Unending Terrors on the Orient Pearl

Prose by Rochyne Daphne Kate P. Sapio Pixel Art by Bob Andrie C. Igot

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I was awoken by the noise outside my window—people were shouting cathartic screams, singing, and waving pink flags on the streets, celebrating the win of the third female and seventeenth president of the country.

People were ecstatic, eyes glistening with tears, and faces gleaming with happiness as the news dawned upon them.

We won.

We chose better. Finally, a leader we deserve; a president with a heart to serve the countrymen, especially the marginalized.

The day was vivid like a ray of hope had just enveloped the whole country, and it felt like home for the first time in many years.

I was awoken by a bright night light outside of my window. It is still the middle of the night; dark and cold like most December nights and like most days since last the May fight.

You'd think that after six years of torment, we'd learn to never fall prey to deceiving words with no action. But we all fell into the trap of a weak and coward prey disguised as a mighty king of the jungle.

We did not chose better.

Reality had slapped me back into this dark and twisted world—one where yet another man takes hold of our country.

Here I thought we could finally be free but it seems like we're stuck in a never-ending loop of terror, bound to make the same mistakes over and over again.