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Lusus Naturae

The spider crept outside the window. I can hear slow, subtle movements. I do not know exactly what it is. I am alone in my bedroom now, staring at each clock’s hand passing hour after another. It’s dark, of course. Good thing, the walls are still painted blue. I love blue, and I love watching the stars.

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The spider crept outside the window. I can hear slow, subtle movements. I do not know exactly what it is. I am alone in my bedroom now, staring at each clock’s hand passing hour after another. It’s dark, of course. Good thing, the walls are still painted blue. I love blue, and I love watching the stars.

Sitting cross-legged on my quilt, I drift, hoping to snuggle myself to sleep. But the enduring harassment continues- a twisted pain knocking off my eardrums, and the veins continue to swallow air- harder and harder until it reaches my head. My eyes remain pallid, sleepless from all the paperwork and cups of coffee every single night. The bloodcurdling echo sings louder, rasher. I wonder when it will stop. I wonder what it is. No, I wonder what it will do to me. Will it gobble and chew down my brain or shatter my heart leaving its remains scattered on the headboards? How happy would he be to slice my abdomen in half, ripping my hair apart and sucking my blood like a condiment on a hot summer day! Or, chew my ear like an appetizer combined with a glass of wine. It must be delicious to die in his hands.

I glanced. It must have been long since he left me. No, maybe I am the one who left him. Memories must have come back to haunt me. Yes, to kill me, because I murdered him.  I ate his brain and stewed his liver.  Because I am afraid – of him leaving me, so I ate him, that I shall own him forever.

A few weeks later, I felt uneasy and weird. I also felt dizzy and vomited black plasma that tasted like ink every morning. I don’t understand what’s happening to me. There were nights I had severe fevers without any cause. I went to the doctor, pale and frustrated, desperate to know the cure for this disease that overcomes me, but she only told me that I’m fine and there’s nothing to worry about.

I remember how I devoured on every single thought of him, wanting, hungering for more. I reminisced the day, he asked me to marry him. He said he loved me, so I said yes. Only, to figure out I was fooled; that every single night, I found him cohabiting with prostitutes a house after another. Maybe, that’s okay. I am not a perfect woman anyway. Besides, men must have high standards regarding their sexual urges. It’s fine, even if it tears my heart away. I tried to resist the painstaking agony of seeing my husband sleep with another woman every night.

Maybe there were days he saw me. But he treated me differently; as if I were some unknown being he saw someplace; the longer days passed, he treated me more peculiar. There were days he treated me like a non-existing creature and looks at me like he sees nothing.  Yes, he would go to office jolly and vibrant each morning, but whenever he comes home, he would bring another woman to caress and cuddle. If not, he would open his beer bottles finishing them one by one, every drop on the lid. He can finish five bottles. He’s a good drinker, I must say. He’s also good at hurting women.  I remember how I used to be beaten, punched and shouted on His words still echo “Shut up, or I’ll kill you”. If I shout back at him, he’ll kick me, and it hurts so much. I don’t know where else to go. My parents died since I was a baby. An old woman only adopted me, but after marrying Frank, she got terribly sick and died. I was not allowed to visit her. Frank would beat me up. The more I screamed at him, the more he hurt me. The more I hurt him back, the more he tied me up. Oh, why do I have to endure such melancholy?

READ  Dear 2015

Sometimes, I wonder how it felt like to lacerate someone’s cock, squeezing the small thumb-sized pinkish muscle like a baby grape. Then, maybe I can chew it like a gum, playing it against my tongue. Then I’ll crush its cells under gritted teeth. I always fantasized those imaginations.

Ah! Just how it feels to manipulate and control someone who did the same thing before.

I don’t know what happened next. Everything is just so sudden.  It was not long ago when he told me to marry him. I’m sure, I am still fine and well though, but I don’t know about being fertile.  I never had a check-up.  But that should not be the only reason for leaving me, should it? And now his soul demands attention- to get total revenge of me. As I slowly crept down from my bed, I paced, walking in circles. What do I do, where to run? I can hear my heart palpitating loudly while the shivers ran down my spine. Beads of cold sweat dripped down my cheeks.

And suddenly, my eyes stare widely; after a moment or two, he’s here, like a godly Cereberus, a fitting ghost of darkness.  It was as if the room reduced its temperature to a Fahrenheit degree, cold and yet no air, but hollow. His eyes were huge and bright red, like blood. He was looking at me, his pupils not dilating. No head, no body, just a face, a terrifying face- a facade that would make your stomach twitch and trickle , a look none of you could imagine wanting. He’s just looking at me-all focused. I stood on the circle I’ve been since thinking of him. He’s still looking at me. I never moved. I looked at him, my fingers trembling, and quintessence screaming like hell.

I wonder if I am dreaming.  But no, he really is here and as time moves forward, the scents of cherry blossoms which usually filled my room turned to odour. Yes, bad, belching odour- a stench that smelled of Golgotha. He’s not going to leave me, is he? He’s still looking at me, salivating. After a blink, he tilted his face on the left side, as if trying to comprehend what that blink meant. But I just stayed, unmoving, reckless.

Then he returned to his normal position and grinned evilly.

And before I knew it, I was melting blood.

I was slowly dissipating like falling chalk dust.

My insides were flaring and my mouth ran dry.

Photo by Joshua Lugti

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Literary

Combat fake news through literature, urges critic, veteran journo

Quoting Palanca Award-winning writer Jose Dalisay Jr., renowned critic Rolando Tolentino upheld that “the best antidote to fake news is true fiction.”

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Photo by Elizabeth Nicole Regudo/TomasinoWeb.

A veteran journalist and a renowned literary critic urged Thomasians yesterday to write more literature about current social issues to fight the rise of disinformation in the country.

Rolando Tolentino, director of the University of the Philippines (UP) Institute of Creative Writing, said during this year’s Paz Latorena Memorial Lectures that writing short stories and poetry could help combat lies peddled by those in power.

Quoting Palanca Award-winning writer Jose Dalisay Jr., Tolentino upheld that “the best antidote to fake news is true fiction.”

“Paano mo maco-combat kung in-abdicate mo ‘yung role ng panitikan? Magsulat ng panitikan tungkol sa panahon na ‘to,” Tolentino affirmed.

With the advent of social media, Tolentino also lamented the distortion of “orality” of storytelling and the perception of reality but he maintained that literature “is a creative response to reality.”

He continued by stating that the role of literature in Philippine society is crucial as it serves as the country’s record of important historical events and social movements.

“Napakahalagang area [ng panitikan] sa kasaysayan natin, ito na ang chronicle natin,” he said.

He added: “Kaya natin napatunayan na may Martial Law, may Marcos dictatorship, may Spanish colonialism ay dahil sa mga matitigas [at] astig nating manunulat na nag-intervene sa panahon na ‘to.”

The former UP College of Mass Communication dean also stressed how “slow” writers are nowadays in publishing literary works that tackle issues current social issues.

“Wala na tayong poems na lumalabas, wala tayong short stories na lumalabag. […] May pagka-slow na ‘yung writers natin kasi ang pumapasok talaga are all these posts, mga commentaries [n]ila sa Facebook,” he said.

Meanwhile, veteran journalist and columnist Salvacion Espina-Varona called on writers to use literature to resist alienating pro-administration supporters.

“Alam natin kung bakit nanalo si Rodrigo Duterte [at hindi lamang ito dahil sa fake news but] because he does not exist in a vacuum: He is the sum total of rage passed from generation after generation,” Espina-Varona told the audience.

She also urged that a “real” way to battle lies is to become “truth-tellers,” telling them that safeguarding truth is not solely the role of journalists.

“Hindi pwedeng isang sektor lamang lipunan ang magiging guardians ng katotohanan sa mundo, hindi pwedeng journalists lang,” she said.

This month, Facebook began implementing strict measures against the proliferation of fake news, such as identifying links from legitimate news sites and blocking links from several websites identified to peddle false information.

The social media giant, meanwhile, on Thursday announced its partnership with online news agencies Rappler and Vera Files for a third-party fact-checking program in the country, which aims to prevent the spreading of fake news content on the social media platform.

Presidential Communications Undersecretary Lorraine Badoy and Presidential Spokesperson Harry Roque have protested the partnership, accusing Rappler and Vera Files of “partisanship.”

On Oct. 4 last year, the Senate Committee on Public Information and Mass Media opened its first hearing on fake news, the first of its kind in the country. The committee concluded its second hearing last Jan. 30.

Bannered with the theme “Saysay ng Panitikan sa Panahon ng Fake News at Tokhang,” the yearly lecture is held in honor of Paz Latorena, an esteemed Filipina fictionist and former chair of the University’s Department of Literature.

The event concurs with the celebration of the National Literature Month. —with reports from P. Jamilla

READ  Sirang Plaka

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Literary

5 children’s books you should definitely read again

As we celebrate International Children’s Book Day, we take a look back on five children’s books whose lessons and tales remain true no matter when or how many times you read them.

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From novels to picture books, children’s literature from all genres were our gateways to other worlds and imaginary friends when we were young—and for some, these stories were their first taste of literature.

While people tend to dismiss books written for children when they grow old in favor of more serious literatures, it is undeniable that children’s literature shaped millions of childhoods all around the world and their timeless stories continue to influence the lives of people from all ages.

As we celebrate International Children’s Book Day, we take a look back on five children’s books whose lessons and tales remain true no matter when or how many times you read them.

 

Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland by Lewis Carroll

Published in 1865, Lewis Carroll’s Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland is widely considered to be a hallmark of children’s literature and one of the best examples of the literary nonsense genre, which has proven to be popular to both children and adults. The book’s narrative, peculiar characters and imagery have inspired various films, games and plays throughout the years, as well as various literary discourses and, ahem, mad theories about what the novel really is about, which serves as proof of Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland‘s lasting legacy.

 

Coraline by Neil Gaiman

Speaking of Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland, Neil Gaiman’s dark fantasy novel Coraline is often compared to the Lewis Carroll classic due to the two novels’ similar premises of a young female protagonist entering another world, but for a children’s novel, Coraline serves unexpected scares—especially in the idea of having better version of one’s family except that they have buttons for eyes. The book’s ideas may be too much for children, but reading it again after a few years reveals the beauty of the novel’s narrative and the timelessness of its horror.

 

The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe by C.S. Lewis

Tales of children being lost in other worlds is a common theme in children’s literature, but The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe takes this trope to a higher notch with four English siblings crossing over to another world to fulfill their destiny of ending the icy rule of an evil witch. The novel—which C.S. Lewis wrote as the first book of the Chronicles of Narnia series—also incorporates allusions to Christian tradition such as Christ’s crucifixion. While these details may not be obvious to very young readers, a re-read of the novel and the entire series shows the complexity of Christian allusions and pagan influences in The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, which serves to show that children’s literature can have complex narratives rivaling “adult” novels and break the stigma surrounding children’s literature and the fantasy genre.

READ  Ruptured

 

The Hobbit, or There and Back Again by J.R.R. Tolkien

While the high fantasy of The Lord of the Rings proved to be the more influential work in the long run, its predecessor The Hobbit, which was written primarily for children, laid the foundations of the Middle-earth mythos which has come to define the fantasy genre. Nonetheless, the adventures of Bilbo Baggins remain a classic and a landmark of children’s literature—and the prelude to a greater epic.

 

Le Petit Prince by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry

Le Petit Prince or the The Little Prince, as it is more known in translations, is just a simple and little book, yet poignant. While the story is generally a children’s book, its tale of the loss of childhood wonder and innocence has resonated and moved adults readers throughout the years, and perhaps, the book’s timeless message, despite its short length, is a testament that the essential is indeed invisible to the eye.

 

What are your favorite children’s books? Share them with us in the comments or by tagging TomasinoWeb on Twitter!

 

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Literary

Lullaby

I still sing this hymn
Not to drive my friends
Gone. I want you here.

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Art by Aijen Sy/TomasinoWeb.

Tonight, I sing this
Hymn for two, four, six
Ears. My breath to reach
Yawns of the dismissed.

Alone in the dark
Room flooded with an
Eerie presence that

Lurk close by. I feel
Isolated. Don’t
Stand too close. Don’t stare
Too long. Tenebrous,
Eidola. Figures
Nudging my sight. But
I still sing this hymn
Not to drive my friends
Gone. I want you here.

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