Literary

By me, for you
03
Jun
By Alyanna Ysabel Sacramento
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By me, for you

THE SCORCHING heat of the afternoon is enough to make Josephine feel sick throughout her shift, the knotted ends of her pamaypay almost wearing out. It is only a little over the afternoon, but her bones are starting to feel like they could melt and dissipate. “Okay ka lang dyan?…
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Processions by the boulevard
31
May
By Maria Althea Javier
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Processions by the boulevard

by MARIA ALTHEA V. JAVIER SOMEBODY ASKED me if I could sign their uniform as we half-listened to the Father’s sermons. It was a rather lighthearted request, but a compromised nod was all I could give.   As candles lit up the field I once cursed the sun out loud in, I…
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Unsaid farewell
28
May
By The Flame Literary
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Unsaid farewell

by ALYANNA YSABEL DV. SACRAMENTO A WAVE of fear whirls in the pit of his stomach. Just earlier that day, he was walking hand in hand with his mother. For a young boy like Iñigo, getting strayed away from his mother is the last thing he wanted to happen. With only…
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Nanay pa rin
14
May
By The Flame Literary
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Nanay pa rin

by FRANCIS MIGUELL S. STA. ROSA sa anong punto bang ang ina’y ‘di na ina? ‘pag supling ay tao na, o sarili o ina anak pa rin ba? saksi ako sa kaganapan sa kanilang pagsilang  sa madaling araw ng katandaan   pasan ang daigdig, na pinasang mayro’ng tangan nang lumao’y nagsilang…
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Camera log
06
May
By The Flame Literary
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Camera log

by TRIXCY ANNE B. LOSERIAGA THE TENSION pinned us down as the crowd gathered within the vicinity of the incident. The policemen loaded with full gear barricaded the streets, hoping to quench the agitated looks of the citizens. However, it only fueled the citizens' resolve as more people arrived. We made…
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30
Apr
By The Flame Literary
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Soiree

by MARIA ALTHEA V. JAVIER   Beckoned by its abysmal towers She trots into the ornate ravine  Lost in her own delicate pitter patters As the visage of her, paints dull skies As the thought of her brings forth life   Gazing from their supposed soiree Delicate tugs linger within her…
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Pagod
23
Apr
By The Flame Literary
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Pagod

by FRANZ ZOE STOELZL T. BAROÑA THE LAST jeepney was heard at the tail end of Doroteo Jose where an aging railway hung above it. George had just settled from counting the coins and bills he collected when he found an elderly man, dressed in black trousers and a polo,…
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