Random Word of the Week: Tip

This would be interesting. Tip can mean so many things! My last story was a bit all over the place, I think. So I’ll try my best to make this one better! Constructive comments are always welcome, because if ever I am going to publish my own novel in the future, I gotta have to make sure that my readers are happy readers!


That Night: 


He was already half way there. If he messed up, then the entire mission would have been ruined. It was dark, and a bit cold on his toes, but he knew he had to persevere. Like a soldier, he faced the challenge with a one-track mind and tried pushing anything else that was irrelevant out of his head.

Clutching the little pot in one hand, he gently pushed the door open. He was lucky that it was left ajar, he knew how noisy that old door could be.

Tip-toe. Tip-toe.

He was near the windowsill. This is it. Just place it carefully on top. There! Now retreat…slowly…slowly… leave the door as it was… good.

Mission accomplished.


Earlier that Day: 

“I said, there is no use wasting effort on those things! I can’t make anything last! Everything I touch reaches a bad ending!” cried a thirteen-year old Sam. She had just experienced her first heart-break, and no one in the house was able to console her.

“Sam, honey, I know it must hurt now, but you’ll get over this, you’re stronger than that,” her mother tried comforting her, but it only had the effect of increasing Sam’s sobbing.

“No, you don’t understand!” Sam almost shouted… because she knew her pain was infinite, and no one, especially not her boring, old parents could comprehend the kind of love that could have been hers.

“But honey, don’t give up on your lovely flowers as well, you love gardening!” her mother said.

“No, I don’t want to garden anymore,” Sam sniffed. “Jason said gardening made you dirty, and girls should be learning how to cheer dance anyway instead of getting all muddy and stinky… I need to do that diet thing now so I can get to the cheering squad next year!”

“Sam, boys who talk like that are shallow, and they don’t deserve you! You’re such a wonderful girl, and one day, you’ll meet a boy who would love you and your flowers!”

“Ugh, mom! No boy would ever like me!” Sam had enough, and she stormed out the room, knocking over the pot holding one of her indoor orchids.

She was at the age where she knew everything that had to be known already. Her mother knew this too, but her mother’s patience was good and long because she knew that eventually, Time would prove to be a better comfort than her current words.

The two women were so caught up in their affairs that they didn’t notice little Charlie pretending to play with his cars. He thought better than to meddle with their girl problems, but when he heard the pot crash, he had had enough. He knew how much his big sister had enjoyed taking care of those, and he couldn’t believe she was refusing to take care of them now.


The Next Morning 

Sam woke up slowly, taking notice of her puffy and swollen eyes. It was strange how much light was showing in her room, she thought she had closed her curtains before she went to bed.

She stood up with the intention of drawing them back so she could remain in bed and darkness for longer. It looks like it was a nice and beautiful day, and that didn’t reflect her feelings at all.

That’s when she noticed her favorite orchid, sitting in a make-shift pot, covered clumsily in tape, but nonetheless, whole and pieced back together again after having dropped it yesterday. Beside it was a little card that read:


“Hi Sam,

Don’t worry. I’m a boy.

And I’ll always like you.



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