THE LITTLE PEOPLE

Maria Aleah G. Taboclaon

The elves came to stay with us when I was nine. They were
noisy creatures and we would hear them stomping on an old crib on
the ceiling. We heard them from morning till night. They kept us
awake at night.

One night, when it was particularly unbearable, Papa mustered

enough courage and called out. "Excuse me!" he said. "Our family
would like to sleep, please? Resume your banging tomorrow!" Of
course, we had tried restraining him for we didn't know how the
elves would react to such audacity.

We got the shock of our lives when silence suddenly filled the
house--no more banging, no more stomping from the elves. Papa
turned to us smugly. Sheepishly, we turned in for the night,
thankful for the respite.

When dawn came, the smug look on Papa's face the night before
turned into anger for shortly before six, the banging started
again, and louder this time! We got up and tried speaking to the
elves but got no response. The banging continued all day and into
the night, and stopped at the same hour--eleven o'clock. And at
exactly six a.m. the next day, it started again.

What could our poor family do?

Papa tried to call an albularyo to get rid of our unwelcome

housemates but the woman was booked till the end of the week.
Meanwhile, the elves had become our alarm clock. When they start
their noise, we would get up and do our errands. Papa would start
cooking, I would start setting the table, Mama would sweep. The
whole house--my older sister and my cousin would water the
plants, and my brother would start coloring his books. (We really
didn't expect him to work, he was only four.)

After a week, we got hold of the albularyo. She spent the night
in our house and by morning, she told us to never bother her
again. The elves had already made themselves a part of our life,
she said. Prax, the leader of the elves, had spoken to her and
had told her that his family had no plans of moving out. They
liked things as they were.

We eventually settled down to a comfortable coexistence with the

elves. They woke us up at six, they let us sleep at eleven, and
in return for the alarm service we would leave food on the table.
By morning, the food would be gone and the table cleaned.

All in all, it was a very good relationship.

After three weeks--the first week of May--I met Prax, the leader
and oldest in the clan, and I met him literally by accident. I
was climbing the mango tree in our yard when one of its branches
broke. I fell and broke my ankle. The pain was so great that I
just sat there numb, staring at my ankle which had begun to turn
blue. I could not move or cry out. I went to sleep to forget the
pain. My last conscious thought was that the ground was too cold
to sleep on.

I woke to a hand touching my foot. It belonged to someone--

something nonhuman, for his hand radiated warmth that seemed to
penetrate to my bones. His hand was small, wrinkled and felt like
dried prunes.
Although I was curious, I kept my eyes closed. I imagined a
hideously deformed face, with long and sharp teeth. Would he
disappear when I open my eyes? Or would he devour me? I pretended
to be asleep.

After several minutes, I could pretend no longer; I was too

curious to remain still. When I opened my eyes, the horrible
sight that I expected was not there. Instead, there was this old,
wrinkled creature, even shorter than I was although I was the
smallest in my class. He wore overalls unlike any clothing I knew
of. Its texture was a mixture of green leaves and earth. It clung
to his skin and writhed with a life of its own. Its color
continually changed from deep to light green, to dark to light
brown, and to green again. It was fascinating to look at. I felt
a sense of awe and respect towards the elf.

He was good with his hands. My ankle already felt better. He was
massaging it with an ointment that smelled nice. Before I could
stop myself, I sniffed deeply, bringing the healing aroma of the
ointment deep into my lungs. Detecting my movement, the elf
turned to me and smiled kindly. Although I didn't see his mouth
moving, I could hear him talking.

"Don't be afraid," he said. His voice was so soothing that I had

to fight my urge to snuggle and sleep in his small arms.

I shook my head slightly. What was I supposed to say? Hello,

elf? How are you? I could not. I didn't even know if I was
supposed to call him that or just say Tabi or Apo.

As if knowing what I was thinking, the elf smiled again. "You

call our kind dwendes or elves, no?" I nodded. "I actually don't
mind if you call me an elf, but please call me Prax."
Seeing my astonished look, Prax laughed. His laugh sounded like
the whistling of wind through the trees and a bit like the
breaking of the waves on the seashore. I thought it nice and
longed to hear more. And I wanted to know more about his kind.
Did they have children? Wives? Did they play games like
patintero? Habulan?

But Prax was not in the mood to chat. He told me that I should
have been more careful. I could have been seriously hurt.

I nodded absently, thinking that I liked his clothes, his laugh,

and his voice. He reminded me of my grandfather who had died a
long time ago.

I closed my eyes, letting Prax's healing massage lull me to

sleep. Thirty minutes later when I woke up, the elf was gone.
Only the lingering fragrance of his balm remained.

When Mama and Papa arrived, I told them what had happened. It was
really frustrating seeing their reactions. They became pale, then
collapsed on the sofa. I had to douse them with water before they
revived. Why couldn't they be like other people and be glad that
I had been befriended by a supernatural being? I had told them
about my first encounter with a real elf, and they fainted on the
spot! I sulked for the rest of the evening.

Mama told me to never, never talk to elves again. Or did I forget

the countless tales of elves taking people to their kingdom after
killing them? I just shrugged. After all, the elf had saved my
life!

I thought no more of it and, indeed, began to enjoy the banging

and stomping on our ceiling. I almost wished to be hurt again
just so I could see Prax. But nothing happened and I passed the
rest of my summer days dreaming about playing with elves.

I met my second elf in school. I was in Grade 3, a transferee to

a new public school that had a haunted classroom. My classmates
related tales about dwendes, white ladies, and kapres in our
school. I believed their stories readily.

I tried to tell them about Prax but since they were skeptical, I
decided to let them be. As it was, I was excluded from their
games.

In the classroom, I chose the seat I felt was the most haunted,
the one farthest away from the teacher's table. Nobody wanted to
sit near me. Behind me was a picture of the president. Without
the company of my classmates, I expected elves to make their
presence felt. So I waited.

By the third month in class, it happened. We had a very difficult

math exam. Our teacher left us and went to gossip outside and all
around me my classmates were openly copying each other's work. I
looked at their papers from my seat, hoping that their scribbles
would mean something to me but the answers to the blasted long
divisions eluded me. I looked at the ceiling, trying to see if my
brain would work better if my head was tilted a certain angle. It
did not. I looked to my right, nothing there. And finally, I
looked down and saw this tiny little elf, smaller than Prax by as
much as six inches, sitting on the bag in front of me tap-tapping
his foot impatiently.

"What took you so long to notice? I've been here for hours!" he
said.
What gall! Did he really think that his race would excuse his bad
manners? I ignored him and frowned at my test paper. What was
3996 divided by 6?

Immediately, he apologized and told me that his name was Bat. He

had seen me play outside and thought that I was beautiful,
sensitive, and romantic. Did I want him to help me in my test?

Me beautiful? I enthusiastically agreed to let him answer the

test. I showed him my paper, and he snorted. "For us elves, this
is elementary!" he said. I wanted to tell him that to us humans,
these problems are also elementary, third-grade in fact, but I
changed my mind.

Bat and I became friends. He helped me with my homework and gave

me little things such as colored pencils and stationery that were
the craze in school. He cautioned me strongly against telling my
parents of my friendship with him. After all, he said, some
people might not understand our relationship. They might forbid
us from seeing each other.

I thought nothing of it and kept silent about my friendship with

Bat. I enjoyed his company, for he was very thoughtful. He was a
good friend and I thought we would be friends forever.

The time came, though, when he declared that he loved me. He

wanted me to go with him to his kingdom and be his princess. I
refused, of course. For God's sake, I was only nine! I didn't
know how to cook or do the laundry or do the other things that
wives are expected to do. And he was an elf! Short as I was, he
only came up to my knees. What a ridiculous picture we would
surely make. He pleaded with me for days but out of spite I told
him that I had already confided to my parents, and that they were
very angry. It was not true, but Bat didn't know that. He got
angry and launched into diatribes about promises being made and
broken. Then he vanished.

That night I dreamed that Prax talked to me. He told me that I

should have never offended Bat outright. "That elf is a stranger
in our town," he said. "We don't know his family. He might be
violent."

But I had already done what I had done and there was no use
wishing otherwise. I told Prax I'd never worry. After all, he'd
always be there for me and my family, right?

"Wrong," he said. His gift was for giving good luck and for
healing minor, nonfatal injuries. "What good is that for?" I
asked. He couldn't answer, and left me to a dream of falling
houses and shrieking elves.

The next day, I got sick and did not get well even after the best
doctor in town treated me. My parents had grown desperate so the
albularyo was called once more. She told my parents to roast a
whole cow, which they did willingly. The albularyo and her family
feasted on it. When I was still sick after a few days, she
instructed my parents to cut my hair; she told them that elves
liked longhaired women. The problem was Bat liked my new look,
and in my dreams, he was always there, entreating me to go with
him. I got sicker than ever.

The albularyo, getting an idea from a dream, then tried her last
cure--an ointment taken from the bark of seven old trees applied
to my hair. It cost more than the cow and nobody could enter my
room without gagging. The smell was terrible. That did the trick.
Apparently, Bat was disgusted but he would stop at nothing to get
me, even if it meant getting my family out of the way. I told him
again and again that I didn't love him and would never go with
him, but the elf's mind was set. In the end I just ignored him,
for who could reason with an elf, and a mad one at that?

He did not turn up in my dreams the next few nights. In a week, I

was up and running again and I thought that all was right. My
parents decided that I should transfer to another school, this
time a sectarian school.

Then something happened. My mother had a miscarriage. People

blamed the elves and talked about it for a long time. I remember
the sad and fearful looks of my parents every day as they heard
the banging on our ceiling. Were they friends or were they
responsible for the accident? I had never told them about Bat,
who Prax said was the one behind all these incidents.

Years passed, and since nothing untoward had happened since my

mother's miscarriage, we began to let go of our fears. The alarm
service continued, and our belief that my mother's miscarriage
was the elves' doing was discarded. It was simply the fetus's
fate to die before it was born.

"Bat left town, probably to look for some of his kin to help
him," Prax said.

It was a chilling thought, and with Bat's words the last time we
talked, I was terrified. I laid awake at night thinking of a way
to protect my family. I had Prax, but what about them?

When I was twelve, the banging on our ceiling stopped. We were

having lunch, feasting on the pork barbecue my mother had bought
after her experiment with chicken curry failed. The sudden
cessation of the noise we had been living with for years was
jarring. The silence grated on our ears. For the first time, we
could hear ourselves breathe.

No one moved. Even my brother, who was now seven, stopped chewing
the pork he had just bitten off the stick. Papa stood up and
called to the elves. Nobody answered. Gesturing for my cousin to
follow him, they got the ladder and prepared to climb to the
ceiling. They took with them an old wooden crucifix and a bottle
of water from the first rain of May. My cousin brought along a
two-by-two and a rope. I didn't know what they wanted to do but
we looked on, our barbecue forgotten.

Papa went inside the ceiling and my cousin followed. Moments

later, they came back running. My cousin descended the ladder
first and I don't know whether it was because of fright or just
because he was careless, but a rung broke and he fell to the
ground, back first, hitting the two-by-two he had dropped in his
haste. He lay there, unmoving except for his ragged breathing,
his back bent at an angle we never thought possible.

Mama fainted, Papa stood still, my sister called an ambulance, my

brother wailed, and I sat in the ground, laughing. It was not a
laugh of gladness, just my nervous reaction to what happened. But
they misunderstood and locked me in my room. I cried, shouted,
cursed, but remained locked in. From inside my room I could hear
them talking, the medical help coming in, and relatives pouring
inside our house. I was ignored. I slept and dreamed that an elf
was laughing. When I woke up, the whole house was filled by elven
laughter. Then my cousin died.

After another year, my little brother followed. He was run over

by a postal service van. I can still hear the anguished wail of
the driver as he asked for forgiveness. He claimed that a tiny
creature had run in front of his van and he had swerved to avoid
it. My brother was unfortunately playing by the roadside and the
van ran straight into him. Witnesses say they had heard laughter
at the exact moment the wheels caught my brother.

The driver was imprisoned, but the deaths did not stop there.
Barely six months later, my father drowned while fishing. A freak
storm, the fishermen said, but for us who were left alive there
was no mistaking that our family would die one by one.

There were only three of us left: my mother, my sister, and I. We

tried to seek help, but the policemen laughed in our faces. We
were branded as lunatics. And Prax was gone, defeated by Bat and
his family apparently on the day the banging stopped. Even the
albularyo could not help us. What use were her potions and
ointments? What the elves needed was a good dose of magic, and
the albularyo was primarily a healer and an exorcist. She had no
training when it came to defending a whole family against
vengeful elves.

And poor Mama! A mere week after my father died she followed.
Extreme despair, the doctors said but we knew better.

My sister and I left home and went to live with our relatives in
the city, hundreds of kilometers away. We told them about the
elves but they laughed and told us we were being provincial. "It
is the 90s," they said. "Belief in the little people died a long
time ago." We knew they were wrong, but how could two orphaned
teenagers convince the skeptics? Perhaps, we should have insisted
on talking more but, as things were, our aunt had already
scheduled counseling sessions for the two of us The fear of being
sent to a mental institution stopped us from further trying to
convince them. In the end, we just hoped that the distance from
our old home would keep us safe from the elves.

But they followed and, one by one, our foster family died. Car
accidents, food poisonings, assassinations through mistaken
identity--there were logical explanations for their deaths but we
knew we had been responsible. We could only look on helplessly,
and despaired.

We traveled again, haphazardly enough to let us think that we

could outwit the elves. But they finally caught my sister about a
year ago. We were on the bus bound for another town when a tire
blew out. The bus crashed into a ditch and although most of the
passengers including myself were injured, the only fatality was
my sister. I realized then that there was no escaping the fury of
the little people.

After my sister's death, there was a period of silence from the

elves. I decided to continue studying and enrolled at the local
college. I had no problem with finances. I had inherited a large
sum from a relative I had unwittingly sent to death.

After I got settled in the school dormitory, Prax appeared in my

dreams again. He told me about a chant that he had dug up in the
enormous library of a human psychic he had befriended. It was a
weapon against any creature--effective against those with
malicious intentions, whether towards humans or other creatures.
Prax thought it would he better if I could defeat Bat myself.
After all, hadn't Bat done me great harm already? I agreed and
prepared myself for the battle that would decide my fate.

It was not long after my conversation with Prax that Bat tracked
me down. It was a weekend and I had the room all to myself. I
looked up from my notes and saw him--much older, his once clear
complexion now marred with dark, crisscrossing veins. Hate
screamed from him, and he stooped and walked with great
difficulty. I pitied him.

He gave me an ultimatum: go with him or die on the spot. I

pretended to look defeated and worn out. My act was effective and
Bat looked pleased. He wanted us to go immediately but I dallied.
At the pretext of packing my few valuable possessions, I told him
to wait outside and count to a hundred.

When he was gone, I took out the ingredients I had prepared and
the mini-stove I had borrowed. I boiled a small amount of sweet
milk. I unwrapped Bat's image made in green and brown clay, with
strands of his hair given to me by Prax, and started blowing and
chanting words that meant nothing to me.

Blow. Allif, casyl, zaze, hit, mel, meltat.

Blow. Allif, casyl, zaze, hit, mel, meltat.

Blow. Allif, casyl, zaze, hit, mel, meltat.

Outside the room, Bat's count reached 70. I put aside the image
and into the pan I poured hundreds of brand new pins and needles
that had been blessed. The count reached 80. I repeated the chant
and immersed the image in the boiling liquid. I waited.

Bat's count reached a hundred but I did not worry for it had
become faint and weak, just as Prax had told me. Then Bat
dissipated into a mist--shrieking, I might add--to where, only
God would ever know.
Prax appeared again in my dreams that night and told me that
they--Bat and his family--would never bother me again. He himself
would move his family away from humans to avoid similar incidents
in the future. It was too bad he didn't discover the old book
with the vanquishing spell earlier for I could have saved my
family. I could not bring them back, he said, but I could build a
good life of my own. With the luck he bestowed on me, I would
never be in need for material things the rest of my life.

I kissed the old elf, knowing that we would never see each other
again. I watched him fade away, seeing the last of my family go.

When I woke up, I went to my desk and studied math, remembering

where it all began.

BIOGRAPHICAL BACKGROUND of the AUTHOR:

Maria Aleah G. Taboclaon majored English at U.P. Diliman. While

working for an M.A. in clinical psychology she works at the
office of the Chancellor for Research and Development at U.P.

INTRODUCTION:

The elves came to stay w/them he was nine. They were noisy
creature. They kept them awake at night.
One night, his Papa mustered enough courange and he pleased the
elves to let this family sleep and resume the banging tomorrow.
They didnt know how the elves would react. They got shock when
silence suddenly filled the house. Before six the banging started
again and louder this time. The banging continued all day and
stopped at eleven oclock and at exactly six a.m. the next day,
it started again. His Papa tried to call albularyo but albularyo
was booked fill the end of the week.

The elves became the alarm clock. When the noise starts,
they would get up and do our errand. Everyone has their assigned
works. After a week the albularyo come and spent the night in the
house. She told to never bother her again. The elves had already
made themselves a part of our life. All In all, it was a very
good relationship. The first week of May, he met Prax, the leader
of elves. He was climbing the mango tree and one branches broke.
He fell and broke my ankle. He went to sleep to forget the pain.
He woke to a hand touching my foot. His hand was small, wrinkled
and felt like dried prunes.

He was good w/ his hand. His ankle felt better. Bat had
seen me play outside and thought that he was beautiful. Sensitive
and romantic. Bat and he became friends. The time came, though
when he declared that he loved me. He wanted me to be his
princess. He refused of course. That night he dreamed that Prax
talked to me. The next day, he got sick and didnt get well even
the best doctor treated me. The last cure was anointment taken
from the bark of seven old trees and applied to his hair. After
that Bat didnt turns up in my dreams. Years passed, they began
to let go of our fear.

A. Describe the life, work and writings of the Author.

The life of the author according to the story is poor but
theyre happy and very respectful. In work of Maria Aleah G.
Taboclaon she is very intelligent and humble because she
work on the office of Chancellor for Research and
Development at U.P. And lastly about of her Writings, she
narrates everything from the beginning until the end. The
 elves came to their lives when she was still nine up to her
college life.
B. Discuss the structure of the short story in terms of the
following elements.
b.1. SETTING
In the beginning the story takes place at the
Maria Aleah G. Taboclaon house when she was a
child up to her dormitory.

b.2.Characters

Prax

Mama

Papa

b.3. Plot

This story is about the little people or elves

and how they affect the life of a poor family. The elves were
noisy stomping on an old crib on the ceiling of the house. The
father tried to call an albularyo to get rid of their unwelcome
housemate but the elves had already made themselves a [part of
their life.

b.4. POV

First person: the first person in the story is the father he

tried to call an albularyo because he encounters a non
normal people, but he realizes that the elves are very kind
and helpful.
Third person: the third person in the story is the albularyo
he narrates and explain about the little people or the elves
why he/she live in their house.

b.5. Theme
 THE EVIL YOU DO REMAINS WITH YOU. THE GOOD YOU DO. COMES
BACK TO YOU.
NEVER FORGET WHERE YOUVE BEEN.NEVER LOSE SIGHT OF WERE
YOUREGOING.AND NEVER TAKE FOR GRANTED THE PEOPLE.WHO TRAVEL
THE JOURNEY WITH YOU.

C. Compare and Contrast the Characters:

D. Illustrate the literary merits of the story by discussing
the following:
d.1. figurative language used
= these are the figurative language that used in the story:
Metaphors
Idioms
simile

Literary merits of the short story in details. Classify the

figures of speeches and used by putting them in a table
format and give three samples?

Figure of speech examples

METAPHOR My life is a game.
They are normal people in the
night.
Prax is a good Samaritan.
SIMILE The elves are like a normal
people every night.
 On the night, the character is
very curious of what she saw.

IDIOMS The elves are very noisy during

midnight.
They are tiny or little people.

LEARNING FEEDBACK

What are the major learning I got from the story?

When little people are overwhelmed by big emotions,
its our job to share our calm, not to join their
chaos.
At some point, you have to realize that some people can
stay in your heart but not in your life.
How to live life?
Life is very important in every person; we must take
care of it and love it, because this is the one gift
that we receive in our almighty GOD. Live life to the
fullest because you only get to live it once.

What to do with life challenges?

Lifes too short to be anything but happy. Kiss
slowly, love deeply, forgive quickly take chances,
give everything, and leave no regrets. Forget the past
with the exception of what you have learned from it,
and remember everything happens for reasons.
How can you apply these learning in your life? Explain?
In simple way, be a good person in our fellowmen, and
keep it all in a way of having a good contribution in
our society and community.
Structural and Literary Analysis of the short story entitled THE
LITTLE PEOPLE written by: Maria Aleah G. Taboclaon

In Partial Fulfillment of the requirements in LIT 101:

Literatures of the Philippines

Submitted to:

Conception G.Doyugan, Ph.D

Teacher

Date: October 20, 2016

Submitted by:

May Lyn T. Fabroa

Student

Date: October 20, 2016