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Archive for the 'Fiction' Category
Fiction by Khareen Culajara | March 7th, 2010
Assuming that Rudolf is in front, there are 40,320 ways to arrange the other eight reindeer, he boasted as he came up to me with a new book about probabilities. Peter stood about 5’6” but he looked shorter than he actually was because he was duck-footed and because he always wore oversized shirts. He sat beside me, brushed his nose and gave me that kind of ‘you-don’t-know-this-dummy’ look, and I wanted to break his nose for it. Except for the fact that I couldn’t, of course.
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Fiction by Genalin Setarios | February 28th, 2010
Nangyari ang lahat sa loob lamang ng sampung buwan at isang linggo. Ngunit para kay Nico, ang maikling panahon na iyon ang maituturing niyang pinakamahalagang panahon sa buhay niya. Pagkat sa panahong iyon lang siya nagbuhos ng maraming luha, nagmahal ng todo at nawalan bigla. Batid niya pa rin sa kanyang puso’t isipan ang lahat-lahat ng nangyari sa maikling panahon na iyon.
Ang simula’y malabo pa. Pasukan noon at nasa ika-apat na taon na ng kolehiyo si Nico. Isa siya sa Top Three ng buong paaralan nila. Mahilig siyang kumanta at tumugtog. Sa katunayan, siya ang pinakamagaling tumugtog ng gitara sa buong kampus nila. Siya rin ang may pinakamagandang boses sa mga lalaki. Ngunit pagdating sa pag-ibig ay mahina si Nico.
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Fiction by Raul Moldez | October 25th, 2009
The Communist Party of the Philippines, together with the entire Philippine revolutionary movement, condemns in the strongest terms possible the brutal and ruthless killing of Bishop Alberto Ramento, chairperson of the Iglesia Filipina Independiente (IFI) Supreme Council of Bishops, human rights stalwart, critic of social injustice and fighter for people’s interests. Bishop Ramento, who was found dead with several stab wounds inside his parish church in Tarlac City before dawn Tuesday, was brutally and heineously murdered. We hold the Arroyo regime responsible for Bishop Ramento’s murder. From: http://qc.indymedia.org/news/2006/10/8808.php
NAABTAN ko siyang way kibo sulod sa iyang opisina. Daw may lawom nga gihunahuna. Sa akong tan-aw, may dako siyang suliran. Ang iyang panan-aw didto nahipunting sa bentana…milapos sa jalousie, daw nagsud-ong sa usa ka halayong esena. Ingon na gayod siya niining ulahing mga adlaw. Way kadasig.
“Nia na ang juice ug sandwich, Monsinyor. Snack time na.” Gitandog ko ang iyang pagkasangit sa kahilom.
Gibuhian nya ang tugot sa iyang paghinuktok ug mitan-aw siya kanako. Sa lulot niyang mga mata, nakita ko ang duha ka lusok nga luha nga inanayng midagayday sa iyang kaapingan. Sa akong nakita, natantiya ko nga usa gayod ka bug-at nga butang ang nakapahasol sa agalon kong Obispo. Mangahas unta ko sa pagpakisayod kon unsa kining butanga apan nadat-ogan ako sa dakong kaikog.
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Fiction by Edmond Julian dela Cerna | September 27th, 2009
He was acting strange around the house lately, my father. Often I would find him peering through the jalousies. As though in participation (or probably in some unfathomable sympathy) the whole world would fall quiet—the occasional barking of the neighbors’ dogs, the sound of children playing, and the gurgling noise of tricycles, all would suddenly wane.
Bare-chested and potbellied, he would pace around the house, anxious, then later, he would sit in front of the TV, switching channels as swiftly as the tube could accommodate. Mamang would sit beside him at night and complain of getting dizzy from the bright flashes of channels being changed now and then. At daytime, as Mamang left for work, he’d usually settle on a basketball game. Though jobless since the day I learned fathers ought to have a job no matter what, he wasn’t like this. He used to go around the village without a shirt on, meddling on other people’s lives, influencing other husbands to emulate him.
“It’s my job,” he had boasted at dinner when asked by Mamang, “I am the king of Cabantian, and I have to constantly oversee the status of my kingdom,” to which Mamang just rolled her eyes and sighed.
So much for being the invincible king, I thought after noticing his unusual behavior for the past two days.
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Fiction by Kela Salvador | September 20th, 2009
All her life, Caridee had been brought up inside the huge walls of their garden. Her father never took care of her; he hired nurses and servants to look after Caridee and yet he never let these servants have conversations with his child. He never allowed Caridee to play beyond the walls of their garden; in fact, she never had the chance to see what kind of life existed beyond that wall. He never showed love and care for his only child. He spent all his time in the basement, immersed in woodcraft.
Caridee’s father said that her mother died in childbirth. The flowers inside the garden were the only friends that Caridee had. She felt alone inside the walls of their garden.
One sunny afternoon, Caridee was in the garden playing alone when suddenly, she heard a crash near the fountain. It was an angel. Its grey wings radiated feathers with tiny crystals on their edges; the crystals seem to be the reason why the angel seems to glow, despite the lack of majesty in the color of its wings. Filled with wonder, Caridee approached the angel.
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Fiction by Jezereel Billano | September 20th, 2009
“Limang piso?” tanong ni Bien sabay kamot ng ulo.
Nginitian sya ng kanyang ina at hinalikan. “Mag aral ka nang mabuti. Dapat hindi ka mahuhuli sa eskwela anak, ha?” malambing na paalala nito.
Alam nyang kahit ilang beses syang magtanong ay hindi na madadagdagan ang kanyang baon para sa araw na iyon kaya naman ay ibinulsa na nya ito, tumalikod, at lumakad patungo sa eskwela.
Kahit kailan ay hindi pa nahuhuli si Bien sa klase. Hindi man sya ang pinakamatalino sa klase niya, ngunit ang “record” niyang “never been late” ang pinanghahawakan nya simula nung grade 1. Grade 3 na siya ngayon at malinis pa rin ang “record” niya kahit naglalakad lang siya patungong paaralan. Natatalo pa niya ang mga kaklaseng may sariling sasakyan.
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Fiction by Perlita Napala | September 6th, 2009
Nung nasa elementarya pa ako, inggit na inggit ako sa aking mga kaklase na nagbibisikleta papuntang paaralan. Mahigit isang kilometro kasi ang layo ng paaralan mula sa aming bahay at nilalakad ko lang ito tuwing papasok sa eskwela, umulan man o umaraw. At samantalang naglalakad nga ako, heto’t dinadaanan lang ako ng aking mga kaklase na nagbibisikleta. Pakiwari ko ba’y ang sarap-sarap magbisikleta lalo na’t ang init-init ng araw.
May bisikleta naman kami pero ginagamit ito ng tatay ko upang magdeliber ng tuba sa kanyang mga suki. Nang minsang nasabi ko kay inay na gusto kong matutong magbisikleta, mahigpit niya itong ipinagbawal dahil kababae kong tao ay kung bakit pinag-iinteresan ko ang magbisikleta. “Di puwedeng magbisikleta ang babae,” wika niya.
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Fiction by Rosalia Gajo | August 30th, 2009
“Tabang, Hon! Tabangi ko! Nabukog ko!” Naghilak akong nagsiyagit nga naggunit sa akong liog.
“Giunsa man nimo pagkaon? Unsay nakabukog nimo?” sunod-sunod nga pangutana sa akong bana sa tonong alanganing suko ug taranta. “Nagdalo-dalo tingali ka,” dugang pa niya.
May katinuoran ang gisulti sa akong bana. Sa bus pa lang daan gigutom na ko. Gikan ko sa pag-eskwela sa summer class ug usa ka oras ug tunga ang akong biyahe. Wala na nako mapilian og bukog ang bulad nga akong gisud-an. Basta kay mikaon ko nga nagkinamot. Mao na lay akong nabatyagan sa akong pagtulon nga dunay hait misangit sa akong tutunlan, dako ug lig-on nga bukog.
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Fiction by Nelly Tagupa | August 23rd, 2009
“Dali! Dagan!” naghangos nga daw maputol na ang ginhawang singgit ni Greg. Ang pikas mata niini namurot ug ang iyang wait namudlot. Nagsunod kaniya si Lito nga daghan kaayog bukol sa ulo ug nawong. Pareho silang nagkabulingit sa lapok ang tibuok lawas.
“Naunsa mo, Bay? Asa mo gikan?” sunud- sunod nga pangutana ni Nestor nga nahingangha dihang miabot ang duha sa iyang gamayng tindahan.
“Gi-gi-gigukod mi, Bay!” tubag ni Greg nga nagsapid-sapid pa ang dila sa kakuyaw.
“Ha? Buanga! Kinsay migukod ninyo? Misunod ba?” pangutana ni Nestor nga nataranta.
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Fiction by Easter Sunshine Catedral | August 2nd, 2009
The air in the open balcony could make anyone in the room shiver. It actually made us shiver then; but the darkness and the cold could not stop us. I was twenty and in love.
“Kokoy, faster, before anyone discovers we have eloped.” Even in the darkness, Romel’s beautiful eyes and long lashes mesmerized me. He was my father’s private nurse. Sometimes I think my confession had triggered father’s stroke. So I tried to make up for it by taking care of him after my classes. That was how Romel and I became close.
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