The Daily Post publishes a one-word prompt every day for everyone to write about. Today, the word is Jangle.

The sound of a ringing telephone is discordant. It unnerves you with its metallic vibe. It is devoid of emotion, of humanity. It only cares about its master, efficiency. It unnerves you because it pulls you out of the trance that a peaceful life brings. It send you back to a reality that you need to work for that peace. That you, a tiny cog moving the whole machine, must do your part. So you scamper, eager to stop the ringing, eager to finally get back to your trance; but you would not question it, because you have grown to love the peace and at the back of your mind, you know it would not last. You answer the phone.

I remember seeing jangles back when I was still attending at UMC. About halfway through the church service, the congregation will sing popular praise-and-worship songs, something I have never seen or fully understood when I was five. Six women holding their jangles spin and bump those maddening things around, as if on a frenzy, and the people would go out of their seats and shake hands or hug their fellow congregants. It was harrowing for me because I feel uncomfortable shaking hands with people I don’t know. Things about germs and stuff. What I really wanted to say in this part is that I only see jangles whenever i go to churches. Jangles are hideous.


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