Nap Time Rocks!

Iris’ 7 tips to know if the guy you’re with is up to no good

• he’s already committed (in a relationship, engaged, married, whatever they want to call it). most men are really just naturally (and annoyingly) polygamous.
• he’s gay. or pretending to be one. either way, you can never get anything real from that person.
• he’s single and he’s ready to mingle with you. and her. and her. and her. and her. and her too.
• you’ve touched 3rd base and you just can’t remember his name. he doesn’t even know yours, for crying out loud. you said you’re Nikki when you’re really Michelle.
• all you can talk about is the weather or that the toilet backed up this morning… at times of desperation, you talk about the neighbor’s dog.
• his archive of sex videos, scandals and/or photos will shame the National Library’s vastness of collections. i don’t know about you, but someone idolizing hayden kho’s ‘antics’ might not exactly have that much respect for womankind.
• his theme song is “I’ve got a girl” by Lou Bega. look it up and go figure.

not that i’ve had so much experience, but i guess being surrounded by guys almost all my life has its “perks” too — one of which is knowing who to avoid when dating. oh, and by the way, these are all based on real characters

Fate [lp]

imposible bang mangyari yung nababasa natin sa mga fairy tale books?

then the prince kissed the girl, they rode towards the sunset, and lived happily ever after...

gusto kong i-share ang isa sa mga short stories na sinulat ko nung 2006 tungkol sa proverbial ‘fate’. sana magustuhan ninyo. pagpasenshahan niyo na, kung madiskubre ninyo kung sino ang tinutukoy ko sa kwento. hehe. a girl can dream, sabi nga.

–

the tv fizzed and came to life. blurred images of girls with long hair and long legs filled the screen and made their statement that this is beautiful. I ignored them, quite content with my hair, and my legs, which have never failed me in the boys department so far. There have been misfortunes, but then, nobody’s perfect right? Except those girls on tv. Right. More »

Sa sakayan ng jeep [lp]

… madilim. Ito ang istorya niyan. Sana’y magustuhan niyo.

Street Pulse

SFX: Massive Attack – Teardrops.

Have you ever felt like your life sped by right in front of your eyes, but you seemed to be stuck in one place? Like you could have dipped your hand literally into the rushing current only to find that you couldn’t stop it? Do you know the feeling of frustration of having to find out that nothing you do will ever halt it? Then you just bravely take that step into the rushing traffic, and get lost in it yourself.

—

BKK. Canon EOS 400D.

—

So you’re sitting all alone
You’re fragile and you’re cold, but that’s alright
Life these days is getting rough
They’ve knocked you down and beat you up
But it’s just a rollercoaster anyway, yeah

It’s not right, not okay
To say the words that you say
Maybe we’re better off this way?
I’m not fine, I’m in pain
It’s harder everyday
Maybe we’re better off this way?

-Better That We Break, Maroon Five.

Little Red Riding Hood, the story you weren’t told

Little Red Riding Hood

Little Red Riding Hood,

Comes happily trotting in the woods.

Basket and flowers in her hands,

Gonna visit her grandma in a far away land.

She stops to smell the flowers now and then,

The kinds of little insects she can tell.

But not far away is the Big Bad Wolf,

Oh poor Little Red Riding Hood!

Quietly crept the mandibles of death,

His sharpened teeth and sulfuric breath

All ready to feast on human flesh.

Little Red Riding Hood,

So oblivious in the woods

Didn’t know what hit her

When the wolf tore open

Her mother’s red fur.

Her pitiful screams and painful cries

No one could hear so she closed her eyes.

Soon it would be over she thought

My mangled corpse left here to rot.

After the wolf had eaten

He rose off again,

Now to Grandma’s house we go

Oh she’ll be next and she doesn’t know.

And what happens to Red Riding Hood?

Oh that isn’t her name no more,

It’s Little Red Rotting Gore.

Written back in January 2000. Obviously I was very bored that time. Hope nobody is eating in front of the screen reading this! Hehe.

Nashville

Good morning Upper East Side. It’s your favorite Gossip Girl dishing out the latest on what and who matters in Manhattan. Spotted 6 weeks ago: Serena van der Woodsen stepping out of the Grand Central Station, back in the lives of the Upper East Siders. Not that we’re lacking enough complication already. The past few weeks since her debut in her bestfriend Blaire’s (and unfortunately Nate’s too) life has been altogether bitter and sweet.

Spotted today: Serena strolling down Park Avenue with a backpack in tow… Is she leaving again? I know you’re itching as much as I do to know what S is up to again. Does B know about this sudden departure? I’m pretty sure S is leaving because her direction sure points back to the Grand Central Terminal. And you know that this girl does not rest until mysteries are solved — the UES way.

As if it hasn’t been enough for Serena to have secrets (like the one embarrassingly announced at the Ivy League party). Her rep hasn’t exactly been sparkling clean even if she had come back like a changed girl. And all these sneaking around? There’s definitely something going on here.

Can’t wait to find out? Well so do I. But you know there’s only one thing to do now, check back in on my blog for updates. You know you love me. xoxo, Gossip Girl.

——

Serena decides to cut the trip short and flags down a cab. It screeches to a halt in front of her and she gets in.

“The La Guardia airport please.”

“Lady that’s gonna cost you.” The cab driver measures up his passenger. More »

Walang Hanggan [LP]

Para sa linggong ito, sasamahan ko ng maikling kwento ang aking lahok para maiba naman. Pasensha na kung hindi Tagalog.

—

buses swept by in front of her, blurring the vision of the other side of the street in repeated episodes. she must cross the street; never mind that death dangled even in the cardboard signages on the vehicles.

standing on the curb of a busy street, the girl with a mission started getting rather annoyed stares from civilians who would rather have the sidewalk wider without her on it. she was taking up space.

‘are you gonna cross the street or what, lady!?’, said one look.

she had not always been a risk-taker. she was completely content with her own, quiet, albeit a little boring life. that much she willingly admitted. until, of course, the complications of love had made a ‘mess’ out of it. nevertheless, the lessons she learned in the process of realigning her life with this new-found love had been all worth it.

the girl with a mission to cross the street returned to the sight before her. it was suicide. it was hell. but stepping back onto the middle of the rushing highway of foot traffic was equally perilous. she had no choice.

she had also not realized that time had been consumed. the traffic flanking her two sides seemed to ignore her growing fright and panic. boldly, she took the first step.

then the second, then the third. vehicles let out an outbreak of honks and screeches while the girl criss-crossed her way across the street. a bumper near-misses her. she let out a gasp, but, thank God, she was still intact. just a few more feet…

like breaking away from a horrid nightmare (a redundancy, i know), the girl is extremely relieved to be finally standing on the other side of the street. how she had passed through unscathed — with just some emotional bruises — was mystifying to her. she simply looked up and murmured a heartfelt ‘thank you’.

“well, what took you so long?” someone came up to her. it was not so much as a scolding, but a teasing comment made in such a sweet manner.

“i was caught up… in the traffic. i’m sorry.” the girl smiled with love in her eyes.

“it doesn’t really matter,” he said taking her hand in his, “you’re here now, aren’t you?” suddenly, the girl realized, it wasn’t a very scary world anymore.

—

Ang maikling kwento ay inilathala sa aking dating blog (na hosted ni ate pao) noong September 2004.

Ang larawan ng aking mga kaibigan ay kinuha ko noong April 2005 sa Pagudpud. Sana’y inyong nagustuhan pareho. Maligayang Huwebes sa inyo!

Avaritia

By justice a king gives a country stability, but one who is greedy for bribes tears it down. – Proverbs 29:4

He wipes away the sweat from his forehead, trying to calm his nerves. He takes a deep, but quiet breath and closes his eyes momentarily. They cannot see him. The putrid stench of the gutter, the flickering lamp post, and the chilling air does nothing to slow down his heart beating ahrd in his chest. He opens his eyes again when he hears a flutter of wings overhead. Just bats. Calm down. He slides further down against the wall covered with grime, not minding that his expensive designer garb is now just a filthy rag. All the prestige just went down the drain.

After convincing himself that he has put enough distance between his pursuers, he composes himself and brushes off a cockroach that has somehow found his leather shoes comfortable. He is no longer disgusted at the grime and dirt that now clung to his skin. Nor was he repulsed at his sins of amassing ill-gotten wealth anyway. But somehow, at this point in his life, he is willing to confess to anything in exchange for a warm bed and clean clothes on his back. He had not signed up for this.

One week earlier, 8 p.m. More »

reposting “death”

in memory of a HS and college schoolmate, JR. a new father, a good friend to many, and an athlete. i am just re-posting a short i wrote a few years back, which may not entirely do justice to his life (because it’s not about him), but nevertheless this is for you as it was for those i remembered when i wrote this.

——

“swish, swish” said the tree branches.
“dub-dub” said the little heart.
“good bye” said I.
“tomorrow i will see you again.”

2 deaths in one week.

“kinda makes me think, you know,” she said to no one in particular. the night was young and the breeze was cold. nobody was waiting for her at home, so she continued to tread the grassy ground. More »

Terminal 3

Fresh from a perfect vacation at one of the sparkling beaches of Thailand and a cultural soak at one of Asia’s best, you take the first step into reality. You’re back in Manila and, well, you miss fresh air already. The moment the monotonous voice over the PA announces that you have landed, you have switched on your cellphone and have found a hundred messages streaming in to your dismay.

Is it not possible that your boss won’t miss you for a couple of days? You silently complain to your carry-on luggage, your only companion on the trip. You were suddenly pulled back and you realized that the name tag on your carry-on was caught in a snag and had fallen off. You didn’t pick it up anymore since you had no need for it anyway.

As you continue your check out from the airport and into a hectic life and survey the surroundings, you smell a different kind of smell. It was of cement just recently laid on the walls and floor, of fresh paint, and of something malevolent in the air. You thought you were hallucinating, when for a split second you think you also smelled something decaying nearby.

You quickly dismiss the thought that something so big and shiny and new could be unkept by the airport administration. It was impossible because they had just reopened Terminal 3, the infamous port named after Ninoy Aquino. It had been a decade before it was finally ruled to be opened by judicial courts; before that a number of legal disputes had erupted contesting its legality. And you were one of the lucky commuters who have just used it.

Nobody was waiting for you outside the arrival gate because you hadn’t bothered letting anyone know when you were flying back. It had been a surreal event, a month ago, when you had abruptly told your boss you were going on a one-month leave and your parents that you simply needed to go away.

It’s just stress, ma. I’ll be more relaxed if I just get on that plane and spend some time alone. You had told your mother who was perpetually worried about your health and the long nights in the office.

As you neared the exit sign, at one side, the smell of burning candles and a slight aroma of flowers made you turn to your right where it was seemingly coming from. There was a makeshift memorial for some people who died. As to who, you didn’t know, and you did not bother to find out. You are just anxious to go home and get a good afternoon’s rest.

———–

The television flashed the grotesque images of three gunned down bodies, the two near their home seemingly, and one in front of his. One was a known magistrate who ruled in a case against some corporation. Foul play and blackmail, the police were saying. It would not be the last news bit for the networks were replaying unsolved massacres of old involving the infamous Terminal 3.

The tv in the living room continued to flicker while the inhabitants of the house regarded it with faded interest. The floral cream-colored wallpaper changed its colors as the hues of the television changed in each flash. Meanwhile, a cold draft seeps in through the slight gap between the door and its frame. It was the middle of summer but the inhabitants of the house shuddered.

———–

After a well-rested sleep, you take a cold shower to wash off the residues of vacation from your mind. You were thinking that it might probably help prepare you for work the next morning. In the shower you smile at the fading memories of your trip, and you suddenly feel someone had entered the bathroom.

Hey. You say to nobody in particular. Maybe you’re still dreaming. You go back to scrubbing your back but there’s still that nagging feeling that someone was indeed looking at you through the shower curtain. You pull the curtain back with a jolt; nobody was there. Silly, paranoid, you thought. Must have been the cement in the airport that was still wafting in the air when you arrived.

You finish your shower quickly and decided to open your computer to check your mail. Your inbox must be bouncing off emails already. The computer boots up and takes a million years before the blue prompt screen shows up. You check the CPU. The LED light that’s supposed to say the computer is still reading has stopped. You wait for a few minutes and nothing happens. A bit irritated, you turn off and on the AVR to restart.

Even the computer missed me, you muttered to yourself. Staring at the black flat LCD screen, you notice a slight movement in the reflection. You turn around and see that everything was in order: nothing moving back there, you say. You sighed. You realized you must be really tired for imagining these things.

You settled then on leaving the computer alone for a while and scanning the three day-old newspaper left on the living room coffee table. You see nothing of great importance. After all, it will take a report on natural calamity to get your interest piqued at any breaking news. You just weren’t the politically-conscious type. Who needed to hear about squabbles of selfish men masquerading in barongs and briefcases?

But one particular headline caught your attention: “NAIA Terminal 3: Cursed Airport?” Curiously, you clicked on the link to read the whole story. The opinion column was criticizing the slow movement of investigation of unsolved cases, particularly those of two distinguished government officials related to the NAIA Terminal 3 controversy. And now, the ceiling that caved in for the second time since its construction.

You continued to read on because you had just come from that airport and you remembered if the memorial outside the arrival gate were connected to that. You find out that a major beam that supported one area of the terminal’s ceilings had collapsed, taking down with it several passengers. The reconstruction had still been weak and probably faulty (since it had caved in earlier in its construction phase), despite the government mandate that the defect be fixed before being expropriated to Philippine management. However, a legal hodgepodge of technicalities had bogged down whatever improvements were needed on the structure, until the issue was pushed into the hindmost of court hearings. There were about 141 passengers and personnel who died that day, many of which were destined for Thailand.

And so because of this, the column writer had concluded, Terminal 3 (very aptly named) had taken its latest victims, as if punishment to the ones responsible for it.

———–

Ewan ko ba, Jun. Para bang kinilabutan ako nung pumasok ako sa kwarto ng anak mo. Narinig kong nakabukas yung shower, pero hindi naman. Tapos yung computer parang nakabukas din, your mother says glancing towards your bedroom. She had just gone in to get her your framed graduation picture to display by the coffin.

Your death had not been easy on your mother, or any of your family, but she had to fulfill her duties. Your father gives her a tight hug and clutches your frayed name tag on one hand.

———– Since its commissioning in 1997, the abandoned airport terminal had accumulated several wrongdoings to its name. Some have died, trying to question the legality of its contracts. True enough, the Philippine justice system have found that its country was done wrong by its main contractor for the project, Philippine International Air Terminals Co., Inc. (PIATCO). The contract was declared null and void, and a year later Judge Henrick Gingoyon, who presided over the government’s expatriation decision of the terminal, was found dead. A year after that, Solicitor General Nestor Ballacillo and his son were also gunned down. The older Ballacillo was also one of those handling a case against PIATCO.To date, Terminal 3 is still abandoned. No conclusion as to who and why the two were murdered can be found in any news archive as of yet.

This story is fictional. However, the deaths of the 2 government officials are a fact, as well as the series of legal events that the Terminal itself went through. The second caving of an area of Terminal 3’s celing is fictional.

–
© 2007. Read my other shorts here. Please credit the author and site if you want to share this post.

tindahan

i squinted at my surroundings; it’s been a while since i last took in all the changes that my beloved street have gone through. this is where i grew up. this is where my friend jo-anne and i used to play piko and chinese garter, and taguan with the other kids. this is where i learned to ride my bike — almost. i soon decided that the training wheels were out to get me and they weren’t really that reliable. it was also the street where i was barked at and chased by the neighbor’s insolent little dog. i hated dogs afterwards. there were good times and bad times, but mostly good times.

this morning i was getting ready to leave and while waiting for the rest of the household, i stood in front of our house where, across the street is the almost fading, barely noticeable sign of aling rosa’s sari-sari store. i remember they used to sell the round little cola candies and chocnut and little plastic trinkets that you would collect till your mom would throw them away because they would often end up scattered on the floor at home. those chick-a-dees that came free with something. the many delightful flavors of fanta, that soda drink. sweet corn and haw flakes. tomi and its weird smell. it was a time when Jack and his friend Jill didn’t come tumbling down my street yet. sweet times.

i remember that store was a kid’s haven, if you had the right stuff. just make sure you have 20 bucks on you to let the good times roll. your brain would probably go haywire trying to process which goodie must be bought first (ok, that was an exaggeration). it was the only sari-sari store at that end of the street and i imagine the monopoly of the children’s spending power was probably making aling rosa very happy.

but now if you come over and tap at the screen door (which was very dirty and was kept up with patches here and there), there isn’t really much to look at. the woodwork on the outside is so worn out, the wire mesh is really dirty, the plastic jars were almost empty if they were there at all, and the trademark candies are gone. where have all the white rabbits scurried to?

before i can consult my brainiac friends to give me socio-economic reasons behind “the decline of the small scale businesses and retailers” here’s my honest-to-goodness take on it: our generation grew up and the ones that followed us is so much in a hurry to grow up. there are just too many distractions taking the attention of children today. pop culture has just gone way younger and even kids nowadays can be DJs and VJs. fashion isn’t just a thing for adults; Barbieâ„¢ is now a trendsetter for young girls. (i used to have an unsightly bald Barbieâ„¢, its implications fashion-wise was unbeknownst to me and it didn’t really matter).

not that kids nowadays no longer have a flair for the goodies, but it just doesn’t take up much of their lifestyle as they did decades ago. today even we* have to be as attractive as the next chocolate bar, as tasteful as the imported ones, and our targets are only 4-6 year olds. if not, i think it’s going to be tough for sari-sari stores to compete with PS2’s, RPGs and arcade games for kids’ free time and spare change.

it’s already a chaotic world out there, where young minds are bombarded with complex ideals and ideas and they are practically forced to “grow up” and keep up with the pace of technology. gone are the popular days of Pogâ„¢ and jackstones. times just aren’t simple anymore. this is why when mia grows up, i will make sure she gets to experience how to figure out a puzzle first before learning to type on a keyboard, that she knows how to have fun even without a television, a computer, or a video game, and that her sport is actually something that engages her and not just one where all the ‘cool kids’ are in.

and maybe, if aling rosa is still in business by then, i’ll hang around with her at the tindahan and we’ll eat junk food there.

—
*i work at “willy wonka-gokongwei’s chocolate factory”

©2007. Read my other shorts here. Please credit the author and site if you want to share this post.

drown me, quick!

scenes around the city, everyday:

a foot puts out a cigarette butt on the asphalt sidewalk after it lights up another one. The young professional puts his lighted vice between his lips and takes out a menthol candy from his pocket. The wrapper is thrown also on the street, not far from the wasted butt.

A crumpled ball of tissue finds its way down the sewer after being thrown away from a car by a motorist. The tissues were actually used to wipe away a spill from a soda accident.

A mother takes out her daily trash on the street because today is garbage collection day. she dumps it on the sidewalk in front of their house, reeking plastic of fish innards and all. In a little while, a dog picks up the fetid scent and begins to rummage through the garbage, leaving a trail of disaster in the gutter.

The traffic along a major thoroughfare bores the hell out of a young teenager and decides to munch on a bag of chips. She finishes the snack, while the jeepney she is riding on manages to advance a few feet. She casually lets the empty bag slip out of her hand out the window and resumes wondering when the traffic is going to move again.

Later in the day, a month, a year, or a decade after.

the skies were an angry hue; the steady downpour of rain has escalated to a raging storm. Flood waters can now be seen rising to their full potential: to drown and destroy. Everywhere on the streets, people were stranded on whatever higher ground they can reach, while some vehicles braved the mini-rivers that have become the roads.

Inigo was nervous. His beat up 4-wheel drive pick-up was in no condition to become a half-submarine. The rain continued pounding on the windshield, which his wiper was trying hard to push away.

Please, Lord let me through this one. I’m almost home.

Up ahead was a valley of water that few dared to cross. A deserted bus was already on one side, obviously not having enough power to restart. Inigo pumps the accelerator and inches forward.

There’s no turning back now, there’s no turning back. don’t let me down now. Come on, baby.

The flood waters gurgle and rush beneath the truck, seeming to find a way in. the tense driver steps on the pedal a little harder, coaxing the old machine to keep going. In a few feet he was beginning to be satisfied with his progress until the van in front sputters to a stop.

Heck no. move it!

Inigo has no choice but to gun his accelerator and maneuver around the stalled van. Luckily, the street was wide enough to be passed on both sides. Inigo’s hands sweat a little. The pick-up heaves and gains speed in spite of going against the heavy flow of water. in a few seconds, he was finally rising out of the pool.

—

do you know how it feels like to be stranded in the middle of a rainstorm, floods all around you, vehicles stalled, and there’s nowhere else to go? And that feeling of uncertainty rises to fear because you might actually spend the night either inside a vehicle or in the waiting shed.

Im sure the majority of us (except those few lucky bastards who own a helicopter or a submarine) have flood stories to share. The rainy seasons are not always a welcome break from the stretch of summer heat because for some, it means having to leave their homes to the mercy of foul smelling flood waters. It also means, for a lot of commuters, risking treading pools of dirty water on the way home. We curse and dish out hate speech because we hate being found so uncomfortable in the rain, when it’s meant to be enjoyed curled up in bed or with a cup of hot coffee.

The chilling truth is, for every exerted force there is an equal reaction. We cannot expect that the trash we nonchalantly toss out the window onto the street just vanishes as it also disappears from our sight. Where do they go? Go figure.

Try watching the nature documentary specials on the National Geographic or Discovery channels and you’ll soon come to a remarkable revelation. The earth has healing powers. Our sewer system can only hold so much junk, and as our high school biology teacher tells us, ours is a finite earth.

As for me, I will not complain when I get stranded in the rains because of the floods. At some point some of my irresponsibility have caused this problem. it’s just sad that a lot of people don’t realize theirs and do something about it.

—

©2007. Read my other shorts here. Please credit the author and site if you want to share this post.

#065 unfinished story, continued

continued. Raya.

my name is raya, and this is the end of my life as I know it. I looked out my third-storey window and saw only rooftops, treetops, and the grey sky overhead that hung like a gloomy backdrop to my life. the morning could not get any worse; my life just took a turn for the worst, because this week, I just found out I am going to have a baby.

To make matters more difficult, there was no easy way to break the news to my parents. It’s hard enough that we are financially short right now and I won’t be helping at all with this situation. Plus, there will be no father.

I chose to uncomplicate both our lives by giving his back. he never argued. I haven’t started picking up the pieces because honestly, I don’t know where to start. No one can save me now.

I was one of those people who thought that single moms were as irresponsible as they could be. i mean, why get into that kind of situation in the first place if you can’t afford it? I just put a big bet on a losing horse. I spoke too soon. Now, im condemning myself to self-proclaimed “loser-dom”.

Why, in spite of the advancement of science and the invention of prophylactics, have we chosen foolishness and wanton desires be the blight of our existence? Why, after all the Sunday school and bed time Bible stories, I chose to live a life of contradictions.

It’s too late to answer those questions now. I have a life, or two, to plan now. For the first time in many months, I actually cried and prayed.

OB doctor’s clinic, 1st check up.

Raya lay half-exposed on the clinic bed, shifting uncomfortably with her feet up on cold metal stirrups. She began to think happy thoughts and wished all of this to be over. The doctor came in and began to ask questions, as if she was just an old friend dropping by to have coffee. She answered as best as she could, trying not to feel alienated by her own body.

It was a quick check up, one that managed to distress and make her squirm just for a little while. Raya exhaled loudly, as if holding her breath for the last five minutes, as soon as she was allowed to put her pants back on. she walked slowly back to the kind old doctor’s table.

The doctor wrote a short note on her pad, something that said to be taken for thirty days. She nodded obediently and folded the note into her purse, and was actually surprised to be told that she was six weeks pregnant. Next appointment would be four weeks from now.

After the check up. Raya.

I expected to have a strange feeling about this, but not — joy. When I came into the hospital I had almost chewed my nails off because I was terrified to hear that I was right. That my life is about to change in the next couple months, plus a couple of pounds more.

I was terrified more than anything else, of the life that I wasn’t sure I was ready to embrace. but what’s this? am I actually smiling? Am I actually starting to get excited about coming up with cute baby names and being called a ‘mom’? are my friends’ enthusiasm actually rubbing off on me?

i don’t know why I feel like it’s such a crime to feel happy for myself. After a life lived out full of mistakes and short of people’s expectations, this is definitely a novelty for me. Maybe it’s because I’ve always found myself genuinely happy when other people are happy. Or when I managed to meet somebody else’s standards. Or when I have made a real difference in someone else’s life.

this was going to be different. I can start fresh, for both of us. I will have my family, my friends. I realized I have Someone to draw strength from. I don’t have to be alone through all of this.

—

©2007. Read my other shorts here. Please credit the author and site if you want to share this post.

#063 unfinished

it was the ninth of September, in a year that would not quickly sink into the forgotten, and her harried steps weighed heavier by the moment. she walked, no, scurried, away from the white walls, the smell of ammonia and alcohol, the dull white glow of the ceiling lights. Her breathing labored, her eyes fogged by tears, she was suffocating from the guilt that was slowly seeping in.

Raya’s father had been very harsh, saying things like she was not the daughter they taught her to be and it had hurt her more than anything else. She had strived to please them for the last 24 years of her life, and has ironically lost everything in one day. she had admitted that she was with child and her parents had expectedly gone livid.

“I’ll leave the house if you want me to. I can stand up on my own.” she braved her father’s wrath and her mother’s withering stare. Right that moment she wished to possess some magical power, a power to stop time and wind it back. unfortunately for her, neither will be granted.

raya sat dejectedly in the back of the taxi cab, sobbing as quietly as she could. The driver kept glancing at his rearview mirror, quite concerned with the lady who flagged him down in front of a small clinic whose signs did not betray just what business it was they conducted in there.

Saan po tayo maam?

*sniff* Diyan lang ho, sa may kapitolyo. *sniff*

raya hugged her backpack tighter and tried to think of what good could possibly come out of her decision. It was too late to regret anything anymore, and it was her and her baby against the world now.

—

©2007. Read my other shorts here. Please credit the author and site if you want to share this post.

#063 fate

the tv fizzed and came to life. blurred images of girls with long hair and long legs filled the screen and made their statement that this is beautiful. I ignored them, quite content with my hair, and my legs, which have never failed me in the boys department so far. There have been misfortunes, but then, nobody’s perfect right? Except those girls on tv. Right.

I have better things to think about anyway, and American Idol is coming up. i wonder if the fil-am is gonna make it? i hope taylor hicks wins. I settled into my favorite couch and sipped my homemade strawberry-carrot-and-banana shake.

Knock, knock. Someone’s at the door.

Oh. It’s the pizza guy. How much is it? here’s an exact bill, keep the change. Back to my couch and taylor hicks.

I know it’s a Friday night, and the girls have been calling all night to get me out of the apartment for a usual night out. I said no, said I wanted to spend this night by myself and just be a couch potato for once. It’s been a busy week, what with the promotion and all, and my new boss breathing down my neck every hour or so.

the next contestant croons on the microphone kinda like how my new crush does…

***

the crowd applauds after the last note fades out, and I opened my eyes to bright lights. The audience seemed pleased with the performance and I smile back. All part of the life. the cameras flashed and phones were raised up to take pictures. I continued to smile, took a bow and said thanks for coming tonight, I’ll see you in my next gig. Please be there!

My manager, tony, ushers me into the dressing room, giving me a routine pat on the back.

Good job, he says. all the girls loved you out there. You were really charming, chris. a perfect singing heartthrob.

Thanks, but i don’t think you should be elevating me to that status, tony. It’s not exactly the image I want to keep, you know that. I just want to sing.

He frowns at me as if to tell me I didn’t know what I was saying. I said thanks again and left me in peace. I opened my phone to call mom to tell her I just finished the show and it was a success.

In 15 minutes I was driving down C-5 and was recounting the night’s events in my already tired mind. I’m doing what I liked most, and I couldn’t be any happier. Then there’s that dinner tomorrow night mom kept reminding me about. There was this girl she and her clubhouse friend were dying to introduce me to. She was supposed to be a politician’s or judge’s daughter or something. She’s hot daw, my friend Aki was saying.

My cellphone rings, and I pick up the phone to answer.

***

hello? I said groggily into the phone. It was my friend, tina, possibly in the middle of a party-swinging crowd in one of the bars at greenbelt. I couldn’t hear her well with the pounding club music in the background.

You should’ve been here! You’re missing the party of your life! I wanted to say that every party we go to is the party of our lives.

Well I’m happy where I am right now getting a well deserved sleep, and you should be going home. It’s 3am in the morning, Tina, who’s with you?

Everyone’s here, trish! Paul’s even looking for you, he’s looking sooo hot right now!

*sigh* part of me had wanted to go to the party, after all, it’s a weekend. but after being swamped with new assignments by the boss from hell, I just couldn’t resist a night on the couch watching Simon Cowell bash young talents.

Alright, Tina, you’ve convinced me. I should be there, but next week, ok? You guys take care and I’ll see you later. Click.

i ducked under the covers once again, and drifted to sleep.

***

the phone rang again. I opened one eye to get a glimpse of who would possibly trouble me at this time of the night. It was tina, and I snapped open my phone.

Bail me out sis, im at the precint. I hit this guy’s car who was driving too slow — yeah you were, mister! — and now they’re making me pay! I really dont care if you’re someone’s son ok? Who the hell are you anyway?

Tina you sound really drunk. Why were you driving? Where are you???

***

I’m at the Makati precint mom. No, im ok. No everything’s fine, you don’t have to come down here. i try to sound calm but this girl’s getting on my nerves. She’s drunk and still calling for back up. wake up, miss, I’m not getting into a fight with you.

Ah, finally, someone’s come to rescue you. Are you her friend?

***

“yes, I am. Im really sorry for the trouble she’s caused,” Trish gushes as soon as she comes into the police station. Oh. My. Gosh. It’s him. “Her insurance will pay off the damage. Can we discuss this tomorrow? I mean, later? I really have to take her home, you see how drunk she is. Im so sorry, Christian.” I cant believe it’s really you in person. I have the most embarrassingly biggest crush on you. But you don’t need to know that now, not after all this mess.

“Excuse me?” Christian seems a little surprised, then quickly remembers who he was to the public. “Oh, you must know who I am already.” He adds shyly. Well she is nice.

Trish reaches into her purse. “Here’s my contact number, and please call me whenever you’re ok,” Crap, I hope that didn’t sound so desperate. “We’ll fix this, don’t worry.” Crap, his eyes are really nice. And he’s so gwapo!

He took her calling card and said he will give her a call as soon as he gets some sleep. She says that they are grateful, and promises again to fix his car.

“you should get your friend home.” The police in charge interrupts gruffly, after typing away the last letters of the report, anxious to settle the dispute and turn over to the next officer in duty. He was oblivious to the fact that he had just played a part of a predestined meeting.

Trish ushers Tina into the car and drives home, wondering if she should feel sorry for her friend who just had a larger problem than a hangover, but smiles all the way home despite it.

Christian, on the other hand, takes a good long sleep, wakes up late in the afternoon, and decides to cancel dinner. That can wait. He calls the number scrawled at the back of the calling card.

Tina wakes up with the foretold headache, takes in two aspirins, and swears not to kill herself with drinking anymore.

—

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