Category: Fiction

Padugo

Fiction by | December 7, 2014

Padugo“Legends say that blood allures gold and for a gold mine to be full of gold, it needs blood. But a goat’s blood is not enough.” Said the 58 year-old Mang Berto as he shared his story to his fellow small-scale miners during siesta as they rest in the Nipa hut near the Matiao River. “It needs a blood that is something pure and innocent.” Mang Berto said coldly to everyone in the Nipa Hut.

Mang Berto and his family now lives in Matiao province where mining has been the primary business and a source of profit for most people. In his early 30’s, he worked in a large-scale mining company called King Midas Mining Corp in the Gumayan province. The boss of the company, which the employees called Supremo, believed in a legend that a sacrificial ritual that involves offering of blood every last day of the month inside a mine would allure the elusive gold nuggets. During his stay in Gumayan, Mang Berto worked as a hired kidnapper and the one who executes the ritual along with other hired kidnappers. His job was instant money as the job gave him enough money to buy a small house. However, until one incident changed the course of his life.

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Dear John, Part 2

Fiction by | October 12, 2014

continued from part 1

I love my mother very much. She is the only person who accept me as a gay. My brothers especially Ricky is shy to other people that I am a gay. My sisters and father is not angry to me but they do not care me. They do not make me part of their life. When my father is still living he do not talk to me. When only him and me is in one place, for example in the sala, he go to the kitchen or to outside the house to his fighting cocks. Only my mother kiss me and embrace me when she is still not a stroke victim. But sometimes I hate her, I blame her. This is her mistake. I become a gay because she dress me like a girl when I was small. She give birth to two girls and three boys straight before she give birth to me. When I go out, my two sisters are already big and my mother miss playing to a little baby girl so she always dress me with skirt and then she sing to me and said to me to do fashion show in our sala. So I want to be Miss Universe when I grow up.

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Dear John, Part 1

Fiction by | October 5, 2014

For all of my life I want to be a girl. But not this way. Not in my birth certificate. Because of this mistake my trip to New Zealand is delay. We cannot married. But don’t worry. I follow up my papers always. Please wait for a little. We will soon be together. We will live happy ever after.

I’m sorry you spend too much money for me already. I don’t know that going abroad is very expensive and very meticulous. I know you are much money. Your pension is large and one dollar there in your country is thirty-six pesos here in my country. But I’m still shy to you. You shoulder all the expenses. Last year you even go here in the Philippines to see me because it is required, because your embassy said I’m not your partner because we only chat in the internet and we never meet personal. But after you go here and you go back to New Zealand…your embassy said to you again it’s not OK, I still cannot get a partner visa, visitor visa only.

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Alfredo-Who-Should-Have-Been

Fiction by | September 28, 2014

It was 3 AM when the Man-Who-He-Should-Have-Been entered the room. Maita was asleep on the couch, so Alfredo was alone to meet him.

“Hi,” Alfredo-Who-Should-Have-Been said.

“Hi, yourself. I guess it’s time.”

“Yes it is.”

Alfredo-Who-Was looked at Alfredo-Who-Should-Have-Been from head to toe. He was about 50, the same age as he. He had a slight paunch and his shoulders were a bit rounded. He had on a dark suit and his hair was combed neatly. Alfredo-Who-Should-Have-Been looked back at him. For a long time, they said nothing.

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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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