FICTION

Fiction broadly refers to any narrative that is derived from the imagination—in other
words, not based strictly on history or fact.[1][2][3] It can also refer, more narrowly, to
narratives written only in prose (the novel and short story), and is often used as a
synonym for the novel.

Short Story
A short story is a piece of prose fiction that typically can be read in one sitting and focuses on a
self-contained incident or series of linked incidents, with the intent of evoking a "single effect" or
mood, however there are many exceptions to this.

Potatoes, Eggs, and Coffee Beans

Once upon a time a daughter complained to her father that her life was miserable
and that she didn’t know how she was going to make it. She was tired of fighting
and struggling all the time. It seemed just as one problem was solved, another one
soon followed.
Her father, a chef, took her to the kitchen. He filled three pots with water and
placed each on a high fire. Once the three pots began to boil, he placed potatoes in
one pot, eggs in the second pot, and ground coffee beans in the third pot.
He then let them sit and boil, without saying a word to his daughter. The daughter,
moaned and impatiently waited, wondering what he was doing.
After twenty minutes he turned off the burners. He took the potatoes out of the pot
and placed them in a bowl. He pulled the boiled eggs out and placed them in a
bowl.
He then ladled the coffee out and placed it in a cup. Turning to her he asked.
“Daughter, what do you see?”
“Potatoes, eggs, and coffee,” she hastily replied.
“Look closer,” he said, “and touch the potatoes.” She did and noted that they were
soft. He then asked her to take an egg and break it. After pulling off the shell, she
observed the hard-boiled egg. Finally, he asked her to sip the coffee. Its rich aroma
brought a smile to her face.
“Father, what does this mean?” she asked.
He then explained that the potatoes, the eggs and coffee beans had each faced the
same adversity– the boiling water.
However, each one reacted differently.
The potato went in strong, hard, and unrelenting, but in boiling water, it became
soft and weak.
The egg was fragile, with the thin outer shell protecting its liquid interior until it
was put in the boiling water. Then the inside of the egg became hard.
However, the ground coffee beans were unique. After they were exposed to the
boiling water, they changed the water and created something new.
“Which are you,” he asked his daughter. “When adversity knocks on your door,
how do you respond? Are you a potato, an egg, or a coffee bean? “
Moral:In life, things happen around us, things happen to us, but the only thing that
truly matters is what happens within us.
Which one are you?
A fairy tale, wonder tale, magic tale, or Märchen is a folklore genre that takes the form of a short
story. Such stories typically feature entities such
as dwarfs, dragons, elves, fairies, giants, gnomes, goblins, griffins, mermaids, talking
animals, trolls, unicorns, or witches, and usually magic or enchantments. Fairy tales may be
distinguished[by whom?] from other folk narratives such as legends (which generally involve belief in the
veracity of the events described)[1] and explicit moral tales, including beast fables. The term is mainly
used for stories with origins in European tradition and, at least in recent centuries, mostly relates
to children's literature.

JORINDA AND JORINDEL

There was once an old castle, that stood in the middle of a deep
gloomy wood, and in the castle lived an old fairy. Now this fairy could
take any shape she pleased. All the day long she flew about in the
form of an owl, or crept about the country like a cat; but at night she
always became an old woman again. When any young man came
within a hundred paces of her castle, he became quite fixed, and
could not move a step till she came and set him free; which she
would not do till he had given her his word never to come there
again: but when any pretty maiden came within that space she was
changed into a bird, and the fairy put her into a cage, and hung her
up in a chamber in the castle. There were seven hundred of these
cages hanging in the castle, and all with beautiful birds in them.
Now there was once a maiden whose name was Jorinda. She was prettier than all the pretty girls that ever
were seen before, and a shepherd lad, whose name was Jorindel, was very fond of her, and they were
soon to be married. One day they went to walk in the wood, that they might be alone; and Jorindel said,
'We must take care that we don't go too near to the fairy's castle.' It was a beautiful evening; the last rays of
the setting sun shone bright through the long stems of the trees upon the green underwood beneath, and
the turtle-doves sang from the tall birches.
image: http://www.kidsgen.com/fables_and_fairytales/brothers-grimm/jorinda-and-jorindel.jpg

Jorinda sat down to gaze upon the sun; Jorindel sat by her side; and both felt sad, they knew not why; but it
seemed as if they were to be parted from one another for ever. They had wandered a long way; and when
they looked to see which way they should go home, they found themselves at a loss to know what path to
take.
The sun was setting fast, and already half of its circle had sunk behind the hill: Jorindel on a sudden looked
behind him, and saw through the bushes that they had, without knowing it, sat down close under the old
walls of the castle. Then he shrank for fear, turned pale, and trembled. Jorinda was just singing,
'The ring-dove sang from the willow spray,
Well-a-day! Well-a-day!
He mourn'd for the fate of his darling mate,
Well-a-day!'
when her song stopped suddenly. Jorindel turned to see the reason, and beheld his Jorinda changed into a
nightingale, so that her song ended with a mournful /jug, jug/. An owl with fiery eyes flew three times round
them, and three times screamed:
'Tu whu! Tu whu! Tu whu!'
Jorindel could not move; he stood fixed as a stone, and could neither weep, nor speak, nor stir hand or
foot. And now the sun went quite down; the gloomy night came; the owl flew into a bush; and a moment
after the old fairy came forth pale and meagre, with staring eyes, and a nose and chin that almost met one
another.
She mumbled something to herself, seized the nightingale, and went away with it in her hand. Poor Jorindel
saw the nightingale was gone-- but what could he do? He could not speak, he could not move from the spot
where he stood. At last the fairy came back and sang with a hoarse voice:
'Till the prisoner is fast,
And her doom is cast,
There stay! Oh, stay!
When the charm is around her,
And the spell has bound her,
Hie away! away!'
On a sudden Jorindel found himself free. Then he fell on his knees before the fairy, and prayed her to give
him back his dear Jorinda: but she laughed at him, and said he should never see her again; then she went
her way.
He prayed, he wept, he sorrowed, but all in vain. 'Alas!' he said, 'what will become of me?' He could not go
back to his own home, so he went to a strange village, and employed himself in keeping sheep. Many a
time did he walk round and round as near to the hated castle as he dared go, but all in vain; he heard or
saw nothing of Jorinda.
At last he dreamt one night that he found a beautiful purple flower, and that in the middle of it lay a costly
pearl; and he dreamt that he plucked the flower, and went with it in his hand into the castle, and that
everything he touched with it was disenchanted, and that there he found his Jorinda again.
In the morning when he awoke, he began to search over hill and dale for this pretty flower; and eight long
days he sought for it in vain: but on the ninth day, early in the morning, he found the beautiful purple flower;
and in the middle of it was a large dewdrop, as big as a costly pearl. Then he plucked the flower, and set
out and travelled day and night, till he came again to the castle.
He walked nearer than a hundred paces to it, and yet he did not become fixed as before, but found that he
could go quite close up to the door. Jorindel was very glad indeed to see this. Then he touched the door
with the flower, and it sprang open; so that he went in through the court, and listened when he heard so
many birds singing. At last he came to the chamber where the fairy sat, with the seven hundred birds
singing in the seven hundred cages. When she saw Jorindel she was very angry, and screamed with rage;
but she could not come within two yards of him, for the flower he held in his hand was his safeguard. He
looked around at the birds, but alas! there were many, many nightingales, and how then should he find out
which was his Jorinda? While he was thinking what to do, he saw the fairy had taken down one of the
cages, and was making the best of her way off through the door. He ran or flew after her, touched the cage
with the flower, and Jorinda stood before him, and threw her arms round his neck looking as beautiful as
ever, as beautiful as when they walked together in the wood.
Then he touched all the other birds with the flower, so that they all took their old forms again; and he took
Jorinda home, where they were married, and lived happily together many years: and so did a good many
other lads, whose maidens had been forced to sing in the old fairy's cages by themselves, much longer
than they liked.
Fantasy is a genre of speculative fiction set in a fictional universe, often inspired by real
world myth and folklore. Its roots are in oral traditions, which then
became literature and drama. From the twentieth century it has expanded further into
various media, including film, television, graphic novels and video games.

When The Table Turns

Written by Jeffery T. Ford
“You smell like vanilla, but you taste like salt.”
That’s what I told him. But I assure you, I am not a rude woman. I’m a wonderful wife, honestly. If anything, I’m strict
yet understanding. But cross me and the next thing you’ll cross is Death himself.
Living amongst humans isn’t easy. These human-led kingdoms still aren’t used to elves roaming their lands. At least
not with rights. The human heart will always be ignorant and controlling, but at least they’re making progress… if you
call being forced to allow elves to have rights and own land and hold jobs “progress.”
Dealing with the sneers and backtalk is easy enough, for I am grown and refuse to partake in petty squabbling. But
despite having rights (rights that were granted nearly a decade ago), getting a job was difficult. So while I’m putting
food on our table and my good-for-nothing husband decides he’s a “professional card player” and gambles our
money away, it appalls me that he would even ponder cheating on me! The pact of marriage is sacred and
everlasting and he ruined all of that! How in the world did he expect me to react?!
“But I was drunk, honey. I didn’t know what was going on.”
Mhmm… Oh, of course you didn’t know! LIES! My husband isn’t the most advanced spell in the tome, but he also
isn’t the simplest. His lies are birthed from desperation. I should have listened to my mother, but… well… what young
daughter ever listens to their mother before it’s too late?
Now I’m eating breakfast by myself when the liar sulks into the kitchen, his head low and his eyes nowhere near
mine. I pretend not to see him, pretend to be surprised when he sits down across from me at the table and asks for
me to pass the butter (even though I haven’t laid down a plate for him, but you know males… not the cleverest
creatures in the world).
“Sweetie… honey.” His words are slow and carefully prepared. It’s so easy for me to tell at this point in our marriage.
His apologies are like the scripts of terrible plays. “I am so sorry and I love you more than anything in the world. Will
you forgive me, please?”
I smile, and a laugh nearly leaves my mouth.
“Of course,” I answer, glancing up and awaiting the expected returning smile on my husband’s face. It appears, of
course, just like it always does.
Later that night we’re lying in bed, me reading a book and my husband whispering to himself about card strategies.
Normally I would demand he shut up, but on this night I’m feeling particularly rosy.
“Honey,” I whisper into his ear, caressing his ears with my fingertips. He loves that, much like a dog. And it always
put him in the mood. “I want to give you something.” I rise from bed and walk to my wardrobe. What I bring out is a
pair of iron handlocks and footlocks. “I want you to know that I’m not angry,” I tell him. “That I’m willing to… ‘open up,’
if you will.”
A figure walks into the room, a beautiful human woman. To use predictable, trite descriptions my husband would use
to butter me up, her hair is as yellow as the sun and her eyes are as blue as the ocean. She is gorgeous, though… I’ll
give her that.
She’s also the woman my husband cheated on me with.
“What…?” he looks from me to the woman to me… then a quick glance at the woman’s features before back to me
again. “A-are you” is what stumbles from his mouth, as if drunk from beauty alone. “Can we… are you serious?”
I nod, slowly, and smile. “Of course, my dear. I love you more than anything in the world. Isn’t that
what you told me this morning?”
“Yes, it was! I do love you! I love you!”
“Then let’s get started.”
The woman climbs aboard my husband’s lap as he leans back against the bedpost. His eyes never wander into mine
until I’m locking his hands and feet to the wooden poles in each corner.
“What are you doing?” he asks me, but his eyes dart back to the woman as I answer.
“I told you, honey, I’m being more open-minded now. I wanted to… spice things up a little.”
He doesn’t argue (why would he?) and I lock his feet and arms into place. Then, standing just in front of the bed, at
the woman’s back, I snap my fingers. The magic-induced apparition disappears and the only people inside the room
are my husband and I.
“Wait… where did she go?” he demands.
“Oh, don’t worry,” I tell him. “You’ll be seeing her very soon. I’ll be sure to bury you where I buried her.”
I bring out the knives, watching as my husband’s smile turns upside down. And I’ll tell you now… I haven’t felt more
alive in years.
 Non-Fiction
Non-fiction or nonfiction is content (sometimes, in the form of a story) whose creator, in good faith, assumes
responsibility for the truth or accuracy of the events, people, or information presented.[1] In contrast, a story whose creator
explicitly leaves open if and how the work refers to reality is usually classified as fiction.[1][2] Nonfiction, which may be
presented either objectively or subjectively, is traditionally one of the two main divisions of narratives (and,
specifically, prose writing),[3] the other traditional division being fiction, which contrasts with nonfiction by dealing in
information, events, and characters expected to be partly or largely imaginary.

ESSAY

An essay is, generally, a piece of writing that gives the author's own argument — but the definition is
vague, overlapping with those of a paper, an article, a pamphlet, and a short story. Essays have
traditionally been sub-classified as formal and informal. Formal essays are characterized by "serious
purpose, dignity, logical organization, length," whereas the informal essay is characterized by "the
personal element (self-revelation, individual tastes and experiences, confidential manner), humor,
graceful style, rambling structure, unconventionality or novelty of theme," etc.

Love.
We are all created by God in His image and likeness. We are made to live on Earth for one purpose: to
feel. As human beings made by God, we are obliged to live our life to the fullest..
We are made by God but still, we are unique in our own differences, beliefs and religion.
For instance, love. We have different beliefs or understanding of this four-letter word.1
For some, it is a magical feeling one experiences when seeing someone he/she adores to the point
wherein she will say that she feels butterflies in her stomach. Whenever that person is near you, you
get queasy and tend to stutter on your words. They say its just hormones, which is true. But it's hard to
believe that what causes you to feel this emotion is a simple word --- Love.3
Love is seeing a person perfectly despite his/her imperfections. Love is so powerful that it can bring
even the gods to their knees. Love is a sensational and once in a lifetime feeling. The previous
sentences are just about a few of my knowledge about love.
There are different forms of love: either love for your friends, family, relatives, and most especially to
God. But there is one form of love that I will tackle in this essay which I have experienced in my past
days as a teenager.
Teenage Love.
Teenage Love; they say is sweet, romantic and is filled with sparkling lights. When you are in love with
someone, you seem to forget the whole world and that one person is the only thing worth keeping in
our world.
It is a wonderful feeling when you knwo that you are loved and even a more wonderful feeling when
you are in love.2
It's not a crime to fall in love. You're not making any mistakes when you fall in love. But for instance,
you confessed your feelings to that special someone and get rejected. You think that your whole life
has crashed and that you are all alone in this world anymore. See, that's the mistake. That's when
Love becomes a crime. It kills you both when you have it and when you don't.
A piece of advice: don't drown yourself in someone who treated you special, unique among the rest
and cared for you wholeheartedly. Don't assume or daydream about what you're expecting from that
person. It will only break your heart if the time comes that your expectations would disappoint you. Just
be yourself and enjoy the company you have with that person because life is short and if you don't do
what your instinct tells you, you'll live a life with a bucket full of regrets.1
Concluding my essay about this sensational feeling we call love. I have one last thing to say. Love is
more worth it when you wait. Don't rush and jump into conclusions, that will only lead to a heartbreak.
Smile. Fall in love. Nothing's gonna stop you.
Speech is human vocal communication using language. Each language uses phonetic combinations
of a limited set of perfectly articulated and individualized vowel and consonant sounds that form the
sound of its words (that is, all English words sound different from all French words, even if they are
the same word, e.g., "role" or "hotel"), and using those words in their semantic character as words in
the lexicon of a language according to the syntactic constraints that govern lexical words' function in
a sentence.

SPEECH ON FRIENDSHIP
FRIENDSHIP SPEECH 1
As we have gathered here at this auspicious occasion, I would like to speech over the friendship. First of all I
would like to say Good morning to the Excellencies, respected teachers and my dear friends. A friend is a most
precious gift to all of us. We should always understand its importance and give value without having any
misunderstanding. Friendship is a relationship where no any blood relation exists. It is a limitless relation goes
forever without the rule of give and take. It is the special and unique relation of love and affection to any other
person in the world. True friendship never sees the caste, creed, religion and colour of person; it only sees the
internal beauty, simplicity and soul of the two or three person going to be involved in the friendship.

Friend of anyone is someone with whom one may feel comfortable and belief to each other as well as share
their thoughts, ideas and personal feelings. Friend is one with whom we can feel safe and secure and do not
need to think twice for any matter. True friends involved in the friendship love each other unconditionally and
understand each other need without judging on the matter. They always ready to support each other and
provide good knowledge and advice. There is a most famous friendship of Krishna and Sudama in India which
has become a great example of true friendship from the ancient time. There is a common saying about the
friendship by the Elbert Hubbard “A friend is someone who knows all about you and still loves you.”

A true friend always stands together and helps whenever another one need help and support. A true friend
never cares his/her own important works and leaves all works to help friends. He/she never leave a friend alone
especially during the difficult times of life. It is said that time takes hard exams of true friends in their difficult
times. Actually difficult time is a best time which realizes us about the value and importance of true friends.
The people having true friends in the life are really blessed with most precious gifts. Making number of friends
in the life does not matter with the quality of friendship. True friends (whether one, two or three) are enough
for whole life; instead of having many friends who never understand the situation of the needy one. Friends are
the real supporter in life who teaches us how to face difficulties of life. They are the real well wishers of us
who changes our bad viewpoints about anything for good.

Thank You
A biography, or simply bio, is a detailed description of a person's life. It
involves more than just the basic facts like education, work, relationships,
and death; it portrays a person's experience of these life events. Unlike a
profile or curriculum vitae (résumé), a biography presents a subject's life
story, highlighting various aspects of his or her life, including intimate
details of experience, and may include an analysis of the subject's
personality.
 Salay National High School
Salay, Misamis Oriental

PROJECT IN ENGLISH
(Fiction and Non-Fiction)

Submitted by:

JILL ANN C. BUTRA

Submitted to:

MISS. JANE RIKKA C. LIM

April 1, 2019