persona
Copyright © 2021 Booked Persona Volume 10 LXXIX Literary Folio of Tolentine Star, the official student publication of University of Negros Occidental-Recoletos All rights reserved. No part of this folio may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic, mechanical, photocopying, or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the Editor-in-Chief. Published by the students, faculty, and alumni of the University of Negros Occidental-Recoletos at Impress Quality Printing, Talisay City, Negros Occidental. Literary Editor Leslie Marie Banaban Editor-in-Chief Romchelle Chris Danielle Waminal
Foreword Flip a coin - heads or tails - and in the air, it'll decide. Debating what comes after in this hanging situation allows fate to choose what side of the coin will tilt on - upon our favor or our loss? But, what will you choose if the coin lands on its edge? On the different sides of the coin, you may see a façade of an angel - sweet and gentle - while the other half portrays a face of noxiousness - secretly holding poison against you. Which side will fate choose? Every choice you make means embracing one side and leaving the "what-ifs" of another behind. The side with the character we instill toward ourselves, the character we envision and foresee, the side we choose, the persona we embrace, and the uninterrupted masks we install and spurn embellish our canvas. We, the living art of compiled stories with different versions, are questing for another exhilarating thrill of odds and chances, for another draw of which side will favor us. Every coin flip is a different visage. Every toss, flip, and drop, a decision is waiting to be made and done. Toss. Flip. Drop - toss the coin, unveil your true side, and you will find the answer.
Contents poetry Bioluminescence
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See Through my Eyes
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Little Soul
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To Love is to Unmask
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Umaga Na
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3AM Thoughts
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Doble Kara
32
Filter
36
Alone in the Gloom
38
Kaninong Anino
41
Ordinary
45
Krimen sa Umaga
52
What If?
53
RENÉ
54
Maria Clara
55
Ang Babae sa Repleksyion
56
short story An Exercise of Incompetence
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women;venus
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Lucy
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Fiend
28
Reminisce
34
Mask from the Rack
39
Suicidal Sleep
43
Yuhom ni Julie
47
All the Ws
64
Neither I nor Me
67
The Portrait of Jesus on the Wall
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Fame and Ecstacy
72
Amber
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artwork by Rheymar Chua
persona
Bioluminescence by Rialin Yasay
It was a grimy night when the map and compass I was taken away from me. I was lost in the forest. I took a risk to travel.
Out of fear, I covered my face. I was on the verge of despair when something glimmered, drove me to open my eyes.
It was a light posse I didn't anticipate to brighten my way But was and has always been there to be a rescuer amid gloom.
That forest may be horrifying but it showed me the universe where I can be tranquil and unwavering.
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An Exercise of Incompetence by Reinhardt Firmeza
CONSCIOUSNESS "Do it. You'll feel a whole lot better if you finish the job," Darkness says. "Stop it. You will only feel bad if you do it," Light, on the other hand, says. A knife sits on the palm of your hand in front of you, waiting for its victim's blood to be stored as Darkness continually pests you to be tempted to perform the task awaiting you. "Do it. Do it," he repeatedly mutters to your ears. "Stop it. Don"t do it," says Light. Your consciousness, taking hold of yourself, finally decides to finish what you started. You grab the knife. Scared, at first, then determined - killed your victim until its last breath. "You're eating again? I thought you're supposed to be on a diet right now?" someone, out of all nowhere, says. "I can't. AAAAAAAGH! I was supposed to not eat a lot right now but the steak is so good!" you say. As drops of sauce fall from the knife to the ground, Darkness celebrates his victory, while Light is left in awe. "When will this person ever have a proper diet?" Light says.
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Baggage by Denise Aira de la Fuente
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women; venus by Elizabetheia
A ball of raw emotions. I am both heaven and madness. I know how dandelions bloomed when happiness came rushing one bright Sunday morning. I know how raindrops fell when sadness hurled inside my being like a stormsurge filled with agony. I know how tsunamis rose when anger made their home in these human lungs and broken bones. My skin is a mere cover for all the wonders of my being. Inside me lies the galaxies, the ocean floor, the daffodils, the creepy crawlers, and the disasters of the Earth. Not much of a narcissist, not close to a damned poet. You see, I'll run out of metaphors trying to fill this empty page. However, the more I speak, the more I feel the importance of being heard. So, I raise my glass for all the maidens. Enunciate after me. I am not an object. I am not a source of entertainment. I am not anything a man can hold. In my veins runs the blood of Venus and in my flesh, the world's prophecy is kept closed. I am all that store delight, fear, and horror. But, then again, if you ask me what I am and who I am, I'll open these lips and dare say, "a ball of raw emotions".
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Grow by Renee Suala
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See Through my Eyes by Krizia Joy Guardafe
I've always wondered why people could not see see through my eyes. The eyes of a blind man where no individual is greater or less. Where it's not "I" or "me" but rather "us" and "we" tightened through ties. when severed by clans, bonded and collaborated through each mess. A sight beyond the perception of colors and hues. A sight that embraces not the darkness but the feeling and emotions each person holds. Because no two people are ever the same. Each one has their right to choose Treat everyone with the utmost kindness. Sexuality, religion - each person's mold. But in their difference is a common name Human. Because in a world blinded by anger, by difference, by strength, by greed, and savagery, Only a blind man can decipher the humanity in our individuality.
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Kit10 by Carl Andro Vallejera
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Little Soul by Lea May Galimba
Little soul, there is a melancholy in the depths of your pitch-black eyes. Sorrow as mysterious as the dark. Vexation leashed amidst the midnight's twilight skies. You are a lost soul, living along with the sunsets. As darkness prevails, your sobs resonate in the horizon of the seas.
Yet as the dawn crouches, why are you shrouding your grim silhouette? Gone are the bloodshot orbs, squishy laughter echoed in the dullness of place. Soul unleashed into the pristine ocean of deep. Little soul! Little soul! You are a dull piece of poetry written by bleeding quill. Yet words put into a rhythm of a punk rock music that hides a thousand bleaks.
Rollercoaster by Joshua Garita
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Lucy by Krystell Dianne Parcon
Today is the day God called us all, His angels. He will assign us very special people to discern. "Who did you get?" other angels are discussing beside me. "I got George, he's an 89-year-old veteran. His wife Rachelle died and entered heaven yesterday." "I got Delia, she’s a black woman in her 30's. A mother of twelve also. I think she needs some help. A miracle, I suppose." "Lucky me, I got Eloise. She's a church girl, she's also a choir member." "How about you?" they asked me. I unrolled the slate that God gave me, and read the whole thing written on it. "Lucy. Thirty-one and will be released from the prison for murder today." I am by no means complaining even though I am so confused. What do I do with a delinquent? I have met thousands -- No, millions of them, and they are unbelievably scary. Their rage, their unreleased pain, and their hostility are unnerving. But I know as mighty as He is, only God knows what makes this person special. I stood from afar as Lucy walks from the prison gate. She carries her bag, and as sad as it is to me, nobody was waiting for her outside. Not even a single thing breathing was there to fetch her from her release. How unpleasant is this woman? That no one is even happy she got out. By the way, don't fret. She has me. I snapped my fingers and I immediately became an old man driving a taxi. I drove to her and horned. I lowered my window and looked at her. "I never called for one," she said. Oh, at least she's honest. "God's mercy, Mia," I replied in a full smirk.
persona
"I asked for His help yet a taxi arrived?" she asked raising an eyebrow. "Anyway, I can't walk far so He must be listening." She opened my car's door and hopped inside. "Where to?" "St. Tolentine Orphanage Home." Orphanage? I started the engine and drove. I channeled this automotive to move to where this woman wanted. I looked at her through the rear mirror and she's already sleeping. I can feel no harm or even a little rage from this woman but a very huge sadness, I can feel it through her. She has this innate weak and tired soul but I should never forget she's a murderer. After a long drive, the car stopped in front of this white beautiful house. And a big sign stating the name of the orphanage home she told me. "We're here." I woke her up. She slowly opened her eyes and looked around. When she realized we are in front of the orphanage, she suddenly galloped in her seat. I felt a beam of genuine excitement inside her. "Here, take this. It's all I have." She handed me a few dollars that can't even buy me a proper meal. "You paid me earlier. I think you forgot, Mia." I lied. "That's weird." She whispered but moved on into carrying her bags and opening the door. She got out of the car. When she turned her back, I snapped my fingers again and shifted back into my real form. The taxi and the man disappeared and I'm, again an angel her eyes cannot decipher to see. Why is she here? Why here? After a moment of tailing her, she sat down on a bench in a garden where
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the orphans are happily playing around. Suddenly, three children walked up to us, two boys and a girl. Basing on their hair which is blonde like Lucy's, they're her family. "Mommy!" they exclaimed to hug her. "Will daddy come back?" "Not anymore, honey." Lucy cried. "You are all safe with me now." I stood there in disbelief, and in a blink, I'm already beside God. "She killed her husband, didn't she?" I asked in the weakest voice I have. "When he locked their children inside and tried to burn the house," God answered. "Sometimes, humans create something they never meant to create. When she saw what's happening, the fear of losing her children ruled over her and she protected them. She might've done a grave sin but she has repented, and 'he who asks for forgiveness, will be forgiven."
Yearning by Reinhardt Firmeza
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To Love is to Unmask by Krystelle Diane Parcon
It is a renowned story that to find your love is to unmask. This was given to soulmates by the gods as a task. One shall wear and join the seas of souls, the other chases their partner in bemused shoals. Wear the best facades and dive, for if you drown, true love shall arrive, Recognize their warmth and pull them into a kiss, Share one breath and delve into bliss. To love is to unmask somebody, To see their soul's bareness and nudity, Learn their language and memorize their silence, Accept their flaws and adore their brave eloquence. Get lost in their eyes and serendipity will arise. Sing their doubts to sleep, love all their figures even as they weep.
persona
There are things to remember; loyalty and friendship should be their love's chamber. Never ever settle for mere attention, Never entangle for a short-lived connection. Walk to the ends of the Earth and long the mile to scan Everyone's arches are weary and vile. And, sometimes, it can cause you mourning and grief when you unmask yourself to a wrong person in mischief. But when the two fated souls reunite, their completion will bear an indescribable delight, No odds will put them to vain, for their oneness will surpass all pain.
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Umaga Na ni Elizabetheia
Nahimlay ang aking katawan sa lumang kama. Maalikabok at malamig, siguro dahil tanging bangungot ang aking katabi. Pagdilat ng aking mga mata, sa durungawan, ikaw ay nakatulala. Ano kaya ang iniisip mo? Siguro ang kahapon o ang susunod na linggo. Uy, suot ko na ang damit pang-guro. Uy, andaming nakatambak na regalo. Uy, buong hapon akong naggansilyo. Uy, Pepe, bakit wala ka ng ulo. Bangon.
Looking Glass by Denise Aira de la Fuente
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3AM Thoughts by Sijey
If I could say a word, a plea to the masses, a wailing voice hushed -- buried, and an intent to save the ones who were slaughtered, and those who slaughtered, those who watched. If I could say a word, a sentiment from the deepest depths, that it may be saved, may it be purged that it may live, that it may die out. If I could only say, the unspeakable things that resonate within, that the silver lining of all creation nothing else, but destruction.
artwork by Rheymar Chua
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Fiend by Leslie Marie Banaban
"Write your demons away." [typing...] The man stood before her no more than two meters away. The same man who caused her rhapsody months before. A man who likes clothing himself with innocence and shy smiles - a face of a psychopath. "Calista," a voice hissed. "I was hurt by a girl I loved. She left me for another. I cried for weeks and it hurt. I don't want that for you. I want you to be more than a broken heart." His voice sent sadness inside of her yet sudden rage surged through her veins. The scream he made after turned Calista into a feared ladybug. "I attested my feelings to you who did nothing but only hurt me," he smiled sadly and formed a nightmare through dark clouds. The scream in her throat turned sober and Calista threw herself into a morose. The man reached his hands to her neck and his fingers formed into claws. A blow to her face knocked her chest out. The man took the scissors and cut off an inch of her hair up to her neck. She struggled and moaned. Her head shook back and forth when she felt her blood rush, "No. No." "Yes, Calista. Yes. And now it's time to pay the demon." Calista was not the first to suffer nor would be the last of them. The question was how many more until the nightmares stop? [...end of typing...] So far, aside from a couple of hitches and doubts, my first plan was working out fine and I was fortunate because I didn't have a reserved plan. What I am referring to is that should Calista be a slice of cold meat or simply dead by now?
persona
Call me heartless, I am the worst author but only for the best thriller book in town. Poor girl, I don't have grudges for her but I also don't like her as much as I like my story's antagonist, the killer. "Mister," the stranger's voice caught my attention. Her short black hair framed a face as colorless as the patients of ventilators and monitors on their deathbeds. Again, she not only talked but also ran towards my table. "Your office looks pretty clean yet uppish," she eyed, scanned, and smiled at me. Silencing my thoughts, she then spoke. "Anyway, have you ever gotten a cup of coffee?" "I'm not into that," I replied. "What do you mean? Not into coffee?" I just nodded. "Is this your way of rejecting me?" Her brows and lips curved down. With hands trailed on her face, I remained calm. "Well, lady, I am not exactly sure what you are getting at -" "Oh," she cut me off, acted, and plastered a questioning look. "I think you know very well what I'm getting at." Yet, I don't get it. "Who thought of this and told you to write?" "Myself." It was who told myself to write my story and when I started my career, I became an author. As a writer, I prioritized two things: reality was not a thing and things are not real. I admit I am a complicated person. I work not only for my success but to be the best - and so, I become the character of my own story. Am I Calista? But I am a "he." The book and the life I had made for Calista is circling around who I am and the adventure I write is a testimony of my living. I am a pioneer of my own decisions based on my experiences since I published my existence and, here today, something is off about the plot of my own story. "I wouldn't say I had interfered with it all, right?" I just flew back into reality
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when the short hair girl chuckled. I can see no reaction from her - she's steady. She's fine. "I am not concerned with your opinion and you know what? Get to the point," I looked frustrated now on my part. After a few moments of silence, the lady in front intensely looked at me. "Would it be fair to say that you are not what you expect?" she was trying to sound friendly to make it all sound perfectly natural though the irony of it, we are strangers. "And you are?" "Come on, get real. Well done for acting and trying and hiding but the stain never goes away." Spiraling into madness, hot tears pricked from her eyes. Who is she? Who am I? I find myself with my hands over my ears, the voices in my head muttering something. Why be dramatic? My mind does not feel sober and I feel that I lack some memories. Years. My problems never left me as the mentally unstable person I am now and even before. Violent voices hit my brain and my head seemed to bleed - so is the girl who confronted me. "I forgot that fiends are able to write back but with red blood as their ink so it can stain not only the medium but also someone's life. You see, I'll write back with the same mess you wrote for me." "You?" "Yes. It's me. I'm Calista. And now it's time to pay the demon."
Selcouth by Shanly Yanna Granada
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Doble Kara ni Cristian Jay Plaza
Muling ilagak ang mukhang nakasanayan, sa ilalim ng mukhang pilit na ikinukubli. Biyak at hati sa dalawa, ang mukhang kailan ma'y hindi mapag-iisa. Mundo ngayo'y humaharap sa mahirap na sitwasyon, Tanging teknolohiya lamang ang nagsisilbing koneksyon, Karang ignorante o karang mapaghiganti, Saan ka kakampi at mas kampante? Mga balitang mapagkunwari, laging gutom sa reaksyon at papuri. Pilit rin nginunguya at itinutulak sa lalamunan ng tao nang nakadilat ang mga mata at patuloy na nalilinlang sa kasinungalingan na gawa-gawa rin ng kapwang naligaw sa katotohanan. Alin nga ba ang mas malala? Ang galit bilang sandata ng madla? O ang magturo at manisi ng sino mang hindi nagkasala? Totoo ba o mapagpanggap? ang inyong pagtulong sa mga nawalan at nasalanta. Iluwa ang pekeng awa at pag-aalsa kung hindi naman tunay ang iyong habag o simpatiya.
Springtime by Cristopher Villaruel
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Reminisce by Lea May Galimba
I crouched by the Azotea and gazed at the chilling darkness of the North. Recalling the last forgotten memory, set on September fourth. Decades drifted by, and yet I couldn't lay to rest the unrequited affection that altered my life eternally. I am still hiding my dismantled life in a rhythm of a pitter-patter melody. It was a cold afternoon. The autumn breeze blew hard in unison as I walk amid the humid wilderness. With mystique Ranunculus flowers in my hand, my embellished cantaloupe dress came across with the mossy land. It was just a typical day and he came along. In an instant, he tainted my world with vibrant hues. I could feel the wildflowers and trees shoving me towards him. The butterflies in my tummy played as my feelings for him slowly swiveled. As the wind and innocence blow, I felt the tingling sensation of love. I will continually treasure that moment. Even after a lifetime. Even after an eternity. Yet in an instant, he disappeared, and was nowhere to be found. I searched for him for so long until someone told me he's already gone with the woman he dreamed to be with. He wrecked my heart into slabs and let me live a life of frigid misery. All these years, his laughter and memories became a nightmare. But a day ago, as I walk into unchained melodies and blues, I saw him again amid the humid wilderness. Exactly five decades transpired, on the afternoon of September fourth, he came once again, but with wrinkled skin and shaky tune. He was stunned upon my presence and yet embraced me with open arms. He seemed to live his life to the amplest with the woman he loves. The radiance in his sapphire eyes bestows love and contentment yet I... I lived in nothing but complete darkness. With bloodshot eyes and head unbowed, I bid goodbye and began walking along the woods withstanding what he let me feel. Just like the old times, pretending that I was healed. That I was living the glorious times of my life. Five decades crept past, I am still hiding all the pain. Five decades have gone by, I am still hiding myself in the beauty of dull poetry. But truth to be told, I am still scarred and shattered.
True Colors by Ruel Duhaylungsod
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Filter by Cristian Jay Plaza
Behind every screen of the untouchable realm reveals a person craving for unattainable perfection. Can't help themselves to filter out imperfections for society's approval and satisfaction. Thick or thin, there is beauty within. Remain dazzling regardless of the weight gain. To be confident with the face and body you have requires a lot of courage for you to love. Even with the acne marks and uneven skin tones, you're as fabulous as the one you look up to on your phone. Unravel the real identity you have concealed. Speak for the truth that takes too long to unleash. Piece by piece, everything will be at ease, You'll soon love yourself and be at peace, Although it is something you have to went through, It is worth it to lead yourself back to the genuine you.
Lifeline by Jusalanne Matulac
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Alone in the Gloom by Karen Joy Alexandria Tolosa
Alone. Frantic. Not until I saw the glimpse of light, the rays of the moon over me. Not alone. Still furious. Of seeking for the stars; Twinkling, falling. It's just there, yet free alone -- not alone. But, still on the search. Perfect star, Where did it go? Found you no more!
persona
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Mask from the Rack by Krystell Diane Parcon
"I will wear this mask today," I said as I picked the pink mask from the rack, I need to appear womanly. I will be meeting my girl friends in a salon today and, even if I hate putting heavy acrylics in my nails, I will come. I don't want them to say I'm prude and boring. The day was fun. When I went home before the clock struck midnight, the first thing I did was take off the mask and put it back in the rack. I looked at the mirror and I can see my plain face again. I removed the acrylics. Oh, what a relief. "I will wear this mask today," I said as I picked the yellow mask from the rack, I need to appear kind and excited. I will be meeting my family and relatives for Thanksgiving and, even if I usually hate social gatherings because I'm busy, I will come. I don't want them to think I'm disrespectful and a workaholic. The day was fun. When I went home before the clock struck midnight, the first thing I did was take off the mask and put it back in the rack. I looked at the mirror and I can see my plain face again. I went back to my study table and started typing. Oh, what a relief. "I will wear this mask today," I said I picked the red mask from the rack, I need to appear in love. I will be meeting the man my parents had set me to marry and, even if I can't find a connection between us, I will come. I don't want to disappoint them. The day is... scary. He put something in the food I ate and the next thing I know, I'm in a dark room and he's panting beside me. I looked around shaking in fear. My mind is blank and my body is sore. He touched me, He used me. He raped me. "I just wanted to check you before I marry you. I know you had fun." He's a pure stranger, a foreign one. "What time is it?" I asked him. No, the mask asked him. "Five minutes after midnight." I stood upon the realization. The world seemed like a spiraling maze. My legs are weak, and my waist is arching in pain. I ran to the bathroom and faced the mirror. I shrieked in horror. "If you fail to unwear, you and all the masks will become one." The mask is hideous. The mask is horrifying. It's my plain face.
Grad Pic by Renee Suala
persona
Kaninong Anino ni Cristian Jay Plaza
Bumaling ka sa likuran. May estrangherong nakabantay at nakaabang. Hahatakin ka pabalik sa bangungot ng nakaraan. Bitbit ang mga alaalang pilit mong iniiwasan. Mahigpit ang kanyang kapit. Bihirang pumiglas sa kamay niyang malagkit. Kumawala man sa kanya'y impossible. Hayaan na lamang ika'y madakip. Dumampi ang kanyang kamay sa iyong pisngi. Napagtanto mong siya pala'y humihikbi. Ganoon pala kahigpit ang kanyang kapit sapagkat ayaw niyang mawalay sa iyong tabi. "Sino ka ba, estranghero?" tanong mo. Mata mo'y pumilandit, pilit sinusuri ang estranghero na lumapit. Masyadong madilim, malabong makita kahit mata mo'y naningkit Sinubukan mong hawakan ang braso niya ngunit hangin lamang iyong nahagip Umilaw ang paligid, mata mo'y napapikit, Muling idinilat ang matang nakasara. Ipinihit ang ulo at hinanap ang misteryosong estranghero. Subalit wala na siyang maaninag na estranghero saan mang anggulo.
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Uncalibrated by Romchelle Chris Danielle Waminal
persona
Suicidal Sleep by Leslie Marie Banaban
The sky was black and the shadows beneath the walls were too as they kissed the humpy ground. A speck of old taut cloth dirt and mud on the little girl's body speaks poverty on the sullen street. She could feel the cold breeze from the outside. Her bare hands were placed on the window bars while her foot skulked. A puff of cold air now and then exited her little lungs. She needs warmth, yet no passersby are coming. The cold air, sharp as crystal and ice raining in the city, did not bother her - this was nothing new. Sighting. The little crow's feet rested near the skin of the little girl's eyes as she was searching for a man that is seven meters away from her. That is her Papa from a long-haul, wiggling his brows and plastering a dulcet smile exclusively for her. She could not feel more heaven-sent with the affection that she only sees. The little girl is longing for this moment, and yet this is it. That was it. Her Papa is guarded by two colossal Green Berets - one by his left and one by his right side. In her little age, she was uncertain from that moment. In her mind, Green Berets are a friend of her home, and they have never been evil to her. She then showed a smile on her eyes without hesitations. This is welcoming. Little girl, after this, wants to play beneath the dark sky with her Papa as her sweet playmate. Four meters away and she ultimately wants to feel the warmth of his embrace. The shaky unchoreographed left hand untouched the bars and silently waved several times into the air. This is her, the little girl's, way to show she is ready to play again. Papa saw the naked hand of his sweetheart, swaying in the breeze. The dulcet smile became noxious, all of a sudden his longing battling his existence. It is not fair. Struggling to hum the "Mary Had a Little Lamb" in the muted city.
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Hop, tip, hop, tip. Swayed large hands while walking. All of a sudden, the route changed and he has not headed towards his child anymore. The Berets, with arms resting on their chest, walked with him in a torpor-like state. The fixation on the little girl's eyes changed. Where did her Papa go? There he is entering a dark slam. His eyes finding their way to see his daughter before Armageddon -- and there, two eyes met peacefully, him with sad tears on his eyes, yet he still widened his smile. The trick he usually does always offers joy to his little child and, once again, he does it while walking sideways. His movements and clown-like imitations bring laughter to his kid. He is now broken - this is not fair. Too little time for flashpoint, her Papa made a struggle whistling something that sounded like firecrackers dancing along with the night. His finger is touching his lip, sliding upwardly to the air. He recreates a massive gunshot pointing to heaven. The little girl laughs once more. They are alright. Her Papa is good at burlesque but the Berets find it distasteful. The hands that were free in the air slowly retreated, forming into a single sign language. While walking to meet Fate, his finger formed an "I love you" sign for his little girl. The kid saw what was happening before his Papa went to the dark slam with the Green Berets. Her innocence draws a reward of unfamiliarity for what is next. The unemphatic night ringed her again. She is deaf and her Papa is mute. She only feels the vibration of the banged sound while the Green Berets left the slam. She knows that she can wait. Her Papa will do his thing again. And again, she will see this chapter over and over again.
persona
Ordinary by Ruel Duhaylungsod
You don't have to be afraid, You don't have to be weak, No need to be anxious, No need to worry. I'm not asking for your interest, Just being free, not being tethered. I've never wanted to hold the star in the sky. I've never wanted to shine from the spotlights. I'm not special like them, Just a monotonous kind of melodrama, The simple fondness with vibrant joy, Echoing lone deep within. I'm not pricey nor valuable, I'm just common, an ordinary person. I only have a body and a heart that I can offer. I'm ordinary, nothing special, nothing grand.
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Achiever by Denise Aira de la Fuente
persona
Yuhom ni Julie ni Sijey
Nagalakat siya sa merkado nga basa sang ulan, bitbit ang utan, isda, kag manok nga iya ginbakal. Bag-o lang nag-untat ang ulan, pero nagatagaktak na sang tulo ang iya nga balhas. "Inday, bakli danay si tiyay sang utan pang-pancit ay," hambal sa iya sang babahi nga daw gin patigulang sang kabudlay sang pangabuhi. Sa pagkabati sa tigulang nga babahi, iya nadumduman ang iya nga iloy. Nagbakal siya sang utan kag amo ang iya gindala pauli para panyaga. Samtang nagalakat siya papuli sa iya puluy-an, gintawag siya sang iya tupad balay. "Julie! Si nanay mo nangihi naman sa iya short kagina," siling ni Gigi, ang iya chismosa nga tupad balay. Nagbalikid siya kag sa pagkabati sini, gindasig niya ang iya paglakat kag tungod sa pagdali-dali, nasugata niya ang iya amiga. "Abaw 'day, mayo lang kay lawig ang imo pasensya kay tiyay, no? Kung ako na, ihatag ko nalang na sa home for the aged kapin pagid nga sako ka nga daan sa imo obra," istorya niya. Nagyuhom lang siya kag naglakat. Pag-abot niya sa ila puluy-an, ginsalubong siya sang iya nga iloy nga gutom kag basa ang short. Nagginhawa siya sang madalom kag gingbutang sa lamisa ang iya mga dala. Ginkwa niya ang isa kabilog nga margoso kag ginhampak sa tigulang. "Gutom ka? Ara, kan-a! Abi mo daw indi ko kapoy sang panindahan nga mangayo ka lang pagkaon sa akon?" singgit ni Julie sa iya iloy nga nagaduko nalang kag ginapilit trapuhan ang iya short sang iya mga palad. "Kapoy ko ya, Ma! Kakapoy manindahan nga gainulan tapos ma-demand ka lang sa akon panyaga?" "Ano? Basa ka nanaman sang ihi? Ano ka bata? Hoy, bugtaw!" "Sigiha pagid bala ihi-ihi kag pangsabad sa akon, kay ipadala ta gid ka sa home for the aged!" Padayon lang siya sang pagsinggit sa iya iloy, asta nga gulpi lang may nanawag sa sagwa sang ila kudal. "Julie? Okay lang kamo da 'day?" pamangkot sang babahi nga tingog. Dali-dali siya naggwa kag gin atubang ang piyak balay, suksok ang iya mabuot kag init nga yuhom.
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Wabi-sabi by Shanly Yanna Granada
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1st Place | Poetry
Krimen sa Umaga ni Micah Ella Ledesma Jaylo
Bawat araw ay kamatayan. Dugo ang dumadanak habang isinasaksak ang punyal sa kailaliman ng kaluluwang uhaw sa pagtanggap at pagkilala. Sa tuwing bubuka ang bibig ay hudyat na kailangang kitilin ang bawat isang piraso ng pagkataong pilit itinatago sa madla hindi dahil sa hiya. Mga ngiti'y naghihingalo sa kaloob-looban ng isipan. Binabaril ang laman upang maging mas katanggap-tanggap ang kasariang kinasusuklaman.
Ngunit sa pagsapit ng gabi'y kukumpunihin ang mga butong nabali mula sa paulit-ulit na pambubugbog sa sarili katawa'y bubuhayin. Ikukurbang muli ang linyang pinipilipit na tumuwid. Na para bang mali ang paghahangad ng pagkataong payapa't may kasiguraduhan. Bawat araw ay kamatayan. Ngunit nabubuhay pansamantala sa kalinga ng mga tabing nitong matiwasay na dilim na hindi kailanman nanghuhusga.
persona
2nd Place | Poetry
What if? by John Mark Sanico
What if I was the author and every breath of my characters is bound on my ink? And every twist and turn of events lie in my mind. What if the truth can be bent like the stars don't shine at all? Like we are just toyed by a higher being a piece for a big joke. What if you weren't the one reading this? The words are the ones who read you. It enters your mind and then recalculates you. Scary but what if? What if the author isn't the one who wrote this? What if your impulse and greatest desire wrote this? A bland poem for you to bring to life. What if this is you? Just what if?
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3rd Place | Poetry
volume 10
RENÉ by Micah Ella Ledesma Jaylo
Cogito, ergo sum. I think, therefore I am. The stench of existence running, dancing, swirling with, paradoxically, a gentle breeze clinging to my nostrils. Barging into my lungs, uninvited. Aiming to suffocate the entirety of this godforsaken body. But instead of gasping for air that forces this will to move, I found myself buried under the comfort of my blanket in a debilitated bed. Beside stained pillows with regrets of the yesteryears.
Eyes grew tired from looking at a plethora of words scribbled carelessly overflowing fascination burning within each pursuance. Before life decided to force dread and numbness as prices, we pay for surviving. Barely living in routine. Barely breathing as it seems. So, I wonder where the truth behind the words of Descartes is. Because I think, but I am not.
persona
Consolation Prize | Poetry
Maria Clara by Mary Pauline Santos
As she combs her hair with every stroke so gently, little do they know about her envy.
An immaculate woman, so delicate, so young, is unknowingly tainted with abuse and wrong.
The way she moves filled with modesty, shoves the very idea of her capability.
As she poised walks with such integrity, little do they know about her depravity.
For she was portrayed as the girl so demure. Little do they know of how she can be mature.
Her stance is so beautiful shining with humility renders the ignorance to her vulnerability.
For her life is not portrayed the way it is. Her hidden bruises all have seemed to miss.
She's depicted to show how girls should act and be. But women know better to fight back for the likes of SHE.
Her bright smile that radiates innocence, little do they know about the misogynist's presence.
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Consolation Prize | Poetry
volume 10
Ang Babae sa Repleksyon ni Lixie Imee Soriano
Lahat ay nakasuot ng puti na kasing linaw ng kanilang mga ngiti. Makikita ang saya sa kanilang mga mata at kanilang mga labi na parang mapupunit na sa isang saglit. Pero bakit nakakarinig ako ng mga hikbi habang sila ay nakatingin sa babaeng kasing puti ng langit? Siya ay isang babae na may maliwanag na mga ngiti pero bakit siya ay mayroong nakatagong matinding sakit? Ang kanyang mga tawa ay bakit nasuklian ng rumaragasang mga luha? Ang kanyang kumikislap na mga mata ay bakit napalitan ng paghihirap na kanyang iniinda? Ang kanyang maitim na buhok ay bakit kasing dilim din ng nakaraan na gusto na niyang ibaon? Maraming dumalo sa kanyang okasyon. May mga nagyayakapan at para ba ang lugar ay umaapaw sa emosyon. May nakangiting bumabati, mayroon namang umiiyak. Pero bakit nakaramdam ako ng kakaibang galak? Lumapit ako para bumati sa kaniyang okasyon. Laking gulat ko ng makita ko ang aking sarili sa likod ng repleksyon. "Akala mo ba nakaligtas ka na?," sambit ng katabi ko na may tonong pagalit. Pero unti-unti akong napahakbang paatras ng makita ko siyang nakatingin sa akin habang may nakakakilabot na ngiti sa kanyang labi.
1st Place | Artwork
by Maria Eullina Tulda
2nd Place | Artwork
by Windsor Linus Sumbillo
3rd Place | Artwork
by Mark Joseph Macasa
Consolation Prize | Artwork
by James Necarl Mesa
Consolation Prize | Artwork
by Allen Joshua Seva
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1st Place | Short Story
volume 10
All the Ws by Maecel Joy Priolo
The scorching heat of the sun directly hits my face as I walk on a seemingly isolated road. I've been walking for hours with nothing but a small amount of cash, my backpack with a few clothes, and a water bottle that's half-empty which helped me to survive this endless walk. The road seems to stretch forever and the sun is about to set and, yet again, to disappear into the darkness in which I wish I could too. Finally, before the darkness engulfs me in the road, I came upon a town that appears to be small and fairly old. As I was searching for a place to stay, I saw a diner called "Toby's". There were about 10 to 12 empty tables inside and a counter. I went straight to the counter and rang the bell on top of it. A lady in her mid-40s appeared from the back which I guess is the kitchen. She looked shocked as she saw me. I didn't bother myself with the way she reacted and ordered right away. I sat at a table facing outside, and not so long, my order was served. I only ordered a burger and fries and I was wondering why there is a milkshake that came with my order. I faced the lady with a puzzled look. "That's a welcome drink. It's on the house. I believe you're new in this town," she smiled and went back to the kitchen after she spoke. I just shook the thoughts in my head and hurriedly finished my food. I paid afterward and left. I went to look for a place and, as I walked past some houses, I found myself sitting on a bench in a park. The cold breeze and the silence almost put me to sleep not until a footstep alarmed me. I quickly walked away and never had a chance to look back. The bright light coming from my window woke me up. It's almost noon when I woke up. Last night, after I walked away from the park, I saw an inn named "Moonlight" and decided to stay here. I took a quick shower and went out. I was heading to Toby's to grab something to ease my hunger when I remembered
persona
the scenario at the park last night in which I am standing here right now. It was hard to see the overall look of the park last night since it was dark and the only lights were coming from the streetlamp and the moonlight. I looked around and found the back of a man sitting where I sat last night. I didn't bother about him and walked towards Toby's. "I saw you stopped and sat at the park last night. I'm not meddling or what but I was just worried if you had somewhere to stay," Cecil, the name written on her nametag, said. She was the lady who served me last night. "Well, I just had to, you know. It's quiet and peaceful - just had to think about some stuff and it was just the right place, I guess, to think," I replied. She just smiled and went back to the kitchen after serving my order. A week had passed since I arrived here in this town called "Breccan Town" which was derived from the name of the founder of this town, Kenny Breccan. I also learned that Toby is the name of the son of Cecil, the owner of the diner. Cecil was kind to me and gave me a job at the diner. I am now heading to Toby's to eat and get some job done. As I entered the diner, I saw Cecil talking to a man who is also here every day since I arrived at this place. I never asked Cecil who the man was and I never initiated to talk about it with her. Though she always talks about her life, that she and her husband are no longer together and everything else, she never once mentioned her son. She also always asks about me, though all I can tell her is my name -Trevor, and my age - 23. Other than these, I just couldn't tell her. As time swiftly passes, the day is about to end again. I was about to go back to the inn when I saw again the man sitting on the bench for the second time after that day that I first saw him. He turned back to where I was standing and saw me and I recognized that it was the man that Cecil was talking to earlier this day. I walked towards him without having any thoughts why. "Why did I walk towards and sit beside this man?". We were looking towards the setting
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sun when he suddenly spoke. "Why can't you just forget and move past all that happened?". I was not even shocked hearing those words like they grew familiar to my senses. "Why did you ever leave?," Mark, my best friend added. I knew from the moment I stepped into this town again, that after all those years I tried to forget the dark and traumatic past, it will just bring me back to those days. I knew Mark was the owner of those footsteps the first night I returned to my hometown. I knew it was his back the first time I saw him sitting in this very park. I know that he is my best friend. I also know that Cecil is my mom and I know, for a fact, that I am Toby. However, I also know that I once had a father named Greg who is a drunkard. I grew up seeing my mom get beaten by him and, eventually, it was the both of us. Though after all those beatings and hurtful words we got from him, she never thought of reporting him to the police or leaving him and she even forbade me to speak ill about him. "Why? I should ask you that Mark. That even after all those years I tried to bury the past, I just couldn"t," I told him. "Why would a father even have the courage to hurt his family? Why can Cecil even tell me back then that she endured those for me because she loves me because I don't deserve a broken family?," Mark sighed. "A child would never wish for a broken family but neither would I wish for broken bones from getting beaten up nor seeing my mother smile while she puts me to bed after getting slapped so hard and got a swollen face. I was just a child, and I'm afraid, still. I am. Guess I never grew up. I'm still that helpless boy crying in a corner because I couldn't help my mom, at least now, I may be wandering and can be lost sometimes but I'm no longer physically hurt." I stood up after I said those words and never gave Mark a chance to speak. I grabbed my things from Moonlight. "I can't be Toby forever." And, once again, bid my goodbye to this town.
persona
2nd Place | Short Story
Neither I nor Me by Stephanie Gonzales
Day 1: I stared at the cream sky above me then back to my surroundings. There's no one here, only cream boxes. But someone got out of it. Wait, these cream boxes were houses? There wasn't even a single window. Just a single door. Strolling around the place, all that I ever saw was cream houses. Not even a school, church, or malls. Then it was a dead end. Darkness gathered below this cliff. I squinted my eyes because I saw a bridge from afar. They didn't do anything to connect it with this cliff? I got bored so I just sat there while staring at the darkness below. Day 2:Was it already the second day? I was just sitting there for an hour. Wait, did I sit there for an hour? But the color of the sky changed - it's now purple. It was cream yesterday. The colors changed? People here had the same faces. I suppressed my laughter. I was curious if they shared the same genes. I had a different face from them. Will they notice me? Someone did. It seems like she's talking but she's not opening her mouth. She got startled when I opened my mouth to talk to her. That's when she brought me to her house. It was still full of violets. I want to puke with all these violets. She could open her mouth! She got into this parallel dimension too! Her real name was Fridda and she told me everything that she knew. Day 3 Day 1: Am I having a memory gap? I knew that it was my third day here already but it seems like it's only three hours ago. Fridda gave me a red notebook. Everything changed again - it's now all red. I got scared for a bit. It was just violet yesterday, right? Fridda toured me around the city. Everyone had the same color of clothes - all red. The cars, buses, tall buildings, trees, plants, and even the animals - they're all red. Numbers were everywhere and letters were nowhere to be
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found. She told me that they're using numbers as their writing system, no such thing as alphabets or letters. Telepathy is for communication. She told me that she will teach me how. Day 2 Day 1 Day 2: I asked Fridda if this was my second day here but she didn't remember anything. I'm starting to get scared of these strange happenings. I took my blue notebook. Got confused when I saw what I wrote yesterday. It was all red yesterday but now it's all blue. Afraid to forget all of this, I wrote everything I could still remember. Fridda gave me a tasteless bread. She let me into her driverless car and we traveled around the city. We went inside the huge library - all books were written in numbers so I didn't get to read them. Fridda taught me about numbers. The color changes here every day or should I say every hour? Fridda's my friend and she's like me. No numbers, only letters. Telepathy for communication. Got into this parallel dimension two days ago. 30 years old. Stephanie Gonzales. Day 2 Day 3 3rd Hour: I took my orange notebook and read what I've written yesterday. I'm having doubts whether all these are true or not. I've now witnessed a live execution. Dismembering all of his limbs before finally cutting his head off for the highest crime committed - trying to be different. They didn't have any leaders because of equality. I stayed at Fridda's home and didn't go out anymore, scared that they might notice me. One hour is equivalent to one day? But it felt like a day has passed. Was it my third day here or what? Day 1 3rd Hour 4th hour: I shouldn't have used that cursed cubicle. I'm getting scared of all of these. I want to go home now. I miss my family. Fridda's acting differently, it looked like she forgot everything. I took my green notebook and read what I wrote yesterday. I'm now getting confused if all that I wrote here were true. Was it orange yesterday? Were colors changing every day? Did I write this?
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It seems like Fridda's playing a prank on me. 4th Hour 5th hour Day 2: I don't know if I could still trust this yellow notebook. I reviewed what was written yesterday. Who's Fridda by the way? Two days ago? Was it two days ago? I thought it was five hours ago. Luckily, I could still remember my name. I hoped that I couldn't forget it. I still don't know how I can return to my world. 6th Hour Day 2: My face started to change. 14-48131311 treated me like a sister. I braced myself as I took my white notebook. I read all that's written yesterday but everything started to get blurry. Did the colors change? But everything's white here. What's equality? Is that a name or what? I don't know anyone named Fridda. They're using numbers as their names. And telepathy is a must - we can't communicate without it. What parallel dimension? This is Guarana, our home. What's 30 years old? No one had a name like that. And who's Stephanie - what?
Day 1: Ate bread with 9-7000. I took my notebook and got my brows furrowed when I read it. I couldn't recognize these characters. Did someone write this? I asked 14-48131311 but she also didn't know anything. Wait, why am I also writing these characters? 216115'12 111919 914 516812 13116 1 16319199 8 1126 12-531016 23 23255 59 5163 1982441146 28516 14-48131311 11 25815165, 12163 12193105 115 266 1697123
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3rd Place | Short Story
volume 10
The Portrait of Jesus on the Wall by John Marck Sanico
I've always been stuck in the same place. Sometimes, on a long and old mahogany altar but it's quite rare. Most of the time, I've been displayed on a small varnished high chair covered with embroidered textile. I can say that I'm old. Five generations of the same clan have passed before me together with the other antique ivory statues that have been forgotten by time. People recite prayers to honor me. Sometimes, they put flowers and light a candle beside me. I am always dressed with a fancy and detailed linen cloth. They even make sure to clean me two or three times a week. I've been treated like a very important and valuable thing. People worship me for I don't know the reason why. Now, I was sent as a gift to another family. It also means that I will be displayed on another altar. Hoping that other saints and virgins are also residing in that place. In that way, I could share the boredom and lucidity that I always felt. Gradual beams of light swallowed the darkness as they slowly opened the box. The box kept me safe during the unsteady journey. I knew that I was sent far. Far from the previous house. Too far from the previous altar. A man with glasses recovered my delicate ivory body from the box. He held me tight like an infant. I can barely feel the rush of air coming from his nostrils. He embraced me closer to his chest. The wild beating of his heart made me conclude that he was excited. The man with the glasses placed my fragile form on a special altar. I thought it was a special altar because it was located in the center part of the room. There was also another altar in every corner. Each altar has its religious statue. Yet, something was odd about these statues. They were different from the fellow statues that I met before. On the first altar was a grieving woman with some sort of halo above her head. Adjacent to her altar was an angel pointing his sword towards my location. The other altar was a man holding a staff with a halo on his head and chest. On the last altar was a man crucified on a cross. I was very anxious. This place was far different from the usual places that I stayed in. I could feel that my crooked vessel was heating up. The atmosphere inside that torture room makes me melt.
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I thought that was the pinnacle of my sufferings. However, something unexpected and more painful is yet to come. The man with the glasses once again entered the room. Three padlocks were unlocked. It seems that the man makes sure that no one can enter and exit from the room. A piece of cloth with some odd writings was also pasted on the front side of the door. The man was carrying a big portrait. He placed the picture on the wall facing opposite from my location. Aside from the intimidating and unfamiliar statues that surround my altar, a big picture of a bearded man with a thorny crown watches me. The portrait has a label written on the lower frame, "Jesus". I wondered what the label stands for but one thing is sure, this is pain. Every time I meet the eyes of the man in the picture, I could feel that I am being choked. My vessel was being shaken. I could sense that scratches in my body multiplied. There's a pain in every meeting of our eyes. The dilemma became worse and worse. The man with the glasses placed the portrait nearer to my altar. There is no chance that I can refrain my eyes from looking at him. I tried to keep my eyes shut but it's too hard. Given the fact that I'm a statue, my movements were locked beyond my imagination. "Is this my end?", I asked myself. I've been stuck in this place for years. My stay here was a lifetime of torture. My vessel is reaching its end. Fragments of my fragile body break down. My clothes are all torn up. My prized horns are now breaking. This is the only time that I feel fear. I've been shut from the reach of my loyal devotees. I'm slowly losing my grasp. This is a prison. While my consciousness is slowly fading, pictures in my mind flashed. I was thrown back to my previous life before I came here. I can see the faces of my devotees. I can hear their prayers. The smell of the flowers diffuses in the air. Before I'm about to surrender, I remember the time when the man with glasses pulled me from the box. I realized that, from the start, I was wrong. He held me very tight because he was afraid of me. The wild beating of his heart was not caused by excitement but by fear. He locked me up in a room not to be worshipped but to be tortured. He was a man used by that person in the portrait. The portrait of Jesus on the wall.
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Consolation Prize | Short Story
Fame and Ecstasy by Mary Pauline Santos
"And cut! That's a wrap for today," the director said as the clapper signaled the end of the shoot. It's half past three in the morning in Fairview Avenue but the set is still awake while everyone is fixing up things to be able to go home as soon as possible. Julia, the star actress of the night waits for her assistant, Tina, to tidy up what's needed so they can head out too. "By the way, Julia. You did well. I hope we can work again soon," the director approached the actress while offering his hand for a handshake. "You flatter me too much, Direk. It's my pleasure to work with you," Julia accepted the director"s hand and flashed him the sweetest smile she has. "Ma'am, the car's ready," her assistant says to her. Julia just nods and follows her out of the set. On the way out, she thanks and bids goodbye to the people on set. "She's indeed an angel. That actress is one of the rare gems of the industry," Julia smiles as she indirectly hears the whispered compliment about her. However, as soon as she stepped inside her car, her smile disappeared in a blink. "Alcohol, Tina. Alcohol," she irritatingly tells her assistant while reaching out her hand impatiently. "Here ma'am," her assistant quickly pours the rubbing alcohol on her hands. "That director even had the guts to shake hands. Does he hope we can work again soon? In his stupid dreams," Julia rants continuously as she rubs her hand dripping of rubbing alcohol. "What's my next schedule?" "You have to be on set for a morning show at six-thirty in the morning, ma'am. I will be at your doorstep around six," her assistant answered. It was already 4 a.m. when Julia arrived at her place. "So much for hoping to go home and to have a good sleep," Julia mutters under her breath.
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After pampering herself, she immediately searched for something in her stash. A vial of liquid and syringe. With those in her hand, she goes to her bedroom and sits at the bedside. She placed the vial and syringe under the night lamp. She scrolls through her social media, like she usually does, to seek her never-ending desire for the public’s approval and admiration. She sees a post about her role in the remake movie of Noli Me Tangere as Maria Clara. The people were admiring how she’s "like an angel", being so delicate and demure in portraying the role, in which she sarcastically laughed as a response. "What's so good with Maria Clara? So weak and gullible." She continues to read the comments when she encountered a statement that ruined her mood. What we see on TV isn't always real, I bet she's such a witch. A fake. Julia can only clench her phone in anger. Her eyes glaring with spite. She tosses the phone away from her. A thud resonated when it crashed against the pillows on the bed. Thoughts and curses run through her mind. She doesn't live a life like this just to receive such comments from nobody. She buried her head in the pillows and screamed her frustration beating furiously in her chest. Grogginess and a throbbing headache accompanied her in the set the morning after. Her head was threatening to bust anytime so she requested a moment of privacy inside her tent. She looked behind with a raised eyebrow when she saw her assistant still behind her. "What are you waiting for? Out. I'm feeling sick enough. Your face is not making me any better," she harshly says. "Do you have to be mean like that?" Tina answered back. "Stop with your yapping. As if I'm not the one feeding your family. Out, I said." As she screams away at her assistant, she rummages her bag in the hope of finding something to ease her headache.
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A vial and a syringe. She looks at it for a second or two before grabbing it out of her bag. She looked around to make sure that nobody was there. Her head continues to throb with pain. Without a second thought, she pierced the needle through the cork of the vial. Slowly, the liquid rises into the syringe tube. She was about to inject the needle in her arm when a flash of a phone camera stopped her from what she’s about to do. Her head turned immediately to the source of light. Panic surged through her body. The blood drained from her face when she discovered it was her assistant. "Delete that!" she hysterically shouted, causing the people in the set to be curious and gather around. The angel they knew seems to be not herself. "Sure. I already posted it anyway," her assistant answered without any hint of guilt. Her world stopped for a moment because of the horror she just heard. The thought of her career crashing down triggered her to forget the people around her. "How dare you?!," she screamed at her with such hate but somebody had stopped her before she could reach her assistant. The incident spread faster than a wildfire. All were in shock and disbelief at what happened. The image Julia lifelong protected crumbled down to pieces in a matter of moments. Before she can even go out from the set, the paparazzi have already blocked her from avoiding their questions. The next thing she knew, she was rocking herself in her bed. Hysteria and anxiety crippling away her sanity. She looks at her phone with eyes that ran out of tears to shed. She starts hearing ominous whispers echoing in the corridors. Her eyes were playing tricks on her, she sees the paparazzi and the public crowding and criticizing her and feels genuinely threatened by them. There's a loud banging on her door from those who are trying to get some words from her. She covers her ears and mumbles to herself to escape the paranoia. She continues to rock herself to ease what she's feeling.
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"No! I don"t know. Stop! I don't know anything!" Julia screams, confronting her hallucinations. The banging on the door grew louder. Bang! Bang! Bang! Her eyes suddenly struck open. Her surroundings became dead silent and everything seemed normal. She was processing the things whenBang. Bang. There was still someone knocking at her door. "Ma'am? Are you already prepared for the morning show? It's Tina," a voice at the door said. Julia looked around and her eyes darted in her bedside table. An empty vial and a used syringe. Then, the realization hits her. "Stupid ecstasy."
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Consolation Prize | Short Story
volume 10
AMBER
by Angel Cate Vargas
"Don't ever do that again!" I trailed off and walked back and forth. I sat down on my bed, trembling, because of what I saw earlier. I felt like my blood pounded in my ears, making my heart thud in my chest as well. "But, it was fun!" she said while grinning. She snatched the eye of Sofie and played with it like a mere ball. I pulled out my hair because of frustration. I stood up and plucked it away from her. I was still in tears. "Fun?! Killing your sister, fun? Is that what you call fun, Amber?!" I yelled. I swerved my focus on Sofie who's now lying unto the floor, lifeless, with her blood. I don't know how she killed her and I just saw Amber stabbing Sofie restlessly. "I was playing alone here and she kept on bothering me. I lost my temper. I choked her. And you know what?" She made a devil laugh. "I was not contented so I took the kitchen knife! I never thought that I would enjoy seeing her hurt! It was fun! I love seeing her begging and asking for air!" she exclaimed happily. I shook my head in disbelief. "If mom and dad discovered this, you're doomed!" I yelled. "Now, help me to clean up this mess." I wiped my tears and pulled Sofie's feet. I opened my cabinet and gently put her inside. As a 16-year-old kid, I can't think right after encountering this egregious situation. I don't know what to do! I'm so scared. "Do you think mom will see this?" she asked while staring at Sofie on the floor. For the second time around, I pulled my hair out of frustration. "God, Amber!" I shed tears. "I'm sorry, I won't do it again," she said in a small voice. My mind is completely lost. I heaved a sigh and decided to stick Sofie in the cabinet. After putting her inside, I heard some knocks which startled me. "Amber?" it was mom's voice. I immediately ran to the door and accidentally saw myself in the mirror. I was holding a knife with whole blood on my shirt. Then, the door opened and mom showed up. Her eyes widened as she saw me. The next thing I knew, I woke up in a room filled with white paint.
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1st Place | Photography
by Ryan Athena Evidente
2nd Place | Photography
by Mary Pauline Santos
3rd Place | Photography
by Alyanna Gaurana
Consolation Prize | Photography
by Jaymark Villagracia
Consolation Prize | Photography
by Eda Mae Jayme
persona
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Alea (Elizabetheia) eats poems for breakfast, stories for lunch, and piles of school work at night. Her knack for words could make her a future author but she is only a few years away in becoming a future educator. Allen Joshua Seva (sorting hat) seems like a shy guy at first but he is always ready to slay. He never misses any chance to display his strength and cleverness while valuing hard work, dedication, patience, and playing fair - a true Hufflepuff, indeed! Alyanna Gaurana (espresso shots) is fond of photography. She loves capturing stories while enjoying the comforts coffee has to offer. Alyanna is always on the go for another coffee session. Wanna join? Angel Cate Vargas (light stick) loves surprising her readers with a swift twist plot in her one-ofa-kind stories. Aside from writing thrillers and dramas, she displays a fascination for memes. Carl (crosshatch) His openness and reliability initiate warmth and a sense of belonging wherever he goes and whoever he comes across. This feisty guy can also nail an Ariana Gande impression. Cristian (woolgatherer) and his trademark silent soul hovers over the chaos of the world with a calm voice. But, don’t get us wrong, his versatility makes him stand out among a crowd of thousands. Cristopher (raconteur) always carries artistry and good cheer wherever he goes. His waves of laughter and the way he holds a conversation depict how great he is as a mentor and friend to the publication members. His wise and silent facade says otherwise when you get to know him well. Denise (graphics) executes efficiency both in her work and words. Her never-boring outputs and personality spell amusements and she is open to anything and everything you will say. She might as well call her “Flash” as she can create a masterpiece in just a few minutes. Eda Mae Jayme (wonder woman) is not your typical girl. Her passion for helping others fuels her toward her future profession, making herself one of the marvels. This future doctor and hero will not only be saving lives but also captures amazing shots through her camera.
persona
James Necarl Mesa (craftsman) is skilled in maneuvering the vast terrains of COD. He is not only good at using keyboard and mouse but also excels in the world of watercolor art and sketches. When the painter in him is asleep, the performer breaks loose and you can’t stop him. Jaymark Villagracia (pendant) has the heart for service to the community and is compassionate in his faith. His presence always fills the mood with lightheartedness creating endless fellowship to others. John Mark Sanico (pen and paper) may be a reincarnation of a Kpop idol. John projects well in and out of the camera. Equipped with his charm, he’s natural habitat is in leadership. Joshua (soul rocker) pours his heart and soul in his art as evident in the harmony of lines and colors. Just as his drawings are filled with emotions, his soulful voice can turn that frown upside down. Jusa (Katharina) has the ability to lighten the mood even at first impression. With her smile that charms and a soothing voice of a caring mom, it’s difficult to say no whenever she requests something. The soft-hearted lady of the Board never radiates anger but once she will, we wonder what will happen. But that’s never gonna happen, right?. Karen (polyptych) is a gentle soul that seems shy and reserved at first but has a great potential to be one of your greatest pals. Her sweet voice and endearing gestures may as well strike Cupid himself. Krizia (photophile) is a creative drawn to anything and everything aesthetic which, she makes sure, never escapes her camera’s lens. Krystell (Fa Mulan) is brave and independent. Her ability to speak and stand for what she believes in is proof that she runs her world. Just a piece of advice: Don’t underestimate this spirited future RMT. Lea (stardust) can exude vibrance in her words and is able to light up gloomy days. Her laugh is contagious and makes you wonder whether the joke is funny or her laugh is. Nonetheless, this social butterfly is the life of the party which makes her loved by many.
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Leslie (Mari-of-all-trades) is a busy bee. This modern version of Jane Austen prefers the calm and quiet of fields and greenery - away from the noise of social media. Lixie Imee Soriano (grit) and her mature perspectives about life make her an achiever at a very young age. Lixie built herself with honor and never misses to prove her expertise through her writings. Ma. Eullina Tulda (Scarlet O’Hara) is the main character of her story. With her composure and demure manners, Eullina, with her height and black curly hair, can be mistaken for a high fashion model. Just as she is living, breathing art, she creates her own art through the stories she wonderfully makes. Maecel Joy Priolo (puzzle piece) is an aspiring writer who finds inspiration in the mysteries of life. This modern day Agatha Christie keeps herself happy by indulging in piles of books. Mark Joseph Macasa (palette) is passionate and talented. His light aura that he carries wherever he goes will surely turn that frown upside-down. Mary Pauline Santos (candy jar) proves that laughter is, indeed, the best medicine. This Lady Joy is always on-the-go in laughing at or sharing memes and has a dedicated spot for “One Piece” in her heart. Micah Ella Jaylo (Q&A) and her concern for Mother Nature, socio economic issues, and her knowledge on the latest trends might as well qualify her for the next Miss Universe pageant. Paolo (rule of thirds) is calm and a skillful young lad. With his passion for the arts and wielding his trusted camera, he is ready to take on any responsibility that calls for his creativity. Reinhardt (Forrest Gump) and his gentle voice and profound smile show how friendly and genuine he is if you know how to tap the right keys (just make sure to not click “hibernate”). Like a brother to all, he stands as a trustworthy colleague and friend. Renee (aesthete) is unpredictable. Once you get her talking, she will make sure there are no holds barred and will enchant you with a conversation that seems unending. That is if you get to be on her good side. Rheymar (light and shadow) is the master of his own ship, having fulfilled his style of storytelling through his art. Just as often as you see him lifting his pen, you may also see him lifting weights during his past time.
persona
Rialyn (abacus) is a sweet froshie filled with ideals and dreams. Despite her reserved aura, don’t mess with her (and her fine-feathered friends), she will eat you alive with her words. Rian Athena Evidente (dream catcher) is a girl with a million dreams inhabiting her. Her family is her main source of motivation that drives her through the highs and lows of her life. Romchelle (philocalist) is a smol living baozi - fluffy, white, and sweet but with the most savory twist. She is the Athena of the Board - a confident leader, a good sport, and uses her wit as her weapon. This lady is amazing at juggling her time in the pub, being a student, and a fur parent to her doggos. She is a lover of sweet treats and coffee runs deep in her veins. Ruel (daylight chaser) wins in life for having a great sense of humor. He knows how to do magic tricks and part of it is illuminating and turning anxious thoughts into laughter. He’s the medicine for sadness and when you meet him, claim him. Shanly (ROYGBIV) fills empty canvases into artworks of drama and romance. Her fondness for colors and simple strokes vividly represents her old soul and unique artistry. Shameless plug: contact her for commissioned artwork. Carla (Sijey) has a sweet side that can make you melt in an instant. She won’t hesitate to throw corny pick-up making the (virtual) office lively. She has a long list of husbandos and does not hesitate to assign one for each day of the week. Stephanie Gonzales (music box) not only has good taste in literature but also in music. She’s adept in playing the Kalimba and listening to worship songs is her stress reliever. Windsor Linus Sumbillo (wordweaver) is the personification of humility itself. He has compassion for everything and remains humble whenever he gets appreciated for his creativity. Windsor is the main character of his life, read him loudly.
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TOLENTINESTAR The Official Student Publication of the University of Negros Occidental -Recoletos tolentinestar@gmail.com | www.facebook.com/tolentinestar
EDITORIAL STAFF A.Y. 2020-2021 EDITORIAL BOARD ROMCHELLE CHRIS DANIELLE WAMINAL EDITOR -IN -CHIEF CRISTOPHER VILLARUEL ASSOCIATE EDITOR JUSALANNE MATULAC MANAGING EDITOR DESK EDITORS LESLIE MARIE BAAN LITERARY EDITOR CARLA JOANNE ROBLES FEATURE EDITOR TECHNICAL EDITORS RENEE SUALA MULTIMEDIA EDITOR REINHARDT FIRMEZA MULTIMEDIA ASSOCIATE ALEA JEN VILLAHERMOSA ONLINE CONTENT MANAGER
Tolentine Star would like to express thanks to the following people : GOD ALMIGHTY for the unending blessings and protection to make the completion of this folio possible; THE GAWAD TOLENTINO PARTICIPANTS AND CONTRIBUTORS for entrusting us with your talents and imparting your pieces, arts, stories, and experiences to us; THE TEACHERS for uplifting the talents of the students and for encouraging them; ENGR. ASHRAF KHATER, ChE, MEnE for being a persistent mentor who encourages, motivates, and guides us every step of the way; KAYE EUNICE LAMERA, RSW for the pep talks, mental health check-ups, and advice that make us strive to be better;
STAFF WRITERS LEA MAY GALIMBA CRISTIAN JAY PLAZA RIALIN YASAY CARTOONISTS RHEYMAR CHUA JOSHUA GARITA GRAPHIC ARTIST RUEL DUHAYLUNGSOD LAYOUT ARTIST PAOLO BELONIO HUMAN RESOURCE CONSULTANT KAYE EUNICE LAMERA, RSW TECHNICAL CONSULTANT ALYSSA MARIE ARCEÑO
ALYSSA MARIE ARCEÑO for providing in-depth feedback, for knowing what will and won’t work in the publication, and for her guidance and constant supervision; DR. DEXTER PAUL DIOSO, CSASS for the trust and for the support as we fulfill our goal to amplify the stories of the students through our outputs; and REV. FR. AMADEO LUCERO, OAR for entrusting us with the holistic development of the student body through campus journalism. This literary folio would not be possible without the love and support from each one of us - author and reader. We thank you for embracing literature and in your continued support for the arts that made this folio into reality. Let the love for literature shape your persona. -Literary Editor
TECHNICAL ADVISER ENGR. ASHRAF KHATER, ChE, MEnE
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