Volume 33 Issue 2
Fore wo rd Doors have always had that looming presence brought by the ambiguity of doing something about it, urging the person to decide between “Should I enter?”, “ Should I leave?”, or “I should ignore it.” That is because seeing and coming across a door is like a proclamation, a big announcement that changes the future after it. But then again, doors are two-way for a reason. Rather than a one-way decision between entering or leaving, it is a means to go through and back at the user’s preference and convenience. In Quatervois: Door of Youth, we are reminded that a new chapter of one’s life isn’t entirely one-way and that one can still revisit the doors of their youth. When we leave behind a chapter and an era of our life, does it necessarily mean we can’t experience the same pain, laughter, and feelings that we had in the past? Eliminate the mindset that once time finally becomes the past, we should forget about it or we can’t do anything about it besides yearn for it. Regardless of what we think, the experiences that we have on the first side of the door will always be a part of the other side. The other side of the door, which is the new chapter of our lives, is not entirely independent, but at the same time, not entirely dependent on the past. Rather, they are two sides that make up a whole. This means that the things we’ve endured, suffered, gained, and enjoyed on the first side can’t not be felt again on the other side. The door is a passageway for us to visit the one side so we can reminisce and change the other side. It helps us to grow and be better. Finally, the door is open. Shall we?
Beya Catrine L. Garbanzos Literary Editor
2
con tents page 6 The Room Full of Mirrors page 8 Thee and Thy Graces page 9 The half-done bridge page 10 Youth page 12 Plant page 13 Whispers Upon the Wind page 14 The Poet’s Poem page 16 the yellow bench page 17 Dear Mr. Sunshine, I don’t need an umbrella page 18 Passions Lost, Tears Wept page 20 A Pair Against the World page 23 Thoughts and Chaos
lit
3
contents
page 25 viva la vida page 26 Run Your Own Race page 27 162 Farenheit page 29 So Be It page 30 Captured Maybes page 31 A Wilted Daisy page 34 Handom page 37 Yesterday’s Echo page 39 Ano, Bakit, Paano? page 40 Lacie 4
Un côté (One side) The one side reveals the experiences we’ve undergone.
Artwork by: Kryzzel Mugemulta
lit
5
The Room Full Of Mirrors By: Ally I once found myself at the start of a journey, A quest to search for my very own identity, One that could really depict who I was, Not one that leads to a faux pas. Along the way, I found myself stuck in a room full of mirrors, And in each mirror within the room, my reflection differs, With different versions of myself that the mirrors identifies, Most were rather pleasant, the others I don’t recognize. I saw a manager stationed not far from where I stood, I approached her and asked for help if she could. I asked if she knew why the mirrors show different versions of me, She smiled and said “It is an image of you that others see”. “How could that be?” I asked completely bewildered, “It’s how different people perceive you.” She answered “But how would I know which one is who I am?” “One that comes from your own discernment.” She delivered,looking back at the reflections, I came to realize that everyone sees us in a different light, But what truly matters is how we see ourselves through our own eyes, For within lies a hidden ambition that burns bright.
6
graphic for The room full of mirrors
Artwork by: Princess Alexis Moraña
lit
7
Thee and Thy Graces By: Aero Do I wish to be graceful or do I wish to become less of it? By now I would have been covered in rotten red for even thinking of it, The dishonor pinning against me from the jeering crowd, making me sick of myself. Because how could I ever think of it? I was doing good being a good girl. Or at least that’s what I thought I am because that’s what I’m told to be. I have never completely owned myself, have I? I am created to be a model of a couple’s desires for a child and displayed for plenty. She was perfect for a while, flawless even, and she cried beautifully. Perhaps more valuable when she barely had teeth to sink her teeth in, And little words to process to defend herself from an argument at home. Because who am I if I’m not anyone’s pride and disappointment? I am not going to humble myself yet, I am already a face of disgrace. What is more humiliating is shaming a young girl for having the mind to think, While having the constant demands of asking her to use her head more, It is hypocritical but what can a good girl do but follow. Do I allow myself to be graceful or do I just fear you? You create the best version of me, all standards and hues, Selfish, but I fear not being able to create the version I want for myself more. I am grateful for my eyes for having the break to see how it angers you clearly, Because you are now no longer in control of a little girl’s opinions. Do I wish to be graceful or do I wish to become less of it? All of my graces followed and my prayers were called done because I do anything for you. If by being graceful means I’m in no control of the decisions I make for myself, Then that leaves me no desire to take part in any of it. I don’t ever want to look back and wish I could have stood up for the little girl in me.
8
The half -done Bridge By: PulchraVita Eyes came to a blur as the perceived rigid bridge disassembles, Trembling above its edge; truncated, still half way through the other side Coming to what seemed an end where everything also seemed to fades Been trudging to reach it, been trying hard to fight the heavy lid; Praying that one day, everything would make sense The harsh waves cascaded in every part of the bridge; Clouding my hearing and blinding my eyes with the darting lightning Astrayed; lost grasp of my purpose, dreams and who I truly am Everyone’s words dart like a knife bruising me, gone Insecurities and weaknesses were weaponized tearing me one by one Every day at present may be exhausting for the hopes of tomorrow Won’t let the unfinished bridge be a hindrance for me to aspire No one can take away the credence kept on the low Full armor on; new mindset and unyielding courage Ready to face the upcoming formidable challenges the future stowed
Artwork by: Lance Joshua Satojito
lit 9
Youth By: Archer
Afternoons were the best times to idle When we have not a thing in our hands And the mind is not clouded with thoughts, But lingers quietly in an open land. We find novelty in the meaning of life And comfort in the presence of friends, Like the passage of time does not exist And the weight of heavy burdens. We learn to wear our hearts on our sleeve When the truth is meant to be spoken out, And have no fear to live in the moment; For our souls are high-spirited and loud. Then when the evening comes to fetch us Towards home, our tired souls recollect On the moments of wondrous laughter And with a lighter heart, we can finally rest. Tomorrow enters, the newfound delight In the earliest arrival of dawn To bathe in memory of the olden days, When we ran freely into the sun.
10
Artwork by: Kryzzel Mugemulta
lit
11
Plant By: Tsukenomi Once I was a tiny seed Time where my innocence is still complete It’s kinda weird but I have to admit I’m gladly having a peculiar breed Someone dug a hole Put me there and let me grow Gave me answers I wanted to know And guided my veins where to crawl As my eyes reached the ground Some evildoings I have found My fantasies about the world suddenly flew For many obnoxious sights filled my view It made me sad, it made me sick My roots started to become weak My leaves are turning asthenic No idea what to do to stop the toxic Everything was too hard for me to bare It made me ask where I truly belong For I am in my own place But still feels the need to go home
12
Artwork by: Lance Satojito
Whispers Upon the Wind By: shiningnemesis For as the earth crumbles away, My feelings are still indestructible, Like a love that is bottled up inside, Where the whispers of my heart can’t be heard. You, entering my life, is like a gentle breeze, Gently sweeping my uncertainties, Giving me shelter in your fingertips, Where my heart erratically beats for you. As I stare at you in a world full of art, My heart aches, “Will you be mine someday?, And here I am forever stuck, loving you silently, Deeply realizing - I am trapped in an abstrusity. Trapped in an unending Tartarus pit, Where my love will be hidden forever, As you set your eyes on someone you love, And that someone will never be me.
Artwork by: Rosemer Khyean Senteciera
lit
13
The Poe By: majinbu There was this poet, Who was very eloquent, For every word he uttered was exquisite. It was a sparkly afternoon, and there he was standing, the sun rays hitting his face, making his eyes sparkle as he held the mic, making him glow more in her eyes. It was clamorous, but no matter how deafening everyone shouted, he was the only one she heard. She stood there fascinated by the first-ever poem she heard from him. Just like that, she was in love. Every time he wrote, she was delighted, And as he wrote more poems, This little girl’s passion ignited, He gave her a clear sight of the beautiful sky amidst the turbulent storm. He stood there telling his tale while she slowly fell into the clutches of each word he uttered. He was the flame that ignited the light she had in her. From that day on, she made a promise, To be the one to write for the poet, She wrote and wrote. For herself, for everybody, but especially for him ‘till the day they finally met. She stood there watching him. Time stopped. Even the air suddenly felt scarce, and she was enchanted. Her world stopped as she gazed at him, yet he never looked her back no matter what she did. It was only her who listened to him. And so she was asked, “Why do you write?” “Because no one ever wrote for me.” 14
t’s Poem
Artwork by: Bless Basiya
lit
15
The yellow bench By: Archer i sit and think of a fellow child who sat in the yellow bench seventeen summers ago, how the weeds tickled the soles of his feet as he sat in pensive sorrow. what thoughts might have filled him! the neighbors wondered as they looked on, and when the noontime drew the children came—and the boy was nowhere to be seen again. but all the days were ever so warm so the little spirit visited in quiet hours. and one would envy the time in his hands; but when the sun went to dwindle down, his head would droop with an aching heart. a memory; of his father’s hat blown away, of mother’s silence in evenings wide awake as fair-weathered friends came and went, time goes on and no one shall ever know that the boy wanted to lay himself to rest. — seventeen summers have passed as i sit in this subway station and recall the hometown i once called my own, and the yellow bench— the witness of the youth i had and the years i lost long ago.
16
Dear Mr. Sunshine, I don’t need an umbrella By: Fletcher I took my normal morning walk down the alley to have breakfast and I could already smell a whiff of croissants and the caramelization of sugar in my favorite crème brulée from a distance. My vision remained hazy as mist covered my spectacles everytime I breathed inside this suffocating mask. It was unusually bright today, and upon trying to gaze at the sky, the sunlight reminded me of something– I left my umbrella at home. It was still a quarter past six and my house is almost half an hour away from the bistro, so I hurried back to get it. I made long strides to reach it as soon as possible. I could not have my meal after seven or else I would be behind my schedule. It was a choice between I would miss breakfast, or I would start my day with reprimand. I could not go out without that umbrella, or rather, I would not. Seeing it would make me remember how the clouds cried that morning, in this same alley, or how we desperately tried to squeeze inside the umbrella to share its shade; and I never wanted to forget any of those.I still want to feel his crisp hand clenching the handle of the doorman umbrella we borrowed from a store but we did not return. He, too, did not. Upon arriving home, I saw it resting upon the drawer, beside my bookshelf, where I always place it. I peeked outside to check the weather and somehow got envious of how people let the sunbeams kiss their bare faces and nevertheless enjoyed it. I would like to go out without yearning for shade too.I no longer want to take a step out the door while having something weighing in my heart. It was a quarter before seven, so without having second thoughts, I walked outside. I could feel the heaviness slowly fade as I treaded. I could not help but to form a smirk as I waited for the lights to change in order to get to the other side of the road. Red. I was fixed in this tiled-path with soils in my loafer. Yellow. I thought I was ready. Green. The rain poured, and I was soaked. Just like that day. I should have brought that umbrella with me. lit
17
Passions Lost, Tears Wept By: Shirasagi Many tales were told by the ocean, whether released from the depths or cast upon the beach. Far out to see is a thin seam where sunset rays beat down on a pair of eyes, reflecting the purple, orange, and yellow hues, yet life was lost from sight--- orbs of someone who finally lost ‘that’ one thing they’ve been hanging on for days, months, or maybe, years. Then, night came. It brought silence where the campfire crackle was all that could be heard. The campfire appeared to echo the night’s starlight as if the flames so close and so distant had so very much to say to one another. Breaking the silence, a tear dropped; a sentiment nattered. A question mark was etched into her being. Just before silence, yet again, envelopes her, the siren call of the sea echoed with a mournful sound. The cries rebounded, and its vibration resonated in the spacious air. Waves rushed to the burning fire, slightly extinguishing it. She, who so desperately wanted to fan the flame, trying harder to bring back its former glory, watched as what began as a bright and hopeful fire was now a much smaller flame. Now tired and weary, it became clear to her that the fire was dying, slowly making its red sparks dance into the breeze.
18
Artwork by: Bless Basiya
lit
19
A Pair Against the World By: Kaul They met when they were children, hollow and unfit, Too young to witness raging demons and sinister men, Yet warmth rushed in when she saw the qi they both emit. It was recognition, yearning, a body gasping life again. Men tried to drove them apart while nature unleashed its wrath on the pair, As if the gods thought they were wrong and to be blamed. How is it so? When finding each other felt so right and so fair, After they went through, pained and restrained? With their anchored hearts, they kept each other stable and protected . They understood each other’s unyielding fears and worst desires. Even until the day Fate and Madness intervened unsuspected, In quiet breaths she said, “one last time, for me and you, for us, let’s take on the fire.” They met when they were children, They shared their lives, And even in their last cry of pain, as one they fell, ‘Cause there was no world where one died and the other remained alive. At last, the twin souls are home like their hands when they first held.
20
Artwork by: Rosemer Khyean Senteciera
lit
21
L’autre côté (The other side) The other side reveals what the experiences will become.
22
Artwork by: Kryzzel Mugemulta
Thoughts and Chaos By: Royceance
The clock hastily slides the clouds across the horizon, And the sun rises slowly to darkness. As she lowers her head to the tree, watching the darkening sky. As she hear voices calling in the dark, She sees nothing but a peach black. She hear her lungs panting for breath, To feel her body desperate for her desires. Always thinking without desire she must find, The deep mystery dwelled inside her mind; But if the desire always within it, roam free Its outer fringe is all that she shall see. She learn from her mistakes, From the wrong turns she takes. Stand up in her own feet, To live a normal life and achieve a feat. Life is just like a battle, Everyday, we fight and struggle. Searching for desires that we want to have, In every single day. lit
23
24
Artwork by: Bless Basiya
Viva La Vida By: istepani jabeluna conceived with scathed soul and scars that garnered reflections unwhole growing depths of the void, feeling antsy like a broken record player asking “to be or not to be?” the walls between can and cannot seem paper-thin yet even bright-colored realms of paracosm turn mundane howbeit, the todays will soon unfold into new chapters thus, each shall come with glistening hereafters viva la vida! brawl ‘till it’s superfluous for anaesthesia when our hearts’ desires antiquate clandestine and nightmare are borne to the guillotine our hammers shall shatter every glass ceiling for cutthroat battles shall never leave us bleeding to make our own morrows and adjudge our fates to pivot and never be too coward to say “from the grassroots to the stars, why not?”
lit
25
Run Your Own Race By: Rhyza S. Sion when anxiety transcends to the future that’s unknown it may seem as if the world demands you to be like every accomplished people ever. when time leaps at an overwhelming pace, it may seem as if everybody’s striding forward while there you are, barely keeping up. but in a world where commons and rares accord, you need not take the path most taken. you need not step briskly either. you follow your own path, and you follow it at your own pace.
26
162 162 Fahrenheit By: Rekka Burn. Burn. Burn.
I was aware of it, but I was too persistent.
I cannot touch the flame without getting burned, but even so, I did not flinch. It was as if I was used to it, or perhaps grew with it. Of course I was afraid, who wouldn’t be?
My room was covered in carmine and the doors were all locked. It was a sight I cannot seem to forget. Terrified is an understatement, but all the other words were already set ablaze. How do I light myself up without burning down? I have been asking myself the same question at night, while holding a matchstick to start a fire. Burn. Burn. Ashes.
lit
27
28
Artwork by: Princess Alexis Moraña
So Be It By: Pauline Jurisprudencia How is adulting exciting to most? When everything I want is to never leave the coast; that safe land of shelter and comfort and dependency, call me a coward but that’s how I want things to be. Everyone’s keen for freedom and independence, but isn’t that something that birthed from vengeance? Of a defiant heart that never knew freedom as a child, always restricted, always limited, always had rules to abide. So if that’s the definition of liberty, then I don’t want it. Comfort, safety, assurance, and me– that’s what fit. Because what’s more alluring than not having to fend for yourself? Not always needing to battle the world and the harsh reality by thyself. But maybe these are just the thoughts of an anxious and intimidated child; one whose perception of the outside world is defiled; one who, when faced with trivial inconvenience, will flee; one who’s not ready for what’s beyond her safety net– well, that’s me. And realizing this now, yes I know, it will be inevitable, it will never go. One day, I’d have to be an adult and face the reality of it, but I’ll face it with courage and the mantra: what will come, then so be it. lit
29
Captured Maybes By: Hermit Of changes and mishaps, Of nightmares and restless nights, You were there along the midnight skies, Inspiring right before my eyes. Challenges were possible through your path, Mistakes were accepted without any wrath. Of things I thought were impossible, Maybes and doubts are made plausible. Yet, moments went too blurry, Life been crushed; smeared with worry, Into the darkness of abyss I fall, Constantly yearns the light bound by wall. As far as the moon and stars would collide, Knowing that my dearest ones will be on my side. My universe has never been this so right, Even so did crumbled leaving me a lone fight. A heart drowning in pain and anguish, With unsaid words seemed foolish, Chained truth left untold, Maybes captured still on hold. 30
A Wilted Daisy By: Daria Blood dripping while she chained those stars. Smudges of dried stains visibly appear on her scars. Tangled hair, creased skirt, smiles untamingly showed exhausting hours. Vision of others alter her hopes that are bizarre. ‘What are your plans?’, head bowed down, mind in a maze. Tears on edge, one blink and the interrogation sets ablaze. Scenarios like these make her numb and trembling in daze. How much and how long before she can rise from this haze? In a cage called room her heart’s in shambles, Lying on the mattress when she crumbles. Despite the bloody tears, she continued her scribbles. Scribbling and writing ‘til thick red liquid from her hand dribbles. Endless static rings, her ears are in anguish. An agonizing pain, her heart becomes languished. With her mind a mess, her spirit dejected, and her body exhausted, Will she ever be that person that everyone expected?
lit
31
Time ran as fast as he could but left a mark. She who wants nothing but peace can doubtly relate. Every single day, feels like nothing yet heavy in weight. Fear, doubt, tremor - she had no choice but to embrace. In this very soul, will hope remain? She wondered. At the end of a long, void tunnel there is a beacon of light. Her soul still exhausted and her heart still yearned, but now is the time, To risk, to do or die, and to brace herself of the fight. She wanted to be what she wanted herself to be. Not because of the loud voices she heard, Nor because of the fear that emerged. She wanted to be, what she wanted to be, Simply because she longed to be set free.
32
Artwork by: Lance Joshua Satojito
lit
33
Handom By: Takipsilim
Sang gamay ko, akon handom magdasig ang pagdako, Apang ako mas makapagusto kag makakaon sang damo, “Nugay kaon da sang matam-is kay maguba ngipon mo,” hambal ni mama. Ako man ang ini nga mangakig kag magsinuplada, “kis-a lang gid ni.” Kag maminsar nga tani magdasig ang oras kag ako maglab-ot sa edad nga ‘di na kinanglan bantayan. Ugaling sa paglabay sang mga tinuig, akon naman ging handom, Ang makakadto sa skwelahan nga ako lang isa, Wala bantay; wala akig; wala sang mga pintas nga mga mata; “Kaya ko maglakat sa skwelahan nga ako lang ma,” siling ko kag gin bitbit ang bag nga Barbie pa ang design. “Sigurado ka? Sige paghalong kag pagpuli antis mag alas 6 sang gab-i,” sabat niya samtang ginainom ang kape sa mapaang nga adlaw.
Hand Kaupod sang paglabay sang adlaw kag mga inoras, Ang pag-eskwela sa malayo ang bag-o nga ginalagas,
34
“Ma, gusto ko magskwela sa UNO-R,” deklarar ko upod sang desidido ko nga mga mata. “Kasarang ka na magbyahe ikaw lang isa? Miskan gakatulog pa ang banwa?” Pamangkot niya samtang gasaka pa ang mga kilay sang pagduwa-duwa. “Huo ma, tani sugtan mo ako.” Abi ko kay dako nako kabalo nako kung ano ang dapat ko nga ubrahon, Ining mga butang ayhan kinahanglan ko lagson ukon palabihon? “Ahay maano ko man? Hindi na ko kabalo sang akon kurso nga kwaon! Kabuhi ko basi maguba lang kung akon usikan!” Ni hindi ko maistorya akon ginikanan. Kalain sang kubakuba sang akon dughan. Tuod gid man nga samtang gadako ang handom galain, Kay wala man sang tawo nga gusto sa kaugalingon ang malain. Ugaling tungod sa mga gakalatabo nga bag-o, Kis-a hindi mapunggan ang akon kaugalingon, Nga magkakulba sa porturo nga akon wala pa nakita kag naangkon.
dom lit
35
36
Artwork by: Rosemer Khyean Senteciera
Yesterday’s Echo By: theoathkeeper The wind softly blew the white curtains, revealing the smiling faces of my life’s best comrades. Unlike the cold breeze of the night, which sent shivers down my spine, the air with them was warm, enveloping me like a comforting blanket. Their laughter reverberated on all the corners of the room, painting a smile on my lips. As Ben & Ben’s song “Ride Home” echoed in the background, we sang it as if it were an oath. Signifying that no matter what happens, home will always be in each other’s arms. Then, like the rays of the blistering morning sun, it dawned on me that my friends and I are all growing up. We all carry different burdens, priorities, and dreams. And for that, I fear the unknown for the bond we have established. What will happen to us in a few years? Will we still laugh and cry with each other as if there’s no tomorrow? Will we still like the songs we used to listen to on our way back home? Thoughts about our future seems like a never-ending spiral.
Photo by: Lance Joshua Satojito
lit
37
ho As much as I don’t want us to be apart, change is the only constant. In the deepest depths of my heart, I wish for all of us to achieve our wildest dreams, even if it means living thousands of miles apart or outgrowing each other. Everything that makes them happy and comfortable will make me at ease. In the midst of the uncertain and the inevitable, I sincerely hope that we will all recollect the candid moments we shared that no jewel in the world could ever replace. As my imagination drowned in what ifs, the song shifted to Taylor Swift’s “Long Live.” And the line, “Long live the walls we crashed through, I had the time of my life with you,” will live with me eternally. I hope that they will be heard enough the way that they have heard the loudest silence in my life. These moments will always be remembered until time immemorial. And as we strive to be the best version of ourselves, the echoes of our past will always resonate with us.
38
Photo by: Lance Joshua Satojito
Ano, Bakit, Paano? By: Liberius
Bago namulat ang aking mga mata Hindi ko nakita kung gaano ako ka saya Makakain lang ng Spaghetti, ako’y labis na lumiligaya Ano kaya ang dahilan ng biglaang pag-iba? Bago ako natutong manahimik at makinig, Noon ay napupuno ko pa ang silid ng maingay kong tinig Nakikisabay din sa hiyaw ng mga lumiligalig Bakit kaya ‘di na ngayon makapagsalita’t makatindig? Bago ako natutong magpahinga dahil sa tindi ng pagod Noon lahat ng gawain sa loob at labas ng akademiko ay aking kinakayod Halos araw-araw, buong araw nagsasanay, parang wala na iba pang araw na susunod Paano kaya kung ako’y mapagod at ‘di na maging kalugod-lugod? Ano, Bakit, Paano? Anong nangyari bakit hindi na sila sakin namimintuho? Bakit kaya sa bawat kabutihan, paninira na ang kanilang ibinabato Paanong nangyari na ang ligaya ko noon, halos nilamon na ngayon ng siphayo? Ah. Na-alala ko nga pala. Hindi na ako bata. lit
39
Lacie By: Arkathne
L
acie was seventeen when she passed away. Lacie was seventeen when she pleaded for her only soul, feeble and slowly waning into the dark. Lacie was seventeen when the Devil struck a deal with her.
“I believe your time is up, my child.” “No. no. It can’t be. I haven’t d-” “What’s this? Ah, the lovely sound of human anguish. That mind-numbing despair brought about by the idea of ceasing to exist in such a big, big, pleasurable world.” He cut her off and chuckled. “Such music to my ears. It never grows old.” “Please. Is there some other way?” “You’re that desperate?” The girl sobbed. “Well…You see Lacie, sweetheart, I don’t spend my endless time visiting old sickly men and reaping their boring souls. No. Like where’s the fun in that eh?” “My job specification isn’t limited to being the ‘Devil.’ He crossed his legs and leaned closer. “In fact, I work part time as a businessman too.” “And me being the good businessman that I am will surely hear out the demands of my customers. I wouldn’t want to miss out on the potential benefits.” The tall man stood and studied her weak body with his deep onyx irises. “I’ll give you your life back. “
40
Artwork by: Kryzzel Mugemulta
“Tha-” “A second chance for your greatest desire, greatest secret or greatest fear. Choose one and seal the contract with me. Then, you can go on living.” “Fear! I’ll give you my greatest fear. Please. Take it. I want my life back.” “Very well. Breathe, my child and I hope you live a very long life this time around.” — Lacie was twenty-four when she became a successful entrepreneur. One of the notable dressmakers in Holborn. The young dressmaker was busy finalizing her inventory records when one of her staff knocked on the door of her office and entered inside. “Miss Lacie, I’m sorry for the interruption but a customer at the front wants to talk to you regarding the adjustments on her wedding gown.” “I see. Tell her I’ll be there in a few minutes.” The young lady replied not looking up from where she was computing her numbers. Not long after, Lacie stood up from her seat after compiling the books and adjusted her dainty yellow dress skirt before walking around her wooden desk
lit
41
to meet the customer. However, when she was about to leave her office, she saw a piece of old parchment paper lying on the floor. Curious, she picked it up and memories from her past life surged back to her mind. It was one of her mother’s letters to her before she left their tiny shack and abandoned her poor daughter at the hands of an abusive father and four helpless younger sisters. It was during this time where Lacie’s life was nothing but starvation and affliction. Their mother who had suffered enough of their family’s pitiful circumstances left home to find ‘work’ in the city only to never return. Lacie, then, took on the role she forsook and cared for her smaller siblings. That was before she caught her late father’s tuberculosis who died months after their dear mother disappeared. Before she fell sick, the girl looked and worked several jobs just to provide for their family. She was a scullerymaid for one of her town’s nasty governess, she also worked at a farm, tilling soil in preparation for the crops. At times, she’d sell whatever scraps she can find and make half a penny. Lacie did everything she could. She was so desperate to be free from the constraints of poverty. She worked hard until she couldn’t Deep onyx eyes flashed in her memory. A ghastly cold shiver ran through her spine. Lacie brushed the memory away. It’s fine. The deal was done. Everything that happened was all in the past. There’s no reason to bring up what’s already been locked in the dark recesses of her mind. She’s living a peaceful and happy life now. Or so she thought. Lacie left the room without another glance. The customer waiting at the front of the store was actually an old friend. Lottie, a pretty blonde lady the same age as hers, beamed when she approached her. “Lacie! How are you? I came to see if the gown I asked my messenger to send back two weeks ago is done? Perhaps, you need a few more adjustments?” Lottie chattered before pausing. “Oh my. I’m sorry if I sound demanding. I know you have a lot on your hands right now, it’s just that the wedding nerves are starting to get to me.” She laughed lightly. “It’s okay, I understand. No worries, Lottie. Your gown is almost ready. I’ll have it delivered to your address tomorrow afternoon.” Lace gave her a small smile. “Wonderful.” Lottie stepped forward and gave her a short hug. “Thank you very much, Lacie.” “You’re welcome. I’ll make sure you’ll look very beautiful in your gown.” A sudden cheeky look was plastered on the pretty lady’s face. “Speaking of my wedding, when can I expect you to tie the knot?”
42
Lacie was slightly surprised by the question because, honestly, she never thought about getting into a relationship at all. Lacie found it odd that when she was a young girl, she feared she couldn’t escape her miserable life, so she worked hard and wished she could marry someone prominent. But as the years passed, she didn’t really feel the need to pursue that desire. Probably because she’d traded it? And she wasn’t in the throes of poverty anymore? “I haven’t met someone yet.” She replied briefly. “Well. I hope you do find a dashing young lad and start a family soon. Didn’t you say you’d like a family of your own before?” Yes. She did. She wanted a family besides her own. She told Lottie back then. Even when she was hungry and starving, she feared she’d be stuck in a life unable to feel the warmth of a happy family. She told her how beautiful it could be if her family expanded once their pockets were finally abundant and their tables were bountiful. However, right now, she’s unsure if she still has the same sentiments. — Lacie was thirty when she felt her life was unchanging. She was a notable dressmaker in Holborn. That was it. The young dressmaker was pondering deeply inside her office, a brown pamphlet on her right hand and a small letter scribbled with familiar handwriting on her left when one of her staff knocked on the door of her office and entered inside. “Miss Lacie, apologies for the intrusion but your younger sister is here and she’s looking for you.” “I’ll be there in a few.” When the staff closed the door behind her, Lacie let out a deep sigh. The pamphlet before her was given by a merchant friend. He approached her the other day and told her how an acquaintance of his had enrolled in an education program for dressmaking. It appears that they’ll have educators from London teach aspiring and current dressmakers as well as seamstresses how to be more successful. He thought it would be a help to her, an investment of sorts. She thought so, too. It’s not every day that women are provided with a good education. However, shortly after, Lacie felt like she didn’t need the education. Her business was doing perfectly fine. It’s stable, and her customers remain loyal. She didn’t feel the need to expend her time at school. Besides, isn’t she too old for that? Though, she remembered lit
43
she’d always wanted to study before. She couldn’t stop mulling it over. Similarly, on the left, she had a letter open, one that came from her sister, the second eldest of the five of them. The contents revealed that she had just given birth to her son. A healthy baby boy named Ezekiel. Her sister told her that he looked so much like Lacie when they were young, and she wished she could visit them soon. Lacie felt bad. It’s been years since she last saw her sister, Sharon, and although she’s been keeping in touch every few months, she just didn’t have the time to travel to the other side of the country to visit her. She loved her sisters dearly. It’s just that she’s been struggling in the past few years, trying to understand the constancy of her life. Everything felt dull. She wasn’t sure anymore. Maybe she just needs more time. She shook her head one last time, stood up and went to meet her sister. — Lacie was thirty-two when she felt him.That same eerie chill that passed through her fifteen years ago before the last bead of light was snuffed out of her. Lacie refused to acknowledge the sudden presence. It’s been over a decade. There’s no reason for him to come. He had what he wanted and she had hers. Lacie furrowed her brow and shrugged it off as nothing serious but the fatigue in her body. Clenching her gloved hands, Lacie moved to speak to the man beside her who was watching in dismay as Lacie’s shop was barricaded by the Metropolitan Police. “Mr. Oswald, I’m sorry for disrupting your ea-” He turned to her with a scowl, “I told you this would happen.” “I didn’t me“I kept on saying that you should leave this antique of a shop and transfer to Soho. I knew one way or another the authorities would have this taken away, considering the state of this district. Their plans were just expedited because of the epidemic and now, look what’s happened to that shop of yours. I even offered to help you with the lease.” “You know I could never afford to move there.” “No.” He pointed out in displeasure. “You could but you chose not to.” “I know for a fact you could’ve expanded your business. Invest on resources, perhaps, acquire nobles to invest on it. Yet, for years, you barely did anything other than take orders, sew, and deliver finished goods to your customers. It seems as if you are stuck in a loop and you have no desire to break out of it.” Lacie was silent.
44
“At present, this hell of a country is suffering the consequences of its own actions with this plague. This district has one of the highest number of cases. I say if you don’t start acting on your future, you’d suffer more than just getting your dress shop closed down. What a waste of a brilliant and industrious woman like you.” Lacie knew Oswald was right. She had so many opportunities, but she failed to latch onto a single one because she didn’t exert effort in doing so. Lacie was complacent and indifferent. She merely sat on her laurels, and even now, as she watched her sole business and all her hard-earned money being taken away from her, all she could do was stand with little to no feelings. She closed her eyes, then coughed. “I-I know. I don’t know.” Lacie felt the shortness of her breath. Blood rushed to her ears, as she strained to reply. “It’s just that I don’t seem to have the enthusiasm to do something else.” “No, Lacie. You have a strong proclivity for constantness.” “What? What do-” Then it was pitch black. — Lacie was thirty-two when she passed away. “That wasn’t such a long life.” A deep husky voice brought her back to consciousness. Before Lacie could register her surroundings, he saw his familiar figure kneeling in front of her and immediately backed away, hands clutching her chest. “Why are you here?” “Not particularly the kind of greeting I’d expect from an old friend.” He replied, face in mock hurt. “I’m serious. Why are you here?” “Snarky.” He chuckled. “I know you’re not the dumb type, Lacie. You know very well why you are here.” “Tell me where did I go wrong.”
lit
45
“Not going to plead the second time around?” When Lacie didn’t reply, the timeless entity before her only continued. “You know, Lacie, my dear, the first time we met, I adored the vigor and brilliance you possess. That desire to do something other than be hopeless, weak, and mediocre.” He stared at her blank eyes. “That is why I made that deal with you. Yet, despite your wit, human nature can’t help but make mistakes.” “I made you choose between your greatest desire, secret and fear. You chose fear. Because who wouldn’t, right? You’d think that losing something that you humans call inferior and abysmal is a gain, but that’s where you’re wrong. You see, besides trading with me your greatest fear, you never understood yourself in the first place. You gave your fear to me without actually knowing that it was also the one thing that propelled you to achieve your dreams and desires. You feared the constantness of your life, not being able to act on something and settling on meagerness.” “The moment you lost that, you lost the desire to do anything at all, simply settling to work in that shop of yours with no urge to make it bigger than it is, to make a family of your own and to go to school. “ He sighed dramatically. “Truly, I pity you because you couldn’t even find the energy to transfer after your country’s situation grew worse. It’s all because you didn’t fear consistency and the unchanged. Now, you find yourself in this situation again. Dead.” “The options I presented to you a decade ago had no right answer. In fact, all of them are interrelated. Desire is the opposite of fear. Fear is the opposite of desire. They are different sides of the same coin, and both are considered to be man’s greatest secrets.” He touched her brittle hair as she faded in and out of consciousness. “Let me tell you a secret, a recompense in a way.” “Don’t fear your fears. It made you who you are. You feared staying in poverty your whole life, so you worked hard and yearned for success. For what is desire if there is no fear to learn and work on?In the end, you had your life back, but you were unhappy. Such a passionate soul, only to deteriorate in the end.” A sole tear cascaded down the lady’s cheek. Her life and mistakes finally dawned on her. “Don’t blame me, Lacie. I was a businessman. I do what I can do to profit.” “Your time is up, my child.” 46
Writer’s Profile The doors are overseen by the cast members. The one side cast Ally Aero PulchraVita Archer Tsukenomi Shiningnemesis Majinbu Fletcher Shirasagi Kaul
The other side cast Royceance Istepani jabeluna Rhyza S. Sion Rekka Pauline Jurisprudencia Hermit Daria Takipsilim Theoathkeeper Arkathne Liberius lit
47
The Official Student Publication of the University of Negros Occidental - Recoletos Integrated School Grades 11 & 12
EDITORIAL BOARD Kristen Thea A. Lozada EDITOR-IN-CHIEF
Keziah Patrice S. Jocson ASSOCIATE EDITOR-IN-CHIEF
Krystel I. Felicisimo MANAGING EDITOR
DESK EDITORS Mary Kate B. Carmona NEWS EDITOR Jaira S. Panaguiton FEATURE EDITOR Beya Catrine L. Garbanzos LITERARY EDITOR Xavier Romeo C. Emnace ASSOCIATE LITERARY EDITOR Lance Joshua P. Satojito MULTIMEDIA EDITOR
NEWS, OPINION AND Jochelle Francinne Arlos FEATURE WRITERS Ellia Caress Buenaventura
Jopay Dante Jell Hucalinas Pauline Mae Jurisprudencia Maria Renemae Mialen Lovernne An Montales Ariane Tagulalap
LITERARY WRITERS Alexandra Dean
Eshey Reign Embon Bien Ellysa Garbanzos Ly-ian Lynn Hervias Reashelle Royce Tampos Geryne Velasco
LAYOUT AND Selwyn Jaco GRAPHICS ARTISTS Princess Alexis Moraña Kryzell Mugemulta Vanessa Tortal
PHOTOJOURNALISTS Christy Sofia Abiol Ashlyn Villarias
CARTOONISTS Shiphrah Bless Basiya Jan Bryan Laporno
CONTRIBUTORS Rosemer Senteciera Rhyza Sion
Methozela P. Iligan, MAEd
PUBLICATION ADVISER Harry S. Magluyan, MAEd
PRINCIPAL
48
Rev. Fr. Persiuz Joseph M. Decena, OAR
BASIC EDUCATION DIRECTOR
