Kleng Research
Kleng Research
Kleng Research
that it's continually being reinvented by writers as they experiment, challenge themselves and stretch
the boundaries of what they can do. (Ask ten authors to define this form and you'll probably get ten
different answers.) It now includes a wide variety of types and lengths, from six word stories, Twitter
fiction (140 characters or less) and drabbles (100 words exactly) to longer pieces of a few hundred
words.
One day when a young man by the name of Wilkins was to be hanged, great-
great-grandpa had a hard time getting out of bed, or so the story is told through the
generations. He just laid there, depressed. He had already hanged five young men
in the two days he had held this job. He came home every night sick to his stomach,
disheveled, and exhausted. He was in no greater a state than great-great-grandma,
whose coughing spell had turned into pneumonia. The children were left to tend for
themselves during this time, and great-grandpa, being the oldest at twelve years of
age, was able to keep his brother and sister calm and fed, somehow. Anyway, the
story that great-grandpa told to grandpa, and that grandpa told to my dad, and dad
told to me, goes that great-great-grandpa got up, chanced a glance in the sliver of a
mirror in his bedroom, and without changing his clothes or eating a bite, left the
house to be down at the courthouse by 7 am. They planned to hang Wilkins bright
and early. As great-great-grandpa fit the noose around the Wilkins boy's neck, he
muttered some words under his breath that he wrote down on that same piece of
parchment later, because he was aware of the impact of the words, but doubtful
that they would ever change anything, or allow him to leave his job. His job was
rough, and he impresses that upon me when he writes this:
"Figurin' out which way to hold the noose is the worse part of it. When this
donkey moves, it'll just be another dead body to figger out what to do wit. What
could this young'n have done to deserve a hangin'? But I jus' do my job and don'
ask no questions, because this is the way times are, and they ain't bound to change
no time soon."
A Mind's Journey
What made me different from my siblings as I was growing up, was that I preferred
to have a carefree and very often, quite reckless attitude towards life. While my
elder sister and my little brother did their homework at home, I was out chasing the
stray dogs and getting myself all messed up, with the neighborhood kids. My father
always said I was a waste of life, but my mother always defended me saying I would
make the whole family proud one day. When you're 9, you don't really think about
making the family proud. All I could think of was when I'd get to go out and play
again. But suddenly, in the summer of '96, I came home to a rude shock. My father
had decided to leave us and settle down with another woman, who he claimed he
loved. My mother refused to hand us over to him and he looked visibly relieved. You
see, by now, I was well past my 'always out in the sun phase'. I had begun to look at
people, and begun observing their facial expressions and begun to formulate stories
and situations that they were in. More often than not, I was right about what they
were thinking as well.
Then on this day, my mother was not only heartbroken that her husband had
decided to leave her, she was absolutely terrified at the prospect of having to raise
three kids alone. All I could do, at the tender age of 13 was give my mother a
shoulder to cry on. I did all the house work that I could manage along with my
siblings, before mum got home from work. Then we all sat and had dinner together
and recounted our day's activities. Talking, I realized then, has a very therapeutic
effect on people. Whether it's about the tiniest incident or a life changing one, you
actually feel better when you talk to someone about it. But even greater than
talking is the art of active listening. When you actively listen to someone, you give
them their full attention and there's no better feeling than having someone giving
you their undivided attention. I tried it out with many people, friends, relatives, even
random strangers sometimes. I realized that I had the ability to make people feel
better by just listening and talking to them. It got me interested in the psychology
of the human mind.
I came into this world on the cold morning of January 29, 1983.
Born in San Miguel de Allende, a small town in the Mexican state
of Guanajuato, or so I was told. My parents, Patricia Merrill and
Roberto Navarrete had tried unsuccessfully for six years to
conceive their first child and I just happened to be the lucky
one.
My Family Background.
Childhood.
Adolescence.
At the age of fourteen I was through with junior high
school. A couple of weeks earlier I'd been accepted to enroll at
Phillips Academy. Phillips is a boarding school in a small
student town called Andover, MA in north eastern area of the
United States. I had never lived abroad, or alone for that
matter, hence was a bit reluctant to the idea of leaving by
myself. My grandparents who had lived in Georgetown for many
years had moved to Texas by then. A couple of months earlier they
had decided to no longer have to cope with the cold and snowy New
England winters, thus my nearest relatives where now in
Washington eight hours away.
I was born on a warm, sunny day in July 5,2002 in Bulanao. Tabuk, Kalinga. I live in Bayombong, Nueva
Vizcaya, and I go to school at St. Marys University Grade School Department, Bayombong, Nueva
Vizcaya. I live with my dad, Benny and my sister, Renee. Renee is a sweet kid and she would do
anything for me, but like all sisters we fight like cats and dogs, especially when we argued of something
that we cannot agree together.
Who I am in life.
My name is Zita Dewi Nirvana L. Messakaraeng. I started school when I was five-years-old. I went to
kindergarten through fifth grade at Booker Elementary and while I was there, I won an award for perfect
attendance. I also won an award for honor roll all four terms. Then I attended Booker Middle School, and
there I also won a couple of awards: one for perfect attendance and two for being named Student of the
Year--one in sixth grade and the other in eighth grade. I am now a senior at Booker High School. I plan on
finishing school and maybe going to a community college.
Life to me means friends and family who you can trust and who trusts you. I am pretty much on the happy
side of life, but like all teens I do I have my "days of." That means I do have some sad days or depressed
days. I have a few frinds here that sort of look out for me and when I am having a bad day, I have
someone here at school to talk to. I make my school days go by thinking of either the next hour or what I
will do when I get home or on the weekend. I'm not seeing anyone now but when I did have a boyfriend,
our favorite places to go were the movies and out to dinner. Sometimes we went to the beach. Only once
we went to an amusement park: Universal Studios. We were together for twenty-nine days and then we
broke-up; so no, I don't think it was forever.
The year 2018 will make twenty years since I graduated from high school. I think I will probably be still
living here in Sarasota. I will be quite comfortable with my living situation, meaning that I will be married to
Paul Smith. We will have one child: Linda Treasa Smith, who at that point will be three-years-old and a
little devil. Paul is a sweet guy; he will do anything for anyone. He is six feet tall and built well. He has
baby blue eyes and blond hair. We will have been together for five years and will be happy together--this is
forever.
Conclusion
As I said in the beginning, I was born here in Florida and I've lived here my whole life. I would like to see
more of the USA but unfortunately, I don't have any money to leave Florida to go anywhere right now. I
hope you have enjoyed reading my life story as much as I have enjoyed writing it for you. Try to get as
much as you can out of school; you're only there for twelve years and when you graduate, you're home
free. Here's a tip for you to live or try to live by: If you think it, it can be done.
Adams, Paul. "Furious Arafat Is Freed." Globe and Mail [Toronto] 2 May
2002: A1+.
"Beginner Tip: Presenting Your Page with Style." Webmaster Tips Newsletter.
news/vol3/beginner_no7.htm>.
Collins, Ronald K.L., and David M. Skover. The Trials of Lenny Bruce: The
Continelli, Louise. "A Place for Owls to Heal." Buffalo News 12 Jan. 2003: C2.
"E-Money Slips Quietly into Oblivion." Nikkei Weekly [Tokyo] 22 Jan. 2001: 4.
Gordin, Michael D. "The Science of Vodka." Letter. New Yorker 13 Jan. 2003: 7.
Law and Order. Prod. Wolf Film in assoc. with Universal Television. NBC Television
news/2001/02/0209_mandela.html>.
Microsoft PowerPoint Version 2002 Step by Step. CD-ROM. Redmond, WA: Microsoft,
2001.
Mitchell, Joni. Both Sides Now. CD. Reprise Records, Time Warner.
"Mug." Def. 2. The New Lexicon Webster's Encyclopedic Dictionary of the English
1E+.
Pulda, Arnold. "Handling Hate Sites." Classroom Connect Newsletter May 2003: 18-19.
Rai, Arti K., and Rebecca S. Eisenberg. "Bayh-Dole Reform and the Progress of
RAMeSize. Vers. 1.04. 15K. 24 Sept. 2000. Blue Dice Software. 13 Mar. 2003
<http://www.pcworld.com/downloads/file_download.asp?fid=7605>.
Great Wall of China, Beijing, China. Personal photograph by B. Davenport. 18 July 2004.
Schubach, Erik. "Bugs Bunny." Cartoon. Cartoon World! 1998. 12 Oct. 2004
<http://www.cet.com/~rascal/graphics/bugsbun.gif>.
Svitil, Kathy A. "Can I Pour You a Pint of Light?" Discover Nov. 2002: 12.
---. "The 50 Most Important Women in Science." Discover Nov. 2002: 52-57.
"Thanks a Bunch!" Electronic card. Blue Mountain Arts. 2000. Kersten Brothers
<http://www.theratears.com>.
Wolanski, Eric, et al. "Mud, Marine Snow and Coral Reefs." American Scientist Jan.-Feb.
2003: 44-51.
Booth, Steven A. (January 1999). High-Drain Alkaline AA-Batteries. Popular Electronics, 62, 58.
Brain, Marshall. How batteries work. howstuffworks. Retrieved August 1, 2006, from
http://home.howstuffworks.com/battery.htm
Cells and batteries. (1993). The DK science encyclopedia. New York: DK Publishing.
Dell, R. M., and D. A. J. Rand. (2001). Understanding batteries. Cambridge, UK: The Royal Society of
Chemistry.
Learning center. Energizer. Eveready Battery Company, Inc. Retrieved August 1, 2006, from
http://www.energizer.com/learning/default.asp
Learning centre. Duracell. The Gillette Company. Retrieved July 31, 2006, from
http://www.duracell.com/au/main/pages/learning-centre-what-is-a-battery.asp
Sample Songwriting
Youre My World
Verse 1
Your eyes sparkle and shine
And lately its like your always on my mind
Your beautiful in every way,
Head to toe, all day.
Finding it hard to put it any other way.
Youre the greatest girl eva,
And when Im with you,
I want it to last forever
Girl you like a puzzle piece.
We click together
Im always gunna love you, imma always care
Verse 2
When I needed you, you were always there
Through the hard times, through the pain
When I needed you, you always came
Even after all this time, youve stayed the same
Youre real with me, thats why I love you girl
Your my everything, my entire world
Your smile makes me shine wanna make you mine
Youre defiantly not a waste of my time
Damn girl, youre my favorite
Surprise your eyes,
Sparkle and shine
Verse 3
And lately its like your always on my mind
Your beautiful in every way,
Head to toe, all day.
Once I saw your face, I couldnt turn away.
And now I think about it every single day.
My heart skips a beat.
Can you feel that heat?
Girl you my every thing, my soul my heart, my life.
I love you baby. I wish you would stay for eva and always, neva leave my side.
Chorus
Girl you like a puzzle piece.
We click together
Im always gunna love you, imma always care
When I needed you, you were always there
Youre beautiful in every way,
Head to toe, all day.
Here is a sample script page from The Godfather. It shows what proper formatting looks like. The font and
margins may vary slightly from browser to browser, so use the rules disc
lesson.
Playwriting Sample
AMERICAN ICONS
a black comedy about profits and perception
2 acts / 5 m, 3 f / run time approx. 100 min.
TIME & PLACE - The play takes in 1991 -- mostly at the executive offices of Matthews International, outside
of Baltimore, Maryland. They manufacture, broker and otherwise purvey collectibles, both historical and
manufactured.
THE SETTING - Basically a table, five office chairs, five phones and five computer terminals -- all mobile so
they can be reconfigured to represent different offices at Matthews International.
WE PICK UP ON THE ACTION during the prologue (where a series of short monologues and brief encounters
are utilized to define the characters and their particular world.)
AT THIS POINT WE SEE a single light on BENTLEY -- mid-thirties, Brooks Brothers look, the chief
broker/account exec, ceramic division -- as he swivels his office chair around and addresses the audience.
BENTLEY
Though he is a little, well, coarse, working with Morty Matthews is never dull. Last month, for example, I
went to him about our need for a new mass market product for the holidays. Something that will make
Grandmothers's will ... something that will grace your home ... (light up on MORTY MATTHEWS -- age 50,
Syms off-price look, the founder and energetic leader of the company -- as he swivels front)
MORTY
Not my home, I have a small apartment.
BENTLEY
Something your family will enjoy ...
MORTY
I have no family.
BENTLEY (patient)
At Christmas time, Christian families set out a creche.
MORTY
Mary, Joseph, Baby Jesus and a bunch of farm animals.
BENTLEY
Ours is going to be different -- world class designers ...
MORTY
Christmas market's swamped. How 'bout an Easter series?
BENTLEY
Bunnies?
MORTY
Ya know, at Christmas, you arrange that little scene on the mantle, right? What can you put out at Easter?
BENTLEY
Reproductions of Faberge eggs, would be very nice.
MORTY
You want mass market here, Bentley, or what? Think! Easter! Not just thousands, but tens of thousands of
subscribers! What could people assemble on their mantles for Easter?
BENTLEY (thinks a moment, then)
Morty, no one's going to want to nail their own Christ to a cross.
MORTY (being patient)
Something to arrange on the mantle at Easter -- think!
BENTLEY
Display your own last supper?
MORTY
Now you're talkin'! There's what -- ten apostles?
BENTLEY
I think there were twelve.
MORTY
Whatever. Make it up from the Michelangelo painting and don't even have to pay a designer.
BENTLEY
It was Da Vinci.
MORTY
Bone China! And make your table from"giants cedars from the Holy Land!"
BENTLEY
There are no giant cedars left in the holy land.
MORTY
They don't know that!
BENTLEY
What about food?
MORTY
What about it?
BENTLEY
It was the last supper.
MORTY
It's for display, not for some kid to play house with!
BENTLEY
It was a Seder supper. He was Jewish ... at the time. (realizing:) Then again, you know what was on the
table -- the wine chalice!
MORTY
There you are!
BENTLEY
The Grail! The Holy Grail!
MORTY (on a roll)
Subscribe now and we'll throw in the Holy Grail! In 10 carat gold plate! We offer a piece a year -- "complete
your set before the 2000th anniversary of the Last Supper!" You getting this down? And, Bentley, check into
the potential for lawn ornaments. They buy life size manger scenes that light up their lawns for Christmas,
don't they?
Example Essay on Journalism
Journalism has transformed dramatically over the years. The advancement of technology has
helped the media evolve by giving people a better perspective of how the world is viewed today.
Radios, computers, telephones, and televisions are becoming important tools in the 21st century.
Now people have the opportunity to access global information, multimedia content, and
instantaneous news. Because journalism has become an important source of gathering information,
the history, present, and future of journalism will be presented.
In 1915, the Massachusetts Agricultural College first introduced journalism as a major. With a
masters degree from Harvard and Yale, Robert Wilson Neal taught journalism from 1906 to 1920.
At the University of Massachusetts, Neals work in modern journalism has been viewed for over 80
years. There were two books Neal wrote that were published by Oxford University Press in 1914
and 1918. They were called Short Story Writing in the Making, and Todays Short Stories
Analyzed. Also, Neal had studied law and taught at several universities in the U.S. such as
University of Kansas, University of Cincinnati, and Rutgers College. On May 18, 1915, Neal wrote in
an article that the press would be one of strongly influences in American lives and that it would
have an impact on societal issues such as religion, education, public morals, and it will either have
a positive or negative effect on the community (Neal).
There were not any statistics showing how many students actually joined the major or when it
finished. Therefore, Massachusetts Agricultural College did not create a strong program for
journalism. Nonetheless, after leaving the college, he decided to teach journalistic writing at Home
Correspondence School in Springfield and became vice president and a member of the board of
directors. Unfortunately, in 1939, he died at the age of sixty-eight (Grimes, L Sarah).
The opportunities the news media brings is growing in the 21st century. The wireless
communications such as broadband is helping news organizations by transferring media files faster
than ever. Digital tools such as high digital cameras, personal computers are giving reporters
limitless communication capabilities. The virtual newsrooms have taken journalism to the next
level. Journalists can feel at ease working with electronic emails, databases, and transmitting
media content without any difficulties. Also, news directors can think of countless possibilities of
how to construct newsrooms in an organized way. A networked computer workstation can provide
editors and producers with limitless opportunities to reconstruct the media content without having
to be concerned about where the computers are located. Limits are not a concern with virtual
newsrooms because it can capture a mass audience. Although the equipment is cheaper, the
audience can have a live video interaction with news organizations. With virtual newsrooms,
reporters can also get equal access to information, people, and processing power. The significance
of virtual newsrooms is that developing news events can be broadcasted from the exact location.
With this technology available, information presented will contain higher accuracy (106-107).
In the digital age, newsrooms are becoming far more convenient to journalists because they can
edit and produce a video without any complications. Leadership has become an important role due
to technological advancements. However, new technology can create a few problems. First, the
expenses are high. Second, it can confuse employees who may not be willing to learn the changes
because it may be difficult. There are 3 important principles a person should follow when
introducing new technology. 1) Include newsroom staff in process of identifying appropriate
technology. 2) Provide extensive training on new technology before expecting staff to use it. 3)
Provide sufficient technical support (111).
Another important factor is that relationships between audiences and news organizations must
have chemistry together. The press has an obligation to help citizens become informed about
democracy. The press is considered to be the fourth branch of government and, therefore,
protected by the 1st amendment. However, during recent years, people have drifted away from the
media. Trust is the glue that holds newsrooms together and ultimately binds readers to a specific
newspaper and to read newspapers in general(New York Times). Most people are becoming
pessimistic of online journalism. However, there are three reasons why online journalism is not the
problem. Firstly, online journalism will begin to thrive and will be credible to the audience as it
grows. But for now, it is only starting to gain recognition. Secondly, mistakes can be corrected
found in an article or column by readers who read online news. Thirdly, online capabilities offered
to news providers include hyperlinks, which provide additional details about the story (125-129).
When a journalist writes a newspaper, it is divided into three parts: a headline, first paragraph, and
the remainder of the story. Most people will read the headline first before reading the article
because it is in big and bold words, which usually is eye-catching. The first paragraph is always the
writers focus of the story that would include factual information. The writer will answer questions
using the five Ws, which are Who? What? When? Where? Why? and How? If a fire broke out, then
the writer would answer What? By answering Who? and Where? The writer would give the location
of the fire and whose properties were affected. The writer would answer the question When?, by
giving the time period from the beginning of the fire to the end of the blaze. By answering Why?
The writer would mention cigarette butts, which would be the cause. Finally, by answering How?
the writer could mention that the approximate cost of the damage done by the fire (90-91).
The future of journalism will change overtime. If you are a journalist at the beginning of your
career, this is an exciting time to be in, (Frum). He believes that the future of media contains
limitless opportunities and by making the media access easier, the market will become a difficult
challenge. However, Starowicz thinks that technology will isolate people and the wealthy will
control the market. Also, he feels that the news media will become dominant by commercialism of
television and the Internet and that readers will rely on online news media than newspapers or
magazines. But from Frums perspective, technology will have a positive impact on the Internet
because it will keep people informed about current events. Nonetheless, Frum and Starowicz
believe that in the near future journalists will face a lot of challenges (Berezowski, Sarah).
As technology becomes a part of peoples lives computers, radios, and telephones will significantly
revolutionize communication. Journalists will have to learn different skills to deliver news to
audiences with strong information. There is no doubt that telling stories will be the main focus of
journalists. There are 4 key points that will need to be addressed for the future of news: 1) How
will changes in communication technology affect journalists and news organizations? 2) How can
the quality, integrity and usefulness of the news product be maintained? 3) How can journalists use
these new communication tools to better serve the audience and our society? 4) How will the
audience react to this rapid pace of change? (Newsroom Resources).
Reducing alienation and distrust of media will expand because of technology. 3 points are usually
dominated by journalism. 1) To survey the world and report the facts as they are best understood.
2) To interpret those facts in terms of their impact on the local community or society at large. 3) To
provide opinion or editorial guidance on facts, thereby helping create public opinion on matters of
importance and to set an agenda for public discourse. In the 21st century, journalists will not be
the main provider for news information. Events being interpreted by journalists will grow and
change. As the audience obtains important information and its purpose, the roles of journalists will
need to develop by adding value to their work. Nonetheless, reconnecting communities will be a
vital role for journalists online and off. This will help the participation of citizens to get involved in
public issues and create a responsive audience (217-219).
In conclusion, Massachusetts has become the birthplace of journalism. With Neal and his
accomplishments, he helped transform journalism to what it is now today. Wireless technology
gadgets are providing journalists with faster media content. Virtual newsrooms are becoming
common these days because it involves the audience to give live feedback with their opinions and
giving journalists the opportunity to report live news media from any location. Also, leadership
roles have become an important aspect in the news industry to help media expand. Keeping a
relationship with an audience will be critical to journalists who want recognition and respect of their
work. Assisting people to become informed citizens of democracy and telling the truth will build a
circle of trust. Journalists should write articles that will improve their credibility by presenting
factual information. The objective of a journalist will always be telling news events. With
journalists value of information, the wall dividing journalists and the audience will be broken.
Literary journalistic essays are a form of creative nonfiction whose purpose is to inform
and enlighten. In these essays, the writer employs literary devices, such as dialogue,
setting, characterization and plot structure to narrate a true story about a person, place,
event, experience or to write about a big idea.
When I was a child, my cousin, who was of the same age, died of a particularly vicious flu. This
case, however trivial it may sound, impressed me so greatly that I decided to connect my life
with medicine when I grow up, so that I would be able to study the disease, understand how it
functions and, probably, will be able to save somebody else from undergoing the same
experience. By the time I reached high school, this resolution became rather lukewarm, but still I
tried to apply it to several biology and medical clubs; and, surprisingly, it turned out that my
early decision was completely correct, for biology and medicine became the subjects that I
enjoyed particularly throughout my high school years.
Since then, I tried to further develop my interests and, throughout my undergraduate years, took
three public health courses in order to familiarize myself with the system of health care in this
country and understand how it works and, in perspective, how it can be improved. At the present
time, I study biology with specific concentration on microbiology and infectious diseases. I have
experience of work in a medical laboratory in Oldcreek, Kansas, where I had an opportunity to
see how real research in epidemiology is being done.
I am most interested in the reputation and facilities the Northern University of Alabama provides,
and heard a lot of most praising opinions of the people working there. I believe that I may
become a valuable member of this scientific community in future, and learn a lot from renowned
scientists who work there now. I am most interested in Doctor Baumans proposed method of
working on pathogenic bacteria and hope to make contribution in the research done there.
After receiving the Bachelors degree in epidemiology, I intend to go on and further deepen my
knowledge of the subject. Masters and Doctoral degrees seem to be natural continuation of my
way, and I intend to go it up to the end.
In my research work I plan to go along the lines I have defined for myself from the very
beginning and try to find new, more effective ways of fighting contagious diseases that still
plague people all over the world.
ULLALIM, THE EPIC OF LOVE OF THE MADUCAYAN
ULLALIM, THE EPIC OF LOVE OF THE MADUCAYAN
By Melvin Banggollay Jr.
An ullalim epic is a traditional music and poetry form of the Philippines. These are long chanted
stories passed down for hundreds of years that tell the exploits of heroes. They are classics of the
Malayo-Polynesian language family. The most skilled poets would memorize epic cycles that took
two to four days to recite during all-night dramatic performances. Two examples of precolonial
(before the Spanish came) epics that survive today are Biag ni Lam-ang (Legend of Lamang) in
Ilocano (a northern Luzon dialect) and Ibalon in Bicol (a southern Luzon dialect) . The term ullalim is
sometimes used today to refer to that style of song, but the real ullalim is the epic poem of the
Kalinga people. An article I read says that the singer would dress up in brilliant, flashy clothes like
the hero described in the story.
It is the considered an epic of the kalinga people depicting the struggle of Banna and Lagunwa who
were the main characters of the love story Ullalim-this is a long epic song of the Kalinga about the
adventures of Banna, the hero of the epic. Tagalog Epic Story Maragtas is the counterpart of the
Ullalim Epic of the Kalinga people. Ullalim-this is a long epic song of the Kalinga about the
adventures of Banna, the hero of the epic, and his amorous relationship with Laggunawa. The story
tells us that Banna was a travelling adventurous man going from place to place in search for a
maiden to marry until one day he found Lagunnawa that truly mersmerize him until they fall in love
with each other. Lagunawa was known as the most beautiful woman in the villages he went though
while Banna was known to be a young, handsome and brave tribal leader with unmatched skill in
hand to hand with out without spear or bulo. He was feared by all men for having that lightning
speed during combat but so sought by many woman with his sterling qualities and handsome looks
and athletic feature.
One day, he came to a village and met Lagunawa that for the first time he felt in love with this
beautiful woman oozing with enchanting beauty of an angel. To get her, he serenaded her with a
song that started by giving a "moma" singing that if you like me oh woman of beauty so serene like
the melody of the moon shining above, take my simple offering from the bottom of my heart. The
woman on the other hand being so in love with this man whom he behold so handsome and kind,
accepted the moma and chewed it while singing, " oh you are the man of my dream that cherished
every dreams I have, come let me love thee with all the pearl of my heart. " Together, they dance
and sung song full of burning passion until they decided to get married and form a union of their
waring villages to end the conflict between their villages. From such marriage, the villages live in
peace and harmony and shared the spirit of love Banna and Lagunawa have for the two village.
Every village have their own Ullalim depicting the struggle and journey of Banna in search for the
woman of her heart, Lagunawa. Even the place of Maducayan, have such epic handed down from
generations to generations depicting the struggle of a man in search for true love and passion.
Banna was believed to originate from Maducayan an old village in the hinterlands of the
Mountainous areas of the Cordillera Region. Lagunnawa, on the other hand, was believe to be from
a village far away in the land of Kalinga.
Area 3,164.3 sq. km.
Household Population
182,098
(As of Aug 2007)
Number of Households
34,858
(As of Aug 2007)
Population Density
63.7/sq. km.
(As of May 2010)
Number of Municipalities 7
Number of City 1
(As of Sept 2011)
Number of Barangays
152
(As of Sept 2011)
Kalinga is a landlocked province in the northernmost section of the Cordillera Region. It is bounded by
the provinces of Cagayan and Apayao in the north, Mt. Province in the south, and Abra in the West.
The greater sections of Cagayan and Isabela are found on its eastern part.
Sharp-crested interlinking mountain peaks, steep slopes, isolated flat lands, plateau's and valley
characterize the western side while the eastern section is generally rolling with gradually sloping
foothills, interlocking wide track of flat lands and floodplains along its main rivers. Among land and
waterforms which constitute potential tourism sights are its waterfalls, hot springs, rice terraces and
subterranean rivers.
Composed of seven municipalities and one component city, the province's land area as of 2010 is
3,164.3 square kilometers occupying 17% of the Cordillera Administrative Region's land area.
A sizeable 85.96% of the total land area has been declared under the Revised Forestry Code
inalienable and disposable or public land leaving only 14.04% as alienable disposable. This can be
counted as a major issue aside from the inaccessibilty attributed by the terrain of the province.
Under the national population count conducted by the National Statistics Office (NSO), as of May
2010, Kalinga registered a total population of 201,613 and a growth rate of 1.95 from 1990 to 2010.
The City of Tabuk has the highest population count 103,912 persons. This is because Tabuk City is the
capital of the province and is the center of commerce, trade and industry making the city an
immigration area. The least populated town is Tanudan with only 8,119 populatioln count.
The province is richly endowed with mineral resources, both metallic and non-metallic which are said
to be mostly found in the municipalities of Balbalan and Pasil. There are also evidences on the
presence of non-metallic reserves such as sulphur, gravel and sand.
Brief History
The name Kalinga is derived from the Ibanag and Gaddang "Kalinga" which means "headhunters." In
the past, headhunting was considered noble and it symbolizes bravery. Tatoos, a status symbol which
men respect and which women admire, are given to warriors as reward. Thus a "mingol" or warrior
enjoys a high status in Kalinga society.
The "Bodong" to the Kalingas or peace pact is an indigenous socio-political system that defines
intertribal relationships. This was developed to minimize traditional warfare and headhunting and
serves as an institution for renewal, maintenance and reinforcement of social ties. Recently, the
"bodong" was expanded into a multi-lateral peace pact providing a means of strengthening unity in
the Cordilleras.
The Spanish missionaries and politico-military forces successfully penetrated into the forbidding
Apayaos and Kalinga tribal territories as early as 1608 when Father Geronimo Molina started his
mission work in Pudtol (Apayao) and also in 1689 at Tuga (Kalinga) where the first Catholic Mass was
celebrated.
During the short-lived Philippine Republic, President Emilio Aguinaldo in his flight to Palanan crossed
the upper Kalinga areas in his vain attempt to elude his American pursuers. For 35 days, President
Aguinaldo established his headquarters at Lubuagan since March 18,1900. Here, he issued his orders
to his military generals and the civil officials of his revolutionary government until he was forced out of
Lubuagan upon learning that his pursuers were sighted at Mabongtoto. This prompted him to escape
towards Tabuk in that historic last leg of his fight to Palanan, Isabela where he was later captured.
On February 4, 1920, Act No. 2772 was promulgated reorganizing the Lepanto-Bontoc Province into
Mountain Province constituted by the five provinces of Benguet, Bonito, Ifugao, Kalinga-Apayao.
Lubuagan was the capital of Kalinga while Kabugao was the capital town of Apayao.
On June 18, 1966, Republic Act No. 4695 was enacted creating from the old Mountain Province five
separate and independent provinces: Benguet, Ifugao, Mt. Province (Bonito) and Kalinga-Apayao. On
March 26, 1967, President Ferdinand E. Marcos administered the oath of office to the new officials of
the four newly born provinces.
Presently, Kalinga is fast emerging as an "Eco-Tourism Discovery of the Cordilleras" since its operation
as a regular and separate province on February 14, 1996.
Points of Interest
HISTORICAL
Aguinaldo Hill - is located at Barangay Asibanglan-Pinukpuk Road at Allaguia junction. This hill was
used as a common post by Gen, Aguinaldo during the Philippine-American war.
CULTURAL
Mini-Museum of Kalinga - a mini-museum was initiated and established by the Kalinga Special
Development Authority situated in their office building at Bulanao, Tabuk.
NATURAL
Sungang View Point - the viewpoint affords a majestic view of the valleys villages and mountains of
Tinglayan, Tanudan, Tabuk and Lubuagan. A very good view of the Tulgao and Dananao Rice Terraces
can be seen at the view point.
Palan-ah falls and hotsprings - this waterfalls is located at Tulgao West, Tinglayan. The name is
derived from the native term "Pinalpallang-ah" which means chair. The falls spray down from
approximately 100 meters above forming a pool where during a sunny day, one practically swims at
the end of the rainbow.
Mt. Mating-oy Dinayao (Sleeping Beauty)- these fabled mountain ranges border the municipalities of
Tinglayan and Tanudan and they take the form of a sleeping lady supinely lying its back. A vantage
view of the profile can be seen from the Sungang view or from Basao.
Tinglayan Rice Terraces - from the Sungang View Point, the Dananao and Tulgao Rice Terraces can be
viewed. These rice terraces are like an amphitheater along the whole mountain slopes.
Lubo and Mangali Rice Terraces - the rice terraces surrounds the villages of Lubo. The best time to
view the rice terraces is during the planting season and when the rice terraces is already ready for
harvest.
Mount Binaratan - this fabled mountain is located in Dacalan. It is the entry point of General Emilio
Aguinaldo during his retreat to Kalinga.
Taga-aran aran Kabunian - this area is located above Barangay Lubo at the source of Gaburao Creek.
At the side is a cave where Kabunian stayed while sawing lumber for his house.
Ugid Maling Subterranean River - located four kilometers away from Poblacion, Balbalan and a good
three and a half hours ride from the Capitol Town. It is a maze of cavernous boulders and rocks a top
each other forming a cavern.
Balbalasang National Park - this is a monument of the opposition of the Kalingas against the logging
companies.
Buaya Caves - It is similar to Sagada Caves with stalactites and stalagmites formation. The caves are
interconnected with each other and cover the whole mountain slope.
Aciga Tree - this is perhaps the biggest acacia tree in Kalinga within a village. It is found at the school
ground of the Aciga Elementary School and it is rumored that the tree is a landmark for the treasures
of Yamashita.
Bonnong Lakes and Asibanglan Lakes - this is a mountain lake in Pinukpuk where eels thrive and can
be recommended area for research.
Aguinaldo Hill - this is the hill where the Katipuneros made their last stand in Kalinga from pursuing
the American from Abra.
Padcharao Lake - the name is derived from the plants that abounds in the lake called "Chargo" in the
Pasil and is located approximately from 1800 to 2000 meters above sea level.
Pasil Natural Dam - it is located at Puapo, Dangtalan and was formed after the mountain side eroded.
It is ideal for boating and picnic site during the summer months.
Kabunian Bridge and Springs - these two natural landmarks are found in Maglucsad and Galdang
respectively.
Guinaang - this village has its historical importance to Kalinga as the retreat haven of President
Aguinaldo. This is where the Headquarters were located and the campsite.
Malibong Weavers Village - this is the center of the ethnic weaving industry in the province. The village
is along the road and one can buy souvenirs right from the weavers.
Bananao and Manangol Viewpoint - this is along the road towards Tinglayan and on can have a
panoramic view of the Chico River.
Elephant Hill - this is located in Rizal and is a site of an archeological digging where the other half of
the remains of the elephant war dug.
Capitol Tourism Plaza - the tourism plaza is located at the Capitol Ground and one can have a view of
the Tabuk Valley.
Rizal Lagoon - a man made Lagoon fronting the Rizal Municipal Hall.
MAN-MADE
Chico Dam - project located at Sitio Ngipen, Calanasan, Tabuk, constructed by the National Irrigation
Administration.
Rice Terraces - rice terraces at Barangay Tulgao, Tinglayan, 14 kilometers from the National Highway
Road could be reached by vehicle. The barangay road was constructed by Father Gilbert Obin, a
catholic missionary assigned in Tinglaya. It offers a better panoramic view of the rice terraces and the
sprawling villages of the different barangays of Tinglayan
Novella is a written, fictional, prose narrative normally longer than a
short story but shorter than a novel. The English word "novella" derives
from the Italian word "novella", feminine of "novello", which means "new".
[1]
The novella is a common literary genre in several European languages.
The mind after a sharp blow to t he head is like a house after a hurricane; unrecognisable shards, shreds and
splinters. Fragments of memory lie scattered in the wreckage. All the pieces are there, somewhere - but the
landscape is so distorted that, stumbling across them, the brain has no idea what they are or where they are from.
Where is Eleni?
Leos eyes close, he is oddly calm watching the bomb hurtle towards him. One last look before he is swept away. He
searches his mind and does not recognise the view. A thick fog smothers everything; he can just make out a few
faintly familiar shapes. Muerta. He already knows she is dead. At the point of asking he had no idea but when he
hears the answer it sounds like the confirmation of a memory he cant seem to bring to his mind. Something lurches
out of the blur into sharp focus. Eleni. Droplet brown eyes, rich hank of ebony curls, bundle of electric energy, singing.
Always singing like others breathe. For a fleeting moment he feels her brightness and warmth. They were like a single
atom, indivisible.
The bomb is almost upon him. The atom is about to be split. The energy to be unleashed, ferocious and
uncontrollable.
No es buena idea
Where is she?
The doctor clocks the steely determination in Leos eyes and seems reassured; maybe the boy can cope after all. He
doesnt know the story of these two young foreigners. He doesnt know the strength of their relationship.
It is only then that Leo realises he is lying on a bed and that he must have been unconscious. His waking words were
for Eleni. Something of that delirious soup lingers with him. Why does the doctor speak Spanish? The question hangs
in his thoughts like a piece of string whose other end is lost in the haze. He pulls it and a thread emerges from the
fog. A memory clings to it. Im in Latin America. I came here with Eleni. But where? Guatemala? No, we flew to
Colombia from there. Colombia then? No. He tugs at the string harder. No not Colombia. After Colombia came
Ecuador. Ecuador what comes after Ecuador. Where were we going next? He pulls harder, the twine is fraying. Peru.
From Ecuador to Peru. How? How did we get to Peru? The string snaps. No memory of getting to Peru. I must be in
Ecuador or Peru. Probably Ecuador. I cant remember Peru. He contemplates the broken thread, he has no idea
where to find the other end. He is at the edge of a hole whose size is as yet unfathomable. He stares into the void like
a senile man who in a moment of lucidity knows that his mind is lost.
He pulls himself to his feet. His head swirls and he puts his hand on the bed to steady himself. He blinks hard and
tries to focus on the enamel basin on the wall opposite. One of the taps dribbles annoyingly; it must have been
leaking for years because the water has left an ugly brown stain in the sink. Wherever he is it is in a state of neglect.
The paint peels from the walls and thick spiders webs hang undisturbed in the corners. A solitary gecko surveys the
scene from the ceiling. The doctor takes him by the arm and leads him down a corridor.
They stop in front of a closed door. Leo knows she is on the other side. The doctor pushes it open. Eleni lies on a
trolley bed. There is blood on her blue shirt; her shoulder is out of joint. There is a graze on her cheek. Now the bomb
hits. Something inside him yields and the full implication of events explodes inside him. His blood thunders out of
control, coursing through him like a river that has burst its banks; legs shudder and give way at the knees; breath
shortens and rasps in the throat. His heart rejects the returning blood and empties itself; stomach locks, sending
undigested waste crashing into the colon; anus pulls tight to prevent evacuation. His nose charges with fluid mucus,
eyes blink obsessively, vision blurs with tears. He collapses to the floor and screams a high guttural scrape. Nurses
three rooms away stop in their tracks like mothers responding to a babies cry. People come running from all
directions. The doctor closes the door. A murmuring crowd gathers outside. Some of the people know what has
happened. They are witnesses who are being treated in the clinic themselves. They have been wondering what would
happen when the gringo came round and was told his girlfriend had died. My God they have been saying, when
that boy wakes upit is too terrible to contemplate. And they cross themselves and thank Jesus that they will see
their loved ones again.
Leo is sobbing in a crumpled heap. He has never been so alone. Lost in some nameless South American town with
his mind half gone. He stands up and goes to Eleni. He caresses her face tenderly. Her skin is still warm. Perhaps
she is not dead, maybe she can be brought back to life. He looks at the doctor with a wild stray optimism in his eye.
The kiss of life; maybe he can bring her back with the kiss of life. He pinches her nose and opens her mouth and
breathes his desperate hope into her. Again and again he pours his life into her. Then he beats on her heart to make it
beat. Harder he pummels. He knows that he is hurting her, that she will be bruised but it is the only way. The doctor
puts his hand on Leos shoulder. But a pathetic tenacious hope has gripped him.
Electric shock. Have you got shock treatment. Er.. choc electrico. Tienes?
She cant be dead, he will not believe it. He continues to breathe into her. He begs for a miracle and a miracle
happens. A low raspy breath comes up from deep within her. It is a sound he will remember for the rest of his life.
The doctor is motionless. Leo is suddenly animated, he doesnt need this stupid, lazy doctor, he can resuscitate Eleni
on his own. He fills her up feverishly and each time she responds with a breath.
Signor, signor! the doctor places his hand again on Leos shoulder. He ignores it, his heart is flying, he almost wants
to laugh.
Signor, she is not breathing. It is your breath coming back from her lungs.
Leo feels for Elenis pulse. There is nothing. Once more he plummets into despair. He kisses her forehead and
whispers words learned from her native Greek
He strokes her hair as he used to sometimes when she was sleeping. Slowly the heat leaves her body. A minute later
he is howling like a dog. How long this lasts he has no idea.
The old doctor looks on from a corner. He battles back his own tears, he does not want to let his feelings conquer his
professional dispassion. Later he will return home and weep in his wifes arms and hug her hard for many minutes,
savouring her breath, her perfume and her love.
The story has spread through the hospital and the crowd outside the door have been overcome by that unsavoury
curiosity that grips people in the face of tragedy. Someone pushes open the door. They see a man ravaged in grief his
face raw and twisted and next to him a small woman lying gnarled and lifeless on a bed. As one they draw in a sharp
breath and for a moment their faces mirror his.
Go away, clear off. This is not a freak show. Leave me alone And even as he speaks Leos voice cracks and fades
away. They have seen enough, they are ashamed and someone closes the door.
The episode triggers a thought in his clouded mind. Why do I recognise those people? He turns to the doctor.
Where am I?
Latacunga signor.
Latacunga he knows the name. Yes now he remembers that he has been through Latacunga before. There is a
busy market in the town square. He changed buses there with Eleni to go into the mountains. He is in Ecuador.
What date is it? He forgets that he has just asked this question.
What happened?
Nowhere in his memory can he place this information. It does not even create the slightest ripple across his psyche.
He sits with the idea for a moment. No, he does not remember a bus or a crash. The thought hangs outside him like
an alien trying to gain entry. His brain refuses to connect this information to any synapse or nerve ending. And yet
somewhere lost in the internal wreckage sits the little black box, the flight recorder which carries the truth of what
happened. A strange protective mechanism has kicked in which prevents him getting too close to the epicentre of his
trauma. Like a witness in a court case who is not obliged to give evidence which could implicate himself so the body
refuses the mind access to the information which could damage it.
What year?
1992
Leo grapples with the year. He set off in 1991. When in 1991? The end, near the end. December 1991. So what
happened over the last four months. A small light switches on and he sees himself lying on a beach with Eleni. It is
New Years Eve they have taken a day trip from Cartagena in Colombia to a tropical island. Eleni is wearing her pink
swimsuit. They lie there in sunbleached bliss with the surf at their feet. He turns to her and kisses her warm cheek.
You know I cant think of anything in the whole universe that I want. Ive got you at my side and I love you and thats
it. Theres nothing more to life than this.
Eleni smiles, leans over and kisses him. Lets photograph it, she says. She takes out their small instant camera and
holds it at arms length above their heads and points it towards them. They check their positions in the reflection on
the lens and take the picture. Click.
He looks down at her corpse. The memory acts like a pair of hands that plough through his breast bone, rip open his
rib cage and expose his heart to the elements. His spine melts away and he stands before his dead lover like a piece
of limp flesh. He cannot breathe. His only thought now is that he wants to die and go with her.
From nowhere he feels a shooting cramp through his leg. He looks down and notices his jeans are ripped and
covered in blood. Next he feels a throb in his hands. They are cut and bleeding. Shards of glass stick out from the
skin. For a moment he becomes quite self-absorbed picking out the splinters.
His right shoulder is badly bruised and his hip joint fires sharp warning shots up his back. He realises that he has
suffered injuries all down his right side. But worst of all is his right knee. He cannot bend it or even feel it. How could
he not notice the pain until now?
What is the date he wonders? He is too embarrassed to ask again. The door opens. The crowd has disappeared. A
policeman enters and asks him to accompany him to the bus station to identify his bags. Leo is reluctant to leave
Elenis side but he is strangely open to suggestion. There is no fight left in him and he obediently follows the
policeman out of the room. The doctor follows and Eleni is left in peace.
They step out of the clinic into the blinding evening sun and a wall of heat. The huge central plaza sprawls before
them. A bustling South American market in full flow. On one side live cattle are being auctioned, llamas and cows foul
the floor and chickens, foot-tied in hanging clusters, fill the air with fevered clucking. The fruit sellers sit on blankets in
rows with their produce fanned out before them and the wealthy Otovalo Indians, hair in long plaits, hawk their
multicoloured hand-woven hammocks and ponchos. Leo breaks out into a sweat. How unbearable the world is, so
callous and indifferent. He shudders and recoils like a snake prodded with a stick. Lives beset with trivia and
humdrum chores. Tedious mundane pathetic existences spent serving material gain. He is looking at the world
through binoculars held the wrong way round. All is small and distant, unreachable and detached. He belongs to
another world now, a bubble where he can hear his heart beat and feel his skin wrinkle. The market place is a muffle
a million miles way. Sounds are cushioned and unreal. He is under water and no one notices that he is drowning.
On his previous visit to that square he and Eleni could barely walk a yard before being swamped by hawkers and
draped in clothes or jewellery they did not want. They resisted all offers until Leo caught sight of two tiny carved Inca
heads, one male and one female. He bought them without bartering, and gave the male head to Eleni as a keepsake.
But now as he walks through the square the traders instinctively turn away. For once he is avoided and ignored. There
is something in the eye of this man who is locked in a state of tragic bewilderment that disturbs the stallholders and
dries the throat. This man is definitely not on a shopping spree.
The policeman leads them to a small hut at the bus terminal. Normally it is full of bus drivers and ticket collectors but
today they are huddled outside animatedly discussing the accident. They fall silent when they see Leo approaching.
The hut is packed high with bags and there, right in the middle are two large rucksacks. He clambers towards them,
unsure if they are his. He tries to lift the bags but a wave of dizziness overcomes him and he totters and winces. The
doctor steps forward and picks the two bags up. Leo notices an ice pick and a pair of crampons sticking out from one
of the bags. He stares at them curiously. He double checks the nametag and sees Leo Deakin written on it.
As they walk back across the square Leos eyes flick side to side as he desperately tries to remember. Neurons and
synapses spark inside him and suddenly something bolts out of the gloom. They are in a mountain hire shop in Quito.
Leo loved climbing mountains; it was one of the most perfect pleasures in life. Perfect, because once you had gained
the summit you knew you could go no further. You had a complete sense of achievement. This was a rare sensation
for him in a life where so many activities were on going, never ending, where you had to look into the future for any
sign of contentment. Cotopaxi which towered over the plateau like an alluring cone-shaped exotic dessert was going
to be a huge challenge. The assistant in the shop told them to spend the night at the mountain lodge at 5000metres,
maybe even two nights to acclimatise. He advised them to set off at 2 a.m. on the day of the climb so as to reach the
summit for dawn and return before the afternoon thaw which would be treacherous. Crampons and picks would be a
necessity but if the weather held the walk would not be too difficult.
Not me, said Eleni. Im climbing to the lodge and thats as far as I go.
Dont take any risks, he warned, a couple of novices died up there last year.
He recalls eating breakfast. They had gone to their favourite caf near their hotel. He had eaten a fruit salad with
granola and honey. Breakfast of the Gods he had called it; pineapple, maracuya, mango and passion fruit. As he
recalls it he tastes it again. Eleni had scoffed down a banana pancake with melted chocolate and could not prevent
the hot sauce dribbling down her chin. They had lingered over coffee. Afterwards they had returned to their hotel and
picked up their heavy backpacks and set off for the bus station. There it was at last, the bus station. They were later
than they had planned by over an hour. Would Eleni be alive now if they hadnt taken so long over breakfast? His
memory stops at the bus station; he still cannot see any aspect of the journey in his mind. Perhaps it is better not to
know but he cannot seem to stop his thoughts racing. The holes are slowly filling up and despite itself the brain will
work until the job is completed.
This Short Story The Ignorant Man is quite interesting to all the people. Enjoy reading this story.
There was a village in a kingdom. There was living a milkman. His name was Deenu. He had built his hut far away from
his village, in the woods. He loved the quietness of the woods rather than the noisy atmosphere of the village. He lived in
his hut with his two cows. He fed them well and took proper care of them. Everyday he took the two cows to a nearby
lake to bath them. The two cows gave more milk. With the milk that the two cows gave, he earned enough money to live
happily.
Deenu was an honest man. Though he was content, at times he would be restless. There is so much wrong and evil in
this world. Is there nobody to guide the people? this thought made his sad every now and then.
One evening, the ignorant man, Deenu was returning home after selling milk in the village. He saw a saint sitting under a
tree and meditating. He slowly walked up to him and waited for the saint to open his eyes. He was happy to be with the
saint for some time. He decided to wait there itself till the saint opened his eyes.
After a while, the saint slowly opened his eyes. He was surprised to see a man patiently sitting beside him.
I want to know what the path to Truth and Piety is? Where shall I find Honesty? asked Deenu.
The saint smiled and said, Go to the pond nearby and ask the fish the same question. She will give you the answer.
Then as asked to do, the ignorant man, Deenu went to the nearby pond and asked the same question to the fish. The
fish said, O kind man! First, bring me some water to drink. Deny was surprised. He said, You live in water. But you still
want water to drink? How strange!
At this moment, the fish replied, You are right. And that gives you the answer to your question as well. Truth, Piety and
honesty are inside the heart of a man. But being ignorant, he searches for them in the outer world. Instead of wandering
here and there, look within yourself and you will find them.
This gave an immense satisfaction to Deenu. He thanked the fish and walked home a wiser man. He changed the way
in which he saw this world as well as himself. From that day, Deenu never felt restless.
He took his best to carry this massage to the rest of his fellow human beings. All his friends accepted him as their master
and consulted him to overcome their mental problems. He led them properly.
She had been working at the newspaper for years. She wasn't always the best writer, and she
certainly could have been a bit more social with the rest of the office staff, but she was good at
her job, and she had become invaluable to the editor. Derek had always valued her opinion for
what it was, and he trusted her more than anyone else at the paper.
Christine slammed into the newsroom like a Category 5 hurricane. She tore down everything
Sam had worked so hard to build and left a trail of destruction in her wake. Within her first
month, she'd managed to get four good reporters fired, and at least a few others were on the
chopping block.
It didn't matter to him that Sam had given the paper everything or that he used to trust her
implicitly. When Christine winked, complimented him, and broke things off with her fianc to get
to know him better, all of that went out the window. It was like Caesar and Cleopatra all over
again.
It was sheer luck that Christine wasn't in a position to influence hiring. No matter how much she
complained about Sam's work, she couldn't get her way.
And then came the last straw: Derek promoted Christine to the job Sam had been promised,
and that was it. A carefully crafted letter of resignation made its way to her direct supervisor's
desk.
Truth be told, Sam still wasnt sure whether it was the right decision. But shed given her two
weeks notice, and her desk would have to be cleared out by then. She had to focus on that.
When she walked back into the office that Wednesday night, there he was. She had hoped that
today would be the day hed decide he didnt have to work until all hours and let her clear out
her desk in peace. But Derek, who always seemed to have a sixth sense about her, picked his
head up the second she made it across the room.
There wasn't much left: a calendar, a mug, a few notebooks, and a well-worn chemistry
textbook lined the box she brought for her things. He at least had the decency to let her finish
packing before calling her over.
Are you okay? he asked once she was settled into the uncomfortable chair across from him.
She nodded mutely, and he cleared his throat.
Please don't go, he blurted. She blinked, working hard to keep face blank. He leaned over the
desk theatrically, and it was hard for Sam to keep from smiling. Whenever he pulled that move,
she couldnt help but think Derek looked a bit like Cary Grant.
I don't know why you're leaving, but we need you here. You're the best writer at the paper. And I
need your advice. Please stay.
And there he was, giving her that look againthe one that always got him an extra slice of cake
at company gatherings, could probably get him out of prison, and was very effective at melting a
reporters heart. Sam felt her reasons for leaving start drifting away. He needed her. And she
had always been there for him. How could she leave?
She felt the corners of her mouth turning up and forced them back down again. No way could
she cave now; she was right in the middle of packing up her stuff! What about Christine?
Derek shook his head, sighing audibly. Christine iswell, shes something, all right. He locked
his eyes on hers, and Sam felt herself unable to look away. But you have something that she
just doesnt.
He ran a hand through his hair (his beautiful, perfect, full head of hair, Sam thought in spite of
herself), seemingly struggling for words. She waited, biting her lip in anticipation.
Finally he spoke. Youre kind. Youre funny. Youre incredibly talented but so modest that hardly
anyone knows how amazing you are, even though they should. You keep to yourself, but youre
easy to talk to, and I know youll be honest with me no matter what I ask. Basically, youre one
of very few people I look forward to seeing every day, and I would genuinely hate to see you
go. By the end of his soliloquy, his face had gone red, and Sam noticed that he was twisting his
tie around in his handsalmost as if she were making him nervous.
She smiled at the thought. And then she had an idea that was so crazy and out of character for
her she couldnt believe it could have come out of her own rational, analytical brain. But this is
my last chance, really, she realized. If I dont do this now, Ill never be able to.
So she blurted it out before she had too much time to convince herself it was a horrible idea.
If youd hate it so much, prove it to me. Take me to dinner tonight. You can give me more
compliments, she laughed, and reasons you want me to stay.
He opened his mouth, his lips forming the word no, then caught her eye again and shut his
mouth. Sams breath was stuck in her throat. She stared at him, refusing to blink, until at last
she heard the words she hadnt known she was waiting for.
WINDFALL
The term collaborative writing refers to projects where written works are
created by multiple people together (collaboratively) rather than
individually. Some projects are overseen by an editor or editorial team,
but many grow without any oversight. Collaborative writing is also an
approach for teaching novice authors to write