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Blind Date


A woman in her 20s was having her arms crossed, cursing at the cold weather of the night in the café. On her table was a red rose, decorated with the scent of espresso and the sight of her wallet. “Red rose shall be the token of our unity”, she wrote to her pen pal one day. She was not fond of blind dates, in fact, she never believed in those. But it’s just unfortunate that she also believed in flukes. Good things sometimes happen from bad actions. So she waited.


She possessed the beauty enough to make the Sun retreat from his glorious radiance, revealing a soothing darkness from his famous counterpart, the Moon. She wore a black dress, a reminder from her prom night a few years ago, and a brown scarf to throw in a perfection of her image. Few men attempted to sit by her side, but she accepted no strangers, just the bearer of the red rose. So she waited.


The man she had waited for worked as a mailman, whose job dedicated on delivering one’s hope to another. He once jokingly said, “If one letter left undelivered, it would mean the end of the world for someone.” She had always found that job to be very attractive. Bridging the gap between two had always been the most fitting job for an altruist. And the man deserves that. He would be the man that the woman marry and prosper.


In a dark alley not far from her, a gentleman also in his 20s was strolling past. He was smiling despite the foul smell of the trashcans and smoke from the cigarettes of the addicts. He wore his best suit for the occasion, and it was rare for him to ever wear that dress. In his right hand, a letter was neatly rolled into a scroll. All eyes were set on him as he walked past by. In an alley as dark as the evil that plagued the hearts of men, a man with radiance often incited hate and jealousy. But tonight, the man incited greed.


Bouquet of knives was laid in front of him like the surefire cliché on Valentine’s Day. The man frowned, but he had no choice. When good and evil was pitched together in a cage, only one comes out.


The man in his smiles turned into somewhat a monster, like a wolf that fends off attacks from all angles. He was sliced here and there. The cuts ruined his best suit. He knew that if he emerged from the battle, the damsel in distress wouldn’t care less about the suit. And he fought.


“If one letter left undelivered, it would mean the end of the world for someone.”


The woman waited.


The man fought.


She looked at her watch. She decided to give it up.


The man was butchered. He fell to the ground. Evil swarmed over him for his possessions. But there’s one thing evil could never claim from the good. It is hope. The man smiled while he closed his eyes. He turned over. And he never smiled again. On his breast pocket erected a small, fragile red rose.


The woman stood up and walked over to the street. She waved to the taxi. It stopped for her. For a moment, she looked to her back. She looked down, and she crept into the backseat. As the taxi starts accelerating, the woman looked out to the streets. She would never believe in blind dates again.

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  • 1) you certainly have good command of words. like the way you structure your sentence. sounds sophisticated. simple and rather original idea. I actually felt sorry for the man and frustrated about the outcome. cool!

  • (Author)
    2) hehe thanks very much! i wrote too much on tragedies though, i need to work on good endings. lol
  • 3) splendid!
  • 4) pretty sad story. nicely written. good job!

  • (Author)
    5) syud and mosh: thank you guys!!
  • 6) ouh dear. how terrible is this?

    you really have your way with words.

  • (Author)
    7) hehe that's flattering. but i do admit i have my way with tragedies. =P

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