Liham Issue 2 Final

8/9/2019 Liham Issue 2 Final

1/40


2/40

Co-Editors-in-Chief Michi F. and Chris Kevin O.

Layout Editors Mahek T. and Bernice H.

Poetry Editors Aurna H. and Anthony G.

Fiction Editors Matt B. and Cindy C.

Non-Fiction Editors Young Sun P. and Yihua L.

Visual Arts Editor Zaina A.

Public Relations Officers Kaye K. and Stevii M.

Advisor Wendy D.

At the beginning of the school year, Liham was warmly welcomed by

the ISM community as a young member of its family of publications.Now presenting our second issue, we once again thank you for all the

interest, support and effort that you have invested into making this mighty

endeavour possible. Having achieved enormous milestones thus far, Liham

looks forward to its status as an official publication in the following school

year. We hope to usher in an era in ISM where creativity is the norm, not

the exception, where writing is a joy, not a chore, and where all individuals

can be recognised for their desire and ability to possess the spirit of crea-tion. However, more importantly, we wish for Liham to take you to places

youve never seen, to take you on journeys to other worlds, to make you

feel a satisfying releaseeven for a momentand to make your soul feel

alive once again. Enjoy Lihams second issue!

Michi and Chris

Editors-in-Chief

EDITORIAL BOARD

EDITORS WORD


3/40

TABLE OFCONTENTS2 FICTION

Burning Six Feet Under (Contest Winner)

The Thoughts of an Ace Student

Lilly

Le Retour dAlpages at Annecy

Sssverygood! (Contest Winner)

16NON-FICTIONDoes God Exist?: An Exposition

Weathering the Storm

Living With the Scars of Beautiful Reality

Is the Red Apple Really Red? (Contest Winner)

Manila (Contest Winner)

24POETRYThe Veiled Intent of War Elevator

Blow Your Precious Tears Away The Chair

Drastic Measures The Storm

Continuity Diet Drinks

Carol of a Woman Marshmallows

New Interlocking Shapes (Contest Winner)

Eine Villanelle de Asuka (Contest Winner) Not Your Average Stereotypical Guy

35VISUAL ARTSLa Mesa Dam

CUUUTE!!!

Day in the Life

Lets Go Green


4/40

1


5/40

FICTION

Burning Six Feet Under by Camille

The Thoughts of an Ace Student by Deionte

Lilly by Young Sun

Le Retour dAlpages at Annecy by JiWan

Sssverygood! by Juha

Writers for this section


6/40

BURNING SIX FEET UNDER

dream she had recalled to me.In the dream she was standing in a dark hallway, much li

one we were in. But she was alone, and she was frightened. Th

saw a bright, flickering yellow light in the darkness. She ran towa

but it remained in the in the distance, unwilling to be caught. The

and harder she ran, the further it seemed to become. The closer sh

to giving up, the smaller and further the light was.

But she always woke up before the light flickered out, befo

lost hope.

Allie where are you? I yelled after chasing after her lig

what seemed like hours. I couldnt see the candle anymore, andgetting frightened.

Gotcha! A voice whispered in my ear, and I screamed

laughing. I turned around to face my Allie. She was shielding th

of her candle with one hand and motioning for me to be silent w

other. You dont want to wake our parents do you, Bumble

asked, calling me by my strange little nickname.

No, Allie, I replied childishly, trying to smother my grin

Come on you little rascal. She chuckled, leaning ove

could jump on her back. She and her candle carried me to the d

my bedroom.

The next day was darker than usual. I leapt down the st

fast as my little legs could handle and bounced into the kitchen re

face a new day, learning new things with Allie. But nobody wa

ing.

It wasnt as if smiling was particularly normal anymore.

ther had told me stories about the Japanese army. They were in th

ippines and parading all over our country. My father would ge

daily, about the latest news and the latest bombings. But I was on

I felt like theyd never reach us. We were immune. We were too h

too whole and beautiful to be affected by the atrocities of war.

It was Allie who concerned me the most that morning. He

ally smooth, smiling face was pulled into a frown and her silky

hair hung, forgotten, limply to her shoulders. I stopped in front of

Whats wrong Allie? Did something bad happen tod

asked.

No. It's too early. Come. She let me clamber onto her

she played with my hair.

She seemed to be troubled all day that day. While we were

3

Walking back through that

old house, my memories

haunt me. Its rickety old

floors screaming teasing jests at every

step. Catch me if you can! Catch me if

you can! The same passageways, asdank and black as I remember, with

their illuminating yellow flame long

since extinguished. My eyes usually

gloss over past the cupboard door, but

today I glare at it. That coffin of a cup-

board stands vertical, forever a source

of pain, despair, helplessness.

Nothing has changed. Nothing

other than a sense of belonging. This

isnt my home anymore. It hasnt been

for a long, long while. Not since the

dark and stormy night the bloodstains

came to be

She grinned at me, her smile

teasing and her eyes bright, Catch me

if you can!

With that she bounded away

through the darkness, her candle flick-

ering dangerously as she ran.

Allie wait! I called and raced

after her, my five-year-old legs nomatch for her eleven-year-old ones.

Allie was my cousin. She was my best

friend. We played this game rather of-

ten, sneaking out of our rooms at late

hours of the night and meeting in the

underground tunnels of the house. The

game was simple, modeled after a

They always said it was

calmest before a storm.

-CONTEST WINNER-


7/40

playing outside in the garden, she kept missing the ball and her mind was constantly elsewhere.

Suddenly my father ran out and ordered us to come inside, his tone frantic and clipped. I was put

out that he had stopped the fun, so I ignored him for the rest of the afternoon.

If there is one thing that I did in my life that I wish I could change, it was those last few moments

with my father. My last words to him wouldn't have been Go away! Youre the worst father ever!" If I'd

changed that, my last memories of him would not be his crumpled face: the wounded expression with

which he had reacted to these words.

Nearing nightfall, Allie and I were sitting in the living room, playing with our dolls and she lookedup, her eyes vacant of any emotion.

It was gone today. She said.

What was? I asked, slightly irked by the

vagueness of her statement.

It was there. And I was running. And

then it was gone. And I didnt wake up, She

looked at me, her typically warm, brown eyesdull and almost unseeing. I saw it die out.

Her expression was scaring me. Saw

what? Saw what! I demanded in fear.

But she didnt answer. It was her father

that did.

Run! Celia get the children! Robbie and I

will hold them off! Run! RUN!

And with those few words, my world was

submerged into scalding white flames of terror

and inhumanity.My mother was screaming directions at

Allie and I while my aunt scrambled around the

room trying to grab everything she could. I

started to bawl and I could feel Allie trying to lift

me off the ground. At that moment, I heard the

front door break and shouts floated toward us.

Japanese soldiers surrounded us. My fa-

ther and uncle ran to the front to hold them off

and all that could be heard were the shots of guns

and the cries of my family as one by one, we fell

apart.

Allie was the first to react. In our living

room there was a secret space. It was hidden be-

hind a camouflaged door, which was covered by

a smooth mahogany cabinet holding china. It was

like a strange little closet that we used to hide our

treasures in when we didn't want others to find

them.

In seconds, Allie had pulled away the cabinet

and shoved me through the door of the secret closet.

I was screaming as she shut the door, told me to be

quiet and pushed the cabinet back against it.

With that, I was surrounded by darkness. My

hearing was my only working sense. And how Iwished- how I still wish- that it was the only sense

that didnt. I would rather have gone deaf for the rest

of my life then heard what came next; I've spent the

rest of my life trying to block out those memories.

Loud barking orders in sharp foreign

tongues were given, but in my silent panic and con-

fusion, I couldnt make out what was said. And then

the sound of a body being thrown against the cabinet

was heard and I jumped backwards instinctively. As

I moved closer to the door, loud, painful sobs gotlouder and louder.

I pressed myself up against the door and

heard my mother and aunt screaming at close range.

The sobbing, I recognized, came from Allie. My best

friend Allie. My cousin Allie. I could hear them hurt-

ing her on the opposite side of the door. Suddenly a

loud, heart wrenching, guttural scream pierced my

ears and I felt the very tip of a blade, already soaked

with blood, poke my stomach where it lay flat

against the door. The scream stopped short. The can-

dle had burnt out. It was there. And I was running. And

it was gone. And I didnt wake up. I saw it die out.

I cried for her. I cried for Allie. I cried for my

mother. I cried for my father. I cried for my aunt. I

cried for my uncle. I cried for everyone who has lost

anyone in this way. I cried for every family that has

been torn apart, every person that has been torn

apart


8/40

and now I cry for my family and I cry as I slowly rekindle the flame, using my fire to guide it, usin

her fire to nurture mine.

A chilly wind blows softly through the rickety old house, whistling through the banisters, lifting u

the curtains like womens skirts. It whispers cries in my ear, cries, screams, laughter, teasing jests. Catch m

if you can! Catch me if you can!

The house seems to breathe with old life, with old deaths, with old pain. The wind turns cold an

piercing, trying to waft through me as I stand in the living room with my palms open, my eyes closed an

my face to the ceiling. But I cant feel it. A drop of rain from outside seeps in slowly through the open win

dows, but I cant hear it. A new storm is evidently on the horizon, but Ill never see it.

5

The saying was wrong.

The calm is during the end of the storm, when the debris is settling and you know that it will be ovsoon. After all the panic has dispersed. Before you realize what has been lost; who has been lost. No, the cal

is during the end of the storm, when everything you believed to be normal is everything you expect to com

back to. When returning to a new reality is the dream.

Camille, Grade 10

And when all you know is

what should be

...when all you see is the

candlelight, forever out of

reach

...but continuing to burn

through my darkness.


9/40

It did.

Iremember that day. Worst day ever during school.

I felt like I had failed at life that day, but after it

ended, I realized how stupid I had acted.

It all started the way my days normally started:

wake up to my television playing some late-night

dult movie on the screen because I forgot to change

he channel after I got done watching a movie. I think I

was watching The Incredible Hulk the night before. I

ell asleep on the part where he jumped out the helicop-

er. Crap. Continuing on, I switched off the television

nd took a quick shower. There was no hot water that

morning so I took a cold shower. I was freezing after-wards. I put my clothes on, only to realize that I had

nintentionally gone commando, so I had to take my

ants off, put on some boxers, then put them back on. I

an out my room and downstairs into more trouble.

"Did you walk the dog last night?" my mom

estered.

"Yea."

"No you didn't. He pooped in the house."

In all honesty, I hate it when someone tells me

what I did or didn't do. Anyway, I argued with my

mom for about five minutes before cleaning up the

oop that she intentionally left sitting out for about

hree hours for me to clean up. After that, I asked her

where my homework was--a five-page essay on the im-

ortance of World War II, how it affected the world's

conomy, and how it impacted the world today--and

he looked at me, dead serious, without a crack in her

ace and said:

"The dog ate it."

Wow. How the heck was I supposed to explain

o my teacher that my dog ate my homework? That'she oldest trick in the book! I stormed out angrily,

aught the bus to school, and sulked all the way there.

When we got there, I stepped off of the bus and into a

uddle of mud. My brand new jeans and sneakers had

otten mud all over them. After screaming obscenities

nto the high heavens, I walked into school and begun

my day.

THE THOUGHTS OF

AN ACE STUDENTIn each class, something went wrong; in

math, I failed a pop quiz. Totally bombed it. In

English, I forgot to read the specified chapters and

I was asked to give an oral assessment on it. I got

an F for participation that day. Chemistry wentwell until I accidentally created a compound that

expelled eerie looking green gas around the whole

room. The entire hallway was evacuated and eve-

ryone made it out that I almost blew up the

school. I even failed lunch, which isn't a class. I

dropped my lunch onto a bully's lap, got smacked

into the wall, and kneed in the genitals, all while

the teachers weren't looking. I had a study hall

and that went well. Then history.

"Mr. Johnson, I don't care if you don't be-lieve me, but my dog ate my homework. All five

pages of the assessment."

"Oh. You didn't get my email? I made it so

that it won't be due until Friday," he spoke to me.

That was a Wednesday.

Greatness. My whole day basically goes

down the gutter and just when I think my world

is about to end, I find out that. So, happily, at the

end of the day, I go home, hop on my computer

and smile gleefully. I read the email, chuckle tomyself, and open Microsoft Word.

I forgot to save my assignment

Deionte, Grade 11


10/40

Whether it was Tuesday or Wednesday Lilly didnt know. In fact, 42 years had passed without her

knowing the date, or rather, without her caring. Since the age of 30 life had become a mundane

Lilly lay in repose on her black leather chair. She heaved in and out, struggling for some air in the

choking thickness of her house. She spotted the decaying white mug she had received on the Paris tour of 195on a small wooden table beside her. Painted on the mug was a faded silhouette of a ballerina. Struggling, sh

stretched her arm out for the mug but stopped herself at the sight of the crinkled folds on her hand. When ha

Lilly was never one to ask so many questions, yet she seemed to be doing so of late. Perhaps, she

thought to herself, old age had changed her into the many things she was not: depressed, longing, and feeble

Lilly grabbed the small wooden table and made a slow attempt to climb out of her chair, but in the process

misplaced her arm and knocked the old white mug off the table, sending it falling to the wooden floor. With

Lilly looked down on the broken mug, knowing she would never be able repair it to its original gloryEven so, this was not the reason her heart suddenly sank. It was something about the quiet crack with which

the mug broke that sent painful shockwaves of nostalgia through her veins, reminding her of her final per-

formance.

7

LILLY

My heart pumps behind the velvet curtains as I hear the audience restless with excitement. In a matter

moments Im up on stage in front of hundreds of faces. Decisively I bury my worries and spin and leap, exudin

all life that is within me. I am in a celestial place, for nothing could be closer to heaven than being en pointe

Amidst these thoughts I hear a subtle crack that drags me down to earth. A sharp pain engulfs my kne

and a sweeping blackness encroaches my head. The completeness in me breaks aparI wake up in a hospital bed to the fortunate news that with correct attention and rehabilitation my kn

would recover in three years time. My dance instructor, on the other hand, informs me that I can no longer tou

with the company and bids me farewell.

At that time, this farewell was not filled with too much sorrow for Lilly didnt understand that da

throve on the entity of youth. After her recovery she could walkan activity she later found could never su

tute for leaping. As she bent over to pick up the broken pieces of the mug she thought about all she would giv

re-experience one minute of her youth. Her back stiffened and ached when she stood back up and Lilly real

how time had hardened her. She laid the broken mug pieces in a container, hoping to preserve what little me

ries she had left. She knew now that memories were indeed all she had left, and carrying that thought she mher way over to the atrophied CD player. Although it had been a while, her fingers automatically made their

to play track number threeStrausss Blue Danube Waltzand Lilly was carried away into a deep pool of me

ries for an encore performance.

Young-Sun, Grade 1


11/40

Looking out my car window, my attention wascaptured by two bony children in torn upclothes, zooming towards the Pasig River likeflies attracted to the reeking foul stench of the river. I

thought theyd be about eight, yet their frail bodiesmoved along the riverside like the frightful images of

malnourished five year olds. The only trace of human-

ity could be found in their beady eyes sparkling with

joy through the holes of their skeleton faces. I ob-

served them as they excitedly flung their fishing rods

off the banks and into the river, and finally hoisted the

large catfish they had caught onto the riverside.

I watched them depart from the bank, proudly

carrying their bacteria infested dinner. This was a

daily routine that many would find revolting. How-ever, were their actions truly sickening, or was it more

distasteful that the privileged remained nonchalant to

their needs?

Their incessantly empty stomachs could not be

filled by anything else but by a dead river, perhaps the

Pasig River is truly the river of dreams.

I fell asleep silently in the back seat of my car

only to be awakened by a sudden knock from the win-

dow. A familiar blind man stretched out his wrin-

kled hand, feeling for the window of my car, and find-

ing it, opened his rough palms asking for a penny or

two. I examined his faint smile worn out by the harsh-

ness of time and watched it fade away as he shook his

feeble camel-back body through the road and drifted

away from my car.

Perhaps the tinted glass windows of ones car

can be blinding visors, shielding reality. The mans

shut lids, however, saw the world in a clearer perspec-

tive. He could see the suffering of the people around

him, and he could see the strong need for action in the

society he lived in.

The stoplight turned green and I turned

around to watch the mans figure become more dis-

tant. He would still be there next time, walking

through the humid heat and the chaotic traffic. How-

ever, how long before his eyelids completely shut him

away from society? How long before he finds that his

destiny in life is to stray around to no avail?

The tang of alcohol and the neon lights flash-

ing through the sidewalks of P. Burgos Street pene-

trate ones car window and leaves one drunken by a

seemingly glittery life.

Everyday I see the faces of young female vic-tims in this street finding no other refuge from pov-

erty except through prostitution. I observed them

moving flirtatiously through the clubs in their short-

cropped skirts and their pole-like legs, batting their

eyelashes at the old men who were waiting anxiously

for their belle de jour.

As I watched a girl of about nineteen enter a

bar with a man of about fifty, I wondered if they too

had dreamed, if they too wished to be a lawyer or a

doctor or a record company executive. Had povertytruly killed the souls of these dreamers? Had poverty

murdered the future of our nation by forcing despera-

tion to rule over the innocence of these poor girls?

Because of their hardships, their morose pea-

cock feathers remained in the ground where they be-

longed, and behind the glitter and booming pleasures

this street seemed to give, there lay the hearts of

women who long for a better life. Could they not

transform their earthly wings to fly luminously in the

grey skies? Could they not see their faces in the stars

above them? Perhaps the question is not could, but

rather would.

Just as the women in the 19th century, these

girls allow themselves to be exploited in order for

them to survive. Just as the women in the 19th century,

these girls will one day rise above the impoverished

state they live in and find their voice.

MANILA

Mariella, Grade 9


12/40

The celebration started at the beginning of the

busy Carrefour in the small, crowded city cen-

ter of Annecy where the market place began,

and from the start, my family and I loved the city as it

is. As I passed by the food stands, the odor of freshly

baked bread met my nose, and then the aromatic,

creamy mocha coffee-smell followed, waking me up

softly. The vermillion market tents ran along the sinu-

ous street until the far seemingly endless end, and the

pale azure sky covered up the whole area above me,

and there was not a single sight of clouds.I walked along the shops for a while holding a

cup of pulpy orange juice with my left hand. Having a

little, fresh and fragrant sip of it, I thought, this mo-

ment cannot be better in any way. I started tapping

my feet on the checkered brick paths, colored in yel-

low and brown, which made me feel like the little girl,

Dorothy, whom I read about a long time ago; only if I

were on red shoes and owned a tiny dog named Toto,

the girl could have been me. Thinking the day was

going so perfect, I drank the last bit of my fruity cupof juice.

The paths led me to a small church with a dark

silver bell. Near the church was a huge crowd on each

side of the main road and the crowds eyes and all the

cameras were facing a single direction where there

was a large door open and an old, tall tree. The church

bell began ringing, making a fluted, melodious sound.

Soon afterwards, my ears were interrupted by ca-

cophonous sounds; trumpets started blaring, cows

followed by bellowing moo-moo-, chicks openedtheir throats chirping and cackling and geese quack-

quacked inharmoniously with them. Oh, god, I

thought, but my hands seemed to have already

started to take pictures. The leaders of the animal

band were the eye-lined cows, and believe me when I

say eye-lined, because their eyes looked so pretty as if

a famous make-up artist drew black lines around

them to make them look so big. Moo-moo-, they con-

tinued to bellow out loud. A group of snow-white

geese were next; they came closer twitching th

hips. The color of the feathers was highlighted

massive ribbons around their neck; pearly jade, p

cyan, orange-amber and clear-lilac ribbons harm

nized with their dazzling white feathers which mu

had been washed the whole day before the celebr

tion.Then, the romping goats ran over fast towar

the geese. Each of them was chewing grass, possib

to make them quite, but the tiny bells around th

neck made even louder rhythmic sounds as they r

faster and faster. Followed by the goats were twice

dozen of black and white sheep looking extreme

fluffy like X-large teddy bears. Half of them had th

eyes closed and another half were having problem

listening to the shepherd boys. Next were a group

farmer couples dancing round-and-round and th

made me feel like watching dozens of alive spinni

tops in iridescent colors with the music, backed by flutes and accordions.

For about a few more minutes, the animal p

rade continued, but did not seem to end soon, so

turned around and walked to near stands where

saw a small Yorkshire terrier yapping at me

weakly. I walked towards the little dog and fetch

my hands to pat it -it felt like a bunch of knitti

wools. A lady came over and offered me a cup

wine; I said no, but she said, Cest juste comme

jus de raisin. I believed her and let a tiny sip rthrough my throat. It felt sweet, but a little bitter, v

vety, but a little sour. I looked up at the crystallin

azure sky shimmering brilliantly and saw a cotto

but wet cloud flowing freely. Soon, I heard my mo

calling, Come here right now, its starting to rain

Im coming, I answered. Feeling a drop of rain

my nose and the remaining sip of the wine on m

mouth, I thought, Youve had a little too mu

sweetness today.

9

LE RETOUR D

ALPAGES AT

ANNECY

JiWan, Grade 1


13/40

SSSVERYGOOD!

It was a cold, foggy night in the hills of Tus-

cany. The thick fog masked the landscape

and hugged the grape vines and olive trees.Newlyweds Bob and Hannah Smith were travel-

ling along the narrow gravel roads that snaked

through the hills. Bob was enjoying the drive in

their rented Fiat 500 while Hannah was silently

getting more and more worried. Bob, are you

sure you know where youre going? I booked us

in hotel Trip-pooh-lee or something that sounds

like that. Wasnt it supposed to be right after the

freeway exit? asked Hannah.

Didnt you notice the exit was under

construction? I took the next one. Dont worry

honey, I always know where Im going, bragged

Bob.

Are you sure? It seems like were lost,

insisted Hannah.

Can you please just relax! Were on our

honeymoon, for Petes sake! Just enjoy the ride

and treat it as an adventure, Bob replied.

But I cant see a darn thing! This fog is so

thick! At this rate well never find Thrip-hole-

lee, complained Hannah.Okay, its almost 9 and I think youre

just hungry. Well stop at the first place that

seems to have some sort of food. I read that

grilled meats accompanied by fine red wine are a

specialty of this region of Italy.

Before Hannah could say anything, Bob

was already signaling to turn right into a long

driveway. Down the path they could see a white

arch that stretched across the driveway with the

words Hotel Tuscano e Restorante Italiano paintedacross it in the colors of the Italian flag.

Finally, weve found civilization again! I

mean, its not hotel Trip-hole-ly, but for a mo-

ment there I felt like we were in one of those hor-

ror movies we watched on the plane. If there is a

room available, maybe we can just check in here

after dinner. It seems like such a wonderful and

-CONTEST WINNER-


14/40

romantic place, suggested Hannah.

Well of course honey, anything for you.

After parking their car in the empty parking lot, the couple walked into the hotel and they were gree

at the front desk by a tall bald man in a dark suit. His eyes were deeply set and he spoke with a low, hu

voice. Buona sera signor e signora. Mi chiamo Claudio. Siete Americano? asked Claudio.

Um, yes we are Americans. Do you speak English? Bob asked.

English? Uhh, not so good. But I speak a little bit. Howihelpyou? said Claudio.

We are looking for a place to eat. Is your restaurant still open? inquired Bob.Si seore! We have special dinner prepare by chef Paulino! We have grill coniglio, bisteca, agnell

cinghiale! Sssverygood! Especiality en Toscana. Sssverygood!

Well it seems like weve hit the jackpot honey! Claudio says; Sssverygood! joked Bob.

Hannah seemed a little reluctant about the place since it looked like they were the only guests in the r

taurant and hotel. But since she was so hungry, she put that thought aside and walked towards the restaur

The couple was greeted by a large dining room. There was already table for two set with a candle that cast la

shadows across the dim room. The whole place had looked like something out of a travel guide; cozy, beaut

and romantic. After Bob and Hannah were seated, a plump man in a chefs outfit flamboyantly entered the

taurant through the twin kitchen doors. His black hair was curly and peeked out from under his hat. C

Roberto struck them as the type of chef who doesnt chase after Michelin guide stars, or one who would alwseek to prove his culinary skills to others. He gave the air of simple man who had grown up in some far-aw

Italian province. He cradled a pair of menus in his right arm as he walked towards the couple. After a short

introduction, he proceeded to take their orders. Bob

bravely ordered the grilled rabbit and a truffle risotto to

share. Hannah wasnt feeling so adventurous so she chose

the steak instead. Chef Roberto also offered them a bottle

of Chianti Classico Riserva from the cellar. The honey-

moon had finally begun as the two had the most romantic

dinner of their lives. They joked, laughed, and flirted outloud. They had the restaurant all to themselves.

The dinner was fabulous and they ended up spend-

ing much more time at the restaurant than they had ex-

pected. It was quarter to 12 when they finally finished, and

the couple decided to spend the night at the hotel.

What a magical dinner sweetheart. Maybe we

should just spend the night here, instead of driving

through the thick fog to hotel Tripoli. Besides, weve al-

ready finished two bottles of wine and youre in no condi-

tion to drive, suggested Hannah.

The couple walked unsteadily toward the front

desk, and asked Claudio if there were any rooms available.

Claudio exclaimed Si signor! We have the very big

room special for you! Best for couple! Uhh.. Danilo come

here we have guests!

This evening seems to keep getting better and bet-

ter!Bob uttered excitedly.

A man came out from the door behind the front

desk. He was of average height, but he large arms and a

rather muscular build probably earned from carry

many bags. He turned to the couple and introduce

self as Danilo Buona Sera Signor e signora. Mi C

Danilo. Posso portare i bagagli?

What did he say? questioned Bob as he tu

Hannah.

I think hes asking about our luggage honeyOh.. No no no. No need for that, we are onl

ing for the night and we have our backpacks with u

take us to our room please answered Bob.

Si prega di portare alla loro stanza Clau

structed Danilo to bring the couple to their room.

After ascending three floors they walked thr

creaky, dimly lit hallway lined with 19th century oi

ings of young couples. At the end of the hallway,

door greeted them. Danilo pulled out a large ke

opened the door. The large wooden door moaned as

oted around its century-old hinges. As Danilo flick

light switch next to the door, a cavernous room re

itself in all of its majestic luxury. It was where the o

of the villa slept before it was converted into a hote

nah decided she wanted to be the first to experien

exquisite bathing facilities, and without waiting a

more, she waltzed straight into the bathroom. Bob

other hand was stuffed from the dinner and his th

were a little clouded from all the wine that they h

11


15/40

-Author, Grade

m as the alcohol flowed through his veins and clouded

thoughts. Bob found a coat hanger next to one of the

dows and hung his leather jacket on it. He was warm

over and his face was as red a tomato. He reached for

TV remote and turned it on only to discover that all the

nnels were in Italian. Feeling a little disappointed, he

d the bookshelf in the corner. In it were several un-

ked VHS cassette tapes. He thought to himself Hmm,at could possibly be in those tapes? I mean that guy in

reception said it was the honeymoon suite so, that must

an those are dirty tapes! Hahaha! Perfect. Bob took one

he tapes and fed it into the mouth of the VHS player.

On the screen, a large four-post bed appeared with

sh sheets and pillow cases. From the right of the scene

eared a woman. She had a hourglass body and was in

late twenties Wow! Bob said This looks exciting!

she slowly crept up onto the bed, an attractive man that

also in his late twenties was coming into the scene. As

watched the two crawled into the bed, Hannah came

of the bathroom with a cloud of steam following her

Your turn in the shower honey! Oh, I see youve got

TV working. Whats that youre watching dear?

Oh nothing dear, Bob replied thinking how sexy

would feel once he got out of the shower.

While he was scrubbing behind his ears, a deafen-

shriek rang out from the bedroom and after only a split

ond silence, another followed. Bob launched the soap in

hands towards the bathroom mirror and managed tot it down the middle with a single fat crack. Bob paid

attention to the crack as he hastily grabbed his towel

barged out of the bathroom door while trying to cover

self up. Hannah, are you alright?! I heard you

am! shouted Bob. Hannah practically leapt ten feet

the air with shock.

Bob! What was that for!? Are you trying to give

a heart attack! You put on some super gory movie to

e me out of my skin! Then, you bust out of the bath-

m and start yelling at me! snapped Hannah. Stillathing heavily from his explosive entry into the bed-

m, Bob took a deep breath and began to explain the

ation to his new wife.

What? What are you talking about? Thats not

posed to be a horror flick! Let me have a look, OK? Im

e its not that bad.

He re-wound the tape from the part where he left

As soon as the two people had stepped into bed, the

ts went out and the screen turned black. Bob could

hear them speaking, obviously puzzled as to why t

lights had gone out. Bob could hear a lock being un-do

and the creaking of a door. With a click , the lights w

back on and approaching the foot of the bed were thr

men. The men were facing the bed, and the camera w

recording from behind them. They were all in some sort

white lab coat. One was very tall and had a bald head th

shone because of the light. The second was shorter, slightoverweight and had black hair. The third had large arm

but was otherwise of average build. Behind their bac

they were holding large machetes. Without hesitation, th

moved towards the two in the bed and butchered the

without a word. The screams of terror that accompani

the satanic scene were unbearable. The video was so viv

so real. Bob felt very uneasy, because the video not wh

he was expecting. Something else was eating at him. Ev

rything in that tape, the people, and the room, all seem

so familiar. It was like hed seen it before. Looking arouthe room, it dawned on him. He froze for almost an ent

minute as the thought of dying on his honeymoon sunk i

Hannah, this is the room in the

video, said Bob with a pale, blank

face.

What are you talking about dear?

This is the room! Hannah, this is the room in t

video! Didnt you notice that the chef, bell captain and t

receptionist were the ones doing the killing?

Are you sure? Or is this another one of your sca

jokes?

No. No this isnt a joke. We have to go NOW! Those si

bastards wont have any victims tonight! Hurry!

structed Bob.

Frantically, the couple was packed up in a mome

and was already wrestling the heavy oak door open wh

suddenly; the lights in the room went out. This injecteven more adrenalin into their bodies. Everything slow

down for them, their senses were heightened, and th

primal instinct took over. All they could think of was

run, run as away as fast as possible. As they reached t

end of the dim corridor and rounded the corner at full pe

a tall figure was visible at the end of that hall. Bob slid to

halt with Hannah close behind. The figure was approac

ing them while buttoning up its lab coat. The mysterio


16/40

preoccupied with the recent near-death experience notice the o

stare. They walked up to the desk and begged him to get the other

men to investigate the hotel. The officer did not speak a word of E

and he signaled told them to wait in one of the chairs. Through a

esting exchange of sign language and simple words, the officer

lished that no one else was at the station at that moment and an E

speaking detective would be there tomorrow. The officer assured

they would be safe in the police station. The policeman agreed to lesleep on the couches in the waiting room.

preoccupied with the recent near-death experience notice the o

stare. They walked up to the desk and begged him to get the oth

licemen to investigate the hotel. The officer did not speak a w

English and he signaled told them to wait in one of the chairs. Th

an interesting exchange of sign language and simple words, the

established that no one else was at the station at that moment a

English speaking detective would be there tomorrow. The offi

sured them, they would be safe in the police station. The poli

agreed to let them sleep on the couches in the waiting room.

The next morning, Hannah awoke from her sleep to a flu

activity. Bob was sound asleep, still exhausted from the last nigh

capade. People were coming into the station to start the days

Seeking some serious help, Hannah was able to locate the senior

tive. She convinced him to investigate the hotel, but the officer ke

ing that he had never heard of a Hotel Toscano in the area that fit t

scription she gave. The detective was not very busy, so he decide

he would accompany these crazy tourists and just do what they s

they would shut up. Anyways he remembered that he needed tup some meat from the deli on the way back from the hotel. It

convenient excuse to get out of the office since there werent any

that needed his immediate attention. Hannah woke Bob and the

the officer to the hotel site.

When Bob, Hannah, and the detective reached the site

were greeted by a large villa that looked just like the hotel. Bu

was no arch over the driveway, the wrought iron gate was over

with vines and was chained shut. The building itself was in rui

roof was virtually non-existent and the walls, which once had a

derful cream faade, were nothing but crumbling ruins overgrowvines. The whole place looked like it was untouched since the 16

tury and had been left to rot away.

See! I told you. Nothing here. Maybe you drink vino little too m

you imagine. I have important work to do at polizia station. I hav

now. Ciao said the officer as he poked his head out of his car wi

He was soon gone and only Hannah and Bob were left standing in

of the imposing gate.

Maybe hes right, I mean we were drinking last night an

know what that can do to your mind said Hannah.

But that cant be. I mean, it all seemed so vivid! Besides, ais supposed to make you forget things right? replied Bob in

tressed voice.

I dont know honey. Why dont we just get back in the c

forget about all of this answered Hannah.

Admitting defeat, they walked back to their car. Hannah

first, but Bob took a final look at the building before getting in t

He looked at where he thought their room had been last night.

13

man shouted from the end of the hallway

in a low, raspy voice; Signor, signora!

Why you leave so fast? What is zee mat-

ter? It was Claudio. Without a moment

wasted, Bob started running down to the

other end of the hall, giving Hannah a

shove in that direction when he passed

her. Bob and Hannah were both quite in-toxicated by the wine and were putting

their tolerance and coordination to the

test. Hannah looked over her shoulder

and almost tripped from the sight Clau-

dio, Chef Roberto and Danilo. Sprinting

their way down towards their car, both of

them nearly took a tumble down the

stairs. When they finally reached their car,

Bob was fumbling and patting his pockets

like crazy to find his keys. When he fi-nally did, it took him a leisurely time to

get the tiny Fiat 500 unlocked and out of

the parking lot. As Hanna was closing her

door, She heard that low raspy voice in

the distance Whereyougoing! Come back

here! The small 69 horsepower midget

of an engine strained as it pulled the pair

and their belongings to safety.

After nearly driving off the road

several times the couple spotted the lightsof a small town in the distance. The fog

had cleared up by then and they were

able to reach it without any further trou-

ble. Bob decided that the best place for

them to go would be the police station.

Luckily, it was right on the street that

they were on and they had no trouble

finding it. Bob slotted the car with quite a

bit of un-coordination under the sign that

said Polizia. The inside of the station was

bare of people, except for one man at the

front desk in the waiting room. The lone

policeman was at the desk with his head

buried in that days newspaper. When the

couple stumbled through the door, he

lowered his reading material and gave an

annoyed stare, then got back to his news-

paper. Both Bob and Hannah were too


17/40

The walls were falling apart and through a gap in the wall he saw something that rocked his soul. Up on the

second floor, between the vines and crumbling concrete, was his leather jacket hanging right where he put it

the night before.

By Juha, Grade 10

BUTTERFLY-VISUAL ARTS WINNER-

Krizia, Grade 12


18/40Shanika, Grade 12

-VISUAL ARTS WINNER-


19/40~

NON-FICTION

Does God Exist?: An Exposition by Nicole

Weathering the Storm by Sam

Manila by Esther

Living With the Scars of Beautiful

Reality by Nikki

Is the Red Apple Really Red? by Nicole



20/40

Theanswer could only be one of two: yes or no. Yetthere has been a great schism between the two campswho support either answer for the vehicle of thoughtthat humans ride nowadays of reason and science spurn-

ing from the Age of Enlightenment that begun in the 17th

century, can neither prove nor disprove the existence of God.It is acknowledgeable that the camp of the Yes answer re-

sides under the banner of Religion, and the camp of the No

At the outset, both camps must agree that both answers can-

not be both right. I cannot reconcile in my conscience the no-

tion that an entity can simultaneously exist and not-exist.

This is unless some metaphysics scientist tried to debunk my

statement and prove that entities could both exist and not

exist at the same time. Hence, it is either There is no God or

While religion bases its belief in the existence of God on faith,science bases its disbelief in the existence of God on the cur-

rent lack of scientific evidence supporting Gods existence.

Whereas the definition of faith is to believe in something

even without hard evidence, the definition of evidence is

anything that can be touched, felt, smelled, seen, or heard by

humans or their instruments. Evidence is basically physical

things that can be examined, measured, and analyzed by hu-

However, there lies the inherent incompatibility of science

and God. Science is the study of physical phenomena. God is

a spiritual phenomenon. Thus, there is a great abyss between

Since science can only explain physical phenomena, how

then is it a practical tool for establishing the existence or non-

Therefore, I find that science has no grounds to declare the

non-existence or existence of God for it is totally beyond the

Since science is no mode to answer the question of Gods ex-

istence, where can humans look to for answers? Let us back

track from science, and seek out its predecessor. Before hu-mans set out to understand the universes laws through ex-

perimentation, they did so only by thought. The collective

method of using pure human thought and reason to explain

the universe is called Philosophy. And it is from Philosophy

Since, Science stems from Philosophy, and Philosophy stems

from pure Reason I ask myself where does Reason come

from? All I know is that it happens in our brain, our mind,

where electrical pulses pass from the synapses of neurons to

other neurons. My

new question is:

How does some-

thing of the con-

sistency of cold

oatmeal (thebrain) capacitate

to comprehend

the workings of

Thus, only after

that questioned is satisfied can I continue my dig for the a

swer to Does God exist? Along those lines, I must also

my self, Do I exist? for it is almost the same question. R

edly, this fundamental human question has already been

swered: I think, therefore I am. So, is that how we solve

problem the way Descartes solved his own question of existence? Thus the available answers to the question Do

God exist? would become I believe, therefore God is. o

I come to the conclusion that the only way to finally find

true answer to this question is death. In the end, we all di

When humans pass death, there lies the answer to anothe

question: Will we all enter eternal oblivion or will we fac

either eternal life or eternal death or will we simply reinc

In the end, science and religion establishes no absolutes f

universe for they are both merely extensions of human cu

ity and human uncertainty. When we raise the question o

Gods existence, we find no definite answers but merely s

more light on our human un-omniscience. Do partially co

scious beings even have the capacity to determine the exi

tence of a supposedly omniscient being? Is the ant capabl

discovering how a whole human being looks like? (Im su

ants are only able to see fragments of us. And germs will

haps question the existence of a whole human altogether

only possible way we can get an answer regarding the qu

tion of God's existence while we are still alive is for God,

indeed he does exist, to one day show up in the sky for al

Reaching no definite answer in the course of my argumen

thus conclude by quoting myself: Doubt is the beginning

deep contemplation.

DOES GOD EXIST?: AN EXPOSITION

Nicole, Grade

17

by Julia, Grade 10


21/40

LIHAM

ever few posses-

sions they had,

along with their

homes. However,

ISMs dedication

to the partnership

with PCF and Pa-

paya Academy (a

similar beneficiary

working with

squatter communi-

ties) ensured that

the immediate

health concerns of the community at Tondo and Payatas were swift

met, with PCF reporting a return to status quo within a few week

With the funds raised by ISM, supplies were also bought for medic

missions that took place during the weeks that followed. The spread

disease caused by the flooding was (and still is) a huge threat. PCF al

has a school in Baguio, so when typhoon Pepeng hit on October 4

devastating many communities in northern Luzon with landslides, was able to divert aid to those communities too.

More remarkable than the incisive decisions made by th

schools administration though, were the efforts exemplified by IS

students immediately in the wake of the destruction. By Monday lunc

break ISMs Battle of the Bands core had rallied together some 40 vo

unteers and performers to plan a charity rock concert to be held th

Friday. The ambitious idea, like so many others, came together throug

conversations overFacebookand quickly developed into a communit

wide project, incorporating the support of student and teacher band

cultural clubs, the environment council, and ISMs administration,

well as parental connections, which ensured high profile food stal

The theme was simple: resilience and brotherhood in the face of adve

sity the concerts name, Singing in the Rain, embodied just th

spirit. All said and done, the concert that began with humble expect

tions raised over 8500 U.S. dollars in just a few hours. As one teache

remarked, [this event] just goes to show what students are capable

when they mobilize.

The devastation caused by typhoon Ondoy was, in man

ways, a wake-up call. Like 2005s Hurricane Katrina, Ondoy pointed

many of the inadequacies of the current government disaster relief sy

tem. Moreover it served as a grim reminder that climate change is dr

matically influencing weather patterns. If Ondoy revealed anythin

about the Philippine people it is that we are a resilient bunch som

thing CNN newscasters pointed to when reporting on the recent passin

of typhoon Santi the fourth typhoon to strike in a month. Indeed,

showed to many of ISMs students that the bubble our elite cla

community seems to exist in, is notimpenetrable.

Obviously, more work needs to be done, but the immedia

response seen from both administration and students promises to hera

an emboldening of the spirit of brotherhood and empathy that ISM ha

for so many years, tried to foster.

Sam, Grade 1

WEATHERING THE STORM

The Philippines is used to being battered by typhoons. Heavy

rains are expected during monsoon season. It seemed, then,

based on past experience, the typhoon that made landfall on

ember 25th would be nothing out of the ordinary. Thats how it

ed.

Typhoon Ondoy slammed into the main island of the Philip-s, Luzon, with a fury in the form of flooding and mudslides.

t seemed like just another storm proved to be anything but, as

apital city, Manila, suffered damage unparalleled since the Sec-

World War. The majority of ISM students and faculty enjoyed

uxury of safety while the poorest areas of the city began to un-

. The seriousness of the situation quickly became apparent. The

o Manila area, home to some fifteen million inhabitants, was

led; 80% of Manila was left under water after having received

st a months worth of rain in under 12 hours.

Late into the day, the government declared a national state

lamity and ordered all schools in the Metro Manila area to close

he following day, Monday. Many schools would actually be

formed into evacuation centers that week. Many ISM studentsmed that, despite its track record of resilience in the face of ex-

ve decrees, ISM would indeed follow suit and remain closed

When it was determined that no major structural damage had

incurred by the school and that class would be held on Monday

was a mixed reaction among students. Social networks like

bookmade it apparent that a lot of students were upset over the

lopment as they felt that it was inappropriate to go on with

iness as usual, while over half of the city remained under water

hundreds of thousands were homeless. However, vexation

kly turned into motivation. Students came together and decided

the school remaining open was in fact a blessing, as it would

e as an excellent hub for coordinated relief efforts.

Many in the ISM community were severely affected by them. Although most of the families of students and expatriate fac-

emerged relatively unscathed, a significant number of the

ols support staff, especially those living in the worst affected

such as Marikina, had their homes inundated.

In an emergency meeting on Monday morning, ISMs ad-

stration determined that ISMs disaster relief fund would be

d primarily at helping fulfill the immediate needs of those in the

community (custodians and support staff, over a hundred of

se homes had suffered considerable damage) and two of its ser-

partners, the Philippine Community Fund (PCF) and Papaya

demy, with remaining funds to be invested in more long-term

inable reconstruction efforts.

PCF is a community development organization that works

e squatter communities at the infamous Pier 18 Dumpsite in

do. It has an excellent reputation for offering direct help to those

in need. The groups mission is to permanently improve the

ty of life for the poorest Filipino communities, through educa-

nutrition, health, medical and family enhancement programs.

also ISMs waste management partner uses recycled trash to

e jewelry, bags, and other products that can be sold abroad for

returns. The income generated by these items is used for a myr-

of community development projects. The poor communities l

g on and around the dumpsite communities of Pier 18 and

tas were absolutely devastated, with many families losing what-


22/40

NON-FICTION

Im the luckiest person in the entire face of the

world.

Everyday I walk to school with a metal struc-ture strapped on me and people ask, What

happened to you? Sometimes when I dont feel like talking,

I say I hurt myself, other times I cut the story short because

there are so many things that have happened that even

words themselves cannot portray.

Its a story that changed my life.

In May I went to Jakarta for a Touch Rugby Meet

with two perfectly fine knees. I never had a knee problem

and for two games they were fine until the third game. Dur-

ing the third game, I passed the ball to the other team be-cause it was our turn for defense and while I was running

backwards to get into position I spun my self to the right

side and then blacked out. Im not sure what was going on

just that I felt this surge of pain seep right through some-

where. Lying there on the grass, I experienced the most

tragic seconds of my life. It was as if knives were cutting me

alive. The pain was unexplainable, how I could feel each of

my muscles taken apart yet become numb to the sense of

touch. I could feel the pain but I couldnt point out where it

was and then out of no where I started to cry and scream. I

have only twice in my life cried because of sport-related

injuries. I get hurt so often that I am practically immune to

the pain but I knew that this was not the same and that it

would hurt even more if I kept it to myself.

I was sent to the best clinic in Jakarta and they said

nothing was wrong but inside I could feel something was

different.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

That was May.

Everybody, including my parents, thought I wasmaking a big deal out of everything and even until today, I

dont blame them. I fell down by myself with no whatsoever

physical contact. Even if I was the one watching myself I

would have thought crying and screaming was over-

exaggerating. I could walk, I could run, I could dance, so

there was really nothing wrong. But I could feel it. I could-

nt figure out what it was but something was wrong. My

parents, for the sake of trying to do something about it,

made me get acupuncture. But nothing changed. So I kept

on complaining until even I, myself, felt that I was

overreacting. I eventually stopped.

Then one day during summer school, I pla

basketball and the same thing happened but this tim

was warned before I fell down: I felt my right knee buc

This time when I fell down I didnt cry. I just lay t

thinking, I told you so. The health trainer took m

and told me my Medial Collateral Ligament was just

and that MCLs can heal on its own. He told me that

followed exactly what he said it would be all right. Sofive weeks, all I did was bike for 10 minutes and

weights for two hours. Finally, I was convinced th

could play basketball again.

But it happened again, and the summer sch

decided to make me take an MRI.

When the results came outACL and meni

and MCL all completely tornI was speechless. I stare

this long sheet of paper typed up in the ugliest font I

ever seen. I didnt understand it. I told my doctor, I d

want to know what happened, just tell me if I neehave surgery or not. My doctor just said Yesat

moment I knew everything was going to change. He s

would have to tell my parents about this and that its

something that I can hide like last time. So I told my d

was afraid though, afraid of the fact that he might get

gry with me for basketball even after he told me no

But he didnt and it is because he didnt I cried. I cried

day because of everything. I cried because I knew I wo

nt be playing sports or dancing for a year or two. I c

LIVING WITH THE SCARS OF

BEAUTIFUL REALITY

19

by Shanika, Grade 12


23/40

LIHAMfore my school work could be done. This was true, yet for

many weeks I didnt do anything but sleep, because I just

wanted time to pass.

Then I came back to ISM and from there the real

story begins.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

I was on a wheel chair for 6 weeks. In those 6 weeks I

gauged on who were real friends and who werent. I gained

different perspectives of life.

Everyday I try to catch up with work Ive missed.

Everyday I have less than 4 hours of sleep. I have such a hard

time at school because people dont know who I am and I

have difficulty becoming friends with new people because I

cant be the over energetic and spontaneous person I used to

be. I have such a hard time moving from class to class, I have

such a hard time dealing with rehabilitation, I have such a

hard time fitting everything in one day, I have such a hardtime trying to make people understand why I put my bag in a

wheelchair, why I cant use crutches and I have such a hard

time waiting for the year to pass.

I used to wonder and sometimes I still do, why this

happened to me. Why out of all people, me who loved sports

to the extent that every season I would do 2 sports and every

day after school I would be running, did this happen to me? I

used to cry every night because so many things have changed

because of this. My dream of being this well-rounded person

was fading. Even more than that, the most dominant factor of

my life was lost, spirit. Today, I remind myself that it hap-

pened to me because I deserve a break. I deserve to come

home at 3pm, I deserve not to be all sweaty at the end of the

day.

I remind myself that what happened made me realize

how much my family meant to me. Throughout everything,

my family, especially my dad, was there through the whole

run. Through this incident, Ive seen both my mom and dad

cry because they were sorry for not noticing earlier, for being

so stupid to just leave things, for not being able to afford a bet-

ter country to live in. I understood. I love my parents, and

even through all my complaining, my tear-filled nights, my

typical teenager attitude, they were still there for me. My little

brother, who had to deal with my bossing around, never com-

plained. As a family we cried, as a family we felt pain, as a

family we are facing difficulties, as a family we savor every

part of life. My family members are the three people that are

always there to catch me when I look back or fall back. I want

to say thank you for everything.

ause I knew surgery hurt. I cried because I never expect

After summer ended and while everyone else was

k in school, I had surgery. Before they put me on anes-

sia this woman told me, Youre a brave kiddo, the

ungest one Ive ever worked on. Then they talked about

sthesia whether to do a half or a full and when they de-

ed on full I was overjoyed because I wouldnt have to

r what was going on. She said, Sleep well and I closed

eyes.

I was wrong.When I woke up, everything was done but my

oat was burning as if flames were inside. I moved around

naling the nurse that I was awake and that I needed some

ter. I weakly said Water. She replied No, you cant

ve water for the next 8 hours. I was struck.

When I was wheeled back to my hospital bed it

s the beginning of living torture. Nobody would give me

ter and on top of that I had practice this breathing proce-

e. Even worse was having to spit out green stuff (I still

nt know what its called). If I didnt follow these rules I

uld potentially have heart problems so it was critical.

erything was blurry that day. People kept hitting my face

ng to wake me up. They asked me if I wanted to watch

. or do anything and in my mind I kept on saying,

EAVE ME ALONE. Then in the 4thhour my leg was sud-

nly streaked with insurmountable pain. I started scream-

and then a nurse came in and she started getting mad at

and my dad kept on trying to tell her that I was only a

and to please understand and she said Youre alreadySuck it up. And I started to cry trying to prove to her

t saying that wouldnt make it any better. Eventually she

the point and gave me morphine. By the 5th hour I told

dad, Dad, I dont care if I throw up just give me the

mn water. and he said no. I needed to wait for 3 more

urs.

I wanted to sleep. I wanted time to pass by, to get

over with. The pain was so traumatizing that I kept

nking somebody ease this pain. The thing is, nobody

. It was my first taste of reality.

Eventually time passed and with a sore throat I

nt through rehabilitation everyday. I met soccer players,

leyball players, old men and women. All with their own

ries, all older than me. My health trainers asked me

hat did you do to yourself? Its as if you put your life on

life for sports. Not even athletes come with knees like

urs.

I was being backed up on work. Mr. Brown told

parents that it wasnt my brain that was hurt and there-


24/40

NON-FICTIONI know that if I never got hurt I would have never

gone to the hospital and met so many people all with their

own life stories. I would have never learned that disease can

be a beautiful thing when you look at it in a different way. I

would have never learned the importance of good health

without this experience. I would have never cared about dis-

abled people.

It is now my 8th week since the operation.

I wonder about all the people that have to live with

this for their whole life. I think about how hard it must be for

them, living unnoticed. When I see high steps, or no ramps, I

think to myself, If only they made it less steep, if only they

built a ramp, Is it really that hard? I think about how selfish

our society is and how it has no consideration for the minori-

ties. I wonder about the pain that these people have to face

every moment that they are alive knowing that there will beno second that they dont fight their disability, trying to love

it more than hate it. I respect them for being so strong. I re-

spect them for dealing with it. I also respect who ever takes

care of them. I respect those who support them. I respect

them for being who they are.

I am currently trying to get myself to swim again

and hopefully go to swimming IASAS. I joined MUN and I

would have never realized such a rewarding opportunity to

learn and to travel if not for my inability to play soccer. I am

trying to focus more on my studies.

I have had an experience that not many kids my age

have and in that way I believe I am special. I am waiting for

that day that I can tell every one of you my whole story but

for now, my story ends here.

I want to thank those who shared this pain with me.

Thank you to the trainers, the doctors, the strangers who

have opened the door for me. I want to thank my best friends

for being there for me. I want to thank my teachers and my

counselor for dealing with me and my situation; thank you so

much. But most of all, I want to thank my family and thankyou for having the endurance to read up to the end.

I truly am the luckiest living human in the whole

world.

Live to love and laugh, because life is too short for

anything else.

IS THE RED APPLE

REALLY RED?-CONTEST WINNER-

To understand some-

thing, we need to rely on

our experience and culture.

Does that mean it is

impossible to obtain

objective knowledge?uman diversity is an amazing fact. Despite being

same species, human beings around the world

different from each other on many levels of know

that each person adds colors to the palette of human exi

even without the deliberate intent of doing so.

Across the globe, there is the phenomenon of p

having mixed cultures, dissimilar life experiences, diverse

and contrasting social-political backgrounds. People from

ent places display distinct characteristics. Zooming-in

continent-wide to neighborhood-wide lenses, the stark co

between human opinions, beliefs, and attitudes towar

given subject can be observed, formed on the basis of indi

past experiences and cultural backgrounds. Thus, an

woman would think differently from an Australian aborig

regarding food, clothing, science, religion, and many

things; but also, the same Indian woman would think diffe

from another Indian woman living across her street. In

words, a unique paradigm around which every person

unconsciously builds his or her world-view or perspec

what is real filters all information received and influences

understanding. Therefore, we come across the question,

that mean it is impossible to obtain objective knowledge?

In the face of celebrating our rainbow of culture

experiences, this question is most especially important giv

modern-day trend of globalization. People nowadays cons

normal to come together on a daily basis under commo

nomic interests, environmental goals, social tolerance, cu

appreciation, etcetera that we begin to wonder whether

those deeply-imbed cultural and experiential dissimilarit

deed stand as a huge unassailable barrier to creating (or d

ering, whichever way you view the process of attain

knowledge that is universal. Or will knowledge always be

thing different in the brains of different people?Nikki, Grade 9

21


25/40

The answer to the quoted question, if giving myself no time

for deliberation, is immediately no. On the surface, it seems absurd to

think that objective knowledge cannot be possible (taking into account

that objective knowledge is not an equal translation of the word

truth, a concept of deeper, more profound connotations). We know

that there are things about which two culturally and socio-politicallydifferent people (provided they possess a sufficient degree of sanity)

would not dispute heavily such as the existence of the sun , the neces-

sity of food to survive , or that sexual intercourse potentially produces off-

spring. For the most part, such indisputable claims of knowledge are

established by common sense, shared human experience, or the scien-

tific method. So I answer, Yes, objective knowledge is indeed possi-

ble. (And it is, might I say, such a convenience to establish.)

How I wish I could say it ends there and that Im done an-

swering the question. But delving deeper into the case, one discovers

that the establishment of objective knowledge, especially by the threementioned ways, crosses the border into subjective knowledge terri-

tory. For example, in history we read that in Galileos time it was

common sense to know that the earth is flat. But knowing that the

earth is round now, does that make the ancients view of a flat earth

objective or subjective?

A red apple: it is red. That pre-schooler fact is established by

our shared human experience. But does everyone really see the red

apple as red? What if color-blind people (or even absolutely blind peo-

ple) do not see the red apple as red (or do not see the apple at all)?

Does that mean color-blind and blind people are wrong? Does the gen-

eral human population have the right to claim they are right about the

apples color? Even a dog will see the color of a red apple differentlyfrom a butterfly. Does the apple have no absolutely objective color?

Does that mean color is subjective knowledge? (It seems like it.)

What about science is it entirely objective, as it is purposed

to be? Even with the merciless tools of the scientific method which aim

to obliterate human subjectivity, throughout the centuries scientific

theories have been disputed over, constantly modified, thrown away,

and/or salvaged due to the progressive steps of scientific discovery

and analysis. Does that mean the validity of scientific theories is sub-

ject to the minds of scientists? I guess so.

So if even science, which we all hail as the supreme to

of objective, is still actually subject to the minds of the scientis

who decide which theories to keep and which to throw, is the h

man attainment of objective knowledge then impossible?

My answer is yes. Yes, it is almost impossible to for thentire human race to have one objective bank of knowledg

Almost impossible I say, not impossible; because otherwise, i

use absolute terms, this essay would invalidate the whole point

the human pursuit of knowledge which is to arrive at the trut

some time or later. Thus it is a given that objective knowledge

not impossible. At the moment, the universal truth seems ungras

able, but humans are adamant about pursuing knowledg

(Indeed, the theoretical physicists are still grappling over the Th

ory of Everything.) The pursuit of truth is an inescapable, in-bre

trait of the human race. The accumulation of doubts and an exp

nentially heightening pile of unanswered questions which resu

from centuries of pursuing knowledge have no power to discou

age us from continuing our journey of discovery and understaning. The human will is still frenzied over pouring in passion an

energy into the worthy quest of the indomitable truth that ocea

of truth, wherein the lines between subjective knowledge and o

jective knowledge and the many other existing types of knowled

can sigh their last and fade away

.

I end with this quote by Isaac Newton:

I do not know what I may appear to the world; but

myself I seem to have been only like a boy playing on the seashor

and diverting myself in now and then finding a smoother pebb

or a prettier shell than ordinary, whilst the great ocean of truth la

all undiscovered before me.~ From Brewster, Memoirs of Newton (1855)

NON-FICTION

Nicole, Grade 11

by Shanika, Grade 12

2


26/40

NON-FICTION

19

NON-FICTION

A

gainst the cloudless sky, where a couple ofsparrows soared through the unbearably hu-

mid air, the stoplight blazed a bloody red. The

minute the light lit up, dark-skinned, grimylooking children dispersed from a corner of the street.

Like black ants swarming around biscuit crumbs, these

children horded around the lined up cars, each child

knocking on the windows, cupping their little, filthy

hands, and yelling, maam, pera, pera, po.One of them,

a little girl, rushed towards my car. The gaze that has lost

half the touch of reality melted the glass; the two eyes

were two wrinkled, salty olives soaked in ghostly blank-

ness. Indeed, it was a truly terrifying sight as the child

puffed mist on the window with her drooping cavern-

like mouth. She constantly knocked and begged for a

peso or two, until the stoplight turned green once moreand the car rushed on, leaving the dirty child behind in

the middle of the street, her cupped palms still empty.

The bare soles of these impoverished creatures are

caked with grey stuff at its folds, as well as their finger-

nails each nail has unidentifiable grime stuck under.Often the thin dark fingers would hold strings sewn with

white sampaguita flowers while the other hand wouldform a small tunnel around their black lips, shouting

fresh flowers.Yet the deafening roar of the Fords andthe BMWs darting by instantly crushes the faint voices of

the children.

Ya-ya, take care of Angel,please. Shes crying,

There was a huge family sitting down on the table next

to mine. The mother of the family was one of thoseproud Filipino women who always have scented makeup

plastered thickly on their faces and weigh themselves

down with dozens of golden chains wrapped around

their slender necks. The smell of her Bvlgari perfume

pierced the rim of my nostrils like needles. In a very

strong and arrogant Filipino accent she snapped at the

two nannies, both wearing white, sitting at the corner ofthe table. Immediately the two dropped their spoon and

forks as one reached for the toddlers toy while the otherpicked up the child and cooed at the wailing face.

Why is it that well-off mothers, who spend a majority of

their time at the spa and the mall, are never willing to

take care of their own young? A scene too familiar in the

sophisticated parts of Manila, as mothers are either very

busy picking on their salpicao and salad, or observantly

looking at shop windows in the Greenbelt Malls

her two children follow her on strollers pushed

least two invisible figures dressed in white. Arounoutdoor malls I have often seen a mother cat licki

kittens and keeping their furs clean. Also, I was told that children who belong to wealthier familie

helped at the showers until the child is twelve yeaby their ya-yas, whose hands are eternally attach

the smooth arms of these children.

The plates, inadequately filled with limp stir-fried

kong stalks and cold rice placed in front of the y

were barely touched as the talkative family walke

of the restaurant through its arched exits. Soon

they left, a stray tabby cat slowly meandered tow

the table, pounced on it, and slowly began licking u

food with its rubbery tongue. In a few minutes it lef

appearing into the night.

I was passing through the financial district of the c

its peak time of the day, at around 7 oclock in thening. Traffic in Manila is like a herd of a thousand

phants stomping away from ivory hunters. Even witwindows rolled up, the sound of the unbearable ho

and engines rumbling seeped through the crackcrevices like poisoning gas. With deft maneuvering

wheels the car eventually made its way out of the

hem, but soon I was stopped by a police officer drin blue. He motioned the windows to be rolled down

Yes?

He took off his gold-rimmed sunglasses, and while

ing them on his sky-blue shirt, Maam, you have

an illegal right-turn. At this point my driver interj

in rapid Tagalog, loudly complaining at the police

The officer put his glasses back on, swatted a mosaway from his arm, cleared his throat, and murm

something quietly to my driver.

Sandali lang,he answered. Then he reached f

back pocket and took out his battered wallet; from

took a five hundred peso bill and gave it to the offic

The policeman snuck the bill slyly in his pocket,

with a quiet salamathe waved his hands towards

roads and sent us off.

MANILA-CONTEST WINNER-

19

NON-FICTION

23

Esther, Grade


27/40

LIHAM

~

POETRY

The Veiled Intent of War by Alex

Blow Your Precious Tears Away by Soowan

Drastic Measures by Christopher

Continuity by Toni

Carol of a Woman by Cathy

Not Your Average Stereotypical

Guy by Mic


Elevator by Matt

The Chair by Lynn

The Storm by Jeremy

Diet Drinks by Juha

Marshmallows by Soowan

Game Theory by Jose

New Interlocking Shapes by JuliaEine Villanelle de Asuka by Asuka


28/40

POETRYTHE VEILED INTENT

OF WAR

Pain, pain aroused by its puerile power.

Alex, Grade 12

BLOW YOUR

PRECIOUS TEARS

AWAY

Blow your precious tears I believe that youve changed my life fo

Rise and shine like in the mornin

I owe you.

Im not going to find another somebody lik

n

Blow your precious tears

I know its the sweetest debt; Ill ever have to

More than life now more than


The time cant take

All the sunlight in the morning. Whats


I wish I had more than just a life time. Eve

To give back all youve given me more


And my love, you soak into my heart and brai

bI might make mistakes, how



Soowan, Grade

25


29/40


30/40

POETRYCAROL OF A WOMAN

Carols pummeled the shops sign boards,

Scribbling across the dust-filled counter,

Across the womans airless hearts chords,

Revolving around like ripples of the nights river,

Across the inky snow smearing the window,

That would vanish once this season is gone,

Isolating further apart the widow,

Cold and continuous the cheers leave her alone.

Sorry, you are not invited to this celebration,

The Siberian wind hiss to her ears,

Whose shape and form are like those of an apparition

Bleary-eyed, her time goes without peers.

Trudging her silent path home,

With icicles hanging off her finger.She harbored if a happy day will ever come

Despondent, her steps went with no answer.

NOT YOUR AVERAGE STEREOTYPICAL GUY

Oh curse the usual stereotypes!

For he is not like those in Hollywood.

To them, he is as irritating as bagpipes

In these eyes, its nothing but good.

What is seen is what is outside,

Only I accept what is within him.

Unlike the rest, never had he lied

For his words are as solemn as a hymn.

To the others, a pest is he,

But why should I care what they may think?

If it were true, the pest belongs to me.

He and I are two beats in sync.

Famous stars may have it all

But out of them all, he is the one standing tall.

Mic, Grade 11

27

Cathy, Grade 10


31/40

LIHAMTHE CHAIRn the winter

a chair was put

nto my fathers shower

during his daily ablutions

the chair made gravity tolerable

for his creaking body

ifted him to

the falling water

that shoved dirt off his skin

but couldnt budge

the grains of time

that had lodged in his knees

they were rough, jagged, these grains

they rubbedagainst the bones in his body

they rubbedagainst his chair

and slowly

slowly

eroded

them

to

d

u

s

t

so i made him a new chair

tore my hair out of my headand spun the strands into steel

built the chairs frame

pulled out the fibers of my heart

and made pillows

padded the chair

picked my nails out of my hands

and carved them into diamonds

adorned the chair

collected my tears of joy

and made a soothing enamelshined the chair

n the spring

this chair was put

nto my fathers shower

ts still there.

Lynn, Grade 10

THE STORMThe wind blows and creates waves towards the shore.

Children cry, and to the gods the adults pray.When this will end, nobody knows for sure.

It doesnt fade away; it comes more and more.

People are full of fear as the clouds darken the bay.

The wind blows and creates waves towards the shore.

Toward the shore the winds blow, down to the land the

rains pour.

The waves sweep away the dead bodies from where the

lay.

When this will end, nobody knows for sure.

Endlessly, the vigorous waves pound through the sandy

floor,

All furniture is mercilessly taken away.

The wind blows and creates waves towards the shore.

Incessantly, the rains leave marks on the roofs they tore

Throughout the deep wooden walls is all decay.


More and more, the figures of the town blur.

The ones still alive plead the gods to give them a way.The wind blows and creates waves towards the shore.


Jeremy, Grade 1


32/40

Melting in my mou

All sticking to my teeth

Roasting them on fire was the times of delight

Soft moments all night

Heating them burn all the fire

Making wishes what you admireAfterwards you eat

Licking my lips to get that last piece of treat

Loving these are so painful at the end

Oh! Now I need to diet extra hard!

What has happened to my tummy?

So then I think of the tastes of marshmallows again.

POETRYDIET DRINKS

When you drink a serving of soda,

hopefully its not as tall as master Yoda.

But there are those who want to lose weight,

although they might not care whats on their plate,

They will always choose

the words diet, light or zero

in the hopes that the can lose.

But if you look at these people,

they are wider than a church steeple.

They have monster thighs,and 64 as a waist size.

Most cannot be bothered to exercise,

and instead would eat a dozen pies.

But the words diet, light and zero make them feel

slim

although the reality is quite grim.

So lets reconsider these diet drinks,

MARSHMALLOWS

Soowan, Grade 10

Juha, Grade

But the words diet, light and zero make

them feel slim

although the reality is quite grim.

So lets reconsider these diet drinks,

cause they just might be a big fat jinx.

29


33/40

LIHAMELEVATORA slight cough and cellphones clicks

My reflection presses ever closer as Im squished against the

mirrored walls

Ding!

Clamor erupts as the thundering horde departs.

Catching my breath, the steel doors slide slo-

A hand wedges between! Im horrified as a man in red shoes

enters the box

I try not to stare; but the mirrored walls are unforgiving.

An awful stench filled the box.

I sensed a variety of smells a bad night at the coco cabana

perhaps?

Holding my breath I prayed that th

Ding!

The man in red shoes stumbled from the box,

And into the hallway past three beautiful young ladies.

I tired to smile, only to meet disgust in their faces.

The horrid stench; they think its me!Looking away the box amplified the whispers they spoke,

They are unforgiving just like the walls

Ding!

Red with embarrassment and turning away as they leave;

my reflection is unforgiving.

The steel doors slide slowly, Im trapped within.

The distant muzak returns.

I stare at the camera; its omniscient eye saw everything.

With a grateful sigh I see the lightDING!

I step out of the box, leaving the steel doors behind.

Matt, Grade 11

GAME THEORYI sit in class

and as X approaches zero,

there are less reasons

for me to care.

I wonder whats wrong

with me.

She says she wants me.

(But that she shouldnt, its trashy)

Hilariously, I like her because she has that class

because she wonders if the things she does are wrong,

or if she, in her luster, sh

Liham Issue 2 Final

Documents

Transcript of Liham Issue 2 Final