Note: This is a work of fiction. This was written as a response to the writing prompt from “712 More Things to Write About”. The prompt is: write about a conversation between two people.
Duterte: Bongbong, kailan ba natin papatayin si Leni?
Bongbong: Huuuy, huwag naman. Yan yung mali na ginawa ng nanay ko. Nag-create kami ng martyr noong pinatay namin si Ninoy. Ganito nalang, gamitin natin yung mga trolls para siraan si Leni. Tapos, kapag wala nang pakialam ang mga tao sa kanya, puwede na natin siyang patayin.
Duterte: Gusto ko na siya patayin! In six months, papapatay ko na siya kay Bato!
Bongbong: *sweats profusely* *thinking* Sheeeet, paano na?
Duterte: *eyes narrow* Silence means yes.
Continue reading “Fiction: Duterte and Bongbong Debate About Killing Leni”
Note: I think this was a writing exercise we did in class when I was in college. The instruction was to write one true story and one that’s a lie. Can you guess which one is which? I’ll write the answer after the list of links. Don’t cheat!
When I think of Beatrice, only two words come to my mind—childhood trauma. She was our class president back in grade three, and I have a sinking feeling that she was either a direct descendant or a reincarnation of Adolf Hilter. If you even shifted your weight in your seat, your name would appear on the blackboard’s list of “bad girls”. If you so much as whisper or involuntarily cough, you’d see your name in the “noisy girls” list. We were indeed disciplined, but we hated her. Thus it is no surprise that I have never tried nor dreamed of becoming president of anything.
Continue reading “Fiction and Non-fiction: Presidential Nightmares, Presidential Dreams”
Note: I found this in my laptop. It’s something I wrote for sir DM Reyes’ Creative Writing class when I was in college. I think the instructions were to write a letter from the perspective of one of the characters or was it specifically from the character of Letitia or was it specifically a letter from Letitia to Ariel? I forgot already what short story these characters are from. Now, reading it again, it is obvious that in my piece, the character who has a disability has thoughts that are discriminatory against persons with disabilities. It’s like that movie “Me Before You”, which had a plot line I was not critical about, up until I read the articles that explained the perspective of the community of disabled individuals. I guess you can read this piece critically. Even if the character thinks that way, it doesn’t mean it’s the right way to think, or in the way it is written, is it forwarding that backward stance? Or is that way of thinking embedded in the original short story and I just unthinkingly continued that thought? Or did I add that myself? Why do I have a part of me that somewhat believes this backward mindset or at least accepts it as true? I don’t want to be a discriminatory person, so I need to take this seriously, and I truly need to reflect about this.
Please forgive me for not meeting you today. Please know that this is not a sign of ingratitude for I am really touched that someone has finally appreciated our Statues and Attitudes. We have long performed in the Argentine Central Tracks, yet no one has become as enthusiastically interested in them as you are.
My heart longs to be there with you. I long to hear you tell me about the wonderful places that you have gone to. I long to hear you talk about the wonderful people that you have met. I want to listen to your hopes and dreams for the future. Yet also because of this longing did I realize that I shouldn’t see you.
Continue reading “Fiction: Dear Ariel, Love Letitia”
Note: I wrote this when I was in college.
Red blood fell on the dark green grass. The crimson blood spelling Christmas. The red apples and a stray red violet deflated balloon decorated the gloomy tree that towered above the scene. Colored hair like wine was decorated with emerald coagulated paint blots and was swimming in a pool of dark blood. It was. It was. It was—art!
And I heard Mr. Tamson say, “We will find the murderer, so please don’t be dismayed,” and the crowd that gathered at the crime scene felt reassured. They were so sure that they would find the culprit with the wretched mind. But jolly wee, oh jolly wee, they will never realize that it was me!
Continue reading “Fiction: It Was Me”
Note: This is inspired by a writing prompt from The Daily Poet by Kelli Russell Agodon and Martha Silano. The prompt is to pick a letter from the alphabet (I picked J because my name starts with J but I ended up writing about another person), write down the words that start with that letter when you encounter them in your daily life, then write a poem using those words.
She doesn’t own me,
She can judge me all she wants,
But I will be free,
I will take my jacket and walk the frigid streets alone,
And I will survive.
Continue reading “J is for Jealousy”
Note: I wrote this when I was in college. This is a work of fiction
Destiny—the rules of the Divine.
Destiny—the inseparable lovers’ justification for defiance.
Destiny–the inescapable dictator.
For the Ivars, the ruling clan of Celestia’s society, destiny is an irreversible fate. In this world, each person does not have to experience confusion about identity or purpose. Each person already has a place in society and a goal for one’s life. This destiny can be known through the orb of enlightenment, which, when touched, will produce a visual manifestation of one’s destiny. The Supremos, or the upper members of the Ivar clan, keeps this clairvoyant power deep within their chambers.
Continue reading “Fiction: Destiny”
Note: I wrote this when I was in college
She used to sleep in a sad little alley, wrapped in her favorite heap of trash bags. Everything changed when Mr. Mayor invited her to tea. Said an uncle she never knew gave her inheritance. Said from now on she had to pay taxes. Said he needed a token of appreciation too. Before this, he never cared about her. When she had told him that she really needed to swallow beauty, he just walked by. Now he smiled and said that he’ll do everything in his power to make it come true.
Continue reading “Fiction: Swallowing Beauty”