Shifting Gears

My father believed that life could flourish even when surrounded by cold concrete sidewalks, black asphalt roads and the row upon row of silent houses that sat on stiff but detached cobbled stone shoulders, staring blankly into space as the days went by. This was Manduriao, Iloilo, my first home. The noiseless streets never drove me away. It only meant that there was more space for laughter and interesting chatter. It meant more space for my dreams, dreams that were expanding and multiplying. It meant more time seeing what else I could when everything seemed so familiar.

Hello, Father

CAST

Gabriel Angelus, 15, a sacristan

TIME

Dawn, nearing time for mass

(Around four-thirty in the morning)

PLACE

A dark and silent room in the seminary

Stale Custard Cakes

The night was starting to bother me. I couldn’t sleep it away. I was shaking violently now. My nerves were tense and I kept on pressing my cheek against the edge of my bed. I tried to apply pressure using a dirty chopstick I had found among the pile of junk scattered across my bedroom floor. Where is my goddamn Mefenamic Acid?!

I wanted to rid myself of the throbbing pain that was eating the sanity out of me. How many times did my father remind me to brush my teeth after every meal? The stool my father had repaired overnight when I was twelve was very tempting. Throw me! Bang me! Destroy me! I reached my arms out but my hands were back to my cheek pounding it with as much pressure as it can give.

The Failed Coin Flip

I picked up my wallet that was on top of my table. My throat was starting to crave for a breather. A box of yosi would do. There was a bit of eagerness as I searched my wallet for a twenty peso bill. It was again a good day to find fun outdoors. After five sticks, I’ll just send my friends messages and them meet in the mall.

But there were no twenty peso bills. All were a thousand and five hundred bills. Not a single twenty, fifty, or a hundred bill. Who would accept a thousand for a kaha of tens lights?