Short Story

Inner Child

By Aleczeah Ysabelle Padre

Lost and forgotten. Abandoned and scared. The inner child cries out to be heard. Memories of neglect and pain, Echo through the mind, like an endless refrain.

Betrayed by those who should have cared, Left to face the world unprepared. The child within is wounded and bruised, Longing for love and to be soothed.

But blaming others won't ease the pain, Nor will it bring sunshine after the rain. Take a deep breath and look inside, Embrace the inner child with love and pride.

Nurture and care for that precious part, Heal the wounds and soothe the heart. For in that child lies a world of wonder, A source of joy, creativity, and thunder.

So let go of the past, and let love in, And let the inner child, begin again.

Granny

By Chariz Villarete

It was once a yellow, shiny morning in an old town. Over a wooden table sits them, and I, A rainstorm of familiarity from brewed coffee, cookie, and milk.

An old radio and an old song swaying to a tune of euphoria. An old woman and an old man, While I, dancing merrily in a new dress, Perfectly tailored by her.

A room full of art sits him and his laughter. My broken pen, crooked lines, His wrinkled hand and rhythmic strokes, A canvas that was once none, Became full of her and a part of him.

It's now all blue, a gloomy evening in a new town. Over a glass table sits me and I, Longing for familiarity, a leftover pizza and an upbeat tune. My pen and lines, no longer broken nor crooked. A canvas that has never been empty, Always been full of them, And always been All of me.

Last, Last Time

By Aleczeah Ysabelle Padre

Amidst the tapestry of my mind, I traverse back to moments long gone, To bittersweet memories of yore, Before moving on to a new dawn.

The past is like a work of art, A canvas of colors, hues, and shades, Each a story, a feeling, a lesson, A thread that's been weaved through the ages.

As I tread the corridors of time, I relive the joys and sorrows anew, And realize how far I have come, Since the days when I was lost and askew.

Now, the hour has come to bid adieu, To the ghosts of the past that I've known, And take with me the wisdom gleaned, As I set forth to reap what I've sown.

Walking barefoot through the memories, Embraced by the autumn-colored leaves, I leave behind what's no longer mine, And hold on to what's yet to be defined.

“Kami Sang Una…”

By Joshua Garita

Linibo ka tikang, Kinilometro nga alagayan.

Amon nga lalakton, Para makatuon.

Kamo subong?

Ano ang inyo rason?

Mga tinaga sang akon amay, Samtang sa akon nagalaygay.

Kami sang una, Sinako nga humay ang dala. Gaagwanta, gaagunto, Pero wala gareklamo.

Kamo subong?

Ano inyo rason?

Hambal sang akon iloy, Samtang gahakot sang kahoy.

Kami subong? Nagaatubang sa ispiho, Gapamangkot, gakadulaan pagtuo. Gapaningwa para sa inyo. Gapaningkamot, gapangaman, Para mabatunan sang kadam-an.

Ang inyo sang una, Amo man sa amon.

Nanari-sari kag pareho nga problema, Sa nagkalain-lain nga henerasyon. Ang inyo indi pag-ikumpara, Ang huna-huna palapara.

Kamo sang una, kami subong.

Amo-amo lang man gihapon.