An Origin Story
One thing that often gets overlooked in conversations about the literacy crisis in the Philippines is how little we invest in chapter books. Not the glossy picture books for preschoolers, nor the thick novels for older readers, but the crucial middle: chapter books.
Chapter books are tales written for kids who are ready to move beyond picture books, but not quite prepared for full-length novels. These stories are longer but broken into manageable chapters. The language is accessible, and while they may still have illustrations, these are fewer and intended only to support the story — not carry it.
This format is the perfect bridge. It helps children build the stamina and skills they need to read longer, more complex narratives. And often, it’s where kids first start to see themselves not just as learners, but as readers.
Here are some examples of famous and widely loved chapter books for children:
Charlotte’s Web by E.B. White
A Wrinkle in Time by Madeleine L’Engle
All the books in the Harry Potter series by J.K. Rowling
The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe by C.S. Lewis
But here’s the problem. In the Philippines, locally published chapter books are few and far between. Experts I’ve spoken with say they’re barely present in classrooms or school libraries, and hardly a priority for publishers.
Why? Probably a mix of things: publishers see them as too risky. Bookstores don’t stock them. Schools don’t demand them. Writers aren’t incentivized to create them. And there’s a general lack of institutional support.
It’s a gap that’s begging to be filled because we push kids to read, but offer almost nothing when they reach the threshold of independent reading. They're ready to move on from picture books to something more substantial, but the only things waiting for them are dense novels that are still beyond their reach.
With so little in between, it's no wonder so many fall through the cracks.
It’s something we’ve talked about a lot at CANVAS. And like everyone else, we’re still figuring it out.
Which brings me to this post. I’ve been toying with the idea of writing a chapter book myself.
I don’t know where the story’s going just yet. But, I do know how it begins. So for now, here’s Chapter 1 — an introduction to my main character by way of his origin story.
Chapter 1: The Storm and the Hatchling
One stormy night, the sky over Windgrove was wild and angry. Thunder boomed, lightning flashed, and the wind howled like a pack of wolves. Most birds stayed safely in their nests.
But Queen Aleria was not like most birds.
She was flying high above the trees, her strong, brown wings cutting through the stormy air. Just because she wanted to. Rain splashed off her feathers, and the silver crown on her head glimmered every time the lightning lit up the sky.
Behind her flew her two guards - quiet barn owls wearing dark helmets. Even they struggled to keep up with the Queen. Flying beside her was Corvyn, a clever black crow and her most trusted advisor.
“Your Majesty!” Corvyn squawked as he flapped hard to keep up. “Flying in a lightning storm is against Royal Rules! Section Seven, Clause Twelve!”
“I wrote Clause Twelve, Corvyn,” Queen Aleria said, smiling to herself despite their predicament. “I believe it does not apply. It was only drizzling when we left. It wasn’t YET a lightning storm. Besides, look around. This is hardly the time to quibble!”
Corvyn grumbled something about “dangerous winds” and “very poor judgment,” but Aleria was no longer listening. Her eyes were fixed on a hill just ahead, one covered in tall, swaying trees.
She remembered it well. A long time ago, before there was a crown, before anyone called her Queen, she had built a nest in those very branches — with Thandor.
Back then, she was just a wild golden eagle. She was fearless, fast, and bound only by the sky. Thandor was not yet a king, just a broad-winged young hawk with a voice like thunder and a wingspan that rivaled hers. He had the bearing of something larger than he was, as if the wind itself made room for him.
They found each other in the air above Windgrove, two wanderers drawn to the same patch of sky. They built that nest together, twig by twig, a home woven with hope and daring.
Later, they would lead together. They proved to be a strong, kind, and unshakable pair, until the day Thandor flew into a great battle… and never came back.
Since then, Aleria had ruled alone. And though she was still young and strong, she often felt the weight of the crown pressing on her head and heart.
She and Thandor had not been blessed with children. There was concern that the Queen might never have an heir. Predictably, noble birds were lining up to try to marry her and claim the throne. Aleria, however, was not interested in any of them.
A violent gust of wind suddenly slammed into them, snapping Aleria back to the present. It shoved them sideways as a flash of lightning lit up the darkening skies.
“We need shelter!” shouted one of the guards.
Aleria spotted a massive, ancient tree at the edge of the ridge, its branches sprawling wide like open arms. She dipped her wings and swept beneath the shelter of its dense, tightly woven leaves.
Aleria shook the rain from her feathers. “It’s been years since I’ve flown this far,” she said softly. “I knew every branch here once. Before I became Queen.”
Corvyn, soaking wet and fluffed up in frustration, stayed quiet.
Suddenly, Aleria heard a sound. A tiny squeak. Faint and high.
“Did you hear that?” she asked.
“The wind plays tricks,” Corvyn replied.
But there it was again. A soft chirp. Like a baby bird crying.
Aleria stepped deeper into the tree. And there, hidden in a nest of wet leaves, was a tiny gray hatchling. A baby pigeon. Soaked, shivering, alone.
“He’s fallen,” Aleria whispered as she scanned the canopy above. “No parents in sight.”
“He won’t make it,” Corvyn said quietly. “That’s just how nature works.”
“Then we won’t be nature tonight,” Aleria said.
Corvyn sighed. “But he’s a pigeon, Majesty. A commoner. No strong wings. No sharp talons. Just… ordinary.”
The Queen lowered her wing and gently covered the hatchling, keeping him warm and safe.
“He may be small,” she said, “but he’s here. Still alive.”
Corvyn didn’t press the issue. He already knew what this meant.
The wind continued to howl. So Aleria held the hatchling close. It was the first warmth he had ever felt.
By morning, the storm had passed. The sky turned soft with pink and gold. The baby bird stirred under her wing.
He also now had a name. Pip.
She named him for the small sound he made when he first looked up at her, and she decided that he was under her protection.
As Queen Aleria flew back to the palace with Pip gently cradled in her talons, she could see a little of the future facing her infant ward.
A royal adoption was not a small thing. Nobles will frown. Some guards might even laugh. Not a few will pretend not to see him. Many will repeatedly question the pigeon’s inexplicable rise in station.
Still, Queen Aleria was the only one who mattered.
“Thandor would have understood,” she thought. He had once told her that courage often came from the most unexpected places.
“Pip will earn his place,” the Queen thought to herself. “Let him.”
