#half-fiction

[wearepioneerspress]

The Matilda Effect aims to share the stories of women in the sciences, ladies who have made awesome contributions that deserve to be well-known. First up, Frances Glessner Lee! Learn all about how she changed crime scene investigation with her disturbingly detailed miniatures.

Get this zine here: 

http://pioneerspress.com/collections/our-new-favorites/products/the-matilda-effect-1-frances-glessner-lee

[dhania-albani]

Retroversion

You once thought it was the only thing you’d ever desire. You pleaded, imploring as if you’d never ask for whatsoever more than it was. And it was there, lonesome and disengaged; while there you were, thirsting and prehensile. Two of you were never rambling side by side, nor even encountered in the same crossroad.

You once decided to give it all out, waiving that old fantasy you thought never would be won. A daydream ceased, an imagery was forgotten. The bygone days were no more. Life persevered to revolve ever since, even with a lack of Sun in your heliosphere. Patterns and routes continued shifting, with you and your beingness were brought along, until new days where you can hardly recall what it was like to own such reverie.

But then there universe has its role. Here it is, again; all new and solitary, and untangled, also even prettier, waiting to be saved from independency. There it is again; sounder and—this time—needing you. In a sort of way in which anybody would be clueless about how to refuse. You’ve got your answer, indisputably no other than espousal. That old wanderlust is there, awakened and coming true, and for some moments you are deluged with ecstasy. The long gone idea which you have genuinely let go coexists once again; till you just cognize,

that kind of something has always owned the whole package that makes it such one of a kind of your picture-perfect. It will never lack anything, surely, but one. And only ever one. That one lack that turns out to be the only matter you’d need, even much over all those whimsy things you had always desired for. That suffocates you slowly, devastates you from within to the very core of your apathies, makes you distrust your survival. That brings you to indefinite question of, “Could I?”

[dhania-albani]

Cardiac

I ran endways.

The days are now retrograding. I walk backwards to retrieve a route within your orbit, not to be apart, not to be kept away over again. You keep your own aureole but I carry the rainbow that keeps it whole.

“When was the last time you discover, that you must learn to lose before know how to keep things safer?”

“Not after the recent days, and not again.”

Jamais vu. The overflowing words coming out from my mouth, devastation all over your vague look, home straying apart, and on, and on; all the scenes I elude to remember;

I could’ve been encouraging you to grow taller. You could’ve been arising and unstoppable. The butterflies would’ve been here withal, tingling and alive.

—

[justamainstreamguy]

Ghost

The rooms we used to go to, the halls we used to walk, the road we always took. Every where I look, I would find pieces of you in them.  Class rooms. I remember those silly things that I did to greet you good morning and also those times that our friends would tease us saying that your cheeks might fall off because I kept on pinching them every chance I get. Here is where I first noticed you. It was the first day of school and… I don’t know, but there was something in you that made me look your way, then I just had this sudden urge to talk to you after class, but when the class was over I couldn’t find you anymore so I just hoped that I would see you again because they said in college, some of the people you have the same subjects with might not be your blockmate. But to my surprise, there you were and that’s where I first heard your name when all of us introduced ourselves. I thought “next to this class will be our vacant time so I must try to ask her name personally.” but you were already gone by the time I packed up my things and I couldn’t find you anywhere. All through-out that day, I kept on losing the chance so I just shrugged and said never mind. But as time passed by, fate or whatever made us cross paths and then we became friends.

The halls we used to walk

We would usually waste our time here waiting for our next subject. In our circle of friends, we were the only ones that were not that close to each other compared to the others. The only time we ever talked to each other was through an SNS’s messaging app. So there were days when not even a word passes by between us, but somehow, for me, watching you laugh with our friends was enough. That smile of yours that never failed to make me feel my day was enough. When we were finally becoming closer that was when I started to tease you and you would make those silly-cute faces and that was when I found myself falling for you. The way you cover your mouth, tilt your body, and bend your knees when you laugh, the way you flip your hair. Those things and even more. It was those little things that you didn’t know you were doing were the things that I found myself loving about you. And this was also where everything started, when I finally decided to make a move. It was our school’s ‘openhouse’ and Christmas tree lighting ceremony. At first, I didn’t even think of making a move. At first, I didn’t want to because I was still scared, but I managed to muster up that fear and told you how I felt. It took quite awhile before I managed to get the words out, since I never were good with words. I was trying to tell you how I feel from the 6th floor hallway of a particular building to the school’s gate, but when they finally came out, I’ve never felt happier, because you replied with words that the luckiest man on earth will be envious to hear. One of them was “Sige (sure)”.

The roads we always took.

We would get to spend our time here, just the two of us, and there was never a moment when I didn’t wish for time to slow down when I was walking you to where you would board the jeepney to go home. I would always wait for you to finish your workshops then off we go. We talk at times, but it was the silence, the sweet comfortable silence between us that I cherished the most. We weren’t holding hands, my arm wasn’t around your shoulders, we were just walking. But somehow, those were the moments I loved the most. 

As months passed by things got better between us, but more months passed, they also started to fade away. And when it finally came down ‘it’. I was stuck wondering where everything went wrong and up to this day I’m still confused, whether it must be something I did or something I am, and I’m still trying to figure everything out, but I can’t so I just stopped.  At first, I felt that wherever I go, your ghost would haunt me, I would see you in everything I encounter. But now I think it was the ghost of me all along, reminding me of the memories tied with him. And just like they said, no ghost is ever at peace until it finally moves on… It’s hard for me to let you go because you’re precious to me, but it’s something I must do since you’ve already moved on and clinging on to things like this is never a good thing. I also need a change. I’m sorry it took me this long… So this is a goodbye. Everything is now ghost-free.

[frequencylocked]

High School

She fears witlessness. In a world where infinite possibilities of what-ifs or whatnot offered all along, she fears that part of perpetuity where she never once became a part of it and that she would remain questioning about how was that life before the story of her emerged. She fears just the whole lot that she is unfamiliar with. To the nameless and unmapped gigantic galaxies, the untouched seafloor miles beneath our feet, the God she never knows the look and all; she sails her concerns to. And some pages of his storybook which do not intertwine with her presence. All those question marks, all those queries remain.

If welfare was the tag end for yesteryear and bygone times of his, is her presence ever to make a prologue of another relish span?

--

[frequencylocked]

Tryst

I am not a man of the present. I am recurrently ripped into part of me that clinged to the lingering past and a bit of me that agonizes the imminent future; particularly when I am undergoing seconds consisting of our tryst. At times we consume together, half of my emotions possess the joy of being surrounded by your existence, and the other half survives the unforeseen blues of fearing that this may not last long as I would like. I am, once again, not a man of the present. Certain piece of me wants to remain in the existing contentment, but the other opposes it with thoughts traversing time and phases I never want to befriend.

And those harmful notions comprising ideas of what-ifs, the kind of harmful contemplation for a defenseless mind of mine. What if; there would be hundreds of places where you feel so much more unharmed more than this seat next to me? What if; there are bunches of human beings that ease you more than I am able to do? What if; there have been times you spent with one and all where—for even if just a momentary period—you felt safe and sound for my absence? What if; I am just sentimentally diffident that it would by and by perturb us?

--

[frequencylocked]

Longship Noir

Slices of cold toast next to pairs of patterned socks, stranded in the corner of the ruffled futon. Few creased notes on the wall prompting how many weeks remained before departure. Windows opened behind untied draperies conveying waft from elsewhere. The loose end of a daybook with picturesque illustrations and few lines of children’s storybook. Empty cartons of instant popcorn, outmoded jumper with particular men’s odor, colourful inks from leaking pens, Dutch dictionary’s pages found in shreds, bleached trousers hung above fridge; everything was as misplaced as the summer downpour that is occurring outside. Cellphone thrown few centimeters away from falling down from the hammock, suddenly vibrates.

“Hello, there.”

And she just knows rainbow would betide even after cloudburst.

--

[frequencylocked]

Everything's Overrated

One troublesome noon spent in a bustling enterprise and newscast was harsh as expected.

Should’ve been more original, could’ve gone to an art college overseas, would’ve had more excuses not to get involved in politics.

--