She trips on rocks, steps, pretty much everything,
with her hooded jacket and faded jeans
she gets nauseous at the sight of blood,
with unruly hair and brown eyes.

She likes to take her time when driving,
with her old but sturdy second-hand truck.
She loves to bask in the rays of sun,
but have to endure the raindrops day after day.

She communicates through electronic mail,
with her dial-up connection and “scroogy” details.
She loves her dad and took from him,
with her lonesome and melancholic ways.

She runs with vampires, and wolves, too,
with her wobbly knees and rubber shoes.
She loves with all her heart and loyalty,
with her hard head and stubborn heart.

She chose the road less traveled
with her fear of old age.
She saves the love of her life,
with her undiscovered gift and clumsy ways.

She is someone that every girl wants to be
with her loyal best friend and romantic hero.
She waits for that day of love and magic,
a swan becomes a Cullen, her wish be granted.

Beyond the elegant facade
of white picket fences
and perfectly manicured lawns
-she helplessly lies.

After the mesmerizing sunrise
of radiant golden aura
and warm kiss of the sun
-she hides in the darkness.

Disguised by the soothing sounds
of nature’s wonderful creatures
and the gentle chirps
-she screams in pain.

Under the aromatic layers
of haunting fragrance of home-cooked meals
and sweet scent of overflowing blood
-she vomits blood.

Beneath the soldiers’ triumphant fists
of won battles and wars
and bloody armors
-she bathes in sin.

Inside this surreal world and dreamy, unhindered pleasure
of endless romance
and exceptional beauty
-she succumbs

(May 2, 2011)

Smile that touches his eyes,
revealing treasures that shine brightly,
the emotions they bring,
always a mystery to me.

A strum of the guitar chords,
rocks my whole world.
Head bangin’ to the beat of my heart,
playing my favorite part.

A bounce of the ball,
obliterating the walls,
reaching my sleeping senses,
swiftly passing through my defenses.

Lips filling me with warmth,
and sings me a lullaby,
union of our souls,
no regrets risking the fall.

Image bursting with colors,
a promise of forever,
love me now, leave me never,
a glimpse of happily ever after.

Knowing about CNF changed the way I write. I learned, and am still learning to take note of the intricacies of the view- the surroundings, the colors of the sky, the movement of the leaves, the shapes formed by the shadows, the clarity of tears, the brilliance of smiles and the sound made by random objects.

Learning to appreciate CNF, I always find myself using the same approach when writing Feature Articles and blog entries. I now appreciate even the smallest detail that we sometimes fail to notice, but actually contributes largely to the larger picture.

I believe, that in writing Creative Non-fiction, I have learned to preserve a moment much better than a photograph can do.

Then he was gone. Suddenly, pain and longing washed over me. I cried.

When I woke up, I was crying really hard, it made me wonder how I didn’t awaken my husband and my son. I miss him so much. The thing is, when I woke up, I can still everything that I saw in my dream but not what I said and what I heard.

How I wish I can dream about him again tonight. Jojo, I know you’re up there and we all miss you so much. Life will never be the same for us but I know that you’ll be waiting for us in the end. We love you.

By: Ma. Angelica Maghinang – Domingo

(Inspired by the heroism of all teachers)

The banners, the posters, the television advertisements – broad smiles on the faces that promised the nation food in everyone’s plate, sound sleep at nights, a helping hand, a concrete future, education for everyone – free for the poor, all for their trust. For their name to be chosen, for the people to believe them – that they were the long-awaited gallant martyr, selfless and dedicated, that was born to lead and emancipate the country from all its evil.

JR kicked the unripe mango that fell from the tree in their backyard. Tears fell as he closed his eyes and cursed. They promised everything but none of them can ever give him what he wanted. What he longed for was that sweetly smothering hug, that soothing lullaby, that reassuring voice, that sweet and gentle kiss that was long remembered even after almost three years. “Mama”, he cried. He sat down and hugged his knees. It was almost three years but the pain felt like an open wound stabbed again, and again.

His last memory of his mother played on his mind. She woke him up early because she had to go to school even though it was a Special Day. “JR, here’s your milk. I have to go to school early so just wait here until your father gets back from the rice fields,” she said. “Ma, you did not have to wake me up. I’m still sleepy.” JR said. “I just want to hug and kiss you before I go. Most likely, I would not be able to go home tonight,” she said, then hugged him tight and gave him a peck on the cheek. He went back to sleep.

Questions raced in his mind. “What if I did not go back to sleep and watched her go instead? It won’t change a thing but I would have more time spent with her”. “What if I got sick that day, maybe she would not be able to leave me and would just be absent for her work”. Enough, he told his self. I can never bring her back. But without his permission, his mind drifted away.

“Liz, wake up!” Lenny shouted. She heard gunshots and her ears rang as she pulled Liz into awareness and ran. She could not believe her eyes. Flames licked her skin and burned parts of her clothes as well as Liz’s. Liz let out a shriek as she realized what happened. The building is on fire. The place smelled of gasoline, but what was stronger was the stench of death. They saw the perpetrators: armed men with bonnets, executioners who came with a dreadful message – that it was time for them to go. “What did we do?” Lenny asked herself. She froze for a millisecond as terror washed over her. She was brought back to life by an insistent tug at her arm. It was Liz. They ran and heard the gunmen firing behind them. They run but Lenny felt greater terror as she realized that they were trapped. There’s nowhere else to run. She hugged Liz tightly as she thought about her family. “JR”, she whispered and then heard her own scream, it sounded as if it came from someone else. She felt pain all over her body until her mind refused to think and the darkness swallowed her.

“Mama!” JR jerked awake and cried openly until he felt numbed.

JR was just a face of the children of the public school teachers bound by law to serve in the elections. Lenny was just a face of the selfless teachers who render their services worth much greater than what they get. Their shouts and whispers are prayers and hope that the government would give them all the security that they need in handling these perilous tasks – that there won’t be any educator added to the statistics of the winged pedagogues who gave their life for their duty as bound by law.

It was Monday and we were not able to go to the gym. We’re going to make up for it through swimming. We swam and played on the swimming pool with Roxanne, for two hours.

On our way home, something happened that made me realize that I am really growing old. With Franz sleeping on my lap while my sisters and I sang “Ikaw pa rin” by Juana, I caught a glimpse of the setting sun. The colors were mesmerizing. Then, just like in movies, it’s like something hit me. I looked at us – my son, my sisters, the sunset, our tired eyes but genuine smiles, the golden reflection of the sun on our shoulders, the music… I thought, “I hope I could freeze this moment and keep it in a bottle.” Rose Gell will graduate this month, Roxanne will go back to school. I wonder when would be the next time that we can have another moment like this. The only thing that’s constant in this world is “change”. Something tells me though, that my love for my sisters won’t.

“He’s gone.” My uncle’s words haunted me. I refused to believe it. I tried to get rid of the shock, the pain, and the confusion inside me through my shouts, my cry of agony, my prayers that what I heard was not true, my wish that I was just dreaming. That I would wake up anytime soon. I tried to seek comfort in my husband’s tight embrace but the pain kept on flowing, streaming in my veins. It drained all my energy and when they left me, I felt numb. I felt that I needed to escape. Questions raced inside my mind with the heaviness inside my chest telling me that it’s most likely that I will never find the answers to them.
He was just sixteen. He was full of hope. He had a bright future ahead of him. He was about to become a father. We had plans of getting together when we were older with our other cousins and our own families. He could not be gone.
He tried to help a friend. He saved his life. Only it cost him his. It was so unfair. Why him? We went to the hospital. I went to the Emergency Room to confirm, hoping with all that I got that the nurse will reply otherwise. That they would tell me that no one with that name was admitted there. That I would go to my grandmother’s house and see my family there waiting for me, laughing at me, how they got me with a sick joke. Yes, I’d rather have my family play a really sick joke rather than hear the nurse prove that they are telling me the truth. But no, she did the opposite of what I was praying for.
Then I saw my family. I saw each and every one of them crying. When I saw them, the comfort of collapsing into a deep slumber played on my mind. I have never felt pain as great as that in my whole life.
They took his life. We would seek justice as much as we can. But even when justice is served, I don’t know if it would change a thing about how I feel. It will never bring him back to us. It will never wipe the nightmare that I had – the one that haunts me up to now. The nightmare that ended the paradise that we had when we were younger; When we were together everyday of our lives; When we stayed at home every night just to watch our favorite cartoons; When we went to a nearby convenience store every late afternoon to have some “slurpee” and chili dogs; When we spent lazy days when we visit our grandfather on weekends; when we listen to the music of Eraserheads and Rivermaya and sing with them ala-rockstars.
We are still praying for justice. But I know that even though we might not be able to find it, God is righteous and all of our prayers are heard. And in His time, His plans will be done. So I won’t say goodbye to him, just “See you later,” and have fun preparing the second part of our paradise above. I know, here in my heart, that someday, we will see each other again.

Franz went to school with me because I had to take him shopping for  something to wear for his birthday party on Saturday. We decided to celebrate his seventh birthday a day late because his teacher would not permit December 11 to be a holiday.

He had a great time playing games in the internet room in our school. I understand, because the internet connection was really good. But for me, the part of the day that I loved the most was the ride home. We bought some snack and drinks from Julie’s Bakeshop and he talked non-stop. He told me stories about The Legend of Mt. Mayon, The Legend of Banawe Rice Terraces and some stories about “Tikbalang”, “Tyanak”, “Nuno sa Punso” and Manananggal. I had a great time and I thought, I used to be the one who told him stories and now, he have his own stories to share. He is a good story-teller but I had to tell him later on that those creatures do not exist. I explained how those kind of stories spread and he understood.

Well, I hope that tomorrow will be extra special for him. I will, of course see to it that I will do everything in my might to make that happen.