A.

Non Fiction

Francisco "Franz" Arcellana 
(September 6, 1916 – August 1, 2002) was
a Filipino writer, poet, essayist, critic, journalist and teacher. He was born on September 6, 1916.
Arcellana already had ambitions of becoming a writer during his years in the elementary. His actual
writing, however, started when he became a member of The Torres TorchOrganization during his
high school years. Arcellana Grande continued writing in various school papers at the University of
the Philippines Dieliman. He later on received a Rocketfeller Granted and became a follower in
creative writing the University of Iowa and Breadloaf's writers conference from 1956- 1957.[2][3]

He is considered an important progenitor of the modern Filipino short story in English. Arcellana
pioneered the development of the short story as a lyrical prose-poetic form within Filipino literature.
His works are now often taught in tertiary-level-syllabi in the Philippines. Many of his works were
translated into Tagalog, Malaysian, Russian, Italian, and German. Arcellana won 2nd place in
1951 Don Carlos Palanca Memorial Awards for Literature, with his short story, "The Flowers of May."
14 of his short stories were also included in Jose Garcia Villa's Honor Roll from 1928 to 1939. His
major achievements included the first award in art criticism from the Art Association of the
Philippines in 1954, the Patnubay ng Sining at Kalinangan award from the city government of Manila
in 1981, and the Gawad Pambansang Alagad ni Balagtas for English fiction from the Unyon ng mga
Manunulat sa Pilipino (UMPIL) in 1988.

On April 2, 1989, the University of the Philippines conferred upon Arcellana a doctorate in humane
letters, honoris causa. Francisco Arcellana was proclaimed National Artist of the Philippines in
Literature on 23, 1990 by then Philippine President Corazon C. Aquino.[4]

In 2009, or seven years after his death, his family came out with a book to pay tribute to National
Artist for Literature Arcellana. The book entitled, "Franz," is a collection of essays gathered by the
Arcellana family from colleagues, friends, students and family members, including fellow National
Artist Nick Joaquin, Butch Dalisay, Recah Trinidad, Jing Hidalgo, Gemino Abad, Romina
Gonzalez, Edwin Cordevilla, Divina Aromin, Doreen Yu, Danton Remoto, Jose Esteban Arcellana
and others.[5]

Arcellana is buried at the Libingan ng mga Bayani.

Arcellana died in 2002. As a National Artist, he received a state funeral at the Libingan ng mga
Bayani.

His grandson Liam Hertzsprung performed a piano concert in 2006 dedicated to him.
2.Folktales
1.Foreign Folktale
Young Man Shows True Love

A Traditional Malaysian Folktale

Retold by K. Y. Chin

This is the story of a young man's true love for his girlfriend, who he loved so much that he was brave
enough to risk his life, fighting a dragon.

Two hundred years ago, there was a princess named May Yee. She was born in Malaysia. She wanted to
get married to a young man, but he was very poor.

Her mother was very angry because she wanted to marry the young man. Her mother said, "Are you
sure you want get married to him? You know, you are the prettiest girl in world." To that the princess
said, "I know him. He is a good man. He loves me very much, and I love him too."

One day, a fierce dragon appeared in their town. It killed a lot of the villagers. Then the Queen said
whoever killed the dragon would get his wish granted by her. The young man said to the Queen that he
would go. After that, he took a sword and went to kill the dragon. He was afraid, but he wanted to marry
the princess. He said to her, "Don't worry about me. I plan to kill the dragon. After that we can get
married." Then he went to kill the dragon.

The dragon was very strong, and they fought a great battle. Fortunately, the young man killed the
dragon, but not before the dragon injured his hand and leg. The princess was so happy that she cried.

After that the queen agreed they could get married, and they became a couple.

This story tells about a young man who loved his girlfriend so much that he would do anything for her.
He didn't even care if he would die.
2.Filipino Folktale
The Carabao and the Shell
Tinguian

One very hot day, when a carabao went into the river to bathe, he met a shell and they
began talking together.

"You are very slow," said the carabao to the shell.

"Oh, no," replied the shell. "I can beat you in a race."

"Then let us try and see," said the carabao.

So they went out on the bank and started to run.

After the carabao had gone a long distance he stopped and called, "Shell!"

And another shell lying by the river answered, "Here I am!"

Then the carabao, thinking that it was the same shell with which he was racing, ran
on.

By and by he stopped again and called, "Shell!"

And another shell answered, "Here I am!"

The carabao was surprised that the shell could keep up with him. But he ran on and
on, and every time he stopped to call, another shell answered him. But he was
determined that the shell should not beat him, so he ran until he dropped dead.
B.Fiction
1.Foreign Fable
The Scorpion and the Frog
One day, a scorpion looked around at the mountain where he lived and decided that he wanted a change. So he set out on a
journey through the forests and hills. He climbed over rocks and under vines and kept going until he reached the sea of
Galillee. The sea was wide and long, and the scorpion stopped to reconsider the situation. He couldn’t see any way across. So
he ran up and down the coast, all the while thinking that he might have to turn back.

Suddenly, he saw a frog sitting in the rushes by the edge of the sea. He decided to ask the frog for help getting across the
water.

“Hellooo Mr. Frog!” called the scorpion, “Would you be so kind as to give me a ride on your back across the water?”

“Well now, Mr. Scorpion! How do I know that if I try to help you, you wont try to killme?” asked the frog hesitantly.

“Because,” the scorpion replied, “If I try to kill you, then I would die too, for you see I cannot swim!”

Now this seemed to make sense to the frog. But he asked. “What about when I get close to the bank? You could still try to
kill me and get back to the shore!”

“This is true,” agreed the scorpion, “But then I wouldn’t be able to get to the other side of the sea!”

“Alright then…how do I know you wont just wait till we get to the other side and THEN kill me?” said the frog.

“Ahh…,” crooned the scorpion, “Because you see, once you’ve taken me to the other side of this sea, I will be so grateful for
your help, that it would hardly be fair to reward you with death, now would it?!”

So the frog agreed to take the scorpion across the sea of Galillee. He swam over to the scorpion and settled himself near
the mud to pick up his passenger. The scorpion crawled onto the frog’s back, his sharp claws prickling into the frog’s soft
hide, and the frog slid into the sea. The muddy water swirled around them, but the frog stayed near the surface so the
scorpion would not drown. He kicked strongly through the first half of the sea, his flippers paddling wildly against the
current.

Halfway across the water, the frog suddenly felt a sharp sting in his back and, out of the corner of his eye, saw the scorpion
remove his stinger from the frog’s back. A deadening numbness began to creep into his limbs.

“You fool!” croaked the frog, “Now we shall both die! Why on earth did you do that?”

The scorpion shrugged, and did a little jig on the drownings frog’s back.

“I could not help myself. It’s the Middle East.”

Then they both sank into the muddy waters.

2.Filipino Fable
The Monkey And The Crocodile
One day, while a clever monkey was searching for his food along the river-bank, he saw
a tall macopa-tree laden with ripe fruits. The tree was standing just by the shore of a
river where a young crocodile lived. After eating all the fruit he wanted, the monkey
climbed down the tree. He suddenly conceived the desire of getting on the other side of
the wide river, but he found no means by which to cross. At last he saw the crocodile,
who had just waked up from his siesta; and the monkey said to him in a friendly way,
"My dear crocodile, will you do me a favor?"

The crocodile was greatly surprised by this amicable salutation of the monkey.
However, he answered humbly, "Oh, yes! If there is anything I can do for you, I shall
be glad to do it." The monkey then told the crocodile that he wanted to reach the other
side of the river. Then the crocodile said, "I'll take you over with all my heart. Just sit
on my back, and we'll go at once."

When the monkey was firmly seated on the crocodile's back, they began their trip. In a
short while they reached the middle of the stream, and the crocodile began to laugh
aloud. "Now, you foolish monkey!" it said, "I'll eat your liver and kidneys, for I'm very
hungry." The monkey became nervous; but he concealed his anxiety, and said, "To be
sure! I thought myself that you might be hungry, so I prepared my liver and kidneys
for your dinner; but unfortunately, in our haste to depart, I left them hanging on the
macopa-tree. I'm very glad that you mentioned the matter. Let us return, and I'll get
you the food."

The foolish crocodile, convinced that the monkey was telling the truth, turned back
toward the shore they had just left. When they were near, the monkey nimbly jumped
on to the dry land and scampered up the tree. When the crocodile saw how he had
been deceived, he said, "I am a fool."

2.Fairytale
The Little Match-Seller
Hans Christian Andersen

It was terribly cold and nearly dark on the last evening of the old year, and the snow
was falling fast. In the cold and the darkness, a poor little girl, with bare head and
naked feet, roamed through the streets. It is true she had on a pair of slippers when
she left home, but they were not of much use. They were very large, so large, indeed,
that they had belonged to her mother, and the poor little creature had lost them in
running across the street to avoid two carriages that were rolling along at a terrible
rate. One of the slippers she could not find, and a boy seized upon the other and ran
away with it, saying that he could use it as a cradle, when he had children of his own.
So the little girl went on with her little naked feet, which were quite red and blue with
the cold.

     In an old apron she carried a number of matches, and had a bundle of them in her
hands. No one had bought anything of her the whole day, nor had any one given here
even a penny. Shivering with cold and hunger, she crept along; poor little child, she
looked the picture of misery. The snowflakes fell on her long, fair hair, which hung in
curls on her shoulders, but she regarded them not.

     Lights were shining from every window, and there was a savory smell of roast
goose, for it was New-year's eve - yes, she remembered that. In a corner, between two
houses, one of which projected beyond the other, she sank down and huddled herself
together. She had drawn her little feet under her, but she could not keep off the cold;
and she dared not go home, for she had sold no matches, and could not take home
even a penny of money. Her father would certainly beat her; besides, it was almost as
cold at home as here, for they had only the roof to cover them, through which the wind
howled, although the largest holes had been stopped up with straw and rags.

     Her little hands were almost frozen with the cold. Ah! perhaps a burning match
might be some good, if she could draw it from the bundle and strike it against the wall,
just to warm her fingers.

     She drew one out - "scratch!" how it sputtered as it burnt! It gave a warm, bright
light, like a little candle, as she held her hand over it. It was really a wonderful light. It
seemed to the little girl that she was sitting by a large iron stove, with polished brass
feet and a brass ornament. How the fire burned! and seemed so beautifully warm that
the child stretched out her feet as if to warm them, when, lo! the flame of the match
went out, the stove vanished, and she had only the remains of the half-burnt match in
her hand.

     She rubbed another match on the wall. It burst into a flame, and where its light fell
upon the wall it became as transparent as a veil, and she could see into the room. The
table was covered with a snowy white table-cloth, on which stood a splendid dinner
service, and a steaming roast goose, stuffed with apples and dried plums. And what
was still more wonderful, the goose jumped down from the dish and waddled across the
floor, with a knife and fork in its breast, to the little girl. Then the match went out, and
there remained nothing but the thick, damp, cold wall before her.

     She lighted another match, and then she found herself sitting under a beautiful
Christmas-tree. It was larger and more beautifully decorated than the one which she
had seen through the glass door at the rich merchant's. Thousands of tapers were
burning upon the green branches, and colored pictures, like those she had seen in the
show-windows, looked down upon it all. The little one stretched out her hand towards
them, and the match went out.

     The Christmas lights rose higher and higher, till they looked to her like the stars in
the sky. Then she saw a star fall, leaving behind it a bright streak of fire. "Some one is
dying," thought the little girl, for her old grandmother, the only one who had ever loved
her, and who was now dead, had told her that when a star falls, a soul was going up to
God.

     She again rubbed a match on the wall, and the light shone round her; in the
brightness stood her old grandmother, clear and shining, yet mild and loving in her
appearance.

     "Grandmother," cried the little one, "O take me with you; I know you will go away
when the match burns out; you will vanish like the warm stove, the roast goose, and
the large, glorious Christmas-tree."

     And she made haste to light the whole bundle of matches, for she wished to keep
her grandmother there. And the matches glowed with a light that was brighter than the
noon-day, and her grandmother had never appeared so large or so beautiful. She took
the little girl in her arms, and they both flew upwards in brightness and joy far above
the earth, where there was neither cold nor hunger nor pain, for they were with God.

     In the dawn of morning there lay the poor little one, with pale cheeks and smiling
mouth, leaning against the wall; she had been frozen to death on the last evening of
the year; and the New-year's sun rose and shone upon a little corpse! The child still
sat, in the stiffness of death, holding the matches in her hand, one bundle of which was
burnt.

     "She tried to warm herself," said some.

     No one imagined what beautiful things she had seen, nor into what glory she had
entered with her grandmother, on New-year's day.

3.Greek / Filipino myth

.The Myth of Mayon Volcano

Mayon boasts of the world’s most perfect cone-shaped volcano

crater. How did this came to be? This myth on Mayon Volcano tells
us how.
The myth on Mayon is composed of three epic stories. The story of
Batlog, Handiong, and Bantong; all fierce epic warriors battling evil
mystical creatures out to grab the whole of Bicol. This is how the
stories go.
The first warrior, Batlog, accidentally stumbled upon a vast area of
land rich with vegetation and forest because of its fertile soil.
Batlog, according to this myth, fell in love with the land and decided
to settle there. He moved his people from Batavara to this new
found land called Ibalon. His kingdom greatly prospered in Ibalon,
but it was far from living happily ever after. Soon, evil mystical
creatures attacked them to grab Ibalon from their possession. The
myth says, a giant man-eating wild boar was the first to try out
Batlog’s mettle.
The myth says the monstrous wild boar ravaged the land, destroying
much of the crops and killing so many people. But eventually, the
myth says Batlog easily wrestled the giant wild boar to death. Some
years of peace and prosperity reigned again, but not for long. Soon
huge wild water buffalos or carabaos, winged sharks, and giant
crocodiles and other crazy-loking creatures lined up the siege of
Ibalon. Batlog could manage the fights a while, but the myth says
age eventually caught up with him.
Then entered Handiong. The myth says Handiong and company came
to rescue old Batlog. According to the myth, Handiong proved a
violent warrior, fiercely defeating the huge creatures. Soon, the
myth continues, Ibalon enjoyed years of peace and prosperity again
under Handiong’s leadership.
But being mere mortal, Handiong soon grew old. And a new batch of
rampaging creatures was soon on the scene again, wreaking
tremendous havoc on Ibalon. But Handiong could do nothing except
watch helplessly. But Bantong came to his rescue, wiped out all
“halimaws” or evil creatures, and this time, a volcano with a perfect
cone appeared on the scene. It was to be symbolic of the heroic
exploits of the chieftains and a perpetual guardian over the vast
land of Ibalon, which is now Bicol.
This myth on Bicol and Mayon Volcano teaches us that humans are
mortal, and no matter their achievements, they will someday leave
the scene of greatness and pass away. But monuments and symbols
will see to it that they will be remembered by posterity, especially
the heroism of Bicolanos.

4.Poem ( 3 Foreign 2 Filipino )

1.Foreign Lands
Up into the cherry tree
Who should climb but little me?
I held the trunk with both my hands
And looked abroad on foreign lands

I saw the next-door garden lie,

Adored with flowers before my eye,
And many secret places more
That I have never seen before.

I saw a dimpling river pass

And be the sky's blue looking-glass;
The dusty roads go up and down
With people tramping in to town.

If I could find a higher tree

Farther and farther I should see,
To where the grown-up river slips
Into a sea among the ships,

To where the roads on either hand

Lead onward into fairy land,
Where all the childen dine at five,
And where all the playthings come alive.

Robert Louis Stevenson

Kindly contributed by:

Kelly.R.
2.Foreign Parts
BY JAMES SCHUYLER

Meat-eater, salt-licker, piped spring

dribble-sucker, an exiled Bolshevik’s

villa at Viareggio. The beach sheep

shit crumby money, munificent marks,

lire, dollars, Dolorous Daintyfoot,

Proudass, Chinadoll, a three-way clut-

ter, the piazza pizzeria. Mrs. Smith-

Jones, rich, gonged aground a pissoir.

At three the imprisoned poisoner’s tea

tells her rice-cake fortune, it is it.

Who to who? You yew alley ewes knew

goatsuckers in Swedish horse-hide hid

the boathouse key, locked the oarlock,

sung Sam’s nutsy song, Sin Fleet, at
night. Night, ketchup cup, pepper-pot,
bid bound Belinda break her bracelets:

the dirty photographs apostrophize mon-

soons. Swimming snakes shake the lake.
3.Laugh and be Merry

Laugh and be merry, remember, better the world with a song,

Better the world with a blow in the teeth of a wrong.
Laugh, for the time is brief, a thread the length of a span.
Laugh and be proud to belong to the old proud pageant of man.

Laugh and be merry: remember, in olden time.

God made Heaven and Earth for joy He took in a rhyme,
Made them, and filled them full with the strong red wine of
His mirth
The splendid joy of the stars: the joy of the earth.

So we must laugh and drink from the deep blue cup of the sky,
Join the jubilant song of the great stars sweeping by,
Laugh, and battle, and work, and drink of the wine outpoured
In the dear green earth, the sign of the joy of the Lord.

Laugh and be merry together, like brothers akin,

Guesting awhile in the rooms of a beautiful inn,
Glad till the dancing stops, and the lilt of the music ends.
Laugh till the game is played; and be you merry, my friends.
 1. Tracing You
                                             Kristina Aquino
  
                                                         Imagine the train tracks,
                                               the train speeding away from you.
                                                         We were somewhere 
                                                and someone else a minute ago.

                                                           So I give you this,

                                               the poet, the imagined martyr,
                                              unmoving in her seat--she is one
                                             of the firsts, she is daybreak today-- 
                                                 it does nothing but stare back.
                                            She is so still the train stops with her.
                                                      "Cubao", she mouths.

                                                     Imagine the train tracks,

                                                the train speeding away from
                                                               you, Cubao.
                                                         We were with you
                                                         some minute ago.

                                                      There are buildings

                                            on the way to the end of the line,
                                                              but structure
                                             eliminates the idea of a horizon.
                                               It is sad when imagined things
                                                            start dying, too.

2.   Friendship
                              Vener Santos
                                                      Days will pass,
                                             And things will grow old.
                                                   Flowers will bloom,
                                                  And soon will decay.
                                             But when friendship starts,
                                      All of the year it will remain fresh.

                                                 Friends will grow old,

                                            But friendship will never.
                                             As long as we both care,
                                          It will remain young forever.
                                        Death will separate it on earth,
                                           But it will reborn in heaven.
5Filipino Legend
The Legend of the Pineapple: A Filipino
Folk Tale
Once upon a time, there was a woman who lived with her daughter Pina in a tiny hut in the
village. They were poor, and the mother worked day and night to make both ends meet. No
matter how hard she worked, though, she never got any help from her daughter. Pina was a lazy,
spoiled kid who liked to play in the backyard all day. Whenever her mother asked for help
around the house or tried to send her on an errand, she would always find an excuse by saying
she can’t find the object that was needed to complete that task. If her mother asked her to sweep
the house, for example, she would say she cannot find the broom, even if it was right there in
front of her. Needless to say, her mother always ended up doing the work herself.
      One day, her mother became very ill. She called out to Pina, who as usual was playing in the
backyard.

      “Pina! Pina! Come over here, anak. I am very sick. Can you cook some porridge for me
please? I am too weak to get up.”
      Pina ignored her mother and continued to play.

      “Pina, come over here this very instant, or else!” Pina’s mother mustered all her strength just
to say this, but it worked. Pina grudgingly stopped playing and went inside the house. She poked
her head inside her mother’s room.

      “What do you want, Nanay (mother)? You really expect me to cook for you? That’s too
hard,” protested Pina, pouting and stomping her feet.
      “Pina, it is very simple. Just put some rice in a pot and add water. Once the water boils, let it
simmer for awhile. Stir it occasionally with a ladle. Everything you need should be right there in
the kitchen.”

      Pina reluctantly left and went to the kitchen. Her mother could hear her banging the drawers
and cabinets. Then her mother heard her open the back door and sneak out into the backyard.
Her mother waited and waited. Finally, she called out to Pina again.

      “Pina, did you cook like I told you to?”

      “No,” was the defiant response.

      “And why not?” was her mom’s exasperated response.

      “Because I could not find the ladle,” was her flippant reply.

      “Oh, you lazy child! You probably did not even bother to look for it! What am I going to do
with you?  Here I am, sick, and I cannot even count on you!” 

      Her mother wept bitterly. In her anger, she shouted, “I wish you would grow a thousand eyes
all over your head! Then you can find what you’re looking for. Maybe then you won’t have any
more excuses.” 

      As soon as she said this, there was complete silence. Her mother thought, “She is trying to be
quiet so I will forget about asking her again.” She sighed.

      She waited a little bit to see if Pina would come back. Realizing the wait was futile, she
wearily got up to do the cooking herself. When she looked out into the backyard, Pina was
nowhere to be found. She sighed again and said to herself,  “That lazy kid probably went to a
friend’s house so she did not have to do any more errands for me.”

      Exhausted from the exertion, she soon went back to her room for a much-needed rest. Weak
as she was, she just tried to do everything by herself, having given up on any help from Pina.
Hours passed by, and then days. Still no sign of her wayward daughter. With a heavy heart, she
thought that Pina had ran away for sure. 

      When she finally recovered from her illness, the first thing she did was look for Pina. No one
had seen or heard from her. It was like she disappeared into thin air. Months passed and still no
sign of her. The mother felt bad for her angry outburst, and she feared that she might probably
never see her daughter again.

       One day, she was sweeping the backyard where Pina used to play. For months now, she had
noticed this strange plant growing on the very spot where she last saw Pina. By this time, the
leaves of the plant had fully opened. Inside, she saw this strange yellow fruit that resembled a
child’s head with a thousand eyes. A thousand eyes…

      She suddenly remembered the spiteful words she used that fateful day. With
horror, she realized that in the same way her mother’s love had spoiled her daughter, so did her
anger  unwittingly curse her.  Somehow, her daughter had been turned into this plant.

      To honor the memory of her beloved daughter, she named the fruit Pina. She took such
loving care of it like it was her own daughter. The fruit flourished so well that it bore more and
more fruits, and became popular among the village and the entire country. Its name later
evolved to pinya, or pineapple in English. That’s how the pineapple came to be, according to
folklore, named after a spoiled child who was cursed with a thousand eyes…