Larger Than My Room

I was fortunate to bring all my notebooks from college and personal studies when I went to live far from my province. I just thought that it would be better to have these notes with me wherever I go. I would not know when would I need them again. But I feel deep down in my spine, that I will. But here they are, lying quietly on my floor stacked with books and sketchpads and papers and cups and bottles. And, who knows about my constant effort organizing them from time to time; but they still look crowded and messed up.

The day came sooner than I had expected. I will be doing a consultation/discussion about storytelling and story development to students later. These people grouped into three to perform a theatrical play on a contest held at their school by the end of February.

Before I went there, I tried my best to review every notes about story development and theories that I have. I had been provided beforehand with scripts written by students to review and critic on anything I thought worthy to point out. I was excited to go there after I felt that I was ready and armed with fresh knowledge of the topic. For the first hour, I met Don, a 3rd year Multimedia student, who was working on his animation project. He told me about the story of his animation and at the same time asked me for my opinions. I like the whole concept of his story:

"There was a young samurai who fell in love the moment he saw this mysterious beautiful woman despite that he only saw her once. And later, he met a fox and became friends with it. His feelings for the fox grew strangely familiar as day passed by. Unfortunately, the young samurai was killed by drunkard. On the time of his death, he envisioned someone as he gazed through the fox's eyes. It was her woman looking at him for the last time."

Don's story was promising and it has a lot of potential. The only challenge for him now was how he can present the story exactly how I felt it when I was hearing it. Then, I watched his animatics.  It was okay. He was off to a good start. But, there was lot of shots which were not necessarily needed and scenes which were vaguely placed. For example, there was a scene where the man and the fox was sleeping together in the bed. I said, "I think the fox is too mysterious to sleep in the bed. If I were the fox I would prefer to sleep at one corner of the room and vanish in the middle of the night until the samurai sleeps. I got the idea that the samurai and the fox got to be close by the near end of the story. But you have to show how they would get to this level. You can use a pattern for this. A series of scenes wherein the samurai wants to feed the fox can be useful. But it depends on how you plan on doing this because it might sound cliche. It's up to you."

And then, ideas started to run through my mind. I was telling him lots of things which can help him improved the flow of the scenes. My approach was, as much as possible, I kept asking him what he wants for the story and I provided him suggestions. In this way, the story was still his own content. Don was really excited and he was thankful for all the suggestions. At the back of my mind, I was as excited as he was because I knew that I can do the lecture later.

The lecture was held at a huge classroom on the 4th floor of Asia Pacific College. It was attended by more than 20 students and theater club members from that school. I tried to share everything from my notes that I wrote early that morning. For the first time in my life, I was talking and talking about story development and story structure.  I started the lecture at 1:30 pm and stopped at 4:00 pm. The lecture was followed by per group script consultation. We talked about how to improve their story. I constantly asked them what they want to happen in the story. What will make it unique and what will make the viewers watch until the very end? Was it interesting? Was the story deep? Were the characters established properly? Where did that magical knife came from? Every questions that I asked and suggestions I gave, I made it on an approach which will not make them compromise their original story. I had to do my best to keep what they already have and focus only on the improvement and extraction of the meaning of their story.

It was an active and open discussion. In the end, everyone was satisfied with the consultation. I am really proud of these students. And, I could only wish them goodluck and I hope to see them on the Play Event.

It was a success. And I only wish for more activities like this. I did not lose anything but I know I gained more. Now back in my small room, I imagined that someday my dream will be larger than these four walls.

Tula ng Pakiramdam

Pahina

"Di alam ang pinagmulan

Takot na nararamdaman

Bumubulong na kawalan

Bumulag na kadiliman"

"Di mali, parang kulang

Uy walang tama, sobra lang?

Lakarin daang pinagmulan

Nang magtagpo gitnang daan"

"Mababaw nga, lalalim din

Mataas lang, baba rin

Di 'lam, di maintindihan

Malayang katotohanan"

Librong mahirap basahin

Lilinaw at liliwanag

Isang tanong, isang sagot

Ga'no lalayo para abutin...

Iisang pahina pa lang

Patuloy lang basahin

Saan man makararating

Nang kwentong kakaiba...

Fifty Letters in Between

Knowing that no mail has come since fortnight ago, Rah-an felt his hand tremble as he finally received a  letter.

It was his mother who had sent him away from home. In broken sentences, she told him to stay simple and keep away from anything shady. Since then, they had been communicating through letters which were secretly passed among trusted people.

Forty-nine letters all in all, except one paper swept away while on board a train, had been sincerely kept inside his satchel safely locked in his little sister's candy tin.

Great care was taken to survive the risk of being caught by the people who do not belong in their tribe. He had been in hiding for three years and he had only been receiving letters with her mother's name written in bold print. It's enough, he thought.

There he stood, facing the open window. His heart pounding inside his chest and racing against his breath. He opened the letter.

Each words became heavy in his hands. He had only taken the time to assure himself of the reality when he read it the second time.

To my Rah-an,

We look forward to see you soon. 

The charges have been pardoned.

Then it was signed with the familiar loop of handwriting, Cecilia, the name was precious to him.

Into a couch, Rah-an sank, pressed by physical exhaustion that drained his body and soul. He can see the cabin being empty soon.

Tears welled down his eyes as soon as he realized that he had never been too far from his village. It was just fifty letters away.

Turtle Trouble

Tony extended its legs toward the rock separating him and the world beneath it. He can feel the wind gusting and eddying in his body, pushing him down the rocky steep behind. "Just one more step", he thought as he concentrated his strength to his toes. He held his breathe and instantly, hoisted himself above with one push. He fell suddenly. As soon as he realized the uneven ground, he was too late to grab on anything to keep him tumbling down. He stopped but only when he smacked into a fallen bough. Everything appeared bright around him.

He landed awkwardly with his back to the ground, not very likely for a turtle. Tony stroked his legs but only he teeter-tottered on his shell. His short legs would not even touch the ground. His efforts enervated him and even drained his will.
Tony watched a cloud whipped into a shape. He remembered a person who resembled it. He relaxed his back and allowed his limbs fall freely to enjoy a moment just staring at the blue sky. Maybe he could use some rest.

He wished to be back in his safe tank where he can bathe in coldwater and eat ration meals on time. Everything had gone so wildly for him after that day when Oscar left him out into the open. Oscar never gave him a clue. He had even helped Oscar choose the marshy swamp on the outskirt of the city.


"I'll be back from school soon", Oscar called out from the window of his dad's moving car.
Tony could enjoy unlimited supply of fresh insects and dive into the deepest of the pool. He would satisfy himself of the nature he could only get before the sun sets.


Almost three years had passed since then. During that time, Tony had walked the path and try to follow his instincts. He wanted that flat polished stone to be his bed again and have his foot drenched on bearable current of water. He loved everything on his aquarium. And most of all, he would like to be carried on Oscar's hand whenever he feels to be on top by the window sill. A turtle should be a pet, and he wanted to become a good one.
One morning Tony finally marched out of the marshes when a drooling hound, with his teeth, snatched him out of the way. Then, he was suddenly upfront with a convoluted face of another bull dog.

"Release me" Tony yelled, fidgeting as the canine teeth slowly tightened around.
The hound shook his ugly head, sending drool all over his face. Then only Tony saw the real danger he was in, when out came a larger hound, black and bald, backed with a party of four more dogs.

"You are not going anywhere unless I said it" the bald boss, laughing as if he had just joked. Then, he stabbed his party with a hinting glare. They know they have to burst out laughter. They have to even if they have to fake one.


"You know that would not happen. You see the boss lost his pet", said the one behind the boss' back. He pride his remark and he cannot stop smirking, drool running down its chin.


"I haven't seen anyone's pet around here. I am just a turtle."
"That's goodie tootle-die of you. Looking around to help us" the bald boss teased Tony. "Pals! I found it" the boss announced to his dogs.

The dogs wagged their tails and the ugly hound put down Tony on the ground.

Tony said shakily, "I want to me-meet your pet. Well, if, that is you're not referring to-- "

"You!" The dogs barked. And then giggled altogether.

The boss groaned in approval. And somehow Tony felt that a 'yes' be better than that growl coming from the hound's chest. It scares him.

The ugly dog picked him up again, and followed the pack while two dogs walked along his side.
"Three days" said the one-eyed sheep dog to a mastiff beside him.


"Nah! He'll be rid of it by tomorrow" the mastiff answered.


"Let's do this. I win, I keep shell. You win, shell yours." the sheep dog offered.

"That's a deal", replied the mastiff, eyeing on Tony.

Tony has no way out of this. He have to think of an escape. What if the boss' idea of a pet is nothing but a Turtle meat on his platter.
"Ahmm. G--guys." Tony cleared his trembling voice. "Guys, would you mind talking about my shell, elsewhere."
"You don't make demands on us, mousy", the mastiff threatened.
"Stay away from the turtle", the ugly dog tried to mumble his words in the corner of his mouth.

The dogs put a distant and stayed behind.

"You are scary", Tony said, torn whether it has been better, for the ugly dog squeezed him tight in his teeth. 

"You know I am a poisonous turtle. I belong to the most notorious and infamously dangerous family of reptile, you know we are cold-blooded. And as I speak, the venom is slowly creeping through your through ", Tony hoped, that the ugly dog buys it.


"You're talkative for a turtle.", the ugly dog replied .


"Have you have noticed why I am alone and wandering. I belonged to a specie that has completely gone extinct for we have been poisoning each other--to death. It's a way of nature. And, you would not want to have your boss killed by a stupid Tony the turtle, right?"


"Okay you got me there. I should speak to them " said the dog, as he nervously swallowed in his drool.


"No-no. Stay. They'll get infected. You'll make it worst"


"What's the plan? I can feel my legs shaking. Please help me"


"Find me a stream and throw me in there", Tony suggested.
"I won't be tricked. You'll poisoned the river."


"You're right" Tony admitted.
"I'll bury you under the earth. That will stop you from spilling poison in the water".


"No-no-no" Tony protested. "I will make the soil unhealthy. Poor trees and plants, they'll die"


"I'll throw you into the air and let the hawks deal with you"
"The birds would not want me. And besides I'll fall back to the ground in pieces."

"What else could we do?"

"Bring me to Oscar, then! He knows the solution. He's a friend", Tony exclaimed.


"Does he have the cure?"


"He has them on a tray in tinkle bottles of potion. He keeps them"


"Alright then, lead me the way"
Just as the ugly dog has turned his back and make way for the road. The big bald boss appeared before him, the pack followed behind. 


"You don't want to do this, Earl. Hand over the turtle and let us go home, happy and alive."


"You don't understand the situation, B-boss", the ugly dog said quivering.
"No, you don't understand"


"It's for his good. Let's run!" Tony, whispered.
The ugly dog ran as fast as he could out of the marshes. Tony can hear the hounds' teeth grinding sharp to pierce through his shell. 


Tony's heart pounded inside his tiny chest. None of this would happen if Oscar had not left him alone in this wilderness. Tony had been waiting. He hated being lied to and now, he hated himself for lying and making things complicated for the ugly dog. He frowned. It wasn't fair.


"Sorry, I lied", Tony shouted. He wanted everyone to stop the chase.

"You are not poisoned. I am not deadly. I tricked you hoping you could bring me to my friend." The hounds stopped and stared at the turtle and the ugly dog.


"You deserve somewhere nice, not here."


Without further explanation, Tony felt light and he was soon flying in midair. He looked up into the sky, doubting whether Oscar had forgotten him. Then, with a splash, he dropped into the cold water.


The next moment, so distinct were the sounds, Tony thought he heard a car honking. So far, yet it was there.


Something brushed his face. Tony did not noticed he had fallen asleep out of exhaustion. He remembered where he was as soon as he realized the weed on his head. He was climbing a rocky hill to cross the mashes into the city.


"I'll be back from school soon". The words are dying in his memory. The clouds reminded him of Oscar. Yet, he felt hopeless and he was suddenly tired of waiting. He can feel the pressure in his chest intensifying. He could feel himself changing. Something wild is coming out from within him. He ought to be as hard as his shell. He was born to be in the wilderness, that's it.


He looked again at the sky. The cloud had not been Oscar's cap after all. It was clearly a turtle's shell.







by Gzel

The Little Star

It is midnight. A wind chime billows softly to the breeze's direction. Swaying are nine stars of mix sizes attached to those beady strands, spiraling them down in descending order. 

The stars glow with metallic luster in the midst of calmness. They swing calmly as the night cradle them in a whistle of lullaby. Back and forth, like in a rocking crib, all of them are constantly invited to sleep.

Except one. Down below, just a little off center, Twinkle is a unique impression. Twinkle is not a star at all. Too flat, too round, and too wooden to be among them. Too tiny and knows only to be obedient. Too unstable to be never steady.

Although the evening bear all the serenity and drowsiness, Twinkle stirs wide with spirit.

To and fro, they keep on. A soft percussion comes with their movement, still more enchantment for them. But not for long.

Twinkle waits a bit for the moment. It is coming. The wind is hinting.

Twinkle anticipates, string flutters with excitement.

The gale, here comes, blows with all its might. One moment, the chime spiral off with its dominance.Twinkle thrust forward.  As if in conspiracy with the strong wind, Twinkle bangs them wide awake, disturbing their passing unawareness and sends the stars now in an unpredictable wave of motion.

Twinkle sway in joy of the tease. How Twinkle loves being able to move freely with the wind, as far as the strings can reach; while a loud metal clanking becomes music above.

Twinkle twinkles like a star.

Sweet Nothingness

Once there was a young lady

Who once lived among the hill

A wicked woman kept her will

And casted a spell one cold night shrill

"Live but never live", she said to her.

"Cold but never shiver",  she added further.

"Glow without the sun" she whispered.

"Remember who you are", she finally said.

Days became years, the girl never age.

Although she never asked why deserve such misery.

An intelligent woman can simply find the answers.

On a dreamy summer night, she tests her luck.

Alas, a door ajar for her wondering soul.

She went outside and left.

Her mother's voice ringing in her mind.

Yet, she continues   down a cobblestone path.

She comes along a young traveller.

"Excuse me, sire. Do you happen to know where I am?"

"Greetings, dear. Did you lost yourself?", he asked.

"I was hidden so I never figured out this place."

The wicked woman listens to the whisper of the wind.

She cannot be mistaken of the gentle voice she hears.  

Thrice, she has been offended by her miss wanderer.

Patience, she tells herself.

Out for the village,  she crosses the mire.

The town, just what she has expected,

Foreshadows the evil that she kept for so long.

There in the middle, stands her lovely daughter.

Little Elise knows now.

Live but never live--Immortality.

Cold but never shiver-- Empty body.

Hear but never listen-- Heartless.

But the last reminder shocks her to the ground.

The truth she seeks is a reality best kept unknown.

She did not expect.

How can be a sweet, loving child be.

The wicked woman became a mother,  

The moment  she kept her alive.

By giving her new life. By sharing her venom.

How can be a sweet, loving child be.

A vampire, that's what poor Elise is.

She will remember who she is, though.

That's what her mother said.

A sweet loving daughter .

In the Corner of My Eye

He can’t be the herculean officer who he was once before his succumbing defeat in the local election. Today, what were now only left from him were his clothes, his bearded face and above all his subconscious instinct to speak in public. The middle-aged mad beggar championed in the middle of the plaza, not to give a platform speech but to utter vigorous randomness and vague topics which only he can comprehend.

    I regretted the attention I gave  because when our gaze met; I was terrified by what I saw:dark eyes grimaced from the ostentatious character. He was dangerous.