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Our House Will Never Be A Home

The document is a first-person account from a 16-year-old orphan named Angel Grace Almendras Adem describing her tragic experience becoming an orphan at age 9. She witnessed her parents being murdered by armed men who were punishing her father for informing on a rebel leader. Though some say she is beautiful and could pursue modeling or singing, she is haunted by memories of watching helplessly as her father was whipped and her mother was hurt, and then seeing their dead bodies. She has been left alone in the world at a young age, feeling lonely, penniless and without a future after this traumatic loss of her parents.

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400 views4 pages

Our House Will Never Be A Home

The document is a first-person account from a 16-year-old orphan named Angel Grace Almendras Adem describing her tragic experience becoming an orphan at age 9. She witnessed her parents being murdered by armed men who were punishing her father for informing on a rebel leader. Though some say she is beautiful and could pursue modeling or singing, she is haunted by memories of watching helplessly as her father was whipped and her mother was hurt, and then seeing their dead bodies. She has been left alone in the world at a young age, feeling lonely, penniless and without a future after this traumatic loss of her parents.

Uploaded by

OYAKA
Copyright
© © All Rights Reserved
We take content rights seriously. If you suspect this is your content, claim it here.
Available Formats
Download as DOC, PDF, TXT or read online on Scribd
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OUR HOUSE WILL NEVER BE A HOME

"Kring-kring, kring-kring, kring-kring" the alarm clock


ringing on my side. Suddenly, I heard my mother's voice
"Ana, Ana wake up its already 9 am in the morning",
mother
said.
"Here you are again waking me up, its been a week since
you were here coming back in the Philippines bagging my
whole life into disaster, I wish you weren't my Mother, 10
years of abandoning me? Then suddenly you came? What
for?
Ruining
my
life
into
mess?"
Knock- knock....A sweet voice came out as the door open
" Ana, Ana my dear your late , aren't you supposed in the
school
by
this
time?"
I remember when I was young so witty but pretty. My
Mother used to play piano, and I sing and sing as my
father lift me up. I was ten years. . . . a long darkened
side of my life. I heard a Bang bang bang, a gun, Yes a
gun. . .Blag. . .as I raise my eyes I saw him lying on the
floor. Red red red, a blood, Yes a blood running from my
fathers lifeless body, my Father died because of her. Yeah
because
of
her,
because
of
her.
.
.
Our house will never be a home, it's been 5 months when
I was here, hahahaha, hahahaha. I was here because of
her.
I was on Mental Institution because of her. I found a
house that can never be a home hahahahaha, hahahaha.
Bang, bang, bang, bang, bang countless shots coming
from a gun, I raise my head and look on the floor, I saw
my mother lying on the floor together with her fresh
blood!!! Yes! Yes! I kill her. I kill my own Mother
hahahaha, hahahah. . . . .tear. . .tears. . . suddenly fell on

my eyes. . .What for? Aren't I am happy now I kill her, she


kill him, I am left behind in a house that will never be a
home.

THE VOICE OF AN ORPHAN


Angel Grace Almendras Adem
I am an orphan; my age was 16 last June. Happy? No, I
am not. I am lonely because at the age of nine I am
parentless, penniless and even futureless. But they say i
am beautiful. This beauty would lead me unto the galaxy
of stardom. In the world of modeling or singing for
instance. Yes, I could be a fashion model or a singer.But I
disgrace all of them because of the memories. The past
serves as desperation not inspiration. Believe it or not at
the age of eight I saw my parents murdered.
It was a beautiful day in November when we were on our
way home from harvesting rice. Smiles on our lips when
we were on our way. When suddenly a group of armed
men halted us. Without any warning they drove us into a
nearby secluded place. And while we were on our way, I
could see the tears from my mother's eyes begging the
men to set us free. Are you Macario Santiago? You are
responsible for the capture of commader Reyes so you
ought to be punished. Commander Reyes? That name is
familiar to me I said. Yes. . . yes. . . he was the hulk leader
which father gave an information for his capture. No. . .

no. . . don't hurt father, he is an ideal father. Please. . .


please. . . for the love of God spare my husband.Then
they tied father into a bulky tree and started whipping
him. Then father shouted as he saw mother being hurt.
No. . . no. . . don't do that to my wife. Kill me if you want
but not my wife.I knelt down and prayed then bang. . .
bang. . . bang. . . I lifted my head and there lay before me
the dead bodies of my parents. Inay. . . itay. . . inay. . .
itay. . . how could I live without you? But I placed myself
to God. I know he will not forsake me. Yes, God will not
forsake me.

HOW DO I LOVE THEE

By: Elizabeth Barrett Browning


How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the ends of Being and ideal Grace.
I love thee to the level of every day's
Most quiet need, by sun and candlelight.
I love thee freely, as men strive for Right;
I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise.
I love with a passion put to use
In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith.

I love thee with a love I seemed to lose


With my lost saints, -- I love thee with the breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my life! -- and, if God choose,
I shall but love thee better after death.

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