Short Story Collection 1

By Felisa Daskeo

A collection of 12 short stories in Asian setting. They are love stories and they are written to touch the heart of the reader.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Felisa Daskeo
• Release date: Sep 1, 2017
• ISBN: 9781386705819

Book preview

Miss Igorot

You can’t take home a girl from nowhere. I tell you Michael, that Igorota will never set foot in this house.

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Liz sat down in front of her desk and let the words sink in. It was all she could do at that moment to keep herself from going crazy and shouting obscenities. Oh, my God, she thought. Are they that ignorant? She had heard them talking about her. Perhaps they didn’t know that she was in the other room. Their voices were still ringing in her ears. The words that they said were like sharp reeds that cut into her delicate skin. Why do they think that Igorots are different people from them, she thought loudly.  The discrimination was as intense as the chilly atmosphere in that centralized air-conditioned room.

She sighed, took her make-up kit, dabbed her face with powder and painted her lips lightly. She brushed her hair and made sure she looked fine before opening the door. The face in the make-up kit mirror told her that she looked fine. She has always managed to keep her cool in times like this. She is used to this situation even while she was a college student.

The men stopped talking at the sound of the door opening. Three of the men looked in her direction without saying a word. Their faces were painted with guilt.

She walked gracefully to the group and pretended that nothing happened. All eyes were on her as if she was an actress that is just passing by. Liz Gang-oy is a whole package of all in one. She has a face that everybody calls beautiful. She has a beautiful body that every woman envies. Her skin has a perfect shade. She is neither white nor brown but she is very fair; her skin as smooth as that of the newborn baby. She is smart and perhaps too smart and quick that men were sometimes intimidated and she was the object of envy among women. Maybe God had favored her too much when she was born. To most, she was perfect but to those who knew her, they thought something was amiss. She was an Igorota. Nobody believed her when she told them she was a genuine Igorot. She was after all, fair-skinned, tall, and very pretty and had a body that can turn everybody’s head. She had gotten tired of hearing their words. How could we possibly believe you? Igorots live in the mountains not in the cities. They are small, dark people. They live in tree houses. They have tails. They are ignoramus.

Liz didn’t argue. Those were enough proof to know that many people were still out of touch with their world. She had given up explaining to everyone she met that Igorots aren’t what they think they are. The funny thing is that even many educated people lack the knowledge about her people. If only she could wear a tag in her back saying, I am a pure bloodied Igorot. Sure I am. But will people believe her? Most Filipinos had been reading the wrong history books. Liz could never forget the line that she read in one of the books she had rummaged in her library. The book said, Igorots live in tree houses. The book was published in the 1970s, the year when her town had already concrete roads, houses that were built with galvanized iron and cement and there were a few who had already cars.  Where should she start? The day when Igorots wore that piece of cloth called G-string to cover their delicate parts? The time when they lived up there in trees? The day when they used banana leaves and sharpened sticks to write? Or the day when nobody could speak Filipino except the Kankana-ey, their native dialect? Well, that was a long, long time ago, a time when even Ayala in Makati was still covered with thick, tall grasses and perhaps trees and shrubs, and most Filipinos were still wearing their primitive apparels.

Liz was no writer. She couldn’t write the history of the Igorots. She cannot make people believe her. When she was still studying, she often discussed endlessly with her classmates and even friends about her people. There was a time when she cried defending them. Maybe if she were an ordinary looking girl, people would treat her differently but that wasn’t so. In fact, she was the darling of the crowd, wherever she went. She was the favorite of the boys and the star in the university campus.

During her graduation, she had suggested to her father to wear a G-string but her father had declined. Her father is that typical Igorot who loved wearing faded jeans, cowboy boots and cowboy hats. His father had said that he didn’t like to create chaos. She was very disappointed then. If only she were allowed to wear one, she would have done it because she wanted to show the people that an Igorot could go up the stage a Magna Cum Laude.

Michael was watching Liz. His friends were all silently looking at her too.

What’s wrong? Michael put a hand on her shoulder. Are you feeling well?

I’m fine. Just tired I guess. She looked at her boyfriend’s friends. They looked at each other then slowly walked to the exit.

Michael and Liz were left in the corridor alone. Michael took Liz’ hand and squeezed it lovingly. Tell me Liz. Is there a problem? Michael could sense that something was wrong.

No, I’m fine. It’s just that I feel guilty about you.

He held her on both shoulders. What’s wrong? Could you tell me what’s worrying you?

Your friends are laughing at your back, Michael. They’re right. You deserve a better woman. I’m not fit to be a Ventura.

He pulled her to his chest and hugged her tightly. Liz, please. When I courted you, I already know who you are. Your being an Igorot has nothing to do with our relationship. In fact it serves as an added spice and I love you more for that.

But your friends? And... she paused. Do your parents know?

Of course, he said, guilt making him wince and he slowly released her.

How about my...?

Michael stopped his strides and looked at Liz. Don’t worry sweetheart. It’s really not a problem. It’s you and me that matters. Shall we go now? I don’t want any mention of that matter again, please? He brushed his lips against hers and led her to the basement into his Mercedes Benz.

They were silent the rest of the way. Liz decided not to pursue the subject any longer. Maybe Michael was right. Nothing mattered except the two of them. She reached for the music player and switch it on. Michael gave her a warm smile. The music flew around them. Everything I do, I do it for you, the music hummed. Liz wondered how long Michael could take things especially when it concerned his best friends. And his parents? She doubted them. The Ventura’s belonged to the elite, a family more concerned about their family reputation than anything in this world.

They could parade her around Makati City and feel proud of her but if they learned who she really was, that was another story.

Saila Ventura was on the phone when Michael got back home. She slowly put back the receiver as her son strode in. Michael sensed something was wrong when he greeted his mom. There came no response—just a cold calculating stare. They were so attached to each other that the slightest worry in his mom’s face was visible to him. Michael was the younger child of two. His sister lived in the US with her family. Michael wanted to live on his own at the Ritz Towers but his parents said their mansion was big enough and there was no need for him to live elsewhere.

Is there something wrong, mom? Michael laid down his attaché case on the sofa and peered into his mother’s face.

I just got a call from Sabrina. There’s something I want to talk to you about.

S-Sabrina? What does she want?

Sabrina Enriquez was Michael’s former girlfriend. Their relationship lasted only for three months. She was a spoiled brat who wanted everyone to bow to her wishes. They are very rich and Saila wanted her for a daughter-in-law.

Who is the girl you are dating? You never mentioned her to us.

"Ma, I’m sorry if I

Reviews for Short Story Collection 1

[Arielle Macatulad · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

I haven't read everything yet by I enjoyed reading this