La douleur exquise
By Jannah Corrine B. Jumamil
LA DOULEUR exquise (French): The heart-wrenching pain of wanting someone you can鈥檛 have
Hanahaki byou : A fictional disease of the human system that coughs up flowers due to severe one-sided love
The first time Rena threw up white petals was during the night in her lonely bedroom. There were books in front of her, each waiting patiently to be studied for the coming exams. Beside the boring books were an empty cup of coffee and the crumpled picture of someone Rena wants to forget.
Rena curses and runs a hand through her messy hair. She stops halfway through when she feels something clogging up her throat. She immediately puts a hand over her mouth as she starts to cough harshly; she coughs once, twice then sees a white petal in her hand.
Her eyes follow the crumpled picture beside the cup and she stares at it until she can see nothing for the tears in her eyes and the feelings of unwanted love.
This will have to be a secret, Rena says to herself as she puts on her shoes and gets ready for school. She does not know exactly聽 what this is and why in just 14 hours she has managed to cough up at least 16 white petals.
On the long walk from home to school, Rena stops and coughs up more white petals and she does not stop coughing for the next seven minutes. She stands there, staring at the petals in her hand and the petals that fell to the pavement.
She knows exactly what this is. Rena has seen it somewhere. Probably in her dad鈥檚 newspaper, or on the Internet, or maybe she heard it from some girls. She cannot remember what it is. Honoki? Hanakiha? Or something in between those.
But, as far as she can remember, it is a disease caused by unrequited love. She does not remember though how her feelings reached such an intensity that petals piled up in her chest, all ready to fall聽 from聽 her lips.
Her thoughts are suddenly forgotten when someone鈥檚 voice rings in her ears.
鈥凌别苍补!鈥
In less than a minute she feels an arm around her shoulder and in less than a second she feels her heart skip a beat.
鈥淩aven,鈥 she quietly says, afraid that her friend will hear the worry and sadness in her voice.
鈥淵ou seem down,鈥 Raven says and Rena curses silently.聽 鈥淲hat鈥檚 up?鈥
Rena avoids eye contact and tries not to remove the arm around her shoulder as they walk side by side. The arm creates a tight grip on her heart and she feels something starting to run up her throat. But if she pries off the arm, Raven may realize something鈥檚 out of place and everything will fall into a pit of darkness.
Raven must not know.
Despite their 13 years of friendship, there are still some things that Rena can鈥檛 tell Raven. Like the fact she stole Raven鈥檚 purple crayon when they were 4, or that she sent Raven random text messages: 鈥淚 saw you in a nightclub.聽 How鈥檚 your day, baby boy?鈥 just to mess with him. Then there is her secret that Raven must never know: She is in love with him.
鈥淣othing big,鈥 Rena lies, in response to his question.
Raven pulls his arm away and Rena feels a little relieved but there is still something ramming her throat. She swallows hard to push the petals down because it is not a good time to cough up white petals, not in front of Raven.
鈥淛ust stress I guess.鈥
She is interrupted when Raven pulls out his phone.
鈥淩ead,鈥 Raven says sternly.
Pushing Raven鈥檚 hand to put the phone at a readable distance, Rena starts to read the headline of an article. The petals start collecting in her throat, all fighting their way to her lips.
Hanahaki disease. So that is what it is called. Just as she remembered, it is a disease caused by unrequited love, a disease that makes a person throw up flower petals when the case of unreturned love has become severe.
鈥淢y cousin is suffering from this because of a senior who won鈥檛 look her way,鈥 Raven says.
The petals are being too pushy now.
鈥淭hat鈥檚 sad to hear,鈥澛 she says.
Rena coughs, covering her mouth with a hand, and takes her eyes away from Raven鈥檚 face.
鈥淚 need to go to the bathroom,鈥 Rena says.
Her coughing has become harsher聽 and it is hurting her throat and chest.
Raven stays where he is. She imagines her best friend standing with a confused look on his face that Rena finds too adorable. There is not enough time to reach the women鈥檚 bathroom so she stops beside a trash bin and coughs up the petals stuck in her throat.
There are more petals than she can count and the tight grip of loneliness in her heart hurts too much. Rena feels like she is drowning. It feels like she has been coughing up petals for hours.
It all stops after a few minutes. The petals are piled up on the ground and聽 look pretty. They seem to not have done any harm to Rena鈥檚 throat and chest. Prettily painful, as Rena likes to describe it.
鈥淲hy me?鈥 Rena mutters before kicking the white petals, creating an even bigger mess around her and the trash bin.
鈥淲hy me?鈥 she repeats before deciding to skip her first class and just drown in her pit of feelings.
First class is not the only class she skips. She is lucky no student passes by the area where she cries and cries, surrounded by petals.
鈥淲here have you been?鈥 Raven asks during lunchtime.
鈥淚 slept somewhere,鈥 Rena lies.
Raven seems to accept her explanation. He shows her a bouquet of white flowers, their petals too painfully familiar.
鈥淲hat?鈥 Rena jokingly asks. 鈥淕etting married?鈥
She tries to laugh, but it comes out awkwardly short so she bites into her sandwich to cover it up.
鈥淣o,鈥 Raven replies before sighing lovingly. 鈥淔or Jaeya.鈥
Rena feels something in her throat, something familiar. She hopes the floor will split in half and consume her and her whole life. Why must she feel like this every time she is with Raven?
鈥淪he said she loved gardenia flowers. I decided to get her a bouquet,鈥 he says.
When Rena gets home, she spends the rest of the night bent over the toilet bowl releasing all the white petals stuck in her chest. All the pretty gardenia petals fall into the bowl, together with her tears and her hopes for Raven鈥檚 love.
She flushes all of them down, watching everything swirl and descend into a world Rena will never know. But she wishes that the hopes and dreams she flushes into the toilet bowl will land in a better place.
The words聽 at the tip of her tongue are left unsaid. She ignores the pain for now, unmindful that it will be worse when the sun rises and she has to face a world opposite to the surreal world where her happy ending exists.
Jannah Corrine B. Jumamil is a Grade 10 student at International Philippine School in Riyadh.
The secret cavern of the pickpocket
By Elijah Joaquin de Guzman
THE WORLD was gray, as it always was, when I woke up. Not literally gray. In fact it was a sunny morning, but it was lonely. I did not feel happy. I did not feel loved. I felt desperate, needy, broken, hopeless. I felt gray.
Gently pushing open the wooden door of my kariton, I took in the view: trash scattered everywhere, fumes from the jeepneys so thick they were visible as they hung in the air. Like I said: gray.
I got up and stretched a little bit. Behind me my sister was sound asleep. She was only 5 and she would not make it on the streets on her own. That was why I had to step up, a 15-year-old street child abandoned by his parents. A common sight in this country.
I got up and pushed the kariton鈥檚 door back in place, whispered 鈥淚鈥檒l be back鈥 to my sister and took off for a brisk walk. I walked to the nearby marketplace, careful to stay behind boxes of fresh fish, hidden from the vendors鈥 view.
I was sort of a notorious thief around these parts, so getting caught and beaten up so early in the morning did not exactly seem like a plan. But that was who I was. I did not sit in a corner begging people for money. I did not wait for doors to open; I made my own opportunities.
Throngs of people had already gathered to do their morning shopping, filling the air with noise and odor, both of which were not sweet. Time to get to work, I thought.
Poking my head out ever so slightly, I scanned the surroundings for vulnerable targets. My eyes knew what to look for: exposed wallets, young kids sent on an errand by their parents, hung-over men who had drunk too much the night before.
After a couple of minutes, carefully making sure that the vendors were focused on their customers, I slowly stood up and made my way toward the crowd.
My stolen cap kept my face partially hidden and I carried an empty plastic bag to look the part of a shopper. Not long after, I spotted my first target: a young boy, about 10 years old. He was busy buying tomatoes from a vendor who was yelling. I spotted a couple of bills tucked inside the elastic of the boy鈥檚 shorts. A P20 note hung at the edge, away from his skin.
I did not waste any time. Briskly walking towards him, I stealthily reached my hand out, clipped the note between my fingers and yanked it out. A delicate job, but I had been doing it for so long that it was not so difficult.
Most children learn how to read, write and add; I learned how to take things from your pocket without you noticing. The sound of the money being taken was muffled by the people鈥檚 voices. The boy did not feel anything because the money never touched his skin.
I continued walking, putting as much distance between us as I could without drawing suspicion, then discreetly left the marketplace.
A pushcart vendor was selling pan de sal outside and I took the P20 I had stolen and bought four pieces of bread. The vendor put them in my bag and I headed back to the junkyard. My sister was awake when I arrived.
鈥淜uya, you鈥檙e late!鈥 she said, giggling. 鈥淚t鈥檚 7:15.鈥
鈥淛ust by 15 minutes,鈥 I replied as I walked over to her and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. 鈥淗ey, where鈥檚 Albert?鈥
鈥淗e鈥檚 still sleeping because he drank too much red drink.鈥
Albert was the alcoholic owner of the junkyard we lived in. He took us in even though we had nothing to offer him. He did not exactly help or take care of us (except give us water), but that was something I could live with in exchange for having a home.
We silently munched on our salted bread and chatted for a couple of hours. All we had in this cruel world was each other and I had to ensure that we stayed alive every day.
It was almost noon when I headed out again to get us lunch. I stayed away from the marketplace and started walking to one of the stand-alone fast-food restaurants that lined the streets.
Street kids were not welcome inside, unless you wanted a beating. I spotted a few kids sitting outside, begging. I sat down with them and pretended to beg as well. But I was not a beggar, I reminded myself. I was a thief.
A couple of minutes passed, then an hour. People went in and out of the restaurant, but I still had not spotted a target; patrons were either keeping their money securely or were careful to put a distance between us.
I was getting hungrier and I was sure my sister was feeling the same. Another half-hour passed and I was getting desperate.
A man and his family emerged from the restaurant, carrying plastic bags filled with takeout. My mouth watered. They would not be easy to rob discreetly, which was what I preferred. No use getting caught and have everyone chase after you.
But I was not thinking straight anymore. I was starving. I slowly stood up. They were making their way to their car. Once inside, they would be impossible to reach. I had to strike. The man opened the car door and I charged at him. He gave chase but I did not stop running until I reached the junkyard.
My sister and I started eating the food greedily. It was not every day that we got to taste what others ate. It made my sister happy and it made me happy. I started to think that almost getting shot was worth it.
鈥淜uya,鈥 my sister began, 鈥淚 have a question.鈥
鈥渊别补丑?鈥
鈥淲hy do you keep stealing? Don鈥檛 you ever feel sorry for the people you get money from?鈥
鈥淯h,鈥 I sigh. It was not the first time my sister asked me that and I hated it. I had gotten used to hiding my emotions whenever I was stealing, folding them up into this place in my heart and keeping them shut there. All the guilt and compassion stayed inside, never reaching the surface.
鈥淚t鈥檚 because there isn鈥檛 really anyone who will help us if we don鈥檛. If we don鈥檛 do this, we die,鈥 I replied.
She did what she always did after I answered her question. She nodded.
We ate in silence afterward. It was around 6 when I left again, this time to look for our final meal. Three meals a day. It was what I always told myself I would give my sister, but it did not always happen.
The sun was going down, making it easier for me to blend into the shadows. I kept my senses sharp, seeking my final target for the day. It was not long before I found her.
She was an old lady that just got off a shuttle bus. She was walking to a mall, but her pace was slow.聽 Even better, she had a P500 bill sticking out of her purse.
I silently ran up to her and grabbed it, not making a sound. I was prepared to run away and revel at my unbelievable luck when I took another look at my victim.
Her back was hunched and she walked slowly with a cane. Old and frail. This money would have been for her dinner and commute home. She would end up on the street if she did not get home tonight and I would be responsible for it.
My sister鈥檚 words echoed in my head. Was I really feeling sorry now for stealing? A part of my heart opened up that night, a place that had been locked, a cavern that I had not looked into for so long.
If this old lady was going to suffer, I was not going to be the one to cause it. I ran up to her and tapped her on the shoulder.
鈥淓xcuse me, lola, you dropped this,鈥 I lied.
She thanked me and securely tucked the purse under her arm, then slowly made her way to the mall.
I stood by the shadows and watched. My sister and I would not be having anything for supper, but at least the old woman would not spend her last days on the streets.
A small smile crept up my face and maybe, just maybe, a little color seeped into my world.
Elijah Joaquin de Guzman is a Grade 10 student at International Christian Academy.
Rain dance
By Ann Rei L. Conte
AS LONG as she could remember, Aiah had always seen women dancing in the rain.
They were not the people who got caught in the rain without umbrellas and just made the 鈥渂est鈥 of it.
No, Aiah saw women dancing, literally dancing, in the rain. They seemed to fall with the rain. Maybe they were droplets鈥攕pinning, trotting, galloping and doing a graceful ballet as the water pattered on the ground.
She had watched them when she was a child, completely fascinated and striving to imitate their movements.
She had told stories about them to her family, her mother, her brother, her father (when he was around)鈥攅veryone.
Those stories stopped on a聽 stormy night in her eighth year when she tried to drag her mother outside to watch the dancing women.
Her mother snapped at her, telling her the women were not real and she needed to stop believing in stupid imaginary friends and grow up. Aiah had looked at her mother with confused, young eyes and said, 鈥淲hat do you mean they鈥檙e not real?鈥 as she stole a glance at the window. 鈥淚 can see them right now. One of them is doing a pirouette.鈥
Her mother grabbed her shoulders and shook her. 鈥淭hey鈥檙e not real, Aiah! Now go to your room and do your homework or something.鈥
Aiah obeyed. That was the moment she realized that not everyone could see the women and that people tended to laugh or think she was crazy when she mentioned them. So she learned not to.
Sometimes, she almost believed that the women were not real but she never did, simply because, well, they were real. They had always been there, dancing in the middle of a pouring rain and she did not really feel crazy, although she was hardly an expert on the subject.
As she grew up, she learned to keep quiet about the women and thought about them less and less.
Slowly but surely the women began to fade from sight, existing just in the corner of her eye. There, but hardly noticeable. Just another crazy thing in her crazy life.
That was until the day she walked into her apartment and saw one of them standing in the middle of it, a serene smile plastered on her face.
Aiah did not know how but she recognized the woman. She was one of the women who danced in the rain.
鈥淗ello, Aiah,鈥 the woman said, her voice reminding Aiah of a trickling stream. 鈥淲e鈥檝e been waiting a long time for you.鈥
Aiah stared at the woman slack-jawed, her eyes lingering on the woman鈥檚 clothes鈥攃lear as fresh water, flowing like a cascading waterfall. The woman鈥檚 hair was tied in a loose bun with a few strands framing a much-too- pale face that held clear, gray eyes that seemed too blank.
鈥淯h鈥攚ell鈥攗m.鈥 Aiah, for the life of her, could not come up with a thing to say. All she could really focus on was the impression that the woman was so pale she almost looked blue.
The woman smiled at Aiah, her lips seemingly whiter than her teeth.
鈥淵ou must be nervous, but don鈥檛 worry, I鈥檓 not here to harm you,鈥 she said.
She held out a hand and said, 鈥淭ake my hand. I鈥檒l show you something beautiful.鈥
Aiah hesitated. This was crazy; maybe she really was crazy and should see a psychiatrist.
鈥淐ome, Aiah,鈥 said the woman and Aiah found herself moving without thinking. She reached out and grabbed the woman鈥檚 hand, feeling a great rush of air and water swirling around her before she felt herself drowning.
Aiah surfaced from the water with a gasp. She found the woman standing a little away from the riverbank鈥檚 edge. The woman still had a smile on her face but it did not reach her eyes. Aiah headed toward her and took the hand that was offered.
鈥淲elcome to the land of the fae,鈥 she said, as Aiah stepped onto land and headed toward the group of women that she had not noticed before.
They were all wearing the same dress and shared the same unnatural paleness, as the one talking to her. And all of them were looking right at her.
鈥淲here am I?鈥 she asked, feeling a jolt of dread and panic. 鈥淲ho are you people?鈥
鈥淲e are the fae of the rain and you are in our cove,鈥 said the woman. 鈥淲e are the sisters of water.鈥
Aiah stared at the dark-haired woman who took her from her apartment, then at the other women in the clearing. This must be some crazy dream. Yes, that could be the logical explanation鈥攖his was just one big crazy dream. She decided to play along. Crazy dreams are fun after all.
鈥淲hat am I doing here then?鈥 she asked and the woman smiled at Aiah as if she was a child who had said something particularly funny.
鈥淵ou are here to join us, of course. You are ready,鈥 said the gray-eyed woman.
Aiah was acutely aware of the other women slowly inching toward the river and toward them.
鈥淛oin what?鈥 asked Aiah, backing away slowly. The woman moved toward her.
鈥淯s. The fae,鈥 said the woman. Aiah was still confused. The woman sighed in frustration. 鈥淭he women you鈥檝e seen dancing in the rain all your life.鈥
鈥淲hy would you want me?鈥 Aiah asked.
鈥淵ou are one of us, Aiah,鈥 the woman said kindly, inching closer and closer while Aiah backed farther and farther away. 鈥淭hat鈥檚 why you鈥檝e been able to see us. You were born to dance in the rain for the pleasure of the Great Beings. Few are given such great honor.鈥
Aiah tripped over a rock at the river鈥檚 edge and fell back into the river. She tried to get back on her feet, but the woman grabbed her shoulders and held her down. Two other women stepped forward and held her feet. Aiah struggled with all her might but to no avail; their grips were like iron.
鈥淒on鈥檛 I have a say in this?鈥 she asked as a fourth woman came forward holding a dagger.
Aiah鈥檚 breath began to quicken. She was quickly beginning to realize this dream was no longer the 鈥渇un鈥 sort and willed herself to wake up.
She did not.
鈥淭his is your destiny, Aiah,鈥 the woman said, her gray eyes sightless but somehow boring right into Aiah鈥檚 soul.
Aiah found herself thrashing with all her might, but the women holding her down were too strong. She stared at the woman鈥檚 face, then at the women holding her feet and the one with a dagger looming over her like a priestess ready to offer a sacrifice. She stared at their very pale faces, the lips so white they almost seemed blue, and the eyes 鈥
The eyes were much too blank, gazing at her sightlessly, without light 鈥
Aiah screamed.
鈥淵ou were born to be one of us, Aiah,鈥 said the woman placing a hand on Aiah鈥檚 forehead, her voice sounding like rushing water, like water rushing into someone鈥檚 lungs. 鈥淭hat is why you鈥檝e been seeing us since you were a small girl. You were chosen by the Great Beings to give them honor. Accept this, and it will be easier for you.鈥
She pushed Aiah鈥檚 head toward the water. Aiah caught a glimpse of the dagger as it was slowly brought down toward her body. The sound of something like a prayer was heard from a distance. Aiah began thrashing in earnest but the women鈥檚 grip was strong. She felt the dagger pierce her heart and the darkness consumed her.
A woman rose out of the river, wearing a dress of water. She stared into the faces of her sisters who were smiling their distant smiles.
鈥淲elcome, sister,鈥 said one with dark hair and gray eyes. 鈥淵ou are ready for the rain dance.鈥
The woman smiled. This was where she belonged.
Ann Rei L. Conte is a Grade 10 student at Our Lady of Perpetual Succor College.