I have been meaning to continue the story that began with this post and continued here and here but my family and I  have been mostly in and out this summer that I could not focus on the story.  That I discovered Grimm did not help because I found myself watching its entire season in Hulu.  Now that I’ve caught up with the latest episode and have nothing more to watch, so far, I was able to push the story a bit.  At least, I hope so. 🙂  I do want to see where this little project goes.

Thanks to  Trifecta  for the prompt:  “heart, i.e.,   personality, disposition”.  I got an anchor for the installment.   

Let me just give this brief background.  The story is set in a place called Valetta an island which is essentially a garbage dump.  Darion, a scavenger boy,  found a carousel to which he instantly got attached to.   Instead of showing the find to his friends, Bandar, et. al., he ran home.  There, Abuelo told him to return the carousel to where he found it because it would bring them bad luck.  However, Abuelo relented and instead helped Darion keep it in a secure place.    Bandar and company soon arrived demanding that they be shown the carousel.  Darion, upon Abuelo’s advice, showed them an old glass lamp.  This angered Bandar and a quarrel between him  and Darion followed.  The quarrel ended with Bandar threatening harm upon Darion.  

Thank you for coming by and reading. 🙂


“I’m going for a walk. Would you like to come with me?” Abuelo asked as he put the saw back to its nail.

“No, Abuelo,” Darion mumbled as he shook his head while keeping his eyes fixed in the distance.

“Bar the door behind me then.” Abuelo glanced at Darion as he stepped out of the threshold pulling the door behind him.

Darion watched the old man, the wood he was working on tucked under his arm and a bolo dangling from his belt – disappear in the path towards the cove as the folks called it. Ordinarily, he would have gone with Abuelo. He loved to listen to the latter’s stories that get so fantastic that he could not tell whether Abuelo was teasing or not. One time, Abuelo told the story about big fire trees, palatial homes, horses, nobility. Even a king. In Valetta! Abuelo even told him not to tell anyone. He often found the tales so wild that sometimes, he wanted to believe the things people say about Abuelo when they think that he or Abuelo were not listening.

“Crazy old man,” the nastier folks said.

Trees. Horses. Blue waters. Green grass.” He smiled at the remembrance but he did not have the heart to listen to Abuelo’s silly stories this day.

And yet…. “ Darion lifted his head with a start, realization dawning upon him.

He rushed towards the spot where they buried the carousel. He was lifting the top box when he heard a thud on the roof. Before he could take a step, however, dozens of pebbles rained upon the tiny hut. He saw no one from the window but heard the scamper of feet and laughter.

He ran towards the door and opened it only to see Valerio coming down the path to the house. Immediately, he bolted the door, shut the window and curled in a shadowy corner of the house.



This post continues the story I started for Bloggy Moms and continued in a recent post.



Thank you for visiting and your comments. 🙂


Abuelo collected a rusty saw hanging from a nail on the wall and went out of the front door where  scraps of wood were stacked. He sat on his stool and picked up a piece of wood the width of the door using it to measure other pieces of wood. His rusty saw screeched as he cut the pieces of wood to size. Darion sat under the window, an arm propped on a knee, the other curled against the lamp, while he listened to the approaching voices.

“Darion! Come out. Where’s your loot?”

“Aya, Bandar! What is this noise about?” Abuelo lifted his head to meet the new arrivals, addressing the tallest boy in the group.

“Abuelo! We want to see the thing that Bandar picked up from the dump. Did you see it? It was really shiny but Bandar ran away before I could take a closer look.”

“Darion, your friends are here. Show them what you have.”

Darion slowly got up, shuffling his feet towards the door, lamp in the crook of his arm.
“It’s just an old lamp!” cried one child.

“I knew you were telling tales again, Bandar!” said another amid the raucus laughter and teasing of children.

Bandar reached and grabbed the lamp from Darion’s arm.

“This was not what you found!” Bandar sneered as he inspected the lamp on his hand. “Where is it?”
“Give it back! It’s not yours!” Darion moved to snatch the lamp, starting a tug-of-war punctuated by the taunts and cheers of children who readily took sides. The clink of glass against earth ended the spectacle as a collective gasp witnessed the multiplication of glass. Abuelo’s quiet command broke the silence.

“Clean up the glass, Darion.”

As though on cue, the children scampered away like frightened rats, afraid of the scolding that Abuelo might give.

“LIAR!” Bandar yelled at Darion. His “You’ll regret this, Darion!” echoed through the hills as he ran backwards, clenched fists waving at Darion.

Abuelo returned to his work, sawing and hammering with urgency.

After he finished collecting the broken glass, Darion went inside the hut and put the base of the lamp on the window sill. He stood by the window, his head resting on the sill, looked into the distance, past the dump, past the bracken waters, and into the horizon where water met the sky. He relieved the moment when, in the music filled room, he was running on green grass elated by the wonder and newness of a different place. The door squeaked, footsteps padded on the floor. Darion stared in space.


Writer's Workshop


This post continues THE CAROUSEL.  This is  a response to the challenge posted by SAM for Bloggy Moms Writers’ Workshop for this week – This week’s prompt is to write what you DON’T know. Add a scene to a work in progress that requires you to do a little research. Write a story from a different genre than you are comfortable with. Step outside your comfort zone, think outside the box, and write something new. And since I know we are all busy, let’s keep it simple with no more than 700 words.”

When I started the story, I only wanted to respond to a prompt.  I did not think much about the setting, or the characters or the events.  But then, I got curious about the story itself and wanted to continue.  However, I found that I could not do that without having a tangible, if that is the proper word, for the place that was described in the story.   In the end, I went back to my roots, remembering that in the Philippines, there is this beautiful island in the middle of nowhere.   That served as the inspiration, except that in the story, it is a garbage island.

I am also linking with Trifecta whose challenge word this week is ALLEY -3: a narrow street; especially : a thoroughfare through the middle of a block giving access to the rear of lots or buildings.   The word somehow fitted with my plan for the next chapter (I hope that the use meets the criteria though).

Head on over their pages for great stories. 🙂

Here is Part – 2.


Old man and boy stared into each others’ eyes for what may have been eternity; the wise knowing eyes against those that saw beauty for the first time; the former seeing loneliness and longing waking into the want and poverty around him. Old eyes blinked.

“You may keep it. For now.”

“Don’t tell anyone about the ca… your find.” Abuelo added though he knew he did not have to.

“Bandar might know, Abuelo.” He whispered.

The old man sat motionless for a moment. Lifting himself on one knee, he pushed open the window above his head. Light came in and illuminated the surprisingly clean room. Crates and boxes containing scraps found from the dump – materials for Abuelo’s varied projects or things stored just-in-case – lined the rough stone wall.

He looked into sacks and boxes, searching for something. Finally, from one of the covered boxes in the bottom of the pile, Abuelo retrieved an oil lamp with a metal base.

“Take this …” he said, handing the lamp to Darion, “…and give me that … toy.”

Darion’s arms closed upon his treasure as he looked at the old man, distrust and confusion in his eyes. Abuelo turned around and lifted a wooden plank from the floor, revealing a recess where some boxes were. Abuelo moved a box and dug a little pit. “It will be safe here.” He said. Darion slid towards the hole, deposited the carousel into it, and covered it with dirt.

As soon as the floor was in place, excited voices wafted into the room. Darion and Abuelo peered out of the window and saw Bandar with some children coming down an alley between the huts and garbage hills.

“I saw it. You didn’t!” Bandar said, his voice rising above the cacophony of doubting voices.

“Who would throw anything as pretty as you claimed, HA?”

Abuelo ducked away from the window.

“Pick up the lamp, Darion.” He said.

(Please click here for PART 3)

Writer's Workshop


This piece, a beginning of a story which hopefully, I will be able to continue and finish, was written for Bloggy Moms’ Writers’ Workshop.  The challenge was to  write a response to this picture prompt: 


Darion straightened up, wiping the sweat pouring down his brow with a grimy arm. He looked up and confirmed what he already knew – the sun, pale behind the ever gray clouds, was up above his head. It was hot, sticky hot. Rot rose in the air in a vaporous langour. Moisture trickled back down. Darion wrung his ragged sweat soaked clothes and flicked a fly that got caught inside.

The ground shifted as he sat to rest. He had been digging for scraps since early morning. All he wanted to do now was to run up and down the heaps with his friends. He squinted his eyes. There were only a few people in this side of the island. Many, including his playmates, flocked to the other side to check the refuse that was freshly dumped from the sea. He smiled when he saw a friend working not too far from him.

“Bandar! Bandar!”

His voice was drowned by the buzzing of the flies and the roaring waves.

He picked up a rusted tin can and tossed it, relishing the clank that it made as it hit other debris on the ground. He tossed more in succession, each time aiming further than the last toss. He stopped when flies swarmed around him, forming a halo about his head. There was no discriminating between him and the ground he was on. He frantically waved his arms then gave up and found a new spot to sit on.

The sun was beating on his back. He was hungry. He reached for his sack and rummaged for the tin where he stored the crusty bread that he found earlier. After a brief struggle with the bread, coarse crumbs filled his mouth, sucking the last bits of moisture. But there was no water around, not in the dump, at least. He looked around but saw only the garbage covered hills and valleys of this place he called home. Valetta. He propped himself up on an arm and rose, bracing himself for more scavenging. Bandar was dragging his sack towards a new digging spot. Darion hollered at him, throwing a flying tin can in salute. Bandar responded in kind. The sea breeze carried his “Later!” and odiferous wind back to Darion.

He hoisted his sack over his shoulder and walked bent over as he surveyed the ground before him. He was stooped down to pick up a piece of broken china when, from the corner of his eye, he noticed a bright reflection not too far ahead, between him and Bandar. He walked fast towards the place, checking if his friend noticed it too. When he got to it, he knelt on the ground, his back against Bandar and the people who were coming back from the shore.

He removed the debris surrounding the reflection as fast as he could, excitement growing within him with each piece of debris that was removed. Finally, the shiny thing was free – a  glass ball resting on a golden pedestal. The ball was caked with dirt but the metal base was clean enough to catch the sun. He lifted it up and wiped the glass with his shirt. He gasped when he beheld the little horse figures inside. He caressed the smooth red and green stones on the pedestal. He traced the wrought metal work on its edge. His eyes squinted at the light bouncing off the glass. His heart skipped. He had not seen anything this beautiful before.


Darion nearly jumped when he heard a voice on his shoulder.

“Bandar! I thought you were working.” Darion managed to say as he quickly tucked his find under his shirt. It was cool against his skin.

“What was the shiny thing in your hand?”

“Nothing. A piece of glass, that’s all.” Darion said as he tried to slip past his friend.

“Let me see! Let me see!”

“No, it’s mine!” He burst into a run, up and down the dump’s heaps and mounds. He ran and he ran until he reached the little hut where he and his grandfather lived.

The door scratched the ground as he opened it. “Darion, is that you?” A voice said from inside the dark room.

“Yes, Abuelo.”

“You are early?”

“My sack was already full, Abuelo.” The contents settled when he put the sack down.

Darion went to the corner across from Abuelo and sprawled himself on the floor. He pulled out his loot and looked at it.  He smiled at the bejeweled  horses inside.  He felt a button under the base and turned it. A melodious sound filled the room and the horses pranced inside the little world. Darion blinked his eyes when he saw images of big tall trees and castles passing by as the horses moved. Something stirred in his heart. He stared at the images until  he was no longer in the dark steamy room. He was with the horses where the ground was green and grass tickled his feet.

A hand on his shoulder pulled him back.

“Where did you get that, Child?”

Darion hugged his globe close to him in response.

“You have to put that  back  wherever you got it. That is bad luck!”

“This is mine, Abuelo. I got it from the dump. It is mine!”

“Child, child. That does not belong here. Not in this house. Not in Valetta.”

“It is the best thing I ever had. It is mine!”

Abuelo turned Darion to look him in the eye.

“Listen to me. Put it away, my child.” He said urgently.



Writer's Workshop