More articles about: Short stories

 
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In the sealed section of our February 2017 issue, an excerpt from Ian Rosales Casocot's upcoming anthology Don’t Tell Anyone.
FOR L.Something people will never understand, if ever I begin to tell the story of how we met, but more so how we made love for the last time, if making love were the right words for it: You had a small ...
 
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In the silence after the coitus, all things are possible. They could be lovers. They could be nothing at all.
She unzipped his jeans, pulled aside the soft fabric of his boxers, and wrapped her mouth around his penis as it hardened in her mouth on a chilly evening in early February, while she was wearing her second-best black dress and had ...
 
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From award-winning crime novelist F.H. Batacan, a story about a marriage.
"Love has become the modern obscenity," said Julia Kristeva. Sex and violence as topics are commonplace, but love, real love, has come to be regarded as too strange. Originally published in the February 2014 issue of Esquire Philippines, we present "Love" by F.H. Batacan, a ...
 
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It was a collection of short stories that just might lead a bigger one.
This was originally published in our September 2013 issue. She leaves it on my bedside table. A toothbrush might have struck fear in my heart. It’d happened too many times already: new toothbrush, then clothes, a period of hope where I would lend books, ...
 
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A tale of fathers, sons, and executive assistants.
This was originally published in our June 2016 issue. Her name was Alex, and it was a boy’s name but it was on purpose. That’s what it said on her calling card, not Alexandra, which it was short for, and underneath her name ...
 
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Sun, skin, and a semi-random reunion at the last resort.
When she heard the glass door creak and saw Carmen going out into the bright midmorning light, Maricar remembered the time they had dared each other to go braless under their blouses. That was way back in high school and it was also ...
 
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What happens when you let your guard down on a crowded Quiapo street.
"MY WALLET. IT’S GONE,” Buen told his nephew. In the hush of the camera shop, Buen’s words sounded to himself like the click of cheap cuffs. He and Lean were fair game here, unlike in their hometown of Kapetera. By indulging in ...
 
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Life, love, loneliness, death, and groceries.
Ava—that's her in the white dress, wheeling her near-empty grocery cart through the canned goods aisle—and Jonathan—who, we shall presume, is at home tending to their three-month-old daughter—married roughly four years after they first met. They married because it was about time ...
 
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Fluorescent-lit musings in an old hospital on the nature of stories and the elusiveness of sleep.
THEY MET outside an abandoned movie theater in Divisoria. This is the first line to a story I’ll write someday, if I have the time. When I’m waiting, I like to think of opening lines to stories.I’m in a hospital, sitting in ...
 
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In a tower of glass and steel, an important lesson is learned, or maybe it isn’t.
IN A BUDGET MEETING called by the board, Johnny had justified the stainless steel mirror-finished elevator doors in this way—your target market (executives, of course) would have the opportunity to find out who else would be on board, thus allowing them, if ...
 
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Worlds live. Worlds die. Or so the saying goes. In the end, the greatest lesson our heroes can teach us is that they die.
I don’tremember much about the Crisis. I remember red skies, shadow demons, dinosaurs and spacemen side by side, and the city—all cities, everywhere, all places—falling apart all around me.People, screaming. I want to say ordinary people, aware of how that makes me ...
 
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Stars and planets, and notions and murmurs, in the domed darkness.
I AM SITTING IN THE DARKNESS of the Planetarium, alone. I am ten.This cannot be a memory. The Planetarium only plays to crowds, usually crowds of uninterested schoolchildren, sticky with sweat and noisy with exposure to the world outside their usual walls. ...
 
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The passage of time, the possibility of love, and the indifference of cards at the Century Club.
Just like every casino or gaming house, the Century had no clocks to be found anywhere on its beige walls, no windows to frame sunsets and sunrises. The dealers wore watches with second hands on their left wrists, but only to be able ...
 
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The cafeteria had all the makings of a sex dungeon in the wake of a zombie uprising.
IT WAS THE WORST POSSIBLE PLACE FOR THE WORST possible person. NEB stands for New Executive Building—a decrepit old structure in the city of Manila, by the river Pasig, kilometers away from McDonald’s, KFC, and other diet-busting yuppie comforts. It was my ...
 
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It is time for teeth, more teeth, a full working of a mouth that’s become the locus of all the hunger within you.
THE PRAGMATIST IN YOU WELL UNDERSTANDS that there can be too much of a good thing; that there can be limits to the pleasures you commit yourself to. Even now, you draw closer to terminal euphoria: You had one, and then of ...
 
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Inside, it looked like how a man’s opened chest might look, after all the blood had fled it, flesh in flesh and flesh upon flesh.
MY MOTHER TAUGHT ME HOW BEST TO ENJOY DURIAN. Her family is from Davao, and therefore according to family logic so was I, so it was a forgone conclusion for her: I would like it immediately, no doubt about it. After all, she ...
 
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We found ourselves unconsciously doing the same things with our bodies and our hands, the weird things you never notice when you’re around each other all the time.
MY FATHER LOVED TO TELL ME of how he couldn’t help it and felt this mighty unstoppable crush on this girl when he saw the pale pink backs of her legs as she walked past him as he paused, stumped by a question ...
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