Play by Nonoy Narciso | July 12, 2015
Play by Alfredo Compra Jr. | July 5, 2015
Mga Tauhan:
Isagani – 26, struggling artist. Intelihente pero usahay weirdo.
Miguel- 28, law student. Seryoso ug hilumon.
Setting:
Usa ka gamayng balay sa San Fernando Cebu nga nag atubang ug dagat. Sekreto nga lugar ni Isagani ug Miguel. Usa ka gabii sa karon nga panahon.
ISAGANI
Taga-gabii sa kaniadtong bata pa ko, pirmi ko paihapon sa akong lola ug mga bituon.
Uy! Takdol man diay ang bulan! Bantog ra nagsaulog ang mga bawod sa dagat. Hilom pero mabugnawon ang hangin mao nang mabati’g kusog ang awit sa mga timos. Hay! Kanindut! “Bulan, usa ka gamayng buslot sa langit, li-lianan sa mga bathala.” – maoy ingon sa akong propesor sa Literatura.
Shhhh! Ayaw ug saba! Mabuyagan unya ta!
Makapanglimbawt ang kahilum. Mura ba’g, ikaw ray usa sa kalibutan. Ikaw ray usa sa dako ug ngitngit nga espasyo. Ikaw ray usa sa wanang.
Fiction by Ma. Jocedel A. Zulita | June 28, 2015
“I need you to help me around the house to prepare for his visit.”
“Of course! I’d love to help! When is he coming home, Mama?”
“He’ll be here after a couple of sleeps.”
Esme could not hide her excitement. She wondered if her Kuya still looked the same after two years of studying in Canada. She was only in first grade the last time she saw him. And she missed him terribly.
Esme had only a faint memory of their father. He died soon after her fourth birthday. Whenever she felt sad about not having their father around, she would think of Kuya Ipe. He was the one who defended her from her classmates when they teased her for not having a father. And he used to read her favorite books to her before she went to sleep. Her Kuya also helped their mother around the house. Her brother was enough, she thought to herself. He was like the father she never had.
Fiction by Czarina Nicole Lanes | June 21, 2015
Pat loves her Papa so much, she follows him everywhere.
When her father goes to the living room to watch the evening news, she sits in his lap and leans on his chest. She loves it when her Papa carries her to bed when she falls asleep. She is not afraid of monsters under her bed because she knows her Papa is still awake and is just one cry away.
Whenever she becomes thirsty in the middle of the night or wants to pee, she carefully walks her way to the bathroom near their front door. Nerves set in when she reaches the stairs but she becomes calm when she smells the familiar smoke. It’s her father smoking in front of their house. Pat thinks that her father has been guarding them from monsters and thieves.
One night, she opens the door and runs to her Papa. He quickly sways his hand with a cigarette away from his daughter and asks, “Why are you still awake?”
“I’m thirsty,” she replied.
“Get some water and then go straight to your room, okay?”
“Do you mind if I stay here with you for a while?” Pat asks him.
“I’m sorry Pat, but get back to sleep now or you’ll stop growing,” he puts his cigarette stick on a flower pot and opens the door for Pat.
Fiction by Kasmira Blaise S. Sigue | June 14, 2015
Meg always spent two weeks of her summer vacation with her Auntie Del, who lived with her husband Uncle Ben in an animal farm in Bansalan. Meg adored her aunt and uncle. They did not have any children of their own and they were always sending Meg dolls and books.
In the farm, Meg could run around without the danger of getting run over by big vehicles and she could milk the cows and the goats with Uncle Ben when she woke up early. Their farm was spacious: there was a shed for the cows, a pen for the pigs and goats, and a coop for the chickens. They even had a couple of horses that Uncle Ben and his help would ride. And so, she always looked forward to her stay in the farm.
After Meg settled into the room she had claimed as hers, Auntie Del led her to the back of the house. When she asked why, Auntie Del’s response was only, “I have something to show you.”
Poetry by Hannah Joy Luyao | June 7, 2015
Nonfiction by Betsy Tulio | June 7, 2015
I vividly remember that one Christmas Eve. Unlike all other Christmas Eves when the house is filled with the jubilant air of a family celebrating the holidays in torn gift wrappers, a sumptuous feast, and the warmth of contented hearts, on that year, December2011, the house seemed empty and cold.
I stared out the window with all the lights out; it was festive outside our house. The streets had parols and there was the occasional firecracker followed by a yell and the scampering of feet – we live three hours away from Davao so the banning of fireworks was unheard of. The scene outside was quite a contrast compared to the lifeless house that forgot about Christmas.
As a family tradition, my mother would prepare our Noche Buena feast on the day itself. Typically, it is a tiresome day of making sure that the ox tongue is boiling away over firewood. This would be the star of mother’s lengua in white sauce; her delicacy known all over Nabunturan. On top of that, there is also the carbonara, karekare, and baby backribs to take care of. Mother also prides herself with making the best no-bake blueberry cheesecakes in town. A recipe she has perfected over the years.
Nonfiction by Ella Jade Ismael | May 31, 2015
Adopt
Origin: Middle English, from Middle French or Latin; Middle French adopter, from Latin adoptare, from ad- + optare to choose
transitive verb
1: to take by choice into a relationship; especially: to take voluntarily (a child of other parents) as one’s own child
2: to take up and practice or use <adopted a moderate tone>
3: to accept formally and put into effect <adopt a constitutional amendment>
4: to choose (a textbook) for required study in a course
5: to sponsor the care and maintenance of <adopt a highway>
intransitive verb
: to adopt a child <couples choosing to adopt>
(Merriam-Webster Dictionary)
——————-
“Paano pala namatay ang mommy mo?”
“Diabetic kasi siya”
“Hala. Dapat ikaw mag dahan-dahan ka.”
“Di man. Di man ako maapektuhan.”
“Bakit man?”
“Adopted kasi ako.”
I am an adopted child. My parents told me when I was 10 years old. They thought it was the right time to tell me that I was because I was starting to ask questions and wondered why people looked at me differently during family gatherings. I also wondered why my playmates would call me ―adopted whenever we had a fight during one of our games.
“May gusto kami sabihin sa iyo”
“Maalala mo noon na may nagasabi sa iyo na adopted ka lang?”
“Totoo?”
“Oo”
That was how my parents broke the news to me that I was indeed an adopted child. My tears that night represented every moment of my childhood where I felt confused why my playmates teased and why my relatives looked at me as if they were wondering how and why I got in to the family.
My mom said I met my real mother once. She wanted me to remember that day. She wanted me to remember the scene when I saw this woman sitting in front of her desk, crying. I did remember. But I couldn’t picture out the face of that woman. I couldn’t even remember how I felt when I saw that woman. My mom said I could meet her again. I said yes. But deep inside I felt it was unnecessary because I was not looking for her and didn’t feel the need to see her.