to the ground. All but one. A girl. She wasn’t the same decayed earthy brown. Her pale skin made her look dead but in such a different way. A beautiful way.

The pain in my chest melted away as I stared into her blue eyes and my breathing steadied to the rhythm of her gentle footsteps. These weren’t generic blue eyes. They were that exact shade the dawn sky gets right before the sun breaks its horizon. Soft and tranquil, but tinged with a fierce purple-red.

I closed my eyes and let the darkness envelop me.

“It’s okay. I’m here now.”


I’m terribly sorry for the wait guys. I’ll be sure to get these next chapters out faster, but out of everything on this blog, I want to maintain the quality of the novel itself.

As a novice writer, I’d appreciate any and all feedback (positive and negative) from you guys. I really hope you enjoy reading this chapter!

If you haven’t read the previous chapter yet, click here.


Nostalgia is easily one of the most powerful tools with the widest range of emotion you can use in your writing. You can break a reader down in reminiscent tears or bring that smirk to the corner of their lips. And behind that tiny smirk can hold so many beautiful memories.

Today I saw the Lego Movie. Out of all the movies out there, this was the one that coaxed that rebel tear out from my eyes. This cheesy, stop animation movie  opened the floodgates of childhood memories. I looked back at the crazy robot fights I had with my friend with our made-up rules. Half the battle was being able to agree on which rules to allow. Then there were the cities and towers we constructed with the mismatched bricks we could find. It was our own little world we its own set of laws. We had the freedom to do whatever we wanted, whenever we wanted (until dinnertime of course).


The Lego company made a brilliant move with this film. The whole franchise relies on nostalgic references whether it’s Star Wars, Harry Potter, or Batman. This is what makes literary allusions so great too. With a simple reference to another preexisting work, the reader can get so much and you as the writer didn’t even need to delve that deeply into the matter. However, it also relies on the reader’s knowledge. For example, my cousin who lived most her life in Vietnam was in the theater too. She literally slept through the movie about 15 minutes in. The play on nostalgia had absolutely no effect on her because there were no memories from which nostalgia could stem from. She had marbles, not Legos. So with these sort of things, extra attention to the target audience must be kept in mind. 

What is something in your life that holds a lot more meaning behind it than it normally should?

Just a dream?

Have you woken up from an amazing dream and desperately tried to recollect its events as more and more slipped away?

My dreams are intricately cinematic with multiple POV’s and angles, action sequences, conflict, and love interests. I rarely recall my dreams though. The great part about that, however, is that it sort of filters out the boring dreams. My subconscience even manages to slip in some emotional scene to tug at your (or I guess just my) heart strings or throws in slow-mo here and there. I like to imagine myself as a director in these situation so forgive me if I speak as if my dreams have an audience. My dream even have establishing shots. But the thing I appreciate most of all is the attention to detail of it all. The plots are original, sometimes even interesting, but it’s so broken up. So sporadic. This is exactly how I feel with this whole project. The ideas are there. But the continuity is lacking. And I’m only on the second chapter! So I end up with the Miami Heats. Great components that struggle to work together. A mashup of incoherency (albeit great incoherency) where the only conflict exists with the storyline.


This is another topic all together but imagine not being a mere spectator of something but actually experiencing it. Take “living a dream” to a whole new level. Imagine immersing yourself into a movie so deeply as to have your adrenaline rush, your tears fall, and your breath cut off. I want to create something one day that does this to my audience: weave a story so intriguing with imagery so beautiful that they pay no notice to the realism or verisimilitude.

My first chapter was a breeze because I was just laying down the foundation. Now there’s the whole issue of building upon it, while maintaining sense and furthering the plot. And it’s only going to get harder as I get farther and farther into the book. (I apologize in advance but I love my metaphors) If I seek to build a skyscraper, I better plan it pretty darn well before letting people go in it. But if every story is making the building more unstable, I can’t really continue from there.

So where do I go from here?