SENTIENCE Vol. 3

SENTI NCE

Jzyryl Rychnyl Carreon

by Carmela Jasmin Ramiro

THE EDITOR

The idea of this literary folio came randomly when I was plotting the content calendar. I asked myself, "What is more terrifying than reading horror stories that are real?" The thrill of watching a horror movie that is "based on true events" is truly bloodcurdling. That is why I wrote "HORROR STORIES ABOUT SOCIAL INJUSTICES" in the content calendar.

What is more terrifying than hearing stories of people dying of hunger, rights being deprived, freedom being barred, and faces, bodies, races, sex, and ethnicity being discriminated against? These stories happen everywhere, but eyes and ears are shut. These people and experiences are real but are being whitewashed by toxic positivity and privilege. Truly, social injustices are so scary that even the unaffected and comfortable are scared to speak up.

Perfect for the holiday, "Araw ng mga Patay," we will bring you to different haunted places. ‘Sentience’ will unravel the stories of those lives that injustice killed.

[TRIGGER WARNING] Flip the pages with caution!

NEIL BRYANT O. BALIAO

by

by Abijah McGuiller Barruga

Dorm sa Tabi ng Sementeryo

by Rodge Carl Vea

"Mula pagkabata takot na ako sa multo…ngunit may mga nilalang pala na mas dapat katakutan pa…"

Ako si Mina, isang college student ng Ramos State University dito sa Santa Lucia, Batangas. Ako’y 18-anyos, at nagmula ako sa bayan ng Bacarra, Ilocos Norte.

Gaya ng mga kapwa kong estudyante na malayo sa kanilang mga tahanan, ako’y kasalukuyang nanunuluyan sa isang dormitoryong malapit sa aking unibersidad. Mahirap lamang ang aking pamilya, ginapang lamang ng aking mga magulang ang aking pag-aaral sa sekondarya. Kaya noong ako ay nakapagtapos agad akong humanap ng mga iskolarsyip na pwedeng makatulong sa akin. Ang kabutihan ng isang negosyanteng taga-Batangas ang siyang rason kung bakit nag-aaral ako ngayon dito at kasalukuyang naninirahan sa dormitoryo na kanyang pag-aari. Malaking tulong ito sa akin.

Ngunit…

Pagsampa ko pa lang sa dormitoryong ito, isang mabigat na pakiramdam na ang umabala sa akin. Kung dala ito ng takot, pangamba, o sadyang dala ng paninibago sa kasalukuyan kong sitwasyon ay ‘di ko lubos na masigurado.

Sa likod ng aming dorm ay matatagpuan ang isang sementeryo. Matanda na ito kaya’t mara -

mi ng kababalaghan ang nangyayari umano rito. Sinasabing libingan daw dati ito ng mga presong namamatay sa mga kulungan kung kaya’t maraming mga haka-hakang may mga kaluluwang ligaw na umaaligid-aligid sa aming dorm. Mga kaluluwang makasalanan.

Isa sa mga pinaka-kumakalat na kwento ay tungkol sa isang kaluluwang pumapasok sa aming dormitoryo. Isa raw itong kaluluwang sumisilip at pumapasok sa mga kwarto ng mga babaeng nangungupahan at madalas makitang nakaupo sa bintana. Sinasabing kaluluwa raw ito ng isang multong gumagahasa sa mga dilag na napagiinteresan nito.

Marami na sa aking mga ka-dorm ang nagsasabing totoo ito — may itim na anino silang nakikita tuwing alas tres ng madaling araw sa kanilang mga bintana. Ang iba naman ay nagsasabing hindi raw ito totoo sapagkat nasubukan pa raw nilang magpuyat at walang takot na tinititigan ang kanilang mga bintana, sa pagbabakasakaling makita nila ang itim na kaluluwa. Nasayang lang daw ang kanilang oras.

Pero kung ako ang tatanungin, para sa akin totoo ang mga balita.

Sa unang mga araw ko sa dormitoryo, wala naman akong nararamdaman na kakaiba sa aking pagtulog. Binuksan ko pa nga ang aking mga bintana upang pumasok ang malamig na hangin. Ang

tabi ng

kwarto ko ay nasa ika-limang palapag, pinakamataas kaya’t pinakapresko. Ngunit isang gabi, madaling araw na nang ako’y makauwi dahil sa tinapos naming group project. Sa sobrang pagod ko, ako’y nakatulog agad. Bigla akong nagising nang may narinig akong boses na nanggaling sa bintana. Nang lumingon ako rito, may nasulyapan akong isang anino na tumalon mula sa aking bintana, ngunit wala akong narinig na mga lagapak… para bang nawala ito bigla.

Sa gabing iyon nagsimula ang serye ng mga kababalaghang aking naramdaman. Mula bata, takot ako sa multo at dilim kaya’t nakasanayan ko ng gamitin ang aking kumot bilang pantakip sa aking mga mata at katawan, nagbabakasakali na hindi ko sila makita.

Sa mga gabing nagpaparamdam ang kaluluwa, kadalasang nadarama ko ang kanyang presensya sa bintana na para bang taimtim na nagmamasid. Minsan nararamdaman ko siya sa loob ng aking kwarto, na parang hinahalungkat niya ang aking mga gamit – ang aking kabinet ang paborito niyang pagdiskitahan. Ngunit ang pinaka kinakatakutan ko ay ang mga madalang gabi na kung saan nararamdaman ko ang kanyang kamay na humahaplos sa aking hita, tiyan, at mga maseselang bahagi. Sa sobra kong takot, hindi ko kayang tanggalin ang kumot na naka taklob sa akin, sobra akong nilalamig at minsan hindi pa makagalaw. Sa aking pagdarasal at pag-iyak lamang siya tumitigil at bumabalik sa dilim ng gabi.

Nakapanlulumong isipin na nangyayari ang mga

bagay na ito sa akin. Ang tanging nagpapanatag sa aking loob ng kahit kaunti lamang ay ang kaisipang hindi totoong tao ang gumagawa sa akin nito. Na nasa akin pa rin ang aking dangal, bagkus, hindi ito nalabag ng isang totoong nilalang… demonyo ang aking kalaban, at ang Diyos lamang ang may kayang lipulin ito.

Ngunit may isang gabi ng kanyang pag-atake na sobrang nakakapagtaka sa akin. Na habang hinaplos niya ang aking dibdib ay may mga “click” akong naririnig, tunog na naririnig ko lamang sa mga selpon at kamera. Kinabukasan agad kong ni-report sa aming ‘caretaker’ ang pangyayaring ito, sinabi ko pa nga na kung pwede ay palagyan ng lock ang aking bintana upang hindi ako labis na mabahala at sobrang mangamba sa aking kapakanan at dignidad. Panay oo ang kanyang sagot, ngunit hanggang ngayon wala pa siyang aksyon.

Ayon kay Tita Samantha, ang ‘caretaker’ ng aming dorm, ang mga balitang ganu’n ay mga paninira lamang ng mga nangungupahang walang pambayad. Marami na kasing umaalis sa dorm dahil sa mga pangyayaring ito. Wala siyang sinasambang diyos, kaya’t hindi siya naniniwala sa mga bagay na paranormal. Panay sumbat niya sa akin na imahinasyon ko lamang ang mga ito dala siguro ng pagod o siguro mga penomenang sikolohikal lamang gaya ng “sleep paralysis.”

Magmula noong ni-report ko ang insidente, tumigil bigla ang pagbisita ng kaluluwa… ng pansamantala.

Kagabi, sa kasagsagan ng ulan dala ng bagyo, nagising ako nang madaling araw nang narinig ko ang pagbukas ng aking bintana. Alam ko sa aking sarili na sinara ko ang bintana bago ako humiga. Sino ba namang matinong tao ang bubuksan ito sa kasagsagan ng malakas na hangin at ulan? Kaya’t sigurado akong sa gabing ito, nagbalik na naman ang kaluluwa.

Hinigpitan ko ang kapit ko sa aking kumot, umiiyak at nanginginig. “Ayaw ko na muling maramdaman ang mga haplos ng multong ito. Ayaw ko na muling magising dahil sa kanyang tumatagos na titig. Ayaw ko na muling matakot at mangamba pa para sa aking dangal, kaligtasan at buhay. Ayaw ko na… tama na…” paiyak kong binulong.

Kaya’t ako’y nagdasal nang buong puso, sinasambit na kung ang Diyos ay tunay na makapangyarihan at tunay niya akong mahal ay hindi niya hahayaang maranasan ko pa muli ang lagim ng multong ito. Na sana hugutin na siya ng Diyos at ikulong na sa impiyernong kaniyang kinabibilangan. Pagkasabi ko ng “Amen” isang napakalakas na hangin ang bumugso papasok sa aking kwarto mula sa bukas na bintana. Sa sobrang lakas nito nalipad ng bahagya ang aking kumot. Dito ko nasaksihan ang pagdulas ng isang nakakapit na kamay sa gilid ng aking bintana. Isang malakas na lagapak ang sumunod kung narinig, na para bang may natumbang puno o may nahulog mula sa isang mataas na lugar. Ngunit hindi ko na ito inalintana pa dahil sa lubos na takot. Hinigpitan ko na lamang ang hawak

ko sa aking kumot, nagbabakasakaling maging ligtas ako sa hagupit ng bagyo at sa banta ng kaluluwang sakim.

Sunod na araw, hindi dumalaw ang kaluluwa, kayat ako’y mahimbing na nakatulog sa kabila ng takot. Ngunit…

Kaninang umaga, nagambala ako ng mga wangwang na sobrang ingay at mga malakas na kalabog sa aking pinto. Agad akong bumangon sa pangambang baka nasusunog na aming dormitoryo. Nang aking binuksan, sumalubong sa akin si Jessa, isa kong dorm mate, na para bang namatayan dahil sa labis na muot na makikita sa kanyang mukha.

Niyakap niya ako, habang siya ay umiiyak. Niyakap ko rin siya pabalik kahit hindi ko alam kung ano ang nangyayari.

“Dumungaw ka na ba mula sa iyong bintana?” nag-aalalang tanong niya sa akin.

Nang ako’y ngumiwi, hinablot niya ang aking kamay at dinala sa tapat ng aking bintana.

Sa aking pagdungaw, doon ko nakita ang isang bangkay na nakahandusay sa semento. Halatang wasak ang likod at bali-bali ang mga buto sa lihis ng porma ng kanyang katawan at mga braso. Ngunit, ang aking atensyon ay nakapokus lamang sa mukha ng bangkay… ako’y gulat at hindi makapaniwala bagkus ito’y mukhang aking kilalang-kilala…

“Si-si Ti-i-ita Sa-a-m-m-antha, Mina… Patay na siya!” sambit ni Jess habang humahagulgol.

Photo by Dannah Erika Eclarin

Spectres of Discrimination

by Jayson Sabong

Legends say ghosts give out the best stares – able to create the eeriest of sounds as if nails are scratching walls, can peel someone from the skin to flesh, and even deprive someone of sleep just through how their eyes bore at you. They say the muffled voices, like a gagged child’s pleas, fuel anger, and agony all within. And they say these ghosts often try to treat you like a ghost too – not someone that is one of them, but someone not worthy of existence.

I walked silently in the busy pathway of my school one cloudy Monday morning, a hand holding onto my bag, the other on my worn hijab. There was a strong surge of students and a congested trail at seven in the morning, yet there is a huge gap between me and the other students. No one dared to come near me, a Muslim woman, and so, I quickened my pace, aiming to reach my class. Upon walking, there are inaudible whisperings following me, no matter how far I am from others.

I stopped in my tracks and tried to cover my ears intently, hoping it would end the weird wounds of talking. But it just won’t die. The more I try to lessen it, the louder it gets. “You do not belong here,” among all whisperings, that was the one I got. “Stop, stop, please.” I keep answering back, wishing it’ll end. But it didn’t. I’ve heard whisperings, chains being dragged, knockings, and scratches for solid minutes. “Stop, please.” I plead. A long screeching sound of a woman rang in my ears for seconds before it all ended.

After that fight with my probable hallucinations, I went to my room deranged. I still cover my ears from time to time, scared it will come back. Upon reaching my room, there, a lady in a rugged white dress and messy hair falling on her face with pure black eyes entered the room, freezing it still. The lady stood in front, her eyes agitatedly roaming the classroom like she was looking for something, or perhaps someone, and I, who was in my seat, couldn't sit still either. I followed her eyes until she found mine and she was

now directly staring back at me. Her lips lifted for a sinister look, her eyes glistening in pleasure. The sight doesn’t sit well with me, it made my stomach churn and made this urge to puke.

What did I do to suffer from these? What sin did I commit against Allah? What did I, a young Muslim woman do to receive these misfortunes?!

She asked, “Who knew here about the massacres in Marawi and Cotabato?! Those massacres ended the lives of many people!”

That question had me stoned. That made me scream my silent prayers. I have felt how the heads of each student turned to my seat. I felt their eyes on the back of my head, passing through my headscarf, and how it made the hair in my arms and headstand in fear.

I’m only a high school student! Why did they have to stare at me like that?! I did nothing wrong!

I’ve heard their whispers, I’ve heard the jokes – about bombing them if they try to bully me, and about the practices we’ve to uphold as Muslims. They were the noises behind the shower curtain, the baby’s cries at midnight, and the screeching sound of bodies being dragged. I’ve felt avoidance and indifference, like how my fellow students act as if I am the ghost, the monster, the fear. It has been a natural occurrence, of receiving glares and side comments because of being in the minority.

These questions, whisperings, and glares, stupefy me and I could not move. I froze. The whisperings started coming back. This time, louder and more potent. The lady in white approached me with her long strides with the other students and they started crowding over me, whispering the same things I’d heard before in my ear. She put her hands around my neck, whispering and then screaming.

As she lifted her head upwards right in front of me, I finally had a glimpse of her face without her hair on the way, only to realize who she was — ME! SHE WAS ME!

BLOOM Flawless

by Joyce Sheena Alyssa Pajo

How dull the wretch of a homophobic mind Disdains the pleasures of an ideal kind; Whose prosy thoughts the blisses of life exclude

And wreck the solace of a laureate’s mood.

A lot has haunted the throes of ages, And also, has flown on the pinions of fear; When they unravel, hatred rages Rancor words loom making them drear. Lacerating fiends of felicitousness Thus, those deprived of rights and hoping Perceive ghastly shades of filching madness And lodge beyond the woes of endless throbbing. Hence, with the stream of time, swiftly flowing, Comes the torment of half-knowing Dimly rushing, blindly moving Colors unseen forever fleeting.

Though, all beings are woven fine, All are catalysts for ardor divine Reconciling the notion of unequal pine; There…runs feelings of equitable twine.

Oh, great is the ‘sin’ of their spirits And great is the reach of their ‘doom’; Not the pity of ‘Heaven’ can change it Gaily raising their colors with flawless bloom.

| Illustration by Brent Aganus|

What stays within His Closet Walls

by Hyun Sun James Maestrado

Then he comes in, to fumble upon me in hiding He uttered condescending words somewhat directed at me For I look so soft for a lad

With a pretty face with garments overworn yet complement me well

As the night starts within these claustrophobic walls

His squeezes as he enters are becoming even tighter

I stay within these thin walls for a reason

For I am still not ready for whom awaits beyond The darkness I find in the comfort In a closet, I hide in and his dormitory he has chosen to reside

He, in heat, makes the temperature moist And his palms drench my skin as he touches every inch

Yet amidst me in disgust can’t do anything

He always talks so disdainfully about me looking so lax

|

Photo by Casmir Remyell Cadiente|

But as my doors were left ajar I am in fear of what freedom may give I am a boy doll meant for girls Yet my captor lies outside laying on top of his bed He knocks mostly at night full fruition

When the judgmental glances of the morning eyes sleep

While he hardened every part of him tarnishing me Caressing me so violently as he always did Pounds me with complete force every night that he is in I am always numb yet in complete agony for I have endured it all I fear him when he leaves, for, he hates what also lies outside my closet walls

He spent days pretending to be what he is not For he fears being seen in a different light

So, once he is done with what lies beyond Then he returns so fast directly to my closet Which I will forever be defiled

SA IKASa ika-labing tatlong tres ng

TRIGGER WARNING: Rape

by Warren

akas ang pwersa ng mga hindi nakikitang nilalang. Ngunit, binabaliwala ko lamang ito, baka gawa-gawang kalokohan lamang ito ng mga estudyante upang matakot ako. Sa pagkakaalam ko, ang silid na iyon ay isa sa mga ‘faculty’ room ng mga kapwa kong propesor na nagtuturo ng kursong nursing. Itinatak ko sa aking isipan na kahit kailan ay walang katotohanan ang mga multo at mga nilalang na hindi naman nakikita.

Hanggang isang araw ay nagbago ang aking pananaw ukol dito.

Naglalakad ako noon papunta na naman sa alas-tres kong klase, kasama ko ang aking kaibigang propesor. Sa ‘di kalayuan ay may nakikita akong lalaking nakatalikod na nakasandal ang ulo sa pader ng pang labintatlong silid, umiiyak. Tinatakpan niya gamit ang kanyang mga kamay ang kanyang mukha habang

“Dalian mo sir Justin, mukhang umiiyak ata yung estudyante roon. Tanungin natin kung anong problema baka kung ano pang gawin niya sa sarili niya,” wika ko kay sir Justin bago ko binilisan ang

“Eh sir, wala namang estudyante. Lahat may klase ngayon at bawal silang lumabas sa kanilang mga silid,” sagot

IKA ALAS

tatlong silid tuwing alas ng hapon

naman niya sa akin na tila nagtataka kung bakit ko nasabi iyon.

“Wala ka ba talagang nakikita? Ayun oh! Naka-uniporme ng pang-nurse,” sambit ko sa kaniya.

Habang lumalapit kami sa ikalabing tatlong silid ay doon ako kinilabutan. Unti-unti siyang humarap sa akin. Kitang kita ang dugo sa kanyang kulay puting pantalon sa tapat ng kanyang ari at pumapatak pa ito. Nakikita ko rin ng pagluha niya ng dugo. Napahinto ako at ang buong katawan ko ay nanginig. Tumayo ang aking mga balahibo. Ipinikit ko ang aking mga mata at pinipilit sa isipan ko na hindi totoo ang aking nakikita, na ako’y namalikmata lamang. Ngunit, pagmulat ko ay inaabot na niya ang kanyang kamay na puno ng dugo patungo sa akin. Dito ko naramdaman ang paghingi niya ng tulong.

“Sir, ano na? Ma-lalate na tayo sa mga klase natin naghihintay na ang mga estudyante,” sabi ni sir Justin sa akin. Doon ako natauhan. Paglingon ko ay bigla na ring naglaho ang lalaking nakaputi. Pilit kong isinantabi ang aking nasaksihan ngunit hindi ko talaga ito naiwasan. Buong araw ay ‘yon lamang ang aking nasa isip. Dahil sa hindi ako mapanatag ay agad akong nag-imbestiga kung may estudyante

bang namatay roon. Sa kalagitnaan ng aking pagsisiyasat ay isang propesor ng ‘nursing’ ang nagkwento sa akin tungkol sa isa nilang estudyanteng lalaking nagpakamatay sa hindi matukoy na dahilan. Labis daw ang paghihinagpis at pagtataka ng kanyang pamilya sapagkat ang batang iyon ay aktibo at masayahin naman. Ngunit ang ipinagtataka ko ay kung bakit sa ikalabing tatlong silid siya nagpapakita kung sa loob naman ng kanilang tahanan niya kinitil ang kanyang buhay.

Pilit ko mang iwasan ang silid na iyon ngunit iyon lang ang daanan patungo sa aking klase. Nilakasan ko ang aking loob… at doon nakita ko na naman ang lalaking nakaputi.

“Huhu...huhu...huhu,” hagulgol na naman niya. Sa pagkakataong ito ay bigla siyang lumingon at humarap sa akin. Kitang-kita ko ang hinagpis ng kanyang mga mata. Tumakbo siya papalapit sa akin habang sumisigaw ng, “Tulong! Si sir John ang salarin! Si sir John ang salarin! Si sir John!”

Hindi ako nakakibo sa sobrang takot. Napapikit na lang ako dahil akala ko ay sasaktan niya ako. Pero bigla na lang itong nawala. Akala ko noon ay tapos na ngunit bigla na naman itong lumitaw at doon

bumukas ang pinto ng silid na iyon na tila gusto niya akong papasukin. Walang tao sa loob at tila lahat ay may klase. Tumayo siya sa isang mesa ng isa sa mga guro, si sir John. Ang pagkakakilala ko kay sir John ay isang silahis, nagkakagusto sa babae at lalaki. Ewan ko kung anong gustong niyang gawin ko, ngunit isang kuwaderno ang nahulog. Biglang naglaho ang lalakeng nakaputi. Doon ko lahat nabasa ang ‘Diary’ ng nabalitaan kong nagpakamatay na estudyante.

Nalaman ko na ang lalaki pala na iyon ay minolestiya ng kanyang mismong gurong si sir John kapalit ng mataas na gra do at hindi suta bumagsak. Hindi ko lubos akalain na mismong kapwa ko pang guro ang siyang magagawa ng kahindik-hindik na krimen. Sa aking pagsisiwalat ng kato tohanan ay marami pang mga biktima ang nagsilitawan mapababai man o lalaki.

Hindi tumagal ang panahon, si sir John ay nakulong at sa wakas ay nakuha ng lalakeng nakaputi ang hustisya at ng kanyang pamilya, kasama na ng iba pang mga biktima, ng kanyang pangmomolestiya nang walang pahintulot. Mula noon ang ikalabing tatlong silid sa tuwing alas tres ng hapon ay naging payapa na rin.

SUGATAN

Si Makahiya’t Masdan Yaring Banta

by Jayson Sabong

Binulasan ‘tong bibig, karapata’y nilipad sa teknolohiyang nilangaw ng kasinungalingan Nananaghoy sa dilim ang nagpupumiglas na dahon, pinako at nasugatan ‘tong palad, Kalayaan ang ibig, ‘di kulungang mapalad sa tatapak niring yakag, notang tulak ang dahas Kuliling ay kamandag ngunit niring pagsigaw ng taimtim, pakinggan at ilahad

Nang mabasa’t marinig ang patalim ng media, dinig ang tangis ng lalim ng sugat Dahilan upang mabuwag ang bulwagan ng pundasyong dating matatag, Na sa bawat paghikbi'y naaagnas ang sementong nadidiligan ng takot; Kung sana'y sinisisi ng lupa ang langit kung bakit nasa baba ng dagtum na kaulapan ang kanyang kapalaran, Na sa bawat araw ay nanunumbalik ang hinanakit ng kahapong inilibing na't nangamatay— Sinasagisag ang hinagpis sa tuwing dumadampi ang anghang o asim sa sari wang mga sugat.

At sa paulit-ulit na pagkasagi'y muli't muling bumubuka ang kapaitan ng sugat, Sanhi ng pagkahamak sa sarili'y ipagkakait ang marubdob na pagtatangi, Sapagkat yaon na'y pinaglalamayan ang imahe kasama ng mga sariling nangama tay.

At tuluyan nang makalimutan ng isang talaba na siya'y may binabahayang matatag, Kasabay nito ang pagtatago sa buhanginan nang 'di mahagip ng mabagsik na alon ng kapalaran— Tatawagin sa inakalang "sawimpal ad"; dahilan upang muling tumagis tis sa kahihiyan yaring luha.

Hanggang kailan paagusin ang pa ngungutya, gayong halos matuyo na ang kabatisan ng takot?

Hanggang kailan kayang tiisin ang hapdi, gayong unti-unti nang nagnanana iring mga sugat?

Hanggang kailan maaaring sabih ing 'matatapos din ito," gayong 'di na umiikot ang gulong ng kapalaran?

Hanggang kailan susuko sa apo’y ng panunukso,

by David Acacio

SUGATAN

gayong masalimuot ang nararanasang patimpalak ng dyablong sistema? Hanggang kailan ang pagpapakatatag bago bumagsak, gayong ang sariling kastilyo'y hindi na matatag? Hanggang kailan magiging biktima sa tarak ng patalim, gayong sumalangit na silang mga nangamatay?

Huwag nating hintaying yurakan ang puhon ng katas sa lagim ng pangung utya, Sapagkat oras na para punasan ang senaryo ng gabi-gabing pag-uumapaw ng ating mga takot at luha. Huwag nating hintaying lumawig ang paniniil sa dahas ng teknolohiya, Sapagkat lahat tayo'y nasasakta't mas masakit kung sa emosyon naroon ang mga sugat, Huwag nating hintaying ni tayo'y magpabihag sa rehas ng karahasan at panghuhusga, 'Pagkat sa bagal ng pag-inog, baka 'di na tayo mapapanigan nitong traydor na kapalaran.

“Kasalukuyan“—ang laging perpek tong panahon para lumaban at 'di aasa

sa takbo ng kapalaran, Kasaria’y binaboy, prinsipyo’y nakubkob, kaya't huwag nang hayaan pang may sumunod sa yapak nilang nangamatay, Maging boses tayo laban sa mga kabuktuta't 'di makatarungang pamantayan ng pagtatangi, Tama na ang gabi-gabing paghihilamos gamit ang ating mga nagdadalamhating may pangamba’t luha At husto na ang pagkukubling hindi tayo nasasaktan sa muli't muling pagkasagi ng ating mga sugat, Sapagkat ang dugong matapang ang pawa’ng kumilos, ang tayog ng karunun gan ang siyang titibag.

Masdan siyang makahiyang biktima ng pagtatangi, "walang kwentang damo" ang bansag ng kanyang kapalaran, Subalit siya'y matatag, sapagkat mata pos na lasuni'y muling umugat habang ang iba'y tuluyan nang nangamatay, Sagiin mo siya't pumipikit, at halu migmig ang kanyang takot at luha; sinagi mo ma'y nag-iwan siya tanda ng paglaban—yaong mga tinik na sanhi ng iyong mga sugat.

Sugatan Si Makahiya’t Masdan Yaring Banta

It has been a year since you’re gone

I was engulfed by darkness until now, I tortured myself. Seeking for answers…traces to where you are? Still convincing myself that your soul is at peace, Even when it is not, not yet. Until I get mine.

My grief hallucinations that you are always there

Is tormenting my brain And ripping my heart off. I don’t know what to do. Where can I find you? In the other world or in the upside down? If only I have superpowers to summon you, I will again hug and kiss you, Hold your warm hands, And together dwell the world again. As what you’re broken promises Sculpted in my memories says. Every day I hear your voice whisper

by Warren Raciles

BEGONEBEGONE

into my ears

Delighted me with those sweet words of yours, They are all full of lies. Your mighty presence keeps me safe, Are now a threat to my life, I am afraid I might lose control And decide to entangle my life in you, Into the realm of darkness, For you is nowhere to be found. You made a sham of my pain.

blew a hole in my heart with an ice-cold magnum.

Now, as I walk through the graveyard, These stones, this sense of bizarre permanence, To my eyes shows an unwillingness to move on fully, For I want to see you dead to the flesh And kill you by myself but, I can’t. I can’t because you are gone, With no reasons or warning. I hate you for trespassing on my life If I die I will haunt you… But for now, I will bury you With your tombstone engraved with all our memories together.

BEGONE BEGONE

by Crisdeniele

Ms. Damsel

WARNING: Rape

RAVIRavish

The night is not unusually dark or maybe I have been used to what most common evenings can offer. I have been staring blankly at my utensils unused within the dorm that I live in, dying and sadly my place payment is beyond overdue. My walls are quite decrepit and cheap, this place might have been but so far this is all I can afford. I have lived considerably for a long time, yet money has always been my main issue, or maybe I have been my problem.

I don’t seem to balance my life, for I am a loner, and worst, a college student. I have lived and left a thousand lives; I claimed such an aspect for it is so true. I have experienced all the peaks and all the rockiest bottoms. My only wish is to finish my boring studies for the first time, for it feels like it is the only thing left unchecked on my never-ending bucket list, the only genuine thing worth finishing now that it is the only thing that I consider myself entitled for.

Grim it was the sight of the very situation that I was in. I am broke and unhappy, living but not feeling alive at all. Grim was considered to be penniless at this time, however, I am aware of the worst thing that a woman like me has to endure. I am no en trepreneur, with no wits upon my sleeve, yet the sexism engraved from the minds of the mindless, and heaven between my legs are the thoughts that are worth dwelling upon during my times of complete exhaustion.

A student not working at all, merely expecting money from some stupid depressed, or lonely college kids who only possess a huge bulge from their wallets as their only great attribute. I call these kids “my wallet,” these kids I pity fuck for they seem to think that they can offer me their best, once I let them touch me while I count the money worth for a long night and they only last for seconds. I have more options but the options that I knew have been overdone, again I wanted to choose stupidity for it has been

by Hyun Sun James

Photo by John Lloyd Balantac

Night

James Maestrado

IGHT

a long since I have been that. I was never judged for my actions, for I was never discovered, I am a pro I say to myself, while I try to count the times that I felt like not overpowering these mere boys I fucked. The only thing that is hard to manage during these moments is me, for my mind seems to fly, for it is truly difficult for me to act as if I care. There is no fun, the only money I want to buy is “the fun” I still seek, yet at the same time money, I like to gain yet money I like to lose when I splurge unhealthily my way out of my eternal boredom.

As my thoughts run yet again abrupted by the silence within these walls, my room filled with dimming lights that won to drive me out of sanity. The thoughts I consider to think, as the night or someone else reads within this ever-changing thought uttered thoroughly from my unhinged mind. I hate it when I am trapped with disgust over the people I have unwillingly chosen to pity, to use and manipulate to my very own advantage, and to think of suffering brought out by mere minor inconveniences.

These thoughts I say must be driven out of this brain, I have no money to entertain myself, and I am bored to death with the lessons that I must recall, and school work I must accomplish, so it is decided that it is the right moment for me to find another wallet.

I came out from maddening silence, only to hear the deafening screams of cicadas. These noisy insects have known me for a long time, and they seem to fear me more than those I have chosen to scare, and sometimes it infuriates me. My dormitory only has a few tenants and we seem to not care for one another because honestly who cares I suppose? I walk slowly on my way out from the miseries of these depressing walls, as I come closer to the exit.

I can still hear these stupid insects, but as usual, I feel free for the trees seems to provide nicotine only from their scent carried by the subtle breeze, and the moon seems to shine upon me and make me luminescent, as it again brings me the power to endure the chills of the unknown bestowed by the pitch black that became my frenemy. The stars shine with me and as usual, we both are the whores that deserve all the attention of the night.

I am going to ravish you, I say unto the darkness while I walk

Mr. Distress

It is dark however the stars and moon still manage to shine as it gathers guts to illuminate this evening, I, considered to be filled with, or of wonders.

I like the essence of the mundane cowardly flaking as the darkness of evening overpowers the vibrant hue of my most hated morning skies, the stars are true attention whores, and only the moon is my dearest bear witness.

I no longer desire running the way that I used to in the olden days, but now it is more fun doing it with four wheels instead of my mere feet. I decided to use my car, red as the color of blood, I call her my Scarlet. We traveled the night as things began to be embraced by slumber, but I am here to guide those who are lost within my ally pitch black, away from sleep, terrorized by merely being awake, just people walking late, all alone… those are my friends.

As I do my nightly routine, the streets, roads, and common paths are scarce. Sometimes my eyes even thought of trees as the things that I am obsessing over, yet obviously, my eyes see no living being, only the usual. My search felt so endless, people seem to be more awry lately for reasons that I dared not to understand or consider. It is around 12, too early I say, my car is longing as I am. It has been a month since I have been intimate with someone, it has been a long time since I have managed to pound a flesh that isn't mine. I see the road as it is, directing me to my new lasting conquest, a new limited friend.

It took me 2 more hours to grow emancipated, everything is a cacophony, and I am fam-

ished beyond what I had expected. My stomach is churning my blood racing as it hardens the parts that I challenge into its edge.

The pitch of blackness seemed to become stronger until the moon enlightened and served as a spotlight for a woman in white in a perfect place of pure seclusion. Not entirely in white actually, she just wears a white T-shirt and skinny jeans. She looks so basic for this time, but who am I to be picky?

When I approach, I see her fix her long black silky hair and just stop walking. She looks at the front of my car with serene curiosity, which intrigues me because most are beyond awry when I try to come in peace. I stopped my car right in front of her, then she came closer to me. As my window slides down, the outside of my car seems to welcome me with peculiar shouts from insects I forgot the name of. The moon seems to only shine upon her and the stars seem to compliment her as well or she might’ve outwhored those stars. The winds are acting in her favor as it beautifully blows her hair, her scent of trees and sweetness that is of a drug I would love to be addicted to.

She is a mestiza and has this cat-like feature that most would consider pretty nowadays, and her teasing grin and quite smirking smile are a way out of this cold grip of the night. She in its entirety is a beauty worth rummaging not because of the so-called standard but because she just is, or maybe I am falling into it out of mere infatuation. Insatiable is what I felt once she no longer seems to act normally refined, she now tries to act unusually in control, not acting or ingenuine, and she has the confidence as if she

just found what she is needy for.

Sir. Night

I am what you think of, the one that sees not only the dark but also the darkness itself. Sometimes I let the moon and the stars shine for some within the darkness are worth the most attention, just like my two nocturnes. They truly did become my creatures for they now see clearly beyond the darkness yet so blindly with the dangers they are about to see unfold as these crossroads meant to bind them from one another. One sees flesh, the other sees beyond it, and I only see darkness and tiny dots of light, the stars that are my children trying to outshine these dark beings.

As I am about to be dominated by the dawn again, I see him open up his car, the beginning of a deserved tragedy I say. She confidently sat on his maroon sits as she accurately stated her dehumanizing worth. She asks for a lot as usual, for she thought so expensively yet not so priceless of her body and her worth. I have seen her in her smartest of times and sometimes she just chooses to stop becoming her true self which truly did scar who she truly was. She in her thickest of skin stated her limits amidst her being capable to be more than she was.

Mr. then agreed yet tried to slow down, to entertain, and to condition and tries to strengthen the sexual tension he seems to enjoy for it is one of the things that makes the flesh more appetizing. The tension itself is the appetizer, he learned that from his narcissism, he still thought that he himself is a man in control of the mo-

ment, still unaware of the woman right in front of her not caring about the words that come out of his filthy mouth.

“Are you from around here?” he stated with complete confidence and with a deep voice which she replied without hesitation, “yes, I am from around this area, but I just need some money to pay my bills.”. She just wanted to have the money now she just wants to stop pretending like she gives a fuck but still, this man tried to look his best, and yes, the girl tries to acknowledge it and at the same time try to be curious as to why a such man with looks and appealing proposition still chooses to pay a woman for pleasure if he can actually just ask for free. But even if that is the case, she still would not dare let this man have it his own way for free because she still would prefer a pocket full of cash. Her superficiality seems to almost dim her judgment until she realizes that he only has the vocabulary to utter words only about his not-so-endearing vanities. He is pretty yet nothing but a dick.

She then grew tired as she always does, of what this man talked about until she asked him to give her the money and just get on with it.

She did the first move, her lips the man thought were so unusually plump, so soft, so fragile that he couldn't stop himself any longer. This man suddenly felt so aroused as if it was his very first in which he did realize that it was somewhat his first time that he wanted it now yet try his very best to slowly savor the taste of her lips and the so-called aroma he preferred obsessing over.

However, he can no longer stop… he bit her lips, and she pulled away, the girl tried her

best to not look annoyed, and again she tried to kiss him yet again he bit harder, and she felt even more irritated yet not nervous to what he does, again she tried… yet again got bitten even harder, more painful than before.

His lips are no longer the way it is, it is now bloodied with the color of his car, red at its most. She now sees him as he is but not how I see it. He grabbed her with force the way he does it with other girls. He is not at ease, he wanted to rip off her face, he wanted to wear her face like a mask and slurp it up like jelly, and he wanted to become even more intoxicated by drinking her blood. He wanted her all and also her bones. But first, he wanted to enjoy her femininity.

He groped her parts and forced his finger as she pretended to scream. Funny because she thought that it is foreplay, a fetish she is used to with her clients. She acted her pleading, and she is no longer a great actress. She uses to make herself seem so vulnerable, acting like a real victim, acting like she is about to die, acting her none existing heart out. Now her experiences numbed her to the point that she no longer knows if she was being defiled or not, she was silent.

He choked her, he tried his best to fracture her neck without decapitating her pretty head and suddenly she stopped acting and got annoyed with a tinge of fear when she realized that this bitch is like her– she just stared at him as if she is not in complete shock and then she just slapped him.

His head was now gone, gallons of blood spurting everywhere, head on top of his car's back sitting screaming wtfucks. He is an idiot for not realizing that he is dealing with his own

kind, dealing with her. It is his first time realizing that he is not alone and now she is the one left. It is her first time, again… feeling, first time realizing that he might have ended her, and almost, eventually, ending her last entitlement or dream to her boring life. At first, time feeling like a human, which she missed, yet she hated the fact that her emotions were suddenly brought out when she felt quite helpless when she was being raped.

She is patiently waiting for the time in which something else makes her genuinely feel again, but now she is covered by blood, she is now wearing red, the blood that tarnished her. As she grabs the shithead, she also swings it around as it screams. He is noisy and annoyed, she bit off his tongue, chewed then spit it out with disgust thinking that he tasted worse than the past human meat she once had used to enjoy. She laughed as the cicada now seemed to praise her, or maybe that is how we now see it.

As the moon no longer shines upon her now illuminates her newly lit path. She is now part of the night for she herself ravishes the thought of comfort amidst my coldest grips, she is back to being one of my wonders.

The moon and stars are all in awe as she walks the roads like her runway, she strides with not just mere confidence but with the purpose of doing what most would not dare. She is her very own justice without bearings, the damsel with no hesitations of killing all that distresses her. She now roams the night more wildly than before and I consider myself lucky to see it all the way it always used to unfold.

Runaway Man

by Hyun Sun James Maestrado

It’s around five but the sun sets faster than

I do

As I see my shadow falter on cracked callused roads that lead into my way home

The peace I found refuge on my steps upon these common routes was interrupted by a man unknown

R

He strolls as I walk quicker but somewhat, we are walking on the same path

This man wears the whitest color of tee like I do yet a red logo or smudge comes into a blur I forgot to bring my glasses with me so it truly is not that recognizable

Amidst the distance between us closing in I suddenly felt awry and felt the urge to walk quicker, no, run as fast as I can Away from him and away from the possibilities of danger

As I go quite astray yet naturally know my way This man still speeds up his course directly unto me with sheer purpose I still am unwilling to face I am still not near yet my heart pumps too much air to the point of having none

I am no runner I know it within my bones Unhealthy yet I would still prefer walking for it saves more money but costs time Walking, as it is the only thing that keeps me fairly alive

My gut hurts now from too much running how ever my guts say to run as fast as I fucking can

N

by Christian Heaven Barruga

The roads became wilder as I felt so lightheaded from too much running

Then suddenly I heard a police siren beeping its horns continuously

Then suddenly the man in white stopped running and screamed the word “run”

So, I did, for I am now aware of what is left for me

As I continuously run, the siren came closer, then I tripped, then there was a gunshot

I stood up unknowingly under the dimming lights of the setting sun

Then saw a man walking upon these coarse tracks apparently on his way home

Then there comes the siren, the sound I fear

Then I followed the men now running away

My clothes to white, now quietly covered with blood

Then I chase him

So fast he ran Dizzy and rough these roads are as he struggles to run

I stopped and then shout the words I also heard once

The sirens are loud and then stopped

As the beeps of his horns are still so loud Then suddenly a huge bang went so out loud

Then there I was laying on the ground.

SIKMURA: INGGIT ANG LAMAN

by Jayson Sabong

Madilim ang langit na animo’y nakikisabay sa aking nararamdaman. Na kahit kay bigat ng dinadala, kinakayangpigilan ang luha sa pagbagsak. Kitang-kita ng dalawakong mata kung paano ikinasal ang posas at ang mgakamay niya. Hanggang ngayon ay hindi pa rin ako makapaniwalasa nangyari.

“Kawawang mag-ama. Mga wala ng pag-asa sa buhay,” wikang isang babaeng hindi ko kilala. Labing-pitong taong gulang na ako, masyadong bata para maranasan lahat ng ito. Tila ako’y nawawalasa sarili at ang mga boses na naririnig ko’y pilit itinatakwil ng akingkaisipan at hindi hinahayaang makapasok.

“Itay, bakit mo ‘yon nagawa?” umiiyak kong wika habangnakatingin sa nakangiti niyang litrato kasama ako. Nandito akongayon sa apat na sulok ng kwarto, purong puti at walang ingay na maririnig. Hindi ko alam ang sumunod na nangyari, nagising nalang ako na nandito na ako.

MUsap-usapan na rito noon pa man ang pagiging magnanakawni ama. Kapag tinatanong ko’y hindi naman siya tumatanggi, angkatwiran ay dala raw ng kahirapan. Hindi lang pagnanakaw, ito’ylumala pa. Ang daming nagsasabi na nakapatay raw si ama, hindilang isa. May nagsabi rin na kaya namatay ang aking ina ay dahil sa kanya. Ang ipinagtataka ko lang, bakit ako… bakit hindi niya akopinatay?

At ngayong araw na ito, napatunayan na lahat ng binibintang sakanya ay totoo. Kriminal nga ang aking ama.

“Kumusta na ang iyong pakiramdam?” tanong sa akin ng isangbabae nang bumukas ang pinto. Tingin ko’y nasa-tatlumpong taonna ito’t mahigit.

“Sino ka? Nasaan ako?” kinakabahan kong tanong sabay yapossa litrato ni ama.

“Ako si Meredith, andito ka ngayon sa puder namin paraalagaan ka. Nasa ligtas na lugar ka at walang mang-aapi sa ‘yo,”mahinahong wika niya.

Hindi ko na alam kung sino ang paniniwalaan. Mahigit isanglinggo na siguro ako rito at ni minsan ay ‘di ko man lang nasilayanang araw. Sa apat na sulok lamang umiikot ang buhay ko.

Gabi na ngayon hindi pa rin ako makatulog. Tatlong hakbang—tatlong hakbang ang aking narinig bago ito tumigil. Lumingon akosa pinto ngunit wala namang tao. Ipinikit ko na lamang ang akingmata at iwinaksi ang nasa isip ngunit agad akong napabangon nangmarinig kong mahulog ang larawan ni ama.

Dali-dali akong lumapit doon at nang inangat ko’y basag-basagna ang salamin nito. Unti-unting tumulo ang aking dugo sa kanyangmukha. Ang bubog ay nakatusok ngayon sa aking mga daliri.

“Mamamatay tao!”

“Magnanakaw!”

“Ikaw na ang susunod! HA HA HA”

Mga boses na naririnig ko sa kung saan habang ang bubog aytuluyang bumabaon sa aking kamay.

Ipinikit ko ang aking mga mata at tinakpan ang tainga hanggangsa mawala ang ingay. Dahan-dahan kong iminulat ang aking mgamata at nakita ang litrato ni ama na nakangisi na.

Sa taranta’y naihagis ko ito at tumilapon malapit sa pintuan ngbanyo. Pagkatingin ko dito’y may nakita akong babae na nakatayo,ang damit ay gutay-gutay habang may nakasaksak na kutsilyo sabandang tiyan nito. Hindi ko kita ang mukha dahil sa ang buhoknito’y nakaharang.

“Huwag kang lalapit!” pagbabanta ko rito ngunit patuloy pa rinang paghakbang niya.

“AHHHHHHHH!”

“Samara! Gising! Samara!” nagising akosa boses ng isang babae.

“Lumayo ka sa akin!” sigaw ko kayMeredith at itinulak ito.

“Samara, nananaginip ka lang. Kumalma ka!” Pilit itong lumalapit sa akin kayanaman inihagis ko ang pinakamalapit nabagay papunta sa kaniya.

Pareho kaming nakatingin sa kamayniyang dumudugo ngayon nang ihagis kosa kanya ang litrato ni ama. Ang kanyangdugo’y tumutulo ngayon sa sahig.

“Subukan mong lumapit! Hindi basinabi kong lumayo ka! Papatayin ka rinniya. Mamamatay tayong lahat. Pero bagoako, kayo muna!”

Wala ng umaga sa buhay ko. Masmadalas akong gising sa buong gabi habangnakikipaglaro sa sariling anino. Ang araway hindi na nagpapakita sa akin, tila wala naakong pag-asang makipaglaro sa hangin.

“Lintik na ilaw ‘to. Ikaw na nga langnagpapaliwanag dito sa kwarto, nagloko pa!Meredith! Nasaan ka ba?!” Simula noongaraw na iyon ay hindi na siya bumibisitadito. Masunurin masyado ang bruha.

“Nandito ako.” Tila natuod ako sa akingpagkakatayo at dahan-dahang humarapsa bandang pinto. Si Meredith iyon, hindiako pwedeng magkamali. Nakatayo siyasa pwesto kung saan ko siya huling nakita.Andoon pa rin ang bakas ng kaniyang dugosa sahig.

“Anong ginagawa mo rito?” nagtatakakong tanong.

“Hinahanap mo ako, hindi ba?” kakaibaang boses niya. Humakbang siya ng isangbeses dahilan ng pagtindig ng aking balahibo.

Ang ilaw ay patuloy pa rin sa pagpatay-sindi. Isang sigaw ang narinig ko dahilanng pagpikit ko. At sa pagmulat ay nakitakong wala na doon si Meredith.

“Ako ba ang hanap mo?” Naramdamanko ang malamig na kamay sa balikat ko.Tumakbo ako malapit sa pinto at saka siyanilingon. Ang damit niyang puti ay puno ngdugo at sa parteng tiyan, may nakasaksakna bubog.

“Ano’ng nangyari sa ‘yo? Sinong gumawa niyan sa ‘yo? Panaginip lang kita ‘di ba?”kinakabahan kong tanong.

“Sabihin nating guni-guni mo lang ako,maniniwala ka?” Ngayon ay dahan-dahanna siyang lumapit sa akin. Pinihit ko angpinto at nagulat na bukas ito. Tumakboako palabas at nakitang may maliit na salahabang ang pinto palabas ay may nakatali.Nakita ko ang kutsilyo sa lamesa at agad nakinuha para putulin ang taling nakakadenasa pintuan.

“Takbo Samara. Tumakbo ka ha ha ha.” Boses iyon ni Meredith na papalapit.Nanginginig ako habang pinuputol ang tali.Sa wakas ay nabuksan ko na ito.

Sa paglabas ko ng pinto, puro puno ang

by Lujean Guieb

nakita ko. Madilim na ang paligid at tahimik. Pero lahat ng iyon ay pamilyar sa akin.Tumakbo ako ng mabilis at natanaw agadang bahay namin. Tama, malapit lang ngaako sa bahay. Ngunit bago ako makalapit sabahay ay may sumulpot na bata sa harapanko.

“Ate, maawa ka na sa’kin,” naiiyak nitong wika. Sa kahabagan ay nilapitan ko itopero napatigil din ako nang biglang magbago ang kanyang itsura. May dugo ang damitnito at may nakasaksak sa kanyang tiyan.

“Wala naman akong ginawangmasama, bakit nangyari ‘to sa akin? Hindiko naman sinasadyang makita iyon,” angboses niyang umiiyak ang nakapagpataasng balahibo ko.

“Bakit ‘to nangyari?”

“Hustisya!”

“Ano’ng ginagawa mo sa amin!”

Tumakbo ako sa bahay habang nag-susulputan ang mga taong may saksak sa tiyan. Galit, umiiyak, at ang iba ay nakatinginlang sa akin ng masama.

Maliwanag ang loob ng bahay naipinagtaka ko. Binuksan ko ang pinto atnagulat sa nakita.

“A-Ama? Nakalaya ka na?” naiiyakkong tanong ngunit puno pa rin ako ngpagtataka.

“Anak? Samara? Ano’ng ginagawa modito?” puno rin ng pagtataka at takot ang na-

kita ko sa kanyang mata habang dahan-dahan itong lumipat sa kamay ko. “Ibaba mo‘yan. Samara, ibaba mo ‘yan!” Nanginginigang boses nito habang nakatingin sa kutsilyong hawak ko.

“Mamamatay tao ka! Minumulto akong mga kasalanan mo! Hayop ka! Kriminalka!” Nakailag siya sa saksak na binitawanko. Hindi niya ito pinansin at tumalikod nalamang.

“Sumama ka sa ‘kin. Anak, sundan mo ako,” lumabas siya ng bahay at dumiretso salikurang bahagi ng bahay namin. Dumiretso siya ng lakad at nakita ko ang isa pangbodega na katulad ng bahay na tinuluyan kokasama si Meredith. Ito ang bodega malapitsa nakakitaan ko sa bata kanina.

“Anak, pasok ka,” nanghihinang wikani ama. Walang pag-dadalawang isip ay pumasok ako at nakita ang malaking tarpulinna nakataklob. Binuklat ito ni ama at nakita ko ang napakaraming bangkay dito, and iba ay naaagnas na.

“A-Ano ‘to?” tiningnan ko isa-isa angbangkay at nakita ang pamilyar na batangnakausap ko kanina. Andoon din sina….

Andoon ang katawan ni ina at Meredith.

“Anak, hindi ako ang may gawa niyan.Ikaw ang pumatay sa kanila. Aksidentemong napatay ang iyong ina at nakita ka ngisang bata. Sa takot mo, pinatay mo rin iyon.Nakagawian mo na ang pumatay. Samara,si Meredith ang nag-asikaso sa ‘yo peropinatay mo rin!” Puno ng paghihinagpis angboses ni ama.

SIKMURA:

“Hindi ‘yan totoo! Ikaw ang kriminal saating dalawa!” sigaw ko dito at tinutok angkutsilyo sa kanya.

“Magnanakaw ako, mamamatay taoka!” Inilipat niya ang kamay ko malapit satiyan niya. “Anak, sinubukan ko namanang lahat e. Nagnanakaw ako ng pera parapangpagamot sa ‘yo. Akala ko dati, gagalingka na pero lagi kang bumabalik sa dati. Inaako ko lagi ang kasalanan mo dahil anak kita.Bata ka pa lang, nakitaan ka na namin ng inamo ng kakaiba. Minsan ay may kinakausapka. Kaya noong sinabi niya sa ‘yong ipapagamot ka, nagalit ka kaya nasaksak mo siya.Nangako ako sa nanay mo na gagawin koang lahat para gumaling ka.”

Unti-unting rumihestro sa isip ko angmga nangyari. “Bakit hindi mo ako isinumbong sa pulis?” tanong ko rito at dahan-dahang ibinaba ang kutsilyo. Naiinggit akosa mga taong kumakain ng sapat kaya satiyan ko sila sinaksak. Lagi akong gutom,kulang sa pagkain, walang perang pwedenggastusin.

“Anak, nahuli ka na dati pero bata kapa para makulong. Pabalik-balik ka sa rehabat wala na akong pera pantustos sa gastusinmo, kaya nagnanakaw ako. Wala na rintayong makain, ang mahal din ng gamotmo. Anak, pakiusap, tulungan mo ang sarilimo.”

Iyon ang huling narinig ko bagodumilim ang paligid.

“Baliw ka!”

“Tinanggalan mo ng ina ang mga anak

ko!”

“Ate, gusto ko lang naman maglaro.”

“Anak, ano’ng ginawa mo kay mamamo?”

Iwinasiwas ko ang ang kutsilyo dahil sagalit. “Tigilan niyo ako!” sigaw ko habang natataranta.

Lumabas ako ng bodega at tumakbo sakung saan. May nakasalubong akong lalakina may nakasaksak din sa tiyan. Dumadamina sila. Hinahabol ako ng multo ng akingkasalanan.

“Kriminal nga iyon, pinatay ang sarilipara matakasan ang kasalanan.”

“Walang awa ang kaniyang ginawa,grabe.”

Nandito ako ngayon sa bayan at dinigna dinig ko ang usap-usapan mataposmatagpuan ang bangkay ni ama kasamang iba.

“Kilala mo ba iyon hija?” tanong sa akinng babae.

“Hindi. Kung sino man siya, hindi kokayang sikmurain ang ginawa niya.”

Noong gabing nangyari iyon, naramdaman kong may tinamaan ang kutsilyonghawak ko. Huli na ng mapagtanto kongnakasaksak na ang kutsilyo sa tiyan ng amako.

YEAR12 YEARS AGO...

by Rodge Carl Vea

“Things are not always what they seem… Anyone can change… for the better. Anyone is ripe for a transformation… with a little trust and a whole lot of faith, anyone can find his way back into the love of Christ.”

The day I heard those words 12 years ago, was the day I decided to offer my life to Christ and change the way I’ve been liv ing… and I tell you, it was the best decision I’ve ever made. If you grab Henry from 12 years past and make him stand next to me today, I promise you, you won’t ever think that we are the same person. From a grave sinner, one doesn’t always find nor accept the redemption offered freely by Christ, I am blessed to have been given the opportunity to make the right choice… and now I have found my life’s purpose. As a youth evangelical pastor of my congregation, it gives me the absolute joy seeing first-hand the lives of people who were lost, just like me, be watered by love, and walk back to the right track. If only I knew earlier the satisfaction this blessing of salvation would’ve given me, then I wouldn’t have committed the biggest mistake of my life, the one that to this day I still wholeheartedly regret. It is the ghost that haunts my sleep, the reason why I cry

my prayer to the Lord every day… asking for his mercy and forgiveness.

If only it is possible to go back in time and correct it, I would…

When I said that I was a grave sinner, I meant it. As a motherless child spoiled by his callous wealthy father who indulged in vices that tiptoed at the exact bounds of what’s legal and illegal, I became a hopeless nut case. I was the object of my father’s emotions. When he scores big in his gambling and shady deals he gives me anything I want but when the opposite happens he curses me for being born. The alternating of his hot and cold personality made me impulsive and unstable, traits that will haunt me for the rest of my life. I was disrespectful and rude. Having a lot of money with little to no moral guidance would prove to be a great soil to cultivate the seeds of greed and insensitivity. I treated those less fortunate than me as my servants, my possessions, my puppets – partly because they were willing to be one just by waving paper cash at their faces… a deed I got from my father. I looked down on women and thought of them as nothing more than a toy to satisfy one’s needs. How couldn’t I? That’s what my father did to the countless whores that

visited his room every night…

As I received everything else but love in our home, I began seeking pleasures in life so intensely that I didn’t care what others around me felt and the harm I can bring upon them. I’d encourage my ‘friends’ to go clubbing, those who refuse I either threaten or bribe. We’d visit ‘places’ where we indulge in drugs and women. From Marijuana to Cocaine, to heroin – we tried it all. We’d drink cases of alcohol all night then we rode our cars at 3:00 A.M around the neighborhood, honking, shouting, and just wreaking havoc on our paths home. No one dared to report us because of my father’s connections with the police. I saw the lives of my ‘friends’ get destroyed by my abusive influence. Some are former honor students trying to lift their families out of poverty. Instead of reviewing lessons for tomorrow’s finals, they are with me snorting powder like dogs playing on the sand.

It is regretful… what I did. But then, I couldn’t care less. “I shouldn’t be alone in my suffering, I should destroy what I cannot have. I should be allowed to do anything for happiness, for pleasure. Money can solve anything!” At least these were my thoughts, my principles, and my foundations in life. Despicable right? I would have continued

to stray down this path if not for what hap pened that night 12 years ago.

It was 3:00 A.M and I was driving home drunk and high… the drunkest and highest I’ve been. Hours ago I drank to my limit, alone and furious. I was very mad and upset, for my friends weren’t able to come, saying that they have problems at home that need to be dealt with. “So what?” that’s what I thought. “Everyone has their problems. Don’t they think I have problems at home too? Do I use that as an excuse to not party and drink? Pussies, that’s what you are. Traitors! I don’t need people like you!” I felt betrayed and desolated, yes. By that simple act of prioritizing their families over me, I hated my friends with all my heart, that’s how unreasonable I was. So after my drug sessions, I drove my Jaguar home alone, while being high as the stars. I saw the road as the rails of a roller coaster ride, bending and twisting and looping. I heard voices in my head, ones that told me to hit the tree or to remove my hands from the steering wheel. I saw things I knew didn’t belong on the road. Monsters, pirates, and demons. And when I saw a blue whale swim past me I knew that everything else around me was not real. I knew my mind was playing games with me, and that pissed me off. So I tried to hit every unusual thing I saw on the road. Elephants, gargoyles – you name it when my car hits them they turn into smoke. Then I saw a lady in white crossing the street, it became my next target. It ran towards the other side of the road,

but my pride wouldn’t allow this ghost to escape my wrath so I stepped on the gas pedal even more. I inched closer and closer as I reached speeds over 100 mph, then… “BANG!” Thud, thud, thud…

A deafening crash startled the neighborhood. My 4000-pound car jumped 4 feet into the air. Luckily it was built tough, or else I would’ve derailed and fatally crashed into the Balete trees on the sidewalk. I was surprised and sobered up by the impact. Out of shock, fear, and confusion, I sped up and continued to drive to our house, not once did I stop to check what really happened.

“Why did the ghost not turn into smoke when I hit it? It was a white lady, an evil spirit, a fragment of my imagination… or, is it? Did I hit a real person?

WHAT IF THAT WAS A REAL PERSON??? There is no way! My mind is playing games with me. The impact was just another illusion. I don’t know… I’m confused… I want it all to stop. STOP!!!”

I hit the brakes and I found myself in front of our gated compound, my mind completely overtaken by thoughts that flooded my head. I parked my car as quickly as I could, and hurriedly went to my room and slept, hoping that by tomorrow my sanity will once again come back.

Illustration by Abijah McGuiller Barruga

In the morning, news of what happened came to light. Tanya Magsigasig, an 18-year-old college student, was found dead at the cen ter of the highway. She was coming home from her part-time job at a McDonald’s nearby when a black Jaguar XE hit her, at 3:00 A.M yesterday. Her rib cage, spine, and skull were broken, leaving her dead on the spot when the rescuers arrived. The incident was captured by a CCTV camera and by the time my father got hold of the news and was about to bribe the owner of the CCTV, the evidence was already in the hands of the police. My father tried to take advantage of his connections with the PNP but to no avail. It didn’t help that the whole community knew that we were the only ones driving a car of that caliber, after all, we are the only ones who can afford it. The huge dent in the front of my car cannot be covered up instantly, so by the time the cops went into my house to investigate they saw the damage firsthand and included it as evidence.

As I was invited into questioning, I saw my father’s worried look, perhaps the only time I felt his concern. At the station, I saw the parents of Ms. Tanya, desolated

and on the floor crying. Her father tried to beat me up as I entered, while her mom just looked at me afraid like I was a demon, a monster. There I felt the gravity of what I’ve done, the nefariousness of what I’ve become. For the first time in my life, I felt remorse and it was so heavy that I cannot help but cry in regret of what I did. The feeling was so choking that I wanted to take my heart out if possible.

“Yes, I am a monster, a demon, a murderer… I should never be forgiven,” these things I concluded… and I totally agree.

I wanted to suffer the consequences of my actions, I felt like I deserved whatever punishment was in store for me. So I testified and admitted my crimes. It didn’t matter anymore if I could no longer be a free man, as long as this constricting guilt goes away, I am willing to live behind bars for the rest of my life. My conscience, the thing I wasn’t sure I had, won’t let me escape from justice. Yet…

My father and his twisted ways of showing affection let evilness do the work.

As the case was progressing, he talked to the parents of Ms. Tanya and offered them an amount they couldn't refuse, to longer pursue the case against me. He also talked to my friend and gave him a price for his freedom, as he will be the one to take the fall and will testify that he drove the car that night.

Ultimately he talked to the Judge, who is his business partner, and together they agreed on a sentence of two years and 189 days for my friend and 3000 hours of community

service for me.

My father solved the problem using money. I am a free man, and with all my heart I hated him for it. He didn’t allow me to be responsible for my actions and heal my conscience. He doesn’t know how much I regret and how much I desire to change my life, suffering the consequences of my crime would’ve helped me so much. He doesn’t understand me, nor care for me, he just wanted his name to remain clean and the family’s status not to be tarnished. He only cared and loved himself, at least that’s what I thought.

So, I ran away from home. And started to change my life.

I won’t bore you anymore with details of how my life was during my search for change, but it was these times when I met Pastor Joe when he taught me the love of God and helped me find my way back to him. Hence I am where I am right now. I attended his congregation and immersed myself in the teachings of the bible. And after 12 long years of ministry, I became an evangelical pastor, focused on helping the youth to find the love of God, as I did.

And today, exactly 12 years. I decided to go home.

I requested a missionary leave from Pastor Joe and he agreed. After 12 years, I felt like it is about time that I go back and face the people I have run away from, and find closure and forgiveness so that my conscience can finally rest. I am afraid, yet

excited about what’s to come and the end of my journey…

I traveled at noon hoping to reach my hometown by early morning. By 2:30 A.M I reached the welcome sign of my town. As I saw it, I felt a tint of fear, maybe because I am still not ready to meet the people I left behind – especially, my father, my friend, and Ms. Tanya’s parents…

Suddenly, thunderclouds formed above me and the sky released its downpour. The rain was so heavy that it became so hard to see the road ahead of me, mind you, it is still dark. So I moved very slowly, a speed which I am now getting used to, unlike before. As I traversed the road and was getting closer to my home I saw the Balete tree from a distance, and the tint of fear grew even more. Now, my heart is pounding uncontrollably. For a moment I closed my eyes in prayer… asking the Lord to guide me to safety.

The moment I opened my eyes, I suddenly saw a woman dressed in white in front of my car. I quickly slammed the brakes and halted completely… Yet when I looked forward to checking, the woman was gone.

“I am moving very slowly. And I felt no bump or anything, I couldn’t have hit her…” I thought. But, as I learned from my mistakes in the past, it is important to always be care ful and check twice. So I got out of my car and battled the rain. To my surprise I saw a woman in white lying on the road, drenched in the rain, 4 meters from my car.

“Even if I did hit her, there is no way

I caused her to fly away that far, I didn’t even feel an impact,” I thought to myself. I began having goosebumps as the eeriness of the situation finally caught up to me. As I approach her the place around me begins to be more and more familiar, and the sinister feel grows more and more. But I fought my fear… after all, I know God is with me.

When I reached the mysterious woman, I knelt to check on her. I was surprised by how much blood was oozing from her body, it wasn’t like this a second ago.

“Are you okay ma’am?” The moment I released those words, I became paralyzed. From then on, I saw miracles… miracles I know came not from heaven but from the devil himself.

I remained motionless as I saw the lifeless body levitate. I can hear bones cracking as it reforms awkwardly.

I saw its head twist and float toward me, and its eyes. Its eyes were empty yet full of rage, blood dripping from them like tears.

I am shaking uncontrollably as I try my hardest to move. It’s hard to breathe. It’s as if my soul wanted to leave my body as the ghoulish thing ominously creeps towards me.

“I-i-in J-e-e-sus na-a-m-me” using all my strength I said my prayer, and… it disappeared. Instantly it disappeared.

Then, I began to move my fingers, my hands, and my head. I began to breathe normally again. I felt relief as I felt my legs’ force. I thought it was over, I thought I was safe, I thought I was free… Yet when I began to stand, an overwhelming force pushed

me back to my knees and I felt a cold breath blow inside my ear… A heard a faint whisper of a legion of voices merged into one.

“You stopped… thankfully you stopped… NOW I CAN DESTROY YOU

TOOOOOOOOOO!!!!”

“AHHHHHHHHHH” I screamed for help as I felt its fingers scratch my throat. Inside my head, I continued to pray to God that he might save me from the hands of this evil spirit because I was sure that if a miracle won’t happen, it is going to kill me and take my spirit with it.

As I feel its force grow stronger and stronger the pain becomes very unbearable. I thought the end was at bay and God had finally given me my punishment long overdue. But then, the agony faded as I felt a new sensation down on my shoulders.

“Sir, are you okay?”

It was the hand of a concerned motorist who stopped by to check on me. Right there and then I began to feel the world and the rain again. I gasped my breath and held my neck – it was fine, I was fine, I am still alive, I was saved… I was saved by a stranger who felt he needed to answer a call of distress from someone he just saw kneeling in the rain. He cared about me, without so much of a reason – he was the one I failed to be 12 years ago.

“Ye-e-s-s, I-i-i-a-a-m o-o-okay…” I spoke to him still in shock, while looking at the white lady sitting in one of the branches of the Balete Tree on the sidewalk about 10 meters in front of us…

Nakaay-ayo a balasang Managisem, nadayaw, ken nalasbang.

Nalaing ken nasingpet, awan makunam Oh Maria, ania’t limed a kapadasam?

Sumungad paylang isuna, Ket adu a mata’n ti kumitkita.

Nagmayaten a rikna no makaabayko isuna Oh Maria, inggana kita nak laeng ba kenka?

Saanko kayat daytoy a marikriknak, Sadiay sidong na iso iti ammok a pagragsakak.

Innalak ti nagpintas na a ladawan, Oh Maria, ipagamot kan san.

Saanko ammo ti pudno ken iti dakes, Ti daytoy a panagayat, bagbagik innak inlemmes.

Kasanon ti biag nga awanka ditoy sibayko? Oh Maria, sika ti birbiroken daytoy puso.

Ngem nagkas-ang a pasamak ti innak nasaksian, Ni Maria, naragsak nga adda iti sidong ti sabalinan.

Isinulat Ni: Warren Raciles

Inggana patay…

Photo by Dannah Erika Eclarin|

by Graziel Mae Ramat

by Brent Aganus

dulot ng iba’t-ibang katawan gabi-gabi, naiiwan akong walang laman at pakiramdam ay walang silbi.

Walang saysay. Walang kabuluhan. Sumasabay lang sa agos ng buhay. Hindi alam kung saan ang patutunguhan. Gabi-gabi. Malamig. Sa may kanto. Nag-aabang. Alak, sigarilyo. Isang tingin. Iba’t-ibang katawan. Mainit. Sa silid. Labas-pasok. Iba’t-ibang kuwento. Paulit-ulit.

Gusto kong sumigaw. Gusto kong kumawala mula sa mundo; mula sa mga matang puno ng pagnanasa sa hubo’t-hubad na pagkatao ko, mula sa mga matatalim na kamay na nakahawak sa leeg ko… Sana buhay pa ang nanay, gusto ko siyang yakapin at umiyak sa kanyang mapagmahal na mga braso. Ngunit tanda ko, hindi ko na pala kayang makita pang muli ang mga pasang pilit niyang tinatago. Hindi ko na rin kayang marinig pang muli ang mga pag-iyak niya sa gabi. Hindi ko na kayang makita siyang naghihirap upang masuklian ang utang na loob niya kay Madam Sol.

Utang na loob. Dahil sa kanya, nakaraos raw sa kahirapan ang nanay. ‘Yong tipong sa araw-araw, kumikita ng salapi’t di kumakalam ang sikmura. ‘Yong tipong naging mala-porselana ang kutis at kumikinang ang mga mata, may kolorete sa mukha’t may damit na magaganda. Sa mga huling sandali, alam kong hindi nakaraos sa hirap ang nanay at mas lumubog pa sa impyerno.

“Ako na ang nanay mo, Rosa, naiintindihan mo? Lahat ng utos ko, gagawin mo!” Isang tango. Isang, “Opo.” Walang hinaing na ipaparinig. Si Madam Sol ang masusunod. Ang mga salita niya ay batas. Rosa. Mahalimuyak.

“Kung mas naging masunurin sana ang inutil mong ina, hindi ka maiiwang mag-isa at magpapatuloy na magbabayad sa mga utang niya! Pasalamat kayo at naririto ako!” Rosa. Nakakaakit. Sinungaling. Nakakarindi. Nakakagalit.

“Paano na lang kung wala akong kumukupkop sainyo!?”

Mga mata kong nakatingin sa paa’y napaangat ang tingin–sa mukha niyang kawangis ng pera. Ang sarap pagpupunit-punitin upang marinig ang tunay na lutong nito. Oo nga, paano kung wala na siya? Rosa. Matinik.

Gusto kong makitang magmakaawa ng buhay ang mga mata niyang walang bahid ng awa at makitang umagos ang dugo niyang kasingpula ng isang rosa.

“Mommy, there is a monster under the bed”

Said Mary to her mother looking distressed

“Oh, my sweet daughter don’t be alarmed”

It’s just a figment of your imagination, you were and will not be harmed.

“No mommy, I felt it, I’m telling the truth”

“It’s hairy, cold hands came up my foot” “Then it touched my stomach, and my forbidden square”

Her mother looked at her smiling for she was cuter when scared.

“Oh, sweetheart don’t fret. Next time he attacks just call mom for help”

“I will come to the rescue and make it go back to hell”

“If that thing comes back honey I’ll beat it up” Uncle Fred who heard the conversation also remarked. Mary nodded feeling secure and smiled at her elders

“Oh kids and their imagination is sometimes a bother”

Mother complains to Uncle Fred whose cook ing them breakfast

“Don’t worry hun. I’m sure you’ll miss it when she grows up”

A Monster Under The Bed

by Rodge Carl Vea

Then night came and mother tucked Mary into bed

“Good night sweetheart,” she said. And kissed her forehead. Mary slept soundly, in her dreams she indulged Yet she was again woken by a nefarious touch. Mary was awake yet she pretended to sleep She wants to see the monster, so from her blanket, she peeped “Uncle Fred!” she exclaimed out of shock and anxiety

And when Mary screamed Fred broke the girl’s neck hastily

“AHHHHHH!” The mother heard the scream and went to check on Mary There she saw Fred leaving the room in a hurry

“What happened Fred, Is Mary okay?” asked the bothered mother

“Yes hun, she was scared so I went and put her back to slumber”

“Oh thank God she’s okay!” The ignorant exclaimed She even kissed him on the lips, to show him her thanks

Oh! Her only daughter wouldn’t have died on her bed

If only mother knew that the monster was no one but Fred.

by Crisdeniele Clemente

The first resident of a paradise called Eden; he who shared the rib is the epitome of abuse

“Only the known is safe”

Alas, the records have always been consistent Written by those who are subjected to Holly wood cult

In a prominent theatre play, they say that perpetrators are hairy A bully, a maniac, the king of a lion's den Harbingers of chaos from the lore, utter the spells of emancipation

There was the legion of bloodsuckers, but the warriors never fear Lilith Nor a domain where orcs reside, wearing the face of Galadriel in middle-earth Manuscripts of those who never cut hair

The roles they play are the innocent and ethereal One must know that Bonnie and Clyde, had a fair share of the original sin

When will they give credence to a pirate or a mad hatter Nor break the dogma that Cleopatra created Even those who have the name of a rare stone;

an exiled archangel, a pathological liar

Let thee follow what the scripture states

For once, let a man holds the two-tray scale Never mind the chant in unison, “boys will be boys!”

Boys also deserve a voice.

Morningstar is non-binary

by Crisdeniele Clemente

“Eating one`s heart out,” perhaps came from the mouth of the first human

| Photo by Casmir Remyell Cadiente|

Forgive Me God for I Have Sinned

by Hyun Sun James Maestrado

He now stands as a mere statue

An idol image of the men I once look up to The saint that most would rather worship than the truer God

The saint who once put me in all his greatest favors of God

Considered me as his only true loving servant Who bared not only his fruit but also what lies beyond it

Now I see another fair lady

The cunt, a harlot I hate to think

A new member of our church

I see her caress our pillars Run into our chapel like a little slut servant she is

As you try to chase her like mauling a dog

I see her crawl her way straightly onto him as she no longer wants to be chased Then he stopped, pulled out his once so holy flesh waiting to be worshipped She asked for blessings she is willing to take as she mumbles her prayers through chokes I use to utter He replied to her prayers with his little sanctify ing thrusts

He dignified her through his moans

While I pray through sobs that even my God can’t understand I ask for the God we faced once we pleaded for union

An eternal love I considered to be attainable

Yet now the love not seen, or maybe there is none at all to be seen

As I see them become sodomites

I swallowed all of your sins as I vomit my own righteousness

With a thought of ignoring one of your com mandments I live so faithfully

I decided and planned on ending the life I use to bear fruitfully

But as I lay my teary eyes upon your guiding hands on top of her head, her hair, as you fix, pull, and push earnestly

Suddenly I felt my blood curdling into numbness the way blood makes you pleasurable with true hardened sensitivity Our bedroom is now a church in which she worships once a week Your body, her newfound religion And I no longer see the light but only the abyss I have chosen to embrace

I walked straight to where our communion always took place

The place in which you have promised eternal life

Now all I see within it is an instrument that stabs and ends what we use to share upon

As I walk within these halls I see light illuminating your now merged body

As I see you lie naked on top of the silk I washed religiously

You have found your paradise but I will make

you suffer eternal damnation once you finish your holy mass

While I hear both of your wails of thankfulness I am here thinking of ways to ask for forgiveness I pray again for guidance knowing that the good God will always love me the way my saint never did

The saint now is done yet still sprays her servant with his holy water She opened her mouth and I in anger

Ran and stab her out of recognition and screamed until there is nothing left Then my saint the weakest, still not moving Inanimate stared blankly in shock Then I stab what I once worship so lovingly Then slit his throat then blood spurt out directly to my face

His blood stinks and he tastes like rotting meat, yet eternal flames might be the answer for that flesh he has I will accept hell I say unto thee, as I kneel for absolution

I am sorry I say not to flee I faced again our altar now seen so unholy I mourn not for my saint, or for the harlot, but for I have truly fallen into hell

Yet I feel no chills or burning flesh

I only felt the warmth of his light shine upon me as God still lay his eyes so lovingly upon someone so sinful as me

Illustration by Aira Nadine Pascua

The cold breeze and AUTUMN leaves soothe her senses, WINTER to ponder solitude she embraces; intricate SUMMER to warm all those memories, left remnants of FALL, grudges, and of sadness!

Into the deep vexation of irking haplessness, grievances of a fooled heavy heart to redress. Heaven must forsake her for being in distress, to take her own life, excruciating — EMPTINESS!

Zapped from this immoral world, infidelity, of the love that has lost its meaning— fool ishly. nuisance! as she dropped her faint life so helplessly, exhumed her painful heart in laid ETERNALLY!

"For Godsake, ENOUGH!" she shouts out loud immensely, ripping the limbo of lost soul— purgatory. Outcasted, abandoned by a family she loved purely;

| Illustration by David Acacio|

mourns her own demise, revenge JUSTIFIABLY!

Enticed she loved, she was ruined, and mobbed UNDRESS, thorns and arrows speared off those FAKE PROMISES!

Exacerbated by the anguish of restlessness, recoiled from her struggle, DIED! she must CONFESS.

Now that she is six feet under dim spaces, "In requiem, foeda morte moriatur"— unBLESSed!

They grieve for a lost love because of her innocent existence; yonder from pain, "does she really rest in GRACES"?

“Foeda Morte Moriatur”

by Jayson Sabong

BIDAY BIDAY

by Edmar Delos Santos

| Photograph by John Lloyd Balantac|

Uni ti kadena, kayo, danog, ken landok Daytoy ti inladawan tay bulag Ngem awan namati gapota saanna nakita

Ania ti napasamak ken Biday?

Kuna diay pulis nga immay bimmisita Palimed a immadayo dagiti kadarana

Nagsaem iti napasamak kaniana

Ania iti ususto a napasamak ken Biday?

Kuna diay paborito nga anakna Kasangsangpet aggappo sabali a disso

Awan iti timek dagiti kabsatna

Nakarikep ti ngiwat ken lapayagda Tay makaammo ket tay haan makakita

Naimansayag nga awan naipan pagbaludan Isuna a nadungngo pimmanawen nga awan pakada Sino ti mapabasol iti napasamak kaniana?

by Aira Nadine Pascua

Paalam, Martha

W ala na akong mas hihilingin pa kaysa sa araw na nakilala ko si Martha, siya ang aking “quarantine love” ngayong pandemya. Nagkakilala kami sa online dating app at mula noon ay sinabi ko sa sarili ko na “Sa wakas ay natagpuan ko na ang babaeng ipaglalaban ko hanggang sa kamatayan!”

Unang pag-uusap pa lamang namin sa isa’t isa ay iba na – alam kong iba na ang magiging takbo ng buhay ko. Pero kahit ano pa man ang mangyari, ipinalagay ko sa loobloob ko na handa ako kasi mahal ko siya. Nalaman ko na taga-kabilang baryo lamang siya malapit sa amin, kaya mas lalo pa akong naganahan sa pagsuyo ko sa kanya. Tuwing umuuwi ako ng gabi galing sa trabaho, lagi ko siyang inuuna at dali-daling binubuksan ang aking telepeno para tawagan ko siya. Minsan ay nagpasiya akong bisitahin siya, at parang huminto ang mundo ko sa kanyang nakakaakit na kagandahan.

Napadalas ang aming pagkikita ni Martha. Siya ang aking naging uwian, na palagi kong nadadatnan sa kanilang hapag-kainan at hinihintay ako para sabay kaming maghapunan. Para sa akin wala nang mas sasaya pa sa ganoong senaryo – ang makita mo ang taong mahal mo na maghihintay sayo. Tanggal agad ang pagod ko sa maghapon. Hanggang sa dumating ang unang birthday ko kasama siya. Sabi niya maghihintay na lang daw siya sa terasa ng aming bahay. Bumili ako ng mga kakanin at mga paborito niyang pagkain bilang handa ko at surpresa na rin na siguradong magugustuhan niya. Pagdating ko sa aming bahay ay wala naman siya roon sa aming terasa, ngunit pagbukas ko ng pinto sa loob ng aming bahay, ibang kaganapan ang naabutan ko. Ako ang nasurpresa sa oras na iyon. Nakita ko siyang nakaupo sa bangko sa harap ng hapag-kainan. Walang malay. Duguan. At katabi niya ang nakatayong babae na si Cellia – ang tunay kong asawa.

by Warren Raciles

Some say that having children is the most difficult thing in theworld, although I relate to this statement very much, it might notbe for the reasons you think…

You see, my wife and I have built successful careers. She was a veryin-demand model for national and international fashion brands, while I am a CEO for a large bank. In our early years of marriage, we invested most ofour time in maintaining our positions and procuring brand deals, this madethe prospect of having kids become a lesser priority. My wife’s body was herbiggest asset, having kids can compromise her fitness while my job requires me tostay at work for 12 hours, so at that time tending to children wasn’t just possible.

It was not until we got older that we realized our deep desire to have kids. Wehave been married for 18 years, by this time my wife’s career was past its prime andmy job demanded less and less of my time, so for us having kids at this point in ourlives will be a pleasure we both dreamed to attain.

Unfortunately, at 40, my wife’s body clock was a challenge we tried so hard to overcome.

When I say we tried so hard, I meant we did literally everything. From yogaclasses, health regimens, impossible diets, expensive medications, religious rituals,and prayer groups, to even going to Japan, Cambodia, and India just to visit shrinesthat are said to help to boost fertility. Sadly, all our efforts were wasted…

After 10 months of trying, we were very desperate, exhausted, and on the vergeof giving up our life’s dream. One day, our mutual friend recommended we visit afaith healer in the foot of Mount Cristobal in Laguna which she visited in the past.She said that this ‘Mang Lando’ is an ‘albularyo’ who healed her breast cancer. Apparently, he is also known for his fertility rituals which work best after going to theObando fertility rites in Bulacan during the month of May. Seeing that her instructions were very specific and that we knew about how her condition improved overthe past years, we decided to have our final shot at having a baby. If this fails… we’llhave no choice but to abandon our chase.

So we went to Obando to celebrate this fertility festival. We paraded in the streetsand declared our prayers and ‘panatas’. The ritual involved massaging the belly andvarious other steps which I wouldn’t tell in detail anymore. After the 3-day ‘fiesta,’we packed our bags and headed straight to Mount Cristobal in Laguna. With hopefulspirits, we rode instantly despite our exhaustion.

After 6 hours of driving supposed to be a 3-hour ride, mainly because of uncleardirections from our concerned friend, we arrived at the foot of the mountain at San Pablo, Laguna. There we trekked an additional hour deep into the woods wherethe man’s nipa hut was said to be. ‘The devil’s mountain’ as the townsfolk called itproved to be as eerie as they made it to be. On our trek, we heard babies crying, whispers of old ladies, and faint growls of monsters deep in the woods. We saw shadowswith impossible shapes and glimpses of creatures we aren’t sure of. We seemed to

by Rodge

walk in infinite circles, unsure of where we were headed, the trees which were supposed to be our guides all lookedthe same to us. We were afraid, but we were brave, we never liked to visit spooky and haunted places before butwhat is an hour of fear to a lifetime of desperation and dedication? We can’t goback now, whatever it is waiting for usin this devilish forest, if it can give us what we wanted, weare willing to risk our lives.

After an hour or so of walking. We finallyreached the hut. There ‘Mang Lando’ wasalready waiting for usin the front yard. Hegreeted us with

want your heart

Vea

smiles and quips, hismere presence erased allour accumulated fears.

Our trip to Mang Lando’s hut was quick. Without even telling him whatour intentions were he beganpreparations for the fertility ritual. First, he asked how desperate weare and how fast we want results… we gave him our answer. He said thatfor a sure and fast conception he knowsa ritual with a hundred percent chanceof success. He also said that he never did this ritual before so he doesn’t know the full risks connected to it, all he knows is that children born from this ritual tend to be a little bit hard to handle. We said we are willing to take anyrisk in order to have

a child and are willing to pay any amount. He agreed with a little reluc tance… He gave my wife a special tea and recited a prayer in a language we didn’tunderstand. Then he massaged my wife’s belly and wrote a symbol that heinstructed must not be removed until birth. He then broke two eggs and made meeat their egg whites. Lastly, he grabbed a knife and wounded his palms, he placedhis bloody hands on my and my wife’s private parts and recited a final prayer. Chillswent through our bodies like a gust of wind was blown inside us… there we knewthe ritual was complete.

After the ritual, we paid him and said our goodbyes. In his goodwill, he walkedus to our car parked at the foot of the mountain. To our surprise, it only took us lessthan five minutes to travel back. After exchanging our final words we parted ways.

Fast forward to 3 months and we finally received the most wonderful news. At41, my wife is pregnant with our first child. We couldn’t contain our joy so we invited all of our friends and family to a pool party. Little did we know that this wouldbe the greatest blunder in our lives, for as my ecstatic wife jumped into the pool thesymbol the faith healer had inscribed in her tummy was instantly washed away. Itwas a costly mistake we’ll only realize later.

Months and months of celebration ensued since our announcement. Finally,our lifetime dream and our soul’s purpose will definitely come true for after 9 longmonths of waiting our baby girl arrived healthy and happy. One might call it bizarrebut our daughter, instead of crying, smiled and laughed while being pulled fromher mother’s womb. Maybe our happiness as a couple was so great and contagiousthat radiated toward her. That was the happiest day of our lives. ‘Miracle baby’, theepithet they call my daughter, was the most fitting description of who she is to us.

Raising our child was one of life’s greatest gifts to us. Went through hell to havethis opportunity, so now that we finally are parents we went all out. Whatever ourdaughter needs and wants we vowed to give even if it cost us the last penny, after all,all that we have acquired and worked for was for her. So, without denying it, becauseof our desire to give her everything, she turned out to be a spoiled kid.

Ever since she learned how to talk all she ever did was ask us anything she wanted and all we ever did was to make sure she got it. If you don’t believe me, I havea record of her saying her first words “Daddy, I want milk”. She has always beenarticulate, especially when demanding us something.

As she grew older and older we continued to maintain her ‘ask and you shallreceive’ lifestyle. From toys worth thousands of dollars, the most up-to-date gadgets,luxurious apparel of every design and color, and yes even a pink corvette, an exactlife-sized mechanical replica of her favorite cartoon character Barbie was given as her4th birthday gift – we gave her everything she wanted.

It was a joy for us to give her what she demanded but as reality dictates, noteverybody can do what we accustomed her to expect from people. Our generousactions affected her worldview, she thought that everybody just like us are meant to

Lujean Guieb

56 || daddy, i want your heart

give her everything she asks for. This behavior of hers becameproblematic as we integrated her into society. She becamevery idealistic and detached from reality, and soon after, herviolence was made evident.

It was very hard to deny her because of her violent outburst and tantrums. The fact that there is also an unexplainablefeeling to comply with whatever she requires kept from doingotherwise. To the point that the statement “Daddy, I want…”became not just a charming request but more so a compulsorycall for obedience.

When she turned 5 and went to school, she would getherself in trouble by hurting and harassing her classmateswhenever they failed to give her their prettiest erasers andpencil cases. One case of her outburst became the reason whywe chose to home-school her. It was when she stabbed her male classmate in the eye with a pencil after the innocent boyrefused to give her his lunch.

Our relatives had been our staunchest critics. They blamedus and our parenting strategy for our daughter’s misbehavior… which we cannot refute. One of my aunts has openlyscolded us. She has a reputation for being too outspoken, so attimes she intentionally rants when our daughter is around.

One day during a barbecue party, our aunt noticed usgiving money to our daughter which she asked so that shecan treat her cousins. We thought it was a kind thing to do,especially from her given that she always struggled to get closeto them… my aunt thought otherwise. She then raised hervoice and scolded us in front of our guests and other relatives,talking about how bad we are as parents, and how we raised a‘little devil’ while pointing at our daughter.

We were furious about the way she acted, but apparentlynot as furious as our daughter who grabbed a hot soup andthrew it in the face of our aunt. She was rushed to the hospitalfor the mild burns she sustained. While all the guests felt sorryfor her… even us. Fear crept to me as I saw our daughter at thecorner with a wicked smile.

From then on we started to be nonpermissive. We learnedhow to say no to her and explained to her that in life you don’talways get what you want. We dealt with her outburst andtantrums by scolding her about them. We thought this changecould bring about a positive change in her behavior… instead,we got the opposite.

Her furious frenzies became more and more violent as we

continued to deny her wants. She would break her mom’s century-old furniture. She would throw our phones and laptops atthe pool. She would even stab our door when we were asleep.We never hit her despite her destructive behavior, all we didwas scold her and reminded her of what is wrong and right.One day things really went out of hand…

“Daddy I want a gun” out of the blue she asked us earnestly.

“NO! WHY WOULD YOU ASK US THAT?” replied hermother tired of hearing her absurd demands.

It was the first time someone shouted at her… she didn’t take it lightly. As we went to her room to apologize, we wereshocked by what we saw. Her room was absolutely trashed, itwas like a fresh murder scene. The floor was full of her toys,broken and mauled. Her favorite Barbie dolls were lined up,all missing their heads. In her bathroom, we saw more dollsdrowned in the bathtub. Then my wife fell to her knees whenshe looked past the window to see her giant poster outside ourhome painted with the symbol “X”.

It made my wife very angry and hurriedly went outside toconfront her. “DID YOU DO THAT?” my wife asked furiously.“YES!” my daughter shouted back.“WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT? YOU’RE BEING TOO MUCH!” tears came out from my wife’s eyes. Her disappointment was evident.

Although we understand that we have our faults, seeingyour child turn out like this is like having a spear piercedthrough our hearts. We only wanted to give her everything…we didn’t wish for her to be like this.

“Because you are a BITCH!” without hesitation my daughter answered back.

It was the flame that ignited my wife’s fuse.“SLAP”

The sound of her palm connecting to our daughter’s facesilenced the entire neighborhood.

Weirdly, instead of crying our daughter laughed whilerunning to her room. Looking back, I realized I’ve never seenour daughter cry…

After the incident, my wife and I talked about how wewould approach our daughter. She said that she couldn’t control herself out of sheer anger.

“It was a bad example for our daughter, I’ll go and apolo-

gize,” she remarked.

I offered to go in her stead, suggesting that maybe she’smore comfortable listening to me after what happened. Mywife insisted, arguing that this needs to be resolved mother todaughter. I agreed… I shouldn’t have

As my wife went upstairs I suddenly felt overwhelminganxiety, I don’t know why but it seemed like she was enteringa room full of demons. After 3 minutes, I was about to check on them when I heard a shrieking scream. It was the voice ofmy wife.

I tried to run quickly to my daughter’s room but an ominous vibe held me back. Purple and black winds seem to blowme away, their stench is like the smell of dead rats. Suddenlyall of our light bulbs exploded and our home plunged intodeep darkness. I can still hear my wife screaming, so despitethe fear I struggled to go upstairs. Climbing the steps waslike going against gravity so dense that my hands bled fromholding onto the steel railing. Eventually, with all my strengthexhausted I reached my daughter’s room and when I openedit, what I saw made my soul burn and melt.

I saw my daughter… no, a demon lit by the light of theblue moon, floating in the air while holding my wife by theneck with one hand. Her hair is black and fuzzy, her mouthoccupying half of her face as she keeps extending her demonicsmile, and her eyes are deep black, staring at them feels likebeing pulled into the void of nothingness waiting for all of us.Her other hand was pulling my wife’s skin, tearing its tendons,exposing the layer of muscle beneath it. Bloody are her fingers,yet she seems to not experience pain. She is laughing at herdying mother while uttering a phrase so putrid in her gentlehigh-toned“Mommy,voice.you’re pretty, I want your face”

I want to help my wife… from the bottom of my heartI really do. But my soul won’t let me go an inch closer. Thedense gravity pulled me down and I was frozen in place forcedto watch the horror in front of me “RRRRRIP”

She pulled with her strength and my wife’s face was tornfrom her skull like a torn cardboard box. She burst into laugh ter…

When I saw what she did, my instincts took over. I beganto move and turned around dashing towards the stairs. Ilooked back and saw her floating slowly from the room.

“Daddy, where are you going,” she asked with concern.I used all my strength to burst towards the door. I didn’teven have time to grieve for my wife, the love of my life. All Iknew was that I had to get out of my daughter’s presence if Istill wish to see another day. I ran for dear life and I was aboutto reach the door when all of a sudden I saw a little girl infront of me. Out of shock I slipped and fell backward, luckilymy hand supported my weight or else the back of my headwould’ve hit the floor.

The little girl is my daughter in her nightgown nowholding her barbie doll. She was very different from the onechasing me moments ago… she went back to her normal self.The evil aura suddenly disappeared and the electricity wentback up again. The house felt safe and lively… it was as if allthe horror that happened a while ago weren’t real.

My fear was replaced with confusion as I looked aroundthe house, still sitting on the floor. Then, my daughter approached me and gave a question she spoke so intentionally.

“Daddy, do you love me?” she said while teary-eyed.

My paternal instinct kicked in… I grabbed her and huggedher. It was my first time seeing my daughter in that state, so Iembraced her, and said with tears…

“Of course sweetie, I love you…”

“You really have a precious heart, daddy,” she giggled.

“I want it,” she whispered.

The moment she said those words the state of our house reverted back to the darkness it displayed a while back. Theillusion slowly faded and the crippling fear crept inside myheart once more.

I pushed the creature hugging me and crawled backhurriedly. What I saw in front of me made me lose the ones oflove and care I have left for my daughter, it made me realizethat what I am dealing with is no longer a child but a real evil,a demon summoned from the depths of hell.

I stared at its black eyes and watched as it floats closer andcloser. It gripped a butcher knife in its right hand, its mouth isnow bleeding from its overstretched smile. As it opened to talka suffocating smell came out which contrasted with its gentlehigh-toned voice. What it said was the last thing I ever heardas I felt a sharp object pierce through my chest…

“Daddy, I want your heart”

i want your heart

“Mga kababayan, dahil sa pagdami ng nakakahawang sakit sa buong mundo, nakakalungkot ngunit kailangan kong iparating na nakapasok na po ito sa ating bansa. Ito ay ang Covid-19 virus. Upang makaiwas sa pagkalat ng virus, higit na ipinagbabawal ang mga pagtitipon. Pansamantala ding isasara ang mga public gyms, restaurant, paaralan, at mga simbahan. Pinapayuhan ang lahat na huwag munang lumabas sa kanilang mga tahananan upang masigurado ang seguridad ng bawat isa. ”

Dinig ko mula sa balita sa telebisyon.

“Nako, may dagdag na naman sa ating trabaho nito dahil sa kumakalat na virus na 'yan. Sana madagdagan din ang ating sahod. Hahaha!” pagbibirong sabi ni Rachelle na aking ka-trabaho.

Ngumiti na lang ako sa kaniyang sinabi.

Ako nga pala si Kristine, limang taon na akong public nurse sa hospital na pinagtatrabahuhan ko. Kahit hindi sapat ang aking sahod ay ipinagpatuloy ko pa rin ang aking pagiging nurse dahil ito ang gusto kong trabaho simula noong bata pa ako. Gusto kong mapaglingkuran ang mga tao lalo na sa mga nangangailangan.

“Kristine, uwi na ako ah, tapos na

ANG PASAng Pasyente Sa Room

kasi duty ko. Ikaw na bahala rito.Tsaka huwag mong kalimutang i-check ang mga pasyente,” pagbibilin sa akin ni Rachelle habang nag aayos siya ng kaniyang mga gamit.

“Oh sige mag-ingat ka ha. Ako na bahala rito,” sabi ko naman sa kaniya at umupo na ako sa front desk.

Naglakad na si Rachelle papunta sa labas ng hospital at ako naman ay naiwang mag-isa rito sa front desk.

Ang hirap maging nurse kung dito ka sa Pilipinas. Hindi sapat ang iyong sahod ngunit hindi ko pa ring magawang umalis sa trabaho na ito dahil kailangan kong suportahan ang aking mga kapatid sa kanilang pag-aaral dahil ako lang ang inaasahan nila. Patay na kasi ang aming ama at ina, kaya ako ang kumakayod para sa amin.

Tumingin ako sa orasan, ala-una pa lang ng hating-gabi at sigurado akong tulog pa ang lahat ng pasyente kaya umidlip muna ako saglit.

“Excuse me, miss,” dinig kong pukaw sa akin ng isang lalaki.

Kaya agad-agad akong gumising at hinarap siya. Ang lalaki ay halatang anak ng isang mayaman dahil sa kaniyang ku-

by

Jayson

|

Illustration by Abijah McGuiller Barruga|

Jayson SabongROOM 19

Room 20 at Room 19

tis na mala-porcelana. Kahit parang pagod siya ay di pa rin halata dahil sa kaniyang kutis na pang-mayaman. May mapupungay siyang mga mata at matangkad siya. Kaya natulala ako saglit bago ko sinagot ang tanong niya.

“Ano po ang kailangan natin, sir?” tugon ko sa kaniya habang inaayos ang aking porma.

“May naospital po ba ritong nagngangalang Jasmine?” tanong niya sa akin.

Kaya tinignan ko sa mga lista ng pasy ente ang kaniyang hinahanap.

“Room 19 po” sabi ko sa lalaki.

“Ah okay po, salamat” hinihingal niya namang sabi.

Pamilyar sa akin ang Jasmine na kaniyang sinabi, siguro siya ‘yong batang babae na isinugod sa hospital kanina dahil sa asthma. Hindi ko naman masyadong nakita ang mukha ng batang iyon dahil hindi ako ang naka-assign nang maconfine siya. Kapatid niya siguro 'yon at binibisita siya.

Kaya hindi ko na masyadong inisip 'yon at matutulog na lang sana ako ulit ngunit nang ipipikit ko na ang aking mata ay bigla kung naisip na alas-tres na pala

ng madaling araw at kailangan ko nang i-check ang mga pasyente at ibigay ang kanilang mga gamot.

Kaya agad-agad kong kinuha ang kanilang mga records at tinignan ko kung sino ang kailangan kong i-check.

Pumunta ako sa room 20, ang pasyente na ito ay may sakit sa kaniyang puso kaya kailangan niyang uminom ng gamot sa saktong oras. Nang naglalakad na ako sa hallway ay bigla kong natagpuan ulit ang lalaking nagtanong sa akin kanina. Ngunit wala siyang kibo, para siyang hangin na dumaan sa akin harapan.

Hindi ko nalang pinansin iyon at dumiretso na sa room 20.

“Magandang gabi po, ma’am. Ito na po pala ang gamot niyo. Kailangan niyo pong inumin ito para po mabilis kayong maka recover sa sakit niyo,” sabi ko nang nakangiti sa pasyente.

“Salamat, iha,” ngiting sabi niya.

Aalis na sana ako nang tinawag niya ako ulit.

“Iha, kung sakaling may mangyari sa akin. Huwag mong palapitin sa akin ang aking mga kamag-anak dahil ayaw ko na makita nila ako sa ganitong sitwasyon,”

pagbibilin sa akin ng pasyente

Nagtaka ako sa sinabi ni nanay ngunit di ko na lang ito pinansin.

“Okay po maam pero di po ba dapat malaman nila para maalagaan at madalaw nila kayo? ”sabi ko naman

“Huwag na iha,m as mabuti nang di sila makadalaw dito para di sila mahawa sa sakit ko. Delikado na kasi ngayon at mas mabuti na rin na sa bahay muna sila para ligtas sila,” pangiting sabi ni nanay na halatang nag-aalinlangan sa kaniyang mga sinabi.

“Okay po, maam,” pagtataka kung pagsang-ayon.

Nagtataka pa rin ako bakit ayaw niyang ipadalaw ang kaniyang pamilya dahil sa puso naman ang sakit niya. Hindi naman siguro iyon nakakahawa.

Kaya 'di ko na pinansin iyon at nagpatuloy na lang sa pag check ng aking mga pasyente. Pumunta naman ako as room 19.

Kumatok muna ako bago pumasok.

“Magandang gabi po,sir!” pagsasabi ko.

Nakita ko ang lalaking nagtanong sa akin kanina sa front desk na nakayuko at mukhang nakatulog ata sa tabi ng pasyente.

Bigla naman siyang naalimpungatan ng narinig niya ang boses ko.

“Sir, i-checheck ko lang sana ang pasyente kung ano po ba ang nararamdaman niya,” saad ko sa kaniya.

Ngunit wala siyang imik at ngumiti lamang siya. Kitang-kita ko sa kaniyang mata ang pagkapagod. Lumapit na ako sa pasyente at tinanong siya.

“Ma’am, ano po ang inyong nararamdaman? May masakit po ba?” tanong ko.

“Wala naman po, nurse. Medyo makati lang ang aking lalamunan at minsan nahihirapan akong huminga dahil sa aking ubo,” tugon ng batang babae sa akin.

Isinulat ko sa aking papel ang sinabi ng pasyente.

“Ah okay po ma’am, baka bukas ma'am may pupuntang doctor dito at i-checheck ang iyong kondisyon,”sabi ko naman.

“Salamat po, nurse,” nakangiting sabi ng batang pasyente.

Nang papaalis na ako ay biglang hina tak ng lalaki ang aking kamay.

Nagulat ako sa kaniyang ginawa.

“Nurse, gawin niyo ang lahat upang 'di lumala ang sakit ng aking kapatid,” pagmamakaawa niya sa akin.

Nakikita ko sa kaniyang mga mata ang pag-alala. Mahal na mahal niya siguro ang kapatid niya at kaya niyang gawin ang lahat para sa ikabubuti ng kaniyang kapatid.

“Kahit ako nalang ang bigyan ng sakit 'wag lang ang aking kapatid. Kung pwede lang sana,” dagdag pa niya.

Tumango ako at lumabas na sa room na iyon.

Chineck ko muna ang ibang mga pasyente at nang natapos ko na ang aking pag-check ng mga pasyente ay bumalik na agad ako sa front desk.

Umupo na ako ulit at nag-cellphone habang nagpapalipas ng oras.

Marami akong nababasang mga arti cles at posts tungkol sa Covid-19.

Marami na rin pala ang kaso dito sa Pilipinas, umabot na ng isang daan ang nahawaan ng virus na ito at patuloy namang naghahanap ng solusyon ang gobyerno para maagapan ang pagkalat nito. Sa mga nababasa ko ay napag-alaman kong ang Covid-19 ay may sinto mas na pagsakit ng lalamunan, hirap sa paghinga, ubo, at lagnat. Grabe naman

pala ang virus na ito dahil hindi mo ma hahalata kasi parang normal lamang ang kaniyang sintomas.

“Ang bilis namang kumalat ng virus na ito parang chismis haha,” pabulong kong sabi sa aking sarili.

Lumipas ang ilang mga araw ay patuloy ko pa ring chinecheck ang room 20 at room 19. Mukhang nagiging maayos na ang kanilang lagay, ngunit sa room 20 ay paulit-ulit na sinasabi sa akin ni nanay na huwag ko raw palapitin ang kaniyang mga kamag-anak. Hindi na rin ako nagta ka at nasanay na sa kaniya.

Sa room 19 naman ay palagi pa ring binabantayan ng lalaki ang kaniyang kapatid na may sakit. Nagtataka nga ako minsan dahil paulit-ulit ding sinasabi sa akin ng lalaki na sana siya na lang ang may sakit at hindi na ang kaniyang kapatid. Palagi niya namang sinasabi sa akin bago ako umalis na mag-ingat daw ako dahil may mga kalaban na hindi nagpapakita.

Noong una ay naguguluhan ako sa mga sinabi niya ngunit nang tumagal ay nasanay na rin ako. Siguro totoo nga na may mga kalaban na hindi talaga nakikita. Ngunit ano nga ba ang ipinahihiwatig niya?

Isang araw, habang ako ay nakaupo sa front desk ay nagulat ako ng may biglang pumasok sa pinto at nagmamadaling lumakad patungo sa hallway. Tinignan ko

ng mabuti ang tao. Ito 'yong lalaki kanina na nasa room 19. Ba’t parang nagmamadali ata siya?

Wala naman akong ginagawa kaya sinundan ko na lang siya.

“Sir!” pagtawag ko sa kaniya.

Ngunit wala parin siyang imik at pat uloy na naglalakad papuntang room 19.

Binilisan ko ang aking paglakad para mahabol ko siya, ngunit para siyang kidlat kung maglakad.

Nang nasa harap na siya sa pinto ng room 19 ay bigla siyang huminto at tumingin sa akin. Nagulat naman ako sa kaniyang pagtingin dahil makikita mo sa kaniyang mga mata ang lamig.

Biglang nag sitaasan ang aking mga balahibo. Patuloy pa rin siyang tumingin sa akin at hindi niya pa rin binubuksan ang pinto.

“Sir?” pagtawag ko sa kaniya Hindi pa rin siya sumagot. Umaksyon akong lalapitan siya ngunit biglang may tumawag sa akin.

“Kristine!!!” natatarantang tawag sa akin ni Niko, ang aking kapwa nurse na papalit sa akin pagkatapos ng aking shift.

Agad siyang tumakbo papalapit sa akin at mabilis niya akong hinatak papa-

layo sa lugar na iyon.

Habang hinahatak ako ni Niko ay lumingon ako sa lalaki na nasa harap ng room 19 kanina ngunit wala na akong nakita. Baka nakapasok na siya sa room.

Nang nasa front desk na kami ay may sinabi siya sa akin.

“Kristine ba;t ka nandoon sa harap ng room na iyon?” hinihingal niyang sabi.

“Ah, si sir kasi parang nagmamadali siya at ang bilis ng lakad niya papunta sa room na 'yon, eh wala naman akong ginagawa kaya sinundan ko na lang siya. Akala ko kasi napano na,” sabi ko kay Niko.

Bigla siyang nagtaka sa mga sinabi ko.

“Kristine, 'di mo ba alam?” sabi naman ni Niko sa akin.

“Na ano?” sabi ko naman.

“Mag-iisang linggo nang patay ang nasa Room 19 at ang dahilan ng kaniyang pagkamatay ay dahil sa kumakalat na Covid-19, ” sabi ni Niko sa akin.

“Kaya 'wag kang pumunta sa room na iyan dahil maaari kang mahawa sa sakit na 'yan,” dagdag pa niya.

Hindi ako makapaniwala sa sinabi ni Niko sa akin. Natulala ako at kinikilabutan sa mga nalaman.

“At isa pa Kristine, noong isang linggo lang din. Namatay ang matandang may sakit sa puso diyan sa room 20 dahil pati siya ay nahawaan din ng Covid-19,” sabi ni Niko.

Bigla akong nanlamig sa aking kinatatayuan, ‘di ako makapaniwala dahil kanina lang ay nakausap ko ang matanda sa room 20 at ang bata sa room 19.

“Niko, totoo ba? Eh halos isang linggo kong chinecheck ang room na iyan dahil diyan ako naka-assign at nakikita ko naman na gumagaling na sila,”sabi ko kay Niko na hindi pa rin makapa niwala.

“At isa pa Niko, may palagi silang sinasabi sa akin,” sabi ko kay Niko.

“Ano naman iyon?” tanong niya sa akin.

“Na huwag ko raw papalapitin ang kaniyang pamilya sa kaniya, dahil may kalaban daw na hindi natin nakikita,” tugon ko kay Niko habang tumatayo ang balahibo sa aking katawan.

“ Kaya Niko imposible naman yatang magyari 'yon na patay na sila,” sabi ko kay Niko na di pa rin makapaniwala.

“Kristine, 'di imposible 'yon, isang linggo na silang patay at mga multo nila ang nakita mo,” sabi ni Niko sa akin.

Hindi ako makapaniwala sa mga nalaman ko. Para akong pinagsakluban ng langit at lupa. Patay na pala ang mga pasyenteng dinadalaw ko sa room 20 and room 19 dahil sa Covid-19 virus.

Simula nang mangyari ang gabi na iyon ay hindi na ako nakakatulog ng maayos. Kapag may trabaho naman ako ay nagpapasama na ako sa front desk dahil sa aking karanasan na nagdulot ng trauma sa akin. Hindi na rin pinapadaanan ang room 20 at room 19 dahil ito ay dinidis-impekta dahil sa virus. Ang mga tao ay naging mas alerto at pati na rin kaming mga nurse ay mas doble ang aming ingat at pagsunod sa safety protocols upang maiwasan namin ang covid-19 virus. Hindi biro ang sakit na ito dahil mabilis itong kumakalat. Kaya dapat tayo ay maging alerto at responsable para hindi tayo mahawaan ng virus na ito.

Totoo nga pala ang sinabi sa akin ng lalaking iyon na may mga kalaban tayong hindi natin nakikita at 'yon ay ang patuloy na kumakalat na virus.

DEVIL’S SLAVESDEVIL’S SLAVES

by Warren Raciles

Can you hear the mourning of the people dressed in white?

I can feel the sadness in their eyes without their loved ones beside Their terrible agony from all of their labor and burdens Fearing death that can come their way anytime.

With the unending torment by these devils, they are slowly dying. They are more than a slave, serving those monsters 24 hours.

The walls have ears and the mirror have eyes, And they both whisper truth and lies These people dressed in white are abused by the demons up high They are mouthless but their scream can be heard everywhere They shout for justice to get what they deserve Hence, the devil laughs and blocks their way.

The truth is, every day is like their nightmare. They keep their eyes wide awake, And let their soul be taken away. Walking on a pile of dead bodies, They cry and plead for the devils’ sympathy.

The devil always lies, They aresometimes angels in disguise

And act like they have a concern Yet, evilness runs into their blood, Showing no mercy nor kindness to these people dressed in white.

Can’t you really hear their mourning?

They are suffering, Begging for their rights, And screaming for help. Yet, they are not heard... dress in white.

Can’t you really hear their mourning?

They are suffering, Begging for their rights, And screaming for help. Yet, they are not heard...

Brian’s Salon

by Rodge Carl Vea

Photo by Dannah Erika Eclarin

Iwas 16 years old when I first got pregnant. It was unexpected. It was not planned, it was a mistake. I never wanted to have a child out of vodka and gin. Even more, I never wanted to have a child with my boyfriend’sbest friend. He surely didn’t want it either.

That was the darkest moment of my life. My boyfriend left me out of spitThat was the darkest moment of my life. My boyfriend left me out of spite. His ego couldn’t take it, not knowing that what I did was only revenge… he did it with my best friend first. Nevertheless, he doesn’t matter anymore, he would’ve been a terrible father anyway.

My parents were more than disappointed. As a man with firm conservative views, my father couldn’t bear to accept the circumstance I putmyself into… As a tenant farmer who is already struggling to support usfinancially, he felt that all of his sacrifices became worthless toils. My mother couldn’t hide her sorrow too, seeing that her only daughter had plungedher life into the toilet out of rebellion. We were close once, but after what I did it was not the same anymore, she gave up on me.

My friends and the people I was close with, distanced themselves from me. I couldn’t blame them. Who would want to associate themselves with a cheater? A slut? A whore? Walking in our campus’ hallways with maraud ing eyes shooting me down and contemptuous mouths cursing me wasthe last straw. I felt alone, rather, I was alone. Though I know what I did was wrong, I do not understand why it felt like I was the evilest and vilest creature in this world. Why did everyone and everything leave me without a whiff of concern?

I’m just 16.

So, as a naive 16-year-old girl who felt so desolate, I knew that takingon motherhood by myself would be impossible… and destructive. If onlyI felt even an ounce of love and approval from those who are dear to me, maybe I would’ve taken the maternal role with brighter spirits. Instead, I was overtaken by my fears and thoughts about a hopeless future, this led me to affirm my decision to abort my child, thinking that with it I can goback to being a normal adolescent whose future is as glistening as the stars. Desperation and desolation made it the most reasonable choice…

I was in my second month when I finally decided to terminate mypregnancy. It was when my belly started to grow too large that I cannot hide it anymore with oversized shirts and simple lies. My aunt, whom I felt was the one most concerned about me at that time, told me about a “clinic” in the next town that can “erase all of my fears.”.

We arrived at a barber shop called Brian’s Salon. At thefront, it looked like a normal barbershop. The sound of razorsfilled up the place and hair pretty much covered the white floor.It was a busy day when we went inside. After my maid spoketo one of the barbers, he looked at me with malice. Then, he led us to the backdoor and walked in a tunnel that connected to a makeshift clinic. There you can find medical tools and equipment hanging from the sides. Knives and large scissors wereplaced on top of a platform surrounding the operating table atthe center of the room. The scent is a mixture of blood and iron and the floor is full of green and red moss. It was dirty and unhygienic, it looked more like a butcher shop than a clinic. Afterthe barber changed to scrubs, he made me sign a waiver whichI didn’t bother to read. He instructed me to lie on the table and injected something in my arm, not long after I fell asleep… thelast thing I saw as my vision dwindled out was his ominoussmile.

As I plunged into the depths of slumber, the boundaries ofreality slowly collapsed into a singularity of darkness… untileverything turned crimson red.

“Brum-brum-brum-brum-brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr” the visceral sound of a motor woke me up. As I regained consciousness Isaw a man in a ski mask holding a chainsaw in front of me. Iwas immediately overtaken with terror. When I struggled andtried to escape, the metal chains clamped onto my limbs kept mefrom standing. When I started screaming for help a wet towelwas immediately placed on my mouth and was pulled downward. The force was so strong that I started bleeding because mymouth started to get ripped in half and the back of my head wasslowly getting cracked open by the stone slab from which I lay.Right after that, I felt an agonizing pain in my right arm. I almostbroke free from the chains when I felt the chainsaw ripping myflesh and breaking my bones only to be slammed onto a concreteslab by the other man pulling the towel on my mouth. After myright arm, the man took out my left arm, then my right leg, andthen my left one… the excruciating pain of exposed flesh and theamount of blood I lost ultimately led me to become unconsciousonceWhenagain. I woke up, I was beyond exhausted, only holdingon to the little thread of life I have left. With pain coming from

everywhere my body became numb, and I can’t even feelanything anymore aside from the tingling sensation from myprivate parts. They removed all of my limbs making me nothing but a frozen box of rotting flesh, yet it wasn’t enough. Theystarted the chainsaw again, these psychos waited for me towake up before torturing me again, they must’ve liked the wayI scream, sadly I have no power left. Even just for a whisper. I felt the blades of the chainsaw ripping through my torso andmy intestines dangling to the ground. I am surprised I’m stillalive. Then out of nowhere, I felt a cold metal spoon enteringmy eye socket, it scooped my eyeball out. I felt a sharp thing cut the nerves attached to it, thus making me blind. With the menfinally satisfied with the torture they put me through, they got a gun and shot me in the head, effectively ending my agony…

As my life’s wick burns out, I heard a voice of a little childwhispering in my ear.

“Now you know how it felt mom…”

“HONEY! WAKE UP!”

I rose from my bed gasping for breath. I am sweating outof fear and distress. I touched my limbs, my body, and my faceand was relieved that they are still intact. I saw my husband’sworried face and I hugged him. I am thankful and overwhelmed with joy, so I cried in his chest as he pats me on myback, telling me it was okay… it was just a dream.

It’s been 15 years now since I went to Brian’s salon. I amnow in a stable marriage with a loving husband and 3 lovelychildren We are both doctors so we are able to give our childrena life of convenience. It couldn’t have been any better. I stillbelieve that I made the best decision given my past circumstances. Yet, the ghost of my past continues to haunt me withnightmares, never letting me enjoy my peaceful life to its fullest,but then again, maybe I deserve it. Every once a week for thepast 15 years I have had the same nightmare all ending with thesame whisper of a child, a child whose life I ended years ago.

“With all my heart, I apologize. And may you finally findpeace, as I found mine ” this is my prayer every time, as I goback to sleep.

COST

The sky is dull and grey, it might rain. The wind feels heavy, the trees sway in vain.

Down the street is a procession of people dressed in black. Faces screaming with agony, crying in pain.

Walking behind a casket without flowers. Playing is a piece of melancholic music. In their hands are candles lit. Slowly being blown out by the angry wind.

After a couple of blocks, To the cemetery, they headed towards. They laid the coffin in the center spot. The priest and the people chanted prayers. The flowerless casket started playing a song, as it was being lowered to the ground. Then the coffin was gone, now buried underground. The cries of the people became definite and louder.

For they can never take back the life of the person laid in that coffin whose body and life have been returned to the earth.

The people started leaving. I stayed. I was curious. Who died? Why did they die?

I looked at the headstone. It was me. My name. In cursive plain black letters.

Left alone in front of it – is my sister.

Crying. Crying loudly and painfully as she murmurs…

“You would still be alive if only they gave you a room that day.”

“We could still celebrate your birthday only if an ambulance was available to come and rush you to the hospital when you were already nearing death.”

“You would still be with us today if there were available IV fluids in that hospital.”

“Only if they had a blood bag for platelet transfusion compatible with your blood type.”

It started to rain.

Only if’s but it took away my life.

by Dana Meryll Gapas

| Photo by Casmir Remyell Cadiente

I heard all of their laughs As I lay naked on the operation table They bully my body and my disease Thinking that I heard none I was asleep yet thoughts ran awake Away from the haunting words As I try to navigate my way out of the body they are now opening up I hope for death upon my entirety As they cut deep within my flesh, I now hate because of what was uttered I hope they get done with it as they joke about my condition Even I was unaware of how displeasing I look Their comments made me so insecure Their honesty is even more piercing and painful Amidst the numbness of anesthesia that they put inside my spine Or the usual discomfort that I once felt My body numbed in which I prefer not to be So that I can redirect all of the pain into something I would rather bear I wanted to wear my clothes Yet they want me naked

THEBODY...

by Hyun Sun James Maestrado

I want me to be covered up and put within a box

In which only the cold and dark ness can accommodate I would prefer them killing me

Than to hear their dehumanizing thoughts disfiguring me brutally But then I heard a gasp Then a long beep Their laughs now stopped As my blood spurt out, or maybe not mine

Their hospital gown now drenched with the blood of my own Them, with their now curdling screams Their fun suddenly ended as my body started to move As it now shows its teeth And ate one of their hands My body, a monster I have never thought it would be More offended, wrathful which I wasn’t Now lunges from one medical staff to another.

Nadine

The Death of Mang Kanor

by Rodge Carl Vea

“Knock, Knock, Knock,” at 5 o’clock, loud fists hit the door Relentless blows to the crumbling oak soon woke Mang Kanor

So he hastily stood, for he understood, the call of a sinister voice

The man’s demands, he just must hand, for that he has no choice

“6 bundles of wheat and 10 pounds of meat,” charged by the man in black Though bereaved he just agreed, too afraid to plea and ask

For once he knew, a man named Hew, who refused to give his bread So the ghost went right into his house at night, and at dawn Hew was dead

Every week the man will seek offerings that one must be prepared to yield And with every visit the man raises the limit, his wrath no one can shield

So Mang Kanor locked his door, as soon as the man left He went to his storage so that he can forage whatever he has left

But alas he cries! With extreme demise, for he just realized That all he had left is the bowl of rice that for tonight he set aside

So without too much doubt, he went out, to work till the end of the light For if he earns enough food and stuff, to live long he just might

So then came Sunday, Kanor was joyful, for all his hard work rewarded

10 bundles of wheat and 20 pounds of meat, his blood and sweat afforded

Yet when morning came, awake he lay in his bed worriedly waiting He cannot sleep for he just can’t keep this feeling so bloodcurdling

At 5’oclock he heard the knock, in which terror sealed his throat For when he heard the reaper’s call, this day he truly loathed

“50 bundles of wheat and

Illustration by Christian Heaven Barruga

80 pounds of meat”… and is that a burst of faint laughter?

Mang Kanor’s heed “Just more time I plead…” yet there was no answer

So then Mang Kanor, held his nipa’s door, hoping to keep death out To his surprise, his spirit dries, as a hand on his shoulder made him turn around

With his own sight, he saw the devil’s might, with blood oozing from its eyes It gripped its scythe with a wicked smile, its heart throbbing with delight

Woe you more! Mang Kanor! As the wretched blade ripped your flesh

Your toils are spoiled as your blood boils, your body viciously threshed

Shame to this reaper and its cold-blooded murder, it’s a system we all dread For once morn came, grim sealed his name, and Mang Kanor was found dead.

IGNOR

Ignore the Man In Barong

by Hyun Sun James Maestrado

Party on while I still do not let my blood leak out of my shut tight neck, that is how I try to act, and utter from within as I lay my bloodshot darkening eyes upon these people divided by the color, they try to associate themselves with.

They all look so shallow, and they all think that they care for the country they keep on running over instead of actually running it. The sight and distraught glances against one another as the lights of the chandelier beautify the ambiance of the place still is not enough to cover up the fight they choose to be entitled with.

The party, theme of white, the fakest of its kind is not sufficient to let the reds disassociate themselves with the color they chose to pick, while the pink wears white yet still accessorizes themselves with trinkets they are principled with. Yet these superficialities, a way to show pride or a tiny rebellion against what they considered as an opponent would not be the main thing for tonight’s event.

The color white is the main thing that they all are leaning on. Clinical, plain, and tidy, yet all I see is red. Once I started to see a glimpse of annoyance, the aggressive taps of their phones, the smirks, and the “patamas” towards one another, annoyed I was fully for these entitled individuals using their titles as opportunities to look all righteous on the eyes of those who seem so stupid to be believe that they all are that. Looking at all that I am about to unfold, upon these not-so-poor unfortunate souls gives me unclear reasonable pleasure.

I for a fact want to see how these divided individuals who are united through hate and entitlement face something even more hideous than what they could inflict upon one another. I will be the one pushing them out of their beloved high ground as I make their heads explode with fear.

I have been dead for a long time, and I am annoyed because it seems like these people can’t see me, or have chosen to ignore a man in complete pain wear-

ing a disheveled barong. Bloodied from my neck, dripping blood trails as I walk into the podium yet no one notices or none dared to act as if they noticed.

My every step for attention is not enough to fully make people look at me, for they still pretend that I wasn’t there. They continued to do what they are accustomed to, until I was now at the podium, gasping for air because I needed to talk, demanding attention that I truly deserve, for I am the one who has their lives, I am the one who has the only thing which they are. All I just want from them is to see and do something when someone is in great need of help, yet no one did something.

People now see me, yet try to not look intimidated, even if I look dehumanized, I am still not worth being seen as pitiful, for I am a tall man with a great physique, and the look of blood dripping from my neck was sliced so clean to the point that I can still just put it on top of my neck as if it cannot be removed until I took it off.

I am now holding my head, and now they all screamed the same, they tried to run and stumbled their way onto the same exit but it was all locked. I, in patience, try to take all their fears as I shout my orders, and tell them what they have to do for them to leave this gathering they no longer want to be a part of.

These white pillars are about to be tainted with red, I uttered with malice as they try to now listen with all they got, I told them that the only way for them to survive is to group themselves into and kill their opponents until there is only one left. Some of them are hesitant and in fear, while a tiny part of the group gathered in one place, talking, planning on how they will survive, yet they are not asking

for other groups to join them, they just stopped talking and ran as fast as they could directly toward me. And I, without hesitation pointed my head directly toward my victims, and I just stared as I watched their heads explode into pieces.

Then again, the other people still alive screamed in terror, banged the door, and asked for help that they once sought for, again I demanded them to silence themselves, for I was now annoyed with the constant screaming as if they never yelled so rudely with their words they posted on-line. I still hate them; their noise overpowers the screams of true victims, which I consider myself before.

But now my words are orders worth abiding for my utterances are the only path to being alive yet touched by traumas not to be escaped when you have chosen to embrace hate as a way to prove what you are. They are now forming groups, red against the one who wears accessories of pink. Then I let them start the did, the shouts and heavy punches, a place filled with hypocrisy, now full of murderous intent. No matter what the color they wear, they still ended up bloody with red.

As time passed, most of them were still alive. I opened up the exits, but these people no longer seek a way out, they instead seek for their enemies as the night fades. I no longer care; they should’ve tried to talk to me instead of following my orders. These opinionated, self-entitled, self-righteous individuals still ended up following the unjust. I left them still too early, I disappeared in thin air, attached my head back on, yet I still hear them hunting one another, and my neck still drips with the same color I don’t want to be associated with.

the Man in Barong

by Lujean Guieb

the Man in Barong

Langit, lupa, impyerno Im-im-impyerno

Saksak puso tulo ang dugo Patay, buhay Maalis ka na diyan.

Masayang naglalaro ang mga inosen teng bata sa kalye. Ang mga batang wala pang kamalay-malay sa mundo. Tahimik at payapa ang aming probinsya ngunit ito ay nagmistulang araw ng mga patay sa mga araw ng eleksyon. Alas-sais pa lang ng hapon ay wala ka ng makikitang taong nakatambay sa tabi-tabi. Lahat sila ay nasa kanilang mga bahay, dala-dala ang mga pangamba sa mga mangyayari sa pagkagat ng dilim.

Ngunit para sa aming mga mamama hayag, ang gabi ang siya naming lungga. Hindi kami tanod. Kami ang mga bam pira, immortal. Hindi tinatablan ng bala. Walang kinatatakutan. Lahat susuungin. Makagat lang namin ang mga sariwang balita at masipsip ang purong katotohan an. Ito ang aming tungkulin at nakakabit na ang buhay ko dito.

“Sir Juan, dalian mong magpalit lalarga na raw ang sasakyan,” nata tarantang wika ni Wilmar sa akin dahil mag-uulat kami ngayon ukol sa insidente

HUBO Hubo’t Hubad ang

ng pamamaril sa Barangay Dyes. Siya ang aming cameraman. Pagtingin ko sa aking relo ay alas dose na ng madaling araw. Dalawampung kaso na ang naiulat na pamamaril, sampung araw pa lang mula noong nagsimula ang eleksyon. Mainit ang laban ngayon lalo na at sa wakas ay may naglakas loob na rin na kalabanin ang nakaupong mayor.

“Ilan daw ang biktima Rey?” tanong ko sa taga-sagap namin ng mga impor masyon habang abala niyang kinokontak sa kaniyang cellphone ang informer namin sa lugar kung saan naganap ang insidente.

“Ewan ko nga sir Juan, hindi naman na sumasagot itong informer natin,” agad na sagot niya sa akin. Umandar na rin ang sasakyan at lumarga na nga kami.

Malapit na kami sa Barangay Dyes. Nakatulog na ang lahat ng tao rito at nakapatay na ang ilaw ng bawat tahanan at tanging liwanag na lamang na nanggal ing sa buwan at sa aming sasakyan ang aming ilaw sa daan.Liblib ang lugar na ito. Bako-bako, hindi maayos ang daanan. Hindi pa man kami nakarating sa lugar kung saan naganap ang pama maril ay biglang huminto ang sasakyan. Napakadilim, tahimik, at tanging huni ng mga insekto lang ang nangingibabaw sa paligid.

“Manong Ben, bakit ka po huminto? May problema po ba?” nagtatakang tanong ko sa kanya.

“Mayroon pong van na nakaharang sa harapan natin sir,” sagot niya at agad na bumusina. Ngunit wala kaming naku hang tugon. Nakahinto lang ito habang umaandar.

“Malapit naman na ata iyon mula rito sir. Kaya naman na atang lakarin,” sabi sa akin ni Rey. Napagdesisyunan ng lahat na lakarin na lang namin ito. Pinatay na ni Manong Ben ang sasakyan at binuhat na namin ang lahat ng kailangan. Isang van at isang police vehicle ang nakahintong umaandar at napansin kong walang la man ang mga ito. Doon na ako kinabahan. Parang may mali.

“Itutuloy pa ba natin? Natatakot na ako,” nanginginig ang boses na wika ni Rey. Magmula noong ako’y naging isang mamamahayag ngayon lang muli ako nakaramdam ng takot ngunit kailangan ko muna itong isantabi.

“Buksan mo na lang ang camera mo Wilmar at simulan mo ng magrekord,” sabi ko at matapang kaming nagpatu loy. Tanging ilaw lang sa mga cellphone namin ang nagsisilbing liwanag sa aming daan. Masukal at kaunti lamang ang mga bahay sa parteng ito. Hanggang sa…

ang Katotohanan

“Dapa! Dumapa kayong lahat!” sigaw ng isang lalaking nakaitim. Agad-agad na dumapa lahat. Nanginginig ang aking buong katawan sa kung ano ang mangya yari sa amin. Hindi ko mabilang kung ilan sila, basta marami at armado silang lahat. May takip ang kanilang mga mukha at tanging mga mata lamang nila ang aming nakikita.

“Huwag niyo po kaming saktan sir! Wala po kaming armas. Sibilyan lang po kami,” nakaluhod na nagmamakaawang sabi ni Manong Ben. Ngunit, walang awa lang siyang sinipa at sinubsob sa lupa ang buong katawan. Ipiniring ang telang kulay itim sa aming mga mata, pinatayo, pagkat apos ay isinakay kami sa isang sasakyan. Ilang minuto ang nakalipas ay pinaba ba kami at pinaluhod. Naririnig ko ang mga iyakan. Marami kami. Nagmamakaa wa ang lahat para sa kanilang buhay. Wala rin akong magawa nakagapos ang aking mga kamay at patuloy ang pagdaloy ng aking luha. Kasalanan ko ito, kung hindi na sana kami nagpatuloy ay hinding-hindi kami mapupunta dito.

“Kasalanan niyo rin lahat ng ito! Mga pakialamera kasi kayo! Lalo ka na!” sigaw ng isang pamilyar na boses sa katabi ko. Ngunit, wala akong narinig na sagot niya marahil ay kagaya kong tinakpan ang

by Warren Raciles

Photo by Crisdeniele Clemente

kanyang bibig gamit ang tela. Bang! Bang! Bang!

Tatlong putok ng baril…Malakas… Nakakapanindig balahibo…Nakakatakot…Mabubuhay pa kaya ako? Hanggang dito na lang? Ganito lang matatapos ang aking buhay? Sa mga pagkakataong ito ay unti-unti ko ng tinanggap ang aking katapusan.

Naramdaman ko ang dahan-dahang pagbagsak ng lalaki sa akin kasabay ng pagdaloy ng kanyang mainit na dugo sa aking katawan. Napahandusay din ako kasama ng lalaki. Dahil doon natanggal bigla ang aking piring. Nagulat ako kung sino ang lalakeng iyon. Si Jade, ang bagong tatakbong mayor. Wala ng buhay at isa ng malamig na bangkay. Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!

Pagkatapos ay sunod-sunod ng mga putok ang aking narinig. Ipinikit ko ang aking mga mata dahil sa takot at pinigilan ang aking paghinga. Ako’y nag patay-patayan.

Umalingawngaw sa paligid ang sigaw ng pagmamakaawa…para sa kanilang buhay…para sa kanilang pamilya…at para sa kanilang mga pangarap. Nakakabingi. Nakakapangilabot. Wala silang awa…wala silang konsensya…wala silang puso. Hindi sila tao.

Sila’y kampon ng demonyo. Pagbukas ng aking mga mata ay isang kahindik-hindik na pangyayari ang aking nasaksihan. Hindi ko mabilang na katawan ang nakahandusay sa lupa. Lahat ay naliligo sa sarili nilang mga dugo. Lahat ay patay.

Akala ko ay wala na sila ngunit mali ako. Naaaninag ko ang isang lalaki sa hindi kalayuan. Nakangiting nakahawak ng baril. Lumalapit ito papunta sa akin. Hindi ako nagkakamali. Si Mayor Esteban ito! Siya ang salarin. Muli akong nag patay-patayan. Hanggang sa marinig ko ang kanyang pag-awit… Langit, lupa, impyerno Im-im-impyerno maging pipi ang totoo barilin ang puso tulo ang dugo Patay, buhay Malinis ang kamay.

“Kailanman ay hindi mo maikukubli ang katotohanan, Mayor!” sigaw ko kasabay ng pagkalabit niya sa kanyang baril at tinutok ito sa akin.

“Oh Diyos ko, kayo na po ang bahala sa akin!”

Bang!

Labyrinth of Chaos

by Jayson Sabong

by Lujean Guieb

And only time will ever heal the broken vow….

Life is a game of chances. It's cruel, and someone can be influencing our choices while we are confined to ideas that wear us out more and more each day. I looked down at the base of the structure I was standing in. It would have been better to die. We are mocked despite our fear. If you are born into a happy family, you are envied. The images of who we wanted to haunt our lives, and the shackles of our predestined faith have prevented us from escaping the heavy burden of anxiety and depression. Being born into a low-income home makes you a target for bullying. Making those of us who are less fortunate sound like collateral damage is the worst type of tactic to give emphasis to those in the hold of power. I shut the door behind me and looked up to the ceiling of this bathroom, which I'd lived in for as long as I could've known. I walked to the mirror, and as I gazed at myself, I couldn't help but cry. I was often thought of as pretty. There were a lot of thoughts that came inside my head. I laughed in between my sobs and looked back at the door when I heard it creak open, revealing the man who promised to save my mother in return for a night with me. His sweet whispers brought me nothing but disgust. I removed his hand that

was draped over my waist and placed my hand upfront, asking for the only price I exchanged for my dignity. He smirked and gave me an envelope. I tightly grasped it and vowed never to make the same error again. He grabbed my hand as I was ready to move, which made me freeze in my tracks. I was taken to his room by him. I fought, but it was in vain. He pushed me to a swiftly opened, tightly shut door as soon as we reached the end of the hallway, sealing me inside. I started crying as I thought of how my mother had once reprimanded me for being late for work. I felt all of my hope slipping through my fingers like sand, like water, like my mother slowly deteriorating. My nails scraped on the tightly closed door. I ran to the hospital where I left her. She was on the farthest side of the room, her gaze fixed on the sky. She turned to face me and I again smiled without a doubt. I'd do anything to save you. Never did I falter in using what I had left to keep you. I wanted to cry at the sight of my lovely mother, slowly fading away as time went by. We should have been helped. Funny how the brightest stars, who are supposed to provide us light, instead brought darkness to enhance their brilliance and trick people into believing they are necessary. I despised them. I despised those who made it difficult for people like me to live. I gazed down at my trembling hands as I cried out in a whisper

to the wind, hoping that someone would hear.

When I opened my eyes, I was once again on a rooftop. I quickly blinked before descending to my mother's bed once more. As soon as I saw her crying, I ran over to embrace her, but as I did, I was once again given a good reason not to. I clenched my teeth as I observed the individuals who had not even given my mother a glance. I took off running to the person I had last hoped to see. When I approached his door, I discovered him asleep. He gave me an open-eyed, ghostly stare that suggested he was seeing me. He bolted downstairs while tightly clutching his hair, appearing to be completely out of it. I tightened my teeth in a rage that wouldn't let up. As I followed his footprints to the stairs, I tightened my fist. His father, who did nothing but cover up his mischief using the money of the locals, is the subject of his hysterical screams as he expresses his regrets and sobs for him. I observed other individuals raising their phones as they exited their doorways to observe the chaos. I was more incensed by their whispers. My mother would have been chased out of that lobby if she had been screaming there, just as rats are chased out of their homes when they drop a piece of cheese on the floor. He gave me a quick nod before pointing, which caused the crowd to turn to look at me with uncertainty. I laughed mockingly and with all my lungs I shouted the

fact he'd regret all his life "You killed and buried me in your backyard" with his eyes wide open, he ran.

The man had gone insane, and his father was found in a casino using other people's money to live a luxurious life and fill his wallet with honey. I will not settle, I made myself clear to him once more. The night had destroyed their family. When he dropped me alive in the hole they dug under his property, I looked exactly the same. He screamed for me to stop, but I didn't listen. They left me to bleed, and I won't accept that they also dry up their eyes with my blood. In the midst of his pleading, he begged for his mother, and I immediately thought of the one and only lady I have ever loved. He saw how I was feeling and grinned slyly while yelling about what a lousy mother I had for having a whore for a daughter. I won't give in. I won't go to sleep up here with them sharing the same air my mother's breathes. Only for her am I doing this.

I'm not sure how empty it felt to sit by the door once more and look up at the same sky that my mother used to study. I got up from where I was sitting as I heard keys fumbling behind me. Given that I am already dead, I won't stop until I have destroyed them. In the hereafter, there is nothing to be afraid of.

Photo by John Lloyd Balantac|

Sinalaksak na Mantsa’y Kakarakaraka

SINAL Sinalaksak na Mantsa’y Kakarakaraka

Nangmamata ang matangkad na pagkamuhi sa nagpapakumbabang mga paa sa daan, humahalakhak ang sumisilakbong poot sa lunduyan ng sala-salabit na kaisipan. Dumadaginding ang nagngangalit na dagok sa bawat nagbabatâng mga katawan, umaawit ang sintunadong alimura sa mga taingang halos matulig sa hatid nitong kataasan.

Umaalingawngaw ang mapaniil na tungayaw sa gumegewang na katawan ng lipunan, umaalingasaw ang masasatsat na mga bungangang bulok ang isinasambitla sa 'di kilalang mga tauhan.

Sa dakong Perlas ng Silanga'y mababanaag ang lupon ng mga balat-kalabaw na tauhan, walang bahid ng kapagurang binabagtas ang maputik o 'di kaya'y makikitid na daan. Tawang-aso'y 'di imposibleng 'di maulinigan sa lawak ng kanilang lipunan, subali't kagyat na isinasara ang pintuan ng kanilang iniingatang kaisipan. Lipos sa natatanggap na pagkasuklam na ma la-bundok ang kataasan, buhat sa limbag ng 'di pasok sa pamatay ang kulay ng kanilang mga katawan.

Sabit-sabit ang karanasan subali't kapit-bisig ang ipinamamalas ng mga katawan, mistulang bida sa mga kuwentong sila ang pangunahing tauhan.

Bagama't ang tinig ng 'di masupil na alipusta'y sadyang may kataasan, patuloy ang pag-awit ng mga himnong lulan ang kinaadman habang tinatahak ang masukal na daan.

Pinalalaya ang panduruhaging bumubulong sa kaisipan, ipinupunla ang pintakasing maiangat yaong pumapalahaw sa bituka ng lipunan.

Dinadaluhong ng sigwa— daan upang minsang malunod ang lipunan, subali't sumasakay sa lunday o 'di kaya'y balangay na 'di nilalamig ang mga katawan. 'Pagkat bukang-liwayway ang nakalimbag sa bawat nilang kaisipan, at sa takipsilim ay makadadatal sa lilim ng pahin ga ang kanilang mga tauhan. Muling babagtasin ang inukit subali’t pumutik at naburang mga daan, aakyating muli ang pithaya habang ang respeto'y inilalantad nang may kataasan.

Umaangat subali't patuloy na tumutungo habang suot ang korona sa bandang kataasan, mapungay ang mga matang nakatanod sa nag

mamataas na lipunan. Marunong gumilid bagama't malawak na ang nilalakarang daan, maalam makibagay bagama't pumupusyaw na yaring kulay ng mga katawan. Ugaling tao pa rin ang inilalantad bagama't may sarili nang tauhan, pagiging dalubhasa ang itinatanghal bagama't tumatalas na ang kaisipan.

Bumubulusok man ang mga batong hinugis sa balikong kaisipan, bahagdan ng ngiti't katatagang iginuguhit ay may kataasan. Hinahawahan ng init ng pagpipitagan yaong mga nanlamig na tauhan, hinuhugasan ang tumilamsik na diskriminasyon sa damit ng lipunan. Kinakatigan yaong lumamyos sa pandudustang mga katawan, itinutuwid at tinatabasan yaong pílit na lumi liko't sumukal nilang daan.

Ibinabagay ang lagay ng tauhan sa sukat ng positibong kaisipan; nililingon muli ang pinanggalingang daan bagama't tangan na ang kataasan; binabalanse ang lipunan sa paraang nananatili ang wastong timbang ng katawan.

by Jayson Sabong

by Jayson Sabong LOST

Lost in Incarceration

Shehad the chance to escape but she chose to stay. She had the will to end her suffering by simply rebelling, but she obeys. Where will her wings bring her, once she slips into one of the exposed corners? Is it freedom from the rigid environment? Or another realm that brings a bigger mess?

To where does she even belong in the first place? The soar ing mountains buried in trees? In an artificial “home” just to be displayed? She had two choices. Freedom for her words to be valid, hope for her voice to be heard. Birds were flying higher than a person's height. Wings flapping against the leafy branches reaching the blues in the sky, none of them seemed special. Each and everyone was the same, not different nor unique. Or so they thought. One was feeble, the other strong, one graceful, another stiff. They alternate in features and the same in goal. They want to live a free life for the next decades. Free of the man’s demands, power, and crazy plans. Do humans differ in needs? Don’t they also yearn for freedom too? We are no different from them. Once, flying species got different colors of wings from the rest. Caught the vision of a deranged man, planned to catch it and had no better idea but to mess with it.

Food! Something the bird was searching for hours. The discoid eyes saw something from afar, except it was guarded... In a cage? Thought for a bit, aware that it would bring her to a new place. Unfamiliar, disturbing, and uncomfortable. Without any hesitation, she flew towards it. Still unsure whether it’s worth it, and at the same time regretting it. As a result, her curiosity brought her to a whole new place. It was nothing like her wide home.

She was lost. She doesn’t know what or even who to defend anymore. Is it her right? The ego that makes her feel everything will be alright? Her friend asked. “There’s nothing to defend, really.

Everything’s already computed. None is mistaken to be corrected, none too much to be decreased. Besides, it’s still my fault even if I insist.” “There’s no one to blame, either way, it’s my inconvenience that brought me to this situation.”

Her mouth could only blurt out nonsense, she knew she didn't deserve it. That she is really deserving to receive a decent response. Coming from everything her ears could receive, she forgot that she had herself, her own opinions and beliefs, one thing she needed to protect. Too much of the media influenced her; every act of her own was calculated, contrasting the opinion of the many. Just to avoid their mortifying comments.

Words coming from the unknown shouted to her sensitive ears, she had nothing to complain about due to her “irresponsible” acts. Irresponsible acts due to the toxic nature she’s in. From then she was held captive. Controlled by a selfless soul with no plans of breaking free. Locked in an open yet protected cell. Bars forged from fear, strengthened by agony. Similar to the bird, she fed herself with the same type of food. Every day became the usual, same set of routines except for some hours she occupied herself with harm. Does she need to suffer in order to attain the awaited freedom? But those promises were never really meant to be reached.

Words reach out from the open bars, pleading to be heard by no one other than her. She mourns for the past, wanting it to come back. All these experiences of torture; she wants to escape. Wanted to be saved, and wanted to be healed. Now she realized what she truly missed. She happened to want herself back, remembering some kind of stranger she once encountered on one of her journeys. Can recall a bit about that certain someone but not a vivid memory flashed before her eyes.

She knew who that person was, by name, by age, by likes and dislikes but never by the voice that continued to whisper inside that she already lost to someone who already found her. Every plan that she’s done never gave her the freedom and the person she used to be. Finding herself in the place she was already familiar with made no change; still lost.

All the opinions she had collected wanted to break the bars she hardened. Phrases and sentences that have their own meaning, still waiting for someone to listen. Once, the man heard her complaints. Sat and listened but suddenly got ignored and most of all, went farther away, leaving her in shame.

All this time, she had been the deranged person and the bird herself. From the things she had done, her own identity got lost. Controlled and manipulated by an unorthodox individual which is also she; from the start, she was already lost in incarceration.

by Brent Aganus

CONTENTS

LETTER FROM THE DESK EDITORS

WARREN RACILES

DELOS SANTOS

MERYLL GAPAS

ANGELO

VILLANUEVA

MARIZ

WARREN RACILES

EXECUTIVE EDITOR / LITERARY HEAD

She is a BS Pharmacy student indulged in creative writing ever since she was young. As moody as she is, like those painted words that are fine wine, soft, and rough sometimes; words that contain more healing medicine than all the drugs created by man. She always believes that a pen is mightier than a sword for it can weave love, bring a rain of hope, and speak words that will last forever.

AIRA NADINE PASCUA

GRAPHIC ARTIST / VISUALS HEAD

A budding biologist and a freelance illustrator. She is fond of drawing pretty places, observing people, and watching cattoks. She likes listening to OPM, especially the music of mrld, her favorite solo artist.