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Fiction
The Eyes that Follow
So this is how most women die, she learned, lying in pain on the floor of the main hallway at the governor’s palace. Forgotten.
Her dress—once a beautiful, cream-white, sequined Filipiniana in the style of the former first lady—had been torn almost into shreds,...
The Baby
Dr. Marta was seated on a stool in the Recovery Room writing her notes on a patient just transferred from the Delivery Room. Suddenly, she heard a sound coming from the unlit Labor Room-A just across the hall. The air was silent, empty,...
The Maids’ Revolt
The gunfire echoed along the ship’s corridor. Kuya One, who was known only by his call sign, welcomed the sound this time, as it was an indication that some of his men were still alive. He sadly realized that their movement, at least...
Reflections on the Void
I’ll begin with a crude reduction of La Bruyere’s opening paragraph from Les Characteres: Nothing here is meant to be the first of its kind. This thing itself is a pale and conflated imitation of what I found most resonant in the aphorisms...
The Backroom Angels Bugaloo
No one, least of all her schoolmates at St. Celestina’s Academy, would have pictured Chona Laon Badoy as the Mayor of San Semilla in Negros Occidental. Chona herself had never aspired for political office, but only to public service, as her in-laws loftily...
The Birth of Zaroasther
They connived with the dark shadows, the family who lived in a house full of glass windows and graven saints. Toraja invited me to their family dinner in Baguio City to commemorate their matriarch’s third death anniversary. That morning, five black pigs were...
