Istoryan Writers

[Musette du Coudray]

---

Your sinful mouth's my burial crypt
Narcotic in its sweetness, fragrant-lipped,
So that my virtues fall asleep.
I drink with drunken senses from its well
And will-lessly, sink into its deep,
With radiant thoughts descending into hell.
My lips are parted in shy hesitation,
Like poisonous flowers that do the devil's bidding.

Alas, formed Nosferatu.

[MrBiddle]

You relied on thy fallible neighbor
to relay thy holy words of the Prince.

You have commited fornication with
the swaggering male who has devoured
your decency. Your moral compass has
been shattered.

Because you have relied on those who
depend of hollow discourses and deceptive
philo.sophy, there will be no one to ease the
pain of your fall, oh foolish bride!

[Musette du Coudray]

Hmmm... interesting.

[Musette du Coudray]

@Diem: Err... somebody just sent her compliments regarding your work.

[DebutsAndIDos]

great thread! I hope to read more...
I love writing but I just dont seem to have the time to do so anymore. =)

[diem]

Last night I was visited by a dream. The dream took me to a quiet place, a green orchard in a golden summer. There I found Ninoy Aquino resting in an easy chair under the shade of a mango tree. He was holding a glass ball in his hand and was gazing at it thoughtfully. When he saw me standing there, he smiled and gave me a chair to sit. And together we sat and stared at the glass ball in his hand.
The ball was magical. Whenever a ray of sunlight passed through, it revealed images of our nation’s history, events and deeds made by Filipinos throughout time up to the present. I saw scenes that were common to me as the air and smoke I breathe when I commute. The drug addicts that are wilting in limbo, the criminal syndicates that terrorize the way of life, the unwed teenage mothers, the politicians looking clean yet playing dirty, men wasting their lives on talk and booze, unscrupulous businessmen who hoard their success, youth who lives their lives irresponsibly and in waste, trying to make what’s on TV real.
I sighed. “It is a shame.�
Ninoy turned to me and asked, “What is?�
“The fact that you died for freedom and change for your countrymen. After twenty years, this is what we got to show for it.�
I pointed to the scenes of misery and immorality that are rampant in the country today and cried, “Is this what you died for?!�
Ninoy looked at me then said, “Yes.� When saw the surprise in my eyes, he smiled gently. “Let me show you…� He placed the glass ball closer to me and there I saw what he saw, what I just didn’t see at first.
I saw the dedicated professionals helping the drug addicts mend the pieces of their lives, the victims of police abuse who cry out for justice, the honest policemen who dispense this justice at the risk of their lives for the ideals of peace and order, the parents who forgive and stand by their children even when they made mistakes, the people who choose their leaders with the trust that these leaders will deliver their commitments, men who strive hard just to offer their children a better chance for the future, members of livelihood organizations who succeed together, the youths who take charge of their lives and try to make their dreams real.
I looked at these scenes that are so full of hope, then I looked at my companion with a new sense of understanding. Ninoy said, “This is what I died for. This…is what you must live for.�
Then he laid the glass ball in my hands and it shone brighter than the sun.

*this entry won the Grand Prize in the Nationwide Ninoy Essay Writing contest, August 2003, the 20th year death anniversary of the man who said the immortal words, "THE FILIPINO IS WORTH DYING FOR"

[diem]

I never wanted to have a broken heart
So I never dreamed to be Cupid’s fool
I have seen many come together in love
then fall apart,
Seemed without purpose and too cruel
I never wanted to have a broken heart
So I never sought after love’s sweet grace
Yet all seemed lost from the very start
When you came in fair love’s place
I never wanted to have a broken heart
So I forced myself not to tell you
I then strove after my Life’s Art.
Finding in the end, it is all about you
I never wanted my heart to be broken,

Yet I regret now for the acts not done,
for the words not spoken.

[diem]

“Maybe”. Maybe was my answer to the question posed by my friend. The question was, “Do you believe in fairies!?”
I was silent at first, then I said, “Maybe.”
“Remember, there are more things between heaven and earth!”, he told me.
“I know”, I interjected. “So, maybe.”
He nodded but it was clear my friend wasn’t satisfied by my answer. I looked at my hands, irritated by him. I hadn’t seen him or heard from him in 6 years. Then, out of the big blue, he called me and asked me to meet him today here in this coffee shop inside Ayala Center. He was here, sipping a cup of black coffee, when I arrived. He, immediately and straight-to-the-point, asked me, “Do you believe in fairies?”
No handshake, no how-you’ve-been, no small talk. I sat on the chair facing him and answered while I shrugged my shoulder, “Maybe.”
So the story goes on!
I leaned over the table and implored him with my eyes, “Okay, what is this about?”
He stared back, hesitating then closed his eyes. When he opened them, it seemed he finally reached a decision. He leaned to me and in a low voice directed to me, “You know I have a habit of going hiking alone during the weekends, especially to the high hills near Tina-an!”
I shook my head. “No I didn’t know you do!go hiking every weekend.”
He shrugged. “Now you do, one thing you should also know during these hikes I find a lonely spot where I have a magnificent view of the landscape, the wide green blue scenery before my very eyes!when I find these spots!I!I..”
“I spout poetry,” he confided to me finally.
I blinked my eyes. Then I drew back and regarded him with new ones. “So?”
“Beautiful poetry,” he added.
“That remains to be seen, or in this case of poetry, to be heard.”
He leaned back in his seat and looked away from me. “She told me it was beautiful.”
“Who did?”
“Destiny.”
This time I was curious. “So you met someone?”
“Yes I did, I didn’t know it then.”
I was getting confused. “Okay, tell me the details. Come on,” I punched his shoulder.
“All right,” he said. He looked at me but it seemed that he looked through me, his mind was elsewhere, in a different time and place.
“It was about two in the afternoon when I arrived to my favorite spot, the sun was high in the sky, its glare was merciless but it wasn’t hot, it was cool but it was bright. Below you could see every shade of yellow earth, green foliage and blue water. Yellow, green, blue. Yellow mixed with blue makes green in the middle, right? So you could picture what I was seeing. Anyway, my favorite spot was located near the trail that I was following. The trail itself was made by a family of farmers. Generations and generations of that family made that trail bringing down their crops of sweet potatoes, leeks, once in awhile pineapples but that’s not important. It’s a grassy ledge, and it’s an outcropping from the face of the mountainside, like one’s nose or more like a lip. So there, I spout poetry, poetry that I write in the office when there’s nothing to do or too much to do. Or when something comes to me and I have to write it down. You know something, like the face of a pretty girl passing by, the warm scent of flowers, or the just the feeling of the spring wind. So I read the poetry that I wrote in this little notebook!” He pulled the notebook, more like a small notepad, from his pocket and toyed with pages before me.
“I read the poems to the sky, to the wind, to the earth under my butt, to the mosquitoes, to the sea below. I read them.”
I smiled. “So you read poems to nature. You know it sounds romantic, I didn’t you had it in you. But then again, it’s also kind of eccentric, therefore I don’t wonder!”
He nodded, reading his notepad. I raised a palm, “All right, I’m sorry, please go on.”
“I’ve been doing it for three months, I personally thought that it could go as some kind of therapy. After all, it really did feel good. Real good, writing these words then reading them out loud. Something spiritual about it. Anyway last weekend!”
I nodded, today was Friday.
“Last weekend, I came to the same spot, sat down, had a drink, caught my breath and read poetry. But this time it was different.”
“Very different. I wasn’t alone.”
“Go on,” I said.
“I wasn’t alone,” my friend went on. “She was there.”
“Who?”
He looked up straight as if trying to remember. “She was wearing white, plain white, I think it was a dress. It was simple but tasteful. And there she was smiling at me. She had straight hair. I don’t think it was black but maybe it was, the sunshine shimmered it like silver but then again gold. She had a pure face, one of the most lovely!did I say lovely? I meant to say the most angelic face I have ever seen!”
“Wow..” I said.
“Yeah,” my friend agreed. “I think I said the same thing when I saw her. She smiled and she said to me, that was beautiful. So beautiful. I love you.”
I was amazed by what I was hearing. “She said that!?”
“She said I love you. Just like that. Then she sat next to me on the earth and looked at me with those clear, round eyes and I felt thrilled, shy, alive. So alive.”
“Who was she?”
“I thought the same thing and asked her who was she? But instead she told me to read another poem. It seemed really important to her. So I did. A corny one by my standards but she was delighted. She kissed me.”
“Where?”
My friend placed an casual finger on his lips. “Here.” Then on barest tip of his tongue, “Then here!”, he grinned.
“After that?”
“Then we talked. Actually, I think, I talked. I told her everything. Everything I know, I think I know, I feel that I know. Everything. Man do you know what it’s like just opening to someone, not lying, being truthful, not being afraid? It’s like the same way I felt when I read my poems to the scenery but then it seemed even more!more!”
My friend clawed the air for the words.
Finally, “It was more wonderful because she was there. Because she was there.”
I sat there, quiet, waiting.
“A whole night I stayed there, sitting there beside her. We were both quiet. But we were awake. Somehow the night passed quickly and the dawn was rising then she spoke!”
“What did she say?”
“She told me she was a fairy!actually she didn’t use the word ‘fairy’, she something else. A word I didn’t understand..it sounded old and strange. But I understood it as fairy. She told me that she was there during the first day I came to that place and when she heard my poems, she stayed. She never heard such sounds in her land. Every time I returned there and read some more, she felt what it was like to live and how it was like to love. She loves me. She wants me to come with her. She can’t stay any longer here but if she returns to her land, without me, she’ll wilt then fade into nothing.”
I remained silent and my friend didn’t say anything. At that moment, I was afraid. I was afraid of the dazed look in his eyes, I didn’t believe what he was saying. I didn’t know what to do, what to say, I was sickened by my helplessness.
We sat there in that café, quiet, and the world passed on around us. Shoppers, couples, families wandering about, talking about and thinking about normal things that normal people live with in normal lives.
My friend was an Alice and he was about to fall into the abyss of the Rabbit Hole, or was he just pulling my leg? I smiled, it was fake, and asked “What then?”
“I didn’t believe what she said!”
I breathed in relief.
“But she was there, she was real. I know you think that maybe I was seeing things, maybe the air wasn’t enough or something, but she was there, she was there!”
My friend stared at me, asking me to believe him and to my dismay , I did.
I believed him, for what it was worth. “Go on,” I said.
“She told me that I must decide. Will I come with her? She promised to make me happy beyond eternity, beyond my wildest dreams. There was a lot to see, she said, in her land that I couldn’t see here. More and more beyond measure, those were her very words.”
“I’m thinking about many things, but more importantly, was it sane? She must have read my thoughts because she told me that she’ll wait for a week, only for week that’s all she has the power for. She’ll wait for me to decide.”
“The week is already over,” I said.
“I know.”
“Have you decided?”
“No, not really. All I did was really think of her. Her face. Her.”
He went on, “I said goodbye to her that morning and she said she’ll wait for me to decide. Before I turned her away I asked her name, she said it was Destiny. Destiny was her name. When I walked down the trail I felt like I was awakening from a dream. Then I thought that was it, it was just a dream. But it haunted me, man, for the whole week. For every hour, I thought of her. It was crazy but I think !no, I found out last night!I’m in love.
My friend smiled. It was, in a word, beautiful.
“I love her,” he said.
I nodded then I asked, “What are you going to do now?”
He looked at me as if he saw me for the first time. “What would you do?”
So that was it. The whole purpose of this meeting, the sudden call out of nowhere and the quick appointment in this small café. He wants my advice. But what could I say that would seem wise in this seemingly strange and wondrous episode?
Sometimes, silence held its own meaning so I remained quiet.
My friend understood. He stood up and replaced the notebook back into his pocket. He grabbed my hand and gripped it tight.
“Thank you for being here. Thank you for being my friend.”
I nodded. “I will always be, remember that.”
Then he left without another word. He left me with my thoughts.
That night, I decided on my actions. I called a friend Sol, who had a pick-up truck and asked if he was up for a drive the next morning. He agreed but could he bring his girlfriend? I didn’t see the problem in that.
The next morning, early it was. I rode with Sol and his girl Flora towards the South. Calling my fairy-infatuated friend’s parents, I found out where he usually parked his vehicle before he did his hikes. It’s near a family-owned lot of land that was farmed by tenants. Then, it was a tenant who directed me to the path up the mountain and said that my friend had already gone up. I didn’t invite Sol and Flora, I made my way up alone with a towel and a liter bottle of water. The mountain trail was long and arduous, the sun was unforgiving, but I was determined. I had to catch up. It was some time before I could see up ahead a lone figure on the face of the mountain side. Was it my friend or an illusion brought by the heat? I wasn’t sure but the sight made my feet quickened their pace up the slope of the path.
I found him sitting on the ground, his legs straddled over the ledge.
“Don’t jump!” I called out.
“I knew you would come,” he said to me then turned to me, happily. But it wasn’t me he was looking at. I, on the other hand, was distracted by the view. Like he said, it was astounding. Yellow, green, and blue. I breathed deeply, I was so tired, I flopped down beside him and just said, “Wow.”
He nodded then he declared, “I better get going. We don’t have enough time. I’m glad I was able to share this with you. I won’t forget you.”
My whole body was exhausted but I had to ask, “Where are you going?”
Mr friend stood up and dusted the dirt off his hands then said, “With Destiny.”
He turned and walked away, I weakly followed him with my eyes, I feel so dizzy. He stood there at me smiling then something, a bright shaft of light, it was almost blinding. He was leaving, with someone leading him by the hand. I called out but I couldn’t hear my own voice. “Wait!”
Then darkness, I fell into darkness.
I opened my eyes to something strong and stank of evil. It was smelling salts they were putting close to my nose, they being Sol and Flora. Worried that I haven’t returned from my climb, they went up the path and discovered me unconscious, beaten down by the heat. They took me to the community hospital where I was kept longer than I was supposed to, country doctors seldom see paying patients and my attending physician was reluctant to let me go.
As for my friend, I don’t know. No one knows. His family had the police, the army and even a private investigation agency scour the mountains, the city and the whole island for any sign of him. But in vain, in vain.
This journey opened my eyes to the truth: I needed more exercise. So every weekend, I retrace my steps up that fated trail and stop at my friend’s favorite spot, now I claim it as my own. And I tell stories that I wrote with my own hands and words. Tales of my week, of other peoples, of this world, of reality and fiction. I read to the sky, to the earth and sea below without shyness or fear. I read my stories for myself and, I began to hope, for my own Destiny who might be listening.

[diem]

The night before Elisa’s wedding, Christian saw her. This little girl with straight black hair wearing a red sweater, much like the one Christian gave Elisa on her birthday last year, when Elisa herself wore her hair straight and long.
The little girl and Elisa, the likeness was so uncanny that it moved Christian with a terrible feeling in his heart. So terrible that he decided to turn the vehicle around, away from his appointed engagement in town back to the suburbs where Elisa lived.
The route to Elisa’s home Christian had seen a thousand times before, and it brings back memories to the surface where his mind’s eye could see. Elisa in her prom dress, Elisa in her first business suit, Elisa laughing as the summer wind breezes through and Elisa looking away, still and quiet as stone as the rain fell.
God, Christian thought, I am so in love with her. I love her, he shouted to the dashboard, to the meter reader, to his hands gripping the steering wheel, to his eyes seriously staring back from the rearview mirror. I love her! The night before Elisa’s wedding, Christian drove over the speed limit like a maniac.
When he arrived at Elisa’s house, he rang the doorbell so many times that it was a severely-irritated maid that answered and who Christian ignored as he passed through despite a screaming protest. He stepped inside and instinctively as if he was drawn by a golden thread, climbed the steps two at a time until he got to Elisa’s bedroom. There, on the edge of a cliff he threw away all reason, and he opened the door.

They both turned to him. Elisa’s mother was assisting her daughter into her wedding gown and Christian stared at his mouth wide open for Elisa looked so beautiful, an angel in all her given glory. The two women stared at the young intruder, eyes wide.
Elisa’s mother reacted first, furious. “What in the hell are you doing here? Get out now!” Despite her small and wiry frame, she stepped up to Christian and tried to push him out of the bedroom.
Christian reached out imploringly to Elisa. “Elisa, please I need to talk to you...!”
Elisa’s mother was saying, “There is nothing to talk about...you’re ruining everything!”
“Mama!” Elisa’s voice rang out. She took the long trail of her gown in one arm and slid across the wood-tiled floor. “Please.”
Elisa placed a soothing shoulder on the older woman’s shoulder. The mother looked at her daughter, frowning.
“Leave us for a while.” Elisa explained, “He needs to talk to me.”
The mother moved her stern gaze from her daughter to the rude young man. But her features softened when she saw Christian’s eyes filled with wet emotion. She sighed.
“I’ll be downstairs...”
Elisa and Christian waited in silence until they heard Elisa’s mother below reprimanding the maid and commanding for tea. Then Elisa stared quietly at Christian who couldn’t find his voice.
Elisa turned away. “What are you doing here?”
“I think I have something to say...something that I think you should really hear.”
Elisa was trying on the silk gloves whose ends that reached her elbows. “Why don’t you tell me tomorrow?”
Christian took a step closer. “Tomorrow may be too late.”
Elisa gazed at Christian over her bare shoulder. “Isn’t it a bit too late now...?”
Christian stopped. Elisa turned around, held her arms across her waist and watched him with weary eyes. She waited for him to say something, anything.
Christian said, “I saw this girl...this little girl in jeans and white rubber shoes, she had long black hair the way you used to wear your hair and she wore this sweater...this vibrant red wool sweater...like the one I gave you on your birthday...I saw this girl and I thought of you...and I felt something...something terribly wrong and strong...I’m so sorry.”
Christian was sobbing, tears welling in his eyes and words choking his throat. “I’m so sorry to lay out this on you before the wedding but I think...I think I’ve left things unsaid between us before...maybe I..You...we didn’t understand each other...it’s...it’s...
Christian stared at Elisa. “I love you, Elisa. I’ll always love you. There is nothing more true to who I am than the fact that I love you. I am nothing without you. You are all the world to me and beyond that. Without you...omigod, to lose you, I’d die...can’t you see I love you so much...I can’t lose you...
Elisa’s face was a mirror of Christian’s. Her nose was turning pink as the tears were piling in her eyes.
“I love you Elisa...I can’t lose you...I can’t lose...”
“Oh you idiot!” She shouted, silencing Christian. She turned her back to him. “You stupid idiot!”
Then suddenly she ran to him and enveloped Christian in her arms!
Christian held on to her like a drowning man grasping on a lifeline. “Elisa...”
“How could you think that?” Elisa was crying. Then she began to calm down and held Christian’s eyes with her own. Her hands were on his face, wiping away the tears then pinching the man’s cheeks. “How could you lose me...we’re going to get married tomorrow, I’m going to be with you forever!”
Christian let out a relieved sigh. The terrible feeling disappeared.
“You big dumb jerk! You scared me!”
“I’m sorry... I...”
“Come on now; lie down on the bed with me.”
The two lie together on the soft mattress, with Elisa stroking Christian’s hair. “Feel better?”
“I’m so sorry; I didn’t know what came over me. I just needed to see you and tell you.”
“Was that your wedding vow to me?”
Christian smiled. “Actually, I haven’t made mine yet.”
“Well I think you got an idea now. Are you okay now?”
“Hmm.” Christian’s eyes closed and his breath slowly fell into the symphony of sleep. Elisa lied quietly beside him, relishing this moment to be close to her fiancé. The wedding preparations and their other duties separated the couple for the past two weeks.
Then Elisa felt someone watching. She turned her head and found her mother staring from the bedroom threshold.
“How is he?” Elisa’s mother asked.
“He’s okay. He just got the jitters and he missed me,” Elisa said.
“I feel so sorry for him. Take real good care of him, Elisa.”
“I will, Mama.”
“Get some sleep. Big day tomorrow. I’ll leave the door wide open so don’t get any ideas...”
Elisa’s mother turned to leave, setting the bedroom door wide open as promised.
Elisa called out, “Don’t worry, mama, we won’t.”
The next morning as she is pouring coffee for him, Elisa’s mother regarded her son-in-law-to-be-in-several-hours. “Are you all right, Christian?”
“Yes, Ma, sorry for the episode last night.”
“Elisa?”
“She’s sleeping...”
“She should be...you kept her up all night.”
Christian almost coughed on the hot brown liquid. Elisa’s mother places before him a dish of scrambled eggs, rice, and sausages. “Eat up.”
At the door when Christian was about to leave, “See you at the church around three.”
“Yes.”
“And Christian...”
“Yes, Ma?”
“Please don’t be emotional at the wedding; it’s my daughter’s special day...”
“Yes, Ma, I won’t.”
“Yours will be during the honeymoon.”
Pink flashed across the young man’s face. “Yes Ma.”

[diem]

OT: To all Istoryan Writers, WHERE ARE YOU?! I sincerely hope you're at hope writing your next piece! Write! Write!

Your skill is a blade, it must be constantly sharpened by the grindstone or it'll crack and break!

Am I the only Istoryan Writer left penning?!