by M.A. Del Rosario

Illustration by M.A. Del Rosario

Her mouth blew through the pipes of her diwdiw-as. The pan flute originally belonged to her mother, and before that, her ancestors. The music started at a violent pace at first, fast, like the savagery of storms. It was as if she were back in the mountains where the summit touched the clouds. She felt the mist dampen her face. The skies above grew dark. And then the music slowed in tempo, calm, peaceful, regaining composure and clarity. The sky above cleared. 

She thought she had imagined this. Her audience were the stars that illuminated the reality of her surroundings: in the backyard of an old tenement building in a rundown area of Manila. Around her was the world– the real world, the poor world– with people walking and talking and thinking about how they would survive another day. Her music pierced reality. It stopped to listen and remember the old world and its simplicity, of a time fueled by imagination and discovery– a distant memory.

“Sing with me,” she whispered to the wind, and the wind responded with a light breeze that was a subtle whistle. It breathed with the melody of her music.

The night listened. A falling star brushed across the sky. The moment lingered forever.

by Jose Guerra Sison

Do you want to live, child?” He asked, holding His hand out to me. His face, I could barely see, as a bright light shone behind him. I stared at His outstretched hand, dumbfounded by the question. Did He really need to ask? I took it without hesitation. His warmth took the edge off the hunger that had lived inside me for years.

“Remember Me and keep the faith.” 

I nodded. As the bright light behind him faded, I felt an immense energy between His hand and mine, manifesting into a ball of pure light. It blazed like the sun, before turning into a smooth, round onyx nestled in my palm. 

“This is a mark of My trust, and your faith. You will know when to use it.” 

Then He vanished into a canopy of flames. 

by Jamie Alec Yap

Prototype 239521 please deactivate. 

The clock buzzes for the third time tonight.  The comscreen burns my eyes. Even after I rub them, the text on my screen remains blurry. I should have gone to bed hours ago. 

All Products, please exit your homecubes for maintenance. 

At two in the morning? 

A blinding light streaks outside the window. I wince, then cough. A white gas seeps into the room all too quickly. When I exit, the narrow corridor between my room and Naobi’s is already heavy with smoke. My eyes water. I panic, and drop to the floor. I wish they gave us enough time to exit properly before flushing us all out. 

I hear the homecube door hiss open. Naobi must have made it to the street. I keep close to the ground where the smoke is less, and crawl, grateful that my sister has left the door open.

There’s a transpod parked on our street, larger than any that I had seen before. At least 50 people could fit inside. Metallic tubes wrap around its exterior. As a child, I called them the maintenance transpod’s armor. Two men in gold suits step out, their faces, purposely blank. They refuse to look into anyone’s eyes. 

by Monica Felizardo

Kat ends the call, lips twitching with restrained triumph. Stretching back in her plush black office chair, she rolls her shoulders until she hears a satisfying click in her neck. She glances at the giant electronic scoreboard, noting her name perched at the top with relish. ‘TOP PERFORMER OF THE MONTH,’ the screen blares in black blocky letters. She scans the list—sales closed, hours rendered, AHT, QA—then pauses, narrowing her eyes in concentration. The difference between her and the next agent is too close for comfort. A couple of lucky calls could easily bridge that gap. She runs a hand through her hair. She could file for another rest-day OT, maybe take in more calls, bulk up the sales. Just in case.

She pulls up her virtual timecard on the desktop and notices the date and time. It’s half-past ten in the morning. She’s late. Again. Shutting down her computer with a forceful push of the button, Kat dashes out of her cubicle.

Philippine Genre Stories (PGS), a small and independent publisher in Manila, sent out its first call for submissions to the digest on August 30 2006. Opening then its publication for aspiring and practicing writers to explore the genres of Fantasy, Science fiction, Speculative, Crime, Mystery, Detective, Horror, and Suspense. PGS has published many contributors who have become accomplished creators through the years. Recently it has been publishing stories from students under the editorial guidance of the anthologized and acclaimed writer, fellow, lawyer, and teacher Christine V. Lao.

In 2023, PGS will be digitally publishing once more via Philippinegenrestories.com at least one previously unpublished story in English every month that experiments with the genres. With Mia Tijam—one of its published writers who herself has risen to acclaim, author of the anthology “Flowers for Thursday”, and one of the acknowledged editors who have advanced Philippine speculative fiction and its writers— serving as its guest-editor. Please email your submissions to philippinegenrestories(at)gmail(dot)com:

• Use subject line: Last name_First key words of the work.
• In the email body, you may tell us a little bit of yourself, contact details, and your submitted work.
• Submit story as DOCx attachment with file name format: Last name_First key words of the work
• Follow the story format of minimum 2,000 to maximum 6,000 words; font type Times New Roman/Arial/Calibri; font size 11 or 12; double-spaced; 1” margin all sides.
• Include your maximum 100-word author’s bio (and optional photo) in italics at the bottom of the last page of your story.
• Deadline for submissions is on December 31, 2022.

Each story considered for publication may receive developmental edits. Authors of chosen stories for publication will be contacted via email. Published stories will be compensated with a most humble fee.  All, especially students and unpublished writers from the provinces, are welcome to submit.

We are excited to receive and share your stories!