New Year's Eve

Fiction by | May 30, 2010

You have been very busy preparing for tonight. It is the last day of the year, and you have been on a holiday rush, along with others, who are milling about in the mall, jostling one another in the supermarket. You decide to tag me along so that you can have someone to carry the bags of groceries, which are enough to last for a week. I suspect that all of them are for tonight; you’re the type who welcomes the New Year lavishly. Have you checked our purchases? Have you noticed the seemingly countless round fruits in Styrofoam and All-wrap bearing their weight in my hand? As we ford through the crowd, I try to keep close to you, lest I get lost and won’t be able to make it home with you tonight. (Walking the distance between the mall and our house is out of the question; it would be too far. And I can’t call you up on a cellphone—you simply refuse to give me one although I have always said that I’m old enough to have one.) I can already imagine myself—while we hurry through the throng of the holiday-fevered shoppers—being alone in the huge mall, crying, like how a child would, looking for you, running through the maze of people, beset with fear that will last until the stroke of midnight. I don’t want to spend the rest of my year wailing. It’s one of the countless things you have taught me—to welcome the New Year with happiness.

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The Davao Writer's Workshop: Funnest Summer Ever

Nonfiction by | May 23, 2010

I decided to stop writing almost a year ago for certain personal reasons. But becoming a part of the workshop made me reevaluate things. The moment I stumbled on the announcement of DAGMAY (online page of the Davao Writers Guild) calling out for aspiring writers to submit pieces for the Davao Writer’s Workshop 2010, I got a jolt I couldn’t ignore. I felt I should give it a shot. What the hell, if they ignore me then it’s not for me; but if I get accepted—well, I’ll have to see where it goes.

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Balota

Poetry by | May 16, 2010

dati-rati’y manu-mano
at taimtim kong isinusulat sa balota
ang mga pangalan ng aking kandidato
habang umuusal ng dalangin
na sana ang bayan ko ay makaahon
sa kumunoy ng karukhaan.

maraming beses na akong umasa
na sagrado ang aking boto,
na santo ang napiling kandidato.

maraming beses na akong tumaya
sa mga pulitiko, antigo at bagito,
nadaya o nandaya.

ngayon ay mas mahaba na ang balota,
napakaraming pagpipilian, may party list pa.
isusubo ko ang balota sa makina
(hindi na sa ballot box)
dahil ang eleksyon ay automated na.

sana ako ay  tumabla na
kahit minsan lang
sa muli kong pagsusugal.

—-
Vangie Dimla-Algabre teaches high school students.

The Sound of Death

Poetry by | May 16, 2010

What is the sound of death for you? Silence?
No hymns and screams and cries? Just pain inside?
You don’t feel hate, anger, or malevolence—
Just solitude. Everything else you hide.
For me death sounds like distant screams at dawn,
Screaming and crying infants left alone,
Running footsteps on stone pavements and lawn,
And the high pitched ring of the telephone.
The constant counting of one, two, and three
and the fading wail of an ambulance.
Quiet street and rustling leaves of a tree.
Seeing the tree’s shadow reflect a dance.
Electric fan on, myself praying
To God that dad will come back home breathing.

—-
Ella Jade Ismael, a writing major in UP Mindanao, was a fellow at the recent DWG Writers Workshop.

On Writing Before Typing

Nonfiction by | May 16, 2010

While my friends fret with their laptops to do their assignments, I calmly write down ideas from my mind. Somehow, even with the proliferation of computing machines, I still find myself sticking it out with pen and paper. There is courage and strength when I hold a pen in my hand and set out to conquer the clean, empty space of the paper. Not that I disdain the computer. In fact, my games of Plants vs. Zombies show my fondness for it. the computer helps me with a lot of things, like the submission of reports and assignments.  However, I enjoy contributing to the bin by writing my thoughts first before typing them.

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You Never Had Me at Hello

Fiction by | May 16, 2010

For James

There are at least two things that you yourself wouldn’t want to miss. One, seeing your dad at the audience area during your first ballet recital. Second, having your firsts.
 
Mama bore me with a furious mole on my cheek that swells every time I grin and has been resting itself for years on my eyeglasses’ rim. Next to that, I’ve never tried Victoria’s Secret for my scaly skin. Perhaps that was why my classmates never shared tables or sat with me during recess, or else they also thought I was a complete freak who lived in the attic. Although sometimes, I did believe Mama when she said that it was because of my high mental capabilities (Mama taught me that) that I’d get chewed gum on my skirt and lose my desk during Homeroom. But you see, that was more of the “not so good” part of my life. Just like Cathy and the girl behind her and the janitor who cleaned the girl’s restroom, I did have fun too.
 
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Sunday Light

Fiction by | May 9, 2010

It is 3 o’clock; the perfect time to have a snack in this cool, air-conditioned restaurant. A couple walks in, trailed by two little children. The man stays at the doorway and surveys the room for a table while the woman heads for the the bar to ask for a highchair. The smaller of the two children, a boy of about three, latches onto his mother’s navy blue skirt. The girl romps her way to the toilet and turns the knob. It is locked. She stamps a foot and runs to her father, who has chosen a table by the window and is now reading the newspaper. He feels his daughter tugging his sleeve. He lowers the paper and glances in the direction of the toilet and pats the chair next to him. Sit down and wait for your turn. But the little girl refuses to sit. Instead, she walks back to the door. She shifts her weight impatiently: first on one leg, and then the other. She does this for a while, the intervals becoming shorter as her discomfort increases. Finally the door opens and an elderly woman walks out.

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Tagum Fairy Tales

Nonfiction by | May 9, 2010


I will be the first to admit that as a kid, I never grew up reading fairy tales. The lives of Cinderella, Little Mermaid, Snow White, and Little Red Riding Hood were never stored in my personal memory box. I have often wondered what my outlook would have been had I been initiated into these fairy stories early on.

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