Stories : Independence Day Contest
Dark Fantasy, Tragic Hero, Apple
Reflection of True Feelings
Mark Poa - Winner
Their first meeting was marked by the sound of steel against steel as the surf crashed into the beach.
The young girl cursed as she grabbed her wrist and saw her knife lying in the sand well out of her reach. The yellow-skinned man, her target turned captor, pointed a thin sword at her chest. “What do you want?” he asked in her tongue. “Why did you attack me?”
His use of her language surprised her, but her anger gave her a strong voice. “Divine retribution, yellow devil! Blood for blood!”
He studied her suspiciously and carefully. Her tribal markings gave her away as a villager from one he visited a week ago. Without removing his gaze and his sword from her, he picked up the knife she had dropped and handed it to her. She hesitated before taking the knife.
“Go away, painted one. I do not have any quarrel with you or your people. I’m a humble trader of goods,” he replied, sheathing his sword.
She spat. “No quarrel! You have brought death and raised the anger of the diwatas!” She pointed to the tattoo markings on her cheek. “These are my divine oath for vengeance!”
The trader shook his head, half in sorrow, half in amusement. “Foolish young one... I suppose I should have expected this when I lost my bag of powder after I demonstrated the fire of the gods to your datu.”
“So, you admit it! The fire powder was yours!” the girl shouted. “My datu and many men in my village are dead because of it!”
The trader sighed. “If foolish people do not heed my words and claim that my powders are more than the toys that they are, it’s inevitable. I have warned the datu enough. He had the idea of eating the powder.”
“You lie! The diwatas have led me here to deliver justice!” she claimed.
“I have no time to stay, little one,” he said as he walked towards his merchant junk. His men were waiting for him, watching the exchange on the beach with slight amusement.
He had already boarded when the girl grabbed onto his back. Two of his men rushed and pried her off him. She continued to shout curses at him as the men tried to hold her back.
“What do we do with her?” one of the men asked in their sing-song native language. The trader was silent for a moment before he reached into his pocket and brought out a mirror.
“A trade for this,” he proposed.
The girl saw her face, full of rage and hate, reflected in the mirror. “What do I need your goods for? I want your blood!”
“And you shall have it when we return here in eight moons,” the trader explained. “But first, I propose a test of your diwatas’ intentions. You say they brought you to me for justice and blood. I believe they brought you here for another purpose.” He brought a hand up to stop her from speaking. “If your oath mark of revenge remains on your face by the time we return, then I shall give you your desired flesh.”
The girl looked at her reflection in the mirror, studying her facial tattoos. “Your word? It does not seem like I have much choice but to trust you.”
“My word,” the trader promised.
And so the girl was brought aboard the trader’s junk as they sailed away. She hardly spoke to anyone and refused any food they offered for a week. But the moon’s sickness suddenly fell on her and she eagerly accepted the medicine they brought her. The trader himself watched over her and cooked her medicine.
When she was well again, she found herself eating with the trader and his crew. None save the trader knew her tongue, but they all treated her kindly. She sailed with the ship for seven moons. She accompanied the crew to islands and villages filled with wonder and experiences. She helped as they brought out and traded their amazing goods―fine silks, ceramics, iron tools, among others―for crops and gems. She watched and marveled as the trader communicated with the villagers in varied tongues. He tried to teach her some as well and appeared glad that she learned quickly. She learned to understand and listened as the trader dealt patiently and fairly with the natives.
One night, she watched her reflection in the mirror he gave her. The tattoos were still there, but the scowl that was there seven moons before had disappeared. Things had indeed changed. She was shaken from her musings when the trader approached her.
“We return to the beach you joined us in two days,” he said as he leaned over and traced her facial tattoos with a finger. “Your oath marks still remain. As promised I will accompany you to face--”
She interrupted him. “No! You are a just man. I was wrong.” Her voice broke as she continued, “I-I don’t want to return. I-I have not told you the whole truth.”―she paused―“I was chosen to kill you, not as a privilege, but as a punishment. In our village, a strong warrior-like girl is an anomaly, an outcast. No one had treated me with the respect and kindness that you and your men have.” She took a deep breath. “And… I believe I have learned to love you.”
The trader sighed deeply. “I’m sorry I cannot return your love, though I’ve grown to care for you. It would bring dishonor to my ancestors for me to lie with a foreigner. I should take you back--”
Crying, the young girl shook her head. “Let me stay with you, at least! Let me sail and be with you in any way, even if it is not as a lover.”
The trader smiled. “I see that I cannot convince you otherwise. You are most welcome, painted one.”
The mirror in her hand reflected the girl’s laughter beautifully.
A Hero A Man A Lover
Jose Socrates Delos Reyes
A young woman strode in the prison cell. She had an air of confidence that even the dark prison could not quench. She was a simple thing, a face that was beautiful, but was not enough to entice all men. And she had raven black curly hair that fell down to her shoulders. Her baro’t saya was a simple white, yet it fit her whole beauty. Her skin was fairly dark, not white like the Spanish colonizers, but not as dark as her fellow countrymen.
She went inside the cell and sat down on a stool in front of the prisoner. Both of them regarded each other in silence.
The man was a small man compared to the colonizers, but he was of fair height in comparison to his fellow countrymen. He was only 35 years old, but he sent of an aura of wisdom, and his black eyes regarded every single detail of his surroundings. He had sleek black hair that was mostly waved to the right, and the rest was left naturally in their place. He had on a suit that matched the bleakness and darkness of his prison.
“So why are you here Josephine?” the man asked.
“Why else, but to see you my love.”
“So you are not here to smuggle me away from the government’s hands? Only for salutations? If not, then I say to you, I will not go.” He sharply asked.
Josephine drew a breath back at the words that struck through her heart.
“He’s right. But how could he know of my plans at the short time I was here?” she asked herself.
“Anyway, I am wasting precious time of what is left for me. Say what you have to say” he said.
“So what are your crimes? One minute you were with us, then you were whisked away by the government, and was announced to be executed.”
“Crimes? I did not commit any crime. However, I have angered the Spanish government. And this is their revenge. The court-martial convicted me for rebellion, sedition and conspiracy, and has sentenced me to die.” He said simply.
“What did you do?! Was it because of La Liga Filipina? Or was it your two novels that stirred this flame into life?” She exclaimed.
“I do not know. But please, let’s not waste my time left for reminiscing or questioning. Please tell me what you have to say to me.”
Without another word, she lowered the collar of her baro’t saya, and revealed a body painting of a ship in sail right between her collar bone and shoulder.
“So, you’ve joined the revolutionary forces in Cavite?”
“Of course, it is to be my tribute to my country, just as you would have your works as your final gift.”
“Why throw away your life in war? What of our unborn child? Have you thought of that?!” He shouted.
“Then why throw away the rest of your life in prison? Do you realize that our child will live without a father to sit on, to grow old with, and to respect?!” She retaliated.
Her words struck true, and the man sat still in silence. After a few minutes, he softly said, “ If I escape, I will not be able to look myself in mirror, into my eyes. I will always be in guilt and people will brand me of cowardice. Even our child may condemn me, and that is not the fate that I want. I would rather die in honour, then live in shame. Please understand my plight. But if I die, then at least you can find another man to love, and my child can call another man ‘Father’. This is the test I would rather not take, but I can die in comfort that I have done what I must to do, as a Filipino, as a lover, and as a father. I don’t want to live a story of shame and guilt for doing something that will hurt my loved ones more than sorrow. Please accept my decision, and live on. Have a fantastic life, a life that I can never have, do this for me.”
Josephine sat still as tears ran down her soft cheeks. She did not accept having to dismiss her love in public to save her face, she did not accept having to hide a curtain of lies to save her and her love from the public’s scrutiny. And now, she is forced to accept that her love would die, that his son would not know him as his father, and that she would have to love another man for the sake of her child.
The man said to her, “This is not the time for tears my love. Please tell my next words to friends of my family after my death. Look inside the alcohol bottle and look inside my shoes. These are important Josephine, and I am entrusting these to you. They are my final words to my family.”
Josephine swallowed deeply and forced her tears to stop flowing. She nodded to the man’s request and tried to compose herself more.
The man continued “Please Josephine, please remember me not as a martyr, not as a hero, but as your love, a lover, and a man. But please, let my son know another man.”
Josephine nodded one last time and departed from the prison cell. Her steps faltering, unsure of their true course. At the exit, she looked back one last time and looked into the eyes of the man she loved.
“Goodbye, dear sir, José Protasio Rizal Mercado y Alonso Realonda.”
He smiled as she said the last words she had uttered to him on the first night they had met. And he replied justly to her words, “Please, you are too formal, we have already been together for a fairly long time. Just call me Jose Rizal. I’m sure we will meet again.”
They both knew that the last thing he said was a lie.
A Maynilad Tale
Christopher Co
Nimawa, after coming out of her room, went to a small shiny plane placed on top of a table in her small hut and picked it up. The shimmering surface surface had a petite-looking but sturdy built lady looking back at her. The woman in the small circular world looked grim, daunted; but her eyes glimmered with aniticipation, determination – filled with hate. The persona vanished away as Nimawa tucked it inside her leather skin bags. She began to exit her small hut but stopped. A man was outside, his firm look at Nimawa suggested that whatever the woman was thinking, it was wrong.
“Get out of the way, Saglut.” She glared at him.
“And let my best friend die? I know what you’re planning to do, i-it’s suicide!”
“Bathala damn me, he killed my family! If this is a test from my ninuno how I should deal with my family’s killer, then vengeance is my answer!”
“Call the datu, he will surely help you! Don’t give in to the hate of your revenge; it’ll bear no good for you.” He replied.
“You’re only saying that because you and his daughter are in love, why don’t YOU muster the courage to propose to her instead of hiding this forbidden love to wander through hot coal.” She retorted back.
Silence fell upon Saglut as Nimawa brushed past him. She swiftly and quietly went through the village, careful not to be spotted as well as heard. She went towards the beaches where the tallest coconut tree stood. She knelt down and unearthed a small package. It was filled with a scarlet paint famous in her family for its vibrant crimson color. The Maynilad girl proceeded to paint it artistically around her body as a symbol for battle, just as her fathers did. She glanced once more at the coconut tree, now its shadow looming across the sea towards the ships that housed yellow-skinned thin eyed people from across the great ocean.
She resumed her travel through the village, the smell of smoke and wine wafted with the early morning breeze as it went pass her. Finally she found the hut that her anger’s source resided. Last night’s festivities left the village defenseless, even the guards are drunk and sound asleep. Nimawa proceeded inside unnoticed in the shadows as her eyes searched thoroughly from every inch of the hut. Then the wind, as if on her side, blew a different breeze. She followed its direction and found him. Without a doubt that the person sleeping was him, a single bead shaped like the shells, an heirloom to her family, was dangling from one of his many wrongly acquired necklaces and talismans.
The anger flared so hard that Nimawa could clearly remember the screams. She was still a little girl back then, she was hidden at the silong of her hut as she quietly cried and watched as shadows made a loud thud at the bamboo flooring. She was about to move and find her mother when another loud sound crashed right on top of her. She looked up, eyes wide in shock, as her own mother was looking down at her own. Tears dripped down from her mother’s eyes as they made small wet circles in young Nimawa’s clothes. But something else dripped down, warm, thick, and red, blood. Blood was dripping down to her face as the life of her mother dripped down. Beyond her another figure loomed over. The enmity that she felt at that moment flared even more when that man ripped off their family talisman, a blue bead the shape of a shell.
“Die man whose heart is filled with greed and evil, killing a family for your own selfish desires.”
Nimawa wiped away the tears that welled up in her eyes as she unsheathed the blade from her waist. She was about to strike when her target woked up and screamed at the shock that was before him. As quickly as she could, Nimawa tried to slash the noble yet, he was too fast for her. He was able to grab hold of the hilt and began to struggle for it. Loud crashes and yelps of pain alarmed the neighbors who woke up and began to come to the noble’s house.
Saglut was one of these people who rushed in. He was internally struggling to help his best friend or hand her in for the judgment of the datu. Yet he brushed these things aside as he blazed in the hut only to discover pools of blood streaming down from the cracks of the floor. Nimawa lay bloody. The noble, gasping for breath, also injured in the struggle looked at Saglut and ordered him to get the datu at once. But the datu was already inside.
“Datu, this woman tried to assassinate me!” The noble pointed it out. “Please handle this whilst I tend to my injuries.”
The datu nodded in agreement. As the noble was about to leave Saglut saw the talisman that Nimawa spoke of. He quickly yanked the strings that held the many talismans and necklaces of the noble and interjected the datu of his dealings with the other guards and villagers.
“Datu, this man is a murderer! Look at this family heirloom! Was not this the symbol of the massacred family many seasons ago?”
The datu, perplexed at the sight of evidence came to a new judgment, he ordered the noble to be taken into account. The guards now seized the noble as they carried him off while he was shouting protests.
The following day, Nimawa had a quiet funeral. Her body now laid in one of the burial jars. Saglut together with Niwat, his beloved, now free to be together, joined in their silent moment. Saglut placed the mirror that Nimawa treasured, his gift when they were younger, inside the jar. The mirror reflected Nimawa’s peaceful face, before they sealed the lid.
Binukot
Jonathan Salazar
HININTAY ni Hikap na matapos ang pagtitipon bago gawin niya ang balak niya. Nasa isa siyang komunidad ng mga Ati sa timog ng Madya-as1. Upang makahalubilo ng di nakikilala, pinahiran niya ng uling ang buo niyang katawan at naglagay ng pintura sa mukha at katawan. Isa-isa nang nagsisipaguwian ang lahat sa kani-kanilang bahay. Isang tao ang kanyang binbantayan ng tingin. Alam mong hindi siya tagaroon dahil kakaiba ang kulay ng kanyang balat, mas mataas kaysa sa karaniwang Ati, at puno ng tatu ang katawan. Susuray-suray itong naglakad patungo sa isang bahay sa dulo ng daan, halatang nasobrahan sa pag-inom ng tapuy2. Nang nakasiguro siya na walang ibang tao sa paligid ay nilapitan niya ito sa likod. Nilabas na niya ang isang yantok na pamalo
“Mukhang naparami ka ng inom, Gahit,” sabi niya rito sa salitang Sulod.
Tumigil at akmang tatalikod ang lalaki nang paluin ni Hikap ito sa batok. Agad itong bumagsak sa lupa. Maliksi ang mga kilos ni Hikap. Dali-daling tinalian ng tela ang bibig nito at binigkis ng tali ang mga kamay. Buhat sa kanyang balikat, dinala niya ito sa bangkang hinanda niya kanina. Pagkatapos magbanlaw sa dagat, dagli siyang sumakay at nagsagwan patungo sa hilaga ng isla.
Habang nagsasagwan ay naalala niya ang lahat ng pangyayari isang taon na ang nakakaraan.
TULAD ng nakagawian nila mula pa nung bata pa sila at kabilugan ng buwan, Naroon na si Danawa sa tagpuan nila sa isang tagong bukal sa kagubatan. Nadatnan ni Hikap na nagsasanay ito ng sayaw. Napakaganda ng bikas ng katawan ng dalagita habang sumasayaw sa saliw ng isang kantang tanging siya lang ang nakakarinig. Hindi mo aakalain na siya ang kababata ni Hikap na asal lalaki na nakikipagsabayan sa kanya sa pag-akyat ng puno o makipaghabulan sa mga usa.
“Ang husay mo nang sumayaw,” sabi ni Hikap.
“Salamat,” tugon ni Danawa. Tumigil ito sa pagsayaw at humarap sa kanya. “Kay tagal ko naman nagsanay. Akala ko nga ay hindi ko na ito matutunan. Ang hirap pala maging binukot3.”
“May dala nga pala ako para sa iyo.” Ibinigay ni Hikap ang isang bagay na nakabalot sa sedang tela. Nang alisin ni Danawa ang balot ay namangha siya sa nakita. Isa itong salamin na gawa sa tanso na may hawakang kahoy na may palamuti ng bulaklak sa gilid. Nabigla siya nang maaninag niya ang kanyang mukha sa salamin.
“Madami rin kasi akong napatuyo na balat ng hayop. May dumating kanina na mga Chino lulan ng mga malaking sasakyang dagat. Nang makita ko yan sa isang Chino ay hindi ako nag-atubili na makipagpalit. Alam ko kasi magagamit mo yan sa pag-aayos ng sarili mo.”
“Ang ganda! Salamat, Hikap,” sabay yakap sa kaibigan. Nais sanang umiwas ni Hikap ngunit huli na. Ang mga bisig ni Danawa ay pumalibot sa dibdib ng binatilyo.
“Mabuti naman at nagustuhan mo. Pero sa susunod ay hindi mo na ako kailangang yakapin para magpakita ng pasasalamat. Sapat na ang salita at ngiti.”
“Bakit naman?”
“Isa ka nang binukot, Danawa. Hindi ka dapat nga mahawakan ng kahit na sinong lalaki.”
“Ano naman ang pakialam nila? Ikaw na nga lang ang nakakapagpasaya sa akin. Lagi na lang kasi akong nakakakulong sa loob ng bahay buong araw tapos puro aral pa ang pinagagawa. Nakakabugnot na.”
“May sasabihin akong mahalaga…Dapat ay itigil na natin ang pagkikita nating ito.”
Natulala si Danawa sa sinabi ni Hikap.
“Kinausap ako kanina ng nakakatanda mong kapatid na si Gahit. Binantaan niya akong ilalagpak sa pagsubok ko bilang pagkalalaki kapag hindi ko tinigil ang makipagkita sa iyo. Kahit mariin kong sinabi na hindi tayo nagkikita ay hindi siya maniwala. Ako lang naman daw ang pupuntahan mo nang minsang nadatnan ka niyang tumakas noong isang gabi. Ayoko namang mapahiya sa pamilya ko kapag lumagpak ako sa pagsubok.”
Matagal bago nakasagot si Danawa. “Ang ibig mong sabihin…” Nangingilid na ang luha sa mga mata nito.
“Kahit masakit sa akin ay ito na ang huli nating pagkikita.”
“Pakiusap, huwag mong gawin yan. Kakausapin ko ang kapatid ko…”
“Pag kinausap mo siya ay malalamang nakikipagkita ka sa isang lalaki. Pag hindi ka na binukot ay maaaring malasin ang pamilya mo at ang ating bayan. Kaya wag mong gawin yan.”
Umiyak nang tuluyan si Danawa. Hindi na rin napigilan ni Hikap na lumuha.
“Masama mang tignan pero aaminin ko, napamahal ka na sa akin ng higit sa isang kaibigan4. Kung mayaman lang ako at kaya kong pantayan ang bigay-kaya ng lahat ay gagawin ko.
Nabigla uli si Danawa sa sinabi.
“Kaya paalam na sa iyo, mahal ko. Ingatan mo na lang ang huling bigay ko sa iyo bilang alaala,” huling sabi ni Hikap sabay takbo palayo.
PASIKAT pa lang ang araw nang bumalik ang ulirat ni Gahit. Napansin na lamang niya na nakatali siya sa isang puno. Nakatayo sa harap niya si Hikap.
“Maligayang pagbabalik sa iyong bayan, Gahit. Sayang at ilang sandali ay mamamaalam ka na rin sa lugar na ito,” ang sabi ni Hikap
Nilabas ni Hikap mula kaluban nito ang kanyang balaraw.
“Hayup ka. Maaari ka namang pumili ng kahit na sinong babae sa lugar natin. Bakit si Danawa pa na sarili mong kapatid?”
Lumapit si Hikap kay Gahit at tinutok ang balaraw sa leeg nito.
“Hindi mo ba natatandaan? Sa lugar na ito mo pinagsamantalahan at pinatay ang sarili mong kapatid. Muntik mo na ngang ibintang sa akin ang kahalayan na ginawa mo. Kung hindi sa kaputol ng iyong kwintas na hawak ni Danawa at makita sa gamit mo ang bigay kong salamin ay magtatagumpay ka sana. Hindi ka na dapat mabuhay pa!”
Akmang gigiikan na ni Hikap si Gahit nang matigilan siya. Naisip niya na hindi na maibabalik ng pagkamatay ni Gahit ang buhay ni Danawa. Kaya sinukbit na lamang niya ang kanyang balaraw at lumayo.
“Wala akong karapatang kitlin ang buhay mo. Hahayaan kitang madatnan dito ng mga kawal. Kailangan maparusahan ka ayon sa ating mga batas.”
“Danawa. Hindi ko magawa ang pangako ko sa iyo,” bulong ni Hikap sa sarili. “Patawad, mahal kong binukot.”
1 Isla ng Panay ngayon.
2 Alak gawa sa bigas.
3 Nakatagong dilag na may maputing kutis na nagsasalaysay ng epiko, sumasayaw at umaawit ng katutubong sayaw at awit, at tagapaglagak ng kasasayan sa pamamagitan ng memorya.
4 Sa mga Sulod, masamang diretsahin sabihin sa isang babae ang nararamdan ng isang lalaki. Kailangan ay magpahaging lang siya.
Kwaderno
Raymond Lee Quijano
PAGKATAPOS madakip at mapugutan ng ulo ang kaniyang ina na si Josefa Gabriela sa Plaza ng Vigan, Ilokos Sur, sa salang rebelyon laban sa mga Kastila’y nagpasyang lumayo at manilbihan si Clara bilang isang katulong sa balong matalik na kaibigan ng kaniyang ina.
Ipinangako niya sa kaniyang sarili na ipaghihiganti niya ang mga kalupitang naranasan ng kaniyang pamilya laban sa mga dayuhang sumakop ng kanilang bansa, pati na rin sa mga kababayan niyang nagpagamit sa mga ito.
Matapos ang ilang buwang paninilbihan niya dito’y nagpasya siyang pumunta sa Berlin at duon mag-aral upang makakuha ng titulo sa lipunan na siyang gagamitin niya sa kaniyang paghihiganti. Inabot ng ilang araw ang kaniyang paglalayag sa karagatan at marami rin siyang nakilalang mga tao na may kapangyarihan sa lipunan. Ginamit niya ang kaniyang angking talino at kagandahan upang makakuha rin ng iba’t ibang impormasyon sa bansang kaniyang pupuntahan.
Ngunit habang nagsusulat siya ng liham sa pampublikong cabin ng barko at biglang natabing ng lalake ang tintang kaniyang ginagamit at tumapon sa kaniyang dibdib. Humingi ng paumanhin ang lalake ngunit binalewala niya ito, bagkus ay isang malakas na sampal ang sinapo nito sa kaniyang kaliwang pisngi.
Pagkaalis ng lalake ay bigla niyang tinungo ang kaniyang kwarto upang tingnan sa salamin ang tintang tumapon sa kaniyang dibdib. Tatagal pa siguro ng ilang linggo bago tuluyang mawala ang marka ng tintang iyon.
MAAYOS namang nakarating sa Berlin si Clara at naging madali para sa kaniya na kabisaduhin ang bawat sulok ng siyudad dahil sa nabili niyang mapa.
Naging maayos ang kaniyang pamumuhay bilang estudyante sa Universidad ng Berlin. Sa umaga’y sinusunog niya ang kaniyang kilay sa pagbabasa at sa gabi nama’y isa siyang tagapaglingkod sa malaking restaurant na bukas hanggang hating-gabi.
Nuon niya napansin ang isang lalake na halos hindi na makabangon dahil sa sobrang kalasingan. Nilapitan niya ito’t pinilit na ayusin sa kaniyang pagkakaupo ngunit sadyang mabigat ang lalake. Pagkaraan pa nang ilang minuto’y naging maayos na rin ang pakiramdam nito at dito niya napansin na siya rin ang lalakeng nakasagi ng kaniyang tinta habang nagsusulat siya sa barko.
Sa pagkakataong iyo’y nagkaruon sila ng pagkakataon na makapag-usap tungkol sa nangyaring aksidente sa barko. Mabilis na nagkasundo ang dalawa ngunit kinailangang umalis kaagad ng lalake nang hindi man lang niya naitanong kung saan ito nakatira o kung ano ang ginagawa niya sa Berlin.
Pagkapasok niya sa kaniyang inuupahang kwarto’y wala pa ring tigil sa bilis ng pagtibok ang kaniyang puso. Lagi niyang iniisip ang mestizong lalakeng kaniyang nakilala. Bagama’t alam niyang may katandaan ito nang maraming taon sa kaniya’y hindi ito naging hadlang upang mapagtanto niya na umiibig na pala siya sa lalakeng iyon.
HABANG patakbong tinutungo ni Clara ang silid aralan para sa kaniyang huling pagsusulit ay nabunggo niya ang lalake sa kaniyang harapan. Nasaktan siya ng bahagya dahil sa na rin sa kaniyang kapabayaan. Nang lingunin niya kung sino ang kaniyang nabunggo’y nagulat na lamang siya ng muli niyang makita ang mestizong lalakeng bumabagabag sa kaniyang puso’t pag-iisip.
Bale wala ang sakit na kaniyang tinamo dahil lalo niyang napatunayan sa kaniyang sarili na umiibig siya dito nang hilutin nito ang kaniyang mga kamay. Ngunit mabilis din siyang nagpaalam sa mestizong lalake dahil mahuhuli na siya sa kaniyang pagsusulit.
Habang hinihintay nila ang kanilang guro’y laking gulat niya nang makita ang mestizong lalake. Isa rin pala itong guro sa paaralang kaniyang pinapasukan. Palibhasa’y lumiban ang kanilang totoong guro dahil sa mataas na sinat kung kaya’t siya muna ang pansamantalang pumalit dito sa pagkakataong iyon.
Pagkatapos ng pagsusulit ay niyaya siya nito na kumain sa labas at iyon ang naging simula ng kanilang madalas na pagkikita at sa kalauna’y nauwi sa pag-iibigan. Naging madali sa kanilang dalawa ang pag-aralang mahalin ang isa’t isa dahil sa kanilang tila baliktad na ugali.
Si Clara’y matapang ngunit maamo sa kaniyang minamahal. Samantalang ang mestizong lalake nama’y lagi siyang kinakausap at inaalagaan nito.
ISANG araw, habang inaayos ni Clara ang gamit ng kaniyang pinakamamahal na mestizong lalake ay may napansin siyang lumang kwaderno na pagmamay-ari ng mestizong lalake na nagsasaad ng kaniyang nakaraan. Binuklat niya ito at sinimulang basahin ang nag-iisang akda na nakatala duon.
Hindi ko napigilan ang aking sarili. Napaslang ko ang aking matalik na kaibigan dahil sa tinatago kong maling pag-ibig para kay Josefa Gabriela na alam kong ito’y para kay Diego lamang!
Dahil dito’y magpapakalayo-layo ako at pipilitin kong ayusin ang aking buhay. Hindi na muli akong iibig pang muli dahil para sa kaniya lamang ang aking pag-ibig, na siya ring kaisa-isang pag-ibig na ipinagkait sa akin ng tadhana.
Patawad kaibigan ko, patawad Diego.
Pagkatapos mabasa ang akda’y may nakita pa siyang larawan sa kabilang pahina nito na kung saa’y may nakaguhit na tatlong tao: Si Josefa Gabriela, Diego, at ang mestizong lalakeng kaniyang iniibig.
Something More than Just Bloody Infidelity
Isabel Patricia Soresca
Her head hung low as she quietly muttered words of comfort to herself, but she knew that nothing she said could ease the pain caused by the gripping rope that stretched her wrists far apart and held her above the ground. I quietly watched as the tears that rolled down her face joined the puddle of blood and paint mixture, five feet bellow her.
“Why are you here?” I heard her whisper softly, yet frigidly and almost condemningly. My lips parted, but no words escaped them. Instead I stayed hushed, letting my eyes wander through her painted, otherwise bare geography I mentally took note of all her scars- tokens he left her, just in case he hadn’t damaged her enough to make the pain last forever- and her fresher wounds, still bleeding from contact with whips, knives and gun barrels.
“Why’d you do it? I told you not to, didn’t I?” I asked her bitterly, my voice slightly shaking out of anger and excruciating grief.
“Y-you just…just don’t understand…” She chocked out, “I want him beaten up…thrown into jail to rot there forever. No, wait…not that. I want him beaten up, bloody and halfway dead before someone shoves a gun up his throat. I j-just wa-want...” She broke into heavy sobs, sending shivers rippling through her body. For a moment my heart ached to free her from her bondage-both literally and metaphorically-and envelope her in an assuring embrace.
I mentally slapped myself, knowing I couldn’t possibly perform either of such loving acts. I cleared my throat and spoke with as much decisiveness as I could possibly muster, “Your father wouldn’t permit it. To have that man-who happens to be the son of your father’s greatest political ally- punished would mean revealing that he touched you! Imagine the shame you’d bring to your family, haven’t you brought them enough with your behavior uncharacteristic of a lady?” She stopped weeping for a moment, raising her dark brown eyes to meet mine, “Of course, you’re on my father’s side! You’re his pet! His highly skilled little pet! His ever dependable, over commendable pet! Ever since this Martial Law was declared, you’ve been cleaning up my father’s mess for him! All these people he’s had killed, you’ve been covering it up from him. And since the country is in chaos, neither you nor he is ever caught. You’re both utterly repulsive…” She said darkly, keeping a low growl beneath her throbbing chest. The moment a stabbing pain stroked my chest, I knew that something she said hit too close to home.
“I’m repulsive? Well, what about you? Rebelling against your own father? Having a relationship with the same sex? Parading in front of your father’s guests uncovered by anything other than body paint displaying your protests? For heaven’s sakes, almost the whole senate was there. Of course you’d receive such gruesome punishment, you’re just absolutely revolting. I mean look at yourself…” I stopped silent at that point, she wasn’t revolting, not one tiny bit. I was lying, to her and to myself. I sighed, deep and turned to face her pitiful, slumping form, “What has become of you? You’re wasted, broken and tattered.” She refused to answer; refused to look up at me. Instead she simply broke down in tears again, losing all the courage she acquired from her manly illusion of herself.
“I-I just wanted to redeem myself, free myself. I thought that perhaps if I avenge myself, then I can liberate myself from this injustice.” She sobbed further. Surrendering to my more affectionate nature, I sighed, picking up one of the knives that lay on the floor and began cutting away on her binding ropes.
“So you decided to join those rebels in the mountains, is that it?” I asked her halfway kindly. With her right arm finally coming lose, I gripped her waist so she would not fall roughly on the floor. I set her down, gently letting go to cut free her other arm.
“You’d think that by now you would’ve learned that there’s only one way to truly be free of your scars.” The rope finally surrendered, letting her left arm drop to the ground. She looked up at me, almost thankful. I smiled at her, feeling my conscience roar within me. Choosing to ignore it, I sat down beside her and carefully pulled her close to me. Her sun tanned skin felt soft against my rough, calloused fingers.
I stroked her hair gently as I spoke, “The only way to find true peace is to have faith and reside in God. Perhaps you should get away from this place, I’m sure it’ll help you regain your faith. We’ll have you on a ship to the states tomorrow morning, how that sound?” When she didn’t respond, I began to feel around for that mirror I keep in my pocket. When I finally got my hand on it, I took it out and showed it to her. It was an ordinary mirror, but a midnight blue lacing embellished it beautifully. “Here, bring this with you. It’ll remind you of who you are, no matter what happened to you. It will also show you how you beautiful you gradually become. I promise you that when all this is over, you’ll come back here and we’ll be looking into this mirror together admiring how beautiful you’ve become. “She nodded, turning to embrace me. For a moment I thought it was actually possible for her to love me too, but I shook my head immediately.
“I’ll make the arrangements. Stay here and wait for the maids.” She nodded, and I set her down on the floor. I turned to her wretched form before walking out the door.
When I got outside, loud clapping of a tall broad man met me. He was formally dressed, and he had the looks that can charm dimes out of the people’s pockets. “Well done. You passed my final trial splendidly; therefore, proving your excellent proficiency. Bravo. Why, if I didn’t I didn’t know better I’d say you were in love with my daughter But you wouldn’t betray me like that, would you?” He said darkly. I agreed and he grinned at me with pride. What my master doesn’t know won’t hurt him…
Untitled
Airnel Abarra
Sa gitna ng pakikipaglaban ng mag-asawang Diego at Gabriela Silang ay nagkaroon sila ng isang anak na babae. Lumaki ito sa kanilang piling at kahit mahirap ang buhay dahil sa pagtugis ng mga Espanyol. Ngunit sa kasamaang palad, ay pataksil na pinatay si Diego ng kanyang kaibigang si Miguel Vicos. Ang pangyayaring ito ay nagpa-alab sa damdamin ni Gabriela na ipaghiganti ang kanyang asawa. Apat na taon pa lang ang kanilang anak nang mangyari iyon at ipinagpatuloy ni Gabriela ang paglaban sa mga dayuhan sa hangad din na maipaghiganti ang kanyang asawa.
Ngunit sadyang malakas ang pwersa ng mga dayuhan at ipinagpatuloy nila ang pagtugis kay Gabriela. At sa kadahilanang ito ay naisip nya na walang ibang paraan kundi ang tumakas at pansamantalang magkuta sa ibang lupain habang mainit pa ang mga pangyayari.
Biglaang sumalakay ang mga dayuhan sa kuta ni Gabriela at ng kanyang mga kasama, kaya dagli siyang tumakas kasama ang kanyang anak. Habang nasa pantalan, ay pinagbilinan ni Gabriela ang kanyang anak, “Hiyas, aking anak, kung mahuli man ako ng ating mga kaaway, ay huwag mong pababayaan ang salaming ito.” At ibinigay ni Gabriela ang isang salaming gawa sa Pilak. “Piliting mong pumunta sa Bohol, kung hindi mo man ito magawa ngayon, tiyakin mo na ang mga susunod mong mga anak ay makatungo doon. Ang mga babaylan doon ang makapagsasabi ng kanilang gagawin sa salaming ito”
May isang Casco na papaalis noon ngunit, hinangad pa rin ni Gabriela na makipaglaban. Ngunit napuruhan ang babaeng matapang ng punglo ng mga baril sa Ulo at Dibdib. Kitang-kita ito ni Hiyas at lumuluha siyang umalis at nagtago sa loob ng Casco. Nakintal sa isipan niya na dapat niyang ipaghiganti ang kanyang magulang.
Nakita ng kapitan at may-ari ng Casco ang naiyak na bata at nilapitan niya ito at hinagkan. Naawa ang kapitan sa nangyari kay Hiyas. “Kung wala ka pang matutuluyan, ay maaring sumama ka muna sa pagbibiyahe ko papuntang Bohol.” Tugon ni Kapitan Gotangco, isang Tsino na mangangalakal. “Ngunit upang hindi ka mabastos ng mga kalalakihan, ay dapat hindi ka nila makilalang isang babae”. At kinuha nito ang isang gunting at sinimulang gupitan si Hiyas, Sa una ay tumututol ang batang babae ngunit ng nakita niya sa salaming ibinigay ng kanyang ina ang kanyang sarili. Napag-isip nya na mas higit siyang kaakit-akit kung maikli ang kanyang buhok. “ Eto magbihis ka ng bago” Sabi ni Gotangco pagkatapon ng isang pantalon at camisa. “O ang guwapo mo pala Hhh Hiram! yan ang bago mong pangalan.
Maraming itinuro si Gotangco kay Hiyas (o Hiram) habang naglalakbay. Dito higit na naging matigas ang katauhan ng batang babae dahil na rin sa hirap sa paglalakbay Halos siyam na taon gulang si Hiyas nang makarating ito sa Bohol dahil hindi naman kaagad nakadaong ang Casco doon dahil nauna muna itong dumaan sa Batangan, Maynila at Panay.
Nang makarating sa Tagbilaran, dito na nanirahan si Hiyas. Sadyang mapamaraan itong si Gotangco kaya nabigyan niya ng maayos na matutuluyan ang dalagita. Hanggang isang araw, habang nasa plasa ay nakita ni Hiyas ang isang matandang babae. Nagtagpo ang kanilang mga mata. Iba ang naging pakiramdam ng dalawa. Kaya madaling sumama ang si Hiyas sa matandang babae. Sa kanilang pagpunta sa kuweba malayo sa bayan, ay doon na tiningnan ni Hiyas sa salamin na ang matandang babae ay isang babaylan.
Sinabi na rin ng matandang babaylan na batid nya ang pagdating ni Hiyas at nalaman niya na ito ang anak ni Gabriela. Isang mahirap na pagsubok ang dapat niyang pagdaanan upang magkaroon ng kapangyarihan. Isa na rito ang pagkakaroon ng titik sa kanyang katawan nang sa gayon ay mag-anyo siyang siyang lalaki sa oras na maakit niya ang kanyang kaaway. Labing walong taong gulang na si Hiyas noon.
Ang isa pang matinding kundisyon ng kapangyarihan ay magmahal siya ng isang mongha sa kumbento ng Carmen. At kailangan niyang maisagawa ang pagsiping sa lalong madaling panahon dahil oras na mahuli siya ng Kura nang hindi nagagawa ang pagtatalik ay mawawalan ng bisa ang kapangyarihan.
Madaling nagpunta si Hiyas sa kumbento at nakita niya ang isang mongha. Gamit ang salaming bigay ng ina ay agad niyang naakit ang mongha na magpunta sa kampanaryo. Dito isinakatuparan ni Hiyas ang kanyang pakay upang makuha ang kapangyarihan. Sinimulan niyang damhin ang ligayang dulot ng pakikiapid sa kapwa niyang kasarian at sa loob nilang oras ay nakuha niyang dumating sa kasukdulan ng kanyang pagtatalik. Matapos nito ay naramdaman niyang lumakas ang kanyang katawan.
Ito naman ang pagkakataon na pumunta ang kura malapit sa kampanaryo upang kumuha ng gamit sa baptisteryo na nasa ilalim ng kampanaryo at narinig niya ang halinghing ng dalawang babae. At natambad sa kanyang paningin ang hubad na katawan ni Hiyas at ng mongha nang ang Kura ay umakyat sa kampanaryo. Natauhan ang mongha at hiyang-hiya sa kanyang ginawa at ito ay hinimatay. Walang inaksayang panahon si Hiyas at dagling tumakas kasama ang mongha.
Buo na ang kapangyarihan ni Hiyas. Anyo pa rin niya ay babae ngunit sadyang malaki na ang kanyang katawan kaya madali niyang natakbo karga ang mongha patungong pantalan. Tila batid ng pagkakataon na nandoon si Gotangco at ang kanyang Casco at nakilala niya si Hiyas kaagad. At wala itong inaksayang panahon at inumpisahang pinaandar ang Casco hanggang makalayo. Dito na ibinunyag ni Hiyas ang kanyang pakay. At madali itong naintindihan ni Gotangco. Dahil na rin sa abilidad ng kapitan ng Bapor ay nabatid niya si Vicos ay nasa San Pablo Delos Montes, Laguna de Bay
Madaling tumungo si Hiyas sa San Pablo De Los Montes. Sa nayon ng Balagbag ay nalaman niyang 70 taon na ang kanyang pakay.
Gabi noon at mag-isa si Vicos na nagpapahangin sa Azotea nang makita si Hiyas ay hindi niya ito makilala. Nagpuyos ang galit ni Hiyas at kanyang hinalikan si Vicos ngunit pahigop upang alisin ang hangin sa kanyang katawan hanggang masipsip ang dugo ng matanda at yakapin hanggang sa maglagutukan ang buto ng nagtaksil sa ama niyang si Diego.
Ilang saglit lang ay namatay na si Vicos. Dahil walang makitang panggatong si Gotangco sa siga malapit sa bahay ng pinatay ni Hiyas ay sinunog na lang nila ang bangkay. Kinabukasan ay tumulak na uli sila sa Bay upang pumunta sa Ilog Pasig papuntang Colegio de Santa Isabel at ipaampon ang babaeng naging instrumento ng pagkakaroon ng kapangyarihan ng anak ni Diego at Gabriela. Umalis si Gotangco upang mabigyan si Hiyas ng pagkakataon mag-isip kung itutuloy niya ang sinimulan ng kanyang mga magulang.
Way Among the Waves
Rodolfo Santiago
The suffering he endured had almost made him forget the joy in living. The darkness had erased the memory of light; the hard floor had masked the memories of soft caresses. If only the suffering had erased its own memory…
But he still recalled…
“Get in the cell, you turd!”
And then there was a month… one of nothing but darkness, day and night; hunger, to accompany the darkness; thirst, to complement the hunger. It was hell and it stank like it…
Then a break…
“Get up, you cur,” sneered a nameless body. “It’s your lucky day.”
Senseless clamoring scraped at the cell walls, its rotten door.
And then a chance…
“…this one chance to redeem yourself. You will lead… than one hundred and fifty sailors. Your target… Laurens de Graaf. He is not to leave with his life … with his head or whatever remains of… the witch with him,”
There was a name he wouldn’t forget for the tales and the face it carried…
“Anne Dieu-le-Veut,”
The commodore’s face darkened intently, but there was something shining in his eyes…
“Bring her to me…Pass this test, and you will regain freedom.”
Now he knew what was in those eyes. He felt it burning behind his own amber irises, burning so that his pupils glowed…
“Treacherous as the sea, twice the beauty…”
He wanted her, desired her.
“Your orders, sir?” Distant. Petty.
He would have her.
“Sir?” Louder. Persistent. Irritating.
“Must I say everything?” he snapped. “The bastards I once sailed with reeked like the devil’s pits, but they could piss without needing orders!”
His name was Guillermo Cortez; his rank was captain. He stood upon the forecastle of a man-of-war of the Armada. The abrasive memories of his past drove him onward as the Atlantic winds drove his ship.
“There are two frigates and two skiffs, yes?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Have messages delivered to the other ships: take the enemy directly. Our ship will sail around them and take them from behind.”
The junior officer saluted and did as he was bid.
De Graaf… today you will die and relinquish the angel you stole from heaven… and she will sail with me…
“Starboard, helmsman; strike from behind.”
The ship lurched, leaning heavily to its right, parting the dark green waters under its prow.
Rot in hell commodore… with her at my side, all of Spain will tremble under my cannons again…
“First gun-deck, relinquish posts, arm for boarding,” the captain called, “second gun-deck, third and fourth, prepare cannons for broadside! All arms at deck, ready grappling lines and ladders!” As the ship cut through the tossing surf, men in clean uniforms readied for the bloody task ahead.
The four vessels they targeted slowly became clearer to Guillermo’s eyes. The skiffs were like oversized dinghies, many oars missing, and with sails torn and patched several times, each worse off than the last. The frigates held more dignity, their sails still puffed proudly, and their oars all accounted for. Skiff and frigate alike were heavily armed for their size, but couldn’t match a Spanish galleon. A black flag with a skull and a white feather billowed above one: the flagship of Laurens de Graaf and his erstwhile wife, Anne Dieu-le-Veut.
Guillermo’s ship was slipping past the pirate fleet, some leagues away, when the first cannons fired.
As they came in from behind, Guillermo saw that the skiff that had been on the far side as they crossed was now sinking; its ruins lay as a spread of timbers across the ocean surface. The flagship was trying to circle around to a better position, while the other skiff and frigate did battle with Guillermo’s ships.
“Increase speed!” Guillermo bellowed, and as their ship sped towards them, it seemed de Graaf became aware of his presence. His own flagship began to circle, and as its side turned towards the oncoming galleon, it released a volley.
Most the shots fell short, but as the galleon closed the distance, some shells found their mark. The galleon was decidedly damaged by the time it aligned and managed to return fire. If its gunfire lacked haste, however, its ferocity was in abundance.
After the first few shots, grappling lines were sent across, latching onto the splintered timbers of the two ships. Ladders were sent across, and men dashed from one scarred ship to the next. And Captain Cortez was right where they met.
Charging across a boarding platform, he lay waste the first pirate with a swift thrust from his longer sword. The next he stabbed with his short steel and shoved to the waters below.
He leapt onto the frigate deck with a growl and sought out its captain. By good fortune, he saw a reflection on his polished, mirror-like blade, and whirled around.
Laurens de Graaf... at last…
Guillermo deflected the first blow with his short steel, but it snapped near the hilt. He riposted, missed, and barely dodged Laurens’ counterattack.
“Your days with Anne are over,” Guillermo hissed.
“Is that what this is about?” Laurens laughed and slashed.
Guillermo deflected with his hilt and stabbed Laurens, piercing his side. He pressed the attack, punching Laurens with off-hand before bashing his face with his sword-hilt. He took a cut in the side from Laurens, but, undaunted, stabbed back. Laurens fell, and as he did, it seemed the battle ended.
Then he saw her. She stood in front of the last pirates, body covered in bright painted designs, frowning, unarmed, looking defeated.
Guillermo approached and bowed. “M’lady, I have come to liberate you from that devil who claimed you.”
A smile flashed demurely from between her lips. “Quite the hero…”
A knife flashed suddenly from between her fingers. “But really…”
Guillermo gurgled back randomly, eyes glazing over with shock and death.
Where’d it come from?
“It’d never work with a navy-man. And one way or another, he was my husband…”
Fighting resumed; buckets of blood touched the frigate deck that day, along with a single woman’s tears.
Untitled
David Ryan Tarog
It’s funny how bittersweet vengeance can be.
Blood tricked down the side of the dead man’s mouth. Sightless eyes stared back at me.
“That was for Rio,” I murmured. “And Esmeralda.”
* * *
Rio
I was the only girl in a family of guys. Thus, I’d gotten into “boy” stuff like wrestling and tag. No dolls or playing house. Nothing else mattered to me.
Until I met Esmeralda.
Emmie was tall, pretty and charming―everything I wasn’t. I was attracted to her from the moment I saw her.
There’s just one problem: she wasn’t into other girls, like I was.
Fortunately, I had one advantage. Her parents were very strict, so boyfriends were hard to come by.
While I couldn’t be her sweetheart, I did become her best friend. Not exactly what I’d wanted, but at least I could get close to her.
Close enough to find out how she’d traded her innocence for a passing grade.
She cried on my shoulder as she told me the story. After having failed her final exam, Emmie had asked Professor Sanchez for a way to make up for it.
He’d agreed to help her out…for a very intimate price
The bastard deserved to die, but I needed help…
* * *
Gildo
I was mixing different colors of body paint when she waltzed into my studio. The look on her face spoke volumes. Not that I would’ve refused Rio. I’d have killed for her.
Turns out she wanted me to investigate someone, not commit murder.
“What?!?” I exclaimed.
“Please, Herm,” she said. “I can’t approach anyone else.”
“Don’t call me that! It sounds like a freak’s name!”
“Please, Gildo.”
I sighed. It was hard to say no to her. “You’re asking for trouble.”
She blushed. “I’ll…make it worth your while.”
“Don’t.” I saw the pained expression on her face and immediately regretted it. “I’m sorry,” I said in a softer tone. “I won’t accept that.”
“What do you want, then?”
“You misunderstand me, Rio. I won’t accept someone whose heart belongs to someone else.”
“But…”
I shook my head. “Save it for the one you really love.”
“Will you help me?”
“Even if I refuse, you’ll find some other way. I might as well.”
I knew she’d be overjoyed; I just didn’t expect her embrace.
Rio was a tomboy, but she’s still a lady―a very desirable one. Feeling her this close was so intoxicating that I didn’t want to let go.
“Thanks,” she whispered.
I reluctantly broke the embrace before she did. It’s better that way.
“You’re really something,” she said. “If I wasn’t lesbian, I’d have married you by now.”
“Pshaw,” I waved her away. ”Cut the drama.”
I didn’t tell her, however, that I’d be helping her on my own terms.
* * *
Rio
Since Hermie was a fellow teacher, a little PR and a little sleuthing went a long way. Sanchez had planned to sail to Palawan during the summer. The plan was for Herm to introduce me to Sanchez on the ship, whereupon I’d give him poisoned wine.
I found myself wearing a dress and putting on make-up that day―something I didn’t normally do.
“Gildo,” I asked as he and I made preparations in my room. “Can you please help me with the buttons on my back?”
“Sure.” I felt his tentative fingers go to work. “Rio?”
“Yes?”
“I apologize in advance.”
“For what?”
“For this.”
I felt the blow at the back of my head. Darkness claimed me.
* * *
Gildo
Having left Rio unconscious on the bed, I proceeded to Sanchez’s cabin and knocked.
“Who is it?” he inquired.
“It’s Gildo.”
“Come in.”
He was seated at the table, reading a copy of Lolita.
“Nice to see you, Gildo,” he gestured to a seat. “Please.”
“Thank you. I brought you something.” I indicated the bottle of wine and a couple of wineglasses.
“Why, thank you. What’s the occasion?”
“Your tenth year of teaching.” And your last.
“Splendid! Let’s partake of it, shall we?”
“By all means.”
I poured the wine and raised my glass for a toast. “To many more years of fruitful teaching.” For me.
“For both of us!” he exclaimed.
I raised the wineglass to my lips, paused and watched him drink.
“You wound me,” he said. “This is excellent wine.”
“It’s only meant for you.”
Sanchez flinched. Pain registered on his features.
“Don’t worry,” I said. “You won’t suffer long.”
“You…” he rasped, fingers clawing at his throat as he slumped to the floor in agony.
“That was for Rio. And Esmeralda.”
Rio
My head hurt plenty when I came to. I glanced groggily about. Hermie was in one corner, looking at the mirror while he painted his body a myriad of colors.
“Oh, you’re awake,” he said. “Sorry for knocking you out earlier.”
“What happened?” I asked him.
“He’s dead.”
I sat bolt upright. “But how? The plan…”
“I took care of it.”
“I didn’t ask you to kill him!” I protested.
He shook his head. “I didn’t want you to throw your life away.”
“But you’ll get in trouble for this!”
“Better me than you. You still have your whole life ahead of you.”
“Don’t give me that! I don’t want you to…to…”
He sat beside the bed and laid a gentle hand on my shoulder.
My eyes moistened. “Why?”
“After all this time, you still don’t know?” There was no trace of criticism in his voice, only sadness.
“I…”
“Hey,” he said. “Don’t blame yourself. It was my choice.” He paused and fished a small mirror out of his pocket. “Take this. Look in it whenever you miss me.”
“O―okay.”
He held me for a little while longer, until the authorities came looking for him.
Days later, the president declared martial law and suspended the writ of habeas corpus. I never saw Gildo again.
But sometimes, when I looked in the mirror he’d left me, I’d see his face smiling back at me.
The Strange But True Account of Don Miguel de Saavedra in His Last Days
Dominique Gerald Cimafranca
(it's way beyond the word count limit but, hey, it's a very nice story)
1654-VI-23
Fray Guillermo:
Tomorrow it will be seven years since the fateful events that I now
relate to you transpired. In the main, the story as it has been recorded
in journals and letters is true; all save for one account. It is a grave
injustice to let it stand. I can bear it no longer. How can I look
upon myself if I remain in shameful silence?
My tale concerns Don Miguel de Saavedra, widely reviled as a coward and
a traitor. I can assure you that he is neither, for I have seen his
valiance and bravery. Such is the weight I have borne these years for my
complicity in untruth!
Don Miguel, as you know, was born in Buenos Aires. Taking up a career
in the army, he took a commission to the Filipinas. He arrived in 1635
or 1636 (there are conflicting records of this) and was stationed with
the garrison in our settlement in Cebu. Under constant threat of Moro
raiding parties, it was a difficult position but from the accounts of his
compatriots there, Don Miguel was an able soldier.
Alas! if Don Miguel sought fame and fortune in these islands, he had
certainly come to the wrong place. Don Miguel led several expeditions
among the Joloans and the Caragas in which distinguished himself. That
disastrous adventure in 1645 of which we all know so well was his undoing.
The inquest eventually cleared him of all charges, but his disgrace
was complete. He was reassigned to Samal with the intent to repatriate
him to Argentina.
It was a wreck of a man that I first met in Samal. As you know, aside
from my priestly duties I also serve as doctor to the garrison. The
captain requested that I examine Don Miguel upon his arrival. Physically,
he was in excellent health; but he said little and eyed everyone with
suspicion. He was like a wild animal in a cage, wary and ready to spring
at a moment's notice.
But most surprising of all were two companions who never left his side.
One was a young man of about twenty, and the other a young girl. They
caused a stir for from the look of them they were Moros! The young man,
in particular, face marked with deliberate scars and tattoos, was a
fearsome savage.
The captain objected to these companions, but the flash in Don Miguel's
eyes said he would brook no argument. They were his servants, he said,
and they had been brought into the Faith. No one dared to confirm this
claim.
At first, Don Miguel and his companions kept mostly to themselves, but
the natural warmth of the Kapampangan indios gradually coaxed them out
of their solitude. How strange it was to see a European -- even a
criollio -- mix so freely with the natives! It seemed that Don Miguel
preferred their company to his own compatriots.
Don Miguel and the young Moro, whose name he said was Enrique, taught
the indios a peculiar way to fight with a knife. It was like a dance,
with low swooping kicks and rapid slashing arcs. He said he learned it
among the Cebuanos. Our soldiers laughed it off, saying it was nothing to
their muskets; but as always, bravado masks fear.
We had, it turned out, much reason to fear in those days. Galleons long
anticipated were overly delayed; and ultimately, they never arrived at
all. And yet there were no storms for it was not the season. Rumors
started among the people: fishermen would report seeing men-of-war over
the distant horizon. They did not carry the Spanish flag. It was not
until June 1647 that what we dreaded most came to pass: it was then that
the Dutch arrived.
Without warning the Dutch ships swooped down on neighboring Abucay. The
situation was dire: our scouts reported eight ships in all. With
little resistance, they bombarded the fortifications and landed marines on
its shores. From Samal we could see the black billowing smoke. It was
terrible! Terrible! Fleeing villagers reported that the schismatic devils
had burned down the church and slew everyone in sight.
What to do? After Abucay, Samal was certainly next. We had no warships
in port, and the nearest ones from Manila were two days away -- if they
ever arrived at all. We held council with the garrison captain. The
decision was clear: we had to run into the hinterlands.
Yet in the face of it there were objections from the Kapampangans.
Fearful they were, yes, but also furious. In Abucay they had blood
relations, now likely dead from the hands of the Dutch privateers. A Captain
Aguas hatched a bold plan: under cover of darkness they would assault the
Dutch. With what? the garrison captain laughed. With their bancas? If
need be, said Captain Aguas. It was sheer bold madness, but Captain
Aguas rallied some eighty brave souls around him, among them Don Miguel.
As for myself, I elected to stay in the garrison to tend to any wounded.
As they made their preparations, Don Miguel entrusted the Moro girl to
my care. There was a loud argument with Enrique, but they used a
language I did not understand. Don Miguel apparently wanted Enrique to stay
behind, but the youth was adamant. Finally, Don Miguel relented.
They launched into the night, silent and grim, these eighty
Kapampangans in their flimsy bancas. Some had muskets and pistols, but most
carried only bolos and knives. How many would return I did not know. I prayed
to Our Mother in Heaven for their safety; but I confess I found in me
no faith, only futility.
The slow hours passed. Overnight, Samal had become a ghost town. A few
women huddled in the garrison infirmary for they, like me, had decided
to stay behind. As for me, I was so consumed by worry that I held vigil
on the beach with the Moro girl.
In the distance I heard a sound as of thunder. It was cannonfire. Then
another, and another. They came in such rapid succession that I lost
count. Bursts of orange flame pierced the night. I knew not how long the
exchange lasted. As suddenly as it began it ended. Once more all I
could hear was the crash of the waves on the shore and the swaying of the
coconut trees in the breeze.
Overcome by despair, I fell weeping on the sand. The Moro girl, true to
her warrior heritage, betrayed no emotion except for the tight clasp
of her small arms around my neck. I held on to her for comfort, all the
while searching the sea for a sign, any sign.
At last it came, the small dots of fishing lamps swaying across the
waves. But were they our contingent? Or Dutch marines come to complete our
destruction? Part of me wanted to run to the safety of the garrison;
but I had to know.
The lights came ever closer until I heard voices. Kapampangan voices!
The Moro girl and I rushed into the surf to meet the bancas. I waved our
torch as I cried out in joyous welcome.
Just as quickly my joy turned to sorrow. In the flicker of the
torchlight, I saw blood on the faces of the wounded, wrenched in agony. The
most serious of all: Enrique, head cradled in the lap of Don Miguel.
Enrique's left side was ripped by shrapnel. His clothes lay in tatters,
blackened by a mix of wood, powder, and blood. The Moro girl ululated
balefully as she reached for Enrique.
This, as I gathered later from various accounts, was what happened:
Captain Aguas and his men in their silent bancas approached the Dutch
warships undetected. With the main force in Abucay, the ships were guarded
only by a handful of sailors. They clambered up the towlines and
surprised the crew. They slit the throats of the unsuspecting enemy up until
their assault was uncovered, at which point it became an all-out melee.
If only our men had had the wherewithal to commandeer the warships!
Perhaps they might have turned their captured guns on the others. Simple
folk that they were, their plan was simpler: to burn as many vessels
as they could.
Don Miguel, Enrique, and a few others fought their way to the hold.
There they set the magazine room ablaze, then ran back up to the top
deck, where they met by a force of Dutch marines. The fighting took too
long. The powder room exploded (such was the sound I heard on the
beach), sending a shower of deadly shrapnel on friend and foe alike. Enrique
was among those who took the brunt of the explosion. With the warship
in flames, they dove into the sea and would have drowned had not the
waiting bancas come to rescue them.
Such were the events as related to me later. In large part, the
expedition was a success. But at a cost, and what a cost! The price I saw
spread out before my eyes, screaming, writhing men broken and burnt.
Don Miguel carried Enrique to the beach and set him down. With an iron
hand he gripped my wrist and demanded:
"Save her, Father!"
I was baffled by the desperate admonition. I thought he meant the Moro
girl. "But she is safe," I protested.
"No! Her!"
He cut Enrique's shirt with a knife, stripped it off, and away with it
came bits of flesh. Around his chest was a band of cloth wound tight.
That too came off. And then I saw: Enrique bore a woman's bosom.
My head spun at the revelation. I knew not what it meant. But whether
man or woman, there was nothing more I could do for Enrique. The
wounds and the shock she had received were far beyond my mortal skills.
She was in God's hands. Amen.
To the east, the pink sky peered over the mountains. The night was
over, dawn had come. What men could stand gathered around their fallen
comrades, some around Enrique. I covered Enrique's body with a blanket,
but by then it was too late. There were murmurs among the men, many
shaking their heads in wondered. As with me, they were confused: here
was a comrade who fought on their side, and yet he was an abomination.
This was Don Miguel's secret: as a blood price, he had taken a Moro
amazon as his slave. Her devotion was such that he became enamored of her
and took her as his wife. Knowing such a union would never be
accepted, he disguised her as a Moro youth.
Her name, he finally revealed to me, was Nurhaina.
With several of their ships severely damaged, the Dutch withdrew.
There would be no invasion of Samal, and even Abucay they gave up without a
fight. We were saved.
And yet there now remained the question of Don Miguel. He had proven
himself a worthy comrade, and yet he had done the unthinkable. He had
consorted with a Moro, he had deceived us. There were murmurs -- though
not among the warriors -- that he should be put to the death.
What were we to do? Ultimately, his valiance won the day, and we put
that question to him.
"I have no place among you, neither does Nazhira -- " by this he meant
the young Moro girl, Nurhaina's sister -- "give me a boat. I will
return her to her people. And as for me, I leave my fate to God."
As he asked, we gave him a boat and some provisions. Taking Nazhira
and Nurhaina's body, he sailed out into the sea. He did not look back.
We never saw him again.
Where he is now no one knows. I made inquiries in Cebu, only to be met
with ridicule. I like to think that he returned to Nurhaina's tribe,
but even there he, a foreigner, faced a most uncertain future. No one
knows, no one knows.
As for us, the incident turned out to be a test, and one in which we
did badly. Don Miguel, Enrique, Nazhira: they lived among us, they
taught us, they fought with us, they risked their lives for us. But in the
end, we could not accept them.
When the official accounts of these events were finally written, Don
Miguel's role was much diminished and reversed altogether. They said he
ran off into the woods and was never seen again. Some records hint
that he was a Dutch spy all along. Nothing could be further from the
truth.
Out of fear, I have kept silent all these years, but my conscience can
keep it no longer. I must speak out. Whether this belated confession
makes a difference or no, I do not know. I relate it because it is the
truth.
May God forgive me for this sin. I leave all in His hands. Amen.
--Fray Raphael
The Monstrous Adolescent
Joel Chua - Winner
Split Personality
Marife Panase
Revenge
April Lacson
The Siren
Feliciano Legara
Mirror
Jamie Riesgo
The Coquette
Anabelle Laureola
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