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The Nightingale - USLS CON Council Publication

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The Nightingale - USLS CON Council Publication

The Official Student Publication of the College of Nursing of the University of St. La Salle

24/12/2024

𝐆𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬!

May the magic of the holiday season shine its lights towards the hearts and homes of everyone. Let the Season of Giving shower its heartwarming presents as we celebrate with our loved ones—marking yet another year of love and gratitude.

May the doors of the manor constantly open stories of the holiday magic; bringing life to tales of the past, present, and future. From one to another, Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays!

𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐭𝐡,
𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐑𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐌𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐨𝐞 𝐌𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐫

Text by: Nathaniel David Mallari
Illustration by: Kirsten Villanueva
Layout by: Kryzell Mugemulta

24/12/2024

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐌𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐨𝐞 𝐌𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐫 | 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐆𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐫

Every holiday season, I find myself in awe of the star atop the Christmas tree.

Stars come in an endless variety of shapes, sizes, and colors yet hold the same meaning ; hope.

I wouldn’t say I’m too fond of that ornament, but I have an album in my gallery solely for what I have captured in different settings, different occasions. Each photograph consists of a memory of an occurrence that once took place.

There is just something about the stars that makes me so drawn to them, much like the ones that fill the night sky. It could be because of their glow, exuding radiance amidst the darkness. Maybe that’s what makes them so special. I long to be like the stars, bright and high up in the sky, but being human limits me so.

Therefore, all I could do was reach for it.

But that’s another problem to deal with tomorrow. Comforted by the warmth in my blanket, I succumb to sleep. Dreams are makeshift tales, a mental projection of our unconscious mind—though in this dream, I can see around me so vividly.

I trek along a snowy landscape, I haven’t layered myself with clothing, but oddly enough, I don‘t feel too cold. Along the path, I am met with a Christmas tree adorned with the typical ornaments you’d find. Staring up at the 10-feet tall tree, the star glows brightly, catching my attention. The star looks down upon me as if I was a mere pebble.

I couldn’t help but hold my hand up, reaching for something so far away from me. As I reach, I sense that familiar feeling; a mixture of hope and dread. I remind myself that the star it’s just a mere symbolism for my hopes and dreams that seem so bleak and unattainable. Discouraged, I slowly lower my hand.

“Why did you stop?” A small child-like voice speaks out of nowhere. It seems to be coming up from the tree, specifically the star.

“What’s the point? I won’t reach far anyway.” I dismiss the idea of it ever happening as it never will. Looking back up the tree, I notice that the brightness of the star has dimmed. “What about the promises we’ve made?” The voice speaks again, a hint of strain in the tone. Promises? I never promised anyone anything.

As I remained silent, it spoke again. The voice utters all my unfulfilled ambitions and goals that I once gave importance to. Its words render me speechless. “How… how do you know all of this?” I felt bare now, nothing to cover myself in the eyes of judgement.

“Have you given up? Is that why you stopped reaching for the star?” Give up..? No! That’s the least of what I want to do! “Of course not!” I replied hastily. “Then what’s stopping you?” A lot! There‘s many obstacles in the way, so many hindrance that I can’t keep track o-

“The sky‘s the limit, you know.”

“I wish it was that easy.” I really do wish it was easy to accomplish what I long for. “Well it is easy, you just need a shift of perspective.” And what, lose myself in the process? “You won‘t lose yourself.” Can it… read my thoughts? “Yes, I can.” Great. “Well let’s say I will change my point of view, how would I even do that?” I am in dire need of answers.

“Believe in yourself.” That’s it?

“But I do believe in myself!” I retorted. “Clearly not enough. It matters in your state of mind. Only you can truly help yourself.” What an infuriating thought, though I suppose there’s some truth to its words. “How can I become like you? So carefree and optimistic. Do I have to become a star to reach my dreams?” I raise my voice in frustration. This voice has done nothing but make fun of my situation. “Perhaps you should.” Suddenly, a relatively short ladder falls from the sky right in front of me. It could have toppled over me!

Though before I could complain about how dangerous that stunt is, confusion takes hold of me. “What is this for?” I point at it. “You wanted to be a star.” Ha ha, how funny. I glare up at the star that was uncalled for. Now it‘s just mocking me at this point. “Are you kidding me?! This ladder is way too short for me to climb up!” I wanted to keep complaining, but I noticed the lack of response from the star.

“Believe in yourself.” The sentence rings in my head. Believe in myself? Pfft, what a silly notion, but let me indulge in that for a moment. I look around, but all that’s surrounding me is just snow. I ponder on how I would be able to climb with such a short ladder, then as if a switch went in my head. I grabbed the ladder firmly, which was surprisingly light as I started to swing it against the tree, making the ornaments fall off.

“What… WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!” The star exclaims as I keep swinging. “If you fall, that means I get to be higher than you, therefore making me the rightful star.” “Stop it this instant!” I ignore its warning as I keep going at it. I won’t stop until this star falls! Eventually, it does fall off, the star screeching in anger as I dance around it in triumph. Heh, who’s the star now?

Suddenly, I hear a snapping sound and it‘s the tree falling on me! Oh no!

Before I got to flee, I jolted myself awake. I sat up and stared out at the snowy view outside my window. I feel oddly proud of what I did. In the end, the star was right. I should believe in myself.

Text by: Shanelle Agsam
Illustration by: Adrian Villagracia
Layout by: Jan Isabel Miravalles

23/12/2024

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐌𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐨𝐞 𝐌𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐫 | 𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐌𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐬 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐆𝐫𝐨𝐰 𝐅𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫

Snow gently blanketed the small town of Evergreen, creating a picturesque Christmas scene. Isabelle adjusted her scarf, her breath visible in the frosty air as she nervously checked her phone. Her fingers hovered over a text from Liam:
"Boarding now. See you soon."

Isabelle and Liam had met a year ago in an online photography community. What began as casual comments on each other’s pictures had blossomed into hours-long video calls, countless shared playlists, and a love that spanned thousands of miles. Liam lived in London, while Isabelle was nestled in Evergreen, a quaint town in Vermont. Despite the distance, they always believed their connection was worth the wait.

For months, they planned Liam’s visit. It felt surreal to think that he’d soon be here, stepping off a plane and into her arms for the very first time. Isabelle’s heart raced as she paced near the arrivals gate at the tiny airport, trying to calm the butterflies in her stomach.

The sound of wheels squeaking on tile broke her thoughts. She turned and saw him—Liam, with his warm brown eyes and messy hair tucked under a knit beanie. He was taller than she’d imagined, his smile brighter than the photos she’d memorized. For a moment, neither moved, their eyes locked as the reality of the moment washed over them.

Then Isabelle ran to him, her arms wrapping tightly around his neck. “You’re real,” she whispered, her voice trembling with emotion.

“And you’re even more beautiful in person,” Liam replied, his voice soft and filled with awe.

They spent the days leading up to Christmas exploring Evergreen. Liam marveled at the charming streets adorned with twinkling lights and wreaths, while Isabelle showed him her favorite spots: the cozy coffee shop where she wrote letters to him, the frozen lake where she skated as a child, and the hill that offered the best view of the stars.

On Christmas Eve, Isabelle brought Liam to her family’s cabin, nestled deep in the woods. A roaring fire crackled in the hearth, and the scent of pine mingled with freshly baked gingerbread. Her family welcomed Liam with open arms, their warmth making him feel instantly at home.

As midnight approached, the two snuck outside, bundled in blankets, to watch the snow fall. “This feels like a dream,” Liam said, his breath forming little clouds in the icy air.

“It’s our dream,” Isabelle replied, her hand slipping into his. “And now it’s real.”

Underneath the shimmering stars, with the world quiet around them, Liam leaned in and kissed her. It was the kind of kiss that made time stand still—a kiss that sealed the distance they’d endured and promised a future full of closeness.

Distance makes the heart grow fonder and love is space and time measured by the heart.

Text by: Nichole Bedrejo
Illustration by: Adrian Villagracia
Layout by: Francene Veloria

22/12/2024

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐌𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐨𝐞 𝐌𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐫 | 𝐅𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐅𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐟 𝐒𝐧𝐨𝐰

I walked down the street, everyone was on their coats as the chilly breeze of the holiday season started to creep in. I passed through probably what was the busiest lane in the city, tenants decorated their stalls with festive themes, enticing customers to buy from them–hot and steaming dessert pies, candies, soup, trinkets, you name it. Each of them appeared to be Christmas houses in a children’s storybook, with a frosty trail in the middle.

In one stall, a family of three were choosing what types of fruits they were going to buy. The child pulls on her mother’s coat to go across the stall where they sell candy canes. On the other, a lovely old woman was choosing from an array of bread. Carefully tasting each of the free samples handed to her. I continued to walk down the street before I laid eyes on a stall that sold all sorts of things; trinkets, books, pins, pens, necklaces, rings, and everything in between. But what caught my eyes was the snowball. It was kind of old, but I could definitely see its value as the glimmering gold base shone beneath all the grime. There were two lovers dancing as the snow above glistened as each snowflake fell.

“How much for this, sir?” I asked the old man who owned the stall.

“Oh I’m so sorry, dear. That’s not for sale. I simply placed it there for people to admire”. The man uttered in an apologetic tone.

I placed the snow ball back to where it was displayed and thanked the man. I headed back to my place after buying a cup of chai at a nearby cafe. On my way home, I decided to pass by the park. I loved it when winter came, as the lake in the middle of it, became a magical frozen lake for everyone to skate in. I took a seat at the park bench and a single drop of snowflake fell on my cup–signifying that winter is finally here.

In Korean culture, when the first snow of the season is starting to fall, they say that it is the best time to confess your love for someone, for the love you ’ll have for each other will remain forever.

I sat down for a minute to admire the scene once more. Children around the park are celebrating, sticking their tongues out to catch the snowflakes. More and more people were gathering at the frozen lake as a local band played holiday tunes with their instruments–a raw and genuine moment to capture.

I stood by the frozen lake, looking at my own reflection and thought about the Korean proverb. After moving out from my parent’s place, I have celebrated the holidays by myself for quite a while now. Though it may seem lonely, I quite like the solitude it brings. I may not have someone to confess my love to, but I have myself to rely on.

Someday, I’ll be on another person’s snow globe, where someone will find me under the glistening first snow, dance with me, and confess their love for me. But until then, I shall admire the frosty yet heartwarming sight before my eyes, and be grateful for the year that has come.

Text by: Nathaniel David Mallari
Illustration by: Adrian Villagracia
Layout by: Jonela Meñoso

21/12/2024

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐌𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐨𝐞 𝐌𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐫 | 𝐌𝐢𝐥𝐤 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭-𝐒𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐞𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐢𝐞𝐬

It‘s the same old tradition of Christmas over and over and over again. Social reunion, gift-giving, singing of jolly songs, you get the gist.

I know the children rely on me to make their wishes come true… but what about mine? Yes, I am that big, jolly man that goes “Ho! Ho! Ho!” but ho ho how can I be jolly if I’m so tired from delivering presents door to door? Not to mention, some leave their fireplace on… I don‘t doubt some did it on purpose.

Getting up from my chair, I checked on my hard-working elves. “There’s an increase in coal production? Just how bad is the generation of children now?” I am appalled by the amount of coal piled up on the conveyor belt. “You‘ve mistaken, Santa. These are for fuel only, an elf must have spilled some on the belt.” I let out a sigh of relief. Delivering coals to children is unpleasant as I know it will just discourage them from actually being good.

I let the elves be, walking back to my office. I take a long, hard look at myself. I look lighter, it must be due to stress. I run a hand on my white beard, seemingly pleased by how well-kept it is despite its length. I reach for the picture frame by my desk. Rubbing my thumb on the picture, yearning takes a hold of me. Oh, Mrs. Claus... I miss you.

Don’t worry, my love. I‘ll be home soon.

When I thought today would go smoothly, it is the absolute opposite. Somehow, the reindeers got stuck in traffic due to the frequent exchanging of airplanes, some gifts in the list were nowhere to be seen, and to top it all off… I forgot my glasses back home, leaving me in a blurry state.These stacked minor inconveniences leave me in a state of dilemma.

I shut my eyes and think hard of a solution. In the midst of my troubles, I can imagine myself back home, spending the holidays with my beloved. I can do this! For her.

Going from door-to-door is quite a challenge due to my blurry vision. There are times I swapped the gift for another, stepped on scattered toys on the floor, and almost skipped through houses. I was in such a rush that I failed to remember that some are kind enough to leave milk and cookies for me. Biscuits! I’m so hungry.

With labored movements, I finally finished through all of it and eagerly got home with my special service. My tiredness and hunger demands the reindeers to go faster, but they can only go as fast. After arriving in the North Pole, I feed them as payment before going inside the house.

The sweet scent of cinnamon fills the air, its aroma lingering as I make my way to the kitchen. I stop by the entrance, the sight before me taking my breath away. My wife in her adorable apron as she whips on a bowl. She looks surprised. “You‘re home early.” I take her in my arms from behind, inhaling her scent. “Mhm…” I let go after a while to take a breather on the couch, but before I know it, I’m falling asleep.

I wake up, smelling the cookies. Turns out Mrs. Claus has been holding it up my nose just a few inches away to wake me up. I mumbled a “thank you” while taking the cookie, but she kept her hand on it. “Let me feed you.” I felt my cheeks heat up, out of embarrassment. Why is she treating me like a kid? “I… I‘m a grown man! I can handle myself.” Still, she insists. Being the obedient, playful husband I am, I let her.

As I munch on it, I look over at the plate on the coffee table, heart-shaped cookies. I have never received cookies in that shape before, this just makes it all the more special. I prop myself up and before I get to ask for milk, she hands me a glass of it. I stare at her, dumbfounded for a moment. It’s like our soul meld into one that we both know what the other thinks. The thought of it makes my heart leap with joy. I can feel my heart surging with love. Downing the cookies with milk, it felt good. Not only is my stomach full, but my heart is too. The happiness that I felt was immense that I couldn’t help but say…

“Ho Ho Ho!”

Text by: Shanelle Agsam
Illustration by: Kirsten Villanueva
Layout by: Francile Nifras

20/12/2024

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐌𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐨𝐞 𝐌𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐫 | 𝐁𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐛𝐚𝐲𝐚𝐧 𝐁𝐨𝐱

Alam mo, hindi talaga biro ang maging OFW.

Kakayod ka araw araw habang malayo ka sa pamilya mo -sa bansang wala ka talagang kakilala.

At kung tulad ka sa'kin na isang Domestic Helper, araw araw gigising ka't magaasikaso sa pamilyang hindi naman iyo. Hanggang sa hindi mo namalayan, nalipasan ka na ng panahon. Malaki na ang mga anak mo pero hindi mo sila ganun kakilala kaysa sa anak ng amo mo.

Minsan makakabili ka ng load para tawagan ang mga mahal mo sa buhay. Pero madalas, mahirap maka alis ng bahay, paswerte swertehan nalang ng amo.

Ako si Judith. Labingisang taon na ako dito sa Abu Dhabi. At kung tutuusin dapat nasanay na ako sa buhay na to. Pero para sa akin, walang panahon na mas masakit pa kaysa sa pasko.

*ring, ring*

"Hello? Oh ma, natanggap mo na ba ang pinadala kong Balikbayan Box?"

"...."

"Pinagbili ko si Toto ng gusto gusto niyang sapatos tsaka may pinadala na rin akong pera pang handa. Magsend kayo ng picture ha?"

"..."

"Advance Merry Christmas, mahal na mahal ko kayo."

Napaupo ako sa kusina habang pinapahid ang luha ko. At naisip ko, ano na kaya ang itsura ng dalawa kong anak na lalake? Huling kita ko sa kanila, hanggang dibdib ko lang sila. Ngayon ang panganay ko graduating na sa BS Education and bunso naman magtatapos na ng Senior High.

Napaupo akong nagluluha hanggang sa narinig ko ang boses ng alaga kong si Miryam.

"Judith? Why you cry?" Tanong niya habang niyakap ako.

"Oh, it's nothing habibti. I'm just missing my family this Christmas." Sabi ko sa kanya habang dali dali kong pinapahid ang aking luha.

"Judith you're like my mother too. You can tell me if you're sad. You always comforted me ever since I was a little girl." Ngiti niya habang pinapahid ang aking luha.

Natsambahan talaga ako na binigyan ako ng alagang kasing bait at ganda ni Jessie Mendiola.

Maglipas ang dalawang linggo, pinatawag ako ng boss ko at pinaupo sa sofa sa harap ng kanilang buong pamilya.

"Judith, you have been with us for eleven years. To us, you're family. We don't celebrate Christmas. But we wanted to give you this gift." Ngiti ng boss kong babae habang inabot sa akin ang isang maliit na envelope na binalutan ng wrapping paper.

"Wow, really ma'am? For me? Shukran."

Binukasan ko ang binalot na papel at napaiyak ako sa nakita ko sa loob.
.............

Nakahiga ako sa sofa sa tapat ng electric fan habang naglalaro ng ML. Inip na inip na ako at kinausap ko si Kuya.

"Kuya, di pa dumadating ang padala ni mama. Sana pwede nilang ilagay si Mama sa box noh?"

Tinignan ako ni Kuya habang kumakain siya ng hotdog.

"Nagcacrave na nga din ako ng chocolate tapos namimiss ko nang magbukas ng padala eh. Iniisip ko yung amoy ng box, siguro amoy din niya."

*bang bang bang*

"Tao po? Tao po!"

Lumabas ako ng bahay at nakita ang isang truck na may iniwang box. Weird lang kase yung Padala ni mama balot na balot lagi ng masking tape, eto parang bago pa ang box. Kalaunan, lumabas din si Kuya at pinirmahan yung papel na pinapirma nung driver.

"Kuya parang di balot ang box noh?" Sabi ko sa kanya nang may bigla nalang lumabas sa box-

"SURPRISE!!!!"

"AY ANAK NG- "

"TAE!!!!"

Nang matahan ang nangilabot naming puso, napatingin kami ni Kuya sa tumambad galing sa box nang di maka imik. Kusa ko na lamang nararamdaman ang mainit kong luha na tumulo sa aking pisngi.

"M-mama? Mama... Ikaw na ba yan?"

Tinignan kami ng mama naming luhang luha. At mabilis namin siyang niyakap. Tama nga si Kuya, kaamoy niya nga ang unang nahahalimuyak namin sa tuwing nagbubukas ng Balikbayan Box.

*sobs*

"Anak.... Ang lalaki niyo na...."

Walang tigil ang pagpatak ng mga luha ni Mama habang mahigpit niya kaming niyayakap. Noon, parang ang taas niya kaya nakakapagpanibago na maramdaman ang kanyang yakap na ngayon ay hanggang dibdib nalang namin dalawa ni Kuya.

"M-Ma sa lahat ng padala mo, ikaw ang the best na Balikabayan Box na dumating dito."

Text by: Nichole Bedrejo
Illustration by: Kirsten Villanueva
Layout by: Yoanh Jacildo

19/12/2024

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐌𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐨𝐞 𝐌𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐫 | 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

11:55 PM

I unlocked my phone and went straight to the messaging app. Should I keep it simple this time? Or would he mind a longer message than “Merry Christmas!”? Do I even message him at all?

We’ve all been there. Us in our rooms, at the dining table, waiting for the moment the clock would strike midnight until we hit send. The flush of the holidays not wasting you another reason not to message him again. And let’s face it, do we really have to deny ourselves from such an innocent experience in our teenage years?

11:59 PM

I stared at my phone. Rivulets of sweat descend down my face, a paradoxical happenstance when I am under the cool breeze of the air conditioning unit. I shouldn’t–I told myself. “This is a friendly greeting anyways, he wouldn’t think otherwise, would he?” I defended myself.

Shame got a better hold of myself. I pressed the delete button, erasing the long paragraph I wrote to thank him for being such a great friend this year. I am no Santa, why should I? Instead, I took a photo of our tree and coupled it with a simple white heart emoji. There, it’s settled.

12:00 AM

_ liked your story.

I heard buzzes from my phone as I took a slice of the mango graham dessert I made earlier. I didn’t mind it at all, I knew my friends would send their holiday wishes as soon as the calendar hits the twenty-fifth.

12:02 AM

_ replied to your story: merry christmas!

I grabbed my phone, deciding it was time to greet my friends already. Then I saw the notification. Call me exaggerated, but the mango slice I took went down my throat smoothly like a child on a water park slide. I gasped for air as I reached out a hand for the glass of water beside me.

I replied to his message, screaming like a maniac on Christmas morning after hitting send. Thankfully, everyone was at the living room opening presents but they all looked at me with question marks drawn on their faces. Well, I already got my present, I guess?

Text by: Nathaniel David Mallari
Illustration by: Adrian Villagracia
Layout by: Trisha Nicole Lopez

18/12/2024

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐌𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐨𝐞 𝐌𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐫 | ‘𝐓𝐢𝐥 𝐍𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐖𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐬

Once upon a time in a merry winter stow, two snowmen happily watched a small happy family playing in the snow. Formed by stacked balls of snow for their heads and bodies, sticks and stones that made up the gleeful faces, adorned with old scarves and outgrown mittens that completed the snowmen’s apparel.

They are named: Frosty and Snowy.

One fateful night, the Christmas spirit visited the small town, bringing the snowmen to gain consciousness, making them capable of something only humans have… Emotions. The two of them have contrasting personalities, Snowy is jolly and expressive, while Frosty is as cold as ice, as he is intended to be.

It is another usual winter afternoon. Snowy glances at Frosty with an inanimate grin, expressing his joy. "Frosty, frosty! I am filled with such glee!" His snowy companion looks at him with a curious gaze. "Why so?" Frosty follows his line of vision, seeing it directed at the family making snow angels nearby. “They look so joyful…” Snowy says, a hint of longing in his tone.

Frosty is often quick to dismiss Snowy’s dream of becoming like their creators, to move as freely and belong to what they have known as a ‘family’; but seeing the glint in Snowy’s stony eyes, the wideness of his grin, Frosty decides against it. Snowy seemed to notice the hesitation of Frosty‘s response. “You’re not going to burst my bubble this once?” The more reserved snowman flashed a rare smile. “Do you want me to?” Snowy hastily shook his head, though subtly.

As night falls upon the land, they would observe the family outside the window, watching them huddle up for warmth in the fireplace. Unbeknownst to Frosty and Snowy, they thought of the fire within as a “magical” entity, something that has intrigued Frosty and encouraged Snowy to get drawn like a moth to a flame.

They turn their back to their surroundings and observe the night sky, the northern lights taking their breaths away-not like they had any in the first place. “It‘s so beautiful!” Snowy exclaims as he looks up at the sky, but Frosty’s eyes are on him. “…indeed. So beautiful.”

Suddenly, a small piece of meteor rock enters the Earth‘s atmosphere, commonly known as a wishing star, passes by. “Frosty! Let’s make a wish!” The both of them look up to admire the passing debris.

“What was your wish, Snowy?”

“A wish is supposed to be kept a secret, right?”

“I suppose you‘re right.” Silence ensues for a while until Snowy decides to ask him.

“Why, what’s your wish, Frosty?”

To bask in the sun and enjoy spring with you.

“Goodnight, Snowy.”

Time moves forward and the season of winter is nearing its end. It is noticeable for the two snowmen as they have progressively been melting. Almost a puddle, they attempt to move closer for extra coolness, though their weak limbs crafted from sticks render the possibility of mobility…futile. “Will we meet again, Frosty?” Snowy asks weakly. Frosty turns to him, his eyes filled with sorrow and helplessness. “Yeah, maybe next Christmas.”

“Frosty…”

“…yes?”

“Thank you. For everything.” Snowy uses all his strength to reach out to him. Their hands touch for the first and the last time. “Snowy… I‘ll miss you.”

Spring comes forth, the puddles left behind by Snowy and Frosty are collected, used to water the flowers, blooming into beautiful arrays of tulips, a memory of the love they shared.

Text by: Shanelle Agsam
Illustration by: Kirsten Villanueva
Layout by: Jan Isabel Miravalles

17/12/2024

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐌𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐨𝐞 𝐌𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐫 | 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐇𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐂𝐚𝐟𝐞

In a seemingly quiet town up north, there stood a cafe that operated only during the holidays. Its customers were that of people around town. All of which lived lives that were truly unique to one another. But somehow, they connected back to this place, all within the same time of the year.

Right over the corner beneath the collection of vinyls and succulents, Theodore, a young man with his quill, writes the most heartbreaking of poems. He would sit there for hours, scribbling for what seemed like an eternity and looking up only to ask for another cup of the Earl Grey Tea only he ordered. His eyes are bloodshot and skin pale as snow. As if all the life and light drained from whatever he went through.

Across the other end, Michael, an artist who splattered paint all over the tables, illustrated images of romance. Of people down under the moonlight, with their hands clenched together. No one seemed to notice him though. The artist was full of love, almost daydreaming but not quite. His paint set and canvas were the only things that became his medium to pour out all of love suppressed inside.

Beside the counter, was a beautiful young lady named Eloise, who was the epitome of demure and modesty. She sits there for hours, waiting for someone to sit across from her, not even taking a sip out of the strawberry smoothie she orders. Despite her beauty, no one seemed to approach her. Her ice in her smoothie melting away as the clock continues to tick its time.

And there entered Lacy. The most popular girl in town, attracting all the eyes of both men and women inside and outside the cafe. She could be anyone’s really. But it seemed like she wasn’t. She is always seen with a book in her hand, enjoying her own company as if finding her soulmate was not a genre she would read and get lost into.

Among them, who are you?

No, sorry.

Among them, who are you now?

Because at some point in our lives, we all walked in their shoes.

Heartbroken.
Hopeful.
Naive.
Contented.

Text by: Nathaniel David Mallari
Illustration by: Adrian Villagracia
Layout by: Francene Veloria

16/12/2024

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐌𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐨𝐞 𝐌𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐫 | 𝐁𝐢𝐛𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐤𝐚

Simbang gabi; a long known tradition of attending nine early morning or evening masses before Christmas. Finding time, I decided to attend.

As the dawn starts, the cold early morning air lightly brushes my arm with a gentle breeze. Walking—dragging my feet and rubbing the sleepiness of my eyes. The streets seem a little less lonely as the hanged up parols and fairy lights grace the places with astonishing glow, leaving anyone passing by in awe. I often find myself glued to those bright lights while walking by. Something about its warm glow is comforting; unlike the halogen incandescent light bulbs that fry my eyes when I look at it, it definitely does not give me solace.

My frustrations over the industrialized light bulbs come to a halt when something appetizing aroma fills up my nostrils. I let the scent lead my body and I find myself standing with a watering mouth in front of a bibingka stall. My ears pick up the faint singing from the choir in the church—their harmonious ensemble, inviting all kinds of people with different backgrounds, different stories.

Some time has passed and I‘m already on my way out, in fact rushing, to get to the bibingka stalls before it gets crowded by the other churchgoers. I forgot my wallet back home… I do have some coins on me, though; enough to buy one. MMH! I may be exaggerating, but this is the best bibingka I’ve ever had. Before I get to take another bite, I see this young frail-looking girl holding different colored candles. ”Excuse me, po… maybe you want to buy some candles?“ I couldn‘t bring myself to swallow the food I am chewing, but I have to in order to speak to her.

“Please, po… I need money for some food. I’m so hungry.” She pleads. I reach for my pocket, temporarily forgetting I spent it all on this one bibingka. I don‘t have any money left, but I feel pity for this poor girl. If only there was a way I could help her. I look around then my eyes land on the bibingka I bought. ”Here.“ I hand her the bibingka. ”Th-thank… you.“ She looks up at me with sparkling eyes, reminding me of the Christmas lights I saw on my way here. I watch her walk away and I feel my heart constrict seeing that she divides it among other children.

The next day, I go back to church, carrying home-cooked meals I prepared myself. I attend the mass as usual and after, I saw her selling candles again. I approach her while carrying the plastic bags filled with contained food. ”Ija… this is for you. Merry Christmas.” She is shocked by the amount of food that she started crying out of joy. I help her carry it over to where the other children are. My heart is filled with such warmth comparable to a freshly brewed coffee, much like the bibingka.

Christmas should be a joyous event for everyone, even for those who can‘t afford the luxuries of life.

Text by: Shanelle Agsam
Illustration by: Adrian Villagracia
Layout by: Jonela Meñoso

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It’s back. Embrace the palpable anticipation, as we unveil a glimpse of our grand comeback to exceed every expectation. Stay tuned as the Nightingales rise from the ashes and witness the return of the College of Nursing Nightingales. Caption by Nichole Bedrejo Edited by Nherwyne Jude Yusoya

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