The Raven
BY EDGAR ALLAN
POE
Once upon a midnight dreary,
while I pondered, weak and
weary,
Over many a quaint and curious
volume of forgotten lore—
While I nodded, nearly
napping, suddenly there came
a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping,
rapping at my chamber door.
“’Tis some visitor,” I muttered,
“tapping at my chamber
door—
Only this and nothing
more.”
Ah, distinctly I remember it
was in the bleak December;
And each separate dying ember
wrought its ghost upon the
floor.
Eagerly I wished the
morrow;—vainly I had
sought to borrow
From my books surcease of
sorrow—sorrow for the lost
Lenore—
For the rare and radiant maiden
whom the angels name
Lenore—
Nameless here for
evermore.
And the silken, sad, uncertain
rustling of each purple
curtain
Thrilled me—filled me with
fantastic terrors never felt
before;
So that now, to still the
beating of my heart, I stood
repeating
“’Tis some visitor entreating
entrance at my chamber
door—
Some late visitor entreating
entrance at my chamber
door;—
This it is and nothing
more.”
Presently my soul grew
stronger; hesitating then no
longer,
“Sir,” said I, “or Madam, truly
your forgiveness I implore;
But the fact is I was napping,
and so gently you came
rapping,
And so faintly you came
tapping, tapping at my
chamber door,
That I scarce was sure I heard
you”—here I opened wide
the door;—
Darkness there and
nothing more.
Deep into that darkness
peering, long I stood there
wondering, fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no
mortal ever dared to dream
before;
But the silence was unbroken,
and the stillness gave no
token,
And the only word there
spoken was the whispered
word, “Lenore?”
This I whispered, and an echo
murmured back the word,
“Lenore!”—
Merely this and nothing
more.
Back into the chamber
turning, all my soul within
me burning,
Soon again I heard a tapping
somewhat louder than before.
“Surely,” said I, “surely that
is something at my window
lattice;
Let me see, then, what
thereat is, and this mystery
explore—
Let my heart be still a moment
and this mystery explore;—
’Tis the wind and
nothing more!”
Open here I flung the shutter,
when, with many a flirt and
flutter,
In there stepped a stately Raven
of the saintly days of yore;
Not the least obeisance made
he; not a minute stopped or
stayed he;
But, with mien of lord or
lady, perched above my
chamber door—
Perched upon a bust of Pallas
just above my chamber
door—
Perched, and sat, and
nothing more.
Then this ebony bird beguiling
my sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum
of the countenance it wore,
“Though thy crest be shorn and
shaven, thou,” I said, “art
sure no craven,
Ghastly grim and ancient Raven
wandering from the Nightly
shore—
Tell me what thy lordly name is
on the Night’s Plutonian
shore!”
Quoth the Raven
“Nevermore.”
Much I marvelled this
ungainly fowl to hear
discourse so plainly,
Though its answer little
meaning—little relevancy
bore;
For we cannot help agreeing
that no living human being
Ever yet was blessed with
seeing bird above his
chamber door—
Bird or beast upon the
sculptured bust above his
chamber door,
With such name as
“Nevermore.”
But the Raven, sitting lonely
on the placid bust, spoke only
That one word, as if his soul in
that one word he did outpour.
Nothing farther then he
uttered—not a feather then he
fluttered—
Till I scarcely more than
muttered “Other friends have
flown before—
On the morrow he will leave
me, as my Hopes have flown
before.”
Then the bird said
“Nevermore.”
Startled at the stillness broken
by reply so aptly spoken,
“Doubtless,” said I, “what it
utters is its only stock and
store
Caught from some unhappy
master whom unmerciful
Disaster
Followed fast and followed
faster till his songs one
burden bore—
Till the dirges of his Hope that
melancholy burden bore
Of ‘Never—
nevermore’.”
But the Raven still beguiling
all my fancy into smiling,
Straight I wheeled a cushioned
seat in front of bird, and bust
and door;
Then, upon the velvet
sinking, I betook myself to
linking
Fancy unto fancy, thinking
what this ominous bird of
yore—
What this grim, ungainly,
ghastly, gaunt, and ominous
bird of yore
Meant in croaking
“Nevermore.”
This I sat engaged in
guessing, but no syllable
expressing
To the fowl whose fiery eyes
now burned into my bosom’s
core;
This and more I sat divining,
with my head at ease
reclining
On the cushion’s velvet lining
that the lamp-light gloated
o’er,
But whose velvet-violet lining
with the lamp-light gloating
o’er,
She shall press, ah,
nevermore!
Then, methought, the air grew
denser, perfumed from an
unseen censer
Swung by Seraphim whose foot-
falls tinkled on the tufted
floor.
“Wretch,” I cried, “thy God
hath lent thee—by these
angels he hath sent thee
Respite—respite and
nepenthe from thy memories
of Lenore;
Quaff, oh quaff this kind
nepenthe and forget this lost
Lenore!”
Quoth the Raven
“Nevermore.”
“Prophet!” said I, “thing of
evil!—prophet still, if bird or
devil!—
Whether Tempter sent, or
whether tempest tossed thee
here ashore,
Desolate yet all undaunted,
on this desert land
enchanted—
On this home by Horror
haunted—tell me truly, I
implore—
Is there—is there balm in
Gilead?—tell me—tell me, I
implore!”
Quoth the Raven
“Nevermore.”
“Prophet!” said I, “thing of
evil!—prophet still, if bird or
devil!
By that Heaven that bends
above us—by that God we
both adore—
Tell this soul with sorrow
laden if, within the distant
Aidenn,
It shall clasp a sainted maiden
whom the angels name
Lenore—
Clasp a rare and radiant maiden
whom the angels name
Lenore.”
Quoth the Raven
“Nevermore.”
“Be that word our sign of
parting, bird or fiend!” I
shrieked, upstarting—
“Get thee back into the tempest
and the Night’s Plutonian
shore!
Leave no black plume as a
token of that lie thy soul hath
spoken!
Leave my loneliness
unbroken!—quit the bust
above my door!
Take thy beak from out my
heart, and take thy form from
off my door!”
Quoth the Raven
“Nevermore.”
And the Raven, never flitting,
still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Pallas just
above my chamber door;
And his eyes have all the
seeming of a demon’s that is
dreaming,
And the lamp-light o’er him
streaming throws his shadow
on the floor;
And my soul from out that
shadow that lies floating on
the floor
Shall be lifted—
nevermore!
Caged Bird
BY MAYA ANGELOU
A free bird leaps
on the back of the wind
and floats downstream
till the current ends
and dips his wing
in the orange sun rays
and dares to claim the sky.
But a bird that stalks
down his narrow cage
can seldom see through
his bars of rage
his wings are clipped and
his feet are tied
so he opens his throat to sing.
The caged bird sings
with a fearful trill
of things unknown
but longed for still
and his tune is heard
on the distant hill
for the caged bird
sings of freedom.
The free bird thinks of another
breeze
and the trade winds soft through
the sighing trees
and the fat worms waiting on a
dawn bright lawn
and he names the sky his own
But a caged bird stands on the
grave of dreams
his shadow shouts on a
nightmare scream
his wings are clipped and his
feet are tied
so he opens his throat to sing.
The caged bird sings
with a fearful trill
of things unknown
but longed for still
and his tune is heard
on the distant hill
for the caged bird
sings of freedom.
How do I love thee?
BY ELIZABET H
BARRETT BROWNING
How do I love thee? Let me
count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and
breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling
out of sight
For the ends of being and ideal
grace.
I love thee to the level of every
day’s
Most quiet need, by sun and
candle-light.
I love thee freely, as men strive
for right;
I love thee purely, as they turn
from praise.
I love thee with the passion put
to use
In my old griefs, and with my
childhood’s faith.
I love thee with a love I seemed
to lose
With my lost saints. I love thee
with the breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my life; and,
if God choose,
I shall but love thee better after
death.
I am One of the Mountain
People (Macario D. Tiu)
I did not want to go to
Santa Barbara, but Ita
Magdum forced me to go
there. He wanted me to
have a Christian
education. He told me that
he was not going to let me
remain idle in the
mountains, and
consequently become as
stupid as ignorant as the
rest of his people. He said
that I could learn many
things from the Christian
and in that way I could
help improve the lot of the
whole tribe.
I was then seven summers
old and I didn’t understand
what he was talking about.
Although he made the
prospect of going there
very tempting, I refuse to
go. Not even the trace of
the three-storey school
building, of running houses
and plenty of food and toys
convinced me that I should
leave my home and my
friends for Santa Barbara.
And so Ita had to beat me
to make me go with him to
the Christian town.
We traveled for five days
before we reached our
destination. The trip was
hazardous and formidable.
W crossed the river,
Subangdaku, which was
infested with deadly
crocodiles, on a raft. We
struggled in the deep
marches and inched our
way through thick forest.
It was nightfall when we
reached the town. Ita
immediately left me to the
care of the elderly woman
called Nana Loling. She
was a kind woman. She
assured me that
everything would be
alright. But I was not
comforted. That night, a
nagging desire to escape a
run home kept me awake.
But how? In the still of the
night, dogs were howling
intermittently. A bad
Omen? Then I feared I
might get lost on the way
or a sawa might be
waiting for me.
In school, I was the
laughing stock, because I
was not of their kind. How
they laughed when I told
them I came from the
Green Area, that part of
land where no Christian
had ever gone. For that, I
was always in trouble. And
I was always brought to
the principal’s office for
disciplinary action. Why
did you pull Elinita’s hair,
he would ask. Or why did
you box Berto’s ears? And
I would answer, because
Elinita kicked me and
Berto called me “pig” and
“monkey”. But I was
whipped anyway, no
matter what reason I gave.
That was the only way to
tame me, I heard them
say.
Ita visited me once every
two months. Every time he
would visit me, I’d plead
with him to bring me home.
But he would refuse. It was
not yet time for me to go
home, he would say.
I was terribly homesick.
How I wish I could be at
Ina’s side. I’d plead with
him to be with my own
people; to sit by
the bonfire and listen to
the weird stories of the
long past – of how the
early Balangays at the
seacoast of Caraga were
attacked by fierce Allah
worshippers and how
gallantly our early
forebears fought, but were
forced to move out to the
mountains. I loved to hear
the vaunting of the hunters
on how they got the fangs
of the
wild boars and crocodile te
eth that decorated their
necks. I wanted to be like
them.
The three-storey building
in Santa Barbara was
indeed tall, but the trees in
Kapalong were much
taller. These was nothing
glamorous with those
running houses either.
They only frightened me
as they whizzed by
carrying logs on their
backs and screaming
infernally at people to keep
out of the road. Food was
plenty so were the fruits.
But money was needed
before we could get them.
At Kapatagan, I could get
all the fruits I wanted for
free.
Six years I suffered. Then
Ita brought me home for a
visit as a gift for my
graduation. How happy I
was to home again! I was
so happy I didn’t mind the
hardships of the trek, I
even about the sawa. But
my Ita, really I feared
nothing. He was the
master of the jungle. He
had said once that he
owned the vast tract of
land from Caraga to Santa
Barbara, but that some
parts of it were stolen by
the outsiders.
I expected some Jubilation
upon my return. But our
place was bleak. Later I
learned that my own
people now considered me
as Christian, therefore an
infidel. Indeed, what was
there to be happy about
the return of an infidel? I
found them to be
indifferent to me, even
hostile. Ita told me not to
mind them. They didn’t
understand what was his
design for me, he said,
and the whole tribe.
Bal-og, my younger
brother, thought me as a
hero. He said he envied
me. He confessed that
dislike the tattoos he had.
How he cursed the man
who pierced his earlobes.
It was in one of these talks
with Bal-og that I realized
how different I was from
them, from my own
people. I had no tattoos. I
had no holes in my
earlobes. Yet I knew deep
inside me I was one of
them. There was a deep
pain of being unwanted.
The agony I felt.
Constantly I cried: “I am of
the mountains. I am one of
the mountain people.” And
yet somehow I was not.
It would still be some four r
five years before Bal-og
was allowed to go to Santa
Barbara. Therefore he had
a great thirst to know more
of the other Christian town.
I told him many stories
about it: my studies, the
three-storey school
building, the running
houses and the Christians.
“What does Christian
mean?” he asked me
once.
I didn’t know too, to be
honest. But I told him
about the big house with
steeples and a belfry. It
was owned by the tall
white man who always
wore a white dress. I
described it to him: there
were big anitos inside it.
Beautiful anitos. Their
hands were outstretched
as if ready to embrace. I
told him that these anitos
were quite different from
ours. Our anitos grasped
their knees and their eyes
were abnormally large and
protruding.
“How else do we differ
from them?” he became
more curious.
“Well, for one thing,” I told
him, “the Christian do not
worship big trees or flying
wild geese like we do. In
fact they cut big trees and
shot wild geese.”
He muttered a curse upon
hearing this. “Then, they
would also cut the Magu?”
he asked in disbelief. How
naïve my brother is, I
thought and I laughed. The
Magu was the biggest tree
in the forest. It was said to
be abode of the anitos. We
gave offerings to the Magu
during the full moon to
appease the anitos.
I learned while in Santa
Barbara, however that
there was only one God.
Our teacher, Mrs.
Martinez, taught us that
this God was to be loved
by all, not feared. The
mountan people feared the
Magu, therefore the Magu
must be a fake God. So I
told Bal-og that “Magu”
was just another big tree,
and when the and when
finally the place would be
accessible to the
Christians, they would cut
it. Bal-og ran away from
horror when I said that.
I did not know what
prodded me to go to the
Magu one day and make a
dirty mark, a big cross, on
its gnarled bark. Perhaps I
just wanted to test the
veracity of Mrs. Martinez
teachings. When the
elders heard about it, they
immediately went to the
Magu to offer sacrifices. I
could have been the one
sacrificed; but then I was
the son of Datu Magdum.
So they burned instead
five chickens, a pig, wild
fruits and sack of rice.
They danced hysterically
around the Magu. The
priest, after the sacrificed
offerings shook his head,
and said that surely the
anitos would punish me. I
wouldn’t see another
tomorrow he said, for the
would get me in my sleep.
I was afraid of what the
priest said. Meanwhile, Ita
just kept silent. He
didn’t comfort me nor scold
me. And that night, I
prayed myself to sleep. I
prayed hard to the Blessed
Virgin as I never prayed
before. I also asked
forgiveness from the
Magu, promising not to do
a thing like that again. And
I survived to see another
tomorrow.
The elders then thought
that maybe the anitos were
pleased with the offerings
did not have to punish me.
They again went to the
Magu and offered
sacrifices. They scrapped
off the mark I made.
When the furor over the
incident died down, I
started going openly to
the bonfiresaid sat with the
younger group and
listened to the tales of the
old men and warriors. The
stories usually centered on
the exploits of
our ancestors and the
glory of our tribe before the
Allah-worshippers came.
How the elders cursed
these infidels! Never,
never befriend an infidel of
this kind for the Magu
wouldn’t like it.
I didn’t believe them
ofcourse. In Santa
Barbara, my only friend
was Abdul.
My classmates were afraid
to chide and make fun of
him because he had
warned them that his
grandfather was a
baraungan and owned a
tame bee colony that could
kill a man at his command.
Abdul never went inside
the big house. He said that
the pandita told him it was
the house of the devil. See
those idols there? He
asked. People who
worshipped in that house
would be punished by
Allah, he said.
I felt awkward, whenever I
was with my old friends
whom I befriended again
seeing how different I was
from them. I just loved
their tattoos. I had none.
And my earlobes were
desperately unattractive.
However, I let myself
forget to brush my teeth
and I started chewing betel
nut. I let my fingernails
grow, I dirtied my body
with charcoal dust. And I
enjoyed everything of it. I
loved that kind of life.
Ita, however, didn’t like
what I was doing. He had
tried hard to spare me the
tribal customs how of
tattooing and boring the
earlobes so I could be
presentable to the people
of Santa Barbara. Now I
must not destroy his hopes
for me. He warned. But
everyday, I was drawn
closer and closer to the
ways of my people. Finally,
forgetting Ita warnings I let
Apo Ugpo carve a tattoo
on my chest. When Ita
discovered this, he
whipped me! You
disobeyed me! His whole
body shook with anger as
he hit my back with a lash.
I told him I wanted his kind
of life and I pleaded him to
let me stay forever, but it
made him angrier. He told
me I was his only hope, his
people’s hope. That I must
learn from the Christians
and discover their source
of power, for they were
continually advancing
toward the Green Area,
stealing large tracts of our
land. He said that I should
learn from them so that our
tribe would know how to
deal with them when, as
Allah worshippers did the
Christians would drive us
out from our homes. Learn
from them, and stay in
Santa Barbara to speak for
us. Try to love the place,
he said, I told him I tried
but that I failed for I still
hated Santa Barbara. Try
again, and he left me.
The next morning, Ita sent
me back with Isog as my
guide. He was as old as I
was. He was being trained
as a warrior. On a way, he
showed me a village
burned by the Christians at
the edge of the Green
Area. It was my uncle’s
village. He said the
Christians killed many of
my uncle’s people, and
now all the tribes were
arming themselves except
ours. Your father, Datu
Magdum, wants us to
change according to
Christian ways, he said,
spitting at the word
Christian. We are a great
tribe, he added, I say we
fight them when they touch
us, like our forefathers did
when Allah worshippers
came. And he looked at
me with angry eyes.
I languished in Santa for
another year. What was
there to learn? High school
education was worthless. It
hadn’t done anything good
for me nor my classmate.
On the contrary, Berto
became a habitual
drunkard and was expelled
from school. Elenita
became pregnant and was
driven away by her own
parents.
As days rolled by, my
desire to go home became
more intense. It was
getting unbearable. Too, it
had been seven years
already that I had stayed in
Santa Barbara, but I was
considered an outsider, an
outcast. That was more
unbearable. And at night I
always pray to the Blessed
Virgin to make my
classmates love me. Then
maybe I could like Santa
Barbara and stay there,
forever like what Ita
wanted. But my prayers
were not heard. Everything
was wasted. Not even
kneeling for hours and
kissing each bead of the
rosary over and over again
did much good. The Virgin
seemed to have forgotten
me.
The last time Ita visited
me, I was surprised to see
how he changed. He
looked very old. He told
me to be patient and to be
stronger in my
determination. With him
was Isog who took me
aside when Ita was talking
with Nana Loling. There
was another massacre in
Kapatagan, he said. Many
are discontented with your
father. He talks of you
learning the Christian
magic. They don’t have
magic, they have guns.
That’s their source of
power, he said. His eyes
burned with hate, I knew
he was mocking me.
I thought of nothing else
for days but Isog’s angry
words. My people! My
people! They were being
slaughtered like pigs while
I did nothing but try to
learn something I didn’t
want to learn. And I was
ashamed of myself.
So I decided to go home, I
pierce my earlobes with a
needle and forced
sharpened matchsticks
into the holes t enlarge
them. It hurt, but, I cried
silently. Now, I was one of
them, and Ita wouldn’t be
able to do anything
anymore but accept me.
I didn’t let Nana Loling
know of my plan because
she would object to it. She
would do everything to
keep me, even call the
police. She knew also that
it was it was impossible for
me to reach our place.
Only Ita Magdum and a
selected few knew the
way. But I slipped out of
the house one night a
week ago, anyway. It was
the full moon and I ran and
ran away from Santa
Barbara.
When daylight came, I
knew that I was lost. Yet I
walked on and on. Maybe
far ahead was
Subangdaku, I amused
myself. It was my only
hope.
I didn’t want to go Santa
Barbara but Ita Magdum
forced me to go there.
The World is an
Apple by Alberto
S. Florentino
By: Alberto S. Florentino
Characters:
Gloria
Mario
Pablo
Scene:
An improvised home behind
a portion of the
Intramuroswalls. Two
wooden boxes flank the
doorway. At left is an acacia
tree with a wooden bench
under it.)
MARIO enters from the
street at left. He is in his late
twenties, shabbily dressed
and with hair that seems to
have been uncut for weeks.
He puts his lunch bag on the
bench, sits down, removes
his shoes and puts them
beside his lunch bag.
GLORIA: (Calls from inside)
Mario! Is that you, Mario?
MARIO: Yes…
GLORIA: (A small woman
about Mario’s age, with long
hair, comes out wiping her
hands on her dress.)
I’m glad you’re home early.
MARIO: How is Tita?
(Without waiting for an
answer, he enters the
dwelling).
GLORIA: (Crosses to the
bench)-
Don’t wake her up, Mario.
She’s tired. She cried the
whole day.
MARIO: (reappears and
crosses to the bench and sits
on one end) Has she
been eating well?
GLORIA: She wouldn’t eat
even a mouthful of lugao.
But I’ll
buy her some biscuits.
Maybe she’ll eat them. (She
slips her fingers
into his breast pocket) I’ll
take some of the Money!
MARIO: (Rises, annoyed)
Gloria! Can’t you wait a
minute?
GLORIA:(Taken aback)-
Hey, what’s the matter? Why
are you suddenly so touchy?
MARIO: Who wouldn’t be?
I’m talking to you about the
child and you bother me by
ransacking my pockets I
wish you’d think more of our
daughter.
GLORIA: (Crosses at the
Center)
My God! Wasn’t I thinking of
her? Why do you think I
need some
money? To buy me a pretty
dress? Or see a movie?
MARIO: Tone down your
voice. You’ll wake the child
up.
GLORIA: (Low but intense) –
All I want is a little money to
buy her something to
eat!!She hasn’t
eaten anything all day! That
was why I was “bothering”
you!
MARIO: (Repentant)- I’m
sorry, Gloria… (Grips her
arm)
GLORIA: It’s all right, Mario.
Now, may I have some of
the money?
MARIO: (Turns to her)-
Money? I … don’t have any…
not now.
GLORIA: Today is payday,
Mario.
MARIO: Yes … but…
GLORIA: But what? Where’s
your pay for the week?
MARIO: I don’t … have it.
GLORIA : What? I waited for
you the whole day and you
tell me..
MARIO:(Angry)- that I have
nothing! Nothing! What do
you want me to do-
steal?
GLORIA: I’m not asking you
to do a thing like that! All I
want to know is
what you did with your
money.
MARIO: (Sits on the bench)-
Nothing is left of it.
GLORIA: Nothing? What
happened?
MARIO: Oh, I had a few
drinks with my friends.
Before I knew it, I had
spent every centavo of it.
GLORIA: (Eyeing him
intently)-Mario, do you think
you can make a fool of
me? Haven’t I seen you
drunk before: crawling home
like
a wounded snake and
reeking of alcohol like a
hospital? You don’t
smell or look drunk.
MARIO: All right, so I didn’t
go drinking.
GLORIA: But your pay- what
happened to it?
MARIO: It’s better if you
don’t know, Gloria
GLORIA: Look, Mario I’m
your wife. I have the right to
half of everything
you get. If I can’t have my
share, I have the right to
know at least
where it went!
MARIO: All right.(Rises.) I
spent it all on another
woman.
GLORIA: Another woman? I
don’t believe it. I know you
wouldn’t do such
thing.
MARIO: I didn’t know you
had so much faith in me.
GLORIA: No, Mario, what I
mean is- you wouldn’t spend
all
your money when you know
your daughter may need
some of it. You
love her too much to do
that.
(Mario sits down and buries
his head in his hands. Gloria
crosses to him and lays a
hand on his shoulder.)
GLORIA: What’s wrong,
Mario?
MARIO: (Turns his face
away)- Nothing, Gloria,
nothing.
GLORIA: (Sits beside him) I
know something is wrong,
Mario. I can feel it. Tell me
what it is.
MARIO: (Stares at the
ground) – Gloria, I’ve lost
my job.
GLORIA: (Rises, shocked)
Oh, No!
MARIO: (Looks up at her)It’s
true, Gloria
GLORIA: What about your
pay for the whole week?
MARIO: I lost my job a week
ago.
GLORIA: And you never
even told me!
MARIO: I thought I could get
another, without making you
worry.
GLORIA: Do you think you
can get another in five
months? It
took you that long to get the
last one.
MARIO: It won’t take me as
long to get another.
GLORIA: But how did you
lose it? Mario! Have your
sinful
fingers brought you trouble
again?
MARIO: Now, now, Gloria!
Don’t try to accuse me, as
they did!
GLORIA: What did they
accuse you of?
MARIO: Just what you
meant to say, Pilfering, they
call it.
GLORIA: What else would
you call it? (Pause.)What ,
according to them,
did you steal?
MARIO: (Low) It was
nothing much, really nothing
at all.
GLORIA: What was it?
MARIO: It was an apple.
GLORIA: An apple! You
mean-
MARIO: An apple! Don’t you
know what an apple is?
GLORIA: You mean, you
took one apple.
MARIO: Yes, and they kicked
me out for it: for taking one
, single apple.
Not a dozen, not a crate.
GLORIA: That’s what you get
— evidence. (Sits down.)
MARIO: (Sits down ) -Could
I have guessed they would
do that for one apple? When
there were millions of
them?(Pause.) We
were hauling them to the
warehouse. I saw one roll
out of a broken
crate. It was that big.
Suddenly, I found myself
putting it in my lunch
bag.
GLORIA- That’s the trouble
with you; when you think of
your own stomach,
you think of nothing else!
MARIO: (Rise)- I was not
thinking of myself!
GLORIA: Whom were you
thinking of- me? Did I ever
ask for apples?
MARIO: Yes, she did.
(pause.) Do you remember
that day I took her out for
a walk? On our way home
we passed a grocery store
that sold
“delicious” apples at seventy
centavos each. She wanted
me to buy
one for her, but I did not
have seventy centavos.
What I
did was buy her one of those
small green apples they sell
on the
sidewalk, but she just threw
it away, saying it was not a
real apple.
Then she cried. (Pause.)So…
when I saw this apple roll
out of the
broken crate, I thought that
Tita would love to have it.
GLORIA: You should have
tried to bring home pan-de-
sal, or rice, or milk-
and not those “delicious”
apples. We’re not rich. We
can live without
apples!
MARIO: Why? Did God
create apple trees to bear
fruit for rich alone? Didn’t
He create the whole world
for everyone? That’s why I
tried to bring the
apple home for Tita. When
we brought her into this
world we sort of
promised her everything she
had a right to have in life.
GLORIA : So, for a measly
apple, you lost a job .
MARIO: I wouldn’t mind
losing a thousand jobs for an
apple for my
daughter!
GLORIA: Where was this
apple? Did you bring it home
to Tita?
(Crosses to the bench to get
the lunch bag)
MARIO: No, they kept it-as
GLORIA: See? You lost your
job trying to filch an apple
and you even lost the apple
for which you lost your job.
(Gloria puts away the shoes
and the lunch bag. She sits
on the steps and they
remain silent for a time.)
GLORIA: (Rising)-Filching an
apple that’s too small a
reason to kick a poor
man out of work. You should
ask them to give you a
second chance,
Mario.
MARIO: They won’t do that.
GLORIA: Why not?
MARIO: (Rises) Can.t you
see they had been waiting
for
me to make a slip like that?
They’ve wanted to throw me
out for any
reason, so that they may
bring their own men in.
GLORIA: You should
complain.
MARIO: If I did? They would
dig up my police record.
GLORIA: (Crosses to him)-
But, Mario that was so long
ago! Why would they try to
dig that thing up?
MARIO: They’ll do anything
to keep me out .(Holds her
arm.) But don’t
worry, I’ll find another job.
It isn’t really so hard to look
for a job
nowadays. (From this point
he avoids her eyes). You
know I’ve been
job hunting for a week now,
and I think I have found a
good job.
GLORIA: There you go, lying
again.
MARIO: Believe me, I’m not
lying this time.
GLORIA:(Crosses to the
center)- -You’re always
lying- I
can’t tell when you’re telling
the truth or not.
MARIO: In fact I’ll see
someone tonight who knows
of a company that
needs a night watchman.
GLORIA: (Holds his arm)
Honest?
MARIO: (Avoids her eyes)
Honest! (Sits down.)
GLORIA: I knew God
wouldn’t let us down. He
never lets anybody down. I’ll
pray tonight and ask Him to
let you have that job.
(Looks at Mario)
But, Mario would it mean
that you’d have to stay out
all night?
MARIO: That would be all
right. I can always sleep
during the day.
GLORIA: (Brushes against
him like a cat)- What I mean
is, it will be
Different when you aren’t by
my side at night. (Walks
away from
him.) But, oh, I think I’ll get
used to it. (Crosses to the
center and
turns around.) Why don’t
you go and see this friend of
yours right
now? Anyway you don’t have
anything to do tonight. Don’t
you think
it’s wise to see him as early
as you can?
MARIO:(After a pause)-Yes,
I think I’ll do that.
(Gloria crosses to the steps
to get his shoes, followed by
Mario.)
GLORIA: (Hands him the
shoes.)-
Here, Mario, put these on
and go I’ll step up and wait
for you.
(Sits on the steps and
watches him.)
MARIO: (Putting on the
shoes)-
No, Gloria, you must not
wait for me. I may be back
quite late.
GLORIA: All right, But doubt
if i can sleep a wink until you
return.
(Gloria comes up to him
after he finishes and tries to
hug him, but he pushes her
away). Suddenly confused,
he sits
on the steps. Gloria sits
beside him and plays with
his hands.)
GLORIA: Mother was wrong.
You know, before we got
married, she used to
tell me:”Gloria, you’ll
commit the greatest mistake
of your life if you
marry that good-for-nothing
loafer!
” Oh, I wish she were alive
now, She would have seen
how much
you’ve changed.
(She sees someone behind
the tree: Pablo. He has been
watching them for a time.
He is older than Mario,
sinister-looking, and well
dressed.)
PABLO: (Sarcastic)-
Hmmmmmm How romantic!
MARIO: Pablo!
(Suddenly unnerved, Mario
starts to fidget. Gloria rises
and walks to the center, her
eyes burning with hate.
Pablo lights a cigarette,
never taking his eyes
burning with hate. Pablo
lights a cigarette, never
taking his eyes off her.)
PABLO: You’re not glad to
see me, are you? (Puts a
foot on the bench.)
GLORIA: (Angry)- What are
you doing here? What do
you want?
PABLO: Saaaay! Is that the
right way to receive a friend
who has come a
visiting?
GLORIA: We don’t care for
your visits!
PABLO: You haven’t changed
a bit, Gloria… not a bit.
GLORIA : Neither have you,
I can see!
PABLO: You’re still that
same woman who cursed me
to hell because I
happened to be Mario’s
friend long before you met
him. Time has
not made you any kinder to
me. You still hate me, don’t
you?
GLORIA: Yes! And I wish
you’d stay away from us for
the rest of our lives!
PABLO: Am I not staying
away from you?
GLORIA: Then why are you
here?
PABLO: God! May I not even
come to see you now and
then, to see if life
has been kind to you? How
are you getting along?
GLORIA: (Scornfully) We
were doing well until you
showed up!
PABLO: Your daughter- she
was only that high when I
saw her last-how is
she?
GLORIA: She’s all right!
PABLO: Oh! and I thought
she had not been very well.
GLORIA: (Suspicious)How
did you know? (To Mario).
Did you tell him?
MARIO: I … how could I? I
haven’t seen him in a long
time … (Sits down.)
until now of course.
PABLO: What? is she sick
with?
GLORIA: (Curtly)- We don’t
know!
PABLO: Don’t you think you
should take her to a doctor?
(Puts his
foot down and pulls out his
wallet). Here, I’ll loan you a
few
pesos. It may help your
daughter to get well.
GLORIA: (Scornfully)- We
need it all right-but no,
thank you
PABLO: Why don’t you take
it!
GLORIA: Paying you back
will only mean seeing your
face again.
PABLO: Well, if you hate my
face so much, you don’t
have to pay me back.
Take it as a gift.
GLORIA: The more reason I
should refuse it!
PABLO: All right, if that’s
how you want it.- (Sits down
and plays with the
wallet.)
GLORIA: Mario has stopped
depending on you, since the
day I took him
away from your ” clutches”!I
have no regrets.
PABLO: How about Mario?
Has he no regrets either?
GLORIA: He has none.
PABLO: How can you be so
sure? When he and I were
pals we could go to
first-class air-conditioned
movie houses every other
day. I’ll bet all the
money I have here now
(brandishing his wallet) that
he has not been
to one since you “liberated”
him from me. And that was
almost four
years ago.
GLORIA: One cannot expect
too much from honest
money- and we don’t.
PABLO: (Rises and walks
about) What is honest
money? Does it look better
than dishonest money? Does
it buy more? honesty? What
is it?
Dressing like that? Staying
in this dungeon you call a
house? Is that
what you call “honesty”?
MARIO: (Rises)- Pablo!
PABLO: See what happened
to your daughter. That is
what honesty has
done to her. And how can
honesty help her now? She’s
not sick and
needs: food. Good food.
MARIO: Pablo!
GLORIA: I know you have
come to lead him back to
your dishonest ways,
but you can’t. He won’t
listen to you now now! We
have gone this far
and we can go on living
without your help!
PABLO: ( Sarcastic) – You
call this living? This, Gloria is
what you call dying-
dying slowly-minute by
minute.(Laughs.)
MARIO: (Crosses to him and
shakes him)- Pablo, stop
it! (Pablo stops). You
shouldn’t have come.
PABLO: I got tired waiting
for you!
GLORIA: So you have been
seeing each other! I was
afraid so!
PABLO :He came to the
house yesterday.
MARIO: Pablo, don’t
PABLO: (Ignoring Mario) He
said he would be back this
noon. But he didn’t
show up. I came because I
was afraid his conscience
was bothering
him.
MARIO- Pablo, I told you she
should not know!
PABLO: It’s all right, Mario.
You’d better tell her
everything. She’s bound to
know later. Tell her what
you told me: that you no
longer believe in
the way she wanted you to
live. Tell her.
(Mario turns his back on
them.)
GLORIA: Mario… is this what
you meant by another job
MARIO: Gloria… you…you
must try to understand… I
tried… but I could
not left us out of this kind of
life…
GLORIA: (shouts at Pablo)-
You’re to blame for this, you
son-of-devil!
PABLO: He came to me first-
GLORIA: When you know
he’ll cling to anything and do
anything! Even
return to the life he hates!
Get out!
PABLO: I’ll leave-just as
soon as Mario is ready to go.
GLORIA: He’s not going with
you!
PABLO: Is that so! Why
don’t you ask him?- (sits on
the bench, grinning.)
GLORIA: ( to Mario)-You’re
not going with him, are you,
Mario? Tell him to
leave us and never come
back! Tell him to go, please,
Mario… I know
he has talked to you and
tried to poison your mind
again… but don’t
go with him.
MARIO:(Holds her) – Gloria,
I…
PABLO : Don’t worry about
him, Gloria. He’s safe with
me.
MARIO: ( Pulls her away)-
You stay there, Pablo, I’ll be
with you in a minute.
MARIO:-Gloria, I’m going
with him.
GLORIA: Don’t Mario, don’t…
MARIO: You can’t make me
stop now, I’ve thought about
this since last week.
GLORIA- No, no Mario, no …
(Holds fast to him.)
MARIO: You take good care
of yourself and our child. I’ll
take good care of
myself. Don’t wait up for
me. I’ll come home very
late.
(Mario walks away with
Pablo. Gloria stares at them,
then she shouts.)
GLORIA-
MARIOOOOOOOOOO!
(She covers her face with
her dress and cries into it.
The daughter,from inside,
joins her crying as the
curtain closes.)
Footnote to Youth-
Jose Garcia Villa
The sun was salmon and
hazy in the west. Dodong
thought to himself he would
tell his father about Teang
when he got home, after he
had unhitched the carabao
from the plow, and let it to
its shed and fed it. He was
hesitant about saying it, but
he wanted his father to
know. What he had to say
was of serious import as it
would mark a climacteric in
his life. Dodong finally
decided to tell it, at a
thought came to him his
father might refuse to
consider it. His father was
silent hard-working farmer
who chewed areca nut,
which he had learned to do
from his mother, Dodong’s
grandmother.
I will tell it to him. I will tell
it to him.
The ground was broken up
into many fresh wounds and
fragrant with a sweetish
earthy smell. Many slender
soft worms emerged from
the furrows and then
burrowed again deeper into
the soil. A short colorless
worm marched blindly to
Dodong’s foot and crawled
calmly over it. Dodong go
tickled and jerked his foot,
flinging the worm into the
air. Dodong did not bother
to look where it fell, but
thought of his age,
seventeen, and he said to
himself he was not young
any more.
Dodong unhitched the
carabao leisurely and gave it
a healthy tap on the hip. The
beast turned its head to look
at him with dumb faithful
eyes. Dodong gave it a slight
push and the animal walked
alongside him to its shed. He
placed bundles of grass
before it land the carabao
began to eat. Dodong looked
at it without interests.
Dodong started homeward,
thinking how he would break
his news to his father. He
wanted to marry, Dodong
did. He was seventeen, he
had pimples on his face, the
down on his upper lip
already was dark–these
meant he was no longer a
boy. He was growing into a
man–he was a man. Dodong
felt insolent and big at the
thought of it although he
was by nature low in statue.
Thinking himself a man
grown, Dodong felt he could
do anything.
He walked faster, prodded
by the thought of his virility.
A small angled stone bled
his foot, but he dismissed it
cursorily. He lifted his leg
and looked at the hurt toe
and then went on walking.
In the cool sundown he
thought wild you dreams of
himself and Teang. Teang,
his girl. She had a small
brown face and small black
eyes and straight glossy
hair. How desirable she was
to him. She made him
dream even during the day.
Dodong tensed with desire
and looked at the muscles of
his arms. Dirty. This field
work was healthy,
invigorating but it begrimed
you, smudged you terribly.
He turned back the way he
had come, then he marched
obliquely to a creek.
Dodong stripped himself and
laid his clothes, a gray
undershirt and red kundiman
shorts, on the grass. The he
went into the water, wet his
body over, and rubbed at it
vigorously. He was not long
in bathing, then he marched
homeward again. The bath
made him feel cool.
It was dusk when he
reached home. The
petroleum lamp on the
ceiling already was lighted
and the low unvarnished
square table was set for
supper. His parents and he
sat down on the floor around
the table to eat. They had
fried fresh-water fish, rice,
bananas, and caked sugar.
Dodong ate fish and rice, but
did not partake of the fruit.
The bananas were overripe
and when one held them
they felt more fluid than
solid. Dodong broke off a
piece of the cakes sugar,
dipped it in his glass of
water and ate it. He got
another piece and wanted
some more, but he thought
of leaving the remainder for
his parents.
Dodong’s mother removed
the dishes when they were
through and went out to the
batalan to wash them. She
walked with slow careful
steps and Dodong wanted to
help her carry the dishes
out, but he was tired and
now felt lazy. He wished as
he looked at her that he had
a sister who could help his
mother in the housework. He
pitied her, doing all the
housework alone.
His father remained in the
room, sucking a diseased
tooth. It was paining him
again, Dodong knew.
Dodong had told him often
and again to let the town
dentist pull it out, but he
was afraid, his father was.
He did not tell that to
Dodong, but Dodong
guessed it. Afterward
Dodong himself thought that
if he had a decayed tooth he
would be afraid to go to the
dentist; he would not be any
bolder than his father.
Dodong said while his
mother was out that he was
going to marry Teang. There
it was out, what he had to
say, and over which he had
done so much thinking. He
had said it without any effort
at all and without self-
consciousness. Dodong felt
relieved and looked at his
father expectantly. A
decrescent moon outside
shed its feeble light into the
window, graying the still
black temples of his father.
His father looked old now.
“I am going to marry
Teang,” Dodong said.
His father looked at him
silently and stopped sucking
the broken tooth. The
silence became intense and
cruel, and Dodong wished
his father would suck that
troublous tooth again.
Dodong was uncomfortable
and then became angry
because his father kept
looking at him without
uttering anything.
“I will marry Teang,” Dodong
repeated. “I will marry
Teang.”
His father kept gazing at him
in inflexible silence and
Dodong fidgeted on his seat.
“I asked her last night to
marry me and she said…yes.
I want your permission. I…
want… it….” There was
impatient clamor in his
voice, an exacting protest at
this coldness, this
indifference. Dodong looked
at his father sourly. He
cracked his knuckles one by
one, and the little sounds it
made broke dully the night
stillness.
“Must you marry, Dodong?”
Dodong resented his father’s
questions; his father himself
had married. Dodong made
a quick impassioned easy in
his mind about selfishness,
but later he got confused.
“You are very young,
Dodong.”
“I’m… seventeen.”
“That’s very young to get
married at.”
“I… I want to marry…Teang’s
a good girl.”
“Tell your mother,” his
father said.
“You tell her, tatay.”
“Dodong, you tell your inay.”
“You tell her.”
“All right, Dodong.”
“You will let me marry
Teang?”
“Son, if that is your wish… of
course…” There was a
strange helpless light in his
father’s eyes. Dodong did
not read it, so absorbed was
he in himself.
Dodong was immensely glad
he had asserted himself. He
lost his resentment for his
father. For a while he even
felt sorry for him about the
diseased tooth. Then he
confined his mind to
dreaming of Teang and
himself. Sweet young
dream….
——————————————-
Dodong stood in the
sweltering noon heat,
sweating profusely, so that
his camiseta was damp. He
was still as a tree and his
thoughts were confused. His
mother had told him not to
leave the house, but he had
left. He had wanted to get
out of it without clear reason
at all. He was afraid, he felt.
Afraid of the house. It had
seemed to cage him, to
compares his thoughts with
severe tyranny. Afraid also
of Teang. Teang was giving
birth in the house; she gave
screams that chilled his
blood. He did not want her
to scream like that, he
seemed to be rebuking him.
He began to wonder madly if
the process of childbirth was
really painful. Some women,
when they gave birth, did
not cry.
In a few moments he would
be a father. “Father, father,”
he whispered the word with
awe, with strangeness. He
was young, he realized now,
contradicting himself of nine
months comfortable… “Your
son,” people would soon be
telling him. “Your son,
Dodong.”
Dodong felt tired standing.
He sat down on a saw-horse
with his feet close together.
He looked at his callused
toes. Suppose he had ten
children… What made him
think that? What was the
matter with him? God!
He heard his mother’s voice
from the house:
“Come up, Dodong. It is
over.”
Suddenly he felt terribly
embarrassed as he looked at
her. Somehow he was
ashamed to his mother of
his youthful paternity. It
made him feel guilty, as if
he had taken something no
properly his. He dropped his
eyes and pretended to dust
dirt off his kundiman shorts.
“Dodong,” his mother called
again. “Dodong.”
He turned to look again and
this time saw his father
beside his mother.
“It is a boy,” his father said.
He beckoned Dodong to
come up.
Dodong felt more
embarrassed and did not
move. What a moment for
him. His parents’ eyes
seemed to pierce him
through and he felt limp.
He wanted to hide from
them, to run away.
“Dodong, you come up. You
come up,” he mother said.
Dodong did not want to
come up and stayed in the
sun.
“Dodong. Dodong.”
“I’ll… come up.”
Dodong traced tremulous
steps on the dry parched
yard. He ascended the
bamboo steps slowly. His
heart pounded mercilessly in
him. Within, he avoided his
parents eyes. He walked
ahead of them so that they
should not see his face. He
felt guilty and untrue. He felt
like crying. His eyes smarted
and his chest wanted to
burst. He wanted to turn
back, to go back to the yard.
He wanted somebody to
punish him.
His father thrust his hand in
his and gripped it gently.
“Son,” his father said.
And his mother: “Dodong…”
How kind were their voices.
They flowed into him,
making him strong.
“Teang?” Dodong said.
“She’s sleeping. But you go
on…”
His father led him into the
small sawali room. Dodong
saw Teang, his girl-wife,
asleep on the papag with her
black hair soft around her
face. He did not want her to
look that pale.
Dodong wanted to touch
her, to push away that stray
wisp of hair that touched her
lips, but again that feeling of
embarrassment came over
him and before his parents
he did not want to be
demonstrative.
The hilot was wrapping the
child, Dodong heard it cry.
The thin voice pierced him
queerly. He could not control
the swelling of happiness in
him.
“You give him to me. You
give him to me,” Dodong
said.
——————————————-
Blas was not Dodong’s only
child. Many more children
came. For six successive
years a new child came
along. Dodong did not want
any more children, but they
came. It seemed the coming
of children could not be
helped. Dodong got angry
with himself sometimes.
Teang did not complain, but
the bearing of children told
on her. She was shapeless
and thin now, even if she
was young. There was
interminable work to be
done. Cooking. Laundering.
The house. The children. She
cried sometimes, wishing
she had not married. She
did not tell Dodong this, not
wishing him to dislike her.
Yet she wished she had not
married. Not even Dodong,
whom she loved. There has
been another suitor, Lucio,
older than Dodong by nine
years, and that was why she
had chosen Dodong. Young
Dodong. Seventeen. Lucio
had married another after
her marriage to Dodong, but
he was childless until now.
She wondered if she had
married Lucio, would she
have borne him children.
Maybe not, either. That was
a better lot. But she loved
Dodong…
Dodong whom life had made
ugly.
One night, as he lay beside
his wife, he rose and went
out of the house. He stood in
the moonlight, tired and
querulous. He wanted to ask
questions and somebody to
answer him. He w anted to
be wise about many things.
One of them was why life did
not fulfill all of Youth’s
dreams. Why it must be so.
Why one was forsaken…
after Love.
Dodong would not find the
answer. Maybe the question
was not to be answered. It
must be so to make youth
Youth. Youth must be
dreamfully sweet.
Dreamfully sweet. Dodong
returned to the house
humiliated by himself. He
had wanted to know a little
wisdom but was denied it.
When Blas was eighteen he
came home one night very
flustered and happy. It was
late at night and Teang and
the other children were
asleep. Dodong heard Blas’s
steps, for he could not sleep
well of nights. He watched
Blas undress in the dark and
lie down softly. Blas was
restless on his mat and
could not sleep. Dodong
called him name and asked
why he did not sleep. Blas
said he could not sleep.
“You better go to sleep. It is
late,” Dodong said.
Blas raised himself on his
elbow and muttered
something in a low fluttering
voice.
Dodong did not answer and
tried to sleep.
“Itay …,” Blas called softly.
Dodong stirred and asked
him what it was.
“I am going to marry Tona.
She accepted me tonight.”
Dodong lay on the red pillow
without moving.
“Itay, you think it over.”
Dodong lay silent.
“I love Tona and… I want
her.”
Dodong rose from his mat
and told Blas to follow him.
They descended to the yard,
where everything was still
and quiet. The moonlight
was cold and white.
“You want to marry Tona,”
Dodong said. He did not
want Blas to marry yet. Blas
was very young. The life
that would follow marriage
would be hard…
“Yes.”
“Must you marry?”
Blas’s voice stilled with
resentment. “I will marry
Tona.”
Dodong kept silent, hurt.
“You have objections, Itay?”
Blas asked acridly.
“Son… n-none…” (But truly,
God, I don’t want Blas to
marry yet… not yet. I don’t
want Blas to marry yet….)
But he was helpless. He
could not do anything. Youth
must triumph… now. Love
must triumph… now.
Afterwards… it will be life.
As long ago Youth and Love
did triumph for Dodong…
and then Life.
Dodong looked wistfully at
his young son in the
moonlight. He felt extremely
sad and sorry for him.
 How My Brother Leon
Brought Home A Wife
By Manuel E. Arguilla
She stepped down from the
carretela of Ca Celin with a
quick, delicate grace. She was
lovely. SHe was tall. She
looked up to my brother with
a smile, and her forehead was
on a level with his mouth.
"You are Baldo," she said and
placed her hand lightly on
my shoulder. Her nails were
long, but they were not
painted. She was fragrant like
a morning when papayas are
in bloom. And a small dimple
appeared momently high on
her right cheek. "And this is
Labang of whom I have
heard so much." She held the
wrist of one hand with the
other and looked at Labang,
and Labang never stopped
chewing his cud. He
swallowed and brought up to
his mouth more cud and the
sound of his insides was like
a drum.
I laid a hand on Labang's
massive neck and said to her:
"You may scratch his
forehead now."
She hesitated and I saw that
her eyes were on the long,
curving horns. But she came
and touched Labang's
forehead with her long
fingers, and Labang never
stopped chewing his cud
except that his big eyes half
closed. And by and by she
was scratching his forehead
very daintily.
My brother Leon put down
the two trunks on the grassy
side of the road. He paid Ca
Celin twice the usual fare
from the station to the edge
of Nagrebcan. Then he was
standing beside us, and she
turned to him eagerly. I
watched Ca Celin, where he
stood in front of his horse,
and he ran his fingers
through its forelock and
could not keep his eyes away
from her.
"Maria---" my brother Leon
said.
He did not say Maring. He
did not say Mayang. I knew
then that he had always
called her Maria and that to
us all she would be Maria;
and in my mind I said 'Maria'
and it was a beautiful name.
"Yes, Noel."
Now where did she get that
name? I pondered the matter
quietly to myself, thinking
Father might not like it. But it
was only the name of my
brother Leon said backward
and it sounded much better
that way.
"There is Nagrebcan, Maria,"
my brother Leon said,
gesturing widely toward the
west.
She moved close to him and
slipped her arm through his.
And after a while she said
quietly.
"You love Nagrebcan, don't
you, Noel?"
Ca Celin drove away hi-yi-
ing to his horse loudly. At the
bend of the camino real
where the big duhat tree
grew, he rattled the handle of
his braided rattan whip
against the spokes of the
wheel.
We stood alone on the
roadside.
The sun was in our eyes, for
it was dipping into the bright
sea. The sky was wide and
deep and very blue above us:
but along the saw-tooth rim
of the Katayaghan hills to the
southwest flamed huge
masses of clouds. Before us
the fields swam in a golden
haze through which floated
big purple and red and
yellow bubbles when I
looked at the sinking sun.
Labang's white coat, which I
had wshed and brushed that
morning with coconut husk,
glistened like beaten cotton
under the lamplight and his
horns appeared tipped with
fire.
He faced the sun and from
his mouth came a call so loud
and vibrant that the earth
seemed to tremble underfoot.
And far away in the middle
of the field a cow lowed
softly in answer.
"Hitch him to the cart, Baldo,"
my brother Leon said,
laughing, and she laughed
with him a big uncertainly,
and I saw that he had put his
arm around her shoulders.
"Why does he make that
sound?" she asked. "I have
never heard the like of it."
"There is not another like it,"
my brother Leon said. "I have
yet to hear another bull call
like Labang. In all the world
there is no other bull like
him."
She was smiling at him, and I
stopped in the act of tying the
sinta across Labang's neck to
the opposite end of the yoke,
because her teeth were very
white, her eyes were so full of
laughter, and there was the
small dimple high up on her
right cheek.
"If you continue to talk about
him like that, either I shall
fall in love with him or
become greatly jealous."
My brother Leon laughed
and she laughed and they
looked at each other and it
seemed to me there was a
world of laughter between
them and in them.
I climbed into the cart over
the wheel and Labang would
have bolted, for he was
always like that, but I kept a
firm hold on his rope. He was
restless and would not stand
still, so that my brother Leon
had to say "Labang" several
times. When he was quiet
again, my brother Leon lifted
the trunks into the cart,
placing the smaller on top.
She looked down once at her
high-heeled shoes, then she
gave her left hand to my
brother Leon, placed a foot
on the hub of the wheel, and
in one breath she had swung
up into the cart. Oh, the
fragrance of her. But Labang
was fairly dancing with
impatience and it was all I
could do to keep him from
running away.
"Give me the rope, Baldo,"
my brother Leon said.
"Maria, sit down on the hay
and hold on to anything."
Then he put a foot on the left
shaft and that instand labang
leaped forward. My brother
Leon laughed as he drew
himself up to the top of the
side of the cart and made the
slack of the rope hiss above
the back of labang. The wind
whistled against my cheeks
and the rattling of the wheels
on the pebbly road echoed in
my ears.
She sat up straight on the
bottom of the cart, legs bent
togther to one side, her skirts
spread over them so that only
the toes and heels of her
shoes were visible. her eyes
were on my brother Leon's
back; I saw the wind on her
hair. When Labang slowed
down, my brother Leon
handed to me the rope. I
knelt on the straw inside the
cart and pulled on the rope
until Labang was merely
shuffling along, then I made
him turn around.
"What is it you have
forgotten now, Baldo?" my
brother Leon said.
I did not say anything but
tickled with my fingers the
rump of Labang; and away
we went---back to where I
had unhitched and waited for
them. The sun had sunk and
down from the wooded sides
of the Katayaghan hills
shadows were stealing into
the fields. High up overhead
the sky burned with many
slow fires.
When I sent Labang down
the deep cut that would take
us to the dry bed of the Waig
which could be used as a
path to our place during the
dry season, my brother Leon
laid a hand on my shoulder
and said sternly:
"Who told you to drive
through the fields tonight?"
His hand was heavy on my
shoulder, but I did not look at
him or utter a word until we
were on the rocky bottom of
the Waig.
"Baldo, you fool, answer me
before I lay the rope of
Labang on you. Why do you
follow the Wait instead of the
camino real?"
His fingers bit into my
shoulder.
"Father, he told me to follow
the Waig tonight, Manong."
Swiftly, his hand fell away
from my shoulder and he
reached for the rope of
Labang. Then my brother
Leon laughed, and he sat
back, and laughing still, he
said:
"And I suppose Father also
told you to hitch Labang to
the cart and meet us with him
instead of with Castano and
the calesa."
Without waiting for me to
answer, he turned to her and
said, "Maria, why do you
think Father should do that,
now?" He laughed and
added, "Have you ever seen
so many stars before?"
I looked back and they were
sitting side by side, leaning
against the trunks, hands
clasped across knees.
Seemingly, but a man's
height above the tops of the
steep banks of the Wait, hung
the stars. But in the deep
gorge the shadows had fallen
heavily, and even the white
of Labang's coat was merely a
dim, grayish blur. Crickets
chirped from their homes in
the cracks in the banks. The
thick, unpleasant smell of
dangla bushes and cooling
sun-heated earth mingled
with the clean, sharp scent of
arrais roots exposed to the
night air and of the hay
inside the cart.
"Look, Noel, yonder is our
star!" Deep surprise and
gladness were in her voice.
Very low in the west, almost
touching the ragged edge of
the bank, was the star, the
biggest and brightest in the
sky.
"I have been looking at it,"
my brother Leon said. "Do
you remember how I would
tell you that when you want
to see stars you must come to
Nagrebcan?"
"Yes, Noel," she said. "Look at
it," she murmured, half to
herself. "It is so many times
bigger and brighter than it
was at Ermita beach."
"The air here is clean, free of
dust and smoke."
"So it is, Noel," she said,
drawing a long breath.
"Making fun of me, Maria?"
She laughed then and they
laughed together and she
took my brother Leon's hand
and put it against her face.
I stopped Labang, climbed
down, and lighted the lantern
that hung from the cart
between the wheels.
"Good boy, Baldo," my
brother Leon said as I
climbed back into the cart,
and my heart sant.
Now the shadows took fright
and did not crowd so near.
Clumps of andadasi and
arrais flashed into view and
quickly disappeared as we
passed by. Ahead, the
elongated shadow of Labang
bobbled up and down and
swayed drunkenly from side
to side, for the lantern rocked
jerkily with the cart.
"Have we far to go yet,
Noel?" she asked.
"Ask Baldo," my brother
Leon said, "we have been
neglecting him."
"I am asking you, Baldo," she
said.
Without looking back, I
answered, picking my words
slowly:
"Soon we will get out of the
Wait and pass into the fields.
After the fields is home---
Manong."
"So near already."
I did not say anything more
because I did not know what
to make of the tone of her
voice as she said her last
words. All the laughter
seemed to have gone out of
her. I waited for my brother
Leon to say something, but
he was not saying anything.
Suddenly he broke out into
song and the song was 'Sky
Sown with Stars'---the same
that he and Father sang when
we cut hay in the fields at
night before he went away to
study. He must have taught
her the song because she
joined him, and her voice
flowed into his like a gentle
stream meeting a stronger
one. And each time the
wheels encountered a big
rock, her voice would catch
in her throat, but my brother
Leon would sing on, until,
laughing softly, she would
join him again.
Then we were climbing out
into the fields, and through
the spokes of the wheels the
light of the lantern mocked
the shadows. Labang
quickened his steps. The
jolting became more frequent
and painful as we crossed the
low dikes.
"But it is so very wide here,"
she said. The light of the stars
broke and scattered the
darkness so that one could
see far on every side, though
indistinctly.
"You miss the houses, and the
cars, and the people and the
noise, don't you?" My brother
Leon stopped singing.
"Yes, but in a different way. I
am glad they are not here."
With difficulty I turned
Labang to the left, for he
wanted to go straight on. He
was breathing hard, but I
knew he was more thirsty
than tired. In a little while we
drope up the grassy side onto
the camino real.
"---you see," my brother Leon
was explaining, "the camino
real curves around the foot of
the Katayaghan hills and
passes by our house. We
drove through the fields
because---but I'll be asking
Father as soon as we get
home."
"Noel," she said.
"Yes, Maria."
"I am afraid. He may not like
me."
"Does that worry you still,
Maria?" my brother Leon
said. "From the way you talk,
he might be an ogre, for all
the world. Except when his
leg that was wounded in the
Revolution is troubling him,
Father is the mildest-
tempered, gentlest man I
know."
We came to the house of
Lacay Julian and I spoke to
Labang loudly, but Moning
did not come to the window,
so I surmised she must be
eating with the rest of her
family. And I thought of the
food being made ready at
home and my mouth
watered. We met the twins,
Urong and Celin, and I said
"Hoy!" calling them by name.
And they shouted back and
asked if my brother Leon and
his wife were with me. And
my brother Leon shouted to
them and then told me to
make Labang run; their
answers were lost in the
noise of the wheels.
I stopped labang on the road
before our house and would
have gotten down but my
brother Leon took the rope
and told me to stay in the
cart. He turned Labang into
the open gate and we dashed
into our yard. I thought we
would crash into the
camachile tree, but my
brother Leon reined in
Labang in time. There was
light downstairs in the
kitchen, and Mother stood in
the doorway, and I could see
her smiling shyly. My brother
Leon was helping Maria over
the wheel. The first words
that fell from his lips after he
had kissed Mother's hand
were:
"Father... where is he?"
"He is in his room upstairs,"
Mother said, her face
becoming serious. "His leg is
bothering him again."
I did not hear anything more
because I had to go back to
the cart to unhitch Labang.
But I hardly tied him under
the barn when I heard Father
calling me. I met my brother
Leon going to bring up the
trunks. As I passed through
the kitchen, there were
Mother and my sister Aurelia
and Maria and it seemed to
me they were crying, all of
them.
There was no light in Father's
room. There was no
movement. He sat in the big
armchair by the western
window, and a star shone
directly through it. He was
smoking, but he removed the
roll of tobacco from his
mouth when he saw me. He
laid it carefully on the
windowsill before speaking.
"Did you meet anybody on
the way?" he asked.
"No, Father," I said. "Nobody
passes through the Waig at
night."
He reached for his roll of
tobacco and hithced himself
up in the chair.
"She is very beautiful,
Father."
"Was she afraid of Labang?"
My father had not raised his
voice, but the room seemed
to resound with it. And again
I saw her eyes on the long
curving horns and the arm of
my brother Leon around her
shoulders.
"No, Father, she was not
afraid."
"On the way---"
"She looked at the stars,
Father. And Manong Leon
sang."
"What did he sing?"
"---Sky Sown with Stars... She
sang with him."
He was silent again. I could
hear the low voices of Mother
and my sister Aurelia
downstairs. There was also
the voice of my brother Leon,
and I thought that Father's
voice must have been like it
when Father was young. He
had laid the roll of tobacco on
the windowsill once more. I
watched the smoke waver
faintly upward from the
lighted end and vanish
slowly into the night outside.
The door opened and my
brother Leon and Maria came
in.
"Have you watered Labang?"
Father spoke to me.
I told him that Labang was
resting yet under the barn.
"It is time you watered him,
my son," my father said.
I looked at Maria and she
was lovely. She was tall.
Beside my brother Leon, she
was tall and very still. Then I
went out, and in the
darkened hall the fragrance
of her was like a morning
when papayas are in bloom.
"The Lottery" (1948) by
Shirley Jackson
The morning of June 27th was
clear and sunny, with the fresh
warmth of a full-summer day;
the flowers were blossoming
profusely and the grass was
richly green. The people of the
village began to gather in the
square, between the post office
and the bank, around ten o'clock;
in some towns there were so
many people that the lottery
took two days and had to be
started on June 2th. but in this
village, where there were only
about three hundred people, the
whole lottery took less than two
hours, so it could begin at ten
o'clock in the morning and still
be through in time to allow the
villagers to get home for noon
dinner. The children assembled
first, of course. School was
recently over for the summer,
and the feeling of liberty sat
uneasily on most of them; they
tended to gather together quietly
for a while before they broke
into boisterous play. and their
talk was still of the classroom
and the teacher, of books and
reprimands. Bobby Martin had
already stuffed his pockets full
of stones, and the other boys
soon followed his example,
selecting the smoothest and
roundest stones; Bobby and
Harry Jones and Dickie
Delacroix-- the villagers
pronounced this name
"Dellacroy"--eventually made a
great pile of stones in one corner
of the square and guarded it
against the raids of the other
boys. The girls stood aside,
talking among themselves,
looking over their shoulders at
rolled in the dust or clung to the
hands of their older brothers or
sisters. Soon the men began to
gather. surveying their own
children, speaking of planting
and rain, tractors and taxes.
They stood together, away from
the pile of stones in the corner,
and their jokes were quiet and
they smiled rather than laughed.
The women, wearing faded
house dresses and sweaters,
came shortly after their menfolk.
They greeted one another and
exchanged bits of gossip as they
went to join their husbands.
Soon the women, standing by
their husbands, began to call to
their children, and the children
came reluctantly, having to be
called four or five times. Bobby
Martin ducked under his
mother's grasping hand and ran,
laughing, back to the pile of
stones. His father spoke up
sharply, and Bobby came
quickly and took his place
between his father and his oldest
brother. The lottery was
conducted--as were the square
dances, the teen club, the
Halloween program--by Mr.
Summers. who had time and
energy to devote to civic
activities. He was a round-faced,
jovial man and he ran the coal
business, and people were sorry
for him. because he had no
children and his wife was a
scold. When he arrived in the
square, carrying the black
wooden box, there was a
murmur of conversation among
the villagers, and he waved and
called. "Little late today, folks."
The postmaster, Mr. Graves,
followed him, carrying a three-
legged stool, and the stool was
put in the center of the square
and Mr. Summers set the black
box down on it. The villagers
kept their distance, leaving a
space between themselves and
the stool. and when Mr.
Summers said, "Some of you
fellows want to give me a
hand?" there was a hesitation
before two men. Mr. Martin and
his oldest son, Baxter. came
forward to hold the box steady
on the stool while Mr. Summers
stirred up the papers inside it.
The original paraphernalia for
the lottery had been lost long
ago, and the black box now
resting on the stool had been put
into use even before Old Man
Warner, the oldest man in town,
was born. Mr. Summers spoke
frequently to the villagers about
making a new box, but no one
liked to upset even as much
tradition as was represented by
the black box. There was a story
that the present box had been
made with some pieces of the
box that had preceded it, the one
that had been constructed when
the first people settled down to
make a village here. Every year,
after the lottery, Mr. Summers
began talking again about a new
box, but every year the subject
was allowed to fade off without
anything's being done.
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7:58:04 AM The Lottery--
Shirley Jackson The black box
grew shabbier each year: by now
it was no longer completely
black but splintered badly along
one side to show the original
wood color, and in some places
faded or stained. Mr. Martin and
his oldest son, Baxter, held the
black box securely on the stool
until Mr. Summers had stirred
the papers thoroughly with his
hand. Because so much of the
ritual had been forgotten or
discarded, Mr. Summers had
been successful in having slips
of paper substituted for the chips
of wood that had been used for
generations. Chips of wood, Mr.
Summers had argued. had been
all very well when the village
was tiny, but now that the
population was more than three
hundred and likely to keep on
growing, it was necessary to use
something that would fit more
easily into he black box. The
night before the lottery, Mr.
Summers and Mr. Graves made
up the slips of paper and put
them in the box, and it was then
taken to the safe of Mr.
Summers' coal company and
locked up until Mr. Summers
was ready to take it to the square
next morning. The rest of the
year, the box was put way,
sometimes one place, sometimes
another; it had spent one year in
Mr. Graves's barn and another
year underfoot in the post office.
and sometimes it was set on a
shelf in the Martin grocery and
left there. There was a great deal
of fussing to be done before Mr.
Summers declared the lottery
open. There were the lists to
make up--of heads of families.
heads of households in each
family. members of each
household in each family. There
was the proper swearing-in of
Mr. Summers by the postmaster,
as the official of the lottery; at
one time, some people
remembered, there had been a
recital of some sort, performed
by the official of the lottery, a
perfunctory. tuneless chant that
had been rattled off duly each
year; some people believed that
the official of the lottery used to
stand just so when he said or
sang it, others believed that he
was supposed to walk among the
people, but years and years ago
this p3rt of the ritual had been
allowed to lapse. There had
been, also, a ritual salute, which
the official of the lottery had had
to use in addressing each person
who came up to draw from the
box, but this also had changed
with time, until now it was felt
necessary only for the official to
speak to each person
approaching. Mr. Summers was
very good at all this; in his clean
white shirt and blue jeans. with
one hand resting carelessly on
the black box. he seemed very
proper and important as he
talked interminably to Mr.
Graves and the Martins. Just as
Mr. Summers finally left off
talking and turned to the
assembled villagers, Mrs.
Hutchinson came hurriedly
along the path to the square, her
sweater thrown over her
shoulders, and slid into place in
the back of the crowd. "Clean
forgot what day it was," she said
to Mrs. Delacroix, who stood
next to her, and they both
laughed softly. "Thought my old
man was out back stacking
wood," Mrs. Hutchinson went
on. "and then I looked out the
window and the kids was gone,
and then I remembered it was
the twentyseventh and came a-
running." She dried her hands on
her apron, and Mrs. Delacroix
said, "You're in time, though.
They're still talking away up
there." Mrs. Hutchinson craned
her neck to see through the
crowd and found her husband
and children standing near the
front. She tapped Mrs. Delacroix
on the arm as a farewell and
began to make her way through
the crowd. The people separated
good-humoredly to let her
through: two or three people
said. in voices just loud enough
to be heard across the crowd,
"Here comes your, Missus,
Hutchinson," and "Bill, she
made it after all." Mrs.
Hutchinson reached her
husband, and Mr. Summers,
who had been waiting, said
cheerfully. "Thought we were
going to have to get on without
you, Tessie." Mrs. Hutchinson
said. grinning, "Wouldn't have
me leave m'dishes in the sink,
now, would you. Joe?," and soft
laughter ran through the crowd
as the people stirred back into
position after Mrs. Hutchinson's
arrival. "Well, now." Mr.
Summers said soberly, "guess
we better get started, get this
over with, so's we can go back to
work. Anybody ain't here?"
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7:58:04 AM The Lottery--
Shirley Jackson "Dunbar."
several people said. "Dunbar.
Dunbar." Mr. Summers
consulted his list. "Clyde
Dunbar." he said. "That's right.
He's broke his leg, hasn't he?
Who's drawing for him?" "Me. I
guess," a woman said. and Mr.
Summers turned to look at her.
"Wife draws for her husband."
Mr. Summers said. "Don't you
have a grown boy to do it for
you, Janey?" Although Mr.
Summers and everyone else in
the village knew the answer
perfectly well, it was the
business of the official of the
lottery to ask such questions
formally. Mr. Summers waited
with an expression of polite
interest while Mrs. Dunbar
answered. "Horace's not but
sixteen vet." Mrs. Dunbar said
regretfully. "Guess I gotta fill in
for the old man this year."
"Right." Sr. Summers said. He
made a note on the list he was
holding. Then he as The Lottery-
-Shirley Jackson "Clark....
Delacroix" "There goes my old
man." Mrs. Delacroix said. She
held her breath while her
husband went forward.
"Dunbar," Mr. Summers said,
and Mrs. Dunbar went steadily
to the box while one of the
women said. "Go on. Janey,"
and another said, "There she
goes." "We're next." Mrs.
Graves said. She watched while
Mr. Graves came around from
the side of the box, greeted Mr.
Summers gravely and selected a
slip of paper from the box. By
now, all through the crowd there
were men holding the small
folded papers in their large hand.
turning them over and over
nervously Mrs. Dunbar and her
two sons stood together, Mrs.
Dunbar holding the slip of
paper. "Harburt.... Hutchinson."
"Get up there, Bill," Mrs.
Hutchinson said. and the people
near her laughed. "Jones." "They
do say," Mr. Adams said to Old
Man Warner, who stood next to
him, "that over in the north
village they're talking of giving
up the lottery." Old Man Warner
snorted. "Pack of crazy fools,"
he said. "Listening to the young
folks, nothing's good enough for
them. Next thing you know,
they'll be wanting to go back to
living in caves, nobody work
any more, live hat way for a
while. Used to be a saying about
'Lottery in June, corn be heavy
soon.' First thing you know,
we'd all be eating stewed
chickweed and acorns. There's
always been a lottery," he added
petulantly. "Bad enough to see
young Joe Summers up there
joking with everybody." "Some
places have already quit
lotteries." Mrs. Adams said.
"Nothing but trouble in that,"
Old Man Warner said stoutly.
"Pack of young fools." "Martin."
And Bobby Martin watched his
father go forward. "Overdyke....
Percy." "I wish they'd hurry,"
Mrs. Dunbar said to her older
son. "I wish they'd hurry."
"They're almost through," her
son said. "You get ready to run
tell Dad," Mrs. Dunbar said. Mr.
Summers called his own name
and then stepped forward
precisely and selected a slip
from the box. Then he called,
"Warner." "Seventy-seventh
year I been in the lottery," Old
Man Warner said as he went
through the crowd. "Seventy-
seventh time."
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7:58:04 AM The Lottery--
Shirley Jackson "Watson" The
tall boy came awkwardly
through the crowd. Someone
said, "Don't be nervous, Jack,"
and Mr. Summers said, "Take
your time, son." "Zanini." After
that, there was a long pause, a
breathless pause, until Mr.
Summers. holding his slip of
paper in the air, said, "All right,
fellows." For a minute, no one
moved, and then all the slips of
paper were opened. Suddenly,
all the women began to speak at
once, saving. "Who is it?,"
"Who's got it?," "Is it the
Dunbars?," "Is it the Watsons?"
Then the voices began to say,
"It's Hutchinson. It's Bill," "Bill
Hutchinson's got it." "Go tell
your father," Mrs. Dunbar said
to her older son. People began to
look around to see the
Hutchinsons. Bill Hutchinson
was standing quiet, staring down
at the paper in his hand.
Suddenly. Tessie Hutchinson
shouted to Mr. Summers. "You
didn't give him time enough to
take any paper he wanted. I saw
you. It wasn't fair!" "Be a good
sport, Tessie." Mrs. Delacroix
called, and Mrs. Graves said,
"All of us took the same
chance." "Shut up, Tessie," Bill
Hutchinson said. "Well,
everyone," Mr. Summers said,
"that was done pretty fast, and
now we've got to be hurrying a
little more to get done in time."
He consulted his next list. "Bill,"
he said, "you draw for the
Hutchinson family. You got any
other households in the
Hutchinsons?" "There's Don and
Eva," Mrs. Hutchinson yelled.
"Make them take their chance!"
"Daughters draw with their
husbands' families, Tessie," Mr.
Summers said gently. "You
know that as well as anyone
else." "It wasn't fair," Tessie
said. "I guess not, Joe." Bill
Hutchinson said regretfully. "My
daughter draws with her
husband's family; that's only
fair. And I've got no other
family except the kids." "Then,
as far as drawing for families is
concerned, it's you," Mr.
Summers said in explanation,
"and as far as drawing for
households is concerned, that's
you, too. Right?" "Right," Bill
Hutchinson said. "How many
kids, Bill?" Mr. Summers asked
formally. "Three," Bill
Hutchinson said. "There's Bill,
Jr., and Nancy, and little Dave.
And Tessie and me."
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7:58:04 AM The Lottery--
Shirley Jackson "All right,
then," Mr. Summers said.
"Harry, you got their tickets
back?" Mr. Graves nodded and
held up the slips of paper. "Put
them in the box, then," Mr.
Summers directed. "Take Bill's
and put it in." "I think we ought
to start over," Mrs. Hutchinson
said, as quietly as she could. "I
tell you it wasn't fair. You didn't
give him time enough to choose.
Everybody saw that." Mr.
Graves had selected the five
slips and put them in the box.
and he dropped all the papers
but those onto the ground. where
the breeze caught them and
lifted them off. "Listen,
everybody," Mrs. Hutchinson
was saying to the people around
her. "Ready, Bill?" Mr.
Summers asked. and Bill
Hutchinson, with one quick
glance around at his wife and
children. nodded. "Remember,"
Mr. Summers said. "take the
slips and keep them folded until
each person has taken one.
Harry, you help little Dave." Mr.
Graves took the hand of the little
boy, who came willingly with
him up to the box. "Take a paper
out of the box, Davy." Mr.
Summers said. Davy put his
hand into the box and laughed.
"Take just one paper." Mr.
Summers said. "Harry, you hold
it for him." Mr. Graves took the
child's hand and removed the
folded paper from the tight fist
and held it while little Dave
stood next to him and looked up
at him wonderingly. "Nancy
next," Mr. Summers said. Nancy
was twelve, and her school
friends breathed heavily as she
went forward switching her
skirt, and took a slip daintily
from the box "Bill, Jr.," Mr.
Summers said, and Billy, his
face red and his feet overlarge,
near knocked the box over as he
got a paper out. "Tessie," Mr.
Summers said. She hesitated for
a minute, looking around
defiantly. and then set her lips
and went up to the box. She
snatched a paper out and held it
behind her. "Bill," Mr. Summers
said, and Bill Hutchinson
reached into the box and felt
around, bringing his hand out at
last with the slip of paper in it.
The crowd was quiet. A girl
whispered, "I hope it's not
Nancy," and the sound of the
whisper reached the edges of the
crowd. "It's not the way it used
to be." Old Man Warner said
clearly. "People ain't the way
they used to be." "All right," Mr.
Summers said. "Open the
papers. Harry, you open little
Dave's." Mr. Graves opened the
slip of paper and there was a
general sigh through the crowd
as he held it up and everyone
could see that it was blank.
Nancy and Bill. Jr.. opened
theirs at the same time. and both
beamed and laughed. turning
around to the crowd and holding
their slips of paper above their
heads. "Tessie," Mr. Summers
said. There was a pause, and
then Mr. Summers looked at Bill
Hutchinson, and Bill unfolded
his paper and showed it. It was
blank.
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7:58:04 AM The Lottery--
Shirley Jackson "It's Tessie,"
Mr. Summers said, and his voice
was hushed. "Show us her paper.
Bill." Bill Hutchinson went over
to his wife and forced the slip of
paper out of her hand. It had a
black spot on it, the black spot
Mr. Summers had made the
night before with the heavy
pencil in the coal company
office. Bill Hutchinson held it
up, and there was a stir in the
crowd. "All right, folks." Mr.
Summers said. "Let's finish
quickly." Although the villagers
had forgotten the ritual and lost
the original black box, they still
remembered to use stones. The
pile of stones the boys had made
earlier was ready; there were
stones on the ground with the
blowing scraps of paper that had
come out of the box Delacroix
selected a stone so large she had
to pick it up with both hands and
turned to Mrs. Dunbar. "Come
on," she said. "Hurry up." Mr.
Dunbar had small stones in both
hands, and she said. gasping for
breath. "I can't run at all. You'll
have to go ahead and I'll catch
up with you." The children had
stones already. And someone
gave little Davy Hutchinson few
pebbles. Tessie Hutchinson was
in the center of a cleared space
by now, and she held her hands
out desperately as the villagers
moved in on her. "It isn't fair,"
she said. A stone hit her on the
side of the head. Old Man
Warner was saying, "Come on,
come on, everyone." Steve
Adams was in the front of the
crowd of villagers, with Mrs.
Graves beside him. "It isn't fair,
it isn't right," Mrs. Hutchinson
screamed, and then they were
upon her.
THE CASK OF
AMONTILLADO
by Edgar Allan Poe
(1846)
THE thousand injuries of
Fortunato I had borne as I
best could, but when he
ventured upon insult I vowed
revenge. You, who so well
know the nature of my soul,
will not suppose, however,
that gave utterance to a
threat. At length I would be
avenged; this was a point
definitely, settled --but the
very definitiveness with
which it was resolved
precluded the idea of risk. I
must not only punish but
punish with impunity. A
wrong is unredressed when
retribution overtakes its
redresser. It is equally
unredressed when the
avenger fails to make himself
felt as such to him who has
done the wrong.
It must be understood that
neither by word nor deed had
I given Fortunato cause to
doubt my good will. I
continued, as was my in to
smile in his face, and he did
not perceive that my to smile
now was at the thought of his
immolation.
He had a weak point --this
Fortunato --although in other
regards he was a man to be
respected and even feared. He
prided himself on his
connoisseurship in wine. Few
Italians have the true virtuoso
spirit. For the most part their
enthusiasm is adopted to suit
the time and opportunity, to
practise imposture upon the
British and Austrian
millionaires. In painting and
gemmary, Fortunato, like his
countrymen, was a quack, but
in the matter of old wines he
was sincere. In this respect I
did not differ from him
materially; --I was skilful in
the Italian vintages myself,
and bought largely whenever
I could.
It was about dusk, one
evening during the supreme
madness of the carnival
season, that I encountered my
friend. He accosted me with
excessive warmth, for he had
been drinking much. The man
wore motley. He had on a
tight-fitting parti-striped
dress, and his head was
surmounted by the conical
cap and bells. I was so
pleased to see him that I
thought I should never have
done wringing his hand.
I said to him --"My dear
Fortunato, you are luckily
met. How remarkably well
you are looking to-day. But I
have received a pipe of what
passes for Amontillado, and I
have my doubts."
"How?" said he.
"Amontillado, A pipe?
Impossible! And in the
middle of the carnival!"
"I have my doubts," I replied;
"and I was silly enough to
pay the full Amontillado
price without consulting you
in the matter. You were not to
be found, and I was fearful of
losing a bargain."
"Amontillado!"
"I have my doubts."
"Amontillado!"
"And I must satisfy them."
"Amontillado!"
"As you are engaged, I am on
my way to Luchresi. If any
one has a critical turn it is he.
He will tell me --"
"Luchresi cannot tell
Amontillado from Sherry."
"And yet some fools will
have it that his taste is a
match for your own.
"Come, let us go."
"Whither?"
"To your vaults."
"My friend, no; I will not
impose upon your good
nature. I perceive you have
an engagement. Luchresi--"
"I have no engagement; --
come."
"My friend, no. It is not the
engagement, but the severe
cold with which I perceive
you are afflicted. The vaults
are insufferably damp. They
are encrusted with nitre."
"Let us go, nevertheless. The
cold is merely nothing.
Amontillado! You have been
imposed upon. And as for
Luchresi, he cannot
distinguish Sherry from
Amontillado."
Thus speaking, Fortunato
possessed himself of my arm;
and putting on a mask of
black silk and drawing a
roquelaire closely about my
person, I suffered him to
hurry me to my palazzo.
There were no attendants at
home; they had absconded to
make merry in honour of the
time. I had told them that I
should not return until the
morning, and had given them
explicit orders not to stir from
the house. These orders were
sufficient, I well knew, to
insure their immediate
disappearance, one and all, as
soon as my back was turned.
I took from their sconces two
flambeaux, and giving one to
Fortunato, bowed him
through several suites of
rooms to the archway that led
into the vaults. I passed down
a long and winding staircase,
requesting him to be cautious
as he followed. We came at
length to the foot of the
descent, and stood together
upon the damp ground of the
catacombs of the Montresors.
The gait of my friend was
unsteady, and the bells upon
his cap jingled as he strode.
"The pipe," he said.
"It is farther on," said I; "but
observe the white web-work
which gleams from these
cavern walls."
He turned towards me, and
looked into my eves with two
filmy orbs that distilled the
rheum of intoxication.
"Nitre?" he asked, at length.
"Nitre," I replied. "How long
have you had that cough?"
"Ugh! ugh! ugh! --ugh! ugh!
ugh! --ugh! ugh! ugh! --ugh!
ugh! ugh! --ugh! ugh! ugh!"
My poor friend found it
impossible to reply for many
minutes.
"It is nothing," he said, at
last.
"Come," I said, with decision,
"we will go back; your health
is precious. You are rich,
respected, admired, beloved;
you are happy, as once I was.
You are a man to be missed.
For me it is no matter. We
will go back; you will be ill,
and I cannot be responsible.
Besides, there is Luchresi --"
"Enough," he said; "the
cough's a mere nothing; it
will not kill me. I shall not
die of a cough."
"True --true," I replied; "and,
indeed, I had no intention of
alarming you unnecessarily --
but you should use all proper
caution. A draught of this
Medoc will defend us from
the damps.
Here I knocked off the neck
of a bottle which I drew from
a long row of its fellows that
lay upon the mould.
"Drink," I said, presenting
him the wine.
He raised it to his lips with a
leer. He paused and nodded
to me familiarly, while his
bells jingled.
"I drink," he said, "to the
buried that repose around us."
"And I to your long life."
He again took my arm, and
we proceeded.
"These vaults," he said, "are
extensive."
"The Montresors," I replied,
"were a great and numerous
family."
"I forget your arms."
"A huge human foot d'or, in a
field azure; the foot crushes a
serpent rampant whose fangs
are imbedded in the heel."
"And the motto?"
"Nemo me impune lacessit."
"Good!" he said.
The wine sparkled in his eyes
and the bells jingled. My own
fancy grew warm with the
Medoc. We had passed
through long walls of piled
skeletons, with casks and
puncheons intermingling, into
the inmost recesses of the
catacombs. I paused again,
and this time I made bold to
seize Fortunato by an arm
above the elbow.
"The nitre!" I said; "see, it
increases. It hangs like moss
upon the vaults. We are
below the river's bed. The
drops of moisture trickle
among the bones. Come, we
will go back ere it is too late.
Your cough --"
"It is nothing," he said; "let us
go on. But first, another
draught of the Medoc."
I broke and reached him a
flagon of De Grave. He
emptied it at a breath. His
eyes flashed with a fierce
light. He laughed and threw
the bottle upwards with a
gesticulation I did not
understand.
I looked at him in surprise.
He repeated the movement --
a grotesque one.
"You do not comprehend?"
he said.
"Not I," I replied.
"Then you are not of the
brotherhood."
"How?"
"You are not of the masons."
"Yes, yes," I said; "yes, yes."
"You? Impossible! A
mason?"
"A mason," I replied.
"A sign," he said, "a sign."
"It is this," I answered,
producing from beneath the
folds of my roquelaire a
trowel.
"You jest," he exclaimed,
recoiling a few paces. "But
let us proceed to the
Amontillado."
"Be it so," I said, replacing
the tool beneath the cloak and
again offering him my arm.
He leaned upon it heavily.
We continued our route in
search of the Amontillado.
We passed through a range of
low arches, descended,
passed on, and descending
again, arrived at a deep crypt,
in which the foulness of the
air caused our flambeaux
rather to glow than flame.
At the most remote end of the
crypt there appeared another
less spacious. Its walls had
been lined with human
remains, piled to the vault
overhead, in the fashion of
the great catacombs of Paris.
Three sides of this interior
crypt were still ornamented in
this manner. From the fourth
side the bones had been
thrown down, and lay
promiscuously upon the
earth, forming at one point a
mound of some size. Within
the wall thus exposed by the
displacing of the bones, we
perceived a still interior crypt
or recess, in depth about four
feet, in width three, in height
six or seven. It seemed to
have been constructed for no
especial use within itself, but
formed merely the interval
between two of the colossal
supports of the roof of the
catacombs, and was backed
by one of their
circumscribing walls of solid
granite.
It was in vain that Fortunato,
uplifting his dull torch,
endeavoured to pry into the
depth of the recess. Its
termination the feeble light
did not enable us to see.
"Proceed," I said; "herein is
the Amontillado. As for
Luchresi --"
"He is an ignoramus,"
interrupted my friend, as he
stepped unsteadily forward,
while I followed immediately
at his heels. In niche, and
finding an instant he had
reached the extremity of the
niche, and finding his
progress arrested by the rock,
stood stupidly bewildered. A
moment more and I had
fettered him to the granite. In
its surface were two iron
staples, distant from each
other about two feet,
horizontally. From one of
these depended a short chain,
from the other a padlock.
Throwing the links about his
waist, it was but the work of
a few seconds to secure it. He
was too much astounded to
resist. Withdrawing the key I
stepped back from the recess.
"Pass your hand," I said,
"over the wall; you cannot
help feeling the nitre. Indeed,
it is very damp. Once more
let me implore you to return.
No? Then I must positively
leave you. But I must first
render you all the little
attentions in my power."
"The Amontillado!"
ejaculated my friend, not yet
recovered from his
astonishment.
"True," I replied; "the
Amontillado."
As I said these words I busied
myself among the pile of
bones of which I have before
spoken. Throwing them
aside, I soon uncovered a
quantity of building stone and
mortar. With these materials
and with the aid of my
trowel, I began vigorously to
wall up the entrance of the
niche.
I had scarcely laid the first
tier of the masonry when I
discovered that the
intoxication of Fortunato had
in a great measure worn off.
The earliest indication I had
of this was a low moaning
cry from the depth of the
recess. It was not the cry of a
drunken man. There was then
a long and obstinate silence. I
laid the second tier, and the
third, and the fourth; and then
I heard the furious vibrations
of the chain. The noise lasted
for several minutes, during
which, that I might hearken
to it with the more
satisfaction, I ceased my
labours and sat down upon
the bones. When at last the
clanking subsided, I resumed
the trowel, and finished
without interruption the fifth,
the sixth, and the seventh tier.
The wall was now nearly
upon a level with my breast. I
again paused, and holding the
flambeaux over the mason-
work, threw a few feeble rays
upon the figure within.
A succession of loud and
shrill screams, bursting
suddenly from the throat of
the chained form, seemed to
thrust me violently back. For
a brief moment I hesitated, I
trembled. Unsheathing my
rapier, I began to grope with
it about the recess; but the
thought of an instant
reassured me. I placed my
hand upon the solid fabric of
the catacombs, and felt
satisfied. I reapproached the
wall; I replied to the yells of
him who clamoured. I re-
echoed, I aided, I surpassed
them in volume and in
strength. I did this, and the
clamourer grew still.
It was now midnight, and my
task was drawing to a close. I
had completed the eighth, the
ninth and the tenth tier. I had
finished a portion of the last
and the eleventh; there
remained but a single stone to
be fitted and plastered in. I
struggled with its weight; I
placed it partially in its
destined position. But now
there came from out the niche
a low laugh that erected the
hairs upon my head. It was
succeeded by a sad voice,
which I had difficulty in
recognizing as that of the
noble Fortunato. The voice
said--
"Ha! ha! ha! --he! he! he! --a
very good joke, indeed --an
excellent jest. We will have
many a rich laugh about it at
the palazzo --he! he! he! --
over our wine --he! he! he!"
"The Amontillado!" I said.
"He! he! he! --he! he! he! --
yes, the Amontillado. But is it
not getting late? Will not they
be awaiting us at the palazzo,
the Lady Fortunato and the
rest? Let us be gone."
"Yes," I said, "let us be
gone."
"For the love of God,
Montresor!"
"Yes," I said, "for the love of
God!"
But to these words I
hearkened in vain for a reply.
I grew impatient. I called
aloud --
"Fortunato!"
No answer. I called again --
"Fortunato!"
No answer still. I thrust a
torch through the remaining
aperture and let it fall within.
There came forth in return
only a jingling of the bells.
My heart grew sick; it was
the dampness of the
catacombs that made it so. I
hastened to make an end of
my labour. I forced the last
stone into its position; I
plastered it up. Against the
new masonry I re-erected the
old rampart of bones. For the
half of a century no mortal
has disturbed them. In pace
requiescat!
THE TELL-TALE HEART
by Edgar Allan Poe
1843
TRUE! --nervous --very, very
dreadfully nervous I had been
and am; but why will you say
that I am mad? The disease
had sharpened my senses --
not destroyed --not dulled
them. Above all was the
sense of hearing acute. I
heard all things in the heaven
and in the earth. I heard many
things in hell. How, then, am
I mad? Hearken! and observe
how healthily --how calmly I
can tell you the whole story.
It is impossible to say how
first the idea entered my
brain; but once conceived, it
haunted me day and night.
Object there was none.
Passion there was none. I
loved the old man. He had
never wronged me. He had
never given me insult. For his
gold I had no desire. I think it
was his eye! yes, it was this!
He had the eye of a vulture --
a pale blue eye, with a film
over it. Whenever it fell upon
me, my blood ran cold; and
so by degrees --very
gradually --I made up my
mind to take the life of the
old man, and thus rid myself
of the eye forever.
Now this is the point. You
fancy me mad. Madmen
know nothing. But you
should have seen me. You
should have seen how wisely
I proceeded --with what
caution --with what foresight
--with what dissimulation I
went to work! I was never
kinder to the old man than
during the whole week before
I killed him. And every night,
about midnight, I turned the
latch of his door and opened
it --oh so gently! And then,
when I had made an opening
sufficient for my head, I put
in a dark lantern, all closed,
closed, that no light shone
out, and then I thrust in my
head. Oh, you would have
laughed to see how cunningly
I thrust it in! I moved it
slowly --very, very slowly, so
that I might not disturb the
old man's sleep. It took me an
hour to place my whole head
within the opening so far that
I could see him as he lay
upon his bed. Ha! would a
madman have been so wise as
this, And then, when my head
was well in the room, I undid
the lantern cautiously-oh, so
cautiously --cautiously (for
the hinges creaked) --I undid
it just so much that a single
thin ray fell upon the vulture
eye. And this I did for seven
long nights --every night just
at midnight --but I found the
eye always closed; and so it
was impossible to do the
work; for it was not the old
man who vexed me, but his
Evil Eye. And every
morning, when the day broke,
I went boldly into the
chamber, and spoke
courageously to him, calling
him by name in a hearty tone,
and inquiring how he has
passed the night. So you see
he would have been a very
profound old man, indeed, to
suspect that every night, just
at twelve, I looked in upon
him while he slept.
Upon the eighth night I was
more than usually cautious in
opening the door. A watch's
minute hand moves more
quickly than did mine. Never
before that night had I felt the
extent of my own powers --of
my sagacity. I could scarcely
contain my feelings of
triumph. To think that there I
was, opening the door, little
by little, and he not even to
dream of my secret deeds or
thoughts. I fairly chuckled at
the idea; and perhaps he
heard me; for he moved on
the bed suddenly, as if
startled. Now you may think
that I drew back --but no. His
room was as black as pitch
with the thick darkness, (for
the shutters were close
fastened, through fear of
robbers,) and so I knew that
he could not see the opening
of the door, and I kept
pushing it on steadily,
steadily.
I had my head in, and was
about to open the lantern,
when my thumb slipped upon
the tin fastening, and the old
man sprang up in bed, crying
out --"Who's there?"
I kept quite still and said
nothing. For a whole hour I
did not move a muscle, and in
the meantime I did not hear
him lie down. He was still
sitting up in the bed listening;
--just as I have done, night
after night, hearkening to the
death watches in the wall.
Presently I heard a slight
groan, and I knew it was the
groan of mortal terror. It was
not a groan of pain or of grief
--oh, no! --it was the low
stifled sound that arises from
the bottom of the soul when
overcharged with awe. I
knew the sound well. Many a
night, just at midnight, when
all the world slept, it has
welled up from my own
bosom, deepening, with its
dreadful echo, the terrors that
distracted me. I say I knew it
well. I knew what the old
man felt, and pitied him,
although I chuckled at heart. I
knew that he had been lying
awake ever since the first
slight noise, when he had
turned in the bed. His fears
had been ever since growing
upon him. He had been trying
to fancy them causeless, but
could not. He had been
saying to himself --"It is
nothing but the wind in the
chimney --it is only a mouse
crossing the floor," or "It is
merely a cricket which has
made a single chirp." Yes, he
had been trying to comfort
himself with these
suppositions: but he had
found all in vain. All in vain;
because Death, in
approaching him had stalked
with his black shadow before
him, and enveloped the
victim. And it was the
mournful influence of the
unperceived shadow that
caused him to feel --although
he neither saw nor heard --to
feel the presence of my head
within the room.
When I had waited a long
time, very patiently, without
hearing him lie down, I
resolved to open a little --a
very, very little crevice in the
lantern. So I opened it --you
cannot imagine how
stealthily, stealthily --until, at
length a simple dim ray, like
the thread of the spider, shot
from out the crevice and fell
full upon the vulture eye.
It was open --wide, wide
open --and I grew furious as I
gazed upon it. I saw it with
perfect distinctness --all a
dull blue, with a hideous veil
over it that chilled the very
marrow in my bones; but I
could see nothing else of the
old man's face or person: for I
had directed the ray as if by
instinct, precisely upon the
damned spot.
And have I not told you that
what you mistake for
madness is but over-
acuteness of the sense? --
now, I say, there came to my
ears a low, dull, quick sound,
such as a watch makes when
enveloped in cotton. I knew
that sound well, too. It was
the beating of the old man's
heart. It increased my fury, as
the beating of a drum
stimulates the soldier into
courage.
But even yet I refrained and
kept still. I scarcely breathed.
I held the lantern motionless.
I tried how steadily I could
maintain the ray upon the
eve. Meantime the hellish
tattoo of the heart increased.
It grew quicker and quicker,
and louder and louder every
instant. The old man's terror
must have been extreme! It
grew louder, I say, louder
every moment! --do you
mark me well I have told you
that I am nervous: so I am.
And now at the dead hour of
the night, amid the dreadful
silence of that old house, so
strange a noise as this excited
me to uncontrollable terror.
Yet, for some minutes longer
I refrained and stood still. But
the beating grew louder,
louder! I thought the heart
must burst. And now a new
anxiety seized me --the sound
would be heard by a
neighbour! The old man's
hour had come! With a loud
yell, I threw open the lantern
and leaped into the room. He
shrieked once --once only. In
an instant I dragged him to
the floor, and pulled the
heavy bed over him. I then
smiled gaily, to find the deed
so far done. But, for many
minutes, the heart beat on
with a muffled sound. This,
however, did not vex me; it
would not be heard through
the wall. At length it ceased.
The old man was dead. I
removed the bed and
examined the corpse. Yes, he
was stone, stone dead. I
placed my hand upon the
heart and held it there many
minutes. There was no
pulsation. He was stone dead.
His eve would trouble me no
more.
If still you think me mad, you
will think so no longer when
I describe the wise
precautions I took for the
concealment of the body. The
night waned, and I worked
hastily, but in silence. First of
all I dismembered the corpse.
I cut off the head and the
arms and the legs.
I then took up three planks
from the flooring of the
chamber, and deposited all
between the scantlings. I then
replaced the boards so
cleverly, so cunningly, that
no human eye --not even his -
-could have detected any
thing wrong. There was
nothing to wash out --no stain
of any kind --no blood-spot
whatever. I had been too
wary for that. A tub had
caught all --ha! ha!
When I had made an end of
these labors, it was four
o'clock --still dark as
midnight. As the bell sounded
the hour, there came a
knocking at the street door. I
went down to open it with a
light heart, --for what had I
now to fear? There entered
three men, who introduced
themselves, with perfect
suavity, as officers of the
police. A shriek had been
heard by a neighbour during
the night; suspicion of foul
play had been aroused;
information had been lodged
at the police office, and they
(the officers) had been
deputed to search the
premises.
I smiled, --for what had I to
fear? I bade the gentlemen
welcome. The shriek, I said,
was my own in a dream. The
old man, I mentioned, was
absent in the country. I took
my visitors all over the
house. I bade them search --
search well. I led them, at
length, to his chamber. I
showed them his treasures,
secure, undisturbed. In the
enthusiasm of my confidence,
I brought chairs into the
room, and desired them here
to rest from their fatigues,
while I myself, in the wild
audacity of my perfect
triumph, placed my own seat
upon the very spot beneath
which reposed the corpse of
the victim.
The officers were satisfied.
My manner had convinced
them. I was singularly at
ease. They sat, and while I
answered cheerily, they
chatted of familiar things.
But, ere long, I felt myself
getting pale and wished them
gone. My head ached, and I
fancied a ringing in my ears:
but still they sat and still
chatted. The ringing became
more distinct: --It continued
and became more distinct: I
talked more freely to get rid
of the feeling: but it
continued and gained
definiteness --until, at length,
I found that the noise was not
within my ears.
No doubt I now grew very
pale; --but I talked more
fluently, and with a
heightened voice. Yet the
sound increased --and what
could I do? It was a low, dull,
quick sound --much such a
sound as a watch makes when
enveloped in cotton. I gasped
for breath --and yet the
officers heard it not. I talked
more quickly --more
vehemently; but the noise
steadily increased. I arose and
argued about trifles, in a high
key and with violent
gesticulations; but the noise
steadily increased. Why
would they not be gone? I
paced the floor to and fro
with heavy strides, as if
excited to fury by the
observations of the men --but
the noise steadily increased.
Oh God! what could I do? I
foamed --I raved --I swore! I
swung the chair upon which I
had been sitting, and grated it
upon the boards, but the noise
arose over all and continually
increased. It grew louder --
louder --louder! And still the
men chatted pleasantly, and
smiled. Was it possible they
heard not? Almighty God! --
no, no! They heard! --they
suspected! --they knew! --
they were making a mockery
of my horror!-this I thought,
and this I think. But anything
was better than this agony!
Anything was more tolerable
than this derision! I could
bear those hypocritical smiles
no longer! I felt that I must
scream or die! and now --
again! --hark! louder! louder!
louder! louder!
"Villains!" I shrieked,
"dissemble no more! I admit
the deed! --tear up the planks!
here, here! --It is the beating
of his hideous heart!"
Ang Paglilitis Ni Mang
Serapio
by Paul Dumol
Unang Tagapagtanong: (Sa
Ikalawang Tagapagtanong)
O, sige na.
Ikalawang Tagapagtanong:
Sige. (Lalakad sila sa harap
ng kanilang mesa)
Dalawang Tagapagtanong:
(Sa mga manonood) Narito
ho kayo upang panoorin ang
isang paglilitis, dahila’y ang
krimen ng isang pulubing
huling- huli namin. Si Mang
Serapiong pisak at surutin.
(Tatakbo sila sa kanilang
mesa.) Dalhin dito ang
nasasakdal! Dalhin dito ang
nasasakdal! Dalhin dito ang
nasasakdal! Dalhin dito agad!
(Hahalakhak, hihiyaw, at
papalakpak ang mga Pulubi.
Hihilahin ng dalawang bantay
si Mang Serapio sa gitna ng
silid at iiwan doon.
Katahimikan.)
Unang Tagapagtanong:
Magandang gabi, ginoo.
Serapio: Magandang gabi rin
ho. (Sandaling titigil) Mga
ginoo –
Dalawang Tagapagtanong:
Silencio!
Unang Tagapagtanong:
Huwag kang magsalita
habang kami’y nagsasalita.
Ikalawang Tagapagtanong:
Bastos ang nagsasalita
habang may nagsasalita pa.
Unang Tagapagtanong: (Sa
mga manonood) Patawarin ho
ninyo siya. Talagang ganyan
ho ang waLang
kapangyarihang tulad niya:
mangmang, at yan nga ang
suliranin ng mga may
kapangyarihang, tulad namin.
Ikalawang Tagapagtanong:
Tumindig ka nang matuwid!
Unang Tagapagtanong: Ba’t
ka ba galaw nang galaw?
Serapio: Gusto ko lang
malaman kung ano ang
krimen ko. (Sandaling tigil)
Unang Tagapagtanong: Hindi
mo ba alam?
Serapio: Hindi ho.
Unang Tagapagtanong: A,
problema mo na ‘yon. (Sa
mga manonood) Pag-aaruga
ng bata ang krimen niya.
(Biglang titindig ang tatlong
saksi)
Tatlong saksi: Pag-aaruga,
pag-aaruga, pag-aaruga ng
bata.
Unang tagapagtanong: (Sa
mga manonood) Krimen
sapagkat ang pag-aaruga ng
bata ay panunuksong
gumasta.Samakatuwid
nawawalan ng pera ang
federacion. Nahuli siya ng
tatlong kasapi nitong
federacion. Narinig siyang
nagsasalita sa anak niya at
alam pa nila ang pangalan ng
anak niya- Sol. Pormalidad
na lamang itong paglilitis.
Hukom: Pormalidad na rin ho
ang hatol ko.
Unang tagapagtanong: Ang
parusa niya ay nais panoorin
nitong mga pulubi. Siya’y
bubulagin. (Bubungisngis at
tatawa ang mga pulubi)
Ginoong Serapio, mabuti
ba’ng tulog mo?
Serapio: Oho.
Ikalawang Tagapagtanong:
Nakakain ka na ba?
Serapio: Oho.
Unang tagapagtanong:
Magaling! Handang-handa ka
sa paglilitis mo. Ilang araw
mo nan g suot ‘yang
kamisedentro mo?
Ikalawang Tagapagtanong:
Ikaw ba’y naghilamos na?
Unang Tagapagtanong:
Naligo?
Ikalawang Tagapagtanong:
Nagpunas man lang?
Unang Tagapagtanong: (Sa
bantay) Na-spray mo na ba
siya?
Hukom: (Pupukpukin nang
dalawang beses ang kanyang
podium) Ituloy ang paglilitis!
(Sa mga manonood) Sa siyam
na taon sa federaciong ito
bilang hukom, wala pa akong
nakikilalang tagapagtanong
na kasindaldal nitong dalawa.
(Pupukpukin nang dalawang
beses ang kanyang podium)
Ituloy ang paglilitis?
Unang Tagapagtanong:
Bueno! Ginoong Serapio,
sabihin mo sa amin-
(Babatuhin si Serapio ng
ikalawang tagapagtanong ng
yeso o anumang maliit na
bagay)
Ikalawang Tagapagtanong:
Tumindig ka ng matuwid!
Unang Tagapagtanong:
Sabihin mo sa amin ang
pangalan mo.
Ikalawang tagapagtanong:
Pangalan!
Serapio: Serapio, ho.
Unang Tagapagtanong: (Sa
Ikalawang Tagapagtanong)
Serapio.
Ikalawang tagapagtanong:
Serapio?
Unang Tagapagtanong:
Serapio?
Serapio: Ho?
Ikalawang tagapagtanong:
Serapio?
Unang Tagapagtanong:
Serapio?
Serapio: Ano ho?
Dalawang Tagapagtanong:
Serapio ano?
Serapio: Serapio.
Unang Tagapagtanong:
Serapio Serapio?
Serapio: A, hindi ho, Serapio
lang.
Ikalawang tagapagtanong:
(Habang sumusulat sa
kwaderno) Serapio lang.
Unang Tagapagtanong:
Ocupacion?
Ikalawang tagapagtanong:
Ocupacion?
Serapio: Wala. Wala ho.
Unang Tagapagtanong: Ano,
wala kang ocupacion?
Serapio: Wala ho.
Unang Tagapagtanong: Hindi
ba isa kang pulubi?
Serapio: Oho.
Unang Tagapagtanong:
Ocupacion mo ‘yon. (Susulat
ang Ikalawang
Tagapagtanong sa kwaderno)
Classificacion.
Ikalawang tagapagtanong:
Classificacion.
Serapio: Classificacion?
Dalawang Tagapagtanong:
CLASSIFICACION!
Ikalawang tagapagtanong:
Ano ang classificacion mo
bilang pulubi?
Nagmamakaawa o aliwan?
Unang Tagapagtanong:
Pakunwari o karaniwan?
Ikalawang tagapagtanong:
Ikaw ba’y nagrerenta?
Unang Tagapagtanong: Ng
sanggol o bata?
Ikalawang Tagapagtanong:
Upang akitin nga…
Unang Tagapagtanong: Ang
luha ng madla?
Dalawang Tagapagtanong:
‘Yan ang uring
nagmamakaawa.
Ikalawang Tagapagtanong: O
tumutugtog ka ban g silindro
o gitara, dram, o kahit na
banda, o rondalla?
Unang Tagapagtanong:
Kasama ng sayaw o kundi
nama’y kanta nang madla’y
maaliw at bigyan ka ng
kwarta?
Dalawang Tagapagtanong:
‘Yan ang uring aliwan.
Unang Tagapagtanong:
Maaari naman ding
nagkukunwari ka, ika’y
ipinaglihi sa isang palaka.
Ikalawang Tagapagtanong: O
kung hindi naman ika’y isang
palso, ngunit isang palsong
palsipikado.
Dalawang Tagapagtanong:
Pakunwaring bingi, bulag,
pilay, pipi, madla’y madaya
man ikaw nama’y yayaman.
‘yan ang uring pakunwari.
Ikalawang Tagapagtanong:
Walang guni-guni ang nasa
huling uri.
Unang Tagapagtanong: Mga
tunay na pipi, bulag, pilay,
bingi.
Dalawang Tagapagtanong:
Walang guni-guni.
Unang Tagapagtanong: Wala
ring salapi.
Dalawang Tagapagtanong:
Talagang ganyan ang buhay
ng nasa huling uri: ang uring
karaniwan.
Unang Tagapagtanong: Alin
ka sa apat? Nagmamakaawa
o aliwan?
Ikalawang Tagapagtanong:
Pakunwari o karaniwan?
(Sandaling tigil)
Serapio: Ang huli ho.
(Susulat ang ikalawang
tagapagtanong sa kwaderno)
Unang Tagapagtanong:
Ginoong Hukom, ano ang
gagawin namin ngayon?
Hukom: Patibayan na ninyo
ang krimen niya. (Biglang
tindig ang tatlong saksi)
Tatlong Saksi: (Sa mga
manonood) Patibayan na ang
krimen niya. Patibayan na
ang krimen niya.
Dalawang Tagapagtanong:
Bueno. Ginoong Serapio,
may asawa ka na ba?
Ikalawang Tagapagtanong:
Isang kabiyak?
Dalawang Tagapagtanong:
Isang babaing bumahagi sa
puso mo? (Sandaling tigil)
Babaing nakasal sa harap ng
altar, sa opisina ng gatpuno, o
iba pang lugar.
(Katahimikan)
Unang Tagapagtanong: O
ano, Ginoong Serapio,
sagutin mo ang tanong.
Ikalawang Tagapagtanong:
Napakasimple.
Unang Tagapagtanong: May
asawa ka ba? (Sandaling
tigil)
Serapio: Wala ho.
Unang Tagapagtanong:
Ginoong Serapio, di ka dapat
mahiya.
Ikalawang Tagapagtanong:
Sabihin mo ang totoo.
Unang Tagapagtanong: May
asawa ka ba?
Serapio: Wala ho. (Sandaling
tigil)
Unang Tagapagtanong:
Iibahin ko ang tanong. May
asawa ka ba noon?
Dalawang Tagapagtanong:
Asawa na ngayo’y nagsasaya
sa bahay ng Diyos o bahay ng
iba? (Katahimikan)
Unang Tagapagtanong: O
ano? Malinaw na malinaw
ang tanong ngayon. May
asawa ka ba noon?
(Katahimikan) Ginoong
Serapio, nakapagtataka ‘yang
katahimikan mo.
Ikalawang Tagapagtanong:
May asawa ka ba noon?
(Sandaling tigil)
Serapio: Oo.
Dalawang Tagapagtanong:
Ayan!
Serapio: Ngunit siya’y patay
na.
Unang Tagapagtanong: A,
wala. Basta’t inamin mong
may asawa ka na nga.
Hukom: (Pupukpukin ng
Hukom ang podium niya ng
dalawang beses) Magaling!
(Sa mga manonood)
Napakabilis ng aming mga
paglilitis sapagkat lahat ng
aming mga tagapagtanong ay
matatalino at magagaling.
Mga Pulubi: (Biglang titindig
ang mga pulubi’t papalakpak)
Magagaling! Magagaling!
Magagaling! (Yuyuko ang
mga tagapagtanong)
Unang Tagapagtanong:
Ginoong Serapio, nagkaroon
ka ba ng anak?
Ikalawang Tagapagtanong:
Buhat sa kasal na yaon?
Unang Tagapagtanong: Buhat
sa inyong pagsasama?
Ikalawang Tagapagtanong:
Buhat sa inyong pag-aasawa?
(Katahimikan)
Unang Tagapagtanong:
Ginoong Serapio, tahimik ka
na naman.
Ikalawang Tagapagtanong:
Wala kang sinasabi.
Unang Tagapagtanong: Wala
kang imik.
Dalawang Tagapagtanong:
Pasidhi nang pasidhi ang
aming pananabik.
Unang Tagapagtanong:
Nagkaroon ka ba ng anak?
(Katahimikan)
Dalawang Tagapagtanong:
Payat na payat, tuyung-tuyo
pa. Walang alinlangang wala
na siyang katas.
Ikalawang Tagapagtanong:
Nagkaroon ka ba ng anak?
(Lalapitan si Serapio ng
Ikalawang Tagapagtanong)
Serapio: Ba’t ninyo
tinatanong ‘yan?
Unang Tagapagtanong: Aba!
Pilosopo!
Serapio: Ano ba ang krimen
ko?
Dalawang Tagapagtanong:
(Tatakbo ang dalawang
tagapagtanong sa likod ng
mesa) Ginoong Serapio!
Serapio: Patawarin ho ninyo
ako ngunit -
Unang Tagapagtanong: Wala
ka bang utak?
Ikalawang Tagapagtanong:
Isip?
Unang Tagapagtanong:
Katiting na katalinuhan?
Tandaan mo kung sino ka!
Ikalawang Tagapagtanong:
Isang pulubi.
Unang Tagapagtanong:
Hamak.
Dalawang Tagapagtanong:
Kulisap!
Unang Tagapagtanong:
Sagutin mo ang tanong!
Nagkaroon ka ba ng anak?
(Sandaling tigil)
Serapio: Oho.
Dalawang Tagapagtanong:
Ayos!
Unang Tagapagtanong: Ba’t
di mo kaagad inamin na may
anak ka nga?
Serapio: Ano ho ba ang
krimen ko?
Ikalawang Tagapagtanong:
Umupo ka. Malalaman mo
rin. (Aakayin siya ng bantay
sa kanyang upuan. Susulat
ang Ikalawang tagapagtanong
sa kwaderno.) (Sandaling
tigil)
Unang Tagapagtanong: Ang
pangalan ng anak mo ay Sol,
hindi ba?
Serapio: Oho. Paano ninyo
nalaman?
Unang Tagapagtanong:
Marami kaming alam tungkol
sa’yo. (Sandaling tigil)
Serapio: (Sa mga manonood)
Yaon din ang pangalan ng
namatay niyang ina- Sol,
Consuelo. Namatay ang
kanyang ina nang siya’y
ipanganak. Ang aming unang
anak at namatay pa ang ina,
isang dalagang tahimik na
may ngiting nagmumungkahi
ng simoy at tubig ng batis.
Ang pagpanaw niya’y
pagsapit ng kalungkutan.
Dalawang hiyaw ang
tumaginting sa aming silid sa
gabing yaon: ang aking
hiyaw ng hapis ng
pagkamatay ni Sol, at ang
hiyaw ng takot na naisilang
na Sol, na naging larawan ng
kanyang ina: maputi, maitim
ang mga mata, madalas na
nakangiti, lundag nang
lundag kapag inuwian mo ng
kendi, matamis, at laruan.
Sana’y nakita ninyo siya. At
ang kanyang halakhak, ang
kanyang halakhak.-,Sol, Sol.
Dalawang Tagapagtanong:
Ano? Ano? Ano? Ano? Ano?
Unang Tagapagtanong: Ano
‘yang sinasabi mo?
Serapio: Wala. Wala ho.
Unang Tagapagtanong:
Huwag ka nang umarte-arte
pa.
Ikalawang Tagapagtanong:
Basta’t inamin mong may
anak ka.
Unang Tagapagtanong:
Dadrama-drama ka pa riyan.
Ikalawang Tagapagtanong:
Nais pang talunin ang radio.
(May mga papel na ibinigay
ang Unang Tagapagtanong sa
Hukom)
Hukom: Ano? Tapos na ba
ang paglilitis? (pPapalakpak
nang dalawang beses ang
Ikalawang Tagapagtanong)
Unang Tagapagtanong: Oho.
Inamin na niya na anak niya
‘yung “Sol” na ‘yun.
(Ibibigay ng isang bantay sa
Ikalawang Tagapagtanongang
isang kahon)
Ikalawang Tagapagtanong:
(Sa mga manonood) Ito ho
ang kahon ng mga
instrumentong ginagamit
namin sa pagpaparusa sa mga
kasapi. (Habang
nagtatalumpati siya,
maglalapg siya sa mesa ng
martilyo, pait, malaking
gunting, tinidor, bambo, at
balarawna kukunin niya mula
sa kahon) Kahangahanga
itong federacion: ubod ng
karunungan at pag-uunawa,
sapagkat sa katotohanan ay
pagkakawanggawa ang mga
parusa. Halimbawa, ang
pagpipi o ang pagpilay kaya.
(Maglalapag siya ng bareta sa
mesa) ipalagay nating bulag
ang kriminal at nakikinabang
dahil sa pagkabulag niya,
hindi ba tataas pa ang kita
niya kung pilay rin siya.
Bulag na, pilay pa. At di lang
siya ang makikinabang. Ang
federacion din, sapagkat
tataas ang kanyang abuloy sa
federacion. ’Yan ang
tinatawag kong maunawaing
parusa: ang pinarurusahan at
nagpaparusa ay kapwa
nakikinabang. (maglalabas
siya ng icepick) (Sa Unang
Tagapagtanong): Ito ho ang
icepick.
Unang Tagapagtanong: (Kay
Serapio) Ano? Handa ka na
ba?
Serapio: Para sa ano?
Ikalawang Tagapagtanong:
Sa pagbulag.
Serapio: Ha?
Ikalawang Tagapagtanong:
Sa pagbulag. Madali lang.
Sanay na itong guwardiya.
Unang Tagapagtanong: Alam
niya kung anong parte ng
mata ang dapat unang
turukin.
Serapio: Pagbulag?
Ikalawang Tagapagtanong:
Huwag kang matakot.
Unang Tagapagtanong: Hindi
ka matetetano.
Ikalawang Tagapagtanong:
Sterilized itong icepick.
Unang Tagapagtanong:
Dalhin nga ninyo siya rito.
(Hihilahin ng mga bantay si
Serpio)
Serapio: Ba’t ninyo ako
bubulagin?
Unang Tagapagtanong: ‘Yan
ang pamantayang parusa.
(Tatangayin ng Ikalawang
Tagapagtanong ang mga
instrumento ng parusa, ang
malaking aklat, at ang
kwaderno. Malalaglag ang
mga ito sa sahig.)
Serapio: Para sa ano?
Ikalawang Tagapagtanong:
Para sa krimen mo.
Serapio: Krimen?
Unang Tagapagtanong:
Huwag kang gumalaw
masyado. (Bibigkasin nang
sabay-sabay ang mga
sumusunod na talumpati)
Serapio: Bitiwan n’yo ako!
Bitiwan n’yo ako! Bitiwan
n’yo ako! Nagsisinungaling
kayo.
Unang Tagapagtanong:
Huwag mo kaming
pagbibintangan. (Bubuhatin
si Serapio ng mga Bantay at
ihihiga sa mesa. Hahawakan
nila ang kanyang paa’t
kamay. Sisigaw at
papalakpak ang mga pulubi.)
Hawakan mo ang kamay
niya! Hawakan mo ang
kamay niya!
Ikalawang Tagapagtanong:
Ang ulo niya! Hawakan n’yo
ang ulo niya!
Serapio: Ano ba ang krimen
ko? (Sandaling tigil)
Unang Tagapagtanong: Ang
ano?
Ikalawang Tagapagtanong:
Ano?
Serapio: Ang krimen ko, ano
ang krimen ko?
Unang Tagapagtanong:
Relaks lang, relaks.
(Mananahimik si Serapio) O,
ano ang nais mong malaman?
Serapio: Ano ho ang krimen
ko?
Unang Tagpagtanong: Ang
krimen mo! ‘Yun lang pala.
Ikalawang Tagapagtanong:
Di mo sinabi agad. (Pupulutin
niya ang malaking aklat mula
sa sahig)
Unang Tagapagtanong:
Sigaw ka lang nang sigaw
diyan. (titindig ang dalawang
tagapagtanong sa plataporma,
bubuksan ng Unang
Tagapagtanong ang malaking
aklat, at hahanap ng pahinang
mababasa ang dalawang
Tagapagtanong)
Ikalawang Tagapagtanong:
Ang krimen ni Mang Serapio.
Dalawang Tagapagtanong:
Ang buhay ng tao’y
lansangan ng hirap;
ang mundo’y daigdig ng kirot
at dahas.
Pagsasala’y sakit ng ating
pagkatao,
Pag-aaruga ng bata ang
krimen ni Mang Serapio.
Krimen mo mang Serapio!
Unang Tagapagtanong: At
wika pa sa aming aklat:
Dalawang Tagapagtanong:
Bawal mag-aruga ng bata o
asawa,
ang taunang kita’y
nawawalan ng pera.
Unang Tagapagtanong:
Ginagasta mo ang pera ng
federacion para sa isang bata.
Ikalawang Tagapagtanong:
Magpabulag ka na nang
makauwi na tayo nang
maaga.
Serapio: Ngunit wala naman
akong batang inaaruga, a.
(Sandaling tigil)
Unang Tagapagtanong: Ano?
Serapio: Wala akong batang
inaaruga. (Sandaling tigil)
Ikalawang Tagapagtanong:
Ginoong Serapio, huwag ka
nang magsinungaling.
Serapio: Hindi ako
nagsisinungaling.
Unang Tagapagtanong:
Huwag mong lokohin itong
Hukuman.
Serapio: Wala akong
niloloko.
Hukom: Ang parusa sa
pagbubulaan sa Hukuman ay
pagpipi.
Serapio: Sinasabi ko ang
katotohanan. (Sandaling tigil)
Unang Tagapagtanong:
Kaaamin mo lang na may
anak ka.
Ikalawang Tagapagtanong:
Narinig kita. Narinig ka
naming lahat.
Unang Tagapagtanong: At
itong anak mo’y isang babae.
Ikalawang Tagapagtanong:
Ikaw mismo ang nagsabi.
Unang Tagapagtanong: Ang
pangalan pa nga ay Sol.
Ikalawang Tagapagtanong:
Sinabi mo ‘yan! Sinabi mo!
Unang Tagapagtanong: Hindi
ba inaaruga mo siya?
Serapio: Si Sol ay patay na.
(Sandaling tigil)
Unang Tagapagtanong: Ha?
Hukom: Patay na siya? Si
Sol, patay na?
Serapio: Tatlong taon nang
patay. Sinagasaan ng dyip.
Patay na siya. Patay.
Unang Tagapagtanong:
Tunay na malungkot ang
iyong kuwento. Pinipiga mo
ang aming puso.
Ikalawang Tagapagtanong:
Walang alinlangang mahusay
ka sa sining ng pangbobola.
Serapio: Patay na siya!
Unang Tagapagtanong:
Magsalaysay ka sana ng
kuwentong higit na kapani-
paniwala kaysa riyan.
Serapio: Totoo ang sinasabi
ko! (Sandaling tigil)
Ikalawang Tagapagtanong:
Totoo ha? May tatlong saksi
kami ginoo,tatlong saksi na
nanubok sa’yo, araw, gabi.
Unang Tagapagtanong:
Dalawang linggo silang
nagbantay.
Ikalawang Tagapagtanong:
Mga saksi sila sa krimen mo.
Serapio: Nagsisinungaling
sila! Wala akong batang
inaaruga.
Unang Tagapagtanong:
Titignan natin.
Ikalawang Tagapagtanong:
Lalabas din ang katotohanan.
Unang Tagapagtanong: Kung
sila ang nagsisinungaling, sila
ang paparusahan, ngunit kung
ikaw ang sinungaling – (Sa
mga Pulubi) Pumaritosa
harap ang tatlong saksi.
(Titindig ang tatlong saksi)
Hukom: (Sa tatlong saksi)
Kayo na naman?
Unang Saksi: Oho.
Hukom: Kayo na lang palagi
ang nagpapabulag sa iba.
Ikalawang Saksi: Talagang
ganyan ho ang buhay.
Ikatlong Saksi: Manananggol
lang ho kami ng kalinisan
nitong federacion.
Unang Saksi: Mga taga-
patnubay ng kabutihan nitong
lipunan.
Hukom: Kayo ba ang unang
nagsumbong ng kanyang
krimen?
Unang Saksi: Oho.
Hukom: (Sa mga manonood)
Pues, ayon ho sa batas ng
aming federacion, kung
mapapatunayan nila ang
krimen ng nasasakdal, kanila
ang lahat ng kasangkapan ni
Ginoong Serapio at diyes
porsyento ng kanyang
kinikita. (Lalakad ang tatlong
saksi sa plataporma.
Dadaluhungin kaagad ni
Serapio ang Ikalawang
Tagapagtanong)
Serapio: Buwaya!
Unang Tagapagtanong: (Sa
mga Bantay) hawakan ninyo
siya! (Hahawakan ng mga
Bantay si Serapio at hihilahin
sa sulok ng acting area sa
gawing kaliwa ng lugar ng
mga Pulubi. Titindig ang mga
saksi sa plataporma.)Bawal
ditto ang kumilos nang
ganyan. Igalang mo itong
hukuman ginoo. (Sandling
tigil) (Sa Saksi) Ngayon, mga
ginoo nitong marangal na
federacion, sabihin ninyo sa
amin ang inyong nakita
kagabi.
Tatlong Saksi: Nakita namin
siya, papauwing may dalang
mamantikang supot sa kilikili
niya, at susulyap-sulyap sa
kana’t kaliwa, takot wari ko
na makita siya.
Dalawang Tagapagtanong:
Takot sa waring makita siya.
Tatlong Saksi: Sinundan
naming siya hanggang sa
bahay niya, nagsitago kami’t
narinig namin siya. Heto na,
Sol, kumain ka na’t isuot
mamaya ang damit mong
pula.
Dalawang tagapagtanong:
Heto na, Sol, kumain ka na’t
isuot mamaya ang damit
mong pula.
Unang Tagapagtanong:
Ginoong Serapio,
pinagbibintangan kita ng
krimen ng pag-aaruga ng
bata. Bubulagin ka ngayon
din!
Serapio: ‘yan ba ang inyong
katibayan?
Ikalawang Tagapagtanong:
Oo, masaya na kami.
Serapio: Kulang pa ‘yang
katibayan n’yo.
Unang Tagapagtanong: At
ano ang kakulangan?
Serapio: Si Sol, ang aking
‘”buhay” na anak. Mga tanga
ang espiya ninyo!
Unang Tagapagtanong:
Huwag kang magsalita nang
ganyan sa harap namin.
Ikalawang Tagapagtanong:
Kami’y mga opisyal nitong
Hukuman.
Serapio: Akala ninyo ay
nahuli na ninyo ako, ano?
Akala ninyo! (Sa tatlong
saksi) May isa ba sa inyong
nakakita sa “buhay” na anak
ko? Wala!
Ikalawang Tagapagtanong:
Wala ba sa inyong nakakita
sa anak niya?
Unang saksi: Narinig naman
naming siyang nagsalita sa
anak niya, gabi-gabi, sa
buong linggong nanubok
kami. (Bibigkasin nang
sabayang sumusunod na
talumpati. Lalapitan at
kakausapin si Serapio isa-isa
ang mga manonood.) At kaya
namin alam na alam ang mga
sinabi niya ay sapagkat -
Serapio: Nagsisinungaling
silang lahat!
Nagsisinungaling silang
lahat! Nagsisinungaling
silang lahat!
Unang Tagapagtanong:
Ginoong Serapio!
Unang Saksi: Sapagkat gabi-
gabi sa isang takdang oras au
naririnig namin siyang paulit-
ulit na nagsasabing, “Heto na,
Sol, kumain ka na’t isuot
mamaya ang damit mong
pula,” at inuulit niya ito gabi-
gabi.
Serapio: Nagsisinungaling
sila! Nagsisinungaling sila
nang maging kanila lahat ang
mga kasangkapan ko!
Ikalawang Tagapagtanong:
Ngunit nakita ba ninyo ang
anak niya?
Tatlong Saksi: Hindi.
Serapio: Ha!
Ikalawang Tagapagtanong:
Kung nagsisinungaling kayo
mapipipi kayo, mapipipi
kayo!
Unang Saksi: (Kay Serapio)
Narinig ka naming nagsalita
sa anak mo!
Serapio: Kung talagang
buhay ang anak ko, dalhin
n’yo siya rito! Dudustain pa
ninyo ang alaala niya.
Kailangan ba kayong
makialam sa buhay ng may
buhay?
Unang Tagapagtanong: Husto
na ‘yan, ginoo!
Serapio: Dalhin n’yo rito ang
anak ko, kung buhay pa siya!
At bulagin n’yo ako.
Unang Tagapagtanong:
Kami’y nagpadala na, ginoo,
kanina pa, ng dalawang
kasapi nitong federacion sa
iyong barung-barong upang
agawin ang anak mo sa
karaniwang oras ng pag-uwi
mo. Nakabalik na sila. (Sa
mga bantay) Nasaan sila?
(Titindig ang dalawang Pilay)
Ikalawang Tagapagtanong: O
ano? Nasaan ang bata?
Unang Pilay: Wala.
Unang Tagapagtanong:
Anong wala? Hindi ba kayo
pumunta sa bahay niya?
Unang Pilay: Oho.
Ikalawang Tagapagtanong:
Hindi ninyo nahuli ang anak?
Ikalawang Pilay: Wala hong
bata roon.
Unang Tagapagtanong: Kung
nagsisinungaling ka-
(Hahampasin ang dalawang
Pilay ng kanyang baston.
Susukot ang mga Pilay)
Unang Pilay: Hindi ho.
Ikalawang Pilay: Wala ho
kaming nakita. Wala ho.
Unang Pilay: Kundi isang
baul.
Ikalawang Pilay: Itong baul
ho, o. (Kakaladkarin nila ang
baul sa hilagang gilid ng
acting area.) (Katahimikan)
Ikalawang Tagapagtanong:
Saan ninyo ito nakita?
Unang Pilay: Sa barung-
barong niya.
Unang Tagapagtanong: Sa
barung-barong niya.
Ikalawang Pilay: Sa isang
sulok, ho.
Unang Pilay: Nakatago sa
ilalim ng mga lumang sako.
Unang Tagapagtanong:
Lumang sako. At hindi n’yo
pa ito nabubuksan?
Unang Pilay: Hindi pa ho.
Ikalawang Pilay:
Nakakandado ho.
Ikalawang Tagapagtanong:
Nakakandado. (Sandaling
tigil) Buksan ninyo ang baul.
(Pupukpukin ng Pilay ng
martilyo nang dalawang
beses ang kandado ng baul)
Serapio: Wala ‘yang laman!
Wala ‘yang laman! Isang
lumang baul na nakita ko
lang sa basurahan.
Unang Tagapagtanong: Ba’t
mo tinatago Ginoong
Serapio?
Serapio: Wala. Ginagamit ko
sa bahay bilang upuan.
Ikalawang Tagapagtanong:
At bakit nakakandado?
Serapio: nakakandado na
‘yan nang makita ko.
Unang Tagapagtanong:
Nagsisinungaling ka,
Ginoong Serapio. Bagung-
bago ang kandado. Wala ni
isang bakas ng kalawang.
Ikaw ang nagkandado nitong
baul.
Serapio: Nakakandado na
‘yan nang nakita ko!
Unang Tagapagtanong: Kung
ganoon, Ginoong Serapio,
hindi mo daramdamin ang
pagbukas naming rito. (Sa
Pilay) Buksan ang baul.
(Dalawang hampas ng
martilyo)
Serapio: Hindi! Huwag.
Ikalawang Tagapagtanong:
Ginoong Serapio,
pinagpapawisan ka.
Serapio: Wala ‘yang laman.
Unang Tagapagtanong: Bakit
mo alam, Ginoong Serapio?
Nagsinungaling ka kanina.
Nabuksan mo na itong baul.
Serapio: Hindi!
Unang Tagapagtanong: Hala!
Buksan mo! (Talong hampas
ng martilyo)
Serapio: Huwag!
Ikalawang Tagapagtanong:
Bakit, Ginoong Serapio?
Serapio: Akin ‘yang baul.
Unang Tagapagtanong:
Inamin mo rin.
Serapio: Huwag ninyong
buksan ‘yan.
Ikalawang Tagapagtanong:
Bakit? May itinatago ka ba sa
amin?
Serapio: Balewala sa inyo
ang laman niyan.
Unang Tagapagtanong:
titignan natin. Ituloy ang
pagbukas. (Apat na hampas
ng martilyo)
Serapio: Hindi n’yo dapat
pakialaman ’yan! Kailangan
ba kayong makialam sa
buhay ng may buhay?
Unang Tagapagtanong:
Sasabihin ko sa’yo kung ano
ang malalahad pagbukas
namin nito! Katibayan ng
krimen mo!
Serapio: Wala kayong
matutuklasan diyan. (Uulitin
niya ang linyang ito
habangnagsasalita ang unamg
Tagapagtanong)
Ikalawang Tagapagtanong:
Ano ang tinatago mo riyan?
Ang mga damit ng anak mo?
Ang mga laruan niya? Ituloy
ang pagbukas! (Patuloy ang
mga hampas ng martilyo
habang nagsasalita ang
Unang Tagapatanong at si
Serapio)
Serapio: Huwag!
Unang Tagapagtanong: Wala
kang kapangyarihan sa
Hukuman ito, ginoo!
Serapio: Ngunit, akin ‘yang
baul!
Ikalawang Tagapagtanong: E,
ano? E, ano?
Serapio: Huwag ninyong
buksan ‘yan!
Unang Tagapagtanong:
Pigilin mo kami! Pigilin mo
kami!
Serapio: Papatayin ko kayo!
Papatayin ko kayo!
Ikalawang Tagapagtanong:
(Sa mga Bantay) Hawakan
ninyo siya!
Serapio: Ibubunyag ko kayo
sa pulis! (Hihinto ang
pagmamartilyo) Ibubunyag
ko kayo sa pulis! Ibubunyag
ko kayo at ang inyong
kalupitan! Ibubunyag ko ang
inyong pandaraya sa madla!
Ibubunyag ko ang inyong
pagmamalupit sa aming lahat;
ibubunyag ko ang inyong
sadyang pagpapabaya sa mga
matatandang kasapi!
Ibubunyag ko itong
federacion sa pulis!
(Katahimikan)
Hukom: (Hahampasin ng
Hukom ang kanyang podium)
Walang makakatulong sa’yo,
Ginoong Serpio, wala!
(Kakaladkarin si Serapio ng
mga Bantay sa patimog-
silangang sulok ng acting
area. Lumupagi si Serapio.)
Ni ang pulis, ang pahayagan,
kahit sino man sa mundong
ito. Ang mga hiyaw mo’y di
maririnig; ang bawat kilos
mo’y mabibigo, walang
papansin sa’yo. Dumaing ka
pa, at bukas makalawa,
matatagpuan ang iyong
magang katawan sa mga itim
na bulaklak ng Pasig. (sa mga
pulubi) Tandaan ninyo ‘yan!
May kuwarenta pesos kayong
dapat ibigay sa federacion
araw-araw. At ibibigay niyo
ang perang iyan sa amin. At
kapag hindi, kung kayo’y
nakakakita, pipitasin namin
ang inyong mga mata; kung
kayo’y nakakapagsalita,
puputulin namin ang inyong
mga dila; at kung kayo’y
nakakalakad, babasagin
naming ang inyong mga buto;
at kung di pa rin ninyo
susundin ang batas na ito, ang
bawat daliri ninyo’y isa-isang
tatanggalin. Malungkot nga
ang buhay sa federaciong ito,
ngunit kasapi na kayo
hanggang kamatayan.
Kamatayan lamang ang
makapaliligtas sa’yo kapag
sumali ka sa federciong ito.
Buksan ang baul!
(Patuloy na naman ang
pagmamartilyo habang
nagsasalita si Serapio. Dapat
lunurin ng mga hampas ng
martilyo ang karamihan ng
mga salita ng talumpati ni
Serapio).
Serapio: Bale wala sa inyo
ang laman niyan. Bale wala.
Huwag na ninyong buksan.
Balewala sa inyo ang laman
niyan. (sandaling tigil) Hindi
naman ninyo mauunawaan.
Hindi naman ninyo
mauunawaan. Kung tangkain
kong magpaliwanag, kung
tangkain kong sabihin sa inyo
kung bakit, hindi naman
ninyo mauunawaan.
Pagtatawanan lamang ninyo
ako. Anong masasabi ko sa
inyo? (Sandaling tigil)
Nabubulok na kamay,
nabubulok na balat,
nabubulok na laman,
nabubulok na ugat,
nabubulok na buto. (Masisira
ang kandado; Katahimikan.)
(Sisilip ang dalawang
Tagapagtanong sa baul.
Titindig ang ilang Pulubi.
Itataas ng unang
tagapagtanong ang isang
manika.)
Unang Tagapagtanong:
Manika? (tatakbo si Serapio
at aagawin at hahagkan ang
manika)
Serapio: Sol! Sol!
Ikalawang Tagapagtanong: Si
Sol! (magtatawanan ang mga
pulubi)
(Patuloy ang tawanan ng mga
pulubi habang nagsasalita si
Serapio. Dapat lunurin ng
tanawin ang mga linya ni
Serapio.)
Serapio: Sol! Sol! Anak.
Anak. Sol. Anak. Ang
buwan. Ang bituin. Ang
langit. Sol. Sol. Anak. Ang
bituin. Ang hangin. Sol. Ang
langit. Hangin. Sol ko. Anak.
Diwa. Imahen. Kristal at
buhay. Buhay. Buhay. Sol.
Anak ko. (Hihina ang
tawanan ng mga Pulubi.
Titigan ng buong korte si
Serapio.) Larawan ni
Consuelo. Sol na anak ni Sol.
Sol. Kristal at diwa. (Tahimik
ang buong korte.) Diwa.
Diwa. Ang buwan. Ang
bituin. Ang langit. Ang
hangin. Ang sinag.
(Mapapansin ng Unang
Tagapagtanong ang mga
mukha ng mga Pulubi.) Ang
araw. Sol! Ang araw! Sol!
Ang araw! Son na anak ni
Sol! Consuelo. Anh
jangin…ang
araw…sol(Aagawin ng unang
tagapagtanong ang manika.)
Ikalawang Tagapagtanong:
(Matinis) Tatay ka ng trapo?
(Tatawa ng malakas ang mga
Pulubi. Matinis ang tawanan
nila.)
Serapio: Bitiwan mo siya.
Bitiwan mo siya.
Unang Tagpagtanong:
Ginagasta mo ang pera ng
federacion para rito?
Serapio: Pabayaan mo ako!
Huwag mo akong
pakialaman!
Ikalawang Tagpagtanong:
Isang pamahid sa tae ng
kabayo! (Matinis na tawanan
muli.)
Serapio: Ang anak ko ay
maganda! At buhay. Buhay.
Ang anak ko ay buhay at ang
kagandahan ng araw.
Unang Tagpagtanong:
Kapok! (Hahagutin niya ang
manika; katahimikan;
Biglang lulundag si Serapio
sa Tagapagtanong.)
Serapio: Bitiwan mo siya!
(Tatakbo ang
TAGAPAGTANONG sa
kanyang mesa’t ihahagis ang
manika sa mga Pulubi.)
Unang Tagapagtanong:
Kunin mo siya! (Sisigaw ang
mga Pulubi’t sasaluhin ang
manika sa iba’t ibang sulok
ng silid habang nagsisigaw at
nagsisitawiran. Hahabulin
naman ni Serapio ang
manika. Mahahagis ang
manika sa sahig, ngunit bago
mapulot ni Serapio ang
manika, sisigaw ang Unang
Tagapagtanong.)
Bulagin natin siya! Bulagin!
(Uulitin ng mga Pulubi ang
sigaw…Kakaladkarin nila si
Serapio sa plataporma. Lahat
sila’y nagsisigaw at
nagtatawanan. Biglang
maririnig ng mga manonood
ang hiyaw ng binulag na
Serapio. Biglang tatahimik
ang mga Pulubi’t lalayo kay
Serapio. Babangon si
Serapio.Duguan ang kanyang
mukha. Duguan din ang mga
kamay ng ilang mga Pulubi;
gayundin ang kanilang mga
damit. Walang-imik ang mga
Pulubi’t si Serapio. Susuray-
suray na lalakad si Serapio.
Mararapa siya’t gagapang.
Aapuhapin niya ang manika.
Biglang lalabas ang mga
Pulubi maliban sa tatlo.
Papalibutan nila si Serapio
kasama ng mga
tagapagtanong. Mahihipo ni
Serapio ang manika, ngunit
bago niya makuha ito,
sisipain ng isang pulubi ang
manika sa Pulubing nasa
likod ni Serapio. Uulitin itong
laro ng Hipo-Sipa. Biglang
titigil ang mga Pulubi’t
Tagapagtanong. Lalabas ang
mga Pulubi. Aakapin ni
Serapio ang manika. Wala
siyang imik.)
Guwardiya! Ilabas mo nga
siya. (Kakaladkarin ng mga
guwardiya si Serapio sa labas
ng silid. Aayusin ng mga
Tagapagtanong ang kanilang
mga kasangkapan.)
Hukom: Paminsan-minsan na
lang itong mga paglilitis.
Ikalawang Tagapagtanong:
Oo nga eh. Di tulad ng dati.
Hukom: Kelan pa ang
susunod?
Ikalawang Tagapagtanong:
Marso pa.
Hukom: Isa pang buwan.
(Lalabas ang Hukom at
Ikalawang Tagapagtanong;
Katahmikan.)
Unang Tagapagtanong: (Sa
mga manonood) Umaasa
kami na nauunawaan ninyo
kung bakit kami napilitang
parusahan si G. Serapio.
Tinuturuan niya ang mga
kasaping magkaroon ng mga
haraya, ng mga pangarap, na
di naman matutupad at
dadagdag lamang sa kanilang
lumbay. Ang ginawa niya’y
nakasisira sa mga kasapi
nitong federacion.
Tinutulungan lang naming
sila nang parusahan namin si
G. Serapio. Sinusunod
lamang naming ang mga
batas nitong federacion. Ang
ano mang federacion ay
nangangailangan ng kaayusan
ng mga batas. Ang maninira
nitong kaayusan ay
mapanganib. Ang ginawa ni
Mang Serapio’y salungat sa
aming mga batas. Ang
ginawa niya’y pulos malisya.
Ipinagtanggol lang naming
ang aming kapwa tao. Ito’y
dapat ninyong lubos na
maunawaan, lubos na
maunawaan. (Katahimikan.)
Nakita ninyo sila – isa-isang
nagsialisan. Babalik din sila.
Babalik.
Alam niyo, nagkamali si G.
Serapio nang sinabi niyang
kami’y sadyang pabaya sa
mga matatandang kasapi.
Ang mga matatandang
kasapi, ang mga matatandang
pulubi, ang siya mismong
ayaw mabuhay. Pilitin mo
man sila, ayaw nilang
kumain, umiinom lang ng
kaunting tubig araw-araw,
sapagkat wala silang makita
kundi karimlan sa langit at
hinihintay na lang nila ang
pagdapo ni Kamatayan sa
kanilang durungawan.
(Sandaling tigil.)
Bali-bali na an gaming
pakpak. Wala sa amin ang
lakas upang liparin ang
napakataas na pader na
kongkreto. Marahil ay
ibinitin na nga ni Mang
Serapio sa harap naming ang
susi sa aming piitan, ngunit
napakahirap hiwain ang
sarili’t ilahad ang pag-ibig.
Ang balon ay malalim, at sa
kailaliman ang nasang
lumipad at hanapin ang sinag
ng araw, ngunit ang gula-
gulanit na diwa’y mahinang
wumawagayway lamang.
(Lalabas siya.)