By Phynne Bellecieux
“Ayan, si Spokening-Dollar!”
The identical girls harped as Elise tried to slip past them. Behind the bawdy trio, the Amoebas sat cool and mind-bendingly beautiful under the tidy shade of an Indian mango tree. On cue, to supplement the sting of the Harpy triplet’s comment, they commenced a bout of snickering, pointedly catching her glances.
Their half-pitying, half-mocking gazes spoke volumes. She didn’t speak a lick of Tagalog much less understand it (not true on the latter). If she was American, why wasn’t she blonde? beautiful? rich? She definitely did have that uncultured, nasally Kano-twang.
How Elise loathed this foreign hell!
Great story!
Thank you so much, Asgardana!
You so cleverly catch the difficulty of being other but not fitting the stereotype of ‘other’ (be that nationality, color, style, dialect etc.)!
Love this, you convincingly transported me to another world.