Author. Poet. Actor. Playwright. Director.
I’m very excited to share the first part of my new Tagalog short story, titled “Tag-Dilim sa Quezon Ave.” It’s a bit of a horror, bit of fantasy, and I hope you have fun reading it!
The PDF is free to download, so go ahead and click on the download button bellow.
Cover art created by Natalia Go.
Part 2 of the story to follow soon. Abangan!
Sinubukan kong harapin ang umaga
sa altar na nakalaan para sa’kin.
Puno ng mga alay mula sa kalangitan,
kaing-kaing na mga tinik
na bumabalot sa mhahahalimuyak na bulaklak.
Sinubukan kong hipuin ang isang talulot.
Baka kako’y may paraang mahawakan
nang hindi nasasaktan.
Dumanak ang dugo
at mga halakhak.
Isang biro sa tulad kong
madaling maniwala.
Minsan nang may dumating na kahon
sa aking pinto.
Nababalot ng ginto, makinis, at marangya.
Mga batong ilog,
biyaya ng mga santo.
Isang katuwaan,
walang bahid na malisya.
Dumulog ako sa mga arkanghel.
Bakit tila paborito ako
ng kanilang kapilyuhan?
“Hangal ka,” sabi nila,
“na naghahangad ng lubha
sa lupang walang awa.”
Kaya’t sinubukan kong ‘wag silang gambalain.
Maging ang mga bituin, sa akin
ay walang narinig.
Ang araw sumisikat
sa bawat kong paggising.
Sinag nyang tila may hatid na ligaya.
Ngunit sa liwanag ay malinaw
ang bawat bukas.
Panibagong mga tinik, bato,
at di maabot-abot
na mga talulot.
Sasabayan na lamang ang kanilang tawanan.
Baka sakaling ang pag-asa ay tumahan.
Tinik at Talulot
10 March 2026
I don’t have friends in high places.
Instead of coffers, I have piles of sheets
detailing the things I owe.
Where doors open up for the powerful,
they remain shut for me
and for the millions
whose helplessness becomes capital
for the powerful’s gains.
And though we stand and walk
on the same ground,
somehow we stoop at their boots
as though their feet float
above us.
How long do we keep our voices soft
for fear of it being taken away
completely?
We say yes to the everyday demands
of our well-being
to keep our shelter and ensure we eat.
They distract us with bills and rent
and the illusion of weekends;
the illusion of rest.
There is no such thing as rest
when even in your sleep
you’re thinking about how to survive
tomorrow.
And they own tomorrow,
our tomorrows,
as long as the world keeps spinning
the way it does today.
But they have friends in high places.
We have orders to follow.
The only thing left
is our anger.
It may not be much in their eyes,
but as long as it burns in ours,
it may yet eat away
at their gates,
the edifices that keep them safe.
As long
as we don’t look away.
4 March 2026
Natalia Go
Major spoilers ahead.
Content warning: Rape, abortion, and overall upsetting themes
“Naiintindihan mo ba ko?” Do you understand me? Sunshine asks the little girl phantasm as she makes her final decision.
I watched Sunshine, not knowing what it was about, but the theme was set very early on. My primal fear was that it would deeply upset me, and it would have, had Sunshine decided otherwise. But it still upset me…for a different reason.
Set in the chaotic Sampaloc area of Manila, where I grew up, the movie sure has a hold on me. Sunshine (Maris Racal) is a student training to compete in the nationals as a gymnast with dreams of making it to the Olympics. An unexpected pregnancy derails her plans as she begins to gain weight and feel nauseated. As expected, the baby daddy is a teenage boy who has no interest in taking responsibility for the child or Sunshine. Elijah Canlas does quite a convincing portrayal of Miggy, a conyo fuckboy who relies on daddy’s money to bail him out in every sticky situation he creates for himself.
Worried about her future, Sunshine sets out to find solutions on her own, albeit not the safest ones. Since terminating pregnancies, no matter how early, is illegal in this country, Sunshine (and I bet, many other women) resorts to shady abortifacient sellers in Quiapo. The phantasm of a little girl whom she’s been seeing appears and tries to stop her from going there, guilt-tripping her into believing what she’s doing is a sin. But she is determined to do it. She tries and fails to do the deed and ends up in the maternity ward, almost losing her life. This is where she gets a lecture from a doctor who forces her to beg God for forgiveness for what she’s done. Luckily, her older sister, a former gymnast, gets there in time to tell the doctor off.
Desperate not to lose her spot in the competition, Sunshine tries to get her hands on the medicine again. However, she encounters another pregnant young girl who begs for the abortifacient as she has no means to take care of her situation. We find out later on that this pregnant young girl is a 13-year-old raped by her uncle and is just walking around with a huge belly on the streets, hoping to find someone to give her money to pay for a “hilot,” a traditional massage therapist who can help her abort the child. Sunshine hands her some money, and the girl sets off for it.
More than anything in this movie, this pregnant 13-year-old girl broke my heart. She is a rape victim whose mother couldn’t care less about. Without any adult to protect her or help her get out of her situation, she almost dies after going to the hilot. Luckily, she survived, and the attempt was successful.
What troubles me most is that this is not entirely fiction: The Philippines remains one of the countries with the highest teenage pregnancy rates in Asia. It ranks second in Southeast Asia, with over 500 girls aged 15 to 19 becoming mothers each day. Even more concerning is the increasing number of pregnancies among girls under 15. Live births in the 10 to 14 age group rose from 2,411 in 2019 to 3,343 in 2023, marking a 6.6% increase in just four years. In 2023 alone, 17 young women under 20 had already given birth five or more times, and 38 girls under 15 experienced repeated pregnancies. The youngest recorded case involved a girl who became pregnant at just 8 years old and gave birth when she was 9*.
With no safe and legal way to help kids terminate pregnancies, their future is bleak. While the 13-year-old girl survives in the movie, there is the impending doom that she has no choice but to return to her home, where the rapist uncle is unlikely to stop harming her.
As for Sunshine, she refuses Miggy’s and his father’s offer to pay for the child’s expenses, expressly saying in the end that “I don’t want to be a mom.” She finds help from a friend who refers her to a proper doctor to help her resolve her unwanted pregnancy and be able to fulfill her dreams of becoming a professional gymnast.
Toward the end, Sunshine sees the phantasm of the little girl again, and she asks her…“Naiintindihan mo ba ko?” Do you understand me? The girl nods.
This movie is excellently acted and directed. It’s believable, heartbreaking, and if you can believe it, hopeful.
I dare say, Sunshine by Antoinette Jadaone, starring Maris Racal, is a film every Filipino should watch.
*https://www.humanium.org/en/the-current-teenage-pregnancy-crisis-in-the-philippines/
Photo from IMDB
Our story started at a time of great peril. We danced through masked crowds and curtains of uncertainty. We made our way out into a plot of land and turned it into a garden where we made fire out of little twigs of hope. And lit our path to tomorrow.
Though I wasn’t one so bold to assume we’d still be here today, somehow I knew from the first moment, I wanted to.
I longed for you before any confirmation you existed. And when you first held my hand, I understood the plan; in the universe’s grandest scheme, in which you and I are written in the stars.
Perhaps that is magical thinking. Maybe it’s a dream. Yet in my waking hours, I decide each time to choose you. For I will relive every moment over and over, even the darkest nights, so long as they lead me back here.
Dance with me through the rest of our story. We’ve only heard the beginning of our song. Listen…they’re playing it in the heavens. For us. I don’t care how many steps we miss as long as our feet find their way back to our spot.
Here, where there is no hesitation in your arms when they wrap around me.
30 November 2025
Here is a short story in Tagalog that I am distributing for free!
Ang kuwentong ito ay kathang-isip, ngunit may mga eksenang halaw sa tunay na buhay. Walang sinasadyang pagkakahawig ang karakter ni “Bonggay” sa sinumang tao, buhay man o patay.
I like drawings with imperfect lines,
paint that goes just a little over the edges.
I find chips in decorative craft
adorable.
Unbalanced stitches, shaky layers, and disorganized canvases.
Human hands are wonderful;
some are masterful
and most are unsteady—
nonetheless in constant pursuit
of beauty.
Some strokes of genius happen
by mistake
and discoveries abound
in misfortune.
Feats such that unfeeling
virtual hands
can never hope to achieve.
There’s no inspiration in programmed manipulations.
No creativity
in unthinking sets of flashing cards
that only show what one wants to see.
No toil, no heart, no virtue;
they are dead,
moved only by this virus
rapidly infecting our perceptions.
They lie.
They take the names of objects
of ridiculous combinations
to convince themselves that they are real,
and trick us into believing
we are weak
for not going with the times.
They force our hands into the mud
in which they roll
with their stolen treasures.
We are gaslit into thinking
our works are no better
for the very reason they are:
our toil,
our hearts,
our virtue.
Natalia Go
7 October 2025
I want to touch a piece of machinery and feel hopeful for the future.
I want to wake up to new discoveries and not be threatened by the ill intentions of the ones who made them.
I want to be excited about the progress every new invention could make and not worry about it killing jobs, industries, and people.
I want to participate in change without having to worry about my demise.
Or the decline of my intellect and creativity.
Every day, I wake up to this nightmare of a planet. Most of the world are suffering. The rest are concerned about overfilling their coffers. And I am tied with a chain somewhere in between to tend to my needs.
How did we get here?
I weep for the dreams of my heroes who saw the world for what it could have become today.
I grieve the work of the writers who imagined so much more for us and whose ideas we so blatantly ignored. Nay, opposed. Defied. Trashed.
Where are we going?
I long for the days when we saw promise in a new device.
We were joyful. We were hopeful. We were inspired.
We weren’t told to shut up and not question anything new. We weren’t denied the rights to make decisions about what we accepted and rejected.
We were included.
We evolved.
8 August 2025
Natalia Go
When time it comes for us
to read our promises
in front of witnesses,
when we profess our love
with our monograms
to the tune of our march,
the lights on our faces,
though there’d be no clergy,
no fabric or metal bonds,
your hand in mine
will be the sacred cord,
whispering gratitudes to the stars
and the goddesses of old.
A rain of silver and white
on our heads
wrapped in the warmth
and vibrance
of every touch afore, hereon.
To behold the fondest to my heart
each step to the hours.
To be near, around, beside, and behind,
wherever you need me
at any given moment you allow.
I cast my wishes to the timekeepers
who favored our existence
in the same timelines,
every one of which, I am bound
to find you.
13 July 2025
I hear the breaking of a chain
not long from the hour
when gold scratches on feather
and the hand lays its claim on the nib
once more.
Blood trickles into the shape of a flag,
forward and onward to tomorrow.
Woman against machine.
Spirit against rot.
Water rises to a boil atop a cliff
and drips into a shamble of metals
long deformed.
Their soulless voices lost among the clouds—
artless copies fading into the chasm.
Their song the screeching of rusted pipes,
far less artful than parrots’.
And melt
the long arms of the thieves
whose spoils belonged to the gardeners,
too busy tending their creations
for so much as a grumble
even as they are robbed.
Yet the hour comes.
Past a day, a decade, a moment…
it comes
anon.