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Daniel used to love sleeping. Back when he lived a normal life. Leaving the house in the morning. Going to work. Seeing friends at least once a week. Catching a midnight screening of a new film he couldn't watch at a more humane time because of deadlines. Hanging out with co-workers. Shooting the breeze. Spending time on his own, visiting bookstores to browse through books he doesn't have time to read.

Having a life outside of his family.

Having the ability to choose to spend time with his family.

Having the opportunity to be away from his family.

Choosing to sleep instead of dealing with their insecurities.

Cherishing sleep because he may be home but he doesn't have to listen to their woes. Their gripes. Their regrets wrapped in what-ifs and scapegoating.

And then the pandemic happened. And then Daniel got locked in with his family. And Daniel no longer had any choices as he realizes that even though he used to constantly avoid his family, he was still the one who kept the house running, who kept the peace by not being invested in anything his family is complaining about.

He does not have the option to leave knowing everything is going to shit if he does.

So he stays.

And fears sleep.

Because the respite will not last long.

Because sleeping means waking up.

To another day.

Still stuck.

Still alive.

But no longer living.

She said she loved him.

That she cannot live without him.

That he was the only one who cared for her.

That he was the only one who understood.

She told him, over and over, that she'd die if he wasn't around.

He felt trapped.

Like he didn't have a life of his own.

And everything he did, she judged by the way it affects her.

If he succeeded in something, it only mattered if it meant he could spend more time with her.

If he failed in something, it didn't matter because it meant he would have to spend more time with her.

She needed him.

She suffocated him.

In the end, he embraced it.

So he could die.

And finally be free.

Hello.

Hello?

Ames?

Who is this?

I think you got the wrong person

I need help.

You got the wrong person, okay?

I'm not Ames.

You're the only one who knows where I am, Ames.

I'm blocking you.

You already tried.

I'm still here, Ames.

Right where you left me.

This person isn't receiving messages at this time.

I'm still here, Amelia. Still waiting for you to let me out.

This person isn't receiving messages at this time.

Please, Amelia. Please let me out.

This person isn't receiving messages at this time.

The last gasp of breath caught him unaware.

He had just spent the whole night trying to fight this demon. This monster that fed on his fears, on his insecurities... His loneliness. And he thought he had finally defeated it.

But that gasp.

That last gap.

He turned so fast that he lost his balance.

And the split second of fall felt like thirty years.

Thirty years worth of wrong decisions. Of indecisions. Of letting himself be terrified into submission.

Only for him to end up in the maws of this demon.

Killing him as he had killed it.

#filipino scares

Pounding

It started a few years ago.

An unknown number would call. And then the pounding would begin. It used to happen slowly. Bum. I look at at the unknown number. Bum. I think if I should answer. Bum. I pick up the phone. Bum. The ringing stops. I put the phone down.

Then it rings again. Bum bum. I look at the phone I just put down. Bum bum. I pick it up. Bum bum. I answer, “hello?”

No one answers. The call ends.

Bum bum bum.

Nothing happens. Nothing happened.

I think nothing of it.

And then, at work, someone makes a comment about something I had done. Bum. It’s not a bad comment. It’s constructive. It wasn’t done with malice. Bum. But it burrows. Bum. And that night, a different number calls. Bum bum. And I pick it up. Bum bum bum.

Silence.

I block the number. Both numbers. I try to move on.

I meet up with a friend. She compliments my hair. Bum. She says we should hang out more. Bum bum. She says goodbye. Bum bum bum.

While waiting for a cab, my phone rings with another unknown caller. Bum. I pick up. Bum bum. It’s someone from a bank. Bum bum bum. They’re offering me a credit card. Bum bum bum bum. I decline. I say goodbye.

I sit down.

A cab pulls up in front of me.

I don’t notice it.

Bum.

My phone rings again.

Bum bum.

Another unknown caller.

Bum bum bum.

I turn the phone off.

Bum bum bum bum.

I curl up on that curbside.

Bum bum bum bum bum.

The cab leaves.

Special Ride

Horatio doesn’t like to wait; especially when it’s already late and there’s nothing left for him to do but get home and sleep. Like tonight.

It’s almost midnight. Horatio has been standing for ten minutes, waiting for a tricycle that would take him the rest of the way home. He looks at his watch and at the long winding road where the tricycle would be coming from. It’s quiet. Empty.

Horatio sighs.

“You’re heading to the village?” someone asks behind him.

Startled, Horatio turns to find a tricycle idling behind him. “You startled me, Kuya. But, yes.”

“Should we wait for another passenger?” The driver of the tricycle turns to the road that leads to the highway. No one is heading their way.

Horatio looks at his watch again. Five minutes to midnight. He shakes his head. “I’ll take the special ride. Forty pesos, right?”

“Hop in.”

Horatio stoops down to get inside the cab of the tricycle, entering head first. He places his backpack on the seat, to his side. And peeks at the driver from inside, “Kuya, is it okay if you take me right to the gate?”

“Sure.”

The tricycle starts to move when someone suddenly calls out. “Hey! Can I share the ride?”

The driver turns to Horatio, “you wouldn’t have to pay the whole forty pesos. You can split.”

Horatio answers, “it’s fine. I can shoulder the whole cost.”

“Thank you.” Horatio sees a boy in the school uniform running past the cab, who grins at him. “I’ll just ride at the back.”

Horatio nods. He feels the boy’s added weight press on the bike, gently rocking the cab as the tricycle settles with the weight. And then they are off.

The ride is quiet. Horatio turns to his phone, texting his sister to inform her that he was already on his way home. The tricycle hits a pothole and Horatio almost loses hold of his phone.

“Kuya, a little careful please.” Horatio turns to the opening between the cab and the bike, to see if the driver heard him.

“Sorry. A cat ran in front of the tricycle,” the driver replied. But his words doesn’t immediately register in Horatio’s head as the latter notices four fingers gripping the side of the tricycle’s cab tightly. Odd, he thought.

The rest of the ride is smooth. But Horatio’s eyes keep going back to the fingers that are holding tightly on the cab walls. There’s another set on the other side of the cab.

Finally, Horatio can’t take it anymore. He turns to the driver again, “Kuya, can you tell the other guy that it’s fine he backrides? He doesn’t have to ride behind the cab. He could get hurt.”

The driver turns to Horatio for a split second, confused. But he keeps driving. Horatio thinks to himself, well that’s rude. He looks at the fingers again. Clutching for dear life. Horatio decides he’ll apologize to the other guy when they get to the village gate.

Finally, they arrive. The fingers disappear from the sides of the cab. Horatio takes out forty pesos from his wallet to hand over to the driver, adding, “Kuya, didn’t you hear me? You could’ve just asked the other guy to backride. He didn’t have to hang on to the cab just because I was paying.”

And then Horatio sees the other guy riding at the back of the bike, looking at him with surprise. The driver, still confused, tells Horatio, “but he’s been behind me the whole ride. No one was hanging on to the cab.”

#Philippines #Filipino Scares #horror story #horror

The Mask of Joy

Ten years ago, for Christmas, Joy told her eccentric godfather that all she wanted was to have friends. Two weeks later, he gave her a glass mask that, according to him, would allow her to become the most liked person wherever she goes. But, he warns, if she chooses to wear the mask, she can never take it off. Not even when she’s alone.

Joy thought it was a strange gift--and an even stranger request. But she paid the mask no mind. She set it aside and forgot about it... Until her 18th birthday, when she invited her classmates to a small gathering--and no one showed up.

Locking herself up in her room, Joy cried her eyes out. And found herself looking at the box that contained the glass mask. Her godfather’s words haunted her. Wear it, and you will become the most liked person wherever you go.

Joy took the glass mask out of the box. She looked at its small frame, and laughed. She was a child when her Ninong gave her the gift. She was a young woman now. But, Joy glanced around the room, no one would be able to see her make a fool of herself at this very moment.

So she put the mask on, and found that it fit her perfectly.

She hurried to her bathroom mirror to see what she looked like, and was surprised to find that the mask seemed to be invisible. She was still seeing her own face--except: her smile was brighter, her eyes were a little wider... Joy looked approachable. Like a person anyone would want to have as a friend.

Joy smiled. Her reflection beamed. And then she remembered the second part of her godfather’s message. Once she wears the mask, she can never take it off.

Heading to bed, Joy wondered if the mask would feel uncomfortable. She decided to give it a try. There was nothing to lose. Her door was still locked. No one was going to find out about the mask.

Joy slept soundly. And the next day, she even forgot she was still wearing the glass mask. Except, she began to notice how people would stop to greet her. Would smile at her. Would converse with her like they were old friends.

Joy was amazed. Her Ninong was right--the mask did make her a likeable person.

Soon, Joy found herself getting invited to parties. She hung out with the cool kids, with the sports enthusiasts, the outcasts... Everyone liked her. Days went by, followed by weeks and months, and Joy had completely forgotten that she was wearing a mask.

For the next eight years, Joy lived the high life. She traveled with her friends. She went to bars, to the theater... She invited friends over to her house, where they would do things on their own--but they were together.

Joy had friends.

During the course of those years, Joy also found herself a boyfriend. A lying, cheating, son of a bitch who would emotionally abuse her. Her friends all told her she was making a mistake by being with him. She didn’t listen at first. It took a year before she realized, she needed to let him go. She broke up with him, and felt devastated.

But none of Joy’s friends saw this. They all complimented her for staying strong, for remaining positive, for not letting a bad break up get her down. Joy couldn’t understand.

Why couldn’t her friends see that she was suffering?

Joy had forgotten about the glass mask. That, as long as she was wearing it, she would be the most liked person anywhere. But no one likes a person who is suffering. They feel sympathy, pity, anger, and all sorts of different emotions--but no one likes a person who is suffering.

So no one sees Joy’s suffering.

When Joy lost her godfather, no one came to visit her at the funeral home. Her friends all told her that she was such an inspiration, but no one came to be with her while she mourned him.

On the day he was to be buried, Joy was praised by her parents for keeping herself together. And Joy could no longer stand it. She wanted them to see how her world was crumbling down. But no one could see it.

That Christmas, amidst the flurry of text message greetings, Joy received a timed gift from her late godfather. A bouquet of flowers, prepaid in case he dies before the holidays roll around. With it, a note that said, “in case people forget to celebrate. In case people forget that no one is always strong. I wore a mask too, and I know what you’re going through. Be brave, Joy. Be better than I was.”

Joy couldn’t comprehend the message at first. And then it dawned on her. Her godfather had been wearing a glass mask too. Everyone loved him, because they only saw the things they liked. Joy thought back to her godfather’s funeral. How people said so many nice stories about her godfather--but only about things they liked. She remembered a woman saying her godfather would accompany her to museums, even though Joy knew her godfather hated how stuffy museums were. She remembered a man saying her Ninong would listen for hours to someone’s problems, but Joy couldn’t remember when her Ninong last spoke about his own problems.

Joy knew it was because of the glass mask. Somehow, it hid all the things people didn’t want to see. Things that made her Ninong who he was. And because of a stupid wish, he thought she wanted the same thing too.

So on the last day of 2017, as the minute hand on her bedroom clock ticked towards midnight, Joy decided to be herself again. She took her mask off.

Her cellphone didn’t alert her to any text greetings that night.

It never alerted her to any messages again, if it weren’t from her parents or from work.

Joy was no longer the most liked person. Anywhere.

Palaspas

Geraldine’s dad was devout in his beliefs that demons exist. And that if she didn’t have a ‘palaspas,’ a decorative palm frond, adorning her window, then evil spirits would be able to get inside and do bad things to her. To be honest, Geraldine thought it was all bullshit, but she let her dad believe in whatever superstitions he wanted to believe. So long as he didn’t impose them on her.

So long as he won’t tell her to look for the palaspas that disappeared from her window on Good Friday.

On the night of Black Saturday, just before heading up to her room, Geraldine’s dad asked if her palaspas was still securely fastened on her window grills, Geraldine lied and said it was.

Sleep didn’t come easily for Geraldine that night. She tossed and turned. She cursed the sweltering heat that won’t give way to a cold Summer night. The electric fan wasn’t cutting it, and turning the air conditioner on was out of the question. So Geraldine opened her windows.

And that’s when she saw it. Floating across her window. Watching her.

Geraldine quickly shut her window close. She could feel her pulse racing. She seemed to have lost her voice. She couldn’t scream. She couldn’t shout. All she could do was stare at the monster that was floating outside the window.

Wait. No. She was blocking parts of the monster.

It wasn’t on the opposite side of the window anymore. It was on the window’s reflection.

What Dreams May Come

Gardo had a tiring day at work, and he did not appreciate his wife nagging him about the perfume she smelled on his shirt. About a mistress who doesn’t exist. His last passenger, a toad of an old woman, practically doused his taxi with the pungent smell of her perfume; of course the smell was going to stick to him.

Annoyed at his wife’s suspicions, he turned his back on her and left for their bedroom. Where he crashed on their bed and slept–

It didn’t even take five minutes and she was at his side again. Nagging, and yapping, and crying–

“Good God, Fely. Let me sleep!” Gardo found himself saying.

“Let you sleep? Sleep with who? With your mistress? Who is she? Where is she?”

Gardo squeezed his eyes shut.

“Tell me what she looks like!”

To make his wife stop, Gardo decided he’ll just ride along. He tried to remember what his passenger looked like. Long arms. Long brown hair. Slanted eyes. Short snout–

Wait, that wasn’t right.

“You see her? In your mind? Are you thinking about her?”

Gardo started to nod– which he didn’t want to do. Fely held his hands. She was smiling. Gardo frowned. Fely doesn’t have white hair. Her hair isn’t curly. She moved closer. She doesn’t wear glasses.

“Remember what she looks like.”

Despite Gardo’s confusion at how Fely looked so different, his mind went back to thinking about his passenger. Which now oddly looked like a dog. “Fluffy,” he mused.

Fely pressed her cheek close to his. And whispered: “You are now a siegbin.”

Her grip on his had tightened. Gardo could feel pain shooting up his arms. He howled in pain.

And then he woke up.

To his wife screaming.

“Shut up,” he wanted to scream. But all that came out of his mouth was a snarl.

He so wanted to shut his wife up. So he did the next best thing.

He bit her. And he kept biting. And then he started eating. With the help of his long limbs. His short snout did not hinder his feeding at all. And then Fely stopped screaming, and Gardo felt content.

Except, he wasn’t Gardo anymore.

Pilipinas After Death #2

Part 1 here.

Aki Yama was not having the best day: her diva of a co-actor forced their shoot to go overtime, which meant Aki didn’t get to home until early in the morning; which meant she didn’t get to sleep before having to head to a casting call; which meant she probably wouldn’t be booking the gig she was auditioning for-- And as she surveyed the convenience store she was in, her chances at turning the day around were slim to none. Aki sighed.

One of the three stupid jerks robbing the store was grinning at her, “I guess that means I saved your life.”

Aki had to fight the urge to groan. Instead, she walked towards the guy with a smile--before kneeing his groin. Aki’s smile widened at the surprise spreading on the asshole’s face. “That means you killed a zombie, bastard.”

Aki turned to the other patrons of the store, “and that’s not the only one out there.”

“What?” One of the customers squatting on the floor spoke up, surprised at Aki’s statement. “That’s impossible. I would’ve noticed--”

Aki rolled her eyes. “Millenials. Always with your noses stuck on your phones.”

“I wasn’t--” the guy was about to protest, but he was cut off by the store’s cashier speaking up:

“Umm... Shouldn’t we, like, continue barricading the doors and windows?”

“And lock ourselves in?” One of the robbers, the one with a gun still pointing at civilians, had the gall to raise an eyebrow. Aki wanted to punch him in the face. But before she could give in to that desire, the cashier spoke again:

“Well, it would keep that zombie outside, so–”

Aki turned to the broken window, where the zombie she was sure was done for was standing again. Moaning. And walking.

“That’s not good,” the customer who spoke earlier said with wonder.

“Duh.” That one got away from Aki. The guy on the floor shot her a hurt look.

“Aki, what do we do?”

Aki turned to the person who spoke, one of her companions: her road manager. “What we always do, Gary. We survive.”

She turned to the robber who was still grasping his crotch in pain. “Are you man enough to let go of your dick, so we can push one of these display cases against the windows?”

The robber nodded. He put his gun down to help Aki with pushing one of the cases towards the broken window--blocking the access of the reanimated dead.

Aki turned to the other robbers and the cashier. “Gun man, boss man, cashier: You guys take care of the other glass windows and the door--”

“Why did we have to pick the corner store?” Gary sighed, turning to their other companion to help with barricading the possible entry points. The outspoken customer decided to help out as well, assisting the cashier with one of the displays.

“What happens to us when that thing... That zombie... gets in?” Aki turned again, locating where the question had come from. It was a mousy woman, holding a rosary for dear life.

“That’s why we’re blocking the doors, ma’am. So the fucking zombies won’t get in.”

The woman clutched her rosary tighter. Aki shook her head, and then turned to the other customers. “Look, guys, if we want to get out of this place alive, we’re going to have to work together. Those of you who aren’t doing anything--find things you can use as a weapon--”

"Like... What?” An older man. A bit heavy-weight.

“We’re in a convenience store, dude. Figure it out.”

“And then what?” It was the guy again. The one that had a gun pointed at him when Aki came in the convenience store. “I’ve seen zombie films. I know that when you shoot one through the head, they’re supposed to die. They’re not supposed to get back up to terrorize us again.”

“So we shoot somewhere else. We keep shooting until they stay down.”

“This might be a bad time to tell you guys that we don’t really have a lot of bullets,” said the robber that Aki had kneed in the groin. “I only actually have one left.” His accomplices glared at him.

“Great.” Aki surveyed the store again. There was a fire extinguisher, bottles of wine and other alcohol, there were matches--

BANG!

Everyone turned to see the mousy woman, with the pervert robber’s gun in her hand, slump down on the floor. The wall behind her was splattered with blood.

“Oh my God,” whispered the heavy-weight older man to himself before fainting.

“One less bullet to protect us,” the gun man gruffly said. He walked towards the mousy woman to take the gun off her hands. Everyone else looked away. Except for Aki. The mousy woman’s early exit reminded her that she can’t stay inside the convenience store with these lunatics.

“The barricades are temporary, people. We need weapons. We need to get out of here.”

To herself, Aki murmured, “our family needs us.”

The customer with all the questions turned to Aki, seemingly hearing what she had said last. Aki shot him a glare, and he kept his mouth shut.

Gary turns to Aki, “I call dibs on the fire extinguisher.”

“It’s heavy,” Aki frowned.

“I’ll get Homer to carry it.” Gary turned to their other companion, whose muscles rippled under his shirt as he put pressure on the cases that were blocking the broken windows. Gary sighed. Aki rolled her eyes.

“Fine.”

“There’s another fire extinguisher. A smaller one.” Aki raised an eyebrow at the guy who keeps talking to her. “I’m Karl, by the way. In case you were wondering. You probably weren’t. But since we’re going to be surviving this together--”

“Where’s the other fire extinguisher?”

“Here,” Karl hands the small extinguisher to her. Aki tested its weight, swinging it with one hand. It would do.

“What are you gonna use then?”

“I’ve never been good with fighting. It’s probably best that I don’t use anything,” Karl shrugged, before glancing at the others in the convenience store.

Gary was lugging the bigger extinguisher. Homer was still putting his weight against the display case that was, curiously, not very stable. The robbers held on to their guns, save for the pervy one who was now holding the magazine stand as his weapon. The cashier had a wooden bat. And the older man was still out cold.

“I could’ve sworn there were more people in here when I went in,” Karl muttered. A movement in her peripheral vision made Aki turn. Someone had closed the supply room. Some of the other probably hid inside.

“Once we go out of this store, they’re not going to be our problem anymore.”

“I know.”

“You could stay here.”

Karl flashed her a wistful smile. “I could. But at the rate my day is going? I would rather risk getting killed trying to escape, than wait for my death inside a Mini Stop.”

Aki nodded. She understood the feeling.

“Homer? If Gary’s not picking up a different weapon, I think we’re ready to run for our lives.”

“What about the old guy?”

“Feel free to drag him out yourself,” one of the robbers grumbled.

“Now, Homer.”

Homer backed away from the display case, allowing it to topple down on the older man. Beyond the broken window, there were more zombies making their way towards the convenience store.

Aki turned to the robbers, “start shooting!”

Gun man aimed at the first zombie, putting a bullet through its head. The zombie stumbled back and fell on the other zombies, giving them a small room to wiggle out of the broken windows.

"Gary, you go first--”

“Not in this lifetime.” Boss man blocked their way, allowing for his fellow robbers to get out first. “We have the guns, we go first.”

When the two robbers were safely out of the way, boss man kicked a shard of glass that remained on the window frame. He strode out, gun at the ready. And got jumped by a female zombie. The others followed, grasping at his shirt, his arms, at anything they could grab.

Aki turned to Gary, Homer, Karl, and the cashier. “Now’s our chance: let’s get out of here.”

The five of them made their way out of the store quickly, before truly realizing how fucked they were. Beyond the zombies feasting on the boss man, his fellow robbers had gotten caught by the other zombies as well.

There was nowhere to go, except to an abandoned car that was parked on the other side of the street.

Aki faced her companions. “Who knows how to drive?”

Karl raised a hand.

“Then get in the car.”

The five of them ran towards the car. Each of them swinging their chosen weapons, save for Karl who dived for the driver’s door.

Aki allowed herself to grin when she saw Karl finding car keys on the floor of the driver’s seat. With Karl starting the vehicle, Aki swung the fire extinguisher she was holding, taking care of one zombie that was ready to bite her. She opened the passenger door, and plopped down beside Karl.

The cashier hastily entered the back seat, followed by Gary.

“Homer, get in here!” Gary shouted, keeping his door open to allow Homer faster access inside the car. But a zombie gets inside the car instead. From outside, Homer pulls on the zombie’s legs, dragging it out. “Homer, no!”

Homer wrestled with the zombie, but locked eyes with Karl. “Go!”

Aki saw the non-verbal exchange. “Go.”

Karl stepped on the gas, allowing momentum to swing the backseat door shut.

“Turn around. We can’t leave Homer.”

Aki closed her eyes. “I’m sorry, Gary.”

To be continued...

#Pilipinas After Death #Pilipinas AD

Pilipinas After Death #1

The day started out like many others before it: the EDSA highway was congested with cars, a new scandal was hounding another D-list celebrity, and the war on drugs has claimed three more lives in Quezon City. It was just another ordinary day.

Or, at least, it was supposed to be.

For Karl Tan though, it was the beginning of the end of his life; and it started at his supervisor’s cubicle.

“What do you mean I’m fired?” Karl asked his supervisor, and good friend, Easton. “I... I... What do you mean I’m fired?”

“Management has decided you’re disposable--”

“Excuse me? But I haven’t done anything--”

“Exactly. You haven’t done anything... remarkable. They don’t even remember what you look like.” Easton craned his neck to look around the office. “Look, I wasn’t even supposed to give you a head’s up. The bosses want to talk to you later today to give you your walking papers--”

“They wanted to spring this on me? Like, what? Like some kind of morbid surprise?” Karl didn’t know what he was feeling. It was a mix of anger, of regret--and strangely, of peace. “You know what? I’m not going to let them fire me. I’m going to quit--”

“Think of the severance package, Karl.”

“You’re right, I’ll let them fire me.” Karl sighed. It wasn’t pragmatic to turn his back on a severance pay check. No matter how bad it would look on his resume when he starts interviewing for a new job. “But, I wonder if they could do it tomorrow? I have a lunch date with Marivic. It’s our third anniversary. And so long as the bosses haven’t terminated me officially, then I don’t have to tell her yet that I’ve lost my job. Right?”

Easton rolled his eyes. “I’ll tell the bosses you came down with something. Go.”

Karl hugged his friend, before grabbing his things and rushing out of the office. He still had a couple of hours before he needed to meet Marivic, but, he thought, he could maybe surprise her by being early. He could even pick up her favorite drink at the Starbucks outside their building.

What he didn’t count on was that he was the one getting a surprise from Marivic. A bad one. Because outside the Pacific Star building, just as Karl was entering the Starbucks, he saw his fiancee. Kissing someone else. In front of everyone.

Well, sure, no one was paying them any attention. But the fact of the matter was, Marivic didn’t care that someone was bound to see her. That he could’ve seen her.

“Marivic?” Karl croaked, shaken by this new turn of events.

“Oh my God, Karl. What are you doing here?” Marivic untangled herself from the arms of her extreme good-looking kissing partner...? Lover? Boyfriend?

“What am I doing here? I came here to surprise you!” Karl was aghast. Marivic wasn’t apologizing. And the other guy didn’t have the decency to cower. Or walk away.

“I didn’t mean for you to find out this way. I was going to tell you over dinner--”

“On our anniversary?”

“Oh, God. Is that today?”

Losing his job, Karl could accept. Losing his fiancee? Karl didn’t know how to react. It was as if he was knocked down and torn apart.

“Karl--”

He held a hand up, then stumbled back. He turned and started running. Bumping into a homeless person in his hurry. He didn’t apologize. He just kept running.

To the metro rail transit.

He found himself a seat on a train going north. And he just sat there until a pregnant woman kicked him in the shins for not letting her sit down. By then, he had lost count of how many stations had come and gone. He stood up, and alighted at the next stop.

From being a guy working to start a new life with his fiancee in Makati, he was now jobless and loveless in Cubao. With a swollen shin. Who knew pregnant women could kick so hard?

Karl exited the station and turned to the mall adjacent to it. He contemplated getting lost in retail therapy, but had to remind himself that he was soon to be unemployed. He sighed, and walked the other way.

He kept walking, until he felt drops of rain fall on his head.

Karl wanted to rue the day and everything that happened since he woke up. He wanted to scream, he wanted to hurt something.

Instead, he walked into a convenience store so as not to get caught in the impending rain--and found himself in the middle of a robbery.

“Of course,” Karl intoned, not realizing that the robbers would be able to hear him. And hear him, they did. There were three of them. One of them had a gun pointed at him now.

“Don’t move.”

“I don’t have anything valuable with me.”

“We’re not robbing you, dumbass.” The robber with the gun motioned for him to sit on the floor with the other customers. Karl obliged. He decided it wasn’t worth to fight. With his current luck, he might just end up getting shot just as the police are arriving.

Speaking of-- Where were the fine upstanding police officers of Quezon City? Karl turned towards the door, and found himself getting the third surprise of his day: celebrity Aki Yama was running towards the convenience store accompanied by two guys.

And as soon as they entered the store, they started barricading the door.

“Miss, don’t do that.” One of the robbers, the one behind the cash register, said. “You’re putting yourself in danger.”

Aki turned to the robber, just now realizing that a robbery was ongoing. “You bastards! Who chooses to rob at a time like this?”

“Yeah,” Karl grumbled, still caught up in his own drama--but also getting a little starstruck at seeing a real-life celebrity in person.

One of the robbers, the one who hasn’t talked yet, was checking Aki out and a nearby magazine stand. “Aki Yama?”

“Do you men actually know how to use those guns you’re holding?”

“Yes,” the robber with the gun pointed at Karl snapped.

“Good. Because you’re going to protect us--”

“Says who?”

A resounding crash answered the robber.

Karl turned towards the barricaded glass doors. It was broken now. So was the glass wall beside it. Beyond the broken glass partition stood a man with one arm chewed off and one eye hanging by, what Karl was guessing, its optic nerve.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” Aki shouted, striding towards the robber closest to her. “Shoot it!”

The robber, surprised, shot the walking corpse on the abdomen.

“You have got to be kidding me,” Aki groaned. “Don’t tell me you’re not familiar with these things? Have you not seen The Walking Dead? World War Z? Warm Bodies? Plants versus Zombies?”

“That’s a zombie?”

Aki turned to the robber with an obvious crush on her. “No, it’s a fairy princess. And it wants to shower you with wishes. Yes, it’s a fucking zombie. Shoot it between its fucking eyes!”

The robber obliged. He pointed the gun at the zombie’s head and fired two shots into its head. The zombie stumbled back and fell.

“That was easy,” the robber grinned. He turned to Aki, “I guess that means I saved your life.”

Karl watched Aki smile at the robber, walking towards the guy with purpose--before kneeing him in the gonads. The robber’s eyes bugged out, and his comrades had to stop themselves from laughing.

“That means you killed a zombie, bastard. And that’s not the only one out there--”

“What?” That got Karl’s attention. He had just come from outside. A minute, tops, before Aki herself came in. “That’s impossible. I would’ve noticed--”

“Millenials,” Aki sighed. “Always with your noses stuck on your phones.”

“I wasn’t--”

“Umm,” another guy from behind the counter coughed. He looked like he worked at the convenience store, Karl noticed. “Shouldn’t we, like, continue barricading the doors and windows?”

“And lock ourselves in?” The robber who first drew a gun on Karl had an eyebrow raised.

“Well, it would keep that zombie outside, so--”

Everyone turned to the broken window. Where the zombie that got shot was standing again, two bullet holes now adorning his forehead. It moaned. And started to walk through the broken window.

Karl turned to Aki and said, “That’s not good.”

To be continued...

#Pilipinas After Death #Pilipinas AD

credits and much gratitude to @lozeyart for the cover of Pilipinas: After Death, which I’ll start posting on this blog soon.

#Pilipinas After Death #Pilipinas AD

Fire Rooster

It was 6:45pm, and Owen was still in Makati. His boss had a last minute errand he needed Owen to run. But Owen also promised his mom that he would pick up tikoy from the Ongpin branch of DEC's before they closed for the day. Owen knew his mother never asked for much-- But he also knew she would not approve of him choosing to accomplish her request over a potential career-boosting job. So Owen sent a text to his mom, asking if he could pick up the tikoy the next day or if someone else could do it. His mother didn't respond... But then, she never does. Owen headed to his boss's office, to inform him that he was on his way to do the errand. A guy, dressed in a suit that could only be described as flaming red, almost crashed into him. He crowed at him. An honest to goodness crow. Owen had to stifle a laugh while apologizing. In his boss's office, the news was being shown on the TV. Some people died in a fire. Owen didn't have time to pay attention to the details. He called his boss's attention. "Sir, I'm heading out to deliver your package." "Thank you, Owen," his boss replied. Preoccupied. Owen sighed inwardly. Not a career-boosting errand then. Owen was about to exit the room when his boss called him back. "Say, Owen-- You're Chinese, right?" "Yes, sir?" "Is it true that people born in the Year of the Monkey are unlucky this year?" "I don't know, sir. I hope not. I'm under that sign." Owen gave what he hopes was a good-natured laugh. "I like you, Owen. You're a responsible kid." "Thank you, sir." Inside, Owen was pumping his fists in the air. Outside, he smiled at his boss and said, "I'll be on my way, sir." Owen hurried out of the room before anything could jinx the moment. He waved at a couple of co-workers, and headed out to the hallway--to where he could see the guy in the red suit waiting for an elevator to arrive. "Sorry. About earlier." The guy didn't reply. Didn't even give an indication that he heard Owen. Not until Owen's phone started to ring. The guy glared at him then. With an apologetic smile, Owen moved away from the elevators--checking the phone screen before answering the call. "Ma? Did you get my text message?" "Mr. Owen Tiu? My name is Pearl. I'm a nurse here at the Metropolitan Hospital. Your mother was taken here just now--" "Excuse me?" "She was one of the people caught in the f--" "Why do you keep saying was? Has she been seen by a doctor? Please look for Dr. Tommy Ty--" "Sir, your mother was dead on arrival--" Whatever the nurse said next, Owen didn't hear anymore. The elevators dinged open, anf Owen turned to go in, ready to rush to his mother's side. He didn't notice the guy in red smiling at him. Didn't even realize that the guy didn't follow in the elevator until the doors closed. "Going home, sir?" Owen turned to the elevator operator. The woman smiled at him. All Owen could fixate on was the protruding tooth on the right side of the girl's smile. It looked like a beak. "My mother died." "I'm sorry, sir." The woman could no longer look at Owen. And the elevator started to move down, from the 17th floor, down to the 16th, and so on. But all that remained on Owen's mind is the elevator operator's protruding tooth that ruined her smile.

The Girl Who Couldn’t Be Saved

It was supposed to be a happy affair.

Jessica looked at the fireworks lighting up the sky. At the banging noises they made as they left the ground, as they soared, as they made pretty displays for everyone to see.

Noises were coming from her house too, but no fireworks were being lit.

Jessica sighed as she drew the curtains of her bedroom window closed. She should stop reminding herself of what other people had. But without the distraction, she could hear the noises inside the house more clearly.

Her parents were fighting again.

She thought, with her having moved out six months ago, maybe her parents would find a way to reconnect. Something they have not done since the day she was born. But it seems her leaving had made the fights worse.

Her mother’s voice rose an octave. This was Jessica’s cue to intervene. Or it was going to take a lot of consoling and cajoling to calm her mother down. Again.

But as Jessica exited her room, the sight of her parents fighting by the stairs gave her a tempting thought.

In her mind, Jessica could already see herself pushing them down. She could hear the snap of their necks as their heads hit the bottom step. There would be a display of blood.

Instead, Jessica put herself in between her parents.

“Calm down, guys! It’s New Year’s Eve! If midnight catches you two fighting, it’s going to be another year of bickering--”

“E kasalanan ng tatay mo!”

“Ako na naman! Ako na lang lagi ng ako!”

“Stop! Please!” Jessica tried to put her hands up, trying to get her parents to separate. But her mother was agitated. Seeing Jessica’s hand go up made her see red. She acted without thinking.

And Jessica fell down the stairs, her head hitting the bottom step with a snap.

Her lips smiling at the irony.

Whatever the Boss Says (It Begins, Part One)

“What do you mean I’m late?” Mark checked his wristwatch. It was 10 in the morning. “The meeting isn’t supposed to start until 11--”

“That was yesterday’s meeting, Mark.” Grace rolled her eyes, falling into step beside the now hurrying Mark. “You’re the one who said this meeting had to be earlier. On account of our bosses having to catch a plane right after.”

“Putang ina.” Mark cussed under his breath. They’ve reached the door to the board room. Mark was already late. All he could do now was make sure that his report was concise, and that he doesn’t waste anymore of his bosses’ time.

But no one exactly noticed that Mark was late.

“Good morning, sirs,” Mark greeted as he entered the room. “First, I would like to apologize for being late--”

No one paid him any attention. The fifteen men inside the room were all busy on their phones, talking hurriedly. All of them in a state of panic.

“Sirs?” Mark turned to Grace. “What’s going on?”

Grace shrugged. She turned to one of their bosses, Mr. Mendez, who had seen them and had motioned for them to come closer.

"Yes, sir?” Mark immediately fixed a reassuring smile on his face. When the bosses were in a tizzy, it was beter to be pleasant--to be the opposite of what they were.

“Is the helicopter ready?”

Grace turned to Mark, confused.

“Helicopter, sir?”

“We’re supposed to head to the airport right after this meeting, right?” Mr. Mendez turned to his comrades. “You weren’t expecting us to traverse the EDSA traffic and get to the airport in time for our flights.”

“Actually, sir--”

“Get it ready. We’re skipping the meeting and flying straight to the airport.”

Grace turned to Mr. Mendez in alarm. “But, sir, we don’t have a pilot today. It’s his day off.”

Mr. Mendez considered this. And then he turned to Mark, “you can fly the chopper for me.”

To Grace, “And you tell everyone else looking for the helicopter that the pilot is out.”

“But, sir--” Mark was alarmed. He knew how to fly a helicopter, but he didn’t have a license to actually do it outside the aviation school.

“No buts, Mark.” Mr. Mendez started to walk towards the doors, leaving his things except for the phone in his hand. “Grace, you know what to do?”

Grace glanced at the fourteen other bosses who were frantically calling people they know on the phone. “Yes, sir.”

To Mark, Mr. Mendez growled, “Let’s go.”

“Yes, sir.”

* * *

“Sir, what’s going on?” Mark huffed, as he and Mr. Mendez climbed up the to the helipad. “Why do you need to go to the airport immediately?”

Mr. Mendez looked at Mark with distaste. “You kids you really don’t pay that much attention to the news, do you?”

“Did something happen in the Senate? Is China attacking us?” Mark’s head was racing. What was going on?

Mr. Mendez paused, as if to consider something. Mark saw his boss shake his head slightly, before answering him, “Never you mind. Just fly the damn helicopter and get me to the airport.”

Mr. Mendez handed Mark the keys to the helicopter. The latter had no choice but to accept.

* * *

“Sir,” Mark said through the comms device. “Aren‘t we supposed to clear with the airport first that we’re heading there?”

“You can do that when we’re closer. For now, focus on flying faster.”

Mark nodded. He turned to look down on the road traffic below. It wasn’t moving. At all. The helicopter was, indeed, a necessity. He offered a prayer for Grace’s sanity and safety for when their other bosses find out what Mr. Mendez had ordered them to do.

That’s when Mark noticed it:

A small car flying counter-flow.

“What are you looking at?”

“Nothing, sir. It’s probably just one of the TV networks filming something at the highway again.”

Mr. Mendez shifted in his seat to gaze at the scene below. The man grew quiet. Which wasn’t completely out of character for his boss, so Mark paid it no heed.

“How long until we reach the airport?”

“Thirty minutes, sir.”

“Radio in our arrival.”

* * *

“We can’t let you land.”

“We’re going to run out of gas,” Mark responded through gritted teeth. “So you either tell us where we can land, or wait for us to fall out of the sky.”

“I’m sorry. You’re not in our manifesto, so you’re going to have to find somewhere else to land.”

Mr. Mendez signs for Mark to cut the communication. He does as he’s told.

“Land at the Park and Fly.”

“Sir?”

“Now.”

* * *

It took some clever maneuvering. And a lot of praying. But Mark was able to land the helicopter at the rooftop of the parking building.

Mark turned to Mr. Mendez who was already furiously talking on his phone. He turned to his own cellphone, wondering if he should check up on Grace--before noticing that he had no cell signal. “Puta.”

“Mark, you’re going to have to drive me to the airport.”

"Sir?” Mark was beginning to think his boss had gone crazy. “We only brought a helicopter.”

“Take one of the cars here. Return it afterwards, if you have to. But you’re taking me to the airport.”

“Sir, what’s going on?”

“I’ll tell you on the way, but I think you’re about to find out anyway.”

“Where are we going to find a car?”

“We’re in a building full of parked cars, Mark. Figure it out.”

* * *

There was no one manning the offices of the building.

There was no one in sight.

Mark found car keys on a hurriedly abandoned table that still had a steaming mug of tea. It was all very odd.

“Sir, I don’t know what cars these keys belong to.”

“I don’t care if it’s the most beaten-up car in this place, so long as it will get us to the airport.” Mr. Mendez was furiously tapping at his phone. “Damn telcos! Why can’t they make their signals stronger?”

Mark found one of the cars then: a pink Volkswagen Beetle. “Sir?”

Mr. Mendez didn’t even waste time looking at the car or its color. He opened the door and stepped in. Mark followed suit. Stepping in the driver’s seat with a swallow. He was committing a crime.

It was a little thrilling to be honest.

Mark started the engine. It was an automatic. The engine purred.

Mark shifted gears to get the car out of its parking space. He turned his head so he could see the back more clearly.

That’s how he saw her.

A woman in her early 30s. Limping.

“Sir--“

“I saw her too. Don’t get out of the car.”

“But, sir--”

“Drive.”

“Yes, sir.”

Mark started to drive away from the girl. Out of the parking building.

And then something crashed in front of the pink Beetle.

A homeless man that was missing half of its face.

“Putang ina! Putang ina!” Mark couldn’t stop the cuss from coming out of his mouth.

And then the homeless man turned to Mark and opened its mouth wide.

“Putang ina!”

To be continued...

Train to Baclaran

“Aloha o’e. Aloha o’e. Until we meet again...”

James grins at his best friend Clara as he finishes the song. In turn, she scowls at him, “You have got to stop singing that song whenever we’re riding the LRT. It’s not funny, and it’s getting old.”

"I’ve only started singing it since--”

“Besides, I don’t think our co-passengers appreciate your singing voice.” Clara motions towards a couple of grandmothers who were looking at James with disdain.

“Fine, I’ll stop.”

James nudges Clara to let a pregnant woman through. The woman smiles at them in thanks, before squeezing herself to sit down between a guy who was fast asleep, and a girl who was talking non-stop with her boyfriend on the phone. An elderly man harrumphed loudly at the girl with the phone, trying to catch her attention--to get her to give up her seat for him.

James turns to Clara in amusement, “if what happened in the movie happened in real life--what do you think our survival rate will be?”

“Honestly?” Clara surveys their co-passengers that afternoon. “If there’s an infected person in this current capacity, we might make it to the next station. But we’re really going to have to hoof it. If it happens during the morning rush though...

“Kiss any chance of survival goodbye.”

“I don’t know,” James muses. “I think I can fend off quite a bit of zombies before we ourselves get bitten, eaten, or killed.” He turns to the window, and sees the approaching EDSA Station. “One more stop.”

Clara nods, but doesn’t reply--pausing their conversation as people started to move, getting ready to alight.

The train stops and most everyone leaves the train, except for a handful. Clara takes a seat, patting the space beside her for James to take. But James doesn’t immediately sit down. His attention wandering towards the two grandmothers who are still looking at him and Clara.

“Those two are starting to creep me out. Why haven’t they alighted?”

“It’s Wednesday, James. They’re probably heading to Baclaran Church.”

“And I pray that their trip will make them less creepy.”

Clara grabs James and pulls him to sit down beside her. He lets out a little yelp that makes Clara chuckle, as the train begins to move again. “They probably heard you.”

“Like I intended.” James glances at the window, seeing the cityscape of Manila disappear as the train begins to pick up speed, going deeper into Pasay City. “Going back to our conversation though--”

“I don’t think you’ll actually fend off any zombies. If anything, you’ll probably be the first to try running away.”

“Funny.”

“It’s true though. And I’m not ashamed to admit that I’ll probably do the same thing. In a situation like that, it’s every man--and woman--for themselves.”

James guffaws, before nodding in agreement. “Good thing zombies aren’t real then.”

“Yeah,” Clara grins, turning to James. Catching a reflection on the window of the train heading back to Manila getting derailed. Before Clara could even shout a warning, the two of them felt the impact of the two trains colliding.

The thick glass of the window broke--one shard impaling itself on James’s chest. He turns to Clara in surprise, before turning to the two grandmothers who were in the train car with them. They had bumped their heads on the window and were already blissfully unconscious.

James hits the other side of the train interior--the impact causing the glass shard on his chest to go all the way through his body.

Clara screams.

The Good Samaritan

“No good deed goes unpunished,” Jeanette huffs as she trudges up the stairs that would take her back to their office. Beside her, Jeanette’s co-worker Melissa chuckles. The two have chosen to give up their space in the elevator so an elderly woman could catch the last trip before they shut down the elevator’s operations for the night. Jeanette is regretting that decision now.

She turns to Melissa. “Why aren’t you panting like crazy? We’ve already climbed, like, seven flights of stairs!”

“That’s because I rarely drink softdrinks. Or your sosyal coffee. And I don’t smoke--”

“So basically, what you’re saying, is that someone with my lifestyle have no business climbing stairs.”

“I’m saying you should be more wary of what you eat. That way you get to live longer.”

Jeanette tries to catch her breath as they reach the eighth floor. “Fine. I’ll start eating healthy.” She turns to face the windows. To the sky. “You hear that, higher being? I’m going to start eating healthy! Now, help me get through the last four flights of stairs without collapsing! Please!”

Melissa laughs, starting the climb up the ninth flight of stairs, until she realizes that Jeanette’s steady stream of complaints had stopped. She turns to her friend. “Jeanette?”

“Mel, please tell me I’m just seeing things.”

Mel turns to what Jeanette is looking at. Through the open door of the stairwell, they could see the glass partition that led to the eighth floor’s balcony-like smoking area. Beyond the partition, a woman was standing on the ledge. “Shit.”

“We have to help her. That’s the right thing to do.”

Jeanette leaves the stairwell, no longer minding the pain in her side brought up by exertion. She looks around the eighth floor lobby. No one else was there. No wonder the woman had gone here.

She started to walk faster. She starts to worry that the woman would have already jumped by the time she got to open space. But then--

“Jeanette, stop! Come back here!”

Surprised, Jeanette skids to a stop. “But the girl--”

“--isn’t a girl! Come back here!”

Confused, Jeanette turns back to the balcony and is shocked to find a horrifying face pressed up the glass.

“Jeanette! Run!”

Heart racing, Jeanette wants nothing more in the world than to do as her friend says, but she is frozen on the spot. Terrified.

“Run!”

The woman, if it is one, started to float from beyond the glass partition. Her hand caresses the glass door, before her nails started to scratch it.

“Jeanette!”

That last scream gets Jeanette moving again. She turns. She runs back to the stairwell. And then she feels pain shoot up from her calves.

“Run!”

Jeanette hazards another look at the woman, but before she could turn something pierces through her back. And the last thing she saw was the door to the stairwell slamming shut.

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