Morpheme Issue 6 August 2022 by La Estrella Verde

MORPHEME ISSUE NO. 6

A.Y. 2021-2022

mor∙pheme noun. /’môr fēm/ – a writer’s thorough armor in surviving the war of dying

ISSUE NO. 6

Along the untrodden paths of the woods

PhotographersContributorsLayoutArtistsWritersArtists

Cover art by Jannbeau Amadeus Rain Astrero Divider art by Denise Preclaro Literary in-Charge

Ara Janine Palecpec Marcea Alcala, Wrenzhie Arroyo, Pia Heart Lambuson, Paulyn Dianne Laude, Anina Jiliana Manuel, Aqeena “Qyns” Reyes, Bianca Jan Sibayan, Gabriel Dale Tejido Sean Jacob Altoveros, Jannbeau Amadeus Rain Astrero, Cecilia Nazarine Bicol, Klaire Niña Llarena, Rianne Nicole Ocampo, Denise Preclaro, Reanne Ashley Roguel, Liam Nico Sullivan, Jasmin Delos Reyes, Aya Ahmad, Aiser Levi Duque Nikki Alexis Antonio, Angienette Laurza, Jan Anthony Murillo, Juliana Ellice Polancos

Sayf Abouasy, Ara Janine Palecpec, Guen Marie Sapinit, Ma. Gizelle Nicole Sanson, Benedict Tawatao, Serge Angelo Quiambao, Ferdinand Lance Launico Elisha Jezreel Ang, Jethro Dela Cerna, Nicole Infante, Angienette Laurza, Tricia Faye Velasco

ABOUT THE COVER Along the absence of light are concealing plethoras Bringing elusivity in the hunters’ wishful eyes But they come to light even without plea To usher captive minds in the abyss

Hindi natin hawak ang mga pakay ng nakapalibot sa atin, ngunit may mga pagkakataon na matatamo ang mga bagay na makatutulong upang harapin ang karimlan.

Ang Scroll na naglalaman ng mensahe o mga pahiwatig bilang gabay, ang Nazar bilang kasangga sa kasuklaman ng mundo, ang Elixir na huhubog sa paglago ng pagkatao, at ang Quartz bilang magpapaunawa sa kabuuan ng lakbaying ito.

PAUNANG

Habang mga istoryang hindi mailimbag ang naging eksplorasyon ng mga literary writers at artists para sa ika-anim na isyu ng Morpheme, nais kong ilakip dito sa munting talata na nakarating na tayo sa ating destinasyon dahil hinarap natin ang masukal na daan.

SALITAARAJANINE Literary in-Charge

PALECPEC

Simulan ang iyong paglalakbay ng may katatagan at buksan ang isipan sa malikhaing paraan. Sa bawat yapak at kaluskos na nililikha ng ating mga paa sa kakahuyang walang katiyakan, marahil umuusbong ang mga makamundong nilalang na pipilitin tayong mahumaling dito. Isang nakabibighaning bulaklak na maaaring mahiwaga o nakalalason, sino ang makakapagsabi ng tamang sagot nang hindi pa ito dumadapo sa balat upang magamit ang pansalat, pati ang natitirang limang pandama?

At sa wakas, aming inihahandog ang panibagong paksa, dala ang mga simbolo na sumasagisag sa mga kalasag ng ating lakbayin. Huwag lumihis at maligaw sa mga palatandaang aming nilagay. Magkita-kita tayo hanggang dapit-umaga.

FRANCHEZ CASSANDRA ESCANDER Editor in Chief

But at the end of the day, each scar and wound that we received will provide us with a story to tell. So it is through the works of these writers, artists, and photojournalists, that the sixth issue of Morpheme was brought into reality. When we are to face countless behemoths in our path, let these tales of triumph, defeat, and sorrow be our guide in our odyssey.

MESSAGE

Humans are animals of wisdom. People learn and adapt to whatever environment they are placed in. And while it is true that learning from your past mistakes will help you move forward, continuing will not be the same as the weight of your shortcomings will soon add up and weigh you down. However, navigating through life without an idea of what lies ahead is like traversing the woodlands without a lantern, hoping that whatever being you encounter will be tamer compared to the monsters in your past battles. So as the journey progresses, be it in real life or make-believe, we are bound to make difficult choices. Oftentimes, those decisions may require us to sacrifice and leave some part of ourselves behind. Even if we are not yet ready, we need to make a judgment call—to jump or to be left behind.

41 Papuring bulaan by Aqeena “Qyns” Reyes 46 Pagtangis ng kahapon at kinabukasan by Paulyn Dianne Laude 47 Toll of a transit’s torment by Guen Marie Sapinit (HMS23) Art by Benedict Tawatao (ICT21) 44 Hamarchy by Pia Heart Lambuson 42 Ascent to the depths by Gabriel Dale Tejido Art by Cecilia Nazarine Bicol 31 Not Hansel & Gretel by Ara Janine Palecpec Art by Klaire Niña Llarena 37 The eclipse staring into my eyes by Marcea Alcala Photo by Ara Janine Palecpec (ABM22) 34 Project Misfire by Anina Jiliana Manuel & Ara Janine Palecpec 39 Sayaw, nene by Wrenzhie Arroyo Nazar 19 Kamikazee by Gabriel Dale Tejido Art by Rianne Nicole Ocampo 23 The natural compass by Bianca Jan Sibayan Photo by Jethro Dela Cerna 28 Rectifying dreams by Paulyn Dianne Laude 22 Sa tabi ng walang sinuman by Anina Jiliana Manuel 25 Patnubay sa kasalukuyan by Marcea Alcala Photo by Ara Janine Palecpec (ABM22) 9 Ice Prince by Serge Angelo Quiambao (STM115) Art by Sayf Abouasy (ICT21) 16 See the light by Wrenzhie Arroyo Art by Sean Jacob Altoveros 12 Limang kilometro by Aqeena “Qyns” Reyes Photo by Tricia Faye Velasco 18 Tuldok-kuwit by Ara Janine Palecpec Scroll

Paper in the wind by Ferdinand Lance Launico (STM11) 51 The antidote to a55 The house without a roof by Marcea Alcala Photo by Jethro Dela Cerna 53 60 Infusion of false rejuvenation by Aqeena “Qyns” Reyes Art by Ma. Gizelle Nicole Sanson (ICT11) 62 The epitome of happ(i)ness by Anina Jiliana Manuel Elixir

Scroll The enchiridion of the trek in the thick of orthodox and hoaxes.

The mob closed in on me step by step. Of course they’d want to savor the moment of my death. Well, they have another thing coming. I turned to them, “Did you think it was possible that I’d go here if it wasn’t planned?”

Ice Prince Serge Angelo Quiambao (STM115)

“You stupid boy. Running to the path of the cliff. You must be eager to follow your mother,” one of them shouted. It was Douglas—if my recognition was correct—my wrinkly and bald neighbor. He showed us only a drop of kindness in all the time our houses were intact. But ever since knowing what I was, that tiny ounce of kindness disappeared. To say such a thing even though he attended my mother’s funeral. She died of old natural causes. All I will say. That will be all for my train of thought as I stopped. My feet inches away from the cliff and the pool of mist that veiled whatever was beyond it.

The sound of hatred. It was all I could hear as I ran for my life, my soul fueled with adrenaline as I did. I looked away from behind those chasing me and observed the path of sand and pebbles with the grass-filled edges in its way. Ice formed on the ground mixed with the sand with every touch of my feet. My cold breath exhales vapors of chill air. The toll for running at such a fast pace. The mob of ordinary people behind me, certain in their hearts and minds that I must die for they see me as a freak. When the truth is, they are just envious of my gifts and found that it was enough reason for my death. For I was not like them—not mundane. I was something far more special than them. Blessed with the powers of ice and snow that I got from my father. Smiting them was easily done and even more easily said but I had something more dramatic in mind. Something with a bit more flare. Something they won’t see coming.

All their faces shifted from excitement to doubt. My words planted second thoughts. I was telling the truth after all. “Death comes to everyone. But mine is not now, and it is definitely not in the hands of you, pathetic lot.” With that, I stepped backwards but kept my eyes on all of them. They flinched as I got closer and closer to the edge. Finally, my foot slipped and I fell. Gasps released as I plunged into the mist.

I read in one of mother’s scrolls before that a philosopher once said: “I am not so stupid to do something that I will regret later on.” I feel as if I have become that person and smiled at them. At the scared little villagers who fear my retribution. But I won’t do it, because I know better. So I flew far away. Though I had nowhere to go, I will find one that I can forever call home.

The heavy, cold wings behind me obeyed. They dragged the air under me, pushing my body upwards with every move. I wanted to reach above the cliff, and I felt them drag me up faster, piercing through sound itself. Before I knew it, I flew above the sight where I fell. Looking down on the people who looked at me with bitter surprise. The daylight shone through my wings. I could only imagine what I looked like to them from this view. A figure of power and beauty. Something they can never do.

10SCROLLMy magic as of the moment was not at its full potential. Mother had them sealed before in order to protect me. But now that the seal has loosened and was the reason for the mob in the first place, Mother also prepared a potion for unsealing my magic. I have it here with me. My hands reached to the necklace hidden in the collar of my shirt. A small elixir, the size of a pendant chained to my neck with gold. I opened the lid attached to the chain and drank the spoon-full blue liquid straight in. I breathed in, a notion to awaken my magic. The icy vapors of my exhales thickened with adrenaline. The tips of my fingers turned pale. My eyes whose colors were dark brown turned to sapphire blue. If I look in the mirror then I would have thought that my eyes were the Nazar itself. The evil eye which somewhat suits my situation. Anyways, I think I should carry on with what I’m doing. I have to focus and stop falling. Form A crystallized extension rose from the upper parts of my spine and sprung forward and curved like the outline of wings. Soon, dozens of feathers clumped together in an orderly design and hung from the icy extensions on my back. My head hurt from turning too long as I was so stunned by the beauty of the wings that formed behind me. They glistened like quartz and rang with the wind. If my tears had not frozen, I would’ve cried from their elegance. But the show was not over. It hasn’t even started. I can’t let those fools think that they’ve won. Flap.

11 Dionysus Sayf Abouasy ICT21

“Vi? Anong ganap? Nakakunot ang noo mo, girl,” banggit naman ni Azalea. Tuloy-tuloy pa rin ang koro ng mga tao habang nalalapit nang magsimula ang parada. Dito, binigyangdiin ang kulay ng mga dekorasyon sa campus pero kitang-kita ang kaputlaan sa mukha ni Olivine galing sa tanong ng kanyang kaibigan.

Tumagal ng ilang segundo ang tawa ni Azalea bago bigyan ng maayos na sagot si Olivine.

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Aqeena “Qyns” Reyes Mabibigat na yapak ang nililikha ng mga indibidwal habang nakahawak sa kani-kanilang mga instrumento. Sa courtyard ng paaralan, tumatagaktak ang pawis ng ilan dahil bukang-liwayway pa lamang, nakahanda na ang grupo ni Olivine para magtanghal. Sa bawat hampas ng panambol ng mga drummers ay siya ring pagsabay ng tibok ng puso ni Olivine.Kungtatanungin ang dalaga, hindi niya rin alam kung paano ikalma ang sarili kung kailan maraming mga bantang nagsimulang umulap sa kanyang isipan. Bakit ba kasi ako ang pinili? Alam kong flag-bearer talaga ako pero karapat-dapat ba na nandito ako ngayon? May oras pa siguro akong makauwi nang walang makakapan— Napabitaw“Boo!” si Olivine sa kanyang hawak na bandila at napagtantong ang kanyang kaibigang si Azalea ang gumulat sakanya. “Azalea! Anong problema mo? Kailangan mo ba talaga akong takutin nang gano’n?!”

Lumingon si Olivine sa hawak ng kanyang katabi at napansin ang kaibahan ng kanikanilang bandila—tila mas malaki ang kanya. Dumagdag ito sa pakiramdam niyang mayroon siyang responsibilidad.

“Pasensya na, Vi! Naisip ko na kailangan mo ng magpapaluwag sa isip mo, ang seryoso kaya ng mukha mo.” Hindi napigilan ni Olivine ang pag-irap sa walang kabuluhang lohika ng kanyang kaibigan. Dito, iniabot ni Azalea ang nahulog na bandila kay Olivine. “Nga pala, sabi raw ng mga nasa faculty, nasa pitong daang estudyante ang manonood sa atin ngayong taon! Paano kaya sila kakasya sa dadaanan nating mga kalsada?!” hiyaw ng kasama. “Ilang kilometro ba ulit ang dapat nating maabot?”

“Lima. Limang kilometro.” “Limang kilometro! Tapos, ‘di pa nila naisipang simulan agad ang parada!” Kung sana nga hindi na lang nila ituloy.

Limang kilometro

“Sa totoo lang, Azalea, ikaw talaga ang mas angkop sa ganito. Alam mo lagi kung ano ang gagawin,” saad ng dalaga. Isang ngiti ang lumitaw sa kanyang kausap bago ito tumanggi.

Sa pagkakataong ito, walang salitang lumabas mula sa bibig ng kanyang kasama. Sa halip, napalitan ito ng mahigpit na pagkakahawak sa kanyang kamay.

Limang minutong countdown ang sumunod at patuloy na nakinig si Olivine sa kasama. Habang nakatingin sa harapan, pinagdikit niya ang kanyang mga palad. At sa isang saglit, bumalik ang mas maayos niyang paghinga. Ang natira nilang mga kasama sa banda ay nagsimula nang sumiksik sa sari-sarili nilang mga posisyon. Sumabay si Azalea sa martsa. “Kaya tandaan mo lang: kaliwa, kanan, kaliwa, kanan.” Bumugso ang hiyaw sa kanilang paligid at sinimulan na ng banda ang pamilyar na hymn ng paaralan. Kita sa paghawak sa kanyang bandila na mas nagkaroon ng tiwala si Olivine sa kanyang sarili. Sa pagkakataong ito, isinaisip niya ang mga binigkas ni Azalea sa bawat hakbang. Kaliwa, kanan, kaliwa, kanan. Sa isang punto ng kanyang pag-ngiti habang iniikot ang bandila, nakukutob na niya ang dulo ng parada.

Nagkatinginan ang dalawa nang saglit, huminga nang malalim si Olivine, at sinimulan ang Inilahadkomprontasyon.niOlivine

ang kanyang kapintasan sa kanilang pag-uusap. Maikli ngunit malinaw, malapit na niyang isuko ang responsibilidad na kanyang inaalala.

“Sa kasamaang-palad, walang malinaw na sagot,” sagot ni Azalea. “Gayunpaman, alam ko ang dahilan kung bakit tayo naging magkaibigan.” Hinila ni Azalea ang kaibigan mula sa kinatatayuan nila. Sampung minuto na lamang ang natitira sa orasan at nakatayo silang dalawa ngayon sa frontlines. Inaayos ng mga musikero ang mga straps ng kanilang xylophones habang ang iba naman ay naghahanda na sa pagtugtog ng kani-kanilang “Nakatadhanatrumpeta.tayongmaging magkaibigan para masabi ko na nasa likod mo lang ako, at sa bawat hakbang na gagawin mo, susunod kami sayo.”

“Olivia Vienne Olimberio, binigay sayo ang tungkulin na ito nang may dahilan.”

“Ano naman iyon?” tanong ni Olivine.

Tricia Faye Velasco Glistening twilight

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“it’s a scary world out there,” her mother said “ruffians, thugs, poison ivy, quicksand,” she added “you’ll be safe here, I promise.” Rapunzel then wondered am I going to be in solitary forever? her mind was running in circles but she finally decided how her story goes, it is not going to be inside these stone walls but outside her tower, beyond the bumpy roads. if life and destiny were already written, then she’s going to find the scrolls of fate, and burn them.

See the light

Wrenzhie Arroyo paints of pink and blue hues bled through the horizon like acrylics smeared over an unending white canvas the smell of cold fresh air filled her lungs, cueing the start of a sunshine stardust lay on her crystal-black orbs as sweet Rapunzel gazed outside her window completely mesmerized by the beautiful landscape, longing to experience outside her stone walls a flock of chirping birds flew by flapping their wings freely and untamed, uncaring of the worries of this cruel world and she couldn’t help but turn green with envy

Sean Jacob Altoveros Change the Fates’ Design

Ara Janine Palecpec saPaghinahon,mgapitik ng rumaragasang alon na kumakalabit sa talampakan at dinumog ng buhanging uhaw sa nagtitipong yapak ng kahapon. saPagsandal,binhing nalumbay nang kay tagal na kusang yumabong sa kalaunan at naghintay ng siglang nawaglit sa landas ng isang taimtim na dasal. saPagtangis,tulinng mga kabanatang lumihis na dulot ng pabugso-bugsong mithi at kapalarang tinatangay ng luha sa dalampasigan o hantungang nais. saPagtahan,hikbing dumating na sa hangganan na tanda ng bagong pag-usbong at pansamantalang ugoy sa duyan sa paglisan mula sa nakaraan.

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Tuldok-kuwit

Ramdam ang bigat na dala ng hangin na pumulupot sa akin noong araw na iyon. Umagang tila malalagutan ng hininga sa bigat ng mga ulap. At sa pagmumuni-muni, nabuo ang mga aninong tahimik na bumubulong mula sa aking nakalulumbay na nakaraan.

Nanumbalik sa akin ang pakiramdam ng pag-iisa. Bakit masisira ang pagsasama na kasing tatag ng mga punong sentenaryo? Buong araw kong inalala ang mga pinagsamahan, munting kaligayahan, at nahating pagkakapamilya. Isang papel ang nahulog mula sa litrato nang maglipit ako sa aming mga gamit—kalatas na iniwan sa’kin, sa’tin.

“Ano ‘yan? May sinusulat ka na naman.”

“Oh, bakit? Malay mo sa susunod na mga taon, isa sa atin ang makabasa nito tapos maaalala lahat ng pinagdaanan natin, ang gandang pakinggan, ‘di ba?”

19 Kamikazee Gabriel Dale Tejido

Mga bulong na halos hindi ko mabatid dahil sa taimtim na salita ngunit buo ang emosyon. Nanghina at natahimik ako nang lumingon sa kanilang pigura. Matang puno ng alitan, bitbit ang mga ngiting hindi malilimutan.

Ramdam pa rin ang panghihinayang sa pagbabalik-tanaw sa mga kaibigang naglisan. Ngayon, nang maghiwalay tayo ng ruta upang tahakin ang sari-sariling landas, sino nga ba ang dapat sisihin kung hindi ang sarili? Kung maghahanay muli ang mga bituin para sa atin, babalik ang mga mata, mga nakaraang gunita.

“Sang-ayon ako sa sinasabi mo. Ibigay mo kay Chen at siya ang magtatago niyan ”

“Bakit mukhang scroll ‘yan?”

“Ilagay mo sa litrato natin tapos ipatago natin kay Chen para hindi mawala kahit maghiwa-hiwalay man tayo.” Sa aking pagbasa, hindi mapigilan ang mga luha sa aking mga mata, nakikita ko pa ang kanilang mga mukha sa tila matingkad na alaala. Para sa makakabasa nito sa susunod na mga taon, kami’y nagpapasalamat na nagtagal ‘to para mabasa mo. Kahit anong mangyari, magkasama man tayo o hindi, gusto naming tandaan mo na pamilya pa rin ang turing natin sa isa’t isa. Nagsama na tayo ng ilang taon, hindi na magbabago iyon.

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-J. J. J. D Sigurado akong magkikita muli tayo sa susunod na mga taon o kahit dekada pa. Hanggang dumating ang oras na ‘yon, hindi ako makakalimot habang yapos ang balumbon na nagpapahiwatig ng ating pagkakaibigan.

“Ayaw mo no’n? Ang angas nga eh. Hali nga kayong lahat dito, sulatan niyo ng mensahe para sa mga sarili natin sa future.”

Rianne Nicole Ocampo What Was Once Ours

Sa tabi ng walang sinuman

At tumatakas ang mga abo Sa muling paghinga ng mitsa

Anina Jiliana Manuel Unti-unting humuhupa banta ng siklab Sa paghahalinhinan ng buwan at araw Sumasabay sa hangin ang lumalagos na lamig Ang himpilan ng panglaw, tanging sumasalig Ang mahagway nitong anyo Sa likod ng silweta nangangamba Habang kumakawala ang ningas

At pagbilis ng taghoy ng pagkit Lumalaho ang usok Ang kislap nito, tila tumitilamsik

Umalab ng dilaw ang munting apoy Sa tabi ng maaaring tutustos ng kapit

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Ngunit sa tuwing humahampas ang hagayhay Kaninong ilaw siya lalapit?

The natural compass

Bianca Jan Sibayan

How does one find direction, when there arises a splitted road?

The resonating sound of clinking glass, upon conquering the valley of fears. Cheers from distant celebration pass, yet one remains adrift in tears.

Down the winding rabbit hole, follows the tingling blue wisps.

Whispering hints at a compass of gold, while drifting down the spiraling abyss. But, gold tarnishes to black, like how metal loses its luster. The blue wisps would never go back, thus torment floods your mind faster. Back to the divergent road, to once again decide your faith. A natural guide found in you is bestowed, as you decide the route you’ll take.

While one’s clouded with tension, each path is concealed in guises.

Jethro Dela Cerna Attraction to the Luminosity

Patnubay sa kasalukuyan

Pinalaya sa rolyo ang mapang ginto tulad mong munting bilanggo. Hinahanap ang direksyon ng kinabukasan ngunit blangko ang hilaga, timog, at silangan. Nakadikta lamang ang siping— sa pagmamahal ng dapithapon, hindi pasisiil. Saang direksiyon hihimlay ang iyong mga tala, kung isa itong bituing-alpas sa takipsilim? Balumbon ng pitong taong gulang, huling tudla upang makamit ang minimithi. Sa pagpikit ng daang bunga ng plahiyo, saan ka lilingon? Pakiusap, tumugon

Marcea Alcala Hinuhukay ng dilat mong mga kamay ang pitong taon nang inilibing na mga tala, at sa mga palapag ng putik at hiyas, bula ang halaga sa matang walang himlay.

Kumikinang sa ritmo ng hikbi kada pulgada ng kahapon, hanggang nasinagan na ng buwan, mapa sa lupa na dati mong ikinukubli.

Ara Janine Palecpec chronicles. ABM22

I was in my second year of college, spending each night thinking I was going to drown in the abyss of my degree for the rest of my life. For hundreds of nights, I had chosen not to cry, but I worried a lot about whether my family would be disappointed if I dropped the course.Ifeltlike my inner self in its own universe was being deprived from catching the stars. I was living out someone else’s dreams.

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“Oh, you’re as good as your dad. Design my house soon, huh, Arki?” my relatives would often compliment me at family gatherings. They were all anticipating that I’d be like dad in the near future.

As time passed by, I found it difficult to motivate myself when the things I had to do were the ones I didn’t truly have an interest in. I had done everything I could to prove that I was fine with it.

My dad is a renowned architect in the field. I am his only son, and everyone knew that I would follow in his footsteps.

The college course I took was merely a choice my father imposed on me—expecting that I would shine in his same career.

I just let him check a few of my plates before I submit them to my professor. I allowed him to look at my work from time to time because he really wanted to see my progress.

Paulyn Dianne Laude

“Right,” I couldn’t help but just smile softly while squeezing his hand back before quickly walking out of his office.

“I know you’ll be a prominent architect someday,” my dad said, grabbing my hand and squeezing it.

Rectifying dreams

They say that sometimes you just have to make a big mistake to figure out how to make things right. My mistake was how I let myself live other people’s dreams.

“It must be up to you how you live. It is fine to feel like you are not in the right place, but do not let yourself feel lost in limbo for a very long time. Be bold and unwavering in chasing your own dreams.” Those were the last few lines of my valedictory speech that I delivered when I graduated from my medicine degree program with latin honors.

Not until I was in my third year when I finally let my curiosity on what it is like to take the course I genuinely love be satiated.

“No! You are not going to change courses,” my father’s chest flushed. He slammed his book down on the table, clenched his jaw as his nostrils flared, and stared at me. “Do not waste this. You are halfway there.” His words stung deeply. “That is the case! I am halfway there, but I still couldn’t see myself happy taking this course,” I replied while blinking away my tears.

There had been a sudden, horrible silence in which I nearly wept. “This would not make me thrive. I have to create the life of my dreams. My own dreams, dad. Just please trust me on this one. Let me be my own guide,” I continued as I held my tears from streaking down my face. My father looked at me intently. He was quiet. “But you are good at this, child,” he argued, finally. My lips pursed slightly as I looked at a place over his shoulder before I met his eyes again.

“I want to be great, dad. I want to be great,” I told him, without breaking our gaze.

A few days after that, my father allowed me to shift to another course where I actually saw myself fitting in. My heart is in medicine. I just know I will strive here no matter what the circumstances are, and this will certainly bring forth my potential.

Nazar The aegies countering malevolence in attempts of mischief.

These colossal oaks that I pass by never lose my sight, not even an inch. They’re like great walls of raw umber hedging me from the famished predators—from whom I assume the patterns of the callow and some withered lichen coiling on the aged bark are part of the hints. Each trunk is marked with it, perhaps a trace of the unknown’s existence from the millennia that passed.

I suddenly became tired from the walks, so I decided to ask what I could drink from his menu. To keep the atmosphere from becoming awkward, I completely avoided looking muddled about how bizarre this place is.

Not Hansel & Gretel Ara Janine Palecpec

How come this tavern looks spirited and alive from the outside but no one is here except for the two of us? Not to mention, the beverages stacked on the counter look like they were prepared years ago. I suppose all of the dishes are tasty because of the long period of fermentation, hopefully.

At this moment, I want to be unescorted while wandering. Only the crackling sound of leaves and twigs became my companion. Still, it makes me quake in my boots. Even so, I guess I don’t have the right to regret anything but to continue trailing this hollow map of mine.Light in a grayish hue peeks through the dense vents of the forest’s roof, laying its rays obliquely on the ground and letting me witness the whits of the earth dancing in ecstasy. Another yields me a subtle spark in this gloom, the warm ambient yellow of the fireflies They whirl and twirl around the vicinal cedars, chasing one another, hypnotizing me to enchantment. And there, I must say, I’m bewitched. These unspoken yet mesmerizing bugs chatter with me in circles and in silence, as if they are the prophets of this timberland. And so I sauntered through the forest with them in solace until I got a whiff of smoke from a stone’s throw. A bustling tavern. I walked closer to it straight away, slowly opening the rustic door with a chime welcoming my presence and came across nothing but a busy bartender and his liquor bottles housed in thick layers of dust and web.

“Hi. Give me something you think I deserve after hours of walking. Maybe a drink for daredevils?” I chuckled to show that I thirst for relief and fleeting delight, even just for a short“Ork’stime.blood,” he said in a dull voice, and I hastily agreed.

“If the truth be told, unknown creatures and souls that linger with us here in the woods wouldn’t know that we’re here if we didn’t blare rustles and patters,” I muttered after savoring my first gulp. This goblet left crimson-red hues in my mouth, and its sweet-tangy concoction drove me to another abstraction.

I hadn’t really decided whether to concur with the drink he mentioned, but I trusted him to the fullest, as if I’d known him for a long time. But what if he’s a scoundrel of this forest waiting for his prey? And he’ll poison me to death with his perished drinks! My mind frets and my heart pulses in a hush, finding calmness from the urge to run away from this place. I sneakily turned around and was about to stand in my seat when I heard the foot of the goblet being placed on the countertop.

“And may I ask, would one know from afar if a bough fell? I must say we won’t, and never will,” I continued skittishly. This person is a snob. First, he didn’t welcome me when I entered his tavern. Second, he offered me the ork’s blood with a monotonous voice. Third, he placed this drink on my table without a single word. And now, he’s not responding to me like I’m not a customer. He should be grateful that I persisted in drinking his work of art despite all the perilous details that led me to conclude that he was a menace.

Anyway, he wouldn’t notice that I mutter these words because I’m not saying them out loud, similar to how we’ll never know if a branch snaps in the midst of the forest or if a firefly loses its luminescence in the night when we can’t see them.

Emotionless, he served me my drink and returned to the back bar where he was.

“Thank you,” I said in delight but with fear between the lines. With no hesitation, I take a quaff like a viking thirsty for mead. Surprisingly, it tastes like a strong cherry with a mellow silvery taste. It isn’t bad after all. I was just jumping into conclusions earlier.

Minutes have passed, and my goblet is already empty. I don’t feel dazed, but all I see inside this tavern are the sparkles that accompanied me here, flying like Saturn’s rings. In a flash, they merge into a blinding single glare. The warm and bright yellow bugs turned blue and formed into an amulet—resembling a fragile eyeball resting on myHowpalm.peculiar that the man who was coming close to me glitches a few feet away from me, as if someone had interfered with his clock’s pendulum. The next scene I see is his furious face ragefully clobbering something invisible in front of me, an aegis that has formed because of this thing on my palm. His filthy mouth is drooling like a musky waterfall, curdling my blood.

32NAZAR

Klaire Niña Llarena The Death of a Stranger

Beforehand, she had a chat with Eugene’s former colleagues. They described him as an eager youth. Taking his assignments head on, and sometimes, even literally. They spoke with caution. With all the information she obtained, she pieced together that the trip to hell was supposed to only last a year.

“Eugene,” the captain said, bringing him to heel. “If you want to get back on the force, then this is what it’s going to take.”

34NAZAR

“Mr. Eugene?” The soft words of his therapist snapped him back to now. “Oh, sorry,” he stuttered. “You were saying?” All the while examining every nook, except the therapist’s existence.

*Beep “Time’s* up,” the therapist tried to stretch her smile from ear to ear when the ninety minutes ended. He walked cautiously towards the door, a true policeman at work.

Project Misfire

The color red is said to be in the view of macabre, and only the valiants can face the gruesome life of being an assistant police detective. But boldness aside, they still need to meet a therapist to cure what needs to be, if it can be.

The 1st day; *Beep* The tape recorder came to life, whirring through the empty halls of Sunday.

Anina Jiliana Manuel & Ara Janine Palecpec

“Wait! Before you leave,” she said hastily, “Don’t forget to call me once you get home. As always, captain’s orders.” “I got it,” he grunted. Then, in a blink of an eye, he vanished.

“Fine,” he gruffed. Letting out a sigh of relief, the captain ended the conversation with, “Great, your therapy starts on Monday. Just give me a report of each and every session you attended. Dismissed.”

In every interrogation from her, his words were short and strained. But he mentioned that he saw every shade of red, only known by doctors and killers. In his own words, “It was fifteen years of fresh horror.” It seemed like the therapist never met someone far off the deep end, only Eugene.

The 8th day; *Beep “Nice*to see you again, Mr. Eugene,” his therapist said through gritted teeth.

“C’mon, I thought we were close. What do you really want to say?” Eugene pushed. Out of spite, she threw all smiles out the window for one minute just to say, “Fine. Why didn’t you call me last week? What? Did you grab a coffee with some old criminal pals?” she said sarcastically, to lighten the air with a joke. The mood shifted. A flashback was rolling in his mind. His breathing turned shallow, cold sweat trickled down his jaw, and pupils dilated. As fast as the apple fell from the tree, he went from clutching the tape recorder to banging it with his head. Blood and sweat swirled down his cheeks and onto the hardwood floor.

The therapist got all choked up. She could only watch as his instincts ran rampant.

“Do not tell the captain,” he seethed through blood-stained teeth. “If you do, I know exactly where I can put you so that they will never ever find you. I’ll be back.” Poof, gone. She let out a terrible sigh and mumbled, “Jesus Christ, I really need to file for a raise right now.” The 16th day; *Beep* It was just another empty Sunday. The serenity and tranquility was peculiar. Then, an eerie silhouette popped out of nowhere at the door, the therapist almost jumped but her business smile luckily defaulted. “Ah, Eugene. Have a seat.” Her heart was beating so loud, it pounded her head full. As the hands of the clock ran along, Eugene spoke in vibrancy. He told the therapist that his night terrors finally stopped and she cautiously believed the shimmer in his eyes.

Miraculous epiphanies happen everyday in the medical field. She resisted the urge to ask for future references, because prying never helped him. The session ended on a good note, but she felt like a storm was coming.

“Trying to butter me up, doc?” Eugene mouthed as he sat himself comfortably on the clinic’s couch, legs crossed and an arm on the backrest.

“I don’t need this anymore, I’m quitting the force,” Eugene declared in poise. He departed the four corners after the moment of silence, leaving no traces of the past.

“I just thought I don’t need to meet my therapist anymore, but I’m here to retreat,” he explained.“Retreatfrom what?” The captain was baffled.

The 24th day; *Ring, ring, ring*

The therapist picked up the phone. “Where the hell is Eugene?” the captain shouted as spit flew from his mouth. Her ears bled, throat “Actually,dried.heshould be here any second now, sir! He’s good!” She tightly clutched the latest records up to her chest as some sort of comfort. “We’re making great progress. He even called me when he got home–” “Well, we haven’t heard from him since last week,” the captain cut her alibis. “You were his last contact, and you better hope he shows up today.”

The call dropped and so did her heart.

The **th day; It was the parallel time and day to the previous sessions from the last weeks, but only the therapist was in the room. She waited for minutes sitting on the couch in swivet, granting a grace period for Eugene. But what arrived was a knock from her assistant, entering the doorstep, “The captain wants to have a word with you.” She fixed her hair before walking towards the door, calming herself from the uncertainty that the conversation might bring. “You called me in your office, captain?” she said with cold sweat.

“Please, sit down first,” the captain spoke in composure while pointing at the lone chair. “Yes, well I’m sure you’ve heard. You know, about Eugene and him being gone,” all said in a deep commanding voice. “Do you perhaps know why?” “Apologies for being late. The therapy room was empty, that’s why I thought everyone was here,” a man entered, saving the therapist from answering the captain. Everyone contemplates him, waiting for his further statements.

36NAZAR

Brightly scented with warmth, she seeks refuge in the newfoundland’s peculiar bustle

Suffocated by the lush of trees Past the green and jeweled skies She came riding with her feet— Riding and ride Until the edges of her coat brushed a villa, the hiding untied.

Until the corner of her eye was met by a girl— “No, it cannot be! The plague!”

In the slumber timberlands, there was a lullaby. Blue eyed, only blue eyed, can quell the plague and twinkle.

“What a hoax,” her head mutters—only to be heard their pitch-dark eyes proud with anger, banishment arise

Two windows once blue, now nothing but refugee eyes.

The lids of lunette were uncovered, deeply staring evil-eyed. Days of passage, bated breath Her exile, wasted death For the plague had followed her like a robber— Hands reeking with desperation, nowhere to escape Her throat surrendered, swallowing the hoax of lullaby. Closer, she met the girl’s russet gaze as if it was an eclipse. Making her blue eyes river, directly at the plague to disappear Only for the girl to wipe the streams— Softly and soft This is love, do not fear

The eclipse staring into my eyes Marcea Alcala

Ara Janine Palecpec ABM22 Follow me

Binagabag ako ng alok na ito ng ilang araw. Sa tuwing bibisita ako kay Mama, palagi kong naaalala ang maliit na papel na tila inuudyok akong tawagan ang numerong nakalagay rito. Sa bawat gabing naririnig ko ang pagtawag ni Papa sa kung sinu-sinong kamag-anak namin para humingi ng kaunting tulong, mukha ni James na punong-puno ng pangako para sa magandang buhay na naghihintay sa akin ang nakikita ko.

Ngunit tunay nga namang mapaglaro ang tadhana. Saktong bayaran ng aking tuition fee nang magkasakit si Mama. Napilitan siyang umalis sa trabaho dahil kinakailangan niyang maospital at kung hindi, mas lalong lulubha ang kanyang karamdaman. Ilang part-time jobs naman ang pinasukan ko para makatulong kay Papa sa pambili ng gamot ni Mama pati na rin sa pandagdag sa aming mga gastusin. Ngunit hindi pa rin ito sapat para punan ang lahat ng pangangailangan namin. Isang gabi habang nagpupunas ako ng mga mesa sa karinderyang pinagtatrabahuhan ko, may matipunong ginoong lumapit sa akin. May katangkaran ng kaunti kung ikukumpara sa aking pigura, suot ang inosenteng ngiti na madadala ang kahit na sinong tao—animo isang anghel na pinadala sa lupa. Tantya kong nasa edad trenta pataas na ang lalaki, base sa mga mumunting kulubot sa palibot ng kanyang mga mata at sa kanyang awra na nagsasabing nasa tugatog na siya ng buhay at tuluyan nang kumalas sa mga pambatang imahinasyon.

Sayaw, nene Wrenzhie Arroyo

39 Maihahalintulad daw ako sa isang manika dahil sa aking bilugang mga mata, maliit at matangos na ilong, at mga labing kasing lambot at kasing kulay ng talulot ng mga rosas. Naaalala ko pa nga ang mga biro nila sa akin na may mapapala raw ako sa pag-aartista.Anakakong mapagpursiging construction worker at masikap na katulong. May dalawang nakababatang kapatid na parehong sekondarya, habang isa naman akong kolehiyala. Nakatira lamang kami sa liblib na lugar ng Tondo o squatters area kung inyong tatawagin. Hindi sapat ang kinikita ng aking ama at ina para sa matrikula naming tatlo at pangaraw-araw na pangangailangan. Kung tutuusin, maituturing nang milagro kapag nakakakain kami ng tatlong beses sa isang araw.

Nagpakilala siya bilang si James—agent sa isang modeling company. Binanggit niya sa akin na naghahanap siya ng mga “fresh faces” para sa bago nilang proyekto at kabilang ako sa mga gusto niyang i-recruit. Ngunit tinanggihan ko ang alok niya dahil wala naman talaga sa isip ko ang mag-artista at isa pa, nag-aaral ako.

“Ito ang calling card ko. Kapag nagbago ang isip mo, tawagan mo lang ako,” sabi nito sa akin saka inabot ang maliit na papel na naglalaman ng kanyang impormasyon.

Ngunit nang magpatong-patong na ang utang namin, napilitan akong tanggapin ito. At heto na nga ako ngayon, katapat ang gusali na nakalagay sa calling card. Inihatid ako ng isang lalaki papunta sa opisina ni James. Habang papasok, may iilan akong babaeng nakita

Pamilya, ang uunahin ko. Para sa aking mga kapatid na nangangamba sa kahihinatnan ng kanilang kinabukasan. Para sa aking ama na walang tigil sa pagkayod para mapunan ang aming pangangailangan. At, para sa aking ina na lumalaban para sa kanyang buhay.

Tunay nga ang sinasabi nila na gagawin natin ang lahat para sa pamilya.

ka pa rin ba? Isipin mo kung gaano kalaking pera ang pwede mong kitain dito kapag naging matunog ang pangalan mo. Hindi mo na kailangang pumasok sa napakaraming part-time jobs. Higit pa sa pinagsama-samang trabaho mo ang mapapala mo rito.” Mukhang nahalata ni James ang pag-aalinlangan sa aking mukha. Mula sa kanyang nakangising mukha, ibinaling ko ang tingin sa papel. “At kung iniisip mo ang pag-aaral mo, ‘wag mong alalahanin ‘yon. Pwede mo namang i-request na iayon sa iskedyul mo. Pwede ka na ngang hindi mag-aral kapag sikat ka na,” aniya. Ngunit kaya ko ba talagang maatim na ipagsawalang-bahala iyon? Kasikatan o edukasyon...ano ang pipiliin ko?

Ngunit hindi ko alam na sa pagtanggap ko ng kamay na iyon, parang tinanggap ko na rin ang kamay ng isang demonyo. At sa pagpirma ko ng kontrata, unti-unti akong pinupulupot ng kadena, tila senyales na nakagapos na ang aking kapalaran at hindi na ako makakawala pa.

Inabot ko ang bolpen sa tabi saka pinirmahan ang kontrata. Kaagad naman itong kinuha ng nakangiting si James at tumayo, nakamuwestra ang palad na tila gustong makipagkamay.

ko ito at nagpatuloy sa paglalakad. Marahil dala ng puyat kaya kung anu-ano ang nakikita ko. Ilang saglit pa, kaharap ko na si James at ang nakahaing kontratang kailangan kong pirmahan. May maliit na boses akong naririnig mula sa aking isipan na nagsasabing huwag kong tanggapin ang alok. Pero sa tuwing maiisip ko ang kalagayan ng aking ina habang dinadala namin ang maputla at walang malay niyang katawan sa ospital, ang mga kapatid kong nag-aaral, at ang ama kong gabi-gabing umuuwing pagod galing trabaho, nawawala ang bigat na nadarama ng aking

“Ano?puso.Nagdadalawang-isip

40NAZAR na nakahanay na mariing nakatitig sa akin na parang may gusto silang ipahiwatig, ngunit hindi maiboses. Tila may takot at pag-aalala akong nakita sa kanilang mukha, ngunit bakit? ParaIpinagkibit-balikatsaan?

Tumayo na rin ako at tinanggap ito.

41 malawak ang magkasalungatpagitan,angmga panig. parehong tulala sa isa’t- isa, walang lumilitaw na sigasig. sa lamig ng kamay at maputlang mga bibig, tuluyang nabuwag ang tindig, hindi nauunawaan ang mga mungkahi habang sa kadiliman ito nakaukit. mga sambit na dala ang papuri, at mga bulong na pumupuna, tumatagos sa malambot na pagkatao, na maaaring gumuho nang tuluyan. nalulunod sa buhos ng mga pintas, ngunit susubukang kumawala sa mga salita, babasagin ang salamin na nasa harapan, nang maging bulag sa kritikong nanlulugmok.

Papuring bulaan Aqeena “Qyns” Reyes

Reigning in glory, regarded a paragon bathed in cheers for such triumph, when reaching the crest is in full fire, the trekker’s succeeding odyssey descends. Solis, emanating ceaseless light promising solace to its heirs, resembles an evil eye, offering divine cover, yet deemed the antagonist. Watch as you all see ruination accumulate in the tearless eye, fallen from grace and power, the talisman’s monotonous vacuum ensues

42NAZAR

Attempting the summit’s spot arduously trailed by sporadic alpinists, from the view of the expanse, emanating air of abysmal decorum.

Ascent to the depths Gabriel Dale Tejido

Cecilia Nazarine Bicol Oceanic Infernum

Hamarchy

Hazel knows her parents don’t love them equally. At least, not the way parents are meantYet,to.their father was kind. Incredibly so. He showers her with compliments and gladly shows off the fruits of her labor. It was fulfilling for her, though a rigid expression often followed the guilt sinking through her bones.

The noises of the fan and television reminded his senses that he exists. Though his eyes were open, he couldn’t quite think why. A quick scan of his room gave nothing more than a few answers.

The curtains were pulled shut, but the lack of light shining through was enough for him to realize that it’s evening. On his bedside table was his diploma, something that they had been working so hard for these past few years.

Jacob tensed in anticipation as he heard his father, “Are you ready to go for our celebratory dinner?” He blinked, staring back in confusion. It was then that Jacob realized the reason for the frilly dress on his bed, ready to be worn for the not-so-great outdoor celebration. Their eyes met, and they both seemed to reach a disappointing conclusion.

Back in high school, Jacob had the tendency to antagonize just about every person that she interacted with, leaving them to question their own actions. That’s why she ended up isolated.Herisolation climaxed one chilly winter day. Tucking in under a tree at the sleet-covered courtyard of the school gave her great relief. She was almost lulled to sleep but willed herself awake.

Pia Heart Lambuson

Their father’s lips curled inwards, aged cheeks raised as he rigidly clutched onto his polo shirt, “At home, I mean.” He nodded then motioned to turn toward the hallway. A tinge of tightness to it spat out a hasty, “Congratulations, Jacob.”

Jacob coughed up a response out of the blue that no one couldn’t recall.

44NAZAR

Jacob, on the other hand, was rough. Not just in the way he speaks, but in his posture and attire. But she had to hand it to him as he has always been perceptive—though she suspected that it may be from his maturity despite being the same age. She hated him because he was a meddling mess. Hazel had been aware of Jacob’s blatant glare at their father one day when he entered their room to discuss their grades. Hazel had written off his suspicious glint as jealousy that Jacobtime. wasn’t the most academically gifted. They’d given up on him long ago. He was an expert on how far he can push, whether it be their father’s temper or limitations.

Instinctively, he reached out to examine it, but froze as light filtered into the room. His father stepped in through the door with a broad grin on his face.

“You’re being hurt, and you don’t even realize it. He does. That’s why he’s here, isn’tHerit?” friend was right. Hazel knew it, and Jacob did too. She was alone five years ago, that’s why she was isolated in her own mind. After four years and three-hundred sixty four days, she found out she will never be. Jacob was never her brother.

With a deep breath, she did her best to collect herself. Her vision was getting foggier, and the sounds around her turned muffled. Even the colors of winter seemed much lifeless now. She tried shaking what felt like water out of her ears, but no matter what she did, the sounds did not sharpen.

“Hazel, you know he doesn’t hate your parents for no reason,” her friend shuffled over to sit next to her. A steady silence weighed on them. She wanted to bite out but simply shut her eyes, reigning in her temper. “He’s protecting you.” There it was again, the truth she tried so hard to ignore. It was far easier to pretend than remember the dreaded truth each time she opened her eyes.

She doesn’t remember much of her past and she’s happy with it. But she dreamt of happy moments. She saw candles flickering to nothing as she blew on it, clapping happily, and silently adjusting her party hat afterwards. She also dreamt of tragedy. She shivered as her gaze moved toward the sinister red spider lily growing between the cracks of a gravestone and picked one. Her castles in the air were almost interrupted as the snow crunched loudly beneath a stumbling pair of feet behind her, but she didn’t care quite enough to check. Hazel continued to fumble with the stem of the flower in her hand.

The world seemed blurrier now, and Hazel understood immediately that it was not from her emotional distress. “Not now, Jacob,” she whispers. Eventually, the silence woke her up from daydreaming. A quick glance at her wrist revealed it was three in the afternoon. Not that it mattered, because the confusing passage of time was familiar to her. “Jacob?” The person behind her was confused. Hazel’s eyes drifted up to meet her friend’s waiting face before shaking her head. She was one of the few that Jacob somewhat approved of.

She massaged her eyes. It felt as though there was something, perhaps a snowflake lodged between them, melting as liquid spilled forth. There was no snowflake, but tears were falling as she begrudgingly realized.

He was his own identity created by her, to defend herself. Perhaps, he was the spider lily planted to keep people away and to harm them. But at the same time, to protect Hazel from those who hurt and play the pretender.

With a defeated sigh, she leant her head back to look at the open skies, serene as ever. She wondered which has brought upon more pain in a world full of pretty roses who hide their thorns.

Nababaluktot sa mga naratibo at tila napahihintulutan Imulat ang laksa-laksang paningin sa naghahanay na konteksto Huwag magpalinlang sa mga humuhulma ng nakaraan Sapagkat may sariling kakayahan na tumindig ang kasaysayan Sa dakong huwad, magmasid sa gantimpalang kumakalansing Upang hindi na muling sumapit ang bangungot na nagbabadya Itaguyod ang hindi pagkalimot sa karahasang dinanas ng bansa Dahil hindi lamang ito dapat binabaon sa dakong umpisa Pagtangis ng kahapon at kinabukasan

46NAZAR

Pilit pa ring binubusalan ng huwad ang katotohanan Hangad nilang gawing sunud-sunuran muli ang lipunan Nabubuwag ang mga sigaw sa rumaragasang mga singhal Kakayanin pa bang matunghayan sa isa pang pagkakataon?

Naging kapares ng tanikala ang bawat dila ng mga salat Ginapos maging mga kamay habang kinukumpas ang tinta Saksi ang nakalipas sa pagkumot ng katahimikan ng gabi Hahayaan bang mapurol ang kalatas na nilikha ng pluma?

Paulyn Dianne Laude

Toll of a transit’s torment Guen Marie Sapinit (HMS23)

As you stop at gloom in Magallanes, you purse your lips to plea and pray, silently whispering solemn woes that will dull the sins of yesterday.

On a train station in Mandaluyong, a railway along His creation, lie muffled voices only few could hear, voices that trembled in fear.

With the silence of the sacred heart, a metal clanged on Station No. 8, one after the other on his skin, he fell under his weight.

As the tenebrous ink limned the pearl’s victims of charm, silhouette on the peripheral’s brink when the orient is seduced to harm.

He was painted with the shade of dusk, bruised with the tint of eve, while she was glossed with the hue of dawn, tinged with the stain of morn. It then turned to ivory and pale in Tondo the day she lost her soul to a man who asked for her hand in silver cuffs in a prison hall.

For even if the rash of Manila’s storms left rage and ire behind, from the wistful murmurs of orisons, grace and mercy you shall find. Within the swarm on MRT-3, fervent voices echoed in the trails, those voices sought refuge, not to wash the city’s wiles and ruses away, but to save them from those astray in its desolated alleyways tarnished with innocence to rust where the wretched lurk and stay.

Beneath the crimson and navy glow in the somber route to Santa Mesa, from Victorino to Magsaysay, were men in the solitude of pistols and law.

Tears cradled her home as her scars revealed themselves to the moon, but Elpis bestowed hope that masked the pain she carried alone. Only the rays that turned Guadalupe into gold glinted in your eyes, for you knew Luna heard his cries, while Sol held her tight.

Benedict Tawatao ICT21 The Beholder of the Eye

Elixir Administers growth to thrive in the forbidding boscage.

At that time, although I couldn’t tell why, You truly were stuck within that summer

CouldII there ever be a place for me here?

IVcouldn’t forget that summer either The breeze heading my way as it picks up Would such a thing really be a bother?

ItVIIIcan be rather selfish either way, At least that’s what I’ve always been thinking Even so, I can’t tell you why I’ve stayed Time’s hands have long since muddled the meaning MyIX fantasies are confined in black ink That piece of paper I left by the shore, Where you move further on with every blink And where I couldn’t take it anymore IfX only I could forget about you, I’m just tripping over your memories Cherishing them as I walk to the blue To become one with the sky and the sea

Underneath a sun that’s just out of reach You were tiptoeing on water so clear

ChokingIII on words I’ve been wanting to say I can only make distant songs out of them Letting another excuse end the day I simply do all of these on a whim IIVcount the years that have come and gone by And look towards the horizon, loathing These thoughts have been violating my mind

Amidst humid winds and soft rain showers

I just never really knew when to stop MaybeVI I’m fine living a bitter lie In hindsight, it’s just simply immature I’ve nothing to show for it otherwise But I suppose that’s just in my nature MyVII deeds are perversion of my thoughts, Or maybe I had meant the lack thereof, To go much further and give it a shot Can’t forgive myself for falling in love

YourI figure was almost one with the sky

Paper in the wind Ferdinand Lance Narciso Launico (STM11)

As they always do from the beginning

While I wrote poetry at the white beach

Jethro Dela Cerna Within

the Cottage of Nature

The door isn’t closed all the way. So, I screamed.

Closing my eyes, I dejectedly laid on the hard mattress again—only to discover that my eyelids aren’t enough to lower the brightness of my room. I don’t even know why I still hope that someday they will. After all, hope does nothing more than make me long for things I cannot have. So, I put my sun-burned hands against my eye. As if a little more light could hurt me, as if I didn’t live with the infinite view of blinding clouds constantly getting kneaded by theListeningwind. to my steady heartbeat, I closed my eyes and savored the moment until my brother opened the door for the second time that minute. Bang! Bang! Bang!

“I told you Declan, get up! Hurry, the game is ending already. We need you!” Alex shouted at me and managed to even leave the door painfully wider than before. It took us three weeks to finalize our play strategy today. Mia, my sister, used to persuade her friends into teaching her how to drive in exchange for cleaning their roofed houses. Her peer-influenced driving course only ran for a few weeks since she just turned legal enough to do so. Now, she would be on the vibrating third base.

“Close the door!” I yelled as the long light beaming through the tiny space found my vision. With no response, I hurriedly rolled off to the edge of my bed, heavily stomped my feet, and killed the blinding crack of the door.

Alex, my younger brother, had been the fastest among us. He used to fill his room with medals from middle school track races, until his legs started to experience the chronic hugs of paternal love. He will be the stationary pitcher on the second base. And I will be on the first. Truth be told, there actually is not a single sporty gene running in my genes. In fact, I think my hands would be too tired to even keep up with my siblings’ delicate ones. But alas, here I am, leading the game as the batter. We would be playing in the field, and so I was hoping again that it wouldn’t rain. It would be sad if we experience another con of a roofless house. More so if it means ending up like our grandmother—sewing and sewing in front of the television, even if the water is rising past her knees.

I wouldn’t blame my grandmother for giving all her focus into the television though. If I was in her place, I would die to watch documentaries about elixirs too. I would just be there, imagining what it would feel like to have the chance of changing something, bottled up in a colorful vial. The house without a roof Marcea Alcala

54ELIXIR

Halting what would be my first pregame routine, I spread the light from the door wide open, went out, and finally played. The rules are simple, really. Even if there were no umpire, we would play by the rules. No talking, no hesitations, only doing. Maybe we were born for this, maybe not. Either way, we trained to become champions. And don’t even get me started on our reward. Yes, prizes are recyclable lessons. Prizes are materials. And today, we will win some of them. We should. As soon as Mia caught my eye, she rang the battery-generated horn in her base, signaling start. Then, Alex finally grabbed the ball by its neck, and pitched it towards me. Four meters. Three seconds. Five-and-a-quarter drunk steps. Holding the bat, I swinged its sharpness across the ball. The ball that repeatedly brought us bruises, restricted us from being fed, broke my brother’s legs, made our mother hurriedly leave without even packing her bags, and was the reason why our house was roofless.

Homerun After the game ended, we decided to play an entirely different one. We ditched the pitcher’s gloves and the bat, then created a new gaming equipment—using the prizes that we won today, along with our grandmother’s sewing kit. The same one she used four weeks before. You could say that we love being sustainable. I mean, it definitely runs in our family—with the roofless house and all. The needles from the biscuit sewing can have been curved by the constant stitching force as if it were wires of an electricity cable. Yet, our shaking hands have managed to sew the corners of our prize until our tiny childish fingers meet each other, coated with crimson and sweat. Homerun. A free ambulation without being put-out or penalized with an error. And so, we ran and ran away from our roofless house, then over the fields. And when the wind became strong, we flied our new improvised kites—made with my father’s bloody clothes. We are free.

I stood still, not knowing what to do as I watched the pavement that was once gray, turn into another color. My brother was pooling in red liquid, the stench of metal reeks in the chilly air of September night. Paramedics surrounded his body and checked for a pulse and when I saw how they shook their heads, I felt the way Atlas carried the world on his shoulders. A heavy burden I can’t seem to lift. Not now, and not ever.

The antidote to a corrupted world Wrenzhie Arroyo

55 “It’s all meaningless,” my father said as the blazing midday sun illuminated the four-cornered room. I was watching the afternoon news, and he was listening from the kitchen, cooking Adobo—my favorite. The deep smell of garlic, vinegar, and pepper filled the air as Dad stirred it, the mouthwatering aroma made my stomach growl in hunger as it entered my nostrils. I could tell it was going to be a long and fulfilling lunch.

Why did my brother die such a horrible death? Why was he taken from me so easily? What did he do to deserve such a thing?

Questions of why and what were the only things that were running through my mind. And my brother. My sweet brother whom I spent my whole life growing up with and never once did he have any vice. My brother who still can’t sleep without his teddy bear from childhood is the same boy they are accusing of using illegal substances.

“Calista, do not join those when you grow up, alright? You don’t know what might happen to you,” he said. And that afternoon incident lingered on my mind for years. That was the last time I heard from him. Parents know best. So, I followed. Until I felt like it wasn’t right anymore, and an event occurred that changed my viewpoint. ***

Or so I thought. “What could their strikes and shouting do? They’re all the same, those politicians. Nothing’s going to change.” He was now putting the Adobo on our dining table, and I helped him prepare the plates when he suddenly flashed his eyes on me.

Flickering lights and the sound of the camera shuttering surrounded me as numerous people took photos of my brother’s cold body. Some looked empathetic, some faked their pity, and I could swear to the heavens above how their eyes almost turned into the shape of money, eyes bulging wide with excitement at how much money they can get by the simple click of their hands.

“Disi-sais anyos na lalaki, patay matapos masangkot sa drug operation na isinagawa ng mga pulis…” My mother and I locked eyes with each other and at that certain moment, we both understood what was happening.

“It happened again,” she said. “Another victim…another innocent life was lost.” As she kept talking, a memory of the blazing afternoon heat resurfaced from the deepest corners of my mind. My heart ached at the thought but the burning passion was more intense. I had enough. Now I stood in front of a grave, Luisito Cruz was carved on the gravestone. I placed the bouquet of daffodils down together with the candle I lit. The place was quiet, and all I could hear was the pounding of my heart.

“I cannot remain silent anymore when injustice is everywhere, Pa. The strikes and shouting you find meaningless give people light in this world when everything seems like a hopeless case,” I said, fire igniting within me.

“I am going to join them in this fight. To give them a chance. Because hope…it was never lost, Papa. The hope we’re looking for is in us,” I said, conviction laced in my tone.

56ELIXIR “Calista!” My mother approached me, sweat glistening on her forehead as she looked at me. Worry was evident in her eyes and when she was all sure that I was not hurt, she tucked me in her arms, hugging me tightly. Her shoulders went up and down as she sobbed uncontrollably and the dam of my eyes broke, tears flowing down my cheeks as we bothWemourned.arenow the only ones left. ***

Months after my family’s tragedy, my mother and I were trying our best to move forward. The case is still ongoing, and we are praying to the heavens above to serve justice upon my brother’s death. Suddenly, as we were eating dinner on a Friday night, we both froze when we heard the news.

“Pa, it’s been a while,” I said. I took a deep breath as I continued to tell him the purpose of my“Yearsvisit.ago, you told me not to join them because it seems to you that hope was lost. But Calisto’s now gone, Pa, and now months after his death, another innocent boy became a victim.” I smiled bitterly.

“I hope that wherever you are, Calisto and you are happy. I love you both.” I wiped a tear that escaped my eyes, caressed the gravestone one last time, and left with an unwavering resolve that no earthquake could shatter. All this time, we were looking for a savior to end this suffering. Little did we know, we were the key, the lone ingredient for the solution.

Cecilia Nazarine Bicol Day of Judgment

Reanne Ashley Roguel Pastor’s Psalm

Pia Heart Lambuson & Ara Janine Palecpec Mga rebulto at aninong humahatol mula sa ginintuang dambana sa isang makasalanang natupok ng tukso lumilihis, patungong tarangkahan Malalim na paghinga, pihado at buo ang pasya hanggang makarinig ng musikang susuyo sa pusong nagdududa Sa yapos ng pagkaakit, muling umiinog ang sampalataya dumadapo ang kahinaan sa mga paa at nanunumbalik sa pasilyong patungo sa altar Sa pagkakataong ito, hinayaang halikan ng tuhod ang baldosa habang magkahawak ang sariling mga kamay at bumulong nang taimtim.

Pagsusumamo sa pagdududa

60ELIXIR the cauldron simmers and seethes with our brew as the trickling sweat pursues its residue. breeding flames, increasing lethal exposure, neglecting all from the existing mediocre. there is nothing but constant clamor, as such is the destruction of foolish miracles. the aftertaste mimics late mending entitlement simply from tailoring these cogent arguments. thus, the choking begins from thick disclaimers, rife whispers and various adversities revealed, all solely from what this deterioration yields and meticulous yearns left unfulfilled. lingering is the duration of moments left, the concoction and its inevitable corruption, no lizard’s tail or brewed eye of a frog to recover the caution of what’s now lost.

Infusion of false rejuvenation

Aqeena “Qyns” Reyes

Ma. Gizelle Nicole Sanson ICT11 Art by

Does my thin and frail body speak my shining glory louder than my parched ushers?

Abandon;

Should I just lay bare into the spiky prickly grass until the cold breeze numbs me?

Until the dark endless space color my pupils, locking my eyes up into the sky’s turmoil

epitome of happ(i)ness

Singing loud and high to the soaring magnificent white birds inside my ecosystem

Should I run a sharp deadly knife around my ear to deafen me from the serpent’s hisses?

Anina Jiliana Manuel Hellbent; Should the heavens cry a river for you before the petals show their brilliance?

O Universe, should I feed my rotting infested flesh into the gnashing beaks of vultures?

Until my eyebags form deep ravines as I slowly disintegrate, dusts scattering in the air

Let the flowing network of water seep into the soil, quenching the arid lands

Should I pluck the flower bald till its vibrance no longer latches into my sanity?

Period of Introspection; Instead, should I let a flower root into my heart and bloom a color of its liking?

O Earth, can your thin branching vines crawl onto my skin and engulf me in its moist soil?

Should I scorch scars etching deep into my bones so I can hear your melodious praise?

O Spirits, should I open my third eye to see whose dark dreary air haunts me?

62ELIXIRThe

Or should I break the heavy gripping shackles wrapping me tightly till my ankles bled?

Phlegmatic;

To once more carry the dark side of the moon within my trembling weak hands

Humayo bitbit ang pag-asa, pagtungtong sa entablado. Dating bilanggo sa sisidlan, naging malaya sa kristal na bakod.

Kuminang sa gitna ng kadiliman, mabighaning pagtanghal ang itinaguyod.

Sa isang munting tindahan, inalok ng luntiang likido. Unang lagok mula sa sisidlan, dumaloy ang kislap sa kanyang dugo.

Dumadagundong ang mga tinig, mga katunggaling sumisirit. Ang matalinhagang tindig, tinitingala sa kintab ng langit.

Pagsambit ng huling liriko, napalingon sa mga kalaban. Kanya-kanyang bitbit ng lagayan, likidong luntian din ang lulan.

"Nasa iyo ang likidong may mahika,” sambit ng balisang estranghero.

Placebo effect Bianca Jan Sibayan

Angienette Laurza Midnight Solace

66ELIXIR

Gabriel Dale Tejido Sa liwanag ng minamatang kasalukuyan, at ang mga galos sa makulimlim na kahapon, saan man umihip ang simoy ng pagdiriwang, sisintahin ang mga tala mula sa puwang.

Ginhawa sa kopa

Abutin ang praskong inihain, gantimpala sa pagsubok ng katapangan, matapos magising sa nilikhang kadiliman, liligaya sa sikat ng sariling kariktan.

Titigan ang kawalan sa mababaw na kalaliman, sa huli, tulad ng mga dahon sa bugso ng hangin, patuloy na aawit ang bulong ng himpapawid, upang haranahin ang mga hamon ng buhay. At sa mga huling tanaw ng maginhawang gabi, mamamahinga sa kaginhawaang handog ng kalis.

Nicole Infante Solace

Quartz Broadens enlightenment conveyed to conclude the speculations.

“Allirea, anong ibig sabihin nito?” sumipot ang boses ng isang lalaki at dali-daling lumapit sa loob ng gusali.

“Halina, pasok,” bulong ng babae, habang sinasalamin ang suot ng mga aninong balot na balot ng maalikabok na tela.

Kibit-balikat na sumang-ayon ang lalaki at umatras papalayo, hanggang sa halos magtugma na ang kanyang likuran sa isang kakaibang itim na pader sa silid. “Mga kasandiwa, simula sa araw na ito, tandaan niyo ito.” Tinupi niya ang kanyang mga daliri, itinaas ito, at ikinatok sa itim na pader ng tatlong malalakas na pagkakasunod. “Huwag na huwag ninyo itong“Ikaw,kaliligtaan.”walaka bang nakakalimutan?” Lumapit rin ang babae sa kinatatayuan niya. “Gamitin niyo lamang ang katok na iyon dito sa pader na itim. Hindi sa pader ng inyong kapitbahay, at ang pinakamahalaga sa lahat, hindi sa mga pabalat ng libro na makikita ninyo sa loob.” Nabalot ang silid ng mga halakhak. “Ginagarantiya ko sa inyo, hindi mahiwagang magbubukas ang mga libro roon kapag kinatok niyo sila.” Napailing nalang ang lalaki, “Maligayang pagdalo sa inyong lahat. Kung ano man ang makita at marinig ninyo sa lugar na ito, itago niyo ito sa inyong mga puso.”

Tinanggal ng babae ang kaniyang saklob at naliwanagan ng kandila ang kanyang pagngiti, “Ngayon ang ating ikawalong-taon na anibersaryo, nakalimutan mo na ba?”

Binibigyang hugis ng kandila ang mga aninong tumatapak sa silid. Sumasayaw ang mitsa sa kumpas ng tahimik na mga yabag mula sa pinto.

Muling kinausap ng lalaki ang babae sa boses ng isda, “Pakiusap, pag-isipan mo ito muli. Marahil ito’y hindi magandang ideya.”

Mga manlalako sa plaza, mga siyentipiko sa nakaraang protesta, at pati na rin ang mga kababaihan na naglilinis sa eskinita papuntang bulwagan.

“Isipin mo, makakaya bang hanguing parang kidlat ng isang impostor ang mga salita mula sa iyong libro?” ani ng babae.

Tumango ang lahat at nagpalakpakan sa pribilehiyong ipinamahagi sa kanila. Humupa na ang kanilang mga tawanan at tinanggal ang mga saklob. Bakas ang sorpresa sa labi ng lalaki. Pamilyar ang mga mata ng karamihan sa kanila.

Mistulang nakasaksi ang lalaki ng lumulutang na kabayo. “Sandali, hindi ba bukas pa iyon? Alam mo namang delikadong magtipon-tipon sa mga panahong ito. At ni-isang beses ay hindi pa tayo nagpatuloy ng ganyang karami. Paano kung isa sa kanila ay impostor? Paano“Ikawkapag—”batalaga ang may-akda ng Pamilya Higit sa Despotismo?” pabirong tanong ng babae. “‘Wag kang mag-alala, sinuri ko na sila. Panoorin mo ito.”

Sa pagitan ng mga linya Marcea Alcala

Saglit na lumayo ang babae, at bumalik nang may hapit sa pinakamalapit na anino. “Sa aklatan ng bayan, hindi masusunog ng impyerno ang karunungan. Ito’y nakaburda sa kaisipan, kung ang mambabasa ay—” Itinaas ng babae ang kanyang kamay, para bang nagpapasa ng telegrama patungo sa aninong kanyang dala-dala. Hindi pa nakararaos ang isang pintig nang tapusin ng bisita ang kanyang linya, “Naririnig ang mensahe sa pagitan ng linyahan.”

Dali-dali niyang kinuha ang kaniyang saklob at isinuot ito hanggang makatapak sa labas na silid. Sumayaw nanaman ang kandila habang iniinito ang pintuan. Ngunit bago pa man ito mabuksan ng lalaki, napahinto siya ng naghihikahos na boses na kanyang narinig.

Isang mainit na pagtawa naman ang sinagot ng lalaki. Mistulang mas niliwanagan nito ang silid kaysa sa kandilang nakatirik sa sulok. Sunod-sunod na parang paglilipat ng mga pahina mula sa pamagat hanggang epilogo. Nakakahawa, hanggang sa ito’y magtapos sa mgaHinanaphikbi. ng lalaki ang balikat ng kanyang kapatid. Pilit na tumingin ito sa mga mata nito, at sinabi ang mga katagang, “Ang tanging magagawa nalang natin ay patunugin ang Sabayalarma.”ng pagkunot ng noo ni Allirea ang kanyang pagtanong, “Ano’ng ibig mong

“Sandali lang, huminahon ka,” lumuhod ang babae sa kanyang harapan. “Sa tingin ko ay maiintindihan naman ni Teresa kung bakit nahuli sa pag-uwi ang kanyang asawa ngayong espesyal na gabi.” Inabot niya ang bota ng lalaki at tinulungan itong suotin.

“Huli ka na. Binigay mo na sa kanila ang mahiwagang susi papasok sa pinto. Tara na’t magkasiyahan sa loob.” Pinapasok ng babae ang mga bisita patungo sa sikretong lagusan. Bumungad sa kanila ang naglalakihang mga libro na makikita lamang sa mga palapag ng sikretong aklatan, o sa ibabaw ng mga apoy sa plaza Kampante sa kapal ng simento na pinagtibay ng walong taon, buong lakas siyang sumigaw sa aklatan, “Salamat sa pakikiisa sa ating anibersaryo. Ngayong gabi, inaalala natin ang ating kasaysayan na isinisigaw ng bawat librong nakapalibot sa’tin ngayon. Sa bawat limbag, matatagpuan ang tanging sandatang hindi pinanday ng nagbubulag-bulagang gobyerno. Dito, matatagpuan ang katotohanang magbibigay katarungan sa ating mga pamilya, sa bayan, at sa ating mga sarili.” Umalingawngaw ang masigabong pagsang-ayon ng mga“Simulakasandiwa.saaraw na ito, hindi lang ako ang tanging tagapangalaga ng aklatang ito, kundi kayo rin. Ako si Allirea, at ang lalaking ito naman,” ngumiti siya at tinuro ang lalaking nakabantay sa lagusan, “ay ang may-akda ng lahat ng librong inyong makikita. Siya ay—” Sumabat din ang lalaki sa introduksyon ni Allirea, “Ay isang taòng hinihintay na ng kanyang asawa upang umuwi. At umaasang hindi na muling patulugin sa lapag ng kanyang sariling bahay.” Nabasag muli ang seryosong hangin ng mga halakhak sa loob ng aklatan. “Pasensya na, ngunit ako’y mauuna na sa pag-alis.”

70QUARTZ

Itinaassabihin?”nglalaki ang papel na nahulog sa kanyang saklob at binuksan ito. Ika-pitong gusali. Tuazon Street. Pakiusap, palayain niyo na ang aking asawa.

Dali-daling kinuha ng lalaki ang papel sa kamay ni Allirea na para bang nagliliyab ito. Mistulang lumunok siya ng sangay at nagsalita nang hindi man lang inabot ang paningin ng babae. “Salamat. Uuwi na ako ngayon…Maligayang anibersaryo.”

“Alam kong hindi tayo masyadong kumikita sa pagbebenta ng prohibitadong mga aklat, ngunit sa tingin ko’y kailangan mo na talagang mamuhunan sa bagong saklob na mayroong mas maayos na bulsa,” hinabol niya ang kaniyang hininga at nag-abot ng isang pirasong papel. “Nahulog mo ito.”

Sampung-beses na mas tumahimik ang payapang silid. Naririnig ng tagapangalaga at ng manunulat ang pagtibok ng kanilang mga puso. At sa isang saglit, hiniling nila na sana’y inilibing nalang ng kanilang tibok ang tunog ng tatlong sumunod na katok. Hindi sa pinto, kundi sa malamig na sahig. Tatlong pagtalbog, isang granada ang sumabog.

Liam Nico Sullivan The Anniversary

72QUARTZ sa pag-indak ng mga alon at patuloy na pag-apak, lalong humahapdi ang aking mga paa sa bawat bagsak. tinututulan ng mga nagtipong butil sa talampakan na lumisan palayo sa dalang kirot ng nakaraan upang tumungo sa bagong paroroonan. nilulan ko ang barko at naglayag, sinuong ang asul na kalawakan ng dagat habang dinarama ang haplos ng hangin na tila hinahatid ako sa alapaap. ang simoy ng dagat na nalanghap ko, ang nagpaamo sa mga agam-agam ng puso. buong akala ko, kapayapaan ay tuluyang natamo. inalog ng rumaragasang mga alon ang barko. pakaliwa, pakanan, saan na nga ba patungo? humuni ang hangin, bumubulong sa’king diwa, utak na pilit binabaha ng mga mapapait na alaala, inaanod pabalik kung saan ako nagsimula. hinuli lamang pala nito ang aking loob upang maging bulag sa dumating na bagyo. sinadyang maging mahinahon sa umpisa, saka ipapatikim ang nagpopoot na delubyo. sa paglipas ng nagdaang kulimlim, ang siyang pagkagat ng dilim. mistulan akong nakalutang sa kawalan. walang maaninag, walang direksyong mapuntahan. ngunit sa kalagitnaan ng karimlan at dalamhati banaag ang isang parola sa dakong silangan. umiikot at gumagabay sa mga naliligaw, sinisilaw ang mga anino ng pagdududa. nagpapaalala para sa panibagong bukas na nakaabang. at sa marahang pagsilip ni Apolaki, panibagong destinasyon ang natanaw. iniwan ang pait na dala ng kahapon kasabay ng aking tuluyang pagdaong. panibagong simula sa bagong nayon. Sa pag-alpas Wrenzhie Arroyo

The path across the pinnacle was diamonds, enkindling the harmony of time, and the sway of usual brings forth asymmetry in transitions from diurnal to nocturnal. It is as delicate as silence unheard and glass unshattered against the ticking clock, where its fate was.

A translucent polygon Ara Janine Palecpec

It thedayflourishes,byday,throughwarmthofthesun and the snow of winter, emerging into pellucid divine fractals. And as it carves itself well with the fluctuating degrees to beauty, this that begin with molten blaze and glides along the streams will soon shine ahead and be espied.

Angienette Laurza Stoic

75 unang kampo nagsisimula na ang tarik na magdadala sa inaasam na dunong ikalawang kampo sasabay na sa liko at indayog ng kasama sa kalsadang kurbada ikatlong kampo ipikit nalang muna ang nalululang mata at dumilat kapag humahaplos na ang ginaw huling kampo sulitin ang pagal ng paa at daldal ng gabi ‘pagkat sa huli, babalik sa unang kampo hanggang maging patag muli.

Sumpa ng Baguio Ara Janine Palecpec

I opened my eyes to the haze of midday

As cascading rivers trickle too before raging again

Braving to get back up and realign life Cries of rejoice will follow in time Breaking free Paulyn Dianne Laude

So this couple of strides will bring me growth

That has become hollow and dreary My heart’s in dolor, weighing heavily

For it must not hurt to pause before escaping mundane

Caged within the walls, hindering the shafts

Mustered my strength to take a step I need to start getting prepped May I have the spirit to twist this tale of woe

The full moon have now beclouded I shall wait for the dawn to come soon

In a battlefield of broken dreams

I sift my thoughts—this too shall pass

76QUARTZ

Jasmin Delos Reyes Escape of the Bound

Gustuhin ko man na mawala ang lahat ng emosyong nakikita sa aking mukha sa isang segundong pagkisap upang patahanin ang sarili, maingat nalang akong tumahimik dahil wala naman sa mundo ang salamangka na magbibigay ng galak sa aking puso. At isa pa, hindi ito ang oras upang kaawaan ko ang aking sarili.

Kapag

78QUARTZUna, huwag magsalita. Pangalawa, huwag tumutol. Pangatlo, huwag umimik.

Kasabay nito, biglang umawit ang aking isipan. Isang kantang pilit sumisiksik upang humele sa akin.

Habang hawak ng kaliwang kamay ng aking ina ang manibela ng kotse, sinusubukan niya akong abutin sa back seat ng kanyang kanang kamay. Palagi kaming naglalaro ng aking ina at madalas, siya ang taya.

Ara Janine Palecpec & Anina Jiliana Manuel

Napasulyap ako sa aking kaliwa at nakita ang nakabubulag na mga poste ng ilaw na tumutulong upang labanan ang lamig at dilim ng paligid. Nagsimulang manginig ang aking mga labi, at sumunod na pumatak ang luha mula sa mga mata ko. Hindi naglaon, umagos ito sa aking namumulang pisngi. Ngunit mabilis ding kumawala papunta sa aking kamay na akala mo’y payapa. Napuno ng bagyo ang aking munting katawan, at nasa unahan ko lamang ang taong nagdulot nito.

Nais kong maulit ang awit ni inang mahal Awit ng pag-ibig habang ako’y nasa duyan pinagbigyan ang huling hiling

Ngunit hindi ko mapigilan ang paglaki ng aking mga mata sa sitwasyong hindi pa pumapasok sa aking sentidong lunatiko kung mag-isip. Sa loob ng kotse na ito kung saan sarado ang mga bintana, isang mapusok na haplos ang pumupulupot sa aking leeg. Mama, bakit?

Sana’y ‘di nagmaliw ang dati kong araw Nang munti pang bata sa piling ni nanay

Sinusubukan kong kalimutan ang liriko nito para harapin ang panibagong tauhan sa aking buhay. Para na rin hindi ko kaawaan ang aking sarili. Ngunit hindi ko kayang talunin ang pamamalagi nito.

Hindiestudyante.konaisip

Kung maaari ko lang utusan ang mundo na tapusin na rito ang balakid namin ni mama sa pamamagitan ng kotse na ito. Tutal, delikado na rin naman ang ginagawang pag-mumultitask ni mama, bakit hindi nalang matapos sa isang nakabibinging salpok? Sa piling ni nanay, langit ay buhay Puso kong may dusa sabik sa ugoy ng duyan Nais kong matulog sa dating duyan ko, inay Huli kong naaninag ang pula at bughaw na umaandap-andap at mga boses ng taong kumpulan.

Sa mga panahong minumulto ang aking ina ng mga alaala na nakakasuot siya ng mamahaling gamit noon, sa akin niya ibinubuhos ang lahat ng galit niya sa mundo.

79 Walang kamalay-malay ang mga tao na nasa lansangan dahil ang buong akala nila ay tumatakbo lamang ang sasakyan sa kalsada upang makarating sa hantungan, o kaya naman sa isang magandang pasyalan. Tulad ng ibang mga magulang na nag-iisip ng paraan para maka-bonding ang kanilang mga anak. Sana. Binitawan niya ako sa oras na dumadami na ang mga sasakyan sa kalsada. Nahihibang na siya. Intensyon niyang saktan ako ngunit takot siyang may mangyaring masama sa amingSabikdalawa.nasabik pa akong maranasan ang lockdown noong ipinatupad ito limang taon na ang lumipas. Kabaliktaran naman ang naging sentimyento ni mama. Ngunit sa mga oras, araw, linggo, at taon na ayaw ko nang bilangin pa, tanging alam ko lang na nagbago ang ihip ng hangin ng aking ina. Sa aking pagtulog na labis ang himbing Ang bantay ko’y tala, ang tanod ko’y bituin Hindi ko nakita ang kahihinatnan ng inasam kong matagal na pagkulong sa kwarto. Dahil bilang bata, iyon lang ang pangarap ko—ang makatakas sa nakakapagod na buhay bilang na mawawalan ng trabaho si mama sa balitang ito. Mailalarawan ko ang aking ina na dating tila kumikinang sa dami ng palamuti sa katawan, mula ulo hanggang paa. Deserve niya ‘yon. Ngunit hindi ko inakalang mas mahalaga pala ang mga ‘yon kaysa sa akin.Ngayon, isa na akong bilanggo sa pinangarap kong pagpapakasaya sa pansamantalang kalayaan. Paunti-unti, bumabalot sa aking buong katawan ang mabigat na kalungkutan mula sa isang sulyap sa kanyang anino. Lumalabo ang paningin, namamanhid ang kamay at paa, at tila handa na akong takasan ng sarili kong puso.

Aiser Levi Duque Petrified

Thus, determining all kinds of matters would be pointless. As such, consuming every legal notion she could administer, as much as she can, is her deliberate solution.

If only herself can be the same in terms of the mysteries that surface the unknown.

“You can always quit whenever you want,” the voice of concern brings her back. No, she thinks this time. No. No. No. “Qyns” Reyes

Maxine accepts this reality regardless of all the accusations surrounding it. So, for someone her age, most of her intentions lie in challenging the professionals only printed in her academic books. No matter how many times those in her same age would criticize the logic she desperately holds, she is still persistent as the savvy girl that she is.

There’s a pang of frustration when she remembers two more volumes she has yet to find in sequence of the first installment. This made her grip on the novel much more forceful than moments prior.

scio me nihil scire Aqeena

“For all the reasons there already are. I assume you must’ve heard all of them by this point,” offers Riley, not bothering to remove the growing grin in his features. “But it’s not like you would take any of them as an answer, no?” She huffs. He knows her too well.

While this isn’t the first time her brother displayed his doubts, it really has never become of any use to her studies.

At the current, based on what she can tell, it’s unfortunate that she is much closer to witnessing the disturbance from the other side of the room than she is to the answers she seeks. Costing one glance towards her younger sibling would force her to depart further from the texts she’s been doing her best to apprehend and waste the fruits of her labor.

Existing since generations long ago, it would be no surprise if the number of mysteries are a myriad. It becomes reasonable how no scientist, no researcher, and certainly no mere human could be close towards a deliberate answer.

“In what way should it not be?”

Riley returns Maxine’s unwavering stare who had shifted her attention from the hardbound she was holding onto since the start of their meeting. He notes the raised eyebrow there is to her unclouded look.

“Is this all necessary?” Riley interrupts, bringing his curiosity into discussion. No longer occupying the other side of their shared space, Maxine finds her brother fiddling with the assorted reading materials on her desk, threatening her with the reminder of deadlines, though shaking this off immediately.

“There are enigmas in this world that no one is made to uncover,” he replies with a toothy grin, face so much brighter than the moment he was born, his sister notes. “A wise person told that to me once when she said she planned to learn it all and I think that first part is more relevant now than it ever was.”

Riley softly punches his sister’s shoulder and laughs. “So we’ll never really know, but it’ll be okay.” Because we already know we’re alright.

Maxine shakes her head and sinks into her seat. “Is that okay?”

82QUARTZ

“Quantum physics, dimensional rifts, automation electronics—they’re all buzzwords and all of the professionals use them,” her hands clasped one another. “Every once in a while, a new discovery is presented as the next big thing, only for it to be replaced by another.”

Maxine wants to decline the offer of giving up her hard work because she is aware of her own titles. She is a quick strategist, team leader, creative visionary, an overachiever, an older sister, and more. Never does she think of herself becoming a quitter. Not when she has been doing this detriment for a huge fraction of her life. She doesn’t wish to say no but at the same time, she has to. It is a relentless torment on Riley’s side with much awareness of how his sister is stubborn this way. This scenario they have is no stranger to him. His mouth screws, instinctively attempts to find the right words that will make Maxine say something again. Anything, even if it’s one of her fancy words he doesn’t have a clue of will do. He never enjoyed this feeling.

“Unfortunately for me, I wasn’t ready for the world, the actual one. The reality brings me back to the fact I may just be a burnout gifted child. With so many variables there still is to it, I could only ponder if I’ll ever be that prepared as I once hoped,” admits the older, more for the sake of her suffering than anything accountable—that much, she is sure of. There is no question. “Do you want an answer?” inquires Riley with genuine innocence. He now believes he’s lucky, very much so to have a strong sister like Maxine. She has always been one, he concludes.

“When I understood this, I wanted the world to be ready for who I would become with all of the knowledge I had and the knowledge I can absorb. From this, I received certificates, scholarships, and multiple achievements. As prideful as that sounds, my gratitude for each recognition exists.” Maxine fumbles for a moment to reach the items in her bag until she hands an envelope to her brother. Riley prepares himself before releasing a light gasp. While written in bright red, its contents can only be interpreted as marks in contrast to what Maxine usually receives.

Maxine sits upright, catching the younger off guard. It’s a subtle thing but Riley catches his sister scooting right next to him right after. Maxine shares another gaze with her brother before looking down.

The Matriarch’s au revoir Gabriel Dale Tejido

It’s happening again. Unshackled thoughts flood the solitary room, reaching all four corners—every crevice blocked, every light dimmed. I saw it all, I heard every whisper of doubt that came to my clouded mind. With all this, I stopped writing the seemingly endless beside the countless pages I’ve written, I cast myself away from the dreary desk to lay solace on my bed. In the confines of darkness, I start to retract a deep memory of a conversation with my mother.

“What do you mean, mom? Like you’re one to talk,” I said with a hint of satiric laughter.

“But she stands unphased in her upright stance, its replete state remains in finesse and grace, and in failure, she ceases to tread.” My mind knew what she was trying to say, so my mouth bridged it. “Correct, and here you are on your path to her stability. But as life would plan, the attempts to perfection can only go so far, as in your own prowess comes innate function to feel, to think. Eventually like everyone else, she–“ “Overflows,” I say as my heart pangs.

I see the memory so clearly, it feels more like a reality. I let myself immerse in what once was our prairie. Letting it all sink in, the thought of seeing my mother made me weak. It happened at this moment, and I once again heard my mother’s sweet voice.

“See, Elise? You just have to let it out sometimes.”

“Exactly, fodder sentiments lead to roaming a fathomless maze, vexingly leaves you in peril. Liberate yourself from the labyrinthine sanctuary, and content yourself in the confines of solace.”Butletting it all out as if you’re throwing rocks in water is not a piece of cake.

Placingdiscourse.mypen

“Would you know anything, mom? In a once in a blue moon heart-to-heart tête-à-tête. Would one’s absence understand the struggles in the shadow of the sun? How would you know? To withstand the trials all by yourself, to resolve the extremities of loneliness, I’ve waited for–”

“Very funny, Elise,” she replied to me. “Take it like this. You’re a brimming vessel, unmoving and unfazed, ever in rest holding your totality,” she continued with a cheer in her eyes bestowed upon me.

I rose to my feet with great clarity, with a new disposition.

My mom took me into her arms at that moment, and all I could do was cry, she shouldered me with such care and warmth. She slipped something cold into my hands and before I was brought back to my reality, my vision slowly started getting darker, and I heard her ever lingering words.

Calmness, to have reached the end of my dilemma alongside my mother’s keepsake, my mother’s final embrace, the Matriarch’s au revoir. Only to have realized that my mother never left.

I’m your mother.”

I stopped wasting time on tears and did exactly what she told me as she gave me the fondest of adieus.

84QUARTZ

“I would know Elise, I would know,” she said on the verge of crying, her voice trembling. In an attempt to respond, I used all the energy I had left to let out a somber question.

“Because“How?”

The world fell silent as if its inhabitants laid their eyes upon me in solitude. Among them I see my mother, like a light at the end of a tunnel, the cries of elation break free. Whatever void surrounded me then was replaced by a comforting blanket of assurance.

To proceed, to stand straight, to move on, To let it out. On to a new day.

“Let it out.”

I open my eyes in tears, carefully examining the grim room. I get a glimpse of something gleaming in the dark, a ray of hope, and its as if the dreaded atmosphere that loomed in my room was outshined by the quartz bracelet my mother left me—a remembrance of what once was, the only thing I can cling to for safety in this bottomless darkness that is doubt.

Nicole Infante Afternoon Delight

Aya Ahmad Erosion of Thyself

Bianca Jan Sibayan & Ara Janine Palecpec

The sound of clinking crystal wine glasses and idle chatters dwell in the room as I take a glance at you. Your eyes are pinned with exquisiteness because of the mask you wear, but the facade you display still shudders. There and then, the cracks were sewn into its seams. Its crystals lose their luster piece by piece, while the glimmer in your eyes glistens under the spotlight, slowly trickling into the darkness of unconsciousness.

Suddenly, we were jolted back into the darkness but noticed as I gently opened my eyes that we’re closer to each other. I spied a tear glistening upon staring at the windows of your soul, and mine also started to ricochet. Our feet are moving in sync as if they planned what was going to happen, bringing us closer and closer to each moment. As the proximity between us could no longer be measured, hues danced to the rhythm of our breath. A scintilla circled around us, performing wizardry.

“I love your outfit!” “I’m sure it’s vintage!” “Honestly, it’s cute and I love it.” No you don’t. None of you do. As I gaze through the vast rectangular glass window, the clouds cascade into a deep blue gradient. Chatters grew rampant, beating the echoes of the burnt-umber grandfather clock. In time with the chimes of the clock, you took a step farther from the spotlight you once owned. And there, I witnessed how you sprinted towards the egress. You let your feet take you away from the room full of masked elegance, and I followed you through as you left the porch. I saw you sauntering on the moist grass and basked under the ethereal moonlight like an innocent child as the train of thought mulls over melancholy. The nightfall pacifies your solitude, and the silence caresses you to calm.

Reaching upon one fragment, you examined its sharp edges. You gently placed each of the fragments on your palm, aligning them carefully. I wonder if you were wishing that it’ll come back pristine.

A rushing wind coursed through my hair strands to float mid-air. Suddenly, a blinding light flashed in the midst of the darkness that made both of us astounded and stepped away. We were more confounded when the fragments coalesced right before our eyes.

Like a puzzle, the pieces of the mask binded together without any adhesives. But if one would take a closer look at the mask, the cracks are disguised as thin lines running beneath the crystals.Igathered my belongings, fixed my disheveled hair, and took a deep breath.

I hated you for the longest time. However, at the very same time, I love you. In the raging downpour, I chose to be the eye of the storm, providing calm in the midst of the chaos.

Naked masquerade

Before, fear once coursed through my veins, pushing me to withdraw every single thing I planned to do. Now, dread recedes as the adrenaline escalates. It brought me back to the ingress, entering the ball bare-faced.

I watched you talk to the moon, and I suppose you had a great conversation. Thereafter, I noticed you rummaging through your light brown clutch bag, finding the fragments of your mask. That’s where you’ve hidden it.

WRITERS’ PROFILE Wrenzhie Arroyo “Ang paruparo, gaano man kaliit, naniniwala akong kayang gumawa ng isang buhawi.” Marcea Alcala if your dreams don’t drown your heart with fear, they are too small. Ara Janine Palecpec Literary in-Charge make your plot twist.

Gabriel Dale Tejido Speak of beauty where there reigns the mundane. Bianca Jan Sibayan Foraging through the woods, unearthing a hidden world beneath the corrupted surface. Aqeena “Qyns” Reyes the passage of time is but a fleeting moment. Anina Jiliana Manuel 19 days, chapter 116, page 6: A million and 520 Pia Heart Lambuson time gives clarity. Paulyn Dianne Laude Blaze your own trail.

GRAPHIC AND LAYOUT ARTISTS Layout Editor Jan Anthony Murillo Angienette Laurza Nikki Alexis Antonio Juliana Ellice PHOTOGRAPHERSPolancos Photo in-Charge Elisha Jezreel Ang Jethro Dela CernaNicole InfanteAngienette Laurza Tricia Faye Velasco

Aya

Preclaro

Cecilia Nazarine Bicol Delos Reyes Klaire Niña Llarena

ARTISTS

Art

Sean Jacob Altoveros Jannbeau Amadeus Rain Astrero

Jasmin

Rianne Nicole Ocampo Reanne Roguel Liam Nico Sullivan Editor AhmadDenise

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