i never really knew her. she was just one of my many faceless classmates. all of our conversations were limited to heys and nods, except for that one time when i stayed in school to work on something for design class long after everybody else went home.
she was a member of the volleyball varsity. their practice had just finished and she was still towelling off some sweat from her face when she walked into the classroom. her seat was a couple of rows behind mine. after a few minutes spent in silence, she sat down beside me and started talking.
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FICTION Posted by Mai
It was a dream, but it didn’t feel like a dream.
She found herself walking a path that seemed like it stretched out to forever, but didn’t feel like forever, yet it promised forever; the candy-clouds of the sky and the emerald blades of grass softening the edges of the gravel road and making the journey pleasant.
The whole scenery was like one of the images usually found on Korean stationery, or on Japanese candy wrappers; cloyingly sweet but not quite tastefully done.
For a fleeting moment, she felt loved.
The path ended at the foot of a stone staircase, leading to a small house. The girl gingerly placed a small foot onto one of the stone steps, and her other foot followed suit. more…
FICTION by Rica
Book signing. Queue. Bookworms with my work in hand.
One smiling face approached me.
“You always sign with a red marker.”
“It’s my lucky charm.” I wink.
Besides, it’s easier to refill with red “ink”.
“Oh, it dries out easily.”
I take a snapshot of him beaming; he smiles even wider.
I smile back, take out my pad, and jot down notes.
Another bestseller on the way.
FICTION by Rica
That’s what you get for mocking me.
He insulted me with a genuine smile at my book signing.
But nobody’s smiled after reading me, ever.
Slit throat, gunshot, fall from an 8th floor balcony.
Only deepest hatred appears in my work.
But Nero smiled.
Now I smile genuinely, ogling police in and out of 23 New York, Cubao.
FICTION posted by Rica
She sits down, grabs pen and paper, reviews notes, pics about her plot.
Nero.
Wide smile.
Lips sewn together with red marker.
23 New York, Cubao.
Red gate.
Noose?
Hit-and-run.
Hm.
Asphyxiation.
Yes.
Gouged eyes.
Perfect.
She wipes the pen, starts writing another suspense novel as she throws away a blood-stained rag.
FICTION posted by Rio
I love you, said the SMS. My heart would have gone haywire right there and then, but I bit my lip and replied, “WTF. Wrong send, dude.”
“Ooooops! I’m sorry!” you quickly texted back.
I had been writing when my phone beeped, and when I turned back to what I was doing, I suddenly had a numbing feeling. “Fuck,” I spat at the half filled page.
I fumbled with my cigarette case. I stared at my half finished work as smoke swirled in front of the monitor and I reminded myself of my deadlines. Maybe I should start turning off my phone when I’m working. By the time I finished two cigarettes, I decided that it was hopeless. Both my assignment for the day and you.
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FICTION posted by Rio
Alam mo, naka mahigit sampung ulit na ata ako sa pagsusulat nito. Dun sa isang sulat, namutaktak ng salitang tanga. Dun naman sa isa, puro bwiset.
Bakit nga ba kita naisipang sulatan? Naalala lang kita at naisip kong marami-rami na rin akong naipong mga sasabihin sa’yo. At dahil hinding-hindi mo ‘to maririnig sa kin out loud, idadaan ko na lang sa sulat na walang address.
Tapang no? Pagdating sa mga bagay na to, duwag din ako no. Nagawa ko na naman dati ang emotional suicide at dahil alam kong di masaya yun–kung maiiwasan–iiwasan ko na talaga. Kaya eto, sisimulan at tatapusin ko na tong katangahang ito sa sulat na to.
Alam mo, pag naiisip kita at emotional suicide sa iisang sentence, natatawa ako. Kasi naman, para akong nabudol budol. Nananahimik ako (malamang, ikaw din), tapos boom! Napagtripan nanaman ako ni Miss Cosmos. Hindi ko alam kung pano at kung kelan nangyari, pero andun yung matinding feeling na ninakawan mo ako. Isama mo na din yung feeling na ang tanga-tanga ko. more…
FICTION posted by Rica
How does he do it?
When I look him in the eyes, he glances right through me and walks past me, suddenly disappearing in the crowd. And when I chance upon him in the train heading home, he’s taking in all of me, and I see his lips curl at both ends upward, a sign of amusement or bewilderment flashing across his homely face.
And when I get off the bus I see him in the corner of my eye, hiding behind another passenger. When I finally turn around to see if my mind’s playing tricks on me again, his amused face is nowhere to be seen.
I think I should get my eyes checked this time.
They talk about him through the walls of my tiny office, too. Cubicles housing drones seem to be talking nonstop all nine hours of my workday, and I can’t avoid my ears from catching bits and pieces of phrases and gossip jumping from one square compartment to another. more…
FICTION posted by Rica
The lift was empty when I got in it on the ground floor. There was a lift man, but he never asked me what floor I’d be getting off.
Up, up, up. Stop.
A girl with pigtails got on when we reached the fifth floor. she turned and smiled at me, and I smiled back. She wasn’t any taller than I was but it seemed that she’d been riding the lift far longer that I’d been.
Another woman stepped inside when we got to the seventh floor. She had a small bun on top of her head, and had glasses, and wore high-heeled leather shoes. She only looked at either of us girls once when she stepped in, and never bothered to nod the lift man’s way. more…
FICTION posted by Rio S.
Dear Sam,
It sure has been a while. Thanks for sending your coffee blend, by the way; Fran says thanks too. We’re still wondering whatever it is you put in there. Honestly, I can safely say we’re quite addicted to Samantha’s Personal Coffee Blend.
How have you been honey? I’ve been busy with work and family stuff the past couple of months and I’m sorry for not writing as often. I know I haven’t called that many times either but I know you’d understand. Fran and I got your package yesterday. I tried to call you, but all I got was that automated voice. In German. Course, I had no idea what it was saying; I just assumed you’d forgotten to charge your phone again. I tried calling many times and still that voice answered, so here I am writing you an email instead.
Mom says to thank you. The curtains you sent to the house were “just darling,” she said. She’s been nagging me to write you more often, but I was really busy you see. more…
