Si Fren

Fiction by | May 6, 2018

Usa ka mekaniko si Fren. Hingataw-un. Buntag hangtud gabii, siya gapang-ayo ug mga guba nga sakyanan. Siya kugihan. Adunay siya’y upat ka anak, si Budoy, si Paula, si Jose ug si Utitud ug asawa nga si Lalay. Simple lamang ang kinabuhi ni Fren ug sa iyahang pamilya. Makakaon lamang sila ug katulo sa usa ka adlaw, malipayun na sila.


Daghan mga tawo gikan sa nagkalain-laing parte sa susyudidad ang nagapaayo sa iyahang gamay nga syap kay tungod lagi maayo ug paspas iyang serbisyo. Adunay DJ sa radyo, propesor sa MSU, mga politiko, apo sa mga tag-iya sa mga dagkong kompanya o mga negosyante. Ug silang tanan adunay maayo nga relasyon kaniya. Usahay kung ako mulabay sa iyahang gamay nga syap, makita nako nga ginapalitan pa gani siya ug softdrinks sa iyahang mga suki. Ug kini nagadugang ug “tip” tungod sa iyahang kakugihan ug kamaayo. 


Sa sobra kakugihan ni Fren, pag-uli nako gikan sa trabaho matag gabii, makita gihapon nako siya nga adunay kaestorya nga kostumer sa gawas sa iyahang panimalay. Usahay daghan gapangita kay Fren sayo pa sa buntag,maong makamata ako sa kabanha sa mga iro nga ana sa lataran, kay silingan ra man kami.

Usa ka adlaw niana, paadto ko sa akoang trabahuan ug nakita ko si Fren nga bag-o pa lamang abot sa ilahang balay.

“Naay nangita sa imuha tong niaging adlaw, Bay.”

“Aw diay. Salamat, Bay.”

“Sige, diri sa’ko.”

Gitagbo si Fren sa iyahang mga anak. Mipadayun ako sa paglakaw.

Nilabay ang mga adlaw, matag gabii, sige ug paghot ang iro, ug dili ako makatulog, wala nay kostumer si Fren apan misilip ako sa gamay nga buslot sa bintana arun makita ko kung aduna bay tawo apan wala akoy nakita. Nibalik ako ug higda apan sa dili pa ako mahinanok sa pagtulog, nakadungog ako ug tulo ka pagpangnuktok sa purtahan nila.

Wala na gayud akoy kusog para usisaun kung kinsa katong mga tawhana, sa tumang kahadlok, nagbukot na lamang ako ug habol.


Tulo ka buto. Kusog nga hilak ug kalisang.

Apan wala ako’y nadungog, wala.


“Pasayloa ko, Fren.”


Ug gikuha ko ang pakete sa shabu nga aana sa ilalom sa akoang unlan.


“Hapit na ko matunton. Kinahanglan na nako muhawa niining dapita.”


Hannah Lecena is a graduate of BSED Filipino at MSU-GSC, a member of SOX Writers Group, former spoken word performer of TINTAsyon, an existing organization that supervises various events in Restobars and Cafe in GenSan, Polomolok, Tupi and Surallah South Cotabato. Her first Zine entitled “Ala-ala ng Paglimot” in collaboration with Alvin Pomperada was published last Zines Festival held in GenSan. She is from Sarangani Province. Her flashfiction “Ig-agaw” was published at Cotabato Literary Journal, as well as her poem “Kung Ako ang Pasultihun,” in the same year. Her winning piece during GenSan Summer Youth Fest 2017 in which she was the champion, “Pangatlong Mata” was also published by the said Literary Folio. She is now busy organizing and promoting spoken word poetry events around General Santos City.

At the Terminal

Fiction by | May 6, 2018

Dear You-who-have-left,

I hope you are doing fine.

I hope the sun’s warmth wakes you in the morning and the cold breeze tickle your toes. As the rooster crows and the smell of your brewed coffee combines with the scent of freshly washed linens, I hope you long for home. I hope you have seen the waves that chased after each other as they crash altogether on the arms of the shore. I pray that you have watched the stars as they not only form constellations but reminders of the promises you made. And as you sleep, I wish that you dream of the love you have left and that your heart may always remember.

I have felt how her shoulders heaved on your last embrace. How she forced her knees to unshaken. How she forced her lips to curve, to make you see she is fine. How every drop of tear was stopped on the brink and how she bit her tongue to unlet the words “don’t go” spill-out. I have watched, as you slowly stepped on the train’s platform; the heaviness of her shoulders have let her arms just hang low and her heart, sank in an ice-cold ocean. I have watched, as every tear came rushing as you waved your hat and bade her goodbye. I have seen, as she ran to catch the last glimpse of you and how her frail voice cracked the words “I love you.” But you could hear no more. The train’s whistle and your dreams have drowned her little heart’s voice in tears.

And sometimes, you know, I wish I was you.

I hope there was someone who would shed tears as I ride the train too. Someone who would keep a photograph of me in a wallet, on a purse or underneath the pillow. Someone who would softly touch her lips on my forehead and say “take care.” Someone who would give me a long embrace as the conductor calls for the last passengers. Someone who would hold my hand firmly and look into my eyes and say, “Dear, I will be waiting.” I hope there was someone, hoping each night to be with me and would be waiting for my return patiently. And when I finally come home, someone I could wrap my arms with and I could say “we belong with each other. I wouldn’t leave again and I am here to stay.”

But sometimes, I also wish, I was someone who was left.

Someone, who awaits your crashing into my arms, like the shore patiently waits for the waves. Someone, no matter how long it takes, will wait and hold on to every promise we made. If there was no more you who would come back, I will feel every piercing pain in the chest. It would take years to heal, but at least, at least I have felt. And if one night, you appear on my front door, you will grab me by the hand and we’d kiss and we’d hug and you would swing me and we’d dance under the moonlight. We’d sit under the stars and you’d tell me of how you have reached your dreams; of how you have discovered that you can be an author, an astrologer and that you can be anything you want to be. You’d tell me about how your soul has been searched, and yet your heart yearns for me. I would rest my head on your shoulders and nuzzle into your hair and I would tuck you into my arms and never let go of you again.

I wish I was either.

But I am just here. Meant to watch every departure, meant to see every arrival. I was just, meant to see, meant to watch and not to feel. Meant not to belong to anyone, meant to love no one.

I still hope to see you together very soon.

Love,
Bench


Ten Ilajas is currently lost in the dunes of the Middle East.

Speedy and Jet

Fiction by | February 4, 2018

Speedy and Jet won 3rd Place Palanca Award for Short Story for
Children in English in 1997.

Once upon a time, in a distant valley, there was a small vineyard tended by a farmer.

Early each spring, the farmer made sure that the grapevines grew solidly from the arbor down to the roots. He knew that when the vines slowly crawled and reached the top of the arbor, they would spread out and start to bear fruits.

In the late summer or early fall, bunches and bunches of large plump grapes could be seen hanging from the arbor. The farmer allowed the fruits to grow into their ripe color.

One day, all the grapes had turned into a purple color.

“It is time to harvest the grapes,” said the farmer.

Continue reading Speedy and Jet

Bunok (Ikaduhang Bahin)

Fiction by | December 10, 2017

(Kining sugilanon misakmit og unang ganti sa Carlos Palanca Awards karong tuiga)

“Kahilas ba nimo, uy!” sukmat ni Lukring nga nakabantay.

“Aw, angay lang! Kontra baya tag dula unya… irog didto bi, basig ikaw ang magdalag demal nako,” ni Duday samtang iyang gisiko ang higala.

“Hmph! Demalas sa imong bisong!” subli ni Lukring nga mitindog sa gilingkoran. Unya didto na sad kini magkikir-kikir kang Berning.

Sus, ang animal kalami kulamoson sa nawong, ay! Maypa wa nako pautanga, niya sa kaugalingon. Taudtaod, nangahilom silang upat, nanag-estudyo sa nahabiling mga baraha; kon unsay angay pang gungonan ug angay nang ilabay. Dugay-dugay gyod nga nagpulihay og saksak sila si Sidra, Duday ug Lotlot, hangtod na-hits ra gyod kini niya. Ang sunod nga nakadaog kay si Lotlot, mga tulo lang kadto ka pustada. Nakapamalikas si Sidra sa kalagot kay sayop ang iyang nalabay. Tungod sa kakulba-hinam, wa nila himatikdi ang paspas nga paglabay sa mga gutlo— untop nang alas onse. Si Duday sigeg ampo nga unta moundang na si Berning aron kini mapulihan kay pataka ra nig labay kang Lotlot og baraha.

Continue reading Bunok (Ikaduhang Bahin)

Bunok (Unang Bahin)

Fiction by | December 3, 2017

(Kining sugilanon misakmit og unang ganti sa Carlos Palanca Awards karong tuiga)

“Another secret of the universe: sometimes pain was like a storm that came out of nowhere. The clearest summer could end in a downpour; could end in lightning and thunder.”— Benjamin Alire Sáenz

GISUGAT sa madag-omong nawong ni Duday ang limbahong bidlisiw sa Adlaw sa sidlakan. Sige siyag pamalikas samtang iyang gipaypayan ang wa madukti nga mga sugnod sa batong sug-angan. Unsaon nga nasalibohan man kini sa kusog nga ulan niadtong milabayng gabii. Bisag gidabdaban na niyag patayng lukay ug karton, unya giyab-ag gas, wala gihapon kini mosiga. Nagluha-luha ang iyang mga mata sa kahapdos sa aso.

“Peste man ning mga kahoya, uy!”

Mibutho gikan sa kuwarto si Beboy, ang iyang kamagwangang anak, nga sigeg panghuy-ab samtang miadto sa panghugasan tupad lang sa ilang abohan.

“Maayong buntag, Nay,” ni Beboy nga mikuhag baso ug nanglimugmog.

“Boy, human nimo dinha, panguhag patayng palwa ug kawayan didto sa silong kay ganina ra kong galagot ining mga pesteng kahoy diri!” ni Duday sa tingog nga nagtangag og kaisog.

Miyango ang bata ug gikuha ang sinakoban nga sundang ubos sa abohan. Unya minaog dayon sa ilang balay. Samtang gapaabot kang Beboy, nakahukom siya nga haonon una ang kaldero. Unya, paggunit niya sa hawiranan, napaslot ang iyang kamot!

“Kolera! Yawa man ning kinabuhia, uy!” ni Duday nga gisawilik ang kamot. Sa kaitok, mikuha siyag sugnod ug gipuspos didto sa ubang mga kahoy. Unya, nagpangagot nga miadto sa binuksang bentana ug didto gipahungaw ang kapungot.

Continue reading Bunok (Unang Bahin)

Performance

Fiction by | November 29, 2017

Things were still not looking up for Judith. She just lost her job at the fish cracker factory earlier today. Your services are no longer required, they said. Well, that wasn’t exactly how they said it, but it sounded that way. And now, her son, Junjun, was nowhere to be found. Did she know where he was? No, she didn’t. But he’s old enough to take care of himself, anyway.

Today, she decided to just screw it and looked for the first thing she craved. Judith hailed a pedicab to the nearest sari- sari store.

The first few notes to Englebert Humperdinck’s “The Last Waltz” played inside her head. This was her ex-husband’s favorite song. That bastard. He used to listen to it all the time. The song rang in her ears until she realized that it was coming from the pedicab’s radio.

Judith bought three sticks of Marlboro reds. She inhaled the cigarette smoke, letting it creep into her lungs. It wasn’t her fault when Junjun’s father left them years ago. It wasn’t her fault that Junjun wasn’t able to attend high school when his father left. It wasn’t her fault that she didn’t have a job anymore.

Continue reading Performance

The Rain

Fiction by | November 12, 2017

It was a Saturday and a payday. The sun was asleep that day and the dim clouds hinted rain, but I was up early for my Master’s and I had to beat the previous night of writing a thesis proposal and singing lullabies for my one-year old girl. My sleepy face invited a debate from my wife whether I should go to school or not. I won so I took a freezing bath and packed my bag. San Isidro was a one-hour drive from Mati City and the ride entailed enduring the meandering road that I had gotten used to.

My classes proceeded with lectures and hasty reports prepared by my preoccupied classmates. For fairness’ sake, I hoped they also struggled on the way to school.

I could not go back home without buying groceries and pasalubong for my six-year old girl so I had to join the rush at the supermarket. I went out of the market still alive, gladly. I carefully tied my box of groceries to the back of my motorcycle and headed home. While I was on the way, I was so mindful of my load that I checked it with my left hand from time to time. I was worrying that the knot was loose. I tied the box with the interior of a motorcycle wheel cut into a strip, a sort of a rubber tie, which got tighter while I travelled. At the time, it had grown a bit short.

I was worried that my load would unravel by the time I reached the road construction at Badas. The repair had been taking forever. The government seemed to have a lot of money to spend. The sky was also growing dark, like cellophane filled with water and would burst any time.

Continue reading The Rain

Itik Nga Walay Balahibo

Fiction by | October 8, 2017

Subo palandungon, wala damha sa akong higala nga kalit mawala ang iyang kauban sa balay nga iyang igsoon,iyang bilas og duha pa ka tuig nga bata nga si Ronron. Tungod kay mag- unsa man sila sa syudad og walay diploma og grado, hinoon makakaon man sila, kay pareho man naay trabaho ang igsoon sa akong higala.

Nanguli sila sa ilang yutang natawhan; ang nahitabo, nag-inusara na ang akong higala sa iyang balay. Nagpoyo si Joseph sa tiil sa Mt. Talomo; mogawas siya sa iyang balay arun motrabaho, Samtang gi- ilog na ang kangitngit sa adlaw, og sugaton siya sa mga sitsit sa langgam, timailhan nga nagsugod na ang lumba sa kinabuhi, og sa likod sa Mt. Talomo, ang baga nga gabon maoy telon sa dakong entablado. Matag buntag sayo, mao kana ang programa sa kinabuhi ni Joseph.

Continue reading Itik Nga Walay Balahibo