by Nica Bayona

 Obet is never late.  But I’ve been waiting for almost an hour now that I finished counting all the concrete trucks bound for San Juanico. It’s been four years since they started building the bridge and the trucks would always arrive before sundown. I never really understood the huge, rotating barrels behind them but just recently, Obet’s father, Tiyo Jun got hired to drive one so I asked him how they worked. Driving trucks is the only job I’ve seen the old man do ever since I can remember, all kinds of them, so it only makes sense that he jumped at the opportunity the moment it was offered. Add a base wage and a promised pack of cigarettes and Tiyo Jun is good to go.

“The trucks have to keep mixing the chunky stuff inside so they can use it right away,” I remember him saying. Tiyo Jun seems so happy doing it day after day. I wonder if I can drive one of those too when I grow up. 

M. A. Del Rosario is a Filipino artist and storyteller. He is a published author of graphic novels and short stories. He lies and makes up stories about monsters and gods. He is also an advocate of reading. He tells people to go to libraries, comic retailers, and bookshops. He lives with his family in a quiet subdivision where fireflies still exist and where cats question the existence of men. Sometimes, he talks to gods lost at sea. He still believes that magic is real. You can visit him at www.paperdrawing.com. His story, Cañao, was published in Philippine Genre Stories in January 2023.

by M.A. Del Rosario

Artwork by: M.A. Del Rosario

Simeon S. P. Balagtas didn’t understand the world anymore. Life wore him down, as everything was very different in his youth, and that was a very long time ago. Every day he sat in his small store along Carriedo Street near a busy Quiapo church, with a walking stick in one hand and a fan in the other, waiting for someone to buy. He sold different things, from clothing to underwear, and assortment of bootleg shoes and fancy trinkets. He also sold bootleg toys, and those sold more than everything else he had. 

Simeon never understood the fascination for such things, for he didn’t have toys in his youth. He never found a fondness for it, even as he grew older. He didn’t understand why children were fascinated with these things and the foreign games that were a big hit to the modern youth when they could be playing Tumbang-Preso or Luksong Baka. Has the world influenced his country so much that traditional games matter little now, unlike before? Is his yesterday gone with the swath of modern influences?

Justine Camacho-Tajonera was born and raised in Cebu City, Philippines. Though she started her professional journey in the corporate world, working in telecommunications and marketing, her love for literature remained constant. To stay connected to her creative roots, she pursued a master’s degree in Literature and Cultural Studies, cementing her commitment to writing.

She has published poetry in local anthologies and publications and has authored works across various genres. Her self-published titles include Just for the Summer (a contemporary romance novella), A Portrait of Jade (a young adult romance novelette), Bayawak’s Trail (a crime novelette), The Mermaid from Siquijor (a fantasy romance novella), Snuggle Wuggle Wee (a children’s book co-authored with Buding Aquino-Dee and Jenny Ong), and her poetry collection, Gift: Poems. Her first traditionally published romance novel, Steady Sarah, was released by Penguin Random House SEA in 2024.

Justine maintains a Substack blog, Claiming Alexandria, where she shares her poetry and thoughts on creativity and life. She is a marketing professional in the Philippines, is married, and has two children.  

by Justine Camacho – Tajonera

1 Bella

She wasn’t beautiful. Which was why I always wondered why her mother named her Bella. Her eyes were too far apart, her lips a little too large for her face. She was gangly, awkward. Her hands and feet were freakishly long and narrow. And sometimes, talking to her, you felt that she wasn’t entirely there. 

I met her the summer I turned sixteen. My parents were having a spat and they thought it best to ship me to the province while they were figuring things out for themselves. I stayed with my aunt, the single remaining sibling of my mother, who lived in their ancestral home in barangay Barahan, Pola, Sta. Cruz, Mindoro Occidental. Tita Osang lived in a traditional turn-of-the-century home with the most basic addition of electricity and some plumbing.  She was a formidable woman who ran a rice and cattle farm on her own. She put together an efficient household. When I arrived, she put me to work alongside her farmhands, no questions asked. My day began at four in the morning and ended at seven in the evening. Despite a day full of physical labor, she let me run wild, on my own, at around four in the afternoon. That was how I met Bella.