story i wrote for english class (final grade: 38/40)

Echoes of the Hero

In the center of a lively city, there lived a tiny, yet vibrant group where numerous families got together every weekend. Not only was it known to be a place to purchase things or share tales; it was also a place known for claiming back history, preserving the wonder of Filipino culture, and to convey the shade of their lives in today’s modern society.

Emma was a beautiful young woman who moved to the city a few years ago, departing from her rustic hometown in the Philippines. Amidst the chaos of the bustling city life, she only found herself wafting away further and further from the dialect, the traditions, and the music that once overflowed her heart with joy. She was raised by her Lola — a Filipino grandmother — who had taught her the complex bits of their family traditions, from weaving complicated patterns in fabric to singing past folk songs late at night, all while being seated near the crisp fire. But as she slowly adapted to the city, the hardships of her past weighed heavily on her, seemingly like a labyrinth, a maze she could never make it out of.

When Ivy, her childhood friend, asked her to go with her to a cultural gathering, Emma agreed reluctantly. Ivy was set on keeping their cultural heritage active and had been planning and executing events like these for many years.

“Not only is it about the past,” Ivy had said. “It’s about the type of people we are today and how we embrace who we really are.”

Emma, though nervous, found herself to be intrigued by this matter. As soon as she set foot into the vibrant gathering, she was greeted by the scent of delectable Filipino snacks like bibingka, suman, the sound of joyous, and the glimpse of numerous families advancing through the lively booths filled with many D.I.Y crafts and goods that were native to their culture.

In the middle of the room was a stage, where a band of musicians prepared for their performance later that night. Emma couldn't help herself but be worn to the energy the place had emitted. The musicians wore striking blends of traditional and modern attire — baro’t sayas worn with Chuck Taylor’s, bahags paired with smooth leather coats. The wind harmonized along with anticipation as the lights flickered and went low and the performance started.

The music was unlike anything Emma had ever listened to. A dreadful melody of a kulintang interlaced with the throb of electronic beats, generating something so ancient yet new. The dancers progressed with a pattern that declared history and transformation, stating stories of transhumance, pliability, and self-satisfaction. Emma felt her heart agitate as she observed every move. The walls she had constructed between herself and her origins began to collapse, and for the first time in her life, she sensed as if the labyrinth she had been rambling in was dawning onto something enchanting.