100 words: Coffee

Some people love tea and some people love coffee; I, myself, find pleasure in both of them.

This morning I woke up craving coffee. I went to the kitchen and discovered that we ran out of ground coffee. I went to the storage room and found an unopened box of coffee beans. 

I slowly opened the box and enjoyed the perfect smell of fresh coffee beans for a long moment before I put it into the grinder.

The smell of fresh coffee overwhelmed the kitchen as I sat down and enjoyed a quiet morning with a fresh cup of coffee. 

Photo taken from here.

A birthday wish

He slowly parked his new car in the driveway; slowly because he didn’t want to make noise which would draw his wife’s attention; this was the day of his life and he didn’t want her to ruin it. He stepped out of the car and looked at it with both happiness and concern in his eyes.


It was his 58^th birthday and he bought himself the only thing he ever really  wanted – a red Shelby Mustang ’65 with two white stripes.


He remembered the day when he first saw it. Everything seemed grey to him in those days; he was 12 years old and he was just struck by puberty. Him and his mom were on the way to the grocery store; she always forced him to go with her wherever she went. They were walking toward the store when he saw it parked in front of a bakery. He stopped and looked at it with his big brown eyes; it was the most beautiful car he had ever seen… it was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen in his entire life. His mom started yelling at him but he didn’t hear her, his senses weren’t able to embrace anything else.


From that day forward he dreamed about this car all the time, day and night. He never really wanted anything else but the circumstances weren’t in his favour. He met his wife in high school and they had their first baby right after graduation. She thought Mustang wasn’t an appropriate for a young father so he didn’t buy it. A couple of years later they had another son and his wife used the same argument again. When children grew up they wanted to go to college, which was expensive, and his wife always said that they couldn’t waste money on such foolish nonsense.


She always had an excuse why he couldn’t buy the only thing he ever wanted. But this time he didn’t ask her and he didn't say anything either. He went to the car shop and fulfilled his dreams.

Photo taken from here.

100 words: A homeless lady

The first time I walked past her, sitting on the pavement, I didn’t even look at her. As time passed and our paths crossed more and more often, she caught my attention.

Her back is hunched and she’s very small. She smells funky and her skin is always dirty. She can often be seen around our apartment building and I’m wondering if she used to live here. I’m also wondering why she has become a homeless person.

I’m sure she’s carrying a sad story in her heart and I’m sure that I’ll never know it. 

My inspiration for this story was Lizzie’s latest blog post called Subway sleeper. 

100 words: Chocolate

I’m slowly and carefully unwrapping the silver foil; I don’t want to tear it apart. I don’t like messy shredded foil and I usually don’t eat the whole bar at once so I need the foil to wrap it up when I’m done with it. 

There are brown pieces under the foil. Sweet little brown pieces that are supposed to make people happy.  

I take it into my hand and admire it for a little bit. It’s perfect. But the best part comes when I put it in my mouth where it leaves a warm sweet taste as it melts.  

Photo taken from here

Love letter for a friend

"Each friend represents a world in us, a world possibly not born until they arrive, and it is only by this meeting that a new world is born." (Anais Nin)

Friendships are the most fragile relationships in the whole world. A friend is not obligated to be a friend to someone; it’s his or her own choice to be someone’s friend and to stand by his or her side no matter what happens.

Friendships are fragile, I’ve experienced this many times. 

I’ve also experienced this very recently; I thought I've lost one of my best friends. I thought I’ve lost a person who was by my side each and every day for the last eight years. 

She was by my side in good times and bad, in sickness and in health.

When six years ago a doctor told me I have a chronic disease she was by my side.

When I broke up with three of my ex-boyfriends she was by my side.

When I met Mr Starlight she was one of the first people I’ve told that I’m madly in love.

When I was accepted to the university she was by my side and she was sincerely happy for me.

I’m grateful and happy that I have such a good and loyal friend. I’m grateful and happy that I have more than one good friend for whom I am sure will be by my side no matter what happens. 

We had a fight and I was afraid I’ve lost her. But our friendship is stronger than that. We mean too much to each other to let such an important and loving relationship fail.

She is by my side in good times and bad, in sickness and in health; I know this for sure.

I hope that You also know that I’m here for you, no matter what.

I promise to be true to You in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health. I will love You and honour You all the days of my life.

100 words: Insomnia

I can’t sleep. 

I’ve tried everything – I don't eat before going to bed, nor drink tea or coffee; even hot cocoa or warm milk with honey don’t help.

I’ve also tried counting sheep, cats, dinosaurs and other creatures… unsuccessfully.  

I usually fall asleep when Mr Starlight hugs me tight but for the last two weeks even this doesn’t help.

It’s 3am, I’m sitting at my desk, typing on my computer and listening to Mr Starlight’s steady, heavy breathing. 

I’m envious; I want to lay next to him, to sleep and dream about lying on a perfect beach with white sand.  

Photo taken from here.

100 words: A new beginning

The doorbell rings. 

I’m wondering who it might be since I’m not expecting anyone. 

It’s the mailman who explains that there are three books waiting for me at the Post Office.

I grab my wallet and keys and run to the Post Office all messy and excited.

The nice lady behind the counter gives me three packages and I run back home.

In the safe shelter of my apartment I unpack the books, one by one.

I take each book in my hands and smell it.

I love the smell of a new book; it smells like a new beginning. 

Re-post: My hero

I don’t usually re-post my older blog posts but today is a very special day – it’s my grandfather’s birthday… or it would be if he was still alive. 

I have a need to re-post one of my oldest stories which, in my opinion, didn’t get the attention it deserves. It’s a story about my hero.

If I would have to choose one person who had the biggest impact on my life I would have chosen my grandfather. He passed away in the summer of 2001, just a couple of days before my twin sisters had their first birthday. I was 13 and his death was one of the hardest moments in my life…. I was his little princess and he was my hero… and still is…

I remember him taking me to the kindergarten every day. He helped me take off my shoes and jacket and that was the moment when I usually started crying. Then he quickly put my clothes back on, tied my shoelaces, and took me home. As this became an everyday thing, my parents decided that they won’t insist and I didn’t have to go to the kindergarten anymore, so my grandparents babysat me since they were retired and at home all the time. I was a spoiled child and I always got what I wanted, and staying at home was just one of my achievements. 

He was quite tall though I can’t remember how tall exactly. His hair was greyish and he always combed them backwards. He usually wore jeans and a checkered shirt with a cardigan on top. He laughed very loudly and his laugh was contagious. It still makes me laugh when I remember him laughing. We had our jokes that no one else understood and it makes me very sad that I don’t remember those anymore. He was a truck driver and that’s the main reason why I don’t get mad when a truck driver is slowly overtaking another truck on the highway, blocking the traffic. They’re just people whose job is to reach their destination as quickly as possible.

My grandfather loved cartoons and I still think that’s very cool. We had our little ritual – laying on the couch and watching cartoons after lunch. We usually both laughed our asses off and then we fell asleep. Those were the best of times… 

We both had trouble falling asleep so we usually stayed up very late. My mom didn’t like me staying up late so I went to bed and pretended to be asleep. And every night my grandfather came into my room to check on me before he went to bed. He opened the door very quietly, came to my bedside, and covered me with my blanket in his special way. I can’t explain how, but it’s a very nice memory. 

There’s one event I remember very clearly. It was my birthday and we had a little party for our family. I think it was my 7^th or 8^th birthday, I can’t remember exactly. I wore a knitted pink dress with a white cat on it. My parents let me to drink a sip of wine, just for the toast. My mom said something that made me cry and then she wanted to photograph me crying. I was running all over the house trying to escape from her and in the end, I ran into my grandfathers’ lap. He protected me from the camera but mom still made a photo of me crying in his lap (though you can’t see me crying on the photo). I still have this photo somewhere, I should find it. 

I already mentioned that I was a spoiled child so it doesn't come as a surprise that my grandfather drove me to school and came to pick me up after even though we live about one kilometre (0.6 miles) from the school. 

Once when we were alone at home we went out for pizza. Even though grandmother cooked something, I can’t recall exactly what it was but I think it was some kind of stew, we decided we wanted pizza. So we went to some pizza place and discovered they had pizza with fruit. Of course we ordered it and I think we liked it. That was the first and last time in my life that I ate pizza with fruit but now I have to try it again. When we finished we ordered pancakes for desert, which we both loved. He was known for having a sweet tooth.

He was the big boss in our house. When he commanded something, everyone obeyed. Luckily, I was his little princess so I was a bit privileged. But not always. If my cousin and I fought about something, grandfather always judged fairly. Ok, I have to admit that sometimes when it was my fault (which was very rarely) he didn’t punish me but I always felt guilty for disappointing him.

I always loved to listen to his stories. Because he was a truck driver he had so many exciting adventures to talk about. He was such a great storyteller that I could easily imagine everything he told me. It's too bad I was so young when he died because I didn’t understand some stories he told me about the war and living in Yugoslavia which I would love to hear now that I know more about these things. 

These are things I like to remember about him, not the bad days when he was fighting lung cancer and was exhausted and drained. Though I have to admit there isn’t one thing I would like to forget about him. Not even the day he died…

Liebster Blog Award

Louba from Beautiful or practical honoured me with a Liebster Blog Award. This award is given to blogs with fewer than 200 followers, with "good content" that warrant more support. 

I’m genuine surprised and thankful that Louba thinks my blog has good content. Thank you so much, it really means a lot to me.

The rules of the award are:

1.    Show your thanks to those who gave you the award by linking back to them.

Louba, thank you again for giving me such a sweet award.

2.    Reveal 5 of your top picks and let them know by leaving a comment on their blog.

This is always the hardest part with this kind of awards… People I’ve chosen are all brilliant writers and kind and supportive people, worth following.

Shopgirl - A Blessing A Day

Lizzie - A Little Light in London

Barbara - Notes From the Second Half

Robbie - Tales From Beyond the End of the World

Light208 - Shadows

3.   Post the award on your blog.

4.   Enjoy the love and support of some wonderful people on the www!!! Keep posting, keep commenting and keep being positive.

Flash Fiction: The mask

“Goodbye, have a nice day.” Irene said to her secretary on her way out of the office. She also politely smiled and closed a big black wooden door. On her way to the lift she smiled and nodded to a couple of people she regularly saw in the meetings but never cared to remember their names. She doesn’t have to know the name of every employee in her company, does she? 

“I’m sure your driver warmed up the car for you.” said the doormen as he opened the door for her. Cold air slapped her face but she smiled anyway and thanked him. He was right, the car was already running.

“I warmed up the car.” the driver said proudly as they left the parking space in front of a huge white building.

“I’ve noticed, that’s very kind of you.” Irene answered with a smile on her face and closed her eyes; the driver left her alone and didn’t ask any questions when she had her eyes closed and she really wasn’t in the mood for small talk. 

An hour later they stopped in front of her apartment building where she owned a penthouse. On her way up she kindly said goodbye to her driver and smiled to the doorman as she always did.

“Hello honey, how was your day?” her husband asked her when she walked into the living room.

“Oh go to hell” she said and pushed him away “stop pretending we’re a loving couple already.”

Irene finally took off her mask. 

This story was inspired by a photo taken by Keith Lambert. He is a very good photographer, you can check out his work at his blog Snap Dragon Photography.