It was a cold December evening in Carbuncle City. A wet coat of snow glowed neon pink and green, reflecting the lights of Antioch Lane. A trio of figures moved down the street, oblivious to the fourth figure that stalked them like an eager predator.
Fresh from foiling another invasion by the hekacthonic thralls of Doctor Demodious, Figaro, Radiant Dame and Depression Dan were ready to get high, get wasted and party through Carbuncle City’s infamous club circuit. Continue reading
Briefings
“Let me see if I get this right. My instructions are to – shut up and let you do all the talking?”
“Yes, Ms. Graham. Tommy’s words exactly.”
“I see. Did Tommy – the Director – mention anything else, Dr. Morales? Perhaps something concerning the mission?”
“Call me Richie. Here’s the mission briefing that you can read on the way to Half Moon Bay.”
“I’m fairly certain that we’re not supposed to keep any sort of paper documentation, that’s why we were assigned smartpads with AES-256 –“
“Yeah, but they tend to fail when you need them. Now, read and memorize the stuff I gave you; we have to burn them before we arrive on site.”
“Oh. You’re Richard Morales.”
“Richie.”
“The one from the Philippines.” Continue reading
Audei touched the glass flask with the back of her fingers and felt it cool against her skin. She grasped the neck and lifted the flask toward the light. The liquid inside was clear, colorless, and extremely mundane, like rain or tears, yet Audei regarded it with the wonder of a child. She flicked her wrist and the liquid swirled. There is enough to fill a hundred tiny vials, she thought. Each vial worth an orb of gold in the Keida. Continue reading
For this next set of tales–the third set, for those of you keeping count–I’m happy to have four former PGS contributors returning with their newest work, all of which will be published over the next couple of months.
Dean Alfar is the guest-editor for this set, and he brings with him writers Elyss Punsalan, Alexander Osias, and Vincent Simbulan. All of them have seen publication in previously released print issues of PGS (to see which issues, just click on their names for the links). I’m proud to have them all back.
Eight stories in, and I’m pleased with the progress of PGS online. It feels good to know that as far as plans go, the site will be able to provide genre stories even up to the early part of next year. And looking at the bigger picture, I’m particularly pleased that–based on what I’ve seen, read, and heard through blogs, social-media or through meeting fellow readers–genre tales written by Pinoy fictionists are being read, and more importantly, accepted by fellow Pinoys, particularly younger ones. A part of me would like to think that the print version of PGS played a role in that, and that the online version is continuing that role. This is giving me a lot of hope, since it feeds into my goal of PGS helping develop people into regular readers for the rest of their lives. Of course, full credit for this actually goes to the readers themselves, since it’s their imaginations that is fueling their own desire to read and enter various worlds through reading, worlds of Pinoy creation, and worlds created by non-Pinoys as well. It’s all good.
“The lord loves stars.”
These were Dr. Albano’s words before he died, choking on blood coughed up by lungs breathing their last, red liquid forced upwards and out even as it bled through his torso, which was slashed raw, his entrails—liver, kidneys and intestines—shredded to ribbons, hot and steaming.
The words were said in a gurgle of blood, so soft I had to lean close to hear them, and to hear his last breath as it escaped from his lips.
“What did he say?” Minda asked.
“He said the ‘the lord loves stars.’”
Minda looked out the window, bulletproof glass now cracked, tiny spiderweb-like fault lines running through the formerly impenetrable glass. The curtain had long been torn away. Outside, the sky glowed light blue. Dawn had broken. I let go a breath I didn’t know I was holding in.
“Do you know what he meant?”