Maria and The Crag To The Witch's Garden

                       Benedicto Laom Bantoc was a young fisherman who had very dark short hair and a round face with an arched nose, bright dark brown eyes, and bushy eyebrows. His father Mr. Ernesto Alon Bantoc was a poor fisherman and his family was poor. His mother Mrs. Milia Laom Bantoc gathered edible seaweeds to sell at the fish market. Ben had made a fortune out of fishing. He was an astute fisher and the time being at the age of twenty-five, he had already owned ten lashed-lug wooden plank canoes with riggers on both sides and two large also lashed-lug wooden plank ships. There were thirty fishermen engaged in dragging the line and trawling with his fishing vessels at sea.

                       The wedding celebration had been a happy affair with laughter and polite stories–––stories of the craggy hill and beyond it–––shared inside the enclosed wedding canopy–––the men in their formal sheer long-sleeved garments, tailcoats, vests, and suits and the women in their best dresses.              “Josie, thank you for the lovely party, dear.”              Macario Balat's wife, Epifania Balat, had been enjoying the nuptial celebration. Josefina and Ben waved and approached the table to where a couple of guests had been seated.              “Good evening, Epifania–– you're looking lovely with your long red dress, dear,” the women exchanged pleasantries and the men shook hands, a friend and an adversary in the trade of angling–– but more surel

            A light-hearted spirit and free of affectation, a burst of bright beaming sunshine to herself, Maria treaded alone down the side of the long and wide bituminous-paved thoroughfare traversing the broad and unpaved craggy hill road to the bustling south-east part of the town at the foot of the hillside. A frumpy girl in her shirtwaist ensemble with layers of petticoats, she had been careful not to step out of the curb of the sidewalk to avoid the few passing coaches flogging their horses toward the roadstead to carry anxious passengers in a hurry to get to their employment. Strolling the uncluttered, ample, and shady sidewalk, along the old-fashioned kerosene lampposts, and the rows of delightful little shops with some dwarfed, nitid green and coriaceous weeping figs and fragrant and colorful geraniums or storksbills in large terracotta pots placed at the edge of the walkway, and with ornate door and high rainbow-colored window awnings

             “I didn’t do it,” mumbled Maria, low and confused, cares to the hot air that had filled her in her lungs.  Smoke rose from her nostrils.  She rubbed and blew her nose against her forearm.  The inner and outer canthi of her eyes bursting up with water and cool salty tears streamed down.  Last night, a very upset Celeste had reprehended their mother, Josefina.              “Someone – our cashier – saw her,” cried Celeste, believing Nicola’s side of the story.              “Lord Jesus!  She was normal when she got home this morning!” observed Josefina.  They were in the Bantoc’s open, light, and airy living room.  Celeste in her peachy shirtwaist garment had been resting her buttocks on their family’s thickly padded homey nuptial couch with laidback floral tapestry covering.  Her legs had be

             “More agronomists.  Agriculture is thriving,” said the town-head, Leopoldo, when his census supervisors had settled down laughing.               “I agree, can’t depend just by fishing, no–?” approved Ben to the town attracting more planters.  Mr. and Mrs. Bantoc loosened up with the town council’s explanation, trusting their duty in the town.               Creak! And Bang!  The sound of a shutting spring door-stop echoed at the rooms adjoining the common sitting space and the kitchen.  The people in the living room paid no attention but their shoulders shuddered briefly and continued chatting, except for Josefina who gave her awkward daughter a heads-up and a passing warning glance to keep the noise down.  “Yes, mother,” said Maria, dim