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The Narma

Year Shift
Collection
(Fiction)

N. Madera Aguilar

Copyright, 2014
By
N. Madera Aguilar
Published by
N. Madera Aguilar
(Through DIY-POD
Self-publishing Option)
All Rights Reserved
By the Author

Note: This is the authors originally conceived work and his do-it-yourself
(DIY) content creation intended for publication-on-demand (POD).
Portions of this book may not be reproduced, copied or transformed into
whatever form unless permission in writing is obtained from the author
taking into consideration the mandate under copyright laws.

NOTE: Each chapter in this book is an excerpt from


the authors full length title self-published through
various outlets online.

One
Gifts of the Good Year
Realizing that we were already in the ber
months, I took steps to prepare for the undertakings
to herald the onset of the Yuletide in the early part of
the year. The locality where I reside has perhaps the
longest period for a Christmas celebration. It usually
starts to inflame the hearts of local Christians as soon
as August is ended and goes through with the year
ending until the first weekend of the ensuing year
arrives. As the climactic culmination of the year
nears, we become more pronounced in
wholeheartedly extending to everyone our sincere
greetings for the Holiday Season. Thus, we continued
with the practice during the previous year as this has
already become our way of life.
A Farewell to the Passing Year
As coldness swept through the continents and
islands, with snow drift exacerbating the chill and
wind getting high, we gladly awaited the precise
moments when the birth of the Lord Jesus Christ
would be experienced once more, bringing to the
world a time to enjoy love, faith, hope and charity.
Prayers for peace and contentment continued to be
offered while expectations for blessings and grace
remain steadfast in the hearts of every Christian. We
extended our greetings and shared our joy to
everyone as we celebrate this most cherished event of

the year which offers merriment to all who have


prepared for the season.
In the midst of the cold and damp surroundings, it
is time all over the world that we reflected on the
mission we are accorded with which accompanies our
existence on earth. By extending a hand, we magnify
the vision that guides us towards the realization of
our objectives with a finding that sharing and caring
bring us closer to our most profound endeavors.
To Whom I Give Thanks and for What
I am thankful to God for creating me and giving
me life on this earth. I am thankful to my parents for
being instrumental in my creation and having reared
me until I attained adulthood. I am thankful to my
wife for acceding to be my partner in a home that we
established, sharing the task of parenthood as we
endeavor to shape our childrens future. And I am
thankful for all the good and inspiring things that I
and my dear ones receive, such as love, respect,
confidence and sharing which we, too, give in return
as a sign of mutual kindness. Furthermore, I am
thankful for all the food, both material and spiritual,
which I and members of my family receive daily to
keep us at pace with the nutritional demands of both
body and soul. In celebration of thanksgiving, we
share the food which we were luckily bestowed with
those who are one with us in the expression of our
gratitude.
From a forthcoming book

Two
A Novel from the Preceding Year

See, Damascus will cease to be a


city, and will become a heap of
ruins. (Isaiah 17:1, NRSV)

Three
A Novel from the Previous Year

For all the inequities and sins that we may have


committed, theres always forgiveness that waits; and
when it is invoked, its outpouring will be profuse. Let
us join those who are forthright in their remorse, for
their contrition is the key towards unraveling a new
life we shall look forward to.
From: The Last Traces of Hope

Four
A Novella

It's your lack of faith that makes it difficult for us


to succeed, that induced all the failures since last
night. You don't really have much faith in the
capacity of your father to make it. Without such,
there's nothing much I can do. It is faith alone that
determines our final destiny. My bare hands are
nothing, for it must really come from you. I am but
an instrument of God's will, and that will comes only
upon the supplication of a perfect faith.
From: Menace on the Face of the Red Moon

Five
A Work of Fiction

Your past is not the issue here. You know, we


believe in such a thing as rehabilitation.
From: A Man and a Girl

Six
Another Work of Fiction

The young lady in charge of the front desk at that


particular hour told him somebody was looking for
him.
From: Losing

Seven
A Narma Fiction

I HAVE been looking for you for some time.


Where have you been?
From: A Girls Awakening

Eight
Another Narma Fiction

What he saw stunned him. Somebody was lying in


his bed.
From: Harvest of Sand

Narma Books Online is a digital relay medium


for online content distribution of works from
Narma authorship imbued with a mission of
information dissemination through selective
output of significant matters of concern to the
appropriate recipients, both in entertainment and
informative categories. It is based in the
Philippines.
Narma Books as an online content provider
displays through this site current issues and
authors shares, feeds, tweets, as well as blogs,
on such diverse topics as ebooks, Pinoy OFWs,
cyber/tech reads, entertainment, PHL
lifestyle/cultural agenda and legal concerns.

The Fall of Damascus


(A Narma Novel)
Available in Print Worldwide
May be added to cart online by clicking on:
www.createspace.com/4734005
The Middle East is the focus of the incidents in
this novel. The drama unfolding as the episodes
progress highlights the events in Syria, although the
author has emphasized that this is not a war story;
rather, it is some kind of a love story taking the
reader into an extended tour of various places,
particularly Europe. The main characters though are
of Asian descent.
This book is a work of fiction and represents the
dilemma that Mideast transients have to contend with
in living life in that land. The characters created
herein are purely fictional and any similarity or
resemblance to actual persons is purely coincidental.
The places described, however, are real and the
events that transpire forming as backdrop of the story
may have actually happened. Inclusion of aspects
thereof is imperative to give flavor to the story.
What the Book Tells Us
This book is a work of fiction and is another
authors experimentation at DIY-POD (Do-ityourself/Publish or print-on-demand) option. Selfpublishing or independent publishing is now a
worldwide vogue and the indie author in some
places, more particularly the United States, has
gained prominence and avowed acceptance. This
recourse, however, appears to be sparingly availed of

in the Philippines. It is upon this context that the


author introduces this novel under such mode of
publication.
The author is motivated solely by a desire to
provide entertainment to the readers, and no offence,
if any, is intended to an individual or group, be it as
to their beliefs or well-being.
Whom the Author Acknowledges
The author acknowledges the invaluable help and
assistance he obtained from various sectors in the
preparation of this book and his other works
previously published as well as those still being
prepared for publication.
His appreciation goes to those who shared with him
their full support and positive stance as well as their
kind indulgence as the author gropes along the
pathways to self-publication.
Such regard likewise extends to the members of his
family, peers and friends who in one way or another
have taken part in making this venture a success.
The author is furthermore indebted to his readers
for their patronage of his works and staying with him
in the journey through pages of the printed word.
Sampling the Book
As the pages of the book open, we are treated with
incidents which unravel in the first chapter of the
book. Thus:
As soon as the gate of the villa swung open, a group of
fatigue-uniformed soldiers entered, having forcibly done away
with the lock and barging through the wires that buttressed the
security of the entrance portion of the compound. They were

about a dozen while another group, which was half of their


number, remained outside the gate to watch the surrounding
area. The five of them who were able to proceed to the door of
the villa fronting the gate rammed through it and pushed
themselves inside. Meanwhile, dusk was beginning to hover
over the area.
The place was located in the outskirts of Aleppo City. It
was an exclusive village comprising of structures with
divergent but exquisite designs suggesting that the occupants
thereof did not belong to the lower strata of society. Large
villas lined the streets and were unmistakably drawing the
impression that they housed no less that the citys elite.
In the last remaining days of June, 2012, there had been a
marked alteration of the atmosphere that engulfed the village,
characterized by eeriness resulting from abandonment of the
plush residences that used to be kept alive by the residents.
Of the five soldiers who made a search in the villas ground
floor, three went up later to the second floor and ransacked the
rooms as the two who remained at the foot of the stairway
stayed on full alert, their hands holding their respective rifles
tightlyindicating that they were ready to fire on slightest
provocation.
Nooo! As voices of men boomed, so did the bursts
from guns.
The two soldiers who stayed on the first floor immediately
run up the stairs but were met by one of their comrades who
apparently came from another room where no gunshot was
heard. He was holding a dark-skinned unarmed young man,
apparently in his early twenties, by the collar of his shirt as the
latters two hands were placed on his head. He was sporting a
long hair. When their eyes turned to the other room, the bodies
of their two comrades sprawled just a step beyond the door
and into the room met their sight. A few steps further two
bodies were also seen lying: a Caucasian on top of a brown
man. All four were bloodied.
Before the three soldiers could do something to rescue their
fallen comrades, a huge explosion occurred just outside the

gate of the villa, prompting them to leave the sprawled bodies


and instead join the rest of the soldiers in the compound.
It was a single explosion, though intense.
What was that? one of the three soldiers from the interior
of the villa asked those near the gate.

The Last Traces of Hope


(A Narma Novel)
Available in Print Worldwide
May be added to cart online by clicking on:
www.createspace.com/3621484
Available also in the Philippines via:
Centralbooks (927 Quezon Ave., Quezon City)
Click on: www.central.com.ph/bookstoreplus/
- Also Available in E-book form at:
www.smashwords.com
- Or at kdp.amazon.com
This novel deals with the Middle East turmoil
which transpired with Iraq's incursion into Kuwait on
August 2, 1990. A ship with Filipino seamen making
up its complement was docked at the Kuwaiti port on
that date. What took place before and after it sailed
will be revealed in this book.
A reading of the novels prologue may be availed
of hereinbelow:
Prologue: The Fear
The unsettling events that transpired during the last few
days of July, 1990 exacerbated the volatile situation in the
Mideast, particularly Kuwait, and it sent Brian Rios, the
Deputy Employment and Welfare Attach assigned in that
small nation, worrying. He was working on a report to be
submitted to the Middle East Coordinators Office in Manila

but the vexation in his mind had affected his writing. He


simply could not finish the paper work.
The relations between Kuwait and its neighbor, Iraq, had
deteriorated and this drove Brian into fear. Any further
worsening of such relations could place him in a precarious
situation. As the Kuwait-based DEWA of his country, he was
watching over thousands of Filipinos working in that country
alonetens of thousands, in fact. He was next in rank to the
Employment and Welfare Attach who was based in Riyadh,
Saudi Arabia, and in charge of providing for and overseeing
the employment and welfare needs of all the overseas contract
workers in the Mideast. The latter carried the appellation of
EWA. Naturally, Brian was always referred to as the DEWA
by his countrymen in Kuwait.
The dispute between Iraq and Kuwait had been escalating
day after day. The most recent developments pouring in from
both countries did not augur well for peace. Brian saw to it
that he was kept fully abreast of news updates from the two
countries.
A bulletin furnished him by diplomatic sources read in part:
even the Organization of Islamic Conference, made up of
forty-eight members had urged the two fellow member-states
to resort to peaceful means in resolving their differences. Iraqi
President Saddam Hussein, however, is hard on his demands
that Kuwait cut oil production, pay for oil allegedly pumped
from the border which Iraq claims as part of its territory and
write off billions of dollars in loan.
And as he further leafed through the pages, Brian arrived at
the concluding statement: on the part of Kuwait, its
demands focus on the withdrawal of Iraqs forces from the
160-kilometer border. It views such massing of Iraqi forces as
a threat. The withdrawal is a pre-condition to the holding of
any negotiation. This, apparently, is Kuwaits position.
Brian could no longer conceal the fact that he was on the
verge of panic. He feared that the consequences would be
beyond estimation should the talks between the two countries
fail.

Fiction Assemblage
The story Losing, brings the readers to a scene
where a meeting between a man and a woman takes
place. Their respective reactions towards each other
are spontaneous when prompted by the confrontation.
The woman stares at the man with a subdued smile
bordering on being apprehensive as she is unsure of
how the former would take this meeting which she
had sought for. The man doesnt allow a smile to
flash on his face which is not only an epitome of
surprise but also a portrait of disbelief. It is available
as an e-book on https://amazon.com.
A Girls Awakening is a short story and it is paired
with Losing to form a separate publication in printed
version at CreateSpace labelled as two tales of lifes
facets: one, of young age; the other, aging. It is
available at www.createspace.com/3565490. A Girls
Awakening is a tale that brings us to the rural life in
the Philippines which a barrio lass, Andrea leads. She
is no longer a girl but not yet a woman. In her status,
and while basking in the lure of natural beauty in her
surroundings, she is suddenly exposed to the danger
that lurks behind. It is also available as e-book on the
same outlet.
Harvest of Sand tells us of a turmoil in the Middle
East and how foreign lives were affected. It is an
account of events which transpired in the Middle East
in 1990 spawned by Iraqs incursion into Kuwait. On
August 2, 1990 in Kuwait City, it was getting late but
Brian Rios, a deputy employment and welfare attach
assigned at the Philippine Embassy there, knew he
was facing a sleepless night. More people would be
arriving and would be joining the multitude of those

who were already jostled in the embassy premises.


The succeeding scenes were unnerving.
The story is included in the authors collection of
his other works of fiction, Fiction Assemblage,
made up of a novella and four short stories which are
available either in print or in e-book format.
The collection may be procured online through
https://www.createspace.com/3598890.
Menace on the Face of the Red Moon is a
novella that tells us what happens when members of a
family in bereavement cling to a hope that their
patriarch is still alive.
It also points to us the influence of superstition
and the nagging belief that there is certain healing
that lies somewhere even if the way towards it is
crooked and wearisome. A conflict between the
modern and the traditional is inevitably tackled when
the protagonists tread the same path to a single
objective.
It may be added to cart online by clicking on:
www.createspace.com/3571177
In A Man and a Girl, a prisoners travails and
misgivings are featured and thus becomes the focal
point of the story. He is one day released from jail
and has regained his freedom. But he worries about
his wife and daughter who never visited him during
his incarceration. He sets out to look for them and
what he eventually finds out shakes him in disbelief

The Fall of Damascus


(The Verse Segment)
I
where the settlers shun, we seek shelter
we dont ourselves make fools nor dreamers
but are simply keepers of the hope
that the change we often visualize
shall be the fact of life we envision
though it remains a facet of dead music
frustration most of the time engulfs us
though our designs arent without merit
the eyes we unclose usually meet
dismissals of cold-blooded innocence
we cry in the dark but never laugh in the light
in our faces run tears forming rivers
that dissect the ever scorching desert
ours is a choleric existence
that even wily emotionalists fail to unravel
life to us is euphonic but evanescent
though love is life,
life isnt love
as it doesnt bloom in the desert
and if ever love flowered in the desert
it wouldnt be life
it wouldnt be a mirror of the affection
once created between Venus and Adonis
it would neither be physical nor celestial
it would simply be catasthropic

tattered hopes remain forming a rainbow


a source of rain that doesnt nurture life
if ever Zeus see us smile, he would lament
if ever Echo hear us sigh, she would exhilarate
and if ever in the world a desert existed
other than the Syrian dryland
it would be farcical, nobody would notice it
no one would crave for it
utopia shall opt to disregard it
for we have sought utopia
although what we were looking for was nirvana
we did ask for voices that were never heard
and faces that could not be seen
we see strands of clouds curdling
their presence moves the bard to sing
although he doubts his own identity
each blade of grass rarely appearing
could have been extricated by teardrops
dripping with resilience
every dream could have been a vision
if it didnt turn elusive
their indifference results into our irrelevance
never catching the languor of our plaintive sighs
nor giving ear to our symphonies
suffusing with mellifluence
polyphonic but bland
and flowing like the shadow of the moon
the desert prevails in the gloom

insouciant of the baffling swarthiness


negligent of the crotchety hue of their minds
mulish, with our thoughts foiled
its presence gives rise to an unending song
an incessant trill
throughout the centuries, shouts are heard
voices are hearkened and wailings deplored
we travel in the desert, sometimes losing men
oftentimes squandering our precious comrades
forgetting whether we have lived, loved or liked lilt
inexorably moving without circumspection
for perhaps if we did, we may have seen differently
we might have been redeemed from a beautiful folly
the desert may never be poetic at all
and no ocean may be created out of our tears
not even a crystal of limpid, maleficent memories
that enveloped the desert
rather, a dimension of the eulogistic imagination
a perspective of the panegyrical idealism
that only the best of us are for heaven
we must lament as we had lamented before
we might be heard
if in the years the desert were gone
would the shadows be still cast?
wouldnt there be a panorama like Damascus?
Surely, there is an appointed time for everything
and Damascus will fall

II
brother, oh, brother,
marked are the streets
with the ruddiness of our blood,
the sounds of truncheon bumping against our napes
are but echoes of moans from fleeting dreams,
the pillboxes dropping on our heads
rain like meteors in a cynical twilight,
brother, oh, brother,
the placards reign;
more and more pharaohs will come
so let Moses return,
this is not Cromwells time
nor do we have the Guillotine,
the hatchetmans face is uncovered
while the King doesnt stretch his hands,
the battleground is empty
but there are reddish spots on it
for it is the arena
where we have gambled our lives
to let Alpha and Omega meet
in this Armageddon of our generation,
and yet, we only see the daring Eagles
they dont drink Pepsi or Coke
but they are gulping our blood,
waiting for the dawn at Aleppo and Damascus,
brother, oh, brother,
marked are the streets
with the ruddiness of our blood.
III
The distance between Alpha and Omega stretches,
Will they ever meet?

I saw a dove soaring in the sky


But hawks are blocking the way,
The route has not been easy
Since the Pharaohs reign
Through Hitlers time
To Vietnam and Iraq
And the modern ones.
I am sad and clueless
About the signs of the times,
When will daybreak come?
Will thunder ever cease
And lightning relent?
Will the clouds give way
And open up for a hint of light?
Ive seen iron-clad men
Burying skulls in Golgotha,
Draining the Euphrates
And dredging the Tigris;
Theyre flying steel kites too
Over the shifting sands near Negev
While pouring oil into the Nile;
In cutting, breaking the pipeline to peace
They set aflame the wells of hope;
Assurance isnt mine
As to how they will cease.
IV
I have loved you once
With a love so true,
And until there is eternity
Ill still be loving you

An NRCS Vignette
For all the inequities and sins that we may have
committed, theres always forgiveness that waits; and
when it is invoked, its outpouring will be profuse. Let
us join those who are forthright in their remorse, for
their contrition is the key towards unraveling a new
life we shall look forward to.
--From: The Last Traces of Hope (A
Novel)
Available in print
www.createspace.com/3621484
Also available in Kindle version
via:
https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0
064A8S7M
Or at: www.smashwords.com

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ABOUT THE AUTHOR

The author, 63 years of age, now resides in Iloilo


City, Philippines, where he is a member of the
Sumakwelan, an organization of vernacular writers
from the Western Visayan region and portions of
Mindanao Island in the Philippines.
His works include several titles in non-fiction and
some in fiction and poetry. He has been engaged in
vernacular writing in his country since he was a teenager. He is currently working on the translation of his
literary works into the English language. He assures
his readers, however, of his earnest efforts in seeing
to it that nothing is missed in the course of the
translation.
The author may be reached at this e-mail address
nrcsbookshop@ymail.com.
His availability may be had also through:
*www.twitter.com/narmabooks
*www.scribd.com/ narmabooks
He may be visited at the following Web sites:
*http://narmabooks.webs.com
*http://narmabooks2.wordpress.com

ACKNOWLEDGMENT

The author acknowledges the invaluable help and


assistance he obtained from various sectors in the
preparation of his books and his other works
previously published as well as those still being
prepared for publication.
His appreciation goes to those who shared with him
their full support and positive stance as well as their
kind indulgence as the author gropes along the
pathways to self-publication.
Such regard likewise extends to the members of his
family, peers and friends who in one way or another
have taken part in making this venture a success.
The author is furthermore indebted to his readers
for their patronage of his works and staying with him
in the journey through pages of the printed word.

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