The Diary By Emmanuelle THIS is the story of a reader. It somehow found its way to me. Our father died when I was a third grader. Widowed early in her early thirties, Ina supported my two siblings and I through the earnings of our boarding house that can accommodate…

The Fan By Emmanuelle THIS fan is not the pamaypay kind. The paypay brings us no trouble. In fact, with just a slight flick of the wrist, it whips-up some cooling air. A slight relief, but a relief nevertheless. This fan we shall read about is trouble we ourselves brought…

This greatest love By Emmanuelle You are my greatest love, the mightiest source of my strength; you are also my greatest fear and my Achilles’ heel. My love for you knows no bounds. I will climb the steepest mountains, cross the wildest streams, find my way through Lost and Amazing…

Rattlings By Emmanuelle ONCE upon a time, actually two nights ago, the vampires awoke. And in keeping with the delicious promise of their creation, they went on    a blood-sucking rampage. What to do? I screamed, I ran, I jumped down the length of the stairs. I rushed out to…

Yaya taught me well . . . By Emmanuelle THE reason why I have such a vivid and colorful imagination is because I had a yaya with the most vivid and colorful of imaginations. Not because of the mama, who seemed to have just enough time after work for a…

Beautiful Boxer By Emmanuelle NO. This is not a write-up in reaction to one of those Chinese movies of the high-flying, hand-chopping, and ear-splitting keening kind. I write this in praise of a beautiful lady who boxes for a living, and who is so good at it, she found fame…

The win you lost (A candidate’s mom’s monosyllabic advice) By Emmanuelle THE polls had long been closed and cleared. The rooms now wait for real kids, in socks, and shorts and hair tied back in pig-tails. We had hailed and grasped the hands of those who won; we had hugged…

I have two aunts By Emmanuelle (A Note to the Feeling Reader: When I write in the 1st person, it does not follow that I am that person and that what you are reading is about a story in my life. When I write in the 1st person, it is…

No baby talks like this baby (A baby’s monologue, what else?) By Emmanuelle MY yaya ties her hair high up her head in a not so tidy ponytail and hides her thick lashes shyly behind even thicker graded glasses. Alas, she also has brown freckles on her cheeks, and over…

A week to win (A candidate’s monosyllabic monologue) By Emmanuelle I know you. I read what your eyes see. I need not go into you. I need not wait for your lips to shape your thoughts out loud. And not only you I see and feel. I see the rest…