tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37839959888964384932012-02-06T18:59:17.730+08:00It's all about sitting by the Boab Tree, listening to stories from faraway lands...Many thanks to the writers for amazing work of art that keeps us dreaming...Angela Tehnoreply@blogger.comBlogger161100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3783995988896438493.post-69983836439620146172009-12-17T20:56:00.001+08:002009-12-17T20:58:01.965+08:00

“Sir, which design would you like?” “Number 23 and emailed to me, if possible.” “Very well, sir. The email will reach you shortly. Thank you for choosing Little Greetings Design. Have a nice day…” Jane put down the phone and turned back to her computer screen with a notepad in hand. She keyed in the number and attached it to an email before sending it to her customer. It was a year ago when

Angela Tehnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3783995988896438493.post-70761078866622774912009-12-04T22:47:00.003+08:002009-12-06T15:52:38.886+08:00

“…how’s about we take a road trip to the Canyons?” her face beamed with excitement.  I glanced at her then back on the road, “Are you sure, honey? I mean like we been there for a million times already.” She slumped back to the seat, “Yea, I guess you’re right.” I sensed her spirits was down, “I guess we can drop by on the way to my parents?” She smiled then lean over to kiss my cheek. I grinned,

Angela Tehnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3783995988896438493.post-5413858147519419092009-11-24T12:20:00.000+08:002009-11-24T12:20:04.487+08:00

White clouds floated over in the vast blue ocean of gases, colouring the dull skies of tiny Pittsville. Nothing out of the ordinary was going on that day. The milk cart (as Alice noticed outside her window)  came, dropped the daily milk supply, picked up the empty glass bottles and left, leaving the street as quiet as before. Before breakfast, Mr Grande was seen on his usual walk around the

Angela Tehnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3783995988896438493.post-2944843262078846172009-09-27T20:54:00.001+08:002009-09-27T20:54:56.942+08:00

Heritage; the most beautiful word my culture has seen in their lifetime. Customs of which governs us that date back to the 16th century when my clan ruled the nation, a nation none heard of. It was our glorious hour, the golden era as they said but as civilization grew, we shrank into the darkness; waiting for our moment once more. But time has yet to come… Aidan looked into the horizon; the

Angela Tehnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3783995988896438493.post-77932199624571082802009-09-27T20:39:00.000+08:002009-09-27T20:39:30.993+08:00

Without a word, she threw her bag on the floor near the fireplace and ran upstairs to her bedroom. She locked the door. Her mother was in a state of utter shock. She could do nothing but stare at the staircase. After a while, another girl –this time a shorter and younger one- came into the house. This girl took her bag upstairs to her room and locked the door. While she was walking up the stairs,

Angela Tehnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3783995988896438493.post-57421305195415442982009-09-27T16:39:00.000+08:002009-09-27T16:39:06.660+08:00

On a midsummer's night A dream I've dreamt Of beaches and moonlight walks Of starry skies and gentle summer's breeze Steel strings carving the scene It's gentle tunes just fill the breeze Slender figures dancing gracefully Behind them leaving trails of slivery Under a bright lit gazebo Only of smiles and happiness they know Twirling and swirling, laughing and playing No other cares were they

Angela Tehnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3783995988896438493.post-37796040925532170132009-09-27T16:04:00.002+08:002009-09-27T16:04:55.350+08:00

Missing; like something is just out of place. The feeling of emptiness my finger feels. The cold symbolic ring is no more. No longer does it do justice yet I long for its touch, its security and the thoughts it held. I guess I was just wronged. I looked up to the sky, that same blue sky that you and I used to look up to together. It remained the same though we didn’t. Clouds flew by, the sun

Angela Tehnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3783995988896438493.post-88953854288507903992009-09-22T23:34:00.001+08:002009-09-22T23:35:52.722+08:00

Lincoln, after having tea with his girlfriend, saw a photo of a boy in her purse. He curiously asks, is he your ex-boyfriend? The girl quickly replies, "Silly, It's me before operation!".

Jayplayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01998734514105297316noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3783995988896438493.post-87010290436146491792009-09-22T08:05:00.001+08:002009-09-22T09:41:39.781+08:00

A melancholy tune plays in my mind As I reminisce the past I’m tryna read in between the lines To see if there was something I missed No I didn’t miss anything, you missed it When you left without a word Its your slavishness I guess Of running back into your past abruptly Damn, how was I to console myself? As I stared at the pictures you took with her I’m suffering a relapse, after the crazy

Angela Tehnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3783995988896438493.post-38064112217267611302009-09-20T18:36:00.000+08:002009-09-20T18:36:35.513+08:00

You want to know something? I really thought my love was meant to be. He was the best puzzle fit I could ask for...well, it didn't work out. We feel out and I couldn't care less about it.  "Frankie, are you finished with that? I've got to run these samples." I turned to find Monroe, my colleague holding two test tubes. "Yea, I am. Sorry."  "You know you should really take a break, you know go

Angela Tehnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3783995988896438493.post-55141305165482621132009-09-20T13:19:00.024+08:002009-09-27T20:51:27.087+08:00

Angie Ashein Azriel Jeremy Jolene Alternatively, you can email your stories (as attachment in Word Doc file) to angelparispink@hotmail.com

Angela Tehnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3783995988896438493.post-1835264194306964332009-09-20T12:30:00.005+08:002009-09-20T12:38:15.079+08:00

Of all the things I've ever seen, Of all the dreams I've ever dreamed, The finest sight that's come to me, White horses wild beside the sea They ran across the trackless sand In that remote, forgotten land, And in their running they were free Beside the boundless, unchained sea. They raced the first light of the day And surged across a shallow bay To feed at ease in grassy plains With wind

Angela Tehnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3783995988896438493.post-86361689437128151242009-09-20T12:27:00.001+08:002009-09-20T12:30:12.853+08:00

Bill opened the front door at the second knock. He came face to face with the new kid in town. "The party is in the living room," yelled Bill over the music, and jerked his thumb toward the general direction of the noise. As the teenager walked past, Bill shook his head in disgust. The kid was probably only 14. Most everyone in the party was above 21. Bill knew he was to blame. It was his idea

Angela Tehnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3783995988896438493.post-76733904260070461912009-09-20T00:50:00.002+08:002009-09-20T14:05:03.573+08:00

Dear Mama and Daddy, I miss you dearly and I just want you to know I’m doing well here. Remember the project I was in? I got the job!?! I’m going to start my new company soon. Wish You Were Here.                                                                                                                Lots of Love, Lizzie Dear Mama and Daddy, How are you? I still miss you. It’s been awhile

Angela Tehnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3783995988896438493.post-39717046524208253782009-09-20T00:02:00.001+08:002009-09-20T00:02:36.399+08:00

The world stops spinning, The little blue birds cease their chirping, The gardens around stay still and silent Without a sound in the world but yours When you say you love me. My heart skips a beat Butterflies tickle inside me The rush of blood through my veins The happiness unimaginable When you say you love me. Like the most harmonious melody I hear your voice Over plains and terrains, over

Angela Tehnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3783995988896438493.post-69493653072661533612009-09-19T23:02:00.000+08:002009-09-19T23:02:25.463+08:00

By the Boab Tree, I will wait for thee Sing you to me Cause you're all I need

Angela Tehnoreply@blogger.com0