Untitled 271

Things that I know, things that I don’t. The hole in the ground, the birds on their nest, a child running down the alley; holding a red balloon. All the funny things in between, your eyes, your smile, your lips, your hands over mine. Things that mean nothing to them, and things that mean everything to you and me.

 Things that matter, and things that don’t. The smell of the grass swaying to the kiss of the wind, the sound of the cars honking around trying to beat this thing called traffic. A dog chasing a cat down the alley where the child with the red balloon was running. My eyes on yours, my erratic breathing, my sweaty hands nervously fidgeting yours.

The cat hissed, the dog yelped, the child cried, and up in the sky the red balloon went flying. Sprinkles of fantasy rewarded with a slap from reality. There’s you, and then there’s me. Sitting a table away from each other, you reading a book, and me getting lost in my fantasies.

Of love, and of you, and of me, and of all the funny things in between.




The story starts, just like how every story starts. It was late at night, we were sitting by the beach, cozy by the fire, lightening up the pitch black sky. We talked, laughed, teased and we kissed, did all the little things to keep the fire going — on it cracked, and on it burned. We were alive.


And just like how every middle part of the story works like how every middle part of the story works, it started to rain, panic crept into our eyes, our hearts trying to claw out of our chests, our minds confused. Then we heard a sizzling sound — kssss, it was our fire, it was slowly dying out. We panicked as we tried to do what we could to save it. But the little things that we used to do didn’t work anymore.


We argued, we made up only to argue anew. We ended up angry, sad, and desperate — as the fire slowly died out, we did too.


The story ends just like how any other story ends, dawn was breaking, we were at the beach, the waves singing its morning tune — a soft ballad of weeesh and wooosh




we stared as our fire slowly turned to embers, and as the last remaining embers turned into ashes, we stood up, and left, with nothing but perpetual silence.

Clowns of the Night

“Two more hours til the big performance baby!”

I couldn’t help but let out a huge grin. We were planning this huge prank of hours for weeks now. I lightly tapped my keyboard just enough for it to make noises without typing a single letter. I looked at my bedpost where a creepy clown mask hangs.

“Damn yeah! Time to scare kids! hahaha!” messaged another friend of mine — probably Shane, the guy who came up with the idea of “Clown Night”. A night that promises a lot of terrors to our victims — to us, a good laugh and a story to tell our grandkids.

Just a couple of kids wearing clown masks late at night, scaring people. What could go wrong right? I stood up, clutching the Clown mask, I let out a frustrated sigh, and let it devour my face.

Clowns, what a joke. I muttered as I stared at the smiling stranger in the mirror. I checked the group inbox once again to catch up with what was happening. There was a minor snag, one clown isn’t available to perform tonight. His said that he’s got the flu. Flu my ass. What a wuss.

“So, with Zeke out, that leaves five of us. And that means one is gonna go without a pair.” Shane as always, the best detective in the group.

“No shit, Sherlock.” I replied.

There was an argument in the group on who’s going to perform alone tonight. It got so heated that it came to the point that Keith wanted to back out.

“Randy, you wanna go alone?” asked Shane me.

“I’ll do it. I’ll go alone.” I complied, and then everything’s settled.

Big night was on.

“This is a bad idea.” I cussed as I walked into my spot. A dark narrow road whose only light source came from lightposts. Perfect to ambiance to scare people, I thought. I went on one knee, opened my backpack and took one last look on the mask. “Here goes nothing.” I stood on my spot for what seemed and eternity. Nobody passed by. Not even a single car. I had nothing but crickets accompanying me and the eerie darkness that seemed to whisper to me every now and then.I had a feeling that I was being watched. That I was not the only clown in this place. I closed my eyes to try to calm my nerves down. And then that’s when everything went wrong.

Suddenly, the twigs around me were making soft, wary cracking noises. Each crack growing louder and nearer. I turned around to see if there were people walking towards me. I could feel my heart slowly climbing up my throat. I was cold all of a sudden. I swear I could see eyes looking straight at me.

Shit. Shit. Calm down. Breathe. Breathe. Your mind is playing tricks on you. And then another twig shrieked, this time behind me. My instinct suddenly made me look at the direction where the crack came from. Again there was nothing.

“W-who’s there!?” I asked, trying to sound as brave as possible.

Out of nowhere, a hand clutched my shoulder and then came a whisper:

“Not so funny now eh?” The voice sent a chill to my spine, followed by a piercing pain that made my flesh cry red.

“Runrunrunrunrunrun as fast as you can!” yelled another voice in the dark. It was followed by shrill laughter. I heeded the voice and tried to take a step — only to find myself slowly falling to the ground. Laying sideways, I tried to make sense to what was happening. “W-who are you?” I asked the darkness. I took another deep breath, and tried to look up at the dark sky one last time. As I looked up, five shadows towered over me, I squinted my eyes only to find themselves popping right up.

“Clowns.. what a fucking joke..” I muttered as everything around me slowly faded away.


“Shane, can I take a bite first? Always wanted to know how Randy tastes like.”

The Perfect Lull

I was stuck in the bus terminal when the rain poured. There was still no sign of the bus that I was waiting for. The one that was supposed to take me to a place where the mountain kisses the sky. Where one could literally be one with the sea up high. A hidden sanctuary where you could find peace. Find that perfect lull to quiet this noisy world.

The terminal was booming with noises – people who are selling something, people reminding people of something, and people just simply being people by yelling something. Raindrops being pelted by the clouds only added volume to the chaos. I lazily rested my head on both of my hands and just watched as people walked by. I couldn’t help but notice how they were trying so hard to be alive. Trying so hard to let the other human being around them know that they are alive.

Hey, I am screaming, notice me!

I let out an exasperated smile. The wind also found humor in my thoughts, evidenced by the blowing of leaves and skirts. Amidst all the mental judgement I passed on people, suddenly there was this sweet scent that crept into my nose. My ears suddenly became warmer, and my heart frantic. There was a lull in the chaotic orchestra of people. I held my breath, and I looked to my left.

Beside me sat the prettiest girl that I have ever seen my entire life. I admit I have told myself that line a couple of times before. Yet it didn’t matter. At this moment, this girl with droopy eyes, pink cheeks, and a pony tail is inches away from me! I could feel my heart trying to claw its way out of my chest. I was suddenly drowning in a sea of panic. What should I do? What to say? Dont stare too much you creep. Go ahead, do that face that you practice for hours in front of your bathroom mirror.

Scream, be noticed by her.

I crossed my leg over the other, and uncrossed it within three seconds; only to find myself crossing the other one over the other five seconds after. The world somehow felt a little smaller– where did the people and all the noises go? Who stopped the rain? God damn it stop crossing and uncrossing your legs!

Then I felt something tug my shirt. No, not something, someone.

“Uhm, is that bus going to Albay?” she asked while pointing a bus with her lips.

My gaze followed the direction where her lips where pointing. I squinted my eyes a little, looked at her and nodded.

I could see relief in her eyes, she gripped her backpack tighter and left.

Wait, what’s your name?

Why are you going to Albay?

Don’t go..

My heart sank, there goes the prettiest girl I have ever seen. On a bus ride off to Albay, probably to go and see the famous Mayon, or maybe to visit her relatives. I watched as she conversed with the bus conductor and then grin in excitement. She looked at me again and waved goodbye.


And as her bus crawled its way out of the terminal, with it also went that quintessential lull.



Picture Perfect

Some folks want that one picture perfect moment with their significant other in life,

whether it be on a summit of a mountain they just conquered,

or maybe under the deep blue ocean where the fishes join in,

wherever it may be, or however they do it,

they’d always wear those picture perfect grin,

with both of their hands clutching one another,

who cares if at the end of the story they won’t be together,

it could be that one left for someone better,

or maybe they went some place you couldn’t just go yet,

but when they close their eyes,

open that secret compartment deep inside them at night,

and no matter what happens,

when they see it and they look back,

it’ll always be there, no one can take that away from the two of them

forever it’s something they get to keep,

something to cherish

it doesn’t matter if you lose the ability to see,

just close your eyes, and in the darkness you’d see

picture perfect


I hate these kind of conversations.
The ones you have in a dark room, where you couldn’t see your partner’s face. You can’t read what she’s thinking. All you know is that she is there and you’re holding her hands. Tight.

She tells you her reasons why the two of you have to stop seeing each other. It was this and it was that. She was told this and told that. You wish she would drop the “it’s not you, it’s me.” But she clearly has her reasons why she’s breaking up. And it sucks.

You process every word  she says and with it bursts different kinds of emotion. Guilt, sadness, anger.

You also try to think of a hundred and one million reasons why she should give you another shot. Like how you promise not to screw up again. Or how you will never again talk to any other girl in the planet. Promises that you doubt you could ever fulfill.

Before you could even say your speech, she holds your hand tighter and see the silhoutte of her facing you.

“Hey, it’s okay. It’s okay.”

It’s not okay.

No, it’s not okay.

Things you wish you could tell her, but your words are stuck in your throat.


You found yourself crying.

“It’s okay.” she said one more time.


sometimes being sad doesnt mean you have to shed tears,

sometimes, being sad is just…being nothing

you’re sad, yes, yet you live on – you fight on,

you slowly lose the happy you, the excited you and the smiling you,

days will get tough and the months tougher,

and as days pass, the months, the baggage you bear gets heavier,

you try to reach out, you try to connect with people — but you just dont have it in you — yet

you go on living feeling nothing, funny thing is though, the nothingness seems to get heavier as you walk on through

the horrors of feeling nothing, the pains of feeling nothing

even the sky looked a paler shade of blue

you look back, you wonder, then it hit you