Istoryan Writers

[Musette du Coudray]

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I am lost for words monsieur diem. It's fascinating.

[blade101]

The alarm clock rings, from somewhere a neighbor’s chicken crows as it greets the rise of a new day.

Bed covers shuffle as the tired old bed creaks under the weight of its occupant. “Wake up Juan!” “You’ll be late for school!” quipped an irritated voice from the kitchen. “I’m up already!” grumbled a clearly sleepy Juan as he shuffles to the now vacant comfort room. Soon yelps of surprise drown out the noise of water pitter-pattering on the white tiles of the shower……..

Her perfume wafts to the corners of the squared space we call our classroom. Her face is as radiant as the morning sun. She enters the room with a grace that would put a ballerina to shame. She smiles at everyone except at poor Juan. Her eyes grow ice cold as their gazes meet. Juan lowers his head in shame. The fates have been cruel to this young man. He feels the pain of having the woman of his dreams scorn his very existence. She was always his goddess of beauty, worshipping the very ground she stood on. But then a misunderstood phrase drives a wedge between the two, opening a rift that grows wider every passing moment….

He holds her hand in his, feeling the warmth as they walk by the beach. They watch as the sun slowly hides her face after a whole day’s warmth. Juan looks at her and realizes how lucky he is to have his dream come true. The sunset was the perfect way to end such a wonderful day. A day he spent with the woman whom he thought he would never get to love. He stares at her eyes transfixed with their beauty. He could see his future in those eyes. There and then he made a promise that he would never let her go….

The same old bed creaks as Juan slowly climbs onto it. Another day has passed. The cold wind blows down his back. The darkness of his room engulfs him. He stares into empty space, with silence and loneliness as his only companions. Perhaps tomorrow will be a better day? Or will it only bring more loneliness......these thoughts played over and over in his mind until sleep, blissful sleep finally overtakes him.And then there is nothing left but darkness......

[diem]

EPISODE ONE
She is a remarkable 5 feet and 8 ½ inches, 6 feet if she wears those high stiletto shoes that could stop traffic if she would puncture several car tires with those murderous heels. With fair, creamy skin and brown hair flowing with natural blonde strands, she is a wondrous genetic anomaly produced from a Dutch-American father and a Chinese-Filipino mother.
She exudes rebellion in fuchsia. I could imagine her as a freedom fighter; her body braided with bullet belts, a blood soaked bandana tied on her head while in her hands a bouquet of unsoiled white flowers. It is her independent spirit that will take anyone’s breath away. Like mine. Me, exposed to only demure Maria Claras, see her as a breath of fresh air blowing from a fierce thunderstorm. I meet her at, where-else.. a fashion party where she is surrounded by a barricade of admirers, of all sexes; male, female and definitely otherwise. I slowly take the place of a gay man who leaves for a drink. I stare at her but am taken in by her when she first declares herself working at the Children’s Village as a volunteer then second, a student of Filipino literature. Of course, she picks up spare change working as a model.
The week after the party, I visit the Children’s Village(CV), ask for her and she is there, showing me around the place, introducing me to her ‘kids’. I watch her talk about the situation that is facing most children in the city. She moves me to devote 10% of my earnings to the Bantay Bata Fund. I give the cash up-front.
She looks at me and says, “Let’s have coffee sometime.”
I glance at my watch. “Okay,” I reply, thinking about the presentation tomorrow which I have to prep for using today’s time.
“How about now?”
I look back at her, her head leaning to one side as if looking at me at a whole new perspective. She may be thinking, will I say yes?
“Yes.”
She smiles, those perfect little white teeth gleam with victory.
“Wait here, I got to log out first.”
Via MRT and a taxi I arrive at the CV, via her Toyota Altis we leave the CV. A gift from her estranged father, she reluctantly admits.
We have espressos, sprinkled with mirth and spiced with flirtations. My heart is pumping due to the coffee on my cup and the coffee on her lips. By the time we part ways, I need to see her again.
It takes me three months of more surprise coffee breaks and lunches to have the courage and the cash to take her out to a formal dinner. I bring flowers, white ones. She takes my flowers and my compliment of how beautiful she is this evening.
After a salad, steak, risotto, pie and cream and over two glasses of wine, I confess to her of my intent attraction to her. Her eyes light up and I swear they are brighter than the candles lighting our table. A corner of her lips curl and she holds me in a bemused gaze.
“I’m sorry,” she starts to say. “I’m involved with someone else…”
“Someone else? When did that happen? I asked you last week if you are seeing anyone romantically and you said you weren’t..”
“I didn’t lie but I’m involved with someone else. With the kids at the Village, with the things I’ve got to do for my master’s, and everything else I’ve got to do for ME…”
I become quiet.
“I hope you understand…”
I nod my reply.
Later, we walk to her car in silence. I open the driver’s door for her. She rolls down the window and stares up at me.
“Can I drop you anywhere?”
Hands in my slacks’ pockets, I look away to the bright city lights. “No, I’d like to take a walk. Thank you. Have a safe drive home, lock your doors.”
She turns inside her car and switches the auto-door lock, the bolts fall into place. “Done. Will I see you tomorrow?”
I offer her the condition, “If you only want to…”
“I want to,” she declares. Her eyes never leave mine until they are covered by the rising window pane.
I watch her drive off and sigh, Fine she wants to see me tomorrow.

EPISODE TWO
After several more months of coffee breaks, sudden invites to parties and lunch, a Valentine’s and Christmas, she calls me up for New Year’s.
“Are you free?”
“It is the holidays…”
“Are you free?” she repeats.
“Yes.”
“Good. Let’s meet up at Mandy’s…”
Mandy’s belongs to Manang Annie, a woman with an amazing service history, she’s been a cook for thirty years for several families all around the islands. So it’s no surprise that her small carinderia sells tasty food from all regions of the country plus she makes the best batchoy and puso, cooked rice packaged in dried banana leaves. My Fil-am girl adores the place.
She is already there, talking up a typhoon with our bulky hostess. When Manang Annie returns to her domain, she greets me with a smile and tells me she already ordered.
Within fifteen minutes, the table is littered with steaming plates of brown rice, an assortment of barbecued meats, and spicy vegetables sweetened with prawn sauce.
“Eat up!” She declares and we dig in.
We wash these down with tall glasses of artic-cold cola that taste like bitter acid, searing our taste buds and numbing our throats.
“Ahhhh…”
Later we stroll, shoulder-to-shoulder, by the black bay of the City. Traffic travel by us at break-neck speeds but we take no notice. She hooks my arm with hers and pats my belly.
“Full?”
Uncomfortably. “I shouldn’t get used to this.” I look at her. “There’s something going on…”
She rolls her eyes to the brown clouds in the night sky. Something is settled in her mind. She stops, pulls my hands and makes me face her with the sea and the sounds of the tides as her backdrop.
“Remember you confessed…”, she begins
“I don’t want to remember.”
“It’s okay now…”
“Eh?”
She is holding my hands, her fingernails are actually wedging themselves between my own fingernails. The sea wind is whipping her fine hair that it reaches the sides of my face.
She stares at me keenly, I get the feeling that she is etching every feature somewhere in her.
To break the awkward silence, I inquire, “What are you saying…?”
It is a cue. She replies, “I’m saying this..” She releases my hands and cups my face and pulls me in for a kiss.
After a moment, she says, “You don’t believe me…?”
“I must be dreaming…”
“You’re a skeptic,” she counters.
I grin weakly. “Sorry, my skepticism runs kind of deep.”
She sighs. “Oh well, got to deal with that I guess.” She again pulls me in and I fall into her arms, into her mouth. I have fallen forever.

EPISODE THREE
It has been a terrible week, I’ve gotten myself demoted at work. They say that my position is redundant and useless, that my talents should be relocated elsewhere where it’s needed. Elsewhere is at a lower rung of the company hierarchy.
Don’t want to look at anyone, don’t want to talk to anybody. But she’s so persistent with her calls and text messages like a vulture that’s out for dying prey that I give in and agree to meet her over the weekend. She drives us to a remote place high on the hills overlooking the city. After the pleasantries, she asks me point-blank why I’m avoiding her and then waits. I am so adamant to suffer in my own self-mire of pity but then she is there, it first comes out a trickle, then it spews out, all the frustration, misgivings, doubts and fears….
I’m pouring it out like Niagara out of a faucet and she’s just drinking it in. She’s a black hole with a pretty face, absorbing all my dark misery like a dry sponge.
The strange thing is after I declare myself as a total pathetic loser to the wide world, she takes my hand in hers and grab my eyes with her round, hazel-brown eyes and said ‘Kiss me’ with a kiss. My mind and my lips turn jelly and she swallows like it is sweet dessert on a plate. I breathe when she draws back then it’s my turn to eat.
When the delicious sharing of flesh, water, breath and fire passes, she says something miraculous to my wanton self
“Let us make love.”
She watches me with sincere expectation, with baited breath for my answer.
I stare at this beautiful girl and think of the nymphs and Nereids, those naked vessels of Nature’s living essence of Greek lore. I think of her as my Nereid and I feel myself turning into Zeus, that mighty god with a big thunderbolt.
Yet reality reasserts itself. Where? I can’t afford a five-star hotel suite which this occasion definitely deserves. I can’t bring her home to my bedroom which I share with my brother, that’s family territory. I don’t want to have her in the car, that’s tacky. Also having it outside in the grass is counted out. If we do it on her bed I feel that’s kind of sacrilegious, don’t make me explain because I can’t. There are a thousand reasons for me to say STOP and only one reason urging me to GO. But this one reason is so strong, so biological that it really, really defeats the thousand. I must have a soul and a virtuous one because I somehow open my mouth and kiss her before saying what I think is the impossible.
“I love to. I want to. I want you so much to love you so much but we should not.”
Thankfully, she didn’t look disappointed, my nymph. Instead she regards me with bright eyes and holds me tighter against her soft body and her overwhelming scent. “This feels so good, this is so right.”
Yeah. “I’m drowning,” I hear myself say to her again and again.
“Hold on to me. Don’t let go.”
I don’t want to. Even if it means my death at that moment I would never let her go.

EPISODE FOUR
I decide to resign from the company and eventually, after a year, land myself on a nice job with a high salary and so-so-great priviliges. By the way, did I tell you I’m an entrepreneur? My Fil-am girl and I produce and sell military-themed clothes and fashion accessories. Strangely, It is doing quite well.
It was a lazy Sunday when we are having lunch after hearing Mass, my Fil-am girl is a heretical Protestant who loves Catholic traditions. Then and there, while we wait for our meal, she tells me, “Mahal kita.”
“I love you, too.”
She reaches for my hands and kisses them. “Mahal na mahal kita.”
I pull my hands away.
She smiles. “What is wrong? Don’t like hearing I LOVE YOU that way?”
I shake my head and shrug my shoulders.
She raise her chin defiantly. “Well, I think it’s a wonderful way of saying I love you. If you think about it…”
She goes on, “Love. Define it. Hard to, because it is so abstract a term, so many degrees of understanding that word. Personally, I find it flimsy and double-edged. But when one says Mahal kita, Mahal meaning – has value, you could even say precious. That is more tangible, more concrete a feeling, like a need for air, for food as nourishment. You won’t just give up on such by feeling like that because its that important to you or in this case, for me…”
Then she becomes tranquil in her seat, looks away to the view by our window then she returns to me. “Mahal kita, mahal na mahal,” she declares simply.
I know when I’m beaten. It’s been like this ever since I met her but honestly, I wouldn’t have it any other way. I reach for one of her hands with my own and say to her with all my heart, “Mahal na mahal kita.”
She flashes her smile, then as expected, a gasp escapes from her mouth. Her smile widens and is adorned by her eyes beautifully shimmering with tears. She feels the ring in the palm of my hand and she isn’t letting go, even when the waiter arrives with our sizzling large pan pizza.

[lauren_love20]

A friend that in need….

By: lauren

You wouldn’t be expected it to be different than any other life. What is the normal life of a married woman? For some normal, may be arguing and violence, others may experience love, kindness and friendship throughout. But it doesn’t end here; there are more chaotic and noisy, marriages that are hollow and breath – taking relationship. Like what happened to a friend of mine named Lauren. She was intensely aggressive to any kind of situation and a fighter too. She is once called “defender of friends” because she always defends our other friends from manipulative people and to those taking advantage of the situations. Although she makes positive acts towards her friends, the love and respect to herself that we once saw to her were banished like a single click of her hands.

This is happened when she got married to a man that she thought nice and gentleman, but it turn out that he is hiding a mask to his face. Normally having her is the most precious thing to us, you could not find a friend that had the same attitudes that she had right now, because she is a positive thinkers, and flexible person, she could be a sister or enemy, whatever you want her to be, she enormously manage her life as a successful career woman, eventually a good niece to her auntie. Despite of the life she experience and the reality that she is a product of a broken family, it never occur to her life that she would waste the time by having lot of “bisyo”. Instead she strive hard to reach her goal and finish schooling at the age 22, which she planned before she graduated from high school.

A year past she stepped out from a glorious sunshine and announced from all of her friends that she is getting married. When heard the announcement, we give our deepest happy to her and telling her that life would be changed. We simply giving her the idea of what a married life would be, and she instantly says that she is already ready for that life. From then on, we expecting her a good positive response. After she got married we never heard from her for almost 2 years, we always thought of her and ask our other friends of how she is right now.

Until one evening, she called our friend Liza in her house.

“Hi, Liza this is Lauren, can I talk to you tomorrow?” Without knowing what would be real happen to Lauren, after 2 years of not giving information to us her friends.

“Yah, sure, where and what time?” Liza responded as she listens to other line.

“2 P.m at Café Brian.”

Her face radiated excitement and happiness as she heard the voice of Lauren. She started calling each of us, and told us to be there in Café Brian at 2P.M knowingly what surprises she could bring to us. We extremely thought that she would be the next to be married. And we all excited of hearing that news. When we got there in Café Brian we saw Liza talking to a woman, she is seemingly chubby person with a fair skin. We did not notice our friend body feature because we never saw her for almost 2 years. When Liza greeted as with warm smile and hug, Lauren turn her back and smiled to us, it some kind of surprise to all of us because of what we saw and think of her. We’re kind’ a excited of hearing her love stories and happy moments with his husband Mike. But it turns out to be a sad moment for all of us. We jilted the idea and listens every word came to her mouth. We give our full support to her; we assured to her that we are always there no matter what happened. It is time for us also to help her from her problem that we think she could not cope with it, because of having a hard time adjusting or understanding the attitudes of her husband.

Liza thought for a minute then opened her mouth and gives her advice of what would be the possible way to do about the problem of Lauren.

“We saw to you the exhaustion and tired of making things straight.”Liza talked.
“But we could not help you, if you don’t take our advices.”
“Yah, I know.” Lauren responded
“ I mean all the decisions is in your hands, it all depend on you of how to solve it.” Liza talked with all smile.

We sip some coffee and ate cookies while we talking, and after a sad stories we made a joke to make Lauren happy and forget all the problems she had. We reminiscing the past when we all got together way back college days until we both had a career in life. A lot happened for the next 2 hours talking to each other and knowing the happenings of our life, yet it is not enough for us seeing each other for one day, we planned to hang out together and promise to each other to have an everyday communication. The friendship and bonding that we had make us more strong and ready to face the challenge of our future life. But the most things we inculcate in our mind are the importance of friendship and loyalty to each other.

[lauren_love20]

hello ,

I wud lyk to join in ur group if u dont mind, i also write pero dili ko sure if ok ba ang akong gipang-write, and i am willing to give time, on this group and i want to learn more.... add me...thanks..

[diem]

@lauren_love20, i think bro there isn't a istoryan writers group. this thread was posted just as an avenue for aspiring writers who are istoryan to just post their works

keep post your works... we could comment on these if you like. Keep writing.

[lauren_love20]

i olredy post and the title are, sorry and thank you ; life is full of surprises and a friend in need, hope mabasahan nimo then give me ur comment or whatever..tenks...bro

[pnoize]

Vin Simbulan, a good friend of mine, who owns one of the biggest comic book stores in manila, a national book awardee and now a publisher wants to share this information to aspiring writers:

Open Call for Submissions - A Time for Dragons: An Anthology of Philippine Draconic Fiction


In the realms of fantasy, no other mythic creature inspires the same sense of awe and wonder, menace and majesty as the Dragon. Crossing cultural boundaries, the dragon is represented in a myriad of forms, in many tales from across the globe, spanning centuries of art and literature. Perhaps the fascination stems from what the dragon represents- a creature of unbridled power, a primeval force of nature that challenges the mettle of anyone who crosses its path.

In the West the dragon has become an avatar of malice, devourer of maidens, keeper of priceless hoards, a threat to be overcome by knights in shining armor. In contrast, the Oriental dragon is a revered icon, master of storms and rain, and keeper of wisdom.

Given the popularity of dragons, particularly in the genre of "pop-fantasy" (of the Dungeons and Dragons RPG variety), it comes as no surprise that some of the sense of wonder has faded. The dragon has suffered from over-exposure and become diminished, stale.

Despite the flood of mediocrity, there are many excellent stories that deal with dragons, among the most noteworthy off the top of my head are: King Dragon by Michael Swanwick, The Ice Dragon by George R.R. Martin, The Dragonbone Flute by Lois Tilton, and The Man who Painted the Dragon Griaule by Lucius Shepard. All are excellent tales, written by pedigreed authors.

And so, encouraged by the response to best bud Dean Alfar's Speculative Fiction anthology (featuring fantasy, science fiction and stories of the interstitial/slipstream mode), I have decided to publish "A Time for Dragons: An Anthology of Philippine Draconic Fiction".

I'm now extending an open call for submissions. My agenda is simple. Show me something new, something fresh, something that presents the dragon in a new light and restores a sense of awe and wonder. I'll accept tales from across genres: classic fantasy, science fiction, horror, slipstream, children's fiction/juvenilia, as well as poetry - whatever strikes your fancy. Show me new dragons that have never been seen before, make it grand or small, just keep in mind that we are dealing with a creature that has fascinated humanity's collective imagination for centuries. Give it the treatment it deserves.

Specifics:

1. Word Count. For fiction, anywhere from 2500 to 6000 words. For poetry, short or long form is acceptable. Englsh language only.

2. Language & Setting. English language. Can be set in original imaginary worlds or the "real" world, not necessarily the Philippines (as Dragons are "universal"). Absolutely no fan fic.

3. Number of Entries. Each author may submit up to two (2) submissions.

4. Format. Only via email. Attach as a Word Document - just make sure your submission is virus-free. Please email all submissions to: viniquest(at)yahoo(dot)com

5. Cover Letter. Kindly include a cover letter that includes the title of your submission, the word count, your full name, contact details including contact numbers, as well as a list of your previously published work, if any. New unpublished authors are more than welcome to submit.

6. Compensation. Each author whose work becomes part of the anthology will receive two (2) author's copies of the final publication. Similar to Dean's anthology, the Dragon antho is completely self-funded - except that selected authors may also avail of special discounts at Comic Quest and Petty Pets (right, Dean?)

7. Deadline & Publication Schedule. All submissions must be received before midnight of January 4, 2006. Authors of selected pieces will be informed thereafter. The book will be released by the first quarter of 2006.

Have fun!

[blade101]

i'm game!!

[The_Gadore]

cool it would be. me too thinks... ~yoda winks~