Hiraya 1

hiraya I

The Official Student Literary Journal of the University of San Agustin - Senior High School, Iloilo City, Philippines

ABOUT THE COVER HOPES AND DREAMS OF THE HEART. How beautiful it is to dream and envision a euphoric future that is full of uncertainties yet filled of limitless possibilities. How gallanting it is to soar above the clouds and be one with the sky. How lovely it is: to come close to our aspirations; to come near our hearts’ desires. As we soar and traverse these possibilities, may we enter a new realm where we could find the internal treasures we have been seeking for.

Hiraya is a Baybayin word that means “fruit of one's hopes, dreams, and aspirations”. It was derived from the catch phrase “Hiraya Manawari,” which means “may the wishes of your heart be granted”.

Looking up the sky, we can see a vast, unreachable firmament we all aspire to grab a hold on. Reality would tell us it is impossible, but our hopeful hearts would not.

As published by the USA – Senior High School Publications occasionally, Hiraya has an aim to bridge the diversity of talents and perspectives, provide a platform where everyone has the chance to be heard, and advocate for the Truth through authentic, unified, and fact-based campus journalism.

Editor-in-Chief

Voltaire G. Bitalac Jr.

Managing Editor

Hilary Pearl S. Veloso

Associate Editor

Santo S. Santamaria

News Editor

Xarlize Joselle B. Tamba

Feature Editor

Yna Elaijah C. Langusta

Literary Editor

Melizabel Frances S. Furio

Photojournalist and Circulations Representative Photojournalists

Marianne Christine V. Muyco

Circulations Representatives and Staff Writers

Lourdes Concepcion D. Ballesteros Emmanuelle Anne V. Besonia Sharaine Ghail T. Taaca

Staff Writers

Mary Wen Anthony T. Rivera Clarence Keith T. Corsiga Elaisha L. Pomida Therese Anne B. Balberona Dorothy Claire P. Mosqueda Jenelle Dela Cruz Evronne Elaiza D. Alapa-ap Phoebe Mae G. Magabilin Mary Louise C. Banabatac Chloe Marie P. Hiñola

Layout Artists

Evronne Elaiza D. Alapa-ap Eyehssa Kris F. Ocampo Nadine F. Campania

Cartoonists

Sophia Loree A. Melocoton Lyia Adrianna U. Libanan

Moderators

Ms. Cedie C. Bataga Ms. Angelica P. Panique Ms. Trinah A. Nabuab

Principal Vice President for Academic Affairs University President

Dr. May Anne T. Jaro Prof. Regina Aileen May V. Vergara, Ph. D. Rev. Fr. Frederick C. Comendador, OSA

Jason Rey J. Peñaflorida Snowy Joy A. Alamis

FOREWORD

Little Things Have you ever wandered around your house out of boredom only to find things you haven't properly laid eyes upon before?

Especially during these “quaran-times”... you must've sought other things to entertain you.

As someone who usually lazes around with a phone to her face, I decided to follow that little voice in my head that pushed me to get up and do a little tour around my home.

Because if not then, I wouldn't have noticed my ukulele hanging inside my closet, an unopened book that I bought from BookSale, and a notebook of short stories when I was in elementary school. I continued to search for more stuff until I realized, “Why have I not done this before?”

Sometimes, we are so caught up and preoccupied with inevitable matters, worries, and stress that we never take time to stop, pause for a while, and just enjoy the little things.

May it be searching for lost things, playing an instrument, reading a book you just found, or even reminiscing unforgettable memories. Maybe, even write a little message like this. It's the little things that bring us great joy and inner peace. It’s the ones that we sometimes miss yet still look forward to.

Dear readers, while you immerse yourself in the contents of this magazine, I hope you also took the time to stop and enjoy the little things: news, stories, poetry, and art. Then, you will realize that these are the little things that we live for.

MELIZABEL FRANCES S. FURIO Literary Editor

poems

Poem by

The way you stand, The way you sit, The way you secretly laugh for a bit.

You’ve been hurt.

You’ve been broken.

And yet, your heart is wide open.

You think no one sees, You think no one cares, But that is really just not fair.

Because I see Because I do My heart is filled just by looking at you

Anonymous

“I care” You don't need to stay if you don't want to, But if my heart desires for it, would you?

You don't have to love if it's not true, But if you think it's real, would you?

Doesn't matter how long I have known you, What matters most is what we have been through.

And if there's anything this hopeless heart can do, that is, to know you more than I already do.

The feel of your skin against me, Makes my heart flutter with butterflies; Fills my lungs with flower buds that don't cease to grow, And my darling, I can’t stop this love of mine.

Page 2

Poem by

Elaisha L. Pomida

“In 12 lines, a Promise” Under the fireworks of January, Upon the roses of February, On the confetti of parties in March, And the April sun going round to parch.

On the blooming flowers and buds of May, And June’s cheerful children shouting, “Hooray!”, On the chunky vegetables of July, And August’s smiles that are always nigh.

On the Christmas carols of September That lift our spirits until December, My love, this poem is a reminder: It’s you, today, tomorrow, forever.

Page 3

Poem by

Nikolaevna Etoile

“Eirene”

Eirene, will you come save me again?

I am walking with another burden; Another situation that inflicts pain.

I want to disappear again but when?

When the time comes, knock on my door.

I cannot wait to see you once more.

Come reach out to me as the moon shines on your figure; Come take me and hush me with your calming whisper.

Let us go high up in the sky.

Cradle me and let your wings fly.

And when we feel land beneath our feet again, I would then ask why.

Why at the end of the day, do I always cry?

Page 5

Poem by

Stormblessed

"Folie À Deux” my lover is golden

-- haiku break --

eccentric and queer, strums hard on my heartstrings chugs down all my beer.*

steel-cut arrows through moonrise sky, red over blue birds returning home\

sapphire veins on fresh silk over pretty pink knees

are you a woman

a brush over there,

or a lioness, stalking

a whisper, a squeeze.

bold silent lethal\ my lover is quiet, and stunning, and shy

lightning strikes a wave

I asked her to stay, to sing!

beats relentless on the shore

I would die.

love shall return love\

while she dreams in my bed of a timelapse of old, I shift hands into park press my love back tenfold.\

Page 7

Poem by

Christian Dave

“Beauty in a Mirror” A mirror that you aspire,

How long have you looked,

is a reflection you’ll prove to see.

that is matched by the book?

A beauty where you can admire,

How long have you whined, ‘cause you don’t match what

is to prove a beauty like nobody.

is defined?

Long has it been known, that a mirror only projects what is shown.

A reflection of a layer of your skin, hides the layer that is within.

A witch in its disguise is a witchcraft we all despise.

But a beauty that hides in plain sight is all but none a star in the

A saying we all know and bring in, is that beauty lies within.

A saying with such lies and deceit, that hides the truth lying beneath.

Page 9

night.\

Poem by

e.

“Beautiful” Do you ever think about how overused the word beautiful is? I feel like we have worn her out several times already.

But if you wake up before the sun and you decide to take a walk, while you’re on it, the world holds you as an audience as it unfolds itself before you, what do you say then?

When you see purple flowers announcing itself in the cracks of the sidewalk, unapologetic and thriving, what do you think of it then?

When you are greeted by a familiar smile and an entire film reel of memories play out, your face becomes bright and your heart, friendly, what is that moment then?

When you come back home and have your breakfast, bread and eggs-- like perfect; sipping coffee, just how you like it.

You hum the words to a tucked away favorite song while doing the dishes and you are as alive as you can be. What do you call that kind of day then?

If you managed to get yourself out of the bed with a heart ever ready to face the world, what do you count yourself as then?

If all these things are not beautiful, what then?

As overused as it is like your grade school favorite sweater and as worn out as it may seem like the tires of your car, do not fret.

Do not get angry. Do not hate.

Instead, pray.

Or utter a plea for whatever you believe in that form here, may you never run out of reasons to use her — beautiful.

To celebrate its essence. To recognize it from your days. To wear it like a crown. To tattoo it on your inner lip. To see it in yourself.

And to be one; make sure she’s plenty.

Page 11

Poem by

Pearlintheorientsea

Sinakluban ng pangamba’t pagdududa Nawalan ng gana’t kumpyansa, “Ako pa ba ‘to?”

“Ba’t naging ganito?”

‘Di matanto kung bakit Tila naligaw sa isang blankong silid Masikip at nakakasakal “Ayoko ditong tumagal.”

Pipiliting makawala sa posas ng

“Kinaya ko”

kapanglawan Muling hahanapin ang nakakubling kagalakan

At muling masasaksihan ang panibagong pamumulaklak, Na sa kabila ng pagkalanta ng mumunting talulot, “Sisibol muli.”

Page 12

Poem by

Sharaine Ghail T. Taaca

“Nawalang

May isang pag-ibig akong naalala Pagmamahalan na aking pinagluluksa Tulad ng isang binhi na hindi naihasak Ngunit sa aking isip at dibdib ay tumatak

Pag-ibig”

Tuwing sinisikap kong lumipad, ako’y nahuhulog Sa mga gunitang bumabalik kahit nakatulog Sinusubukan kong sumaya ngunit nasasaktan Sa mga alaalang ating pinagsaluhan Tinuruan mo bumagal ang aking mundo Na kakulay ng kasinulingan ng masakit na paraiso Lumubog ako sapagkat ang damdamin sa loob ko Hindi sapat para maunawaan ang tibok ng iyong puso

Tulad ng panaginip na dumating sa gabi Sa umaga ay wala ka sa aking paningin at tabi Hindi mapigilan ang tahimik na mga luhang nangingilid Habang ikaw ay nasisilayan mula sa dulo Ikaw ang pinakapaborito kong tula May dampi ng pagmamahal ang bawat salita May saysay ang bawat letra Ikaw ang bumihag sa puso kong makata

Page 13

Poem by

Clarence Keith T. Corsiga

“Apathy” I don’t wanna do, I don't wanna act The feelings are draining Nothing is entertaining I don't know what we lack Every step, every struggle No motivation No anticipation Don't want any problems to handle

Call for your help you must In someone you deeply trust Hesitance and fear in every step Hesitance lined the mind Want to do better, Want to FEEL better They will never leave you Though, the feeling’s always crept behind The feeling of nothing, the feeling of The first step is made never You reached out, you called for help Not everyone is so brave The feeling’s never left You will find your way once again

Page 14

“The

Most

Beautiful Truth

”

Poem by

Elaisha L. Pomida

I've fallen in love with the birds and the bees, the flowers, the skies, the wind and the seas, but somehow, it's always been difficult to see why I should fall in love with me.

But slowly, like roses and tulips that bloom, Like watching through the changing phases of the moon, I have learned the most beautiful truth: I'm worthy of love, and so are you.

Page 16

Numbness Numbness Numbness

Poem by

Clarence Keith T. Corsiga

Pain in my knees I don’t feel it Heart aching all the time I don’t feel it Innocence fading away I don’t feel it

You are not alone What?

Your fate is not set in stone Why can't I… You can feel it Deep down they know it

Regrets piling up I don’t feel it Hatred swelling up I don’t feel it Accomplishments not enough I don’t feel it

The sadness and the joy buried all throughout This is all you have known The pain is resounding So you choose to ignore You thought about it But there could be so much more So you made it open once again

A voice beckons me What is that?

You’ve had enough Who are you?

Time to take you home Why can’t I feel it?

The light brightens all And then stops What remains is the disturbing pain and the empty feeling What is left is you The numbness fades

Page 18

Comforting White

Poem by

Clarence Keith T. Corsiga

Sweet dreams and heavenly feels, The exhaustion draining away, Hopeful for another day, Sweet feelings of euphoria.

Another night, A face stares back in the black open screen A small white beckons not to demean, It’s time to come home.

Heart’s trembling, Fake murmuring, Let the discontentment sleep.

Let the comfort seep.

Fluffy white All the delight No end at sight A wonderful blight

Page 20

Poem by

Yara

I didn't know when it started, Our ways always parted, Never met my gaze, Strange and difficult like a maze.

Unconsciously thinking about you, not knowing what to do.

Did I cross your mind?

I am but nowhere easy to find.

All the courage I have, gathered and become brave, Heard your voice finally, We’ve exchanged gazes intimately.

I'm not ready, nor am I prepared, to see you smile, with somebody else.

“You Never

How I wish to be with you, experience butterflies and begin anew, From afar, I watch your hue.

Radiating love, you never knew.

To love in secret hurts so bad, I have no choice so I'm not mad, For you to be happy is all I ask, I'll hold onto the memories of the past.

You made my heart jump and flutter, A hole once void and you got no clue, What I feel with you is awfully true, My little secret you never knew.

Page 21

Knew”

Poem by

Sharaine Ghail T. Taaca

Staring at the same sky every night, standing with hope under the same heaven, but whispering different prayers, and wishes slipping out of our hands.

“Lost Lover”

Capturing the uncertainties we've experienced, clinging to memories we've once created, believing that love will still enthrall us, and the face of longing is a heavy theme.

Entering the chamber of exquisite sadness, allowing pain to torment every second.

The eyes drape in anguish and despair, chaining the heart from a miserable excerpt.

The wishes we have had fallen through our grasps, prayers we asked were handed and gone to nothing.

I'll stay still with nothing on the same heaven, looking at the same sky of my lost lover.

Page 22

Poem by

Stormblessed

“Things We Lose” we used to dance with the puddles, playing at the untied shoelaces of uncharted childhood territory our pleasure is worth more than the pain. ebb, flow. release throw crumpled paper cranes back into the moon,

leave behind the remnants of drunken stupors long abandoned reaching past the haze to grasp at the straws.\

Page 23

Poem by

Elaisha L. Pomida

“I Choose to Love” (A Petrarchan Sonnet)

Oh, how beautiful does love feel: All the fluttering wings, When the hummingbird sings, And the dresses of teal.

Oh, how destructive does love seem: Rainstorms and thunder, Days being somber, Crashing winds in the best of dreams.

A roller coaster up and down, A highway left and right, Oh, how challenging it is to love you.

Yet no matter how deep I drown, I will muster all my might, For I choose to love you.

Page 24

Poem by

Mason Jar

“I Can't Remember” I don’t remember what it feels to be happy I don’t remember what life is like in color I don’t remember enjoying the sound of music I don’t remember how to smile genuinely

I do remember looking out of my bedroom window Only to realize how distant I’ve become Feeling far away and disconnected with the world Using up wasted space

I do remember the sleepless nights; Laying wide awake I do remember staring into a void of space; Drowning out the sounds of people calling my name

Most days I can’t remember I’d have to leave notes wherever I go Just pieces and fragments here and there And when they'll ask why I'd say, “I can’t remember.”

I do remember looking at myself in the mirror And seeing an unfamiliar face This isn’t me staring in front of me Yet, it mimics my every being

Page 25

flash fictions

Flash fiction by

Yna Elaijah Langusta

“A Nostalgic Moment” I was scrolling through my playlist when a deja vu came upon me. This particular song played and it made me reminisce about those moments again.

There's this band that we both love: every sounding beat of their songs feels melancholic, but we still lingered to listen as we both have the same taste in music. We blissfully watched their music videos playing on the four-cornered screen of your laptop. As I sang, I realized that the lyrics pertain to how we used to create this vast universe containing our love for each other. We danced all throughout the rhythm, feeling like that night might be our last moment together.

I, then, cracked a smile as I remembered that the band we used to like will be releasing a new album. Silently humming the song, this might be the first time I am welcoming a new beat of their music to my ears without your presence by my side.

Page 28

Flash fiction by

Hannah Lhisa De Jesus

“Believe”

Once upon a time, I was astray; passing around corners looking for flowers, making them glow.

But a glimpse took my view away.

Across the line, there was a man with white flowers standing from afar, hiding. I never knew him, but I think I saw him.

All those days, I kept on thinking, who am I? Do I know myself?

“Oh dear grace, help me find the reality! For which I stood but never belonged.”

After that day, a woman handed me a luxurious necklace. But I wonder, why give that to me?

Page 30

Flash fiction by

Stormblessed

“Manic Pixie Dream Girl” The thread glints golden as it weaves through the tapestry, sinking beneath carefully constructed earth tones and laying flat against the ripples of the fabric. Manic Pixie Dream Girl has spent hours working on her new “passion project”, as they call it, like they call all the other hobbies and knick-knacks and novelty talents that people waste their time on for a week only to never give it a second thought again. Perhaps when she’s done with this, she’ll learn the harp or take someone cliff diving. Maybe she'll do something unprecedented, meet someone disposable.

Manic Pixie Dream Girl holds her breath while she loops the final cord of silk around itself and ties it off. It is over now, she thinks, running bittersweet fingers across the surface of the image she'd created. A funny thought crosses her mind and she scoffs at the mere suggestion of it - to sign her work, to mark it as an official product of her hands.

The sheer audacity of being proud of what she's done with her time as if any of it mattered.

She flips the tapestry over and makes sure it's flush against the hardwood floor. Briefly, she makes a mental note to buy a frame for it, to hide the tattered edges, which she will promptly forget. In the back of her mind, she knows she'll keep it like that anyway: a masterpiece with the ends left undone so you can see the chaos bleed through.

Manic Pixie Dream Girl shuts the door and heads out into the street. A head pokes out from the passenger side of a blue car and asks for her name with a whistle and a kiss, which she replies to with a blank smile.

Ridiculous.

Page 32

Flash fiction by

Krisanta Emmanuel Silloriquez Reyes

“The Horrors of an Invisible Lover” The hospital Elise worked in was built in the 1800s where the lack of technology existed, and the renovations in the building were only lightly done. She is a young female adult who worked as a nurse in the hospital. When she worked her shifts, she would always try to interact with her fellow co-workers but none liked to approach her, only acting coldly, and stood at farther distances, other than her one friend, Cassandra.

Cassandra approached Elise and told her that all their co-workers were just feeling it from the last overnight shift and all had bad moods.

This friend loved the supernatural, whether it may be about ghosts, the creatures of the unknown and even aliens! She was the type of friend that liked to tell stories. When she was a child, relatives told her that she was able to see spirits and when Elise asked her if there was anything lingering around her, Cassandra would only give her a smile and a nervous laugh. She never seemed to answer the question.

One day of her usual shifts, she suddenly heard some patients muttering behind her back as they looked at her. This also included the many other staff in their department. It was very much a normal routine to her now, so she continued to ignore it.

By the end of the day, her shift was almost coming to an end as she did her usual last rounds of all the patients. Until then, an hour later, she was notified that someone had passed away and that she was instructed to bring the body into the morgue.

While nurses brought bodies into the morgue, it was important that a police officer had to escort them, so this is what happened.

Page 34

Flash fiction by

Krisanta Emmanuel Silloriquez Reyes

When the nurse and the police officer were making their way to the morgue via the elevator, they noticed something weird happening. When the nurse clicks on a level to go to the basement, the light that illuminated the button would then change from the basement to the sixth floor. She attempted to do it for the third time, yet there was still no change and the police officer thought she was making jokes with him. He then suggested they use the ramp instead.

Once they reached the basement which, in fact, hadn't been touched from its original form, the exposed pipes and brick walls were still the way they used to be.

A short moment later, the police officer made a sound in sheer pain, dropping to the ground. There was no other person in the tunnels other than the both of them. As Elise turned around, she saw a dark figure that moved out of sight, crawling on the ceiling.

She then asked the police officer if he was alright. He mentioned an extreme pain on the back of his neck. The nurse then proceeded to examine the source of the pain and noted a large darkening bruise that took the form of a knuckle, as if he was punched.

When they had returned safely after keeping away the body, Cassandra saw that the police officer was in pain and asked Elise as to what happened and if Randall did anything. She was taken aback- all lost as to who Cassandra meant. To Elise's shock, she asked who Randall was. Cassandra took a deep breath and then began to explain.

She said that ever since Elise came to work at the hospital, there was a man who seemed to really like Elise, was almost always attached to her and used to work in the hospital.

Cassandra only made Elise confused. She then continued that this man was in fact a veteran and was no longer alive. He would have his arm wrapped around her shoulder hence why the other staff members did not like coming near her. Cassandra also noted that he looked protective and someone who would be a jealous entity, which would explain the situation where when Elise and the police officer were alone in the basement, he had been the victim of a jealous spirit.

Page 35

Flash fiction by

Krisanta Emmanuel Silloriquez Reyes

Elise had then told this story to her grandmother one day. Her grandmother asked whether she had gone into the house at the end of their street and proceeded to tell her a story that in the past, there was a couple who used to live in that house.

When the wife passed away, the widowed husband was in great grief that he put a curse on the house. The next woman to enter the house would be his new lover. Although before anyone had entered the house, he soon passed away after.

Ever since the death of the last owners of the house, Elise was the first person, nonetheless, a woman who broke into that house.

Her grandmother now takes her to an expert every week for a special tea that will ward off the malicious spirit, this now becoming almost like a routine.

Now she will have to think twice when entering into that same house again.

Page 36

Flash fiction by

Lisa A. “Metamorphosis”

Avery’s student life was once showered in light and adoration from his teachers, classmates, and friends. However, it turned upside down when his mental health conditions got worse that he needed medications and a therapist. Despite suspecting he may have anxiety and depression due to his abusive childhood and toxic past, the news is still a total shocker to him.

His conditions disrupted his academics and his grades dropped from 97 to 83. As soon as Avery reached the news, his eyes began to swell. Running away from their classroom, he found himself on the stairs, heartbroken from what happened to him. He knew he needed to work harder than anyone else. He knew he needed to exert more effort just like his friends, and he did. Yet it was his own body that prevented him from doing so. His own mind became his own enemy. His ears became deaf to the sounds of hope. His eyes became blind to the colors of peace.

A blank paper, a shape shifter – that is what he sees whenever he gazes upon his reflection on the glass.

No wonder it makes him ponder why he is still in existence.

“He got lazy.”

“He’s just using his mental health conditions as excuses for any troubles in his life.”

Those murmurs encircled him. Those noises came from the people whom he knew for more than four years rather than the unfamiliar faces he met a few weeks ago. It’s devastating to watch all the friends he once knew slowly cutting their strings from him. Avery pushed himself to the extent of pleasing those friends and gaining their trust back. Yet, it was a failure. And Avery deemed himself as a failure once again.

Days passed and those so-called friends became acquaintances, and acquaintances turned into mere classmates. Finally, Avery grasped the truth that no matter how much he tried, those people will never come back. He has to let go of those strings and return to his cocoon, where he truly belongs.

Days turned into weeks, and weeks turned into months, Avery is in isolation and solitude, not to deprive himself from any social interactions, but to grant himself with inner peace; to bestow himself the love and care he had been looking for from the other people. He finally acknowledged the chromatic wings tinted with gold stripes behind his back, spreading it and flying high with it.

Page 38

Flash fiction by

Chloe Marie P. Hinola

“Gone, But Never Forgotten..”

My mother and I were staying under the same roof with my step-father. When I was young, I was curious enough to know the real identity of my father, until now - since my mother doesn't want to talk about it - I believe that I cannot obtain any information about him.

On my way to school, I sat on the edge of the jeepney when I saw a strange man staring at me. Well, I didn’t mind it. But when I felt a hand on my knees, I started trembling.

“Hey! Stop it or I’ll call the police!” I shouted at the stranger and suddenly, the vehicle stopped and the driver turned in our direction.

“Get your filthy hands off my niece and go away!” He lied while looking madly at the stranger.

“Are you okay, hija? I apologize for lying since that’s the best way I could scare the stranger.” The driver said as soon as the stranger left the jeepney.

“I didn’t know how to thank you o-or to give back the help that you’ve done. You saved my life, po and I really thank you for that.” I said, trying to stop my tears from falling.

“I don’t ask for anything, hija. Next time, you should be extra careful.”

I nodded. I couldn’t ask for more because he saved my life and what’s important is that I safely arrived at my school.

Page 40

Flash fiction by

Chloe Marie P. Hinola

April 12, 2026 I opened my bag to find my wallet when the driver asked me.

“You’re one of the graduates, aren’t you?”

“Yes, po.” I replied, showing him my big smile.

“You know what, my daughter wanted to become a lawyer. She gives her best in everything and I’m so proud to see her grow with a brave heart.” He said with tears forming around his eyes. I felt so guilty but he managed to smile to assure me that he’s alright.

“When I was young, I wanted to become an engineer and make a huge house for my family.

Unluckily, the pain stopped me from pursuing it.” He said seriously with confusion in his eyes.

“But why?” I asked curiously.

“I guess we're here. Congratulations, Attorney.” He said solemnly, making me feel that he’s proud of me. I was shocked at first as I realized we'd arrived at my destination but then the excitement was gone when I looked directly in his eyes. He’s so sincere, and that was odd.

“Thank you so much, Engineer.” I said and bid goodbye.

As I entered my school, a tear fell from my eyes but I didn’t know where it came from. I’m not excited nor nervous, but this feeling makes me feel assured and weird at the same time.

5 years later…

“I rest my case, Your Honor.” I walked confidently and stared at the panicking defense attorney, their client hung his head in shame as he heard the verdict.

When I got home, I tried to open the door carefully since it’s late and everyone’s asleep when a loud gunshot boomed in our house.

I ran as fast as I could until I saw a shadow standing in front of my mom. I was eager to look him in the eyes but I failed to examine his entire face when he suddenly kneeled in front of me.

He held my hand.

“No matter what happens, I will always love you.” He whispered.

“W-who are you? Why did you kill my step-father?”

A tear fell from his eyes. I couldn’t understand why I wanted to hug him or to comfort him.

“Do you know me?” I asked.

Page 41

Flash fiction by

Chloe Marie P. Hinola

“You’re my angel.” He said smiling but I could feel his sadness. As he tried to reach for my hand one last time, I had this strange feeling.

“Your step-father wanted to kill your mother. I was trying to roam around this village to check something when I saw the both of them shouting in front of each other. I didn’t mind it at first but when I saw the gun he pointed to your mother’s head, I couldn’t help myself in protecting the ones I love.”

I couldn’t stop the tears falling from my eyes. I can’t find my words.

“If I were to be killed for my actions, I would take it. The world may be against me but remember that you are my greatest gift in life. I have no riches nor money to live – but you are my treasure. Seeing you enjoying your life and being successful is my happiness but seeing you sad because you don’t know your real father breaks my heart. I am the jeepney driver, if you remembered, who drove you safely to your school and back to your home. For now, I want you to convict me, Attorney.” He added and whispered his final words before the police came to arrest him.

I watched him kneel and raised both of his hands, willing to accept his fault. It tore me into pieces. He is my father who’s willing to die just to save our lives. He is my father who’s willing to ease my nervousness and to protect me from harm. He is my father who’s willing to fight in order to bring me home safely. He is my father who’s not known to me but loves me so much and my heart knows him completely.

I ran towards him as he was handcuffed and hugged him tightly whispering, “I love you, Papa. I will fight for your justice and I want to be in your arms again”.

He cried silently until I felt my mother’s arms pulling me away from him.

Page 42

Flash fiction by

Sharaine Ghail T. Taaca

“Next Monday” The clock strikes 5 am and your morning alarm chimes into your dreams.

Soon, as your room draped in gray shades now reflects the crowning rays the dawn brings, you stretch your arms getting ready, and whisper a prayer.

Getting excited to join the conversations brought by the noise in the hallways, you pack your lunch, button your uniform, and prepare your bag as you hurriedly hug your mother, giving her a goodbye kiss while waving to your father. Last three steps forward to the door. Your right hand raises, and as it is at the verge of handling the knob, yesterday’s memories flash.

“React and share!” Your classmate shouted, getting everyone’s attention.

With their phones in their hands clicking the share button with a strength of will to triumph the upcoming Literature Day and dominate other classes, your classmates were over the moon with all fingers crossed, praying to win the said event. Laptops radiated through their eyes viewing the class’ film entry a thousand times. You were there at the corner sitting, murmuring, memorizing the lines for your voice choir performance.

Suddenly, the reporters encircled you in reaction and emotion, allowing you to disappear into the wider domain of panic. The news circulating on online platforms masked you with anxieties, “President Rodrigo Duterte announced the suspension of all travel by land, sea, and air to and from Metro Manila over concerns from the coronavirus disease (COVID-19) outbreak!” You went back to your dormitory after waving goodbyes to your classmates, hoping to see each other again the next Monday.

Page 44

Flash fiction by

Sharaine Ghail T. Taaca

You feel stupefied. Tomorrow’s another day to carry in your frail shoulders.

Your right hand lowers, putting weight on your index finger. Just typing and typing. You wave to them by the screen, giving them heart reactions before leaving, ending the meeting, and you quickly shutter the thing in your front desk. When the stars come out to play and the moon sings you a lullaby, you feel the cradle of the universe and welcome the sweet invitation of your dreams. You take a deep breath.

Don’t worry… Everything’s going to be okay… Just breathe…

As the universe slowly envelops you in its arms, you feel at peace with the realization of waking up to another tomorrow. To those familiar crowning rays the morning sun may bring.

“Good morning! Nice to meet you, again.” You smile at your classmates. This time, with the feeling of acceptance to what this ‘next’ Monday will bring.

The Monday of your online classes, learning away from school.

Page 45

Flash fiction by

Elaisha L. Pomida

“Wistfully” I first fell in love when I was 13, with a boy who plays the piano and a constellation of moles blooming on his face. With his eyes in mind, my first song was born—an anthem of longing he never heard anyway.

I fell in love second when I was 15, with a boy who married basketball and was kissed deeply by the sun. He’d intricately woven himself into my soul, but after a year, he tore it all apart.

I’m falling in love for the third time at 18, with a person I see every day— on the glass walls of cafés; on the tinted windows of cars; on the sudden black screen of my phone when I’ve been watching videos all day. And as I look at her smiling back at me now, her fragile heart worn on her sleeve, I wonder out loud why I did not see that there is so much to love in a girl so petite.

I wonder out loud, why from the very beginning, I haven’t fallen in love with me.

Page 47

Flash fiction by

Jenelle Dela Cruz

“The Empty Can Feel Too” I remember the day I went out for a jog at 6 AM in the morning. In the midst of what I do, I thought of how to feel happy and satisfied in life.

I am alone: no friends, no family, and no loved ones. People call me heartless for I feel no sympathy and never gave a care. But I am human, too. I have feelings, I feel emotions, I get hurt. It’s just that I’m not good at showing it, not good at telling them. In the end, I’m all alone. Waking up every day in bed alone, cooking and eating alone, going home from work alone, what could get worse?

6:30 am. Still sweating.

“WOOF WOOF!” I froze.

A stray dog. It looked goofy yet pitiful with its body covered in black muck except its head, all white. I can see his skin showing beneath its thin fur- almost bald. I bet his ribs can be seen if he’s shaved.

“WOOF WOOF!” I looked at his chocolate brown eyes, and saw my reflection. It took me five silent minutes and he barked again.

“Go on then, bite me.” Now I’m annoyed. Can’t they put a leash on it? I thought.

Grabbing bread from my bag, I threw it far away so that he’ll be distracted and I ran as fast as I could to the other direction.

Page 48

Flash fiction by

Jenelle Dela Cruz

Turning my head... “WOOF WOOF!” Goodness gracious! How could that skinny dog run so fast?!

I ran and ran for my life till I tripped over. Yeah, one of the most embarrassing things that could happen and probably my last. I closed my eyes tightly, assuming it would help not to feel the pain once I got bitten.

To my surprise, he just licked my face. What is he licking? It’s…my tears.

I realized that I was crying, not because he was chasing me but because I was casting in mind how lonely and pathetic I became.

I cracked a smile and laughed, “I see. I feel you too...” How weird, yet I said it happily.

I opened my door to him.. Finally, I can say now that I have a family.

I learned how to show my feelings to everyone, how to treasure and appreciate the things and people around me.

Because of this dog, I learned that the empty can feel and be filled, too.

Page 49

Flash fiction by

Melizabel Frances Furio

“He Really Ticks Me Off” They’re staring. Again.

I can feel their eyes boring into our backs as we sat in the cafeteria and ate our lunch. Gulping down my drink, I turn to the guy sitting next to me as he chomps on a burger. He’s a bit taller than me, has a good physique from swimming, and is really popular with the girls and boys in this school. Of course, he knows that.

I can only roll my eyes as I hear the soft giggles from behind. This guy really ticks me off.

“Ow!” He hisses in pain, rubbing his leg before turning to me.

“What was that for?”

“Nothing. I just can’t stand your obnoxious face.” I said as I stood from my seat.

“Hmm. But you love me and this ‘obnoxious face’ anyway so-” Another kick.

“Ow! Mike, quit it!”

Page 50

Flash fiction by

Melizabel Frances Furio

“See You There” She looks in the mirror and sighs. A lovely red gown fitted perfectly for a beautiful young lady will surely grab the attention of the guys around — is what her parents said. Normally, this would make any teenage girl feel flustered and blushed, but in her case, it made her awkward and uneasy.

After thanking the seamstress, she changes into a shirt and joggers, slides on a jacket, and tucks her hair into her cap. She looks in the mirror and a smile finally appears. Now, this is her.

Her phone rings. “Hi Ashley... No, I just finished early… Yup. See you there, love.”

Page 51

Flash fiction by

Hannah Lhisa De Jesus

“The Lesson 22" A glimpse of sunshine awakened me. It feels like a day of greatness but with an abnormality.

Beep. 6:22 AM. My alarm clock reminded me. Drinking my hot milk, I sat down at the edge of the dining table. But across me is an eye-deceiving silhouette of a number. I felt the burden, somewhat a burning sensation in my heart.

Beep. 7:22 AM. My alarm clock reminded me again. As I walked towards my room, my peripheral view was diverted somewhere. There, I saw a vision of a person stabbing someone, maybe herself? Then a pang of pain hit my heart.

Beep. 11:22 AM. My alarm clock reminds me again and again. It was a peculiar day standing for almost four hours of seeing those visions and the beeping alarms of the clock. These circumstances were like a message, yet I am not sure of what they tell.

Page 52

Flash fiction by

Hannah Lhisa De Jesus

Beep. 12:22 PM. My alarm clock reminds me again, again, and again. I got irritated with my alarm clock to the point I smashed it with a hammer.

While eating my lunch, I was brought to a pitch-black place.

Suddenly, fire consumed me, releasing the flames of anger towards me-- it burned me.

Beep. 1:22 PM. My alarm clock from my phone reminded me abruptly. Crying alone felt like a pang in the heart and brain seizures, killing me inside. Not a sound nor a voice can be heard. Then it hit me.

Walking towards the kitchen, I saw something.

Beep. 2:22 PM. My phone alarm beeped. There I was, lying unconsciously on the ground while staring at the ceiling. A pool of red surrounded me as I slowly shut my eyes.

Beep. 6:22 AM. Waking up from the dream, I knew what to do and what to change.

Page 53

Flash fiction by

Hannah Lhisa De Jesus

“To The Future" It is time.

The world violently exploded, and everyone panicked and screamed.

Yet, a whisper was all I heard.

“The shine of the necklace is the light.”

Still a mystery, I searched for the whisper. Then, I saw the white flowers - flowers that gave me hope from that man. The night became dark, yet the flowers glow even in the midst of ending. There he stood, and I was struck.

“I do love you, for you are always the hope,” he screamed.

As I stepped forward, a path came in. And I am back, back from the year 1257.

Page 54

Flash fiction by

Hannah Lhisa De Jesus

“Next Chapter" Cries.

Screams.

“I finally passed!”, the girl said.

“This choice was right.” Trying to contain the excitement, she walked back and forth.

“Showcase to everyone my capabilities and be their inspiration,” she said, proud of herself.

“I hope I am ready.”

Page 55

Flash fiction by

Ijustwannabeme

“11:59" “Good evening, sir! Can I take your order?”

Napatingin ako sa waiter and, yes, siya ang waiter na nag-approach sa amin noong nandito kami ni Synyel. Nginitian ko lang siya at sinipat ang menu.

“One salted crab with spicy sauce, squidroll, baked shell and sweetened shrimp, one halo-halo and one ice cream with oreo on top.”

“Noted, sir! Sir, pwede magtanong? Saan ang kasama mo last time na pumunta rito?”

Mapait akong ngumiti sa kaniya at nagsalita, “Natatandaan mo pa?”

“Yes naman po! Sino ba naman ang makakalimot eh tuwing nagkakatitigan kayo ay nakikita ko sa mga mata niyo na mahal niyo talaga ang isa’t isa.”

“Yeah, way back that time, we loved each other. I don’t know lang ngayon, she’s gone. Iniwan niya na ako ng walang paalam.”

Tinapunan ko ng tingin ang waiter na nasa harapan ko ngayon. Damangdama ko ang kaniyang lungkot sa nangyari sa amin, ako rin naman.

Nginitian ko lang siya at saka siya umalis.

Page 56

Flash fiction by

Ijustwannabeme

Kinain ko ang mga inorder ko at saka umalis. Dumiretso sa lugar kung saan naalala ko naman ang nakaraan, dito mismo sa kinatatayuan ko.

I love those times, sana maibalik pa. I look at the stars, it’s the same noong nag-eenjoy pa kami rito. Walang problemang dinadala, we just laughed hanggang sa kaya namin. Hayssst. Sana maulit, pero parang malabo na. Tinignan ko ang dagat at umupo sa buhangin.

“Kung nasaan ka man ngayon, Synyel, sana ay masaya ka. Always remember that I love you so damn much.” Sabi ko sa kawalan. Kusang tumulo ang ilang butil ng tubig sa aking mga mata, I checked the time.

It’s already 11:59 PM. 11:59 is just a time that you won’t forget forever. I'm Adrius Sarmeigo.

I’m the man who loved Synyel Dela Fuentes, who passed away years ago.

Still and up until now, I loved her so damn much.

Page 57

Flash fiction by

Lisa A.

“Lingering Limerance" It’s been months since I promised myself to let go of these feelings as he already became indifferent and aloof to my messages and gimmicks. I guess, this is the price for falling in love with a friend and for confessing my feelings to him – the loss of our friendship.

As a distraction, I would usually sketch random sceneries, create DIY roses, and read books. These days have been challenging to open up with people whom I connect with because they’re busy with their personal growth as well.

While I was painting, I received a text message: Lucielle, let’s meet up, I’m at the park. It pains me to see my full name instead of my nickname now. But, this is how life works.

The worries of being annoying or being desperate kept on echoing inside my mind, yet here I am — sitting beside him on this wide rock, under this huge tree. Plugging his phone into my laptop, he talked about a lot of things: movies, games, and the things he has been up to. I am listening and I am grateful for this moment. A moment of final gazes at every corner of his soul.

100%-- the files had been transferred.

Page 58

Flash fiction by

Lisa A.

I gathered my things and said my farewell. The thoughts of not seeing him, or talking to him, and being with him anymore started to haunt me as we walked away from each other. There’s no need for me to turn back. I was only wishing that he’s the one who will turn his back and walk his way towards me, just for the last time.

And he did.

The friendship that was once a bud of naivety is now a flower of fragility. Both people carefully tendered it as if with a single touch, its petals would fall and wither. As much as I wanted to reconcile the damaged bond, I needed more time to tame the raging ocean of my emotions.

“Bye, Mike.”

Those simple words were never simple for me. They are branches growing out of my throat. And yet, buds of vibrant flowers bloomed.

The blue rose that I held and kissed for a long time had withered away.

And now, I gently pick the lilac hydrangea and place it close to my heart. Its million tiny flowers remind me of the number of reasons why I should gaze deeply in the mirror to choose the person in front of me and appreciate the beauty of her soul.

Page 59

Flash fiction by

Lisa A.

“Gold did Shine" Sorry I couldn't make it.

Sighing with dismay, Colleen placed her phone down on the desk while she was being dressed with a lavender ball gown glittering with silver laces. The anxiety from the pandemic, stress from tons of piling schoolworks, and an unresolved quarrel with her close friend, Faith, were all heartbreaking for Colleen. Sadness and disappointment can be seen in her forced smiles.

Most of the people who promised to attend are now locked up inside their homes due to the sudden hike of infected cases. It was truly devastating news to hear. However, her family couldn’t cancel the celebration.

It’s already 4 PM and the venue decorated with gold and lavender bouquets is as empty as ever. Gold doesn’t shimmer inside this vacant bleak area. Colleen bit her lower tinted lips, trying to hold her tears back. Relatives and guests slowly filled the spaces, following the safety protocols, yet Colleen's expectation of having a grand and lively celebration is now shattered into pieces.

The ceremony began, but Colleen showed no interest yet she forced a smile. A pang in her heart spread as soon as she did not notice Thea, her best friend, appearing in the crowds. Kaleidoscopic spotlights shone under her, and faces covered with masks appreciated her beauty as she concealed her suppressed sadness.

Page 60

Flash fiction by

Lisa A.

This is the worst birthday I’ve ever had!

That’s what she thought, but not until the host called her attention and requested her to be seated along with her few friends and acquaintances.

Colleen obeyed, confused as the host and her friends were acting strangely from the moment the party had begun. Her emotions quickly shifted from dismay to joy as soon as she saw Thea in front of her, holding a black laptop, showing a short video. Colleen pressed the play button and a mellifluous melody hummed inside the hall, soothing her ears and soul. Within a few seconds, all the friends who were absent appear one-by-one, greeting her with heartfelt and wishful messages. Tears overflowed from her misty eyes as soon as Faith gave her sentiments and best wishes. It was unexpected. She thought everything was over between them but it wasn’t. And that gave her joy and peace for the rest of the day. It may be simple but this wonderful gift from her friends gave comfort and warmth to her anxious heart.

Later that night, after the party ended, her mom gave Colleen a warm tight embrace, gently planting a kiss on her forehead. “Colleen, I hope we made your 18th birthday one of your memorable days. I could see the sadness behind your dazzling attire and forced smiles.”

Colleen’s heart melted from her mother’s warmth that she got teary eyes. She smiled brightly and said, “It was the best of all time, Mom.”

Page 61

Flash fiction by

X.J Tamba

“Call of the Past" It was a bright Friday noon. I used my hand to cover my face from the unbearable rays of the sun. I was sitting on a long bench, painted green with peels all over. I can see its old and almost-muted color: white. I was lost in my deep thoughts when I heard my phone beeped. It was a message from an unknown number. It says, "Self-love isn't about being selfish, you know?" For a second, I was shocked. Why was I receiving this message and why I seemed to be so struck by what they said?

Memories come crashing through my mind again. "I am sorry but I'm not good enough for you." I've heard those lines again, for the third time. I know that it was really me. I am the one who is not good enough for him. They gave up because there's something wrong with me but they just can't find the right words to tell me that I'm at fault without hurting me. But I honestly think that it's so toxic that they would still end it all with a lie. "You're lying." I painfully replied and then I walked away. Earlier, before we broke up I heard him talking with someone on the phone and backstabbing me, telling the person on the other line all of my flaws.

Ever since, I knew that my flaws were all the reason why my past relationships didn't work out. I just can't change who I am and I'm a fool for thinking that there would be someone who's ready to love me, even my flaws. They say that I'm flawed because I didn't have many friends, I'm unsociable, and I'm boring. I know, but we are only human. We all have our own flaws. Having someone who will accept you for who you are is extremely heartwarming, but it's just so rare to find someone like this in reality.

Page 62

Flash fiction by

X.J Tamba

In recent years, I tried to change the true person that I am but I stopped because I'm not feeling good and happy with the person I am becoming. It is like, I am faking my life and I realized that with lies, nothing's really gonna work. I'm just putting myself into a tough situation. And so, I decided to bring back the old me. Maybe I should stop questioning and doubting myself just because I didn't receive all the love I've given. I loved them, but for them it wasn't enough. It's not my problem, right?

I shook my head to get rid of all the thoughts that were eating me up. Maybe the reason why I was so affected with the message is because I neglected the thought of self-love. I should've loved myself first. But maybe I failed to do this because I thought I'll be more selfish if I do so. But now, I just realized that selflove isn't really selfish. In fact, it is important to love yourself first so that you could also love someone wholeheartedly.

I smiled. "From now on, I'll begin again and I'm gonna start loving myself first."

I whispered. To the person who sent me this message, whether it is intentional or just a wrong send, I pray to God that you'll be blessed because your message has brought me felicity.

I blissfully stood up and replied "Thank You" to that unknown number when I bumped into someone. I'm about to say sorry when his phone beeped.

He looked at his phone and said "You're welcome" as he typed those words.

Page 63

short stories

Story by

Therese Anne Balberona

“She Once Loved" “Have you ever desired something so bad, that the thought of not being able to achieve it scares you?”

She stared back at her, taken aback by her sudden query.

“Why are your questions always brutal?” She replied.

They both chuckled as they stepped out of the elevator and bid each other goodbyes. She reached the ground floor of the hospital building, thoughts still lingering about the question she wasn’t able to answer earlier.

Her eyes began to wander aimlessly just as her mind explored. If she had that one thing she truly desired, it would be this exact moment. This exact scenario where she stands between the alleys of these white painted walls.

From crowded emergency rooms, repetitive sounds of doors sliding open and shut, the squeaky wheelchairs, the coffee from vending machines, and the tasteless boring snacks from the cafeteria, up to the smell of alcohol reeking in every corner, the scent of get-well-soon flowers, the busy women in scrubs, and the doctors in elegant-looking white gowns. She remembered how she used to love every single detail about hospitals. She too once desired something so bad…yet life has its wicked ways.

Never did it cross her mind that she was going to lose her pace. The passion that kept her alive and driven were now mere fragments of memories she once had. She missed the excitement life offered, knowing very well that living is entirely different from barely existing.

Page 65

Story by

Therese Anne Balberona

The dimmed lights in her room were enough to cast down the mood, but not a lone tear fell from her tired eyes. Guessing they, too, went weary for the countless times they had to shed.

The monsters.

They never left. They haunted her until she stopped running from them.

It was never because she was tired from escaping, but because she got too comfortable with their presence. The failures, mistakes, and struggles she got to encounter now seemed typical as if it did not bother her as it did before. She yearned for darkness and found sanity in it.

Melancholy filled her thoughts and even her caffeine-filled blood failed to keep her up. She, too, was oblivious to why she lost hope and it breaks her heart every time she tries to remember moments when she still felt ecstatic about things. It tears her soul, for there is nothing more painful than witnessing yourself slowly lose track in life.

You might as well be confused about how her story may end. Apparently, she never cared. She was shattered, yet the pieces remained complete. She was exhausted, but the pillows always had extra spaces for her tears. She felt hopeless, but quitting wasn’t on her list. She always believed having courage worked best in this world, yet she was able to recognize how weakness breeds bravery. Her so-called monsters now seemed easier to control. After all, the monsters were hers to tame.

You don’t get to follow where life leads you. Lead it yourself and see the difference. It won’t matter if you lose track, so continue treading the path like how Alice strayed the vastness of Wonderland.

Finally, she got up and wiped her damp face, for she still has a white coat to get.

Page 66

Story by

Evronne Elaiza Alapa-ap

“1871" It's the year 2071 when the march of technology in this time looks to be unstoppable and hugely exciting. There are more intelligent AI, wearable devices, big data, machine learning, driverless cars, virtual reality, and a lot more. And this era includes time-traveling.

Yes, time-traveling.

In a company, there are groups of men who were tasked to travel back in time 200 years from the present. These are Henry Johnson, Covey Miller, Kenneth Williams, Kane Brown, and Tom Wolfgang.

They had a one-month preparation for the project in which they were tasked to find out some certain details and information from the history. As the days pass by, all five of them are ready for their mission.

As the company saw the progress they made in their training, they immediately scheduled the date and time of their mission. “You will have 6 months to finish your mission, and the company, especially the Administrator, is expecting success in this task. All of you must come back after the given time since the time of your travel is already set and cannot be adjusted.” The mission specialist said to the agents.

The agony of waiting has finally come to an end. All the agents are placed in the time machine which brings about closed time like curves. The heavy atmosphere surrounded every corner of the room as they pulled the lever of the machine for it to start. The room was covered with brightness and in just a blink of an eye, all the agents of the mission were brought in the year 1871.

Page 68

Story by

Evronne Elaiza Alapa-ap

Of course they have to blend in and find some appropriate outfits they brought for them to be not suspicious among the people in that era. They are also tasked with different missions individually. That means they will be going their separate ways and be back all together in the same place and time after 6 months.

Different challenges and chaos occur in that 6 months. A lot of trials and also a lot of discoveries were found in that history. Despite everything they are going through, they are also having fun staying exploring in the year 1871.

Fast forward.

The day has finally arrived where they had to go back to the present since their time ran out. As they wait for the five of them to be completed and contact each other, one of them has gone missing. They are freaking out and trying to figure out what to do since the time machine will bring them back to the present time in just a minute. “Where is he? Where is Tom?” Kane asked. “Try to reach him as much as possible!” Covey said. “But we do not have much time left, the time machine will bring us back to the present in less than a minute!!” Kenneth yelled.

And in just a blink of an eye, all of them were back in the present except for Tom Wolfgang who had gone missing in the year 1871.

The company declared to everyone that Tom died during the mission and kept the truth inside the parameters of the company only.

Page 69

Story by

Evronne Elaiza Alapa-ap

Years later, while Kenneth was on his way to training, he saw a familiar leather jacket worn by a lady. His feet dragged him to chase after that woman and prove something that his gut tells him. When he got close to that woman, “Excuse me…”

He said. The woman faced at Kenneth’s direction and his eyes widened when he saw the embroidery in that woman’s vintage leather jacket.

He remembered his conversation with Tom the night before the mission. “What’s that?” Kenneth asked. “Oh, it’s a customized jacket my wife gave me. Do you see this embroidery of my name? Yup, she made this. It’s beautiful isn’t it?” Tom smiled.

“Where did you get that jacket miss?” Kenneth asked politely. “Oh, this? My mom’s grandmother gave this to me the last thanksgiving. She said she found this in her great great great grandfather’s stuff the day he passed away.” The woman explained.

Kenneth cannot believe what he just heard. He then decided to make an investigation to prove his imputation. “What is the name of her great great great grandfather?” He asked.

“She did not mention it. But last night I found this inside the pocket of this jacket.”

She said and showed it to Kenneth.

Kenneth’s eyes widened when he saw a torn crumpled and old piece of torn paper with unclear and gauzy letters.

“Tom…”

Page 70

Story by

Emmanuelle Anne Besonia

"Falling Star" As the sun slowly slumps on the horizon, my bedroom dims from its absence and I watch as the shadows grow bigger with every second passing by. I don't know why but I've always loved watching the sun set. Maybe it's because the colors of twilight bring me in a state of tranquility where I feel as if time itself stops and only I am moving through the present. Just looking at the sky fills my heart with warmth — like the one you feel when you drink hot chocolate on a cold rainy day, and calmness to my mind that is usually in a constant state of war with itself. In moments like this, I can remind myself that sometimes it's okay to unwind and forget the responsibilities I carry.

I’m not sure how long I was staring into space but by the time I snapped back to reality, it was completely dark outside. The buildings nearby started to light up and if I look farther away from this distance, they start to look like stars shining among the pitch black sky. I close my eyes as I feel the wind brush across my face. There’s just something about the cold breeze of the night that chills you down to the bone, in a good way of course! The stars aren’t fully visible yet but nonetheless the sky is breathtaking. I’ve always had an interest in stars — shooting stars to be precise, I think it’s because I was in love with the idea of my wishes coming true and the comfort it gave me.

Bringgg, bringgg I jolted from the sudden noise that was coming from my phone. I looked at the caller ID and on the screen displayed the name of my lovely friend, Olivia.

“Hey! What’s up?” I asked as I made my way back towards my working table.

“Chloe! You won’t believe what I just saw!” And before I could answer her question, she continued her sentence.

“A shooting star!!”

I was speechless. What are the odds of her seeing one just as I was thinking about them.

“Chloe?... You still there?”

“Oh - uhh, of course! Funny, I was just thinking about those.” I stared back out the window, this time more stars were present, beautifully shining and lighting up the sky.

Page 71

Story by

Emmanuelle Anne Besonia

“That’s so like you, in fact I knew you were looking at the stars again so I made a wish in your stead.” I can feel the excitement in her voice, now I wish I was there with her.

Imagine how much the stars would shine brighter if you were with someone you hold dear.

“Really? What did you wish for me?”

“For you to be happy — genuinely happy even if the stars disappear in your sky.”

I paused for a few seconds and then let out one ugly snicker.

“PUAHAHA, why are you so serious?”

“Wha- don’t laugh at me! Hey! You know you should feel grateful instead of mocking my wishes for you!” I continued to laugh as I imagined her embarrassed face looking at me even though we’re miles away. And after what seemed like a while, I finally caught my breath and stopped cackling.

“I’m only teasing you!” I replied, this time more composed.

“Hey Olivia...thank you.” A smile formed on my lips even though I knew she couldn’t see it, I'm sure my words were enough to reach her.

“I know, you stupid.” And just like how I knew she could tell what look I have on my face, I bet right now she’s smiling like a fool as well.

Just as we were about to end the call, I took one last glance outside my window and as if on cue, a bright light passed by across one end of the sky to the other, as if it was falling from the heavens.

“Hey Olivia” I called out, not taking my eyes off the falling star.

“Yeah?”

“I wish for you to be by my side genuinely happy as well” “I know.”

I may have made countless wishes in the past with not a single one of them becoming true and I was okay with that. But, just this once, I'm begging the heavens to not let this one special wish to fall into nothingness. I don’t mind not having any more of my desires to be heard and accepted, just that they don’t take away my happiness — genuine happiness here on earth. If I have that, then nothing else matters because then I'll know I have received my falling star and nothing will take it away from me.

Page 72

Story by

Voltaire

Space Mania Aleksander Starspade is on the verge of a cliff and he only has two options at hand to escape a tormenting death by getting pulled inside a Blackhole. One, he gives up the Elixir of Evermore to the Space Cops who have been hunting him for three hours already and just surrenders to have a lesser sentence guaranteed by the Hall of Space Justice.

Two, he jumps off the cliff, into the murky Blackhole, and sacrifices one of his two Infinity Gems to be respawned again at the Rings of Saturn.

The first option is the smarter choice but Aleksander is not that sharp so he pushes his luck with the second option. The only thing that gives him second thoughts is wasting one of his Infinity Gems for his mere foolishness. One Infinity Gem costs a fortune and its extreme rarity makes it the most valuable stone throughout the universe. Acquiring two of it is enough attestation that one possesses the strength, the talent, the determination, and the dedication to be worthy of these gems.

Now, he has to give up one of them and he has no choice but to. Aleksander might not be the brightest of all the Space Heroes but he surely is one of the most resourceful. He peeked at the dreary Blackhole and swallowed a big gulp. He glanced at the Space Cops who are so close now that they could reach him any minute. Just in time as they reached him on the verge, Aleksander jumped off the cliff and the intense gravity started to pull him. Before he was sucked fully into the darkness, he raised his right hand with a green Infinity Gem clenched in his fist, and then crushed it with all his might and shouted, “Green! Rebirth!”. Before his free falling body reached the tip of the forcefield, he disappeared in a blink of an eye. The Space Cops were left dumbfounded by the rapid turn of events and confusion was shown all over their faces as to where Aleksander might have gone. They assumed that he was indeed sucked by the Blackhole since they were not able to witness the whole teleportation incident. They pulled back from the edge and went back to where they came from: the scorching Desert of Ceres.

But what really happened to Aleksander? Did he respawn to the Rings of Saturn as what he expected?

After the whole crush-the-Infinity-Gem-and-shout-the-enchantment thing, Aleksander was left floating into nothingness.

“Am I inside the Blackhole?” He wondered.

Page 74

Story by

Voltaire

He tried to search for his walkie talkie to contact his teammates. After a minute of rummaging through his equipment, he found it hanging at the back of his belt.

“Hello? This is SH24601, Aleksander Starspade. Do you hear me? Over.”

No one answered.

“I need back-up. I got stuck inside a Blackhole. Over.”

Again, no one answered except for the static line of the phone. He tried again and again but still, no one answered.

Hopelessness began to sink in when he noticed mysterious letters floating around with him in the dark void of nothingness. The letters make no sense at first to Aleksander until they start constructing themselves to form a sentence.

“Respawning in 10 seconds.”

Aleksander read the words out loud. He found it ridiculous and meaningless at first, not until he saw the number ticking down like a clock. Or, is it really just a clock?

Respawning in 9 seconds…

Aleksander does not know what to do but he is not feeling good about the time thingy.

He started to search for his equipment and looked for something that he could use to protect himself unless something unpleasant happens.

Respawning in 7 seconds…

Aleksander cannot find something useful in his rucksack. All he had at hand were medicinal herbs, a grappling hook, a pair of sandals, his last remaining Infinity Gem with the color of red which has the ability to combust any matter, but that is basically not helpful at the moment, and his set of dashing and serrated daggers.

Respawning in 5 seconds…

Aleksander breathes heavily. He is panicking.

Respawning in 4 seconds....

Aleksander sweats himself to death. He is getting anxious.

Respawning in 3… 2… 1…

Page 75

Story by

Voltaire

“IT’S A BOMB!” Aleksander screamed.

A bright, blinding light consumed the whole dark space. The next events happened in a blink of an eye. As Aleksander’s scream and the bright light consumed everything around him, he immediately finds himself standing in the middle of a busy city.

Shocked and astounded with the sudden turn of events, Aleksander scanned his surroundings. From where he is standing, he can see a towering and magnificent fountain to his right which he recognized as the Spiral Fountain. To his left, he can see space villagers going about their day. Some street vendors are so busy entertaining their customers that they sometimes do not notice pickpockets taking advantage of the crowd and stealing what they can grab from their goods. Aleksander also noticed some buskers amusing the children with their music performances. The jubilant, heartwarming, and peaceful ambiance he felt on the place gave him the feeling of recognition where he is at.

“I am in the central district of the Rings of Saturn.” He mumbled.

A wide smile is shown all over his face. He can’t believe that the green Infinity Gem really worked. He was saddened at first that he wasted such a rare and powerful gem for a mere foolishness on his part, but it did not outshine the happiness he felt of being still in the game.

“I will look for it again next time in my Space Quests.” He told himself.

“Aleksander Starspade is now up for another adventure!”.

Aleksander went inside the Space Hall to look for a next mission to embark.

--Alexander is hunched over the sofa with the controllers of his PS5 clutched in his hands.

The words, “Space Mania”, written in fancy letters are flashed all over the screen. With a bored look sprawled across his face, Alexander rummaged through his pocket and looked for his phone. The game seems to be in an update mode and Alexander wants to check first if his teachers have given any asynchronous tasks to be done on that day. He opened his NEO LMS and he saw 18 pending assignments that are due tomorrow. He smiled, put his phone back in his pocket, and grabbed the controllers as the app is now done updating and the game is about to start.

Page 76

Story by

Melizabel Frances Furio

00:36 AM Red, black, and white were the colors in his dreams.

Red, pumping from her veins and into the ground, forming a sea of warm liquid that he knows all too well. He was reminded of the pain.

White, the color of her skin draining the pink from her cheeks and the red from her lips. He was reminded of the shock.

And black, the color of her hair and eyes. He struggled to breathe but the air turned black.

He can never escape.

He can never forget.

He was reminded of his mistake. *** Connor woke from the ringing of his phone. It was dark in his room, the only light source was the full moon illuminating through his window. And he was crying.

Brushing the tears from his eyes, he reached for the bedside table to grab his phone. He looked at the caller I.D. "Hey Connie! I know it's late and you're probably sleeping but you're gonna attend tomorrow's Night To Remember right?" A nervous laugh reached his ears.

Connor blinked in surprise before mustering a smile, "Yeah, I'll be there." His voice felt rough. Had he been screaming through his nightmare?

Silence overtook the other line followed by the gust of wind and shoes softly hitting the rough pavements. She must’ve been outside.

"Have you been crying?"

The smile was already wavering from his lips, "I'm okay."

Page 77

Story by

Melizabel Frances Furio

"You don't sound okay." The tone sounded worried but at the same time melancholic.

"I..." Fresh tears started to form from the corners of his eyes. Connor quickly wiped his damp face.

God, he has missed her so much. He missed the soft and cheery voice every time they would talk about random stuff. The impulsive actions she would make when she’s nervous or worried, and Connor finds it cute. The feel of her long, velvety hair against his calloused hands when he tucks them behind her ears. The sweet sensation of her hands wrapping around his own, providing warmth and comfort as they enjoyed the silence together.

But...

"Please be careful."

The other line fell quiet for a moment and Connor gripped the bed sheets tightly, preventing his hands from trembling. He knew he was already too late.

The voice gave out a shuddered sigh, then a weak laugh escaped her lips, "I will. Just a few more blocks to my parents’."

No. She doesn't understand what's going on.

"You should pick up the pace, it's already getting late. B-but if you want, you can come back and we’ll-" “Connie, listen to me.”

Connor froze at the firm tone of her voice. He waited.

“It was not your fault. Do you hear me? So please stop blaming yourself.’

Connor stared into the darkness of his room as tears continuously streamed down his face, turning into quiet sobs. He couldn't utter a word to the voice on his phone but he had somehow felt as if the weight in his chest was getting lighter from her words alone.

Yet it didn’t change how his heart had always longed for her.

Oh if only…

Page 78

Story by

Melizabel Frances Furio

“I’m sorry.”

"Connie, my phone's about to die." There was relinquishment in her voice but she forced a smile even when Connor couldn't see them.

If only I got to tell her…

"Don’t forget me, okay?"

One last time…

“I will always-” And the line went dead, the sound echoing through his bedroom. With shaky hands, he looked at the time on his phone.

00:36 a.m. *** Louisa Yasmin San Jose died at the age of seventeen after becoming a victim of gang rape on her way home. When her parents and friends reported her "missing" after her absence on their Night To Remember, the police investigated her case saying that she was on her way to her parents' house after staying at her boyfriend Connor Anderson's place.

It was late in the evening when Louisa left his house after having an argument with Connor. After stopping by a convenience store, three unidentified men followed and forcibly abducted her to one of their houses nearby where she was sexually harassed, raped and killed. Her body was found in a black plastic bag three days later at a riverbank near one of the houses where she was violated. The three suspects were immediately found and arrested for rape and murder of the teen.

The time of her death was 00:36 am. *** The sky began rumbling in the distance, and rain soon followed... a light shower.

Connor walked to his destination slowly, he had time until a quarter past six. The rain still hadn't let up, it only seemed to grow heavier with each step he took. But finally, he made it to her grave.

Page 79

Story by

Melizabel Frances Furio

"Hey Lou." He started, crouching down to set the bouquet of pink and red carnations just beside the tombstone. He smiled to himself.

"They're lovely, right? I knew you'd love them so I picked the fresh ones I can find. And no, I don't care about the price. You always worry about those." He chuckled, his voice breaking like the night before. With shaky breaths, Connor tried to compose himself as his forehead met cold, unforgiving marble.

"Lou, I… I could never forgive myself, I’m sorry." He smiled bitterly and closed his eyes tightly. “But I will never forget you.”

As always, his words were met with no response. But that’s okay. Somewhere, maybe just out there, she is listening. And the thought of this gave him comfort and a bit of relief for these past months of self-loathing and regret. Connor will never forgive himself. But for the person he had loved, he would not live a single day without uttering these words to her.

"I love you. I will always love you."

Page 80

Story by

Yna Elaijah Langusta

“To Get Lost and Be Found” “Tell me, how did they break your heart?”

She stopped writing.

Once in an ordinary life, people bestowed her for being one of the promising writers.

She joyously played words within the tip of her pen as if it was just a challenging yet happy playground of showcasing her talent. She wanders all throughout several competitions and does love sharing her thoughts with other people.

Suddenly, a gloomy weather came, the sunrays suddenly disappeared unmindful of the thought the rain was about to fall. Everything seems naked. The so-called pen she once used now was threatening her to pull it down deeply in her wrist. Only a way to end the beating of her pulse. Agoned by these sparkles of words. Looking in front of the mirror and suddenly whispered “how can I get out?”

That moment, she realized that she was caged by their poison of words. Trembling all around the area only just to pressure her into winning. They tend to assume she’s perfectly fine with their acts unmindfully noticing her drowning in the water full of pens and papers.

The sunshine’s not enough to brighten up her mood and a beautifully-structured moon trying to embrace her couldn’t stop her eyelashes from becoming wet as every drop of her tears is just a sign of how she is tired questioning her self-worth just every second of the day.

One day, she saw a bird inside the cage doing the very best just to get out. Luckily, it went out and flew on its own as it merrily swung its wings up above. A single thought came upon her mind. Stopping her will to write is not a way to end this burden. She found hope in writing and she must not end everything just because of writing.

Perseverance to vent out with them is the only way.

After all, she stood up and walked confidently in front of her parents. Opening the thoughts and telling them to let her do what she wants in writing. She is in the thought to join but not in the point of them pressuring her will to write. All she wanted was to enjoy in the form of writing, not carrying a baggage of problems and thoughts just because of their wants for her in this field.

They cracked a smile and yet, the three of them joyfully waited for the sun to set and the moon to arise. A hope in this crucial world. She’s braver and carefree in writing as of now.

Page 81

Story by

Lisa A.

"Aftercourse of Secrets" It was a night filled with serenity and soothing melodies. A night I thought I could spend watching my favorite movie, but it was a night I spent listening to his stories about the special someone he fell in love with. “Beautiful”, “pretty”, “sexy”, “talented” and all the gorgeous words that shout praise came out from his mouth as I could feel his smile through the phone. However, his sweet voice got trapped within thorns growing in his throat. “I miss her so much!” “I don’t want our connection to fail.”

Hearing his sentiments tore my heart and so, I did my best to support and walk by his side during his downfall. It was an honor to be trusted by him with his deepest secret, yet it was a curse to know every detail. It went smoothly, not until he discovered it was him that I liked the most after giving him a chance to guess who it was. And there, everything we built together fell down like a collapsing mountain.

December 2020 The chirping of the birds awakened me like how my alarm clock does every 30 minutes.

This isn’t the first time I’ve heard those noises this morning. My eyes are wide awake yet I can’t seem to convince those annoying creatures that I’m already up. I took my phone and put the earphones which were 24/7 plugged into my gadget. Swiping the screen to unlock, I immediately clicked the music app and blasted some songs to eliminate those chirpings - songs that reminded me of a special someone. Tears formed and leaked from my eyes. Taking away the earphones from my ears and placing the phone under my pillow, I felt my whole limbs ache as I slowly got up and walked downstairs without bothering to fix my bed because it will be used again after my bath.

My mother immediately bombarded me with repeated words yet I entered the bathroom as if words passed through from both ends of my ears.

Skinny arms, tanned skin, unruly hair that never behaves, moody traits, gloomy perception about life – indeed, I’m nowhere similar to that girl. Her marvelous artworks are incomparable. The gap between me and that girl is unreachable. I was never enough. Maybe, there’s something wrong about me that he didn’t like. I never understand why I’m still hurting despite a year having already passed since he rejected my confession. It’s so strange that these feelings would turn out like this where it is just supposed to be a “crush”.

“Because you‘re already in love with him, that’s why. If it is just a crush, you’ve been able to let go and move on. But you’re already in love with him, deeply in love.”

Page 82

Story by

Lisa A.

January 2021, 10:30 PM Before sleeping, I clasped my hands and whispered prayers of gratitude. However, I was surprised to receive a message from Lucy about her fun time with her friends and the nostalgia that she might feel soon. Later, the conversation went deep and I remembered something.

“Y, I don’t want to ruin the mood but I just want to share what I’ve realized this whole time. I’m finally planning to let him go, to let these feelings go. I’m too young to chase someone. Chasing him caused me to miss half of my life, it caused me to mistreat myself in a way. I’m the one I should love. The person who deserves those letters, poems, artworks and DIY roses are me. I’m the one who deserves to receive it, from me. But I’m letting go for my own sake, not because he asked me.”

“For now, let’s focus on building ourselves and chasing our dreams, because we are dreamers. Let’s make our dreams into reality. You’re unique and somebody out there will love you for who you are so you don’t need to compare yourself.”

“Yeah, it wasn’t about the “who you are”. It wasn’t about “me not being good enough for him.” It’s more about who he loved, who he admired. I’ve never been not good enough for him. There’s nothing wrong about me. Because I’ve always been enough.

There’s nothing to compare myself to the person he likes because I am unique and I have this beauty that no one can ever have. He just doesn’t have feelings towards me.

He just doesn’t love me the way I love him… Why do I talk as if we just broke up? This is just unrequited love.” Lucy comforted me with the words I wanted to hear yet there’s a little voice creeping behind my mind, whispering everything won’t be the same again.

Morning arrived; we were at the pool to celebrate Kaye’s 18th birthday. As everyone was preparing to swim, I sat on the bench, watching my friends enjoying themselves. I took the request to order food and snacks. Hera accompanied me at the counter to order and paid the lady in exchange for the number stand. Hera walked a little bit ahead of me and I was surprised by her loud voice as she yelled with excitement the moment she saw Kent and him. Lively as ever, she patted their backs and welcomed them. I was appalled to see him. My hands went chill; I can feel the panic starting to boil my guts again. My plan of running away failed as he already noticed me. Damn those eyes! Those sparkling eyes as if it was speaking secrets he doesn’t want to be discovered. The smile that I’ve always loved. Every time, it never ceases to make my heart melt and weak.

He formed his hand into a fist and held it in the air, towards me. Hesitation filled me up, but I don’t want our friendship to end. Forming a smile, I raised my trembling fist, which he never noticed, and bumped it into his.

Page 83

Story by

Lisa A.

Erasing these feelings towards him had never been easy for me. It’s a cycle of revisiting the memories together with him, and completely ignoring his existence in my life. It’s like a zoetrope showing the same thing as it keeps rolling. At least, what happened gave me clarity – that I no longer have to hope; that I no longer have to experience those sleepless nights thinking about him though there are times this still happens; that I no longer have to hide these feelings that burdened me for five years.

I guess my time has come to delve back into my cave, to explore my potential, to tame the beast within, to understand all the pieces I used to hate, to embrace the part of me I used to neglect, and to try something that I’ve never tried before. It’s time to finally look at myself in the mirror, eye to eye. It’s time to let myself feel the happiness and love I used to give to him.

Page 84

Story by

Mason Jar

"Insecurities" Why can’t I feel beautiful in my own skin? Why can’t girls feel comfortable as they are?

From my own experience, I have a family that constantly critiques my appearance. My father often asks, “Why are you dressed like that? Are you trying to impress someone?”

The answer is yes, I am trying to impress someone. Who? Me, the person I’m trying to impress is me. How can I feel comfortable in my own skin when my own father points out different parts of my body that I feel insecure about? Your stomach is sticking out, your thighs are too thick, your face is rounder, and you need to lose weight.

I try to lose weight, I eat less every day. I’m sorry I can’t magically change myself to look like the models I see online, I’m sorry my appearance is not up to your standards. I feel helpless, I can’t help being the way I am, the way I look, the way my body is, why can’t you just be proud of me for being myself? If I lose weight, if I end up looking like a skeleton, will you accept me then? Will you tell me that I’m beautiful then?

Everywhere, everyone preaches that we should be proud of who we are and shake off what other people say. I try and try to be that way, just shaking off what people say but I’m not that strong, I can’t shake them off when their comments feel like sharp knives that are emitting searing pain on my back.

Daddy, do you know that I lie awake every night crying because of the comments and insults you throw at me? Mommy, why don’t you ever tell me that I’m pretty?

Looking in the mirror I don’t see myself, I see a girl full of flaws, I see a hideous girl, a worthless girl, a girl who isn’t worth it, but then again, that girl is me, I am that worthless girl I see in the mirror. “You’re so vain,” Daddy tells me whenever I put on make-up. “Who are you trying to impress? Is there a boy?” Daddy asks me, but there is no boy. No boy likes me because I’m ugly, right? I wear make-up to feel beautiful, not to impress others. Why do people always ask us this question? Can’t we simply wear make-up for ourselves, to feel beautiful, to feel strong or empowered? Are these reasons not enough to convince you?

Page 86

Story by

Mason Jar

We’re all insecure about ourselves in different ways, but why do we have to point out the insecurities of others? We should be able to go out into the world looking how we want to look without being put under the microscopic lens of society. Girls shouldn’t be told what to wear and what not to wear, and the same goes for boys, if boys want to wear make-up let them, if they’re not doing anything to harm you then let them be, let us be. Just let us be us, don’t make us feel worthless and ugly, instead help us love ourselves, help us feel beautiful just as we are.

“Make-up hides who you are”, a common misconception told to us since day 1. Makeup isn’t used to conceal, it’s used to enhance one's beauty and make a person feel good about themselves. It is a form of expression that everyone can partake in. Girls are scolded for wearing make-up for the reasons of looking promiscuous, seductive, or distracting. When a boy is caught wearing make-up, it is often told that they’re being too feminine, that make-up is only for girls. Regardless of race and gender, make-up is for everyone to use.

Words hold so much power; they can either strengthen or weaken a person. That choice is being handed to us every day and most of us don’t even know it. You spew your words out without even wondering if you’re hurting someone. Words can hurt just as much as bullets can, just as much as a blade gliding through your skin can, words are powerful, words can hurt but they can also heal.

Page 87

Story by

Dorothy Claire Mosqueda

“The Mischief Bridge” Trigger Trigger Warning: Warning: Suicide, Suicide, Rape Rape In this world full of greedy ignorant human beings, hope is something that is rare to find. I doubt that such a thing even exists today. What is the point of living in this world when you have no one to lean on? I’m better off dead. That way, those who failed to appreciate my existence will finally realize my worth.

I’ve been thinking about life for a couple of days. I have decided. If this is the only way that I will be appreciated, then so be it. I’m wearing my favorite outfit today. I can’t stand the thought of paramedics discovering my body with an ugly attire. I usually roam around the city using my bike. But today, I decided to walk towards my destination. It’s been a long time since I last appreciated the beauty of nature and buildings combined.

My parents are getting a divorce. They will be separated for good. Both have their own families and I will be left all alone. None of them gave me attention and it hurts me seeing how they give so much love to their new family.

The figure of the Mischief Bridge has finally come to my visuals. I never thought of admiring such rusty and unsymmetrical beauty. It was once called the bridge of love.

People tend to stop by at the bridge and take a moment to relax. They have also found their soulmates there and a lot of friendships have been formed. However, as time passes by, it has been forgotten. Folks around the city started to jump off in an attempt to take their lives. The water current is so strong that even professional divers can’t easily swim without having proper equipment. It was also unexpected of me to think of doing things those residents did. I used to call them immature and stupid. Oh, how the tables have turned. I was snapped out of my train of thoughts when I heard shouting. I ran towards their direction.

“I got here first so I have to die earlier than you.” A boy with brown hair and cheeky eyes said with determination and poke the other boy’s left shoulder.

He was about to climb on the bridge when the other dragged him down and shouted.

“This isn’t your place so I also have the right to refuse your suggestion.”

Page 88

Story by

Dorothy Claire Mosqueda

Great, I thought I’m going to die peacefully. Due to their loud voices, we caught the attention of people passing by. There are those who are panicking and I can tell by the way they manipulate their phones, they’re calling 911. I dragged the two away from the bridge and brought them to an empty eerie park nearby. It looks like the commotion has stopped and none of the police came.

“Hey, lady! Can’t you see that we’re up to something?” Said the guy with brown hair “Today was supposed to be the day people will finally appreciate me! I’ve been looking forward to this event. Yet you caused commotion and officials will be guarding the bridge for the next 12 hours!” Out of desperation, I threw tantrums at the two strangers.

14th of May when I met Dominique and Ken at the Mischief Bridge. The day wherein I’m supposed to die. The day wherein the three of us decided to take our lives. We’ve been chit chatting for the past 2 hours in this eerie empty park. The thought of taking our lives slipped out of our minds for a moment. When the day was almost done, we decided to go home.

“Uh, Althea? Do you mind coming here tomorrow?” Ken asked me.

The three of us parted our ways. My parents don’t even have the slightest idea that I attempted suicide today. As I lay down in my bed, staring at the ceiling, I felt an emotion I never felt before. I can’t describe it properly. The only thing I know is that I am confused. Dom, Ken, and I planned earlier to jump off the bridge together tomorrow. But right now, I am uncertain. I have been thinking about my life for the past few days. I tried looking for reasons to not commit such a thing. I was so determined. But I don’t even know what to do anymore.

The next day, I changed to an all-black outfit, just like what we discussed. I arrived at the Mischief Bridge earlier than the two of them. I met a crouching girl who seemed to be crying nonstop. I hurriedly approached her and was about to comfort her when she shouted at me.

“No! Get away from me! Don’t touch me, don’t touch me!”

Page 89

Story by

Dorothy Claire Mosqueda

Few cars were crossing the bridge and the whole city was still quiet. It’s so early in the morning and there are no passersby so far. I let her cry and shout her heart out because shushing her will just worsen things. Letting it all out will help us calm down. I know because I’ve been there many times. While waiting for Dom and Ken, I got the chance to talk to the crouching crying girl. She opened up to me easily because we’re strangers.

And trusting strangers is more comforting than talking to those people you know.

I was so furious after learning how she was raped by her own uncle last night. She was blackmailed that her parents will be killed if she tells a soul about the incident. I’m not good at affirming people since I received none during childhood until now. I know that this is a bad idea but escaping this hellhole is better than facing her rapist every day, as a traumatic incident keeps on replaying in her mind every moment of her life. So, I told her about what happened yesterday. On how I planned my death, how Dom and Ken fought on whose demise will be earlier than the other, on how passersby noticed the commotion, on how we ended up in the eerie empty park, and on how we planned to die together today. The moment Kate agreed, I asked her name. By the way, the two boys arrived. The four of us were settled. We climbed the Mischief Bridge and held hands together.

“On the count of three, or after three?” Ken asked “On three?” Kate answered “On three.” I confirmed The four of us took a deep breath.

“One” We will finally be free from this miserable life.

“Two” We will finally be appreciated.

Page 90

Story by

Dorothy Claire Mosqueda

“Taking your life won’t do you any good, you know?” A voice suddenly emerged out of nowhere. I was shocked to the point that I lost balance. Since the four of us were holding hands, we fell backwards into the hard cement of the bridge. We complained in unison as we checked if our bodies had any fractures. I massaged my back because the pain was too much due to the impact. I shouted in frustration as our attempt “activity” was again cancelled.

We saw two idiotic individuals with an irritating smirk on their faces. The sun had risen and people started to appear. We sighed in disappointment. The annoying cheerful girl offered her hand as if she didn’t just witness our attempt suicide.

“I’m Claire. And this is my twin brother, Carlo.” The guy with a goofy face smiled. He looks stupid. None of us accepted her hand so she withdrew awkwardly.

“We saw what the four of you are about to do. Don’t worry, we won’t tell anyone.” She even winked. The audacity of this girl to actually meddle with someone else’s business.

She’s so talkative and I even question their relation to Carlo. It ain’t obvious that the two are twins. They’re totally opposite.

Looking back eight years ago, Dom, Ken, Kate, and I were about to die if it weren’t for the twins. Those annoying twins. After learning each other’s stories, I was more than ashamed of myself. There are people who had it worse than me and instead of trying to solve my problems, I encouraged them to die with me just to help me lessen my guilt and loneliness. The thought of testifying my life, especially my suicidal days, never crossed my mind. But here I am today, with my other five best friends, spreading awareness about mental health. Our company about mental health awareness has expanded over the years and thankfully helped a lot of people experiencing mental instability. The infamous Mischief Bridge who had been a platform of suicide sceneries has become the Bridge of Love once again. But for the six of us, it will always be a Mischief Bridge. The Mischief Bridge that brought unbreakable friendship. Healing was never easy for us.

But in the end, we got the justice we deserved. Indeed, there is still hope. And when I have the chance to meet my eighteen-year-old self, I will totally tell her that hope is not rare. Hope can be found even in the darkest of times. Hope can be found in the right person, at the right time. And I want to tell her that she should be that hope. That hope that people will lean on when things go wrong. Who knows that even the most cheerful and affirming person you meet is the one struggling the most.

Page 91

Story by

Nikolaevna Etoile

“In The Chains' Grip” The small house in a place where the abundance of nature dwells is my home. I sat in front of my open door with the view of a thousand flowers in the bed of green grass. The fresh air comes inside and I breathe it all in, grateful for this place. I heard the clanging of kitchen wares behind me and my lips curled into a smile, for my husband is being clumsy again.

I sigh. My fingers slid onto the leather surface of my diary that I always keep with me. I do not know if it's magic of some sort but I am suddenly sucked into a world that flashes in a blur.

Then I remembered the story of the maiden in chains…

In the dark crevasses of a place unknown, a maiden lay with hair the color of lavender that flows from the top of her head down to her waist like an endless waterfall. Her eyes, two blue pools, with the ocean waves trapped inside of it.

From afar, she looks like a bright star, a jewel that is shining brightly which caught the attention of the Térata, the monsters that are lurking in this dark place. She hides behind the abnormally formed structures of rocks trying to conceal her existence, as if that will suffice, and eavesdrops on The Ascent that is taking place. An aching force suddenly hit my head and I cried in agony. The blurry scenes that flashed in my mind earlier unveiled its existence. Happenings from before came into view and are getting clearer and clearer in every minute.

“Ianthe!” A reverberating voice echoed in my mind which caused me to get down on my knees and hold on to my aching head tighter.

Make this stop. As fast as they appeared, the scenes in my head disappeared without a trace, leaving me with only pain. My shoulder rose and fell in a swift motion as I started panting.

This is my story. I am reliving the past that I long buried inside of me.

Page 92

Story by

Nikolaevna Etoile

Just like before I stealthily observed the event that transpires. By the time, a child reaches the age of fourteen, The Ascent commences. It is the fruit of the children’s wishes to have a better life, to explore a place that is not devoid of color, unlike this one. The citizens of this world only know the absence of color, the hue of darkness. Children from every corner of this kingdom line up in front of a portal that looks like a black hole. It looks doubtful but if it can take the citizens somewhere far from here and live a better life, then there is no other option than going inside the portal. No matter how hard my father tries to stop this event, there is no way to terminate it for we all believe that this event is protected by the rules that are bound to it by the ancient kings. What lies on the other side of the portal, we do not know. We are blinded by the truth and so we trust the truth that comes out of the people's mouths that a single wish can break open a portal like this one as a form of escape for the young ones.

I looked at them with envy, telling myself that I still have three more years to endure before this portal will take me. More nights of wishing and more faint hopes in every waking day. My body flinched with the sound of a distant whistle.

The sound traveled from afar until it started ringing in my ear, temporarily making me deaf. The force that comes with the sound paralyzed me. The thread of Kaisen leaves me powerless, a mere being without any power to even control my own body. I floated in no time, flying over and under rock formations until the black gates of goo welcomed me like an old friend. The aura of my father oozes out of the palace. Yes, I am a princess. Used and abused. My father, the ruler of this world, goes by the name, Ozul.

I looked at the eyes of the guards that stood by, still like a statue. My mouth remains shut and I

can only roll my eyes in every direction, trying to find

someone who will hold my gaze and understand that I am in need of help. They did not move. These men are trained to shut their mouths, speak to no one, and only help the king and only him. My gaze jumps from one guard to another, searching for someone to help and hoping that one of them will perceive that I am in need of rescue by only looking at my eyes. Their eyes look straight ahead, gazing at the distance. No one dared to meet the eyes of the damned and filthy princess.

Page 94

Story by

Nikolaevna Etoile

Until one of them did. His green eyes of nature stared into my soul and I wanted to scream so bad because finally, there was someone who looked at me, someone who has a brave heart that could possibly save me from this horrible life I am living. I cannot spew out words. I only let my eyes tell him the silent story of how I long to be free. Our gaze did not last long. He was the first one to break from the connection we made. The invisible thread that has held me captive took me to the Great Hall where my mother and two sisters sat along with the king. Ozul, my father, greeted me with a devilish grin, and with a flick of his finger, he easily sat me down on the cold, metal chair, accompanied with a force that could possibly break my ribs. Metal meets the hard surface of the floor. An ear-splitting screech suddenly broke the icy silence that was surrounding us. I am just inches away from the devil, powerless as I still am, I just sat on the chair like a corpse. Sensing his touch on my thighs, I felt a cold feeling run down my spine. Every day is a torture. A torture that I can’t escape. A torture that is now a part of my life. A torture that started since I was a little girl where my mother is pretty much aware of the wickedness of her husband but chose to keep her mouth shut. His cruelty shattered my being and there is no waking day that I feel disgusted with myself. I will always feel the traces of his filthy hands in my body and I will scratch my skin until I bleed, hoping that I can take it off my skin. His wickedness will be tattooed on my skin for good.

Small flies hover on top of my untouched food. Hot tears rolled down my face as his touch went up and up until it ended up on the restricted part of my body. My muffled roars echoed in the hall but no one had the strength to stop my father for they were living under the shadow of their fear.

They have the choice of opening their mouths to stop my father. The choice of standing up and preventing my father from abusing me any further but they chose to be silent. Along with my muffled cries, I delivered my silent prayer for them to remember my howls forever. Silence can be cruel in situations like this.

When fear dwells in the souls of many, silence will always be their friend. I wish they’ll desert that fear of theirs and replace it with so much bravery, maybe then they can save a poor soul like me from my suffering. Anger. Disappointment.

Anguish. Three emotions that I feel at this very moment.

Page 95

Story by

Nikolaevna Etoile

Emotions that will and always be familiar to me. His rough hands roamed my body and I heard armors clashing with one another. Upon the disturbing sound, the grip of the thread of Kaisen loosened up a bit. I craned my head to where the sound came from and locked us with the guard that stared into my eyes earlier. I struggled for him to see that he now has a goal, and that is to save his princess from misery. His eyes reflected the pain that I am feeling. The guard which I assume holds a much higher rank held him with a tight grip, stopping him from running towards me.

“Be gone, for this dinner is done. Follow me, for what awaits us is fun.”

The gripping force that was enveloping me became tighter as the heavy doors to the throne room opened. Tall and wide windows are draped with dark curtains.

Without any rays of the sun, this place looks gloomy. The familiar feeling of fear surges through me. A feeling not unknown to me. He looked at me with the eyes of the devil, merciless. This man doesn’t have a hint of sympathy towards his abused daughter. I am not surprised for this man is a spawn of the devil and he is born to be cold and heartless like his kind is supposed to be. His hands twitched in a swift motion, binding my helpless body to the chains that slither like snakes. In the chains’ grip I wrestle for my life, to escape. In the chains’ grip, a strong force knocked me out and I suddenly saw stars. In the chains’ grip I feel livid about myself for not having the power to stop the man I call my father. In the chains’ grip I wept for he continued touching me where he is not supposed to. In the chains’ grip I screamed because of my disappointment, because of my captivity and because of not having freedom. I blame the one who made the rule for the children to have a nicer place at the age of fourteen for he is the one who has trapped me in this horrible life, enduring the pain and abuse for three more years.

If only wishing at any given time would open the portal, maybe then I would’ve escaped this place earlier. My scream of pain and anguish was silenced when I fell onto the cold ground of the throne room, tired and helpless.

“Dispose of her,” I heard him say when he was done satisfying his needs. The guards immediately escorted me to my chamber. In trembling hands, I reached for my diary that holds every horrible thing my father did to me.

Page 96

Story by

Nikolaevna Etoile

Due to having a mind full of thoughts, I forgot to write down the date. I wrote everything with so much rage that I ripped the paper and spilled ink all over my table. Wet circles from my hot tears continued to expand on the paper, reaching my intricate handwriting and spoiling the ink. As it reached the blackness of the ink, the dark hue rolled down the rest of the paper like tears. Angry tears just like mine. I furiously blew the candle on the desk and I threw myself to my bed and let my body sink in. I cried my heart out again. When will this end? I recited my prayer, wishing and praying that the green-eyed guard would come to save me.

Blank. Then came darkness. Nightmares visited me in my sleep, making me toss and turn and unable to get a good night’s slumber. I stared at the distance, looking at the flickering lights in

everyone’s home. Shadows of the Térata

obscured the moonlight, the snakes of the sky. I knocked on my door, asking my guard if he could fetch me a cup of tea to aid my insomnia. I heard his footsteps grow fainter and fainter every minute. My mattress is soft when I touch it and I began to wonder why it could not chase away my nightmares and provide me with good dreams. To provide me a scenario that only my mind can make, of life that is much better than this. I shook my head. How foolish of me to think that a mattress can do any of that. Lost in my train of thoughts, I did not notice someone was already standing in front of me. In his heavy armor, the man with the green eyes stood still with hot tea in his hands.

“You’re not one of my guards. What happened to the one that is guarding my door?” I asked him and we sat down at the edge of the bed. The warmth of the tea in my hands feels soothing. Warm liquid made its way down to my stomach and I let out a satisfied sigh.

“I knocked him out,” He said in a hush voice. For a man who is still dressed in armor and is bred to fight, his voice made me forget about his strong façade. I rose and stood in front of him. My hands full of scars landed on the chilly surface of his helmet. I let my forehead rest on top of his and his hands wrapped my waist in a calm manner. He is a man, the same as my father but in his arms, I feel peace and the fear that I always knew is gone.

“You need to save me.”

Page 97

Story by

Nikolaevna Etoile

I pulled his helmet away and his beautiful locks greeted me. In this dark room, I am having a hard time trying to see his face. With this man’s embrace, I found myself crying again, my hot tears rolling down my cheeks to his face. “I will save you but not at this very moment. When dawn comes, anticipate my arrival, for I will take you away from this dark place.”

I nodded with his reassuring words. When he stood up, I sensed that he was towering me with his height. He embraced me one last time before going back to his post. I lay on my bed with a sound mind. All the voices and nightmares disappeared and I dozed off to a good sleep.

The creaking sound of my window woke me up. A man with glowing skin entered from my window. He looks like one of the gods I read in my books. His eyes are as green as the moss in a forest. A familiar color. Pieces of my memory recalled the eyes of this man. It was him, whose eyes met mine. The guard who wanted to run when he saw me. The guard with the eyes of tranquility that made me want to run away with him. The guard who had the ability to put me to sleep without any nightmares in my head. Strangely though, I still cannot see the fullness of his face. It’s as if he is wearing a mask that I can only see his eyes despite his beautiful glow. He opened his arms, waiting for me to run to him.

“I heard your cries, that is why I am here.

I am a man from the skies, dispose of your fears Let me put glee on your face to replace the tears I am here to save you, just to make myself clear.”

Without a thought, I let myself rush to him and drown in his embrace. He carried me towards my open window and his wings unraveled behind us. He’s like an angel. An angel sent from the skies because of my silent wishes. We took flight, going high up in the skies leaving the place worse than Pandemonium in our feet.

I heard the distant calls of my guard but I did not look back. My eyes are fixated to the sky that is slowly turning pink and then blue. The desire to leave this place swallowed me that I did not have the time to care about my family members that are still trapped inside the castle walls.

Page 98

Story by

Nikolaevna Etoile

We entered the invisible hole that is in the sky only to be taken to a place full of greenery. A world where flowers bloom and animal life thrives. This is far from the world I have ever known. When my world is devoid of color and life, this one is full of different hues and every living being thrives. I have hopes of this place.

That it will embrace me, a piece of chaos, with its serenity. The soft grass tickled the bareness of my feet and my knees grew weak. Good thing he was only inches away from me, just in time to save me from falling.

“Easy,” I heard him say.

“You waited for how many years Endured the horrible things and shed so much tears I offer you this place with all of its beauty and pleasant sounds to hear May this help you forget the hellish place you were in, my dear.”

Right before my eyes, his skin stopped glowing and his face that is draped with his glow is now seen. His jet black locks dance as the wind passes by.

“I am Eirene and I bring you peace.”

Heal.

My husband’s soft touch on my shoulder pulled me back from my reverie. I held onto him just like the way I held him that night in my bed chamber. He is my lifeline, my savior. He helped me escape the hell that I am in and brought me to his home that I also call my own now. His ancestors also did the same back then, saving children upon hearing their silent wishes. His family made a covenant with the ancient kings of my world that when cruelty rules over that awful place, they will come and save those who wish to see light.

There is always hope in the darkest of time.

Page 100

Story by

Nikolaevna Etoile

"The End of A Cruel Reign" In her sleep, my wife will always wake up in the dead of night, panting. Just looking at her face full of terror reminded me of my father’s agonizing death. Her pain and my father’s is inflicted by the same person. Ozul. Hearing her screams reminded me of that night where she was yearning to break free from torture. The sight of her eyes brimming with tears is the same as my old man, the only difference is that he was at death’s door and I don’t have the power to do anything to save him. I can only watch him fight for his dear life before letting out his last breath. Times have changed, I became stronger. Strong enough to protect my wife from Ozul’s harm. I can do something to save her from her nightmares that still follow her everywhere. I promised her glee but it is still far from our reach. The absence of her nightmares will truly lead us down the path of happiness and without worries.

I held her tight and whispered something in her ear to let her be drunk with the feeling of sleepiness. I will do anything to save you again, I thought. I’m going to war. I created a beacon outside our house that caught the attention of the citizens of my world. In a flash, the Luminescence assembled in my yard all geared up. Armors in different sizes clung to their bodies. A variety of weapons in their tight grip.

“We need to save my wife.”

Two worlds are set for war. One fighting for the freedom of many and one protecting their just life in the darkness. The voices of the citizens of the dark echoed as my kind invaded their realm for their freedom. Young ones and elderly all reached out to the skies, all crying for help.

Our kind flew past, planning to strike the palace of the Wicked Ozul. For generations, the covenant binds us to be the heroes of the weak. I was born into this world without any idea of how crucial our role is in saving those who are in need of freedom. But even the strongest heroes have their own monsters to tame. Monsters of the twilight that are always following us like our shadows. They are bound to our existence like our souls are bound to our bodies until our last breath. He killed my father using his pet monsters to save his hands from being dirty with his enemy’s blood. This is revenge. The hatred he put me in will now be wiped away when I knock on his door to deliver him to his death. An eye for an eye.

Page 101

Story by

Nikolaevna Etoile

The short notice gave us the upper hand, only a few guards were defending the palace. I can easily slip inside the palace and kill the king in his sleep. My comrades took care of the guards that were trying to obscure my way to the king. Rein, my dearest friend called out, “Go! We’ll take care of this.”

It was not long when I heard our mantra. “The light guides.” The light will guide us to save these poor people from the wickedness of their cruel king. His door isn’t hard to open. Lucky for me, there weren't any guards to protect their beloved king. Foolish beings. With the sight of the king in his deep slumber, the hatred that weighs my shoulder became heavier. Upon his death, all of these bottled up pain and hatred will be spilled and you will live a life free from his evil powers. I hope I will. I hope we will.

I stared at his face that was illuminated by the faint moonlight. I delivered my silent prayer, wishing that his soul will be cleansed in the next life. I raised the shiny dagger that my father gave to me. Everything happened swiftly. In a blink of an eye, my dagger is now stuck in his heart. Scarlet blood stained his neat clothes. The devil had the strength to open his eyes one last time, seeing the killer who is now delivering him to his death.

I smirked. “This is for my father who died in your hands. For my wife who lives in agony because of you. Your hands aren't as clean as you thought they were. Death is the only way for you to pay for the wickedness you inflicted and to the lives that are lost in your command.”

He let out a choking sound before his soul left his body. I traversed the path to his balcony and the darkness that swirl in the sky dissipated, all of them falling down like meteors. They are now free. No more suffering, only hope. No more pain, only a time to heal their wounds.

My heart melted with the sound of the cheers that echoes the whole place. I only got one more thing to do. The bewitched wife and daughters lay in the same chamber, not having a clue that their king is now dead. I called out their names and their eyes immediately opened. As I peered into the two orbs of their faces, I saw how faded their eyes were. A spell to make them blinded by the truth. Believing lies being fed to them. A flick of my finger did the trick. The queen was the first one to wake up.

Page 102

Story by

Nikolaevna Etoile

“Rule this kingdom and forget about your fears. The people need a strong figure to lead them on and give them hope.” She looked at me, stunned. Without speaking any further, I left the room. I left the kingdom that now has a new ruler and to my wife who awaits me. In her sleeping robe, she waited for me on our front porch. Upon seeing my face, a tear trickled down her cheeks. I ran to her and embraced her.

“Hush now. It’s all over.” She nodded and buried her face on my chest. “Thank you. Thank you,” I heard her say. Her face tells me that she cannot believe everything that is happening. Pain is now conquered and the path of healing is now clear on the horizon.

Page 103

Story by

Arabella Pereira

"C'est la vie" I was asked to share my story for the school's publication on a fun and peaceful day. I was hesitant at first because my life isn't really interesting; it's all black and white for me, but when I contemplated that night, I realized that, despite being only 19, I've had my fair share of difficulties. That's why I agreed, and now I'm on my way to the location where I'll be able to share my story for the first time. “Thank you for agreeing to be interviewed, Miss Crystal. This would mean a lot for our publication.” “No, I should thank you because you have given me a chance to share my story. My story is not that glamorous but I hope you’ll realize something out of this.” I said while smiling.

Let me start off by saying, “Life is a constant battle we will have to face head on”, and this is a realization that occurred to me when I’m nearing my 20’s. I am Crystal and this is the story of how I decided to take control of my life.

While growing up, I have struggled to define what living truly is. I did not have the best family, don’t even have that ride or die kind of friendship. I could say that they are just there when it’s convenient and it’s okay as long as it makes them happy.

Growing up I have always valued what other people might think of me, it doesn't matter how I look at myself as long as through the eyes of other people, I am perfect.

This is a normal struggle especially to us who are in our last years of our teenage stage.

Throughout my life, I have been living to meet the expectations of others. My parents may seem indifferent at times because after all we are a big family. They have to divide their attention to each of us just to make it seem that they are attentive. They do not pressure me to achieve something to prove my worth but I know deep down they have high expectations and disappointment is the last thing I should give them. My siblings are excelling, may it be through academics, arts related or sports, that is why I understand why my parents favor them. They don’t show it but I feel that there is a sense of disappointment in them, that is why I strive to prove something about myself.

To make them notice me, even in the slightest bit. I attained high remarks in school, achieved medals for being a top student, even developed a skill for writing just to boast to them that I have talent but I am still overshadowed by my siblings. “I am proud of you” is the only phrase I want to hear but they still refused to give me that acknowledgement.

Page 105

Story by

Arabella Pereira

But I understood them, why would they even pay attention to someone who is lacking in every aspect? I love my family and I get it. There are just certain people who deserve the spotlight and I am not one of them. I deserve to be in the limelight and just support those who are shining. Always the supporter but never the one being supported, and that is totally fine. I have met various people while growing up, especially when I started to attend school. I made friends, even discovered what it feels like to have a crush. Friendships, they say, are meant to last. I believed in this phrase, but now I think it doesn’t seem true. For me, friendship now is as fleeting as the wind.

My kind of friendship only stays if we are classmates then they automatically end after we graduate. We don’t keep in touch to even check on each other. It’s like a friendship just for convenience like I said earlier. And this friendship is not very lasting, that is why I opted not to open up myself to them because knowing me really well when it’s just temporary is simply heartbreaking. And feeling that kind of pain will just make me lose my mind. So I just gave them my shallow part so that it won’t hurt as much when we part ways. It’s like saving myself before I completely drown. Being with someone or being alone is fine by me. You may now think I am someone who doesn’t care, but you’re wrong. I’m still someone who is in pain that I guard myself from others who may potentially hurt me. Sometimes, when I am alone in my room, when everyone is asleep and the lights are out, I question my life’s worth. There is certainly happiness in my life but I could not enjoy it fully because I know it will eventually fade. So whenever I go outside to socialize, I wear this mask of me being happy and content as a façade to make people stop worrying about me (that is if they really care).

And I could say I am pretty good at it, since not even one soul asked me if I am truly okay. That hurt because I know, not even one person noticed that everything is not fine. I guess people really are selfish and conceited human beings. Before I forget, I know teens my age or even below likes when the topic is about love. To be honest, I too had an ideal kind of man and relationship. But sadly in my story, there is none. We are always in a hurry to be in one so that we won’t get left behind. And I attest to this because I also envied those who experienced being loved by someone, where they are being treated well and have this one call away person. But as my mind matures, I realized that rushing to be in a relationship just because people my age are already in one is pure idiocy. Being in a relationship should be because you want to be with that person and not because it’s a trend that this generation is making it out to be. I know I may sound bitter as I haven’t been in one but this is the reason why I don’t engage in it. A shallow relationship that doesn’t have a real goal is a waste of time. So thus, I resort to improving my relationship with myself. And this is the relationship that would never break.

As I am nearing the beginning of true adulthood, I decided to develop a deep relationship with myself in hopes that through this, I will finally let go of my pains and thoughts that seeking validation from other people would make me happy.

Page 106

Story by

Arabella Pereira

It also occurred to me that I should start breaking the walls that I built to protect myself and let other people come into my life because no man is an island, cliché as it may be but it really is true. Even if it’s not a big amount of people, as long as you have that one person who will stick by your side, it is more than enough. Because who needs a bigger circle when you are faking each other. My story entails a lot of emotional pain and struggles as a teen, that is why I decided to share this with you so that whenever you experience the same way, you will think that someone also feels the same way as you and through that you could let go of your pain as well as I did. Life is full of pain, and I know there are a lot of tough challenges in store for me in the future but as long as I carry these realizations with me, I will always stand up and embrace the hardships that would come. Self-love may seem overrated as many people preach this nowadays, but this kind of love is something that I developed and loved and I hope you would too. Don’t let the pain of life hinder you from loving yourself as well as others. In this note, I would end my story by saying, stop seeking validation from others because we are the only ones who know our true value. Love yourself and free yourselves from the chains that held you back just like I did, it may not be easy but one step will go a long way.

“That was a very heartwarming story, Crystal. You definitely made me realize a lot of things about myself and most certainly, the readers will too. Thank you again for sparing me this time, I hope you only walk along flower paths from now on because you deserve it.” She said with a warm smile. I thanked her after that and left the place, feeling fulfilled and relieved.

Job well done, Crystal. I said to myself while patting my shoulder.

Page 107

Story by

Saint

"Sunless Sky" The Village had forgotten its name.

Its people lived in the cold comfort of their homes, surrounded only by cobblestone and thatch.

The soil remained barren and dry, a cracked wasteland surrounded by crops that long fell prey to blight and disease with only their barren husks swaying indifferently to the incessant cacophony of the midnight cicadas.

Above the Village, there was no blanket of stars that shone with hope nor did the pale light of the moon bless those who looked above. Only the silence of the wind and the void of space greeted those who dared to look at the grim nothingness which loomed over them.

Indeed, to ask for its name was folly. Its inhabitants would merely shrug, apathy rolling off their shoulders before their eyes would look at the inquirer with thinly veiled amusement. It was a venture left to the young and idealistic or the fools who failed to accept the truth of life.

To those who had lived long enough, there was only a simple question that halted any attempt to solve this mystery.

Did a Village forsaken by Light really need a name?

Folktales and legends were spoken in hushed whispers, salvaging what little the people remembered about the Light that had left. It might have had a name once, during a kinder time when they were all guided by Light. It was a beacon of hope that showered them all with kindness and love. Most of all, the Light provided. It provided the Village with protection and all its needs.

All it asked for was one simple thing: to extend the same courtesy upon the world and each other.

For a time, they followed this path. The Village prospered and shared all it could with its neighbors. This was enough for many of the villagers, a life of stability and peace, and to grow old with the people they cared about.

Yet for even more, this was not enough. For although their needs were met, their wants were left unquenched.

Page 109

Story by

Saint

They chose a different path, so the legends go.

Cruelty clawed its way out of human hearts, one that could not be tamed or reigned in any longer. They spoke of the Light as one that had played favorites. Why else would the farmer who woke up at the crack of dawn receive better crops than the one who rose at noon? Didn’t the Light love them all equally?

For a time, their mutterings were left ignored as the fits of immaturity, yet envy brewed as time passed. Neighbors looked at each other with scorn, cursing under their breaths about how the other had been blessed more than what they deserved. Eventually people forgot the blessings that they had been given. And before long, those very same mutterings were heralded as truth.

It was not long until the people grew to focus their ire on the Light itself.

Slowly, it began to dim. The people, far too enamored in their loathing for their neighbors and the Light, ignored the encroaching darkness. Little by little, as more and more people renounced its existence, it faded away entirely.

When the fires of envy died, the people looked upon their own actions and what they had done to their home. Their shame mingled with guilt. The people left to stew in a dark quagmire of coldness and pestilence now that there was nothing to bring warmth to the land.

They begged, pleaded, and kneeled to the absent Light. Yet they had never done the one thing the Light truly demanded from it.

And so the Light did not return.

The years passed agonizingly slowly, there was no joy to be had in the Village, only the desperation of survival was left to occupy its inhabitants’ minds. The departure of the Light did not make them kinder to one another, instead they jealously guarded what little they had from one another, an evolution of cruelty.

Slowly, many people left for distant lands, abandoning the place and treasures they had jealously guarded from their neighbors.

Only those who remembered the Light’s teachings remained behind.

Page 110

Story by

Saint

They remained hopeful; it was a small feeling that bubbled in their hearts as they yearned for the Light to return. Not once did they curse each other for their circumstances, for what was the point?

Life went on.

Eventually, the Village returned once more to its roots. Neighbors would share what little food they had with each other to pass grueling nights. They would support, help, and encourage one another to remain hopeful in the darkest of nights.

There was no guarantee that the Light would ever come back. Yet they toiled and remained, whether the Light came back was irrelevant, all that mattered was the lesson that the Light had left them. The darkness around them was a reminder to not repeat the mistakes of the past once more.

Even if they remained in the darkness, they would wait for the Light to return. It was a foolish naïve dream, yet the People nurtured it inside their hearts each day.

Now, as the curtain ended for another year, the villagers gathered in the main plaza of the village, an empty square that housed nothing but wood and kindle gathered up in a tight bundle.

Greetings were held and children played in the empty square. As townsfolk began to trickle in, they came bearing food, blankets, and clothes for each and everyone around.

With the simple strike of a match, they lit up the wicker and watched as the bonfire roared.

They sat, laughed, cried, and ate. They did the pastiness of the thin grey gruel they were left to eat with, instead they focused on the laughter and company of the people around them.

The fire began to die down. Silently, they sat together and watched the trickling of embers and ash onto the wind, content and happy with each other on yet another night.

It did not matter that their home had no name. At this moment, they gathered as one in peace.

When morning came, the Light returned once more.

Page 111

Story by

Saint

"Land's End" The Dalisay family had a secret.

It was one that stretched across the entirety of its lineage. Somewhere along the line, they had forgotten where it started on winding branches of the family tree. Even the matter of what that secret was, was something that the family remained unsure of.

Only that a Dalisay from many generations ago had written on her deathbed, “There’s treasure underneath the estate.” What the treasure was, none knew.

However, the key to solving that secret lay in one simple step.

They needed to dig.

This was the adage that most of them had lived with it for the rest of their lives.

Lou Dalisay, for one, thought they were all mad.

“For the last time, do you even know what the treasure is?” Lou glared at the soil beneath her boots. The glint of the shovel on her hands was blinding. Her brown eyes brimmed with frustration. She dressed in what was once a plaid brown shirt and brown baggy pants, though the stain of dirt and holes left littered around her clothing left her looking far worse for wear.

“Of course not! But that’s why we’re trying to find it. Imagine how richer we all could be if you would just shut up and dig.” A harsh voice barked back, interjected by the sound of soil being struck. It belonged to a lanky boy who wore a dirty tank top and pants crinkled with dirt.

At that, something bubbled inside of her, something that rallied to go against the family adage that had been instilled onto her since birth. She had enough.

“No, Nico,” Lou started as she threw her shovel away from the hole, “You may be my brother but I’m sick of spending my summer break digging holes and looking for treasure that probably doesn’t even exist.”

Nico threw her a dirty look, his usually soft face mustered up into an abject portrayal of pure disappointment, “Fine, then leave. But when I get that treasure, you’re not getting anything out of me.” And at that, the man continued to dig.

Lou walked away.

Page 112

Story by

Saint

Summer heat struck at her from all sides as she made her way through the winding half-beaten dirt road. The sounds of her boots crushing dirt disturbed the tranquil silence of the empty clearing.

The family estate was an estuary separated from the city. Lou couldn’t tell how many acres worth of land the estate was founded on but it was far too much for her liking.

Generations of Dalisay lived and died under the roof of the manor, cursing their lives, and crying on their own deathbeds for the goal of some vague treasure.

Around her, she could see the legacy of her family; unearthed soil and the halfforgotten remnants of many excavation sites. Ancient machines and shovels laid rusting and forgotten, too troublesome to clean up after and too noticeable to scrap.

For most members of the family, they were reminders of a great pilgrimage of wealth, a testament to sacrifice. To Lou, they were just hulking piles of rusted metal that reminded her each day of how many lives and money had gone to waste.

How long had it been since someone had stopped for a moment and thought to themselves, “this is pointless.” Did they crush those thoughts for the sake of wealth?

Glory? Or was it some sort of self-flagellation for the sake of family. Whatever it was, Lou wasn’t having any of it. She just couldn’t care anymore.

The treasure was an obsession, it dug and burrowed its way into your head until there was nothing left to think about. And just like that, curiosity becomes obsession. Nico had dreams of becoming an animator once and now he spent most of his days in the fringes of the estate, sniffing out curious rock formations and digging, dragging Lou along till their hands bore the brunt of injuries that would eventually give way to calluses.

“It builds character.” Her father had once told her when she complained.

At the end of the road was home and though the lights were on, Lou knew there was nobody there.

Her parents, exactly like her brother, would repeat the same motions of living once more. Her mother was most likely in town, talking everyone’s ears off on how her family would one day surpass the biggest names in all of modern archaeology. Her father was probably in his office, mapping out the different areas that the family hadn’t burrowed through yet using the old notes of men like him.

Men riddled with obsession.

Page 114

Story by

Saint

She opened the front door and let herself in. On the floor she could see parchment and paper strewn all over, makeshift maps colored in red ink. She could see the crumpled paper of employment forms and letters and she held back a snicker. The family would rather fall apart than let strangers have a piece of the treasure.

As she made her way back to her room, she could see portraits upon portraits of men and women all staring down at her with disappointment through the hallway.

Grandparents, uncles, aunts, great-grandparents, everyone that gave their lives for this whispered their admonishments, “Silly child.”

“Go and help your parents” “What’s one more generation?”

“Don’t you want to be a part of something bigger than yourself? Stop being so selfish.”

With each word, she could feel her resolve being tested. But more than that, she could feel her irritation growing. She had her own future to forge. There was nothing to be found digging and digging until you gave all you had for the sake of digging. So, she shrugged off these phantoms and went straight to her room.

Even inside her room, she could hear the manic and frenzied scratching of pen and paper. No doubt her father was mapping out another expedition to lead with her uncles soon. She shook her head and gathered her things.

“Clothes, check. Money, check. Everything else, check.” She mumbled to herself as she tore through her drawings, uncovering envelopes of money which she promptly stuck inside her already overloaded knapsack.

She didn’t really have a plan. But there were places far better than a future of dirt and shovels. This wasn’t the future she wanted.

There was only one problem.

“You’re leaving?” A voice piped in from the frame of her door.

Page 115

Story by

Saint

Rhys Dalisay was a stocky man, skin tanned from years of picking his way through rock and dirt under both sun and snow. His eyes looked hollow, puffy, and swollen yet still holding the shine of the frenzy which allowed him to push through the years. His scraggly beard made his genteel features look into the distorted form of a sickly lumberjack.

“Yes. I just… I can’t take this anymore, dad.” Lou said as she stared straight into her father’s eyes.

“I see… And you’re okay with this? Leaving your duty as a member of this family? As someone who could be standing in riches just by following in our footsteps?” Rhys said, incredulity lacing every word.

Lou nodded, “I don’t care how long this family has spent looking for it, but I’ve spent enough of my own time trying to live up to the expectations of being okay with digging dirt for the rest of my life.”

“I’m disappointed in you.” He said simply and Lou couldn’t help but feel a slight sting in her heart, “Fine, then go. Go out there to a world where there’s no guarantee, where there’s no stability. It’s all pointless out there anyway, you won’t find anything outside this house. There’s no treasure there to be found out there, and when you come crawling back, there’ll be a shovel with your name on it.”

“You’re wrong,” Lou said simply, “it won’t be pointless because I’ll be living the life I’ve decided for myself. Good luck, dad.” She finished as she brushed past her father and headed straight for the front door.

Taking a deep breath, she turned the knob and stepped outside.

Her journey of healing would begin now.

Page 116

Story by

X.J. Tamba

"Healed" White dress. Long hair. A smile like a glowing sunshine. I stared at the picture deeply as my forehead creased. Was I really her? How I wish I could go back to that old me but it's quite impossible. I know it is, I stared fixedly into my own reflection at the full-length mirror beside my study table where the picture earlier was placed. I painfully laugh, "Do you really think it'll all be the same again?" I mumbled to myself. I put the picture frame again back to its place. I sighed and tiredly lay down on my bed.

Facing my plain-white ceiling, I remember again that very first day I was informed by the doctor that I am severely sick.

Two years ago, I was slowly walking in the aisle of the hospital, gasping for breath, lost in my own thoughts while staring blankly into the unknown. This is the day when my complete blood count (CBC) result will be released. At the doctor's room, Dr. William begins our conversation with a sigh, from then I know this isn't good news. I've been preparing myself for weeks and I told myself that no matter what happens, I'll be okay.

But when he told me that I was diagnosed with Chronic Myeloid Leukemia. I couldn't move and for a second, I couldn't even breathe. I thought I'll be fine with it because they say I have the best doctor in town. But who knows? We are not the ones who're in control of our life.

From the moment I knew that I was sick, my world just seemed to stop. I just stayed in my room. I didn't hang out with my friends anymore. I barely talk with my parents. I undergo therapies but I doubt I could still live a long life. I browsed the internet about Chronic Myeloid Leukemia and how long people with this kind of disease can live. I found out that the median survival was five to seven years and some survival rates are based on outcomes of people who've had the disease. Surely, I could extend my life as I go on with my therapies but I just don't feel like doing things anymore. I don't have the hope that was once my strength. Little by little, I'm also losing my faith.

Page 117

Story by

X.J. Tamba

I was confused. Why me? All my life I've been a good daughter, a good friend, and I always tried to be the better version of myself. I was hurt, that's why I've been shutting the world out. I've been stopping myself from being happy because I think I don't deserve it. I tend to push away my loved ones because I think if I stay close, I'll be more attached to them and so are they. I don't want that, I want them to move on easily when I leave. Everything goes smoothly as I've planned. Nothing much had happened. It's still me, my therapies, and my medicines.

"Sweetie, can I come in?" I stopped reminiscing when my mom knocked on the door.

"Yes, mom". I answered as I stood up from laying down in the bed. I also wiped the tears I didn't even notice. I just feel so numb. "What is it, mom?" I asked her. She smiled and said "Do you want to go to Church today?". I just shrugged. I honestly don't know. Every Sunday, my mom was asking me that very same question. Before, I usually say that I don't feel like going but I don't why I didn't refuse today.

I fixed myself and wore the same white dress in the picture. I also wore my beanie as my hair is still too thin and short. I really don't know what is happening with me. Out of the blue, I just thought that maybe I could smile brightly as I smile in the picture if I wore the same dress. As we were on our way, my mom told me that I looked beautiful. I just smiled a little and looked at my reflection in the rear view mirror.

When we finally reached the Church after a 15-minute drive, I don't know but I feel at ease. The mass began and we listened for today's readings and Gospel. I paid attention to the whole celebration of the Eucharistic Mass. When we were about to go home, I looked at mom and dad. A tear dropped off my eyes and I hugged them. No words. I just hugged them and I can feel mom caressing my back and dad slowly patting my head.

Entering the Church I feel His presence. I felt like I was in a safe place and that I am loved. I didn't say anything to my parents but I know that they can see it in my eyes and they can feel the hope in me. I've built up my faith again. I didn't expect that the pain and worries I've been carrying for two years would be healed from the moment I stepped inside the Church. Maybe I should have trusted Him from the start and I should have not tortured myself for the things I have no control over. And now, I realized that I will keep hoping and praying. I will keep my faith and trust God's plan.

Page 119