Short Story

A Picture-Perfect Family

By: Romelene Calipay

That morning for the first time in his life, as he pressed through the swing door and descended the three broad step to the pavement, old Mr. Collins felt he was too old for the spring. Spring that is warm, eager, restless was there, waiting for him in the golden light, ready in front of everybody to run up, to blow in his white beard, to drag sweetly on his arm. And he couldn't meet her, he couldn't square up once more and stride off, energetic as a young man. He was tired and, although the late sun was still shining, curiously cold, with a numbed feeling all over. Quite suddenly he hadn't the energy, he hadn't the heart to stand this good humour and bright movement any longer; it confused him. He wanted to stand still, to wave it away with his stick, to say, "Be off with you!" Suddenly it was a terrible effort to greet as usual tipping his wide-awake with his stick. All the people who’s he knew, the friends, acquaintances, shopkeepers, postmen, drivers. But the glance that went with the gesture, the kindly twinkle that seemed to say, "I'm a match and more for any of you" that old Mr. Collins could not manage at all. He stumped along, lifting his knees high as if he were walking through air that had somehow grown heavy and solid like water. It had been a day like other days at the office. Nothing special had happened. Klyde hadn't come back from lunch until close on four. Where had he been? What had he been up to? He wasn't going to let his father know. Mr. Collins had happened to be in the hallway, saying goodbye to a caller, when Klyde wandered in, perfectly turned out as usual, cool, suave, smiling that peculiar little half-smile that women found so fascinating.

Ah, Klyde was too handsome, too handsome by far; that had been the trouble all along. No man had a right to such eyes, such lashes, and such lips, it was uncanny. As for his mother, his sisters, and the servants, it was not too much to say they made a young god of him. They worshipped Klyde, they forgave him everything and he had needed some forgiving ever since the time when he was thirteen and he had stolen his mother's purse, taken the money, and hidden the purse in the cook's bedroom. Mr. Collins struck sharply with his stick upon the pavement edge. But it wasn't only his family who spoiled Klyde, he reflected, it was everybody. He had only to look and to smile, and down they went before him. So perhaps it wasn't to be wondered at that he expected the office to carry on the tradition. But it couldn't be done. No business not even a successful, established, big paying concern could be played with. A man had either to put his whole heart and soul into it, or it went all to pieces before his eyes.

And then Penelope and the girls were always at him to make the whole thing over to Klyde, to retire, and to spend his time enjoying himself. Enjoying himself! Mr. Collins stopped dead under a group of ancient cabbage palms outside the Government buildings! Enjoying himself! The wind of evening shook the dark leaves to a thin airy cackle. Sitting at home, twiddling his thumbs, conscious all the while that his life's work was slipping away, dissolving, disappearing through Klyde's fine fingers, while Klyde smiled "Why will you be so unreasonable, father? There's absolutely no need for you to go to the office. It only makes it very awkward for us when people persist in saying how tired you're looking. Here's this huge house and garden. Surely you could be happy in appreciating it for a change. Or you could take up some hobby."

Marga and the baby had chimed in loftily, "All men ought to have hobbies. It makes life impossible if they haven't."

Well, well! He couldn't help a grim smile as painfully he began to climb the hill that led into Maxwell Avenue. Where would Marga and her sisters and Penelope be if he'd gone in for hobbies, he'd like to know? Hobbies couldn't pay for the town house and the seaside bungalow, and their horses, and their golf. Not that he grudged them these things. They were smart, good-looking girls, and Penelope was a remarkable woman it was natural for them to be in the swim. As a matter of fact, no other house in the town was as popular as theirs, no other family entertained so much. And how many times old Mr. Collins, pushing the cigar box across the smoking-room table, had listened to praises of his wife, his girls, of himself even.

"You're a picture-perfect family, Sir, an ideal family. It's like something one reads about or sees on the stage."

"That's all right, my boy," old Mr. Collins would reply. "Try one of those; I think you'll like them. And if you care to smoke in the garden, you'll find the girls on the lawn, I dare say."

That was why the girls had never married, so people said. They could have married anybody. But they had too good a time at home. They were too happy together, the girls and Penelope. Hmm, hmm! Well, well.

By this time he had walked the length of fashionable Maxwell Avenue, he had reached the corner house, their house. The carriage gates were pushed back, there were fresh marks of wheels on the drive. And then he faced the big white-painted house, with its wide-open windows, its tulle curtains floating outwards, its blue jars of hyacinths on the broad sills. On either side of the carriage porch their hydrangeas famous in the town were coming into flower, the pinkish, bluish masses of flower lay like light among the spreading leaves. And somehow, it seemed to Mr. Collins that the house and the flowers, and even the fresh marks on the drive, were saying, "There is young life here. There are girls…"

The hall, as always, was dusky with wraps, parasols, gloves, piled on the oak chests. From the music room sounded the piano, quick, loud and impatient. Through the drawing-room door that was ajar voices floated.

"And were there ices?" came from Penelope. Then the creak of her rocker.

"Ices!" cried Myrtle. "My dear mother, you never saw such ices. Only two kinds. And one a common little strawberry shop ice, in a sopping wet frill."

"The food altogether was too appalling." came from Dylan.

"Still, it's rather early for ices." said Penelope easily.

"But why, if one has them at all" began Myrtle.

"Oh, quite, darling" low-voice of Penelope.

Suddenly the music-room door opened and Marga dashed out. She started, she nearly screamed, at the sight of old Mr. Collins.

"Gracious father! What a fright you gave me! Have you just come home? Why isn't Luke here to help you off with your coat?"

Her cheeks were deep, vivid shade of red from playing, her eyes glittered, the hair fell over her forehead. And she breathed as though she had come running through the dark and was frightened. Old Mr. Collins stared at his youngest daughter. He felt he had never seen her before. So that was Marga, was it? But she seemed to have forgotten her father, it was not for him that she was waiting there. Now she put the tip of her crumpled handkerchief between her teeth and tugged at it angrily. The telephone rang. Marga gave a cry like a sob and dashed past him. The door of the telephone room slammed, and at the same moment Penelope called, "Is that you, father?"

"You're tired again," said Penelope, and she stopped the rocker and offered her warm plum like cheek. Bright-haired Myrtle pecked his beard, Dylan's lips brushed his ear.

"Did you walk back, father?" asked Penelope.

"Yes, I walked home," said Mr. Collins, and he sank into one of the immense drawing-room chairs.

"But why didn't you take a cab?" said Myrtle. "There are hundred of cabs about at that time."

"My dear Myrtle," cried Dylan, "if father prefers to tire himself out, I really don't see what business of ours it is to interfere."

"Children, children?" lured Penelope. But Dylan wouldn't be stopped. "No, mother, you spoil father, and it's not right. You ought to be stricter with him. He's very naughty." She laughed her hard, bright laugh and patted her hair in a mirror. Strange! When she was a little girl she had such a soft, hesitating voice; she had even stuttered, and now, whatever she said even if it was only "Jam, please, father"--it rang out as though she were on the stage.

"Did Klyde leave the office before you, dear?" asked Penelope, beginning to rock again.

"I'm not sure," said Mr Collins. "I'm not sure. I didn't see him after four o'clock."

"He said…" began Penelope. But at that moment Myrtle, who was twitching over the leaves of some paper or other, ran to her mother and sank down beside her chair.

"There, you see," she cried. "That's what I mean, mom. Yellow, with a touch of silver. Don't you agree?"

"Give it to me, love," said Penelope. She fumbled for her tortoise-shell spectacles and put them on, gave the page a little dab with her plump small fingers, and pursed up her lips. "Very sweet!" she lured, she looked at Myrtle over her spectacles. "But I shouldn't have the train."

"Not the train!" wailed Myrtle randomly. "But the train's the whole point."

"Here, mother, let me decide." Dylan snatched the paper playfully from Penelope. "I agree with mother" she cried softly. "The train overweights it."

Old Mr. Collins forgotten, sank into the broad lap of his chair, and, dozing, heard them as though he dreamed. There was no doubt about it, he was tired out, he had lost his hold. Even Penelope and the girls were too much for him tonight. But all his drowsing brain could think of was too rich for him. And somewhere at the back of everything he was watching a little withered ancient man climbing up endless flights of stairs. Who was he?

"I shouldn’t dress tonight," he muttered. "What do you say, father?"

"What?" Old Mr. Collins woke with a start and stared across at them. "I shouldn’t dress tonight," he repeated.

"But, father, we've got Lesley coming, and Henry Fontabella, and Mrs. Tessa Montes."

"It will look so very out of the picture."

"Don't you feel well, dear?"

"You needn't make any effort. What is Arvin for?"

"But if you're really not up to it," Penelope wavered.

"Okay, Fine!" Old Mr Collins got up and went to join that little old climbing fellow just as far as his dressing-room.

There, young Arvin was waiting for him. Carefully, as though everything depended on it, he was tucking a towel round the hot-water can. Young Arvin had been a favourite of his ever since as a little red-faced boy he had come into the house to look after the fires. Old Mr. Collins lowered himself into the cane lounge by the window, stretched out his legs, and made his little evening joke, "Dress him up, Arvin!" And Arvin, breathing intensely and frowning, bent forward to take the pin out of his tie.

It was pleasant by the open window, a fine mild evening. They were cutting the grass on the tennis court below, he heard the soft sound of the mower. Soon the girls would begin their tennis parties again. And at the thought he seemed to hear Dylan's voice ring out, "Good for you, partner. Oh, well-played. Very nice, indeed." Then Penelope calling from the veranda, "Where is Klyde?" And Myrtle, "He's certainly not here, mother." And Penelope's vague, "He said.."

Old Mr Collins sighed, got up, and putting one hand under his beard, he took the comb from young Arvin, and carefully combed the white beard over. Arvin gave him a folded handkerchief, his watch and seals, and spectacle case.

"That will do help." The door shut, he sank back, he was alone.

And now that little ancient fellow was climbing down endless flights that led to a glittering, gay dining room. What legs he had! They were like a spider's thin, withered.

"You're such a picture-perfect family, Sir, an ideal family."

But if that were true, why didn't Penelope or the girls stop him? Why was he all alone, climbing up and down? Where was Klyde? Ah, it was no good expecting anything from Klyde. He went down the little old spider, and then, to his horror, old Mr Collins saw him slip past the dining room and make for the porch, the dark drive, the carriage gates, the office. Stop him, stop him, somebody!

Old Mr. Collins started up. It was dark in his dressing-room; the window shone pale. How long had he been asleep? He listened, and through the big, airy, darkened house there floated far-away voices, far away sounds. Perhaps, he thought vaguely, he had been asleep for a long time. He'd been forgotten. What had all this to do with him, this house and Penelope, the girls and Klyde. What did he know about them? They were strangers to him. Life had passed him by. Penelope was not his wife. His wife!

A dark porch, half hidden by a passion vine that drooped sorrowful, mournful, as though it understood. Small, warm arms were round his neck. A face, little and pale, lifted to his, and a voice breathed, "Goodbye, my treasure."

Which of them had spoken? Why had they said goodbye? There had been some terrible mistake. She was his wife, that little pale girl, and all the rest of his life had been a dream. Then the door opened, and young Arvin, standing in the light, put his hands by his side and shouted like a young soldier, "Dinner is on the table, sir!"

"I'm coming, I'm coming," said old Mr. Collins.

Descriptive Writing

By: Maria Ysabelle Chua

In high school, I wasn’t that girl — the pretty, popular girl whom all the guys liked. I wasn't that girl — the smart, glasses-wearing girl who was voted as president and Most Likely to Succeed. Anyone could be beautiful, I told myself. Felice grades, however, are earned.

Eight years, three jobs, and two careers later, I was stiff and needed direction. I told myself that I would do whatever come to my miind, no matter how messy. The answer came on a January afternoon as I laid in a unknown state on my couch.

I was 30 years old.

I laughed at myself, for I had neither the desire nor the gall to try to become a model. Doing this would mean that I thought that I was beautiful. I didn’t, despite having brushed aside compliments since I have a lot of dry skin/strawberry skin at the age of 17. And even if I did, the modeling industry might disagree, due to my 5-foot-5-inch frame and the top of gray hairs that had set up camp on my head.

Did I want to risk becoming a person people laugh at because her intuition are clearly out of her reach? Like the rejected, “Pinoy Big Brother" contestant who assures the judges that she will prove them wrong when she has a lot of admirers.

I turned to Google for answers. My search revealed there were different types of models: High fashion models are at least 5-foot-8-inch twiggy young women — typically under age 25 — who model designer clothes the average American could never afford. Commercial models, by contrast, are everyday people who have great smiles but vary in height and age. They model shoes, makeup, clothing — common products you see advertised on TV, online and in catalogs. I’d heard that I have a great smile for most of my life. Maybe I had a chance.

Two days later, an online ad caught my attention: “We are looking for women of all ages, sizes and ethnicities for a baggy pants advertising campaign. It is as simple as submitting a picture of yourself, and you may be chosen for a full page ad in an Candy based magazine!”

I shyly submitted my photo, and the company invited me to audition the next day. A hundred of reasons not to go mess my mind, I was tired, and I had a nice little black scab right in the middle of my forehead, commemorating where my hairstylist sister had burned me days before while pressing my hair. Plus, chances are they won’t pick me anyway… I stopped myself. How could I pursue a career as a model if I didn’t believe that anyone would ever select me?

I couldn’t.

So I took a deep breath, said a short prayer for incouragement, and went to my bedroom. I grabbed my most stylish hat — I was going to need it — and I built an outfit around it.

The company’s office, made entirely of glass, could have been featured in an issue of Architectural Digest. It was as chic and modern as the baggy pants. After 30 minutes of comparing myself to every model seated in the lobby, I was called in to meet the casting director. “Pose with this baggy pants in three ways.” I posed one, two, three times.

She called the next evening. “You’re in. Your fitting is tomorrow.”

Really?!

Two days later, I was posing on Candy Mag’s famous Melrose Avenue with a famous baggy pants, being photographed by an “America’s Next Top Model” photographer. Three weeks later, I was lounging on my couch again, this time looking at myself in a two-page spread in the Candy Magazine.

How cool.

I’m proud and humble to say that I inspire people because I have a scar and I work in the fashion industry. I want to help and let people know that beauty can be many things and there is beauty in imperfection.

Short Story

Let's call the boy "Raven."

By: Chua, Maria Ysabelle

If Raven did not start saying "Hi," I wouldn't have noticed him. In fact, he had said "Hello" to me many times already before I realized that he was actually my lab classmate of mine who I’ve been sitting a few tables away from me all semester. Yes, Raven was really nothing special.

Except he asked for my number game over. Before school closed for the summer break, he asked me and said he wanted to greet me on my birthday. I made excuses, but he insisted. I gave in. He called. Often. We became close friends.

For the sake of our friendship, I ignored the rumors and the chocolates on Valentine's Day. It was harder to ignore the little notes he left on my locker: "Didn't see you today ah. Went home na. Talk to you tonight, okay?" It was even harder to ignore the kilig feeling that sparked in me when I read them.

But I couldn't turn a eye to the dozen roses of them all around my car one day. Friendship it just wasn't the word for it anymore, and I know it I can’t be wrong. I opened my eyes to the fact that he was treating me like a girl not a guy friend anymore. But why would he do that? I wasn't gay. Was I? The boundaries of our relationship were out of seen already; it was only a matter of time before one of us crossed the line.

It was raining that day I told him. I was at university, at the hallway on the bench, and nervous as hell. The day could not end without me knowing what we were just friends or... at the time I could not even bring myself to consider that we could only stay friends. But I knew there were feelings between us that I didn't understand and that I wanted to be more because it could be the best thing that ever happened to me. You always see the bright side when you're in love.

He picked up the phone.

"Raven, I have to tell you something. Promise me to just listen because I'm only going to say this once, and if you don't hear it, bahala ka na, basta I said it na ha."

And I said it: "I'm in love with you, Raven."

We were supposed to live happily ever after I loved him, and we were close friends. These stories always end happily. But instead, there was quietness.

Later on, he told me he is not gay. The roses, the phone calls, the playlist he played for me on the phone these where things guys did for the ones they loved but not with me. So how could he not be in love with me after all? It was an emotional distress and a love crisis all at once. He made me question who and what I was and changed the way I saw myself and who’s around me.

Whatever it was, it ended. And though our ending was forever after, it wasn't happy.

But it was also a beginning.

It wasn't really about "coming out gay" for me because it was something I was hiding in the closet. It was just that I had only began to realize who I really was. After "the Raven thing," times were a bit hard. Aside from the heartache I felt because of the end of the relationship and the confusion that cause me because I was discovering my true identity, there was the added trauma of dealing with a judgmental society. People who knew me insisted I had been in the closet for too long because they always had suspected I was a gay, as if I had been pretending not to be gay. That was a bit harsh. They were intentionally calling me a liar to my face, and the worst kind, too, because I had been lying about who I was so they felt it.

On the other side, there were people who felt I was pretending to be gay. They looked for evidence when they should have looked at the person. Aside from the fact that I didn't fit their group of gayness, hadn't I had a girlfriend for some time before I guess? Did I still not like girls?

True, I used to have a crush on a girl in my barkada (before I met Raven) who later became one of my really good friends. And after Raven, I had a relationship with another girl, which also ended though we are now still close friends. But when every time I thought about it, that's what girls were to me really, friends. I used to "fall in love" with them because they were caring and kind, I wanted to develop in myself. I used to like woman who fit the "mother image." They've since become like sisters to me then.

It was different with guys. No brotherly love here, I wanted something more than just friends. There's an attraction that isn't there with your friends. Let's say it, sexual attraction is what defines ones sexuality. No matter how close we are with our girlfriends or how much we care about them, there are bounds we won't ever cross because they're straight, and we are gay.

No matter what people thought or say, I knew I was no great fraud. I was just continuing to be myself. I did not start to dress or talk differently or make an effort to show off my newfound self. Being gay wasn't a role I had to take on, so why should I change clothes or put on a show?

Remembering the "signs" were there, even when I was young. I used to think homosexuality developed because of his/her environment or because who influences him/her while growing up, but now I believe people are born homosexual. Even earlier than I can realize, I was gay-even before my gay friends, my theater group, my first love, and all the other reasons one would explain why I "became gay." I cleaned up my room the other day, I came across an old story I'd written when I was in fifth grade. Whenever I would describe a female character, the illustration would be short, sometimes just giving her a name. With the male characters, my imagination really outflows. The story would read something like this: ‘This is Issa. She has a best friend named Robin. Robin is so cute. He has an athletic body and likes to play baseball, and he wears short trunks.' And this was before I even knew what being gay was.

There was no dramatic happen with my family where I sat them all down for my big confession. I didn't feel the need to tell them I was gay, and I didn't need to hear them saying they accepted me. Do I need them to tell me they are straight? Of course no.. Being straight or gay doesn't define you as a person. You are what you are, no explanation needed. I didn't change, so the way they treated me didn't change too. Even before I realize I was gay, I'd openly point out cute guys when we go out, and they just laugh. There was nothing for them to adjust to, because I was just being me. Matthew, their son, their brother who just happened to like boys.

I think my mama has always know I was gay because she will tell me telltale stories from my childhood how I liked to dress up as a girl and dance. It was a little harder for my father and brother the men in the family but they were understanding. I'll still give them the grandchildren they want if I can. Since the Philippines is a Catholic country, sadly, I don't see that happening in the future. One of the greatest joys in the world is to be a father/mother. It hurts to think I could be poor of that just being gay.

I think gay people like me are the loneliest people in the world, especially here in the Philippines, because they don't guarantee of companionship in their later years, they can't get married, have a family, or adopt children to give them love and care when they grow older. For gay people, their friends are all they've got, especially if their families don't really accept them. I'm thankful that I have friends guys, girls, and gays whom I know I can count on, hopefully, for life.

I wish there were more Wills (from Will and Grace sitcom) in local media instead of the gay expression we see. Here, gays are illustrated in only one way as comic figures with their shocking behavior and clothing, and their absurd humor. It would seem the reason gays are put on this earth is simply to make others laugh for entertainment. Just because we are "gay" doesn't mean we are naturally happy. We're not automatically funny because we look unlike. Is it too much to ask that we ask some respect in the media and in society?

Not all gays are parlor/salon gays. I'm not. But still, I can't judge those who are. They are still gay, like me, and they are just human like you and me. It's not their obligation to change who they are. It's society's obligation and responsibility to change the way we view them.

In a perfect world, "That's so gay" or "Bakla!" would be a compliment, not downgrading. We would be considered normal. Right now, we have conditioned ourselves to be proud of our unlikeliness to think of it as being special. But it gets tiring loving yourself for being special. I never asked to be special, ever.

In a perfect world, we had to be the heroes of the movies and our movie like lives. People think of gays as second girls the sidekick, the supporting cast, the best friend. Gays are not just women trapped in a man's body because there's also a male part to our person. We are gays trapped in a man and woman's world. We don't get our own check boxes under gender, our own public restrooms, our own storylines.

In a perfect world, I'll get my happily ever after and be able to tell you the story of my gay, gay life. I wonder when that will be.

Short Story

TRANSMUTE

By: Jennica A. Canangca-an

Today is my first day as a college student, and I am excited to learn, especially in my course which is Business Management, because my dream is to have a clothing business in the future. I arrived at school too early, so I did a tour of the entire university first. The university is so big that walking around is exhausting. I then noticed a rise in the number of students arriving, some on walking and some by car. Since the university's design is mountainous, there are many trees, tables, or benches to hang on to, and I can't help but take pictures of all the beautiful scenery I see around me. I came first and sat on the bench; there weren't many people sitting here, so I came here. It's embarrassing because you're on that bench with nearly all of your colleagues. While taking the picture, I was struck by the image of a woman looking up and walking towards where I was seated. I didn't stop recording, but I focused even more on the face and what it was wearing. She dressed in high-waisted pants, a navy blue windbreaker top, and a nude sando blouse on the inside. I also noticed that the woman was white, slim, tall, clean, and beautiful, so her dress fits her well. And she's now approaching the camera slowly.

"Hello, do you know where the business management building is? I've been looking for it for a while now, but I can't find it." She asked. When she suddenly began speaking in front of the camera, I was shocked. I almost dropped the camera, but luckily I had lace on my hand.

“Is this your first year?” I asked her after I lowered the camera and adjusted it because it was about to fall off earlier.

"Uhm, yes, you?" Wondering her face while speaking to me.

"Me, too, and business management is also a course I'm taking." I looked at her first before speaking because I was staring at the camera.

"Oh my goodness, yes! Let's go together, shall we?" After she spoke, she suddenly smiled and happily stood beside me while holding my arm like a child clinging to joy.

"There's no problem." I said.

When we discovered that we were taking the same course and going to enter at the same time because we found out that we were going to be classmates, she suddenly moved across from me and attempted to see the video of herself earlier.

"Because you're blocking the view, you're ruining it." I said while laughing and looked at her wickedly.

"Oh really, why didn't you stop? hahaha." And we both laughed and talked a lot.

Cassandra is her name. She is new to the province since she is from Manila. She is temporarily living with her grandmother and decided to study in the province because her parents are abroad, and there is no one to look for her in Manila, unlike here, her grandmother is available here.

Since that day, Cassandra and I have been best friends. All is fun and great, I'm always at their house because Cassandra and I are always partners in school projects, even her grandmother knows me, and she even takes me on vacations too with her grandmother. Until everything changed between the two of us and gradually faded our friendship after we started 4th-year college and I gained weight.

In the three years that Cassandra and I have been together, I have not heard from her what she notices or concerns about me. She was just quiet and didn't go with me anymore, even in school projects she had others with her. I wonder, I don’t know, what is there in me? I have done nothing wrong to her.

I was already in the classroom but Cassandra was not there yet. The class has already started to start but it still isn’t there. Eventually, it came in late. She even looked at me, at the same time avoiding her gaze and walking straight to her seat.

“Okay, you need to find a partner for you to make a photo journal about your dreams in life.” The Professor said. I suddenly looked at Cassandra’s place because we have a lot in common and we are almost all the same so it will just be easier for us. After the professor speech and dismiss the class. I quickly went to Cassandra and asked her to be my partner. I saw her notice me walking towards her, but she avoided it.

“Cass? let's partner. We both dream of having a clothing business in the future, it would be easier for both of us if we work together.” I said not taking my eyes off her.

“I'm sorry, but I already have a partner, all right, thank you. I am going home.” She suddenly arranged her things and quickly left the classroom. The other classmate who had heard burst out laughing and when I stared at them, they quickly left the classroom.

I was so surprised by what was going on, I don’t know what I did but I need to talk to her. I knew she hadn't returned home yet, so I went to their house first to wait and speak with Cassandra. Her grandmother saw me and asked me to sit down before feeding me. I suddenly heard the door opening, meaning that Cassandra had returned home. She saw me as soon as she opened the door and ran upstairs to her room before she could enter. Before it could get in, I quickly blocked the door so it couldn't close.

"What's the problem? Why are you keeping your distance from me? Cassandra wasn't like that when I first saw her. What's the problem? I'm confused and I'm not doing something wrong to you." After I finished speaking, I saw her bent over without any visible response.

"Take a look at yourself." She said. I was taken aback when it suddenly spoke, and I cannot understand what she meant.

"What about me? What's the problem? What's the matter with me?" I checked myself from head to toe. We just wore the same shoes, and I was also wearing the dress she had given me. I also tried to imitate her short hair, which was messy and ash-gray in color.

"You're no longer the woman I knew I saw sitting and taking pictures around the school. You imitate me and what's worse, you imitate all my actions, looks, tools, words and clothes. Even if it doesn't matter to you, you wear it. because you want to imitate me because you idolize me? Don't do that, don't dream that you can be with me in your dreams, don't want us to be the same as everyone else because you're crazy.

"We've been together for three years, in the beginning yes I accepted you because I thought you were just like that because we call each other like brothers. But as time goes on you change what you don't know. Simple, you imitate me, you also change your clothes. Where are you going? It's scary, I can't just tell you but the amount of attention. Do you think I won't notice that you take my own clothes without saying goodbye? My make -up that you use. For what? Grandma always tells me that you always come here to clean up, so where do you go at ten o'clock at night? I'm sleeping but you enter the room without my permission just to get my things. It's scary, you're scary.

My mind is so blank, nothing enters it; my feelings are also burning up and I feel like I want to hurt. Everything Cassandra says makes me feel so hot, she is also gradually fading in my sight, her voice is also weakening.

"Cassandra?... Cassandra ...?" I called Cassandra to say sorry but when I approached her, it is like there was someone from my back that pushed me to sink Cassandra ... and that was the last thing I remembered.

I woke up very bright and all-around was pure white. There is no one else but me so I stood up in bed and started to stand up to leave the room.

"Ma'am, don't be naughty. Let's just stay in the room ma'am so that you can get better." While speaking, the woman in white let me in my room and made me lie down.

"I'm okay thanks but huh? I'm still with my friend Cassandra, where is she? I want to see her." I said while looking at what she was doing, she's putting medicine in the syringe.

"Yes ma'am you can see her, 2 more years.”. She said while putting the syringe in my arms.

"Huh, 2 years? where am I?" I asked the woman in a white dress while organizing my things.

"You're in a mental hospital, ma'am." and then it all went blank.

Descriptive Writing

PROFESSION

By Jennica Canangca-an

“What is the most important lesson you've learned in your life and how would you apply it to your time as a Miss universe?”

“I work a lot in the slums of Tondo, Manila, and the life there is – it's poor and it's very sad. I've always taught myself to look for the beauty in it, to look for the beauty in the faces of the children, and to be grateful. And I would bring this aspect as a miss universe to see situations with a silver lining, and to assess where I could give something, where I could provide something as a spokesperson. And this, I think if I could also teach people to be grateful, we could have an amazing world where negativity could not grow and foster, and children would have a smile on their faces.”

“Thank you, Miss Philippines.”

He was sitting on the couch watching TV when his mother tapped him on his shoulder and said, "you're going to be late for work, hurry up." Given the fact that his mind is racing with thoughts about how people will look up to him once more. He began cleaning his bags before removing his clothes from the hanger outside - a white long sleeve shirt with a green line around at the front, a stitched flower on the right breast, and logo on the necktie.

He's now in his bed, looking at himself in the mirror while wearing his uniform. Yes, He is a professor. And he is proud to become a professional educator. He is also a recent graduate of the Philippine Normal University and received his license in a single session. He put some makeup and applied lip balm to his lips to save them from drying out, and a little face powder to prevent the skin from becoming sticky.

“Hey, Ed, aren’t you going to school? You’ll get late if you don’t leave now.”

His daydream was interrupted when his mother suddenly opened the door and spoke.

“Oh, hey, Mom. Yes, I shall leave. Thank you for reminding me.” He hurriedly crossed over to kiss his mother on the cheeks before leaving.

People are laughing and staring at him as he walks down the lane. He's not sure whether there's something on his face - dirt probably is the reason why people are laughing at him. There's a mirror shop nearby so he went in to check himself out in the huge mirror on the wall. He sees that there's nothing wrong with his face, and he looks decent with his clothes as well, so why are they staring and laughing at him?

"Look at him, he's wearing make-up." The girl laughed and pointed her finger at him with her friends, and then left.

There's a high school group passing near him in the street. And looking at him the same people looked at him a while ago.

He was fully aware of it. Is that because he put make-up on while dressing in men's clothing? Yeah, he is gay, but because of his decent job, he keeps his identity hidden. He ground to a standstill only to then be accepted to that school. It's hard to act when you're not comfortable with what you're doing; it's like someone looks at you and still laughs at you regardless of how you look and how you are. He mumbled in his head and continued his walk.

“Good Morning sir.’

“Good looking sir.”

“Hi sir, have a nice day!”

He was in the school's corridor, and students greeted him whenever they saw him. It's not him, you know. He does this for his family so that he can live, support them with their finances, and have a job, and we all know that LGBTQ people face discrimination not just within their own families, but around the world. He's a teacher, and he needs to be a role model for young people, so he decided to wear a men's uniform even though he didn't want to.

It's already 3 in the afternoon, they are in the coffee shop located near the back of the school. His co-teachers invited him to go to the coffee shop a while ago.

“So what are your plans?” His co-teacher asked him.

“I don’t know, maybe just stay like this? it's also hard to find work especially if you're here in my situation.” He said while sipping on his black coffee.

Nowadays, you have to suffer before you get what you want, or do the things that make you happy without degrading you. It's just so hard to do the things you’re comfortable with without being judged. Everyone has something to say for everything you do, act, nor speak and how you dress. It seems you're trapped like someone is choking you and you can't get away with it. All have stumbling blocks.

He went home to their house and was greeted by his mother's smile at the door.

“How’s my son?” She greeted him while smiling.

“I’m okay, I’m always okay.”

“Happy birthday son! you seem to have forgotten your birthday because you are so busy with your work.” His mom said to him and started to walk behind him and back to her room.

“Thank you, mom.” After he thanked her mom, he hurried to his room because he was exhausted from work; when he opened the door, the tidy and clean room welcomed him; he also found a gift with a letter on the side of the table. He took it and opened the letter.

“I apologize for the pain you felt when we discovered your sexuality. We were stunned, particularly your father, who has long regretted what he did. Happy Birthday, my son, I hope your father and I will forgive you; as time passes, we will eventually embrace you without you even realizing it. Do whatever you want, whatever makes you happy; we will help you, son. Find things and people that will make you happy for the rest of your life. Do you remember the thrift dress I bought? That's really for you; I just didn't give it to you and use it because the situation with your father had not even sunk in yet. I don't want you to have issues, so I still discuss your situation with him. My baby, I wish you a very happy birthday.”

He’s a feminine gay person, and all of us are oppressed in this society. It seems that you must first accomplish something for the majority to accept you. Even if your treatment is good, you will still be judged. At the school where he worked before? He quitted that job; it's hard to stay and marry someone we don't want in our life. Now, with the support of his parents, He built his own Parlor Shop and Thrift Shops; his mother is here with him, and his father is still abroad, where he can move easily and laugh. He’s employees respect how he moves and dresses without being rude. And your profession? it is not decided by how you act, move or dress. This is how you accept and love yourself for who and what you are.

Short story

Dream

(Based from a real story)

by :Eliza Buenaobra

She was an ordinary girl leaving in an ordinary life. Leila was born in a family that was in the silver lining , her parents has a junk shop business her father was collecting garbage he used to be a government employee who collects garbage from different places. Her mother was a housewife she was the one who’s taking good care of their children. They are four siblings all of them are studying but when time goes by their older son needs to work but he graduated a two year course in college.

Then suddenly his father got a work, a decent work as a guard in the public school. At first it was good he was working really hard and doing his job perfectly.

One night when her father got home Leila noticed that her father was drunk walking.

“Dad are you drunk?” Leila said.

He looks at Leila and just smiled

“Hahahehe Leila! My daughter, Daddy is not drunk hahhaah.” He replied.

Leila watched his father poorly walking towards their bedroom. And her mother woke up that has an angry face.

Her dad was bored in their life he used to immerse from his vices like drinking alcohol and smoking. And by that Leila’s parents are always fighting, her father totally neglect his responsibility he will go to his work under the influence of alcohol and sometimes he never go to work. Her father’s performance affects his work he was a fired on the job.

And he wants to leave his family. He was packing his clothes and things.

“I’m going out of here. I don’t want to be with you anymore.” He said

“Go! You’re free! No one will stop you! Don’t you ever come back here! From now on you don’t have a family!” Leila’s mother said.

Leila and her siblings heard everything they said, they are crying in the corner of their room they know that they have nothing to do with it.

Her father leave them without hesitation.

On that day Leila was longing for a father’s image she used to stare father and daughter in the park that was happy. Leila study hard to become her parents be proud of her. Leila’s older brother was the bread winner of the family, he was the one who supported Leila and his younger sisters study. And also he was the one who supported their financial needs. In that case Leila’s mother used to become a street food vendor she sells different foods like banana cue, turon, halo-halo and many more. Leila usually help her mother in selling their food and also after school she always do a house hold choirs washing plates, cooking rice and cleaning house. Sometimes when Leila has a mistake her mother was mad and sometimes hurt her.

“Leila what are you doing? Why did you throw away the oil?” Her mother said with mad face.

“Mom I’m sorry It was just an accident. Forgive me Mom it was not my intention”. Leila said.

And by that she was quickly beaten by her mother. Leila was shocked and her mother continuously beaten her again and again.

“Mom stop! Please! Ouch! It hurts! Please!”. Leila’s begging.

“You never learn! *slap*I always say that be careful!(Slap) Your always acting like clumsy!*slap*”.Her mother said with extremely voice.

“I’m sorry …. mom. *sobbing* I will be careful some … some other time.*sobbing*”.

Leila went to her room crying and thinking on what happen. After crying Leila realized that her mother has a point because she wasted an oil knowing that they lack their budget.

That night when they need to go to bed her mother came to her and talk to her on what happened a while ago.

“I’m sorry Leila I beat you I was just tired with work. I’m just carried away by my emotions a lots of problems are circulating in my mind”. Her mother said.

“It’s okay mom I understand , I also have a mistake I’m sorry”. Leila said.

Time goes by Leila was a Senior High school student together by her younger sister. Leila was studying even harder , she was always an honor student.

“Good morning class” Teacher said.

“Good morning Ms. Malco” students replied.

“I have an announcement for today, I have here the results of our top students for this semester. Okay for our Top 3 Ms. Leila Buesto *clapping*”.

In every event and occasion her mother was always supporting her. Leila and her younger sister join singing contest her mother stay by her side and supported her. That results of over fatigue and exhaustion her mother collapsed right after her performance. During her performance he was finding her mother to the audience but she felt to see it. After her performance she quickly find her mother and got shocked when people saying that she needs to go to the hospital.

“Mom are you okay? *sobbing* mom please wake up! Leila’s trembling . Doctor please do everything to save my mom”. Leila’s said with worried voice.

---Flashback ---

When she was in the waiting area she remembered past experiences when her mother got to the hospital before. Leila celebrated her 18th birthday with the hospital, she was standing in front of her mom seeing her mom with lots of apparatus in the body crying and talking to her mom that she needs to be okay and be strong. She was sleeping in the waiting area with the other family member of other patient. She needs to be there to secure her mothers needs like medicine, adult diaper and many more.

---End of Flashback---

After a few hours her older brother and her older sister came.

“What happen to mom? “Her Older brother said.

“The doctor said mom has heatstroke again and she was half stroke right now their was a complication there is blood clot on her brain that causes her to speak hardly and can’t recognize us”. Leila said.

In a month her mother needs to go home but her mother can’t recover easily. They need to take good care of her mother because she can’t walk and even eat by her self. It was hard for Leila and her younger sister to handle their time taking care of their mom while studying, their professors noticed that they are absent and it affects their performance in school.

“Ms. Leila Buesto and Rose Buesto I noticed that you are always absent and late”. Principal said.

“We’re really sorry Mr. James our mother was stroke right now she can’t walk and even eat by her self”. Rose replied .

And also Mr. James I’m thinking If I quit school to focus my mothers healing”. Leila said.

“I totally disagree with that we can think other solutions by your problem. Okay. I will scheduled your subject with your flexibility. One of you scheduled MWF and one of you are TTh and vice versa”. Is that okay with you? Principal said.

“Yes Mr. James! Thank you so much!”. sisters grateful replied.

Their mother feels better when times past. Leila is entering her college life. It was not easy because she doesn’t passed her examination in the university.

One night her father came back to their house , he was drunk and angry.

The next day early in the morning Leila's father came back in good condition he was not drunk this time. Leila open her problem on his father that she doesn't have school this college. Days past it's Leila's 20th birthday they prepared a simple celebration. Right after Leila's birthday they've got a phone call in their aunt in their province.

*Phone Ringing*

Kring. Kring. Kring

"Hello? Sie, Rose, Leila ? Hello? *sobbing*". Aunt julie on the phone.

"Hello Aunt julie? Good morning!". Sie , Leila's older sister.

"Sie!*crying* your dad... *sobbing* your father was dead *sobbing*". Aunt julie said

Sisters have nothing to say with the news that they receive. They planned to go to their province together with their mother. At first the siblings has an hesitation to say to their mother on what their father situation, they are worried because their mother was stroke.

Leila was worried about her father because according to their relatives the last thing that her father told was about her college school.

One year after Leila entered college and live somehow a good life ,not until her mother needs to go to the hospital again for another complication. They have lots of financial problem their hospital bill increase every single day. The doctors did many times to revive the life of their mother because of the intense complication. Until the tragic situation happen.

"Cold blue. Cold blue. Doctors please proceed to the ICU".*Speaker in the hospital*.

"1,2,3 clear, 1,2,3 clear". Doctor said.

"Tttttooootttttttt" *machine sounds* *straight line*

"Time of death 9:47 am".

"I'm sorry I did my best but your mother didn't make it".

It was a heart felting moment, Leila and her siblings are crying loudly and her older sister screaming and shouting, she has a high emotions on what happen.

After the burial Leila mesmerizing everything that she aspire in life and her childhood memories. Leila 's dream when she was a child is to have a happy and complete family. The Journey of Leila is not easy her life are full of tragic experiences. But she was very thankful to the Lord that she experience all of that because she become stronger. Leila has a night dream she saw her mother and father are together in heaven they are happy. Leila realizes that her dream come true, she always wanted to have a happy family and knowing that her parents are happy together in heaven.

Descriptive Story

Passion

By : Eliza Buenaobra

There was a beautiful and simple women, named Bianca. She really loves fashion , when she was a kid her dream is to become a fashion model or to create her own style of clothes. She likes to draw a different kinds of clothes that suits to her personality. Her parents is a little bit worried by her fashion taste. When times past Bianca became a beautiful girl, she likes to wear shorts, fitted shirts and put some make up on her face. That was the start when people got confused on Bianca's fashion style. Some of their neighbor are judging her because she shows too much of her skin. One day, when Bianca was walking on their community men whistled on her and say disrespectful words. Bianca doesn't know that her mother heard everything. When Bianca got home her mother get mad at him because of what she wears. Her mother keeps insisting that she needs to change her fashion style. Bianca got hurt on what he heard from her mother. The other day, Bianca needs to go on his work, she was a fashion designer in a small company. Bianca was very happy on her profession because that is her dream when he was a kid. On his work , some of here co workers doesn't believe on her skills. Bianca was a new employee to her company and she needs to adjust on his working place. Everyday she felt like she is not belong to other employee but she will never surrender, she believes that she can be a great fashion designer. Every time when Bianca got to home some men are talking about her they said that they were just appreciating Bianca's beauty. But it doesn't seem like that ,they we're very disrespectful. On the other side Bianca's neighbor is talking about her fashion, that Bianca is acting like a rich and sophisticated women but the truth is she was ambitious. They didn't know that Bianca heard everything they say. On the other hand, it's Bianca's birthday her relatives went to their house to celebrate and it serve also as their family reunion. Bianca wear a beautiful casual red dress, she was really stunning by his earrings, make up and style. Other visitor was really amazed by her appearance. In the dinning area, Bianca and her family relatives and eating they talked about Bianca's dress that it was not appropriate that she was showing her skin too much and dressing up like in a bar. They tackled also about the profession that Bianca's chose that it was a wrong decision. She should've choose a high salary work , they said that she doesn't have future in fashion designing. Bianca was got hurt on what their relative said about her. Birthday party of Bianca end , she was cleaning the set up her mother confronts her that she was a shamed in their family. She doesn't know how to dress properly and doesn’t good finding a good job. She was a disappointment to her family that she can't give pride to then just like her other cousins. Bianca cry that was the first time when her parents saw her crying. Bianca said that she needs her parent’s support by her dreams. She said that it was her dream and fashion is making her happy , that's what she desire to do. Everyday she wants to prove that she can make it , that she can achieve her dreams and goals and she wants her family to become proud of her. It was not easy that she was judge by other people on the way she dressed up but she wants to be accepted by the society, she wants to be accepted for who he was. She know that’s many people are judging her , many people are saying foul words about her but she was refusing it because she know to her self that she doesn't hurt anyone and she was acting her true personality. Her mother realized all of the struggle that her daughter experienced. Starting that day she support Bianca's dream and profession. Years past Bianca became a succesful fashion designer in America , she is one of the best artist in the aspect of fashion. She run her own fashion company.

A main reason why thrifting has become so much more popular with younger generations now is because people have found their own sense of style. Finding clothing that makes a person feel good about themselves and have a way to express themselves in their own way. Since Thrifting is all of a sudden in, and has become a trend even for wealthy consumers, this means that the prices at second-hand stores will keep rising, reducing the narrowed options of low-income communities. That is why it's up to consumers to take a stand, and start to become conscious even to this extent.