Happy 5th Blog Anniversary

This month marks 5 years since I started this blog. Staying at one blog for longer than two years is a challenge because I have a habit of moving to new urls at random or maybe not at random but I never had a good reason aside from wanting a new home/name. Postcards from the Bookstore is quite nice but so was the previous other 30 or so names but I guess I'm still trying to find that perfect name which probably doesn't existed. Moving to new urls is sort of like starting over. 
    To celebrate this milestone, I wrote this post. In the old days, I would make a big deal of this and host a giveaway or three but there seemed to be no interests for that, at least, not here. I guess not being at any social media might make me (and my blog) less known to people. I have often said, blogging is a form of social media but it's not quite true since it's harder to get noticed and my posts are never brief like in social media. I couldn't say blogging is better than social media but it's certainly less daunting to me. 
    I have plenty of moments where I want to quit blogging but I never did. I still needed a place to keep some of my thoughts or else they go nowhere. But also, I really just like writing. I'm not much of a talker.
    You could say blogging is a habit, a part of my life, so that I don't need a reason to keep blogging, I just do it. I'm constantly thinking up things to post and write them even when I don't post them. These days, I don't think you need a purpose to blog unless you're using it to make money. I'm a somewhat slacker blogger and I believe no one have to blog every day or every week or even every month to be a blogger. You just have to post something every once in a while so people know you're still around. 
    Also this year makes it 20 years of blogging for me. Not much of a big deal since I know a couple of people who had blogged way longer than me. I wish I have some wisdom to share but I don't.
    Happy 5th blog anniversary! May we all continue to blog with joy and anything else that comes with it.

What keeps you blogging? And do you need a purpose to blog?

Fiction: Storms & Misfortunes

This month's Words for Wednesday prompts are supplied by Charlotte and hosted at River's blog here. This week's words/prompts are: ants, sushi, meeting, miniature, juniper, leaves and/or mushroom, seagull, windy, glass, knit, safe and (above) the image of a dormer window.

Fiction: Storms & Misfortunes
It was death that made Nora Merryweather stopped telling fortunes. When Nora first ascertained she knew things by looking at something as ordinary as a mushroom or a pebble, her aunt, Mary, taught her how to read the world around her. Sometimes knowledge simply entered her mind when she looked at something long enough and other times, she had to wait awhile. Since the age of fourteen, Nora had been telling fortunes by looking at people's belongings but her true talent was knowing when and how someone would die. 
    At eighteen, Nora tried to prevent her aunt's death by keeping her away from water. Instead of drowning trying to save a boy, Mary was crushed by a shopfront sign when she pushed a woman out of the way. The boy she should've saved, died. And the woman who should have died, lived. Fate, it seemed, could not be tricked but could be altered but never to how you wanted – it was a lesson Nora never forgot. Now Nora try to avoid misfortunes that came her way and if someone got saved, it was a happy side effect.
    A few months after her aunt's death, her neighbor, Mrs. Seagull, the woman Mary saved, offered Nora to live at her boarding house rent-free if Nora took care of the housework. Since Nora had nowhere to go after she sold the house to pay for funeral expenses, she accepted Mrs. Seagull's offer.
    Nora had no qualms about living in a boarding house isolated and miles away from civilization. It's why people came for quiet retreats away from the city. Nora didn't mind sleeping in the tiny attic room as she was somewhat miniature, having never grew taller than three feet and eleven inches.
    Not being much of a talker, Nora was a bit annoyed by the boarders' nosiness. If Nora leaves the house unexpectedly, if she misses dinner, if she sidesteps ants, if she avoids sushi, they all wanted to know. Frequently, Nora did the housework without speaking to anyone but she had a meeting or two with the boarders on her way down and up the stairwell but she never say more than necessary.  
    Each day, Nora would peer out the dormer window at the sky and enjoyed the quiet of the early morning. Sometimes, Nora thought life would be peaceful if only she didn't know any misfortunes but then she wouldn't have learned anything without them.

New music added to my playlist

I rarely listen to newly released music so everything's new to me. Here are some music that I'm currently listening to that I believe are almost recently released.

01 - Lines by Feng Ze > link 
Good pop-rock songs, mostly in English with one mandarin song and two with some mandarin lines thrown in. (If you're wondering, the cover has the artist sitting on the lamppost with a lamb on his lap)

02 - Everyone's A Star (Fully Evolved) by 5 Seconds of Summer > link  
I prefer the clean lyrics version but I like they give people a choice between the two versions. This is punk-rock, pop-rock, fun sounds, serious lyrics. I wouldn't say I love this album but it's very close but I definitely love the last song, 'I'll find you.'

03 - Meant Love by EJEAN  > link
Soft pop-rock that are a bit dreamy.

04 - Songs in the (M)attic by Matt Nathanson > link
Some really good Billy Joel tribute/cover songs.

What music are you listening to these days?

Fiction: A strawberry moon, a fire and a cat

This month's Words for Wednesday prompts are supplied by Charlotte and hosted at River's blog here. This week's prompts are cold, door, fire engine, tree, jacket, sign and/or candle, cup, egg, roses, window, hazy. Optional additional prompt is Charlotte's colour of the month Jade Green.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

Fiction: A strawberry moon, a fire and a cat
The fire engine took almost two hours to arrive but Jane Strong didn't fret as she stood outside in the cold. Staying a few feet away, she started to shout the door was unlocked but too late. The firefighters had smashed her front door off its hinges and the three men trampled on it on their way inside with the hose.
    The night air was cool. Jane tucked at the sweater she had hasty put on. It had been a cool June. Most of the townspeople thought Jane had done something to the weather. They believed she was an enchantress. Perhaps it was her use of candles or dressing in black or perhaps owning a black cat. If the wiring in her house didn't often short out, she wouldn't use candles. Dressing in black had been a habit since her teens and why should she change? As for her black cat, she just appeared and made herself at home. Even if none of those reasons existed, the townspeople would find some other reason to believe their own prejudices since they refuse to believe anything she say.
    She looked up at the strawberry moon in the sky. Was it a sign? Henry, her husband, believed in signs and he believed almost everything signified bad luck.
    Her eyes dropped down to the almost petalless pink roses in front of her house. Henry had planted them when they first moved in last year. People thought Jane made the roses grow with her witchcrafts but all she did was took care of them and the apple tree in her backyard. The townspeople often had trouble growing things and they didn't like that Jane could do what they couldn't.
    Someone thrust a paper cup into her hand. There was a boiled egg inside. She glanced up at the middle-age Marvin Hart, the town's newspaper reporter and busybody. "Old Bane said you're welcome to board at his bed and breakfast with a discount," said Hart. Jane wondered why Old Bane would do such a thing when the man was stingy with money. 
    Hart grinned. "Well, I'll be going now. Good evening, Mrs. Strong." Hart tucked his hands into the pockets of his faded leather jacket, made his way to his beat-up, faded jade green truck and drove off into the darkness. She detested the man. When Henry died eleven months ago, Hart interviewed her and then wrote several articles of how she might had poisoned her husband. The townspeople had believed him and avoided her. The three neighbors on the left and right side of her, moved away. Ever since, only her house was occupied in this far part of town. Even when it came out that a brain aneurysm had caused Henry's sudden demise, people still avoided her. Jane had since decided never to speak to Hart nor in front of him. Sometimes she wondered how Hart kept showing up whenever something bad happened, as if he knew they would happen. 
    After the firefighters left without speaking to her but had glanced at her as if she was some strange alien, Jane inspected her house. The lower level had broken windows, smashed objects, messes everywhere and almost everything was soaked. She dropped the paper cup with the egg into the trash bin in the kitchen. She refused to accept anything that man gave her. Upstairs, her bedroom was mostly unaffected though the scent of smoke lingered. 
    "There you are," Jane said, relieved at seeing the black cat lying on her bed but the cat didn't budge. Jane stroked the animal's back and felt no throbbing. The cat wasn't breathing. 
    About three hours ago, when the cat woke Jane after the fire started, Jane had grabbed the sweater hanging on the chair, ran downstairs, called the fire department and ran outside and forgot the cat. She had told the firefighters to look out for the cat but maybe they didn't care to touch her. Most of the townspeople believed black cats were bad luck. 
    Her view became hazy and Jane wiped her tears away. "I'm so sorry, Moody." She brushed her hands over the cat's body. The cat had showed up at her front door ten months ago. Jane had fed her scraps and apple slices thinking she would go away but the cat stayed on. After a time, she allowed the cat inside and started feeding her regularly. The name Moody was stuck in her head and it became the cat's name.
    Moody sprung her eyes opened and meowed. Jane cradled her. "Oh, you silly thing, you scared me."