Killer Smiles

He washed his hands in the sink, rubbing off the stain on them. They were already clean afterwards. This brought a sheepish smile on his face – a smile that depicts not happiness but a fleeting relief.

            Hands, he muttered to himself, my favorite part of the body. They do most of the dirty jobs, become nasty sometimes; but still appear clean and innocent after a little wash.

            Beside the sink lay a black .45. He picked it up with one hand, placing the nozzle on the other palm. They don’t even take sides. Very indifferent indeed. And a good traitor too. Seconds after, the gun was pointing to his head. Then a loud bang cleared his thoughts away, washing the perils of uncertainties ahead.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Reader Response

In the flash fiction above, there are gaps in the details that are to be filled by the readers imagination. The writer writes the story but the reader offers profound meaning to it. Take the smile as an example. It is the reader who will decide if the smile shows happiness through the killer’s escape from guilt, or a smile that depicts the insanity on his mind because of his guilt.

Rapunzel Modernity

I admit: I did it

not the witch.

I hate my suitor,

Who still lives in middle ages.

He doesn’t own a cellphone,

doesn’t know what a car is,

and doesn’t have an inkling

how to court a woman like me.

Everyday he rides on his horse

from his faraway palace up to my fortress

just to utter words of the same idea

all over again.

He wails out my name outside,

as if Witch Neighbor won’t hear him,

(I’ll be in trouble for that)

and commands me to let down my hair

so he can climb up with it.

I’ve been suffering

from hair dryness and hair fall

for weeks already;

because, for the Kingsake,

he is ignorant on

how to use my secret elevator!

He cares for me not, I know,

for he keeps on looking at my breasts

saying, “I love to see thy

heart beneath thy breasts

than the mind beneath thy eyes!”

Maniac!

So when he turned to glance at the sunset,

I pushed him hard towards the window.

Then see below,

how my Prince Charming looks at me—

bewilderment.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Post coloniality

This concept is embodied in the poem by the revolting of the maiden in the poem from the conventional ‘men over women’. Traditionally, women before were subjected to the men’s will. However, the current society is influenced by the ideas from our colonizers. Colonizers can also come as international businesses that dictates the trend of the society.

Rapunzel symbolizes the society that has been influenced of its colonizer, modern world (ie, use of cellphones, cars, electronics). Prince Charming is the tradition which the society rejects.

Children’s Game

Setting:

Two children, about 3-4 years old, were playing teacher teacher in the garden.

 

Child1: (holding a santan flower) Okay class, this is a flower. Repeat after me: flower.

Child 2: Flower.

Child 1: Very good.

Child 2: Where do flowers grow from, ma’am?

Child 1: It comes from a tree.

(Child1 cuts a stem from the santan plant. The stem is leafy on the top but bare the bottom to the middle. She holds it in front of Child 2.)

Child 1: Now this is a tree.

 

 

 

Structuralism

I incorporate the sign, signifier, and signified in the short literary piece above through the children’s game of teacher-and-student. The first example of sign is the flower. The sign itself unites the sound-image (signifier) or the impression of the word ‘flower’ it gives to our senses, and concept(signified) or the existence of such thing as a flower.

But the linguistic sign is arbitrary because a concept and its sound-image can have a different sign in other communities. As to the Children’s Game, the first child called the stem a ‘tree’. Thus, portraying that a sign is arbitrary because it can be a subject of change in different areas.

m-EMO-ries

the first time i wrote my memoir, I thought of my childhood days (6 or 7 yrs old) after we moved. i chose to write my relationship with my sister because we are cats and dogs personified. a day doesn’t end without us trying to argue about petty things like washing the dishes, sweeping the floor — definitely household chores. blame it to the keeper-dependent upbringing but i have to say that she is just naturally a little lazier than me. (yeah yeah, quite a bias narrative)

it’s a shame to say that i was in a state of sentimaental thought when i wrote my memoir. that day, she made me a favor of bringing my medicines even though she was already late in her first class. i half-agreed to the fact that i was actually moved with that favor because the day before we had a row. so i had this sentimental thought with myself reminiscing the years i share d with my sister, those times when she was the only playmate i had and petty quarrels still make her cry (because i’m more maldita than her).

She used to make the first move to make peace and I really appreciated the way she expressed her ’sorry’. it always comes in an artistic way of apologizing, to think that i’m the one who sinned (pano yan, sya ang panganay at ako pa ang bunso noon syempre high pride).

So that was the sentimental reason. the underlying context of writing my memoir is this: I am a subject of an authority that inclines me to write whatever I am rewuired of. It was an activity in CW101. Naturally, if i don’t write, i’ll probably fail. this situation is a concrete example of Marx’s capitalism. In connection with Marxism’s theory, I am just a ploretariat (student) under a bourgeoisie (teacher).

its been two weeks of reading several pages of readings and unfinished plans of rewriting my notes… well, I’ve learned some of the facts that needed to be learned. as usual, my money runs out all because of the photocopies. I sure am studying in the UP (University of Photocopies)…

– <it’s a nice thought that dad is my father or else, there won’t be me spending the money>

Being a writer won’t promise me big income. It’s not a good job if money is all you want. I’m guilty of being discouraged many times. For the past semesters, I am convincing myself that my course is where I am destined to be. Well, now I’m here sitting in front of the pc typing my blog that is required by my teacher — i guess that means that I’ve finally settled the fickleness of my mind.

InTro…

This blog will tell about my life as a Creative Writing student, the reasons why i continue despite the discouragements i encounter, and the adventures i had when i realized the kind of world that i entered…