The Case of Mr. Pimentel, 25
by:j.luna

The door knob turned, and the door opened revealing a dark all too familiar room. He reached for the switch, the all too familiar light switch on the left corner of the wall beside the door; as the lights went on he entered. The living room was a small one but well furnished, the walls are wall papered and there are bookshelves filled with novels, figurines and framed pictures. The room had always been this way since they moved in 3 years ago. Nothing has changed except for the flourescent bulb, that got busted a year ago and was replaced by a new one, and some photographs that were added on the shelves, that were taken from a vacation in thailand. He took off his shoes and socks and loosened his tie. He fixed himself some coffee, and sat on his favorite sofa in front of the television, it had always been the same for the past 3 years. It was 10 p.m., and he took the t.v. remote control from the small table beside the sofa. He need'nt need to look, for he knew that it was there, so all he had to do was reach for it. He turned on the television. For the past 3 years it had been his routine to watch the 10 o clock news. At about 10:15, he finished his coffee. Suddenly he had the strange urge to turn off the television., it seemed like the news of the day didn't have any appeal to him. He turned off the t.v.. He looked around the room, thinking of things to do. He fixed his eyes on the lampshade on the study, found on the east side of the room. He fixed his eyes on the kama sutra painting hanging on the west side of the room. Everything had been the same for the past 3 years since they moved in. He decided to read a novel, and went to the bookshelf. He looked at his collection for a while, as if contemplating on what good book to read. Will it be Kafka? Will it be Dostoevsky? or will it be Faulkner? he had been too familiar with these novels and their authors, for he had read them far too many times. While contemplating, a framed photograph caught his attention. he stared at it for a few minutes... Contemplating ,studying the features of the picture. as if in a reverie, time stopped for him for a moment, before something ticked inside of him and woke him back to reality. Suddenly, the room got bigger...The walls grew farther from each other. He saw the unfamiliar dust that had settled on the now unfamiliar bookshelves, tables, furniture.... Suddenly he felt an uncomfortable strangeness and isolation... he felt that the room became so vast, so wide, so empty.... The room which used to be small for 3 years since they moved in, suddenly became a huge, vast and empty oblivion only an hour after he came in. Grasping his way to the cabinet beneath the bookshelf, he turned a knob. He took out his pistol and blew off his head.

Hilaw na hilaw ito.dahil isa lang itong practice o pagsubok.

Di ko na rinevise ito kaya pasensya na sa mga typo at grammatical error, ang importante kasi ay mahuli ko ang istilo..

eto ay isang exercise ko sa pagsulat ng short story na ginagamitan ng istilo ni Robbe Grillet

Ang style kasi ni Robbe-Grillet ay Objectivity based...

Devoid sa stream of consciousness at puro mga bagay lang na nakikita lang ng mata ng character...

Natuwa kasi ako kung paano niya ginawa yun, parang sobrang wasak.
MAy mga istorya nga siya na tungkol sa murder pero puro description lang ng ilang feet ang layo ng silya sa pader, mga mantsa sa pader...basta yung nakikita lang ng mata ng character, walang interior monologue walang epiphany..

Pero, di ito purong Robbe Grillet, dahil hinaluan ko parin ito ng mga flashback at realization at kaunting stream of consciousness.

This was 2003...Iba na ako sa 2008