Category Archives: Short Story

Stethoscope World

I am an ammidyphobic, meaning I have a great fear of losing a loved one over death. Against death, my pretentiously strong, over-the-surface happy-go-lucky personality is threatened. Against death, I am left with no control. To put it simply, I hate hospital beds, my mother or father lying helplessly on these beds, my emotionally frail self leaning over these beds and all the shit that look like a sad snippet of Grey’s Anatomy. Assuming I even watch things like Grey’s Anatomy.

It takes some courage to watch your loved one lying helplessly in an infirmary. Two years ago, my father was hospitalized due to panic attack. Caused rather psychologically, he had a hard time to breathe till he was rushed to the ICU. An ICU is like a danger zone, and that’s not a place I wanted to see my father when I couldn’t do anything. I just had to watch him inhale oxygen via tank and cables, and greatly trying to not cry. The old man was holding on to me for strength, and the neurologist suggested that I weather a better setting to channel away any further ~negative thinking. I had no choice but to appear very positive even if deep in me, I controlled every pinch of my softness. If I was good in anything, it’s holding back my eye’s tear ducts.

Now my dad is good and well, and yet I hadn’t anticipated worse things to come.

( Unbelievably long and my most emotionally blog post ever… )

The Cabbie in the Rye

Eyes on the Prize (Pic by Enzo Araullo)Serendipity, I believe, happens not only in romantic gimmicks. It can also promulgate itself in the times we feel unusually dejected, when we think the universe is devising its great plan of havoc upon us. It can come to our sense of oblivion to make sure we wake up and realize something: That we must continue to live life. It exists to make you think and believe that there’s always tomorrow. And it’s way way better than yesterday.

I have never encountered serendipity in a long time. The last time it hit me was when I became second honor in my second quarter period in third grade, after having been hospitalized in less than a month.

And that was it. ( Read more… )

Man in the Bleedin Mirror

What the?!

What the?!

I find Friday consciousness from the raindrops pounding the neighbor’s roof. Groggy on my bed, I am deafened by the rowdy winds— no, hurricanes—dancing outside. Perpetual downpour, what the fuck, is there a typhoon? “THE WRATH OF THE TYPHOON ISANG HITS THE NATIONAL! CAPITAL! REGION!” the broadcaster yells— even more deafening than the hurricanes— over the battery-operated radio. Oh, there is a typhoon, duh. ( Read more… )

Bitter in Context

Friday afternoon. Draped in some sleeved maroon sweatshirt But I was already freezing in class. “Hey,” I asked my seatmate, “Is it just me, or  some Herculean man outside uprooted our classroom and threw all of us  somewhere in the North Pole– without us knowing?” She felt warm instead, she retorted. Fine, I was abnormal.

After class, I trotted to MassComm: knees literally shivering as if I was attacked by some deadly blizzard in the dunes. It was serious. Coz I was murmuring the three most basic Catholic prayers. It was serious, I thought.

At home, I went utterly traditional and did this wet towel over forehead remedy, after gulping some capsules. I felt burning. And I seemed to have my head swirl whenever I stand and walk. Saturday, and my temperature reached more than 40 degrees-Celsius. I missed going to that AdSpeak student judging stint in Letran. Man. ( Read more… )