Like him

Note: This short story is a product of our 10 minute writing exercise in Writing Boot Camp with Jessica Zafra. We were asked to write about our childhood best friend and since I don't have one, I invented him.

My surname is Manicad and his is Manlapas. We were seatmates since first grade and we remained as close as our armchairs until second grade.

Ian was okay; not good nor bad. He was not the best student in the class but he consistently passed our exams.

I remember that our first talk was about his crush Jaina who happened to be my close friend. At first I thought he was really keen on being friends with me but then I found out that he was more interested in Jaina. It's okay, I told myself. Come second grade, Ian's infatuation for Jaina faded and we started to bond like brothers.

He would bring cards to school and we would play them during recess. Sometimes he would ask me to go with him to the rest room but we will just end up in the hallways - walking to the museum, canteen, and rows of classrooms.

Ian was definitely fun to be around with. It was nice knowing him for two years.

Two years only because in third grade, his parents transferred him to a better school in the district. If Facebook and Twitter were available then, or if we had mobile phones, I wouldn't be writing about him today.

I didn't get to say goodbye to Ian formally because he was gone before the school year 1999-2000 opened. I had Ian's pencil from Grade 2 until I graduated in grade school.

I didn't know how I lost it.

Perhaps because Ian owned it.

Victory Party

Note to readers: This short story is a product of a 10-minute writing exercise for our Writing Boot Camp with Jessica Zafra. We were asked to write a back story/history of this strangely looking creature from the movie "Donnie Darko."

Ines was known as the best seamstress in her town. She was the Captain's most trusted and longest-serving dressmaker.

The town Captain asked Ines to come to his house at least once a month for a new order - a polo barong, slacks, semi-casual ensemble, and sometimes even handkerchiefs given to the devotees of their Parish. 

It was an open secret among townspeople that the Captain and Ines were having an affair. Every time Ines walked out of the Captain's house, people stared at her with judgement. 

This affair went on for more than a year. It stopped - or it had to stop - when Ines revealed to the Captain that she was pregnant. 

The Captain, anxious of a potential scandal and its grave effects on his reelection bid, forcefully convinced Ines to discontinue the pregnancy.  

Helpless Ines was assisted by the Captain's men to the 'clinic' where the 'medical check-up' was done - or so what her family and neighbors believed it to be. 

A week after, Ines went back to her house in a debilitated state. She did not have the energy to greet, much so socialize, with her closest kin. 

Ines locked herself in the sewing room and no one could talk to her for months. Her isolation forced customers to place orders in lesser known seamstresses in and around town.

Election time has come and the votes have been tallied. The Captain was reelected as the town leader for another three years, an announcement which only a few considered news.  

Ines found out about it through the tarpaulins on electrical posts which were hanged as prelude to a free-for-all party.

That moment, Ines figured she had to share in the celebration but in her own special way - in a way that will capture the Captain's attention. 

Feeling so much energy she never thought she could regain, Ines turned on her sewing machine, sat on her three-generation chair, and held a needle and a thread. 

It took a while before Ines familiarized herself again with the process. She stitched a huge amount of rags and ended up with a doll akin to a bunny. The difference was that this bunny had a sinister smile and plenty of loose stitches in its arms, legs, and mouth. 

There was no room for improvements, Ines thought. The bunny was as perfect as any memorable present should be.

On a night when everyone gathered in the town hall for the Captain's oath-taking, Ines walked straight to the Captain's house hugging the bunny on her chest. 

She hung the bunny at the gate and tied it with a sash that said: "Congratulations, Captain." It easily overshadowed election posters bearing the Captain's face, name and slogan "Tapat Dapat."

Ines walked back to her house without an effort to conceal her identity from passersby who saw her climbing the gate.  

She did not care whether people found out about what she did. She raised her head, angled it properly to see the Captain through the cheering crowd and smiled.

"I knew the Captain would love it," she thought as she walked away. 

The shot that gained 21 likes

The story behind my profile picture

Day 1 of Pam Pastor's 30-Day "Writing My Life" Challenge

I went to BenCab Museum in Baguio City last April and took some interesting shots in and around the galleries.

I saw this painting of five children seemingly hiding or peeking inside what appears to be a cloth and I thought it would make a good shot.  

The painting is entitled "The Bemused," a word that isn't typically part of my vocabulary. I was pleasantly surprised to see my shadow through the glass frame so I took the shot regardless. Like any other millennial, I found the shot as artistic, hip, and pa-deep.

I searched for the meaning of "bemuse" after taking the shot and to my surprise, it is a verb that means "puzzle, confuse, or bewilder (somebody)." No wonder I found the painting interesting enough - most of the time, I am a puzzled, confused, and bewildered individual.

That time, I was bemused with the painting, at myself, and in my environment.

Perhaps I'm not the only one who feels instant connection with a particular artwork. I've been to a number of museums and there were pieces that stood out from my peripheral and invited me to their direction - like Juan Luna's bust and the "Spolarium" in the National Museum and "Republika ng Pilipinas" in Pinto Art Museum. 

"The Bemused" attracted me with its subtle colors, placement in the gallery, and the five children who were, again, either hiding inside or peeking through the cloth. I couldn't decide if I want them to do the former or the latter.

In a way, I felt that they wanted to show me something but at the same time they couldn't do so; they wanted to lead me somewhere but they were confined within the cloth; and they wanted to reveal a secret - perhaps my secret - but they remained silent because I was in front of them.

Meanwhile, take a look at the red line at the center going down on the children. Doesn't it make the painting all the more bemusing?