Short Story | Fiction

A Parable For The Lost

It was almost 10:00pm. Elsewhere, people spent the night with friends and families, or resting in their homes. Others were already on their way, albeit stuck in overcrowded buses or jammed roads; still, they’re on the move — unlike us, still waiting for our own ride. Unlike me, simply watching each bus pass me by.

A taxi glided towards me, rolled down its window, and waited for an offer. I tried to ignore the expectant face behind the wheel; I’ve learned to distrust their service, even when I understood their plight. I couldn’t tell what the driver thought as he drove past me; eager passengers had already raced towards his vehicle. A few frustrated people cussed at the taxi driver, but it didn’t matter; there was one less competition in the waiting shed, one less rival to a decent ride home.

And I just wanted to go home. But not right now; not right away. I was tired, but it was not as tiring as spending the nights in abject solitude. Amidst the standing crowd of stranded commuters, I didn’t felt alone. And soon enough, I felt satisfied, reminded fully well why I often chose to be alone. Continue reading

Spiritual Reflections

The Battered Charge


“Hey, do you have an iPhone charger?” one of my bosses asked. Without a word, I sheepishly showed her my Nokia phone.

Months ago, I had a similar problem: my sister was about to lend me her DSLR camera, but she couldn’t find the battery charger. It was an old model, but I thought hey, it’s Canon— I’m sure it’s compatible with most chargers. If not, finding a new charger would be simple enough.

Bottomline: I was so wrong. Good thing she found her old battery charger.

Why can’t all batteries have the same chargers? I mean, they all need the same thing: electricity. Why did they have to make everything so complicated, when they could have just designed all batteries to fit one universal charger?

Why can’t everyone recharge the same?

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Short Story | Fiction

A Sidestory on a Sidewalk

We always talk of life as a journey— concrete highways and rugged roads and virgin pathways. We like that imaginary feel of the wind as the car races at 80mph: eyes on the road ahead, mind on the steering wheel, heart flying ahead to our destination.

But the fact is that life is most often a pedestrian tale, strolling through uneventful days and nights, weary steps out of boredom and lost directions. And as re-tied my loose shoelaces, I couldn’t help but admire all my fellow joggers.

How can they stay sane running round and round this park?

I shook my head. But then, the park was a better choice than a gym threadmill.

I looked around, hoping to spot a pretty face. And I looked around, hoping somebody more overweight would come along, just so I can feel a little bit better about myself. I was not so lucky this afternoon. Tugging at my socks, I got up and replaced the earphones on my head.

Then along came a caterpillar.

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Spiritual Reflections

Not All That Are Broken Have Lost Their Meaning

As I child, I’ve always thought that our family would stay together forever. That we’d have each other every Christmas and New Year. That we’ll always have our house. That we’ll always have our memories.

As a teen, I’ve always thought that my intellect and skills would be more than enough to make me successful in life. That I can pursue any dream, chase after any career. That I can accomplish all that I have set my heart and mind on.

As an adult, I’ve always thought I’d be able to find that person whom I know will stay with me until I grow old. That I would have all the experience and wisdom I need to overcome any problems. That I would have the confidence to overcome my fears, and someday die without regrets.

As I am now, I am broken. Broken from my childhood expectations. Broken from my teenage aspirations. Broken from my adult ruminations.

But not all that are broken have lost their meaning. Continue reading