Category: Fiction

Alkansya

Fiction by | July 26, 2015

Ang akong lola niuli guikan sa Sugbu dala uban niya ang imahe sa Sto. Niño ug gamay nga tigumanan sa sinsilyo may inukit nga imahe ni Buda. Matag adlaw ginsudlan niya ug sinsilyo ang gamay nga Buda ug nagaugbok ug kandila sa Niño tapos niya mangaliya. Ug kada adlaw siya nagalingkod sa may bintana, sa iyang tuyatuya nga lingkoranan, nag-ihap sa mga sakyanan nanglabay sa abogon nga dalan sa among barangay.
Usa ka bulan nilabay, ang akong lola nagahimo niini sa walay paglat-ang ug adlawpagsulod piso sa gamayng Buda, paghalad kandila ug pag-ampo, unya paglingkod sa may bintana aron pag-ihap sa nanglabayng mga sakyanan.

Ug usa niana ka adlaw nga nabatian ko siya nga nag-ampo ug akong naamgohan: ang akong lola nag-ihap sa mga adlaw nga ang akong amahan makauli sa among pinuy-anan guikan sa trabaho sa pagmina.

—
Si Teresa May A. Mundiz usa ka magtutudlo sa usa ka unibersidad diri sa Davao. Nagasulat sya kung itugot sa panahon, ug padayon sya sa iyang paglawig sa iyang mga damgu.

Esme and the Tiny White Mouse

Fiction by | June 28, 2015

Artwork by Gerlie Quinn Gulles
Artwork by Gerlie Quinn Gulles
Esme hurriedly ran down the stairs towards the kitchen when she heard the good news. She was inside her bedroom doing her homework. Her mother knocked on the door and told her that her brother Ipe was finally coming home for a short vacation.

“I need you to help me around the house to prepare for his visit.”

“Of course! I’d love to help! When is he coming home, Mama?”

“He’ll be here after a couple of sleeps.”

Esme could not hide her excitement. She wondered if her Kuya still looked the same after two years of studying in Canada. She was only in first grade the last time she saw him. And she missed him terribly.

Esme had only a faint memory of their father. He died soon after her fourth birthday. Whenever she felt sad about not having their father around, she would think of Kuya Ipe. He was the one who defended her from her classmates when they teased her for not having a father. And he used to read her favorite books to her before she went to sleep. Her Kuya also helped their mother around the house. Her brother was enough, she thought to herself. He was like the father she never had.

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Stick in the Fridge

Fiction by | June 21, 2015

stickinfridge
Artwork by Nina Maria Alvarez

Pat loves her Papa so much, she follows him everywhere.

When her father goes to the living room to watch the evening news, she sits in his lap and leans on his chest. She loves it when her Papa carries her to bed when she falls asleep. She is not afraid of monsters under her bed because she knows her Papa is still awake and is just one cry away.

Whenever she becomes thirsty in the middle of the night or wants to pee, she carefully walks her way to the bathroom near their front door. Nerves set in when she reaches the stairs but she becomes calm when she smells the familiar smoke. It’s her father smoking in front of their house. Pat thinks that her father has been guarding them from monsters and thieves.

One night, she opens the door and runs to her Papa. He quickly sways his hand with a cigarette away from his daughter and asks, “Why are you still awake?”

“I’m thirsty,” she replied.

“Get some water and then go straight to your room, okay?”

“Do you mind if I stay here with you for a while?” Pat asks him.

“I’m sorry Pat, but get back to sleep now or you’ll stop growing,” he puts his cigarette stick on a flower pot and opens the door for Pat.

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Meg and the Turtle

Fiction by | June 14, 2015

meg_and_the_turtle
Artwork by Maria Louisa Pasilan

Meg always spent two weeks of her summer vacation with her Auntie Del, who lived with her husband Uncle Ben in an animal farm in Bansalan. Meg adored her aunt and uncle. They did not have any children of their own and they were always sending Meg dolls and books.

In the farm, Meg could run around without the danger of getting run over by big vehicles and she could milk the cows and the goats with Uncle Ben when she woke up early. Their farm was spacious: there was a shed for the cows, a pen for the pigs and goats, and a coop for the chickens. They even had a couple of horses that Uncle Ben and his help would ride. And so, she always looked forward to her stay in the farm.

After Meg settled into the room she had claimed as hers, Auntie Del led her to the back of the house. When she asked why, Auntie Del’s response was only, “I have something to show you.”

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Louis Vuitton

Fiction by | May 24, 2015

My mother’s boss, Louie Vergara, called home looking for my mother. It was nine in the evening and my younger sister had just fallen asleep. My father who works night shift in one of the posh hotels in our city had left earlier in the evening.

So it was only me and Mother who were still up and awake in the house. I was zipping the back of her gown when the phone rang. Father usually calls home to check on us. But it would be much later.

Lately, Mother has been attending business meetings with her boss, she told me one time when I was putting away her make up kit, that I would often think she must be a very good employee.

Mother shooed me to pick up the phone.

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Pinikas, Ikaduhang Bahin

Fiction by | May 10, 2015

Usa ka hapon, pag-agi nako didtos tindahan ni Ante Nita, maoy tapik sa mga istambay ang umaabot nga piniliay.

“Unsaon na lang kaha ning atong eleksiyon, Pre, no? Morag haskang gubota.”

“Gubot pas imong bungot, Pre.”

“Ayawg tripingi nang akong bigote, Pre. Assit biya na. Haha!”

“Tuod, Pre, tiamona? Apil si Kulas modagan pagka kagawad? Pastilan! Puyde diay na?”

“Aw, apil man gani si Nong Karyo nga gabadhay-badhay nas katiguwang, modagan! Haha! Kon modaog siya, syur gyod ko nga dili niya mahuman iyang termino. Ma-terminit na siyag sayo!” dalag aksiyon og putol sa iyang liog.

“Haha! Ug, in pernis, Pre, si Minda nga mamingkahay, modagan pod kuno!”

“Lagi. Mao poy akong nadunggan.”

“Taymsa, si Botyok man diay ni.”

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Pinikas, Unang Bahin

Fiction by | May 3, 2015

DAKONG Balita: MAMINGKAHAY, MIDAGAN PAGKA KAGAWAD.

Kini ang nakapakignat sa among mga silingan sa Baryo Panatayan. Sa ilang unang pagkadungog niini, ila ming gihimong pulotan sa bahal nga gitinda ni Nanay Pirmin nga among silingan. Ug usahay pod, samtang ang mga babaye gapanlaba didto sa Aplaya o gahingotoay man ganing dihas ilang pantawan, gapadparan sa hangin ang ilang diskusyon padulong sa among balay ug kini molusot sa mga buslot namong bungbong hangtod kini among madunggan. Dako gyod nga balita!

Ambot ba pod, di nako masabtan nga misulod man sa alimpatakan ni Mama ang politika, kay sa tinuod lang gyod dili ko ganahan anang butanga. Alang nako, ang mga politiko puro mangingilad. Maayo lang na sila panahon sa kampanya. Saad diri, saad didto. Buhaton ko ni, buhaton ko na. Apan kon modaog na gani, hala! Makalimot na dayon. Kon inyong duolan para mangayog tabang, mangatol dayos ulo, dayon sa kilid. Morag among iro nga si Pusoy nga labihan kakutoon. Aha na kaha to karong buanga, ay? Mikalit lag kawala. Wala nay uli-uli human sa eleksiyon. Basig nabiktima to sa mga tambay didto sa ilang Nanay Pirmin. Matod pas mga tsika-tsika, dili daw na gapamili ang mga hangal. Bisag kagiron nga iro, basta luto na, lami na kuno kaayo! Kangil-ad.

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Eyes That Were Gray

Fiction by | April 26, 2015

The rain still had not stopped. It was already getting dark and my phone’s battery was critically low. I sat, annoyed and wet, inside a small rundown waiting shed a town away from my apartment. I would have been alone if it weren’t for another girl on the other edge of the concrete bench.

The girl had a slender physique and long straight jet-black hair that covered the side of her face. I could have sworn her ears were long and pointed. In the dim light her skin glowed and it was almost translucent. She was wearing a summer dress, as it was summer. But weather was always fickle.

“Ang tagal matapos ng ulan,” she spoke, breaking the rhythmic tapping of water on asphalt and metal.

“Huh?” What a stupid reply!

“Maliliit na patak ng tubig, sinasalo ng simento at bakal,” she said as she stared intently at the curved edges of the rusty roof. She turned to me and for the first time I was able to see her face–for the first time, I was able to gaze upon her eyes, gray, like the rain clouds. She was crying.

She wiped her eyes.

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