II.

ELEMENTS OF THE SHORT STORY

A short story is a short work of fiction. Fiction, as you know, is prose writing about imagined events
and characters. Prose writing differs from poetry in that it does not depend on verses, meters or
rhymes for its organization and presentation.
Novels are another example of fictional prose and are much longer than short stories. Some short
stories, however, can be quite long. If a short story is a long one, say fifty to one hundred pages, we
call it a novella.
American literature contains some of the world's best examples of the short story. Readers around
the world enjoy the finely crafted stories of American writers such as O. Henry, Stephen Crane, Jack
London, Mark Twain and Edgar Allen Poe.
What makes these authors such remarkable short story writers? They are true masters at combining
the five key elements that go into every great short story: character, setting, conflict, plot and
theme.
The ELLSA web-site uses one of these five key elements as the focus of each of the five on-line
lessons in the Classics of American Literature section. In each lesson, you will explore a single
American short story from the USIA Ladder Series and discover how the author uses a certain
element.
The definitions on the right are repeated on the first page of each short story lesson.
CHARACTER
A character is a
person, or
sometimes even
an animal, who
takes part in the
action of a short
story or other
literary work.

SETTING

PLOT

CONFLICT

The setting of a
short story is the
time and place in
which it happens.
Authors often use
descriptions of
landscape,
scenery,
buildings,
seasons or
weather to
provide a strong
sense of setting.

A plot is a series
of events and
character actions
that relate to the
central conflict.

The conflict is a
struggle between
two people or
things in a short
story. The main
character is
usually on one
side of the central
conflict.
On the other side,
the main
character may
struggle against
another important
character, against
the forces of
nature, against
society, or even
against something
inside himself or
herself (feelings,
emotions and
illness).

IBALON (THE THREE HEROES OF BICOL EPIC)

THEME
The theme is the
central idea or
belief in a short
story.

A long time ago, there was a rich land called Ibalong. The hero Baltog, who came from Botavora of
the brave clan of Lipod, came to this land when many monsters were still roaming in its very dark
forests. He decided to stay and was the first to cultivate its field and to plant them with gabi.
Then one night, a monstrous, wild boar known as Tandayag saw these field and destroyed the crops.
Upon knowing this, Baltog decided to look for this boar with all his courage and patient. At last, as
soon as he saw it, he fearlessly wrestled with it, with all his might. Baltog was unafraid. He was strong
and brave. Though the Tandayag had very long fangs, he was able to pin down the monstrous, wild
boar and break apart its very big jawbones. With this, Tandayag fell and died.
After this fight, Baltog went to his house in Tondo, carrying the Tandayag broken bones. Then he
hung it on a talisay tree in front of his house. Upon learning of the victory of their Chief Baltog, the
people prepared a feast and celebrated. The very big jawbones of the dead boar became an
attraction for everyone. Thus, came the tribes of Panikwason and Asog to marvel it.
The second hero who came to the land of Ibalong was Handyong. Together with his men, he had to
fight thousands of battles, and face many dangers to defeat the monster. As warriors, they first fought
the one-eyed monster with the tree necks in the land of Ponong. For ten months, they fought without
rest. And they never stopped fighting until all these monsters were killed.
Handyong and his men made their next attack against the giant flying sharks called Triburon which
had hardly flesh and sawlike teeth that could crush rocks. They continued fighting until the defeat of
the last Triburon.
They tamed the wild carabaos. They even drove away the giant and very fierce Sarimao which had
very sharp fingernails. And using their spears and arrows, they killed all the crocodiles which were as
big as boats. With all these killings, the rivers and swamps of Ibalong turned red with blood. It was at
this time that the savage monkeys became frightened and hid themselves.
Among the enemies of Handyong and his men, the serpent Oryol was the hardest to kill. Having a
beautiful voice, Oryol could change its image to deceive its enemies. To capture it, Handyong tried
different ways. But Oryol escaped every one of it and disappeared.
So alone and unafraid, Handyong decide to look for Oryol in the heart of the forest. He followed the
beautiful voice and was almost enchanted by it in his pursuit. Days and nights passed until Oryol
came to admire Handyongs bravery and gallantry. Then the serpent helped the hero to conquer
monsters, thus restoring peace to the entire Ibalong.
In one the areas of Ibalong called Ligmanan, Handyong built a town. Under his leadership and his
laws, slaves and masters were treated equally. The people planted rice and because of their high
regard of him they named this rice after him. He built the first boat to ride the waves of Ibalongs seas.
Through his good example, his people became inspired and came up with their own inventions. There
was Kimantong who made the plow, harrow and other farming tools. Hablom who invented the first
loom for weaving abaca clothes, Dinahong an Agta, who created the stove, cooking pot, earthen jar
and other kitchen utensils, and Sural who brilliantly thought of syllabary and started to write on a
marble rock. This was a golden period in Ibalong.
Then suddenly, there came a big flood caused by Unos, with terrifying earthquakes. The volcanoes of
Hantik, Kulasi and Isarog erupted. Rivers changed their direction and the seas waves rolled high.
Destruction was everywhere. Soon, the earth parted, mountains sank, a lake was formed, and many
towns in Ibalong were ruined.
Then appeared the giant Rabot, half-man and half-beast, with awesome and terrifying powers.
People were asking who will fight against Rabot. So Bantong, the third hero was called. He was a
good friend of Handyong. He was ordered to kill the new monster on Ibalong. To do this, he took with
him a thousand warriors to attack Rabots den. But using his wisdom against Rabot, he did not attack
the giant right away. He first observed Rabots ways. Looking around the giants den, he discovered
that there were many rocks surrounding it, and these were the people who were turned into rocks by
Rabot.
Bantong also learned that Rabot loved to sleep during the day and stayed awake at night. So, he
waited. When Rabot was already sleeping very soundly, Bantong came hear him. He cut the giant
into two with his very sharp bolo and without any struggle, Rabot died. So Ibalong was at peace once
more.

Characters of the story:

o Baltog - First hero of Ibalon who defeated the Tandayag.
o Handyong - Second hero who fought thousands of battles and defeated lots of
monsters particularly the One-eyed monster, Triburon, the Giant Carabaos, Sarimao,
Crocodiles, and Serpent Oryol.
o Bantong - Third hero of Ibalon; a good friend of Handyong.
o Kimantong - He made the farming tools.
o Hablom - He invented the first loom for weaving abaca clothes.
o Dinahong - an Agta; created the kitchen utensils.
o Sural - he is the one who brilliantly thought of syllabary; he started to write on a marble
rocks.
o Tandayag - a monstrous wild boar killed by Baltog.
o One-eyed monster - a monster with three necks killed by Handyong.
o Triburon - a giant flying shark at the same time defeated by Handyong.
o Giant Carabaos & Crocodiles - monster enemy killed by Handyong.
o Sarimao - a monster with sharp fingernails.
o Serpent Oryol - a serpent; hardest enemy of Handyong.
o Giant Rabot - half-man and half-beast; last enemy of Bantong.

Settings:
o Ibalong
o Tondo
o Ligmana
o Heart of the forest

Filipino Tradition:
o Protecting ones own territory.

Values of the story:

o Bravery
o Having Wisdom

THE PROWESS OF ALIGUYON

Long ago in Hannanga there lived a rich couple, Amtulao and Dumulao. They owned the longest and
widest of the rice terraces that covered the mountainsides, and their harvests were the most plentiful.
Their thatched house, large enough to contain three of their neighbors huts, had piles of red and
white camote. Buried in the earth were jars of rice wine. Amtulaos dogs were fat and well fed, not
lean and starved looking as were the dogs of his neighbors. But will all their wealth, Amtulao and
Dululao were unhappy, for they were childless. They offered numerous sacrifices to the spirits; and
they lived frugally and simply feeling somehow that austerity and lack of ostentation would please the
anitos.
In the end their prayers were answered, and Dumulao gave birth to Aliguyon, a sturdy and handsome
child.
Even as an infant, Aliguyon was precocious. He quickly learned the songs with which his
mother lulled him to sleep, and in no time he could recite the long prayers chanted by the warriors
on Hannanga. He even knew by heart the village lore, the stories that the old folks of the village told,
reciting them word for word as he had heard them in the cool evenings. But what pleased Amtulao
most was Aliguyons skill with the spear and the shield. Amtulao made for him a little spear; and when
at the age of three Aliguyon speared his first fish, Amtulao offered a pig as a sacrifice to the gods in
thanksgiving. At five Aliguyon had speared wild chickens, at seven he was an accepted companion of
Amtulao
on
hunting
trips.
Among his playmates Aliguyon was a favorite. He was accepted as the leader, and no one challenged
his leadership,for could he not spin a top better than anyone else? And could he not kill the
strongest tops by hitting them with the pointed stem of his own top? Amtulao loved his son and
carefully taught him all the arts of hunting and fishing that he knew, and he told the boy all the stories
of valor and prowess of which he knew so many. But always, he ended with the story about his bitter
enemy in the village across the mountain. Pangaiwan of Daligdigan had to be conquered before
Amtulao
could
die
in
peace.
So when Aliguyon reached manhood, he called his childhood friends, now skilled workers, and talked
to them about the glories of war, the prize they could bring back, and the adventures and fame
awaiting them if they joined him in an expedition to Daligdigan. Eagerly his friends ran for their spears
and shields, and with provisions for three days, Aliguyon and ten warriors set forth. When they
reached the enemy village, Aliguyon challenged Pangaiwan to fight, but Pangaiwan was old. Instead,
up rose Pumbakhayon, his manly son, as skilled a warrior and as strong and keen eyed as Aliguyon.
For three years the two men fought, and when they rested, theor friends fought man to man.
But so well matched were the men, so equal in the arts of war, that no one was beaten. Each combat
was a draw, each encounter ended with no one seriously wounded. At last Aliguyon and
Pumbakhayon grew to admire each other. The people of Daligdigan, who had watched the strangers
with suspicion, learned to like them for their courteous bearing and fair fighting. And the warriors of
Hannanga
found
the
girls
in
Daligdigan
winningly
shy
and
sweet.
One day, therefore, while Aliguyon and Pumbakhayon sat resting from a hotly contested fight,
Pumbakhayon remarked: What a waste of time! If were not enemies, we could be at home drinking
rice wine and eating broiled river fish or roasted meat. But were enemies even though neither of us
did the other any harm. Aliguyon replied, Ah, how truly you speak. Perhaps the anitos do not favor
this fight, for neither has won. Perhaps the gods put your words into your mouth and this feeling in my
heart, for I no longer wish to kill you, O Pumbakhayon. His words fell on the ears of the listening
warriors and on those of the villagers watching the combat. With a loud shout of approval, the
warriors ran to their leaders and carried them to the house of Pumbakhayon where old Pangaiwan
waited. Preparations began for a huge celebration. Squealing pigs were drag to be killed. The fattest
dogs were killed and cooked. The fields were scoured for river fish and snails. Prized camotes, violet
and orange, glutinous and sweet, were boiled or roasted. Bananas were laid out the bunches; guavas
and berries were heaped high, and in white scrubbed wooden bowls steamed small-grained upland
rice, sweet smelling of fragrant herbs and banana leaves, and black-bottomed earthen pots.
Everyone came to the feast, and as the jars of rice wine were emptied, the friendship between the
strangers
from
Hannanga
and
the
people
of
Daligdigan
grew.
All throughout the feast, Aliguyon was fascinate by the light movements of Bugan, by her gaiety and
her poise. At the end of the three-day feast, he approached Pangaiwan and said, O Pangaiwan,
once my fathers enemy but now his friend, grant, I beg of you, this one request. Let us bind our
friendship with ties that even death cannot break. Give me your daughter Bugan for my wife. I love
her; she is to me the brilliant sun that warms the earth and drives away the chill of the night. She is to

me the golden moon that brightens the dark and drives away the weariness of the days work.
Without her I cannot return to my village as I left it, for with her I have left heart and my thoughts and
my
happiness.
Pangaiwan listened, and the men grew quite. Bugan blushed and bent her head. Fourteen times her
father had harvested his yearly crops since she was born; she knew that after two or more harvests
her father would begin looking critically at the young men who talked to her. But Aliguyon was such a
hero, so strong and brave, so well-spoken of and handsome! Would her father allow her to leave the
house
and
follow
Aliguyon?
Pangaiwan looked at his daughter fondly. He could read her thoughts as she looked at
him mutely from under shyly lowered eyelashes. Clearing his throat, he answered slowly:
`Aliguyon, you are my son. The spirits are good. They have given me a worthy man for a son-in-law.
Take Bugan. I pray the anitos that she will be a worthy wife for you and a dutiful daughter-in-law for
Amtulao and Dumulao. His words were drowned by the joyous shouts of Aliguyon and his men.
Aliguyon sprang into the air, yelling with happiness, and his friends chanted the first words of the
courting song. The women took up the rhythm with their hands on bronze gongs and hollowed-out
logs, and everyone crowded around to see Aliguyon mimic the strut of a rooster as he danced before
Bugan.
In triumph he led her to his father in Hannanga, and kneeling before Amtulao and Dumulao, he cried:
O Father! O Mother! Your enemy in Daligdigan is no more.Pangaiwan, your enemy, no
longer lived. In his place is Pangaiwan, the father-in-law of your only son Aliguyon. If you love me,
love too the man whom your son promised to honor as the father of his wife. Behold, I have brought
you my wife, Bugan of Daligdigan, the lovely daughter of Pangaiwan. I bring her to you, Father, so
that someone can pound the dried meat for you when you are hungry. I brought her to you, O my
mother, so that someone can carry water to you when you want to drink.
I destroyed your enemy by making him a friend. Therefore, O Father, you can die in peace, for we
have conquered him. But Bugan conquered my heart, and with her I can live in peace.
Thus did peace come to Amtulao and Dumulao. They lived to see Bugan enrich their lives with
several grandchildren. Often Amtulao and Dumulao were honored guests at Daligdigan, in the house
of Pangaiwan; and as often as they visited Pangaiwan, so often did he go to Hannanga to visit his
grandchildren and to talk of old times with Amtulao and Dumulao.

THE BREAD OF SALT

It was his assigned duty to be up early in the morning and be on his way to the bakers to buy rolls
and pan de sal for the breakfast table. He was fourteen and he has already got used to his task. On
his way he thought of the bread of salt pan de sal and wondered how it was made, what gives its
flavor and shape. He looked around the landscape at daybreak and once again remembered how
much he adored Aida, the niece of the old Spaniard whom he thought he was destined to serve, just
like his late Grandfather. At times he thought it was his duty to stay in the house in the service of the
young maiden. He even dreamed that she likewise keeps an intense emotion for him, which she will
only dare manifest in the right time.
He was a diligent student and violinist. It didnt take long before he was transferred from second to
first violin and before long, he was invited to join Pete Saez band and perform in one engagement
after another. He was happy to earn money through his own skill, although it was with utter bitterness
that he had to endure rehearsals despite the outward disapproval of his aunt against his chosen field.
She thought musicians are no better than dogs scurrying to get their mouths on food scraps in trash
bins. But he didnt mind, thinking that the money hell earn from playing the violin will allow him the
capacity to buy a brooch and beautiful stationery for his ardent love letters to Aida.
Then he was invited, together with Saez band, to theasalto for Don Esteban's daughters who were
arriving from Manila. He was honored to be in a sophisticated gathering and get a magnified look at
Aidas stunning beauty. He was beside himself with immeasurable joy and pride but will later on be
displaced by an equally immeasurable embarrassment at the buffet table after Aida caught him
sneaking some sweets into the packet under his shirt. She nonetheless offered him a big package of
food after the party but due to his intense shame, he lost the composure to react, along with the entire
ardor he used to shower the maiden with. After the party they led the guests home with their music.
Then with Paez, he went to the bakery to buy pan de sal with his own money. But the bread wasnt
ready yet so they waited.

CHARACTERS:
BOY main characters of the play (NOTE: He doesnt have a name in the story)
AIDA object of the boys affections
PETE SAEZ guy who invites the boy to join his band
OTHER BANDMATES preferably two guys
JOSEFINA AND ALICIA Aidas cousins
SETS:
SET IN 1930s
PHILIPPINES
BAKESHOP
AIDAS HOUSE (FOR THE PARTY)
SCHOOL (THIS IS WHERE PETE INVITES THE BOY TO JOIN THE BAND.)

THE MATS
For my family, Papas homecoming from his many inspection trips around the Philippines was always
an occasion to remember. But there was one homecoming - from a trip to the south that turned out
to be more memorable than any of the others.
Papa was an engineer. He inspected new telegraph lines for the government. He had written from
Lopez, Tayabas:
I have just met a marvelous matweaver a real artist and I shall have a surprise for you. I asked
him to weave a sleeping mat for every one of the family. I can hardly wait to show them to you
After a few days Papa wrote again:
I am taking the Bicol Express tomorrow. I have the mats with me, and they are beautiful. I hope to be
home to join you for dinner.
Mama read Papas letter aloud during the noon meal. Talk about the mats flared up like wildfire.
I like the feel of mats, said my brother Antonio. I like the smell of new mats.
Oh, but these mats are different, said Susanna, my younger sister. They have our names woven
into them. There is a different color for each of us.
A mat was not something new to us. There was already one such mat in the house. It was one we
seldom use, a mat older than any of us.
This mat had been given to Mama by her mother when Mama and Papa were married. It had been
with them ever since. It was used on their wedding night and afterwards only on special occasions. It
was a very beautiful mat. It had green leaf borders and gigantic red roses woven onto it. In the middle
it said:
Emilia y Jaime
Recuerdo
The mat did not ever seem to grow old. To Mama it was always as new as it had been on her
wedding night. The folds and creases always looked new and fresh. The smell was always the smell
of a new mat. Watching it was an endless joy.
Mama always kept that mat in her trunk. When any of us got sick, the mat was brought out and the
sick child made to sleep on it. Every one of us had at some time in our life slept on it. There had been
sickness in our family. And there had been deaths.
That evening Papa arrived. He had brought home a lot of fruit from the fruit-growing provinces he had
passed in his travels. We sampled pineapple, lanzones, chico, atis, santol, watermelon, guayabano,
and avocado. He had also brought home a jar of preserved sweets.
Dinner seemed to last forever. Although we tried not to show it, we could hardly wait to see the mats.
Finally, after a long time over his cigar, Papa rose from his chair and crossed the room. He went to
the corner where his luggage was piled. From the heap he pulled out a large bundle. Taking it under
his arm, he walked to the middle of the room where the light was brightest. He dropped the bundle to
the floor. Bending over and balancing himself on his toes, he pulled at the cord that bound it. It was
strong. It would not break. It would not give way. Finally, Alfonso, my youngest brother, appeared at
Papas side with a pair of scissors.
Papa took the scissors. One swift movement, snip!, and the bundle was loose!
Papa turned to Mama and smiled. These are the mats, Miling, he said.
He picked up the topmost mat in the bundle.
This is yours, Miling. Mama stepped forward to the light, wiping her still moist hands against the
folds of her apron. Shyly, she unfolded the mat without a word.
We all gathered around the spread mat.
It was a beautiful mat. There was a name in the very center of it: Emilia. Interwoven into the large,
green letters where flowers cadena de amor.
Its beautiful, Jaime. Mama whispered, and she could not say any more.
And this, I know, is my own, said Papa of the next mat in the bundle. His mat was simple and the
only colors on it were purple and cold.
And this, for you, Marcelina.
I had always thought my name was too long. Now I was glad to see that my whole name was spelled
out on the mat, even if the letters were small. Beneath my name was a lyre, done in three colors.
Papa knew I loved music and played the piano. I was delighted with my new mat.
And this is for you, Jose. Jose is my oldest brother. He wanted to become a doctor.

This is yours, Antonio.

And this, yours, Juan.
And this is yours, Jesus.
One by one my brothers and sisters stepped forward to receive their mats. Mat after mat was
unfolded. On each mat was a symbol that meant something special to each of us.
At last everyone was shown their mats. The air was filled with excited talk.
You are not to use the mats until you go the university, Papa said.
But, Jaime, Mama said, wonderingly, there are some more mats left in the bundle.
Yes there are three more mats to unfold. They are for the others who are not here Papas voice
grew soft and his eyes looked far away.
I said I would bring home a sleeping mat for every one of the family. And so I did, Papa said. Then
his eyes fell on each of us. Do you think Id forgotten them? Do you think I had forgotten them? Do
you think I could forget them?
This is for you, Josefina!
And this, for you, Victoria!
And this, for you, Concepcion!
Papas face was filled with a long-bewildered sorrow.
Then I understood. The mats were for my three sisters, who died when they were still very young.
After a long while, Papa broke the silence. We must not ever forget them, he said softly. They may
be dead but they are never really gone. They are here, among us, always in our hearts.
The remaining mats were unfolded in silence. The colors were not bright but dull. I remember that the
names of the dead among us did not glow o shine as did the other living names.
I.SETTINGS:
a. Place: Nana Emilias House
b.Time: The time setting for the action is in the afternoon. This storyhappened somewhat between
1950s up to the present time. There is no specific season for the said story but
the story evolves inthe evening.
II.CHARACTERS:
a.Protagonist: Mr. Angeles
b.Antagonist: Himself
III.PLOT:a.Exposition: The story is started by Mr. Angeles who is coming home for hisperiodic
inspection trip.Then he had written in Mariveles to Nana Emiliathat he has a surprise to him that he
bought mats thatare made by anartistic craftsman at this area. These mats have colorful designs
withtheir owndistinguish weaves, design, and colors. He is excited to give itto them all.b.Rising Action
The rising action is when Mr. Angeles is giving his surprised gift tothe whole family. And the
siblings were very excited to get their gifts.And one by one, on the lighted area of the house,he gave
the mats withdistinguish names and symbolism on it.c.Climax The highest part of the story is wherein
they all get the mats butthere are 3 remaining matsthat must be unfolded. And Mr. Angelesunfold it
one by one and he speaks in a loud voice that heoffers this simple mats to his 3 dead siblings which
are Josefina, Victoria, and Concepciond.Falling Action The falling action of the story is where Nana
Emilia and Mr.Angeles argues about thissensitive issue that they must forget alreadybecause they
are dead but Mr. Angeles is so stubborn that he emphasized that these children mustnot be taken for
granted.e.Denouement The denouement of this story is when the cihildren heard theword exploding
in thesilence. They wanted to turn away and not to see the face of their father and also when Nana
Emilashivered once andtwice, bowed her head, gripped her clapsed hands between her
thighs.f.Ending at the end of the story there was a total silence on the house. Then the mats were
unfoldedand each name was slowly revealed. And the mats for the 3 dead siblings were described.
IV. CONFLICT: Man vs. Himself Because Mr. Angeles wants to commemorate his 3 siblings and he
was so emotional that thissensitive issue must not be talked about and also the emotion was look
before in himself and he find the way out to burst that emotion by offering mats to the 3 siblings
V.THEME:
We must not forget and take for granted the people whom passed away
Because they contributed to our life and we must respect them

By commemorating them.
HOW MY BROTHER LEON BROUGHT HOME A WIFE.
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.
CHARACTERS:
Leon/Noel - Maria's husband, older brother of Baldo
Maria - Leon's wife
Baldo - Leon's younger brother, also the narrator of this story
Mother and Father of Leon and Baldo
Aurelia - Leon and Baldo's younger sister
Labang - the carabao
SETTINGS:
Nagrebcan, Bauang La Union
PLOT:
Leon and Baldo waited for the arrival of Maria at the barrio.
Maria was afraid that she won't be accepted by Leon's father because she may not able to
adapt their way of living in the province.
Baldo was ignoring to his older brother's question about why did they have to go to Waig
instead of Camino Real. (The reason is that their father wanted to test Maria if she is worthy to
be Leon's wife.)
Baldo discussed their travel to his father.
Leon's entire family talked to Maria. His Father's voice became livelier than before when he
talked to her (which means he accepted her wholeheartedly.
MORAL LESSON:
We should respect and accept one's life.
Social status is not a hindrance if you truly love each other.
Meeting your special someone to your family is the right thing to do.
One may have to sacrifice small part of his/her life in order to have a happy life.

THE BABY IN THE BOTTLE

Telephone triage is a skill that every doctor must acquire. Many patients initially present over the
telephone, and it is important to be able to tell the difference between those who need to be seen
right away, those who can wait for an appointment, and those who dont have to be seen at all. Office
staff usually handles the calls on weekdays, but on nights and weekends, the doctor on call takes
them herself.
Most calls are about distressing symptoms, but occasionally there are calls due to simple curiosity (I
have a sunburn; do you think my baby is hot?), and even less commonly, some women call simply
because they are lonely or depressed. Every now and then, there are calls that defy categorization.
Such was a call that blindsided me on a blustery Saturday afternoon in early spring. I was the chief
resident, and therefore, took all the OB and GYN calls that came directly to the hospital. I was sitting
in the Emergency Room where I was already caring for a patient having a miscarriage.
The caller sounded like a self-possessed woman in middle age.
Im calling, she announced, because I need some information.
Okay, I said. How can I help you?
My son got his girlfriend pregnant, she continued, and I think she had an abortion. I have reason to
believe that she had it done at your hospital.
That may be, I replied. But I cannot share that information with you.
Every hospital has strict privacy requirements. Although this was in the days before the strengthened
provisions of HIPAA (the Health Insurance Portability and Accountability Act), no hospital or provider
could share medical information about a patient unless authorized to do so by that patient.
Let me tell you her name, the caller coaxed, and you can tell me if you took care of her.
It doesnt matter if you tell me her name, or whether I took care of her, I answered. I simply cannot
tell you.
Dont I have any rights? she demanded. After all, that could have been my grandchild.
I tried to explain that her relationship to the baby or to the mother did not matter.
Just look in the computer, she begged, and tell me if she was at the hospital. You dont have to tell
me what treatment she had.
I explained that I was not allowed to do that either. The woman on the other end of the line now
sounded agitated.
You dont understand, she insisted, I have a very special reason why I need to know.
I tried to explain yet again. There is no reason that would allow me to give you the information that
you want. It is literally against the law for me to disclose that information.
Please, she pleaded. You have to help me. The baby needs me.
Excuse me, I was startled. Did you say the baby needs you?
The caller exhaled a sigh of relief at finally being understood. Yes, the baby is calling me. Every time
I try to go to sleep, I hear the baby calling me: Grandma, Graaaandmaaa, help me, help me, Im
stuck in this bottle.'
What?!
Yes, I hear the babys voice every time I close my eyes. I know hes trapped in the basement of a
hospital, maybe your hospital. I have to come get him. You have to help me.
Oh, I said, I see. And now I did. That must be very upsetting to you.
It is, she sounded very tired. I cant sleep, I cant eat, I have to rescue the baby.
You must be very uncomfortable and upset, I agreed.
Can you help me? she sounded desperate.
I cant tell you about your sons girlfriend, I acknowledged, but there is a very nice doctor here with
me in the emergency room and I think he might be able to help you feel better.
You do?
Yes, I do. Im going to let him know what you told me, and tell him that you are coming to see him
right now. Im certain that he can help you feel better.
Will he take me to the baby? The baby is calling me, she repeated.
He wont be able to take you to the baby, but he will be able to help you with the voice that you hear,
I responded truthfully. Will you promise me that you will come in right now?
Yes. Yes, Ill come in. Let me get dressed and Ill be there in an hour or so, she agreed.
And thats just what happened. Within an hour or two, she was visiting with the psychiatrist on call. He
couldnt help her find the baby in the bottle, but he was able to help her make the voice stop calling.