Category: Fiction

The Boy in the Corner, Part 2

Fiction by | February 2, 2014

Continued from part 1

A week passed. During those days, Tim continued to watch Grim. He noted unusual behavior from Grim. Sometimes, Grim wore a smile, at other times a frown – without any cause. But Tim discovered something more disturbing: Grim talked to himself. Because of how he observed Grim, the other students treated Tim the same way as his subject of interest. Tim didn’t care. He needed, he wanted, to know Grim.

Lunch came. Tim got ready to observe Grim from a distance.

“Notebook, check. Pen, check. Oh, no, he went ahead!”

Tim rushed outside the classroom to check if Grim was still in the hallway. He saw Grim heading downstairs. After letting out a sigh of relief, he followed Grim. Tim went down the stairs and passed by the admissions counter. Suddenly, someone tapped him from the back. He turned around and to his surprise, it was Grim.

“Tim, right?” Grim asked. He looked serious.

Tim didn’t know what to say. He was shocked. No, he was afraid. He was afraid that Grim would do something bad to him. Tim stayed silent. Grim lost his patience and dragged Tim to the restroom. Continue reading The Boy in the Corner, Part 2

The Boy in the Corner, Part 1

Fiction by | January 12, 2014

The black bells rang. An eerie bong echoed along the dim hallway as a shadow loomed from the rusted gates of the school. The shadow came from the new student, Tim. He was a former student of Eagle Academy, but because of financial problems his parents enrolled him in the Gray Institute.

It was already recess when Tim arrived. The gates were still shut, but from where he stood, he saw figures of what seemed to be, the students of the school. Suddenly, the gates opened; creaking as it’s rusty hinges moved. Tim was nervous. He did not know what to do. He thought of running back home, but because he was well aware of his family’s problem, he chose to go forward. He could not afford to simply waltz away from an opportunity to learn.

Continue reading The Boy in the Corner, Part 1

Padugo

Fiction by | January 5, 2014

“Legends say that blood lures gold and for a gold mine to be full of gold, it needs blood. But a goat’s blood is not enough,” said the fifty-eight year-old Mang Berto as he shared his story to his fellow small-scale miners during siesta as they rested in a nipa hut near the Matiao River. “The mine needs blood that is pure and innocent.” Mang Berto said coldly to everyone in the hut.

Mang Berto and his family lived in Matiao, a province where the primary source of profit for most people was mining. In his early thirties, he’d worked in a large-scale mining company called King Midas Mining Corp in the Gumayan province. The boss of the company, who 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 lure out the elusive gold nuggets. During his stay in Gumayan, Mang Berto worked as a hired kidnapper and the one who executed the ritual along with other hired kidnappers. His job brought instant money and soon enabled him to buy a small house. However, until one incident changed the course of his life.

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Yellow Christmas

Fiction by | December 22, 2013

Rolando Tuka awoke to the familiar morning chill. He was already awake, but he didn’t open his eyes. Lying stiff as a steel bar, he listened to his little siblings’ shuffling feet, the bubbling pot of instant noodles her mother probably stirred, the tapping of the soft rain on their thatch roof, and his favorite, his family’s laughter as they start to gather around the kitchen table which serves as their dining table as well. A typical morning, only today his siblings are singing Christmas carols.

Kasadya ning taknaa. He opened his eyes, sat on the bed, wiped the grit off of them and stared at the poster he had on his small room. Dapit sa kahimayaan. He was a very practical eighteen year-old and he knew that his small frame that spoke so little of his age can only accomplish so much. Mao’y atong makita. That’s why, unlike his other co-workers who begged for the Mitsubishi or Ford cars posters a convenience store at the next town discarded, he asked for the other poster that was ignored. Ang panagway nga masanglagon. He was grateful for the Max’s Restaurant’s Chicken-all-you-can poster that was granted to him. Bulahan ug bulahan. That was three months ago and he appreciated the reminder to work extra hard for a little luxury of impracticality on Christmas Eve.

Continue reading Yellow Christmas

Dead End

Fiction by | December 8, 2013

He leans his back on the wall, his hands gripping his gun tight. He wishes he could shoot the moon and tear the dark sky into pieces. He wants the night to end, that in the morning, he will forget everything about this, and all the nights before. He is tempted to light a cigarette, hoping it would take away the agitation he feels. Flashes of thoughts and images of people he knows, and even seemingly strangers keep pounding on his head, causing the lines on his forehead to be more visible. He throws curses into the air, almost whispers but in a profound tone.

The rules are clear. No cigarettes on the field. Don’t leave any trace behind. Finish the task as quickly and silently as you could. Focus on the target. No resignations. No spitting of information. No getting out.

He closes his eyes for a few seconds and regains composure. He knows he shouldn’t permit his thoughts to affect his assignment. He has been trained to think and feel less so he can focus and act faster to get things done. He has been waiting for Kulot to pass by the street, the same Kulot whom he never knew, but whose picture he has been glaring at every night for about a month now. He knows that Kulot has multiple records at Agdao Police Station for theft, illegal carrying of fire arms, and dealing of illegal drugs. Kulot is five-feet tall, has round eyes, dark complexion, five piercings on his left ear, and a tattoo of a skull, smiling on the back of his neck. That’s all he needed to know, as if two sentences can summarize thirty years of a person’s existence. Kulot could be a father, or a drunkard, or a rapper, or a pedicab driver, but no matter what, Kulot will be his eighteenth kill.

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At Kumbakit Ko Minahal Ang Pagsusulat ng Dagli (Part 2 of 2)

Fiction by | December 1, 2013

ang nakaraan…

III. Ibang Diwata
Dumating ako sa bahay nang palubog na ang araw. Tulad noong nakaraang taon ay hindi ko ipinaalam ang eksaktong oras at araw ng pagdating ko. Kusa na lang akong kumatok sa pinto.

“Kumusta na? Kumusta man ang imong seminar didto?” Tuwang-tuwa na bungad ni Mama nang makita niya ako. Ipinaalam ko sa kanya ang pagdalo ko sa Ikalimang Palihang Rogelio Sicat kaya hindi ako agad umuwi ng Cagayan de Oro nang dumating ako galing Saudi.

“Maayo man.”

Inabot niya ang aking bitbit na bag. “Kabug-at gud ani.” Binuksan niya ito nang mapansing mabigat at tila nagtaka kung ano ang laman.

Tahimik niyang itinupi ang ilang damit na nakasilid doon. At maingat niyang inilabas ang ilang kopya ng aking libro. Matagal niyang pinagmasdan. Sintagal ng mga panahong ginugol ko upang mabuo ang isang pangarap. Ang pangarap na makapagsulat at makapag-publish ng sariling aklat.

“Sakit naman intawon ning akong mata. Unsaon na lang nako ni sa pagbasa sa imong libro?” Ang nawika niya habang binubuklat ang hawak na aklat.

Continue reading At Kumbakit Ko Minahal Ang Pagsusulat ng Dagli (Part 2 of 2)

At Kumbakit Ko Minahal Ang Pagsusulat ng Dagli (Part 1 of 2)

Fiction by | November 24, 2013

I. Sir Ruel
Matapos ang apat na taong pamamalagi sa Saudi bilang OFW ay ngayon ko lang din mami-meet ng personal ang ilan sa mga taong naging bahagi ng aking virtual world. Sa Multiply at lalo na sa Facebook.

Lulan ako ng taxi papuntang UP Diliman. After lunch hours daw ay nasa nasabing unibersidad si Sir Reuel.

Naging online mentor ko siya. Isa siya sa tagabasa at nagbibigay ng mga komento sa aking mga akda. Sa katunayan, sa kanya ko unang narinig ang salitang ‘dagli’. Na ayon sa kanya, ang uri ng aking mga piyesang may anyong naratibo, mas maiksi pa sa maikling kuwento, o mas malapit sa vignette ay nasa pormang dagli. Flash fiction kasi ang nakasanayang itawag ko sa mga blogs ko noon. Doon kami nagsimulang magkaugnay bilang isang baguhang manunulat at isang itinuturing na mentor sa panulat.

Sinipat ko ang aking relo de pulso. Tamang-tama ang oras ng aking pagbisita. Tila isa akong anak na matagal na nawalay sa kanyang ama. Nag-aalangan sa maaring sasabihin nito. Nag-aalala sa maaring kahinatnan ng aming pagtatagpo.

Continue reading At Kumbakit Ko Minahal Ang Pagsusulat ng Dagli (Part 1 of 2)

When Jasmine makes a list

Fiction by | October 5, 2013

Jasmine partook of limp spicy chicken flavored Yakisoba noodles and cold pan de sal. She sat on the smooth cement floor of the sala, looking blue against the television light. On the screen, Sam was trying to impress Mikaela with his new car. No one knew what made Transformers, with its bloated running time and cardboard characters, so appealing to her. It was eleven a.m. and she had just woken up. Feeling too lazy to go out, she decided to eat anything there was in the dusty cupboard and on the round dining table. She put her plate down–her meal barely finished; reached her notebook from last semester and scribbled on the back page. Her light brown eyes glimmered as she showed what she wrote to me.

To-do List:

  • buy groceries
  • go to Kate’s (and wait for something interesting to happen there)
  • hang out with friends
  • do something
  • do something else
  • don’t panic
  • live long and prosper
  • get annoyed at self if things in this list are not done

Continue reading When Jasmine makes a list