Morpheme Issue 6 August 2022

MORPHEME ISSUE NO. 6

Along the untrodden paths of the woods mor∙pheme noun. /’môr fēm/ – a writer’s thorough armor in surviving the war of dying ISSUE NO. 6 A.Y. 2021-2022

ABOUT THE COVER Along the absence of light are concealing plethoras Bringing elusivity in the hunters’ wishful eyes But they come to light even without plea To usher captive minds in the abyss Cover art by Jannbeau Amadeus Rain Astrero Divider art by Denise Preclaro Literary in-Charge Ara Janine Palecpec Writers Marcea Alcala, Wrenzhie Arroyo, Pia Heart Lambuson, Paulyn Dianne Laude, Anina Jiliana Manuel, Aqeena “Qyns” Reyes, Bianca Jan Sibayan, Gabriel Dale Tejido Artists Sean Jacob Altoveros, Jannbeau Amadeus Rain Astrero, Cecilia Nazarine Bicol, Klaire Niña Llarena, Rianne Nicole Ocampo, Denise Preclaro, Reanne Ashley Roguel, Liam Nico Sullivan, Jasmin Delos Reyes, Aya Ahmad, Aiser Levi Duque Layout Artists Nikki Alexis Antonio, Angienette Laurza, Jan Anthony Murillo, Juliana Ellice Polancos Photographers Elisha Jezreel Ang, Jethro Dela Cerna, Nicole Infante, Angienette Laurza, Tricia Faye Velasco Contributors Sayf Abouasy, Ara Janine Palecpec, Guen Marie Sapinit, Ma. Gizelle Nicole Sanson, Benedict Tawatao, Serge Angelo Quiambao, Ferdinand Lance Launico

PAUNANG SALITA Simulan ang iyong paglalakbay ng may katatagan at buksan ang isipan sa malikhaing paraan. Sa bawat yapak at kaluskos na nililikha ng ating mga paa sa kakahuyang walang katiyakan, marahil umuusbong ang mga makamundong nilalang na pipilitin tayong mahumaling dito. Isang nakabibighaning bulaklak na maaaring mahiwaga o nakalalason, sino ang makakapagsabi ng tamang sagot nang hindi pa ito dumadapo sa balat upang magamit ang pansalat, pati ang natitirang limang pandama? Hindi natin hawak ang mga pakay ng nakapalibot sa atin, ngunit may mga pagkakataon na matatamo ang mga bagay na makatutulong upang harapin ang karimlan. Ang Scroll na naglalaman ng mensahe o mga pahiwatig bilang gabay, ang Nazar bilang kasangga sa kasuklaman ng mundo, ang Elixir na huhubog sa paglago ng pagkatao, at ang Quartz bilang magpapaunawa sa kabuuan ng lakbaying ito. Habang mga istoryang hindi mailimbag ang naging eksplorasyon ng mga literary writers at artists para sa ika-anim na isyu ng Morpheme, nais kong ilakip dito sa munting talata na nakarating na tayo sa ating destinasyon dahil hinarap natin ang masukal na daan. At sa wakas, aming inihahandog ang panibagong paksa, dala ang mga simbolo na sumasagisag sa mga kalasag ng ating lakbayin. Huwag lumihis at maligaw sa mga palatandaang aming nilagay. Magkita-kita tayo hanggang dapit-umaga. ARA JANINE PALECPEC Literary in-Charge

MESSAGE Humans are animals of wisdom. People learn and adapt to whatever environment they are placed in. And while it is true that learning from your past mistakes will help you move forward, continuing will not be the same as the weight of your shortcomings will soon add up and weigh you down. However, navigating through life without an idea of what lies ahead is like traversing the woodlands without a lantern, hoping that whatever being you encounter will be tamer compared to the monsters in your past battles. So as the journey progresses, be it in real life or make-believe, we are bound to make difficult choices. Oftentimes, those decisions may require us to sacrifice and leave some part of ourselves behind. Even if we are not yet ready, we need to make a judgment call—to jump or to be left behind. But at the end of the day, each scar and wound that we received will provide us with a story to tell. So it is through the works of these writers, artists, and photojournalists, that the sixth issue of Morpheme was brought into reality. When we are to face countless behemoths in our path, let these tales of triumph, defeat, and sorrow be our guide in our odyssey. FRANCHEZ CASSANDRA ESCANDER Editor in Chief

Scroll 19 Kamikazee 9 Ice Prince by Gabriel Dale Tejido Art by Rianne Nicole Ocampo by Serge Angelo Quiambao (STM115) Art by Sayf Abouasy (ICT21) 22 Sa tabi ng walang sinuman 12 Limang kilometro by Anina Jiliana Manuel by Aqeena “Qyns” Reyes 23 The natural compass Photo by Tricia Faye Velasco by Bianca Jan Sibayan 16 See the light Photo by Jethro Dela Cerna by Wrenzhie Arroyo 25 Patnubay sa kasalukuyan Art by Sean Jacob Altoveros by Marcea Alcala 18 Tuldok-kuwit Photo by Ara Janine Palecpec (ABM22) by Ara Janine Palecpec 28 Rectifying dreams by Paulyn Dianne Laude Nazar 41 Papuring bulaan 31 Not Hansel & Gretel by Aqeena “Qyns” Reyes by Ara Janine Palecpec 42 Ascent to the depths Art by Klaire Niña Llarena by Gabriel Dale Tejido 34 Project Misfire Art by Cecilia Nazarine Bicol by Anina Jiliana Manuel & 44 Hamarchy Ara Janine Palecpec by Pia Heart Lambuson 37 The eclipse staring into my eyes 46 Pagtangis ng kahapon at kinabukasan by Marcea Alcala Photo by Ara Janine Palecpec (ABM22) by Paulyn Dianne Laude 39 Sayaw, nene 47 Toll of a transit’s torment by Wrenzhie Arroyo by Guen Marie Sapinit (HMS23) Art by Benedict Tawatao (ICT21)

Elixir 51 Paper in the wind 60 Infusion of false rejuvenation by Ferdinand Lance Launico (STM11) by Aqeena “Qyns” Reyes Art by Ma. Gizelle Nicole Sanson 53 The house without a roof (ICT11) by Marcea Alcala 62 The epitome of happ(i)ness Photo by Jethro Dela Cerna by Anina Jiliana Manuel 55 The antidote to a corrupted world 63 Placebo effect by Wrenzhie Arroyo by Bianca Jan Sibayan Art by Cecilia Nazarine Bicol Photo by Angienette Laurza 59 Pagsusumamo sa pagdududa 66 Ginhawa sa kopa by Pia Heart Lambuson & by Gabriel Dale Tejido Ara Janine Palecpec Photo by Nicole Infante Art by Reanne Ashley Roguel Quartz 78 Kapag pinagbigyan ang huling hiling 69 Sa pagitan ng mga linya by Anina Jiliana Manuel & by Marcea Alcala Ara Janine Palecpec Art by Liam Nico Sullivan Art by Aiser Levi Duque 72 Sa pag-alpas 81 scio me nihil scire by Wrenzhie Arroyo by Aqeena “Qyns” Reyes 73 A translucent polygon 83 The Matriarch’s au revoir by Ara Janine Palecpec by Gabriel Dale Tejido Photo by Nicole Infante 75 Sumpa ng Baguio 87 Naked masquerade by Ara Janine Palecpec Photo by Angienette Laurza by Bianca Jan Sibayan & Ara Janine Palecpec 76 Breaking free Art by Aya Ahmad by Paulyn Dianne Laude Art by Jasmin Delos Reyes

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Ice Prince Serge Angelo Quiambao (STM115) The sound of hatred. It was all I could hear as I ran for my life, my soul fueled with adrenaline as I did. I looked away from behind those chasing me and observed the path of sand and pebbles with the grass-filled edges in its way. Ice formed on the ground mixed with the sand with every touch of my feet. My cold breath exhales vapors of chill air. The toll for running at such a fast pace. The mob of ordinary people behind me, certain in their hearts and minds that I must die for they see me as a freak. When the truth is, they are just envious of my gifts and found that it was enough reason for my death. For I was not like them—not mundane. I was something far more special than them. Blessed with the powers of ice and snow that I got from my father. Smiting them was easily done and even more easily said but I had something more dramatic in mind. Something with a bit more flare. Something they won’t see coming. “You stupid boy. Running to the path of the cliff. You must be eager to follow your mother,” one of them shouted. It was Douglas—if my recognition was correct—my wrinkly and bald neighbor. He showed us only a drop of kindness in all the time our houses were intact. But ever since knowing what I was, that tiny ounce of kindness disappeared. To say such a thing even though he attended my mother’s funeral. She died of old natural causes. All I will say. That will be all for my train of thought as I stopped. My feet inches away from the cliff and the pool of mist that veiled whatever was beyond it. The mob closed in on me step by step. Of course they’d want to savor the moment of my death. Well, they have another thing coming. I turned to them, “Did you think it was possible that I’d go here if it wasn’t planned?” All their faces shifted from excitement to doubt. My words planted second thoughts. I was telling the truth after all. “Death comes to everyone. But mine is not now, and it is definitely not in the hands of you, pathetic lot.” With that, I stepped backwards but kept my eyes on all of them. They flinched as I got closer and closer to the edge. Finally, my foot slipped and I fell. Gasps released as I plunged into the mist. 9

SCROLL My magic as of the moment was not at its full potential. Mother had them sealed before in order to protect me. But now that the seal has loosened and was the reason for the mob in the first place, Mother also prepared a potion for unsealing my magic. I have it here with me. My hands reached to the necklace hidden in the collar of my shirt. A small elixir, the size of a pendant chained to my neck with gold. I opened the lid attached to the chain and drank the spoon-full blue liquid straight in. I breathed in, a notion to awaken my magic. The icy vapors of my exhales thickened with adrenaline. The tips of my fingers turned pale. My eyes whose colors were dark brown turned to sapphire blue. If I look in the mirror then I would have thought that my eyes were the Nazar itself. The evil eye which somewhat suits my situation. Anyways, I think I should carry on with what I’m doing. I have to focus and stop falling. Form. A crystallized extension rose from the upper parts of my spine and sprung forward and curved like the outline of wings. Soon, dozens of feathers clumped together in an orderly design and hung from the icy extensions on my back. My head hurt from turning too long as I was so stunned by the beauty of the wings that formed behind me. They glistened like quartz and rang with the wind. If my tears had not frozen, I would’ve cried from their elegance. But the show was not over. It hasn’t even started. I can’t let those fools think that they’ve won. Flap. The heavy, cold wings behind me obeyed. They dragged the air under me, pushing my body upwards with every move. I wanted to reach above the cliff, and I felt them drag me up faster, piercing through sound itself. Before I knew it, I flew above the sight where I fell. Looking down on the people who looked at me with bitter surprise. The daylight shone through my wings. I could only imagine what I looked like to them from this view. A figure of power and beauty. Something they can never do. I read in one of mother’s scrolls before that a philosopher once said: “I am not so stupid to do something that I will regret later on.” I feel as if I have become that person and smiled at them. At the scared little villagers who fear my retribution. But I won’t do it, because I know better. So I flew far away. Though I had nowhere to go, I will find one that I can forever call home. 10

Dionysus Sayf Abouasy ICT21 11

SCROLL Limang kilometro Aqeena “Qyns” Reyes Mabibigat na yapak ang nililikha ng mga indibidwal habang nakahawak sa kani-kanilang mga instrumento. Sa courtyard ng paaralan, tumatagaktak ang pawis ng ilan dahil bukang-liwayway pa lamang, nakahanda na ang grupo ni Olivine para magtanghal. Sa bawat hampas ng panambol ng mga drummers ay siya ring pagsabay ng tibok ng puso ni Olivine. Kung tatanungin ang dalaga, hindi niya rin alam kung paano ikalma ang sarili kung kailan maraming mga bantang nagsimulang umulap sa kanyang isipan. Bakit ba kasi ako ang pinili? Alam kong flag-bearer talaga ako pero karapat-dapat ba na nandito ako ngayon? May oras pa siguro akong makauwi nang walang makakapan— “Boo!” Napabitaw si Olivine sa kanyang hawak na bandila at napagtantong ang kanyang kaibigang si Azalea ang gumulat sakanya. “Azalea! Anong problema mo? Kailangan mo ba talaga akong takutin nang gano’n?!” Tumagal ng ilang segundo ang tawa ni Azalea bago bigyan ng maayos na sagot si Olivine. “Pasensya na, Vi! Naisip ko na kailangan mo ng magpapaluwag sa isip mo, ang seryoso kaya ng mukha mo.” Hindi napigilan ni Olivine ang pag-irap sa walang kabuluhang lohika ng kanyang kaibigan. Dito, iniabot ni Azalea ang nahulog na bandila kay Olivine. “Nga pala, sabi raw ng mga nasa faculty, nasa pitong daang estudyante ang manonood sa atin ngayong taon! Paano kaya sila kakasya sa dadaanan nating mga kalsada?!” hiyaw ng kasama. “Ilang kilometro ba ulit ang dapat nating maabot?” “Lima. Limang kilometro.” “Limang kilometro! Tapos, ‘di pa nila naisipang simulan agad ang parada!” Kung sana nga hindi na lang nila ituloy. Lumingon si Olivine sa hawak ng kanyang katabi at napansin ang kaibahan ng kani- kanilang bandila—tila mas malaki ang kanya. Dumagdag ito sa pakiramdam niyang mayroon siyang responsibilidad. “Vi? Anong ganap? Nakakunot ang noo mo, girl,” banggit naman ni Azalea. Tuloy-tuloy pa rin ang koro ng mga tao habang nalalapit nang magsimula ang parada. Dito, binigyang- diin ang kulay ng mga dekorasyon sa campus pero kitang-kita ang kaputlaan sa mukha ni Olivine galing sa tanong ng kanyang kaibigan. 12

Sa pagkakataong ito, walang salitang lumabas mula sa bibig ng kanyang kasama. Sa halip, napalitan ito ng mahigpit na pagkakahawak sa kanyang kamay. Nagkatinginan ang dalawa nang saglit, huminga nang malalim si Olivine, at sinimulan ang komprontasyon. Inilahad ni Olivine ang kanyang kapintasan sa kanilang pag-uusap. Maikli ngunit malinaw, malapit na niyang isuko ang responsibilidad na kanyang inaalala. “Sa totoo lang, Azalea, ikaw talaga ang mas angkop sa ganito. Alam mo lagi kung ano ang gagawin,” saad ng dalaga. Isang ngiti ang lumitaw sa kanyang kausap bago ito tumanggi. “Olivia Vienne Olimberio, binigay sayo ang tungkulin na ito nang may dahilan.” “Ano naman iyon?” tanong ni Olivine. “Sa kasamaang-palad, walang malinaw na sagot,” sagot ni Azalea. “Gayunpaman, alam ko ang dahilan kung bakit tayo naging magkaibigan.” Hinila ni Azalea ang kaibigan mula sa kinatatayuan nila. Sampung minuto na lamang ang natitira sa orasan at nakatayo silang dalawa ngayon sa frontlines. Inaayos ng mga musikero ang mga straps ng kanilang xylophones habang ang iba naman ay naghahanda na sa pagtugtog ng kani-kanilang trumpeta. “Nakatadhana tayong maging magkaibigan para masabi ko na nasa likod mo lang ako, at sa bawat hakbang na gagawin mo, susunod kami sayo.” Limang minutong countdown ang sumunod at patuloy na nakinig si Olivine sa kasama. Habang nakatingin sa harapan, pinagdikit niya ang kanyang mga palad. At sa isang saglit, bumalik ang mas maayos niyang paghinga. Ang natira nilang mga kasama sa banda ay nagsimula nang sumiksik sa sari-sarili nilang mga posisyon. Sumabay si Azalea sa martsa. “Kaya tandaan mo lang: kaliwa, kanan, kaliwa, kanan.” Bumugso ang hiyaw sa kanilang paligid at sinimulan na ng banda ang pamilyar na hymn ng paaralan. Kita sa paghawak sa kanyang bandila na mas nagkaroon ng tiwala si Olivine sa kanyang sarili. Sa pagkakataong ito, isinaisip niya ang mga binigkas ni Azalea sa bawat hakbang. Kaliwa, kanan, kaliwa, kanan. Sa isang punto ng kanyang pag-ngiti habang iniikot ang bandila, nakukutob na niya ang dulo ng parada. 13

SCROLL 14

Glistening twilight Tricia Faye Velasc15o

SCROLL See the light Wrenzhie Arroyo paints of pink and blue hues bled through the horizon like acrylics smeared over an unending white canvas the smell of cold fresh air filled her lungs, cueing the start of a sunshine stardust lay on her crystal-black orbs as sweet Rapunzel gazed outside her window completely mesmerized by the beautiful landscape, longing to experience outside her stone walls a flock of chirping birds flew by flapping their wings freely and untamed, uncaring of the worries of this cruel world and she couldn’t help but turn green with envy “it’s a scary world out there,” her mother said “ruffians, thugs, poison ivy, quicksand,” she added “you’ll be safe here, I promise.” Rapunzel then wondered— am I going to be in solitary forever? her mind was running in circles but she finally decided how her story goes, it is not going to be inside these stone walls but outside her tower, beyond the bumpy roads. if life and destiny were already written, then she’s going to find the scrolls of fate, and burn them. 16

Change the Fates’ Design Sean Jacob Altoveros

SCROLL Tuldok-kuwit Ara Janine Palecpec Paghinahon, sa mga pitik ng rumaragasang alon na kumakalabit sa talampakan at dinumog ng buhanging uhaw sa nagtitipong yapak ng kahapon. Pagsandal, sa binhing nalumbay nang kay tagal na kusang yumabong sa kalaunan at naghintay ng siglang nawaglit sa landas ng isang taimtim na dasal. Pagtangis, sa tulin ng mga kabanatang lumihis na dulot ng pabugso-bugsong mithi at kapalarang tinatangay ng luha sa dalampasigan o hantungang nais. Pagtahan, sa hikbing dumating na sa hangganan na tanda ng bagong pag-usbong at pansamantalang ugoy sa duyan sa paglisan mula sa nakaraan. 18

Kamikazee Gabriel Dale Tejido Ramdam ang bigat na dala ng hangin na pumulupot sa akin noong araw na iyon. Umagang tila malalagutan ng hininga sa bigat ng mga ulap. At sa pagmumuni-muni, nabuo ang mga aninong tahimik na bumubulong mula sa aking nakalulumbay na nakaraan. Mga bulong na halos hindi ko mabatid dahil sa taimtim na salita ngunit buo ang emosyon. Nanghina at natahimik ako nang lumingon sa kanilang pigura. Matang puno ng alitan, bitbit ang mga ngiting hindi malilimutan. Ramdam pa rin ang panghihinayang sa pagbabalik-tanaw sa mga kaibigang naglisan. Ngayon, nang maghiwalay tayo ng ruta upang tahakin ang sari-sariling landas, sino nga ba ang dapat sisihin kung hindi ang sarili? Kung maghahanay muli ang mga bituin para sa atin, babalik ang mga mata, mga nakaraang gunita. Nanumbalik sa akin ang pakiramdam ng pag-iisa. Bakit masisira ang pagsasama na kasing tatag ng mga punong sentenaryo? Buong araw kong inalala ang mga pinagsamahan, munting kaligayahan, at nahating pagkakapamilya. Isang papel ang nahulog mula sa litrato nang maglipit ako sa aming mga gamit—kalatas na iniwan sa’kin, sa’tin. “Ano ‘yan? May sinusulat ka na naman.” “Oh, bakit? Malay mo sa susunod na mga taon, isa sa atin ang makabasa nito tapos maaalala lahat ng pinagdaanan natin, ang gandang pakinggan, ‘di ba?” 19

SCROLL “Sang-ayon ako sa sinasabi mo. Ibigay mo kay Chen at siya ang magtatago niyan.” “Bakit mukhang scroll ‘yan?” “Ayaw mo no’n? Ang angas nga eh. Hali nga kayong lahat dito, sulatan niyo ng mensahe para sa mga sarili natin sa future.” “Ilagay mo sa litrato natin tapos ipatago natin kay Chen para hindi mawala kahit maghiwa-hiwalay man tayo.” Sa aking pagbasa, hindi mapigilan ang mga luha sa aking mga mata, nakikita ko pa ang kanilang mga mukha sa tila matingkad na alaala. Para sa makakabasa nito sa susunod na mga taon, kami’y nagpapasalamat na nagtagal ‘to para mabasa mo. Kahit anong mangyari, magkasama man tayo o hindi, gusto naming tandaan mo na pamilya pa rin ang turing natin sa isa’t isa. Nagsama na tayo ng ilang taon, hindi na magbabago iyon. -J. J. J. D Sigurado akong magkikita muli tayo sa susunod na mga taon o kahit dekada pa. Hanggang dumating ang oras na ‘yon, hindi ako makakalimot habang yapos ang balumbon na nagpapahiwatig ng ating pagkakaibigan. 20

WhaPthWotoasbOy nce Ours RianTnreicNiaicFoaleyeOVcealamspc2o1

SCROLL Sa tabi ng walang sinuman Anina Jiliana Manuel Unti-unting humuhupa banta ng siklab Sa paghahalinhinan ng buwan at araw Sumasabay sa hangin ang lumalagos na lamig Ang himpilan ng panglaw, tanging sumasalig Ang mahagway nitong anyo Sa likod ng silweta nangangamba Habang kumakawala ang ningas At tumatakas ang mga abo Sa muling paghinga ng mitsa At pagbilis ng taghoy ng pagkit Lumalaho ang usok Ang kislap nito, tila tumitilamsik Umalab ng dilaw ang munting apoy Sa tabi ng maaaring tutustos ng kapit Ngunit sa tuwing humahampas ang hagayhay Kaninong ilaw siya lalapit? 22

The natural compass Bianca Jan Sibayan The resonating sound of clinking glass, upon conquering the valley of fears. Cheers from distant celebration pass, yet one remains adrift in tears. How does one find direction, when there arises a splitted road? While one’s clouded with tension, each path is concealed in guises. Down the winding rabbit hole, follows the tingling blue wisps. Whispering hints at a compass of gold, while drifting down the spiraling abyss. But, gold tarnishes to black, like how metal loses its luster. The blue wisps would never go back, thus torment floods your mind faster. Back to the divergent road, to once again decide your faith. A natural guide found in you is bestowed, as you decide the route you’ll take. 23

SCROLL Attraction to the Luminosity 24 Jethro Dela Cerna

Patnubay sa kasalukuyan Marcea Alcala Hinuhukay ng dilat mong mga kamay ang pitong taon nang inilibing na mga tala, at sa mga palapag ng putik at hiyas, bula ang halaga sa matang walang himlay. Kumikinang sa ritmo ng hikbi kada pulgada ng kahapon, hanggang nasinagan na ng buwan, mapa sa lupa na dati mong ikinukubli. Pinalaya sa rolyo ang mapang ginto tulad mong munting bilanggo. Hinahanap ang direksyon ng kinabukasan ngunit blangko ang hilaga, timog, at silangan. Nakadikta lamang ang siping— sa pagmamahal ng dapithapon, hindi pasisiil. Saang direksiyon hihimlay ang iyong mga tala, kung isa itong bituing-alpas sa takipsilim? Balumbon ng pitong taong gulang, huling tudla upang makamit ang minimithi. Sa pagpikit ng daang bunga ng plahiyo, saan ka lilingon? Pakiusap, tumugon. 25

SCROLL 26

chronicles. Ara Janine Palecpec ABM22 27

SCROLL Rectifying dreams Paulyn Dianne Laude “I know you’ll be a prominent architect someday,” my dad said, grabbing my hand and squeezing it. “Right,” I couldn’t help but just smile softly while squeezing his hand back before quickly walking out of his office. I just let him check a few of my plates before I submit them to my professor. I allowed him to look at my work from time to time because he really wanted to see my progress. My dad is a renowned architect in the field. I am his only son, and everyone knew that I would follow in his footsteps. “Oh, you’re as good as your dad. Design my house soon, huh, Arki?” my relatives would often compliment me at family gatherings. They were all anticipating that I’d be like dad in the near future. I was in my second year of college, spending each night thinking I was going to drown in the abyss of my degree for the rest of my life. For hundreds of nights, I had chosen not to cry, but I worried a lot about whether my family would be disappointed if I dropped the course. I felt like my inner self in its own universe was being deprived from catching the stars. I was living out someone else’s dreams. The college course I took was merely a choice my father imposed on me—expecting that I would shine in his same career. As time passed by, I found it difficult to motivate myself when the things I had to do were the ones I didn’t truly have an interest in. I had done everything I could to prove that I was fine with it. 28

Not until I was in my third year when I finally let my curiosity on what it is like to take the course I genuinely love be satiated. “No! You are not going to change courses,” my father’s chest flushed. He slammed his book down on the table, clenched his jaw as his nostrils flared, and stared at me. “Do not waste this. You are halfway there.” His words stung deeply. “That is the case! I am halfway there, but I still couldn’t see myself happy taking this course,” I replied while blinking away my tears. There had been a sudden, horrible silence in which I nearly wept. “This would not make me thrive. I have to create the life of my dreams. My own dreams, dad. Just please trust me on this one. Let me be my own guide,” I continued as I held my tears from streaking down my face. My father looked at me intently. He was quiet. “But you are good at this, child,” he argued, finally. My lips pursed slightly as I looked at a place over his shoulder before I met his eyes again. “I want to be great, dad. I want to be great,” I told him, without breaking our gaze. A few days after that, my father allowed me to shift to another course where I actually saw myself fitting in. My heart is in medicine. I just know I will strive here no matter what the circumstances are, and this will certainly bring forth my potential. They say that sometimes you just have to make a big mistake to figure out how to make things right. My mistake was how I let myself live other people’s dreams. “It must be up to you how you live. It is fine to feel like you are not in the right place, but do not let yourself feel lost in limbo for a very long time. Be bold and unwavering in chasing your own dreams.” Those were the last few lines of my valedictory speech that I delivered when I graduated from my medicine degree program with latin honors. 29

NAZAR Nazar The aegies countering malevolence in attempts of mischief. 30

Not Hansel & Gretel Ara Janine Palecpec These colossal oaks that I pass by never lose my sight, not even an inch. They’re like great walls of raw umber hedging me from the famished predators—from whom I assume the patterns of the callow and some withered lichen coiling on the aged bark are part of the hints. Each trunk is marked with it, perhaps a trace of the unknown’s existence from the millennia that passed. At this moment, I want to be unescorted while wandering. Only the crackling sound of leaves and twigs became my companion. Still, it makes me quake in my boots. Even so, I guess I don’t have the right to regret anything but to continue trailing this hollow map of mine. Light in a grayish hue peeks through the dense vents of the forest’s roof, laying its rays obliquely on the ground and letting me witness the whits of the earth dancing in ecstasy. Another yields me a subtle spark in this gloom, the warm ambient yellow of the fireflies. They whirl and twirl around the vicinal cedars, chasing one another, hypnotizing me to enchantment. And there, I must say, I’m bewitched. These unspoken yet mesmerizing bugs chatter with me in circles and in silence, as if they are the prophets of this timberland. And so I sauntered through the forest with them in solace until I got a whiff of smoke from a stone’s throw. A bustling tavern. I walked closer to it straight away, slowly opening the rustic door with a chime welcoming my presence and came across nothing but a busy bartender and his liquor bottles housed in thick layers of dust and web. How come this tavern looks spirited and alive from the outside but no one is here except for the two of us? Not to mention, the beverages stacked on the counter look like they were prepared years ago. I suppose all of the dishes are tasty because of the long period of fermentation, hopefully. I suddenly became tired from the walks, so I decided to ask what I could drink from his menu. To keep the atmosphere from becoming awkward, I completely avoided looking muddled about how bizarre this place is. “Hi. Give me something you think I deserve after hours of walking. Maybe a drink for daredevils?” I chuckled to show that I thirst for relief and fleeting delight, even just for a short time. “Ork’s blood,” he said in a dull voice, and I hastily agreed. 31

NAZAR I hadn’t really decided whether to concur with the drink he mentioned, but I trusted him to the fullest, as if I’d known him for a long time. But what if he’s a scoundrel of this forest waiting for his prey? And he’ll poison me to death with his perished drinks! My mind frets and my heart pulses in a hush, finding calmness from the urge to run away from this place. I sneakily turned around and was about to stand in my seat when I heard the foot of the goblet being placed on the countertop. Emotionless, he served me my drink and returned to the back bar where he was. “Thank you,” I said in delight but with fear between the lines. With no hesitation, I take a quaff like a viking thirsty for mead. Surprisingly, it tastes like a strong cherry with a mellow silvery taste. It isn’t bad after all. I was just jumping into conclusions earlier. “If the truth be told, unknown creatures and souls that linger with us here in the woods wouldn’t know that we’re here if we didn’t blare rustles and patters,” I muttered after savoring my first gulp. This goblet left crimson-red hues in my mouth, and its sweet-tangy concoction drove me to another abstraction. “And may I ask, would one know from afar if a bough fell? I must say we won’t, and never will,” I continued skittishly. This person is a snob. First, he didn’t welcome me when I entered his tavern. Second, he offered me the ork’s blood with a monotonous voice. Third, he placed this drink on my table without a single word. And now, he’s not responding to me like I’m not a customer. He should be grateful that I persisted in drinking his work of art despite all the perilous details that led me to conclude that he was a menace. Anyway, he wouldn’t notice that I mutter these words because I’m not saying them out loud, similar to how we’ll never know if a branch snaps in the midst of the forest or if a firefly loses its luminescence in the night when we can’t see them. Minutes have passed, and my goblet is already empty. I don’t feel dazed, but all I see inside this tavern are the sparkles that accompanied me here, flying like Saturn’s rings. In a flash, they merge into a blinding single glare. The warm and bright yellow bugs turned blue and formed into an amulet—resembling a fragile eyeball resting on my palm. How peculiar that the man who was coming close to me glitches a few feet away from me, as if someone had interfered with his clock’s pendulum. The next scene I see is his furious face ragefully clobbering something invisible in front of me, an aegis that has formed because of this thing on my palm. His filthy mouth is drooling like a musky waterfall, curdling my blood. 32

The Death of a Stranger Klaire Niña Llarena 33

NAZAR Project Misfire Anina Jiliana Manuel & Ara Janine Palecpec The color red is said to be in the view of macabre, and only the valiants can face the gruesome life of being an assistant police detective. But boldness aside, they still need to meet a therapist to cure what needs to be, if it can be. “Eugene,” the captain said, bringing him to heel. “If you want to get back on the force, then this is what it’s going to take.” “Fine,” he gruffed. Letting out a sigh of relief, the captain ended the conversation with, “Great, your therapy starts on Monday. Just give me a report of each and every session you attended. Dismissed.” The 1st day; *Beep* The tape recorder came to life, whirring through the empty halls of Sunday. “Mr. Eugene?” The soft words of his therapist snapped him back to now. “Oh, sorry,” he stuttered. “You were saying?” All the while examining every nook, except the therapist’s existence. In every interrogation from her, his words were short and strained. But he mentioned that he saw every shade of red, only known by doctors and killers. In his own words, “It was fifteen years of fresh horror.” It seemed like the therapist never met someone far off the deep end, only Eugene. Beforehand, she had a chat with Eugene’s former colleagues. They described him as an eager youth. Taking his assignments head on, and sometimes, even literally. They spoke with caution. With all the information she obtained, she pieced together that the trip to hell was supposed to only last a year. *Beep* “Time’s up,” the therapist tried to stretch her smile from ear to ear when the ninety minutes ended. He walked cautiously towards the door, a true policeman at work. “Wait! Before you leave,” she said hastily, “Don’t forget to call me once you get home. As always, captain’s orders.” “I got it,” he grunted. Then, in a blink of an eye, he vanished. 34

The 8th day; *Beep* “Nice to see you again, Mr. Eugene,” his therapist said through gritted teeth. “Trying to butter me up, doc?” Eugene mouthed as he sat himself comfortably on the clinic’s couch, legs crossed and an arm on the backrest. “C’mon, I thought we were close. What do you really want to say?” Eugene pushed. Out of spite, she threw all smiles out the window for one minute just to say, “Fine. Why didn’t you call me last week? What? Did you grab a coffee with some old criminal pals?” she said sarcastically, to lighten the air with a joke. The mood shifted. A flashback was rolling in his mind. His breathing turned shallow, cold sweat trickled down his jaw, and pupils dilated. As fast as the apple fell from the tree, he went from clutching the tape recorder to banging it with his head. Blood and sweat swirled down his cheeks and onto the hardwood floor. The therapist got all choked up. She could only watch as his instincts ran rampant. “Do not tell the captain,” he seethed through blood-stained teeth. “If you do, I know exactly where I can put you so that they will never ever find you. I’ll be back.” Poof, gone. She let out a terrible sigh and mumbled, “Jesus Christ, I really need to file for a raise right now.” The 16th day; *Beep* It was just another empty Sunday. The serenity and tranquility was peculiar. Then, an eerie silhouette popped out of nowhere at the door, the therapist almost jumped but her business smile luckily defaulted. “Ah, Eugene. Have a seat.” Her heart was beating so loud, it pounded her head full. As the hands of the clock ran along, Eugene spoke in vibrancy. He told the therapist that his night terrors finally stopped and she cautiously believed the shimmer in his eyes. Miraculous epiphanies happen everyday in the medical field. She resisted the urge to ask for future references, because prying never helped him. The session ended on a good note, but she felt like a storm was coming. 35

NAZAR The 24th day; *Ring, ring, ring* The therapist picked up the phone. “Where the hell is Eugene?” the captain shouted as spit flew from his mouth. Her ears bled, throat dried. “Actually, he should be here any second now, sir! He’s good!” She tightly clutched the latest records up to her chest as some sort of comfort. “We’re making great progress. He even called me when he got home–” “Well, we haven’t heard from him since last week,” the captain cut her alibis. “You were his last contact, and you better hope he shows up today.” The call dropped and so did her heart. The **th day; It was the parallel time and day to the previous sessions from the last weeks, but only the therapist was in the room. She waited for minutes sitting on the couch in swivet, granting a grace period for Eugene. But what arrived was a knock from her assistant, entering the doorstep, “The captain wants to have a word with you.” She fixed her hair before walking towards the door, calming herself from the uncertainty that the conversation might bring. “You called me in your office, captain?” she said with cold sweat. “Please, sit down first,” the captain spoke in composure while pointing at the lone chair. “Yes, well I’m sure you’ve heard. You know, about Eugene and him being gone,” all said in a deep commanding voice. “Do you perhaps know why?” “Apologies for being late. The therapy room was empty, that’s why I thought everyone was here,” a man entered, saving the therapist from answering the captain. Everyone contemplates him, waiting for his further statements. “I just thought I don’t need to meet my therapist anymore, but I’m here to retreat,” he explained. “Retreat from what?” The captain was baffled. “I don’t need this anymore, I’m quitting the force,” Eugene declared in poise. He departed the four corners after the moment of silence, leaving no traces of the past. 36

The eclipse staring into my eyes Marcea Alcala In the slumber timberlands, there was a lullaby. Blue eyed, only blue eyed, can quell the plague and twinkle. “What a hoax,” her head mutters—only to be heard their pitch-dark eyes proud with anger, banishment arise Two windows once blue, now nothing but refugee eyes. Suffocated by the lush of trees Past the green and jeweled skies She came riding with her feet— Riding and ride Until the edges of her coat brushed a villa, the hiding untied. Brightly scented with warmth, she seeks refuge in the newfoundland’s peculiar bustle Until the corner of her eye was met by a girl— “No, it cannot be! The plague!” The lids of lunette were uncovered, deeply staring evil-eyed. Days of passage, bated breath Her exile, wasted death For the plague had followed her like a robber— Hands reeking with desperation, nowhere to escape Her throat surrendered, swallowing the hoax of lullaby. Closer, she met the girl’s russet gaze as if it was an eclipse. Making her blue eyes river, directly at the plague to disappear Only for the girl to wipe the streams— Softly and soft This is love, do not fear. 37

NAZAR Follow me Ara Janine Palecpec 38 ABM22

Sayaw, nene Wrenzhie Arroyo Maihahalintulad daw ako sa isang manika dahil sa aking bilugang mga mata, maliit at matangos na ilong, at mga labing kasing lambot at kasing kulay ng talulot ng mga rosas. Naaalala ko pa nga ang mga biro nila sa akin na may mapapala raw ako sa pag-aartista. Anak ako ng mapagpursiging construction worker at masikap na katulong. May dalawang nakababatang kapatid na parehong sekondarya, habang isa naman akong kolehiyala. Nakatira lamang kami sa liblib na lugar ng Tondo o squatters area kung inyong tatawagin. Hindi sapat ang kinikita ng aking ama at ina para sa matrikula naming tatlo at pang- araw-araw na pangangailangan. Kung tutuusin, maituturing nang milagro kapag nakakakain kami ng tatlong beses sa isang araw. Ngunit tunay nga namang mapaglaro ang tadhana. Saktong bayaran ng aking tuition fee nang magkasakit si Mama. Napilitan siyang umalis sa trabaho dahil kinakailangan niyang maospital at kung hindi, mas lalong lulubha ang kanyang karamdaman. Ilang part-time jobs naman­ ang pinasukan ko para makatulong kay Papa sa pambili ng gamot ni Mama pati na rin sa pandagdag sa aming mga gastusin. Ngunit hindi pa rin ito sapat para punan ang lahat ng pangangailangan namin. Isang gabi habang nagpupunas ako ng mga mesa sa karinderyang pinagtatrabahuhan ko, may matipunong ginoong lumapit sa akin. May katangkaran ng kaunti kung ikukumpara sa aking pigura, suot ang inosenteng ngiti na madadala ang kahit na sinong tao—animo isang anghel na pinadala sa lupa. Tantya kong nasa edad trenta pataas na ang lalaki, base sa mga mumunting kulubot sa palibot ng kanyang mga mata at sa kanyang awra na nagsasabing nasa tugatog na siya ng buhay at tuluyan nang kumalas sa mga pambatang imahinasyon. Nagpakilala siya bilang si James—agent sa isang modeling company. Binanggit niya sa akin na naghahanap siya ng mga “fresh faces” para sa bago nilang proyekto at kabilang ako sa mga gusto niyang i-recruit. Ngunit tinanggihan ko ang alok niya dahil wala naman talaga sa isip ko ang mag-artista at isa pa, nag-aaral ako. “Ito ang calling card ko. Kapag nagbago ang isip mo, tawagan mo lang ako,” sabi nito sa akin saka inabot ang maliit na papel na naglalaman ng kanyang impormasyon. Binagabag ako ng alok na ito ng ilang araw. Sa tuwing bibisita ako kay Mama, palagi kong naaalala ang maliit na papel na tila inuudyok akong tawagan ang numerong nakalagay rito. Sa bawat gabing naririnig ko ang pagtawag ni Papa sa kung sinu-sinong kamag-anak namin para humingi ng kaunting tulong, mukha ni James na punong-puno ng pangako para sa magandang buhay na naghihintay sa akin ang nakikita ko. Ngunit nang magpatong-patong na ang utang namin, napilitan akong tanggapin ito. At heto na nga ako ngayon, katapat ang gusali na nakalagay sa calling card. Inihatid ako ng isang lalaki papunta sa opisina ni James. Habang papasok, may iilan akong babaeng nakita 39

NAZAR na nakahanay na mariing nakatitig sa akin na parang may gusto silang ipahiwatig, ngunit hindi maiboses. Tila may takot at pag-aalala akong nakita sa kanilang mukha, ngunit bakit? Para saan? Ipinagkibit-balikat ko ito at nagpatuloy sa paglalakad. Marahil dala ng puyat kaya kung anu-ano ang nakikita ko. Ilang saglit pa, kaharap ko na si James at ang nakahaing kontratang kailangan kong pirmahan. May maliit na boses akong naririnig mula sa aking isipan na nagsasabing huwag kong tanggapin ang alok. Pero sa tuwing maiisip ko ang kalagayan ng aking ina habang dinadala namin ang maputla at walang malay niyang katawan sa ospital, ang mga kapatid kong nag-aaral, at ang ama kong gabi-gabing umuuwing pagod galing trabaho, nawawala ang bigat na nadarama ng aking puso. “Ano? Nagdadalawang-isip ka pa rin ba? Isipin mo kung gaano kalaking pera ang pwede mong kitain dito kapag naging matunog ang pangalan mo. Hindi mo na kailangang pumasok sa napakaraming part-time jobs. Higit pa sa pinagsama-samang trabaho mo ang mapapala mo rito.” Mukhang nahalata ni James ang pag-aalinlangan sa aking mukha. Mula sa kanyang nakangising mukha, ibinaling ko ang tingin sa papel. “At kung iniisip mo ang pag-aaral mo, ‘wag mong alalahanin ‘yon. Pwede mo namang i-request na iayon sa iskedyul mo. Pwede ka na ngang hindi mag-aral kapag sikat ka na,” aniya. Ngunit kaya ko ba talagang maatim na ipagsawalang-bahala iyon? Kasikatan o edukasyon...ano ang pipiliin ko? Pamilya, ang uunahin ko. Para sa aking mga kapatid na nangangamba sa kahihinatnan ng kanilang kinabukasan. Para sa aking ama na walang tigil sa pagkayod para mapunan ang aming pangangailangan. At, para sa aking ina na lumalaban para sa kanyang buhay. Tunay nga ang sinasabi nila na gagawin natin ang lahat para sa pamilya. Inabot ko ang bolpen sa tabi saka pinirmahan ang kontrata. Kaagad naman itong kinuha ng nakangiting si James at tumayo, nakamuwestra ang palad na tila gustong makipagkamay. Tumayo na rin ako at tinanggap ito. Ngunit hindi ko alam na sa pagtanggap ko ng kamay na iyon, parang tinanggap ko na rin ang kamay ng isang demonyo. At sa pagpirma ko ng kontrata, unti-unti akong pinupulupot ng kadena, tila senyales na nakagapos na ang aking kapalaran at hindi na ako makakawala pa. 40

Papuring bulaan Aqeena “Qyns” Reyes malawak ang pagitan, magkasalungat ang mga panig. parehong tulala sa isa’t- isa, walang lumilitaw na sigasig. sa lamig ng kamay at maputlang mga bibig, tuluyang nabuwag ang tindig, hindi nauunawaan ang mga mungkahi habang sa kadiliman ito nakaukit. mga sambit na dala ang papuri, at mga bulong na pumupuna, tumatagos sa malambot na pagkatao, na maaaring gumuho nang tuluyan. nalulunod sa buhos ng mga pintas, ngunit susubukang kumawala sa mga salita, babasagin ang salamin na nasa harapan, nang maging bulag sa kritikong nanlulugmok. 41

NAZAR Ascent to the depths Gabriel Dale Tejido Attempting the summit’s spot arduously trailed by sporadic alpinists, from the view of the expanse, emanating air of abysmal decorum. Reigning in glory, regarded a paragon bathed in cheers for such triumph, when reaching the crest is in full fire, the trekker’s succeeding odyssey descends. Solis, emanating ceaseless light promising solace to its heirs, resembles an evil eye, offering divine cover, yet deemed the antagonist. Watch as you all see ruination accumulate in the tearless eye, fallen from grace and power, the talisman’s monotonous vacuum ensues. 42

Oceanic Infernum Cecilia Nazarine Bic4o3l

NAZAR Hamarchy Pia Heart Lambuson Hazel knows her parents don’t love them equally. At least, not the way parents are meant to. Yet, their father was kind. Incredibly so. He showers her with compliments and gladly shows off the fruits of her labor. It was fulfilling for her, though a rigid expression often followed the guilt sinking through her bones. Jacob, on the other hand, was rough. Not just in the way he speaks, but in his posture and attire. But she had to hand it to him as he has always been perceptive—though she suspected that it may be from his maturity despite being the same age. She hated him because he was a meddling mess. Hazel had been aware of Jacob’s blatant glare at their father one day when he entered their room to discuss their grades. Hazel had written off his suspicious glint as jealousy that time. Jacob wasn’t the most academically gifted. They’d given up on him long ago. He was an expert on how far he can push, whether it be their father’s temper or limitations. The noises of the fan and television reminded his senses that he exists. Though his eyes were open, he couldn’t quite think why. A quick scan of his room gave nothing more than a few answers. The curtains were pulled shut, but the lack of light shining through was enough for him to realize that it’s evening. On his bedside table was his diploma, something that they had been working so hard for these past few years. Instinctively, he reached out to examine it, but froze as light filtered into the room. His father stepped in through the door with a broad grin on his face. Jacob tensed in anticipation as he heard his father, “Are you ready to go for our celebratory dinner?” He blinked, staring back in confusion. It was then that Jacob realized the reason for the frilly dress on his bed, ready to be worn for the not-so-great outdoor celebration. Their eyes met, and they both seemed to reach a disappointing conclusion. Their father’s lips curled inwards, aged cheeks raised as he rigidly clutched onto his polo shirt, “At home, I mean.” He nodded then motioned to turn toward the hallway. A tinge of tightness to it spat out a hasty, “Congratulations, Jacob.” Jacob coughed up a response out of the blue that no one couldn’t recall. Back in high school, Jacob had the tendency to antagonize just about every person that she interacted with, leaving them to question their own actions. That’s why she ended up isolated. Her isolation climaxed one chilly winter day. Tucking in under a tree at the sleet-covered courtyard of the school gave her great relief. She was almost lulled to sleep but willed herself awake. 44

She doesn’t remember much of her past and she’s happy with it. But she dreamt of happy moments. She saw candles flickering to nothing as she blew on it, clapping happily, and silently adjusting her party hat afterwards. She also dreamt of tragedy. She shivered as her gaze moved toward the sinister red spider lily growing between the cracks of a gravestone and picked one. Her castles in the air were almost interrupted as the snow crunched loudly beneath a stumbling pair of feet behind her, but she didn’t care quite enough to check. Hazel continued to fumble with the stem of the flower in her hand. The world seemed blurrier now, and Hazel understood immediately that it was not from her emotional distress. “Not now, Jacob,” she whispers. Eventually, the silence woke her up from daydreaming. A quick glance at her wrist revealed it was three in the afternoon. Not that it mattered, because the confusing passage of time was familiar to her. “Jacob?” The person behind her was confused. Hazel’s eyes drifted up to meet her friend’s waiting face before shaking her head. She was one of the few that Jacob somewhat approved of. “Hazel, you know he doesn’t hate your parents for no reason,” her friend shuffled over to sit next to her. A steady silence weighed on them. She wanted to bite out but simply shut her eyes, reigning in her temper. “He’s protecting you.” There it was again, the truth she tried so hard to ignore. It was far easier to pretend than remember the dreaded truth each time she opened her eyes. With a deep breath, she did her best to collect herself. Her vision was getting foggier, and the sounds around her turned muffled. Even the colors of winter seemed much lifeless now. She tried shaking what felt like water out of her ears, but no matter what she did, the sounds did not sharpen. She massaged her eyes. It felt as though there was something, perhaps a snowflake lodged between them, melting as liquid spilled forth. There was no snowflake, but tears were falling as she begrudgingly realized. “You’re being hurt, and you don’t even realize it. He does. That’s why he’s here, isn’t it?” Her friend was right. Hazel knew it, and Jacob did too. She was alone five years ago, that’s why she was isolated in her own mind. After four years and three-hundred sixty four days, she found out she will never be. Jacob was never her brother. He was his own identity created by her, to defend herself. Perhaps, he was the spider lily planted to keep people away and to harm them. But at the same time, to protect Hazel from those who hurt and play the pretender. With a defeated sigh, she leant her head back to look at the open skies, serene as ever. She wondered which has brought upon more pain in a world full of pretty roses who hide their thorns. 45

NAZAR Pagtangis ng kahapon at kinabukasan Paulyn Dianne Laude Naging kapares ng tanikala ang bawat dila ng mga salat Ginapos maging mga kamay habang kinukumpas ang tinta Saksi ang nakalipas sa pagkumot ng katahimikan ng gabi Hahayaan bang mapurol ang kalatas na nilikha ng pluma? Pilit pa ring binubusalan ng huwad ang katotohanan Hangad nilang gawing sunud-sunuran muli ang lipunan Nabubuwag ang mga sigaw sa rumaragasang mga singhal Kakayanin pa bang matunghayan sa isa pang pagkakataon? Nababaluktot sa mga naratibo at tila napahihintulutan Imulat ang laksa-laksang paningin sa naghahanay na konteksto Huwag magpalinlang sa mga humuhulma ng nakaraan Sapagkat may sariling kakayahan na tumindig ang kasaysayan Sa dakong huwad, magmasid sa gantimpalang kumakalansing Upang hindi na muling sumapit ang bangungot na nagbabadya Itaguyod ang hindi pagkalimot sa karahasang dinanas ng bansa Dahil hindi lamang ito dapat binabaon sa dakong umpisa 46

Toll of a transit’s torment Guen Marie Sapinit (HMS23) On a train station in Mandaluyong, a railway along His creation, lie muffled voices only few could hear, voices that trembled in fear. As the tenebrous ink limned the pearl’s victims of charm, silhouette on the peripheral’s brink when the orient is seduced to harm. Beneath the crimson and navy glow in the somber route to Santa Mesa, from Victorino to Magsaysay, were men in the solitude of pistols and law. With the silence of the sacred heart, a metal clanged on Station No. 8, one after the other on his skin, he fell under his weight. He was painted with the shade of dusk, bruised with the tint of eve, while she was glossed with the hue of dawn, tinged with the stain of morn. It then turned to ivory and pale in Tondo the day she lost her soul to a man who asked for her hand in silver cuffs in a prison hall. Tears cradled her home as her scars revealed themselves to the moon, but Elpis bestowed hope that masked the pain she carried alone. Only the rays that turned Guadalupe into gold glinted in your eyes, for you knew Luna heard his cries, while Sol held her tight. As you stop at gloom in Magallanes, you purse your lips to plea and pray, silently whispering solemn woes that will dull the sins of yesterday. For even if the rash of Manila’s storms left rage and ire behind, from the wistful murmurs of orisons, grace and mercy you shall find. Within the swarm on MRT-3, fervent voices echoed in the trails, those voices sought refuge, not to wash the city’s wiles and ruses away, but to save them from those astray in its desolated alleyways tarnished with innocence to rust where the wretched lurk and stay. 47

NAZAR 48

The Beholder of the Eye Benedict Tawatao ICT21 49

ELIXIR Elixir Administers growth to thrive in the forbidding boscage. 50