Merged: Short stories.

[ichor_82283]

Andre

A guy, probably in his early twenties, wrapped in a bright sunshine-yellow polo meticulously tucked in a white pair of pants raised above his waist, added with a good ol’ suspender, and with black-rimmed enormous glasses, which he probably dug up from his lolo’s “baul”, finished with perhaps the shiniest, slimiest, sleekest gelled–up hair ever surfaced the whole vicinity that afternoon, approached me while I was in the middle of a picturesque thought. I was puzzled when I saw “Mr. Gooey”. I was confused whether he was really coming up to me or not. I turned to look and saw that I was the only one in that secluded part of the coffee shop. “No, this can’t be”, I said to myself. My heart was calling out every saint it knew,
praying desperately for Mr. Gooey to offer me nothing.
But my heart seemed to have stopped beating when he
handed me a long-stemmed yellow rose. I forced a smile
but deep inside, I was consoling myself saying, “C’mon,
he couldn’t be that bad”. I asked him to sit down and as
I received the flower, the last petal of a dream I built
around André had fallen to the once fertile ground of my
imagination…
It was another boring seminar I dragged myself
into for the sake of my school organization. When it
finally ended, I rushed my way through the aisle and
pushed myself in the middle of the crowd who were, like
me, praying the whole time for the seminar to conclude.
Being petite, I was pushed by one of the bigger guys and
was bumped to a nearby desk. If only I have been absent
when my teacher discussed social manners, I could have
savagely cursed the guy in his face. Though pissed,
I caught a glimpse of a CD lying on top of the desk.
Thinking that it was enough exchange for being bumped,
I took it.
When I got home, I immediately put the CD on
the player and scanned through the list of song titles. As
my eyes went over the list of songs, I caught a glimpse of
an e-mail address.
The next morning, I raced through the computer
in our office and hurriedly e-mailed the CD guy… or girl
(though I’m really praying for it to be a guy). As if it was
my day, the owner instantly replied. I didn’t know whether
I felt lucky for I tracked the owner or because it was a
guy.
We instantly liked each other on our first chat.
We talked about anything of everything. I realized that, for
the first time, I liked a guy whose face I haven’t even seen
yet. I usually go giddy over drop-dead-gorgeous guys but
this one is totally different. It was amazing how we made
conversations (if one can call it) and how we both had
passions for the same things. We shared the same interests
from books to music, from hobbies to food and take note:
he’s the only guy who seemed to make sense more than
I did, not that I’m conceited or anything. Maybe, I just
haven’t met the better herd of men. We agreed not to send
pictures to each other; as to why we thought of that, we just
didn’t want to. Aside from revealing our names, André and
I remained practically strangers but if I were to believe in
reincarnation, I would say that he might just be me in his
past life.
Every time I listened to his CD, which is now mine,
I couldn’t help but wonder as to how he would actually
look like. For several times I caught myself praying he
would somehow look as wonderful as he seem. It’s not like
I wouldn’t like him if he would not be dashing; but having a
sensible guy with looks to die for would be such a wonderful
bargain. One time, my friend tried talking me into meeting
him. I had second thoughts about it but in the end I was the
one opening up the topic to André. Fortunately, he was also
contemplating on the same thing. We agreed then to meet
on the afternoon of Saturday. He told me he’d be wearing
something with a color that would match the flower he’ll be
bringing. And as for me, I decided to wear pink, since they
said it attracts love.
Saturday came. I arrived wearing a neatly pressed
a-line skirt, a pink top and paired it with stilettos of the same
hue. I wore just what I told him I would. He said he would
just be the first one to approach me and will give me the
flower he told me about. He also warned me saying “ Hey,
you can refuse the rose if you want. I would immediately
turn my back then”. But like what I always said, it no longer
matters; I learned to like him not because of his looks,
anyway. I had enough of cute guys who can’t even stand an
hour of sensible conversation. I don’t want to be spending
my whole life just staring at the eyes of a very cute guy who
would just bore me to death when we grow old. André is just
the type I would want to be spending my late life with and
whether he would look good or not, he is still worth the try.
But deep inside my thoughts, I’m really hoping he’d
look, at least, presentable. I was hoping he would look like
any of Sidney Sheldon’s lead character – dapper, debonair,
dashing. But suddenly in the middle of my thoughts, an
image of a guy blocked my vision. I looked up and said
to myself “ Oh no! He’s really a lead character but not of
Sidney Sheldon’s novel; he looks more like Peter Parker
without the spider bite”. Then one by one, the image I had
for André slowly shattered into pieces.
…” You’re here. I’m surprised you’re so early” I,
somehow muttered though I knew it was so stupid to say for
he was 15 minutes late. ‘I mean, thank you for the flowers, it visualizing before the nerd (forgive me for the word)
came into view. “Sure Jeff, I owe you one, dude”, the
guy said. I was troubled, “You mean you’re not André?”
“Who are you then and why did you come up to me if
you weren’t André and why give me yellow flowers?” I
said while trying to catch my breath like I was chanting
some witch’s curse. “ Wait, Miss, let me answer you, one
by one.” said the nerdy guy. He continued, Yes, I’m not
André. I didn’t introduce myself anyway. And I don’t
know what’s up between you and my cousin but he sure
does owe me a thousand bucks for coming up to you.”
Then it dawned upon me. The guy behind me is André.
Oh no! I can’t believe it. This guy who must be my dream
boy personified, this angel God must have accidentally
left on Earth, this very man whose captivating eyes are
intently looking at mine is André, the real André, my
André.
At last, I noticed he was wearing a blue polo-shirt paired
with a cream-colored denim and semi-formal, semisporty
shoes that was beyond me to really identify. I
almost fell off my seat when he handed me a bouquet of
blue long-stemmed roses. The feeling was ethereal that
not even a single word came out from my usually bubbly
mouth. He took the seat across mine after I received the
roses. “ I was glad you accepted the yellow rose earlier”,
he charmingly said. He added, “ If you didn’t, these roses
would have gone to the trash bin and perhaps I would be
going home, empty-handed and broken-hearted.” “ But
what was that all about? I don’t understand why you had
to put up such act.” I said. He grinned and I felt like I’m
starting to melt beneath his gaze. “Well,” he said, “ I just
wanted to make sure that a brilliant girl such as you would
look beyond what’s on the surface. That’s the reason why
I asked Jeff to dress that way and come up to you first. I
think I overdid it. Jeff looked really gross with the hair.’
I laughed, then he proceeded, “Actually, I wanted him
to stay longer but when I saw you come in I suddenly
changed my mind. You’re too beautiful to be played,
you know. Heaven knows how hard I prayed for you to
receive the rose, so all my uncertainties would come to
an end. If ever you left, I would definitely kiss even the
filthiest corpse just for you to come back” And so what
now? What do you think of me?” I asked. He smiled and
said, “Well, now, more than anytime, I can say that you
are so beautiful inside as you are gorgeous.” I blushed
and for the rest of the night I can hardly count how many
times I fell in love over, and over again with the same
man – André.


André
By
Rafaeliza
Pelletero
3 0 T E C H N O

[ichor_82283]

More articles to read here:
http://www.cit.edu/downloads/TechnoMag_Confessions.pdf :mrgreen:

[Jacopo]

Once upon a time there was a rich King who had four
wives. He
loved the 4th wife the most and adorned her with
rich robes and treated her
to the finest of delicacies. He gave her nothing but
the best.

He also loved the 3rd wife very much and was always showing her off
to neighboring kingdoms. However, he feared that one
day she would leave him
for another.

He also loved his 2nd wife. She was his confidant
and was always
kind, considerate and patient with him. Whenever the
King faced a
problem, he could confide in her, and she would help
him get through the
difficult times.

The King's 1st wife was a very loyal partner and had
made great
contributions in maintaining his wealth and kingdom. However, he
did not love the first wife. Although she loved him deeply, he
hardly took notice of her!

One day, the King fell ill and he knew his time was
short. He
thought of his luxurious life and wondered, "I now
have four wives with me,
but when I die, I'll be all alone."

Thus, he asked the 4th wife, "I have loved you the
most, endowed
you with the finest clothing and showered great care
over you. Now that I'm
dying, will you follow me and keep me company?" "No
way!", replied the 4th
wife, and she walked away without another word. Her
answer cut like a sharp
knife right into his heart.

The sad King then asked the 3rd wife, "I have loved
you all my
life. Now that I'm dying, will you follow me and
keep me company?" "No!",
replied the 3rd wife. "Life is too good! When you
die, I'm going to
remarry!" His heart sank and turned cold.

He then asked the 2nd wife, "I have always turned to
you for help
and you've always been there for me. When I die,
will you follow me and keep
me company?" "I'm sorry, I can't help you out this
time!", replied the 2nd
wife. "At the very most, I can only walk with you to
your grave." Her answer
struck him like a bolt of lightning, and the King
was devastated.

Then a voice called out: "I'll go with you. I'll
follow you no
matter where you go." The King looked up, and there
was his first wife. She
was very skinny as she suffered from malnutrition
and neglect. Greatly
grieved, the King said, "I should have taken much
better care of you when I
had the chance!"


In truth, we all have the 4 wives in our lives:

Our 4th wife is our body. No matter how much time
and effort we lavish in
making it look good, it will leave us when we die.

Our 3rd wife is our possessions, status and wealth.
When we die, it will all
go to others.

Our 2nd wife is our family and friends. No matter
how much they
have been there for us, the furthest they can stay
by us is up to the grave.

And our 1st wife is our Soul. Often neglected in
pursuit of wealth, power
and pleasures of the world. However, our Soul is the
only thing that will
follow us wherever we go.
Cultivate, strengthen and cherish it no w, for it is
the only part of us
that will follow us to the throne of God and
continue with us throughout
Eternity.


Thought for the day:

Remember, when the world pushes you to your knees,
you're in the
perfect position to pray.

[Jacopo]

I was born in a secluded village on a mountain.

Day by day, my parents plowed the yellow dry soil
with their backs towards the sky.

I have a brother who is 3 years younger than me.

I wanted to buy a handkerchief, which all girls around
me seemed to have. So, one day I stole 50 cents from
my father's drawer. Father had discovered about the
stolen money right away.

He made me and my younger brother kneel against the
wall as he held a bamboo stick in his hand.

"Who stole the money?" he asked.

I was stunned, too afraid to talk. Neither of us
admitted to the fault, so he said, "Fine, if nobody
wants to admit, you two should be beaten!"

He lifted up the bamboo stick.

Suddenly, my younger brother gripped father's hand and
said," Dad, I was the one who did it!"

The long stick smacked my brother's back repeatedly.

Father was so angry that he kept on whipping my
brother until he lost his breath.

After that, he sat down on our stone bed and scolded
my brother, "You have learned to steal from your own
house now. What other embarrassing things will you be possibly doing
in the future? You should be beaten to death, you shameless thief!"

That night, my mother and I hugged my brother. His
body was full of wounds from the beating but he never
shed a single tear.
In the middle of the night, all of sudden, I cried out loudly.

My brother covered my mouth with his little hand and
said, " Sis, now don't cry anymore. Everything has
happened."

I still hate myself for not having enough courage to
admit what I did.

Years gone by, but the incident still seemed like it
just happened yesterday.

I will never forget my brother's _expression when he protected me.

That year, my brother was 8 years old and I was 11
years old.

When my brother was in his last year of secondary
school, he was accepted in an upper

secondary school in the central. At the same time, I
was accepted into a university in the province.

That night, father squatted in the yard, smoking,
packet by packet.

I could hear him ask my mother, "Both of our children,
they have good results? very good results?"

Mother wiped off her tears and sighed," What is the
use? How can we possibly finance both of them?"

At that time, my brother walked out, he stood in front
of father and said,"Dad, I don't want to continue my
study anymore, I have read enough books."

Father swung his hand and slapped my brother on his
face.

"Why do you have a spirit so damn weak? Even if it
means I have to beg for money on the streets, I will
send you two to school until you have both finished
your study!"

And then, he started to knock on every house in the
village to borrow money.

I stuck out my hand as gently as I can to my brother's swollen face,
and told him, "A boy has to continue his study; If not, he will not
be
able to overcome this poverty we are experiencing."

I, on the other hand, had decided not to further my
study at the university.

Nobody knew that on the next day, before dawn, my
brother left the house with a few pieces of worn-out
clothes and a few dry beans. He sneaked to my side of
the bed and left a note on my pillow; "Sis, getting
into a university is not easy. I will go find a job
and I will send money to you."

I held the note while sitting on my bed, and cried
until I lost my voice.

That year, my brother was 17 years old; I was 20 years
old.

With the money father borrowed from the whole village,
and the money my brother earned from carrying cement
on his back at a construction site,finally, I managed
to get to the third year of my study in the
university.

One day, while I was studying in my room, my roommate
came in and told me,"There's a villager waiting for
you outside!"

Why would there be a villager looking for me? I walked
out, and I saw my brother from afar. His whole body
was covered with dirt, dust, cement and sand. I asked
him, "Why did you not tell my roommate that you are my brother?"

He replied with a smile," Look at my appearance. What
will they think if they would know that I am your
brother? Won't they laugh at you?"

I felt so touched, and tears filled my eyes. I swept
away dirt and dust from my brother's body. And told
him with a lump in my throat, " I don't care what
people would say! You are my brother no matter what
your appearance is?"

From his pocket, he took out a butterfly hair clip. He
put it on my hair and said, "I saw all the girls in
town are wearing it. So, I think you should also have
one."

I could not hold back myself anymore. I pulled my
brother into my arms and cried.

That year, my brother was 20 years old; I was 23 years
old.

I noticed that the broken window was repaired the
first time I brought my boyfriend home. The house was scrubbed
cleaned.

After my boyfriend left, I danced like a little girl
in front of my mother, "Mom, you didn't have to spend
so much time cleaning the house!" But she told me with
a smile," It was your brother who went home early to
clean the house. Didn't you see the wound on his hand?
He hurt his hand while he was replacing the window."

I went into my brother's bedroom. Looking at his thin
face, I felt like there are hundreds of needle pricked
in my heart.

I applied some ointment on his wound and put a bandage on
it, "Does it hurt? " I asked him.

"No, it doesn't hurt. You know, when at the
construction site, stones keep falling on my feet .
Even that could not stop me from working."

In the middle of the sentence, he stopped. I turned my
back on him and tears rolled down my face.

That year, my brother was 23 years old; I was 26 years
old.

After I got married, I lived in the city. Many times
my husband invited my parents to come and live with
us, but they didn't want.

They said, once they left the village,they wouldn't
know what to do.

My brother agreed with them. He said, "Sis, you just
take care of your parents-in-law. I will take care of
mom and dad here."

My husband became the director of his factory. We
asked my brother to accept the offer of being the
manager in the maintenance department. But my brother rejected the
offer. He insisted on working as a repairman instead for a start.

One day, my brother was on the top of a ladder
repairing a cable, when he got electrocuted, and was
sent to the hospital.

My husband and I visited him at the hospital. Looking
at the white gypsum on his leg, I grumbled, "Why did
you reject the offer of being a manager? Managers
won't do something dangerous like that. Now look at
you, You ar suffering a serious injury. Why didn't you
just listen to us?"

With a serious _expression on his face, he defended
his decision, "Think of brother-in-law. He just
became the director, and I being uneducated, and would
become a manager, what kind of rumors would fly
around?"

My husband's eyes filled up with tears, and then I
said, "But you lack in education only because of me!"

"Why do you talk about the past?" he said and then he
held my hand.

That year, he was 26 years old and I was 29 years
old.

My brother was 30 years old when he married a farmer
girl from the village.

During the wedding reception, the master of ceremonies
asked him, "Who is the one person you respect and love
the most?"

Without even taking a time to think, he answered," My sister." He
continued by telling a story I could not even remember.

"When I was in primary school, the school was in a
different village. Everyday, my sister and I would
walk for 2 hours to school and back home. One day, I
lost the other pair of my gloves. My sister gave me
one of hers.

She wore only one glove and she had to walk far. When
we got home, her hands were trembling because of the
cold weather that she could not even hold her
chopsticks. From that day on, I swore that as long as
I live, I would take care of my sister and will always
be good to her."

Applause filled up the room. All guests turned their attention to
me.

I found it hard to speak, "In my whole life, the one I
would like to thank most is my brother," And in this
happy occasion,in front of the crowd, tears were
rolling down my face again.

Love and care for the one you love every single days
of your life. You may think what you did is just a
small deed, but to that someone, it may mean a lot.

Have a nice day everyone! May this story inspire you
in any way!

[Melvinthegreat]

mutingog pakow...huhuhu

[priceless]

whew! sad jud kaau!

[Melvinthegreat]

cool

[Melvinthegreat]

damn good...

[Jacopo]

THE BLIND BUS PASSENGER
Author Unknown
Sep 18, 2003

THE BLIND BUS PASSENGER

The passengers on the bus watched sympathetically as the attractive young woman with the white cane made her way carefully up the steps. She paid the driver and, using her hands to feel the location of the seats, walked down the aisle and found the seat he'd told her was empty. Then she settled in, placed her briefcase on her lap and rested her cane against her leg. It had been a year since Susan, thirty-four, became blind.

Due to a medical misdiagnosis she had been rendered sightless, and she was suddenly thrown into a world of darkness, anger, frustration and self-pity. Once a fiercely independent woman, Susan now felt condemned by this terrible twist of fate to become a powerless, helpless burden on everyone around her. "How could this have happened to me?" she would plead, her heart knotted with anger.

But no matter how much she cried or ranted or prayed, she knew the painful truth her sight was never going to return. A cloud of depression hung over Susan's once optimistic spirit. Just getting through each day was an exercise in frustration and exhaustion. And all she had to cling to was her husband Mark.

Mark was an Air Force officer and he loved Susan with all of his heart. When she first lost her sight, he watched her sink into despair and was determined to help his wife gain the strength and confidence she needed to become independent again. Mark's military background had trained him well to deal with sensitive situations, and yet he knew this was the most difficult battle he would ever face.

Finally, Susan felt ready to return to her job, but how would she get there? She used to take the bus, but was now too frightened to get around the city by herself. Mark volunteered to drive her to work each day, even though they worked at opposite ends of the city. At first, this comforted Susan and fulfilled Mark's need to protect his sightless wife who was so insecure about performing the slightest task. Soon, however, Mark realized that this arrangement wasn't working - it was hectic, and costly. Susan is going to have to start taking the bus again, he admitted to himself. But just the thought of mentioning it to her made him cringe. She was still so fragile, so angry. How would she react?

Just as Mark predicted, Susan was horrified at the idea of taking the bus again. "I'm blind!" she responded bitterly. "How am I supposed to know where I'm going? I feel like you're abandoning me." Mark's heart broke to hear these words, but he knew what had to be done. He promised Susan that each morning and evening he would ride the bus with her, for as long as it took, until she got the hang of it. And that is exactly what happened. For two solid weeks, Mark, military uniform and all, accompanied Susan to and from work each day. He taught her how to rely on her other senses, specifically her hearing, to determine where she was and how to adapt to her new environment. He helped her befriend the bus drivers who could watch out for her, and save her a seat. He made her laugh, even on those not-so-good days when she would trip exiting the bus, or drop her briefcase. Each morning they made the journey together, and Mark would take a cab back to his office. Although this routine was even more costly and exhausting than the previous one, Mark knew it was only a matter of time before Susan would be able to ride the bus on her own. He believed in her, in the Susan he used to know before she'd lost her sight, who wasn't afraid of any challenge and who would never, ever quit.

Finally, Susan decided that she was ready to try the trip on her own. Monday morning arrived, and before she left, she threw her arms around Mark, her temporary bus riding companion, her husband, and her best friend. Her eyes filled with tears of gratitude for his loyalty, his patience, his love. She said good-bye, and for the first time, they went their separate ways. Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday... Each day on her own went perfectly, and Susan had never felt better. She was doing it! She was going to work all by herself!

On Friday morning, Susan took the bus to work as usual. As she was paying for her fare to exit the bus, the driver said, "Boy, I sure envy you." Susan wasn't sure if the driver was speaking to her or not. After all, who on earth would ever envy a blind woman who had struggled just to find the courage to live for the past year? Curious, she asked the driver, "Why do you say that you envy me?" The driver responded, "It must feel so good to be taken care of and protected like you are." Susan had no idea what the driver was talking about, and asked again, "What do you mean?" The driver answered, "You know, every morning for the past week, a fine looking gentleman in a military uniform has been standing across the corner watching you when you get off the bus. He makes sure you cross the street safely and he watches you until you enter your office building. Then he blows you a kiss, gives you a little salute and walks away. You are one lucky lady." Tears of happiness poured down Susan's cheeks. For although she couldn't physically see him, she had always felt Mark's presence. She was lucky, so lucky, for he had given her a gift more powerful than sight, a gift she didn't need to see to believe - the gift of love that can bring light where there had been darkness.

God watches over us in just the same way. We may not know He is present. We may not be able to see His face, but He is there nonetheless!

Be blessed in this thought: "God Loves You - even when you are not looking."

[anniepetilla]

i have a phobia of being sweet on the cellphone nowadays... everytime i read a freindster or an email mesage, its always about somebody being nice and kind in texts then dying some hours later, either by murderers, burglars, muggers, or car accident.
spooky.