March 31: Storm

From @bangkokgirlblog:

Another day, another drama.

Or are we just hearing more thanks to social media?

Woe is me, life is fantastic, ATTENTION please….

Even more noticeable is people involving themselves in matters that don’t concern them; making a storm out of a teacup seems to be the sport of 2015.

A sad reflection of times. 

From @ratchaprarop:

It was mid-afternoon, the sky was dark and threatening. The storm was on its way. The stall holders at Victory monument were packing up, hoping to beat the downpour that was imminent. Somchai had to get to home, quickly. The weather was changing and so was he; tomorrow he, would be a she.

From konfuzed:

Perfection is something that people can spend their whole lives striving for yet fail to attain.

Perfection is sinister, it eats away at you, forcing you to keep going, keep changing it, keep toying with it…  never stop just keep at it, its never complete…

Perfection also exists in nature… George Clooney showed me – the perfect storm…

From @2yrsbangkok:

She knew she should back off when she saw the storm gathering.  But she didn’t want to.  Not today.  She wanted to press until it burst forth in a cascade of polluted words and thunderous blows.  She wanted the torrent to wash her clean away until there was nothing left to hurt.

From @sengkang:

“Where is it?” Shouted big sister.

“Don’t know, don’t know. Just disappeared.” The tiny sibling sobbed into her tissue.

“Well, I’m not giving you another. You’re greedy guts. And I’ll tell father when he comes home.”

Later, when washing up, the mystery was solved. Storm in a teacup dunk indeed.

Father was not informed.

From @shayanbkk:

Her eyes were full of fury. It was probably not such a great idea teasing her about her weight...but it was done. Nothing could stop the storm that was about to come. Not even a glass of wine.

From @directrun:

A Russian legend lies in the life of Tolstoy. Storms carved his pathway, storms of enthusiasm for sexual passion, sentimentalism, Christianity and asceticism. A storm of gambling led him to be a soldier, later this would burst into a tornado of pacifism.

Tolstoy’s works triggered an outpouring of accolades from a torrent of accomplished writers.

From @nikkihammett1:

The days were sweltering and dry leaves blew noisily in the scorching breeze. We prayed a storm would break the intense heat and finally it came. A storm enveloped the town in coolness.The air smelled of dirt and meant that hot season was finally ending in a welcome climax of heatwaves and storms. Bliss!

From @Naamtok:

Kids running underfoot “Get out!” too many people in my stifling kitchen, empty offers of help, potatoes par-boiling as I prep the Goose’s trivet. Marie banging on about her date, I haven’t even started the batter mix! Jamie hands me a glass of Valpolicella. Cooking up a festive storm. Beloved chaos. How I love this.

From @geoffgthomas:

The rain beat down on the shabby tin roof with the deafening staccato of River Dance, and the overflow from the broken downpipe sounded just like a horse pissing on a concrete yard. Living in Bangkok I was no stranger to thunder, lightning and torrential rain, but this was a storm of biblical proportions.

From @PennyKinned:

Suddenly, this storm. Out of nowhere, seemingly, great gusts of air bloom and the sky darkens ominously. There must have been warning signs, of course. A distant rumble, perhaps? A drop in temperature, a rise in humidity? 

But I missed the omens, like I always do. And the raindrops come as a shock to me.

March 30: Gold

From konfuzed:

My wife wanted a “cultural” night out… Alright, you book it, put it on my card and we’ll go I told her.

We’re queuing at an unfamiliar venue… where are we i asked.  Some ballet…

The stage lit up. OMG,

“Gold, Gold, always believe in your soul, you’ve got the power to know, you’re indestructible”

Someone shoot me now

From @geoffgthomas

The news that John had married his young Thai sweetheart came as something of a shock to all of us. In earlier emails he'd appeared happy and had described Tassaneeya as his beautiful 'trophy wife'. But now, having spent two hours in her company, I can only assume that he hadn't won the gold.

From @bangkokgirlblog:

She had always loved rainbows. 

One day on discovering the elusive end, she found the infamous pot of gold to be a myth. 

Instead of feeling defeated she sat by the rainbow and realised she had her health, friends, family, peace, freedom, knowledge and love – seven colours are more valuable than one pot of gold. 

From @NaamTok:

“…A golden suit of armour and sword might look pretty, but in battle they would be useless”. Replied the Blacksmith, answering the Boy-Prince’s initial request.  “Gold is heavy, and actually pretty soft,” His Young Majesty listened intently. “The colour alone would make you a keen target, and any steel would cut through it like butter…”

From @sleepypigrabbit:

"Let's call my friends over for this," Grandfather said excitably before Grandmother interjected, "What friends? They're all dead." He shot her a look before turning away angrily. "Just because you won't look at me doesn't mean you won't hear me!" Grandmother raised her voice.

I wonder how these two made it to their Golden Anniversary.

From @directryn:

A red & gold bug crawled up her sleeve, she only noticed as the bug took flight, which startled her, off balance she fell on the grass, tumbled, rolled three times down the hill bouncing like a loose innertube into the hedgerow. Leaves, dust, spider webs graced her face as a snake landed there, too.

From Anon:

I played the part beautifully. As a foreigner, how could I possibly know she was rich when we “accidentally” met at the bar? I insisted on paying for dates, feigned surprise at the big “reveal” and gave meaningful gifts. Of course, she married me. Some call me a gold-digger, but I call myself a pragmatist.

From @PennyKinned:

The little tea-shop does brisk business, seven days a week. The old man makes the best Indian chai in Bangkok, sweet and milky, brewed with cardamom, cloves, and cinnamon. On days I feel particularly homesick, I get myself a cup of tea from there. It tastes like home – and that is more precious than gold.

March 27-29: Light & Darkness

From @geoffthomas:

“Dear Guest

If Electricity Becomes Extinct

Use Battery Light to Overcome Complimentary Darkness”

Turning the computer screen towards me, the grinning receptionist was obviously proud of his latest safety notice. I politely offered to make some minor adjustments before pressing ‘PRINT’. However, he clearly trusted Google’s translation tools far more than he trusted an Englishman.

From konfuzed:

Like stars in the night sky, my friends are little sparks of light in an otherwise dark world.  And like stars, it's not until total darkness is upon you, do you realize how brightly they really shine.

From @minatilou:

He lay awake in the pre-dawn darkness, listening to the rain as his lover slept. No need to leave the womb-like security of the duvet. Today was Sunday and it would be hours before the rising sun backlit the clouded sky. The only irritation; Get up and pee or not?

From @bangkokgirlblog:

“Are we all lost stars trying to light up the dark”?

There’s a well-known saying that when God closes a door, he opens a window.

The trouble is whenever I find an open window, it closes just as I reach it.

Perhaps I am destined to remain a lost star. 

From @directrun:

In the screaming silence I told myself to lose the person we had become. Drop the light and blend with the darkness that brightens all who break the mold. A mother’s shroud should be permanently temporary offering empty completeness. As vacuum became palpable a heavy lightness lifted my newness to frighteningly aged depths.

From @directrun:

I am black. My sister is white. We never had a fight. There was strife coming from the outside, continually twisting our light darkness into stripes of confused wrath. 

In time we took different roads to the goal of creating our families.

The oneness we had continued solid, the wrath expanded globally beyond our comprehension.

From @directrun:

A worm lives in the light of his world of darkness. He loves the warmth of his world beyond anything mankind could ever understand. The true nature of his existence is multiplied exponentially by the bold colors transmitted to his soul by the earth he molds.

Vast vibrations keep him in tune to his heart.

From @sengkang:

New met, a gleam in her eye, but I couldn't see properly. "Come here, step into the light." "Oh, Highway 61 Revisited." A fellow worshipper. I was transfixed immediately. We became soulmates. She's gone, my life darkness. Or better, "It isn't dark yet, but it's getting there."

From @sleepypigrabbit:

She looked at him longingly in the darkness of the night, wishing that everything would remain at a standstill. Time was passing too fast, the first light of day beginning to appear. Leaning closer for one last kiss, she then pushed his cold body into the water. "Goodbye," she said, as she watched him disappear.

From @Naamtok:

Gafae-Yen she called it – Thai Iced coffee, no frills, no fanciness just real coffee, chilled down to cold with ice. Sumptuous, strong, borderline bitter coffee, a stark contrast – darkness, briefly at least, before swirling with the light condensed milk. A simple mixture, creating something better than the sum of its parts. A new lifelong ritual.

From @shayanbkk:

I wake up in the middle of the night, thirsty. It's pitch black and I'm fumbling through the darkness looking for my water bottle. It's surreal - the absence of light. My thirst grows and heart beats faster. Where's the darn switch?

From @PennyKinned:

He laughs easily and often, eyes crinkling with mirth and warmth as he looks at her. She is delighted by the lightness of his ways – and she knows she is going to fall for this man.

It is only later that his darkness shows itself, and by then she is in too deep.

March 26: Map

From @NaamTok:

It wasn’t going to happen again. She had assured him repeatedly. “Trust me”. Frustrated, she had in fact lost their way again, despite planning secretly on Google before he even handed her the map. “Maybe the pub moved?,” he suggested playfully, not realising how angry she was, with herself. If he keeps it up…

From konfuzed:

Where are you going? i asked

Where have you been? he replied

How are you getting there? I asked

How did you get here? he replied.

We need to backup a bit I said.

There’s no map for the adventure we’re taking he said.

I’m not talking to the mirror again. #Asshole

From @ShayanBKK:

"We're lost!" she exclaimed, as I anxiously drive through barren lands. Google Map on the fritz and gas swiftly draining much like our fortitude, we were heading towards the unknown.

Where in the world are we? A never-ending abyss as it would seem.

And then my eyes open.

From @2yrsbangkok:

He didn’t even remember when he had first become captivated by her. The fixation had bloomed inside of him slowly, petal by petal, until it blossomed wide into something that pressed on his insides.

Delicately, he spread the map out on the floor.  Hand-drawn, it showed her daily travel routes in careful detail.

From @thomaswanhoff:

“I am from Issan”, she said. When I asked where, she said Kong Khaen. When I asked if from the city, she said “nearby”. When I asked for village name, she said “No village, have farm, we poor”. And then she sent me the Google Map coordinates. I love technology. ETA 9.5 hours.

From @sengkang:

“Map” I demanded. She threw it at me. “Ask someone!” she snarled. I ignored her and studied the map intently as she seethed. Policeman at the window. “Why are you parked here?”  “He’s lost” she spat, before I could reply. He looked hard at me. “Hmm, upside down map. Explains it.” She smiled.

From @geoffgthomas:

Pausing to view the strategically placed map, a well dressed Thai with good English informed me that the Grand Palace was temporarily closed. However, his smiling friend would take me on a small tuk-tuk tour of Bangkok, after which, the Palace would once again be open. Welcome to Thailand's oldest and most embarrassing tourist scam. 

From @huskychemist:

When I was in college my sister and brother-in-law (with whom I was staying) went away on a vacation with his family. They left without me. I was invited, but thought I didn't want to go. Until the house was empty. So I packed my bags and found my way to their campground, which was a three-hour drive away. One of the family members there said to me, in amazement, "How did you get here?"

I followed a map.

From @PennyKinned:

He gazed at the box of random items, puzzled. Old books, scratched CDs, worn items of clothing, diaries bursting with scraps and scribbles, fading photographs from a time before digital cameras…

“I don’t understand.”

“You said you wanted to know me. How I became who I am. Well, this is the map. Happy treasure hunting.”

March 25: Cocktail

From @ajarncom:

She surveyed the punters around her. A typical Brit-pub happy hour mish-mash of cost-conscious English teachers and stripey shirt-wearing financial advisors. She lifted the cocktail to her lips. It was the first time she'd experienced a long, hard screw on the beach. She dearly hoped it wouldn't be the last.

From @bangkokgirlblog:

At 13 I fell in love with Tom, who played the main character in a film called Cocktail.

From thereon cocktails have taken a starring role in my life.

From sealing friendships, to healing breakups; to fuelling dancing shoes to curing holiday blues.  

Oh cocktails. What a lot I have to thank you for.

From @nikkihammett1:

Travelling to Thailand was filled with happiness and pain. I finally left England but it took the end of my youthful mother’s life, to compel me to make a new life myself. I started out drinking tropical cocktails and life was fabulous. Years later, happy, calling Thailand ‘home,’ I’ve graduated to Sangsom, Soda, Manao.

From @Naamtok:

Running hard now, past tired, two minutes left of twenty. Sweat dripping as she rhythmically hit the treadmill belt. Not even listening to the song that was playing now, despite it being a favourite. Just the thought if it made her smile, She was going to slay them all, in that little black cocktail dress.

From @geoffgthomas:

As our drinks arrived, four new beauties took to the stage. As glasses clinked, a slender hand gripped my thigh before slowly massaging north. Professional fingers were working there magic, but seconds short of a happy ending I reluctantly pushed that hand away. Did this bar's name refer to more than just the drinks? Cocktail.

From @directrun:

Seattle radiated a fresh misty afterglow from a sunny rainbow day. With Pacific Northwest wine flowing freely we probed every nook & cranny of Pikes Place Market. After 6 hours we decanted ourselves to the Edgewater Inn bar. Cocktail hour it was, all agreed, except one piping "I think are tails are cocked enough already!!"

From @FreBKK:

Once again we’re being silenced by the almighty powers that hold our lives in their greedy hands.

Talking about it might be a threat to the safety of our nation, and therefore, a threat to us.

Now we have to be afraid, so let’s be silent and just enjoy our shrimp cocktail.

From konfuzed:

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.  I was in cocktail class at university where we had to make all sorts of cocktails.  There was fine liquor being used – they’re crap unless you use the good stuff, obviously.  The downside? We were only allowed “tasters”, the rest was poured out…  what an absolute waste of great cocktails!

@ShayanBKK:

If you want to make life interesting, make it like a cocktail. Start with a base of excitement, a dash of compassion and a shot of attitude. Just make sure it's shaken not stirred.

@PennyKinned:

There is a coup: an overthrown president, an all-powerful general. She has been instrumental to this – years of backroom meetings, surrounded by weaponry and dark ambition. “I’ve earned this,” she thinks, looking out as crystal waters as the waiter serves her a Cosmopolitan.

Like her, there is more to the cocktail than meets the eye.

March 24: Damage

From @geoffgthomas:

At first glance, the challenge of writing a story in fifty-five words had seemed easy.  Fifty-five words would offer ample scope to develop interesting characters within a pithy well rounded plot. But, as his pencil crossed to the second page it became clear that no amount of editing could save him. The damage was done.    

From @ShayanBKK:

He wakes up every morning with adventure in his heart and soul. Leaping through the air, vaulting over obstacles with ease. Muscles tensed, mind focused on the path, never worrying about the physical and mental damage.

CRASH. He falls but swiftly back to his feet only to do it all over again.

From @bangkokgirlblog:

My friend is everything a friend should be. Caring, a listener, an adviser, a comedian.

The revelation of a careless whisper and I learn my “friend” is not really my friend at all.

Once the genie has been released from the bottle it is rarely re-captured.

To damage trust is to destroy a friendship.

From konfuzed:

my friend received a phone call at work today… its amazing how your whole life can change in the space of a few seconds.  the damage that can be done with a few words.  His agony thinly veiled, his face contorted with grief, his eyes welling with tears. his family has been torn apart… his sister is with god now.

From @2yrsbangkok:

The damage was only slight.  You had to squint and hold it up under the kitchen light to even see it. It was ever so faint.  But it was there - the dollop of barbecue sauce that stubbornly refused to disappear despite obsessive scrubbing. The only truly pretty thing she’d ever owned, ruined.

From @nikkihammett1:

As we arrived by longtail at dawn, the damage could clearly be seen. Beautiful beach bars made of old wood ripped up to make way for the brand new 5 star. A part of Thailand taken away forever. No more fire shows, no more reggae. Concrete paths already being laid amongst the debris. Goodbye Tonsai.

From @PennyKinned:

He traces the scar down her back – long healed now, but still clearly visible. “Don’t,” she says, pushing his hand away. “I don’t like for you to see me like that.” But he is insistent, following the trajectory of the old gash with his fingertips. He likes her damage. It makes him feel at home.

March 23: Secret

From @thomaswanhoff:

Keaw woke up, the smell of tiger balm hit her nose. She was sweating even at 9am, since there was no fan and no window to open. She poked the girl next to her, one of five sleeping with her on the floor. No secret it was uncomfortable. Just another day at the massage shop.

From @directrun:

She had a new love, entwined in her mind, spirit, body, she loved his fullness. The walk, talk, perception, care, and the warm—no—HOT touch, she was in love. He was of another culture,  there was one thing she wanted to influence, to change about him. She had a secret for him—

From @sleepypigrabbit:

Have you ever thought of how deadly secrets can be? It takes just one secret to mess with your mind. How many secrets have you spilled when you promised you'd keep them? Secrets that have led to love and lives lost forever. After all, 'two can keep a secret if one of them is dead'.

From @sengkang:

He was fat, fifty five. Obese really. Bald. Ill fitting cheap shirt, pants, shoes. Hanging tiredly, sweatily on the BTS handrail. She was about thirty, beautiful. Smoldering dark eyes. “Secret” she hissed at him. “Secret.” His heart fluttered. “What?” He smiled. “Secret” she hissed “You skin secret and you steenk.” Deflated, saddened. Off next stop.

From konfuzed:

I saw her on the way home from work.  her head held high, her hair pinned up, her makeup exquisitely done, an image of perfection. I was beside her on the train, she smelled sweet as flowers, subtle yet perfumed. Her dress was a shimmering miracle, figure hugging satin, revealing  an ample bosom, shapely hips and a trim waistline.  What's her secret I thought, where is the fault in this image of perfection?

From @nikkihammett1:

Her husband welcomed her back home. A kitten was on their porch. Thin. Scuffy “Are you feeding this thing?” “No.” “Good! Don’t and it will go away.” After two months the kitten was still there. Fatter. Settled.

“Are you feeding him?” A long silence. “Nitnoi.” He had been all along. “Me too. He’s called Bobi.”

From anonymous:

It’s no secret that I’m gay! Just because I haven’t told anyone yet doesn’t make it  secret. I thought someone would have guessed, but no, my secret is safe. So safe in fact that it’s become all-consuming. I fear that when someone does find out they will say, “don’t worry, you’re secret’s safe with me”

From @PennyKinned:

It is a common domestic scene.

“Would you like some toast with that?”

“Sure.”

“Regular or slightly burnt?”

“Burnt sounds good.”

She brings the mildly charred toast over, and he smiles at her in thanks. And, all the while, it throbs between them. The quiet betrayal, the sordid secret.

She smiles back, anyway.

55-Word Story Writing: What, How, Why?

What?

This blog aims to collect and publish micro-stories received from people in Thailand through the 55-word story writing endeavour on Twitter. Stories are accepted by anyone who lives/has lived in Thailand!

How?

• We release a new word each weekday morning.
• The word is tweeted by the @BKKbeginners account on Twitter - we tag people who have signed up with their Twitter IDs.
• We also send out an email to those who have sent us their email addresses.
• Use the daily word to create your short story, not more than 55 words.
• Email it with your Twitter handle/real name/pen name to bangkokbeginners@gmail.com by midnight.
• All the stories are published on this blog the next day.

Why?

Many of us love writing/blogging, but find it hard to make time to do so on a daily basis. That's where 55-word stories come in - after all, it takes only a few minutes to think of and put down 55 words!

Writing these micro-stories is meant to encourage daily bursts of creativity and help us stay in touch with the our inner storyteller. Reading other people's interpretations of the same theme can also be an eye-opening experience.

If you’re interested in being tagged, tweet us at @BKKbeginners or email us at bangkokbeginners@gmail.com 

Happy writing!