stories….
Sunday, October 30th, 2005There’s this one story i made for my Creative writing class that my prof liked… its part of a section sampler that me and my classmates made from a renga..
So much depends upon
A brown dilapidated armchair
On a platform of an auction house
By the pedestal
An old lampshade
With a burned out bulb
Sat atop a desk
An eagle perched on a branch
Its wings spread wide
Scarred by the wings of time
An old bed where lovers once made out
Brought in from a hotel room
Outside the window was a yellow green leaf
Hanging beside a golden mango
And sways with the tranquil breeze
The sun shone gleefully
And a child plays under it
Its heat exhausted him
Near the gate is an old century tree
Where friends once hung out
And where children used to bully someone
Beside it is a luxury car
Honking its horn loudly
Scaring the birds away
each of us gave a line…until we were able to create a renga (japanese poem)..it was done simultaneously without pause…whatever comes to our minds…this renga became the table of contents of the stories we will be making and the title of the story must be the line you gave…
and here’s mine…i hope you guys like it…
By The Pedestal
By the Pedestal she stood, a pretty girl with soft locks of hair. She wore a white lacy dress and a flower on her bonnet. "Papa?" she said to me. I bent down and hugged her. It was as if she was my daughter. But she doesn’t need to know the truth. As long as she’s happy with us…
"Now go upstairs and brush your teeth. Papa will come later to tell you a bedtime story," I told her. She nodded and smiled. Such an innocent smile. Then she ran up the stairs and into her room.
"Honey," my wife called me. "You father’s lawyer came. He said he wanted to meet you and your mother to settle the distribution of the properties."
"Did he leave his number?" I asked.
"No. but he said he’ll be dropping by at your aunt’s house tomorrow." She glanced at me while she washed the dishes. "I think you should go there also."
I nodded as I shifted the pages of the newspaper I was reading. I stood up, loosened my tie and started to head upstairs.
"Where are you going?" she asked me.
"Uhmm," I hesitated. "I’m going to check on Criselda."
She frowned but then she rinsed her pale white hands and hugged me. I let her head rest on my shoulders for a while. Then the phone rang. She went to answer it, while I made my way up the wooden stairs. "This house has been with the family for years," I thought. "Every generation since they moved here lived in it." I stared at the oak posts. Everything was so familiar. I walked slowly and silently. Criselda might wake up. The planks creaked. Mental note: replace the floor timbers.
I reached the end of the hall. It led to a stairs to the attic. That’s her room. We placed her there because it had a great big window. "It’s healthy for a child to receive a little sunshine," my dad used to say when he was still alive. God bless him. Since he went away, the house had been so quiet that mother left us to live with her sister.
Thunder roared outside. That’s the bad thing about the attic. Everytime a storm comes, Criselda goes down to find me. "I’m scared," she would say, her silhouette wavering as lightning flickered. Then a teardrop would run down her large expressive eyes and soft cheeks. But now, those eyes are dull and icy.
Reaching her door, I opened it a little to take a peek. She was not there. Inside the room were her stuffed animals and dolls. They all looked pale under the moonlight. A shiver went up my spine. I turned around to go back when…
"Boo!"
I fell back on the floor, my heart thumping harder and harder. She stared at me, laughing. A devious smile crept on her face.
"Sweetie!" I said as I stood up. "Don’t do that again. I almost had a heart attack."
She just stood there, smiling.
The next day, I went to my aunt’s house. When I entered, the lawyer was already talking to mother. I sat down with them as he discussed my father’s last will and testament.
"It’s written here that you have a sister?" the lawyer asked.
"I…yes." I lowered my head. "She died years ago."
"I’m sorry," was all that he said. "I guess the property will be divided between you and your mother only." And he went on to explain the details and technicalities.
After the lawyer left, my aunt brought us coffee and some biscuits.
"How is your wife?" mother asked.
"She’s alright," I smiled. "The coffee’s good, Aunt Matilda."
"Of course. That’s from our plantation in Virginia," she said, pleased. "Jorge, why don’t you take your mama home with you so she can see your wife and have a whiff of the country air."
"That’s a good idea." I said.
I took mother for a spin around the countryside with my Bentley. Her eyes sparkled, reminiscing her youth.
I parked the car in front of our doorstep when I heard Martha scream. I ran to the door and opened it. My wife was sprawled on the floor, screaming and by the pedestal, where my father’s ashes stood, was Criselda.
"You’re not my mother!" Criselda shouted, pointing at Martha.
"Get away from me!" Martha screamed, dragging her limp and scared body away. Criselda’s eyes were filled with anger. I went to embrace my weeping wife.
"Criselda stop it," I said. My mother came inside. She was in shock. "Criselda is that you?" she said, crying.
"Who are you?" she asked.
"I’m your mother."
"No. You are not my mother," she screamed. That’s when mother started gasping for air. She couldn’t breath. My wife and I immediately rushed her to the hospital. But it was too late.
3 days later, I posted a "for sale" sign at our gate. Martha was staying temporarily at Aunt Matilda’s house. A couple of women passed by when I heard them say,
"Isn’t that the haunted house? I heard a rumor that the owner’s mother died after seeing her daughter’s ghost." The other one nodded. "The daughter died years ago. Some say it was the fault of the brother. He pushed her into the river and she drowned."
"It should have been the brother who died," the third one said, staring at the house.
I lay my head on the desk and started crying. I didn’t mean to. It was an accident.
"I didn’t mean to. It was an accident. I didn’t mean to…," I kept saying.
But by the pedestal, she stood. "Papa why are you crying? I don’t understand," she said.
whom we talked with a little. she cut her hair real short so i didn’t notice her that much at school. she was really nice…after that we did some window shopping and bought our own paraphernalias (me: a pair of black and silver eyeshadow)..then we went "videokeing".i know it sounds a little..uhhh…but anyways i agreed…good thing there were diff rooms so we weren’t bothered by weird stares of the passerbys…shy as i am hehe… sooner or later i was singing ironic crazily..and later the 4 of us were singing and dancing to the beat of "september". In the end we were so tired and had a lot of fun…and we swore! never to sing that song again…we had 9 songs nonstop…