The Mystery on 17th Street
READING AGE 16+
I remember playing under the moonlight and under the heat of the sun with marbles or rubber bands, catching grasshoppers and climbing trees. Dogs barked and hens cackled, and in the gardens grew an abundance of fruits and vegetables, spices and herbs. Creation unfolded and we smelled her symphony of scents—the sharp, tangy, soft, gentle, oily, bitter and sweet—mingling in the tropical heat.
Such was the life on 17th Street, a narrow strip of thin asphalt where families were raised and lives began and ended. But not all was simple or idyllic. The old and quarrelsome woman Iya Vellit lived alon in her nipa hut under a mango tree, fascinated by the moon. Everyone said she was a witch until a stranger's arrival began unraveling her secret.
Unfold
Noli became a salesman for a multinational corporation that produced shampoo and soap, where he put to good use his bragging or “salesmanship,” as he described it. He gave Rhuel a sample of shampoo. “Maka-kaspa kana imong shampoo, Noli,” complained Rhuel, scratching his head.
“You are not used to expensive things,” Noli countered. “You are……
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