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True Blue Journalism?



When a question is expressed, it presupposes an answer. For what is a question but a profound insinuation of an answer. The world is moving forward either for betterment or for the disgrace of humanity. Everybody can attest to that, not just by the senses but through the innate understanding that life is changing; it goes with time and we see it as it is.

It was 6 in the morning and the breeze was seemingly cold. The sky remained incarnadine, painting gory nuances on the clouds thus presaging another day of misfortune. The sun wasn’t fully awake but the street started to get boisterous as vehicles and humans alike swarmed the place to catch or run after time. A brown dog settled on the pavement beside an old acacia tree and howled to send a signal for the other mongrels that lurked in other corners of this prosaic place. Upon hearing the call, they assembled their group and headed to the acacia tree that served as their rendezvous – a place of their dominance and brutality. Some settled beside the brown dog, other roamed the vicinity but not far from the rest of the pact. Upon observing their institution, the brown dog that remained calm proved to be the leader of the pact because no one among them could equal his contemplative demeanour and his valour was apparent in his fangs and bodily feat. He was also the biggest and there was no doubt why he claimed dominance over these filthy mongrels; there were sheer differences among them for some had scabies while others were filthy and stinky. Only the brown dog looked clean and his economy in movement had a charisma that affected the rest of them. The only thing that bound them was the sole fact that they were all askals and that they all lived and survived the harsh conditions of the street.  They had experienced the demeaning and industrialized ways of urbanization and had become masters of the streets – except for the brown dog who had not just mastered his ways but had claimed apotheosis of himself.  They had also been witnesses to the ups and downs of economy and the infiltration of immorality in the fast expanding Sin-City; all of them used this knowledge for the advantage that these would fit their designed scenario of survival. They held a single notion about the world – that the world is so wicked that even God couldn’t do anything to change it. This idea has prompted them to live brutally, to prowl for the next victim.

The name of the brown dog was Chiz. He had no tinge of whatsoever expression in his face and his eyes were blank and eluding. It made you think that he was a holy dog of St. Roque but if you looked beyond it, his diabolical aura exuded a contagious virus – a perfect virus that infected the mongrels around him. This was his game and those around him had no power but to succumb to his order, absolutely precarious of his commands. When the time had come, a perfect cameo for his concupiscence, he let a loud howl for everybody to follow. They rushed across the street where a female dog was fortuitously passing and started to surround the stray female dog. Frightened by the sudden twist of events, she gathered her guts coherent to her instinct and ran as fast as she could. Unfortunately, her legs failed her and all at once she was surrounded by these blood-thirsty mongrels. They attacked her, biting her legs and tearing her flesh. She let out a loud cry of pain as she struggled to free herself from them by biting and slashing whenever she could but the mishap had proven that these devils were far stronger than her. When she could no longer move, the brown brute moved from behind and raised his forelegs to thrust his penis to the female dog. She wept and cried as pain enveloped her and she couldn’t do anything but be docile until they were done ravaging her body. She was a helpless bitch uttering an anathema while gasping for her breath. In her agony she prayed hard even though she knew that nobody would come to her aid. One after another, they shifted turns and everybody had his slice of gratification. Their explicit display of brutality had left a stigma on her body beyond reparation. She stood up, her body was torn, swathed in blood, and tried her best to move away from them. In her urge to at least salvage a little shard of her dignity, she wanted to evade this evil in the world specifically from these devils…from their wickedness. She crawled near the gutter and positioned her lacerated and molested body to the iron bar. Resting her stomach gave a temporary recess from the pain but had not totally obliterated the pangs of wretchedness that she went through. Chiz moved close to her grinning. He let a loud howl of jubilation and stamped his feet to her head. The female dog with her remaining strength tried to shove his feet and raised her head to face the lenses. She let out a loud cry of sorrow, remorse, bitterness, and helplessness…”Are we done? Do they have to know?”

  1. dabubu
    December 17, 2008 at 1:20 am

    This is powerful.

  2. Chorny K. Paging
    December 17, 2008 at 1:23 am

    wow. kuyawa ani oi. keep up the good work!

  3. totomel
    December 17, 2008 at 1:33 am

    kili-kili power tingali.hehehe

  4. totomel
    December 17, 2008 at 1:36 am

    thanks chorny…hehehe. i like your name, Chorny.hahaha

  5. December 18, 2008 at 3:34 am

    Waaaaa I am beyond disturbed…

  6. totomel
    December 18, 2008 at 5:06 am

    i was even disturbed writing it gabz…if only i could have conceptualized further….

  1. December 16, 2008 at 6:29 am
    Website Directory - Painting

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