FICTIONS AND NON-FICTIONS

LEGEND
The Legend of Chocolate Hills (Ang Alamat ng mga Bundok ng Tsokolate )
(Tagbilaran Bohol – Visayas)

It is said that in the early times, the island of Bohol in the Visayas is a vast mass of dry land. Rice 
fields tend to crack under the heat of the sun. During the rainy season, the dusty land turns into a 
stream of mud. It is only during the rice season that the fields turn into a refreshing sea of green.
It was one day during the rainy season that two giants came into the land of Bohol. One of them 
was from the north and the other was from the south. Not for long, the two giants met eye to eye. The 
tension between the two rivals filled the air.
"Hey! You ugly giant! Stay away from my land!" said the South Giant. "Leave and look for your 
own land to conquer!"
"You must be mistaken! I am here first!" answered the North Giant. "If you want, you leave!"
"This cannot be happening!" shouted the South Giant with a stomp. The whole ground shook. 
Since it has just rained, the ground was muddy. The giant scooped mud from the ground and threw it onth
e other giant. The North Giant also scooped and formed his own balls of mud and threw it back on his op
ponent.
The battle of the two giants became intense. Balls of mud were thrown back and forth. The towns
people gathered to watch the two opposing giants. Each one used all of his might to best the other. 
No one gave up until both of them ran out of energy. Because of the exhausting duel, both of the two 
giants fell on the ground and died. What was left of their heated fight were hills of mud from the thrownm
ud balls.  Since then, the townspeople lived peacefully on their land along the hills.
During the summer seasons, these hills seem like chocolate candies, especially from top view. 
This is the reason why it became known as chocolate hills. During the rainy seasons, however, these hills 
become covered with lush green vegetation.

Humor
 A bad day
There I was is sitting at the bar staring at my drink when a large, trouble-making biker steps up next to me,
grabs my drink and gulps it down in one swig.

"Well, what cha gonna do about it?" he says, menacingly, as I burst into tears.

"Come on, man," the biker says, "I didn't think you'd CRY. I can`t stand to see a man crying."

"This is the worst day of my life," I say. "I'm a complete failure. I was late to a meeting and my boss fired me.
When I went to the parking lot, I found my car had been stolen and I don't have any insurance. I left my wallet
in the cab I took home. I found my old lady in bed with the gardener and then my dog bit me."

"So I came to this bar to work up the courage to put an end to it all, I buy a drink, I drop a capsule in and sit
here watching the poison dissolve; then you, you jack-ass, show up and drink the whole thing! But enough
about me, how's your day going?"

Tall tale
“Master Man”
Master Man” is a tale of the Hausa, the largest ethnic group of northern Nigeria. The
Hausa live mainly on the savannah (grassland with scattered trees) of Nigeria’s northwest
quarter.
Though most Hausa live in rural villages—as portrayed in this story—the larger Hausa
towns have possessed a sophisticated urban culture since long before European colonization. As
traders, the Hausa have for centuries maintained economic and cultural contacts throughout West
Africa. Their adoption of Islam led to early development of literacy and written literature.
Tall tales like this about fighting he-men are popular among the Hausa. Many such stories
feature the stock character Mijin-Maza, or Namiji-Mijin-Maza. “Master Man” is my own
rendering of this name, which has been translated variously as “A-Man-Among-Men,” “Manly-
Man,” and “Superman.”
The main source for my retelling is No. 12, “A story about a giant, and the cause of
thunder,” in Hausa Folk-Lore, Customs, Proverbs, Etc., by R. Sutherland Rattray, Clarendon
Press, Oxford, 1913, Volume 1. I drew also on several other Hausa variants of the tale,
collectively titled “The Story of Manly-Man” and found in Volume 2 of Hausa Tales and
Traditions, by Frank Edgar, edited and translated by Neil Skinner, University of Wisconsin
Press, Madison, 1977 (a translation of Edgar’s Litafi Na Tatsuniyoyi Na Hausa, W. Erskine
Mayne, Belfast, 1911–1913). And I received my first taste of the tale from the delightful
“Superman,” told by Laura Simms, on her tape Stories: Old as the World, Fresh as the
Rain, Weston Woods, 1981.
Historical
“The Christmas Truce”
The Christmas Truce of 1914 is one of the most extraordinary incidents not only of World War I
but of all military history. Providing inspiration for songs, books, plays, and movies, it has
endured as an archetypal image of peace.
Starting in some places on Christmas Eve and in others on Christmas Day, the truce
covered as much as two-thirds of the British-German front, with French and Belgians involved
as well. Thousands of soldiers took part. In most places, it lasted at least through Boxing Day
(December 26), and in some, through mid-January. Perhaps most remarkably, it grew out of no
single initiative but sprang up in each place spontaneously and independently.
Unofficial and spotty as the truce was, there have been those convinced it never happened
—that the whole thing was made up. Others have believed it happened but that the news was
suppressed. Neither is true. Though little was publicly reported in Germany, the truce made
headlines for weeks in British newspapers, with published letters and photos from soldiers at the
front. In a single issue, the latest inflammatory rumor of German atrocities might share space
with a photo of British and German soldiers crowded together, their caps and helmets exchanged,
smiling for the camera.
Historians, on the other hand, have not shown much interest in an unofficial outbreak of
peace. The first comprehensive look at the event came only with the 1981 BBC
documentary Peace in No Man’s Land, by Malcolm Brown and Shirley Seaton, and their 1984
companion book, Christmas Truce (Secker & Warburg, London). The book featured a large
number of firsthand accounts from letters and diaries. Nearly everything described in my
fictional letter is drawn from these accounts—though I have heightened the drama somewhat by
selecting, arranging, and compressing.
In my letter, I’ve tried to counteract two popular misconceptions of the truce. One is that
only common soldiers took part in it, while officers opposed it. (Actually, few officers opposed
it, and many took part.) The other is that neither side wished to return to fighting. (Most soldiers,
especially British, French, and Belgian, remained determined to fight and win.)
Sadly, I also had to omit the Christmas Day games of football—or soccer, as called in the
United States—that are often falsely associated with the truce. The truth is that the terrain of
No Man’s Land ruled out formal games—though certainly some soldiers kicked around balls and
makeshift substitutes.
Another false idea about the truce was held even by most soldiers who were there: that it
was unique in history. Though the Christmas Truce is the foremost incident of its kind, informal
truces were a long-standing military tradition. During the American Civil War, for instance,
Rebels and Yankees traded tobacco, coffee, and newspapers, fished peaceably on opposite sides
of a stream, and even gathered blackberries together. Some degree of fellow feeling had always
been common among soldiers sent to battle.
Of course, all that has changed in modern times. Today, combatants kill at great distances,
often with the push of a button and a sighting on a computer screen. Even where soldiers come
face to face, their languages and cultures are often so divergent as to make friendly
communication unlikely.
No, we should not expect to see another Christmas Truce. Yet still what happened on that
Christmas of 1914 may inspire the peacemakers of today—for, now as always, the best time to
make peace is long before the armies go to war.

Fantasy
 “The mountain of marvels”
In the late Middle Ages in Wales, a number of traditional stories were brought together and
preserved in a collection we now call The Mabinogion (“mah-bin-O-gee-un,” hard g). The core
of this collection was The Four Branches of the Mabinogi (“mah-bin-O-gee”), a set of
interrelated tales compiled by a single anonymous author sometime around the twelfth century. It
is in the Four Branches that the tales of Pwyll, Rhiannon, and Manawydan are found.
The Four Branches were actually a literary synthesis of tales told for centuries by
professional storytellers in royal courts. Along the way, these stories had gathered elements from
a number of historical periods, all telescoped into a legendary past that never existed quite as
portrayed.
Dyfed was a Welsh kingdom of the early Middle Ages, and the stories of the Four
Branches are nominally set in that period. In the Wales of that time, a king would maintain a
number of fortresses, visiting them in a regular circuit, accompanied by his fighting men and
other retainers. At each of these “courts,” he would feast and hunt for weeks at a time, supported
by the hospitality of the locals.
Military prowess and generosity were among the prime values in this society, and a king
had to exemplify both. Another such value was honor, and the humiliation of a noble called for
monetary compensation or revenge. A nobleman’s kin were expected to share in his obligations
and disputes.
As in most militant societies, women had a subordinate role, but a strong woman like
Rhiannon could still make her place. Marriage was a simple affair: The couple had only to make
known its intention, then spend a night together.
Though the setting of the Four Branches is supposedly early medieval, the descriptions of
daily life, custom, and politics show the influence of later centuries. It was in the twelfth century,
for instance, that the remaining Welsh kings took the title of “Lord.” It was also in this period
that Celtic brutality began to lose its edge, and a note of gentility emerged. In earlier times, few
tales ended without at least one or two heads cut off.
Alongside these later influences are ones more ancient. Most of the characters and many of
the plot motifs in the Four Branches derive from Celtic mythology in the centuries before Christ.
Rhiannon, for instance—whose name means “Great Queen”—has been linked to Epona,
the horse goddess of the continental Celts, who was often portrayed riding at an amble and
carrying a magical bag. In the same way, Pwyll may have earlier been king of a supernatural
Otherworld, and Manawydan a sea god. These divinities were “demoted” when the Celtic
peoples of Britain and Ireland adopted Christianity—yet they kept their hold on the Welsh
imagination.
Though this retelling is in my own words, I’ve done my best to retain the flavor of the
original. To better unify the tale, I’ve reassigned some actions among the original characters—
much as the compiler of the Four Branches did with his own source material.
Mabinogion translations consulted were those by Charlotte Guest (1849), Gwyn Jones and
Thomas Jones (1948), Jeffrey Gantz (1976), Patrick Ford (1977), and Gwyn Thomas and Kevin
Crossley-Holland (1985). The last of these, Tales from the Mabinogion (Overlook Press)—
comprising the Four Branches only—has an illustrated format aimed at young readers.

Fairy tales
 “The sad Queen”
Once upon a time there was a great king of China. This king had everything he wanted. He had
rare treasures, a beautiful palace, fine horses, the bravest warriors and a people who loved him.
But one thing the king lacked. He didn’t have a wife. So one day he gathered seven of his most
trusted warriors, saddled his strongest horse, and departed in search of a wife. They travelled
many moons and called in at all the great palaces and cities on their way, and met many beautiful
princesses and great ladies, but nowhere did the king see a lady who made his heart beat faster.
After a long days’ ride the party arrived at a lake, and the king decided to halt there and make a
camp for the night. As he was taking his supper he heard the faint strains of a tune coming from
the direction of the lake. He got up and walked towards the water. There he saw a boat drifting
by, and on the boat the figure of a woman. By the light of the moon he saw her face and he knew
immediately that here was he woman he had set out to find. He called his warriors, and they
waded into the water and pushed the craft to the shore. The king helped the lady step onto the
land and introduced himself. He asked the lady to be his guest and join him for some supper. The
king stated the purpose of his quest, and asked the lady if there was any reason why she could
not travel back with him to his palace to be his wife. The poor woman was taken somewhat
aback, You wish to marry me, she asked, when I am a complete stranger to you?
The king was adamant. He declared that he had never seen a more comely woman with such fine
features, and she would make him very proud indeed if she consented to be his wife. He
promised her a life of luxury and comfort, maidservants to see to her every little need, and his
own undying lifelong devotion, if only she would agree to be his wife. The woman bowed her
head, and said Yes, my king, in that case I shall be very happy to accept your offer of marriage.
On the journey back to the palace, the king talked to his bride-to-be ceaselessly, but she did not
say very much. She disclosed that her name was Jin-a, and that she had travelled far, but she
would not say whence or why. The king noticed that she never once smiled, but he did not pay
this too much regard, putting it down to the strains the long journey was imposing on her. He
was sure that once they were back at his palace and married, her mood would improve. The
marriage took place days after their return to the palace, and the country celebrated for three
days. The new queen took to her duties very well, and the whole court was impressed by her
demeanour and grace. But still Jin-a would not smile. The king asked her if anything was the
matter, but she replied that everything was perfect and she could not be happier. The king asked
if there was anything at all he could do to make her smile, but she told him not to worry, it was
just a matter of time. The king of course tried everything: he had jesters from far afield brought
to the court, and travelling players were summoned to appear before him and his queen; he
played tricks on his courtiers and warriors, but the queen never smiled. Then one day he had an
idea which he felt sure would definitely do the trick.
He instructed his most trusted courtier to come into his private quarters that evening, and tell him
that the enemy was at the gate, ready to take the palace!
That evening after supper the king and the queen were together in their bedroom. The queen was
brushing her hair, and the king was practising his calligraphy, when suddenly the door burst open
and a courtier appeared, apparently out of breath, his dress dishevelled. Sire, he shouted, sire,
there is an army of foreign warriors at he gate, preparing to fire their cannon! The king jumped
up, his ink and brushes scattering over the floor tiles. He threw his arms up in the air, Where are
my warriors, he shouted, where is my guard? When the courtier had entered he room, the queen
had turned to her husband, and now, seeing the expression on his face, she suddenly burst out
laughing. She covered her mouth with both hands, but the king was overjoyed. He jumped up
and down, and shook the courtier’s hand. It worked, it worked! She laughed! At last she laughed!
He then confessed to his wife the trick they had played on her, and to his great relief, she smiled
again at this revelation.
The next day, however, the queen had reverted to her sad demeanour. The king once more tried
all the tricks he knew to make her smile but to no avail. Several days passed, and the king
himself was becoming sad, coming to the belief that perhaps there was something in his wife’s
past of such great unhappiness that he would never be able to make her forget. He watched his
wife read a book of poems. Suddenly there was a loud bang, and the door to the room was
thrown open, a courtier appeared, out of breath, waving his arms and shouting: Sire, Sire, there is
an army of foreign warriors at the gate! They are firing their cannon!
The king shook his head and walked up to the courtier, and took his arms, My good man, he said,
you mean well, but it won’t work a second time. But the courtier continued: No sire, this time the
enemy really is here! The man was telling the truth, the king stepped outside, and heard the
sound of cannon balls smashing into the palace walls; he called out to his guard, but it was
already too late. Enemy warriors were already in the palace, killing everybody they came across.
Half a dozen of them came running down the corridor just then, and slayed the king and his
faithful courtier. They spared Jin-a, and the victorious warlord, who proclaimed himself the new
king at the end of the battle, took her as his queen.

Horror
A Christmas Eve to Forget
As I flip through the pages, Sadie abruptly walks into the room wearing a sexy blue party dress.
“I’m glad to see that you’re reading the Bible,” she says.
I gently put the book on the counter. “I saw it here and well… I thought I’d look at it while I wait.”
She places her arms around my hips and pulls herself against my body. “Are you sure you want to do this,
college boy?” she whispers.
I lower my head, staring into her eyes while she rubs herself against me. “Yeah, it’s what I do.”
She smiles. “Then you’re lucky, not many men can have me.”
“I know.”
She lets go of me and points at the closet next to the hallway. “You will hide in there.”
“If that’s what you want.”
She licks her upper lip and adds, “You’re my Christmas gift.”
“Are you sure you can pay me?”
She reaches for me. “Yes and here it is.” She takes out the money from her purse.
“I usually get paid after.”
“Take it.” She shoves the money down my pants.
I push away, looking at the closet door.
“Remember the plan,” she says.
I laugh while pulling out a black ski mask from my back pocket. I put it on.
“Now you look like a naughty burglar,” she adds.
“I was afraid you would say that.”
Sadie looks at the clock on the wall. “I better go. Midnight Mass already started.” She grabs her jacket
and runs toward the front door, turning off the lights in the house. “Don’t fall asleep,” she says. The front
door slams shut as I notice in the corner of the living room the reflection of green, red, and blue blinking
lights from her Christmas tree. I am about to approach the tree, when my cell phone vibrates. I answer it.
“Where are you?” David asks.
“I’m still at her house.”
“Well hurry up. You’re missing an awesome party, and dad is asking for you.”
I walk into the closet and sit on a chair behind a large coat rack. “Guess what?” I ask.
“What?”
“This lady has a sick fantasy.”
“What did you expect? She’s mom’s friend.”
“Get this. She went to Midnight Mass, and when she gets back, I’m supposed to jump out of a closet,
wearing a mask like a thief and attack her.”
“Attack her?”
“Yeah, I’m supposed to rough her up a little, rip her clothes off and… you know – do bad things to her
next to her Christmas tree.”
“And while her husband is out of town?”
“Yeah, crazy, and she has a Bible on a counter.”
“How weird is that?”
“I know.”
“Well hurry up before the party ends. Uncle Bob is already drunk.”
The phone hangs up as I lean back on the chair, staring between the coats. I reach for the closet door and
close it halfway, giving me enough view of the living room and the Christmas tree. I then shove my cell
phone back in my pocket and as I wait, my eyes slowly close.
I wake up to a blast of cold air across my face with a horrible stench. I quickly sit up, peek between the
coats, anticipating that Sadie has returned from Midnight Mass, but all I see is the blinking Christmas
lights and something awkward behind the tree. I quietly reach forward, gently pushing two coats apart,
looking more intently, and what I see is shocking.
A creepy figure – tall, slender, bare, hairless with long arms and fingers – is touching the Christmas tree
as though curious by the blinking lights. I push myself back in the chair, and as the creature moves around
the tree, it has red blistered skin and a long tail like a kangaroo. I take a deep breath, clasp my hands
together, when unexpectedly the creature starts to whistle to what sounds like a Christmas jingle.
Disturbed, I reach for my cell phone, when the backdoor slams open.
“I forgot my purse!” Sadie shouts.
With a loud scream, the creature jumps at Sadie.
“Stop!” she yells.
I’m frozen still, and all I hear is the furniture being knocked over.
“Help,” Sadie whimpers.
I close my eyes to a beastly grunt.
“No,” she cries.
I sit cowardly in the chair, thinking whatever this creature is – I hope it doesn’t notice me in the closet. I
then hear my name.
“Gabe, please help me,” Sadie begs.
I glue myself to the chair.
“Gabe,” she says. “He’s going to kill me.”
I want to cry.
“Gabe,” she murmurs.
I cover my ears.
“I don’t want to die,” she moans.
But then I force my eyes open to the sound of laughter echoing around me, and with a trembling hand, I
reach forward, quietly pulling the closet door shut. I sit with shame, doing nothing to help Sadie. For the
first time in my life I am weak, anticipating the inevitable as time seems forever. Now for sure the
creature knows I am in the closet, but for some strange reason death is not upon me.
Later on when the house is once again silent, I pull off my ski mask and creep out of the closet to the
sight of blood dripping off the Christmas tree. I look down the hallway, and what is left of Sadie – a
butchered head, severed limbs, and a torn blue party dress – are scattered along the bloody floor. I gag,
shoving my hand down my pants. I pull out the five-hundred dollars, drop it next to her Bible, and
frantically run out of the house to the reflection of green, red, and blue blinking lights. 
The End

Folklore
How the World was Made

Thousands of years ago there was no land nor sun nor moon nor stars, and the world was only a
great sea of water, above which stretched the sky. The water was the kingdom of the god
Maguayan, and the sky was ruled by the great god Captan.

Maguayan had a daughter called Lidagat, the sea, and Captan had a son known as Lihangin, the
wind. The gods agreed to the marriage of their children, so the sea became the bride of the wind.
Three sons and a daughter were born to them. The sons were called Licalibutan, Liadlao, and
Libulan, and the daughter received the name of Lisuga.

Licalibutan had a body of rock and was strong and brave; Liadlao was formed of gold and was
always happy; Libulan was made of copper and was weak and timid; and the beautiful Lisuga
had a body of pure silver and was sweet and gentle. Their parents were very fond of them, and
nothing was wanting to make them happy.

After a time Lihangin died and left the control of the winds to his eldest son Licalibutan. The
faithful wife Lidagat soon followed her husband, and the children, now grown up, were left
without father or mother. However, their grandfathers, Captan and Maguayan, took care of them
and guarded them from all evil.

After a time, Licalibutan, proud of his power over the winds, resolved to gain more power, and
asked his brothers to join him in an attack on Captan in the sky above. At first they refused; but
when Licalibutan became angry with them, the amiable Liadlao, not wishing to offend his
brother, agreed to help. Then together they induced the timid Libulan to join in the plan.

When all was ready the three brothers rushed at the sky, but they could not beat down the gates
of steel that guarded the entrance. Then Licalibutan let loose the strongest winds and blew the
bars in every direction. The brothers rushed into the opening, but were met by the angry god
Captan. So terrible did he look that they turned and ran in terror; but Captan, furious at the
destruction of his gates, sent three bolts of lightning after them.

The first struck the copper Libulan and melted him into a ball. The second struck the golden
Liadlao and he too was melted. The third bolt struck Licalibutan and his rocky body broke into
many pieces and fell into the sea. So huge was he that parts of his body stuck out above the water
and became what is known as land.

In the meantime the gentle Lisuga had missed her brothers and started to look for them. She went
toward the sky, but as she approached the broken gates, Captan, blind with anger, struck her too
with lightning, and her silver body broke into thousands of pieces.

Captan then came down from the sky and tore the sea apart, calling on Maguayan to come to him
and accusing him of ordering the attack on the sky. Soon Maguayan appeared and answered that
he knew nothing of the plot as he had been asleep far down in the sea. After a time he succeeded
in calming the angry Captan. Together they wept at the loss of their grandchildren, especially the
gentle and beautiful Lisuga; but with all their power they could not restore the dead to life.
However, they gave to each body a beautiful light that will shine forever.

And so it was that golden Liadlao became the sun and copper Libulan the moon, while the
thousands of pieces of silver Lisuga shine as the stars of heaven. To wicked Licalibutan the gods
gave no light, but resolved to make his body support a new race of people. So Captan gave
Maguayan a seed and he planted it on the land, which, as you will remember, was part of
Licalibutan's huge body. Soon a bamboo tree grew up, and from the hollow of one of its
branches a man and a woman came out. The man's name was Sicalac, and the woman was called
Sicabay. They were the parents of the human race. Their first child was a son whom they called
Libo; afterwards they had a daughter who was known as Saman. Pandaguan was a younger son
and he had a son called Arion.

Pandaguan was very clever and invented a trap to catch fish. The very first thing he caught was a
huge shark. When he brought it to land, it looked so great and fierce that he thought it was surely
a god, and he at once ordered his people to worship it. Soon all gathered around and began to
sing and pray to the shark. Suddenly the sky and sea opened, and the gods came out and ordered
Pandaguan to throw the shark back into the sea and to worship none but them.

All were afraid except Pandaguan. He grew very bold and answered that the shark was as big as
the gods, and that since he had been able to overpower it he would also be able to conquer the
gods. Then Captan, hearing this, struck Pandaguan with a small thunderbolt, for he did not wish
to kill him but merely to teach him a lesson. Then he and Maguayan decided to punish these
people by scattering them over the earth, so they carried some to one land and some to another.
Many children were afterwards born, and thus the earth became inhabited in all parts.

Pandaguan did not die. After lying on the ground for thirty days he regained his strength, but his
body was blackened from the lightning, and all his descendants ever since that day have been
black.

His first son, Arion, was taken north, but as he had been born before his father's punishment he
did not lose his color, and all his people therefore are white.

Libo and Saman were carried south, where the hot sun scorched their bodies and caused all their
descendants to be of a brown color.

A son of Saman and a daughter of Sicalac were carried east, where the land at first was so
lacking in food that they were compelled to eat clay. On this account their children and their
children's children have always been yellow in color.

And so the world came to be made and peopled. The sun and moon shine in the sky and the
beautiful stars light up the night. All over the land, on the body of the envious Licalibutan, the
children of Sicalac and Sicabay have grown great in numbers. May they live forever in peace and
brotherly love!