When I was young my cousin, Ate Margaret, taught me something. We were walking down the street when a dog started barking at us. It slobbered and each time it barked it revealed its vicious fangs. At first it moved towards her. It barked, as if daring her to move. When she held her ground the dog started coming to me. “Mite nyur nung!” she screamed to me. I couldn't understand her. She screamed again, “Mite nyur nung!” I couldn't move. I wanted to run. As the dog came closer I could swear I could hear it smacking its lips in anticipation of a jaw-full of my flesh. “Bite your tongue!” Ate Margaret shouted just in time. I bit my tongue and for some reason the dog backed off.
When the dog had gone I asked her why the dog left. I asked why it was that it didn't bite me when I bit my tongue. She said that she didn't know. Someone older had taught her that. There wasn't any way to explain it. But it kept the dogs at bay.
Now Ate Margaret is dead.
Biting your tongue doesn't work anymore.
Dear Reader,
I'm not exactly sure if this is a piece of flash fiction, or if it should be a full-length short story.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
2 comments:
Flash fiction!
I feel like trying that. Maybe you should have a disclaimer on the bottom, people might get rabies because of your story. haha.
-Bate
Sir, ang tagal na nitong post mo pero ngayon ko lang nabasa.
Anyway, Flash Fiction! :) Ang galeng.
Post a Comment