Tag Archives: Fiction

Slightly Spooky Reads #2: The Flea Circus (Part 2 of 2)

“I need you to see this.” I dragged her back to my discovery.

“Oh, I had almost forgotten about this place,” she said. Her eyes looked misty, but I couldn’t tell if it was from the dust.

“Who owned this room?”

“Your grandfather did. He painted as a hobby.”

“And the woman on the canvas?”

“Ah, that was your grandmother,” my mom smiled, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye.

“That’s her?” I asked in disbelief. “Why did lolo paint her in such an odd way?”

“That was the day they first met,” my mom explained. “Your lolo went to the town’s fiesta and decided to attend the cirus. It was in one of the shows, amidst little people running about scaring kids, and a woman in a mermaid costume getting dunked in a water-filled basin that she spotted your lola—the ringmaster of a flea circus. Apparently, she was very good at making the tiny sets of carriages and carousels that the fleas could move around in. Your lolo was impressed with the detail of her work and plucked the courage to ask her out. When your lolo asked for her hand in marriage, she never went back to the circus.”

I was speechless. I looked through the canvasses, and lola, as a flea ringmaster, was apparently my grandfather’s favorite subject. They were beautiful and strange paintings of a pale young woman in a loose bun, a small black hat, a striped tailored jacket and very red lips.

“How come you never mentioned this?”

“When I was younger, our home was filled with his paintings. But when papa died, mama hid all of it in here because she said it was too painful. I guess over the years, I forgot.”

“I always thought lola never really approved of my drawings.”

“You’ve got her all wrong,” my mom shook her head. “This was the note she left for me,” she reached into her pocket.

Take care of this house for Elsa. Someday, she will be a fine artist, just like her lolo.

 

Happy Birthday Charles Perrault!

As I was using Google to search the net, I was enamoured by its beautiful fairy tale-inspired banners.  


Inadvertantly, I clicked on one and it led me to the reason behind the banners–it’s Charles Perrault’s birthday!

I love Perrault, not just because he created magical tales, but also because he didn’t let age (he wrote Tales and Stories of the Past with Morals at 67) nor profession (he was a lawyer before becoming a writer) limit him from fulfilling his dreams! He is a constant reminder to me of what can be achieved when one has enough belief and passion.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY CHARLES! I tip my hat to you, sir!

Tooth Fairy Not Welcome!

David was a boy who loved taking care of his teeth. He brushed it and made sure it stayed clean all day. He didn’t eat sweets so as not to get tooth decay. Everybody complimented him for his perfectly white milk teeth.

But as with all milk teeth, one day, David found one of them loose.

“Mom!” David panicked. “There’s something wrong with my front tooth!”

Mom checked it out and smiled. “Oh David, a new one is getting ready to come out!”

“But I like this one,” David frowned.

“Don’t worry, when it comes off, the tooth fairy will replace it with a shiny new coin.”

“But I don’t want a new coin. I want my tooth to stay put!”

Despite David’s best efforts and most diligent brushing, the tooth came off. And just like Mom said, the tooth fairy left a coin under David’s bed, and his pearly white tooth disappeared.

Just when David was getting used to his growing new tooth, another one started wiggling.

Oh no! David muttered under his breath. I’m keeping this away from the tooth fairy.

When it came off, instead of burying it under his pillow, he hid it in his pajama pocket.

The next day, David emptied his pocket, but was surprised to find a coin instead of a tooth.

Stay away from my teeth! David grumbled.

Every time another tooth came out, he hid it! He tried hiding it in his toy box, in a bottle, on top of his highest shelf. He even hid it under lock and key. But the tooth fairy always found his tooth.

Finally, he was down to his last milk tooth. He was determined to keep this one. He thought to put it in the last place the fairy would check. He put it inside his dad’s tool box and locked it in the shed.

David was so tired and sad. He knew that no matter what he did, the tooth fairy would always find his tooth.

The next day, he dragged himself from bed, and expected another coin in his father’s tool box.

When he opened the box, he broke into a huge smile. Wrapped in a big bow was all his milk teeth arranged in a cast. Attached to it was a note sprinkled with glittery dust.

It read:

Dear David, 

It was fun playing hide and seek with your teeth! 

Thanks for taking such good care of it! As a reward, I organized it for you to keep! 

Smile!

Denty the Tooth Fairy

ZsaZsa Goes to Benguet!

 

“We are going home to Benguet!” Mama announced over breakfast one morning.

“Benguet?!” I whined. “Do we have to?” From Papa’s stories of his trips there, Benguet was this faraway province on top of a mountain. I just knew the long trip was going to be boooring!

“Yes, we have to. We are going to visit our family, and our tribe–the Igorots of Bay-yo,” Mama said with a smile.

“Mama!” I wailed as I crossed my hands over my chest and growled. I didn’t like to be called an Igorot. My classmates teased me when I first introduced myself as an Igorot, and from then on, I stopped mentioning it to anyone.

“I’m sorry, ZsaZsa, but I don’t understand you,” she said patiently. “We come from a long line of native Filipinos. Before the Spaniards came, we were already here, growing our crops, developing our crafts, and caring for our families! You should be proud to belong to such a unique group.”

I sighed. Mama looked long and hard at me, as if saying that I didn’t have a choice in the matter.

I had lived in Manila all seven years of my life. I knew the noisy horns of our jeeps, the colorful billboards along our paved roads, and the people dressed in their uniforms going to work and school. But I knew nothing of Benguet, except that it was high up in the mountains and that we belonged to a tribe.

Finally, it was the day of our trip. Papa woke me up early. “It’s a long trip, honey. Pack your jacket because its going to be cold.”

“Why are we called Igorot anyway?” I asked, still cranky that I had been woken up.

“Well, our name literally means that we are from the mountains,” Mama explained.

“Ok, now I know what an Igorot is. We don’t have to actually go there,” I said, hoping to still change their minds.

“We can’t just tell you what an Igorot is. You have to see it for your own eyes. You have to experience what it is like to be from the mountains.” Mama raised an eyebrow at me.

The rocking of the car lulled me to sleep. When I woke up, we were by the road on the mountainside.

“Just in time!” Papa said. “Look at the zigzag roads we are passing through!”

Even I couldn’t help but stare at the roads we were passing. Beside us was the mountain, and we were going around it. The view of the pines trees and the clouds touching the mountain took my breath away. I opened my window slightly and felt the cold wind hit my face.

Mama pointed to me the sides of the mountains with what seemed to be carved flooring. “See those? That is how we planted. Even if it is very hard to plant on mountains, the Igorots were able to figure out how to do it. We call our rice fields kapayyew.”

“Wow!” I couldn’t help but smile. “It looks wonderful, Mama. Can we see it up close?” She nodded eagerly.

Finally, we had arrived! Everyone was dressed in colorful woven fabric.

“I’m glad you’re here!” An elderly woman approached us.

“Yes, it’s time for ZsaZsa to know her roots,” Mama said.

“Let’s get you dressed so that we can teach you how to dance the Bendian!”

Mama dressed me in the same striped cloth and wrapped a thin woven belt around my head. It was fun hopping and raising my hands together with the children of the tribe. Then we shared a meal of Pinikpikan and Innasin. I was excited to try everything. The elders told me stories of my parents and they were very nice in answering all my questions. I even took many pictures with them. When the day ended, Mama sat beside me.

“Did you have a good time today?” She asked as I smiled sleepily.

“I had the best day! Thank you for bringing me to Benguet. I can’t wait to show my classmates pictures of our tribe!” I said as I kissed her goodnight.

 

The Legend of the Rainbow Tree: Tales from Mother Chouette

“Wow, look at that!” Hibbou exclaimed as she pointed to a nearby tree.

“Oh yes, that’s the Rainbow Eucalyptus tree, my dear,” Mother Chouette said as she followed Hibbou’s gaze.  “I have a story of where that tree came from. Do you want hear it?”

Hibbou hooted in delight.

The Legend of the Rainbow Tree

There was once a rainbow named Spec who was best friends with Yuki, a eucalyptus tree. Every time it rained, Spec made sure that he visited Yuki.

Like all rainbows, Spec was tasked with guarding a leprechaun’s pot of gold. But Spec did not like the leprechaun that was assigned to him. Mr. Moneytights was mean and often screamed at Spec to shine his colorful light on the leprechaun’s pot of gold.

One day, Mr. Moneytights was particularly nasty. He frightened Spec so much that the rainbow decided it was best to run away. But where could a bright and colorful arc in the sky go? Spec tried hiding under a rock, but his light shined through. He tried gathering clouds to cover himself, but every time the wind blew, he would get exposed. Yuki, seeing how anxious Spec was becoming, suggested that Spec hide in her bark. As the intense light passed through the tree’s trunk, Yuki’s bark cracked and flaked, but she bore her pain in silence.

The tree’s brown bark muted the bright colors of the rainbow. Thus, when the leprechaun went to his usual spot, he searched high and low, but he never guessed Spec to be hiding inside the humble tree. A tree nymph saw Yuki’s sacrifice, and she blessed the union of the tree and her rainbow best friend, resulting in the most beautiful and colorful bark in the world.

The end.

Hibbou wiped a tear in her eye. “Thanks for the beautiful story, mom. Your stories are wonderful.”

 Mother Chouette wrapped her feathery wings on Hibbou and gave her a tight hug.       

*Note:  I googled actual photos of the Rainbow Eucalyptus tree so that you could share it with your kids.

Bagras_Mindanao gum tree

Mr. Monkey and the Tree Turtle: Tales from Mother Chouette

Hibbou, the owlet, was playing with her sticks when her cousin Hoot hopped beside her and started pecking on her shoulders.

“What are you doing? Can I help?”Hoot asked repeatedly.

“I don’t need your help!” Hibbou said as she flapped her tiny wings to shoo Hoot away.

Mother Chouette clicked her beak and shook her head. “Hibbou, Hoot, have you ever heard of the story of Mr. Monkey and Tilly, the Tree Turtle?  Come here beside me and listen.”  Hibbou and Hoot plopped beside the mother owl.

Mr. Monkey and the Tree Turtle

Once upon a time, there was a monkey who got separated from its tribe and accidentally stumbled upon an island full of banana trees. The monkey’s eyes became as huge as ostrich eggs as it jumped from one tree to another and discovered that each tree was bursting with fruit. Finally, it brought down the fattest bunch it could get and started popping banana after banana.

While stuffing its face, it noticed a small turtle approaching it.

“Hi Mr. Monkey, those bananas look great.  Would you mind giving me one? I am so hungry,” the turtle smacked its lips.

The monkey laughed at the turtle.  “How strange you look, with leaves sprouting from your shell.  Who are you?”

“I’m Tilly, and I’m a tree turtle. I can help give you food, if you help me pick them from the trees.”

“Who says I need help? You’re too short anyway,” The monkey mocked the turtle. “All I need is to swing along these trees to feed myself.”

“Everybody needs help sometimes,” Tilly the turtle said,” even someone like you.”

“Like I said little guy, scram!” the monkey turned its back on the turtle.

“Well, if your sure…” the tree turtle whistled. “Let’s go guys!  Mr. Monkey doesn’t need us.  Maybe we’ll find someone else willing to help!”

And the ground shook as hundreds of tree turtles stood up, each one carrying a banana plant on its back. They swam to the nearby shore, leaving the island bare.

Mr. Monkey’s jaw dropped to the ground as it realized what it had lost.

The End.

Hibbou turned to Hoot and grabbed his wings. “C’mon Hoot, let’s build my stick tower together!”

A Multicolored Coat of Scales: Tales from Mother Chouette

            Hibbou, the owlet, flapped its tiny wings and gave a hoot. Mother Chouette gently pecked on Hibbou’s head. It was time to sleep.

            Mama, please tell me a bedtime story,” Hibbou said as she turned her sleepy eyes to Mother Chouette.

            “I’ve got the perfect one for you, little one,” said Mother Chouette, and then she began.

A Multicolored Coat of Scales

“There was once a plain fish with dull silver flakes that longed to be a fish like no other.  He would rub his scales onto colorful objects, such as bright red corals, but all he would get were scratch marks. He would try to wrap himself in the dark emerald green seaweeds that floated about the ocean floor, but he would simply slip out of its slimy grasp. He even tried to hang out with the electric blue eels, but in the end, it wasn’t worth getting electrocuted. But, one day, while remaining invisible beside a gray rock, he saw a mermaid swimming away from an angry shark.  In her haste, she dropped her precious crystal ring. When the shark was gone, the plain fish swam and rescued the ring. He marveled at its color and considered keeping it for himself so that he would have something sparkly to wear. But in the end, he decided that it was best to return the ring to its rightful owner. The mermaid turned into a fairy mermaid and promised to grant the fish his heart’s desire. Rainbow-colored raindrops fell from the sky that night and filled the sea with color. When the fish opened its eyes, it saw that its fins were multicolored and shiny! All the other sea creatures gathered around him to admire his beautiful coat of scales.

“The end.”

Mother Chouette turned to Hibbou and cooed.  Her baby owl was fast asleep! 

And so I begin…

Wow, after weeks of delay, I am finally ready to post my first “official” blog entry. I have tried blogging before, via Multiply (when Multiply was just a fun site, and not a business empire), and I think I tried once or twice to post something on Facebook.  But, I’ve always viewed these outlets as more of a social network thing that you occasionally blog in, not really a blog site.  And so after months of my husband’s convincing, I finally agreed to ‘try’ this blogging thing.  It is a fulfillment of one of the dreams I wrote, which is to make many stories for my daughter to read.  She absolutely loves reading, and at 6 years old, already writes her own short stories (mostly about My Little Pony).  As she progresses in her reading skills, I want to be there, adding fun and fantasy to this world.  At the same time, I also want this site to be filled with craft tutorials.  My daughter also loves to craft with me, and I just want mothers out there to have something that they can do together with their daughters.  So, here’s to many more future entries!  We will see if once a week, I can share either a short story or a craft tutorial.  Thanks for reading!  And so, I begin…