“One more, please?” Pedro cried out a prayer. He counted the small change he got from yesterday’s earnings. He still needed to meet his daily quota of cotton candy sales before he could start making any profits for the day.
The gloom oh his face brightened and he couldn’t help a smile broaden when two beautifully dressed girls approached him.
“Manong, can we get two cotton candies please?” the girl in a blue dress asked.
“Yes, of course, iha,” he replied.
“Teresa! Come inside the van, we’re about to leave,” a man’s voice shouted.
“Ah, sorry Manong. Time to go,” she apologized. “I’ll come back next week.”
The smile on Pedro’s face melted as he nodded hopefully at the girl.
Then, a lady carrying a baby from his side asked for half a dozen pieces.
“Thank you,” Pedro graciously whispered.
Some words to define
Manong – a respectful way of addressing an older man like Mr. or Sir.
Iha – local term to call a little girl
Photo: Zorlone Edited by Frank Cunha III Original story by Zorlone
If you like this story, please feel free to visit and like it at “I Love My Architect” as well
It was daybreak when they realized they’ve been walking for five hours since last night. The teenagers were already joined by a crowd of people getting ready to work.
Rose still had some confetti tangled in her blond hair, while Julia’s face had lightly smudged make up, and Marcus’ shirt was untuck from his pants underneath a leather jacket.
“This is the happiest day of my life,” Marcus said while viewing the pictures of last night’s celebration.
Rose finally held Marcus’ hand. She stopped then kissed him lightly on the lips. “I thought I wanted to remember it this way.”
Marcus blushed. At sixteen, this was his first kiss.
Julia punched her brother in the shoulder, “Spoke too soon?” then she tugged him to the sidewalk.
All three walked at the one way street of Madison Avenue corner East 51Street.
Alfred is an admired businessman known for his rags to riches story. After all, it took ten years of hard work to put him where he is.
Every week, he patiently waited in line to transact his business at the bank, but this odd Tuesday, an indigent went in and shook his hand.
“A fine day to you, Mr. Alfred,” the beggar said. “Could you please spare this hungry man a dollar, I have already missed six meals.”
Honored and flabbergasted, Mr. Alfred readily took a dollar from his pocket and gave it to the stout man.
“On second thought, could you please spare another dollar?” he said politely.
He felt his hand a little heavier when he lifted the dollar to the demanding pauper.
“Thanks,” the man said, then hurriedly left.
On his way out, the beggar entered again.
Maihla dropped the final ingredient of the potion. She climbed on her gossamer vessel and headed for Awuhk Mountain. She saw a warlock in pursuit. It was Giordwahn from the Mwadamuhn tribe.
“Maihla stop,” Giordwahn commanded while pulling at her vessel with an unseen rope.
She threw an enchantment, then her vessel pulled away from Giordwahn’s grasp.
Giordwahn blocked her way to the altar.
“Let me through. This is the only way,” Maihla said. “Don’t you understand?”
“I know but, you would lose your –,” Giordwahn was cut in mid sentence.
“My bloodline?” Maihla retaliated. “I’d rather lose my inheritance, than to lose you.”
Her words pierced his soul. Giordwahn let her pass. Maihla stepped out of the altar in her mortal form and reached for Giordwahn’s hand. The former heiress of the Pwuluk tribe finally joined her beloved warlock.
Justin woke up longing. He recalled how his nights were full of passion for his wife. The memories felt like dreams of another lifetime away. Now, her side of the bed lay empty.
He got up and went to shower. There were traces of his wife’s presence there. Her robe, toothbrush, and perfumes were in place.
The phone rang, with his husky voice he replied, “Hello?”
“It’s me, I’m sorry.”
His memories of that night almost drowned his consciousness. He found his wife in the arms of another man, but his craving for her touch faded the anger from his heart and when he saw his empty bed, he felt the need to be with her again.
He replied, “I miss you so much, come back to me.”
Justin heard the sobs from the other line and ended the call.
Following a conversation @twitter:
“@royrebel Why are you running away?”
“@lostboy99 I’m sick and tired of my parents dragging me to their stupid family trips.
“@royrebel I ran away too. I resent my decision then. Don’t want you to suffer my fate.”
“@lostboy99 What happened to you?”
“@royrebel I was confused. I was miserable. Trust me it’s not worth it. Don’t leave.”
“@lostboy99 That’s easier said than done.”
“@royrebel True, but I will be here for you bro every step of the way.”
“@lostboy99 Hmmm… Okay. I’ll give it a try.”
Roy signed out of twitter then went to his parents’ room.
“Goodnight dad,” he said. “Okay, I decided to join you and mom to our trip to the province tomorrow.”
“We’ll have a good time son,” Roy’s dad said and signed out of his iPhone twitter account as @lostboy99.