Category: Fiction

Si Kadon ug Ang Kaliwat ni Rasputin, Part 2

Fiction by | October 18, 2015

Sa paggintang sa Adlaw sa tingpamahaw na, naaninaw ni Ambangon nga taas na ang kutay sa ling-on sa magpapanaw nga nagtinagurhaay ang ilang ampad. Miburot ang iyang dughan sa kahinangop sa ilang gidaghanon.

“Maayong buntag kaninyong tanan!” naglanog-lanog ang tingog ni Supremo Ambangon nga mibanda-banda man gani sa kadaplinan sa Suba Sinuda, kasikbit nga kawalogan ug mga banghilig nga nagpangawhat sa sidsid sa

Bukid Kalibangal. “Andam na ba kamo sa atong panaw?”

“Andam na, Talahorong Supremo!” singgit halos sa tanan—bata, hamtong ug pipila ka tigulang.

Sa kadaplinan, midaghan na usab ang mga tumatan-aw nga lainlaing tribu gikan sa Bagobo, Matigsalog ug mga say-ang Bisaya ug Ilokano. Pipila sa mga kaparyentihan sa mga sakop ni Ambangon nagpanawag gikan sa ilang mga tamboanan sa pagpausab sa ilang hukom sa pagkuyog sa panaw. “Balingling! Balingling, ayaw na lang mog dayon!”dinhay babayeng Matigsalog mising-al gikan sa tamboanan sa iyang payag tungod sa ulo sa giporma nga pasunding.

Continue reading Si Kadon ug Ang Kaliwat ni Rasputin, Part 2

Si Kadon ug Ang Kaliwat ni Rasputin, Part 1

Fiction by | October 11, 2015

GIKAN sa iyang payag nga kahoy, kawayan ug kugon nga nagyaka sa alimpulo sa usa ka bungtod apan ubos pa sa Bukid Kalibangal, tugob sa kadasig nga mikanaog si Ambangon niining buntaga patighulog sa lima ka ang-ang nga sanga sa lawaan ug gipat-ol sa duha ka magkaatbang nga bulos sa kawayan pinaagi sa takgos nga uway ug mga bagon nga hinagdawan sa kalikopan sa hilan pa nilang tribuhanong komunidad. Ang kasayag sa iyang balatian niining higayona dakong sukwahi sa nangaging mga adlaw nga sagad nga giyunyonan ang iyang panimuot sa kahigwaos ug kapungot sa manudnudong kinabuhi sa kabukiran. Sa paghiugsad niya sa tugkaran, milingi siya sa pultahan sa kayda ug gisangpit ang iyang asawa: “Bedad, sultihan mo si kinsa mang mangutana sa adlaw sa atong paggikan paingon sa Dakong Balay nga Wala Nay Kagul-anan sa unang subang sa takdol nga karon nang umaabot nga Sabado.”

Continue reading Si Kadon ug Ang Kaliwat ni Rasputin, Part 1

Myths of the Taklubos

Fiction by | October 4, 2015

  1. The crow pecked the bamboo, and Kurukusog came out. The crow pecked another bamboo, and Mahinayhinay came out. Kurukusog and Mahinayhinay gazed around them and were terrified of the things that they could not explain, which were almost everything. Their fear grew even worse when their union caused Mahinayhinay’s belly to swell and a smaller version of them came out between her legs. They named the baby Abathalgad.

While raining one day, a thunder cracked through the air. Mahinayhinay pulled the baby to herself and took refuge under Kurukusog’s arm. Kurukusog noticed that the baby had burped. He told Mahinayhinay, “Fear not, my love. Abathalgad must have caused the thunder.” Mahinayhinay doubted Kurukusog’s observation, but she was comforted.

When the rain stopped and a rainbow appeared in the sky, Mahinayhinay noticed that the baby had smiled. “Indeed,” she told Kurukusog, “Abathalgad must have something to do with what’s happening around us.”

They began to associate everything with whatever Abathalgad was doing, and they were eventually convinced that the baby had power over the world and over them. They worshipped him, and they lived their life according to what they believed was Abathalgad’s will.

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Pastilan

Fiction by | August 30, 2015

“Dili ko hubog.” Ingun sa akong usa ka barkadang lalake. Nawung niya! Klaro na kayo ang panagat niya sa among lamesa sa imnanan. Ayaw ko hukmi nga kuno kami pala-igit. Dili tawun. Usahay lang mi maglipay-lipay sa usa ka buwan. Kini laging estudyante ug mga kunong mga Iskolar ng Bayan. Dugay dugay napud ko diri sa Dabaw ug daghan napod ko natun-an nga maayo ug dautan. Di nata magihapay. Hapit hapit napod manirado ang among bar nga nasudlan ug hapit hapit napud mi mahuman. Sige ra mi og tabi, katawa, sayaw, ug dulag baraha. Giabtan na gyod mi og kakapoy ug hapit na usab mahurot among kwarta.

“Tagam!” Ana pa akong higala nga bayi nga gatutok sa suka sa kanal, hubog kaayo ang barkada namo nga lalake. Walay lain magdala ani pauli kon dili ako, silingan lang mi og boarding house. Ningpara na ko og tricycle ug gitudlo sa driver kon asa padulong sa amo. Maygani kay duol lang among puluy-anan sa among napiling partyhan. Pastilan! Sirado na ang gate sa among boarding house, himala ug una nakauli ang palahubog namong tenant. Pero alas dos pa man? Ugma buntag na gyod ko kauli ani. Ako na dayon gihatod ning akong barkada sa pikas balay, diretso sa iyang kwarto ug ako na lang siyang gihukasan sa iyang sinukahang t-shirt mahuman mapahigda sa nagtapad nga baga kaayong foam nga iyang kama. Maayo kay t-shirt lang niya ang nasukahan, damaka sa gago uy. Diretso napud ko ninghapla sa pikas foam nga way palong ang suga kay hapit na pud ko mabarag.

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Vignettes

Fiction by | August 23, 2015

Juna Subdivision
A low-density residential enclave of the old rich with plants (e.g. Calachuchi, Macopa, Sampaguita) for street names. Flanked by NCCC Mall to the north, and the Jesuit-run Ateneo de Davao Grade School and High School to the east. The century-old Philippine Women’s College sits in its heart. Some of the streets are unpaved and will be muddy after a drizzle, and impassable after a downpour. Notable for its inoffensive domestic architecture, many of the houses are single-level structures, with wide front lawns, low fences, and grottoes of the Virgin Mary. A striking exception is the abandoned Ampatuan mansion (one among many), with its twenty-foot perimeter walls hiding its insides from outside view.

We met at a party at one of the lines of townhouses on D-Street. The facades were identical, and it took me two wrong tries – I didn’t know what the host meant by the third unit, whether it was third from the left or the right – before I got the house right. I buzzed and you opened the gate. I was greeted by your 5’11” wiry frame and wry smile. Your blue shirt was soaked in sweat from playing beer pong, and you took your thick black-rimmed glasses off, betraying your deep-brown eyes that only showed itself if the light hit your face. You led me to the host, grabbing my arm then letting go of it once you realized your slip-up. It didn’t take much to find her, with her long pink hair and chrome hoop earrings. She was leaving for the Netherlands and she invited all of her friends, which were mostly college freshmen and sophomores. I was the oldest one there, having been in university for over six years.

I couldn’t hear anyone through the electro music, but I couldn’t talk to anyone anyway. Everyone was engrossed in their own little worlds. A couple were playing Jenga, some were playing beer pong, yourself included, and the rest were just sitting on the giant plush couch talking (or at least trying to) to each other. Save for the host, I didn’t know anyone. I excused myself outside to smoke. I could hear you shout about something (probably beer pong-related) as I went out the door. I haven’t made up my mind about you. I wasn’t even sure if you were like me. Half a pack of Marlboro Lights and a mug of beer passed by, and I went upstairs to one of the bedrooms, looking for a quiet spot to lie down. A boy and a girl were there, your friends, also looking for a respite from downstairs. “Come here,” the boy said, tapping his hand on the bed. “Let’s talk.”

The boy majored in political science at Ateneo de Davao, the girl, interior design at Philippine Women’s. We were talking about things we had in common – music, movies, how we hated it downstairs – when you walked in. You were obviously drunk and the boy helped you to the bed. You said something about going home and not letting your mother find out before passing out. The boy removed your glasses and emptied your pockets – car key, wallet, iPhone – and placed everything on the side table. I grabbed your phone and thumbed through it. You had Hozier and the soundtrack to Across the Universe on your Spotify. I saved my number on your phone and placed it back on the side table.

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Approval

Fiction by | August 16, 2015

1.

Your fingers glide across black and white piano keys, and the music leaves a pounding in your head—a storm in your chest. You can’t explain it, but it’s the same feeling you get whenever you ace a test or reach the topmost part of a Ferris wheel ride. You’ve never liked heights, but seeing the world from so high up has always left you awestruck and a little breathless.

You think playing the piano is like riding a Ferris wheel, like having wings and having another world at your fingertips. And when you play, you aren’t your brother’s shadow or the perfect kid that your parents expect you to be—you’re just sixteen-year-old Anton Go.

You like losing yourself in the music and drowning in the crescendos because if the music is good enough, you don’t even have to be Anton, just a pianist losing himself in his art. To be honest, you don’t mind getting a little lost every now and then because sometimes you like the worlds inside your sheet music more than the real world.

“And that’s it, great work today, Anton.”

The music comes to a stop and you swivel around in your chair to face Ms. Rivera. “Thank you, ma’am. I’ve been practicing really hard.”

“You should be, the contest is on Friday after all, and I don’t want you freezing up onstage. Have you told your parents about it yet?” She flashes you a warm smile and you feel her long and bony fingers resting on your shoulder.

Mrs. Rivera was the first piano teacher you ever had, and when you were seven, you thought she was the best piano teacher in all of Cagayan de Oro city—maybe even the best in all the world. You used to idolize the tall and bony woman who played with all the confidence you wished you could have, and you remember how you used to give her flowers from the garden on Valentines and little presents during Christmas or her birthday.

She used to be the coolest grown up ever, and you think she still is.

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Inigbanos sa Ulan

Fiction by | August 9, 2015

Tagsa–tagsang mipadailos gikan sa tingkoy ug agtang ni Bobet ang mga singut paghimungtod nila sa balay sa iyang Ninang Diding. Kapin usa ka kilometro man god silang nagbaklay taliwala sa naglagiting nga Adlaw. Daw walay pulos ang gisul-ot nilang mga dyaket ug sarok sa kaigang sa palibot. Si Alfonso, ang kamaguwangang anak ni Diding, maoy ilang naabtan. Wala didto ang magtiayon kay namalit nig pagkaon sa ilang mga mangangani.

“Te, gitugon diay ko ni Nanay nga magsugod na lang daw mog pangani bisag wala pa sila. Moabot man pod daw karong taud-taod silang Noy Silyo, “ni Alfonso kanila.

“Asa man mi dapit magsugod, Do?” pangutana ni Norma nga nagyaka sa tugkaran samtang namaypay sa sarok. Gitudlo sa ulitawo ang usa ka taas nga pilapil diin nanuyhakaw ang mga bulagaw na mga humay nga naglubay-lubay mataghandos sa hangin.

“Didto Te, kanang kinatumyan nga pilapil simpig nianang layog hangtod dinhas punoan sa santol.”

Kalit misagbat si Bobet nga naglingkod sa nagbuy-od nga dakong pinutol nga kahoy. Tupad niya ang igsoong si Sabel. “Ehem… Al, wa ba dihay pabugnaw? Init man god kaayo sa dalan, maayo man god nang magtrabaho ta nga presko ang atong hasang.”

“Bitaw, no? Hulat sa ‘mo, Te, ha, kay mag-abli tag coke, morag naa pa may nahibiling usa ka botelya sa ref,”sa batan-on dayong sulod sa balay.

Nakapanglingo si Norma sa gibuhat ni Bobet. Gisigaan niya nis mata. “Pastilan gyod kang bataa ka, kawalay uwaw!”

Giduol ni Bobet ang iyang inahan dayong pislit-pislit sa bukobuko niini. “Ikaw gyod, Nay…Relaks lang god dinha, akoy bahala.”

Mikunot ang agtang ni Norma. “Saba dinha! Nagbaga ra nang nawong nimo, ay!”

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Pagtanggal ng Mantsa

Fiction by | July 26, 2015

Isang gabi, binabad ko ang ukay-ukay kong mga t-shirts. Iniba-iba ko ang mga puti at de-kolor. Nilagyan ko ng kloroks ang may mantsang t-shirt na puti.

Napatingin ako sa tv. Inaantabayanan ko kasi ang paborito kong programa tuwing linggo ng gabi. Pero advertisements pa pala: lotion na pampaputi, for straight hair shampoo, at kung anu-ano pa. Meron ding piling mga eksena ng isang melodrama na kinaiinisan ko pero sinusubaybayan ng halos lahat sa bahay.
Umupo ako saglit sa harap ng tv. Di pa rin tapos ang mga advertisements. Sa inis at inip ko, binalikan ko ang mga binabad. Kinusot-kusot ko nang bahagya. Napatingin uli ako sa tv. Nagkataong may advertisement ng isang tanyag na politiko tungkol sa kanyang gagawing proyekto. Advertisement pa ba to? tanong ko sa sarili. “Kay aga-aga pa ng political advertisement na to!” bulalas naman ng kapatid ko.
Habang patingin-tingin ako sa nasabing political advertisement, kinusot ko ang t-shirt na puti. Nilagyan ko uli ng kloroks ang mantsa. Hinipan-hipan. At kusot uli. Super kusot. Nang sinipat ko ang t-shirt, natanggal konti ang mantsa.

At binabad ko uli ang t-shirt na puti.

Amihan is a freelance creative fiction and non-fiction writer who was born and raised in General Santos City.