Little One Inch : A Japanese Short Story.

Once long ago in Japan there lived a couple who had no children. They prayed to the gods for a child,
even one as small as a finger, and finally their prayers were answered. The child born to them was so
small that they named him Issun Boshi, 'Little One Inch'. When Issun Boshi reached the age of 15, he said
goodbye to his parents and set out for Kyoto, the capital city, to seek his fortune.

In Kyoto he found employment in a wealthy household. He could not do much work because of his size,
but his diligence and sincerity pleased his master and his mistress. And their daughter found him
delightful.

One day Issun Boshi accompanied the girl to the temple. On the way, two giants leaped out in front of
them from behind some bushes.

Issun Boshi deliberately drew their attention to him so that the girl could escape. But then the giants were
furious with him and one of them picked him up and swallowed him.

Issun Boshi had a needle his mother had given him. He used to wear it around his waist like a sword.
When he found himself in the giant's stomach he took out the needle from its scabbard and began to stab
the giant's stomach with it. Then climbing out through the gullet he stormed into the giant's mouth where
he wreaked havoc with his needle. The giant was frightened and spat him out.

When the other giant bent down to look at him, Issun Boshi stabbed him in the eye.

The giants had had enough. They ran away, one holding a hand to his mouth and the other to his eye.

In their haste they left behind a mallet which Issun Boshi and the girl — she had come back to help him
— recognized as a magical object.

"You have to hit it on the ground and make a wish," said the girl.

So they hit the mallet on the ground and made a wish. The next moment, Issun Boshi had grown to
normal size and stood clad in the armour of a samurai!

The girl's father had no hesitation in giving his daughter in marriage to Issun Boshi, and the young
samurai proved to be a devoted husband. Oh, yes, he brought his parents too to live with him and they,
though happy to see their dear son grown so big, continued to call him Issun Boshi!
The Story of Mulan ~ A Chinese Tale in English for Kids
This is the classic story of Mulan based on the legend of Hua Mulan. A legend is a story from
long ago that is believed to be true, or mostly true.

Many years ago, China was in the middle of a great war. The Emperor said that one man from
each Chinese family must leave his family to join the army. Mulan, a teenage girl who lived in a
faraway village of China, heard the news when she was outside washing clothes.
Mulan ran into the house. Her father was sitting in a chair, carving a piece of wood. “Father!"
she said. "Did you hear what the Emperor says each family must do?”
“Yes," said her old father, “I heard about it in town. Well, I may as well go pack up.” He put
down his carving, stood up and walked very slowly to his room.
“Wait!” said Mulan, “Father, you have not been well. If I may say so, why at your age must you
keep up with all those young men?”

“Father, did you hear what the Emperor says each family must do?”

“What else can be done?” said her father. “Your brother is a child. He cannot go.”
“Of course that's true,” said Mulan. “He is too little. But I have an idea." She poured her father a
cup of tea and handed it to him. "Father, have some tea. Please sit a minute. I will be right
back.”
"Very well, dear," said the father.
Mulan went into her room. With her sword, she cut off her long, black hair. She put on her
father’s robe. Going back to her father, Mulan said, “Look at me. I am your son now. I will go
in your place. I will do my part for China.”
“No, my daughter!” said the old man. “You cannot do this!”

Going before her father, Mulan said, “I am your son now.”

“Father, listen please," said Mulan. “For years, you trained me in Kung Fu. You showed me
how to use a sword.” Mulan swung the sword back and forth with might.
“Only so that you could stay safe!” said her father. “I never meant for you to go to war. If they
find out you are a woman, you know as well as I do that you will die!”
“No one will find out, Father,” said Mulan. She picked up her sword.
"Mulan!" said the Father. He tried to get up but had to hold on to his chair.
The daughter kissed him goodbye. "I love you, Father," she said. "Take care of yourself. Tell
my brother I said goodbye." She climbed on a family horse. And off she went to join the
Emperor’s army.
 “And if they find out you are a woman, you know as well as I do that you will die!”

In the army, Mulan proved to be a brave soldier. In time, she was put in charge of other
soldiers. Her battles went so well that she was put in charge of more soldiers. Her battles kept
on going well. After a few years Mulan was given the top job - she would be General of the
entire army.
Not long after that, a very bad fever swept through the army. Many soldiers were sick. And
Mulan became sick, too, the General of the army.
When the doctor came out of Mulan's tent, he knew the truth.
“The General is a woman?” yelled the soldiers. “How can this be?” Some called out, “She
tricked us!” and “We will not fight for a woman!” They said, “Punish her! Make her pay! The
cost is for her to die!” But others called out, in voices just as loud, “With Mulan, we win every
battle!” They said, “Stay away from our General!”
Just then, a soldier ran up. “Everyone!" he called. "A surprise attack is coming!”
Mulan heard this from inside her tent. She got dressed and went outside. She was not yet strong,
but stood tall. She told the soldiers where they must go to hide so they could attack when the
enemy came. But they must get there fast! The soldiers, even those who did not like that their
General was a woman, could tell that Mulan knew what she was talking about.
It worked! The battle was won. It was such a big victory that the enemy gave up, at last. The
war was over, and China was saved! You can be sure that after that last battle, no one cared
anymore that Mulan was a woman.

She told the soldiers where they must goo hide so they could attack when the enemy came.

The Emperor was so glad that Mulan had ended the long war, he set aside the rule about being a
woman. “Mulan, stay with me in the palace,” he said. “Someone as smart as you would be a fine
royal adviser.”
Mulan bowed deeply. “You are too kind, Sire,” she said. “But if you please. What I wish most
of all is to return home to my family.”
“Then at least take these fine gifts,” said the Emperor. "So everyone at your home village will
know how much the Emperor of China thinks of you."
Mulan returned to her village with six fine horses and six fine swords. Everyone cheered that she
was safe. The person who had saved China was their very own Mulan!
Banaag at Sikat
Ni Lope K. Santos
Pinangarap niya ang araw na mawawala ang mga hari, punumbayan atalagad ng batas, ang lahat ng tao’y
magkakapantay-pantay at
magtatamasa
nglubos na kalayuan at patas na ginhawa sa buhay.Nang pilitin ng ama na umuwi sa kanilang bayan,
siya’y sumunod. Subalititinuro niya sa mga kasama sa bukid at sa mga katulong sa bahay ang
kanilangkarapatan. Sa galit ng ama, siya’y pinalayas at itinakwil bilang anak. Nagbalik siyasa dating
pinapasukan sa Maynila at hinikayat si Tentay na pumisan sa kanya
kahitdi kasal, sapagkat tutol siya sa mga seremonyas at lubos na naniniwala samalayang pag-ibig.Si
Delfin ay hindi anarkista kundi sosyalista. Hindi niya hinangad na
mawalaang pamahalaan ngunit katulad ni Felipe ay tutol siya sa pagkakaipon ngkayamanan sa ilang taong
nagpapasasa sa ginhawa samantalang libu-libo angnagugutom, nagtitiis at namamatay sa karalitaan. Tutol
din siya sa pagmamana ngmga anak sa kayamanan ng mga magulang. Siya’y isang mahirap na ulilang
pinalakisa isang ale (tiya). Habang nag-aaral ng abogasya ay naglilingkod siya bilangmanunulat sa isang
pahayagan. Kaibigan siya at kapanalig ni Felipe, bagamat hindikasing radikal nito.Nais ni Felipe ang
maagang pagtatamo ng kanilang layunin, sukdang ito’ydaanin sa marahas na paraan, samantalang ang
hangad ni Delfin ay dahan-dahangpag-akay sa mga tao upang mapawi ang kamangmangan ng masa at
kasakiman ngiilang mayayaman, sa pamamagitan ng gradwal na pagpapasok sa Pilipinas ng mgasimulain
ng sosyalismo.Si Don Ramon ay may dalawang anak na dalaga at isang anak na lalakingmay asawa na.
Ang mga dalaga’y sina Talia at Meni. Si Talia ay naibigan ng isangabogado, si Madlanglayon. Ang kasal
nila’y napakarangal at napakagastos, isangbagay na para kina Felipe at Delfin ay halimbawa ng
kabukulan ng sistema nglipunan na pinangyayarihan ng mayayamang
walang kapararakan
kung lumustay ngsalapi samantalang libu-libong mamamayan ang salat na salat sa pagkain at sa ibapang
pangunahing pangangailangan sa buhay.Sa tulong ni Felipe noong ito’y nakatira sa bahay ni Don Ramon,
nakilala atnaibigan ni Delfin si Meni. Si Don Ramon ay tutol sa pangingibig ni Delfin sakanyang anak;
dahil ito’y maralita, at ikalawa, dahil tahasang ipinahayag nito angkanyang pagkasosyalista sa isang pag-
uusap nilang dalawa sa isang paliguan
saAntipolo. Ang pagtutol na ito ay walang nagawa. Nakapangyari ang pag-ibighanggang sa magbinhi ang
kanilang pagmamahalan.Nang mahalata na ni Talia at ni Madlanglayon ang kalagayan ni Meni, hindinila
ito naipaglihim kay Don Ramon. Nagalit si Don Ramon; sinaktan nito si Meni athalos patayin. Sa
amuki
ni Madlanglayon, pumayag si Don Ramon na ipakasal siMeni kay Delfin, Subalit nagpagawa ng isang
testamento na nag-iiwan ng lahat ngkayamanan sa dalawa niyang anak; si Meni ay hindi pinagmanahan.

Si Meni ay nagtiis sa buhay-maralita sa bahay na pawid na tahanan ni Delfin.Paminsan-minsan, kung

mahigpit ang pangangailangan, nagbibili siya ng mga damito nagsasangla ng kanyang mga alahas noong
dalaga pa. Ito’y labis na dinaramdamat ikinahiya ni Delfin at ng kanyang ate, subalit wala naman silang
maitakip sapangangailangan.Sa simula, si Meni ay dinadalaw ng dalawang kapatid, lalo na si Talia,
atpinadadalhan ng pera at damit. Subalit ang pagdalaw ay dumalang nang dumalanghanggang tuluyang
mahinto, ay gayon din ang ipinadadalang tulong. Samantala, siDon Ramon, sa laki ng kanyang kahihiyan
sa lipunan dahil sa kalapastangangginawa ni Meni at ni Delfin, ay tumulak patungong Hapon, Estados
Unidos atEuropa, kasama ang isang paboritong utusan. Wala na siyang balak bumalik
saPilipinas. Nakalimutan niya ang pagwasak na nagawa niya sa karangalan ngmaraming babae na
kanyang kinasama; ang tanging nagtanim sa kanyang isip ayang pagkalugso ng sariling karangalan sa
mata ng lipunan dahil sa kagagawan niMeni.Samantala, nagluwal ng isang sanggol na lalaki si Meni. Sa
pagnanais namakapaghanda ng isang salu-salo sa binyag ng kanyang anak, susog sa mgakaugalian, si
Meni ay nagsangla ng kanyang hikaw, sa kabila ng pagtutol ni Delfinna tutol sa lahat ng karangyaan. Ang
ninong sa binyag ay si Felipe na hindi lamangmakatanggi sa kaibigan, subalit kontra rin sa seremonyas ng
pagbibinyag. Bilanganarkista ay laban siya sa lahat ng pormalismo ng lipunan. Sa karamihan ng
mgapangunahing dumalo, kumbidado’t hindi, ay kamuntik nang kulangin ang handa
nilaDelfin, salamat na lamang at ang kusinero ay marunong ng mga taktikangnakasasagip sa gayong
pangyayari.Ang kasiyahan ng binyagan ay biglang naputol sa pagdating ng isangkablegrama na
nagbabalitang si Don Ramon ay napatay ng kanyang
kasamangutusan sa isang hotel sa New York. Nang idating sa daungan ang bangkay,sumalubong ang
lahat ng manggagawa sa pagawaan ng tabako sa atas ni DonFelimon, kasosyo ni Don Ramon, na
nagbabalang hindi pasasahurin sa susunod naSabado ang lahat ng hindi sasalubong.Kasama sa naghatid
ng bangkay sa Pilipinas si Ruperto, ang kapatid niTentay na malaon nang nawawala. Pagkatapos
makapaglibot sa Pilipinas, kasamang isang Kastilang kinansalaan niya sa maliit na halaga, siya’y
ipinagbili o ipinahingisa isang kaibigang naglilingkod sa isang tripulante. Dahil dito, nakapagpalibot
siyasa iba’t ibang bansa sa Aprika at Europa, at pagkatapos ay nanirahan sa Cuba atCalifornia, at sa
wakas ay namalagi sa New York. Doon siya nakilala at nagingkaibigan ng utusang kasama ni Don Ramon
na naninirahan sa isang hotel namalapit sa bar na kanyang pinaglilingkuran. Si Ruperto ang nagsabi kay
Felipe nakaya pinatay si Don Ramon ay dahil sa kalupitan nito sa kanyang kasamang utusan.Ang libing ni
Don Ramon ay naging marangya, kagaya ng kasal ni Talia.Hanggang sa libingan ay dala-dala pa ng
mayamang pamilya ni Don Ramon angugali ng karangyaan ng pananalat at paghihirap ng maraming
mamamayan. Salibingan ay Naiwan sina Delfin at Felipe na inabot ng talipsilim sa pagpapalitan ngkuro-
kuro at paniniwala.Naalaala ni Felipe ang kaawa-awang kalagayan ng mga kasama’t utusan ngkanyang
ama. Nasambit ni Delfin ang kawalang pag-asa para sa maralitang mga mamamayan habang namamalagi
sa batas ang karapatan ng mga magulang namagpamana ng yaman at kapangyarihan sa mga anak.
Nagunita nila ang
laganapna kamangmangan at mga pamahiin, ang bulag na pananampalataya.Kakailanganin ang mahaba at
walang hanggang paghihimagsik laban sa mgakasamang umiiral. Marami pang bayani ang hinihingi ang
panahon. Kailanganglumaganap ang mga kaisipang sosyalista, hindi lamang sa iisang bansa kundi
sabuong daigdig bago matamo ang tunay at lubos na tagumpay. Napag-usapan ninaFelipe at Delfin ang
kasaysayan ng anarkismo at sosyalismo – ang paglaganap nitosa Europa, sa Aprika, at sa Estados Unidos.
Sinabi ni Felipe na ang ilang buhay nanapuputi sa pagpapalago ng mga ideyang makamaralita ay kakaunti
kung ipaparissa napakamaraming tao na araw araw ay pinahihirapan. Subalit matigas angpaninindigan ni
Delfin laban sa ano mang paraang magiging daan ng pagdanak ngdugo.Sa kabila ng pagkakaibang ito
ng kanilang paninindigan ay nagkaisa sila sapagsasabi, sa kanilang pag-alis sa libingan, noong gumagabi
na, “Tayo na: iwannati’t palipasin ang diin ng gabi.
   
Ramayana
India

Summary Dasharatha was the King of Ayodhya and had three wives and four sons. Rama was the eldest
and his mother was Kaushalya. Bharata was the son of Dasharatha’s second and favorite wife, Queen
Kaikeyi. The other two were twins, Lakshmana and Shatrughna whose mother was Sumithra. In the
neighboring city the ruler’s daughter was named Sita. When it was time for Sita to choose her bridegroom
(at a ceremony called a swayamvara) princes from all over the land were asked to string a giant bow
which no one could lift. However, as Rama picked it up, he not only strung the bow, he broke it. Seeing
this, Sita indicated that she had chosen Rama as her husband by putting a garland around his neck. Their
love became a model for the entire kingdom as they looked over the kingdom under the watchful eye of
his father the king. A few years later, King Dasharatha decided it was time to give his throne to his eldest
son Rama and retire to the forest. Everyone seemed pleased, save Queen Kaikeyi since she wanted her
son Bharata to rule. Because of an oath Dasharatha had made to her years before, she got the king to agree
to banish Rama for fourteen years and to crown Bharata, even though the king pleaded with her not to
demand such a request. The devastated King could not face Rama and it was Queen Kaikeyi who told
Rama the King’s decree. Rama, always obedient, was content to go into banishment in the forest. Sita and
Lakshmana accompanied him on his exile. One day Rama and Lakshmana wounded a rakshasas (demon)
princess who tried to seduce Rama. She returned to her brother Ravana, the ten-headed ruler of Lanka. In
retaliation, Ravana devised a plan to abduct Sita after hearing about her incomparable beauty. He sent one
of his demons disguised as a magical golden deer to entice Sita. To please her, Rama and Lakshmana
went to hunt the deer down. Before they did though, they drew a protective circle around Sita and told her
that she would be safe for as long as she did not step outside the circle. After Rama and Lakshmana left,
Ravana appeared as a holy man begging alms. The moment Sita stepped outside the circle to give him
food, Ravana grabbed her and carried her to his kingdom in Lanka. Rama then sought the help of a band
of monkeys offer to help him find Sita. Hanuman, the general of the monkey band can fly since his father
is the wind. He flew to Lanka and, finding Sita in the grove, comforted her and told her Rama would
come to save her soon. Ravana’s men captured Hanuman, and Ravana ordered them to wrap Hanuman's
tail in cloth and to set it on fire. With his tail burning, Hanuman escaped and hopped from house-top to
house-top, setting Lanka on fire. He then flew back to Rama to tell him where Sita was. Rama,
Lakshmana and the monkey army built a causeway from the tip of India to Lanka and crossed over to
Lanka where a cosmic battle ensued. Rama killed several of Ravana’s brothers and eventually confronted
the ten-headed Ravana. He killed Ravana, freed Sita and after Sita proved here purity, they returned to
Ayodhya where Bharata returned the crown to him. to Lanka where a cosmic battle ensued. Rama killed
several of Ravana’s brothers and eventually confronted the ten-headed Ravana. He killed Ravana, freed
Sita and after Sita proved here purity, they returned to Ayodhya where Bharata returned the crown to him.

   
America

Old Mother Goose and Her Son Jack

by Joseph Martin Kronheim

        

Old Mother Goose lived in a cottage with her son Jack. Jack was a very good lad, and
although he was not handsome, he was good-tempered and industrious, and this made him better-
looking than half the other boys. Old Mother Goose carried a long stick, she wore a high-
crowned hat, and high-heeled shoes, and her kerchief was as white as snow. Then there was the
Gander that swam in the pond, and the Owl that sat on the wall. So you see they formed a very
happy family. But what a fine strong fellow the Gander was! Whenever Old Mother Goose
wanted to take a journey, she would mount upon his broad strong back, and away he would fly
and carry her swiftly to any distance.

Now Old Mother Goose thought her Gander often looked sad and lonely; so one day she
sent Jack to market to buy the finest Goose he could find. It was early in the morning when he
started, and his way lay through a wood. He was not afraid of robbers; so on he went, with his
Mother's great clothes-prop over his shoulder. The fresh morning air caused Jack's spirits to rise.
He left the road, and plunged into the thick of the wood, where he amused himself by leaping
with his clothes-prop till he found he had lost himself. After he had made many attempts to find
the path again, he heard a scream. He jumped up and ran boldly towards the spot from which the
sound came. Through an opening in the trees he saw a young lady trying to get away from a
ruffian who wanted to steal her mantle. With one heavy blow of his staff Jack sent the thief
howling away, and then went back to the young lady, who was lying on the ground, crying.

She soon dried her tears when she found that the robber had made off, and thanked Jack for
his help. The young lady told Jack that she was the daughter of the Squire, who lived in the great
white house on the hill-top. She knew the path out of the wood quite well, and when they
reached the border, she said that Jack must come soon to her father's house, so that he might
thank him for his noble conduct.
When Jack was left alone, he made the best of his way to the market-place. He found little
trouble in picking out the best Goose, for when he got there he was very late, and there was but
one left. But as it was a prime one, Jack bought it at once, and keeping to the road, made straight
for home. At first the Goose objected to be carried; and then, when she had walked along slowly
and gravely for a short time, she tried to fly away; so Jack seized her in his arms and kept her
there till he reached home.

Old Mother Goose was greatly pleased when she saw what a fine bird Jack had bought; and
the Gander showed more joy than I can describe. And then they all lived very happily for a long
time. But Jack would often leave off work to dream of the lovely young lady whom he had
rescued in the forest, and soon began to sigh all day long. He neglected the garden, cared no
more for the Gander, and scarcely even noticed the beautiful Goose. But one morning, as he was
walking by the pond, he saw both the Goose and the Gander making a great noise, as though they
were in the utmost glee. He went up to them and was surprised to find on the bank a large golden
egg. He ran with it to his mother, who said, “Go to market, my son; sell your egg, and you will
soon be rich enough to pay a visit to the Squire.” So to market Jack went, and sold his golden
egg; but the rogue who bought it of him cheated him out of half his due. Then he dressed himself
in his finest clothes, and went up to the Squire's house. Two footmen stood at the door, one
looking very stout and saucy, and the other sleepy and stupid.

When Jack asked to see the Squire, they laughed at him, and made sport of his fine clothes;
but Jack had wit enough to offer them each a guinea, when they at once showed him to the
Squire's room.

Now the Squire, who was very rich, was also very proud and fat, and scarcely turned his
head to notice Jack; but when he showed him his bag of gold, and asked for his daughter to be
his bride, the Squire flew into a rage, and ordered his servants to throw him into the horse-pond.
But this was not so easy to do, for Jack was strong and active; and then the young lady come out
and begged her father to release him. This made Jack more deeply in love with her than ever, and
he went home determined to win her in spite of all. And well did his wonderful Goose aid him in
 his design. Almost every morning she would lay him a golden egg, and Jack, grown wiser, would
no longer sell them at half their value to the rogue who had before cheated him. So Jack soon
grew to be a richer man than the Squire himself. His wealth became known to all the country
round, and the Squire at length consented to accept Jack as his son-in-law. Then Old Mother
Goose flew away into the woods on the back of her strong Gander, leaving the cottage and the
Goose to Jack and his bride, who lived happily ever afterwards.

 
 Fool of The King

Fool of The King :

Africa

Long ago there lived a king. Writers, poets and musicians came from many places to see him. The king 
liked to hear their stories, poems and music. But there was one man whom the king liked better than 
the others. His name was Mahamood. He knew many tricks, sang funny songs and danced well. He could 
make the king laugh and the people called Mahamood the Fool of The King. There was one thing that 
the king did not like in Mahamood. He ate very much. This little man ate from morning till night.  
 
 
The king thought, "My poor Mahamood will die soon if he eats so much."  
 
 
Then he called together all his ministers and servants and said, "Listen to me. For one day you must not 
give Mahamood anything to eat. Do not give him wine, nor fruit, nor meat. Do not give him even a piece 
of bread! He must not sit at my table. He must not have anything to eat the whole day."  
 
 
"Oh, yes, my King, that's right. He is too fat," said one of the ministers. So the next day there was no 
place for Mahamood at the king's table. He went to the wall and stood there. He thought, "I shall wait. 
Soon the servants will bring me food and drink."  
 
 
But the servants did not bring him anything. He did not ask for food, because he was afraid of the king.  
 
 
"If a man makes the king angry, that man will die," he thought.  
 
 
Poor Mahamood was very hungry. Then one of the servants dropped a little piece of bread. Mahamood 
quickly picked it up. Now I have something to eat," he thought. 'I shall eat it when the king is not looking 
at me."  
 
 
When dinner was over, the poets read their poems, the musicians played and the dancing girls began 
their beautiful dances.  
 
 
"Now the king is watching the dancing girls," thought Mahamood, "I shall eat my piece of bread." But 
the king was watching Mahamood all the time. He asked the musicians to stop, called Mahamood to 
come to him and asked, "I hear that you have a donkey. Where did you get It?"  
 
 
"I bought it in Tripoli, my King!" answered Mahamood. "Oh, I see," said the king.  
 
 
So the musicians were playing and the girls were dancing. Then Mahamood wanted to eat his piece of 
bread. But the king asked him to come nearer and said.  
 
 
"How much did you pay for your donkey in Tripoli?"  
 
 
Mahamood put the bread in his pocket quickly and answered. "Sixteen gold coins, my King." The king 
went on like this all the afternoon.  
 
 
When Mahamood tried to eat his piece of bread, the king always asked him a question. At last evening 
came. Mahamood could not stand. He was so hungry and tired. When the feast was over, Mahamood 
ran to the kitchen, but the kitchen was locked and Mahamood had only his small piece of bread to eat. 
He ate it up and went to his room. But he could not sleep. He was very hungry.  
 
 
Then he ran to the king's room. He knocked at the door. The king asked angrily, "Who is knocking at my 
door so late?"  
 
 
"Oh, my King," said Mahamood. "I am sorry, but I must tell you that I did not buy my donkey in Tripoli, 
but in Benghazi."  
 
 
The king thanked him and told him to go away.  
 
 
A few minutes later Mahamood knocked at the door again. "Oh, my King, but I told you a lie this 
afternoon. I did not pay sixteen gold coins for the donkey. I paid twenty gold coins for it."  
 
 
"Oh, you fool," cried the angry king. "I shall cut off your head for your silly tales about the donkey and 
give your body to the jackals!"  
 
 
Mahamood listened to the king and smiled: "Oh, yes, I know that. But before I die may I say my last 
wish? Only one wish!"  
 
 
"What is your last wish?" asked the king.  
 
 
"My last wish is to have a good supper."  
 
 
The king understood everything. He laughed and told his servants to bring the best food to his room. He 
sat down at the table with Mahamood. They ate and laughed until morning came. After that Mahamood 
was never without food. And he was always happy.  
 
 The Fall of the Bodies
(Latin America) 

IT WAS AUTUMN; the leaves fell from the trees like paper rain, fine and delicate, fragile to the
touch of the wind or a child’s steps. Yellow, ochre, brown and orange seemed to weave a carpet
along the streets, softening their appearance. In those days, the town was covered with a colored
blanket, an all-encompassing patchwork blanket. If anyone opened their front door, the leaves
would soon reach the hallway, the rooms. Any attempt at cleaning was useless; the wind moved
the blanket from one place to another. With so much swishing the streets were a piece of sea, a
tanned sea filled with fragmented waves, smelling of salt and fish, perfumed by a woman’s sex.
Because not even the man’s emissions were that penetrating. No: it was the fragrance spilt by a
woman, a woman satisfied by her man; it was, in exclusive, the town covered with the perfume
of her sex, wrapped up in her taste.

Who were they? Where did they come from? Why did they turn up there? No one ever guessed
or could even imagine the reason behind the actions of the man and the woman, the explanation
of their behavior, and over the years all the versions contradicted each other. That the man was
dark and strong like solid chocolate, so dark that his skin reflected certain shades of green,
completely olive-coloured. The woman was white, like refined sugar or fresh milk. That he used
to take his lovers from city to city and from town to town, and that she was the chosen one this
time. Or rather: that she was hounded by a jealous husband and two neglected children, it was his
fault. Or that both of them were the victims of a great tragedy: the death of their newborn baby, a
failed business, eviction from a house, relentless pursuit by their creditors. Although they never
seemed worried, perhaps only saddened, people murmured around them. That the man was no
longer dark: not white, not black either, a cup of milky coffee. The woman was: black, really
black, an African goddess bathed by the sun.

The truth is that the man and woman never spoke. They appeared one autumn day and in the
most natural and illogical way moved into one of those falling-down houses that no one could
remember who owned. They walked for hours to get there, from no one knows where. And that
same day, as soon as they pushed the door open, they made love. It is said that they didn’t care
about the dirt or the dust, or the cobwebs, and the dryness, his lips were like two prunes and she
was on the verge of fainting several times, sick and malnourished for having not eaten for days,
and they didn’t drink any water, nor made time for freshening up: their passion was eating them
up inside, right to the bone, to the point of delirium.

They say that their first encounter in that house was timid compared to those that followed:
perhaps they dared to take the wooden boards off the windows and lie down on top of the
hundreds of leaves that entered like a wave. And just like the first time, they both closed their
eyes, indifferent to the early footsteps and the surprised cries of those who discovered them.

It is said that only they could make love with such violence, like animals rolling around, like
animals choking on their prey; and that later some tried in vain to imitate them. And the thing is
that the man, while licking the woman’s breasts, made the roundness into matter for his mouth,
as if instead of flesh he was sucking in a crème caramel; alternating its taste between the velvet
of the thighs, the pulp of her belly and the lemon of her armpits.
They say that the man and the woman soon tired of their artificial confinement: it is impossible
to reduce a love like this to a single space. Has anyone seen them? It is not certain. Heard them?
The anxiety of their bodies was a hilarious thing, like laughter: displaying their love through
open windows was no longer enough, the confinement gave them a severe headache. So it didn’t
take them long to decide: that’s what the streets were for, to let their embrace grow. From then
on, they needed no sheet or bed, none of the little commodities or luxuries: no creams, lotions,
deodorants. For her, a dress. For him, trousers.

Some say that they made love during the day, in broad daylight, with the rays of light on their
faces. That she didn’t stop smiling and that her whole face was like an open sunflower following
the trajectory of her man. Others say that they made love at night, under the coolness of the
moon, under its brightness. And that they only kissed in the half-light.

As for everything else, almost all of the versions coincided: their first time on the street was right
in front of the abandoned house; afraid, perhaps, of people’s reactions. But nothing happened.
That first time, the woman was laid down on top of the leaves (hot if it was day, damp if it was
night). The man barely lifted the dress above the knees. There was no need to remove any
clothing. She merely kept her legs raised to receive him better; he lowered his trouser zipper.
They barely moved; from time to time a light shudder in the man’s hips.

The few who saw them doubted or, astonished, couldn’t even make them out: were they shadows
copulating or animals stuck together? Children? And instinctively or embarrassedly people
covered their faces with their hands, quickly moving along, as though the vision were
unbearable, fearful of becoming infected with some disease. Finding a man inside a woman is
not common: it isn’t every day you see two paralyzed bodies in the street.

That day (or that night) she took off her shoes and he copied her. Since then, people began to
admire them: who were they? Where did they come from? Why did they arrive there?

The man and the woman walked barefoot along the streets, barely hurting themselves. Just the
odd scratch appeared. Their walk varied: sometimes she would walk ahead, sometimes him, and
neither would turn to check the other was near. They didn’t hold hands.

The most daring claimed that the man and the woman were lost souls, that they appeared there
because their pilgrimage was tremendously long and extenuating, and that instead of walking on
the leaves they floated above them; and there were the thousands of unbroken leaves, intact
leaves, to prove it. Therefore, to deliver them from their burden, it would only be necessary to
sprinkle them with a few drops of holy water.

Contrary to what had happened on previous occasions, the rumor that a couple of exhibitionists
or ghosts of exhibitionist ghosts had landed in the town spread pretty slowly. As if the town were
responsible for a secret, of something beyond if strength and daily life, preferred to reserve
comment. The fusion of those beings intimidated them and, heads bowed, opted for silence. Sin?
Punishment? Pain? Impossible to predict. And the thing is that the man and the woman didn’t
always seem happy.
After a few days, the man and the woman adventured out onto other streets, their sexes throbbing
under their clothes. Walking and fornicating; fornicating and walking. They did it on every
corner that they considered appropriate: opposite the post office, next to the school, in the
entrance to the cinema, on the way out of the church. Him on top, her underneath. Him
uncontrollable, her placid. Him choking, her screaming. And the legs trembling and confused.
And the eyes open. And the hands clawing. And the hips. And the people refusing to see, hiding
their amazement with greater sorrow.

Didn’t they exist? Were they really ghosts?

In two weeks the inevitable occurred.

A twelve year old girl, wearing her almost brand new school uniform, was on her way home. She
had to cross the main square. Absent, perhaps thinking about her homework or her duties with
her younger brothers and sisters, blinked several times before rubbing her eyes with her hands:
what was that? Two bodies? One? The girl slowly went towards the centre of the square, there
was the vision. Two bodies, neither hallucinations nor ghosts; two bodies, one on top of the
other, gyrating interminably among themselves. She recognized the movements: a couple of
weeks ago her boyfriend had led her to the most remote rooms of the school and covered her as a
man does a woman.

Rubbing her eyes, the girl got as close as she could without looking away, longing to touch those
two bodies, to feel the heat in her hand, to copy them. And just when she discovered that the man
and the woman were observing her, too, the books slipped out of her hands and, in view of her
clumsiness, she started to laugh open-mouthed, showing the row of her teeth.

Some say that the girl’s laughter was happy, like the song of a dove; other say that the laughter
was like a cry, as if someone were strangling her. They say that the laughter, cry, resounded
throughout the town and that the people immediately went to the square to see what was
happening.

Children, young people, adults, old people, one at a time, the inhabitants of the town gathered in
the square, around the man and the woman, with the laughter or cry in their ears, contemplating
the child paralyzed before the bodies. They say that some, those who couldn’t see, climbed onto
the benches and others climbed the trees: it isn’t every day that you see a man devoured by a
woman on the street. And it isn’t that they were doing anything different now, maybe they
perfected some movements and executed the rocking more smoothly, upsetting in their wake the
sea of all those leaves. It was impossible to tell which of the two was pushing, which was inside,
which was outside: both were sunk in a slow and seductive breeze that emanated from the centre
of their bones.

They say that the first to get undressed was the girl. How quickly she got rid of her uniform and
unzipped the first trousers she could find to then lie on the leaves. That she was the first and that
the others immediately copied her, surrendering to their own urges. Trousers, shirts, blouses,
skirts, shoes, belts, all accumulated together and it was only possible to contemplate the fall of
the bodies: bodies falling on top of other bodies, like a shower of leaves. The contortion of
 multiple hips, the intertwining of legs. The hands of the leaves. The crushing. The fingers of the
leaves. The pressure.

The bodies (the leaves) fell like drops of water into a sea, an overcoat of clothes: yellow, ochre,
the hundreds of shades of brown and the great variety of orange tones seemed to weave a carpet
with the gold and the pink, with the white. The bodies, clean, recently bathed, free of modesty,
matching the leaves.

A compact blanket covered the town in an instant.

They say that it was impossible to hold back, that the salty smell of the woman was extremely
penetrating, that all the bodies were touched by her taste and that, expectant, they awaited the
end: to join in the warmth of a single embrace, to open their mouths and senses in a single caress.
They say that only then did the man close his eyes again and that with one hand closed the
woman’s eyes. And that the next day, when the inhabitants of the town awoke and opened the
doors of their houses, they discovered autumn in the arrival of winter.

 
 Sonnet29

William Shakespeare

When, in disgrace with fortune and men’s eyes,

I all alone beweep my outcast state,
And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries,
And look upon myself, and curse my fate,
Wishing me like to one more rich in hope,
Featur’d like him, like him with friends possess’d,
Desiring this man’s art and that man’s scope,
With what I most enjoy contented least;
Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising,
Haply I think on thee, and then my state,
Like to the lark at break of day arising
From sullen earth, sings hymns at heaven’s gate;
For thy sweet love remember’d such wealth brings
That then I scorn to change my state with kings

 
 The last enemy that shall be destroyed.

The Last Enemy that shall be Destroyed Gasping. Fresh air fills your lungs. Scaldingly
cold. Opening your eyes, a blinding white room occupies your vision. Again. A profluent voice
issues into your head, “You have been revived by your loving government. You have
experienced a near death experience. Please remember than intentional deletion is not permitted
in the United Kingdom. If you wish to be deleted, please present your application to a local
branch.” Slowly, you heave your new body off a coroner’s table. The world sways slightly. Fixer
drugs do that to you. Wandering through a hallway filled with debris, you reach the high arcing
front door. Barely impressive anymore, you pass under the crumbling masonry without a second
glance. On the street, the soft cascades of a thousand footfalls meet your ears. The seeping stench
of a thousand beings assaults your senses. The whispered troubles of a thousand defuncts weigh
down your conscience. You are wearing exactly the same clothing as you were before, in exactly
the same state of disheveled disrepair. From the pocket of your ageing leather jacket you pull a
small notebook. Another tally mark, another revival, the 23rd this week. Flipping to the middle,
you read a random diary entry from decades ago. 20th January 2038 I revived for the 100th time
today! They say the government sends you a gift at 100; I hope it’s wine. Wine is so much
sweeter when I don’t have to worry about my liver! The nurses were very kind. Everyone loves
this new system. The news this morning said that Earth’s population has reached 1.5 trillion!
What about the resources though? Surely there aren’t enough? But I guess when people starve or
whatever, they just get revived, so they probably don’t really care? Starving doesn’t really hurt
that much. Does it? You laugh darkly and murmur to yourself, “Yes, starving does hurt that
much. And it wasn’t wine.” You close the notebook wearily. Slipping it back into your pocket,
you slowly force yourself to stand. One step forward and the endless crowd sweeps you away
down the street. Hundreds of faceless people; you've seen them all before. Murmurs of broken
languages no one cares to use anymore. You are carried along the worn-down flagstones until a
towering office building comes into view. You push your way out of the human river and onto
the deserted curb. A broken window at the rear of the skyscraper becomes your makeshift
entrance. A looted atrium greets you. You welcome the break from the automatons. This has
been your haven since you swam into the Atlantic, searching for your cure, and got revived in
Plymouth, Britain by accident. Hundreds of deep gouges in the wall represent your resentment.
Puddles of blood from various attempts, some you don’t even remember. A few nooses, some
knives, one degraded nine-millimetre. Everything is corroded; the alloys in steel gave out years
ago. Rust rules this once-polished world. You withdraw your diary once more and, flicking to a
page further into the book, read another entry. 31st December 2167 I gave in and sent my
application today. Maybe they will process me quickly. No one has been deleted in the last few
months; I wonder what the clog up is? A new church has opened down the road, “The
Deletionists”. They preach about reaching ‘deletion’ and life returning to how it was before.
Why would we want that? Uneducated fools. The government employees on my street all had
their deletion applications rushed through last week - it was pretty strange. Maybe the work was
too much for them. Empty reflection; you never received that deletion That church faded out, all
the churches faded out. It was hard to believe in a god when life never ended. You haven’t seen
another government employee. Did they know something they didn’t tell us? How many years
has it been? More than 200. You stopped keeping a calendar when the industrial one ran out of
days. It’s been a long time. Always the same people; no one has children anymore. Why would
you? Rousing yourself roughly from your nostalgic thoughts, you walk to the far end of the
 lobby. Climbing a once-lavish staircase up through fourty-five floors. You wander down
corridors of peeling paint. Into a fire well. Up an emergency stair. Out a dented trap door. A
bleak, concrete landscape greets you, flues staggering the broad panorama. You weave across the
surface, coming to the cement rim. A memory floods your conscious. A bureaucrat was
preaching to the assembled masses, “the new revival system will improve the lives of each and
every US citizen, our dream of living forever is now a reality.” You looked down at the young
girl holding your hand. She looked back, her small face creased in worry, “Don’t people want to
die when they get old?” You smiled at her, “No, no one really wants to die.” The city skyline
reoccupies your mind. You grimace at the recollection. Maybe this time it will work. Perhaps the
beyond will encompass you, hold you, rather than spitting you back into this cyclic hell. Maybe
Buddha was right; you just need to reach Nirvana, neutralise your karma. Heaven will eat you,
and you can be gone. But until then, you are stuck in this endless system, darkness to darkness.
What is left to hope for? You open your eyes. Cold. White. So alive and so very dead.