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by Jose Garcia Villa Anchored Angel And,lay,he,down,the,golden,father, (Genesis,fist,all,gentle,now). between,the,Wall,of,China,and, The,tiger,tree(his,centuries,his, Aerials,of,light) Anchored,entire,angel! He,in,his,estate,miracle,and,living,dew, His,fuses,gold,his,cobalts,love, And,in,his,eyepits, O,under,the,liontelling,sun The,zeta,truththe,swift,red,Christ. Author's Bio: Villa's first book (as editor) was Philippine Short Stories: Best 25 Short Stories of 1928 (1929, Phils. Free Press), an anthology of Filipino short stories in English culled mostly from the issues of the Philippines Free Press for 1928. It would have been the first anthology of short stories, but another anthology, Philippine Love Stories (1927, edited by Paz M. Benitez), mostly love stories, antedated it by one year. [Earlier Filipino short story anthologies before World War II included one edited by O.O. Sta. Romana (ca. 1935); another edited by a Philippine-born American, Percy Hill (ca. mid- '20s), extant copies of which may be found in the Filipiniana collection of Leopoldo Y. Yabes, and in Morton Netzorg's Filipiniana collection which, after the owner's death, was bought by the Francisco Ortigas family corporation; and a third copy owned by a Filipino resident in Portland, OR.; Percy Hill wrote Romance and Adventure in Old Manila, a collection of (probably) true accounts of life in Manila in previous centuries; one of them an account of the assassination of Gov. Bustamante by the Catholic clergy on the steps of the Ayuntamiento.] Villa published the first (and for a time the only) collection of his short stories. Footnote to Youth: Tales of the Philippines and Others (1933, Chas. Scribner's Sons). Many Voices (1939, Phil. Book Guild) and Poems by Doveglion (1941, Phil. Writers League), Villa's first two collection of poems, were published. Villa would publish two more collections of his poems: Have Come, Am Here (1942, Viking) and Volume Two (sic!) (1949); and Selected Poems and New ( 1958, McDowell, Obolensky). And in the '60s, Villa's Poems 55 ( 1962), Poems in Praise of Love ( 1962), and Selected Stories ( 1962); followed by The Portable Villa ( 1962) and The Essential Villa ( 1965) ; the last 5 titles all Peso Books. In 1962 Villa edited The Doveglion Book of Philippine Poetry in English from 1910, under the imprint of Katha Editions ( 1962, Lyd Arguilla and A. Florentino); it was reprinted in a Peso Book facsimile edition ( 1965) ; a 3rd expanded edition was published by Caliraya Foundation (1975); a 4th revised edition by Anvil ( 1994).

FAIRYTALE The Battle of the Birds A king's son set out to see a battle, where every animal fought; he promised to bring back to his father the news of who would be the king of the animals that year. He arrived when the fight was almost over, but a snake and a raven still fought. He cut off the head of the snake. The raven, in gratitude, flew him to a castle where his sister lived, and the prince spent the night there. The raven then flew to another castle, where he also spent the night, but the next morning he met a handsome youth, who had been the enchanted raven. The youth gave him a bundle and warned him not to open it until he was in the place where he most wanted to be. When he was nearing his father's house, he opened the bundle. A great castle sprang up, and an irate giant demanded to know why he had put it there. It offered to put it back if the prince gave him his first son, when he reached seven years of age. Then the prince went out, and opened the bundle near his father's lands. He went into the castle, and found a pretty maid who was willing to be his wife. They had a son, and seven years later, they tried to put off the giant with the cook's son, and the butcher's son, but finally had to yield their own. The giant raised him. One day, he heard music and found the giant's daughter. She told him the next day the giant would ask him to marry one of her two older sisters, but she wanted him to insist on her, because she did not like the bridegroom he wanted for her. The prince asked, but the annoyed giant demanded that he clean out the byre, or he would not get his youngest but be killed. He started to clean. The daughter came by at noon, and the prince fell asleep, but the byre were clean when he woke. The giant knew he did not clean it, but set him to thatch it with birds' down. The prince tried to hunt the birds. At noon, the daughter put him to sleep again, and the roofs were thatched with feathers when he woke. The giant knew he had not done it, and set him to fetch down a bird's nest. He tried to climb it and got no more than half way. The daughter built him a ladder of her fingers, and when he got it down, she left her little finger in the tree. She told him that the giant would ask him to pick her out from her sisters, and the only mark would be that she was missing her finger. The wedding was held and celebrated, and the prince picked out his bride from her sisters. The giant told them to go to rest. The daughter told her husband that they had to flee at once, and they took a gray filly. She left behind slices of apples that answered the giant. Only when the last one had spoken did he realize that they had fled. He gave chase. When the giant nearly caught them, the daughter had the prince take a twig from the filly's ear and throw it behind them: it became a forest. The giant got through it, and they threw a pebble that became a mountain. The giant got through it, and they threw a flask of water that became a wave and drowned him. The daughter forbade him to let anyone or thing in his father's house kiss him, or he would forget her, but a greyhound leaped up to kiss him, and he forgot the daughter. She stayed in a tree by a well. A shoemaker's wife and daughter, going to fetch water, both thought her shadow was theirs, and thought themselves too beautiful to fetch water. The shoemaker went himself, saw her, and persuaded her to come down. When she stayed his house, some young men tried to woo her, but she made them stick to the latch so they could not approach her. The shoemaker was making shoes for the king's son, who was to marry, and the daughter persuaded him to take her. She conjured up a silver and a gold pigeon, and grains. The silver pigeon ate them, and the golden pigeon taxed him with what the giant's daughter had done for the prince. At that the prince knew her, and married her a second time.

LLOYD NIKKO GEM G. SAPASAP B.S. CRIMONLOGY 2-D

POEM Fragment
by Jose Garcia Villa Anchored Angel And,lay,he,down,the,golden,father, (Genesis,fist,all,gentle,now). between,the,Wall,of,China,and, The,tiger,tree(his,centuries,his, Aerials,of,light) Anchored,entire,angel! He,in,his,estate,miracle,and,living,dew, His,fuses,gold,his,cobalts,love, And,in,his,eyepits, O,under,the,liontelling,sun The,zeta,truththe,swift,red,Christ. LEGEND STORIES Big Turtle Many years ago the world had two parts. Animals lived in the lower part, which was was completely covered in water and had no land or soil. Above was the Sky World, where the sky people lived. The Sky World had lots of soil, with beautiful mountains and valleys. One day a girl from the Sky World went for a long walk and became very tired. "I'm so tired, I need to rest" she said. She sat down under the spreading branches of an apple tree and quickly fell asleep. Suddenly, there was a rumbling sound like thunder and the ground began to crack. A big hole opened up next to the apple tree. "What's happening?" screamed the frightened girl. She tried to move but it was too late. She and the tree slid through the hole and tumbled over and over towards the watery world below. "Help me! Help me!" screamed the girl. Luckily two swans were swimming below and saw the girl tumbling down from the sky. "Come on!" yelled one swan. "Let's catch her before she hits the water" "Okay!" yelled the other. The swans spread their wings together and caught the girl on their soft feather backs. "Whew! That was lucky" said the girl. "But what do I do now? I can't get back up to the Sky World and I can't stay on your backs forever." "We'll take you to Big turtle" said the swans. "He knows everything." After hearing what happened, the Big Turtle called all the animals in the water world to a meeting. He told them an old story about soil being found deep under the water.

"If we can get some of that soil, we can build an island on my back for you to live on" said the Big Turtle. "Sounds good to me" said the young girl. The Otter, Beaver and Muskrat started arguing over who would dive for the soil. "I'll go" said the sleek Otter, brushing his glossy fur. "No! I'll go" said Beaver, slapping the water with his big flat tail. "I'm the best swimmer" said Muskrat "I'll go." "Aaaachooo!" sneezed the young girl. "Guys, guys, would just one of you go. These swan feathers are getting up my nose and making me sneeze." "Sorry" said the swans. "That's alright" said the young Sky girl. Then Toskwaye the little Toad, popped up out of the water. "I'll go. I can dive very deep" she said. The other animals started laughing and pointing at Toskwaye. "You! You're too small and ugly to help." cried the others, laughing. "Be quiet!" said Big Turtle in a loud, stern voice. "Everyone is equal and everyone will have a chance to try." The sleek Otter smoothed his glossy fur, took a deep breath and slid into the water. He was gone for a long time before he came up gasping for air. "It was too deep" he said. "I couldn't dive that far. "Now it's my turn" said Beaver. He slapped the water with his tail as he disappeared. After a long time he came to the surface again. "It's too far" he gasped. "No one can dive that deep." Muskrat tried next and failed. "Aaaachoo!" sneezed the young girl. "This is not looking good" "Now it's my turn" said little Toskwaye the Toad. She took a deep breath and jumped into the water. She was gone a very long time and everyone thought they wouldn't see her again. Suddenly Otter pointed at the water, shouting "Look, look! Bubbles!" Toskwaye's small, ugly face appeared through the water. She spat a few grains of soil onto the Big Turtle's back, then fell back into the water - dead.The Turtle ordered the others to rub the soil grains and spread them around on his shell. The grains grew and grew, until a large island was formed - big enough for the girl to live on. It grew into our world as we know it today. And the descendants of the Sky girl became the Earth's people. Today, some people say the whole world still rests on Big Turtles back. When he gets tired and changes his position, we have earthquakes. Toad has not been forgotten either. American native Indians call her "Mashutaha", which means 'Our Grandmother'. No one is allowed to harm her.

SONG
Your Call By Secondhand Serenade Waiting for your call, I'm sick, call I'm angry call I'm desperate for your voice Listening to the song we used to sing In the car, do you remember Butterfly, Early Summer It's playing on repeat, Just like when we would meet Like when we would meet Cause I was born to tell you I love you and I am torn to do what I have to, to make you mine Stay with me tonight Stripped and polished, I am new, I am fresh I am feeling so ambitious, you and me, flesh to flesh Cause every breath that you will take when you are sitting next to me will bring life into my deepest hopes, What's your fantasy? (What's your, what's your, what's your...) Cause I was born to tell you I love you and I am torn to do what I have to, to make you mine Stay with me tonight And I'm tired of being all alone, and this solitary moment makes me want to come back home x4 (I know everything you wanted isn't anything you have) Cause I was born to tell you I love you and I am torn to do what I have to, to make you mine Stay with me tonight Cause I was born to tell you I love you and I am torn to do what I have to, to make you mine Stay with me tonight (I know everything you wanted isn't anything you have)

SHORT STORY
ALL OVER THE WORLD by Vicente Rivera, Jr.

ONE evening in August 1941, I came out of a late movie to a silent, cold night. I shivered a little as I stood for a moment in the narrow street, looking up at the distant sky, alive with stars. I stood there, letting the night wind seep through me, and listening. The street was empty, the houses on the street dimwith the kind of ghostly dimness that seems to embrace sleeping houses. I had always liked empty streets in the night; I had always stopped for a while in these streets listening for something I did not quite know what. Perhaps for low, soft cries that empty streets and sleeping houses seem to share in the night. I lived in an old, nearly crumbling apartment house just across the street from the moviehouse. From the street, I could see into the open courtyard, around which rooms for the tenants, mostly a whole family to a single room, were ranged. My room, like all the other rooms on the groundfloor, opened on this court. Three other boys, my cousins, shared the room with me. As I turned into the courtyard from the street, I noticed that the light over our study-table, which stood on the corridor outside our room, was still burning. Earlier in the evening after supper, I had taken out my books to study, but I went to a movie instead. I must have forgotten to turn off the light; apparently, the boys had forgotten, too. I went around the low screen that partitioned off our study and there was a girl reading at the table. We looked at each other, startled. I had never seen her before. She was about eleven years old, and she wore a faded blue dress. She had long, straight hair falling to her shoulders. She was reading my copy of Greek Myths. The eyes she had turned to me were wide, darkened a little by apprehension. For a long time neither of us said anything. She was a delicately pretty girl with a fine, smooth. pale olive skin that shone richly in the yellow light. Her nose was straight, small and finely molded. Her lips, full and red, were fixed and tense. And there was something else about her. Something lonely? something lost? I know, I said, I like stories, too. I read anything good I find lying around. Have you been reading long? Yes, she said. not looking at me now. She got up slowly, closing the book. Im sorry. Dont you want to read anymore? I asked her, trying to smile, trying to make her feel that everything was all right. No. she said, thank you. Oh, yes, I said, picking up the book. Its late. You ought to be in bed. But, you can take this along. She hesitated, hanging back, then shyly she took the book, brought it to her side. She looked down at her feet uncertain as to where to turn. You live here? I asked her. Yes. What room? She turned her face and nodded towards the far corner, across the courtyard, to a little room near the communal kitchen. It was the room occupied by the janitor: a small square room with no windows except for a transom above the door. You live with Mang Lucio? Hes my uncle. How long have you been here? I havent seen you before, have I?

Ive always been here. Ive seen you. Oh. Well, good nightyour name? Maria. Good night, Maria. She turned quickly, ran across the courtyard, straight to her room, and closed the door without looking back. I undressed, turned off the light and lay in bed dreaming of far-away things. I was twenty-one and had a job for the first time. The salary was not much and I lived in a house that was slowly coming apart, but life seemed good. And in the evening when the noise of living had died down and you lay safe in bed, you could dream of better times, look back and ahead, and find that life could be gentleeven with the hardness. And afterwards, when the night had grown colder, and suddenly you felt alone in the world, adrift, caught in a current of mystery that came in the hour between sleep and waking, the vaguely frightening loneliness only brought you closer to everything, to the walls and the shadows on the walls, to the other sleeping people in the room, to everything within and beyond this house, this street, this city, everywhere. I met Maria again one early evening, a week later, as I was coming home from the office. I saw her walking ahead of me, slowly, as if she could not be too careful, and with a kind of grownup poise that was somehow touching. But I did not know it was Maria until she stopped and I overtook her. She was wearing a white dress that had been old many months ago. She wore a pair of brown sneakers that had been white once. She had stopped to look at the posters of pictures advertised as Coming to our neighborhood theater. Hello, I said, trying to sound casual. She smiled at me and looked away quickly. She did not say anything nor did she step away. I felt her shyness, but there was no self-consciousness, none of the tenseness and restraint of the night we first met. I stood beside her, looked at the pictures tacked to a tilted board, and tried whistling a tune. She turned to go, hesitated, and looked at me full in the eyes. There was again that wide-eyed and sad? stare. I smiled, feeling a remote desire to comfort her, as if it would do any good, as if it was comfort she needed. Ill return your book now, she said. Youve finished it? Yes. We walked down the shadowed street. Magallanes Street in Intramuros, like all the other streets there, was not wide enough, hemmed in by old, mostly unpainted houses, clumsy and unlovely, even in the darkening light of the fading day. We went into the apartment house and I followed her across the court. I stood outside the door which she closed carefully after her. She came out almost immediately and put in my hands the book of Greek myths. She did not look at me as she stood straight and remote. My name is Felix, I said. She smiled suddenly. It was a little smile, almost an unfinished smile. But, somehow, it felt special, something given from way deep inside in sincere friendship. I walked away whistling. At the door of my room, I stopped and looked back. Maria was not in sight. Her door was firmly closed. August, 1941, was a warm month. The hangover of summer still permeated the air, specially in Intramuros. But, like some of the days of late summer, there were afternoons when the weather

was soft and clear, the sky a watery green, with a shell-like quality to it that almost made you see through and beyond, so that, watching it made you lightheaded. I walked out of the office one day into just such an afternoon. The day had been full of grinding worklike all the other days past. I was tired. I walked slowly, towards the far side of the old city, where traffic was not heavy. On the street there were old trees, as old as the walls that enclosed the city. Half-way towards school, I changed my mind and headed for the gate that led out to Bonifacio Drive. I needed stiffer winds, wider skies. I needed all of the afternoon to myself. Maria was sitting on the first bench, as you went up the sloping drive that curved away from the western gate. She saw me before I saw her. When I looked her way, she was already smiling that half-smile of hers, which even so told you all the truth she knew, without your asking. Hello, I said. Its a small world. What? I said its nice running into you. Do you always come here? As often as I can. I go to many places. Doesnt your uncle disapprove? No. Hes never around. Besides, he doesnt mind anything. Where do you go? Oh, up on the walls. In the gardens up there, near Victoria gate. Dyou know? I think so. What do you do up there? Sit down and And what? Nothing. Just sit down. She fell silent. Something seemed to come between us. She was suddenly far-away. It was like the first night again. I decided to change the subject. Look, I said, carefully, where are your folks? You mean, my mother and father? Yes. And your brothers and sisters, if any. My mother and father are dead. My elder sister is married. Shes in the province. There isnt anybody else. Did you grow up with your uncle? I think so. We were silent again. Maria had answered my questions without embarrassment. almost without emotion, in a cool light voice that had no tone. Are you in school, Maria? Yes. What grade? Six. How dyou like it? Oh, I like it. I know you like reading. She had no comment. The afternoon had waned. The breeze from the sea had died down. The last lingering warmth of the sun was now edged with cold. The trees and buildings in the distance seemed to flounder in a red-gold mist. It was a time of day that never failed to carry an enchantment for me. Maria and I sat still together, caught in some spell that made the silence between us right, that made our being together on a bench in the boulevard, man and girl,

stranger and stranger, a thing not to be wondered at, as natural and inevitable as the lengthening shadows before the setting sun. Other days came, and soon it was the season of the rain. The city grew dim and gray at the first onslaught of the monsoon. There were no more walks in the sun. I caught a cold. Maria and I had become friends now, though we saw each other infrequently. I became engrossed in my studies. You could not do anything else in a city caught in the rains. September came and went. In November, the sun broke through the now ever present clouds, and for three or four days we had bright clear weather. Then, my mind once again began flitting from my desk, to the walls outside the office, to the gardens on the walls and the benches under the trees in the boulevards. Once, while working on a particularly bad copy on the news desk, my mind scattered, the way it sometimes does and, coming together again, went back to that first meeting with Maria. And the remembrance came clear, coming into sharper focusthe electric light, the shadows around us, the stillness. And Maria, with her wide-eyed stare, the lost look in her eyes IN December, I had a little fever. On sick leave, I went home to the province. I stayed three days. I felt restless, as if I had strayed and lost contact with myself. I suppose you got that way from being sick, A pouring rain followed our train all the way back to Manila. Outside my window, the landscape was a series of dissolved hills and fields. What is it in the click of the wheels of a train that makes you feel gray inside? What is it in being sick, in lying abed that makes you feel you are awake in a dream, and that you are just an occurrence in the crying grief of streets and houses and people? In December, we had our first air-raid practice. I came home one night through darkened streets, peopled by shadows. There was a ragged look to everything, as if no one and nothing cared any more for appearances. I reached my room just as the siren shrilled. I undressed and got into my old clothes. It was dark, darker than the moment after moon-set. I went out on the corridor and sat in a chair. All around me were movements and voices. anonymous and hushed, even when they laughed. I sat still, afraid and cold. Is that you. Felix? Yes. Maria. She was standing beside my chair, close to the wall. Her voice was small and disembodied in the darkness. A chill went through me, She said nothing more for a long time. I dont like the darkness, she said. Oh, come now. When you sleep, you turn the lights off, dont you? Its not like this darkness, she said, softly. Its all over the world. We did not speak again until the lights went on. Then she was gone. The war happened not long after. At first, everything was unreal. It was like living on a motion picture screen, with yourself as actor and audience. But the sounds of bombs exploding were real enough, thudding dully against the unready ear. In Intramuros, the people left their homes the first night of the war. Many of them slept in the niches of the old walls the first time they heard the sirens scream in earnest. That evening, I returned home to find the apartment house empty. The janitor was there. My cousin who worked in the army was there. But the rest of the tenants were gone.

I asked Mang Lucio, Maria? Shes gone with your aunt to the walls. he told me. They will sleep there tonight. My cousin told me that in the morning we would transfer to Singalong. There was a house available. The only reason he was staying, he said, was because they were unable to move our things. Tomorrow that would be taken care of immediately. And you, Mang Lucio? I dont know where I could go. We ate canned pork and beans and bread. We slept on the floor, with the lights swathed in black cloth. The house creaked in the night and sent off hollow echoes. We slept uneasily. I woke up early. It was disquieting to wake up to stillness in that house which rang with childrens voices and laughter the whole day everyday. In the kitchen, there were sounds and smells of cooking. Hello, I said. It was Maria, frying rice. She turned from the stove and looked at me for a long time. Then, without a word, she turned back to her cooking. Are you and your uncle going away? I asked. I dont know. Did he not tell you? No. Were moving to Singalong. Yes, I know. Well, anyway, Ill come back tonight. Maybe this afternoon. Well not have to say goodbye till then. She did not say anything. I finished washing and went back to my room. I dressed and went out. At noon, I went to Singalong to eat. All our things were there already, and the folks were busy putting the house in order. As soon as I finished lunch, I went back to the office. There were few vehicles about. Air-raid alerts were frequent. The brightness of the day seemed glaring. The faces of people were all pale and drawn. In the evening, I went back down the familiar street. I was stopped many times by air-raid volunteers. The house was dark. I walked back to the street. I stood for a long time before the house. Something did not want me to go away just yet. A light burst in my face. It was a volunteer. Do you live here? I used to. Up to yesterday. Im looking for the janitor. Why, did you leave something behind? Yes, I did. But I think Ive lost it now. Well, you better get along, son. This place, the whole area. has been ordered evacuated. Nobody lives here anymore. Yes, I know, I said. Nobody.