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Analysis/Commentary "Our Lady's Juggler (Anatole France)

December 28, 2009

Analysis/Commentary on “Our Lady’s Juggler” By Anatole France

Background of Author: Anatole France is a son of a Parisian bookseller. His life was one of incessant controversy. His attitude against the church and state was ironic and bitter, though he was educated at a religious school. And while his novels attacked conventional Christian institutions at the depths of his heart, as in the core of every person’s being – France had faith in the Almighty and innate goodness of man.

Analysis: Anatole France identifies with his main character Barnabas (Our lady’s Juggler) using the following defense mechanisms:

1. Repression. His subconscious compelled him to write against religious norms as a result of his repressed anger on the church and conventional Christian institutions. The story pointed it plainly that Barnabas suffered in silence.

2. Compensation – Barnabas lamented about his ignorance. To make-up, he settled for something less. He could not compose writ…

The Curse of Eve

The Curse of Eve


Food strengthens and energizes me – in body and spirit. Not just for the moment, but even the memories of food eaten with kindred spirits of the past keep my heart attuned with the world, and help me to see a brighter place.

When I was younger, I was trained by my Dad to eat well, despite my being skinny. Let me add, being skinny did not mean that I wasn’t healthy. In fact, I was very healthy and strong, and I could compete with any boy who was my age. Sometimes I lose, and sometimes I won. But for a girl like me, just competing – and winning – was enough to take my breath away.

It also made my Dad proud of me. And to keep me competitive, he gave me whatever food I desired. After class, we’d dine together, sometimes at the school canteen, other times at different restaurants. Usually, it was places we passed on the way home.

I was always happy when Dad and I ate together. Sometimes, it would be just the two of us. Especially when my Mom had meetings at the s…

Ispiritu sa Cake

Posted December 28, 2009

Ispirito Sa Cake

Pag-aari ng pamiliyang Santos ang Bakery 1528.

Ang pamilyang Santos ay may tatlong anak. Si Mayra at Clara ay anak ni Criselda sa unang asawa, at si Diana, ang pinakabata, ay ang tunay na anak ni Domingo. Balo si Domingo. Ang ina ni Diana ang dating nagmamay-ari ng Bakery 1528.

“Tatay, ano po ba ang hulma ng cake na gagawin ko para bukas sa anniversary?”

“Bahala ka anak, basta kulay puti ang gusto ng mag-asawang Zoan.”

“Ah sige po. Marahil ay hugis puso ang gagawin ko para sa kanila.”

“Mabuti pa nga.”

“Ang arte arte mo naman, tatanong-tanong ka pa, e ikaw din pala ang sasagot sa tanong mo,” ang pasaring na bulong ni Myra.

“Ano ba ang gusto mo Ate?”

“Ewan!” Pasigaw ni Myra.

Si Clara naman ay kain ng kain ng mga panindang tinapay sa bakery, habang pinupuno ni Criselda ang plato ng iba’t – ibang masasarap na pastry at mga tinapay.

“Myra, ano ang gusto mong ipa-bake kay Diana?”

“Mommy, gusto ko po ng chocolate cake na maraming bulaklak.”

Sige…

Painting

December 22, 2009

Painting

Painter si Allan. Maraming humahanga sa kanyang work of art. Pati sa mga kumpetisyon ay lagi siyang panalo.

“Naku, kailangan makabuo ako ng isang magandang entry para sa contest sa katapusan ng buwan, Nay.”

“Kaya mo ‘yan anak! Umisip ka muna ng magandang tema na makapaghihikayat ng atensyon tulad ng dati mong ginagawa.”

“Tama kayo, Nay. Ano kaya ang pwede kong tema, Nay?”

“Isipin nating mabuti.”

Sa katapusan ng buwan ay “Friendship Day.”

“Oo nga – e di ang tungkol na lang sa pagkakaibigan, anak.

“Nay, tama, Nay! “Friends Forever, Friends Forever – yan ang gagawin ko.”

“Okey, okey anak, simulan mo kaagad!”

Kinabukasan bumili ng mga art materials si Allan. Water color, canvass, brush at iba pa. Masayang masaya siya halos kandarapa pagdating ng bahay.

“Allan, ano ka ba, madadapa ka ng pagmamadali mo. Pati yang salamin mo bumagsak tuloy.”

“Wala ‘yon Nay, kailangan ko kasing mai-submit itong painting ko bago matapos ang buwan.”

Sinimulan ni Allan ang pagpip…

A Love That Breaks the Age of Glass Into Pieces

A Love That Breaks the Age of Glass Into Pieces


Love can’t be what it isn’t

You cannot swear by anything without love

And the Cross


You cannot push it and no one can dictate
About it

You cannot tell stories without authenticity
Even in fiction

It is only in an art form that love sees
Itself.



Love is you and I together

Kissing each others soul

And touching what is only for you and me



I cannot be so tactful in love

Because my love would let you die

Longing for my breath


You would dream of me

And seek me

More than your body would need

My warmth



No other woman would draw you logic

Except, I

Who loved you, and saw you naked

In all forms


I would break the age of glass into pieces

And taste your tongue

When all that wine spills

I will let it bathe me


So my tears will fill the rivers

And parched lands

And we would glory in the rain


Our wills can be one, but only in love

Because I cannot be a hollow mind

And you can’t give me what I ask


The poems of Nizar Qabanni

The poems of Rilke

The poems…

Chat

CHAT

Alas dose ng hatinggabi: Chat time naming ni Bruce.

Antok na ‘ko hintay ko pa rin siya. Wala kasi ‘kong lagging kausap. Ewan ko nga kung bakit ako nagityangang makipag-usap sa isang taong hindi ko pa nakikita. Feeling ko kasi, napakabait niya.

Minsan nagkaroon ako ng ga-daigdig na problema. Akala ko ‘nun magbibiti na ‘ko. Bumagsak kasi ako sa Forensic subject namin. Hiyang-hiya ako sa bahay. “Lam kasi ng lahat iskolar ako. Pero si Bruce – binigyan niya ako ng pag-asa. Hindi niya ako kinutya at hinusgahan sa nakuha kong mababang grade sa iskwela.

Buzz!

Ayan na si Bruce.

“How are you?” (Kumusta ka?) bungad sa ‘kin.

“I’m good.” (Mabuti ako.) And you? (Ikaw?)

Ganyan kami mag-usap ni Bruce.

Amerikano si Bruce kaya “speaking in dollars kami. Tuwing chat time namin, okay lang ako ng okay kasi hindi ako masyadong magaling sa Ingles – tapos tamad pa akong magsulat … Pero, feel ko si Bruce.

Ikinukuwento ko siya sa aking mga kaibigan. Sabi nila, nasisiraan na raw ako ng bait k…

CELEBRATION OF CHRIST THE KING

Mata Sa Bintana

Mata Sa Bintana

Sabi ng katulong naming si Ate Liza, kapag hindi raw ako natulog ng maaga ay may dudungaw sa bintanang mga mata.

Sino? Mata ba ni Spiderman o mata ni Bubbles ng Power Puff?

“Hindi raw nakakatawa dahil mga mata raw ng White Lady.”

Sa bahay kasi, laging pinagbibintangan ang White Lady, dahil sa White Lady… Minsan naawa na ako sa White Lady. Siguro kung makapagssasalita lang siya, lagot silang lahat. Ako lang ang kaibigna ng White Lady.

Minsan, nawala ang pera ni Tiya Azon, at wala naming pumasok na ibang tao sa bahay. Nag-usap usap sila.

Sino ang kumuha? Wala naman, may nagtago raw.

Pagkapos isang gabi sabi ni Tiya Azon may isang babaeng mahaba ang buhok sa paanan ng kanyang kama. Mala-rosas ang mga mata, na gustong makipagti-titigan, sabay naglahong mabilis. Nakatinging raw sa kay Tiya Azon. Kung ganon hindi lamang kami ang nakatira sa bahay. Mabuti malaki ang bahay dahil pati ang White Lady at ang kanyang pamilya ay may magandang tirahan. Lumaki ako sa ganito…

Sa Gulod ng Making

Sa Gulod ng Makiling

Sa gulod ng Makiling ay maraming kakakibang bulaklak. Mala-bahaghari ang mga kulay nito, at iba’t ibang klase ang mga bulaklak. Ang kuwento ng mga taga-makiling ay may matandang maputi ang buhok na nagdidilig ng mga bulaklak tuwing hatinggabi.

Minsan may isang dalagang pumitas ng abuhing makintab na mga rosas. Ibinigay raw ito ng dalaga sa Nanay niyang may sakit. Gumaling ang Nanay. Ang pinag-pitasan ng mga abuhing rosas ay nagkaroon pa ng maraming suloy at mga sanga.

Tuwang-tuwang raw ang matandang sa gulod.

Minsan naman ay isang bata ang kumuha ng mga orchids para ipalamuti sa grotto ni Santa Maria sa kanilang bahay. Umusbong raw sa paligid ng bakuran ang mga orchids. Tuwang-tuwa uli ang matanda at lalong walang patid ang pagdidilig gabi-gabi. Marami raw ang nakakakita sa ibayong pagdidilig ng matanda na mga taga-Makiling.

Takot lamang silang lumapit dahil kapag nagdidilig raw ang matanda ay madulas sa gulod at may napipilayan sa pagkakadapa. Nahihirap…

Microscope

Microscope

Isang antique na microscope ang pamana ni Lolo Eseng kay Nina. Bukod sa kanilang bahay at sa matandang microscope, ay wala na. Walang sakahang lupa, walang salapi, walang ginto.

“Si Lolo naman bakit pa ang microscope na ito and pinamana sa amin. Aanhin ko ba ito sa tabing dagat?”

“Saklawin mo raw ng iyong pananaw ang dagat,” sabi ni Aling Chari.

“Hay naku Inay, buti pa ipagbili natin. Kikita pa tayo at makadadagdag sa ating paninda.”

“Naku, huwag! Baka multuhin ka ng Lolo mo, sige.”

Nagtawanan ang mag-ina.

Naglilinis si Nina araw-araw katulong ni Aling Chari. Sa tuwina pinupunasan niya ang microscope. Pagkatapos ay susulong si Nina sa pagtitinda sa kaning maliit na tindahan.

“Mang Paolo kumusta naman ang huli ngayon?”

“Mabuti-buti naman Nina. Payapa ang dagat. Alam mo balita ng mga kababaihan ay marami raw turistang dadalaw dito sa atin.”

“Talaga? Bakit naman?”

“Baka maghahanap ng mga kabibe! Hahahah!”

Kinabukasan nga padating si Mang Paolo at may mga kasama.…

Salamin

Salamin

Mahilig magsalamin si Thea. Pagising sa umaga salamin kaagad ang hanap. Kapag siya nagbibihis at nag-mamake-up ay walang maka-agaw sa kanya sa salamin. Kulang na lang ikwintas niya ang salamin.

“Thea bilisan mo na, hinihintay ka ng school bus!”

“Oo Ate, nandiyan na, tinatapon ko lang ang mga basyo sa kusina.”

Si Thea ay malambing at maasikaso sa bahay. Malinis din siya. Ngunit kahit anong linis ang gawin niya hindi kayang baguhin ng kahit ano ang kanyang sarat na ilong at pangit na hugis ng mukha. Sa salaming iyon, na lagi niyang dala wari’y gumaganda siya. Marami siyang nilalagay sa mukha. Sa salaming iyong, lagi niyang dala wari ay gumaganda siya. Makapal na foundation at mahilig siyang magguhit ng luntian sa mabilog niyang mata.

Sa Padre Pio Elementary School.

“Thea, wow maganda sana ang mga mata mo, kaya lang pango ka at…”

“At … at ano Rolly?”

“At pangit korte ng face ….heheheh…joke lang…”

Hindi nakapag-salita si Thea. Kumulimlim ang mukha. Umirap na lamang at um…

Sushi's Dress Shop

Sushi’s Dress Shop

Mahilig magtahi si Sushi. Mga personalized bag, wallet at simpleng mga damit ang kanyang obra. Isang ‘handheld’ na makina ang kanyang gamit imbes na malaking makina. Ito and tumatahi sa matitigas na gilid ng tela. Tahing kamay na back stitch at hem stitch naman ang ginagawa ni Sushi para pagdikitin ang mga gilid at zipper.

Si Sushi ay anak ng mga manggagawa ng sinulid. Ang tatay niya ay naputulan ng kamay sa makina ng factory at ang kanyang Nanay ay nahubaran ng dami sa trabaho sa salang bintang ng pagnanakaw. Simula sa kanyang malungkot na kahapoon ay nagging tangan niya ang sinulid at karayom araw-araw.

Tuwing hatinggabi nananahi si Sushi. Nakakagawa siya ng magagarang istilo para sa kanyang mga customer. Nagagawa niya ang lahat ng ito sa dilim.

“Sushi, itahi mo naman ako ng isang party dress.”

“Oo ba. Anong istilong gusto mo? Meron ka bang tela?”

“Wala, ikaw na lang bahala sa lahat. Otso-deretso. Gusto ko golden brown ang kulay..”

“Sige Mimi, hanap …

Ang Aking Psychic Guru

Ang Aking Psychic Guru

SI Tony Perez. Siya and aking guro sa Playwiriting class. Ang Playwriting ay isang klase sa kurikulum ng Creative Writing sa DLSU.

Marami akong natutunana kay Sir Tony. Bahagi siya ng aking buhay sa panitik.

Hindi kayang ihiwalay ng gunita – siya at ang kanyang itinutro, habang naalala ko kung gaano ang kanyang pagsisikap para kami ay bahaginan ng kanayang kaalaman sa pagsulat. Masaya kami at magiliw tuwing Plawriting Class, tuwing Biyernes ng hapon.

Masaya ako sa paghihintay sa kanya.

Bukod sa isang guro, si Sir Tony ay isang “psychic guru.” Ang sabi niya, “Halos bawat isa sa atin ay my psychic ability,” kung wala nito, mahirap mag-imagine at matandaan ang mga nakaraang pangyayari, gayon din ang pagkakaroon ng “foresight.”

Ang Third Eye

Ang “third eye” ay maaari ding tawaging “psychic vision.” Sa “visual art” ito ay nasa gitna ng noo. “Ngunit, ang tunay na “inner true vision” ay naggagaling sa kalooban – maaring sa isip o sa puso,” sabi ni Sir Perez. “K…

I Wrote Fiction Stories

I Wrote Fiction Stories

Cinderella, Rapunzel, Snow White and the Seven Dwarves, The Little Pigs, Gulliver, Moby Dick, and more magical plots are the stories children love to hear. And of course, even for professionals who want some kind of inspiration, fun and creative entertainment – childhood and fiction stories are forever part of life.

The thrill these stories give to readers are intellectual and helpful because new ideas are formed and copied from the classic and basic story patterns.

The short story roots form an idea that involves a theme; a plot with a conflict, a climax and a denouement; characters; point of view; setting; dialogue and symbols.

The short story is a fiction story that is a work of imagination telling about life here, now, and yonder as if happening truthfully for real.

Here are tips I compiled from some books about the qualities of a commendable short story:

1. The story must be fresh in style
2. The story must portray true-to-life events
3. Words used m…

Smile Everyone (on a Thursday, 11.12.09)

The best thing that can happen to you everyday

is

when someone smiles at you

when someone admonishes you, then brings you wisdom

when you face and are trapped in an unwanted situation, then you understand life

when you are scared, then you laugh out loud

when you are bored, then you find new things to do

when you are angry, then you learn compassion

when the world is at your back, then you couldn't stand but kneel

and you are happy

and you laugh out loud

and you sing

and you love

and you pray for GODs family

and you pray

and you pray

and utter, GOD don't leave me!


Have a nice day everyone!

http://rfvietnamrose09.blogspot.com
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Image

From the Heart of a Woman

/Women's Journal, December 1987

“Inside my skin is a far more interesting, energetic, and successful person than they believe myself to be.”

To begin then, I am a bit of a woman somewhat more than 20. I am abundantly enriched with wealth of another sort, a responsible husband and two little kids. I got married at the age of 23 and since then I quit work. I take care of the house and I take care of the children. I used to think sometimes how much I dream for achievements, to pursue a career maybe and rebuild for myself the self-esteem I once had.

When I went into housekeeping, I guess I became so modest, and that made me slow to talk and so easy to be repulsed. I know it is certainly no suspicion of deficient merit and unconsciousness of my non-value but I know to the whole extent, the dignity of my own character and the high value of my own power and performances. Oftentimes, I am sluggish in conversation yet I know that I have great intellectual treasures. My thoughts flow…

I will tell you more stories tonight

I will tell you more stories tonight...

A big kiss,
Rose

http://iwrotefiction.blogspot.com

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Love of My Life

Love of My life

Rebecca can never deny the privilege of being in love. Yet the pain remains everytime she remembers that her marriage didn’t work. She knew what happened was far beyond her wildest dreams and nobody was to be blamed. Now, she’s convinced that man and woman are of equal footing. This led to a deeper secret of her life.

She was totally unaware of her beauty until the time that she had seen enough of her suitors in the category of fire. Several would be present and actively bidding.

“Ma’am Rbecca it’s nice to see you again.”

“Have we met before?”

“Yes in the Computer Lane CafĂ©. You left your notebook and I was the onw who found it. I’m Edgar Arambulo.”

“Oh yes, I remember.”

“How’s the down-to-earth educator?”

“I can’t believe that is me. But yes, I’m fine and feeling better everytime I see you.”

Edgar Arambulo blushed. He was the guy from the military academy. Rebecca was attracted to his revealing muscles the first time she saw him. He was a gentleman. But s…

My Neighborhood: The Manila Flood of Homosexuality

My Neighborhood: The Manila Flood of Homosexuality

Perhaps the souls of those we’ve lost do indeed take refuge in inanimate objects. Or maybe, they’re in some people who are open to discover the mysteries of life.

The homosexuals.

Manila is where I live. It is a noisy neighborhood. It is a place where so many have worked, explored, and drank. It is a place of fashion and big schools, the place where best people meet – man, woman, and gay.

I asked my city, “Are they confused solitary rebels? Is being a gay a debunking scare term?”

Until Arnold came into my life.

For so many years, Arnold had been my best friend. We shared common interests and we had fun together. Arnold always acted in a respectable manner and was a gentleman. I thought his sex appeal was oozing. He had strings of girlfriends because women liked him for his being of reason and intellect. Sometimes, what made him confident was his air of arrogance. This ignited my envy of his strong status.

One night Arnold…

Heat

Heat

Michael and Lora were friends. They have met only in the bus going to the province. Michael was a typical guy in his late 20’s with a good physique while Lora was in her early 30’s but very charming. During the trip, both stole glances from each other until a good conversation ensued.

“Hi! I’m Michael Santos. May I know your name?”

“Lora Camus.” And she smiled.

“I’m going to get off in Naga and it’s good to be back home,” Michael said.

“Me, too. But I’m going to work at the same time because I’ll be doing a research.”

Both were excited. They enjoyed the conversation and then traded calling cards.

Months passed.

Back in Manila, Michael rang Lora.

“Hello, may I speak to Ms. Lora?”

“Yes, I’m Lora. May I know who is calling?”

“Michael Santos.”

“Michael! I’m glad you called. How are you?

“I’m fine. But not so fine that’s why I called you up.”

“My girlfriend just left me.” I don’t know… We recently had a fight. Maybe it’s for good.”

“Of course.”

Suddenly there was sil…

Rebecca, Three Scary Stories in Filipino

REBECCA


Kuwento ni Rose Flores – Martinez
30 Piling Kuwento 2003
Editor: Danilo S.Meneses
Introduksiyon ni : Reynaldo S. Duque

Makikita pa rin ang maraming bundok sa daan papuntang Bicol. Hindi maikakaila ang masukal na mga lugar. Sa bintanang salamin ay matatanaw ang lumang simbahan, na parang makapapasong tingkad ng liwanag, dala ng sinag ng pusyawing asul na ilaw ng krus sa gilid ng bundok.

Hindi ko maitago ang pagkamangha sa ganda ng kislap ng pusyawing asul na ilaw ng krus, hindi rin makapagsisinungaling ang aking damdamin.

Maganda nga, napakaganda ng kinang ng liwanag, ngunit sayang at hindi ko man lamang nadama ang hiwaga nito. Malamig ang dampi ng hangin sa paligid, may init ang sinag ng pusyawing asul na ilaw – katulad ng magkahalong lungkot at saya na aking nararamdama. Kung hindi nga lamang dahil kay Lola Basya …

Ano iyon? Mga ibong gubat? Marami pa ring ang mga kikik na nakakubli sa hinganteng mga punong kahoy sa gilid ng kabunkukang aming dinaraanan, pumupuno sa …

Rebecca, Three Scary Stories in Filipino

Friday, September 25, 2009

An Introduction

Rebecca. This story is my first entry to the world of fiction.

I couldn't think of anything more interesting than this one during birthing. This came to me when Sir Isagani Cruz required us to write one fiction story. And so I tried to bleed this during the workshop with Sir Charlson Ong and Sir Medina. Oh --- it did not impress them, but they thought my idea was convincing, and so I tried to improve it. I don't know if Sir Isagani remembers how I conceived this story, but I really told the whole class about it. I was not ashamed and maybe they understood me. I knew I have to polish this story.

Later, Sir Bisa helped me repair this fiction and thanks to him because I was able to decide with the title, "Rebecca." Do you know about the strong woman Rebecca, or Shakespeare's Rosalind? I just had thoughts about this. Then, Rebecca was published in Liwayway - under the authors page (Bagong Manunulat) and Sir Re…

Bolpen, Three Scary Stories in Filipino

2. Bolpen

Masarap mangarap, masarap mabuhay lalo na kung ang lahat ng iyong gusto sa buhay ay natutupad. Karangyaan, kayamanan, kasikatan yan ang pangarap ng lahat… at isa doon si Rosa. Si Rosa ay simpleng manunulat, may 2 anak at 6 na taon sa trabahong ito ngunit wala pa ding nangyayari sa buhay niya. Mahirap pa rin siya…at pawing lalong humihirap.

“Pesteng buhay ‘to! Kelan ba ko aangat sa estado kong ito?” ani ni Rosa. “Lagi na lang ganito, walang gustong tumanggap ng mga isinusulat ko? E napakagaling ko naman!”

“Ano ka ba Rosa? Maging matiyaga ka lang, may awa ang Diyos. Baka di pa dumadating ang tamang oras mo,” sagot ng kaibigan niyang si Leslie. “ Nga pala may opening sa darating na Biyernes sa may Ortigas, naghahanap sila ng mga writers para sa bago nilang ilalabas na libro, pwede ka doon. Bakit di mo subukan? Eto ang numero tawagan mo..”

“O sige, mapuntahan nga yan baka yan na yung matagal ko ng hinihintay na break!,” sagot ni Rosa.

“Oo nga, sige good luck sayo kay…

Sa Aking Silid, 3 Scary Stories in Filipino

1. Sa Aking Silid

Ramdam ko ang pait at pagmamalupit ng panahon sa akin. Sa tuwing ako ay lilisan palabas ng aking silid, may kahalong lungkot at ligaya tarak sa aking puso. Tila ako ay binalutan ng tinik sa dibdib.

Simula noong ako ay bata pa sa pagpasok ng aking silid may kaba at takot na laging umaamba sa paligid, parang usok na lumalaki.

Si Ama ay isang kilalang tao sa lipunan. Mataas ang tingin ng mga taga-bayan sa kanya, maging ang kanyang mga kakompetensya sa San Gabriel. Sa araw araw na ginawa ng Diyos, masaya ang mga taong dumadalaw sa aming bahay na lagging may pagdiriwang na nagaganap. Mahal na mahal si ama mga taga- San Gabriel. Mahal din ni Ama si Ina… at ako. Maraming tao ang natulungan ni Ama. Mahirarap man o mayaman, walang pinipiling tulungan. Maraming krimen din ang nalutas. Maliban lamang sa kaso dito sa aming bahay. Iyan ang lihim.

Sa aking silid, pinid ang durungawan. Ang mga ala-ala ng aking nakaraan ay hindi maungkat. Ayaw kong maungkat muli…

Three Scary Stories in Filipino

I will start publishing here in my blog "Stories For You," short stories in Filipino. Two of this set, of Three Scary Stories were authored by Wenzi Jeanne Flores Martinez and Ma. Riza Flores Martinez. I've written one of the three. And so these 3 stories that make this set! Wenzi and Riza wrote these stories while they were in college and they have got a few poems and essays of their own as contributions way back in their school paper. I am happy and I thank GOD that they in themselves have found an expression of life in some form of words. These stories - they, considered as jokes, or practice, or simply an expression, showed part of their talents growing up students. In some way or another, they have done texts that might be helpful, and useful in the study of Filipino literature that shows that part of a culture in their contemporary period of growing up. Three Scary Stories in Filipino, R.W.R, IWROTEFICTION copyright 2009

September 25, 2009, Philippines
http:…

4. NET CHAT

NET CHAT


Madness creeps to explore new possibilities. How many men can a woman have in a day? I was curious. It was discovering a feeling I had not the luxury in life. I was in a barred, cemented walls that was almost like a tomb. A core in a crust. So I plunged my fears and swam across depths of time and space. First time.
I would taste the pleasure of emotions in words. It was a trance. A temporary exit to the power-playing people around me in the real-now. I began to find the answers to my complicated ideas, deconstructing and reconstructing every word; trying to separate water and oil. I would like to think, there is a knife on my neck and every wrong move I make would slit a cut on my throbbing throat like killing a helpless chicken.
Maybe, I can become what I dream now. In this development of technology, words and letters are like people talking to me face to face.

Connecting…

“Hello and heller!”
Everyone greeted everyone hello. Well, not hell and below, I suppos…