Category: Fiction

Digressions of a Die-hard Fan

Fiction by | September 21, 2014

This makeshift hospital bed is anything but comfortable. The foam is barely half an inch thick. I can feel the cold of the metal springs underneath it; they’re making my back go numb.

I scan the room for something pleasant to divert my attention to. Attached to the ceiling is a flashbulb that’s emitting this seizure-inducing orange light. All the walls have to offer are thin cracks that, if you look long enough without blinking as I’m doing now, seem to be interconnected. They look like the red veins that decorate a peeled balut.

That reminds me, I haven’t eaten anything since yesterday. Fasting for a whole twenty four hours is supposed to be integral to a successful operation. I tried to compensate by drinking lots of water but my body’s just not used to this sort of deprivation. I’m craving for rice. Any ulam would do. I just really miss stuffing my mouth with spoonfuls of rice.

I let out a sigh.

So much for a pleasant diversion.

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Closure

Fiction by | September 14, 2014

Puyat ako kagabi. Masama ang loob dahil natalo sa sugal. Pero gumising pa rin ako nang maaga kanina. Inilabas ang karne sa freezer. Naglinis ng bahay. Mga alas dies ng umaga, sinimulan ang pagluluto.

Darating kasi si Kulot. Dadaan daw sya nang bahay bago sya lumipad pabalik ng Luzon.

Kahapon nagtext kami. Sabi nya, pananghalian daw sya pupunta. 

Mag-aalas dos na ngayon, wala pa sya.

“Ambagal kasi ng nasakyan ko,” text niya sa akin.

“Ang sabi mo lunch. Anong oras na? Nasayang ang oras ko. May lakad ako dapat,” sagot ko.

“Sorry. Pwede pa ba akong pumunta dyan?” tanong nya.

Hindi na ako nagreply. Tinantya ko kung gaano pa kalayo ang panggagalingan niya. Mahigit isang oras pa na byahe.

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To Enter Valhalla

Fiction by | September 14, 2014

One moment Dr. Gumatao was in the operating room and the next, he was standing on a grassy hill gently sloping towards a long wooden building. Noel felt a presence to his side. He turned, and saw the tallest woman he had ever seen. She stood a full head over him, and she was wore a multi-hued tunic and brass bangles on her wrists and ankles. On her left she propped up a wooden shield almost as tall as she was. Instinctively he held up his hand with the thing that he gripped there. It was a moment before he realized, with much embarrassment, that it was his scalpel. A tiny scalpel.

The woman flashed a wide toothy smile. “Greetings, Awang, and welcome!”

Awang? He had not been called that since he was a child, and only by Nana, who never accepted his Christian name. “How do you know…?”

“Here you are known by your true name.”

“Where is here? What is this place? Why am I here?”

“Here is Tambaran. In your heart of hearts you know what this place is. You are here because you have been found worthy.”

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Teo and the Time Traveler

Fiction by | September 7, 2014

I must have been around 12 back then. Monday. I was supposed to go to school but Papa didn’t let me. “We’re going somewhere,” he said. He had a stern expression and an unnatural seriousness about him; and if it wasn’t for that, I would have complained. Unlike other children my age, I was precocious and I valued studying as much as a kid would with playing.

We left home around 5:30am. Only the distant crows of roosters and subtle sounds of people in their homes preparing for the day marred the silent air. No rowdy neighbors, no busy streets; our neighborhood held a certain sophistication that real estate subdivisions had. Cold air embraced the town despite the morning sun. Leaves swayed ever so slightly, letting dew slide down like beads of precious stones. The tinted window of the car filtered the sunrise but it still looked as immaculate as it should. Our speed changed and blurred the scene outside but it stayed frigid, like a golden coin tossed into heaven and stayed where it rightfully belonged. It felt like an anchor to reality, to the world, which—given my age—was incomprehensible to me.

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The Art in the Setting Sun

Fiction by | August 31, 2014

“Do you know I have had eighty-six books, apo?” he asked.

His muscles were weak enough to rock the rocking chair, or to extend and touch my hands to confirm I am there beside him. The sunset made his face shadowy, and his thin, grey hair orange. Too sad he couldn’t see the sun swallowed by the horizon when it was just in front of his house. I want to describe it for him, but I didn’t know how to.

“Do you know I have had eighty-six books, apo?” he asked again. I nodded, as though he could hear it. “Forty-nine days ago, it was eighty-six. Now, there’s just thirty seven left.” He paused to inhale. His breathing was so slow it alarmed me every time he did it. “When it reached eighty-six, I know I am dying. I’m so weak and, perhaps, pale. I decided to give them to everyone that passes by the house.”

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Truth Serum

Fiction by | August 24, 2014

Warning: the following story contains strong language and profanity.

Carlos Agape, bagman for the Batangas Cartel, sat on the high-backed wooden chair, his hands held down with leather straps on its arm rests. A slime of drool and vomit trailed down from the corner of his open mouth to his neck. His head was tilted back and his breathing was shallow.

“God, that took a while, but it was worth it,” Jose said with a yawn and pushed himself away from the desk. The desk was littered with notebooks and spreadsheets. On one side was the tape recorder, still running; on the other was the medical bag with vials of sodium pentathol and syringes.

“Pretty risky move back there,” Bert said, “That triple dose almost killed him.”

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Massacre

Fiction by | August 10, 2014

Twenty Innocent’s Days had passed since the first time I lit a candle in the Basilica of San Pedro Calungsod. They say that time heals all wounds but I can’t seem to get the meaning of that because every year is a suffering, every year is a curse. I tried to run but I failed for I cannot run from my own feet. This guilt and shame, I feel inside me like a knife, every time I remember their faces the last night I saw them alive. Yes, I killed my family! I killed the people who loved me. I killed them all!

I first attacked my frail and sensitive Lola Corazon. I disjointed her shaky knee bones after making her realize that her life is already meaningless because she’s old. I twisted her thin arms after I played nasty jokes and cursed her when I was annoyed. And I purposely broke her spinal cord when I made her realize that she was just causing us pain and problems and that her only consolation was to die. She did not have the chance to scream or cry for help, because I did it as secretly as possible that my mother would never know. She was my first victim!

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The Girl Who Lived with the Night

Fiction by | July 13, 2014

“You are too young for camping, Kat. You know you can’t sleep alone. You even always call for Mama,” started Katrina’s father.

Katrina, since the start of the school year, had been very excited to go to this region-wide camping of the Girl Scouts of the Philippines. She even saved money in her small elephant-bank so that she could afford to pay for transport if her parents would not permit her. They always thought that she was still not ready to be permitted outdoors, and she wanted to be different this time.

“No. I want to join. Everyone else in our class will be there. Just please, please, please let me be in this camp.”

“You’re still afraid of many things, darling. We will not be there to look after you,” her mother replied.

“But, Mama, I promise I will be good and I will learn something in the camp,” Kat insisted. She stood before her parents, trying not to blink. When they finally agreed, she jumped and kissed them on the cheek.

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