A person who does not read, or reads lit…

A person who does not read, or reads little, or reads only trash, is a person with an impediment: he can speak much but he will say little, because his vocabulary is deficient in the means for self-expression.

Mario Vargas Llosa, “Why Literature”

Tags: literature quote, mario vargas llosa, reading

Stethoscope

Three days before Christmas, father brought my brothers and I along with him to the department store. He needed to buy something for their party. I went along with my brothers to the toy section. We were awed to see the plenty displays. there were many things on the shelves.

Tags: april, brothers, christmas, doctor, father, memoir, Prose, stethoscope, toys

old bicycle

Every four o’clock in the morning, before Papa left to work, he never forgot to give me a hug. This loving gesture would always stir my heart.

As he mount his old rusty bicycle, I would run outside to say goodbye. He would just smile. As he pedaled away, I would follow his silhouette down the road until he disappeared in a cloud of dust.

His old mountain bike was our first bonding together.

I remember then, back in grade school, he bought a bike for me and my siblings.

Tags: creative nonfiction, hug, memoir, old bicycle, papa, pedal, Prose

Stormy We-ther

She stood with her black face some six inches from the moist window-pane and wondered would it ever stop raining.

Alice’s hand outstretched on the open window feeling on her palm the raindrops that were as cold as her husband, Jim. Weather forecast announced that a storm was expected that night, she foreseen that a storm was already passing by in her life.

Tags: alice, fiction, flash fic postcard, husband, jim, kring, Prose, stromy we-ther, wife

Fish Traps

She stands with her black face some six inches from the moist window-pane wondering if it would ever stop raining. Her clothes barely warding off the cold, she gripped the cold steel of her umbrella and sighs, ten minutes more. She watches the puddles on the street as rain drums on endlessly on her rusting roof top. Gray clouds stretched on for miles. She worries of Marcelino’s fish traps.

Tags: alpha, beach, fish nets, fish traps, fisherman, nets, postcard fic, Prose, rain, shiver, wife

Lead

I heard my cellphone beep after class dismissal; I read a message from my sister, Dream. She was telling me dramatic stories about her allowance, wanting to borrow money from me. She is also in Davao, but we are not living in the same house for my school is far from hers. She had insisted on studying here in Davao, even if she had not take nor pass any entrance examinations here. My parents were absolutely against it, but with my help, she ended up getting what she wanted.

Dream, my sister is only a year younger than me, and because of that we were always in competition. My parents would always give us the same amount of allowance, the same brand of clothes, and even an equal share of household chores for the sake of treating us fairly. However, back when I was five, I really felt that life was unfair.

Tags: lead, memoir, Prose, shyne

Beyond Her Rubrics Cube and Ginisang Gulay

Nina didn’t see any changes. As she gazed towards their barrio’s bountiful field, she allowed her arms to flail freely through the open window in the warmth of the summer’s day. The heat consumed her body and almost burnt her skin. The panoramic view of towering acacia and bamboo trees beside their kubo were like splendid living replicas of heavenly stairways, along with her garden, countless Gumamelas, Maravillosas and Ilang-ilang shaded in different hues of which she planted three years ago, and was fenced by sun burned bamboo poles and cogon grasses, had burst into full bloom . Almost everything was at their usual, but not quite.

No room for much admiration because she still have to cook afternoon meal for her sickly father. A steaming ginisang gulay would probably fit for a good meal. As she headed back in the kitchen, she noticed her old Rubric’s cube on top of their almost worn-out rattan couch. Surprisingly, it was perfectly arranged according to colors. It was beautiful. No one would dare to arrange it for there were only two of them inside the kubo. As she was going to inquire him, her father spoke of assertion in low-tone which was apparently much to her amazement.

Tags: albularyong tacio, barrio, betamax, buang, burikat, chayong, diana, edong, Flash Fiction, ginisang gulay, gumamelasm, hunger, ilang-ilang, insane, itay, kubo, maravillosas, mother, nina, Prose, radio, rubrics cube, smoking