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Fiction
Mawr
“Do we ever win, Mom?”
Raniw smiled at the young ginger cat, barely out of kittenhood, who asked the question.
“No, Runi, we will never win. Death finds our hooman in different ways. It’s just that the people we seek to protect could be used...
House of Lola
Notwithstanding its idyllic ambiance, Dumaguete City in the early '70s was a cheerful city overflowing with enigmas and desires. Amidst the brackish environs of Escaño Beach, a few kilometers from the city proper, an old house stood. In that rustic 18th-century house, there...
Autumn Song
He was there again tonight. Seated at the last table of the small, dark bar, a lighted cigar in his hand, looking at me intently, almost unmoving. He must be around sixty, a bit on the heavy side, his Caucasian features blurred in...
The Room Next Door
FICTION — I never really knew Eric. He was the kind of neighbor you saw often but never truly saw—a blur of dark shirts and headphone wires, slipping down the stairs with his phone in one hand and a plastic bag of instant noodles or soda in the other. Always alone.
By the Brook
I
Nina’s eyes peer above the cover of a nameless book. She wasn’t reading, no. Her eyes are fixed on the distant figure of her mother sifting through a pile of old chattels left behind.
“Another river pebble. Your Lola really liked collecting the most...
The Quiet Animal
I couldn’t get off my mind, that morning when I was six years old, when my mother asked me to bury a dead animal. I held the carcass of a dead new-born pig, quiet inside the plastic bag. Its cold fleshy body was...
