Vol. 19, June 2023 CYMO is the official Literary Folio of The Carrier. Published by the students, alumni, faculty and staff of John B. Lacson Colleges Foundation (Bacolod), Inc. All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the permission of the publisher. Works that appear in this folio may contain themes, graphics, and topics some may find disturbing. Reader discretion is advised.
Metus LITERARY EDITOR Jeremy Josh Alojado LAYOUT & PAGE ARTIST Beanne Y. Jaca ART DIRECTORS D/C Joshua B. Malapitan Jeremy Josh Alojado Emmy S. Nava GRAPHIC ARTIST Antonio Ricardo B. Nobleza Emmy S. Nava Beanne Y. Jaca PHOTOGRAPHERS Nele Stephen M. Pacurib Jules Andrie Ermeo Emman Giordan T. Jagmoc
Illustration by Antonio Ricardo B. Nobleza
Omen Introduction We are all afraid of something, aren’t we? At some point, there is always that specific thing, event, person, or figment of your imagination that keeps you up at night. The reason you wake up at 3 o’clock in the morning in cold sweats and shivers down your spine. If there is one thing in the entirety of this world that is known as indefinite, it is the embodiment of fear. You never know what’s underneath your bed, what’s inside your closet, or what made that strange noise downstairs. Left with no choice but to cower and look for cover from the unknown. Ever since birth, we have built and picked up the different pieces that fit into the puzzle of what we fear in life. It started with a fear of clowns, spiders, and other creatures from the figments of our imaginations. But as we grew up, fear started taking on a new form. It began sprouting from the wounds and battle scars of life. It began to take root in the deepest parts of your thinking—your fear of being left alone, being heartbroken, losing yourself, failure, and inevitably death. You see, the body remembers trauma. No matter how hard you try to suppress it and forget about it to move along in life, it’s still there in the most secluded part of your subconscious, feeding fear, fostering it, and making it grow. In this issue of CYMO, together, let us unleash the hidden aspects of your subconscious. Let fear itself result in physical manifestation, stare it right in the eyes, and remember that you are what you fear. Either you keep running from it or tackle it head-on and either come out stronger or shattered. Let’s get acquainted with what we knew as fear in its distinctive Unholy Trinity: dread, terror, and horror. Should you ever feel scared, remember that every single person fears something or someone; there is no shame in screaming and shrieking. This is your warning as you proceed to face fear in all its glory.
Jeremy Josh Alojado Literary Editor
contents Chapter I. Dread 2 5 6 7 8 9 11 12 15 16 18 19 20 21 22
Pandora’s Box Life Dilemma A Moment Suspended in time Relo A weight of a smile Paranoia Dread Is it truly a bliss Formido Oro, Plata, Mata I’m always watching I saw the light, and it burns! Vultures Choice of their own The Horrendous Starvation
Chapter 2. Terror Deathbed The Devils are Out, The Demons are In -Love, Your Ghost 28 Thanatophobia 29 Tagu-taguan 30 Pondus Timoris The Weight of Fear 32 Breathe 35 Tertia: Momento Silentii 36 Failure 37 Haunted Affection 38 Black Mirror 40 I’m stuck, bit I know how to escape 41 Suffoctus 43 Fear 24 27
I Fear the Arrows of Cupid
Killing Me Dimensional Drift Insomnia
44 45 46 48
Chapter 3. Horror
Time 3 am Physical Discomfort Unsaid Words last October Desquamation Unspoken Words in the Rain Umbrella I’m tired The Crime Captivation Verum Anxietatem Philophobia Ako Sana Kung Hindi Lang Onus Silentium Healing in Solitude Sensitive Soul Within Stuck Overdosed Goodbye Forever Treasured Love (un)friend Acknowledgement Snippets References
50 51 53 54 56 58 59 61 62 63 64 66 67 69 70 71 73 74 75 75 76 79 80 84
Dread
is the first and strongest of the three kinds of fear. It is that tension, that waiting that comes when you know there is something to fear but you have not yet identified what it is...
Pandora’s Box Mako Pandora’s box an artifact of legend and myth. A gift of malice to humankind. Horrorem it was filled with. Released upon this land the spectres that eat us up while hope was left behind. And so does the tales narrate In this technologically driven world. Wherein people are faced with the hardships of reality. What value does this tale behold? Behind each eye lies a box filled with tales of insanity. Once opened oh to hear the screams of the shadows as they run free. Oh how blindly we go day by day. Can’t you see how this myth is present in this modern reality? You are Pandora! And deep within your heart and soul, a box dormantly lay. Denying that is a form of profanity. It’s a curse all have been dealt and imprinted with. You cant deny it You cant hide it Behold the key of the lock Let the spectres and shadows run aloof And listen to the cacophony of their screams and shrieks
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Illustration by Antonio Ricardo B. Nobleza
Photo by Jules Ermeo 5
LVince ifeDaveDilemma Duquilla Sobbing into the pillow as I’m lying in my sleep. I make an effort to recall the details of terror. Is my absence of affection caused by the passage of time? Is it my previous transgressions or the inability to change the past that makes me feel this way? What is it that terrifies me? How come I’m so afraid? Is it the individuals I’ve harmed or those who have harmed me? Is there anything that frightens me that I can’t seem to see? Is it the absence of my family, or the unexpected adoration of a friend? Is it possible that a misfortune may mark the end of my existence? What do I fear the most? What does fear look like in my eyes? Is it the sunlight, which seems to set but not to rise? Is it my own hope that keeps dying every time? Is it someone’s trust in me that I can’t even begin to understand? Is it all the flashbacks to my terrible past? Is that me? Could it be that the trait I dread most is the one thing I am not? The things I attempt to comprehend? The version of myself that I aspire to be until I’m depressed? Is that who I’m supposed to be? Do I have that in mind? I believe that what terrifies me Is me, myself, and I.
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A Moment Suspended in time Cortez Naked, how abusive reality is, I am being stripped, flashed, and shamed by the thing that terrorize me the most, the unpredictability of the future, for I have never lay an eye of the upcoming sequences of events yet at the present state of my involvement I am being tormented by the never ending thoughts that clouds up my mind, for I have experienced horrendous encounters that have tested my faith and belief with what I could really bring to the table, all of these have happened in the past and it still haunts me till this day, I have layed the time table before you and although it is never in order, even if you put forth the effort into actually rearranging the said events without mentioning the details of all the instances of fear, disgust, betrayal and manipulation you have gone through, one thing is still constant it is the unscratchable itch of knowing whats to come oh I am frightened and trembling beyond measure that maybe the future would be the worse
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Relo Nobody
Sa bawat pitik ng kamay nya’y panahon ang lumipas. Isang buong ikot sa relo’y oras ang nawawaldas. Minsan bigla na lang mapapaisip. Sadya bang mabilis ang panahon? O ako itong mabagal ang usad? Sa dinami rami ng hinahangad ‘Di na alam paano sisimulan. Takot ang s’yang naghahadlang Sa bawat yapak na gusto kong simulan. Hanggang wala nang nagawa Kundi ang mag bakasakaling, Sana di na matapos ang bukas. Mga pagkakataong nasayang Kalakip ay mga ‘sana’ kong Di man lang naisakatuparan. Suot-suot ko itong relong bigay, Sya saki’y pupukaw sa reyalidad oras ay di titigil sa pag ikot Walang pakialam ako ma’y mapagod.
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Illustration by Emmy Nava
A w eight of a smile Ladrido, Sean Amidst the laughter I share with my friends everyday Why do I feel as though everything won’t be okay? As if my smile is only a facade I use to escape my pain The lingering thoughts inadequacy plague me, as if I have nothing to gain I question myself at time do I really deserve this? Despite all the things I have done, do I deserve to be happy? The saddest part of my days is when reality isn’t really for me The weight of expectations and the future are sometimes too heavy And so I question myself, Am I allowed to be happy? Am I allowed to carry on whilst shouldering the weight of everybody I feel as though the world is different from the eyes of everyone but me What can they understand and see that so different from me? This facade of happiness isn’t healthy, a lie I tell myself to fit in society They preach camaraderie, community, and unity yet those who are different Are outcasts and persecuted for being happy in a different way than everybody A world full of smiles, plasticity and everyone hiding their toxicity But as it stands I’ll wear this smile till the day I die Though it might feel fake, I can do nothing and watch as time goes by Will a day where I can truly smile and be happy arrive? Or will I wallow in my own grave never truly knowing the true worth of a smile?
Illustration by Beanne Jaca
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Paranoia Leo hold on to it, hold on tight. until there is no room for breathing, until what’s left is that bright light. You nearly died for nothing, my child. Hold it, but don’t hold tight, don’t cover your ears, there’s nothing wrong my child. The talks, it’s pointless, inexistent. The piercing sounds you need not hear, it’s only in your mind, now go sleep child.
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Illustration by Gil Martin Selarta
Dread Alpha I wonder what it takes To end your own personal misery To abandon the demons that accompanied you for too long That you forgot what it was like to be in the light I wonder what it takes To be able to cut off the strings that tided you to that lonely world brimmed with blood and silence To put an end to that seemingly endless tortuously devised play of pretentious roles to portray I wonder what it takes To finally break free of the covers That hide your flesh so scarred that others would gasp at the mere sight of it all I wonder what it takes, to finally grasp back to the ones who held my hand In order to break the bond of the dark past of which I’m haunted Where I thought no amount of sunshine could fill The void it made in my chest I wonder What it takes, To stop drowning To stop feeling I wonder what it takes to stop wishing That I could stop Existing
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Is it truly a bliss? Vince Dave Duquilla Am I happy? Should I be happy? Could I be happy? I really could. For every single fiber in my body, I am certain of this. Where bliss ought to be, there is a void. And that joy is right across the hall, waiting for me. The prospect of happiness is so alluring. Nevertheless, in a cruel twist of fate, it is hidden away and concealed from me despite being so dreadfully attainable. I have discovered happiness, but I am no more inclined to achieve it than I would be if it were on the other side of the world. After much effort, I have located the location of delight. Enough that I know where it is, and that room is so well-known to me, I can even identify the type of key that opens it. I’ve been aware of this entire thing for a quite long period of time. The pull of that bliss, that which is truly mine, keeps me in this limbo, which I believe to be of my own creation. That keeps me in a miserable state of uncertainty, and the more I fret over this problem, the further I pour. There are other things besides my happiness, which hangs on a pole, that retain me in this place. I have been entrenched outside this chamber for such a long time that I am unable to leave. As I am completely ignorant about alternatives, I am very angered by them. This is my life. I’ve rooted myself, and you can’t dig me up.
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Photo by Kerr Sanchez 11
Illustration by Emmy Nava
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Formido Alojado, Jeremy Josh
Fear is a creature of anomaly.
You never know what youre gonna see. It is something that has no definite shape color, or size just this dark void of a hole. Yet, all this time you have this vivid image of it carved into your mind and soul.
Elicited visions crawls into your train of thoughts in the middle of the night
And just as you sigh of relief, as you wake from that elusive nightmare, maybe not quite. It haunts you even in the most precious of moments. This creature of horror reigns supreme in times of dolent.
And no matter how hard you try to forget and run away from it.
No matter how much you fight, you will always be left decrepit. You are fighting a war you will never win. For fear comes crawling and knocking on your doorstep in every moment that you are uncertain.
Release all fear, dread, and terror.
And the great concrete jungle will crumble into a scene of horror. Try to contain this beast at all costs. But care to share the legend, what it is that you fear the most.
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Oro, Plata, Mata Paul Ivan Quezon I. Gold Count to three – they told me. The fourth step should be gold. What if I stopped at three? – I asked. Said my body will be cold. II. Silver Will the second step be safer? However, gold is better than silver. I thought I stepped on glacier For my feet started to shiver. III. Death Time is running out, look at the clock. I’m running out of breath. The third step is a bad luck, And now I face my death.
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15
Illustration by Emmy Nava
I’m alw ays w atching Angelic Feril There will come a time when you’ll shake hands with your demise while it’s telling you a story of how I wished that you meet it soon. Nonetheless, don’t worry and just smile, for my death glare will follow you every mile. Artificial situations will strangle you to death, but do you know what’s the most amazing part? You will not be seeing heaven or hell. You will still be seeing the streets with emptiness and the one who gave you this mess.
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I saw the light, and it burns! Angelic Feril I’m sitting on the floor, resting my back in the corner of my room. And every angle of my room projects something that suffocates me up to my vocal chord where I can’t scream anymore. Everything is black and white, for it’s feeding the same feelings every day. The circumstance is excruciating, yet no trace of being recognized from another point of view. I remained hopelessly seated while dealing with the mocking feelings silently. Not until I saw a sheer light from small gaps in my door. Little by little, I braced myself, slowly going to the door to see beyond it. Finally, I got a hold of the doorknob. Maladaptively daydreaming about what’s beyond and what pleasure awaits me. I grip the doorknob tightly as I try to twist it slowly. I’m almost there! I’m almost there! Successfully, a hand grabbed me from behind, and I lost my grip on the doorknob. It whispers something while caressing my hair. "Can you fathom the dangers beyond that door? Can you sacrifice the things you already sacrificed for safety to see what’s beyond?" In silence, I closed my eyes and listened to the humming fear caressing my courage to sleep as the teardrops fell from my weary eyes.
Illustration by Antonio Ricardo B. Nobleza 19
Vultures Jan Ivan Magin In life, we all have moments of doubts and darkness displaying pessimisms and failures causes the vultures laugh on the top of their lungs and linger their will to utter judgement results to hate and indifferences. They have been watching you all over from the bottom to the top of your journey waiting for you to fail and lost yourself in great despair. They could be angels when they could benefit something from you but they spread wildfires if you cannot give them their favors. They curse your name and make phony novels from your diminutions and they take advantage of your bitter past and make cruel judgements out of it. You could have the purest soul but sometimes you turned out polymers, pliable and double-faced according to their stories who mislead the innocent minds and turned out hating you not knowing the reason behind because you were blind and deaf which you cannot fix the mess they made which discouraged them to know the truth. You cannot blame those souls for they were blinded and weakened their compassion to know things about you. Wherever you go, there are vultures watching you. You do not need to be careful if you are pure, there is nothing for you to be afraid of. Just be you and do the best you could do.
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Choice of their own Pagunsan, Carw in D. The journey we walked through these unknown world Of the numerous echoes and voices that swirled Day and night, chains pulling tight I stare in the sky and thought, "is this alright?" Every campfire made along, a memory is formed Each unique of their own accord Memories that stand as foundation for the unknown destination For they fill up my path with candles that provide illumination As the destination nears, I look back one last time Each memory relived in my thoughts as the wind chime I smiled when I thought that the journey will be tough but realized that the challenging thing is leaving it all behind as a shard of thy life.
Illustration by Antonio Ricardo B. Nobleza 21
The Horrendous Starvation Cortez Levitated amongst the dark clouds, diseased and profoundly corrupted, I painted my walls black, displeased by the fact that air still entered my system, abused every inch of my mind, engineered thoughts that served as tickets to my downfall, drowned myself as it came to a point where everything became numb, a twisted participation in this game of life for a being that’s tormented by his own existence, I attributed everything to the dilemma of how things have unfolded before my very eyes, reflecting upon the full retrospect of my involvement, I’d rather face oblivion, than try considering to place my bets for a tomorrow that’s left uncertain, terrified by the possibility where everything that’s bad might turn into worse, how dire my perception of life is, however amidst the unbothered nature of my being this soul of mine still pleeds for sensation, even if it’s the ruin of me I’d rather feel pain than nothing at all.
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Terror
only comes when you see the thing you’re afraid of. It is the power of release, not the power of tension. you know the face of the thing you fear. You know its borders, its dimension.
Deathbed AC Himaya V. Tupas My bed has become my very own graveyard; Harboring me, a corpse of my very own existence. As I lay supine underneath The pitch-black expanse And the deafening silence, I wonder: will anyone ever Remember me, a brittle Rotting matter, as I crumble Into oblivion in this clamped Wooden casket? The tick of time has made My bones the forgotten fossils of a skeleton-sunken city; My mouth a boneyard of teeth ruptured from pressing against each other the words that have been repressed since time immemorial; my flesh an empty substance devoured by memories from tender times that are wrapped behind wounded skin. the blood-stained sheets i lie upon are like a quicksand drowning me from paroxetine and my dishevelled blankets, pillows, and clothes are like rugged mountains of havoc piling up endlessly at the dim corners of my room. As the hefty weight of living is carried by the ledges of my bed, The demons around me say that death seems better than the Chaos in my head; shadowing phantoms that have been lingering 24
In this cemetery of broken dreams; adrift spectres igniting flickers of a flame that sparks memories older than the moon and searching for meaning over the shivering blue stars and dead constellations; lost souls haunting the abysmal attic inside my chest for far too long. Yet I sometimes wonder if the force dragging me back into my bed is insomnia or simply the open-eyed desire for eternal sleep, since the lullaby of the void is often not enough to lay me down to rest. So this is what I tell my little brother: When I die, tell mom and dad not to bury me six feet underground. instead, burn me into ashes—let my fragile body blaze in the sweltering inferno of sweet demise. place me in the urn to remind you that once, we were dust and to dust therefore we shall return. when i die, i do not want my name to be etched upon my gravestone. instead, carve all my buried hopes, shattered dreams, and sunken ambitions. for i was not really the one who would have died—the things i would’ve had and the person i would’ve been did. but until then, listen and sit within the hollow auditorium inside my chest that swoons with echoes of a fainting heartbeat, and just depart the chamber when the sound finally ends, for what is still left to stay for, anyway? as i lay still on this deathbed, i could only hope that my decomposing body does more for this world than i ever did.
Illustration by Antonio Ricardo B. Nobleza
Photo by Reymar Bullag
The Devils are Out, The Demons are In - L ove, Your Ghost
Danielle Grapa i kept the gates of my church locked from the devils that were knocking they were chanting spells, forming rituals, disturbing my haven from the pillars where the moon’s light hit my golden gaze a broken soul held me captive, desire in his grin he knew i’d let him in lips spoke of genuine prayer, a language that I know of, i didn’t have a hard time to understand eyes mirrored mine, I didn’t need to decipher what’s behind my hands froze for ages, I’d love to be holding yours in the right state of mind and just when you’re one breath away, eyes barely opened, the tips of our fingers almost touching, I can feel your warmth; i heard sirens and I gained consciousness. i had wanted your brokenness because I couldn’t accept mine. what may seem like an angel is a ghost trying to find its eternity and in time, i’ll be long gone i had to leave so I can save me because I was never meant to be with someone for heaven’s sake the devils that surround me had long been seeking refuge wondering how I was able to make a castle out of the demons I battle my secrets remained unfold, I am mine and never yours.
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Thanatophobia nobody Back when I was five, I would unconsiously ask my siblings of why people die? Or what age do people die? And they would explain it to me as if I fully understood what they said. I’ve been curious that I would randomly ask them about those things. Never did I expect that those simple questions could ripple to something terrible. I know at some point, we are afraid of losing someone, especially those whom we consider important to us. For so many years, those unfortunate events altered my perspective on life and people in ways that could last a lifetime. I always fear of being rejected, I fear being forsaken, I fear failure... I think that’s normal and is part of the process of growth. But the fear of losing someone? unfathomable is an understatement. I know you feel this too. I can vividly remember crying myself to sleep at night just by anxiously thinking of the day that I would lose the people close to me. Although it is a fact and a reality that at some point in our lives, we will lose people, especially those with whom we have made tons of core memories, there are moments where fear keeps taunting me. These horrors continue to worsen and are even more difficult to embrace as I get older. Seeing our childhood friends having their own families and our parents with their wrinkled skin at some point makes me ask myself... What if I lose them? What will I do? Every time I think of these things, I just close my eyes and try to remember the happiest times I had with them. But sometimes I just wish that oblivion is the only cure for the pain I will feel when I will be on my own. 28
Tagu-taguan Defante Tagu-taguan maliwanag ang buwan... Gabi na’t maliwanag ang buwan habang ako’y papauwi galing paaralan Wala sa likod, wala sa harap... Ako’y nasa labas na ng bahay at sa bintana’y naka harap Pagbilang ng sampu naka tago na kayo... Sa loob naka patay ang ilaw at ako’y may naaninag na nakatayo Isa, dalawa, tatlo... Nakita ko syang nakangiti mula sa sulok ng aking kwarto Apat, lima, anim... Nakatitig s’ya sa akin habang may hawak na patalim Pito, walo, syam, at sampu... Nang papalapit s’ya sa akin, ako’y tumakbo ng mabilis nang sa gayon makalayo.
Illustration by Beanne Jaca
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Pondus Timoris The Weight of Fear
Jerric Claridad O’ ponder upon nothing Dusk and dawn it still clings A bane that keeps me fazed Cease! I should veil my gaze Fall Back! Fall Back! It’s inching forward with each attack! Pondus Timoris comes ahead Terror slithers, should I leave it dead? Pondus Timoris, can you walk away? I am yearning to live without dismay Pieces of fright I pluck It is no use, I put it back Sky aglow, someday it will break Fill no more with its burning ray Patches of horror will no more block Pondus Timoris will stop
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Illustration by Beanne Jaca
Breathe cain "Three Gs on your left, kid!" I pivoted to look down on the approaching ghouls shambling toward me. The first shot rang in the air, lodging between the eyes of a rotting, half-eaten face. Inhale. Second shot, for the second waking corpse. Exhale. Among the broken axles and chassis of a rusting seven-car pile-up, the third ghoul hid. This was a terrible place to be caught in, but I needed higher ground to get away from the cluster. I didn’t feel him until his hand closed around my ankle with abnormal strength. I kicked hard, nearly falling over, and his body swung out into the air. He only had his upper half, but his stomach was intact and he reached for me even as the whole of him made an arc toward the ground. Belatedly, I realized his hand was still around my leg, detached at the wrist. I shook it off. Before I could turn my gun at the still-chattering head, a spade slammed down and cleaved it in half. "I said three ghouls, Julia. Didn’t I say three?" "Yes, boss." Breathe. Randall only ever said names when he was real mad. "Couldn’t find it." "Well, start lookin’ better." Randall pulled out his shovel from the remains and wiped it off in the dirt. He must have seen my face; he said, voice still rough but without bite, "You’re lucky it was dry. Could have gotten you sick." The grabber was the dry kind, the ones with almost no fluid left in them. Desiccated brains, kept going by hunger. Generally unintelligent and not very perceptive, following their senses for any sign of living flesh. As opposed to the wet ones, who still had most of their organs and assorted bacteria with them. Randall kicked the one he destroyed and a splinter of bone, already poking out, protruded further from the caved-in chest. "Hey! Help me down!" Randall and I turned to squint at the afternoon sun. Our third stood atop a billboard, limned against the light. She already had her rifle strapped securely to her back. "Clear me a path!" Obediently I went and grabbed bodies, careful not to lose either of my too-big motorcycle gloves. They were heavy duty and got the job done as I hauled the corpses away to give her space to stand on. She scampered down the scaffolding, shuddering as she took mincing steps between motionless, decaying corpses. "You’re doing it on purpose," I said. She shivered again, exaggerated. "No, man. These ghouls just make my skin crawl. I don’t care if it’s finally dead, I still don’t want to touch it. And it smells awful." She put an arm around me. "I saw that one grab you. Nice kick." "It wasn’t very smart. Yanked at me before taking a bite." "Did it hurt? Remember when a G grabbed me by the neck? Bruised for weeks." "It was real strong. Why are they so strong?" "Rand says it’s because they lose that thing we have, the blocker in our brain telling us we can’t go any harder or else we damage our body." She looked in disgust at a dead ghoul that still had enough blood to bleed out on the dirt road. "Not like these things care about their bodies." Randall reached us, eyeing something us two didn’t see in the horizon. "We have to go. We made too much noise. Horde might come." Later, when we returned to the abandoned apartment block we operated out of, the woman asked me to go with her to the river. 32
"I don’t like you two going down there alone," said Randall, when we asked to go past the barricades. "Nothing’s sneaking up on us, boss. It’s all clear for three hundred meters around." "It’s the river that’s upsetting me, kid. Heard tell of some Gs walking right out of the water." "From the water? They can swim?" The woman beside me sounded more curious than worried. Randall was brushing caked dirt off of his boots. He brushed particularly hard and said, ‘No. They walk." "Ghouls don’t need air?" "Apparently not." Despite his reservations, the woman had convinced him; said that we kept our backyard clear and we’d shoot any Gs when we saw them. So we made the short walk to the river, guns and machetes at the ready. While we didn’t see any ghouls, we did stay away from the water. Randall’s story spooked her. We were laying on our backs on the water-worn pebbles as the bright skies faded above, her bare hand touching my gloved one, when she asked, "Do you think they get smarter?" "What?" "The ghouls, Jules. Nick at the ammo exchange said he saw one open doors, and it snuck up on him. Said he only got out alive because one of its legs was gone and he just outran it." "You think that’s a real story? Nick said he could shoot a bird out of the sky with a sawn-off. So," I said, and inhaled sharply to make a point. "I think he just forgot to close the door." "No, yeah, you’re right." She rolled on her side and put an arm on my chest. I kept my breaths deep and even, like I was unbothered by her proximity. After a while, she stood and offered a hand to me. I took it carefully and she pulled me up with all her might. "Let’s go. Don’t want to be out here in the dark." We set off at a brisk walk back to the apartment when she said into the young evening breeze, "It would be so scary if they were, though. Could you imagine? If them zombies could learn?" "I’d prefer not to imagine that, thanks. And we’ll barricade our doors, if it makes you feel better." She punched my shoulder in retaliation, and I laughed. This felt good. Camaraderie felt good, like how I imagine truly fresh air smelled like. In this wasteland, I had always been lonely. It was the first thing I ever learned. So maybe it was with the slightest twinge of guilt, one morning when I just couldn’t go any longer, that I twisted Randall’s neck with abnormal strength, as easily as wringing out a wet shirt. I already had my gloves off and had gotten to work, careful about not breaking the skin, when the woman walked in. "It smells awful in here," she said, and stopped short. She looked at Randall on the floor, whose bare skull grinned up at her. Then she looked at his peeling face in my mottled, misshapen hands – the hands I had when I first woke up again. The woman opened her mouth and closed it, over and over. It was the conscience I didn’t know I could have that made me say, with embarrassment, "It wasn’t personal. It really wasn’t." I would have said more: I got hungry, or I’m sorry for your loss, or I wish I knew your name. But before I could, the woman who must have been very important to Julia – when Julia was still alive – turned tail and ran off. I didn’t worry about her yet. Instead I ate. If I wasn’t a smart one, I would have kept eating until I made myself sick and sore and unable to move. But I had control, and knew how long a chunk of meat would last me. When the hunger stopped hurting, I finished my work and fixed myself up. The hands never fit, but my motorcycle gloves lay wonderfully snug against Randall’s bigger wrists. Then I picked up his gun, breathed through his nose to feel my useless lungs swell in his chest, and went to tie up loose ends. 33
Photo by Jules Ermeo
Tertia: Momento Silentii Jerric Claridad The final beat, a deafening hush, As his body lies inert and cold The silence now a part of him, a rush As his story remains untold Silence creeps within the frame, Blood spouts, crimson and raw World begins to dwindle, lose its aim As he feels life ebb and withdraw Placidity trickles into his soul A suffocating weight, a pall Feels as though he’s lost control, As his consciousness starts to stall Silence echoes in his mind, Heart’s cadence dwindles low He wonders what he’ll leave behind As his heart begins to slow
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Failure Kate A. And I fear being a disappointment more than I fear the creatures in the dark. A terrifying creature lurks in the background All it takes is one little spark for that creature to be loud Although I try to fight, I’m not proud to be defeated My existence is solely for the convenience of others My demons whisper to me every day of my existence Mellow as it may be, it’s always there Mindless torture that nothing can compare I’m still afraid to this day that I live I don’t know how long I can hold on Is it genuinely living when my hope for life is gone? Insanity, Madness, and all sorts of travesty This is my ballad to the voice that won’t go away That every day I walk, I’m living as its prey There may be a time when I can fight back Though I know it’s meaningless, I still yearn to fight back Blessed are those without this burden Bold are the ones who conquer their demons But for me, they’re my companions in an endless world yet empty Brittle is my psyche in the face of my demons, I wait for my untimely destiny
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Haunted Affection coycoy Jealousy is the fear that make me scream Anytime can turns into a theme. Knocking your door is the only way to enter, Evading me is much more of a horror. Jigsaw is the puzzle that I can solve, Admiring you I cannot unsolved. Sitting, thinking, and day dreaming of you and I. Terror will be the result between goodbyes? Ice cream can be sweeter, Living this life is much more of a bitter. Lonely nights can be a ghost, Aching, breaking and faking are my host. Nevermore is the place of my dead feelings, Accepting the truth is the way I keep breathing.
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Black Mirror Mako Jane has always been insecure about herself. Ever since she and her family moved to Kryptonville. After moving there, she transferred schools and it was all so surreal. Don’t get it wrong, jane is used to repetitive transfers as her father works for the military. However, as time went by, having barely any strong socialization skills, she grew up filled with insecurities. As she enters the gates of Amazom university, she can already see the standards of living of students there. Many of the ladies wore luxury brands, expensive jewelry, and faces comparable to the goddess of beauty Aphrodite. As expected, Jane felt out of place, her insecurities grew like a monster made of shadows creeping around her shoulder, prying to eat her alive. Days can only last to the point where she scrammed to the nearest restroom on campus and screamed her frustrations out. There and then, she saw a handheld mirror left on top of the sink. It was outlined in a white fashionable and expensive design. But when she picked it up the restroom turned dark and in a split second the lights were on once more. But the mirrors were all shattered, all faucets were running wild and yet the handheld mirror remained intact. She stared into it and saw nothing but black. Opposite to its luxurious yet simplistic design, its reflection showed nothing but black. She touched the surface of the mirror and she was sucked into it. When she awoke, she was in a room filled with mirrors similar to a house of mirrors in a circus that showed different versions of herself. And a voice whispered yet echoed in the abysmal room "Who do you want to be?." Instinctively she chose one reflection that she believed would fit the standards of her current school. When she touched a shockwave sent her back and when she awoke once more. She was trapped inside the handheld mirror as her chosen reflection was staring into the mirror. She screamed, she is choking as she struggle to seek help. She cried and cried as she lost her consciousness. When she awoke she felt something was off, she looked into the endless abyss of the endless plane of a universe singularity of the handheld mirror. She failed to notice her lower half have since dissolved into grey figureless goo. Fear,Dread,Terror blackened her eyes as she can do nothing but to melt into what she is now destined to be. Her reflection continued on living how she would normally be but with a dark secret within as it carries the handheld mirror around. Days turned into months, which turned into years. It seemed as if hours have passed within her pocket dimension, but it seemed that the world progressed over decades. When suddenly a break of light shone upon a greyish, sluggish goo which awoke and saw a boy. A teenage boy filled with acne, snot falling from his nose, untidy and unclean braces as she pulled him into her pocket dimension and asked him the question. Who do you want to be?
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Illustration by Beanne Jaca
I’m stuck, but I know how to escape Angelic Feril Stuck in my bed for too long; reminiscing while in reverie. Been drowning in a song; depicting dark scenery. A song of agony and remorse, fascinating lovely, it’s kinda hoarse, breathtaking. I took a quick glance at the broken windowpane flashes one word in my head, "pain" A foreign word to me, but I’m captivated something that I can’t see, yet it captured my eye, indeed complicated I want to savor it up to my bones, but this handcuff won’t let me. I can merely reach the key, but my brain won’t let me be.
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Suffoctus Ghost Swimming in the sea of fear Tried so hard to impede danger. But it chasing me from darkness. In a bed wet of sweat hugging my knees, Wide awake like an owl overnight. Clinching my teeth and gripping those silky-smooth mattress tight. Running from those thoughts of nightmare So hard to Entangle my self in this awry.
Illustration by Antonio Ricardo B. Nobleza
PhotobybyAntonio Jules Ermeo Illustration Ricardo B. Nobleza
Fear Ladrido, Sean It waits in the darkness, Tucked away in plain sight, Standing in ambush, an unknown fright That I might have a deep and abiding terror. A chill runs up my spine, A feeling of dread and horror. I have this pervasive sense of danger, yet nothing can be seen. Fear of being nothing reduced to the wastes of the obscene. I face reluctance and freeze without a fight. this voice in my head is eloquent in the ways of terror it whispers to me every day of unknown horror, boundless to the extremes A voice in my head warns me to be wary of the unseen threats that lurk nearby. I’d rather not face my fears head-on, so I hole up in my room. Waiting for the courage that one day I can prevent my own doom.
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I Fear the Arrow s of Cupid Mako Am I the only one to fear the effects of the heart-shaped arrows? Given the primary purpose of these powers as the weapon of the elusive child of the goddess of love, is it considered normal to be afraid of it? Tales say that once shot with cupid’s arrow you will be blessed and fall in love. Then why do I fear it? Love is not something common you can find you beg destiny to push you into that situation thinking things like these arrows are real and yet you fall flat on you face and be at eye level with the reality that loving hurts. Loving scars, loving is scary. You fear that you will never be enough, you fear that you won’t have enough to offer, you get scared of being left alone. You overthink to the point where just when you though your life has turned pivotal to a brighter path you were wrong. Loving takes courage, strength, and, patience and yet you are overwhelmed with the thought that you won’t exactly ever have it all. Shadows creep behind your back saying that it would be best to be left alone, stay alone in this pain filled world. And then you came along, I see the sparkle in your eyes, I hear beating of your heart next to mine. Once more all these whispers crowd my mind I guess my fear has made itself known. I have been shot. Now I fear where will this path lead to. I fear the pain would come sooner or later, I cower thinking that all my smiles would cost me something in exchange. Cuz I fear Cupid’s arrow. Now that I fell victim to it, I fear how the affects of this shot will drive my life forward.
Illustration by Emmy Nava 44
Killing Me Jade I thought it was pure love love that conquers all The love that I’ve been dreaing of But it was the love That kills me from within You never saw my scars You only saw what I allowed you to see All those scars are hidden well Only those with pure intention Can see right through me I never knew love can kill you silently Emotionally It was the love that I never wanted to happen
Illustration by Beanne Jaca 45
Dimensional Drift Cortez In the abyssal nights where I find myself being stuck in a downward spiral, contemplating on what’s to come torturing myself as I reflect upon the situations that escalated thinking what transpired for the aftermath of my life to be like this, however the thought of you passed by and altered all negativity, it neutralized all the toxins that were clouding up my brain, however I reverted back to overthinking if this is actually real, am I in a trance? is all of this really possible, since all my life I disregarded possibilities of actually leaning on someone to share the weight of the world on my shoulders, and yet you swooped right by and then all those norms that I established for myself were broken, I was able to become normal and feel the rush of the this earth just for an instance, am I really in a trans or am I imagining things, that’s what I am in a fuss about right now however out of all the things that I thought about and all the dreams I have crossed dimensions to, if there is a possibility of this really being a fictional barrier for me I hope I’ll never get out of it
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Illustration by Emmy Nava
Insomnia
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Comic by Emmy Nava
Horror
the weakest of all. After the fearful thing has happened, you see its remainder, its relics. The grisly, hacked-up corpse. Your emotions range from nausea to pity for the victim.
Time Jade You may be lost But I’m still looking for you Every corner of the house I can still see your presence It may took a lot of years For me to see you again I may not talk about you But I always wanted you to be here Time can trick us I despise time because time took you away from us I know shouldn’t blame time I don’t want you to worry about us anymore I know your where you are now But we will miss you Always I want to start moving forward And I’m starting it For the future that you always dream of
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3 am Jade
it’s 3 am where a lot us are active overthinking crying silently crying the sad feeling are flowing it’s like a waves in the ocean Just cry it out take it out all of it 3 am where our fears flow up where our anxiety hunting us down but don’t get drown from it for there’s also a light in darkness
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Illustration by Beanne Jaca
Photo by Emman Giordan T. Jagmoc
Physical Discomfort davutism It’s from experience that a wave of peacefulness washes over after successfully reduced or eliminated a ritual. Of course, it’s hard and anxiety-provoking. But when It kicked the trick, internal fires died out. This body dysmorphic disorder slowly morphed me into a person I didn’t want to be. a person who struggled with his connections with others and himself. Instead of leaving with friends or relatives to venture out, I picked at my skin till I left scars on myself, then I remained inside to pick at the wounds. Several of the things I used to do was stare at these scars in the mirror until my vision grew weary and eventually lost focus. I found myself pulled to the things I detested while staring at them from various angles and trying not to blink, which made me feel quite uncomfortable. I had the impression that the mirror was going to lure me in its direction and call me names. Later, I made useless attempts to eliminate the scars, which simply led to scars that were bigger and thicker. BDD was indeed a destructive force in life. Despite the greatest efforts, there was only increasing carnage and hopelessness. I came to the realization that if I gave in to these obsessive ideas, it would only make my situation worse. I’ve discovered that if I give in to an obsession, it will continue to grow until it confuses me and affects my mood. BDD is preserving the outdated, unhealthy way of thinking.
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Unsaid Words last October Ghost I failed to keep my promise, I’m sorry. It was around October and your missed calls are flooding my notifications. I wasn’t home. I never felt like I was someone to be called a "home". So why did you keep coming back? Why were you driving me around the city? Why were you there when all I ever wanted was to be alone? "Hello?" For the last time, I wanted to hear your voice. You asked where I was at that moment and I knew you’d come. It was around October and it was raining. The gods knew I was on to something. They cried with me. "How are we?" I’d never thought I had to end it that way. All you did was be good to me and be everything I ever needed. It was around October and we were inside your car talking about where it went wrong and how to end it. "How I wish you can only see yourself in my eyes." I went out in the rain and you rushed to me with an umbrella. I stepped back. This time, I don’t want you saving me only for me to see you suffering. It was around October and I can still remember how every time you try to do something for me, you get yourself into trouble for doing so. "Promise me, you’ll take good care of yourself." 54
I smiled, drenched in the rain, in my pain, in millions of reasons why I can’t be with you. Slowly, I nodded. I swore deep in my heart, convincing myself that I’ll be fine on my own. It was around October when I last sat inside your car, Heard you laugh, Seen you cry, Felt your love. Years, months, weeks, days, hours, minutes, and seconds have come to pass. "Hello." Since October, it sounded like goodbye. "How are you?" I always lied. "How I wish you can only see yourself in my eyes." The words that weren’t meant for me. But "Promise me, you’ll take good care of yourself." Will never be for her. Will always be mine. And yet I failed to keep my promise, I’m sorry.
Illustration by Beanne Jaca
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Desquamation Mako It itches, my skin burns with this itch. It pains me like my body has lots of stitch. I scream on top of my lungs but it’s as if my mouth has been sewn shut! Mmpmhd mmodhfib, muffles are all that escape, as I feel a stirring in my gut. No matter how hard I scratch it cease to stop. Even to the point that blood has begun to drop. Then I felt it, a zipper behind my head. I reach for it my mind filled with dread. I pull it down slowly AHHHHHHHH!!!!!! The pain sears like a bear digging in his claw. I smell rotting and burning meat, I thought to let go. It’s the itch its driving me mad, and my head shouted No. Zziiipppp, I cried in agony as blood came gushing through my eyes. Further down the zipper went the pain seared through like a hundred degree knife The smell of rotting flesh filled the air As finally the zipper reached its end as I wept another bloody tear. I stepped out the leather textile on the floor. As the itch I felt was no more. I saw my body and face filled with pain and despair.
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Illustration by Antonio Ricardo B. Nobleza
Unspoken Words in the Rain Kent Montalvo The cold rain pattered against the roof of the small cottage, echoing through the empty rooms. Inside, a lone figure sat by the window, lost in thought as the raindrops lulled him into a state of contemplation. He thought of the person who used to be by his side, the one who had once filled his life with joy and laughter. But now, they had gone their separate ways, leaving him feeling lost and alone. He remembered the first time he met her, the uncertainty and nervousness he felt as he tried to gauge if the feeling was mutual. But before he knew it, he was falling for her, head over heels. For a brief moment, he thought she was the one he was meant to spend the rest of his life with, the one he would wake up next to every morning. But as time went by, their communication and interactions became more inconsistent, and the silence between them grew louder each night and every day. He waited for the perfect moment to speak up the words that he always wanted to say, but it never came. Before he knew it, they had drifted apart, leaving him lost once again. As he sat there, lost in thought, he suddenly remembered the last time that he saw her in a crowd full of people. She was close enough that he could reach out and touch her, but still so far away, beyond his grasp. He hesitated, torn between wanting to hold her again and knowing that it was no longer possible. He couldn’t be her shelter during the rain, or the place she could lay down and rest. He could only watch from a distance, silently admiring her for the last time. In that moment, he realized that all the memories they had shared meant nothing if they had left unspoken words within their hearts. He wanted to say the three words that had been on the tip of his tongue for so long, but he held back, knowing that it was enough. As he sat there, watching her fade into the crowd, he understood that what really mattered most in life were the words that were never spoken, the things left unsaid. And with that realization, he found peace within himself, even as the rain continued to pour outside. 58
Umbrella L ibra Through every storm I was drenched in rain, Lost and weary in endless pain. But then you appeared, like a guiding light. And suddenly everything felt right. With you by my side the sky was a cheerful song, And in your loving arms I knew where I belong. But now that you’re gone, fear grips my soul. And I’m left to face this raging storm, alone. The clouds of doubt gather and the rain falls hard. Like a thousand needles, piercing my heart. But I remember the lesson you taught me well. That I can always find shelter, with an umbrella. Even though we parted with tears, And even though you’re no longer here, I will always remember the love we shared, And how you helped me face my fears. With every storm I’ll open my umbrella, And I’ll think of you, and how you made me better. For with you by my side, the sky was always clear. And I know you’re still with me, even in my fear.
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Illustration by Emmy Nava
Photo by Nele Pacurib
I’m tired nobody I’m tired, Waking up with a pounding heart. though the sun’s shining with its rays, Monochrome - that’s how my world remains. I’m tired, I’m getting lost And imprisoned In a maze I created myself. I don’t know where I belong, Nor did I find the answer to my purpose. Do I deserve this? God why? I’m tired.
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The Crime Danielle Grapa and the guns revolved around his head, preventing him from claiming peace. he was his own prisoner in his own bars. bars he escaped every week and yet he declares it’s his comfort. he caged his thoughts in this cell he made that one can’t easily break through. cell of doubts, anger, fear, and just himself alone too. then the world decided to barge in, made him feel important, loved. it treated him the way any other man should be treated. he believed only to find out that they made him think that was what he deserved. with all the judgments, he was left with nothing. it was all taken away from him. now, he has a different perspective. they all blamed him for being himself. he took the blame but never apologized. "why? when everyone’s at fault, did "sorry" even cross their mind?" once again, he’s a suspect of a crime that the world was and will never be willing to admit.
Illustration by Emmy Nava
Captivation Scribbled - Writer When I speak my poem under the moonlight, A herd of butterflies takes flight, Then meadows and plums begin to bloom, He appear in beam of crimson moon, The scent of sampaguita seeps my clothes, Then he heard my scribbled words, He came like anticipation of spring, Obsession, Love, and fear he brings, I continued my unrhymed poem, I drown in river of flowery songs, Then my light ended obscure and frail, In his tight arms cold and pale, Then wind blows and crystals fall, I torn the rough pages and crawl, With cuts from chain and sharp sword, And bleeds from my own words, I lost for two hundred forty nights, In his eyes wrote a thousand lies, In his love rhymed and convincing, But he hids a metaphoric meaning, I regret speaking my poem in moonlight, The meaning dies and lost its light, Now flowers and grasses grow splendidly, I lose him and vanished completely, Now the winter conceal my scars, I wrote a poem bright as stars, Fearless, dauntless fine and better, From captivation of shape-shifter, 63
Verum Anxietatem Ladrido, Sean The world is full of dreams, so they say Seize the day, for no one, is promised tomorrow Blatant and untruthful messages the planet conveys Happiness comes often, but so does sorrow You can overcome this! What if I can’t? You’re not a failure! What if I am? You are so much more! What if I’m not? This is just temporary! What if it isn’t? A voice that everyone carries in their minds The bearer of fear, which often isn’t kind A hard pill to swallow for most And yet it haunts their everyday lives like a ghost. You try to deny or maybe forget But it stalks you, every time you rest the voice that tells you it won’t be alright A new form of terror, darker than the night You think you’re getting better, but deep inside, you know it’s a lie you’re confused as to why tears suddenly flow from your eyes your chest tightens as you try to get a grip and as it continues, you slowly let yourself go, closer to the crypt Is it genuinely living, if you’re a corpse inside? When you spend every day thinking it’s better to die You can try to hope for a better tomorrow But remember, the price of hope is an even greater sorrow
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Photo by Jules Ermeo
Philophobia Small Bean That excruciating pain as the air went into your lungs An element where your life hangs on As you wait in frustration, anxious of what is going on. The fear of being left behind by a loved one, slowly rots your head Unhealthy naratives in your mind seems like there’s no end From past traumatic experience you thought you will never face again But waiting in the darkness, it lurks, unhinged. Never thought of the thing that you needed to live, was the thing that that’s killing you within. For when you learned what you thought was true, unfaithfulness and lies once again haunts you. Regrets and disappointments embraced your frail body Disbelief filled your head as it taunts you with the memory Don’t be complacent and open ear Always remember you’ll attract what you fear.
Illustration by Antonio Ricardo B. Nobleza 66
Ako Sana kung Hindi L ang Charles Brillantes Sa ibong may tanglaw, Lagi ‘kong tanaw, Pananaw ng isang akda, Ang salitan ng mga salita. Sa ibong may tanglaw, Lagi akong sabaw Pananaw na hindi kita Ang sarili at mukha. Dagitab ng kakulangan, Pighati sa kahirapan. Ang mangarap ng mataas, Ay tinik sa’king dila. Pipi aking pangarap, Bulag sa kasalatan. Bingi aking diwa, Sa sakit ng Batasan. Takot ko ay nasa bukas, Sa hatid ng hangarin. Ang tumingin sa hindi nakikita, Ay tama na maling pag-asa. O aking sarili, Dilat ka sa dilim, Kakampi mo ang lagim, May ikakasaya ka pa ba? Sa daungan ng himpilan, Hintay ko ang limot, Batid ko ang pagkawala, Mangyari na magbago ang lahat. -----------------------------------Mangyari na magbago ang lahat, Pagkawala ay batid ko na, Limot na kay tagal kong hintay, Kung hindi lang. 67
Photo by Jules Ermeo
Onus Silentium
Jerric Claridad
No matter where he went, the silence was by his side constantly, a haunting presence that clung to him like a shroud. It was a burden that weighed heavily on his shoulders, encircling him with its suffocating embrace, like a python squeezing the life out of its prey. The void left inside of him by the death of a loved one seemed to be amplified by it, like an echo reverberating through an empty chamber. He used to be a gregarious and outgoing person, but now he glided through life like a shadow, always aware of the silence that seemed to follow him like a faithful hound. He made an effort to replace the stillness with noise, with music, and with conversation, but it only served to serve as a reminder of the silence that would be left behind once the commotion had died, like a wave receding back into the ocean, leaving behind only a faint echo of its passing. He was reminded of his own mortality and the transience of life by the silence, like a stern teacher lecturing him on the inevitability of death. It served as a persistent reminder that everything has an expiration date, like a clock ticking down the seconds of his life. The loss of those we love and the finality of death were both brought up, like dark clouds looming on the horizon. The stillness, which was also a teacher to him, served as a strict mentor who instilled in him the value of each moment, like a wise sage imparting knowledge to a student. That served as a sobering reminder that every breath matters, like a precious gem that must be cherished. It served as a reminder that although he had to look for them, there was grandeur and mystery all around him, like a hidden treasure waiting to be discovered. The whispers of his own soul could be heard in the stillness, pleading with him to press on and continue the struggle, like a gentle breeze urging him forward. It served as a reminder that he was not alone in feeling the same emptiness and void, like a beacon of hope in the darkness. 69
Healing in Solitude Kent Montalvo As she sat there, the memories of her past came flooding back. She remembered the countless battles she had fought, the endless nights she had spent crying, and the countless mistakes she had made. She had given so much of herself to others, and in return, she had received nothing but pain and heartache. But she knew that she couldn’t keep living like this. She couldn’t keep sacrificing her own well-being for the sake of others. She needed to take a step back and focus on herself for a change. She needed to heal her wounds and pick up the pieces of her broken heart. So she made the decision to ignore the screams of others and instead focus on her own needs. She knew that this might make her seem selfish to some, but she didn’t care. She needed to do what was best for herself, and that meant taking a break from the chaos of the world. As she sat under the starry sky, she felt a sense of peace wash over her. She realized that this was exactly where she needed to be, in this moment of solitude. She closed her eyes and let the calmness of the night embrace her. She felt her heart slow down, and her breathing steady, and she knew that she was on the right path. She let the stars above guide her on her journey towards a brighter future. She knew that it would be a long and difficult road, but she was determined to make it to the other side. She was determined to heal her wounds and find happiness once again.
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Sensitive Soul Within Aries I was usually alone, Reminiscing the past. Hearing sounds of lonely things, It is the sound of nothingness. Overthinking those things Through the dark, I can see the fear and sorrow Each breathe was sharp pain Like freezing cold air. I was damaged so deep Within this fear and sorrow. By the toxic energy that spill, Into the world harming my inner soul. Here it comes with realizations, That it is okay to feel and filled with those fears, I’m just a body with a sensitive soul within, To a past I used to know.
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Illustration by Beanne Jaca
Photo by Nele Pacurib
Stuck Pagunsan, Carw in D. In the midst of the abyssal forest, Sierra traversed through the crimson woods in her umpteenth time, with knowledge in mind, knife on the other, she slayed through countless foes, enemies, and forestlings. Memories flowed through her dance of blades as the music filled in on her Tango. As the opposition dies down, blood fills her Uniform, a white admiral uniform clads in dozens of awards, with silvery to boot. As she heads for the stairs she heard a nostalgic voice through the horizon, "Charlie! Charlie!", she rushes through ending roots of massive trees, fauna sticking their leaves out, she reaches of the crimson forest, there, a pond greeted her. There stood in the inner circle of the pond, a flower, with petals as thick as an inch stands out, thorns laid out with poison, and the fruit at the top. "A Karma flower" she remarked, she steps foot on the water slowly, slowly she focuses on the flower, sneeringly glares at it. Without noticing, the environment slowly changes as she made progress on the flower. She reached the flower with little attention to her surroundings as they appear completely white, like an empty room. Touching the flower, she was mesmerized on how soft its petals were, and the overflowing fragrance of the flower. Memories flood into her as she remembers the beginning of time, a curious fellow that wanted to explore the end, without thinking of the consequences of such action, and regrettably can’t seem to get out. Countless memories, voices, events, and members of her squad layered out as she watches it like a movie. And then, black, just black. The world fell, just that, numerous islands were falling through the void, mountains were flipped as it’s like a normal table. She fell, and fell, and fell, and what greeted her is not freedom, not peace, not tranquility, and neither the calmness she deserved. All upfront, laid out rhetorically, sticking like a sore thumb, was the damn crimson woods. Again, in her ∞th time, she traversed the woods.
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Overdosed Leo Every eight hours says the doctor, so, you decide to trust the time, or until the pain recedes, he adds, so put your feelings aside, this might take some time. At night you down the capsules and a glass of water prescribed, under the influence, you slumber. under the covers your hide. The morning you wake up. and that’s when you realized. Things did not heal, and it felt so unreal. So, you stop looking for symptoms, you no longer trust the signs for if the cure were to reveal itself, it would never be so kind.
Illustration by Emmy Nava 74
Goodbye
August
Drain off your sanity, face the thing that should not be. Finding you and losing you was a branch of cruelty. I don’t know what to say to you, except that it tore the heart out of my body. -saying goodbye to you.
Forever Treasured L ove L ibra Tears flowed like a boundless sea, On the day you bid farewell to me. All that remained was fear and dread, Of never finding someone like you instead. You were the one who made my heart sing, A joy that seemed to have no ending. Now I’m left with a void inside, Yearning for the love I cannot find. But I hold on to the memories we shared, The happiness that once we paired. Though you’re gone, your love still lingers, A precious gift that forever will be treasured. 75
(un)friend Nobody Betrayal is a monster, that imperilled friendship we once built. Invoked by a shattered trust, A fragile heart bleeds Tainting once kaleidoscopic past. You just lost a companion, Who constantly reminds you You’re enough, worthy and valid. Who will always tell you the truth No matter how painful it may be. Who will cheer you up Amidst your uncertainties. Too late to ponder, For a chaos you created yourself. A ‘Sorry’ may aid the wound But won’t heal the scar.
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Photo by Jules Ermeo
Acknowledgement The success of this literary folio is greatly due to the following people whose efforts and passion serve as its very heart, breathing and giving life into every page. Some may see their act as small and minimal but together they form the very essence of this folio. The complete hard work, effort, and dedication of these people is what shines in every page. To the contributors for lending us their wonderful minds and talents in helping us complete and form the folio into the masterpiece, it is now. Your efforts and hard work have been stepping stones to the success of the creation and completion of this folio. For that I am forever grateful. So shall it be that this folio be a testament to your aspirations and the manifestation of your creative soul and mind. So shall it be an inspiration and guide as well for others on there creative journey. To Joshua Malapitan our current Editor-in-Chief for helping me arrange the creative ideas throughout the journey of completing this folio. Guiding me along the way and providing insights that help lay down a solid foundation that this folio was built upon. To my creative team Antonio, Emmy, Bab, Nele and Beanne for taking on the task of breathing life to what I thought were just my mere imagination. Taking this folio on a whole new level with your outstanding skills in providing graphics and illustrations which made this folio complete. Without you guys this folio will not come into fruition. Thank you for all of your hard work and persistence in your top notch outputs and being one of the major pillars for this folio. To Jeaven Iyl Musni who served as our model despite her busy schedule, thank you for being one of the core aspects of this folio. For lending us with your time and beauty that fitted the brief in what we have envisioned for the cover of this folio. Your beauty and charisma will always shine no matter what the brief of the photoshoot is. To the Carrier Publication whom I have since considered more as a family rather than just a mere organization. For being ever so cooperative and hands on in the completion of this folio. Thank you for all of your hard work, insights and support in every step of the way for the completion of this folio. To my Family, Friends and Mentors I would not be here if it were not for your support, teachings and help. I wouldn’t be the creative writer that I am now if it weren’t for you. Thank you for always listening to my ideas even though sometime it would sound absurd, thank you for your words of comfort and support when times got rough and when I thought I would never see this folio come through. Your presence in my life is what got me through and helped me along the way. With all that I am as a writer and with all that I have in my heart I offer my deepest and utmost gratitude to all of you. For it weren’t for all of you this would never have been made possible. I have made sure that all of your hard works and efforts will forever be remembered even through the passage of time, immortalized in the creation of this folio. 79
Snippets from Metus What is it that terrifies me? How come I’m so afraid? Is it the individuals I’ve harmed or those who have harmed me? Is there anything that frightens me that I can’t seem to see?
L ife Dilemma, Vince Dave Duquilla hold on to it, hold on tight. until there is no room for breathing, until what’s left is that bright light. You nearly died for nothing, my child.
Paranoia, Leo I wonder what it takes, To stop drowning To stop feeling I wonder what it takes to stop wishing That I could stop Existing
Dread, Alpha Fear is a creature of anomaly. You never know what youre gonna see. It is something that has no definite shape color, or size just this dark void of a hole. Yet, all this time you have this vivid image of it carved into your mind and soul.
Formido, Alojado Jeremy Josh III. Death Time is running out, look at the clock. I’m running out of breath. The third step is a bad luck, And now I face my death.
Oro, Plata, Mata, Paul Ivan Quezon In silence, I closed my eyes and listened to the humming fear caressing my courage to sleep as the teardrops fell from my weary eyes.
I saw the light, and it burns!, Angelic Feril Wherever you go, there are vultures watching you. You do not need to be careful if you are pure, there is nothing for you to be afraid of. Just be you and do the best you could do.
Vultures, Jan Ivan Magin
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When I die, tell mom and dad not to bury me six feet underground. instead, burn me into ashes—let my fragile body blaze in the sweltering inferno of sweet demise. place me in the urn to remind you that once, we were dust and to dust therefore we shall return.
Deathbed, AC Himaya V. Tupas I always fear of being rejected, I fear being forsaken, I feel failure...
Thanatophobia, nobody I cower thinking that all my smiles would cost me something in exchange. Cuz I fear Cupid’s arrow. Now that I fell victim to it, I fear how the affects of this shot will drive my life forward.
I Fear the Arrow s of Cupid, Mako 3 am where our fears flow up where our anxiety hunting us down
3 am This body dysmorphic disorder slowly morphed me into a person I didn’t want to be. a person who struggled with his connections with others and himself.
Physical Discomfort, davutism Do I deserve this? God why? I’m tired.
I’m Tired, nobody You can overcome this! What if I can’t? You’re not a Failure! What if I am? You are so much more! What if I’m not? This is just temporary! What if it isn’t?
Verum Anxietatem, L adrido, Sean
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Obituary References of Phobia and Fear Atychiphobia Fear of Failure Failure p.36 The Crime p.62 Verum Anxietatem p.64 Stuck p.73 Paranoia p.9
Autophobia Fear of being alone, left behind, and losing identity Life Dilemma p.5 A Weight of a Smile p.8 Dread p.11 Is It Truly a Bliss? p.12 Thanatophobia p.28 Black Mirror p.38 Physical Discomfort p.53 Unsaid Words Last October p.54 Desquamation p.56 Unspoken Words in the Rain p.58 Umbrella p.59 I’m Tired p.61 Philophobia p.66 Onus Silentium p.69 Goodbye p.75 (un)friend p.76
Chronophobia Fear of passing time A Moment Suspended in Time p.6 Relo p.7
Xenophobia Fear of unkown Oro, Plata, Mata p.16 Formido p.15 Choice of Their Own p.21 Deathbed p.24 Tertia: Momento Silentii p.35 Fear p.43 Dimensional Drift p.46 84
The Carrier Editorial Staff S.Y. 2022-2023
D/C Joshua B. Malapitan Editor-in-Chief
Jerric R. Claridad Associate Editor
Bab Christian D. Sanchez Managing Editor
Sean Sergie J. L adrido News Editor
Vince Dave T. Duquilla Feature Editor
Jeremy Josh Alojado Literary Editor
Emmy S. Nava
Layout and Graphics Editor
Beanne Y. Jaca Jerammel Leandro L. Anlap Graphic Artist
Antonio Ricardo B. Nobleza Cartoonist
Angelic Cheil E. Feril Marc G. Cortez John Leigh M. Defante Angelo Ryan D. Giltendez Jethro Rei D. Giltendez Danielle G. Grapa Joje Ken T. Montalvo Carw in D. Pagunsan Staff Writers
Nele Stephen M. Pacurib Senior Photojournalist
Jules Andrie E. Ermeo Emman Giordan T. Jagmoc Photographers
Grace D. Ibardolaza, MME Moderator