Pay It Forward Curation Contest is now on its 20th week and getting stronger. More and more participants are joining in because, I think, they appreciate the sense of giving back at least to Steemit community. Anyone can join so come on! Click here for the details.
Featured blogger: 
I do not remember which tab or view of Steemit I was when I stumbled upon the post of
This photo is from the original blog.
Featured blogger: 
This graphic is my creation.
It is a story about Jed, a 19-year old son who, together with his mother, was left behind by his father when he was very young. His father left for another woman. Since then, he never got to meet his father until the latter's wake. The story started with a scene where Jed was in transit to his father's wake in a Mercedez Benz with his dazzling red gown and stilletos, newly manicured nails, model-look shiny black hair. He got out of the car and made a dramatic entrance to where the casket is. Yes, he is gay.
The glits and glamour were a daydream. He got back to his senses when his real ride, habal-habal, stopped in front of the house where his father's remains lie. It will be the first time he sees his father, unfortunately a corpse already, and the mistress aunt Mila. He has a stepbrother, Junmil. Jed noticed the first floor of the house was just completed. It is concrete, tiled floor and a chandelier is hanging by the ceiling. While he and his mother are living in his grandmother's nipa hut that may give up anytime with its aging materials. He also noticed aunt Mila's jewelries. He thought, it should be him and his mother who are supposed to be enjoying those luxuries of life that his father gave them. Jed has been playing so many storming words in his head. He wanted to make aunt Mila knows how he suffered growing up without a father because of her. But those words did not come out. That actually gave his aunt Mila the chance to open up.
Following is a summarized translation of the ending.
We were sharing stories and burst into laughter. But her eyes were not smiling, those are glued to papa's coffin. I saw in her eyes the solitude of missing a husband. She kept quiet for a while. Her face was serious. She stared at the coffin once again, seemed to be pulling strength and prepared herself. Tears began to roll down her eyes.
"Did you know that you are supposed to have another brother? The baby was just a month old when I discovered that he has other woman. Women. What's more, one was just about your age. I really got mad then... " Suddenly her tongue was shaking. I am now hearing a confession from a person who wants to wash herself from the blemish of guilt to be free.
"I challenged him," she threw her voice. She was obviously trying to delay the tears. "I asked him what he would choose, his women or our child's life?" Her shrieking voice shook her head. She buried her face on her palms. She was sobbing intently. Her shoulders were rocking. I was shocked to hear it. Her mourning was enough for me to gather what happened.
"Even so. I still loved him," she continued. Now I just fully understood the love of Jose Corazon de Jesus;
"When you retreat from risk and danger
Your mind is really bright and full
You are still afraid of your love, you are not loving.
'To love, even the pit of death will be heaven to you.'
If that night was a beauty contest, no one won. We are all victims - I, mama, aunt Mila, and Junmil - beauties that have been denied the right to wear the crown. But for the first time, along with the reign of the moon in the deepening of the night, I set out to aunt Mila the crown she deserved to wear. Because that night, I look at her as a woman, mother, wife.
Join #ccc and get guaranteed daily income and payout for newbies by following the honor code - The Creed - with conditions and limitations. Click here for the details.
