War, Firecrackers, and Farewells: A Filipino New Year Short Story

Set during a Filipino New Year street celebration, this short story follows Gustavo—a man caught between fading traditions, family noise, and the quiet certainty of change. Amid fireworks, karaoke, and overflowing plates, he begins to understand what he is about to leave behind.

An Empty Harvest

“War is an empty harvest. The gods gave mankind intellect and hands meant to build worlds, yet we turned them toward crafting weapons for our shared destruction.”

A rotund man, lighter in hand, proclaims in a well-lit room.

“Higher beings mock us. They watch with contempt and disgust as we march toward our end.”

He dramatically lifts his head and clutches his lighter.

“No more! Our forefathers taught us better than silence and submission. However insignificant our nation is perceived to be, we rise in defiance beneath their mocking gaze and set the night sky ablaze! We shall go forth with burning passion—with fire in our blood and thunder in our hearts—and we will… we will… ugh…”

All the noise leads here.

Interrupted Oration

“What the hell are you going on about with my kids, you fatass?”

A Filipino Christmas Morning Seen from a Quiet Garage

Spreading Christmas cheer… and secondhand smoke.

A bright, sunny Christmas morning in the Philippines awakens a quiet suburban community just south of Manila. A cool breeze brushes through leafy trees, creating soft whistles of nature across the peaceful neighborhood. From outdoor kitchens, the familiar aroma of fried dried fish drifts through the air, stirring curiosity—and hunger—in recovering stomachs.

“It’s Christmas morning again.”

The Last Toll: A Bittersweet World War II Love Story from the Philippines

In a quiet town battered by war and time, Tony stood beneath the noon sun, sweat clinging to his brow. He was only eighteen, yet the world had already demanded more from him than a lifetime should. His mother, reeking of sewage and sacrifice, had raised him to obey, to survive. And he did — in the only ways he knew how.

Melinda was his opposite — silk to his rags, perfume to his mother’s stench. But when they were children, none of that mattered. They climbed trees, raced through rice fields, and dreamed of a life beyond their little town. When love bloomed, it was as natural as breathing — and just as impossible to stop.

But fate had other plans. Her father had chosen a suitor — a spoiled man with money and manners Tony could never match. So they planned to run away, to steal a life for themselves. Then the war came.

Alone at Night: A Short Story on Solitude, Memory, and Quiet Reflection

Late at night, Gustavo sits alone in his garage, cigarette in hand, lost in quiet thoughts. This short story explores solitude, memory, and the bittersweet comfort of routine—a glimpse into loneliness that lingers even when the world is silent.

Smoke from dying embers remain after Gusravo's quiet reflection

Gustavo sinks into the old outdoor chair in his garage, the one that’s slightly crooked but still holds him like it remembers. The street outside is quiet, save for the occasional flicker of the lamppost and the distant hum of a car engine. He unwraps a Snow Bear mint, places it on his tongue, and lights a Chesterfield cigarette with practiced ease.

The first drag is long. He exhales slowly, watching the smoke drift toward the dark corner of the property.

“Been a long day,” he says, voice low. “You seem to be in a good mood tonight.”

He pauses, eyes fixed on the shadows. No reply, of course. But he waits anyway.