friendlytroll:

This is beautiful. 

(via fragmentedreality)

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irrelevant. that was what violet was to a lot of people. having accomplished so much academically counted for nothing. in the real world, being class valedictorian was just an ice breaker. being this smart only meant one thing: she didn’t have a lot of friends.

which was not a problem, really. at least, it didn’t used to be. violet had family. she had her parents. until her father caught her mother cheating. before he killed himself. now, all violet had was her mother. her mother who wasn’t all right in the head anymore.

now, violet is desperate to have someone. anyone. and when office bad boy daniel invited her to an out-of-town trip with his non-work friends, violet was actually grateful to be included. she didn’t even think twice.

she wanted to start a new chapter in her life. and this is her chance.

three days later, violet was puking her guts out on the raging sea water. it was high noon and everyone in the fishing boat was cheering—except her. well, she wanted to cheer, but apparently, that wasn’t so easy to do when you get sea sick.

she was just thankful that the group couldn’t hear her puking, what with the boat’s motor making quite the noise.

“how long ‘til we hit land?” she managed to ask daniel, the ringleader of her merry new group of friends. well, first group of friends. ever. violet’s heart was still aflutter about the thought. and the fact that the sea was rocking her way too much for comfort.

“in ten…”

“minutes? hours?” violet managed to stop vommiting just enough to take a look at where they were. middle of the sea. no sight of land anywhere. “days?”

“nine…”

and ‘lo and behold, as if by magic, a rock island appeared out of nowhere. “where did that come from?”

“eight…”

“you can stop counting now, daniel,” violet said. “i can see where we’re going.”

“oh, that’s not where we’re going.” one of the girls said. but before she could say anything else, daniel shushed her. violet found that curious.

“seven…”

violet took another look at the rock island. for some reason, it looked smaller. but then again, if it wasn’t their destination, it would make sense that they would move away from it.

“six…”

“what are you counting down for, daniel?” violet found herself asking. that was new. that was brave of her. daniel flashed her a grin, but didn’t answer.

“five…”

a big wave hit the boat, and violet had to pitch herself to the side with another fit of vommiting. as violet sprayed the water with what had been her lunch, she noticed that the rock island was gone. were they going that fast? then maybe—

to daniel, violet said, “you better be counting down to the time we see something other than the sea.” daniel winked.

“four…”

the girl who talked earlier took something out of her bag. a necklace. she gave it to violet. “thanks—” violet said. surprised. “but what about you guys?”

“don’t mind us. you’re the one going somewhere new.” violet smiled at that. for all of daniel’s bad boy image at office, he and his friends were actually very nice.

“three…”

“better buckle up,” the girl told violet. “maybe you can get a better hold at the tip of the boat?”

“thanks. i’ll try that.” violet moved, switching places with one of daniel’s guy friends who gave her a high five. that brought out another smile from violet. she never thought making friends was this easy.

“two…”

with her back turned away from where the boat was heading, violet found herself dealing with her sea sickness a little better. even when another wave hit the boat. maybe it was because she couldn’t see the wave. maybe it was because she was turned towards five smiling faces. or maybe it was because a shadow passed over the sun, giving them a break from the unrelenting heat.

“one…”

everything went dark. and silent. violet blinked. she could no longer see daniel or his friends. and for some reason, the lurching motion of the boat stopped. the waves must’ve hit her though, as she felt wet.

and then violet couldn’t feel anything anymore.

“Finish your milk.”

That was how the last day of Keith’s life began. With his mother telling him to finish his milk before leaving home.

He was running late for work. He had a meeting at nine in the morning, and he woke up late—thanks to a presentation he had to finish for his co-worker. He was always doing that, finishing things for other people.

Not that he complained. Because, as other people kept pointing out to him, there was nothing to complain about. He was the only son of a well-off family. He studied in a good school. He had a good job. He didn’t have to work to get by from day to day. He was a lucky one.

Keith didn’t see it that way, of course. But he shrugged it all off. He believed that it was best to just take in what other people said to him, or about him, and just focus on the good things. Life was better that way. Life was simpler without drama.

“You’re late,” that was how Bernard greeted him as he entered the revolving doors of their office building in Makati. “Do you have the presentation?”

Keith handed over his flash drive, and Bernard ran off towards the elevators. Keith followed, trying to catch his breath after having run from the MRT station to their office.

He followed Bernard to the elevator and waited. The elevator went down to the basement and collected passengers. By the time it came up to the ground floor, only three people could fit in. Keith was the fourth person in line.

“I’ll just meet you upstairs,” Bernard told him as the elevator closed on them. Keith sighed. At that moment, standing up, Keith realized he hasn’t even said a single word the whole morning.

“Shit.”

When Keith reached their floor, Bernard was already in the middle of the presentation. Their bosses listened, impressed with the report. Keith stayed quiet at the back, listening to the questions being raised. To Bernard’s ready answers.

Keith was impressed. For someone who didn’t really know what the report was about, Bernard certainly knew how to fake his statements. Keith applauded with the bosses. Who heard him.

One of them turned to him to ask for a previous report. One that Keith remembered asking Bernard to do, in exchange for him doing the research and presentation for their meeting today. Apparently, Bernard had forgotten. Keith promised the boss that he would have it at the boss’s table by lunch time.

With the bosses gone, Keith approached Bernard to ask about the other report. Bernard, surprised, said, “I thought you were going to do it too.

“I’m really sorry, Keith. I’ve been having such a bad week, and I’m sure you understand. My dad’s sick and I’ve been taking care of her, and there’s this other report that I had to do—”

Keith sighed. He interrupted Bernard, “just give me what you already have.”

At his desk, Bernard handed Keith the research data the latter had given the former last week. Keith knew he wasn’t getting any more from Bernard.

“I’m going to need your computer though,” Keith started. “Mine’s running slow, and we need to submit this by lunch time.”

“By all means.”

The morning went fast. And Keith did his best to meet the lunchtime deadline. Except Bernard’s keyboard got stuck. Which didn’t bother Keith. He was already on the last part of their report.

Except, at that moment, the boss who needed the report passed by. And saw him tinkering with the keyboard.

“Your report’s already late, and instead of finishing it, I find you cleaning your office mate’s keyboard?”

What was Keith supposed to answer? He mumbled an apology as his boss walked away. He sighed, and went back to getting the keyboard unstuck. Which he finally succeeded in doing.

Keith finished the rest of the report, and clicked on the print button. All eleven pages would be delivered to their boss in five minutes time, stapled and encased in a folder. Except there was a line to the printer.

“Sorry, chum,” the office maintenance guy said. “The printer’s been in demand the whole morning. I’d suggest you take your lunch break now and ask someone else to wait for your documents.”

“Thanks.” Keith looked around at the office and saw Bernard coming out of the elevators. “Bernard!”

He quickly filled Bernard in on the printer predicament, he could already feel his stomach growling at the notion of skipping lunch—on a third consecutive day. Bernard told Keith not to worry, that he’ll have the report at their boss’s table soon as the printer churns it out. Keith thanked him and rushed out.

Out into the blazing sun, where the jolly jeeps were selling the last of their wares. Which weren’t much to choose from. Keith sighed. It was already two in the afternoon, the viands were already moving towards the merienda variety.

Keith picked up a turon and a bottle of coke, hoping the sugar rush would be enough to get him through the rest of the day. As soon as he finished his ‘meal,’ he rushed back to his office building.

He caught the elevator as soon as he entered, making him believe that things were finally looking up for him. Inside, he heard something snap. Which scared him, if he was going to be quite honest. But when nothing happened, he chalked it up to stress.

The elevator opened on his floor and he stepped out. He saw Bernard handing over their report—finally printed—and the boss giving his colleague a clap on the back.

And then he saw the maintenance guy hurrying towards the two, saying there’s been an accident.

Curious, Keith followed him. And heard the maintenance guy repeat his news:

“Elevator cables snapped. They’re saying everyone inside’s dead.”

“And this is of our concern because…?”

“One of the guards saw your employee, Keith, enter the elevator.”

Keith waved his arms, trying to catch the attention of the three. But none of them can see him.

“Shit,” Keith heard himself swear. “Does that mean I’m a ghost? That I’m dead?”

Keith had to admit though, it did feel good that Bernard and the maintenance guy looked worried about him.

And then his boss clapped Bernard’s back again, “at least the dependable one’s safe.”

Keith sighed. He was a lucky one all right.

(via doctorwho)

I didn’t know how to deal with loss. Especially when it was someone else’s. My cousin was crumpled on the ground, beating on the tombstone of his recently buried girlfriend. It was all too much for me. All I could tell him was that I will be there for him, that I’ll stand by him—

But what use are those words? How can being there really help, really? And that’s when they came in.

There were only the two of us in the cemetery. I remembered, coming in, that the guards told us to hurry because they were about to lock down for the night. That if we don’t get out by 6, they’ll lock us both in and there’ll be no one to hear us. Not even the caretakers whose houses were outside the gates of the cemetery.

I looked at my watch. 6:01. I started to pull on my cousin’s arm. “We have to go.” Honestly, I knew the guards’ threat was hollow. They wouldn’t lock us in. But the appearance of the three teens watching us changed things. I felt a sudden dread.

Read More

As Corazon watched her grandson board the ferry, she knew it was the last time she would see him. He left for Manila to die. She knew about his condition, knew it before he was even aware of it. What kind of a grandmother would she be if she didn’t know? But still she had let him go. He was too young, and as he only had a few months left to live, she didn’t have the will to hold him back.

Of course her grandson had told her that he would come back. That he just wanted to experience life in the big city. She gave him the number of his godfather, the one who lived in Manila. With that piece of paper, she wished that he would find his heart. And he did, if the last video entry he made on his blog was anything to go by.

Corazon had watched that video a hundred times. It was the last one he uploaded. Something must have happened. But she believes that if it had already happened, she would know. Or, at the least, she would get a call.

As the days and nights rolled by, Corazon kept thinking about her decision to let her grandson go to Manila. It wasn’t an easy thing to do. At seventy-five, Corazon had seen too many deaths: her son, her daughter-in-law. Maybe the real reason she let her grandson go was because she couldn’t bear to see another loved one die before her.

But it wasn’t right that she would be the last to go.

At night, Corazon would cry. She set him free, but she had imprisoned herself. No day passed by that she did not worry that it would be the day she would be truly alone.

With the lack of communication, Corazon knew something had preoccupied her grandson. It would have to be something big for him to forget her. For him to stop checking up on her. And then she knew: why she made a prayer, why she let him go.

Her grandson had gone to Manila to die. She stayed so she could die with him.

Sally was a sweet girl who got tired of waiting for her happily ever after.

Ever since she was little, her mother would always tell her that anything she wanted in life, she only needed to pray for. So she prayed for good grades when she had school trouble; she prayed for good health whenever she got sick. And when her stepfather crept into her bed for the fourth straight night, she prayed for him to stop.

She didn’t get good grades. She still gets sick. Her stepfather continues to come into her room. Into her bed.

Prayers don’t get answered on their own, she heard their parish priest say one time at church. You have to work for them. God will only do so much, you have to do the rest for yourself. On your own.

That night, Sally prayed that her stepfather wouldn’t come into her room. And still he did. So she did the rest herself. Armed with a steak knife, Sally made sure her stepfather will never creep into her bed again.

The sun was at its highest. People hurried from destination to destination. No one wanted to loiter too long under the sweltering heat.

It was funny, the weather. It’s supposed to be cool—cooler—during the -ber months. It’s never been hotter. Well, not completely true. It was at par with the heat of the summer we had just experienced. As well as the heat during the supposed stormy season that delivered a handful of storms before completely evaporating.

These were the thoughts running through Gary’s head as he rushed out of his office building for a quick lunch. He loved his job, loved his co-workers—but he absolutely hated the location of his office. If he forgot to bring a packed lunch, like he did today, he had to race against the other people working at the same building, to get to the nearer food establishments.

Unfortunately for Gary, an impending deadline delayed his lunch by a few minutes. Those precious minutes meant that he would have to dine at the carinderia a couple of blocks from his building. Which was where he was going now.

With the scorching heat, Gary had to squint through the haze of vehicles waiting for the light to turn green. He had thirty seconds to cross the narrow road. It was enough time. Gary took a step forward, and was met with a deafening honk from the green Toyota that lead the pack of idle cars.

Gary swore under his breath, leaping aside from surprise. He wanted to swear out loud, annoyed at the driver for alarming him. But he never got the chance. Because during that split-second he had been airborne, leaping aside, he was hit by a speeding jeepney. The green Toyota had been warning him.

Ace thought no one would see. That was his main reason for doing it. For stealing from his own company. He didn’t count on his own employees having enough initiative to do their own investigating. That they would be able to trace the theft to him.

But that’s over and done with. Ace was able to salvage his reputation, feeding his vice president to the wolves. As for the too-curious employees—no one would be hearing from them again. It wasn’t that hard to descend down the slide to eternal damnation. It only took one step.

From his penthouse apartment, Ace had a great view of the setting sun. Christmas eve is here. The only time in the year he was happy about his physique. It made making his two children believe in Santa Clause easier. His wife Estelle already had his Santa suit altered. He did gain a few more pounds this year. All the better for pretending to be the jolly old geezer.

He watched as his son and his daughter prepared the milk and cookies they’ll be giving to Santa Clause. They placed it in front of the electric fireplace that was plain decoration. Why would they need a fireplace in the Philippines anyway? If they wanted heat, they only had to turn off the air-conditioning.

But his children believed that the fireplace was Santa’s portal into their living room. Never mind that it was just a plasma screen showing footage of logs burning. His children might be a little intellectually-challenged. They never wondered why the logs never needed replacing.

Ace helped his wife tuck the children in to sleep. It was a charade. The kids would pretend to be asleep and would sneak out of their rooms later, nearer midnight. Which meant he and his wife would have to pretend to have a date, leave the house, and once outside he would don his Santa costume and sneak in from the balcony.

His wife would wait at the lobby of their building with his change of clothes.

Ace was a thief, a jackass, and a horrible boss—but he was a wonderful father. Some would say it was his only redeeming factor. Estelle definitely thought so. And yet that was enough for her. Her children were happy.

She waited at the lobby for the clock to strike midnight. Ten minutes later and her husband would walk out of the elevator, ask for his change of clothes, and they’d enjoy a drink at the bar near their building before heading back to the penthouse. Except it was already an hour past midnight, and Ace wasn’t down yet.

Worried, Estelle took the elevator. She hit the elevator and listened to the muzak version of Santa Claus is Coming to Town. It took less than a minute to get to the penthouse. The door to their home was open. Estelle was worried.

Slowly, she crept up to the open door. She could hear her kids crying. She found herself running in, fearful of the unknown. And she found her son and her daughter standing before their father. Before Ace. Her son was holding his baseball bat, their gift to him last year. Ace was on the ground, eyes open and blank.

Estelle walked up to her children. To the body of her husband. She could hear her son whispering. I thought he was a burglar. My friend said Santa wasn’t real. I thought he was a bad man. He was crying softly. His sister wasn’t crying. She was probably too young to understand what had happened. Or she was that slow. But, then again, she was preoccupied by three gifts that Estelle didn’t recognize.

One for her. One for her son. One for her daughter. None for Ace.

From outside, she could still hear the elevator music. She must’ve hit the emergency button.