Entry #49


            “Lucid dreaming?” Shania asks, one eyebrow raises and her lip twitches a bit. Her tone screams ridicule from a mile away.

            “I’m telling you. It felt so real.” I explain horribly, downing my cherry mocktail.

            “Elena, honey, it’s been two nights. You’re still babbling about dreaming with your eyes wide open about this man with no face doing you. I don’t know what you’re complaining about because (a) You are obviously in need of a good woo-hoo sesh and (b) you’re not even a virgin,” Shania rolls her eyes. “So what’s the big deal? It’s not like a man hasn’t touched you.” She leans back on her chair and I look at her helplessly.  She had a point. Why was it a big deal? I had dreams like this all the time, visualizing men from those romance novels I love to read or the lead actors from the romance movies I also love to watch. I was far from pure and innocent. I have experience yet I still feel unsettled.

            “He had no face, Shan. He was in my room. I could feel the covers being lifted and his silhouette moving. I think what freaks me out the most was that because it was so vivid that it felt real. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t even scream.” I press, hands rubbing each other, trying to pry the discomfort from the memory.

            “Darling, you’re just having a bit of a dry spell.” Shania giggles, her fingers toying with her golden necklace, “Go out and meet some new people. You and Charlie broke up months ago and he’s been seeing other people, you know. It’s just sad that you’re still grieving. Lighten up.” Shania guzzles her cocktail and waves her glass at the waitress by the bar counter.

            “I don’t think this is the regular dry spell.” shaking my head, I continue sheepishly “Though I do admit that I haven’t been feeling as perky down there in a while.” Shania claps at that

            “See? You are feeling under the sexual weather.” She laughs, as if this admission steers us away from the conversation at hand.

            “I just haven’t been sleeping as soundly as I used.”

            “Have you talked to your Dad about this?”

            “No. He’s out of town. And why would I?”

            “Have you been taking your mediation?”

            “Yes, regularly.” The drinks arrive and I take a sip out of mine. “Julian reminds me to take them every night before I go to bed.”

            “Wow. So the cousin hasn’t left the apartment, has he?” Shania’s face scrunches up. She hasn’t exactly been his number one fan, especially since he moved in with us when his landlord threw him out. She claims that he stares at her too much that it gives her the heebie jeebies. But it just so happens that his dad and my dad were close when they were growing up and knew Julian since he was a toddler and my dad was more than thrilled to take him in. Though I only met him a couple of times growing up, we were never really close.

            “Yeah, it’s actually nice to have him in the apartment. He takes care of the cleaning and the cooking and mostly does what Dad does. He basically takes care of me.”

            “Elena, you are twenty-three living in your Dad’s apartment with your older cousin.” Shania takes a gulp of her cocktail.

            “You make that sound like a bad thing.” I pout.

            “It’s not.” She sets down the glass. “It’s just weird. You need your own space. Be a woman out in the urban jungle! What you’re doing, my friend, is freeloading.” She nods her drink at me and gulps the last of its contents, snapping her fingers to the waitress by the next table and ordering some more drinks.

            “Excuse me, I am not freeloading. I provide groceries and money for bills. I’m not completely taking advantage of anyone.” I cross my arms at her, a try for defiance and rebellion.

            “Freeloader!” she giggles.

            “Oh, stop it.” I throw a tissue at her but can’t help but smile a bit.

            “Seriously though, if you’re having trouble sleeping you should check in with your doctor. Your prescription might need to be changed. I might be a bitch encouraging you to do crazy shit but I ain’t heartless.”

            “I guess you might be right. The pills just aren’t working as well as they used to.” I sigh.

            “How many times has this happened to you again? The dream thing?”

            I shrug. “Just that once,”

            “Then it’s just a dream. It happened once. It’s not likely to happen again. You’re being paranoid and ridiculous and that is the result of being so damn tired all the time. Also, lucid dreaming is a sham. I tried the thing the internet said, you know, to induce…” Shania does some air quotes “…lucid dreaming and it was bogus.” She huffed, taking a swig at her glass.

            “You totally just brought up lucid dreaming to rub it in my face that it didn’t work when you forced yourself to dream. That’s pretty pathetic, Shan.” I accuse playfully.

            “Uh, duh. I hate seeing you this sad. Even when you’re trying to be playful you still sound miserable. Look, I know you’re tired and just here because you know I’m going to get shitfaced and will need a safe ride home with a designated driver, that being you, but I need you to party, too. C’mon, let’s have fun!” Shania grabs my hand and drags me towards the dance floor. She shakes my shoulders and forces me to enjoy. The music seems to have grown louder up here as we bop hard on whatever dance music the DJ was trying to sell us. Laughs ensue and sweat drop, both of us were having the time of our lives and the drinks just keep on coming. Hers were spiked while mine weren’t yet I feel entranced by the blinking lights, shifting from red to blue to yellow to nothing. The world outside is miles away, distant and almost non-existent from this enclosed space with bodies everywhere. There is nothing that can end this night.

            “I need to pee!” Shania shouts over my ear and I quickly maneuver her towards the Ladies’ Room. She runs towards an empty cubicle and falls down on her knees, hands gripping the toilet.

            “Shit, Shan. Are you alright?” I ask as she proceeds to gag and hurl. I hurriedly kneel beside her and drag her hair out of her face. She continues to vomit a sweet pungent liquid which I can only assume were the cocktails she’s been chugging non-stop.

            “Alright, it’s time to go home.” Cringing, I announce. Shania wipes her mouth with her elbows and smiles goofily at me.  “No, I don’t wanna. We gotta keep dancing.” She struggles to get up, hands in the air without a care left in her body.

            “You’re drunk,” I say. “We have to go.”

            “But I don’t wanna,” Shania continues to protest. I help her on her feet and half-carry-half-drag her towards my car which is conveniently parked beside the main door. I press the unlock button on my keys and open the backseat door, shoving Shania inside without a second thought. She’s stopped whining about staying at the bar. I get in and check through the rear view mirror and see her chest rise and fall heavily. She’s passed out.

            “Alright, then.” I turn to drive to her street and I can’t help but think of my dream again. How rough seemingly calloused hands started to glide through my bare arms, back and forth as if testing the smoothness, a wet finger slipping off articles and prying my legs open, touching softly before plunging hard… I pull over Shania’s house, got off and opened the car.

            “We’re here. We’re home.” I shake her and she groans in response.  “Shan, you have Work tomorrow. You have to sleep at home.” Shania snores. “At least give me the keys so I can carry you inside.” I sigh heavily and step back into the driver’s seat. I guess she’s sleeping at home.

            I wanted to tell him he was hurting me. That he could continue but gently but I couldn’t find my voice. I couldn’t whisper the words Stop to a man with no face. It felt absurd and this dream was just that, a dream. I could hear distant moaning in the dizzy spiral of my dark room; sweat trickled down my temples and everywhere else. It was so hot. I couldn’t breathe. I wanted to ease the pain but I couldn’t move in time with the stranger inside me.

            “You’re home.” Julian opens the door and I drag Shania inside. “Woah. Is your friend alright?”

            “Not really.” I grunt. “She’s passed out. Help me get her to my room.”

            “Okay.” Julian takes Shania’s arm and slings it over his shoulders, she grabs her waist tight and takes her from me, carrying her over to my room and gently placing her on my bed. I follow suite, and see him tuck a strand of her brown hair behind her ear. He then turns to me and smiles.

            “Your medicine is at the kitchen table.”

            “Thanks.” I say, suddenly feeling self-conscious about myself. I move towards the bed and cover Shania with a blanket. Her cheeks are flamed yet she looks so peaceful and I couldn’t help but smile.

            “She’s really pretty.” I turn to look at Julian with my medication in his palm and a glass of water in his hand.  He offers them to me and I take them.

            “Yeah. Shan is really pretty.”  I agree, placing the capsules inside my mouth and wash them with water.

            “I noticed you’ve been having trouble sleeping. Bad dreams?” Julian asks, brushing the empty space next to Shania and then fluffing the pillow.

            “Sort of,” I shrug, stalking towards my bathroom and changing into pyjamas. “Am I being too loud? Do I scream?”  I have then a sudden burst of fear that he might’ve heard something whilst I was having a weirdly inappropriate dream. I feel my cheeks burn.

            “No. Your light is just always on these nights. I worry.” Julian graces me with another one of his easy smiles but I feel a prickle down my spine that’s quite off. My eyes are becoming a bit itchy and I yawn.

            “I better hit the sack.” I stretch and lead Julian to the door. “See you the morning.” He stands by the doorway for a moment and stares at me. I start to count. One. Two. Three. He’s still there. Four. Five. Six. “Good night.” He then says and turns to his room.

            “Night. Thanks for helping me with Shan.” He turns back and gives me a thumbs up. I wave, shut the door and lock it. The room slowly dims and I almost stumble getting in bed. The meds are working fine this time, as soon as I hit the sheets, everything goes black and I sleep a dreamless night.  

            “Elena, wake up!” Shania pounces on top of me and I cough awake.

            “What the hell?!” I wheeze.

            “I lucid dreamt last night!” She tells me excitedly and I scratch my head in confusion. The light from the window stings my vision. I forgot to close the curtains last night.

            “Didn’t you say it was bullshit?”

            “Yeah, it was total bullshit… until I had one! It was pretty cool actually and quite sexy. Your mystery man with no face paid me a visit and it was hot.” Shania licks her lips lustfully. In the daylight, my room is a mess, dirty clothes and clean ones scattered all over the floor. Books and papers, stacked haphazardly on my desk. The door is slightly ajar and the smell of cooking waffles wafts into the room. I pull my gaze towards Shania and then see her admiring herself in the mirror by my dresser. She’s taken the liberty of ransacking the remaining contents of my closet and has pulled on a dress shirt and pencil skirt and applies make up.

            “Eeck,” she recoils. “What the hell is this?” I saunter towards her and check her neck.

            “It looks like a hickey.”

            “Tell me I didn’t hook up with some rando, last night.” She pleads with her eyes. Typical Shania, not remembering what happened last night.

            “No. I was with you the whole time.”

            “Then, it’s probably all Damien’s fault. That pig.” Shania shudders.

            “Hey girls, I made waffles!” Julian shouts from the kitchen.

            “Can’t! I’m leaving for work! I’m already late!” Shania shouts then picks up her bag, she groans “My thighs are killing me, when you said it felt so real I didn’t realize it’d be this real ” Shania laughs as she slips on her shoes from last night and says “Hey E, I seem to have misplaced my necklace, you know, the one with the golden pendant.  It might’ve gotten caught in the car or somewhere. Tell me when you find it,” she blows me a kiss and disappears from my room. I take a scrunchie from my dresser and tie my hair back. I make my bed, spreading the sheet neatly when I feel a thick transparent patch that seems to have dried recently, maybe overnight. I feel my eyebrows wrinkle but I don’t pay attention to it. I take the sheets off and change them. I hear Shania and Julian share a laugh, his is a deep and rich one while hers is a quaky trill, before the front door shuts and I stalk towards the kitchen.

            “That smells nice!” I croon, dropping the sheets inside the laundry basket by the door of the laundry room.

            “Too bad Shania couldn’t eat with us.” Julian clucks his tongue and laughs it off, serving me a plate and placing the maple syrup on the table. I sit down and he turns around. A golden chain hangs from his back pocket.


Apologies for Cut Flowers

He stopped by the door of the viewing room – hesitant, anxious, grievous, he couldn’t place the feeling. This was the first time in years since he had seen him. And, also would be the last.

The man took a deep breath and pushed the door open, heart banging on his chest as if it might tear an actual hole and fall to the ground. He scanned the room, looking for familiar faces, saw his uncle sprawled on one bench by the water dispenser – asleep; must’ve been  up all night. He also recognized his wife, sitting by the front row talking to a woman whom he did not know. Again, he scanned – he saw a flash of white, but ignored it –  this time searching for the innocent eyes of his children; a girl and a boy, maybe 8 and 11 respectively. He had seen his children about two months ago when his wife paid his family a visit in Sta. Rosa.

            He didn’t come because of work – they said.  But, really, it was something more.

“Uy!” (Hey) a woman’s voice called, along with a poke on his shoulder. He didn’t notice his wife had acknowledged him.

“Hey,” he said, lamely.

“Maray ta naka abot ka,” (You made it) he saw her eyes glisten, as if telling him that she didn’t expect his presence.

            Why should they? When we haven’t seen each other in so many years.

“Syempre man, tugang ko baga yan.” (He’s my brother, of course I came.)

“Mari na, tukawi na. Nuarin ka nag abot?” (Come, sit. When did you arrive?) and they sat down on the second row of benches – still further away from the white area.

“Kasubago lang,” (A little while ago) his brother’s wife then started to prattle as she always did. Often times, he would zone out and let her talk, occasionally nodding when the pitch of her voice rises. But, this time, he actually listens…

“Bigla nalang siyang natumba. Nagkakaon kami sa arong tapos naulog siya sa tukawan – ” (He just fell. We were eating at home and then he fell from his seat – ) …for a time. He had heard this drone from the telephone and did not want to relive it. So, he asks “Hain su mga aki?” (Where are the children?)

“Yaon sa arong, kaiba si mama.” (At home, they’re with Mother.) he nods at her answer, fixated on the small crevices of the wooden bench, not really seeing, still avoiding.

            His wife then stands, probably noticed his lack of interest. Still, he doesn’t move or avert his eyes. He sits there and pretends that nothing is wrong. His wife comes back and offers him some refreshments. Glad for a distraction, he clumsily snatched a fudgee bar, tore it open and ravaged it in one bite.

He was antsy.

The wife sat down beside him again, a hand landed on his shoulder, so light yet felt like tons of steel being drilled into him. He looked up and their eyes met. An understanding sparked, igniting the pain, regret and anger that he had been refusing to confront upon hearing the news.

A tear fell from her left eye, gave him a soft smile and calmly hugged him. He felt like he was under a waterfall, being doused by cold spring water and all his energy being sapped as he struggled to stand firm below it. His wife pulled away after a while, composed herself and stood by the coffin. It was white, inlaid with gold bulbous things. There were cut flowers in beautiful bouquets; dead, like his brother.

He sniffed and stood up, legs feeling like jelly and stood beside the wife. Taking a deep breath, he gazed upon a familiar face; before, full of life, possibilities and mischief, now, pale and empty. He broke down then and there. 
A picture of two boys playing by a fish pond rose in his mind, the older one pushing the younger into the water and playfully jumping in after. They splashed water on each other and laughed. Another image of them flashed, going home dripping wet, the shouts of their frustrated mother echoing in the small living space as she spanked the older.

He laughed at the memory, hysterically, wiping the mucous from his nose with your elbow. He then bent down and kissed the coffin’s glass. Remembering, again, how they would buy ice cream after.
The man took a deep breath as thoughts of him continued to flood his mind; a montage of their lives as brothers… friends. He smiled and cried and uttered his apologies to deaf gods. All the while the widow tapped his back, silently crying along as her wounds opened up once more to accommodate for his to heal.

Ending Ties

“It’s over…” she said carefully “isn’t it.”
As they sat a foot apart, on the edge of the old stone bridge on where they spent their lazy Sunday afternoons, she felt the air of their relationship stifle a bit – something that usually happened before a big fight, which didn’t happen often… but then again, nothing has ever stifled their air this thick before.
“I guess so,” he replied.
Rapt silence falls on the ex-lovers‚ the realization that this would be the last time of something is heavy on their lips‚ limbs and hearts. She turned her gaze towards the river‚ crackling water breaks where rocks begin while he turned to look at her‚ memorizing…the honest beauty of her.
“You know I’ll always love you‚” he blurted‚ as if this would help. As if these words could mend her heart‚ as if by uttering these words he would be absolved from any guilt. But then again‚ he was oblivious to another reason why they were ending ties.
“I cheated on you‚” she replied‚ as if this would make it less painful‚ as if this would make them even‚ as if this would make them feel goddamn something for each other again.
He bit down hard and then swallowed. “Good to know‚”
“I’m sorry‚” he added.
“I’m sorry too‚” she looked at him now and their eyes caught each other‚ still saving each other‚ even now.
Especially now.
The truth was out. He fell out‚ she cheated. Yet there was no anger‚ no shouts‚ no blame-games just… the ruin of their relationship and reluctant acceptance.
And‚ as the wind blew past them‚ trying to shake away the aura emitted from two secretly broken people‚ even the bridge where they spent most of their happy moments‚ felt lost‚ and tried to apologize and tried to forget.







Eros Brew

There were blurs of light, music and drinks that disoriented Tanya. It made her body spaz with energy. And with heart and head throbbing in sync with the electric tune, she had no care in the world.

She was the world – a sweaty disco-crazed diva in the middle of the dance floor.

“Hey!” someone yelled in her ear, though it was faint with the music bombarding her eardrums. The stranger eased in front of her, dancing. Leaning over quite subtly, she tried to take a whiff of his cologne. (Tanya loved the smell of men’s cologne) Though, the tinge of alcohol in her mouth made her nose numb and her tongue tasted like bile but it was the least of her problems.

“Hey,” it came out as a slur and she laughed it off. The man laughed with her and the exchange became less awkward.

No, that wasn’t it. Nothing was awkward about this. Tanya just couldn’t find the right word to describe the meeting although it was like this every other night. Some guy would think it was their lucky night and would try to pick her up and yet, a year of coming in and out of this bar, getting wasted to the point of crawling or passing out on the chaise lounge, no one had succeeded in getting in her knickers.

“Can I buy you a drink?” he shouted.

“Yes!” she said without hesitation and the man grabbed her wrist and helped her maneuver towards the bar counter and then on the bar stool. As soon as she sat down, her head slumped on the counter and she laughed again. The man had disappeared.

And then he reappeared behind the counter. Tanya propped herself up, resting her chin atop her palm that connected to her swaying elbow while her heels clicked to the bass of Icona Pop.

“I thought you were going to buy me a drink?”

“I am,” he smiled, teeth gleaming in the low light.

“Then why are you behind the counter like you’re the bartender?” Tanya asked accusingly, like the man was some sort of con-artist trying to impress her. “Mikey!” she hollered. “Hey, Mikey!”

“Yes, Miss Tanya?” A tan muscular man came into view, looking amused at the sight. Mikey has been the bartender who usually served Tanya drinks.

“Is he new?” she pointed at the man. Mikey laughed as the man suppressed a shy smile.

“Alright, serve those two ladies over there. I’ll take care of Miss Tanya,” the man said and playfully shoved Mikey towards the other direction. Eyes fluttering shut and then snapping right back open. She observed the back of the man who dragged her from the dance floor. It was damn sexy.

“What’s your name?” Tanya blurted. He didn’t face her. He was still busy with her drink. A moment later, Tanya knew he wasn’t going to answer, so she tried again. “What’s your name?” The man looked over her back and held a finger against his lips, shushing Tanya, and smiled before going back to work. Tanya blew her hair out of her face in impatience, she needed another drink. Sitting upright, or what passed to be upright, she fixed her hair and then propped her hands on her legs like a proper lady would do. Silently impressing herself, Tanya smirked. She had become a wasteland and then demure the next. Finally the man turned around and placed a hot cup of coffee in front of her. The strong bean scent managed to bypass the numbing barrier through her nose, allowing the alcohol to take a bit of its toll on her head.

“What is this?” she asked dumbly. Late in noticing that the man was resting his elbows across the counter and watched her.

“Coffee,” he said plainly. “To clear your head,”

“I don’t want my head to clear, it’s hurting already.” Tanya held her temples. “And I don’t drink coffee this strong,” at that, the man frowned.

“It’s not that strong, really.” he sounded offended.

“Yeah? Then why is it messing with my head?” she groaned, feeling her head throb harder than her usual hangover migraines.

“You’ve just had too much alcohol, just drink it. I promised you a drink, didn’t I?” he shrugged. Head clearing up, Tanya did her best impression of a girl who was sober and pouted her lips. Her lipstick was smeared on the right side of her face, hair disheveled like a bird’s nest and dress strap hanging precariously by her shoulder that threatens to throw itself off the sloping edge and even then the man said nothing, offered nothing but this single cup of coffee.

“You sure, you didn’t put any drugs in it?” she asked.

“Nope,” Shrugging, Tanya took a sip, eyes never leaving those dark ones, that again, she failed to notice earlier. The bean scent wafted into her nostrils more insistent, bringing her senses back to life and her head, despairingly, to a throbbing headache, but as she downed the last contents of the cup, admittedly, she felt better.

“Cameron,” he said. Tanya looked up, more aware of her surroundings than earlier. The deafening dance music slammed at her but she heard the man – who now had a name – clearly.


Because I don’t know what to do anymore.

I was crying on the toilet, bare of any article apart from my skin which trickled with sweat and despair. Tears kept sloping on my cheeks as I gripped my hair at the ends and tried pulling my head apart. I stifled my screams for fear my brother would hear me.
Breath ragged.
Heart cracked.
The slow and accepting pace of the water from the faucet fills the pail with light and escape. Dragging the pail in front of me, I said a solemn goodbye and kissed the water neck-deep—

Staring Contest

A pair of green eyes looked pointedly at me.

Sitting comfortably on my window ledge in a red-knitted sweater and sweat pants, my hair in a messy bun and bowl of oatmeal in hand, I asked the expecting little monster “What?” raising a brow in hopes to intimidate him.

He didn’t speak.

He just kept staring at me while he sat on his snow-kissed bum. His whiskers twitched a bit as his tail propped up and swayed like a bobbly head on the dashboard of a car. Green eyes still regarded me with anticipation.

My tongue rolled to the side of my mouth, bulging from the outside, and matching his stare defiantly, I put the bowl down and shifted my seat. Arms between my legs and hands gripping the ledge, I narrowed my eyes and exacted my gaze on his.

He just sat there and gazed right back, tail – now – curling and unfolding and still maintaining an eerie sort of calm. I could feel pinpricks climbing up my spine. Determined not to show any weakness, I folded my arms on my chest and put on my best bitch face – which consisted of a soft, virgin duckface and currently narrowed eyes.

Nothing happened.

My butt was getting itchy from sitting on the ledge, I took a sideway glance at my bowl of unfinished oatmeal, annoyance crawling up. Groaning, my hands flew up in the air “Fine!” I conceded, jumped down and stomped off to the kitchen.

Upon my return, his eyes had shifted, still looking at me but there was a twinkle that wasn’t there before. I could swear he was smirking at me. Putting his bowl in front of him, he stood up and did an infinity between my legs, purring and mewling and then dug into his breakfast.





 A prologue from a STILL pending novel of mine…seemed like a vague short story. *shrugs*

(Last modified: July 22, 2013) Yikes.


         I finally broke away from my binds and the song outside is killing me as it reverberates my insides. Dashing through the house’s halls, to the living room and out the front door, I have never felt so free.

Air, sweet sea air. The orchestras of angelic voices summon me. I walk in a trance-like pattern through the neighborhood, away from the street lamps, away from civilization. There is nothing but me and the song. The beach gets closer and I can smell the salt, it takes almost everything in me not to bolt straight into the water.

         The song speaks, telling me a story. My hunger grumbles for their stories, it’s driving me mad.

         A glimmer of gold shoots up from the water but it quickly disappears. They’re here for me. I dip my feet into the ice cold sea and wade there. The water stings me, sending rushes of adrenaline that course through my body. I take in a deep breath and sing my tale to them.

         Cool breaths, sweet hisses.
Black Water,
New moon.

         I push myself forward until the water is above my waist. I keep singing, they accompany me with second voices accentuating my melody.

         It was like a concerto and I was the lead instrument. Splashes of black surround me as they sing to me, as they sing with me.

         “Sister,” one hisses and then I see it.


         I can’t feel my toes anymore and my legs are giving out on me.
        This is what I want, a voice in my head says for me. Before I could even counter the thought…

         They dragged me down.