I hibernated for a month in the province. That explains the quite long hiatus. For those who have been following this blog, kung meron, pasensiya.
I spent most of the time on a drinking spree with relatives and friends, cooking and experimenting with local spices, helping in our little family business, brainstorming for a theme in our cluttered receiving room, and story telling with my two little nephews.
The latter was a mistake. After I told the story of an old woman with a missing finger, I was bugged perpetually by these little devils, prodding me to tell the story again and again. I had to feign sleep or illness so they would not bother me, but to no avail. Sometimes they do sweet things to bribe me like giving me massage, helping me in the kitchen, running errand or giving a pack of Marlboro they stole from our sari- sari store. If all of these failed they would threaten to hit my eyeballs with their laser pellet guns.
I suspect that it is the gory part that delights them. I am alarmed because they seem to love violence: They are fanatics of Japanese cartoons; they love with passion John Cena and Batista. One time I was watching a Takeshi Kitano’ flick, they violently protested when I tried shoo them away or close their eyes during the slashing, gutting and the dismembering part of the movie.
I don’t know who came up with this story. I heard it first when I was only five years old and It was passed on like urban legend.
The story goes:
In a faraway village, there lived an old woman with her only child. One day, the old woman was sick and was dying. Convinced that she had few days to live she said to her daughter her last will
“My child, when I m dead do not remove my ring. I want to bring it in my grave”
“Yes my poor mother, whatever you say. But why leave me so soon? What will become of me? How can I live without you? Don’t die my poor mother…” she cried.
The mother died. The daughter turned out to be cruel and haughty. She thought that ring could cost a fortune so she tried to remove it from her mother’s finger. But the ring stuck and she could not remove. She got a bolo and hacked the finger.
Then she buried her mother.
One cold and rainy night, the daughter heard a knock from the door. When she opened the door there was an old woman.
“I am thirsty my child, please give me glass of water” the old woman said.
She took pity on the old woman who was shivering and drenched in the rain, she told her to come in. Then she gave her a glass of water.
When the old woman took the glass of water, the girl noticed the missing ring finger…..
“Oh god! You…. are…. My mother!” she cried.
The end.
I love how my nephews would freeze in fright during the climax.
The story is supposed to be suspense. To create a suspenseful and frightening effect there is a technique in telling the story. For instance, during the part where the girl heard a knock up to the part where she noticed the missing finger, you hold back, make sure that your audience is absorbed… in suspended animation and then throw the climax. The original story of course is in our dialect and the effect may be lost in translation.
I have told the story for the nth time. To maximize to fright effect I adorn it with some gothic detail a la Edgar Allan Poe like howling dogs, rolling empty casket… or add gory details a la Wes Craven slashers like the use of an axe to cut the finger instead of a bolo, or the finger would roll on the floor and blood would spurt.
But the fright effect was killed when my nephew later noticed the flaws in my story: How come the old woman is thirsty when she is shivering and wet? How can blood spurt from a dead person?
I spent most of the time on a drinking spree with relatives and friends, cooking and experimenting with local spices, helping in our little family business, brainstorming for a theme in our cluttered receiving room, and story telling with my two little nephews.
The latter was a mistake. After I told the story of an old woman with a missing finger, I was bugged perpetually by these little devils, prodding me to tell the story again and again. I had to feign sleep or illness so they would not bother me, but to no avail. Sometimes they do sweet things to bribe me like giving me massage, helping me in the kitchen, running errand or giving a pack of Marlboro they stole from our sari- sari store. If all of these failed they would threaten to hit my eyeballs with their laser pellet guns.
I suspect that it is the gory part that delights them. I am alarmed because they seem to love violence: They are fanatics of Japanese cartoons; they love with passion John Cena and Batista. One time I was watching a Takeshi Kitano’ flick, they violently protested when I tried shoo them away or close their eyes during the slashing, gutting and the dismembering part of the movie.
I don’t know who came up with this story. I heard it first when I was only five years old and It was passed on like urban legend.
The story goes:
In a faraway village, there lived an old woman with her only child. One day, the old woman was sick and was dying. Convinced that she had few days to live she said to her daughter her last will
“My child, when I m dead do not remove my ring. I want to bring it in my grave”
“Yes my poor mother, whatever you say. But why leave me so soon? What will become of me? How can I live without you? Don’t die my poor mother…” she cried.
The mother died. The daughter turned out to be cruel and haughty. She thought that ring could cost a fortune so she tried to remove it from her mother’s finger. But the ring stuck and she could not remove. She got a bolo and hacked the finger.
Then she buried her mother.
One cold and rainy night, the daughter heard a knock from the door. When she opened the door there was an old woman.
“I am thirsty my child, please give me glass of water” the old woman said.
She took pity on the old woman who was shivering and drenched in the rain, she told her to come in. Then she gave her a glass of water.
When the old woman took the glass of water, the girl noticed the missing ring finger…..
“Oh god! You…. are…. My mother!” she cried.
The end.
I love how my nephews would freeze in fright during the climax.
The story is supposed to be suspense. To create a suspenseful and frightening effect there is a technique in telling the story. For instance, during the part where the girl heard a knock up to the part where she noticed the missing finger, you hold back, make sure that your audience is absorbed… in suspended animation and then throw the climax. The original story of course is in our dialect and the effect may be lost in translation.
I have told the story for the nth time. To maximize to fright effect I adorn it with some gothic detail a la Edgar Allan Poe like howling dogs, rolling empty casket… or add gory details a la Wes Craven slashers like the use of an axe to cut the finger instead of a bolo, or the finger would roll on the floor and blood would spurt.
But the fright effect was killed when my nephew later noticed the flaws in my story: How come the old woman is thirsty when she is shivering and wet? How can blood spurt from a dead person?
