Photo courtesy of Tasha Bud of Tasha's Take
Sunday, June 28, 2009
Friday, June 26, 2009
CHAPTER 2 - UMMA AYAM SINSANA (WHERE ARE YOU NOW?)
( If you still have not read chapter 1, do read it here.)As soon as they arrived in Lubuagan, Guinnaban was baptized to Christianity by Fr. Belucci and named Benedict - after St. Benedict. To Guinnaban, the name symbolized hope and courage - and he liked the sound of it!
The abrupt change of environment though, had made him and his family uncomfortable. There were sad moments that they thought of going back to the simple life in the barrio. It was difficult for them to adjust to the ways of the progressively booming town. The good priest however, insisted that they stay on as he knew Benny was a brilliant boy who could pursue a much needed education for the sake of his people.
The following school year, Fr. Belucci enrolled him at the Parish secondary school.
On the very first day, Benny was already taunted by his classmates. “Hey, what’s your name?”
“Benedict” he would reply.
“Benedict? that's a fancy name, huh? Far from your ugly, Kalinga name.” then the group would roar with laughter.
“ Let’s see if you can live up to it, “ laughing, they would leave him speechless at the center of the school’s quadrangle.
They frequently picked on him and made fun of him. “Here’s the native,” they taunted and ridiculed him.
On the 5th day of school, Francis the most intelligent of the class, challenged him to a spelling contest. Benedict was reluctant to participate, as he was brought up by his parents believing that a truly brave man did not have to prove himself.
But the whole class jeered at him:" C'mon, you - from Taloctoc, let's see if you know something, " and they refused to allow him to leave the room.
Thinking that it would do no harm to anyone, he accepted the challenge and stayed. They unceremoniously pushed him beside Francis; he could see the beads of sweat mushrooming in Francis' excited face as he gleefully grinned at him.
Each of the students started yelling words for them to spell.
"pneumonia," one shouted.
"Use the chalk dumbo! Write " Francis snarled at him, "Let's see if your teeny weeny brain recognizes words."
" psychology"
Images from: All Free Clipart"gobbledygook"
"millennium"
"minuscule"
"sacrilegious"
There were two students assigned to both blackboards to check what they have written.
After each word, the uproar grew lesser and lesser as Benny had been able to spell the words correctly.
Unknown to them, since Benny's first day with Fr. Belucci, he was allowed to use the old priests' personal book collection. He devoured them like someone starving, and spent every free time savoring each page of the variety of books available for his perusal. He even started reading theology!
"And what is this all about?" a voice thundered from the doorway.
Everyone turned to meet Mrs. Garcia's unsmiling face. "What are you up to, now Francis?" her piercing stare made Francis wince.
"Err... we were just having a spelling contest," he was meek as a lamb in front of Mrs. Garcia.
The teacher took one long look at the board and said sternly, " the two of you, come to my office, right now." Her manner was succinct but there was a hint of pride in her tone.
Francis got most of the scolding as Mrs. Garcia was aware of his boisterous behavior at times.
"Let me finish what you started," her voice was gentler now and there was a twinkle in her eye.
"Spell liaison" , she motioned to Francis.
Francis stood at attention and proudly blurted out, " L - I - A - S - O - N" .
Mrs. Garcia - her face expressionless - nodded to Benny .
" L I A I S O N", Benny enunciated each word deliberately.
The teacher happily tapped the shoulder of Francis, " Now we have a new champion, Francis ," she strode towards Benny and intoned excitedly, " You are correct! I have high hopes we will win the championship this year. From now on, both of you should work together."
As days laboriously passed , it was evident that academically, Benny performed better than Francis - to the other one's obvious chagrin. In fact - he was the best in all categories - be it in Mathematics, English, Literature, or Music.
He had an eye and a heart for all extra-curricular and academic pursuits. He was the Grand Champion in the Math Quiz bee, the Spelling Bee and had won the Short Story Writing Contest sponsored by the English Society.
He then earned their respect and admiration. No one dared to taunt him anymore. Everyone wanted to be in his list of friends.
He graduated from St Theresa’s College as the Valedictorian of High School Class ‘ 76; with 6 medals: the gold, the leadership medal, the Insular Life gold, the Best in math, the Best in English, and was awarded "The Most Outstanding Graduate."
(TO BE CONTINUED)
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GO BACK TO UMMA AYAM CHAPTERS
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Sunday, June 21, 2009
CHAPTER 1 - UMMA AYAM SINSANA (WHERE ARE YOU NOW?)
By: Jena Isle
The mournful chant reverberated through the small four walls of the hut…” Aieeeee”.
Guinnaban - 9 at that time - was cowering in the eerie shadows. He was staring at the wrinkled woman wailing for the gaunt, pale corpse laid on the long table. The head of the corpse was at a grotesque angle, almost totally severed from his body.
“ Uma nangwa kansika anna?” ( Who have done this to you?) the woman wailed even louder.
“Aiieeeeee”….. everyone joined in and the hut became a cacophony of mournful cries.
The barrio captain motioned to the elders for a conference and they filed outside, their faces grim and murderous. Outside, a heated and frenzied debate took place.
Finally, the barrio captain raised his arm and shouted amidst the din, “ Intakkon no, umma uwayon yo, ittod tako kanida de kingwada.”( Then what are we waiting for? Let’s avenge his death.)
And so a full blown “tribal war” had began.
Guinnaban, grew amidst these bloody chaos caused by two warring tribes, who both fought for domination over the municipality. He accepted it as a way of life: the constant refuge in the deep forest even in the stillness of the night when the “enemy” had come to attack and the code of silence even when all he wanted was to protest at the top of his voice at the injustice of it all - these had become routine occurrences for him. And at age 10, he had stood as a sentinel on one of the night watches.
The “enemy” did not select their victims. Women and children were not spared by their avenging spears and bolos. Men had their heads always severed from their bodies, as a symbol of victory. The victor would bring home the grotesque, bloody head and would proudly display it like a trophy in their barrio. The warriors would dance gleefully around it till the wee hours of dawn. Head-hunting was normal and considered a warrior's noble deed.
It is for this reason that women and children did not dare venture outside their barrio’s perimeter unless escorted by warriors.
He was 12, when a Belgian, missionary priest , Fr. Carl Belucci, visited their far flung barrio. Everyone was wary of him. What did this white haired man with a long aquiline nose want with them? He was not the enemy surely but might he be a spy? No one wanted to welcome Fr. Belucci and his companions to their nipa huts.
Guinnaban could not explain what prompted him to approach the priest, “ You are not here to help us, are you?” he queried, his big round eyes - probing and curious.
“I am here not only to help, “ the priest said in his soft, mellow voice.
Guinnaban believed him. At his age, he had a keen perception of people. He can perceive just by looking at people's eyes, whether they were sincere or not; and he knew, the priest was his salvation.
From then on, Guinnaban served as the altar boy in each Holy Mass the priest celebrated. He began to listen to Fr. Belucci and learned that there is salvation for everyone, even for his enemies.
The elders however, were too far gone to forgive and forget whatever the sins of the past were, and continued with their thirst for vengeance. Some younger men, pleaded with the elders to forge a peace pact with the other tribe to end the senseless war.
They started proceedings but it seemed that their efforts were futile, there was still no vestige of reconciliation.
It was at this time that Fr. Belucci was called back to the parish church in town as it was becoming increasingly dangerous for him to stay on, in the barrio.
“Do you want to come with me?” Fr. Belucci asked Guinnaban, two days before his scheduled departure.
“You can continue serving as an altar boy and can go to school simultaneously.”
“But what about ina and ama?” Guinnaban wanted to go, but feared for the safety of his parents.
“They can come with you.” The old priest patted his head.
So on that gloomy, Monday morning, Guinnaban and his parents got what little was left of their belongings and joined Fr. Belucci in his 5 hr-trek to town.
(TO BE CONTINUED)
HOME______________________________________________________________________________________________
The mournful chant reverberated through the small four walls of the hut…” Aieeeee”.
Guinnaban - 9 at that time - was cowering in the eerie shadows. He was staring at the wrinkled woman wailing for the gaunt, pale corpse laid on the long table. The head of the corpse was at a grotesque angle, almost totally severed from his body.
“ Uma nangwa kansika anna?” ( Who have done this to you?) the woman wailed even louder.
“Aiieeeeee”….. everyone joined in and the hut became a cacophony of mournful cries.
The barrio captain motioned to the elders for a conference and they filed outside, their faces grim and murderous. Outside, a heated and frenzied debate took place.
Finally, the barrio captain raised his arm and shouted amidst the din, “ Intakkon no, umma uwayon yo, ittod tako kanida de kingwada.”( Then what are we waiting for? Let’s avenge his death.)
And so a full blown “tribal war” had began.
Guinnaban, grew amidst these bloody chaos caused by two warring tribes, who both fought for domination over the municipality. He accepted it as a way of life: the constant refuge in the deep forest even in the stillness of the night when the “enemy” had come to attack and the code of silence even when all he wanted was to protest at the top of his voice at the injustice of it all - these had become routine occurrences for him. And at age 10, he had stood as a sentinel on one of the night watches.
The “enemy” did not select their victims. Women and children were not spared by their avenging spears and bolos. Men had their heads always severed from their bodies, as a symbol of victory. The victor would bring home the grotesque, bloody head and would proudly display it like a trophy in their barrio. The warriors would dance gleefully around it till the wee hours of dawn. Head-hunting was normal and considered a warrior's noble deed.
It is for this reason that women and children did not dare venture outside their barrio’s perimeter unless escorted by warriors.
He was 12, when a Belgian, missionary priest , Fr. Carl Belucci, visited their far flung barrio. Everyone was wary of him. What did this white haired man with a long aquiline nose want with them? He was not the enemy surely but might he be a spy? No one wanted to welcome Fr. Belucci and his companions to their nipa huts.
Guinnaban could not explain what prompted him to approach the priest, “ You are not here to help us, are you?” he queried, his big round eyes - probing and curious.
“I am here not only to help, “ the priest said in his soft, mellow voice.
Guinnaban believed him. At his age, he had a keen perception of people. He can perceive just by looking at people's eyes, whether they were sincere or not; and he knew, the priest was his salvation.
From then on, Guinnaban served as the altar boy in each Holy Mass the priest celebrated. He began to listen to Fr. Belucci and learned that there is salvation for everyone, even for his enemies.
The elders however, were too far gone to forgive and forget whatever the sins of the past were, and continued with their thirst for vengeance. Some younger men, pleaded with the elders to forge a peace pact with the other tribe to end the senseless war.
They started proceedings but it seemed that their efforts were futile, there was still no vestige of reconciliation.
It was at this time that Fr. Belucci was called back to the parish church in town as it was becoming increasingly dangerous for him to stay on, in the barrio.
“Do you want to come with me?” Fr. Belucci asked Guinnaban, two days before his scheduled departure.
“You can continue serving as an altar boy and can go to school simultaneously.”
“But what about ina and ama?” Guinnaban wanted to go, but feared for the safety of his parents.
“They can come with you.” The old priest patted his head.
So on that gloomy, Monday morning, Guinnaban and his parents got what little was left of their belongings and joined Fr. Belucci in his 5 hr-trek to town.
(TO BE CONTINUED)
HOME______________________________________________________________________________________________
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
A Zany Cinquain from Zorlone - A Replay of His First Poems!
Oftentimes we come across someone who has real talent and we know in our hearts, we just have to share this with others - with the blogosphere.
And this is one of those instances in which I was so taken by the talent of this young man - LORENZO BERNARDINO a.k.a. ZORLONE - that I decided to blog about it!
To confirm my personal judgment, even the writing community at Helium.com has recognized his talent with his very first article entitled Writing for the Love of Writing , and had ranked him highly. His "Signs Your Wife is Cheating on You" is ranked 1 by Helium writers, and to think he isn't married yet. Need I say more?
This poem was written by him - impromptu.
Oh, I forgot to mention that he is a practising medical doctor, specializing in internal medicine. Isn't that amazing? A superb combination : A doctor-cum-poet!
Read his Cinquain and be the judge.
Here's what he says:
My attempt at cinquain:
Foreplay
Passionate game
Frustrated feelings unfold
Overwhelmingly delightful expression unfulfilled
Foreplay
another one:
Coffee
Warm beverage
Every sip invites
Satisfaction of another company
Coffee
A Blank Verse he composed in high school.
And this is one of those instances in which I was so taken by the talent of this young man - LORENZO BERNARDINO a.k.a. ZORLONE - that I decided to blog about it!
To confirm my personal judgment, even the writing community at Helium.com has recognized his talent with his very first article entitled Writing for the Love of Writing , and had ranked him highly. His "Signs Your Wife is Cheating on You" is ranked 1 by Helium writers, and to think he isn't married yet. Need I say more?
This poem was written by him - impromptu.
Oh, I forgot to mention that he is a practising medical doctor, specializing in internal medicine. Isn't that amazing? A superb combination : A doctor-cum-poet!
Read his Cinquain and be the judge.
Here's what he says:
My attempt at cinquain:
Foreplay
Passionate game
Frustrated feelings unfold
Overwhelmingly delightful expression unfulfilled
Foreplay
another one:
Coffee
Warm beverage
Every sip invites
Satisfaction of another company
Coffee
A Blank Verse he composed in high school.
Troubled Grief
P012493-01220128M
And my hands are stiff, this body is adrift
Alone I felt and deep inside I cried
Chains are too tight, such truth I can’t deny
Such pleasure it was when I have found you
Lovely, sweet, unforgettable and true
All those treasured times I know we all had
I never did want to say our goodbyes
I don’t want to leave these friends in my arms
For we are destined to be together
If we separate, there will be no peace
But our hearts will remain in troubled grief.
Monday, June 15, 2009
Plotdog's WOOF Results for June 12, 2009
Thanks for voting for my entry.
Mabuhay to all the top picks! - Justin, Zorlone, Jennifer, Deeptesh, WebbieLady, and Roy, Ferox , Izzy: you're all winners for me. Keep writing, guys!
Mabuhay to all the top picks! - Justin, Zorlone, Jennifer, Deeptesh, WebbieLady, and Roy, Ferox , Izzy: you're all winners for me. Keep writing, guys!
About Poetry and Writing
Jena Isle – “Poets and Poems” - Are poets defined by their poems?
Poetry
Dragon Blogger – “Chance Encounter” - Random word poem about falling in love with a girl who works at a register.
Zorlone – “War Cry” - "To me this is like a tale of the redirection of energy. From one source to another, energy does not go away it is only redirected. That is energy from the electricity of nature, to energy from the electricity of human souls." - Straberry Girl
Jennifer M Scott – “Broken Cacophony” - A journey into the surreal complete with an original picture drawn by me.
Zorlone – “Goodbye” - "Saying goodbye is the hardest thing to do..." - Snow (This is a poetry challenge by Jenn Scott)
Deeptesh Sen – “Angel of the Dark” - Surreal love and fear....and some soft magic!
Fiction
Webbielady – “Her Garden Has Something” - Her garden is her passion. She did not ask for any return but one day something unexpected came up and she could not believe it!
Brought to you by PlotDog Press with the Serial Suspense Screenplay "Intervention"
(WOOF participants should re-post all the links above by next Monday. The following links may be excluded as long as you include all the above links.)
Presenting the finest of the writer’s blogs by the bloggers who write them. Highlighting the top posts as chosen by the June 12, 2009 WOOF Contest participants. Want in to join the next WOOF? The next contest ends June 19. Submit a link to your best writing post of the last 3 weeks using the form on this page. Participants, repost the winning link list within a week and you’re all set.
Other WOOF Contestants for 06/12/09
Poetry
Deeptesh Sen – “Boatman and some love songs” - The divine, a girl and a boatman.......the air of surreal tunes.
Roy – “numbed” - a heart turned cold... frozen... numbed... because of a broken trust
Roy – “One-words – Death” - an attempt to sound poetic using only one word per line
Dragon Blogger – “Reflections from on High” – Random word poem about our place in the universe.
Zorlone – “A poet's meal: Oven baked” - "...writing something is like cooking something and then sharing it to your readers. Also, creations do start from dreams which are fueled by inspiration." - Lucrecio Emerito
Dragon Blogger – “Unfinished Book” - A poem challenge to use the words Verbum Me Vocat inspired this poem.
Jennifer M Scott – “Verbum me Vocat” - A poem about writing verbum me vocat means word calls me.
Jennifer M Scott – “cold heat” - A somber poem.
Jennifer M Scott – “When the Lights Go Out” - Hoping for the power to go out because of a thunderstorm.
Jennifer M Scott – “May” - A poem about may in acrostic.
Fiction
Ferox – “The She-Demon's Anatomy part 2” - Part 2 of an encounter with a she-demon in a fantasy story.
About Poetry and Writing
Izzy Daniels – “How to avoid messing up your post schedule” - This is a post on ideas to prevent messing up your writing schedule.
Izzy Daniels – “How flame can actually benifit you if you use it right” - Most people get hacked off when some flames on their article, but what if you could use the strong critisism to better yourself and you blog? In this post I give you the reasons why keeping flame is actually good for you.
Thursday, June 11, 2009
"Missing the Bus" - 21st Story for the Inspirational Book
By CEBLOGGER
It was a summer in 1960. Tinang was busy fixing the breakfast table for her children when she announced that she would go to the city to visit the kids’ father. Some of the smaller kids were not really paying attention to the announcement, as they were very eager to take or even fight for their share of the meal.
Like any young woman after the World War II, Tinang married early. She and her husband lived a very simple life; toiling by day and procreating at night. They both worked in their farm then, in a small town near the southern tip of Cebu. Only corn grew on the rocky soil. But they also lived near the sea. The sea produce was plentiful, and kids learned to fish at a very young age. So it was both farming and fishing that let them survive.
With the absence of any information about family planning, she gave birth almost every year. At 40, she had already given birth thirteen times, including twins. Sadly, only nine survived. The youngest is about half a year old. Thus, the increasing need of the growing family forced the husband to look for a job elsewhere.
The husband worked at a foundry in Cebu City, 120 kilometers away from his family. Tinang schedules a usual monthly visit getting the allotment from her husband, and budget the scanty amount to feed the large family.
Life in the province was hard for such a big family. Even having a rice meal was a luxury they cannot afford. The kids were forced to help. Since the eldest died right after birth, Nina, the second child, carried the responsibility of taking care of her siblings when the parents were away. At a tender age of 15, she was only able to reach grade 2, having to quit school every time her mother gave birth.
Boning was next in line. Like Nina, he was also responsible for taking care of the other siblings. He was also allowed to go with the uncles when they went fishing. School had no appeal to him. He declared he’d rather plant corn or catch fish than go to school.
Tinang then gave the usual instructions to the elder kids. They nodded, afraid to speak up. They knew that any sign of disobedience would result to a harsh beating. She then picked up the baby crawling on the dining table and gave him to Nina.
After everyone finished breakfast, Biboy, the third child, raised his hand. “I’ll go with you, Ma!” All the other kids looked at him. Then they turned their gaze toward their mother. He was barely ten, confident, and considered to be the smartest of the siblings. He was the only kid who loved school, even escaping from work just to attend classes.
Many days he heard him talk about the city. Mostly repeating the descriptions he heard from his father, and emphasizing his determination to work and live there someday. He boasted that he’d finish college so that when he grew up he won’t be fishing or farming. Nobody encouraged him to dream beyond their simple living, he was just an ambitious kid.
“No, no you can’t. You better stay here. Catch fish and plant corn” Tinang said with an angry look at the young boy.
“Ma, please” Biboy begged. But she just ignored him. She had to take the 9 AM trip to be able to reach the city by afternoon. With rough roads and the dilapidated buses, the trip will take at least 6 hours.
“Ma, please let me come with you” Biboy pleaded again. The other kids just watched him. They knew that he’d be punished soon. They’ve seen it happened a lot of times. Boning and Nina did not attempt to stop their younger brother too. They knew he was a persistent brat. They even wished he’d be spanked right then and there.
“Now go away! I’m in a hurry”.
Unnoticed, Biboy took her mother's slippers and ran outside. Though they walk barefooted in and around the house, he knew that she can’t go to the city without her only slippers. It was one of her only decent possessions.
Then she began to look for it. All the other kids were pointing at Biboy as the culprit. She screamed at the top of her lungs. “Biboy!” Any minute longer, she would surely miss the bus.
From afar, Biboy pleaded. “Ma, please.”
“I said you stay here. Don’t be stubborn, or I’ll spank you till I see blood. Now, where are my slippers?” Tinang shouted.
“Would you bring me to the city if I find your slippers?” Biboy let out a naughty grin.
But Tinang got more angrier. She chased Biboy with a broomstick. But he was too quick. They ran around the house, then to the corn fields. The bus passed by with the familiar honk. It was the only bus to the city that day, and she was too far to signal it to stop. Her fury continued after missing her bus. She was cursing and shouting. Biboy froze upon seeing her mother turning redder. At last, she caught up with the kid and then beat him almost to death.
The wails of the little boy echoed in the hills. Nosy neighbors got curious too. But they had become used to it. Biboy saw his dream vanished. Perhaps, he thought, it could wait another day. He only wanted to see the city but he got bruises instead. Blood was flowing in his legs and arms. The mother was still unrelenting and unforgiving. She dragged the limping child back to the house.
Almost an hour later, neighbors had gathered around to discuss the bad news: The bus Tinang missed careened into a cliff a few kilometers away from their house, leaving more than half of the passengers - dead.
She was silent upon hearing the news. She could not believe she missed the trip to limbo.
Biboy stopped crying too. He also heard it all.
Tinang looked at his bloodied boy for a minute. Tears of regret began flowing from her eyes. She moved towards him, hugged him tight, and thanked him for saving her life.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Ceblogger authors three "Potent" and "Notable" blogs namely:
Jumbled writings is his creative blog, and according to him-
"The poems and stories here are written for the entertainment and satisfaction of the author. A fully edited text is not guaranteed. Errors and mistakes in grammar and spelling may be everywhere. However, if you enjoy reading the stories, the author will appreciate it more if you leave a comment. If you find the stories way, way below your taste and standard, you may not visit again."
I like the poignant feeling this short poem evokes: untitled poem from a hopeless romantic.
And he has two- sentence stories too , like "Reunited" .
He has many more creative posts in his writing blog, so don't forgo this chance to be entertained by his witty and ingenious posts .
He says this about himself:
"Ceblogger is N.F. Trapa, a Certified Public Accountant, currently based in Cebu, Philippines.
Ceblogger.Com are his sports and random topics blogs where he writes about his passion for sports and other non-creative topics.
It was a summer in 1960. Tinang was busy fixing the breakfast table for her children when she announced that she would go to the city to visit the kids’ father. Some of the smaller kids were not really paying attention to the announcement, as they were very eager to take or even fight for their share of the meal.
Like any young woman after the World War II, Tinang married early. She and her husband lived a very simple life; toiling by day and procreating at night. They both worked in their farm then, in a small town near the southern tip of Cebu. Only corn grew on the rocky soil. But they also lived near the sea. The sea produce was plentiful, and kids learned to fish at a very young age. So it was both farming and fishing that let them survive.
With the absence of any information about family planning, she gave birth almost every year. At 40, she had already given birth thirteen times, including twins. Sadly, only nine survived. The youngest is about half a year old. Thus, the increasing need of the growing family forced the husband to look for a job elsewhere.
The husband worked at a foundry in Cebu City, 120 kilometers away from his family. Tinang schedules a usual monthly visit getting the allotment from her husband, and budget the scanty amount to feed the large family.
Life in the province was hard for such a big family. Even having a rice meal was a luxury they cannot afford. The kids were forced to help. Since the eldest died right after birth, Nina, the second child, carried the responsibility of taking care of her siblings when the parents were away. At a tender age of 15, she was only able to reach grade 2, having to quit school every time her mother gave birth.
Boning was next in line. Like Nina, he was also responsible for taking care of the other siblings. He was also allowed to go with the uncles when they went fishing. School had no appeal to him. He declared he’d rather plant corn or catch fish than go to school.
Tinang then gave the usual instructions to the elder kids. They nodded, afraid to speak up. They knew that any sign of disobedience would result to a harsh beating. She then picked up the baby crawling on the dining table and gave him to Nina.
After everyone finished breakfast, Biboy, the third child, raised his hand. “I’ll go with you, Ma!” All the other kids looked at him. Then they turned their gaze toward their mother. He was barely ten, confident, and considered to be the smartest of the siblings. He was the only kid who loved school, even escaping from work just to attend classes.
Many days he heard him talk about the city. Mostly repeating the descriptions he heard from his father, and emphasizing his determination to work and live there someday. He boasted that he’d finish college so that when he grew up he won’t be fishing or farming. Nobody encouraged him to dream beyond their simple living, he was just an ambitious kid.
“No, no you can’t. You better stay here. Catch fish and plant corn” Tinang said with an angry look at the young boy.
“Ma, please” Biboy begged. But she just ignored him. She had to take the 9 AM trip to be able to reach the city by afternoon. With rough roads and the dilapidated buses, the trip will take at least 6 hours.
“Ma, please let me come with you” Biboy pleaded again. The other kids just watched him. They knew that he’d be punished soon. They’ve seen it happened a lot of times. Boning and Nina did not attempt to stop their younger brother too. They knew he was a persistent brat. They even wished he’d be spanked right then and there.
“Now go away! I’m in a hurry”.
Unnoticed, Biboy took her mother's slippers and ran outside. Though they walk barefooted in and around the house, he knew that she can’t go to the city without her only slippers. It was one of her only decent possessions.
Then she began to look for it. All the other kids were pointing at Biboy as the culprit. She screamed at the top of her lungs. “Biboy!” Any minute longer, she would surely miss the bus.
From afar, Biboy pleaded. “Ma, please.”
“I said you stay here. Don’t be stubborn, or I’ll spank you till I see blood. Now, where are my slippers?” Tinang shouted.
“Would you bring me to the city if I find your slippers?” Biboy let out a naughty grin.
But Tinang got more angrier. She chased Biboy with a broomstick. But he was too quick. They ran around the house, then to the corn fields. The bus passed by with the familiar honk. It was the only bus to the city that day, and she was too far to signal it to stop. Her fury continued after missing her bus. She was cursing and shouting. Biboy froze upon seeing her mother turning redder. At last, she caught up with the kid and then beat him almost to death.
The wails of the little boy echoed in the hills. Nosy neighbors got curious too. But they had become used to it. Biboy saw his dream vanished. Perhaps, he thought, it could wait another day. He only wanted to see the city but he got bruises instead. Blood was flowing in his legs and arms. The mother was still unrelenting and unforgiving. She dragged the limping child back to the house.
Almost an hour later, neighbors had gathered around to discuss the bad news: The bus Tinang missed careened into a cliff a few kilometers away from their house, leaving more than half of the passengers - dead.
She was silent upon hearing the news. She could not believe she missed the trip to limbo.
Biboy stopped crying too. He also heard it all.
Tinang looked at his bloodied boy for a minute. Tears of regret began flowing from her eyes. She moved towards him, hugged him tight, and thanked him for saving her life.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Ceblogger authors three "Potent" and "Notable" blogs namely:
Jumbled writings is his creative blog, and according to him-
"The poems and stories here are written for the entertainment and satisfaction of the author. A fully edited text is not guaranteed. Errors and mistakes in grammar and spelling may be everywhere. However, if you enjoy reading the stories, the author will appreciate it more if you leave a comment. If you find the stories way, way below your taste and standard, you may not visit again."
I like the poignant feeling this short poem evokes: untitled poem from a hopeless romantic.
And he has two- sentence stories too , like "Reunited" .
He has many more creative posts in his writing blog, so don't forgo this chance to be entertained by his witty and ingenious posts .
He says this about himself:
"Ceblogger is N.F. Trapa, a Certified Public Accountant, currently based in Cebu, Philippines.
He was born on a night in November 1975, to a loving couple who, despite struggling their way to get college degrees, were still able to raise their only son (and three daughters) and sent him to schools like UP and USC. "
Ceblogger.Com are his sports and random topics blogs where he writes about his passion for sports and other non-creative topics.
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