The AXIS Literary Folio

ART | Dyjay Yvann T. Dimasacat

The Great Damnation

Jomardel J. Constantino @thejomable

It was midnight when I woke up from my mother’s voice. “Wake up, wake up, Damian. Pack up your things.”

I’ve never been so confused in my life as to why in seven hells my mother would tell me to pack up my things in the middle of the night. “The government is gathering up teens from our division. Go, hurry up!” she said in a loud yet worried manner.

There were so many questions running in my head at that time. It was just then when I realized that we no longer live the life we used to have, or so they said. It was almost twenty three years ago when this pandemic came called “The Great Damnation” which caused people older than eighteen years old to lose their sense of sight. They said that those who are under that age bracket are immune from this disease but still gradually lose their sight when they turn eighteen.

It was total chaos and a long journey of adjustment to survive from this pandemic. It takes years for the government to have a new system that would work long after the world economy already collapsed. Children were left of responsibilities and there’s nothing scarier than the idea of their parents not seeing their sweet faces again.

I am now here inside a huge aircraft together with other teens from my division. They never said anything about where to go. All I know is that if we do not obey, our family will not have rations for a week and I will never let that happen to my mom. She’s the only one I have now after my father died in an accident two years ago. I am wearing this black jacket he gave me with initials D.F.D. I assume that’s mine - Damian Froy Davis. How I wish I could still see him before I lost my sight two years from now.

It’s been almost an hour since we departed from Division III, and I can already feel that we are about to arrive at our destination in no time. Just when I thought of it, the door opened in a loud cracking noise.

“Gather up!” the bald commander said,

We fall in line and walk in the exit carefully. In my nervousness, I stumbled upon this small hump and fell into the ground. A robust soldier in uniform came to pick up my things and helped me to stand up.

“Careful, kid” he smirked.

“Welcome to Project Utopia!”

poem

Manic Madness

Hydie Mariel M. Adarlo

@hydzmrl

Blood pumped to the chest

Picking up with speed

Heart racing with excitement

More than what I need.

After being happy for so long, The dread come so strong The feeling that tumbles down Painted the face with a frown

Through the curves and the loops. Emotions that are hard to scope. Being through the extremes Ups and downs exceeds

ART | Jewel D. Dinglasan

neMEsis

I am my enemy I am my own hindrance I don’t trust myself I limit my capabilities.

I can be the suspect of my own crime scene. I can also be the murderer of my own death.

I, myself, is my enemy.

Sebastian Ardie M. Tan @sbs_tan

poem

ART | Lawrence V. Portillo

Butterscotch Bakery’s Delivery Boy

Coleen Jill F. Sajo @HSaijou

Itis a bright, sunny day in the town of Steampuff. Known for its advanc ement in developing steam engines for vehicles and for its delicious cream puffs, it is a popular destination spot for people of Tertenia to visit. Because of this, the streets of Steampuff have become even more bustling than it was before.

Despite the crowded streets, Poncho manages to slither his way while running hastily, his hand holding tightly unto his cap. The poor boy overslept, and is currently making his way to a bakery as quickly as his nimble fit can run.

As soon as he spots the storefront, Poncho swiftly makes his escape from the crowded streets. With a running start, he does a long, horizontal jump. He sticks the landing right exactly in front of the store and stretches out his arms to maintain his balance.

He turns around and sees an old man by the counter. He smiles triumphantly.

“I’m safe!” he exclaims.

“Only by a hair.” The old man sighs. “Now come in, boy. You got some deliveries to do.”

Poncho gives the old man a salute before entering the store, the bell above the door jingling right after him.

Inside the store, Poncho takes a deep breath as he takes in the scent of freshly baked goods—from raisin bread to chocolate chip cookies, from sugar-coated donuts to vanilla-filled cream puffs. His mouth would’ve watered had he not taken breakfast earlier.

“This place smells so delicious as always.” Poncho remarks while looking around. “You’re such a great baker, Mr. Butterscotch!”

“Why, it’s in the name, of course!” The old man, Mr. Butterscotch, harrumphs proudly.

Then, he hands a small note to Poncho.

“Well then, here’s your list of deliveries for today. Make sure you don’t forget any single one, okay?”

“I promise!” Poncho does a salute again.

After taking the note, Poncho looks at the list with eyes shimmering in excitement. Today, he has to do only three deliveries this morning. The baked goods he has to deliver are pretty light and easy for him to carry around the town.

Mr. Butterscotch smiles, and he leans down to pat the boy on his head.

“You’ll do me proud, boy. Now, take the goods with you and get going.”

Poncho returns the smile with a grin.

Then, he gets the boxes of baked goods that he needs to deliver for the day. The bell above the door jingles as Poncho exits the building, ready to start his day as a delivery boy of Butterscotch Bakery.

The first delivery is for Mrs. Winfield, an old woman who lives right across Poncho’s house. Poncho decides to take the shortcut, so he can easily get to his neighborhood quickly.

As soon as he arrives, he is immediately welcomed by his mother who is standing outside of their house. She seems to be waiting for him with her arms crossed and her glare menacing.

Something bad is definitely going to happen.

“So, Poncho,” his mother begins. “Did you arrive on time at the bakery shop?”

“Yep, definitely!” Poncho grins sheepishly. “In fact, Mr. Butterscotch said that I made it ‘only by a hair’!”

His mother raises her eyebrow. “Don’t lie to me.”

“I’m not lying to you, Mom, I promise!” Poncho insists.

“This is because you overslept this morning! Had you slept earlier last night, then that certainly wouldn’t have happened! You also wouldn’t have missed–”

“Oh my, what’s with all the noise?”

Upon hearing the familiar elderly voice of Mrs. Winfield, Poncho sighs in relief. At least, he does not have to listen to his mother nagging at him first thing in the morning—especially while he is in the middle of a delivery.

Speaking of delivery, Mrs. Winfield just happens to appear at the right time!

“Good morning, Mrs. Winfield!” Poncho greets her. He offers her a box of oatmeal raisin cookies. “I’m here to deliver some cookies for you.”

“Oh, thank you, dear Poncho.” Mrs. Winfield takes the box from Poncho. “You can go on, now. You have other deliveries to do, right?”

“Yes, Ma’am! I’ll see you and Mom later!”

After waving goodbye to both his mother and Mrs. Winfield, Poncho takes the same shortcut to quickly make his way to his second delivery. So far, so good. He hasn’t run into trouble yet, and everything has been safe and intact.

The second delivery is for a family who lives just two blocks away from the bakery. The mother and father are regular customers who used to frequent the bakery every now and then. However, due to the foot traffic every morning, it became more difficult for the pair to visit the bakery personally. So now, they decided to have deliveries instead.

“Good morning, Mr. and Mrs. Selby!” Poncho greets them from the entrance. “I have a delivery for you from Mr. Butterscotch.”

As soon as the couple come out through the door, Mrs. Selby is the first to greet the young boy.

“Good morning to you, too, dear Poncho.” Mrs. Selby smiles at him. “I see you have our favorite wheat bread with you?”

Poncho nods, offering the box to them. “Yes, Ma’am!”

“Thanks, Poncho.” Mr. Selby takes the box from the boy. “Hard at work as always, huh?”

Poncho only smiles sheepishly as he rubs the back of his head. “Y-Yes, Sir. I owe Mr. Butterscotch a lot.”

“Why don’t you take a loaf with you, dear? You might get hungry along the way,” Mrs. Selby suggests. “Jimmy, darling, could you take one out for Poncho?”

As Mr. Selby picks a loaf out of the box, Poncho is quickly gesturing his hands in refusal.

“No, no! It’s alright, Mrs. Selby. I already had breakfast,” Poncho explains.

“There’s no need to refuse us, you know,” Mr. Selby interrupts. “Consider this as payment for always delivering our bread.”

Knowing fully well that he can’t refuse any further, Poncho reluctantly takes the loaf of wheat bread. “Th-Thank you so much.”

After a brief conversation with the couple, Poncho rushes his way to his third delivery. It is relatively far from the Selby residence, but he is certain that he can still make it on time if he walks quickly enough.

Eventually, he finds himself in front of a giant gate of a pretty old mansion. Its architecture seems rather gothic, and the atmosphere is darker compared to the warm and welcoming air in the Selby’s. The front garden seems rather gloomy, despite the colorful flowers and the green shrubs.

It definitely belongs to a noble. In fact, Poncho is almost certain that whoever this “Miss Lockwood” person must be is either the gloomy type of noble or the evil type of noble. Either way, Poncho can only swallow his fear as he hesitantly calls out.

“H-Hello!” Poncho stammers. “A delivery f-from Butterscotch Bakery!”

Silence fills the dark and gloomy air, and Poncho is wondering if there is even anyone in the mansion. The last thing he wants to deal with is delivering to a haunted house filled with ghosts and spirits!

Suddenly, he hears a voice belonging to an old man.

“You’re from Butterscotch Bakery, you say?”

Poncho looks up. Standing across the gate and looking at him with suspicious eyes is a thin man with graying hair. His face is wrinkled and his mustache is well-kept. Besides a pair of glasses, the man is wearing a tailored black suit— perhaps, the butler of the house.

“Y-Yes, Sir!” Poncho answers nervously. “I’m here to deliver cream puffs for a, um, M-Miss Lockwood?”

Poncho shows the butler the box of cream puffs. He made sure that none of them toppled on his way here, which was why he chose not to run. Furthermore, Mr. Butterscotch’s cream puffs are very popular in town, so it was very important for Poncho not to mess up in this particular delivery.

The butler hums thoughtfully. “Hmm, I see.”

In an instant, the gloominess in the air disappears as the butler smiles softly, as if he has just thought of something–or someone.

“That would be the young mistress, then,” he says. “She really loves the cream puffs from that particular bakery.”

Poncho visibly relaxes, and his eyes gleam with excitement. “She does? Mr. Butterscotch bakes the best cream puffs in the whole town–no, in all of Tertenia!”

The butler chuckles. “I see…”

“Oh yeah! Pardon me, Sir, but would you mind if I ask something?”

“What is it?”

“Where’s Miss Lockwood?”

From that moment, Poncho senses that the air has become gloom once again. He watches as the butler’s expression darkens. But rather than anger, the butler’s face seems to indicate a hint of sadness.

“Lady Elise is in her room right now,” the butler answers. “She has been in there for quite some time now. She can’t leave, even if she wants to. So, I’m afraid you can’t see her.”

Upon realizing what those words mean, Poncho simply nods. “I see…”

“She loves desserts. They bring her joy. And in particular, she loves the cream puffs from Butterscotch Bakery the most. Her smile is the brightest whenever she eats them, so I decided to order some for her today.”

Touched from the story, Poncho instinctively offers the box of cream puffs

to the butler.

“Then, please take this to her, Sir. I…I hope she likes them! And, um, tell her to get well soon.”

“Thank you, little boy.” The butler momentarily laughs, and he takes the box from the boy. “Which reminds me, I haven’t gotten your name.”

“My name is Poncho, Sir. Poncho Harper.”

“Well then, Mr. Harper, I’ll make sure to send the young mistress your regards.” The butler bows at him politely. “Thank you, and please take care.”

Poncho gives the butler a salute, before quickly fixing himself to do a bow in return instead. “W-Will do, Sir! I’ll be off, then!”

The butler smiles, as he watches the young boy run off to the distance in the streets of Steampuff. Eventually, he turns around and walks back to the mansion with a box of cream puffs in his hand.

It is only when Poncho returns to the bakery when he suddenly remembers: he forgot to ask the butler’s name!

Ranniele F. Maspat @lalalaheyitisme

the harshest journey the ant is about to take is to live his world

ART | Geno Bell Cristian R. Corea

haiku

HIRAETH

Abegail M. Arriola @abbychichu

Eerie homesickness to home I can’t return, or home that don’t exist

ART | Jerico C. Fadriquela

Almusal

Hydie Mw M. Adarlo @hydzmrl

Isangmahabang araw na naman para kay Adrian. Sa ganap na alas syete ng umaga ay nakapag saing at nakapagluto na siya ng babaunin niya at ng kaniyang mga kapatid sa paaralan. Nagawa na niya ang lahat ng responsibilidad sa bahay, kaya oras na para maghanda sa pagpasok. Naupo siya sa harap ng salamin, bitbit ang sandamakmak na kolorete. Siguradong pupunahin na naman ng guwardiya sa kaniyang pinapasukang unibersidad ang pintura ng kaniyang mukha. Natatawa na lamang siya kapag naalala ang mga ganitong eksena kapag papasok siya. Nagsimula na siyang magpahid ng pulbos sa iba’t ibang parte ng kaniyang katawan. Naglagay rin siya ng concealer upang takpan ang kaniyang mga marka. Inayos niya ang kaniyang gamit, at nilagay ang concealer at pulbos sa kaniyang bag. Nang siya’y aalis na, sinalubong siya ng isa na namang suntok mula sa lasing niyang ama.

dagli

PHOTO | Prince Jeric C. Gomez

poem

Stew Milk Fish

I woke up 6:00 in the morning, the sun is shining, what a beautiful weather indeed. I’ll be making hook again to have something on our plate.

The sweet sound melody of sea nimble on my ears. The wind is slowly sliding on my slippery hair while the sun kissed my tanning skin.

I vigorously throw my net onto the calm sea hoping for a plentiful catch. Waiting for the perfect timing before pulling my net and catches fish sublime

“Itay, itay!” as my child calls me as I slowly approach the shore.

“Ano pong huli niyo ngayon” he asks with full of curiosity “Bangus anak” I replied I can see his disappointment from his gloomy and weary eyes.

“Kung kahapon ay i-sinigang, paksiw naman ngayon” In the hope that it’ll bring back his excitement “Eh ulam din po natin ‘yan nung isang araw eh” he then uttered

“Pasensya ka na anak, mahirap lang tayo ‘e, Hayaan mo bukas, i-dadaing ko naman”

This is the struggle of a poor fisherman.

ART | Geno Bell Cristian R. Corea

Patintero

Christopher Mikhail P. Acyatan @haihaihairu_

Takbo! Takbo!

Ilagan mo ang katamarang

Umaabot sa gilid mo

Lagpasan ang kalungkutan

At galit na iyong kinahaharap

Huwag kang magpapataya

Sa mga sinasabi sa iyong likuran

Napapaligiran ka na

Ng mga negatibo sa buhay

Ngunit sa patintero, Hindi ka nag-iisa…

Mayroon kang mga kakampi

Na iyong kasangga

Magagambala mo

Ang kanilang mga hinaharap

At aabalahin nila

Ang balak humablot sa’yo

Walang makakarating

Sa kabilang dako

Kung wala kang kasama

Sa larong ito

Papaligiran nila kung sino man

Ang sinubukang tumawid mag-isa

Lulunurin sa kalungkutan

Ang sumabak na walang kasama

Kaya’t ikaw, maswerte ka

Andito ako; kadatig ka

Handang ibigay ang balikat

Sa tuwing may problema

Kaya huwag kang mag-alala

Maitatawid natin ang larong ito

Na tayo ay magkasama

ART | Billy Russel C. Abistado

p a k a y

Lumalalim na ang gabi. Katatapos lang ng klase at uuwi na lang kaso ayoko pa. Kahit alam kong pagagalitan ako pag-uwi, kasi sino ba namang matinong babae ang magpapa-abot ng animasmas at mag-papalumot sa labas e anong oras na. Wala e, ang lungkot lang talaga. Kanina ko pang pinipigilan ang mga nagbabadyang luha at nakakahiya naman sa taong nasa likuran. Pero, nakasisiguro akong, isang kulbit mo lang, isang sulyap mo lang, baka di ko mapigilan pa.

Ilang sandali, impit, nang magtagpo ating mga mata kasabay ng pagtama ng ilaw mula sa sasakyan sa di kalayuan habang tayo ay hindi pa rin makausad sa trapiko. “Ngayon lang naman”, ika ko sa aking isipan. Pasensya na. Mauubos na yung gas pero pinili ko pa ring hindi umuwi kahit malapit na sa amin. Tinanong mo ko, “bakit ayaw mo pa?” at sinagot kita ng katahimikan. Muli mo kong tinanong pero parang wala ka nang kausap. “Payakap,” bulong ko. Inulit ko pa, “yakapin mo ko.”

Jhustine Rose C. Festijo @jhusfstj

dagli

PHOTO | Hannah Mae H. Mendoza

Guard Kase

Mahuhuli na ako sa klase, 2 minuto na lang magsisimula na. Dali-dali na akong nagscan ng QR Code sa gate, hindi umayos, ayaw gumana. Pinagpapawisan na ako at makalipas ang 3 minuto saka pa lamang ito nascan at biglang nagsalita ang guard, “Masyado kasing nakazoom kaya di mabasa”. Sa loob-loob ko “Bakit hindi mo agad sinabi edi sana hindi ako nahuli sa klase.”

Ariel L. Magpantay Jr. @mistereyyyy

tiny tale

ART | Geno Bell Cristian R. Corea

Manifestation

Abegail M. Arriola @abbychichu

Ako’y nanlamig nang tuluyan ng lumabas ang resulta ng aking pagsisikap para sa semestreng ito. Hindi pa rin ako lubos na makapaniwala sa nakuha kong marka. Alam kong may mali. Bakit tres lamang ang aking natanggap, e nag-high grades cutie naman ako?

tiny tale

⚠ Message not sent.

Kim Lawrence D. Cortez @kyem_lowrenz

Mark replied to your story

: hoy may balita ako sayoo

: If about na naman ‘to kay Angela, please tama na. Harap-harapan ka nang niloko ng tao.

: Ayokong manumbat pero ‘di ako naging best friend mo para panoodin ka lang paglaruan ng sinu-sino diyan ‘no.

: ala ang sweet

: wala akong barya neng next time na lang

: eeee kaseeeeeee

: wait kinikilig ako

: AH SO SI ANGELA NA NAMAN?

: hindiii

: si ano : si colleen?

: yung nireto mo sakin before

: sinagot na niya ako

: kanina lang

: HAHAHAHAHAHA salamat sa reto bes

: labyuuuu

: Oh, anong meron?

: I love you too. (⚠Message not sent)

PHOTO | Hannah Mae H. Mendoza

⚠ Message not sent.

PHOTO | Hannah Mae H. Mendoza

Tuhugan

Jomardel J. Constantino

@thejomable

Merong tuhugan dine sa amin na ako lang ang may alam

Wari ko’y malapot ang sauce, tunay na malinamnam

Wala akong barya pero hindi ko na mapigilan

Ika ko nga ay “ Tukso ako’y iyong layuan”

Pero sige na nga, “Manong, patikim ng iyong kikiam”

ART | Geno Bell Cristian R. Corea

limerick

PHOTO | Ishe Loui Maxene M. Candava

tiny tale

Community Guidelines

Ed Angelo M. Dealola @edangelostyles

Scrolling lang ako sa TikTok nang madaanan ko ang isang lalaking online seller. Walang pantaas, maskulado, chinito na may pagka mestiso.

Sa sobrang daming nag co-comment, ‘di ko na rin napigilan.

“Kasya ba sa box, kung ‘yang mga ngiti at pandesal mo ang bibilhin ko?”

… “ A comment you posted was removed for violating our community guidelines.”

Hindi ata binebenta ang pandesal sa lamesa, sayang, sold out sana.

ART | Jerico C. Fadriquela

dagli

Artistahin

Isang napakainit na araw, ako’y banas na banas at kahit i-number 3 ko na ang electric fan at itutok ay talagang tulo na ay kayat pa ang pawis.

“Ma, alis muna ako, papalamig lang ako sa SM” paalam ko sa aking ina.

“Sige, ingat ka, ibili mo rin ako ng kojic sa watson” sambit niya.

Habang naglalakad papuntang sakayan ay may nadaanan akong nagbebenta ng mga phone case at nag-aalok ng tempered glass sa halagang isang-daan.

“Pogi, case ka na diyan, tempered pogi murang-mura na.”

Hindi ko sila pinapansin pero sa aking loob-loob ay talaga namang kahit tindera ay napopogian sa akin.

Naglalakad na ako sa SM nang bigla akong napatigil sa poster ni Daniel Padilla.

“Ano ga namang gwapo talagang nitong taong ito” pabulong na sabi ko sa aking sarili.

“Miss, magkano ga itong poster ni Daniel Padilla” tanong ko sa saleslady.

“Sir, hindi po ‘yan poster ni Daniel Padilla, salamin po talaga ‘yan” tumatawang sagot sa akin ni ate.

Mahirap maging Pogi

Neil Joshua M. Lerin @AshenJulio

“Pogi, anong gusto mo?” tanong ng babaeng amoy isda.

“Pogi, dito ka na lang,” anyaya naman nung ale habang pinapakita ang kanya raw sariwang tahong.

Ganitong mga bumubungad sa’kin sa araw-araw. Pagod na ako. Ang hirap pala nito. Andaming tukso sa paligid, maraming gustong kumuha ng atensyon ko. Hindi ko na alam kung sino ang pipiliin ko. Araw-araw kong pinapasan ang mabigat na responsibilidad na ito. Ako lang naman kasi sa pamilya namin bukod-tanging nakakaangat sa buhay kaya heto ako ngayon, namimili sa palengke.Kahit nabibigatan sa mga pinamalengke, ayos lang kasi nagiging pogi naman ako kahit papaano.

dagli

PHOTO | Allain E. Bantilan

Mahi-letroniko

Christopher Mikhail P. Acyatan @haihaihairu_

Ano nga ba ang mahika, kundi siyensyang hindi sakop ng ating kaalaman? Ang simpleng teleponong ating kinagawian, sa isang mangmang, ay isang mahika. Aba, sa isang pindot mo lang, abra kadabra! Darating ang isang karwaheng dadalhin ka sa lugar na iyong nais. Sa isang pindot mo lang, hocus pocus! Magkakaroon ka ng mahiwagang salamin na nagdurugtong sa’yo sa nasa malayong lugar. Sa isang pindot mo lang, alakazam! Makikita mo na ang impormasyong iyong hinahanap. Hindi mo man pansin, ngunit tayo ay nasa kapanahunan ng mahika - mga bagay na noo’y inakalang imposible, atin nang nagagawa.

ART | Dyjay Yvann T. Dimasacat

A Writer’s Biggest Nightmare

Jhon Mark A. Mercado @janmaaark

A writer’s pen can move on its own, when’s there’s something they don’t want to forget, when they feel so loved and they’re sure of what they have, when they enjoy the view of the night sky, filled with stars hopeful for days not lied, or when they see honesty, assurance, and loyalty, to someone’s eyes, and having them unsolicited.

But a writer’s pen can’t move on its own, When their heart races no more To the drop of the ink that strokes, Or when writing no more resonates That it make their hearts vibrate, It can be when they’re Sinking to the deepest depths, And their feet just carry them To their first death, Which they try to escape To no avail. And these are their nightmares, Deaths that’re uncalled for, Striking their veins first Down to their pens up to the tip core.

A writer’s pen can move on its own, when there’s a river of tears rushing through someone’s cheeks, or when the waves of the ocean don’t seem like the same one that speak, or usually when they’re trying harder just to keep their heads above water, and when they’re trying to find answers, to questions looking for no problem-solver.

A writer’s pen can’t move on its own, when the writer itself died surrendering to they’re inner cyclone.

ART | Andrea M. Rubia

limerick

Running Thoughts

In the night, just as when I was yawning The ideas come out and were running I was struck wide awake

So much thoughts, I can’t take But still nevertheless I’ll keep writing!

A moment

Mattheaus Hrodrich G. Immaculata @matttchoiii_51

For just a moment

We can escape reality

Changed view of scenery

None can have atonements

Forgetting all for mystery

Only to this comfort can be free

PHOTO | Prince Jeric C. Gomez

ART | Gerard Andrei M. Malapote

Horns and Shadows

Kim Lawrence D. Cortez @kyem_lowrenz

“How can you say that someone is trustworthy?”, asked the professor.

The whole class was silenced. They don’t know what to answer. Even I, who is known to be a very outspoken student, is just speechless. I can’t answer. No. I won’t.

The professor asked again, now with a very loud voice.

“I said how can you say that someone is trustworthy? There are 35 students in this class but no one volunteers to answer? Answer me. Now!”

I felt the tension inside the room. I can feel how nervous my classmates are. I saw my classmate Sheila shaking in fear as she raised her hand.

“No Sheila don’t!”

I tried to stop Sheila from answering but it was already late. The professor went up to her and flashed a scary, almost devilish smile.

“Yes, honey?”

Sheila saw the professor’s face and lost balance. She fell and lost consciousness, then lost her breath after a minute.

There was never a professor in front. Sheila is the only one who can see her. She told everyone about the creepy professor but they did not listen. Now, all of their eyes are on Sheila, full with fear and curiosity. Why did she die?

I felt a bad presence behind me. I saw a shadow in front of me. Unfollowing my instinct, I turned around.

“So you can also see me, huh?”

Across the Pacific

Roi Karlo V. Sinchi @les_ykai

How sad it is to know that my relatives live overseas. Meeting them has always been my unanswered pleas. So I made a wooden boat And sailed with my coat But unluckily, it sank in the middle of the deadly seas.

ART | Ramil D. Reyta

limerick

GCH

Christopher Mikhail P. Acyatan @haihaihairu_

Walking home after classes are over Lamps not lit and the breeze makes it colder

The darkness of the night

Can be peaceful and quiet Until someone taps you on your shoulder!

ART | Geno Bell Cristian R. Corea

ART | Billy Russel C. Abistado

Tao Po!

Isang tahimik na gabi, gumagawa ako ng aking mga takdang aralin. Bigla akong napahinto ng makaramdam ng pananakit ng tiyan. Agad akong pumasok sa banyo upang magbawas. Habang ako ay nakaupo sa inidoro narinig kong may tumatawag ng aking pangalan mula sa labas “King, King” sabi ng boses. Agad kong pinatay ang lumalagaslas na tubig sa banyo upang marinig ng maayos kung sino ang tumatawag. Hindi ko maulinagan ang boses sapagkat nawala ito. Muli kong binuksan ang gripo narinig ko na naman ang boses, sa pagkakataong ito boses ng aking ama ang naririnig kong tumatawag. Agad akong tumayo upang patayin muli ang tubig at tinapos ko na ang aking pagbabawas. Papalabas na ako ng banyo at pahawak na ako sa door knob ng bigla kong naisip, anong gagawin ng aking ama dito sa aking dorm, alas 10 na ng gabi at walang pasabi na siya ay darating. Naalala ko ang paalala sa akin. Kapag may tumawag, Huwag kang tutugon, Huwag kang magbubukas ng pinto kung walang kumakatok at nagsasabi “tao po” na ang ibig sabihin TAO ang nasa pinto. Ang mga nasa nakaraan ay dapat manatili sa nakaraan hindi dapat paratingin sa kasalukuyan. Sa katakutan ko nakalimutan ko hindi ko na flush ang toilet, nakakahiya sa sumunod na gumamit.

dagli

PHOTO | Ishe Loui Maxene M. Candava

tula

Tewups

Sebastian Ardie M. Tan @sbs_tan

Sinubukan kong kalasin ang kadenang nakapulupot sa’king

katawan

Upang makatakas sa higpit ng kapit mula sa masakit na katotohanan

Gabi-gabing bangungot ang dulot ng mga matong hibang

Nang sa ganon mairaos lamang ang kanilang pagkatigang

Ako’y nagkasala, nagkamali, nakapatay

Kaya naman ngayon sa loob ng selda patuloy na namumuhay

Ngunit pagsapit ng dilim ay palaging nakaratay

Sa matigas na sementong gabi-gabi akong pinapatay

Walang babae sa selda, kaya kahit parehong kasarian ay patol na

‘Di batid sa kaisipan ang sakit na maaring makuha

Basta ba’y titira dahil sabik sa madulas na butas

Urong-sulong ang galawan na may kasama pang hampas

Sigaw, wala ka ng magagawa

Palag, babanatan ka ng walang awa

Yumuko, tumuwad, pumikit, at humagulhol ka na lamang

Habang sila’y sarap na sarap habang ako’y pinaglalaruan

“Tama na, ayaw ko na” patuloy kong isinisigaw

Maawa’t mahabag sa katawan kong nangangayaw

Anong pait nitong sinasapit ko araw-araw

Ayaw ko nang magising! Ibig ko na lamang pumanaw.

Petty Betty

Hydie Mariel M. Adarlo @hydzmrl

I had a neighbor named Betty

We don’t mess with her ‘cause she’s petty

Once a lad said she had a big tummy

She flipped and almost turned him into a mummy

Now Petty Betty is not invited to the party

PHOTO | Anne Carmi O. De Los Reyes

limerick

McDo

Jasmine Mae M. Panganiban @jaspanganiban

I was returning to our home

After a long jogging roam

When I notice

Some hypnosis

The McDo signage near the dome

ART | Jhonnea Maien D. Silva

PHOTO | Allain E. Bantilan

Girl meets World

Ingrid M. Lescano @ingridlscn

It’s still there. It had always been there. No one dared to move it. I’m standing in that exact position back then. The cold wind blows by making me shiver. I walk near it. I can feel my heart racing with every step I take to narrow the distance. The closer I walk, the better I see the rust all over it but I don’t mind. I hold on by the sides feeling the cold running down my skin yet a familiar feeling. I close my eyes and take a deep breath before dragging my leg to step up along with my body.

Sixteen years. It’s been sixteen years since the first time I ever saw it. Sixteen years where I would stop running around and just look at my father standing on it, either looking at the tree in our backyard or staring at the view. I remembered his relaxed face rather than being afraid about the distance between him and the ground. Seeing his face made me wonder.

“Father, are you not afraid up there?” I asked. He looked down on me and laughed.

“No, Iris.” He answered while staring back at something.

“What does it look like up there, Father?” I once again asked.

“It feels like you’re on top of the world.” He said.

As I took a final step to reach the top of the ladder, I composed myself to stand on it and the question when I was young was finally answered today as I saw what it is like up here. A whole view of the town meters away from meeting the clouds floating above with lights scattered and small noises you can hear from time to time.

Father was right. You will not be afraid if you stand from here, looking at what’s in front of you.

You will feel like you’re on top of the world.

I’m on top of the world.

Ariel L. Magpantay Jr. @mistereyyyy

ART | Ivanne Benhur M. Briones

Ariel L. Magpantay Jr. @mistereyyyy

P(p)2

Perfection, a word I dreamed of Perfectly I want

ART | Andrea M. Rubia

From Kusina with Love

Ranniele F. Maspat @lalalaheyitisme

La!!! The oil is splattering again,” she starts complaining, trying to flip the tilapia she’s currently battling to fry for their dinner. She tries once again to flip but she fails miserably and splatters more oil towards her, forcing out a scream comparable to that of a banshee’s.

“Tsk.Tsk. Apo,” her Lola enters the kitchen after a minute of endless complaints and screams, “you have to first lower the heat, wait for the oil to calm for a bit, and then,” her Lola takes the tongs from her and takes a spatula from the rack, gearing herself to do the unthinkable (she thinks).

With bated breath, she watches her Lola flip the fish with ease.

She whistles in awe, “wow.”

“Galing ko noh?” her Lola beams trying to pose like Ultraman.

They laugh together at how silly it is. A grandmother and granddaughter duo frying fish like they were in the battlefield. As the fish gets cooked, the duo starts preparing. She opens the rice cooker, the aromatic fluffy rice cooked with pandan fills the entire house.

Following the trail of aroma, hurried pitter-pattering of feet rushes to the tiny room.

“Lola!” came the excited cheers of the children.

“Sorry Nay. They were very excited when they smelled your cooking,” her Auntie Susan explains proceeding to help her set the dining table.

Her lola smiles, “ayayay, let them be excited. Afterall, they just love their Lola’s cooking,” she coos as everyone starts finding their seats at the table.

The dinner starts with a lively chatter, with each bite from the meal cooked by their grandmother, happiness blooms on their faces and within their hearts.

All her life, her Lola has been a constant guiding presence in it. Her grandmother taught her everything she knows about cooking; how to live, to laugh, and to exist without reason except for living.

She laughs at how silly the whole memory is. It was a scene she will greatly miss. Tears begin to fall once again, as she whispers her final goodbyes.

ART | Geno Bell Cristian R. Corea

Dark Light

Sebastian Ardie M. Tan @sbs_tan

It’s dark, but it’s morning. Woke through the birds chirping but wanting more sleep. The sun is shining, but my eyes are pouring rain.

Regrets

Jhon Mark A. Mercado @janmaaark

She was beginning to realize how far in her memory she’d buried her teenage years. Now she’s plagued by unspoken feelings, unrealized dreams, and unrecognized emotions.

PHOTO | Prince Jeric C. Gomez

PHOTO | Prince Jeric C. Gomez

Timeless

Daniel Joshua T. Taligatos @Dan_joshh

Beginnings

- usually come with a surge of adrenaline rush, giving way to new experiences. Then the truth sets in, fatigue, faith falters, and hope wanes.

June 12, 2010

It was 8:00 in the morning (sigh), ”new faces ” I said to myself as I entered the crowded room. I sat near a guy sipping his coffee. I gazed at the monitor “SHS Orientation 8:00 am-10:00 am” and then skimmed everyone’s faces; someone caught my attention.

Your hair is as dark as the night sky and your lips as red as roses; your lovely smile fits your beautiful face perfectly. It was love at first sight; my heart beats as fast as it could. Out of all the questions in my mind and all the confusion, you stole my heart.

October 17, 2018

Love is faithful; waiting is a process. Time flies very fast; it’s been eight years since we met; we move forward as we overcome all the obstacles around us.

It was on this date when I asked you for a simple dinner date at our favorite Pares restaurant. I kept it simple so you wouldn’t have a clue. We are talking about how we used to compete academically during our high school days and how that loud “Hi 5” brings us closer together. Remember when I asked you if you still remember the letters I used to slip inside your locker? You smile sweetly indicating that you do remember. Afterwards, I asked you to take pictures of me; it was just an excuse so you wouldn’t see me signaling one of the staff. As you get your phone I look at the cashier and nod.

The light goes off; a romantic piano starts to play, echoing throughout the room. As the light slowly illuminates the room, it casts my shadow kneeling. I sang “Lavi ’en Rose” to you that night. You got shocked and jumped when I pulled the ring out of my pocket, and we froze for a moment. I inhaled deeply as I finalized my thoughts, “After all these praying and waiting, since the first

day I met you I know that you’re the one that I want, and these 8 years of the process made me realize that you’re the one that I need. You’re the one whom I want to spend my life with. I love you… will you marry me?” You started crying and slapped me hard because you thought it was just a simple date night. We both laugh; you look at me and smile genuinely. As you let go of those words, I know I am the most blessed man in the world.

May 17, 2020

It was 2:20 or 3:00 in the morning; I know I’m getting older but I realized that I can be a car racer; I was shouting and screaming like a little girl as I pushed the hazard button. I can still feel the way you pulled my hair as you told me to shut up and drive.

My heart’s a drumroll playing Jazz full of emotions. Watching you in pain crushed my heart; I hold your hand praying that I can absorb your pain.

“I’s a baby girl!” said the doctor

I look at you holding our little Princess; I didn’t see the pain in your eyes. I saw genuine happiness and pure love.

December 17, 2038

A heavy downpour of rain echoed our evening. The walls are silent. I look at you and smile, yet sad and painful tears fall down my chin slowly. I rushed out of our bed. I locked myself inside the car and cried my eyes out. I thought you didn’t notice, but there you were knocking at the windshield gesturing to let you in.

As I opened the door you rushed in and slapped both sides of my face. “Don’t solo your problems dear, we are partners!” She hugs me tight, looks me in the eyes, kisses me on the forehead, and whispers, “I’m always here for you.” Thank you, God, for giving me this perfect wife. I look at you with seriousness; then out of nowhere you just made that silly yet pretty facial expression, and we both laugh hysterically; I know what a weird couple, right?

You lifted my arm, wrapped it around you, and asked me if I can tell you a story. I read you the email my doctor sent me; I have stage 3 cancer. You push

tiny tale

Battle Scars

Ingrid M. Lescano @ingridlscn

How can we heal from wounds invisible to the skin, razor-sharp sounds the ears keep receivin’ and cuts we still carry within?

ART | Lawrence V. Portillo

ART | Jewel D. Dinglasan

tiny tale

Gravity

Daniel Joshua T. Taligatos @Dan_joshh

The time I sat down to write letters for you was the highlight of my day; ending them was the worst. My hand turned marble every time I put the last period on it, each secret farewell felt like forever, and only thinking that you’re safe and sound consoled me.

PHOTO | Prince Jeric C. Gomez

Beyond Ever After

Ranniele F. Maspat @lalalaheyitisme

believes fairytales are the most wondrous things a person could stumble upon, and dedicate their whole life to. Her love of such happy tales pours an infinite amount of happiness to her entire being.

“Bu-but,” a shy little voice asked from the group of children Janea’s currently reading to, “what-what comes af-after happy ever after?” the little boy asks with a tilt on his head, curious and questioning.

“Well,” Janea contemplates how she’ll answer the question. She was taken aback by it, her mind almost short circuited comprehending what the little boy said.

“After ever after, comes true love,” she starts, “in fairytales, once the heroes and heroines or the princes and princesses meet their love interests, their stories come to an end. And once the curtains close and these characters go through the challenges of life and living together, that will be the time where true love starts to bloom.”

“But why does true love come after happy ever after?” another child asks out of curiosity.

“Teacher! Teacher! Don’t they love each other already?” another one piques.

“I think, teacher is lying,” one child from the corner calls out with pout.

Janea laughs at how adorable her students are. “I’m not lying, you know. It’s true. You see, we only know what love really is, when the magic of the moment fades. When we start seeing the people we love without filters,” she finishes reveling in the confused look of her students.

“Beyond ever after is where true love starts. After all, even if our endings have already been inked on paper, we still have the power to conjure our own happy endings. Be it at the embrace of the prince, or the company of your family and friends.”

poem

You

Daniel Joshua T. Taligatos @dan_joshh

I’m drowning down below, I don’t mind how low I’ll go. I’m gasping out of air, I don’t need a lifesaver.

I have lost all my strength, But from your power.

I am lost in this fantasy, Pulled away from gravity.

Let this continue for eternity, Restore a piece of my sanity. Until I reached the deepest part, And begin to fall again from your art.

ART | Jewel D. Dinglasan

PHOTO | Hannah Mae H. Mendoza

poem

He(a)r(e)

Ariel L. Magpantay Jr. @mistereyyyy

For decades I admit it that life is written to be hard Every good thing has its bad counterpart Happiness shall end with sadness; Love with hatred; Hope with failure; and Peace with chaos

Calmness

Then I realized neutrality exist No counterparts I now live in the world that I want No counterparts Yet in neutrality, Straight from the Heart Life is lifeless With no counterparts

reverse poem

Hindi-Dapat

Jorge M. Gutierrez @jhorge16mg

Sa mundong pinasok ko, Hindi ako karapat dapat, Walang makapagsasabing, Sa konstruksyon at pagiinhinyero, Hindi ako karapat dapat, Walang makapagsasabing, Magaling ako sa matematika’t agham, Taglay ko’y angking galing, Sa paggawa ng tulay, kalsada at gusali, Isa akong malaking talunan, Walang makapagsasabing, Magiging maunlad akong inhinyero.

Ngayon nalaman mo mga hinaing ko sa trabaho. Basahin mo pong muli, pabalik naman po.

ART | Savina Mae C. Maranan

PHOTO | Prince Jeric C. Gomez

Between the Lines

Jhustine Rose C. Festijo @jhusfstj

Intothe vast sea of waves and safe skies, tangled upon is every word that should not be kept untold. Like an infinite force, I dare not to be silent as inner desires taunt me to plunge into a new beginning, the utopia.

It’s been 24 hours since I have been forsaken. “What’s new?” I said quietly while staring at the window beside me, directed at the path where you long gone.

Rain began pouring outside, and I decided to go, knowing I have nothing but myself. Wait, do I still have myself? Or that stranger took it away too?

Drenched, way back home.

Entering a bungalow house, I saw my aunt sitting pretty at the sala as she asked what happened and attended to my needs. “I’m fine. You don’t have to worry about me. Thank you.” I said nonchalantly.

I went inside my room upstairs and took a bath for an hour: yearning for a bloom, a courageful heart and genuineness.

Afterwards, I walked outside the bathroom, straight to my bed; I lied.

Being forsaken so many times, I know, “I’m not okay.” Just three words yet can’t spit it out.

Myself got snatched away but, how come I can’t get myself enraged? “Really, he’s getting on my nerves.”

Then, going home, I found an astonishing scene, “Wow. What did my aunt eat this time?”

Upstairs, I realized that I am fooling myself. This is not me. . “I’m tired of being silent.”

Lying on the bed, all I could do was to hanker that, “Between the time before I wake up, may every word between the lines be unleashed.”

PHOTO | Raven N. Garme

maikling kuwento

Paborita

Paul Adrian K. Paraiso @paulygooon

Kadaumaga, pagkatapos suyurin ang eskinita palabas sa barangay namin ay may isang malaking konstraksyon na ginagawa. Mayaman daw ang may-ari kaya baka mansion ang kalalabsan.

“Aba ang mga binata namin, papasok na.”

Sa tuwing daraanan namin ang konstruksyon, babatiin kami ng mga construction workers dito. Mas maliwanag pa sa araw ang mga ngiti nila. Hindi iniinda ang pagod at init basta lang may mapangkain sa pamilya.

Matagal nang nagtatrabahong construction worker ang ilan sa mga nagtatayo ng malaking bahay. Karamihan sa mga ito ang tumulong din sa pagpapagawa ng mga iba pang malalakong bahay sa barangay namin.

Kung gaano katayog ang mga bahay na kanilang ginagawa, ganun din ang kanilang pangarap para sa kanilang mga pamilya. Lahat kasi sila, hindi nakapagtapos ng pag-aaral kaya hindi makahanap ng mas maayos na trabaho.

“Parang hindi pa ho yata kayo namamahinga ah, ari ho ang kape.”

Mabait ang may-ari ng mansion na ginagawa. Palaging inaabutan ng meryenda ang mga construction worker. Maagap din silang pinauuwi. Mayaman pero hindi arogante.

Sa tuwing sasapit ang dapithapon, dadaan muli kami ng mga kapatid ko sa ginagawang mansion pauwi galing paaralan. Tanging isa o dalawang lalaki na lang ang matitira roon sa lugar. Para bagang winawaso pang maigi ang kanyang gawa.

“Hindi pa ho ba kayo uuwi? Baka ho hinahanap na kayo ng inyong bunso?”

Ngingiti lamang si kuya. Ang kaninang kulay puti niyang damit ay naging kulay buhangin na dahil sa maghapong paggawa.

“Mas matutuwa si ining kapag may dala akong laruan para sa kanya mamaya.”

Laruan. Mistulang tropeyo mula sa pakikipaglaban sa mga halimaw at kriminal. Ngunit sa halip, ang kalaban ay buhay. Ang masaklap na realidad.

“Pasensya na ho, wala kaming ibang maitulong. Eto ho, Paborita.”

Kape at Paborita. Swak na swak para maibsan kahit papaano ang gutom nila. Hinati ni kuya ang tinapay sa ilan pa niyang mga kasamahan habang umiinom ng kape.

Tumigil muna kami ng ilang sandali upang makipaghuntahan sa kanila. Hindi alintana sa may-ari kung makikipagusap sa amin sila kuya. Kanina pang alas kwatro natapos ang trabaho nila.

Nang unti-unting magdilim, isa-isang naguwian ang mga construction workers. Sinabayan kaming maglakad ng ilan sa kanila. Ilang minuto lamang ang layo ng bahay namin sa isa’t-isa.

“Sa susunod na taon, magkokolehiyo ka na hindi ba? Anong kukunin mong kurso?”

Napahinto ako sa paglalakad. “Titigil po muna sana ako. Para po makatulong sa bahay.”

Wala siyang naging tugon sa aking mga sinabi. Miski tikhim o tango. Marahil napaisip siya. Ako na may kakayanang makapag-aral ay sasayangin ang oras at pagkakataon.

Kung ganoon lang kaperpekto ang buhay.

Kinabukasan, habang naglalakad kami papalabas ng eskenita. Nadaanan namin muli ang ginagawang malaking bahay. Maraming mga tao ang nakapalibot sa labas. Tila may kaguluhang nangyari.

Natigilan ako sa aking kinatatayuan. Nakahandusay sa sahig at duguan, yung lalaking kasabay kong maglakad kahapon. Walang malay. Ang sabi ng iba nahulog daw, yung iba ang sabi, nagpatiwakal.

Nagtirik ng kandila ang pinunong barangay para sa pagkawala ng isang matalik na kaibigan. Hindi naging malinaw ang kanyang pagkawala. Ngunit ang kanyang buhay, bagaman naging mapait na kape, ay tinuring niyang may tamis at kasiyahan gaya ng Paborita.

ART | Geno Bell Cristian R. Corea

poem

A Loop of Masquerades

The world holds authentic records That stores the ever limitless timeline. How nostalgic it is to reminisce My facade that covers deep scars.

At the darkest hours, I get hunted by my nightmares. Then, the realization hit me. I am still bound by past shackles. It hurts, it scares me. Like a thousand whiplashes, Tearing through my flesh.

As expected, All the sufferings haven’t ended. It was foolish of me. I shouldn’t have succumbed to pain.

Now, I continue to face my past. I’ll put on a mask this time, Adapting a stronger version of myself.

Batid nating mga Peregrino

Ang unti unting pananakop.

Naigagapos ang mga paa nang hindi nalalamanan.

Tanaw sa dulo, Ang liwanag.

Subalit matarik ang daan, Batid ng nag-iisa ang hirap

Sa harap, ang alayan ng bulaklak at mga kandila

Hindi man puntod ay may nakahiga

At nang ito’y madampian ng liwanag

Mula sa inukit na butas sa tuktok ng yungib

Muli itong uminit,

Sabay tingin sa bagong pasok na bisita

Naririto ang pag-asa, Ang pagmulat ng mata upang masilayan

Ang katotohanan sa gitna ng gulo, Sa lamig dala ng mga espiritong naroroong

Dati rin palang nagtangkang lumaya

Tinawag ko itong pag-ibig. Ang kwento ng pagbangon, Ang salaysay ng pag-usad, Ang dambana na inukit ng panahon

At kinabukasang ipinaglaban

Ng mga mandirigmang milenyal

Anong kwentong pag-ibig pa ang hihigit, Sa pagmamahalan ng pagbangon at pagkadapa?

Sa pagsigaw sa isang pasilyo sa gitna ng isang syudad?

Sabi nga nila, maraming bulong ang lumilikha ng sigaw, Ng pagbabago, Ng progreso, Ng kapayapaan,

Tinawag ko itong pag-ibig, At papangalanan kong walang hanggan.

tula

PHOTO | Hannah Mae H. Mendoza

Saan ka patungo?

Jasmine Mae M. Panganiban @jaspanganiban

“Kris, nasaan ka na ba? Kanina pa akong nandito!” sabi ni ate Clara na kanina pa palang naghihintay sa akin sa may simbahan. Sa tono ng boses niya, kahit hindi ko siya kaharap, ay nakikita ko na agad ang kanyang naiirita na ekspresyon dahil sa matagal niyang paghihintay sa akin.

“Ate, sakay na po ako. Pinupuno pa lamang ang dyip kaya hindi agad makaalis.” sagot ko.

“Okay. Mag ingat ka.” sabi ni ate bago tuluyang tapusin ang tawag.

Pagkatapos ng usapan namin ni ate sa telepono ay nagsimula ng magsidatingan ang mga tao na sa tingin ko ay kaparehas ng aking destinasyon o kung hindi man, ay pagawi rin sa direksyon ng aking pupuntahan.

“Bayan! Bayan!” sigaw ng konduktor para malaman ng mga taong nasa paligid na ang dyip na iyon ay patungo doon. Dahil doon ay maraming ang sakayan. Akala namin ay puno na ang dyip ngunit kasya pa pala ang tig isa.

Makalipas ang ilang minuto ay napuno na ang dyip kaya naman ito ay umandar na. Habang nasa byahe ay pansin ko ang iba’t ibang klase ng tao na nakasakay. May dalawang kapwa estudyante na mukhang may klase at pagsusulit dahil sa reviewer na hawak ng isa.

“Jessa, baka makaperfect mo na ang exam ah.” sabi ng isang estudyante sa kanyang katabi.

“Sana nga, Alex. Nagpakapuyat talaga ako para rito. Nako.” Ramdam ko ang pagod at kaba sa boses ng babae na iyon na pagkatapos sambitin iyon ay agad agad na ulit pinagtuunan ng pansin ang binabasa.

Sa aking tabi naman ay isang nanay na kasama ang kanyang anak na mukhang hindi pa napasok sa eskwelahan. Sa kanilang gayak at dala dalang bayong ay alam ko na agad na sila ay papuntang palengke.

“Makikiabot nga po ng bayad. Dalawang palengke.” sambit niya habang ipinaaabot ang kanyang bayad sa drayber.

Nang matapos siyang magbayad ay agad na kumuha ng pera ang dalawang estudyante na aking pinagmamasdan kanina. “Ako na muna ang magbayad. Tapos ikaw na lang mamaya sa pag-uwi.” sabi ng isang estudyante na siya namang sinang ayunan ng isa.

“Bayad po kuya.” sabay abot ng bayad sa drayber.

Mayroon din namang mga pasahero na mukhang pupunta sa kani kanilang trabaho. May pasahero na patungong bangko, ospital, city hall, palengke, at iba pang maaaring pinagtatrabahuhan. Pansin ko rin ang isang matandang babae na mukhang kaparehas ng aking destinasyon, ang simbahan, dahil sa kanyang puting damit na suot at dala dalang rosaryo.

Sa paglipas ng oras ay may ilang bumaba na sa dyip dahil sa narating na nila ang kanilang destinasyon at mayroon din namang mga bagong sumakay. Agad na nag abot ng bayad ang mga bagong sakay at sinambit kung saan sila tutungo.

“Isa nga pong simbahan.” sambit ng babae na kasasakay pa lamang.

Lumipas pa ang ilang oras at dumating sa punto na kailangan ko ng bumaba dahil nandito na ako sa aking paroroonan. Agad kong nakita si ate pero sa aking pagkababa ay sumulyap muna ako muli sa dyip na aking sinakyan na ngayon ay paalis na ulit sakay ang pinagsamang dati at bagong pasahero. Hanggang sa nawala na ito sa aking paningin.

“Hoy! Ang wag ka ng tumulala dyan. Late na tayo! Susmaryosep ka.” sabi ni ate at ngayong kaharap ko na siya ay kitang kita ko ang pagsasalubong ng kanyang mga kilay. Agad naman akong napakamot sa aking ulo at sumabay na sa kanya sa paglakad sa loob ng simbahan.

Sa mga bagay na aking napansin kanina, napagtanto ko na ang ating buhay ay kagaya ng pagsakay natin sa dyip para makapunta sa ating nais marating. Lahat tayo ay may kanya kanyang destinasyon ngunit sa isang punto ng ating paglalakbay ay may mga tao tayong makakasabay. Sa paglalakbay na iyon ay maaari rin silang bumaba kalaunan dahil narating na nila ang kanilang destinasyon ngunit mayroon din namang mga bagong mukha ang sasakay at sasabay sa bagong yugto ng ating paglalakbay.

Ngunit napaisip ako. Paano naman ang mga drayber na siyang nagmamaneho ng buong araw at paulit ulit sa mga destinasyon na kanilang nararating dahilan ng kanilang mga pasahero? Saan ang kanilang huling destinasyon?

“Ang lalim naman ng iniisip mo.” sabi ni ate Clara habang nakikinig sa misa. Napabuntong hininga na lamang ako at nakinig na rin sa misa.

Makalipas ang oras ay natapos na ang misa. Kumain muna kami bago magtungo sa paradahan ng dyip upang makauwi na sa aming tahanan. Muli kong nakita ang drayber ng dyip na aking sinakyan kanina. Doon kami sumakay ni ate.

“Kuya, Alangilan po. Dalawa po dyan sa bayad.” sabi ni ate at naghintay na masuklian ang kanyang ibiniyad.

Pinagmasdan ko ang drayber at nahalata kong pagod na siya dahil sa maghapong pasada. Dagdag pa ang ilang pasahero na posibleng nasigawan siya dahil sa init ng ulo. Kitang kita ang bigat ng kanyang kalooban sa bawat pagbilang niya sa pera na nasa kanyang kamay. Papuno na ang dyip ng biglang may tumawag sa telepono ng drayber na siya namang agad na sinagot ng

“Uy Gloria! Andyan na ba sa bahay ang mga apo natin?” sabi ng drayber na mukhang asawa ang kinakausap.

“Huling biyahe ko na ito, mahal. Ako diretso uwi na rin at gusto ko ng makita ang ating mga apo. Mukhang kasya naman itong kita ko ngayon para maipagluto ng spaghetti ang mga bata.” nakangiting sabi ng matandang drayber at makaraan ang ilang minuto ay itinigil na ang tawag. Ang kaninang lungkot ay napalitan ng kasiyahan dahil sa siya ay uuwi na matapos maihatid ang huling pasahero.

Sumakay na ang drayber sa dyip dahil puno na ang dyip ng pasahero at muling umandar na. Naisip ko na halos lahat ng nasa dyip ay uuwi na sa kani kanilang mga tahanan kaya naman ako ay napangiti.

“Bakit ka naman nangingiti dyan?” puna ng aking kapatid.

“Wala lang po ate.” sagot ko. Tiningnan ako ni ate na mukhang ayaw pang maniwala sa aking sagot. Napailing na lamang ako at tumingin sa daan.

Makalipas ang ilang oras na nakauwi na kami ni ate. Habang naglalakad kami papuntang bahay ay may sumagi sa aking isipan. Naisip ko na kahit may destinasyon tayong pupuntahan ay palagi pa rin tayong babalik at babalik sa ating mga tahanan. Pero kung ikaw ang tatanungin ngayon, saan ka patungo?

Paul Adrian K. Paraiso @paulygooon

When he was 25, he was raring to go to work, most of his life was in preparation for this day a sight of gray polished walls, and see-through windows

When he was 45, he never wanted to go back to work, regretting that he should’ve never wasted his life for this day a sight of gray polished walls, in a dim lit cubicle with no windows.

Now at 60, with his grandson, he returned to the place where he used to work, wishing he never lived for his job, never got to live his life telling him that he should never be disillusioned by a sight of gray polished walls and see-through windows.

Sometimes, never take the high road.

PHOTO | Prince Jeric C. Gomez

ART | Vince V. Miranda

poem

Be Still

Winter, spring, summer, and fall Life’s an orbit of emotions unknown to all; Every day’s a new beginning and a new chapter, What are your intentions? What are you after?

Starting a journey one step at a time, The setting might change where there’s no rhyme, But why would I falter? Why would I fall? When everything crumbles, God’s holding my soul.

Strengthen your hands strengthen your faith, Secure your foundation before opening the gate; Starts with caution starts with a call, To the almighty one who is in control.

PHOTO | Hannah Mae H. Mendoza

Arcanum Mundi: The Paragonic Realm

Roi Karlo V. Sinchi @les_ykai

Look

Noone truly knows what lies in the hidden depths of the world. The myths and legends have revealed mystical places within the seven great lands of Earth but I have long believed that such stories were nothing but a product of superstitions. Not until we stumbled upon that realm.

It called us. “Come closer,” the soothing voice whispered through our ears. It was the voice of a woman whose identity is unknown. As cold as it may be, my heart raced as soon as I heard those words. Like nectar, the sounds that she makes were incredibly sweet.

We took careful steps but we moved blindly towards the mysterious voice.

“Shush! Be quiet you guys,” I strictly ordered my friends. Beyond the huge Acacia tree lies a woman of unparalleled beauty. She stares blankly at the sky, being adorned by the gentle leaves falling around her. At a glance, we were left in a trance while she slowly looked at us with a lifeless glare.

“Come closer,” she said. After we drew a deep breath, we lost all of our senses. It almost felt like nirvana after death but suddenly, such a pretty scenery flashed before our eyes. What we saw was a forest that glowed a dim shade of green. All of it were like wonders that came out of a fairy tale.

Flickering lights were scattered, bringing a mystical ambiance pleasant to one’s perceptions. The laughter that the wandering spirits make felt like music filled with joy and exuberance. It was as perfect as it can be. To those who are on

the receiving end of modern society’s unfairness, this world feels like utopia.

Out of nowhere, a smile surfaced on my lips. We who had seen the imperfections of the world couldn’t help but indulge in such genuine happiness. At that moment, I felt like I found the place where I belong. That joyous moment brought me to tears. I cried out loudly as those tears slowly turned to sorrow.

The magical place that seemed so perfect was nothing more than a delusion I’ve caged myself into. My feelings gushed out as soon as my imaginary companions faded into thin air. I’m left alone. All alone in the middle of the old trees.

As soon as I regained composure, she appeared in front of me once again. It was the girl who called me. The girl of unparalleled beauty was no longer staring at me coldly. It was such a warm look complemented by her bright smile. Then she suddenly held my hand and spoke about what would later on change my life.

“Come closer, and I’ll turn your past struggles into the perfect world that you desire.”

haiku

Taste

Christopher Mikhail P. Acyatan @haihaihairu_

Life is sweeter when You get rid of the bland taste It gave you before

ART | Ramil D. Reyta

haiku

Bloody Throne

Jhustine Rose C. Festijo @jhusfstj

All eyes are on them One lil mistake of the King And foes will uproar

ART | Savina Mae C. Maranan

ART | Jhonnea Maien D. Silva

Lilim

Jasmine Mae M. Panganiban @jaspanganiban

Bakit ba tayo inutusan magbigay ng flyers kung kailan katanghalian na? Kainaman!” sambit ng aking kaibigan habang pinupunasan ang tumatagaktak niyang pawis. Samantalang napabuntong hininga na lamang ako habang namimigay sa mga nadaan.

Wala naman kaming magagawa kundi ang sumunod kasi pinili naman namin na magboluntaryo para sa kaganapan na ito kasi may sweldo pagkatapos. Hindi nga lamang namin inakala na ito ang matotoka na gawain sa amin.

“Sis, punta ako doon sa malapit sa park ah? Mukhang marami ring tao don na pwedeng mabigyan ng flyers.” pasigaw kong sabi sa aking kaibigan dahil malayo layo ang kinatatayuan niya mula sa akin.

“Sige sis. Ingat ka!” sagot niya.

Habang naglalakad papalapit sa parke ay maayos na tinanggap ng ilang tao ang aking binigay na flyers samantalang ang iba naman ay kitang kita ko na malayo pa lamang ay naiwas na. Sa paglipas ng oras ay mas lalo pang nainit kaya naman noong may nakita akong puno ay agad akong pumunta sa lilim nito.

Pinagmasdan ko kung paano hipan ng hangin ang bawat dahon sa puno na aking sinilungan at ang mga damo sa paligid. Ang sarap sa pakiramdam na matapos ang matagal kong pananatili sa initan ay nakahanap ako ng isang lilim na pwede kong pag pahingahan. Sa konting katahimikan at pagtitig na iyon ay bigla kong naisip ang masasayang alaala ko kasama ang aking pamilya.

“Para sa kanila ay kakayanin ko lahat!” sigaw ko na may pagtaas pa ng kamay at siya namang dahilan ng pagtingin ng maraming tao sa akin. Agad akong nakaramdam ng hiya at ibinaba ang aking kamay.

Naglakad na ako ulit sa initan at namigay ng flyers. Pagkatapos nitong mainit na maghapon alam kong makakabalik na ulit ako sa aking habang buhay na lilim, ang aking pamilya.

Jomardel J. Constantino @thejomable

; sa bawat pagsulong sa bawat hampas ng alon tila patuloy na hinahamon ng tunay na mapaglarong panahon

padayon; magpapahinga pero muling babangon

tula

PHOTO | Ishe Loui Maxene M. Candava

ART | Vince V. Miranda

poem

Syntax Error

Hydie Mariel M. Adarlo @hydzmrl

Past x-es and y's Conflicting emotions on the rise

Unsolvable problems hear my cries

Surging variables

Full of anxious and terror

Beeping calculator

Syntax error.

By the Window

Kim Lawrence D. Cortez @kyem_lowrenz

Watching Emma through the window is not a new thing for Matt. The moment he first saw her at their freshmen orientation two years ago, he instantly fell. The butterflies he felt on his stomach that day, when he saw Emma’s bright smile, made him realize that she, indeed, will be the one to make his college life more exciting.

Matt decided to pursue her. He followed her everyday, with the hopes of her noticing him. He would always dress prettily in case the destiny permits it, Emma would look behind and she will see this young man admiring him from afar.

He continued following her for a long time. Time passed and it's already junior year for the both of them. Lots of things happened during those two years but it did not change Matt’s feelings at all. He is still there, watching her, by the window.

Looking at Emma, Matt suddenly became sad. He asked himself why he couldn't take a step through the door. Emma is just there, sitting on her chair, but Matt is too afraid to even greet her. Emma is just a few feet away, but it seems like a million lightyears to get in front of her.

Matt was struck with reality. He realized that just watching her from afar won’t make any change. He felt greedy, and he took the courage to get close. Without opening the door, he went inside the room. He walked as fast as he could, but stopped when he realized something.

He was stunned. How did he get through the wall?

He looked at Emma with shock on his face. His head started to ache. His world became dark, and flashbacks filled his mind. A memory of him jumping through the window came up and a picture of the CEAFA building from the ground.

Matt looked at his hands full of blood, then quickly looked at his reflection by the window where he would always watch Emma. He searched for himself, but he saw nothing. He doesn’t have a reflection, nor a shadow.

Time passed and Emma graduated from the university. Emma is already 21, but Matt is still 18. Matt accepted his fate and became content. During Emma’s last days, Matt continued doing the same. Watching and following her.

Now that Emma is gone, Matt decided to just stay. Like his feelings, Matt is still there. With sadness and despair, he is still standing there, by the window.

haiku

Payong Kaibigan

Neil Joshua M. Lerin @AshenJulio

Malakas ulan

At pinayungan kita

Sabi mo "Thanks bes"

ART | Billy Russel C. Abistado

Oppurtunity

In a flash, I saw of what it could be and chose what it should

Coleen Jill F. Sajo @HSaijou

ART | Mar Berth R. Torrecampo

haiku

ART | Lawrence V. Portillo

open letter

dear, my richoco boy

Jomardel J. Constantino @thejomable

Dear, my richoco boy

Everybody knows. Everybody knows how you treat me so gently – that connection we radiate from the inner core of our countless possibilities. I am forever grateful of your efforts and understanding, and I will never get tired of saying how you remind me of my mom. Those eyes are so pure and honest, I can actually see that beautiful soul staring at mine.

I never expected that we could be where we are now from the day that I met you. All I know is that we are bound to have good things together. To be with you in this journey of life felt like an honor to me. To have you in my lowest is even greater than that.

Every detail of you I remember makes you, you. There is no denying that you are blackpink’s number one fan as you unlimitedly blasting each of their songs in your car as if there is no tomorrow. The hypnotizing smell of your perfume in my bedroom is my favorite. Oh, and remember that playlist I gave you on your 21st birthday named “dear, my richoco boy”? It’s still on my repeats all day and night, and whenever I miss you. I will also never get tired of being your number one supporter in every basketball game you play. Your iced americano era still amazes me because you still get asleep as we try to stay up all night doing “academics.” Shopping and doing skincare with you on some random nights is one of the most precious things we ever did. And don’t forget how I gave you the honor of naming our betta fish, and you called him “bluetooth.”

Being with you always feels like a sunset in Boracay – the relaxing ray of sun while sitting in a fine white sand. The smell of breeze as it touches my hair, the comfort your presence gives. You’re my home, my one and only oasis. I’ve never felt as real as this. I am looking forward to the next waves to come to the shore, whatever it brings I know I’ll be safe… because I once had you.

poem

Null Hypothesis

Neil Joshua M. Lerin @AshenJulio

It is better to assume that the null hypothesis is true That there is no significant relationship between me and you For if it is false, the conclusion may be a happy ending And if it is true, atleast my heart can start healing

ART | Lawrence V. Portillo

PHOTO | Allain E. Bantilan

poem

Raindrop

Daniel Joshua T. Taligatos @Dan_joshh

Smile as much as you can and forget all your worries. Keep fighting and breathing, accept and stop pretending, reach for a wonderful ending.

I Wish upon the rain for you to be happy.

MEET-UP

Abegail M. Arriola @abbychichu

Nagising ako walong minuto bago mag-alas sais ng umaga. Walong minutong mas maaga sa itinakdang oras ko sa aking alarm. Halata bang excited ako? Oo, excited talaga ako.

Dali-dali akong nagpunta sa banyo upang maligo. Halos trenta minutos ang itinagal ko roon dahil sa paglalagay ng napakaraming scrub sa aking katawan at skin care sa aking mukha.

Matapos kong maligo, sampung minuto naman ang ginugol ko sa pagpili ng damit na aking susuotin. Ano kayang mas magugustuhan ni Carl? Ito kayang pulang bestida o itong dilaw na blouse? Pinili ko ang aking pulang bestida para mas kaakit-akit tingnan at upang mabilis kong mapukaw ang atensyon n’ya mamaya.

Sa paglalagay naman ng kolorete sa mukha, bente minutos ang inilaan ko. Mula sa pagpupulbos, pagkikilay, at paglalagay ng dalawang patong ng mascara sa aking mga pilik at lipstick na pula sa aking labi.

Nagsuklay na ako at pinalamutian ng laso ang aking buhok. Muling kong tinignan ang aking repleksyon sa salamin at napangiti sa gandang taglay ko ngayong umaga. Tiyak kong mabibihag siya ng posturang isang oras kong pinaghandaan kapag nagkita kami mamaya.

Nagmadali na akong lumabas sa aking kwarto dahil ayaw kong mahuli sa pakikipag-meet sa kaniya. Umupo ako sa harap ng lamesa at mukhang hindi ko na pala kailangan maghintay nang matagal. Tamang tama lang ang aking pagdating.

“Good morning class. Before we start, may I request everyone to please open your cameras.”

Sa screen ng aking laptop, nakita ko si Carl, tila bagong gising pa lamang dahil hihikab-hikab pa.

ART | Ramil D. Reyta

PHOTO | Hannah Mae H. Mendoza

Rain, Rain, why are we here?

Paul Adrian K. Paraiso @paulygooon

leaning against my window drenched and miserable listening to the splatters of torrential rain Why do we have classes again?

Astronaut

It’s been my dream to be an Astronaut Yet need to trek on an afterthought

As I passed Neptune, I’m enraged Far from Galaxy, I am disgraced

Where it seems blackhole churns out light And on my flashlight I’m holding tight Fighting darkness, it’s getting late Universe? No, it’s GCH, mate!

Ian Paul R. Gualberto @EhyanPol

poem

PHOTO | Allain E. Bantilan

dagli

Katok

Ralf L. Payonga @rlfieee

Isang gabi, may bali-balitang mga magnanakaw na kumakatok nang agresibo upang sapilitang makapasok sa bawat dormitoryo at magnakaw.

Dahil sa balitang iyon, magmula noon, nakapinid ang pintuan, nakaselyado ang padlock, at nakasarado ang ilaw.

Isang gabi, may kumatok. Agresibo rin, kaba ang bumalot sa’kin. Nerbyos sa dibdib, dahil habang tumatagal, lalong lumalakas ang pagkatok.

Dala ng sitwasyon, kahit bawal, binuksan ko na ang pinto habang may hawak na pamalo.

Laking gulat ko nang pagbukas ko ng pinto, tumambad ang boses na, “Penge asukal hehe.”

haiku

Kaldag

Ed Angelo M. Dealola @edangelostyles

Yes na yes for you!

Mad, pag folk dance ang P.E. Kaldag namang maigi.

ART | Dyjay Yvann T. Dimasacat

Tsope

Sebastian Ardie M. Tan @sbs_tan

Kahit na gising

Ikaw ang panaginip

Sintang ‘di akin

ART | Savina Mae C. Maranan

haiku

Never have I ever...

Daniel Joshua T. Taligatos @Dan_joshh

My wrists are starting to get tired of painting countless blue strokes in the middle of this infinite rain. I’d tried changing the orbit of my emotion to vanish that night away. I tried to forget you but failed; how can I forget my nurturing light?

Stuck in this tale book of hope, I chose to stop and watch you walk away. Slowly fading behind, singing our promises in a slow ballad phase, I whispered, “I’ll be your silent protector, a night light in gloom.”

That’s the thing about pain, isn’t it? Feeling it doesn’t make it stop; it just shows you that you still care.

But what if time ends and die?

Will I tell you how much I love you or lie?

ART | Jewel D. Dinglasan

ART | Savina Mae C. Maranan

poem

Aurora

Ian Paul R. Gualberto @EhyanPol

Lying beneath the canopy o[f] serene moonlight

as I feel your head on my shoulder resting lite

We were gazing sea of million stars in the vast horizon

Those jewels aloft did not seize my attention.

I was dazzled —- by the lumiere of your stellar face

An ample replica of celestial figure beyond the universe

I anticipate that my lifetime was compressed in that single moment

You were my northern light, I am your night sky.

Until [a] blistering meteor flashed in a snap

I was pacified with your starry eyes filled with azure hues

You looked back to me, I was distracted with a cosmic nebulae

This is just a dream, wrathful than a destructive supernova

Like that dashing comet, the reality struck me hard

You were a lost constellation, nowhere to be find in this cosmos

You were once my borealis, I am [y]our midnight

Yet we drifted in the dusk — when the dawns subdue the realm of black. But at least for once, you made me luminous and aliv[e].

Trojan Horse

Jomardel J. Constantino @thejomable

behind the alluring eyes are the blades of vendetta the flash of thundering lies in the hidden agenda

as i welcome the horse in my greatest empire trick me as you wish show me that you desire

PHOTO | Hannah Mae H. Mendoza

Written in Cerulean

Coleen Jill F. Sajo @HSaijou

“Then why do you advise me to go away?”

“Because in some other country you could be happy while I could not, because you are not made to suffer...”

Chapter LXI: The Chase on the Lake, Noli Me Tangere by Jose Rizal

Thegears in Alonso’s head begin to move at a steady pace. Swirls of black ink that bleed out from nothing start forming lines and shapes until they become letters, and then words, and then sentences, and then paragraphs. Blocks of text in a familiar language stamped—no, printed on white page after white page. In an instant, they become bound together, and then—

Knock, knock, knock!

In an instant, Alonso’s train of thoughts come to a halt.

“Alonso! I’m back!”

He immediately perks up and rushes his way to open the door. Waiting by the entrance is the weary face of his former classmate in college.

“You’re back quite early today, Jude.”

Jude sluggishly walks straight to the living room and places his suitcase against the wall. To best describe his next immediate course of action, Jude dumps his own body onto the couch like a tired human-turned-corpse. Alonso can’t help but burst into a fit of laughter.

“Oy, instead of laughing at me, get me some water.” Jude scowls against a small pillow on the couch.

“Opo, Dok~” is Alsonso’s teasing response.

However, being a doctor is definitely no joke, especially if you are the only doctor presiding in a small barangay’s health center. It means having to stay there from early morning to late in the evening. If anything, Jude is already fortunate enough that he doesn’t have to stay there 24/7, even though he insisted before that he should. Still, the barangay chairman made it clear that Jude’s health is far more important. After all, if there was no doctor to attend the patients, it is pointless.

Alonso knows all of this, for he has been with Jude ever since the latter decided to become a doctor. He still doesn’t know—or rather, he can’t understand Jude’s reason for staying here rather than going to the urban city and working in a hospital. Regardless, the only thing Alonso can do now is to support him as a friend.

Just like how Elias did to Crisostomo Ibarra.

“Here.”

Alonso places a stainless glass of water on the small table. Jude’s head turns to look, his half-lidded tired eyes staring at the glass.

He slowly sits up and stretches out his arms. “Thanks. Sorry, I’m just really tired.”

“It’s alright, don’t worry about it.” Alonso gives him a reassuring smile. Then, as if he had come up with a brilliant idea, Alonso’s eyes widened with glee.

“How about we go out to the dock?” he suggests. “We can watch the sunset while you’re taking a break.”

Jude quickly finishes his drink after a few gulps. “I’ll change my clothes

first. You can go on ahead and wait for me.”

Alonso’s smile turns into a grin. “Okay!”

However, instead of heading outside, Alonso visits his room first. He takes his pencil and two journal notebooks—one notably more worn out than the other. The more worn out journal is leather bound with some sticky note bookmarks pasted in between certain pages. The other one is a simple spiral notebook. Written on the cover with a black marker are the initials, “A.D.M.”

Carrying his belongings in a small satchel, Alonso excitedly makes his way to the beach.

Upon arriving at the wooden dock, Alonso places down his satchel. He stretches his arms out and takes in as much fresh sea air as he can. He looks beyond the horizon of the dark blue waters. The sun is already setting, its beautiful orange light reflecting against the sea.

From afar, Alonso can see a lone boatman rowing his bangka. He seems to have another companion with him, but it is pretty difficult to get a good view from a faraway distance.

“Admiring the sea again?”

Alonso turns around. Jude is wearing a white shirt-turned-tank top after cutting its sleeves, and a pair of black jersey shorts. As Alonso looks down, a thought immediately comes to mind. Oh yeah, Jude is the type of person who walks barefoot on the beach.

A smile forms in his lips, and Jude makes a noise that indicates he is suspicious of something.

“What, is something funny?” Jude asks.

“Nah, it’s nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

Alonso removes his slippers before sitting down on the dock. He lets his feet dangle, even though they can’t reach the water. Jude joins him and sits next to him. When he lets his feet dangle down, Alonso is once again reminded that Jude is taller than him because he has longer legs–and he can’t help but feel a little bit jealous.

“So, how was work today?” Alonso asks.

“It was exhausting, as usual.” Jude replies. “Fortunately, there was a volunteer that came in earlier this afternoon. I was told that she would be taking over the afternoon shift starting tomorrow, so I was tasked to show her around for today.”

“That’s good to hear! That means you’ll be coming home early more often, then.”

Jude nods. “It also means I can finally have more time to do some studying and research.”

“Oh yeah, that, too…” Alonso trails off from realization. “God, you really are a busy person.”

“Aren’t you the same?”

As Alonso turns to look at Jude, the latter is already looking at him with a raised eyebrow. It is as if he is ready to refute anything Alonso is about to say.

With that expression on Jude’s face, it is evident that Alonso is in a losing battle. Thus, he sighs instead.

Then, he glances at his satchel. He grabs for his leather bound journal. He opens it and begins searching through the pages of countless notes—both written in ink and in pencil. Some of these pages have colorful sticky notes pasted.

He stops on the most recent page, which contains two written paragraphs. Bullet points of notes are written on a yellow sticky note paper that is pasted on the upper left corner. Certain words such as “Rizal”, “same person”, “armed revolution” and “patriotism” are underlined in red. They all pertain to a single topic: the character Elias from Jose Rizal’s Noli Me Tangere.

He looks up to view the scenery in front of him. The sky is filled with shades of purple and pink, and the sun is almost gone. And yet the sea remains dark, except for the orange light reflecting off from the sun. The boatman that Alonso saw earlier is nowhere to be seen.

“You really love the sea.”

Alonso can’t help but smile. He slowly nods, knowing that Jude is also seeing the same scenery in front of him.

“I’ve always seen it since I was little,” Alonso says. “And I never get tired of it.”

There is a momentary pause before Jude speaks up. “Is that why you like Elias?”

In an instant, Alonso turns to look at Jude with a raised eyebrow. “What do you mean by that?”

Jude shrugs his shoulders and returns Alonso’s gaze. “I mean, he’s a man of the sea since he pilots a bangka, right?”

“He’s a man of the lake, Judas!” Alonso retorts, as he starts to laugh. “Though, I think it would be pretty cool if San Diego was a seaport town.”

“Then, why do you like him?”

Alonso does not answer immediately, taken aback by the question. Jude slowly tilts his head to the side, before he diverts his attention to the waters below. It might be difficult to see his reflection at this time of the day, but he might be looking for a temporary distraction.

“You’re writing a comprehensive essay about him, right?” Jude continues. “So, you must definitely like the character. To some extent, at least.”

Alonso hums thoughtfully to himself, as he looks at everything he has written in his journal. The previous pages are filled with rough drafts of the first few paragraphs of his essay, as well as detailed notes regarding Elias. He has made sure to note every single line of paragraph or dialogue from any chapter that indicates the kind of character Elias was in the novel.

“Well, I do like him because of his outlook on life and his immense love of the Philippines,” Alonso says.

Jude snorts, as he stops himself from laughing. “Sounds like an honor student’s answer.”

“Hey, I’m being honest here!” Alonso retorts before continuing. “But I guess, rather than liking him as a character, I actually like his dynamic with

Ibarra.”

Jude looks at him curiously, encouraging Alonso to change his current sitting position so he can fully face his friend.

“From how I see it, Ibarra and Elias are essentially two sides of the same coin,” Alonso explains. “Although they have similar beliefs and goals, they are opposites of each other. Ibarra believed in pursuing peaceful reform, and Elias believed in pursuing armed revolution. And yet, after they had this longwinded conversation where Elias found out that Ibarra’s ancestors caused his family’s misfortunes that led him into a blind fit of rage—he still came back to save Ibarra. In fact, he was willing to sacrifice his own life for Ibarra’s safety. He even knew that Ibarra, who had this sort of naive and idealistic and pure view of the country, would eventually hate it should it fall into ruins. He didn’t want Ibarra to hate the Philippines, because he didn’t want him to lose faith in the country and its people. Because he knew that those two things would help Ibarra in finding the cure to the social cancer.”

Alonso stops, as he tries to catch his breath. He did not realize that he rambled so much. He is now certain that he already lost Jude’s attention.

“So basically, you like him because he and Ibarra were good friends despite their differences?”

Alonso’s eyes widened upon realizing that Jude actually listened from start to finish. Because of this, he can’t help but laugh.

“Yes, yes, that’s exactly it!” Alonso giddily replies. “If anything, their relationship kinda reminds me of ours.”

“You’re reading the wrong novel, then.” Jude chuckles.

“Wait, what?” Alonso asks, clearly surprised.

“If we’re talking about ourselves, I’d say we’re more similar to Basilio and Isagani from El Fili.”

“Why?”

“Because Basilio was a medical student who wanted to become a doctor, and Isagani was essentially a poet who spoke in flowery language.”

Alonso has never looked more surprised than ever. “How…did you remember that?”

Jude simply smirks. “You’re not the only honor student who paid attention to Filipino classes.”

Isagani blushed. “He preached me a sermon about the choosing of a wife. I answered him that there wasn’t in Manila another like her—beautiful, well-bred, an orphan—”

“Very wealthy, elegant, charming, with no defect other than a ridiculous aunt,” added Basilio, at which both smiled.

Chapter I: On the Lower Deck, El Filibusterismo by Jose Rizal

Master Strategist

Roi Karlo V. Sinchi @les_ykai

He held great knowledge that surpasses the greatest geniuses. Now he crafts a wonderful plan of sophistication to escape the slums and its chains of poverty.

ART | Ramil D. Reyta

Ruler

Jhon Mark A. Mercado @janmaaark

He was bold enough to conquer the monsters inside his bedroom; now down to the last one which is himself.

ART | Jerico C. Fadriquela

The Flower and the Firefly

Kim Lawrence D. Cortez @kyem_lowrenz

Once upon a time, a flower lived in a garden. The flower is so beautiful that every insect would come to her pot just to witness her godly perfected petals and beauty. Many plants envy her because of how popular she is.

However, the flower is still sad.

“It’s like everyone just sees me as an ornament, like I’m just a piece of art to look at. I don’t want to live like this. I must find my purpose,” the flower said as she cried one night.

Under the moonlight, the flower cried and cried. She is full of doubts about herself. She is lost. Living in the garden is like being pent up inside a cage and she feels very suffocated.

But in the middle of her grief, a small glimpse of light showed up. The flower stopped crying and began staring at the glowing light she saw. She was amazed by this beautiful creature, like seeing a dream come true.

“Who are you?,” the flower asked.

“I’m a firefly,” the beautiful insect said. “Why is a flower as beautiful as you crying?”

“I feel very lost. I can’t find the motivation to live.”

“Do you want to come with me? I promise I’ll take you to the most beautiful place and your life will be much happier.”

The flower agreed to follow the firefly. Blinded by the hope that its light showed her, the flower began a journey. She left the garden and crossed rivers, climbed mountains, and flew miles to reach the destination the firefly promised her.

However, when the sun started to show up, the firefly vanished. The flower was left alone in an unknown land with no water, nor plants. The flower started to panic and her heart went weak as her roots dried up because of her thirst. Her once beautiful petals withered and her beauty faded.

“I should’ve been content with what I have. I shouldn’t have left the garden. Now I’m in solitude and much more in despair. I shouldn’t have followed the firefly. I shouldn’t have been blinded by his light.”

PHOTO | Allain E. Bantilan

PHOTO | Allain E. Bantilan

dagli

Gising!

Sebastian Ardie M. Tan @sbs_tan

Gumising si Rafael sa sinag ng araw na pumapasok mula sa kanyang balkonahe. Kinuha ni Rafael ang kanyang telepono at tinawag ang kanyang katulong.

“Yaya, dalhan mo ko dito ng kape at almusal, gusto ko ng bacon and egg, paki-poach na rin” utos ni Rafael.

Hindi nagtagal at dumating na ang kanyang katulong, dala ang kape at almusal na iniutos ni Rafael.

“Yaya, pakisabihan si Miguel na linisin ang pool, dumating ang mga business partners ko, magpaparty kami, bumili ka na rin ng Cuervo” muling utos ni Rafael sa kanyang katulong.

Naubos na ni Rafael ang kanyang almusal at kumuha ng dyaryo para magbasa. Lumipas ang ilang minuto ay nakarinig si Rafael ng ingay mula sa labas ng kanyang kwarto. Tunog ng dyipni, busina ng mga sasakyan, sigaw ng mga tindera at halakhakan ng mga batang naglalaro.

“Yaya! Ano ba ‘yang ingay na naririnig ko, bakit ganyan!” galit na sigaw ni Rafael.

Hindi tumutugon ang katulong kaya hindi na nakapigil si Rafael para lumabas ngunit hindi niya mabuksan ang pinto. Hindi tumitigil ang ingay at lalo pa itong lumalakas sa pagtagal.

“Tay! Gising na nananaginip ka na naman, tanghali na, mangangalakal pa tayo” nanggigigil na bigkas ni Ralph.

“Akala ko mayaman na ako, panaginip na naman pala.”

Nesting Bugs

Hydie Mariel M. Adarlo @hydzmrl

Two big blue black bug Lays quietly on a log Then comes a child not so kind Poking them from behind Startled, they bolt for a jog

Kim Lawrence D. Cortez @kyem_lowrenz

She said you got the tiger’s eye

And with an eagle you’ll fly

Now roar for me

Please let me see Don’t make me wait till I die

flash fiction

A Blue Morpho

Coleen Jill F. Sajo @HSaijou

Underneath a narra tree, there was a girl. She has been crying for quite some time, as the cold grass beneath hugs her knees. Perhaps they are soothing her, reassuring her that there is nothing to worry about.

However, the girl lost her way home. Earlier, she went off the trail to chase after a butterfly. It had beautiful blue wings–a color she has never seen before from all the butterflies in her garden.

“What should I do? How can I go home now?”

As if to answer her question, a butterfly with beautiful blue wings flutters gently on her shoulder. Then, it immediately flies away.

Soon right after, with her tears now dried up, the girl quickly follows it. It is until the butterfly stops in front of a gate that the girl stops as well.

She realizes that she is now standing right in front of her house.

PHOTO | Anne Carmi O. De Los Reyes

tiny tale

MARIPOSA

Jomardel J. Constantino @thejomable

Malayo pa lang, amoy ko na ang nakakasalangsang na pabango niya. Ang tunog ng kaniyang four-inch heels ay sumasabay sa kalampagan ng mga sasakyan sa bangketa.

Lahat ay napapalingon sa kaniyang maiksing shorts at lipstick na pula.

"Mariposa, mukhang makakarami ka na naman ngayong gabi ah," wika ng kasamahan niya.

PHOTO | Hannah Mae H. Mendoza

PHOTO | Hannah Mae H. Mendoza

Teka lang

Isang napaka sayang pangyayari ang naganap sa akin nang mapagplanuhan naming magtotropa na akyatin at lakbayin ang ganda ng bundok Makiling. Napagdesisyunan naming magkakaibigan na akyatin ang sikat na sikat na bundok Makiling sa Laguna at may ikukwento ako sa inyo. Ayun na ngaa so eto na nga yung kwento, teka lang pala umaakyat pa kami sa bundok.

Jorge M. Gutierrez @jhorge16mg

tiny tale

PHOTO | Prince Jeric C. Gomez

maikling kuwento

Pahimakas

Kim Lawrence D. Cortez @kyem_lowrenz

Dinama ko ang pagdaloy ng mainit na kape sa aking lalamunan. Mapait. Sobrang pait. Pero ayos lang, sanay na ako. Sanay na ako sa paulit ulit na takbo ng aking umaga. Gigising, magmumuni-muni, maghihilamos, magtitimpla ng kape. Wala naman akong ibang pagpipilian, kundi tanging kape lang. Wala naman akong perang pambili ng asukal at creamer. Ewan ko ba kung bakit ganitong buhay ang naibigay sa akin. Tanging asukal na nga lang sana at creamer ang magpapaganda ng umaga ko, pero pati iyon, pinagkait pa.

Bata pa lamang ay sanay na ako sa hirap. Hindi rin ako kailanman nakatungtong ng high school. Buong araw akong nagbibilad sa ilalim ng mainit na araw, o minsan ay sa nakakarinding ulan, habang humihingi ng limos sa tapat ng basilica. Hindi ko alintana ang pagod, ang banas, at ang mga tingin nilang puno ng habag. Basta may mag-abot ng barya, masaya na ako. Maibibili ko ng kendi ang kapatid kong si Laura.

Nakababatang kapatid ko si Laura, mas bata ng tatlong taon sa akin. Mataba ang kaniyang mga pisngi, mahaba ang mga pilik, naguumapaw sa ganda ang mga mata, at nakakadala ang ngiti. Walang makakapagsabi na hindi biniyayaan ang pinakamamahal kong kapatid na si Laura. Bungi man ang kaniyang dalawang ngipin sa harap dahil sa pagkain ng napakaraming kendi, maganda pa rin siya at talaga namang nakakagigil.

Syempre, ako bilang kuya, ay laging pinoprotektahan siya. Bata pa lamang kami noon nang minsang may isang batang lumapit sa amin habang nanlilimos kami. Liligawan daw niya ang kapatid ko. Walang kahabag-habag kong hinataw ng dala kong bilao ang batang iyon. Tumakbo naman agad siya sa loob ng simbahan at nagsumbong sa nanay niya habang umaatungal.

“Ikaw talaga kuya! Hahahahaha!”, natatawang banggit ni Laura. Napangiti ako sa ala-alang iyon. Natatawa ako sa ginawa ko. Pero bumalik ako sa realidad nang wala na akong malagok na kape sa tasa. Naubos na pala ang iniinom ko. Kumulo ang tiyan ko sa gutom at napatitig sa mesa. Nakita ko ang isang tupperware na may takip na plato ngunit hindi ko na pinagkaabalahang buklatin pa iyon dahil alam ko namang wala iyong laman.

Tumitig ako sa labas ng aming baro-barong bahay at umupo sa sahig. Tila walang pagbabago. Ganitong ganito pa rin ang tagpo noong naghighschool si Laura. Kay aga niya laging gumising at maagang gumagayak para pumasok sa eskwelahan. Kumakanta kanta pa siya habang nakaharap sa salamin at pinagmamasdan ang sarili habang nakasuot ng unipormeng sobrang bumagay sa kaniya. Tumangkad na siya at mas pumuti, dalagang dalaga na talaga. Mahaba ang kaniyang itim na buhok, at ganoon parin ang mga mata at ngiti niya.

Naalala ko isang umaga ay may napansin akong kakaiba sa kaniya. Tila mas nasasabik siyang pumasok. Nagmamadali din siyang nagbihis at nagsalamin habang nagpapaalam sa akin.

“Kuya, baka gabihin ako ng uwi mamaya ha? Ang dami kasi naming projects, e. Kaya napag-usapan naming gumawa muna ng project sa bahay ng kaklase namin pag uwian,” sambit niya.

Nagtatalo man ang isipan, katulad ng dati, hindi na lang ako umimik. Tumango ako at binigyan siya ng trenta pesos, mas mataas ng kaunti sa baon niyang bente pesos noon. Alam kong kaunting halaga lang iyon, ngunit gusto kong makita ang kapatid kong nararanasan ang mga bagay na nararanasan ng mga kaibigan niya, kahit sa espesyal lang na araw na ito. Ano ba namang pagbigyan ko siya ng isang araw, hindi ba?

Bumalik ako sa aking ginagawa nang makita ko siyang lumabas ng pintuan. Ngiting ngiti siyang kumaway sa akin at nagpaalam. Naghanda na din ako

sa aking pagpasok bilang isang construction worker. Nakaramdam ako ng gutom at binuklat ang tupperware sa lamesa. Doon ay nakita ko ang pandesal na binili kanina ni Laura, may palamang pritong itlog na niluto niya kanina. Ipinaghanda niya din ako ng baon na agad ko namang isinilid sa aking bag habang nilalaklak ang napakatamis na kapeng itinimpla ng kapatid ko.

Kinahapunan ay medyo ginabi na din ako nang uwi. Alas otso na nang dumating ako sa amin, kaya gutom na gutom ako. Inakala ko namang nandoon na si Laura, ngunit hindi ko siya nakita. Nakaramdam akong muli ng gutom at napatingin sa lamesa. Nanghinayang ako dahil kinain ko agad ang pandesal na inihanda kanina ni Laura. Dapat pala ay itinabi ko na lang iyon panghapunan. Magtitimpla na lang ako ng kape bilang pantawid gutom pero napansin kong ubos na pala ang creamer at asukal. Hindi ko na lang iyon pinansin at pilit na lang nilagok ang mapait na kape dahil sa kagutuman.

Dumaan ang gabi at nakatulog na din ako sa antok. Ni hindi ko na din naisara ang pintuan dahil sa paghihintay sa aking minamahal na kapatid. Kinabukasan ay nagising ako, ngunit wala pa rin si Laura. Nandoon pa rin ang tupperware, walang laman at hindi naiibo. Wala pa ring laman ang garapon ng asukal at creamer.

Nagtaka ako kung bakit hindi pa bumabalik si Laura ngunit kailangan ko nang pumasok sa trabaho. Hindi ko na inatupag pang kumain bago umalis at naglakad na lang dahil tatanghaliin na ako. Napadaan ako sa isang parang na may malaking puno. Pinagkakaguluhan ng mga tao ang punong iyon. Hindi ko alam kung bakit, ngunit nakaramdam ako ng kaba. Kabang hindi ko pa nararamdaman.

“Kuya Estong, si ate Laura!” salubong sa akin ni Boyet, isang batang laging kalaro ni Laura. Umiiyak siya at tila takot na takot. Hinila niya ako patungo sa puno at doon ay nakita ko ang karumaldumal na kinahinatnan ng mahal kong si Laura.

Punit punit ang unipormeng pinakapinapahalagahan niya. Hindi na niya suot ang kaniyang palda, maging ang kaniyang damit pangloob.

Ang kaniyang makinis na balat ay puno ng sugat at pasa. Ang kaniyang leeg ay pulang pula senyales ng walang awang pagkakasakal sa kaniya. Nakapikit ang kaniyang mata, nagpapakita sa kaniyang napakahahabang mga pilik. Naawa ako sa kapatid ko, at napuno ng galit ang aking puso.

Gusto kong sumigaw. Gusto kong humingi ng tulong. Gusto kong bulyawan ang mga taong sa halip na tumawag ng awtoridad ay tinitigan lang ang kalunos lunos na katawan ni Laura. Gusto kong umiyak at humikbi, ngunit hindi ko kaya. Bata pa lamang ako ay hindi na ako nakapagsasalita kaya sobrang sakit sa pakiramdam na makita ang sitwasyong ito nang hindi man lang makasigaw. Walang ingay na kayang lumabas sa aking bibig na sana ay makapapagbawas ng sakit. Katulad ng dati, hindi ako umimik.

Pinagsisihan ko ang lahat. Kung may boses lang ako, edi sana napigilan ko siyang umalis. Kung may boses lang ako, edi sana nakapagpaalam ako nang maayos sa kaniya. Kung may boses lang ako, edi sana nasabi ko kung gaano kasarap ang almusal at kapeng inihahanda niya. Kung may boses lang ako, edi sana nasabi kong mahal ko ang kapatid ko. Kung may boses lang ako, edi sana nandito pa siya.

Bumalik ako sa realidad nang marinig ang malalakas na tawanan ng mga bata sa aming harapan. Bumalik sa aking ala-ala ang masasayang pagkakataon sa aming buhay ni Laura. Wala na si Laura sa mundong ito, ngunit nasa puso at isip ko pa din siya. Naririnig ko pa rin ang boses niya tuwing umaga, kumakanta. Nakikita ko pa din siya sa harap ng salamin habang tuwang tuwa sa suot niyang uniporme. Naaamoy ko pa din ang masarap na almusal na kaniyang inihahain, ngunit wala na ang tamis sa aking kape.

Tatlong taon na ang nakalilipas nang mahiwalay sa akin si Laura. Tatlong taon na ngunit ganito pa rin ang takbo ng araw ko. Patuloy na naghihintay sa almusal, patuloy na umaasang maya maya ay dadating si Laura, may dalang asukal at creamer para maitimpla ang kape ko. Ngunit kailangan ko nang tanggapin ang katotohanan. Hindi na siya babalik kailanman.

Alam ko ring kung nasaan man siya ay hindi niya gugustuhing makita ako nang ganito, kaya mas maigi pang tigilan ko na ang pangungulila at sa halip ay magpatuloy na lang sa aking buhay. Kailangan kong ipakita sa kaniya na malakas ako at masaya nang sa ganoon ay sumaya na din siya.

Tumayo ako sa aking pagkakalugmok at nagsuot ng baro. Lumabas ako ng bahay dala dala ang kaunting barya at tinahak ang daan patungo sa tindahan. Pagkarating ay bumili ako ng asukal at creamer, buti na lamang at maintindihan ng tindera ang mustra ko. Naglakad na ako at napagawi muli sa parang. Nandoon pa rin ang puno na tila nanonood sa aking mga hakbang. Takipsilim na pala, isang buong maghapon na naman ang nasayang ko sa pagkakatulala.

Bumalik ako sa aming bahay at agad nagtimpla ng kape. Nilagay ko ang asukal at creamer na aking nabili at muli ay natikman ko ang tamis na hindi ko na muling natikman nang kuhanin sa akin si Laura. Ininom ko ang kape nang may pangungulila, ngunit sa pagkakataong ito ay may pag-asa. Aalisin ko ang masasamang ala-ala at ipapakita kay Laura na masaya ang Kuya niya.

Ito ang aking pahimakas. Paalam sa’yo Laura. Mahal na mahal kita.

ART | Sandro Carlo B. Tablizo

By the Willow Tree

Paul Adrian K. Paraiso @paulygooon

walked around the park she was holding my hand telling me it was cold, or I’ll be lost if I go too far

we stop by the willow tree and she says her little prayers tells God to protect the little me that she doesn’t even remember

ART | Savina Mae C. Maranan

ART | Savina Mae C. Maranan

Two percent

Jasmin Mae M. Pangniban @jaspanganiban

She’sthere again in the balcony, peacefully sitting while staring at her favorite, the moon. I tried to take my steps quietly as I can as I approach her.

“I know you’re there, Sol.” she said as she looks at me with that sweet smile of hers.

“You caught me… again.” I replied. I stand by her side and take glimpse at her. She’s still mesmerized at the moon. I didn’t notice myself suddenly staring at her for a long time. She looks at me and giggles which makes me blush and realized that I was staring at her for a long time.

I quickly shift my eyes on the moon but I can feel her still looking at me with that smile. When I looked back at her, I cannot explain it but I can see in her eyes that she is thinking something deeply.

“Is there something bothering you?” I asked as I hold her hand.

“Phobes said to me that the love we have built for each other only have at most two percent of lasting for a lifetime, that we are only confused at the moment and soon we’ll find the one that is truly destined for us.” I can see how her smile dropped as soon as she start uttering those phrases.

“We don’t know what’s going to happen in the future but, if that’s the case then, I am glad that I am taking that chance of two percent with you, Luna.” I said as I rest my forehead on hers. She holds my hand that’s on her cheeks as we both closed our eyes and smile, feeling that magical moment of holding and trusting onto that two percent.

PHOTO | Ishe Loui Maxene M. Candava

tula

Sana

Sebastian Ardie M. Tan @sbs_tan

Kung hindi lumalim

Kung hindi bumaon

Kung hindi lumabis

Kung hindi naghinagpis

Kung umintindi

Kung nakinig

Kung nanahimik

Kung nagtiwala

Mabigat ang salitang sana pero...

Sana, hanggang, sana na lang talaga.

PHOTO | Hannah Mae H. Mendoza

Propelling Windshield

Ed Angelo M. Dealola @edangelostyles

Losing control is Rhoma’s biggest fear. A worldly-wise woman, clothed with sophistication and suavity; she, among other women, had had her life already planned and mapped out.

Rhoma never missed a march to the top, she excels in almost everything she does. But there is one thing she might have missed on her journey to eminence and distinction — Jinny. They’re childhood bestfriends, Jinny, unlike Rhoma, is a nonchalant woman, a “devil-may-care”, and an easygoing peer. Surprisingly, they went along perfectly and they filled one’s shortness and lacking.

On the day of their graduation, Rhoma in her valedictorian speech, gave thanks to her parents for raising a strong woman like her, to her teachers for molding a competitive and skillful student, and to Jinny for always standing by her side, through thick and thin, sharp and edges, and through her successes and downfalls.

With her life already framed, Rhoma has been putting up her name as one of the most renowned youngest doctors in the country, she has been living the paradigm she created years back when she was younger. While her best friend, built her own ground in the music industry. They’ve grown to successful professionals, may have paved separate ways, but always bounded by their love for each other.

When their lives were in full control, it was a nonplus to hit the break.

Jinny saw more of what she had seen in Rhoma, for many years she tried to hide it, her love just can never be concealed, it found its own way of revealing, through time, in time. “I have no time for this.” Falling in love with people with their lives already planned is probably the bravest trail Jinny took on her long ride with Rhoma. It’s just that the engine cannot make it, it was short, but a fun ride.

These were the times when Jinny waited for Rhoma every single day on her board review, the times when she was there when Rhoma needed a friend to talk to, the times when she was there, willingly, unsolicitedly, were the times Rhoma needed to not lose control, yet it is also the time Rhoma needed to say she doesn’t need it.

It felt like the roadend for Jinny’s life, and her music just can’t save her, the music she once loved burned out all of a sudden. Day drinking she has been, wasted, lost, rash, and reckless. Night screamed and the morning she woke up, she’s lying in a hospital bed, paralyzed and disabled. Rhoma was there, Jinny chuckled happily, but she crossed and went into the other room. It was Jinny’s darkest times, when Rhoma couldn’t even bear to say hello.

Years have passed, Rhoma stayed the same, a young doctor of excellence, and Jinny managed to get back on track, making and producing music, the passion she once lost found its way back to her.

These were the times, Jinny will never know, when Rhoma jumped her heart gladly when Jinny confessed her feelings, the times Rhoma cried herself to sleep when Jinny was lying in a hospital bed, when Rhoma took full control to Jinny’s operation and told her team to keep it as a secret. These were the times that will forever be untold, cause she never wants to lose control.

She’s a woman of dreams and aspirations and Jinny was the street she had always wanted to drive to, but instead she propelled her windshield to the path she had planned, controlled, and directed, and Jinny was only a music she listens to, everytime.

poem

Multiverse

Ariel L. Magpantay Jr. @mistereyyyy

If Multiverse exist….

Time limits the growth of love

Falling in love in wrong time, Is a disgust

Love makes you strong And Inevitable

It builds confidence

But, Destroys tranquility

How can equilibrium be achieved

If multiverse exist…

Do you love me the same way?

Or Do I love you the greatest?

My dear, if we transcended In the law of physics

And found each other together In every universe

I remembered

Parallel lines never meet each other

As the universe

If multiverse exist

ART | Gerard Andrei M. Malapote

poem

IN-BETWEEN

Ranniele F. Maspat @lalalaheyitisme

across the universe, we meet at the crossroads we exist holding hands, love in its purest form.

at the gaps our love blooms without identities, without assigned facades absent of any prejudice.

at the cracks, freedom exist where shackles of judgment cannot reach a place where you and i can hold hands at the in-between where free love exists.

PHOTO | Maria Celine A. Blanco

1-2-3

Abegail M. Arriola @abbychichu

Sampung minuto bago mag-ala siete ng gabi na nang matapos ang aming huling klase para sa araw na ito. Sa ganitong oras, pahirapan na ang pagbiyahe sapagkat bultobultong mga estudyante ang nagaabang na makasakay ng jeep.

“Andeng, tara dali!” Wika ng kaibigan ko at mabilis na hinatak ang aking braso papasok sa isang pamilyar na pulang jeep na alam kong araw-araw na pumapasada sa lugar na ito. Sa dulong upuan malapit sa drayber kami dinala ng mga nagsisiksikang pasahero.

“Bayad po,” wika ng isang estudyanteng nasa kabilang dulo ng jeep malapit sa may babaan habang iniaabot ang kaniyang bayad na sa tingin ko’y onse pesos na bariya. Pinagpasa-pasahan ito ng mga kamay papunta sa direksyon ko.

RESTORATION

“Bayad daw,” ani ng aking katabi at inilagay sa palad ko ang mga bariya.

“Bayad daw po,” aking iniabot ang mga barya sa drayber. Nagtama ang aming mga mata at kaagad naman akong umiwas ng tingin.

Lima hanggang pitong beses na ata akong nag-abot ng bayad ng mga pasahero sa drayber, at sa tuwing iaabot ko ang mga iyon sa kaniya ay makikita ko ang kanyang matagal na pagsulyap sa akin mula sa salamin ng kanyang jeep.

“Malapit ka na bumaba. Nagbayad ka na ba?” Bulong ng kaibigan ko.

“Oo nga pala,” pagkukunwari kong nakalimutan ang pagbabayad. Kung hindi pinuna ng aking kaibigan ay wala talaga sa plano ko ang pagbabayad ng pamasahe sa dyipning nasakyan namin ngayong gabi, kung kaya’t labag sa loob ang ginawa kong pagdukot sa aking bulsa ng onse pesos na bariya at muli itong iniabot sa drayber.

“Bayad po, at para na po sa tabi,” ani ko sa drayber na nakatingin sa akin nang mayroong malungkot na ekspresyon sa mukha.

Nang huminto ang jeep ay dali-dali na akong bumaba. Pagkatapos ng biyaheng iyon ay halos sampung minuto naman ang akong naglakad pauwi sa aming bahay. Buhat sa gutom mula sa biyahe at paglalakad, pagkauwi ko sa amin ay dali-dali akong nagtungo sa kusina upang kumain. Naroon ang aking ina sa hapag-kainan, kumakain ng bagong gisang sardinas.

“Pasensya ka na ‘nak, kapos tayo ngayon. Napakahirap kumita ng pera,” pagpapaumanhin ng aking ina na hindi naman niya dapat na ginagawa. Tumango lamang ako sa kanya at nagtungo na sa lamesa upang sumandok ng pagkain.

Bawat subo ng kanin at sardinas ay tila napakahirap para sa akin lunukin ngayong gabi. Hindi dahil sa ayaw ko sa ulam namin ngayon o ‘di dahil sa bahaw ang aming kanin, kundi dahil— ewan ko. Hindi ko rin mawari.

Nang halos patapos na ako sa pagkain ng aking hapunan ay may kumatok sa

aming pintuan. Ako na ang tumayo sa hapag upang pagbuksan ito.

Binuksan ko ang pintuan at iniluwal nito ang aking ama na mababakas sa mukha ang pagod mula sa maghapong pagtatrabaho.

“Magandang gabi po, tay,” bati ko sa kanya habang nag-iiwas ng tingin dahil sa hiyang maaari kong maramdaman kung sakaling magtagpo ang aming mga mata.

Nakaramdam ako ng kirot sa aking puso nang lagpasan lamang ako ng aking ama. Para bang hindi niya ako nakita o narinig. Tila ako’y isang estranghero para sa kaniya ngayong gabi, kagaya ng pagturing ko sa kan’ya bilang isang estranghero kanina sa loob ng aming pampasaherong jeep.

poem

Affinity

Ariel L. Magpantay Jr. @mistereyyyy

12th day of september

Everything is calm and in place I walk towards the gate, As I see the postman

He handed me a newspaper

I looked at the headline, it says “Philippines tops stock exchange”

No crimes reported, no chaotic topics; Indeed, a new era for the country

But we never forget history

tulang palindrome

Hanggang sa magising ako

Mattheaus Hrodrich G. Immaculata @matttchoiii_51

Maganda ang liwanag ngayong gabi

Malamig ang simoy ng hangin

Ang mga tao ay nagdiriwang sa kalsada

Kinig ang lakas ng mga hiyaw at sigaw

Nandito na tayo sa perkpektong Mundo

Hanggang sa magising ako

Isang panaginip lang pala

Akala ko natuto at nakatakas na tayo sa kahapon

Ang mga pangarap ng tao ay nasira at nawasak

ART | Billy Russel C. Abistado

PHOTO | Anne Carmi O. De Los Reyes

short story

Icarus

Christopher Mikhail P. Acyatan @haihaihairu_

“How I wish I had wings to fly,” a boy whispered to himself.

He sat on a bench by the bay, watching the birds fly by over the ocean’s calm waters. The wind blows ever so slightly, just enough to sway the branches of the tree overhead. A man passing by heard his soft whisper. He was curious about what the boy had to say.

“What would you do then, if you had wings?” The man gently asked. He proceeded to sit beside the child. The man gave a nonthreatening smile that made the boy at ease with him.

“I want to see what the birds see up there. Down here everyone made me feel so little.”

“Eager to prove yourself to the world, are you? Say, what’s your name, boy?”

“Icari,” the boy said in hesitation. The man gasped a little, then laughed at the irony of the situation.

“How high do you wish to fly, Icari? To the sun?” He joked.

“If that’s what it takes to be seen, then so be it.” Icari felt anger and sadness at the same time. Little tears start to form under his eyes. His voice was shaken.

“Icari,” the man patted his shoulder. “Let me tell you a story of a man, who was given wings made from wax and feathers. His father told him not to fly too low, lest the waves beneath will clog his wings; nor too high, or the wax that binds his wings may fall apart. He used them to escape a gigantic tower, but as he flew, he grew arrogant. Seeing the world below being so little excited him, and so he flies higher. Just like his father told him, his wings started to fall apart, and the man plunged into the rough sea below.”

A long silence followed his story. The boy could not fathom the lesson behind it, no matter how hard he tried. Not long after, the man continued.

“You see, he was given a power for him to be free, to be seen by other people. Yet, he let his pride take over and dreamed too high, not knowing that the power he gained could not handle it. Now, Icari, each one of us already has our own wings. Or at least, the materials to make it. We build our wings through our talents and skills, and if you use them well, in time, people will begin to see you. But as you start your flight, remind yourself of this story. Never be too humble, and know the worth of your wings, or the waves will gobble you up. But you need to know their limits as well, lest flying too high will cause your wings to break, and suffer the same fate as the man. If you keep flying within your capacity, it will not take long for others to see you overhead.”

The boy was refreshed, and finally gave a smile. “Thank you, kind sir. I wish I could ask you more things, but it seems the sun is setting, and I need to be home by now.”

The man smiled as well and bid him farewell. Icari got up and ran home. But before he went away completely, he shouted a question that was running in his mind.

“Say, mister! Does the man in the story have a name?”

“His name’s Icarus! Sounds just like your name, doesn’t it?” He shouted back.

Jomardel J. Constantino @thejomable

In this walk of life, I’ve never been at ease — even once. There are days when I feel like my world is tearing apart within my chest. People call me witch just because I’m too powerful in this world; too perfect to exist in this dimension. They are afraid of my influences and potential to change this fragile system. They fear powerful women like me. They call me names that scar my own identity. Today, is my last day, and will be the last day I will see the familiar faces who wronged me. The flames will swallow me and so will my eternal devotion. I’ll just smile knowing that it’s just the beginning of what’s coming.

ART | Andrea M. Rubia

flash fiction

H2Who?

Christopher Mikhail P. Acyatan @haihaihairu_

Water, ever fluid, shapes itself to what container it’s in. It tries to fit in, and tries to adapt to every situation it finds itself. Yet when it flows, it becomes an indestructible force. Full of determination to arrive at the ocean of opportunities. No twig, no rock, nothing can stop it from flowing. Even if the waves seem to halt, slowly, it builds up the courage to break through. Water is clever enough to find multiple ways to reach its destination. No matter what, water will make a path.

It’s me. I am water.

PHOTO | Prince Jeric C. Gomez

PHOTO | Ishe Loui Maxene M. Candava

The Avenue of Healing

Hydie Mariel M. Adarlo @hydzmrl

The memory of me, shattering into pieces, still haunts me every time. It’s an indication of how broken I was when everything fell apart. The ghost of the past visits mostly at the happiest times, ruining everything. As time passed by, I got used to it. I got used to crying after laughing and drinking with my friends. Breaking down becomes comfort, my daily living. It was as if I could never get through this, it’s never ending.

However, maybe life is not that evil. Maybe this breaking point is just part of a journey. An adventure I must go through. Maybe, this anxiousness and depression can end. Maybe being aware of these feelings, and embracing all these is part of the avenue of healing.

poem

Fine

Ingrid M. Lescano @ingridlscn

How are you?

I’m

Feeling free and myself again

I can do whatever I want, dream whatever I want to be

No rules to follow anymore

Everything starts all over again

How am I?

I’m fine.

ART | Mar Berth R. Torrecampo

tanaga

Bathtime

After one month of sadness

She cleans, clears away stress. She runs the bath, soap ready She hums, feeling good; steady

ART | Jhonnea Maien D. Silva

short story

The Man and The Nutcracker

Coleen Jill F. Sajo @HSaijou

By the border that separates the suburban and the rural area, a man is traveling by foot after getting off his ride on a pedicab. He surveys the surroundings with an observant gaze, looking up and down while scanning any buildings he sees.

The buildings by the border, although well-built like those in the suburban area, are now abandoned and lifeless. Some of which have signs of damage, indicating that there were attempts to get them demolished. Despite the seemingly heavy and gloomy atmosphere, the man continues to walk forward.

Eventually, he spots one peculiar establishment that made him stop in his tracks. He pulls out a piece of paper from his pocket to examine something, then he raises his head to look at the peculiar establishment once again.

His eyes twinkle in excitement, for he has finally found the building that he has been looking for. Thus, he quickly makes his way to the front of the peculiar establishment.

As soon as he arrives, however, he notices someone outside of the house. They are sitting on a wooden rocking chair, their elbow leaning on the armrest. Their face is lowered, so their facial features are obscured. Their only article of clothing is a thick red robe, and a turquoise shawl to protect themselves from the current heat.

The man slowly approaches the mysterious person while maintaining a safe distance between them.

“Excuse me,” the man softly calls out to them. “May I speak with you?”

The mysterious person slowly raises their head, revealing their face to the man.

It is made out of wood, and their facial features are painted–their short black hair that parts in the middle, their black eyes made of dots, their black

mustache that curves at the tips, and their thin pinkish lips. However, the colors are definitely faded, perhaps a sign of aging.

This mysterious person wearing a red robe and turquoise shawl is undoubtedly a worn-out nutcracker doll.

Upon realizing this, the man’s eyes twinkle in excitement. He calls out to them once more.

“Excuse me, good sir. Are you perhaps Sergeant Tinsley?”

As if recognizing the name being called out, the toy soldier’s eyebrows furrow. They squint their eyes, and they stare at the man for a good few seconds.

“Marty?”

The smile on the man’s face visibly widens upon his name being called.

“Yeah, that’s me,” he says. “It’s been so long since I last saw you, old Tinsley. How have you been?”

“I’ve been better.” Tinsley smiles. “However, it’s nice to see a familiar face after so long, especially if it’s yours.”

“Ha!” Marty guffaws, his cheeks visibly turn red. “You’re embarrassing me, old friend.”

Tinsley simply chuckles. “How about you? How have you been, seeing that you’re all grown up now?”

“Well, it’ll be quite a long story. But first…” Marty looks at the porch from left to right. “You got a stool for me to sit on?”

After Tinsley gestures a direction with his curved, hook-like hand, Marty spots a wooden stool. He carries it and places it next to the rocking chair.

Tinsley watches as Marty sits down on the stool. Now that the young man is sitting next to him, Tinsley can clearly see how much Marty has grown taller. Who would have thought that he used to be a small, snot-nosed kid who once got lost in this part of land?

“I’ve become a merchant now,” Marty explains. “Though I still haven’t found a good guild to join in, so I’m currently freelancing.”

“What brought you here, then?” Tinsley asks. “There aren’t any guilds here–Heaven forbid, every single building here is in ruins except for mine. There’s no way a guild would operate here in the first place.”

Marty looks at Tinsley with a frown. “Why, I wanted to visit you, of course! Is it wrong for me to pay you a visit, especially after so long?”

Tinsley is about to retort, but he can’t help but allow himself to smile.

“I suppose, you’re right,” they say. “I meant it, when I said that it’s nice to see your face after so long.”

As soon as they look at Marty, Tinsley notices a faint scar on his forehead. It has definitely healed now, but it is very prominent to remain unnoticed.

However, as Tinsley’s mind begins to wonder, Marty interrupts their thoughts as he speaks up.

“You gave this scar to me, remember?”

Tinsley’s eyes widen upon realization, and they reach out their hook-like hand to gently touch Marty’s scar. Memories begin to flow in their mind, as they begin to recall what happened.

“Well, it was your fault to begin with,” Tinsley says. “I warned you not to get too close to the construction, yet you ignored me.”

“I…You’re not wrong,” Marty slowly says, as he now recalls his mistake. “But I mean, can you blame me, though? I was a young kid, full of curiosity!”

Tinsley scoffs. “With magical brick roads? You know very well that anything with magic cannot simply be messed with. You remember the tale of Lady Alabaster?”

Marty sighs. “Right, right. She got too curious with the beautiful angel statues, so she ended up turning into one.”

Tinsley simply harrumphs, as they turn away to look at the scenery in front

of them. There is nothing of interest to admire–not the lifeless buildings or the bumpy, rough dirt road. In fact, seeing these only make Tinsley’s heart sink a little.

Then, they feel a warm hand touch the crook of their hand. They turn to their side, and they see Marty giving him a smile. As if, he is telling them not to worry, and that he is right by their side right now.

“So, is it true?” Marty asks. “You were able to finish building it?”

“Curious as ever, I see,” Tinsley remarks, before nodding. “I don’t know how long it took us, but we finished building our own yellow brick road. Now, anyone who walks along it can finally be led to their happy ending.”

As they say this, Marty finds himself looking forward. He does not look at the scenery in front of him, but he thinks about the many adventures he has experienced as a merchant. He traveled to many different places, he met many different people and creatures alike, he discovered many different treasures no one has ever seen before.

After a brief moment of silence, he speaks up. “You think if I look for it, I can find my happy ending?”

Suddenly, he feels a hook-like piece of wood on top of his own hand. He turns to his left, and he sees Tinsley. Despite how old and worn out they look, Marty can barely see their thin pinkish lips offering a reassuring smile.

“You don’t ‘look’ for the yellow brick road, Marty,” Tinsley says. “You simply ‘stumble’ upon it on your own. That’s how every adventure has ever been for you, right?”

haiku

Que Sera, Sera

Abegail M. Arriola @abbychichu

Embrace hopelessness to a serene acceptance, It is what it is

ART | Jhonnea Maien D. Silva

Take It Or Leave It

Coleen Jill F. Sajo @HSaijou

Enlighten me now of what the future can hold and I can’t care less

ART | Mar Berth R. Torrecampo

haiku

Blue Dragon

Van Aeros C. Torres @notvan.jpg

Iwascleaning my cabinet and found my long-lost toy. I call him Blue Dragon, only because his eyes are.

He’s a red reptile. I used to pretend that all the toys I’d lost were just inside his round tummy. Perhaps, I just hate thinking that some other kids will get to play with a lost toy of mine.

Blue Dragon was nice. We used to have tea dates at 3 and sleep shortly after.

Back then, I would tell Blue Dragon my real scores in my spelling quizzes. He would only smile at me when I told him where I misplaced my E’s and O’s.

I didn’t have to pretend when I’m with Blue Dragon. I once wore my cousin Reyka’s tiara while having tea with him, and it was, at that time, a breather for me.

And it dawned on me. Perhaps, I’ve lost him for so long that he may have forgotten the feeling of being brushed, and I may have forgotten the feeling of being heard. So I brushed him gently and placed him over the table, prepared two cups of tea, and for the longest time, told him about my day.

ART | Jerico C. Fadriquela

OPTIMISM

PHOTO | Sebastian Ardie M. Tan

The Dragon Warrior

Ranniele F. Maspat @lalalaheyitisme

Themotorcycle stops in front of a dingy corner store; the rider sighing for the umpteenth time that day. JB is exhausted, long hours of picking up orders and driving them to their destination ran him ragged all day. He takes off his helmet and sits by the sidewalk, basking in the cold brought by the Christmas season.

It was 11:30 in the evening, the city had slowed down, blanketed by the lulling chill November wind, the city was asleep. JB lights a cigarette, holding it like a lifeline. He takes a long drag out of stress, puffing out the smoke; watching in amusement as it rises and slowly disappears into nothingness.

It was another suffocating day for him; bombarded by the unending dings of his smartphone at the crack of dawn, overcoming the grueling task of taking his heavy body out of bed, starting his day with a frown.

An ever present frown that has been his trademark ever since he started wearing it in every waking moment of his life.

JB takes another long drag.

His mind reels back into a strange encounter he had with a customer earlier. The one good thing out of the sh_t life he has.

“Wow!” round bambi eyes greeted him when the door swung open. JB had never seen such an interesting pair of eyes. It feels like he’s staring at a cabinet of curiosities.

The child, a four-year old based on his guess, continues to look up at him like he’s a rare flavored cotton candy on display in a carnival.

“Wow, you are real!” the child whispers to herself, still staring, still in awe, and JB has no idea what was so interesting about a delivery guy to warrant such fascination from a child.

“Raya, honey, you’re staring,” the child’s mother’s voice calls out as she meets JB by the door. She readies her wallet to pay, asking for the exact amount of the delivery. He gives her the exact total of her items and hands over the packages. While transacting with the mother, the child who’s named Raya continues to stare by the side, watching JB.

Feeling uncomfortable with the unwanted attention, he waves at the child waiting for the mother to finish taking the food bags from his other hand.

“Can you really fight and-and, ummm, do-uh do kung fu!!?” she asks, curious while fumbling with her words. Of all the strangest things he had encountered, being asked if you can fight and do kung fu takes the cake. He doesn’t have a single clue how the child came up with that idea, but he’s awed and curious to know what the child thinks.

“Fight? Kung fu? I don’t know, little one. Why do you ask?” he crouches down to meet the child’s gaze and have a leveled conversation with her. The mother comes back to take the second set of food bags from him, then disappears once again to God-knows-where.

“Yes! Fighting and doing Kung fu! Like the one from the movies my mom and I saw last night,” the child explains. JB smiles, still lost to what the child is talking about.

“Wait, I’ll show you kuya. Dito ka lang po. I’ll take the movie case and bring it to you,” before Jb could protest, the child was already on her merry way, the small pitter pattering of her feet echoing to the warm home.

With the child gone, he has no other choice but to wait for her and to finally know what the child means by fighting and kung fu. JB silently prays that the child did not smell a stench of cigarette on him, or saw any of his tattoos. One of his worst nightmares would be to have a child think he’s a delinquent or something, especially with how boomers frame people like him. Tattoo clad, cigarette smoking dude, and with a motorcycle to boot? Yep, definitely a look.

The mother takes the last of the food bags from him. She smiles as he hands over the bags, her sheepish look sending a child-sized warning on his way. She disappears once again to put down the bags, and the child emerges from a corner holding a dvd case as promised.

The child sends a toothy grin as she hands him the case.

“See? It was so awesome! The dragon warrior was like, whoosh! Whack! Thwack!” she excitedly exclaims, demonstrating the ‘kung fu’ moves the dragon warrior does in the movie.

Laughter blooms out of his chest as he reads the title of the dvd. He laughs, endeared at the child’s antics. Who would have thought that there will come a day when he would be mistaken for the dragon warrior? Never in his life would he have thought about it.

“Kuya don’t laugh. It really is an aweso-awesom-uhh, awesome movie. I want to be as strong as the dragon warrior,” the child’s energy seemed to dissipate as another, this time a sadder thought took over her bubbly energy. “Mama said I have to be strong to fight the bad aches I feel here,” she points at where her heart is, “so I can reach twen-twenty years old.”

JB stares as the child looks sullen. He feels a sudden wave of sadness as he realizes the meaning behind the child’s words. Embarrassment be damned, even if it’s for a short time, he wants to comfort her; to return the good laugh he had out of her story.

He tucks the dvd case under his armpits after observing the cover. He taps the child on her shoulder and shows her a pose similar to the cover.

The sweet laughter of the child played like a broken record in his mind.

With a final drag from his cigarette he sighs, more than an umpteenth time all day. Days like these he feels hopeless, doomed to an unending cycle of working hard to get by everyday. Waiting for life to get better, even if it was next to impossible.

He wants to end it all.

He would’ve done that. If not for the strange encounter he had earlier.

He can’t bring himself to do that. Giving up was no longer an option. The child had called him the dragon warrior, the brave and strong protector of the Valley of Peace as the movie said. He may not be Po, the Kung Fu panda, but he is JB, the honorable FoodPanda (delivery man, but you get the point).

Who was he to end it all? Succumb to that nagging intrusive thought in the corners of his mind.

When he can make a better end for it. He may have been robbed of opportunities and good chances in life, but he won’t waste it.

“I think I’ll live better tomorrow.”

He’d live a life not perfect and not harsh, one that is better than his today. He’d live until he gets old, he’d live.

For himself.

And for the child who can’t live past five.

He stubs the finished cigarette, puts on his helmet, and drives.

tiny tale

Second Thoughts

Ingrid M. Lescano @ingridlscn

I remembered; near midnight, on their website, staring at the ‘take test’ button; one click away to make it all happen.

If only I didn’t hesitate, would it be any different?

PHOTO | Anne Carmi O. De Los Reyes

poem

Ahead

Ariel L. Magpantay Jr. @mistereyyyy

Someday I will be living in my faultless dreams

A great world as I imagined

No sadness but only joy

No past and future

Present is the only time dimension

Surely, forever will vanish

But we will remain in love in this faultless dreams

PHOTO | Allain E. Bantilan

poem

Remembering Enigma

Ian Paul R. Gualberto @EhyanPol

I once loved a poet an enigma on my sight I fell with her sonnets loving her is a tough fight

She once wrote me a poem But I refuse to reply As I am afraid that her words are just ineffable to be mine

OPTIMISM

Tinola

Humiga kami sa damuhan matapos naming pagsaluhan ang isang matamis na halik. Sa wakas sinagot na niya ako. Naging tahimik kami saglit hanggang sa binasag niya ang katahimikan.

“Huhulaan ko ulam niyo kaninang tanghali.”

“Ha? Sige nga, ano?”

“Tinola.”

“Ay wow ang galing naman ng girlfriend ko! Paano mo nahulaan?”

“Lasang luya ang gilagid mo. May malunggay ding nasungkit ang dila ko kanina. Break na tayo.”

Lecheng tinola yan dapat pala di ko na nilagyan ng malunggay.

Kim Lawrence D. Cortez @kyem_lowrenz

dagli

PHOTO | Ishe Loui Maxene M. Candava

ART | Gerard Andrei M. Malapote

Tara, kape

Sobrang nakakapagod na ang lahat

Tila ba wala ng oras para sa paghinga

Kada tapos ng gawain ay may kasunod

Kada kasunod ay may kasunod ulit

Paulit ulit, nakakapagod na

Pero sa isang anyaya lang nila

At sabihing “Tara, kape”

Nagigising agad ang aking diwa

Dahil bukod sa pag inom ng kape

Alam kong makakasama ko ulit sila

Jasmine Mae M. Panganiban @jaspanganiban

poem

OPTIMISM

PHOTO | Allain E. Bantilan

Starting Over Again

Ranniele F. Maspat @lalalaheyitisme

“Hay, nakasakay din,” bulong ni Jhemerlyn sa sarili habang inaayos ang pagkakatapat ng aircon sa kaniyang upuan. Matapos ang maghapon sa school, ay nasa bus na Jhemerlyn pauwi ng Lipa.

“two old friends, meet again,” tunog ng cellphone ng naka-upo sa likuran ng dalaga. “Now we’re starting over again,” pagpapatuloy ng tugtog na mukhang ayaw pahinaan ng pasahero sa likod.

Nagsimula nang umandar ang bus, at inilabas na ni Jhemerlyn ang kaniyang cellphone upang magpalipas ng oras. Sunod-sunod ang pagdating ng mga notification sa kaniyang kabubukas lamang na cellphone.

Agad na pumukaw ng kaniyang atensyon ang mga mensahe sa isang group chat. Ang group chat ay mayroong 99+ na mga mensahe kaya naman agad na kinabahan si Jhemerlyn kung anong na-miss niya sa pag-uusap ng kaniyang mga kagrupo.

Sandamakmak na mention ang bumungad sa kaniya, mukhang nagkakagulo ang mga ka-grupo niya.

Hindi maisip ni Jhemerlyn kung anong dahilan ng gulo, kampante naman siya na naipasa niya ng ayos kanina ang kanilang proposal para sa final project nila sa isang major subject.

Leader: @/Jhemerlyn Marie

Leader: sisss huhuhuhu, mali daw yung content nung proposal natin. Nag-email si sir sa akin.

Jhemerlyn Marie: Hah!???

“And now we’re starting over again,” biglang lumakas muli ang tugtog ng pasahero sa likuran ni Jhemerlyn; napapangiti ng mapait sa nalamang balita.

GISENG

“PRE, GISENG NA!!! Late ka na!!!” Sigaw ng isang roommate ko sa dorm.

“Ha? Wala namang pasok ehh.” Sagot ko habang pupungas-pungas na bumabangon.

“Tanga ka, graduation natin ngayon, gumayak ka na biliis!”

Ralf L. Payonga @rlfieee

tiny tale

PHOTO | Ishe Loui Maxene M. Candava

Parang kailan lang

Gumising ng alas-sais, naligo at kumain diretso eskwelahan. Pumasok sa dating unibersidad, hindi na bilang mag-aaral ngunit isa ng gurong minamahal.

Sebastian Ardie M. Tan @sbs_tan

tiny tale

PHOTO | Prince Jeric C. Gomez

Aninag

Ralf L. Payonga @rlfieee

“Mga pre, tara gala tayo pahangin lang. Sunduin ko kayo ha?” Chat ko sa gc naming magtotropa.

Habang binabalot ng kulay na kahel ang dapithapon, unti-unting napuno ang sasakyan sa pagsundo ko sa mga katropa ko, at sinimulan ko ng paandarin ang sasakyang kakukuha lang sa casa.

Hinayaan ko lang ang sasakyan na dalhin kami sa kung saang kalye man ang pwedeng bagtasin habang napapaliligiran ng mga taong naging mahalaga sa buhay ko.

Nang inayos ko ang posisyon ng side mirror habang dumadaan sa Calle Hermano Pule, kaagad kong naaninag ang isang magbarkadahang nagkwekwentuhan, at bakas sa kanilang mga mukha at kilos ang galak at gaan ng buhay habang silang magkasama.

Isang kaibigan ko ang nagsabing, “Sampung taon na ang nakalilipas, nandoon tayo sa kalye na yon, kinakain ang siomai rice na palagi nating inoorder habang nakatingin sa paligid at nangangarap ng makapaggala at makapag-roadtrip gamit ang isang sasakyan.”

“Sarap balikan ng panahon, lalo’t nakamit na natin ang mga pangarap natin sa buhay nang nandito ang isat-isa,” Sagot ko sa kaibigan ko, at unti unti kong napagtantong, kaming mga batang nangangarap noon ay mga inhinyero na, biologist, at mamamahayag na.

dagli

limerick

A Sea Story

Coleen Jill F. Sajo @HSaijou

In a faraway land by the distant shore, a fine young man stood up and swore “I shall conquer the seven seas, ye hear?” but the crowd only laughed and jeered until one day, he came back as a fine young sailor

ART | Andrea M. Rubia

Ranniele F. Maspat @lalalaheyitisme

Eva was bored in the garden, nothing to do without friends in a haven. She started exploring around, at the bushes was a suspicious sound.

“Oh my god! Adam and Steven?”-

ART | Ramil D. Reyta

limerick

PHOTO | Allain E. Bantilan

Debosyon

Van Aeros C. Torres @notvan.jpg

Antanda ng kurus, Nakaluhod sa pasilyo, Dala ang kandila’t pulang rosaryo, Nang itanong ko kung anong misteryo, Pasensya raw, payo lang raw ng albolaryo.

PHOTO | Anne Carmi O. De Los Reyes

PHOTO | Maria Celine A. Blanco

poem

Sorry, Kuya Joma

Ian Paul R. Gualberto @EhyanPol

Utopia?

I don’t believe on that word

As I will not fall to your delusion Of life of perfect world

Enough with this ideation

From your broken perception it has been a dystopian society And that’s reality after all

ProTam

Sebastian Ardie M. Tan @sbs_tan

Tahimik na nakahiga si Kulas sa sofa nang bigla siyang bulabugin at tanungin ng kanyang ina.

“Kulas, bertdey mo na naman bukas, ano gang gusto mo sa buhay mo?”

“Simple lang naman ho inay eh, magkaroon ng maraming kwarta, milyones ba tapos malaking bahay, maayos na trabaho. Kapag ipinagkaloob sa akin yun, ay talagang ginhawa tayong lahat” ani ni Kulas.

Binigyan ng isang malakas na sapok ng kanyang ina si Kulas.

“Inay? Bakit? Ang sakit!”

“Bwisit ka! Trenta ka na bukas, dalawampung taon ka ng pahiga-higa dito sa atin!”

ART | Jewel D. Dinglasan

tula

Akala ko ba..?

Mattheaus Hrodrich G. Immaculata @matttchoiii_51

Walang sino man kayang makapagsalita

Boses ng kabataan ay sinasakal nila

Anong opresyon ang kanilang pinapakita

Kung pinagmamalaki nila na ang kabataan ang pag-asa?

Iisa ang aming sinisigaw, “Hindi na namin kaya!”

Sana umabot sa kanilang mga tenga at mata

Magpakatatag at laging maghanda

Mensahe para sa aking mga kapwa bata

Huwag mawawalan ng lakas

Dahil tayo ang magliligtas

poem

Fool’s Gold

Neil Joshua M. Lerin @AshenJulio

Silence does not mean peaceful Look at the graves, quiet but dreadful Speak up and you are a fool!

Blessed are those kneeling before the powerful

Time flowed and years passed Now the truth is outcasted!

Worshiping criminals unmasked Under their false gods they basked

But who am I to be heard of what I have told I am for the truth not for the gold I need not to be scolded and consoled For I am not the one who is manipulated and controlled

PHOTO | Maria Celine A. Blanco

Gagamboy

Ranniele F. Maspat @lalalaheyitisme

Napakainit ng tanghali. Nararamdaman ni Jose ang nakakapasong init ng araw sa kaniyang batok, tila kumukulo at malapit na malusaw. Dahan-dahang niyang iniaapak ang mga paa sa halos lumundong hagdanan; luma at marupok na.

“Jose! Bilisan mo!” sigaw ni Aling Nora mula sa baba, palinga-linga sa paligid habang bitbit ang isang rolyo ng wire.

“Oo na, oo na inay! Sandali lang naman kasi! Kahirap kaya pumanhik dine,” sigaw pablik ni Jose sa matandang nasa ibaba.

Isa. Dalawa.

At sa huling hakbang ay narating din ni Jose ang bubong ng kanilang kapitbahay. Maingat siyang umaapak sa yero, iniiwasang gumawa ng ingay na pupukaw sa atensyon ng mga tao sa paligid ng bahay na kinatatayuan niya.

Kinakabahan si Jose sa inuutos ng nanay niya. Pangatlong beses na nila itong gagawin, ngunit ito ang unang beses na hindi niya kasama ang ama. “Jose! Bilis! Baka umuwi na yung mga yun,” pagmamadali ni Aling Nora sa anak. Dahil sa pagmamadali ni Aling Nora ay mas kinabahan si Jose; natatakot at nagdadalawang-isip kung itutuloy pa ba ang utos ng kaniyang nanay.

“Kung nandito lang si Tatay, eh di sana kampante ako sa gagawin ko,” bulong ng binata sa sarili ng marating ang poste ng kuryente. Habang kagat ang wire ay sinimulan na ni Jose ang ipinapagawa.

Matagal nang gawain ng pamilya nila Aling Nora ang ilegal na pag-tap sa kapit-bahay. Sa tuwing kakapusin sila at mapuputulan ng kuryente ay agad na inuutusan ng ilaw ng tahanan ang kaniyang asawa na si Mang Karding at panganay na anak na si Jose na umakyat at maki-tap sa kung sino mang maaari nilang pagdikitan ng wire.

Sa unang beses na nagawa nila ang ilegal na gawain ay naging matiwasay ito. Hindi sila nahuli, at matagumpay na naka-ligtas sa pagbabayad ng kuryente sa loob ng tatlong buwan. Natuwa si Aling Nora sa naging bawas sa kanilang mga bayarin; kaya naman nang maputulan muli sila ng kuryente dahil sa dalawang buwan na pagkakautang ay mabilis pa sa alas-kwatrong inihanda niya ang wire, cutter, at hagdan na gagamitin.

Mula sa maayos na karanasan noong unang beses nilang maki-tap ay naging confident ang padre de pamilya. Sa pangalawang beses nilang isagawa ito’y pinasawalang bahala ni Mang Karding ang mga pag-iingat na dapat isa-isip. Inakyat niya ang nagtataasang pader ng kapitbahay na mayaman, kampante at walang bahid ng pag-aalala para sa sarili.

Nagkamali ang matanda sa hinawakang wire; nang maisip ni Mang Karding ang nangyayari ay huli na ang lahat. Dumaloy na sa buong katawan niya ang mainit at nakakamatay na kuryente.

Nangisay ito, ng nangisay, hanggang sa tumigil ito at tuluyang mahulog mula sa kinatatayuan.

Napangiwi na lamang si Jose sa mapait na alaala ng yumaong ama. Mula noon ay ipinangako na niya sa sariling hindi siya lalapit sa kahit na anong wire lalo na kung hindi siya siguradong ligtas ito.

Yun ang sabi niya sa kaniyang sarili.

Wika nga ng mga millenials, promises are meant to be broken.

Kaya naman narito siya sa bubong ng kapitbahay, maingat na ikinokonekta ang wire na magbabalik ng daloy ng kuryente sa kanilang tahanan.

“Tapos na inay!” nagagalak na sigaw ni Jose sa kaniyang nanay sa ibaba. Mabilis na pinunasan niya ang umaagos na pawis, at nagmamadaling iniligpit ang mga gamit.

Nang marating ni Jose ang hagdanan ay nagulat siya sa nakitang naghihintay sa ibaba. Naroon ang kanilang mga kapitbahay, na tulad nila ay naputulan din ng kuryente. Nakangiti ang mga ito habang ipinapakita kay Jose ang kanikaniyang bitbit na wires.

At mula noon, ay nakilala si Jose sa kanilang maliit na komunidad. Tinawag siyang gagamboy, ang tagapagdala ng kuryente sa mga nagigipit.

Naging masaya ang kanilang komunidad, maliwanag, puno ng buhay, at walang problema.

(Hangga’t hindi dumadating ang Batelec)

Nosi ba lasi?

Sebastian Ardie M. Tan

@sbs_tan

Mas mainam nang kainisan ng karamihan

dahil sa paggampan ng iyong trabaho

Kaysa gustuhin ka ng madla ngunit patuloy ang pagbabalatkayo

Hindi nangangahulugang tama ang nakararami at hindi rin mali ang iilan.

Nagmamala-panadero, ang huhusay magmasa ng kwento.

Hindi naman manggugupit ngunit gumagawa ng mga kwentongbarbero

Kakaiba ka, kaya ayaw nila sa’yo.

‘Wag nang intindihin, hayaan mo silang mag-imbento.

Hindi mo trabahong gustuhin nila, hindi ka nila kabisado

Manatili sa iyong sentro, maglakad ng tuwid at humayo.

Mahirap imulat ang nagbubulag-bulagan at mahirap gisingin ang nagtutulog-tulugan.

Hindi nabibili ang respeto

Hindi basta ibinibigay

Hindi rin ito hinihingi

Pinagtatrabahuhan ito.

May 9, 2022

Jomardel J. Constantino @thejomable

minsang nahati inang bayang mumunti ngayo’y pighati

ART | Vince V. Miranda

haiku

Point-blank

Niel Joshua M. Lerin @AshenJulio

A gun in my mouth

Ready to muzzle my voice Bang! And then silence

ART | Vince V. Miranda

PHOTO | Maria Celine A. Blanco

Ranniele F. Maspat @lalalaheyitisme

“...inaabisuhan po ang lahat na maging maingat at laging maging handa.”

Matapos ang naging anunsyo mula sa radyo ay agad na kumilos si Mang Pedring at Aling Rosa. Mag-aalas tres na ng madaling araw, madilim ang paligid, malamig, tahimik ang mga kuliglig, ngunit ang lahat ng tao ay gising. Sila ay gising, naghihintay, at nakikiramdam. Sa bawat sipol ng hangin ay maririnig nagbabadyang ulan.

Pagpatak ng alas-kwatro, bumuhos na ang inaabangang ulan na dulot ng bagyo.

“Andoy! Yung palanggana! Isahod mo na,” nagmamadaling utos ni Aling Rosa habang niyuyugyog ang natutulog na anak. Pupungas-pungas na agad kumilos si Andoy upang kunin ang mga pang-sahod sa mga butas ng kanilang bubong.

“...pinag-iingat po ang lahat at pinaaalalahanan na laging maging I AM READY.”

Matapos ang naging anunsyo sa telebisyon ay agad na sumilip si Andoy sa kanilang bintana. Mag-aalas tres na ng madaling araw, madilim ang paligid, malamig, maririnig ang busina ng mga sasakyang nagmamadaling makarating sa kanilang pupuntahan, at ang lahat ng tao ay gising, ang-aabang at nagmamatyag sa updates patungkol sa parating na bagyo.

Pagpatak ng alas-kwatro,bumuhos na ang inaabangang ulan. Ang bawat patak ay tila maliliit na batong lumalagaslas sa bubong; malalaki, mabigat, at inaasahang mapaminsala.

Sa mga oras na ito ay naalala ni Andoy ang mabilis at maagap na pagkilos ng kaniyang mga magulang tuwing umuulan. Yuyugyugin siya ni Aling Rosa para gisingin at ipahanda ang mga palanggana.

Tahimik na nagkakape si Andoy habang nanonood ng telebisyon, hinihintay na lumipas ang malakas na ulan. Napako ang kaniyang mga mata sa mga palanggan na nakasabit sa isang tabi, tahimik na ngingiti sapagkat hindi na niya kailangang ihanda ang mga ito.

Uni-die

Kim Lawrence D. Cortez @kyem_lowrenz

How blinding it is to say the word “unity”

To make you believe their sh*ts and hypocrisy

Now you’re still on the ground The “gold” has not been found Taste the fruit of your unforeseen stupidity

ART | Ramil D. Reyta

limerick

Deep Sea Diver

Coleen Jill F. Sajo @HSaijou

One day, I had a vision. In it, I saw the nation submerged below a thousand leagues. I could not help but be intrigued, So I swam below–no hesitation

ART | Mar Berth R. Torrecampo limerick

Sa Ilalim ng Kalawakan

Ricca May D. Hernandez @riccamayyy_

Masarap maging bata… para sa iba.

Isa lamang si totoy sa libo-libong batang namumuhay sa kalsada. Musmos pa lamang namulat na siya sa palilimos sa ibang tao para mairaos ang isang buong araw. Naghihintay ng magbibigay ng pera o pagkain, nagtitingin sa mga basurahan ng pwedeng meryenda.

Sa kabila ng pagod sa araw-araw na paglalakad, na walang kasiguraduhan kung saan mapapadpad, napahiga si totoy sa isang malawak na espasyo. Napatingin sa itaas at nagmuni-muni, “Ano kayang pagkain mamaya? Sana naman masarap”, aniya sa isip.

Habang nalalanghap niya ang amoy ng inihaw sa tabing kalsada at ang masasarap na pagkain, bigla na lamang siyang napatulala. Napaisip sa mga katagang kaniyang binitawan sa murang niyang edad.

“Sana sa sunod kong paghiga at pagtingala, bubong naman namin ang aking makita”.

“Toy, bangon na diyan. Walang mararating paghiga mong iyan. Alas kwatro na, mag trabaho ka na”, ani ng nanay nito.

PHOTO | Hannah Mae H. Mendoza

tiny tale

Public Apology

Ralf L. Payonga @rlfieee

“HUMIHINGI AKO NG KAPATAWARAN SA MGA BIKTIMA NOONG MARTIAL LAW”

Sambit ng presidenteng tanyag bilang anak ng diktador.

“Makakahimlay na rin ako nang tuluyan” nakakabinging sigaw ng mga kaluluwang nagtipon sa Ortigas.

ART | Dyjay Yvann T. Dimasacat

Mask Off

Ian Paul R. Gualberto @EhyanPol

Finally! With the good move of the President appointing the country’s best physician as Health Secretary, we are now COVID-FREE!

It is the year 2083.

ART | Mar Berth R. Torrecampo tiny tale

PHOTO | Ishe Loui Maxene M. Candava

Do You Hear the Pigeons Sing?

Ranniele F. Maspat @lalalaheyitisme

Present

“Have you ever heard pigeons sing?” Mr. Altamirano asks as soon as he enters the classroom. The whole class stares at the grinning man, their confused thoughts reflected upon their faces. Mr. Altamirano is amused with how each and every face of his students tell him the brewing questions in their minds; the cogs of their brains slowly turning to come up with a fitting answer.

“Come on class, it’s not like I’m asking for any complex answer. I just want to know if you’ve ever heard pigeons sing,” he laughs, patiently waiting for a voice to speak up, “it’s a yes or no question guys.”

Someone raises their hand, Mr. Altamirano grins as he excitedly calls their name.

“Yes, Joanna?” she slowly stands up, nervousness evident to her shaking hands.

“Sir, if you mean by singing, is it the bird’s coo? You know, their mating calls? If it is, then yes I’ve heard

#NeverAgain

Ralf L. Payonga @rlfieee

Pilit man nila itong limutin

Katagang ito ay nagbibigay-diin

Huwag na hayaang muli,

Pairalin ang nakaraang kamuhi-muhi

Kalayaan at karapata’y panatilihin

limerick

Finally, freedom.

Paul Adrian K. Paraiso @paulygooon

Huffle, in these fumes together, I remember, we used to gather Looking back, we escaped times that are sadder We exit the door, never look back and just remember

PHOTO | Ishe Loui Maxene M. Candava

False Phenomena

Mattheaus Hrodrich G. Immaculata @matttchoiii_51

Isatupon the bench near the playground inside the city park. Once I sat down, it immediately turned into a greyscale of reality.

Confused and scared but the feeling was exciting and comforting, an eerie environment with a touch of serenity, an unusual mix of both worlds, is this what I’ve been waiting for?

I quickly stood up but everything went back to normal, colorful and back to reality. “Wait, what happened?” I sat right back on the bench and it’s back again to this world of black and white.

“What is this crazy phenomenon I witnessed? I just sat at a normal bench but it led me right through this colorless world. Am I Alice in wonderland but not full of wonders, boring and a little bit peaceful I might say.”

The cells and nerves in my brain weren't able to process every information and my heart was craving intense feelings, like an ecstasy of different emotions all at once in full mode. I learned just by sitting on that bench, how cruel the truth can be, how colorful it makes disarray, and why it is destined to happen.

Positive and negative repels each other but needs one another, how can this be possible if we need the pure, perfect, and genuine things can make the utopian paradise we hoped for, so the true world is just a grim of reality and within the dimension of this bench is the all of truth we know.

There is something that irritates me, a distorted frequency is what I hear, I don’t know and will not find it out. “Wake up, you are not allowed to sleep on the bench!” a security guard woke me up after I fell asleep on the bench.

I quickly apologized and left. I hurriedly tried to remember what I remember but it was just a dream. That’s why I felt so excited and having that warmth of comfort, it’s just a dream. A grayscale dream and the true reality is right here in front of me colorful and bright even though the world is not alright.

From that dream I learned there will be no ideal utopia, truth always prevail no matter how harsh, and it's up to us how to color this world. I was just sleeping then.

ART | Geno Bell Cristian R. Corea

tiny tale

Trial Skin

Jomardel J. Constantino @thejomable

Tonight, I ‘m the most beautiful maiden in the whole town of Ethoria. But behind each stroke of this brush lies the secret I won’t tell to everyone. It’s my greatest desire to become the person whom I aspire to be. Sorry, I’m in a hurry.

There’s only three hours left before this trial skin expires.

Crazy, how the world works.

Paul Adrian K. Paraiso @paulygooon

Our encounter is like a mathematical formula, Theory of Limits, the ways of the universe, Evidences of fate that I cannot refute You linger in my dreams, My hand held out for you, might as well be destiny

Ed Angelo M. Dealola @edangelostyles

I took two board exams without them knowing.

After I graduated I told my family I'll skip that year’s board examination. But I did not, I took it and failed it. Nobody did know except my dearest friend— Emmanuel. It kills me that everyday I wake up, I eat with silence and carry the burden alone. People around me kept saying, review for the exam, take it, and pass it and all I kept saying was “not yet.”

Emmanuel comforted me and told me to take it again, and this time let the people around me know, but a part of me never wanted them to see my struggle but only my success. A year passed and I decided to take the board again, this time, nobody did know, even Emmanuel.

Results are out, I was in my room, 10pm, lights were out and the neighborhood's quiet.I screamed the joy out of me, I passed the exam for the second time. I went straight to my parent’s room in tears and excitement, but they were not there. All I saw was the ashes and remains of my dead family and I whispered “Ma, Pa, may Engineer ka na.” Leaving their room, I walked into the mirror and told myself “Emmanuel, proud na proud ako sa’yo.”

On Eden

Ian Paul R. Gualberto @EhyanPol

There was a garden with full harmony

Where life seems on a fantasy

Yet Eve ate the fruit

And with God they dispute

Then the rest became history

ART | Savina Mae C. Maranan

Serenity

Mattheaus Hrodrich G. Immaculata @matttchoiii_51

As I was running through the shores of the sea The wind plowing through the trees The skies was in perfect blues

A calming and soothing sound was heard, then I knew It was the voice of Serenity

The Sky Beyond

Roi Karlo V. Sinchi @les_ykai

From up above, I stare into the gentle hues of blue. I saw the clouds slowly hover like fluffy cottons brought by the lightest breeze. For a split second, I felt astonished from the peaceful atmosphere that surrounds me. I felt contentment as I spent each moment looking at the vast sky.

"So pretty," I constantly said as I continued to immerse myself with the sky's beauty. It may seem so trivial for me to remain trapped inside this lifeless cage.

Of course, sadness is common for me who is deprived of freedom. I guess I've become numb from this feeling of hollow emptiness. No wonder why I don't feel the need to break free from my cage.

One could only think and wonder how a person like me feels content with my current life. I answered

them simply that having the chance to breathe and gaze at the morning skies is already a huge blessing that deserves gratitude. Though, no one understood what I said.

Is the world such a perfect place? It doesn't matter if it's not. Just like how I view the sky beyond this cage, a perfect place certainly exists depending on the perspective that one would like to see.

The sky is so blue and thus, my life is as perfect as it can be.

PHOTO | Prince Jeric C. Gomez

OPTIMISM

PHOTO | Maria Celine A. Blanco

Perfect People

Christopher Mikhail P. Acyatan @haihaihairu_

A perfect world, isn’t that what everyone wants? Yet all I have around me are perfect people. All beautiful, smart, and practically got their lives in order. But why is it that my world isn’t perfect - far from it? All these people are too good on their own; they don’t need anyone else to tell them what to do. They’re selfish, and boorish, and introverted. It’s been days since I last talked to a person, and that was just to buy a cup of coffee. This is not the perfect world that I imagined. No social interactions, no significant moments, no fun. A perfect world has people talking, sharing, and helping each other get by. All these egoist perfectionist workaholics certainly made the world less exciting. All I can say is, a perfect world does not need perfect people.

Kung Sakali

Jorge M. Gutierrez @jhorge16mg

“Bigas ay Bente pesos na,”

“Bilihin na kay mura,”

“Bagsak presyo na ang krudo at gasolina,”

“Kulay rosas na ang bansa,”

Talaga namang nakakatuwa bilang mamamayang Pilipino na ang kinikita ay wala pa sa minimum fare ng isang empleyado kasi sa ganitong kalagayan ay sasapat na ang aking sahod sa gastusin sa araw araw. Ako nga pala si Jose isang lisensyadong Inhinyero pero kulang na kulang ang sinasahod ko para suportahan ang anak ko. Isa akong single dad na pilit itinataguyod ang kinabukasan ng aking anak gayundin ang panggamot ng nanay kong may alzheimer’s.

Nakatitiyak akong kasya na ang isang libo sa isang linggo naming pagkain ng mga mahal ko sa buhay. Makakatikim na kami ng nilagang baboy, pritong manok, sinigang na tilapia at ginataang pakbet kasabay pa nito ang pag unlirice. Maipapasyal ko na sila sa plaza, sa mall at sa kapitolyo. Mabibilhan kona din ng bagong damit si nanay at bagong laruan ang aking anak. Kay unlad, kay ganda na ng ating bansa sa ilalim ng pamamalakad ng isang eba. Bansang Pilipinas na hindi mo aakalain, ngayon ay mayabong at masagana.

Sa aming paglalakad patungo sa gitna ng plaza kung saan naroon ang fountain ay tila ba nahulog ako sa kawalan. Pagmulat ng aking mga mata, “Papa, si Lola lumabas!” mungkahi ng aking anak habang ako’y ginigising mula sa aking pagkakatulog. Agad-agad akong bumangon sa kama at tinungo ang salas para kunin ang susi ng motor ngunit napatigil ako ng mapakinggan ko ang balita,” 7.7% na ang Inflation Rate ngayong buwan kaya naman tila tayo ay nasa Golden Era,” ulat ng newscaster.

Panaginip lang pala, Isang magandang panaginip na hinahangad ng bawat mamamayang pilipino. Kung sakali mang ako’y papipiliin, ay itutuloy ko ang aking panaginip. Sinuot kona ang helmet para hanapin si nanay.

PHOTO | Hannah Mae H. Mendoza

Rhopalocera

Once was a crawling leafworm Chewing, munching, swallowing Non stop throughout the day At varying spots of a leaf Here comes the metamorphosis season The caterpillar swiftly creeps up the stem Enclosing itself to a chrysalis Away from the chaotic noise of the world

Transforming from a mere squirming larva Into something so mesmerizing and breathtaking A butterfly, a rhopalocera

Jasmine Mae M. Panganiban @jaspanganiban

Free

Ariel L. Magpantay Jr. @mistereyyyy

This morning I made a perfect coffee The sun shines as bright as it could be He smiles throughout the scenery Also I felt the cold breeze from the sea Only perfection is I can see Then I say, What a wonderful world it can be If we only live peacefully

ART | Sandro Carlo B. Tablizo

ART | Savina Mae C. Maranan

As I Lay Dying

Hydie Mariel M. Adarlo @hydzmrl

The cold wind of the night was kissing my body, making me shudder. My feet felt heavy as I strolled across the bustling street of Batangas. I heard a sound coming towards me, the blinking lights started to envelop my whole figure as I watched it approach while I stayed rooted on the cold, black asphalt.

I blinked as the memories came rushing in. It felt like a high speed film depicting my life.

Slow, steady and boring, it has been two continuous years that she’s like this, since the day she moved away from her friends and family. She was once full of hope and looked at life like it was full of sunshine but now gloom was always present between her brows

Her life has been a repeating cycle. The days have been the same and the weeks remain as it is. Months turn to years and the creeping feeling

of tiredness slowly wrapped all the life from her. She remains passive with what happens around her. The connection she had to the world and to others dims as time passes. She was so tired that she didn't want to live but was unable to die.

Then, another horn was sounded pulling me out of my reverie. It was as if calming my frantic thoughts and disruptive feelings. I gently closed my eyes and released the breath I was holding as I welcomed the impact of the crash. I am finally living with a smile

haiku

Maniwala

Sebastian Ardie M. Tan @sbs_tan

Bagong umaga

Panibagong pag-asa

Bumangon ka na

PHOTO | Anne Carmi O. De Los Reyes

With Your Own Words

Coleen Jill F. Sajo

Despite how it goes, the ending is still your choice Go and end it right