Listen to me, Jun. To tie a box, you have to make sure that you have strong straw. Strong straws don’t break easily even if you pull it hard. And once you twined it around the box, the straw would hold your box in place. I told you that before. Remember?
Now, hold the end of this straw and shove it under the box as if you’re scraping. Follow my lead. Here. You shove it this way then pull the other end upward. Straws are puckered, so be careful not to split the thread. Don’t even try doing it. Then, bring together the ends of the straw and do a knot. Just a single knot, though. That’s good. Now, twist the straw and shove it again underneath. Pull it up. No. Do it carefully. You’re breaking the straw.
Continue reading Junior
Excerpt from the author’s ongoing scifi epic narrative Maharlika 23.
In a parallel dimension, the eon Sun glistens over Maharlika City, a strategic metropolis in a continent of planet Erthe. It is another morning in the year 2276 for its 3 million inhabitants, considerably among the largest urban areas by 23rd century Erthean standards. The city is an eclectic profusion of newly evolved Ertheans aggrupating from the various continents of the planet, and of interstellar representatives as well. With other metropolises, it is a pilot area for the immersion phase program of Erthe Federation and the Confederacy of Interstellar Citizens (CIC). The city is a virtual melting pot of intergalactic cultures with 4th Dimensional and 5D-evolving SUPERbeings.
Grand Old Man, intimately referred by the local inhabitants to a nearby volcanic mountain, is a silent witness to the growth of the populace. Rising from the terrain ranges of the city’s backdrop, the forests below its revered peaks reflect the early morning sprinkles as they slowly roll down the landscape and into the gulf boundaries of the sea. The evergreen blanket surrounding the city, its profusion of flora and fauna with remarkable species once dubbed endangered yet reviving to a healthy population, attests to the success of a conservation program implemented by Erthean ancestors centuries ago and had since survived even after the Great Upheaval (GU).
Continue reading Maharlika 23
By the time Jheric got to the car, it was too late. The blue Toyota Corolla had already backed out of its space. Its window rolled down a notch and Vhong’s hand reached out for the coins. Then the car was on its way out of the supermarket parking lot.
“Hey! That was my customer! You know it was!” Jheric shouted.
“Ha! Early bird and all that, runt!” Vhong said. He jangled the coins in his hand.
“It’s mine! It’s mine!”
Vhong held Jheric back at arm’s length. Jheric flailed but his hands barely even reached Vhong’s shoulder. A small crowd of boys had gathered around them. “Go, Jheric! Give him what for!” They laughed. Vhong pushed Jheric. Jheric fell on his butt.
Continue reading Watch-your-car
My little brother returned home two days ago from Diliman for the vacation. Now, he sits beside me while I navigate the channels to check what television networks have in store for the summer.
Not a minute passes that David says, “I don’t like that they call our generation the Generation Y.”
I turn to look at David. Only eighteen years of age, a year younger than I, and having to spend two of those years in that university, and look now what he thinks the world is doing to him.
“It’s a slap to our face that we are named so because we have a predecessor that was labeled Generation X. It’s that structuralism thing. You are named this because you are after that. Blah…blah…blah…”
Continue reading Boob Tube Monologue
“So how’s everything?”
If only one could establish a pattern from its movements, he could perhaps assume that it is perfecting a complicated terpsichorean sequence. “Mmm… Okay.”
“Well, I will just tell the guys you’re coming home during the sem break. Perhaps you will have news to tell by then.”
The black fish in the bowl moved to the right wagging its tail as if calling attention to its translucence. “What? Ah, yah, sure…bye.”
It hurled upwards. Its mouth formed a small “o” while meeting these brownish crumbs its owner, the eldest son of the landlady, was sprinkling into the bowl.
Continue reading The Black Moor
It’s About Time You Meet Her
You knew her though, or someone you knew of. We were all aware of her existence that, like wallpapers, we never really took notice. Hers was a familiar face in the crowd with that look of desperation crawling right into you. Her face caked with pustules that nobody dared to touch. Her body looked so thin, her skin tightly embracing her bones. She didn’t possess those black-rimmed glasses and buck teeth (though she had one missing on the upper mouth); she didn’t have braces that completed the criteria for everyday geeks. Her mother barely covered the basics; another strain on their budget was certainly out of the question.
Continue reading Magdalena and Scenes of Chronic Poverty
Hi there! My name is Zac. I’m a little boy who really liked exploring, but I didn’t understand why father won’t let me do it. “Please Dad, may I go exploring?” I asked when I was four years old. “No!” said Dad, loudly, “Not until your tenth birthday comes.”
Finally, after six years my tenth birthday came.
“Yippee! I can now go wandering into the jungle,” I said excitedly.
“And just who was it who said that you can go wandering into that jungle?”
“You Dad, you told me when I was four years old,” I said nervously.
“What? I didn’t say such a thing,” lied Dad.
Continue reading The Legend of the Sacred Butterfly
If there is no net force, there can be no acceleration.
She met him in her Physics class, listening attentively from his seat in the front row. What is there to know about the law of gravity or Newton’s laws of motion? Only abstract concepts made tangible by experiment. But she taught this to her class anyhow. Like she did not admit that opposites really do attract, and that objects inevitably fall, and that bodies of matter do not move unless something (or someone) exerts some kind of force on them.
The net force on an object is proportional to the acceleration that the object undergoes.
The interested look in his eyes made her uneasy. She felt like one of her peers in high school who fell head over heels in love with some cute teenage boy winking at them in the hallway. The boy’s eyes gleamed with admiration and when he smiled, she swooned over him.
For every action, there is always an equal and opposite reaction.
Once, while walking down the pathway alone, he offered to carry her books. She could not even stare back at him as she handed him the books. Both of them spoke sparingly. But he would whistle against the cool, crisp air. And he had such a confident and majestic air about him, so that when they walked side by side, he wasn’t a boy anymore but indeed a full-grown man.
Continue reading A Flash Fiction Trio