Liyab Archives - Page 22 of 31

09

Feb

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The Ghost of the Past

SMOKE and dust surround the street on afternoons. People talked either in hushed tones or with loud, boisterous voices. Even with heavy books in their bags, the children wore a smile as they journeyed back home. The smell of burning charcoal, fried oil, and an array of street food wafted…

31

Jan

By The Flame Literary

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An Impending Darkness

AMID THE crowd, he begins to wonder to himself if these lost souls around him still believe in themselves. While walking, he sees a woman who seems to be around her forties who is with her daughter. The child looks up at him, and he smiles at her. They must…

19

Jan

By The Flame Literary

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Treasure Hunt

I SELDOM come home to the province, but whenever I do, I always run to our garden to check if the gate of that house is unlocked: the home of my late aunt. I can still remember how I would always go to that house to visit her. She rarely…

12

Jan

By The Flame Literary

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The Cure

HE LOOKS on at the sheer number of devotees passing by. He does not join them; for now, he is content in being a bystander smoking a cigarette. Being a long-time smoker, he takes a long drag and feels the nicotine seep into his lungs. He wheezes. The release of…

05

Jan

By The Flame Literary

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One Last Time

IN AN old rusty house laid an old man. His eyes could barely see the sunlight streaming down his dusty bedroom and his fingers could barely write a single curve. The man knew his time was near, yet his heart remained dissatisfied. It had been several years since he last…

29

Dec

By The Flame Literary

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Towards Greater Heights

YOU despise what this year has brought upon you. The burden of it has caused you to doubt everyone around you. You have chosen not to trust anyone as you were betrayed by someone you used to feel comfortable with. Sometimes, you enjoy the company of your friends, but you…

22

Dec

By The Flame Literary

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One hundred-peso bill

ALONG the streets of Divisoria lie a mother and a son curled together against the cold morning breeze. Before the sun begins to rise, the little boy squirms out of his mother’s embrace to start his morning rounds. After kissing his mother goodbye, he grabs the materials he needs for…

15

Dec

By The Flame Literary

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Picturesque

I LOOK down from my vantage point. Amid the dimmed lights, there is only darkness, which pales in comparison to the city skyline dotted with specks of yellow and white. From a distance, I hear the faint tune of a Christmas song. Beside me, my camera lies at rest. Silence…

09

Dec

By The Flame Literary

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The Warmth of Christmas

The chilly December wind made him frown. It reminded him of the old days when he still associated the month of December with warmth; the kind of warmth that made him recall what home was like: far from the honking cars, the blinding city lights, and the bustling of busy…

01

Dec

By The Flame Literary

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The Barriers of Control

THERE ARE structures of authority that do not only lurk within the walls that forbid rebellion, but also posit the horrors of what the elements of control can inhibit society from doing. These borders continuously control individuals whose bodies have turned into docile subjects of dominance. They are not locked…