Blogging Is Powerful

From one end of the planet to another, blogging reaches out and creates a virtual marketplace of ideas, powerful ideas that may someday change the world we live in today...

Tuesday, March 30, 2010


I STILL COULDN’T erase Dalisay from my mind. Fate was cruel to her. Her life was totally wasted. Evil-hearted Don Sergio should be summarily executed, guillotined at once. Dante himself was a fool; he just left Dalisay and their new born. He shouldn’t have done that. If I were him, I would have left home, left my wicked father, Don Sergio; I would have fought for my love, for my lady Dalisay. But he didn’t; Dante’s really crazy, a blind fool for not seeing things as they actually were...

[Note: Read the complete story in the book "You Filibini?" Stories and Other Writings by Amador F. Brioso, Jr., published May 2010]

Monday, March 15, 2010


21 May 2110

The hulking SUV lay silently leaning against the foot of the bronze monument. The words “THE GREATEST FIGHTER OF ALL TIME” that were engraved on the rectangular base where the monument was mounted could no longer be seen. What was left unscathed, in the aftermath of the collision, was the name “MANNY PACQUIAO,” though part of the base had cracked.

“It’s a vintage car, Sir, a 2009 Hummer H3,” barked the bulky cop to the inch-high microphone that had protruded from his wristwatch. He walked a couple of steps near his companion who was peering at a lifeless man lying a few meters away from the SUV. The surrounding area had been cordoned off by the dozen cops now prowling around.

The companion said, “Confirmed. Fatality is John Senyasco III, 30 years old, drug dealer.” He was holding a sheaf of papers containing the dossier of Senyasco.

The almost one-hundred kilometer chase took several hours, passing through several provinces. The beginning of the end started when the H3 entered Cavite province where road blocks had been put up by the police. By the time the chase reached the Baclaran area in ParaƱaque City, the police knew the end was at hand. Still, Senyasco refused to give up the fight. Already injured after his H3 rammed at the monument, the fugitive jumped out of the H3 with guns blazing in his hands. A shot fired by a sharpshooter cop partially hidden from view caught the fugitive’s nape. As his head snapped back, his hands flew up. His limp body collapsed almost instantaneously on the darkened highway.

“Good thing only the bottom of the statue was damaged,” the bulky cop observed.

“Yeah, Pacquiao’s really indestructible,” his companion nodded, his eyes riveted on the gloved hands of the statue triumphantly raised skyward.

The monument, measuring 10 meters, stood atop a rectangular concrete. Designed by an internationally recognized sculptor, the Pacquiao statue was put up at Manila’s well-known Bay Walk area during the commemoration of the 100th birth anniversary of the famous boxer sometime in 2078. Since then, it had become one of the most recognizable icons of the country. Hordes of people could be found crowding the statue almost any time of the day, any day of the year.

“It’s amazing how these bastards were able to preserve this kind of car, an SUV. More than a hundred years old. The body, the looks, the car’s in pristine condition. And it runs like brand new. Mighty technology we have today, really.” The bulky cop was now peering inside the H3, examining the dashboard.

“The underworld network is brimming with cash. No doubt about it. They can afford almost everything. Drugs nowadays are like gold, very expensive.” The companion took out a pack of cigarette from his breast pocket. In the distance, he could hear the siren of the ambulance now on its way to the Bay Walk area...

[Note: Read the complete story in the book "You Filibini?" Stories and Other Writings by Amador F. Brioso, Jr., published May 2010]

Sunday, March 7, 2010


HE NOTICED THE uniformed girls clustered in one corner. They had been staying there, on their table, for almost two hours now, from the time they had bought fries and coffee. And it was now almost ten o’clock of that Monday morning. But they still were here. Shouldn’t they be in their classes now? he wondered. He noticed, too, that they weren’t even reading or even browsing through their books or notes; they were just having some chatter---noisy babbling---among themselves while fiddling with their cell phones. He, however, ignored them. It could be that these girls were just whiling away time, he thought...

[Note: Read the complete story in the book "You Filibini?" Stories and Other Writings by Amador F. Brioso, Jr., published May 2010]