Fiction by Karlo Antonio David | April 26, 2009
If my malicious stares had been able to do him some damage, he would have fallen a long time ago…
That wall has stood there for as long as I could remember. I don’t know why, but the other people do not seem to be even remotely bothered by his presence. I, on the other hand, am driven to what one might surmise as insanity by that accursed structure of brick.
Fiction by Angeli Mari Altizo | April 19, 2009
Malakas ang simoy ng hangin kasama ng amoy ng usok galing sa mga kotse sa ilalim ng overpass. Sobrang ingay dahil sa dami ng kotseng bumubusina at sa mas maraming taong nakapaligid. May narinig akong sumisigaw. Nararamdaman ko silang lahat na nakatingin sa akin. Parang ngayon lang sila nakakita ng lalaking naglalakad sa kable sa itaas ng magulong kalye.
“Kalma lang kayo diyan… di naman titigil ang mundo ninyo kung mamamatay ako.”
Labimpitong taon na akong nabubuhay, tila iisang tao lang ang may pakialam sa akin. Hindi si Itay na binubugbog kami dahil lagi siyang lasing. Hindi si Inay na laging pinatatawad si Itay kahit laging lasing. Wala namang nag-aalala sa akin kundi si Kuya.
Fiction by Joy Rodriguez | March 22, 2009
My mother told me how lucky I was to be Raul’s wife. Unlike her, I had chosen to marry my husband. “During our time, our parents decided whom we should marry,” she told me.”Teyi bagi kan, you are not a dwey and there is no sign of looking for a second wife in your husband’s face either.” This would always crop up in our conversations about her and my father. Although she never admitted it, she envied my freedom.
Yes, my mother was right. Even Maria, my high school friend, praised me every time I passed by her fish stall at the market. “You look younger every time I see you, Bea,” she said, waving her hands and inviting me to come closer. “Your husband really loves flesh. Ah, uhm, fresh! I mean, like these fresh tilapias, fresh tomatoes. But you look fresher than them. Don’t you?” And then she laughed in the way that irritated me. “Well, who would love to eat rotten food after all?” I answered, shooing away the flies that might ruin her fresh display.
Fiction by Taloy Dumdum | March 15, 2009
Alas nuebe na nang gabi nun. Bigla akong hinila ng magaling kong kaklase dun sa may rebulto na tila sinasamba ng lahat na mga estudyante. Nagtipon-tipon sila, tayo. Imbes na iparada ang mga parol para sa selebrasyon ng kapaskuhan, hayun ang lahat, may dala-dalang plakard. May itim na may puting tinta, at puti na may tintang itim at pula. May nagsasalita sa gitna. Daan-daang mag-aaral ang nandun pero walang mikropono. Tahimik ang lahat. Nakikinig. Nakikiisa. Buo ang atensyong ibinibigay sa sinumang nagsasalita.
Events, Fiction by Henrietta Diana de Guzman | March 4, 2009
Beyond the frames of the glass windows of Davao Medical Center was the cold hard rain. I glanced at the wall clock: 3:05. Time for endorsement call; but I could not free myself from lingering thoughts and the sound of a familiar name. The ceiling fan was not working again. Sweat trickled down my forehead down to my nose and lips; some droplets on my neck glided towards my nape. I felt sweat from my chin trickle down to my throat onto the sides of my breasts and, after finding the main freeway, explore my navel: I had already bathed.
The sharp blend of odors in the Nurses’ station was shaking my consciousness: the scent of oranges, a nearby diabetic’s necrotic foot, an open bottle of rubbing alcohol, the smell of fresh blood expelled from a womb contracting from the neighboring Delivery Room, and spilled urine on the floor from a patient’s urobag. It was exhausting.
Or, perhaps, it was creating a different kind of delusion.
The name?
What’s the name again? The diagnosis?
“Divinagracia, Maria Ana.”
Fiction by Vanessa Claire Lucero | February 22, 2009
Like all best friends, we told each other everything. From our fears, to our dreams, hell, we even told each other who we liked and all that jazz. No, it wasn’t gay, as some of you might think.
It was perfect. Absolutely, truly, perfect. I was happy and I’d like to think he was too. There were times – a lot of them – when I thought that I could live until I was 150 just as long as he was by my side.
And it was already too late when I realized that I had fallen in love with him.
And fall hard I did.
Pretty soon, I had to stop telling him everything. He couldn’t know. We were friends. Very close ones. And I had broken the golden rule:
Never fall in love with your best friend.
Fiction by Tita Lacambra Ayala | February 8, 2009
There was this teenaged princess from Southeast Asia who, tired of all the political maneuverings and killings and dissent and poverty unsolved by parliament, sneaked out of the country incognito by wearing a wig and a tailored suit, her crown in a hatbox as hand-carried luggage. Landed in a small Philippine airport, found a small house to stay in the middle of a coconut plantation, then walked to town to pawn her crown.
The rural atmosphere suited her needs, also it was just like home—the land, the trees, the air, the trade. Helped a farmer by burning coconut shells for charcoal, sold these to the barbecue people out in the stands at the town streets, and saved up her money so she could get back her crown.
Fiction by Arifah Jamil | February 1, 2009
I start my day with Subhanallah and feel the last bead of my pasbih with Allahuakbar. They agreed to forego the dialaga. The wedding is set a month from today. Baba said the mahr is more than generous enough.
You could give your friends, apart from your cousins and other family of course, their adat. No worries about that, Sittie Mouhminah. How much would they want? Give me your guest list too. We are drafting the probable guests. Your Mama has started on some relatives from her side of the family. Compose yourself, atakolay. This one is way better than him. Bangsa, atakolay. Bangsa.