“WHY must the Filipino be a squatter in his own country?” said the man. He spoke with an audible enough voice, but not the sort of which is used day by day by the vehicular dispatchers serving the commuting public. Besides, he seemed thin. Payat siya. I mean, there are thin dispatchers, but these have wood-hard bones that possess a push-about drive unbecoming of the man now on the microphone. We had him on tape, as did his adversaries before us. For the next sequences, the man shook hands from door to door within the community of his legitimate congressional candidacy.

A bright sunny day in Suliman. Even the clouds were as gorgeous as clouds painted by Fernando Amorsolo. Voices of students are rocking the corridors of Palad Hall while 8:30 class sessions have just started. The maroon of the corridor flooring went well with the poster red of the protester’s streamers scrawled unto light brown Manila paper. Even mount Arayat’s summit looked angry as seen miles across from Palad Hall’s seventh floor. “Sumama na kayo!

Part Three: Irene

The early morning woke everyone with buckets of sunshine. The fat little squirrels gathered their nutmeats, always careful to keep out from under the feet of the servants making ready the spacious lawns and gardens for the grand party to come in just a few hours.

Part Two: Meg and Henry

"Wizards, wizards and mischievous elves. They're all part of this modern-day thinking, but I say to myself, 'Meg, I don't see none of 'em around here ready to sweep your floors or milk your cows'.

"I hear all this stuff and nonsense about potions and spells and magic to cure what ails ye, but I see none of it in my life.

"The chickens still walk all over the place and drop dead wherever they please. The pigs stay put because they can't get out of their pens, but I see no magic food for 'em.

Prolog for "And Then There Was One"

A Spiritual Fiction of Human Evolution

In our constant search for purpose, maybe we've missed a tree in the forest: we are one

I probably am one of the worst writers in the world. I sometimes mess up my grammar because I write what I feel. My topics aren't probably so interesting too. But I would like to keep on writing because I feel that I am meant to write. Help me out by commenting on my blog at www.saniata.blogspot.com. Please have a look-see, comment on it, critique it, just let me know what you think of what I have written.

"This is America Airline and we will be landing soon. Please put your seatbelts on and have a nice day," the pilot said on the intercom with his voice low and tired. Without knowing that the passengers can still hear him and forgetting about turning off the intercom, the pilot said to his partner," Damn passengers. Why can't these people learn how to fucking drive to places? Man, I don't get paid enough for this shit."