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 Quiet Saturday Morning That Didn’t Last Long

In a quiet suburban neighborhood in Laguna, the sound of birds, children at play, and neighbors at work paints the perfect Saturday morning. But for Gustavo, coffee in hand and cigarette smoke curling in the air, that peace is fragile—easily broken by the sudden buzz of his phone.

A quiet Saturday morning unfolds in the neighborhood. Birds are chirping, chickens are clucking, and kids are playing in the sunlit streets. The golden rays kiss the dampened community, still fresh from last night’s rain.

Inside a well-lit room, Gustavo—a rotund man known for his quirks—clutches his pillow and lets out a calm groan as he stretches his limbs. For once, he wakes without the shrill scream of his alarm clock. The silence is strange but comforting.

Nostalgia in Manila: Gustavo’s Story of Basketball, Gin, and Friendship

Gustavo, now in his 30s and working a corporate job, looks back on his Manila college days filled with basketball, cheap gin, cigarettes, and unforgettable friendships.

Once a backdrop to basketball games, cheap gin, and carefree laughter, the College of Fine Arts now lives on in Gustavo’s memories of youth.

A hot, unrelenting sun bore down on the cracked pavement of the College of Fine Arts parking lot. Yet a cool breeze, almost out of place in the Manila heat, drifted through the trees, carrying with it the chatter of birds and the restless whisper of leaves. The scene was tranquil—until Gustavo shattered it.

“HELL YEAH!”

The cheer tore through the air like a gunshot. A rotund student in a blue polo and Crocs, Gustavo threw his arms skyward after sinking a basket on a makeshift hoop. His victory dance was as graceless as it was excessive, hips thrusting into the wind, voice echoing with triumph.

“WHO’S YOUR DADDY, BABY? EAT IT! LOVE IT! GET USED TO IT!”

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.