Types of Prose Narratives: A Text-Book for the Story WriterFansler, Harriott Ely
General
Types of Prose Narratives: A Text-Book for the Story Writer
Fansler, Harriott Ely
English prose literature; Storytelling
"But it ain't a few people, Ann. It seems like most everybody had
plenty to eat and wear but us. Why ain't we in it, too? Why don't I
live in that fine house where I work instead down in this hole? It
seems like we'd been cheated somewhere; but I s'pose there ain't no use
talkin' about it. Good-night."
Ann watched the girl as she climbed the rickety steps of the "palace"
which fate had assigned to her.
"They're all that way sometimes. I remember--well, she'll get used to
it like all the rest of us."
--Agnes Palmer.
=Filipino Fear.=
One cloudy afternoon when a heavy rain seemed swaying back and forth in
a thick mist which was then lowering, and long red streaks of lightning
followed by loud rolling thunder seemed trying to break the mist to
let the rain fall, there were in a little nipa house in the country
below, among aged cocoanut palms, two lonely persons suffering from
superstition and fear of the extraordinary phenomena that surrounded
them.
The house was just big enough for the two. Its roof, windows and sides
were made of _cogon_. The floor and door were made of narrow bamboo
strips nailed side by side. In one corner of the room on a bed, made
also of bamboo, sat a boy of eight. There was in the expression and
look of the boy a feeling of unknown fear mingled with surprise,
because his father, a lusty old superstitious man, who was then holding
a blunt stick, had driven their domestic creatures from the house
to the open field where there was no means of securing shelter from
the heavy rain, whose first large drops were now clattering on the
leaves. The boy had a kind disposition, especially toward his pets--a
sense that he had inherited from his father. This was the first time
that he had seen his father act thus unkindly toward their animals.
His surprise was much increased when he saw his father dash at the
windows and doors and fling everyone of them open, then retreat to
the middle and look sideways. He saw him draw a long agitated breath.
Then, seeming to have recovered his wits, he hastened toward one of the
windows and took from the outside a portion of a dried cocoanut leaf.
He cut two long narrow strips from it and made them into loops. After
placing one around his neck, he uttered a short prayer. He then handed
the other loop to his still amazed child and said, "Wear this, dear
child, around thy neck."
"Why, father?" inquired the innocent boy, "can this protect me?"
"Yes, child, prayer and that alone can save us."
"What has this in it, father? It seems to me to be nothing but a piece
of cocoanut leaf. Isn't it?" said the boy.
"It is a strip from a cocoanut leaf, but--it has--"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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