Happy Thoughts


Prompt: In 150 words or less, write a poem about the happenings in your mind

I open my head and out pour my memories,

Little pieces of me that are still uncertainties–

Are they good or bad, I don’t know

So I just pick one up and throw it out

One more tiny memory I can live without

Continue reading “Happy Thoughts”


Why We Move

Prompt:  Write about what happens after the apocalypse

You have to keep moving forward. Don’t stop.’

Those were the last words my mother had left me. Day in and day out, they fuelled me to continue despite living in the aftermath of the apocalypse.  But resources ran thin–every day it got harder and giving up was more inviting than ever.

The world had ended years ago. After trying to harvest energy from the sun, humans have inadvertently sped up its death. There was no big explosion, no red giant, only the disappearance of light and heat. Now the solar system faced an untimely death as it grew cold without the energy from its star.

Continue reading “Why We Move”

A Hellish Living Space


Prompt: A demon writes a bloody message on your mirror. Instead of getting scared, you get annoyed.

“Unbelievable!” screamed Leah as she threw her hands up the air. It happened so many times before, but seeing her mirror doused with blood still proved to be a shock to her. Only this time, a hint of frustration was mixed in.

“Markus!” she yelled as she searched for baby wipes. When there was no response, she growled, making her blood-smeared reflection look all the more ominous. “Markus, I swear to God, if you don’t come up here right now—“

Continue reading “A Hellish Living Space”



Prompt: Write a 150-word story of what happens after a date

“Close your eyes,” she told me.

I did.

“The best part of any kiss is the build-up to it, the moment before the lips touch,” she continued.

I could feel her breath getting closer, pressing against my neck in hot waves. The fragrance of her perfume was oddly comforting. My heart hammered against my ribs like a drumroll, and I could feel hers beating just as fast. It was as though we performed our own orchestra, the whole world lost in the anticipation. Continue reading “Almosts”

Not All Heroes Wear Capes

Prompt: A very mighty superhero/heroine is suffering from depression. His/her archnemesis is beginning to get concerned.

The clock struck noon and Firestarter still hadn’t gotten up from her bed. Her superhero costume hung on her closet door, dust topping its sleeves. Months’ worth of half-eaten protein bars littered the floor. Once again, she didn’t feel like the renowned hero Firestarter—she was just Maxine.

Normal, useless Maxine.

Continue reading “Not All Heroes Wear Capes”


When you close your eyes, what do you see?

I see a pale, blank page, a pen in my hands, ink slowly falling from its tip. I see myself as a writer—a failed one? Maybe, but a writer nonetheless. I feel inspiration coursing through me, prompting me to write words–any words–but all I ever see is a pale, blank page.

Hi, I am a writer . . .or at least I try to be. I don’t have any major background in writing. I didn’t have an artistic revelation or words clawing at my insides begging to be let out. But I was fascinated by the craft. However, I guess the time I really began to get into writing was in Eighth grade. It all started when I was reading the Harry Potter series in school. A friend saw me with them and said we should try writing our own stories.

So we did.

And they were hella crappy.

But we improved ourselves since then. Now, my friend’s Editor-in-Chief of the school paper and I . . .well, I submit entries for the paper’s Literary page. I like to keep things low-key, so when opportunities arise like me being offered officer positions or contests, I tend to decline them. That being said, I am “socially stunted.”  Hell, I can’t even participate in conversations without feeling a weight of awkwardness on the back of my head. So, I prefer to be buried in a book or with my earphones in shutting the world out. Thankfully, my friends understand this side of me–yeah, I still have friends, but by no means am I a social person.

Anyway, as I grew up with novels, I mostly do fictional short stories rather than essays. I believe that they aren’t as restricted as, say, news articles. Don’t get me wrong, news articles are great, and I do write them from time to time, but fiction provides an escape for me. No more overthinking, no more weight. The world disappears in a flash and recreated by my own imagination; anything that can happen will happen. That became the premise of this blog and why I named it Murphy’s Law. Hopefully, I’ll continue to update it every now and then as I might give up on it halfway.

That’s it for my side of the introductions. Please, if you want to tell me about yourself, feel free to do so.