last words: 9.48 pm

there was too much blood. I attempted to lift my head, then gave up immediately when a piercing pain sliced through my chest. my mind spun, trying its best to calculate as the thick haze of death began to settle in. at most, I probably had only 5 minutes left.

a few seconds passed as I lay bleeding on the dirt. I closed my eyes, then suddenly reopened them. a single thought flashed through my brain over and over.

“Caroline…Caroline..” I muttered weakly, fumbling in my torn pocket for my phone. Speed-dialing her number, I prayed that she would pick up.

“Rowan!” her familiar gentle voice rang out.

“Caroline,” I sighed, relieved. “How are you?”

“I’m fine, love….how are you?”

Grimacing, I answered, “I’ve been better. How was your day?”

I could almost see her dark green eyes shining as she spoke wistfully. “The usual. I miss you – when am I going to see you again?”

the pain sharpened. I tried my best to stifle a groan, but it slipped out.

“Honey? Are you alright?”

“Yeah. Yeah. Hey, listen.” I spoke urgently, knowing my time was soon drawing to a close.

“Okay?”

deep breaths.

“I love you,” I whispered, as the agony grew stronger with every moment.

her voice faltered for a second. “Rowan? Are you-”

I cut her off. “I love you so much, Caroline Davis. I just want you to know that no matter what, I will always love you.” tears began dripping onto my cheeks.

I fought for breath. Just a few more seconds.

her smile leaked into her voice. “I love you more, Rowan Cooper.”

I savored each syllable, for it would be the last time I would ever hear those words.

“I love you the most.”

 

those were my last words.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

11.35 am

Image result for tumblr pic of coffee

“Good morning, what can I get you today?” he smiled at their first customer that morning. the customer rattled off their order while he punched in the numbers and got to work brewing the coffee.

the rich and cozy smell filled the air inside the cute little coffee shop as sunlight and people streamed in.

“Don’t forget to add the cream before you mix,” he told a newer worker kindly. she nodded gratefully, and he returned to his post at the cash register, busily working on some supply forms. a pair of heels clicking up the line announced the arrival of another customer. he looked up, immediately pasting a smile on his face – and froze.

she was standing before him, in real life, with color in her cheeks and sparkles in her sea green eyes. the days when he had run his fingers through her auburn hair suddenly seemed like yesterday instead of years ago.

“Um…uh…what can I…uh get you this morning?” he stuttered.

she smiled, and he felt his knees go weak. “I’ll have a large mocha cappuccino with extra whipped cream, please,” she requested in her soft voice. he swallowed, remembering the nights when that smooth voice in his ear was all he’d ever wanted.

with trembling fingers, he punched in the digits and looked up. “That’ll be $4.57, but don’t worry, it’s on me.”

she raised an eyebrow, giving him a grateful smile. “Oh thank you….” she glanced at his name tag. “Marcus.” she frowned, a confused expression flitting across her face. “Do I know you?”

his heart jumped into his throat. he swallowed several times, willing the painful ache in his chest to disappear. a few seconds hung in the air, waiting. he exhaled.

“No,” he smiled sadly. “No, you don’t.”

 

 

~ a bit of a sad post, haha – let me know what you guys think down below in the comments <3

The Mist

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The mist shrouded the girl as she silently inched her way down the snow covered path. A mask stretched across her face, allowing only her piercing eyes to be seen, while her slender figure was sheathed entirely in black. The sound of the whistling wind snaked through the canyon, blanketing the terrain in an eerie atmosphere.

“Almost…there…” she whispered to herself, struggling to move forward. Her shaking fingers crept to the willow basket hanging on her arm, almost empty and without the abundance of food that her aunt had packed 5 days prior. Unfortunately, the empty basket wasn’t the only reminder of her lack of food – her stomach had been aching from hunger for hours.

She was on this journey. Alone. The forest through which she traveled was rumored to be thick with thieves and evil men. The frail-looking girl brushed these fearful thoughts from her mind with a shake of her hooded head. What was waiting in store for her was most assuredly worth trampling through the thick snow, sleeping on the cold ground, and running from –

A faint rustle shook the nearby bushes, reaching her finely tuned ear. She whirled around, her dark clothes swirling in the frigid air. Her numb fingers crept to her sword as she called out, “Who’s there?”

A deep voice snarled back, “Your worst nightmare.” Suddenly, two men in black leaped out from the bushes. Light gleamed on their swords; their blades aimed directly at the petite girl. this will be easy, they thought. But to their surprise, a large blade was unsheathed in the blink of an eye, and somehow that frail girl was wielding it. One of the men cried out as she knocked his sword from his hands, grabbed it, then unhesitatingly drove his own sword into his leg. The girl’s dark hair flew through the air as she spun, and with a right hook, her other attacker was out cold.

She yanked down her mask, her breath warming the air as she panted, recovering from the exertion. Bending down, she picked up the men’s swords & examined the hilts.

“Just as I expected,” she muttered, seeing the royal coat of arms engraved into the silver. With a sigh, she sheathed her own blade. A peculiar heaviness settled into her heart as she turned to face the path once more.

“Tell my father I said hello,” she whispered to the unconscious guards. Then, without so much as a sound, her figure slipped back into the foreboding mist.

 

 

muahahah plot twist – she’s a member of the royal family! why is she running away? what is she journeying after? and if she’s a princess, where did she learn how to wield a sword? idk if I’ll be continuing this one, so I hope you enjoyed reading :)

mariposa – 7.06 pm

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Many quotes have been written on the concept of a caterpillar turning into a butterfly.

“Everything will work out more beautifully than you can imagine,” they say, nodding knowingly at the miraculous transformation. One of nature’s finest works.

“You may be a caterpillar now, but someday you will be a beautiful butterfly.”

Someday. Someday. Someday….

We often romanticize the thought that everything is going to be okay – we simply recognize the beginning and the end, without giving thought to the middle.

Everyone fantasizes about turning into a butterfly, but very few realize that we have failed to take note of the most important part: the transformation within the chrysalis.

While the caterpillar is in the chrysalis, its body begins to break down and dissolve. All the organs that sustain the little caterpillar disappear. They are turned into liquid, and the caterpillar becomes no more than a helpless puddle.

Similarly, on our journey, we will be broken down. We will be dissolved into anxiety, constant fear and insecurities, and shattered dreams. Seemingly everyone that had ever given us hope will fade away, leaving us helpless and hopeless. The transformation itself is not a concept to be taken lightly.

After the caterpillar is turned into a puddle of liquids, it starts to rebuild itself. Slowly but surely, antennae and wings form perfectly, barely visible through the glistening chrysalis. In the same way, we need to rebuild from our ashes. We need to create a new outlook on life, a new love for others, a new patience.

But, as the caterpillar finally emerges from its chrysalis in the form of the butterfly, its struggles aren’t over. Adjusting into its new life isn’t easy – they have to patiently wait for their wings to unfold.

Just like the newly formed butterfly, we must be patient with ourselves. Don’t rush yourself, because if you do, you will find yourself back at square one. And eventually, as you become stronger, you’ll see your glorious, sun dazzled wings rising above you.

So be patient. Wait a little longer. Trust a little more. You may be a helpless puddle of brokenness right now, but I promise you that everything will not only be “okay” in the end, it will be better than you could ever have imagined.

remember, it is the journey, not the destination.

Born with it. (Part 1)

I was born with it. Simple.

I was born with the gift. The gift – the kind that the universe grants to one only once in many lifetimes.

everyone in society is taught and educated about how they have a soulmate – one who is the cause of their laughter, the antidote for their sadness, the love of their life. but that theory has never been completely proven.

until now.

if you could gaze through my eyes, you would see that I can perceive tiny, delicate threads connecting two people together. no one else can see those lines. just me.

I call them “strands of fate.” they can never be broken – they are made of a substance that this world has not discovered yet.

these strands are different colors depending on the two people – sometimes they are the color of the sea in a fierce storm, or the color of the honey colored light that filters through my window at precisely 4:12 pm on a Wednesday evening.

I still do not know the reason why they are different colors, but I hope to know someday from Them. For now, I live quietly with my gift – I have been instructed not to tell anyone, not even my own family. I know that They mean well, so I will follow Their command.

So I do not tell my best friend that the soft eyed, brown haired boy she is in love with is bound by those strands to another girl.

I do not tell the barista at the coffee shop that there is a soft blue thread tying her to the shy, awkward boy that comes in every so often just to see her smile.

I do not tell my parents that they are connected to each other by a silver thread that can never be broken – a clear sign that the plans of the universe had worked out. I love seeing their thread sparkle in the light – it gives me hope that maybe someday, I will find the person at the other end of my thread.

Every night, before I fall asleep, I hold my glistening strand carefully in the palm of my hands. It is of a color that I have never seen before – there are no words to describe it. if you care, it is like the passion of two lovers, the beauty of a rose, the calmness of a lilac sunset all combined together.

and every night I whisper:

“someday…I will find you.”

***

 

GUYSS I’M SO EXCITED FOR THIS SERIES!! I hope you enjoyed reading the first part, and please leave a comment telling me what you think! your feedback means the world to me :) have a wonderful day!

 

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Not That Simple

hey guys! sorry I haven’t posted for a whole month ahh – life has gotten way too busy! so, to reward you guys for being patient, here’s a little story for valentine’s day :)

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she loved him, and he loved her…but it wasn’t that simple. nothing ever was. and nothing ever will be.

she was the sun — an endless ball of fire, energy, and passion, blazing into infinity. a bit on the wild side.

and he was the sky, calm, steady, and reassuring. ever present. holding her up. accepting her flaws.

it seemed like they had been with each other since the beginning of time – no one really remembered when they met. but they were quite the dynamic duo, fearlessly pacing through each day and night – she was always in the lead; he was always at her side.

“opposites attract,” everyone said knowingly of the pair.

“peanut butter and jelly.”

“fire and ice.”

“sunshine and rain.”

“peanuts and popcorn.”

“we’re just friends,” they responded, laughing. but everyone knew they existed only for each other.

they thought they would be together forever…but it wasn’t that simple. you see, life has a tendency to pull apart the most committed and dedicated of lovers.

— eventually, the sky became too distant from the sun, who in turn, became too fiery and unmanageable without him to keep her in check. no one could handle her; no one could reach him.

so they faded from existence, each completely lost without the other. the universe cracked at the seams, and their story was gradually forgotten.

never to be relived, and never to be told again.

 

 

 

8.07 pm

he stared at the worn, loved journal. breathless. he knew the girl whom it belonged to, but he gingerly lifted its leather cover anyways. his eyes fell on the first page, covered in familiar, neat handwriting. swallowing, he began to read the words.

“I miss you.

There’s no other way to put it.

I miss you from the bottom of my heart, and with all of my broken pieces. I miss you so much and so intensely that it feels as if the sky caved in on me and drenched me with all of its glittering stars. I miss your soft eyes, your soothing voice, and your strong arms as they embraced me. You didn’t know it, but when you held me, you held my whole world together. I knew falling in love with you, of all people, was a dangerous risk. But you hugged me so tightly that all my broken pieces stuck back together. You loved me so fiercely until all I saw was you; all I thought of was…

You.

And now, watching you look at her the way you looked at me. It feels as if the wispy, gray clouds have enveloped me in their haze of sadness. No, not sadness. What I feel is more than sadness. It’s as if the sun has refused to shine, and the moon no longer illuminates the velvety darkness of the still night. It’s like living life without laughter; living in a world without color.

  I don’t want to miss you. But I do. Not missing you is as impossible as breathing without air. It’s a feeling that is always present, no matter how occupied I am.

  So if you ever read this, I hope you know how much and how deeply I loved you, and still do. I miss you, and it cuts me to know that you aren’t missing me back.”

– november 2016 / 8:07 pm.

the boy let out a shuddering sigh, laid the journal down, and looked at the gravestone with the familiar name etched onto it.

  “I miss you too…” he whispered. “But now it’s too late.”

Day 18: A Story

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Moonlight glowed on the girl’s dark hair as she silently slipped from her bed and to the window. She struggled to unlatch the window, gasping a little from surprise when it suddenly swung outwards. Her bright blue eyes turned upwards, seeking the heavens. Astra smiled. There, hanging like lanterns  in the velvet darkness, were millions of twinkling stars.

“I’m coming,” she whispered as she gracefully climbed out of her 2nd story window. For the twentieth time this month, the young girl floated up past the houses and trees, hands outstretched. Her light pink nightgown fluttered around her in the chilly air as she rose higher. The night lights became captives to her slender fingers, each star clutched tightly in her palms. Some of them tangled in her long, wild hair, like beautiful jewels, as she danced across the sky. But after awhile, the girl became tired. She returned to her window, arms full of twinkles. Quickly, they were added to her collection under the bed.

For a moment, she lingered there on the floor. The glowing of a thousand stars reflected off her beautiful face. Then she shut the window, stepped into bed, and blissfully closed her eyes.

Astra: “star”

 

Day 14: My Fears

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  1. Being late for class
  2. Falling and tripping in front of everyone
  3. Passing out on an escalator going up and causing everyone behind me to tumble down the escalator >.<
  4. Batman (Collin told me to put this here)
  5. Bugs
  6. When the refrigerator is empty
  7. Big rooms

 

 

Day 7: My Biggest Regret(s). Real Talk.

I’ve waited too long to make some decisions. Been too scared to take the risks and jump. Underestimated His power.


Maybe I’ve been too stressed about school, you know? Sometimes I look back and regret not placing my trust in Him.

Maybe…maybe I’ve waited too long to forgive people. There are the ones who deserve it the least, but at the same time deserve all of it because He has forgiven me first.

It’s quite possible that I’ve let other people influence me in negative ways: forcing me to mask my personality, change my interests, even mold the way I act into someone that’s not me.

And perhaps I’ve been too afraid to try new things and step out of my comfort zone. I wonder, how many amazing adventures have I missed out on simply because I’ve been too scared of what risks may be involved?

The most important thing is that everyone makes mistakes. We all have flaws; we all are human. Even if you or I make mistakes….

We can make or break the chains that hold us.

Bottom line: Do everything, regret nothing.

💕

Day 4: My Favorite Childhood Book

….I’m sure you know why.

I mean, look at that. What could be more exciting to my five year old mind than a line of delicious looking food?

Even better, the caterpillar gets to eat all of it (ignore the part about his tummy ache) and morphs into a gorgeous butterfly at the end.

Why can’t that happen to us? T_T

30 Day Blogging Challenge – Day 1

dream big. dream hard.
I’ve decided to do a blogging challenge to make up for my lack of posts lately. I’ll be using the prompt from the promptarium, but doing it backwards to put a spin on it haha. Enjoy!

Day 1: What are your goals for your blog?

hmm, my goals. I want to create a safe haven for people on the Internet – people who are tired, discouraged, or just want to relax. I want people to be inspired by my blog and to learn lessons from it. When they receive a published post in their email or in their feed, I want them to smile. And finally, most importantly, Thee Adventurette is and will always be dedicated for the glory of God. Dream big, work hard.

💕

Storytime: It was a dark, stormy afternoon…

The Friday afternoon had started just like the past four days at camp had – with warm, golden sunshine, the bluest skies, and glassy waters. About 15 of us had jumped into our respective canoes and started the 1 mile long voyage across the river to enjoy the afternoon.

But on the way back, trouble hit.

Hard.

    Heavy, gray clouds soon covered the sapphire sky, mercilessly raining on us as we dragged our canoes into the water and clambered in. Sydney, Summer, and I strained at the paddles, but by the time we were halfway across, our muscles were already exhausted from 4 straight days of canoeing.

 

“I need to take a break,” panted Sydney, laying down her paddle and slumping over on the seat. Summer and I agreed. Our canoe began to float aimlessly across the seemingly calm waters. In a few seconds, they were forming into threatening-looking waves. I screamed as one wave hit, causing the canoe to tip dangerously to one side.
“Paddle left!” ordered Summer. Sydney and I hurried to obey, but it wasn’t long before she yelled, “Paddle right!” Suddenly, a rumble of thunder vibrated through the heavy clouds, closely followed by a streak of burning lightning. The rain that had been pelting us this entire time instantly hardened into icy balls.

I ducked instinctively, shouting, “HAIL!” The waves responded by rocking our canoe even harder. The three of us desperately prayed for God to save us as our little canoe bounced about on the waves, but I was ready to just lay down in the canoe and let the waves pound us.

We were helpless. Stuck in a storm with seemingly no way out. In the middle of paddling, I realized that this was the same situation with our daily lives. We are all fighting our personal storms – full of rain, thunder, and lightning. Sometimes we want to give up. None of us can ever make it through the tempest, unless we give Him permission to take control.

And at that moment, the waves stilled, the hail stopped, and comforting sunlight illuminated the once again peaceful (The three of us were screaming with gratitude and joy) lake.

tbh, we can’t fight our battles by ourselves – that’s basically pointless. Enlist His help, and then watch the miracles unfold in your life.

by the way, I kissed the flowers out of happiness to be back on terra firma again :P

“Lord, have mercy.”

“Lord, have mercy.”

All around her, the teen heard the horrifying sounds of death and misery. There was nothing she could do about it. 

Helpless, Rhea herself lay prostrate on the gritty dirt in front of her tent, gasping for air. Her long, shimmering hair lay tangled around her tanned face, which was wrenched with anguish. Her woven shawl had fallen away from her slim shoulders that trembled from the venom rapidly coursing through her body.

A slim, iridescent snake slithered past her glazed brown eyes, triggering the fading memory of being painfully bitten by a mad serpent that morning in bed. With great effort, the girl cried out in desperation.

“Lord, have mercy!”

The poison had completely circulated through her body, causing excruciating agony. If only they had listened to Moses and hadn’t complained, then the Israelites wouldn’t be in such misery now. Tears drew paths down her dusty face as she remembered the lifeless forms of her parents and siblings just a few hours before.

Gritting her teeth, Rhea felt a shudder go through her whole weakened body. She knew she didn’t have much time left…

Suddenly, crunching footsteps came to a stop in front of the slowly dying girl.

“My dear, if you wish to be healed, then all you have to do is cast your eyes upon the serpent on the brazen pole.” She faintly heard Moses’ melodious and deep voice vibrating in the air.

His footsteps crunched away…leaving her to think. Of course she wanted to be healed, but how would looking at a brass statue of a snake help her? It seemed like a cruel joke.

But then again, what did she have to lose?

So, with the very last of her energy, Rhea lifted her eyes up to the shining pole.
Based on Numbers 21:5-9  

The Eyes of Music

He was just a young boy – he didn’t deserve to go through so much at such a tender age. Anyone could look into his deep brown eyes and sense the sadness reflected there. When his parents divorced, the young boy’s heart was shattered. His grades suffered in school, and he saw no point to learning. He developed an attitude…and this continued until his mother realized that her son needed help. And that’s when the boy fell into the world of music.

He never imagined that a piece of delicately carved wood could interest him, but that’s what he started doing – he was given a cello and a bow, and he started practicing. He had fallen deeply in love with music – a love that would never fade. It was a way to express his pent-up feelings as never before. As the boy grew more skillful, his life began to change. His grades began rising again as he developed a more hopeful outlook on life.

The boy began joining various orchestras and community music organizations, all the while studiously learning in school – even taking honors classes. His repertoire expanded as his talent grew. When he played, it was as if he was one with the cello, and the cello with him. Several years later, he is in the teenage years, and the talented boy continues on in his musical journey. Now, he has hopes. Dreams. Hopes of becoming a professional future – dreams of getting into colleges and academies that would help him on his musical career.

If you look into his eyes today, they aren’t the same eyes as they were several years ago. Sure, there are still traces of sorrowfulness from his childhood – but now…there is light. There is love – for music, and for life.

And a young, ordinary girl in this cellist’s orchestra saw all this. She saw the changed life of the young cellist – how much he had to go through to get to where he was today. It inspired her, and she decided to write this post to remind the world that anything is possible if you work hard for it.

Anything.

 

#truestory