Kurt•Heleana•Ronald

XII - Aquinas

[tresaquinas]

Takipsilim sa Dyakarta

BY Tolentino, Catolico, Maginit

Mga pangunahing tauhan sa kwento

1.      Raden Kaslan – Siya ang may-ari ng Cadillac na sasakyan, isang mayaman ngunit matapobre at mapanghusga na lalaki. Marangya ito manamit at tila walang pakealam sa pera. Mahilig sa rin ito sa mamahaling mga bagay.

2.      Fatma – Siya ang asawa ni Raden Kaslan. Mahilig siya sa mararangyang bagay at marangya rin ang kanyang pananamit. Tahimik at marunong magbigay awa sa mas nakakababa ng estado sa kaniya.

3.      Pak Idjo – Isang matandang kutsero na siyang may-ari ng kalesa at kabayo na naka-bangga sa kotse. Mahirap lamang ito at pinipilit niyang magtrabaho kahit na siya’y may sakit, para sa kanyang pamilya.

 Banghay

Exposition: Ipinarada at bumaba ang magasawang Raden at Fatma sa isang pulang sasakyan sa tapat ng restaurant na kanilang pinuntahan. Habang umoorder ng makakain ang magasawa ay may isang lumang kalesa na walang sakay ang dumaan sa harap ng restaurant sakay ang natutulog na kutsero na si Pak Idjo. Ang nasabing kutsero ay natutulog habang umaandar ang kanyang kalesa. Sa kasamaang palad ay biglang dumapa ang payat at matandang kabayo na humihili sa kalesa dahil sa gulat ng kabayo sa nagaaway na pusa’t aso na naging dahilan ng pagtama nito sa pulang sasakyan na pagmamayari ng magasawa. Nang makita ito ni Raden ay tumawag ito ng pulisya upang panagutin ang kutsero. Ngunit dahil napagtanto ni Raden na wala talaga itong mapangbabayad ay pinakawalan nalamang niya ito.

Pataas na aksyon: Nagulat sa ingay ng banggaan ang mga kumakain at nag-iinuman at nagtatawanan sa restawran. Biglang tumayo si Raden Kaslan at sumugod sa kalye. Galit na galit siya nang makita ang nasirang chromium at pintura ng kanyang kotse at ang nabasag na salamin.

Climax: Dahil gustong panagutin ni Raden ang kutsero ng kalesa na si Pak Idjo ay tumawag ito ng Pulisya. Nang makarating na ang mga autoridad ay inamin naman ni Pak Idjo na kasalanan niya ang nangyari. Nagpaliwanag ito na may sakit siya at pagod na pagod siya dahil sa patuloy na pagtratrabaho kaya siya nakatulog.

Pababa na aksyon: Pilit na pinapabayad ni Raden ang danyos sa kutserong nakabangga sakanyang sasakyan. Nagmamakaawa naman si Pak Idjo na hindi niya kayang bayaran ang danyos na nagawa niya.

Resolution: Pagkatapos ulit pagsabihan ni Raden Kaslan ang kawawang kutsero ay hinayaan niya na lamang ang sitwasyon sapagkat wala talagang maibibigay o maipambabayad ang kutsero at siya’y bumalik ulit sa restaurant na kanilang kinainan.

 Show don’t Tell

1.       Kaaya-aya ang dapit-hapong iyon, maaliwalas ang kapaligiran, matatanaw and dumidilim nang asul na langit at malalanghap ang sariwang hangin.

2.       “Huwag kang tatakas, tumawag ako ng pulis,” siya, kasama ang kabayo, ay libong beses na namatay at humarap na sa lahat ng apoy sa impyerno, hanggang sa dumating ang mga pulis sakay ng kanilang motorsiklo, tulad ng tunog ng baril na pumapatay.

3.       Patuloy niyang hinihimas-himas ang ulo ng kanyang matanda at payat na kabayo, at habang hinihintay ang sagot sa tanong ni Raden Kaslan, parang pahaba nang pahaba ang anino ng kutsero at ng kanyang kabayo sa papalubog na araw, at ang kutsero at ang kabayo ay namatay at muling nabuhay nang daang- daang beses.

[tresaquinas]

Short Story #2: “A Poet’s Love Story”

By Ronald Angel Maginit

(Set in an afternoon at a small auditorium)

Joaquin reciting a piece he wrote.

Joaquin: “It was a bleak afternoon when I first saw your gleaming face. As the golden hour ray of sun shines upon you, it was nothing short of angelic. A feeling hit me that I just couldn’t explain. It was momentous and as I get closer to you it was like being scorched by the beauty of a star. I suddenly realized that someone exists that could level me with her own eyes.”

Robin enters the door of the auditorium then she matched the eyes of the poet, Joaquin. Joaquin continues to recite his piece as he stutters seeing the beauty at the first sight of Robin. It was like the poem he wrote was intended solely for her. Robin looked towards her friend and had a little laugh as Joaquin’s eyes follow her to her seat. When he finally finished his piece, he immediately approached Robin and introduced himself. Robin in turn introduced herself too.

Robin: Nice to meet you! The piece you wrote was impressive and heartfelt.

Joaquin replied as he stares into Robin’s eyes.

Joaquin: Well, that’s what poetry is for, to  make us feel things we’ve never felt before and to make us remember the feelings we thought we already forgot.

The same day they went for a date and both of them instantly clicked. The blissful hours they spent together turned into memorable days, then turned into passionate weeks, which then blossomed into romantic years. There’s not a day that passed by without Joaquin knowing exactly just what to say which constantly gives Robin butterflies. After all, that’s the beauty of a poet.

One day, while Joaquin was on a trip, he was caught in an accident. He woke up at the hospital with Robin by her side, stroking his head while dearly holding his hand. As soon as he regains consciousness, he had no idea of what happened, and unfortunately, he has no longer have an idea who’s the woman sitting by his bedside. It turns out the event caused him amnesia. It caused Robin a great deal of pain seeing him not being able to remember all the things they’ve been through and especially the love he felt towards her just vanished due to an unfateful event.

Robin did everything to make him remember her, she showed him pictures and even videos of them together. But Joaquin still could not remember her. Months that passed by felt like an eternity for Robin as she struggles to deal with their situation. She was about to give up and starts to pack all her things when suddenly, she found a diary of Joaquin. In that diary wrote Joquin, “To the love of my life, we may not be together every second, every minute, every hour, and every day, but remember that I will always be with you. You’re the greatest poem I have ever seen, beauty, elegance, and wisdom compressed into one person. I love you, my sunshine.” The diary was dated a week before the accident. Joaquin was supposed to give it to her when he comes back. All kinds of feelings rushed towards Robin. She felt happiness with sorrow, she felt ache with love. Robin then pulled it as her last straw. She showed him the diary, it turns out that it was a diary of a compilation of poems written by Joaquin since the day they met at the auditorium. As Joaquin unknowingly skims through the diary, he read a piece, “Time may pass, time may fly, but my love for you will never die. My memory may blur and may forget to appreciate your beauty every day, know that for eternity, by your side I’ll stay.” After reading the piece which he wrote for Robin, he sobbed like a child. And a miracle as they would say, all the memories rushed in, he remembered the feeling of being in love with Robin. He hugged Robin with much grip like he has never hugged someone before. He remembered the day he first laid eyes on her at the auditorium reciting his piece.

Robin then restated what Joaquin told him before.

Robin: Just like you said my love, “that’s what poetry is for, to  make us feel things we’ve never felt before and to make us remember the feelings we thought we already forgot.”

[tresaquinas]

Short Story #1: “A Nostalgic Dialogue”

By Ronald Angel Maginit

A Nostalgic Dialogue ( A Short Story)

A gentleman was strolling in his favorite green and luscious park then as he saw a rusty old bench nearby he sat to gaze at the tranquility that the place impresses upon him. Suddenly, an elderly man sat beside him. As he saw the elderly man he thought that he’s such a familiar fellow but couldn’t quite put a finger on it. Then the elderly man said,

EM: Oh how beautiful this place is! I used to run around here when I was a child.

GM: I bet it was fun. My friends and I too used to horseplay on these grounds.

EM: Yes, the good ol’ days. If only we could turn back time. (smirks in a nostalgic tone)

Then after a while, the elderly man went on his way and so did the gentleman.  A lot of years have passed and the gentleman grew older and came back to his favorite park and wander about. As he was wandering along, he got too tired due to his old age. He sat on an old bench with a younger fellow beside him. As he sat, he sighs with relief to finally rest. He noticed that the fellow beside him took his time to look at his face. It took a moment before the now grown gentleman realized that he’s been in this situation before. It was like a déjà vu for him.

He expresses his appreciation for the scenery.

GM: Oh how beautiful this place is! I used to run around here when I was a child.

All along it was him whom he had a dialogue with on that rusty old bench, at his favorite green and luscious park. Seizing all the nostalgic feelings of the past. Wishing to go back to the good ol’ days.

The End.

[tresaquinas]

Short Story #2: “Courage”

By Kurt Andrei Catolico

The elevator lurched to a halt with a suddenness that cause Gwyne to stumble.

 “What the……?”

 She looked to her right at the only other occupant of the elevator. His finger rested on the “Emergency Stop” button, and an apologetic smile pulled at his lips as he stared at her.

 "I've been trying to work up the courage to talk to you for weeks now, but I couldn't figure out how to catch your attention."

 Gwyne’s brows rose sharply.

 "So, I know this is pretty unorthodox, but..." he held out his hand for her to shake, "Hi. I'm Kyle."

[tresaquinas]

Short Story #1: “Until Death Do Us Part”

By Kurt Andrei Catolico

I first met you when you gave me a pencil. Small and unimportant in every single way. But what made it matter was the smile on the corners of your lips. It was spread across your eyes, like a candle, illuminating everything around you. And it was only a pencil.

And then, only three days later, we were together. You and me, me and you. Or you and I, I and you, if you want me to be grammatically correct. We were only fourteen at the time. Oblivious. We took the hand holding and stolen kisses behind the lockers for granted. We were just a teenage couple, taking advantage of our average teenage lives.

But the smile on your face every time you looked me in the eye was priceless. And a small shiver ran down my spine every time I saw that sparkle in your eyes, the laughter on your lips. The sensation of falling in love.

You told me you loved me more than anything else in the world. For a while, it seemed like it would never end. We saw that people were practically begging us to break up - high school relationships couldn't last this long, they said. You told me not to worry, they were only jealous. Their own silly little flings would never work out. But I can't help but wonder if we could have saved ourselves from this whole sorry mess if we'd given in and broken up. You said breaking up with me would be the hardest thing you could ever do. You said that only death would separate us.    

For the past few years, we were so happy, but it all changes when I suddenly fainted in front of your eyes. You rush me into the hospital, crying. Clueless on what is happening. Few days after, we were waiting for the result to came out. In that span amount of time, you held my hand, but neither my parents, nor you uttered a single word. Even after the doctor looked up from his papers and remove his glasses, you stayed silent. You never broke down in tears. You never told me you were sorry or gave me one of those freaking sympathetic looks that everyone in the room gave me when the man in the lab coat said, 'It's not good news.' Your silence was infinite. It broke through my mother's broken sobs and my father's sighs.

I begged you to leave me and find someone else. What was the point in staying with me any longer when we knew I’m going to die anytime soon? But you refused, saying you would stay by my side. You even reminded me on the promise we made that until death do us part.

Few months later, I’ve been rushed to the ER, rigged up to countless beeping machines which didn't help the throbbing in my head. ‘The cancer is spreading faster and chemo therapy would no longer be an option.’ they said. What makes my mom crying more is when the man in the lab gown said that I might only live for a few more weeks. It was too late for me now, I said. I saw that awful sympathy in your eyes, and I hated you for it. You kissed me gently on the lips and held my hand. You asked everyone in the room to leave, then whispered into my ears that you would follow soon. I didn’t understand what you mean by that but when I was about to ask, I lost consciousness. I heard you screamed, I felt the continuous shaking of my body but I could no longer open my eyes and mouth. Few seconds later, I heard my parents crying, nurses shouting, and doctors trying to revive my body.

After the doctor said the time of my death, you went straight to my side and told me how much you love me. Few more days later, I was cold in the wooden box below the Earth, along with the other poor souls who had passed long before their time.

You see, our love was like a pencil. Small and unimportant in every single way. But given a hand it created something beautiful.

[tresaquinas]

Short Story #2: “Again”

By Heleana Tolentino

Ligaya is a courageous woman that loves going to museums as an art student. Then there’s Diego, and he considers himself a failure. He happens to love museums too, but not because of the arts. While she was busy walking around the museum, she bumped into a tall guy.

“Watch where you’re going!” she whispered angrily.

“You were the one at fault” he calmly replied.

Their eyes met. It was a beautiful sight, they thought. Suddenly, reality hits. Ligaya walked away without saying another word, while Diego is left standing there. She went ahead on her daily tour in the museum when their eyes met again, devouring each other souls as if they are a significant piece in Van Goh’s painting.

Eventually, they get to know each other. She is slowly devouring his soul, and he is letting it be. They lived to love and help each other grow.

One day, Ligaya had a problem, because of her anxiety, she does not believe in herself anymore. She was destroyed by the storm that took everything away from her, including Diego. That moment in her life led her to settle with another man. Chris, a selfish and manipulative man.

Years passed by, Ligaya and Chris has a fight because he discovered that she still loves Diego. She cannot keep her feelings anymore, so she ran outside while crying as a man offered a handkerchief.

“Here.” he said.

“Thank you” She accepted it without lifting her head.

When she calmed down, she started to walk away. Then swiftly a hand stopped her. It was Diego.

They are both in shock as she cries again. Unexpectedly, her phone rings; she answers it and hears her son crying in the background of her husband's voice. It was Chris, waiting for her to come home.

[tresaquinas]

Short Story #1: “The Son of the Mistress”

By Heleana Tolentino

I’ve been living in the shadow of my mother, a seductive woman who loves having an affair with married men. The eyes and ears that are surrounding our neighborhood kept observing me, and there started the darkest days of my life. I am 17 years old, the son of the mistress of the town, and my name is William. My mother has been changing her man every week as if they were clothes. I cannot point it out to her because if I do, I’d be resting six feet below the ground.

It’s Monday. I got up early to get ready for school. As I grab an apple, I noticed two guys sitting at the dining table. They were laughing with my mother, and a thought came into my mind,

“When was the last time mother laughed like that?”

Mother introduced me to them, James and Tristan.

“They will be living with us forever, darling.” my mother stated.

“Nice to meet you Mr. James and Mr. Tristan!” as I shake their hands.

I was smiling as I touched his hands, it was a bit rough, maybe because of his work, I can also smell cigarettes on his breath. I brushed off the thought and decided to go on with my day.

Months passed by, living with James and Tristan is a good thing. Mother has not been getting violent with me since they came. It was wonderful. I get to see his face every day and night. I think I fell in love. I thoughts was broken by my mother’s excitement.

“Me and James are getting married!” she announced.

I am shocked and a bit sad about it, I do not know the reason. Maybe because I wished I were my mother, that should’ve been me. I love James too.

[tresaquinas]

Exercise #2: Writer’s Block

By Kurt Andrei Catolico

1.       My inner critic always tells me that I need to improve more especially in grammars.

2.       There are a lot of factors that causes me to experience writer’s block such as when I felt too much stress, being compared to others work, and being physically and mentally drained.

3.       Most of the time I always took some rest and go to different places particularly going to beaches where I can relax.

4.       My brother suggested that I should take time to relax and not overwork my brain.

5.       I will always look for inspiration and not overwork and overthink.

[tresaquinas]

Exercise #1: Writing Preferences

By Kurt Andrei Catolico

1. I like to write when I feel inspired and there are some requirements I need to pass.

2. I always write on a quite place where there is no one who would bother me. I also like writing in a cool nature where my brain can relax.

3. I mostly write my drafts on a clean piece of paper and sometimes on my computer, depending on my mood.

4. When writing stories, I always prefer Romance, tragic, and Fiction Genres.

5. As a writer it always depends on my mood if I would do think-write writing or write-write writing and like what I mentioned in the third question, I mostly write my first draft in a white clean piece of paper and sometimes on my computer.

6.  I think as a writer I can say that my strength is that I can always adopt and willing to learn a new kind of writing preferences. However, like any other author’s weakness is that I also experience having a writer’s block. My grammar is also not good.

[tresaquinas]

Exercise #2 Writer’s Block

By Ronald Maginit

1.       I often feel that my outputs or what I wrote are somehow mediocre. Since I often don’t do a lot of revisions.

2.       Whenever I feel drained or tired due to a prior activity. And also the limits of my vocabulary affects my writing.

3.       I usually take a nap or read a book to refresh my mind. I find it effective so it became a sort of routine for me whenever I experience a writer’s block.

4.       They also suggested for me to take a rest, which I do and it’s surely effective for me.

5.       I will not let myself get too tired and I’ll make sure to get enough rest so my mind will be refreshened for a new inspiration.

[tresaquinas]

Exercise #1 Writing Preferences

By Ronald Maginit

1.       Whenever I feel the urge to or whenever I feel inspired.

2&3. To me, the place/location doesn’t really matter because you won’t know where or when an inspiration exactly hits you. What matters to me are my notepads or my phone where I write my pieces.

4. When I was beginning my poetry writing, I usually write nationalistic topics. I also base my piece regarding how I feel. I also write romantic poetry.

5. I am a bit of both because it really depends on my mood in that time when an inspiration occurs. If I feel a bit lazy, I usually do my revisions in my mind, then I’ll note it down. But if I’m in the mood to write, I will do brainstorming in sheets of paper before I arrive with my final piece.

6. I think my strengths are in writing poetry is that I can write/compose a poem in different kinds of style, it may be a sonnet, a spoken-poetry, or a free-form. My weakness in writing is that I usually don’t do a lot of revisioning which makes some of my piece quite mediocre, which I am aware of.

[tresaquinas]

Exercise #2:Writers Block

By Heleana Tolentino

My writing skills is too messy, and to elaborate it better, my ideas and words gets tangled due to the fact that I get very conscious and overwhelmed when writing my introduction. My mind gets completely blocked when all of the ideas starts to come up and right then, I do not know where to start and what to think, everything is just blurry. And the other factors that triggers me to have a writer's block is the thought of my ideas and words not being good enough for the readers or my work getting compared to other works and getting criticized by the readers.  But, for some reason when I'm writing fictional stories or short stories, it's easier for me to avoid experiencing writer's block, I get my ideas straight to the point and better words to describe my emotions in the texts.

In able for me to combat write's block, I have to be motivated and calm. Sometimes I go for a walk or meditate in a quiet place to arrange and reorganize my thoughts in order to get  my mind back on track and to be able to start my paper. I always talk to my friends and ask them for advice when I experience writer's block, they always tell me to relax and just go with the flow because if I pressure my self too much, I won't be able to get my thoughts in order. They were right about that, so whenever I experience it, I sometimes listen to relaxing music or inspiring music that has something to do with my ideas and helps me get better ideas.

I really want to improve my way of expressing my emotions in my words and overcoming my fear of getting criticized by others. I want to convince myself that my works are good enough and that I should not only write for the readers but also write for myself. I also want to change my way of writing, I want it to be more touching, I want it to be full of emotions that it can touch the readers soul just by the words that I wrote. I want my works to have an impact and my words to be an inspiration/motivation to the readers. I hope I can do all of these and get to lessen my writer's block in the future.

[tresaquinas]

Exercise #1:Writing Preferences

By Heleana Tolentino

I don't think there is a certain time when I write, there is just this feeling that urges me out of nowhere to write the ideas flowing in my brain. It could be in the middle of the night, 3am thoughts, right when I wake up or before I sleep. It's always just when the environment is peaceful, that is when I'd be writing.

I like cozy places, where there is no crowd, peaceful environment and relaxing smell of my favorite brad and coffee. I like writing in different places such as beaches where there is a calming wave, a café with a strong aroma of the coffees, a quiet place where I can watch the sun rise and set, and specially I like writing in my bed where all of the ideas start to come up out of nowhere. In order for me to write a good document, I use the most convenient tools I have, it could be a phone or a laptop where I can write something so easily and fast, on a paper using pen or pencil when I'm in a class and there's an idea that comes up in me.

Mostly, I write things that are fiction due to the fact that my imagination is bigger than me and it's fun creating your dreams and writing the stuff that you wish could exist. In a good day, sometimes I write a poem too, just when I'm feeling motivated and inspired, which is very rare because my brain only functions properly when I get my life together, my brain just can't comprehend anything when I'm depressed. I'm a blend of a write-write writer and a think-write writer, I tend to think every possible ideas first and organize it in my head but when I write my first draft and read everything, it's just messy. So, I re-write it again and go through every step to try and perfect my document. 

[tresaquinas]

Poem with Sound: “Rainy Season”

by Kurt Andrei Catolico

 Drip, drop,splish,splash,

Rain is falling from the sky.

Drip, drop, splish, splash,

Like tears from a giant’s eye.

 Watering the flowers,

And shining on the grass.

Turning the ground to mud,

And splashing on the glass.

 Drip, drop, splish, splash,

It’s as heavy as a monsoon.

Drip, drop, splish splash,

Hope it goes away soon.

 My umbrella is blown into a muddle,

Children outside are jumping in a puddle.

The sun comes out, and a rainbow appears,

The giant smiles, and wipes away his tears.

[tresaquinas]

Poem with Figure of Speech: “Promises”

by Kurt Andrei Catolico

  Promises are the word that had destroy my life,

It hurts like stabbing with a knife.

Promises are meant to be broken,

And every time I heard this, my head is shaken.

 Promises are not real,

Coz it is just a crazy deal.

Promises are not clear,

So don’t believe it dear.

 Promises are just like ghost,

Coz this word terrifies me the most.

Promises are made to be fulfilled,

But are they even real?

 Promises can hurt a lot,

And can give my heart a dot.

Never make a promise if you cannot fulfil it,

Coz you word and my heart will never meet.

 Promises are easy to say,

But will never be fulfilled until colors changed into grey.

Promise don’t age,

But with one word, can make you change.

[tresaquinas]

Everyday Life Poem: “Magkaugnay”

by Kurt Andrei Catolico

 Kakambal ng luha ay ligaya,

Karugtong ng wakas ay ang simula,

Kasama ng paglubog ay ang pagangat,

Kasunod ng tag-ulan ay ang tagtuyot

 Kasama ng tapang ay ang takot,

Sila’y mga bagay sa iisang bahagdan

Tulad ng digmaan at kapayapaan

Ng kahirapan at kaunlaran

 At kung inyong iisipin kanilang kaugnayan,

Matatanto ang lalim ng pinanggalingan,

Sapagkat ang mga bagay na magkasalungat,

Ipinagtatambal ng diwa at may iisang ugat.

[tresaquinas]

Poem with Voice: “Melancholy”

by Kurt Andrei Catolico

  I’m tired of the way,

Everyone treats me.

Tired of how everyone

Just uses and depletes me

 My eyes are blurry,

My heart is a mess.

No need to worry,

Just need some rest.

 My heart is heavy,

I can’t explain.

It’s my mistake maybe,

I can’t complain.

 Everyone just wants me,

But no one really needs me.

They assume I’m happy,

They never saw my anxiety.