Category: Fiction

Ngano'ng Nangaso si Balaw sa Patag sa Palawpao? Part 1

Fiction by | March 23, 2014

Photo by RAE, from "Daloy"
Photo by RAE, from “Daloy”

Kining sugilanon ang nakadaog sa Unang Ganti, Ika-2ng Satur P. Apoyon Tigi sa Mobung Sugilanong Binisaya.

Wala pa nagmata ang adlaw apan duna nay napukaw’ng kaisog taliwala sa matun-og nga kalasangan sa Palawpao. Sa sayo’ng kabuntagon, nakigharong na si Balaw ug ang iyang sundang sa taas nga bangkil. Bangkil sa dako nga baboy-ihalas nga gitawag nila og lablab. Ang lablab nga gikahadlokan bisan sa mga tigulang nga mangangaso. Ang lablab nga gaipanghinadlok sa mga layoran nga bata. Ang lablab nga mangilog og teritoryo o kaha pagkaon sa ubang mga mananap. Ang lablab nga mandaog-daog ug maghari-hari sa kalasangan. Apan wala nahadlok si Balaw niini’ng mananapa. Ni walay bisag usa ka gamay nga kakulba ang gatagumbol sulod sa iyang dughan. Gani pa, gihulat pa niya nga muabot kini nga higayona.

Continue reading Ngano'ng Nangaso si Balaw sa Patag sa Palawpao? Part 1

Please Don't Leave Me

Fiction by | March 2, 2014

It was a nice place to rest. The walls were painted pink. The window was covered with pink curtains. The books were arranged neatly on the pink bookshelf. The bed on the opposite side was neatly overlaid with a pink blanket, a pink pillow by the head. The pink lampshade on the pink table by the bedside illuminated the whole room.

Yes, it was a nice place to rest. It was a place to stay in and relax. It was a place that radiated positivity. It was supposed to be.

But Lois, in her oversized plain white shirt and black skinny jeans, only stared into space. Her eyes were unblinking. Her lips were pursed together, not daring to move a word.

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Of Nightmares and Daydreams

Fiction by | February 23, 2014

I am staring out the window as our driver is taking us to the regional courthouse. My dad sits in the passenger seat and my mom is next to me.

“How are you feeling?”

I look at my mom and her warm expression. My dad steals a look at me from the rearview mirror.

“I just want to get this over with.” I mutter, looking down. My mom reaches out to pat my knee then sits back.

Three years ago, one innocent night in July, I went to the movies with my best friend. I was twelve then, completely unaware of the girl code that dictated we should never go anywhere without each other. The theater was completely full; it was the weekend of Kris Aquino’s second horror movie, after “Feng Shui.” Although it was rated PG-13, Jen and I were able to get in easily. For a thirteen-year-old, my best friend looked way older, and we used this to our advantage all the time.

“Let’s meet at the CR after, okay?” she whispered as she watched me take a seat near the left set of stairs, next to a man in a plain white T-shirt and jeans.

“I’ll text you,” I whispered back absentmindedly, my eyes already on the screen before me.

Before long, with everyone around me screaming because of ghosts, I realized in that dim theatre that it really was the living that we should be afraid of. The man next to me was now standing in front of me, pants down.

Continue reading Of Nightmares and Daydreams

Family Picture

Fiction by | February 16, 2014

The floor needs sweeping. That was the first thing I thought when I opened my eyes and saw the floor, its cold hardness slowly waking me from sleep. I continued to stare at the dust that accumulated under our bed, forcing my brain to work and commanding my body not to move. The tambis tree outside our window already cast shadows on the walls. It must have been five-thirty in the afternoon. I could already hear the sizzling of Aling Elsa’s pans and the grating sound her spatula made as it caught its bottom. Berto had turned on the garden hose and started with the watering. Children’s laughter and chatter filled the street as they made their way towards our house that our neighbors envied. Somewhere down the same street, my children were making their way home to me. My angels, my two beautiful boys, my world. Nothing in this world would keep me from giving them the best. They deserved nothing less but the best home, the best food, the best clothes, and the best memories. These things could only be given to them by the best family. Nothing would keep me from giving them these things I never had. Not even the pain that prevented me from standing.

“I’m sorry,” he sobbed at the corner, on the couch where we had made quick love a few times.

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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.

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