Tag Archives: Short Stories

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.

 

Slightly Spooky Reads #2: The Flea Circus (Part 1 of 2)

When my mom announced that we’d be moving to her hometown of Laguna, I was shocked. She explained that she had inherited the ancestral house, and since we were cutting down on expenses, we’d be moving there permanently. I had never seen my grandmother’s place before. It was always my grandmother who visited us whenever she had errands to run in Manila. Having lived in the city all my life, I didn’t know what to expect. And it wasn’t like my lola was any help. She never talked about Laguna. She spoke to me only to ask about school. She never cracked a smile, never loosened the tight bun her hair was imprisoned to. I tried showing her some of my drawings, but all she ever did was raise an eyebrow.

“We’re near,” my mom said as we passed through a concrete marker that read Pila. Rows of beautiful old houses and a church made of bricks greeted us along the way. I felt transported to another time. I quickly grabbed my sketch pad and began drawing.

We stopped in front of a white house with wide capiz windows and wooden moldings.

“We’re here,” my mom said.

When we entered, my mom pointed to a room with double doors. “That was hers.”

I stroked the carved details of the heavy narra door as I slowly pushed it open. The room was immaculately clean—the wooden floors gleamed, as if it were polished daily. A four-poster bed with a daintily crocheted cover was at the center. To its right was a dresser with an oval mirror and crystal knobs. On it were lola’s hairbrushes, arranged by height. Two framed black and white photos hung on the wall. With her hair down and a curious smile on her face, the woman in the portrait hardly resembled my grandmother. The other frame was that of my lolo. He looked very much like the respected doctor that he was in his white shirt and black tie. I wished I had gotten to know him. He had passed before I was even born.

“Mom, let’s check out the other rooms,” I said, tugging at her sleeve. I was itching to find the perfect space to draw.

“Sorry, Elsa. I need to unpack. You can explore on your own, just don’t leave the house.”

I nodded. I dashed to the dining room and found a long table that could sit twelve people. Beautiful plates were on display in the cabinets. I crossed the other end and spotted a smaller room, identical to my grandmother’s. When I entered, I spotted on the dresser what appeared to be a photo of my mom when she was my age. She was playing the piano. Then, something caught my eye—a keyhole beside the dresser. When I looked closely, I saw a well-hidden outline of a door.

“Mom,” I hollered. I ran outside to look for her. “May I borrow your set of keys?” She grabbed it from her purse and handed it to me. I quickly went back inside and searched for a slim key. I got the door open on my second attempt. With no window in sight, the room was completely dark. I patted the walls to look for a light switch, and when I found it, I flicked it on.

“What the…” my voice trailed as light flooded the room. Walls of shelves covered every space. In them were odd-sized bottles, brushes and canvasses filled with color. The floor was covered in thick dust as if it hadn’t been swept in ages. At the center was an easel and when I looked at what was mounted, I was captivated. On it was a young woman with dark circles around her eyes and a painted smile on her lips. But there was something about her that reminded me of someone.

“Mom,” I gasped, trying to catch my breath as I rushed back to my mother.

“What is it this time?” Mom asked as she handed our luggage to the housekeeper.

The Cow Who Jumped Over the Moon (and Brought Down a Crown of Stars): Tales from Mother Chouette

Hibbou was too excited to go to bed. She had one too many sweet treats and she was hopping about the nest more than usual.

“Come and sit here, Hibbou.” Mother Chouette called her owlet. “I will read you a story of a famous cow who was just as jumpy as you are.”

Once upon a full moon, a very pregnant cow laid upon the hay and moo-ed loudly for she knew it was about time for her to give birth. She laid on her side as the baby inside her kicked and bounced. And then all of a sudden, it didn’t move at all. Just as she was getting ready to stand up (for she thought the baby had changed its mind), out jumped the calf. Thus was born Skipper, the jumping calf.

Skipper learned early on that jumping was his special gift. While his peers usually pranced and hopped every time they saw something different, Skipper always jumped the highest. He jumped over anthills, fences, and soon enough, over ladders as well. Instead of munching on grass, Skipper would jump to grab the juiciest leaves on the tallest trees.

One night before bedtime, Momma Cow told Skipper that he was born during a full moon.

“What’s a full moon?” Skipper asked his mom.

“It’s a moon just like that one,” Momma Cow pointed to the shiny white platter in the night sky.

Skipper couldn’t contain his excitement. “Someday, I’m jumping over the moon!”

Momma Cow chuckled at her son’s words. “That’s too high, even for you.”

But Skipper would not hear of this. He practiced every day and jumped over taller and taller objects. As he grew into a young calf, he began jumping over the roof of his master’s house. Soon, he could jump over a mountain with ease.

Finally, he once again saw the full moon and knew he was ready to give it his best try. He closed his eyes, bent his knees and soared through the skies!

When Skipper opened his eyes, he was already above the moon.

“Yahoo, I did it!” Skipper hollered. “Wait till I tell my friends about this!”

When he had landed on the ground, he felt something heavy on his head. He quickly headed to the nearest pond to see if there was something stuck to his horns. When he looked at his reflection, he saw a crown of glittering stars on his head.

“Now my friends will believe that I reached the moon,” Skipper admired the reflection of his shiny crown. But just as he was about to sleep (for the business of jumping can get quite tiring), he heard whimpering in his ears.

“Who’s making all that noise? I’m trying to sleep here!” Skipper shouted to no one in particular.

“It is us,” his crown spoke. “We are the stars entangled in your horns. Please jump over the moon again so that we can go back to our home.”

“Oh no,” Skipper said as he shook his head. “You’re my prize for being the highest jumper in the world!” Skipper puffed his chest with pride. “Now quiet down so that I may get some sleep.”

The next day, Skipper showed his mom his crown of stars and how he got it. Then, he went to all the animals in the farm to show his trophy. When everyone in the village knew, he jumped to the other villages to show his crown of stars. Finally, everybody was quite sick and tired of hearing the story of how he had jumped over the moon and came back with stars on his horn. But still, Skipper would not stop, always jumping from one place to the next to tell anyone willing to listen of his amazing achievement.

One day, when he was telling a group of young calves the story, one had the guts to cut him off.

“Are you sure those are stars on your head?” The spotted calf said with raised eyebrows. “It just looks like a bunch of grayish rocks to me.”

Skipper was shocked. He jumped to the nearest pond to view his reflection. True enough, the stars were almost out of light!

“Why aren’t you shining?” The frustrated Skipper asked the stars.

“We are sad and lonely for this is not our home,” the stars said. “We will lose all our light if you don’t bring us back to the night sky,” they sobbed inconsolably.

Skipper finally felt sad for them. He didn’t want the stars to die because of him. But he had wasted a lot of time, going from village to village to spread his tale. He was no longer a young calf, but an old bull. Could he still jump over the moon a second time?

Skipper practiced again and again until the full moon was upon the farm at last. Then, gathering all his strength, he jumped the best he could.

Farm animals from all over the world say that they saw the shape of a cow jumping over the moon that night. But, none saw one coming back to the ground. Others believe that the great jumper became one of the stars in the vast sky.

The end.

Hibbou hopped to the window and looked for a group of stars shaped like a bull. “There he is, mama!”

Mother Chouette nodded and smiled.  

CinderSpectaRella Part 4 of 4

The next day, the prince disguised himself as the herald and personally went about the town to ask who owned the glasses. “The prince will invite whoever owns these glasses to a dinner at the castle!” He announced.

When the prince arrived in Cinderella’s home, the stepmother hurriedly brought out her daughters to fit the spectacles.

“This is mine!” Elvira pushed the glasses to her puffy face and almost broke it. She tried walking with the glasses, but immediately got dizzy and conked her head on the nearest tree.

“I’m sorry,” the prince shook his head. “This cannot be yours.”

“It’s mine!” Charlotte yanked the glasses from her sister. She wore it, and smiled as the glasses fit her long and tapered face. But she couldn’t see anything. When she extended her hand to the prince, she ended up slapping him on the face.

“I think not,” the prince turned around to leave. But just as he was about to mount his horse, Cinderella peeked from behind the door.

“May I try it?” She asked, squinting her eyes as she walked towards the prince.

“Oh no, she cannot be the one you are looking for. She didn’t even leave the house last night! And even if she did, she wouldn’t have seen the prince. Rumor has it that the prince was dancing with only one person the whole night!

But the prince insisted, and when she put the glasses on, everything was clear again.

“You’re not the herald, you’re the prince!” Cinderella exclaimed, staring into the eyes of the handsome man she danced with the night before.

The prince smiled. He knew he had found his princess at last.

And Cinderella lived with perfect vision for the rest of her life.

The End

CinderSpectaRella Part 1 of 4

Once upon a time, there lived a beautiful young maiden named Cinderella in a house beside a farm. Cinderella was a loving and obedient child, but she was left to live with her cruel stepmother and vain stepsisters.

Every day, Cinderella spent her time doing all the household chores, and everything else her family was too lazy to do.

“Cinderella, fetch me my furry, white hat!” Elvira, the older of the stepsisters shouted.

Cinderella squinted about her stepsister’s messy room and saw something fluffy on the chair. She quickly grabbed it and plopped it on Elvira’s head.

“Aiii!” Screeched Elvira. “I said hat, not cat! Get out of my room, you’re as blind as a bat!”

Cinderella kept on apologizing, but Elvira kicked her out of the room anyway.

Then, Cinderella heard Charlotte holler from her room. “Cinderella, grab my pink beehive wig with the curly top!”

Cinderella blinked a couple of times as her eyes swept Charlotte’s room for anything pink. She thought she spied a pink curly-topped lump sitting on a chest and handed it to Charlotte.

Charlotte’s eyes popped when she received a pink, squirming piglet. “I said wig, not pig! Can’t you do anything right?!”

“Mother!” Elvira and Charlotte screamed at the same time.

“What is it, my dears?” Cinderella’s stepmom hurried to her children.

“Cinderella gets everything wrong,” Elvira complained as she pried the cat from her head.

“Cinderella messes up my orders on purpose,” Charlotte added, shooing the piglet from her room.

“Cinderella, explain yourself!” The stepmother raised her voice and crossed her hands over her chest.

But just as Cinderella was about to speak, the doorbell rang.

Cinderella ran down the stairs to get the door.

…to be continued

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…