Jumbled Writings

Appointment With Love

2011-08-06T03:16:00.003+08:00

"Appointment With Love" by S.I. Kishor is one helluva love story that tickles our young hearts when our literature teacher back then in high school required us to read this one. Read on to enjoy.

---- o ----- o ----- o ------

Six minutes to six, said the great round clock over the information booth in Grand Central Station. The tall young Army lieutenant who had just come from the direction of the tracks lifted his sunburned face, and his eyes narrowed to note the exact time. His heart was pounding with a beat that shocked him because he could not control it. In six minutes, he would see the woman who had filled such a special place in his life for the past 13 months, the woman he had never seen, yet whose written words had been with him and sustained him unfailingly.

He placed himself as close as he could to the information booth, just beyond the ring of people besieging the clerks...

Lieutenant Blandford remembered one night in particular, the worst of the fighting, when his plane had been caught in the midst of a pack of Zeros. He had seen the grinning face of one of the enemy pilots.

In one of his letters, he had confessed to her that he often felt fear, and only a few days before this battle, he had received her answer: "Of course you fear...all brave men do.

Didn't King David know fear? That's why he wrote the 23rd Psalm. Next time you doubt yourself, I want you to hear my voice reciting to you: 'Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I shall fear no evil, for Thou art with me.'" And he had remembered; he had heard her imagined voice, and it had renewed his strength and skill.

Now he was going to hear her real voice. Four minutes to
six. His face grew sharp.

Under the immense, starred roof, people were walking fast, like threads of color being woven into a gray web. A girl passed close to him, and Lieutenant Blandford started. She was wearing a red flower in her suit lapel, but it was a crimson sweet pea, not the little red rose they had agreed upon. Besides, this girl was too young, about 18, whereas Hollis Meynell had frankly told him she was 30. "Well, what of it?" he had answered. "I'm 32." He was 29.

His mind went back to that book - the book the Lord Himself must have put into his hands out of the hundreds of Army library books sent to the Florida training camp. Of Human Bondage, it was; and throughout the book were notes in a woman's writing. He had always hated that writing-in-habit, but these remarks were different. He had never believed that a woman could see into a man's heart so tenderly, so understandingly. Her name was on the bookplate: Hollis Meynell. He had got hold of a New York City telephone book and found her address. He had written, she had answered. Next day he had been shipped out, but they had gone on writing.

For 13 months, she had faithfully replied, and more than replied. When his letters did not arrive she wrote anyway, and now he believed he loved her, and she loved him. But she had refused all his pleas to send him her photograph. That seemed rather bad, of course. But she had explained: "If your feeling for me has any reality, any honest basis, what I look like won't matter. Suppose I'm beautiful. I'd always be haunted by the feeling that you had been taking a chance on just that, and that kind of love would disgust me. Suppose I'm plain (and you must admit that this is more likely). Then I'd always fear that you were going on writing to me only because you were lonely and had no one else. No, don't ask for my picture. When you come to New York, you shall see me and then you shall make your decision. Remember, both of us are free to stop or to go on after that - whichever we choose..."

One minute to six - he pulled hard on a cigarette. Then Lieutenant Blandford's heart leaped higher than his plane had ever done. A young woman was coming toward him. Her figure was long and slim; her blond hair lay back in curls from her delicate ears. Her eyes were blue as flowers, her lips and chin had a gentle firmness. In her pale green suit, she was like springtime come alive.

He started toward her, entirely forgetting to notice that she was wearing no rose, and as he moved, a small, provocative smile curved her lips.

"Going my way, soldier?" she murmured.

Uncontrollably, he made one step closer to her. Then he saw Hollis Meynell.
She was standing almost directly behind the girl, a woman well past 40, her graying hair tucked under a worn hat. She was more than plump; her thick-ankled feet were thrust into low-heeled shoes. But she wore a red rose in the rumpled lapel of her brown coat.

The girl in the green suit was walking quickly away.

Blandford felt as though he were being split in two, so keen was his desire to follow the girl, yet so deep was his longing for the woman whose spirit had truly companioned and upheld his own; and there she stood. Her pale, plump face was gentle and sensible; he could see that now. Her gray eyes had a warm, kindly twinkle.

Lieutenant Blandford did not hesitate. His fingers gripped the small worn, blue leather copy of Of Human Bondage, which was to identify him to her. This would not be love, but it would be something precious, something perhaps even rarer than love – a friendship for which he had been and must ever be grateful.

He squared his broad shoulders, saluted and held the book out toward the woman, although even while he spoke he felt shocked by the bitterness of his disappointment.

"I'm Lieutenant John Blandford, and you - you are miss Meynell. I'm so glad you could meet me. May...may I take you to dinner?"

The woman's face broadened in a tolerant smile. "I don't know what this is all about, son," she answered. "That young lady in the green suit - the one who just went by - begged me to wear this rose on my coat. And she said that if you asked me to go out
with you, I should tell you that she's waiting for you in that big restaurant across the street. She said it was some kind of a test. I've got two boys with Uncle Sam myself, so I didn't mind to oblige you."

Late Again

2010-04-27T13:07:00.002+08:00

“Wer r u?” read the text message from Amy. I am supposed to meet my best friend tonight at 7pm at a restro in Mandaue.

However, I stayed glued to my seat and continued checking the cash disbursements book. I had to finish this one because my senior is going to review my work tomorrow. I kept saying “Just fifteen minutes more and my field work will be done”. Four times I repeated the phrase. Next week will be the tax payment deadline for this client using the fiscal year. I need to rush things. I even planned to continue working in the office after meeting Amy.

I could not refuse her. But I must admit that there are times I tried to avoid her. But everytime I do that, my conscience squeezed my stomach. I owed her nothing and she was not indebted to me too. But she is very persistent. It must be it - persistence. This time was no exception.

She said she had this problem and she wanted to talk to me. The last time it was about her parents. We talked on the phone, met in some café and she just cried on my shoulders. A colleague, who saw us from another corner in the café, thought she was my girlfriend and that we had some LQ moments. No, we’re not an item, not even before. Some thought it weird, but for me, she’s just my friend, and nothing else.

She said it’s about her love life. She has this boyfriend for the first time. She told me of her crushes and suitors before but this one escaped me. She claimed he is a very good man and a good husband material. She’s 23, and none of her sisters and female cousins got married beyond 25. Strange! She might have felt the pressure, albeit done by her alone.

I haven’t met the guy though. I was too busy with my audit work that I was not able to attend barkada outings for the past three months. They said he worked in a large bank, got a car, and smells good on a Hugo Boss. My axe cologne is probably no match for it. And she probably thought that I was too busy, that's why she failed to introduce him to me. Honestly, I don't care about him.

After packing my things, I rushed to the MEPZ 2 gate, which is about a hundred meter away. Taxis were scarce in this part. It took me 15 minutes to be on board one. I sent a text message saying I was already on my way and blamed it on the difficulty in finding a taxi. It was already 830pm.

Every time I arrive late at our appointed time, I always blame the traffic. She won’t usually ask questions and seems pleased that I arrived. Better late than never! This time was no different. I got stuck at traffic at the Mactan Bridge. The driver turned on his radio to some AM stations. News. He was listening to evening updates.

“A woman in his mid 20’s jumped over the bridge” says the reporter on radio.

Suicide. Who on her right mind would do it? “Why can’t she just take 10 sleeping pills?” I murmured. “It’s less painful.”

“Or drink muriatic acid” the driver butted in.

”Another crazy man” I thought, referring to the driver. I continued to listen to the news. The woman was battling for life and rescuers rushed her body to VSMMC (Vicente Sotto Memorial Medical Center). But she was declared dead on arrival. The traffic began to ease but we’re still moving slowly.

My mind couldn’t stop thinking about the woman. Who is she? What could be her reason for committing such deed? Could it be love? I had a classmate before who hanged himself with his belt. He had this beautifully written goodbye poem on the floor. His parents had no idea what his problem were. The poem talked about his beautiful life on earth. Ironic, isn’t it?

I almost forgot about Amy. I tried to call her cellphone but it was out of reach. Impossible! She’s a woman who can’t live without her phone. I sent a message again saying that I’ll be arriving in 5 minutes. It’s quarter past nine. I hoped she would understand. With my line of work, she should understand.

I finally arrived. It was a dimly lit café with only ten wooden tables. We really liked the ambience here. From the outside window I could not see the table where we’d usually meet. She must have left. I was two-and-a-half hours late, but am still unapologetic about it. I surveyed the room and there were only two other occupied tables.

“Did some lady come in here and sit on that table?” I asked the waiter and at the same time pointing at our usual table.

“Ah, sir! She was here an hour or two ago. She left this letter and told us to give it to you.”

I immediately took it. It obviously was hurriedly and nervously written. My phone rang, signaling that a text message had arrived. But I was too excited to read the letter first.

“Dear Larry,

You’re late again. As usual, I waited for you for an hour or more. But there was no sign of you nor your shadow. My phone died so I can’t call or send you any message. I really have this terrible problem that I felt like jumping over the Mactan Bridge. By the time you read this, my lifeless body might be floating in the Mactan Channel. I even wished I’d be swallowed by sharks…”

I stopped reading and my heart was beating faster. I tucked the letter in my pocket and immediately ran outside to hail a cab. That dead woman could be Amy. Why? Did her boyfriend cheat on her? Is he married, or is he gay? A lot of things floated in my mind, as I commanded the driver to go straight to VSMMC.

Amy, the sweet girl that I often took for granted, and now my heart says that I miss her. She the only girl that I can call a "close friend". In fact, she's whom I consider my best friend. The smiles, the round eyes, and the nicely kept short hair, were pictured in my mind right now.

I somewhat regretted that I arrived late. I could have stopped her. Tears began flowing from my eyes. But I held my tears. “Should I call her parents and our other friends?” that is my other dilemma. But I reserved those after I’ll see the body and confirm it myself.

The emergency room was filled with people so I asked around about the woman who jumped over the bridge a couple of hours earlier. I was led to the morgue and there I saw her. She looked sad and lonely. I continued to survey her. I felt like a heavy object was unloaded from my shoulders. It was not Amy.

I slowly walked outside and thought about the good and bad times Amy and I shared. I felt terrible for not immediately coming to her. What if I actually did lose her that night because of my being late? I took out the letter from my pocket and continued reading.

“…But I love life. Call me later. I will be recharging my phone battery.”

I could not help but grin at myself. I should have completely read the whole thing earlier. Then I remembered about the text message. I read it and the message came from Amy. I dialed her number and we talked. It was a relief to hear her voice again. She asked me why my voice was rough and I seemed like trembling. I completely ran out of reasons and instead, proposed that we should meet later that nnight. But I never mentioned to her that I was at the provincial hospital gazing at some dead body who I initially thought was her.

Farewell from a Departed

2009-06-20T14:23:00.001+08:00

Biboy grew up very close to his grandfather, Tatay Melecio. When he was still 8 years old, he used to go with the old man everywhere he goes, may it on his fishing trips, his farming or his visits to the market. And he used to tell the lad long, believe-it-or not tales, about persons with supernatural powers and encounters with the other kind. They had some plenty of memories together.

Tatay Melecio was born even before the Philippines declared independence from Spain. He was not really the recluse or the mystical kind who barely talks to anyone or move objects telekinetically. He’s quite talkative to Biboy and to the other kids. And he proudly said he knew some Latin chants to counter the works of evil magic. He had no magical object to show except for his pipe which he considered as his lucky charm. At seventy, he’s still strong and healthy.

In one of their conversations one day, they talked about death. They made a promise to each other that whoever dies first should at least say goodbye to the one left behind. Biboy had no qualms about it, so he hastily agreed. He was still a child then not knowing how it would happen.

More than 20 years had passed and the two were separated from each other. Biboy studied in the city, eventually found work, then got married and had kids. One night, after coming home from work very tired, he immediately went to sleep. And there in his slumber, he felt a sudden slap of a very cold air. Then a voice, very audible to him, said, “Biboy, I’ll go ahead. Goodbye!” He felt the stiffness of his body. He could not move his hands. But to him, the voice was clearly that of Tatay Melecio. His thoughts immediately brought him back to the scene where he and the old man made the promise.

Biboy got back his reflexes minutes after and woke up like he had a nightmare without the screams. It was already 5am. His wife got up to check on him. He asked for water and seems like he was on a chase. Then he told her of his dream and he concluded that Tatay Melecio died already.

“How did you know?” she asked.

“Tatay spoke to me in my sleep. We made a promise years ago..”

The wife was clearly puzzled but didn’t ask further questions. She wiped the sweat from her husbands face. He also informed his mother, the daughter of Tatay Melecio, about it. She was shocked and even scolded Biboy. “How can you say that about your grandfather? You haven’t even seen him in months.”

“Yeah, I know he’s bed-ridden. But please believe me. Vivian (a cousin who took care of Tatay), will come this morning and inform us. I’ll call the other grandchildren when I arrive at the office.” Biboy insisted.

The mother was silent. They have not seen the old man for months and they knew he was sick. It was just that they had no time to visit him. This news bothered her but she just waited.

Indeed, three hours after, Vivian arrived and brought the sad news. The wife and the mother just looked at each other, still puzzled at how Biboy was able to know about the old man’s death.

Two Sentence Stories

2009-03-06T18:28:00.001+08:00

This post is inspired by the contest of Matt over at TwoSentenceStories.com. My stories are fictional and any similarities to real life situations are purely coincidental.

Reunited

He was my best friend and roommate for 10 years until he disappeared 5 years ago because of a murder he was accused of committing. Now I saw him coming, handcuffed, and oblivious of our reunion as he entered my jail cell.

Love in the Time of Recession

Alfredo hurried home earlier than usual, to report to his wife about his situation at work, and how he was laid off along with fifteen hundred others. Panting for air in between sobbing and breathing, he opened the master bedroom, only to find his spouse naked in bed with another man.

Heartbreak

Yesterday morning, Mitch was all smiles at me and at everyone else at the office, as she enthusiastically told us about Rey, a new guy she met, and how gentleman he is despite the fact that their first date was still later that evening.

Today, I saw her avoiding me and she sobs whenever someone mentions the name Rey, which incidentally has the same name as mine.

The Coin

I gave a 1-peso coin to a child, who knocked on my car’s windshield when I stopped on a red light. I did not notice that the coin escaped from his hands and he crawled under my car when the light turned green.

The Board Meeting

Everyone was attending to their own reports when the President reported to the body the company’s staggering losses. Unimpressed, the Chairman yawned and it did not take long for him to doze off and made crazy sounds.

Cannot Sleep

Saturday afternoon he was at home lying on his bed trying to sleep after the nightshift at the hospital.

But his brain would not stop imagining as the couple next door was shouting, screaming and their bed squeaking as they made love for three full hours.

Crazy In Love

He promised to love her no matter what her past is, and so they made love for the first time. After the libido subsided, and while they lay spent in bed, she confessed that she has herpes.

Horror Movie

A lot of things were playing on his mind as he stayed glued on his seat watching a horror movie from his laptop. The lights suddenly went off.

Solution

He looked sternly at the long list of his unpaid debts on his left hand while his right hand held the insurance policy.

“There must be a solution to this”, he sighed.

Bored

He yawned while the boss was busy discussing something in the meeting room. Then he excused himself and stayed at the men’s room for an hour.

Untitled Poem From A Hopeless Romantic

2008-07-19T12:52:00.001+08:00

Here's an untitled poem written sometime in 1995.

We spoke in tongues
Yet I did not hear love
Mouthed in whatever words
Comprehensible to the heart.

Your reluctant smile did not mean at all
So our feelings never met,
And with your eyes staring at the floor,
You whispered “Can we still be friends?”

But I walked away,
Under the starry but moonless night
Whistling hollow tunes to the wind,
Shrugging aside the friendship we once had.

The Magical Pebble

2008-04-16T16:41:00.002+08:00

The Magical Pebble
(based on a true story)

In a small barrio in Argao, 9 year old Boboy and four neighboring kids his age were surveying the creek near their place. It was unusually flooded with water that morning even though it did not rain for the past two days.

“It must be raining in the mountains” Boboy thought. Dark clouds still hovered over the hills. But they didn’t mind the danger of being swept by the rising water or flash floods. They splashed themselves, screamed and enjoyed the moment.

Then from afar Boboy saw an object carried by the water current. It seemed to float but did not touch the water beneath it. It was some sort of magical levitation, which the kid did not understand.

“This could be a magical stone” he thought. Out of curiosity, he ran after it and eventually got hold of it. It was smooth, white and looked unusual for a pebble. It could be mistaken as deformed pearl. Then he called out the other kids and boasted of the object to their amazement. Malyn, an older cousin, ran home and brought a basin of water. The group tried putting the pebble in the basin. It just levitated by itself. The kids’ eyes rolled in amazement. Someone even suggested that Boboy can now become a superhero by swallowing the object. Boboy smirked at the idea. But he put the pebble in his hand and felt something strange.

It was then that Insi Asay suddenly appeared at their back.

“What’s the commotion all about?” she inquired.

Insi Asay is Boboy’s aunt, a first cousin of her mother. She was a thin lady, about fifty, with a squeaking voice, graying hair and a wrinkled skin. She lived with Malyn, in a hut a few meters away from the creek.

Boboy was still clenching the stone when all the other kids were pointing at him. “It’s in his hands” Malyn said.

Insi Asay’s eyes widened as she saw the object. She grabbed it from Boboy’s hand and took a careful look at it. It glittered in the sun as she raised it higher. “This is no ordinary stone. It’s not good for you to play this kind of object.”

The kids were speechless and Boboy lowered his head. Insi Asay put her arms on his shoulder. “I’ll keep this for you, Boboy.”

Boboy did not complain, for he never knew what it was. But Insi Asay got an idea. She heard of stories before about fairies and their kingdom in Mt. Lantoy. This object might have come from them since the source of the creek is from that mountain.

The next day Insi Asay set out to travel alone to Mt. Lantoy bringing with her the mysterious pebble. Boboy silently watched her from a distance. She saw him but never bothered to acknowledge the boy. Boboy looked down and felt a strange heat on his body. He was nursing a fever.

When Insi Asay returned from Mt. Lantoy, she declared that she now has a new mission: to heal sick people. She never told anyone about the details of her trip. That weekend, people lined up in their small nipa hut. Insi Asay poured oil on their heads, uttered a chant, and spat on their faces. Plenty testified of the miraculous healing. They even brought her gifts but she refused them all.

This got the attention of Boboy’s mother. Since the kid had not recovered from the fever, she brought him to Insi Asay. It was already dark when their turn came. Malyn served as the assistant. Then she whispered something to her younger cousin, “It’s the pebble. Insi Asay secretly kept it in the jar. It could be the source of her healing powers”. Boboy was too weak to say anything.

Insi Asay got out of her room and touched the sick kid. She immediately withdrew her hand as if tshe had touched a live wire. “What has gotten into this kid’s body?” she complained. Boboy’s mother did not say anything but tears flowed down from her eyes. Then oil was poured into the child’s head. Insi Asay started her chants. She grimaced as if something terrible was about to happen. She could not even touch the boy. She finally ended the ritual by spitting on his face.

“Yuck!” Boboy complained. That was all he could muster to utter.

Insi Asay got up immediately and was hysterical. She was clearly offended by Boboy’s reaction. “I cannot heal this boy. Something within him prevented me from doing anything.”

“But why?” Boboy’s mother asked.

For lack of better reasons, Insi Asay shouted. “He lacked faith. Bring her home with you. Out, out, out”. Then she drove them away. Boboy’s mother cried again, this time even louder. She lost all hope that night.

Boboy heard everything Insi Asay said. He just closed his eyes and prayed to God. He asked for healing and dedicated his life to him. He imagined stars, angels and heaven. He felt his head is about to burst. Then he fell asleep.

The next morning, Boboy got up early. This surprised her mother, who tried to stop him from going out. But he insisted that he has recovered. He gathered again his neighbors, the same kids who saw the magical pebble. They were amazed at his recovery and asked if it was Insi Asay who healed him.

“No. It was not her. Even though she got my pebble and healed other people, she was not able to heal me. She even drove me and my mother away.”

“So who really healed you?” asked the persistent kids.

“I prayed to God directly last night. I thought I was already going to die. I dreamed He touched my hand. He’s the one who healed me. He’s far better than that magical stone”.

The kids were only a few meters away from Insi Asay’s hut. She overheard them all and shook her head in disbelief. She was so sure that the kid will die of the sickness because she was not able to heal him. But Boboy was well and alive that morning, even claiming that God healed him. She went inside her room and looked at the jar where she placed the pebble. This magical object would surely bring her fame. But she began to doubt the source of her healing power.

Missing The Bus

2008-02-02T13:09:00.001+08:00

It was a summer in 1960. Tinang was busy fixing the breakfast table for her children when she announced that she would go to the city to visit the kids’ father. Some of the smaller kids were not really paying attention to the announcement, as they were very eager to take or even fight for their share of the meal.

Like any other young women after the World War II, Tinang married early. She and her husband lived a very simple life; toiling by day and procreating at night. They both worked in their farm then, in a small town near the southern tip of Cebu. Only corn grew on the rocky soil. But they also lived near the sea. The sea produce was plentiful, and kids learned to fish at a very young age. So it was both farming and fishing that let them survive.

With the absence of any information about family planning, she gave birth almost every year. At 40, she had already given birth thirteen times, including twins. Sadly, only nine survived. The youngest is about half a year old. Thus, the increasing need of the growing family forced the husband to look for a job elsewhere.

The husband worked at a foundry in Cebu City, 120 kilometers away from his family. Tinang schedules a usual monthly visit getting the allotment from her husband, and budget the scanty amount to feed the large family.

Life in the province was hard for such a big family. Even having a rice meal was a luxury they cannot afford. The kids were forced to help. Since the eldest died right after birth, Nina, the second child, carried the responsibility of taking care of her siblings when the parents were away. At a tender age of 15, she was only able to reach grade 2, having to quit school every time her mother gave birth.

Boning was next in line. Like Nina, he was also responsible for taking care of the other siblings. He was also allowed to go with the uncles when they catch fish. School had no appeal to him. He declared he’d rather plant corn or catch fish than go to school.

Tinang then gave the usual instructions to the elder kids. They nodded, afraid to speak up. They knew that any sign of disobedience would result to a harsh beating. She then picked up the baby crawling on the dining table and gave him to Nina.

After everyone finished breakfast, Biboy, the third child, raised his hand. “I’ll go with you, Ma!”. All the other kids looked at him. Then they turned their gaze toward their mother. He’s barely ten, confident, and considered to be the smartest of the siblings. He’s the only kid who loves school, even escaping from work just to attend classes.

Many days he heard him talk about city. Mostly repeating the descriptions he heard from his father, and emphasizing his determination to work and live there someday. He boasted that he’d finish college so that when he grew up he won’t be fishing or farming. Nobody encouraged him to dream beyond their simple living, he’s just an ambitious kid.

“No, no you can’t. You better stay here. Catch fish and plant corn” Tinang said with an angry look at the young boy.

“Ma, please” Biboy begged. But she just ignored him. She had to take the 9AM trip to be able to reach the city by afternoon. With rough roads and the dilapidated buses, the trip will take at least 6 hours.

“Ma, please let me come with you” Biboy pleaded again. The other kids just watched him. They knew that he’d be punished soon. They’ve seen it happened a lot of times. Boning and Nina did not attempt to stop their younger brother too. They knew he’s a persistent brat. They even wished he’d be spanked right then and there.

“Now go away! I’m in a hurry”.

Biboy ran outside but took her mother’s slippers unnoticed. Though they walk barefoot in and around the house, he knew that she can’t go to the city without her only slippers. It is one of her only decent possessions.

Then she began to look for it. All the other kids were pointing at Biboy as the culprit. She screamed at the top of her lungs. “Biboy!” Any minute longer, she would surely miss the bus.

From afar, Biboy continued. “Ma, please.”

“I said you stay here. Don’t be stubborn, or I’ll spank you till I see blood. Now, where are my slippers?” Tinang shouted.

“Would you bring me to the city if I find your slippers?” Biboy let out a naughty grin.

But Tinang got angrier the more. She chased Biboy with a broomstick. But he was too quick. They ran around the house, then to the corn fields. The bus passed by with the familiar honk. It was the only bus to the city that day, and she was too far to signal it to stop. Her fury continued after missing her bus. She was cursing and shouting. Biboy froze upon seeing her mother turning redder. At last, she caught up with the kid and then beat him almost to death.

The wails of the little boy echoed in the hills. Nosy neighbors got curious too. But they had become used to it. Biboy saw his dream vanished. Perhaps, he thought, it could wait another day. He only wanted to see the city but he got bruises instead. Blood was flowing in his legs and arms. The mother was still unrelenting and unforgiving. She dragged the limping child back to the house.

Almost an hour later, neighbors gathered and discussed of the bad news: The bus Tinang missed jumped over the cliff a few kilometers away from their house, leaving more than half of the passengers dead.

She was silent upon hearing the news. She could not believe she missed the trip to limbo. Biboy stopped his crying too. He also heard it all. Tinang looked at his bloodied boy for a minute. Tears began flowing from her eyes. She moved towards him, hugged him tight, and thanked him for saving her life.

Ang Babaye Sa Payag Daplin sa Sapa

2008-01-04T18:22:00.000+08:00

Published at Sunstar SuperBalita on 1/3/08

GAMAY nga balay, barong-barong kon buot huna-hunaon, naa sa daplin sa sapa. Tuyuon kining dapita, apan ari man god ko molaktod inigpauli ko sa amo gikan sa eskuwelahan sa Lahug. Grade three na ako dihang nadiskubrihan ko kining maong dalan tungod sa akong mga amigo nga gusto gyud molaag ug mamayabas.

Aduna tuod mga punoan sa bayabas duol sa payag. Usa ka higayon nangatkat mi ug nakakuha og daghang hinog. Ako sab gipasigpatan kon unsay sulod sa payag. Moduol unta ko, apan gibadlong ko ni Loloy. “Kim, ayaw diha kay naa buang diha. Labayon unya ka og tai!”

“Buang nga manglabay og tai?” ningisi ko bisan medyo nahadlok pod.

“Ingon to si Lola nako nga nabuang kuno na siya human biyai sa iyang bana. Nakahisgot man gani to nga paryente kuno ninyo, Kim,” matod ni Loloy.

“Kuyawa no!” sagbat ni Inting nga nidagko pod ang mata.

Si Loloy ug si Inting maoy mga klasmet ug suod nako nga mga amigo. Managsilingan sad kami, apan tua sa unahan og diyutay sa bungtod ilaha. Laguerta ang tawag ning lugara, sakop gihapon sa Lahug. Ang tinubdan sa sapa tua sa baranggay Busay. Nahiabot na gani mi sa tinubdan sa among pagpanglaag. Daghan ang dagkong mga bato ug mingaw ang lugar. Si Loloy magulang nako. Nakaundang man god siya sa Grade one mao nga nagkaklasmet pa kami. Si Inting ig-agaw ni Loloy.

“Tana, atong lilion!” sugyot nako nila.

Ang payag ginama sa kawayan ug nipa. Gipatong ra kini sa mga bato sa sapa. Kon mobaha maigo gyud sa tubig ang mga haligi niini. Duna kiniy hagdanan nga duha ray tikanganan. Kawayan sad ang salog ug bungbong. Maklaro ng taudtaod na gyud kining natukod. Dunay gamay nga bentana nga renehasan og mga lipak. Kinahanglan motindog ang naa sa sulod aron makakita sa gawas. Ang pultahan kinandaduhan. Ang payag morag prisuhan.

“Uli na lang ta, uy, kay dag-om na baya! Hapit na pod alas singko,” ni Inting nga miatras.

“Kadali lang god. Tan-awon lang nato,” miusab ko pagsugyot.

Mipaduol si Loloy ug milili sa gamayng buslot. “Wa may tawo diri.”

Moduol unta ko, apan kalit may ulo nga miguho sa bentana. Itom kaayo ang iyang buhok, kalkag ug taas na. Pution ang iyang pamanit, apan lawom kaayo ang iyang mga mata. Mitutok siya nako.

“Anak ka ni Temyong?” lanog kaayo ang iyang tingog.

Midagan si Loloy pagkakita sa babaye. Misunod usab si Inting. Gusto sab kong modagan, apan wa nako malihok ang akong mga tiil.

“Anak ka ni Temyong?” subli sa babaye.

“Oo,” nagkurog akong mitubag. Nahinumdoman ko ang giingon sa akong Lola, nga Temyong ang ngalan sa akong papa. Apan nibiya kini dihang nagsamkon pa ang akong mama. Wa sad ko masayod kon asa na ang akong mama kay wa poy gisulti nako si Lola kundi ngalan lang ni Mama – Perla.

“Bantog ra nga parehas kaayo mog nawong!” sa babaye.

Nganong nakaila man siya kang Papa? Unsa may iyang nahibaw-an bahin sa akong mga ginikanan nga buang man siya? Pero tarong man siyang manulti karon. Nagkahibat lang gyud iyang nawong tungod kaha kay wala na siyay atiman sa iyang kaugalingon. Kinsa may tigpakaon niya?

Nagpasiplat ko sa iyang nawong. Naghilak siya.

“Kaila diay mo ni Papa?” nako pa.

Mihingos siya ug miyango. Dayon mitaghoy og usa ka huni nga nasinati ko kaayo. Ang huni mao sad ang kanunay nga taghuyon ni Lola. Mihinay ko og lihok, nangandam nga mopahilayo. Mihinay-hinay pod pagtaligsik, unya klaro nga kusog ang nagsingabot nga ulan.

“Kim, ako ang imong Mama Perla!” sangpit sa babaye.

Naabli ang akong mga ngabil, apan walay pulong nga migawas. Nahangangha ug nakalitan gyud ko. Sukad sa akong pagkamatngon og buot, wala gyud ko makakita kang Mama Perla. Apan karon, aniay buang nga miangkon nga siya kuno ang akong mama.

“Kim,” sangpit niyag balik. “Salamat sa Diyos nga nakakita ko sa akong anak! Unsaon man god nga nabuang man ko, mao nga naingon ani akong kahimtang. Pasayloa ko nga wala makaatiman nimo!”

Miduol ko og hinay sa bentana. Sa pagkatinuod gusto gyud ko makakita na sa akong mga ginikanan, apan wala gyud maghisgot si Lola nako.

“Mama Perla,” nalitok gayud nako ang mga pulong nga dugay nang gitipigan sa akong kasingkasing. Wala nako mapugngi ang paghilak. “Akong ingnon si Lola bahin ning atong panagkita. Magpakuyog ko niya inigbalik nako.”

Unya kalit mibundak ang ulan, inubanan sa dalugdog ug kilat. Mikalit pagbahakhak si Mama Perla. Mibalik ang iyang sakit sa utok. “Pahawa dinhi, yawaa ka! Labayon tikag tai karon!”

Midagan ko nga naghangos. Mitabok sa sapang nagkataas ang tubig. Taga-bagtak ra ni sa una, apan karon taga-paa na. Naligo na ko sa ulang samtang ang kangitngit mitukob sa nahabilin nga kahayag.

Paghiabot sa among balay, bunal ang gisugat ni Lola nako. Wala ko makapugong. Akong gisuginlan si Lola bahin ni Mama Perla. Nakita ko nga mitulo ang mga luha ni Lola nga misugilon sa tanang nanghitabo sa among pamilya. Nahibaw-an ko nga si Lola diay ang tighatod og pagkaon kang Mama. Misaad siya nga ugma ubanan ko niya ngadtong kang Mama.

Didto sa halayo nadunggan nako ang makusog nga dahunog sa baha nga morag mitumpag sa huyang nga bahin sa pangpang. Mao pa kini ang kinakusgan nga bul-og sa sapa nga akong nasinati. Nabalaka ako sa kahimtang ni Mama. Basin ang iyang prisuhan maanod sa sapa. Wala ko mahimutang ni mahikatulog sa kabalaka.

Sayong buntag na mituang ang ulan, apan kusog gihapon ang baha.

Nanglakaw mi si Lola nga nagdala og pagkaon. Nakit-an mi ni Inting ug ni Loloy nga miuban kanamo. Giingnan ko sila nga nakit-an na nako ang akong Mama. Nakig-ambit sila nako sa akong kalipay.

Nagkaduol na mi sa daplin sa sapa diin nahimutang ang payag ni Mama. Apan daw mobuto ang akong dughan sa kahinuklog. Haligi na lang ang among naabtan. Gianod sa baha ang payag, ang prisuhan ni Mama Perla sulod sa dugay nang panahon. Uban niini ang akong inahan nga bag-o ko lang nailhan.

Remember Me

2007-12-29T15:12:00.000+08:00

Remember me as the days go on
My friend, even if you're far away.
Just remember me though not all day
And I'll pray that you'll be okay.
But if time and destiny won't be kind,
It's better to leave my name behind,
And banish me away from your mind.

(originally written sometime in 1995)

Eighteen

2007-12-22T14:23:00.000+08:00

You listen to the children
as they guess your age
much to your delight
you let out a smile
as they return the favor
and revel in the thought
that their beautiful Ate
takes notice of them.

You turn to me
And stare deeper
Into my eyes and ask,
‘How old am I?’
and waited for answer.
I say eighteen
for you must have youth
always by your side.

* This is a birthday poem for Emily who celebrated her __th birthday last September. This is actually a repost from my old blogsite.

The Red Car

2007-12-21T12:38:00.000+08:00

Maggie’s cell phone rang. She picked it up and saw from the screen that it was her best friend Trina calling.

“Hey, where are you, Maggie dear?”

“I’m in a client’s meeting.”

“I have something to show you” Trina’s voice is clearly excited at the other end.

“A new boyfriend? I wouldn’t be surprised.”

“It’s better than a boyfriend. Let’s say, let’s meet up tonight at BTC. 7pm”

“Sure. See you then. This better be good” said a thrilled Maggie.

“And dinner is on me”. Then Maggie hung up.

Maggie hurriedly wrapped up her meeting with her audit client. She immediately packed her bag and left. It was still 5 pm and she thought it was best that she just go straight to BTC, shop and wait for Trina there. She walked past the gate and to the main road

ML Quezon Street in Maguikay, Mandaue was unusually not busy at this Friday afternoon. Very few tricycles passed the road. She had not seen a vacant taxi pass by in her five minutes of waiting. She became agitated and sweat began to roll on her forehead. She wiped them with her hankie.

There across the street, an old woman was waiting for a tricycle ride. She must probably be heading towards the city market as evidenced by the basket she carried. A tricycle passed by but only the backseat was vacant. The old woman refused. No other passengers gave up their seats. “Don’t let an old woman ride take the back seat”. She grumbled and just snubbed everyone.

The driver just smiled and then went his way. Maggie just shook her head. “Poor woman” she thought.

Another 2 minutes later, a Holiday taxi passed by but it had a passenger in it. She wondered why it slowed down near her. Then she saw a fast moving red car that swerved a little to its right, opposite the taxi. It hit the old woman, throwing her three meters away. Her head hit the cement pavement and blood flowed all over her face. But the driver of the red car did not stop, as if nothing happened.

Maggie eyes immediately focused on the car’s plate but she only saw the first letter and the last number: X and 3. The Holiday taxi driver quickly got down from his cab and ran towards the old woman. Maggie could not bear look at the bloodied lady. She closed her eyes for a couple of seconds, and turned pale.

“Call ERUF” the taxi driver shouted at her. She just stood there motionless. She doesn’t have ERUF’s number either. The taxi passenger got down and volunteered to call ERUF.

An empty cab passed by just as her senses returned to her. She immediately boarded. “BTC” she ordered the driver.

“Is the victim still alive?” the driver asked.

She just kept silent but took a quick glance at where the motionless victim was. A small crowd began to gather.

“Who bumped her? That taxi?”

“No” was her brief reply.

“Or was it that red car traveling opposite our direction? Its driver seemed not to be bothered at all. ”

Maggie just closed her eyes, trying to forget what she had just witnessed. She shivered at the sight of blood. The driver stopped talking too when he noticed that she was not interested in the conversation. He increased the volume of his stereo.

At BTC, Maggie stepped down from the taxi still nervous. She walked aimlessly at the malls and at the grocery store. It was 6:30 when she decided that she must stop walking. She ordered and paid for a hot cappuccino at Bo’s coffee and sat down at one of the outside tables facing the parking lot. She still had not gotten over the event that transpired in the afternoon. She could still picture the old woman’s bloodied face.

Her head began to ache. “I should call Trina and tell that I couldn’t meet her.” she thought. But before she picked up the phone, it rang. It’s Trina.

“Hey, Trina! Where are you? I’m not really feeling well today. I thought I’ll just go straight home and we’ll just meet tomorrow night.” She said with a voice still trembling and unsettled.

“I’m a stoplight away from BTC, Maggie. Are you in BTC?”

Maggie couldn’t seem to understand what Trina was saying. The stereo in her car was booming loud. “I’m here at Bo’s. I can’t hear you well.”

“Ok” Trina lowered the stereo’s volume. “Just wait for me. I’ll be there in a minute. Just one more turn. I’ll drive you home, baby.” Then she hung up.

Maggie gulped the last of her coffee. She felt nauseated and her temperature rising. Then a shining red car stopped in front of her. She glanced at its side bumper. There was a dent and a few dark spots. It’s probably blood. “This must be that bastard who hit the old woman and ran away” she thought.

The side window opened. “Hop in Maggie. This is my new car, the one I wanted to show you. I’ve been driving around the whole day.”

The words were not audible to Maggie anymore, but the face she saw belonged to Trina. There’s the booming stereo sound again. She was speechless as she resurveyed the car and viewed its front plate number: XCH 253. Then she felt her knees trembling, and her hands numbing. The world seemed to swirl around her. She felt her forehead then fainted in front of the red car.

Flowers For Rachel

2007-12-21T12:27:00.000+08:00

(Note: This is the first short story I wrote last year, after 17 years of silence.)

It was quarter past ten when Anton saw someone familiar passed by in front of the glass window outside Starbucks at Ayala Avenue. He was looking outside when this fair- skinned, long-legged, pretty figure caught his attention. He was about to gulp the last of his iced cappuccino. But he froze at what he saw.

"It can't be." he thought. "Rachel". He wiped his eyeglasses but the girl vanished in the crowd. He sat back on his chair and recalled the years back.

Jose Antonio Lucero, or fondly called Anton, knew Rachel since they were thirteen. They were classmates every year in high school back then at St. Michael’s Academy in Argao, Cebu. Despite his shyness and nerdy look, he was the best looking boy in class and many times voted as the ‘Prince Charming’. He was also a consistent honor student and never fell out of the top three.

Rachel Flores was the beauty queen type. She had this beautiful eyes, straight hair and enticing looks. She was slim and slender, and quite tall for a barrio girl. They said she got it from her father whom she never knew. She carried her mother’s family name for reasons known only to her mother and grandparents. She lived with her grannies while her mother worked in Manila. She was a permanent fixture in the town’s every beauty contest. And Anton never skipped any of the events, watching her, though hiding in some dark corridors.

Rachel knew from friends that he got a crush on her, as Anton was told. But he felt she just ignored him, and sometimes, made fun at his inability to act properly at her presence.

That last year in high school was something that he could not forget. He idolized her so much. He swore, almost everyday, at the school's comfort room that he loved Rachel. He prayed, wished, and hoped that somehow, somewhere, she would notice him.

Perhaps, she noticed him. It was the town's fiesta and Rachel was answering a side question.

"What will make you fall in love for a man?" She paused, and Anton felt as though Rachel was looking straight at him in that dark corner. He could see she winked at him before saying, "He should bring me flowers, everyday for a week. I love flowers...." He walked away not knowing why. But her words kept ringing on her head. Flowers.....

- -

"Excuse me sir, but are you Anton?" He realized that he had ordered sandwich and was not able to hear when his name was first called out.

"Yes, thank you!", was his reply to the smiling girl who brought him his order.

He hurried out of Starbucks hoping to catch a closer glimpse of the girl. "What if it's really Rachel?" he wondered. At the corner of the block he saw her. Yes, it was Rachel. He moved closer, and was about to call out her name when a black and heavily tinted Mitsubishi Lancer opened its doors in front of her and she quickly jumped in.

The next day, on the same hour and on the same table, he waited. He brought a small bouquet of fresh flowers. He planned to surprise her. "If she's married, I won't care. I'll still give this flower to her" he thought.

He can still remember that it was on a day before their graduation, friends prodded him to give her flowers. He was told that Rachel knew that he had a crush on her. And if he dared giving her flowers on stage on their graduation day, she might consider becoming his girlfriend.

"What a dare?" he thought. The idea scared him. But he did bring her a bouquet that day, without anyone noticing it. He had her lola prepare it, telling her that he'll give it to his favorite teacher. He hid it underneath his long toga, waiting for the right opportunity. Her time to go on stage came, and his close friends took a final look at him. He just bowed his head, and later threw the bouquet in the nearest trash can.

- -

Midnight came, and still no sign of her passing by Starbucks. He had emptied his iced cappuccino an hour ago, forgetting how it tasted. He walked out of Starbucks and again dropped the bouquet in the nearest garbage bin before heading for home.

Friday night is a busy night for everyone. He just got out from the office on his 2-10pm duty as one of the managers in a call center at RCBC plaza. He proceeded to Starbucks. He can't help thinking about her again. Four years spent at UP Dilliman wasn't enough to get rid of her from his system. He avoided other girls hoping that one day they'd cross path again. He heard that her family moved to Manila days after their high school graduation. And that she went to some school in Malate but dropped out on third year. He spent some days visiting her school hoping he'd chance upon her but to no avail.

He gave himself only up to the end of this month to blot Rachel out from his mind and move on. Until fate, or whatever it is, that brought them on this same path again. Tonight, he only brought a long-stemmed rose. There will be no bouquet. He easily hid it in his jacket but protected the petals. He figured that if she'll ever show up, at least he had a flower on hand.

Thirty minutes past ten and his iced cappuccino is half empty. Then he saw her again, wearing a red dress. He jumped to his feet and chased her outside.

"Rachel" he dared called out. "Rachel" he repeated, unsure if he was heard.

It took a few steps more, in an empty side of the street, when she looked back. There was a surprise look on her face. The glowing eyes, the pretty face, and the enticing looks were all there. She stood motionless for a minute, studying this guy who knew her name.

"It's me Anton. Remember?"

"Oh hi! Hmmm… What brought you here? You've become more handsome since the last time I saw you." She let out a naughty smile.

Anton didn't know how to react. He was elated that this girl whom he adored and dreamed of for years still recognized him.

She reached out a cigarette from her bag, and began to smoke. "What do you do lately?" she asked puffing smoke in the air.

"I'm a manager of a call center up there." pointing at the RCBC plaza. "Still single and available. How about you?"

She laughed. He wondered how he was able to speak up in front of her. But this time, he had all the guts. This is Manila, and he is no longer the shy province-guy. "Manager, you must be rich nowadays" she quipped.

He shook his head smiling. He was eager to talk to her. "Are you free tonight? Can we talk and reminisce our high school days a little?” He bravely said. God knows how much he missed her. "Here, I brought this flower for you". At last, the time came for him to have the courage to give her at least a flower.

She immediately took it, and smelled its freshness. "You must have taken my joke seriously back in high school then. I saw you threw away the bouquet you hid in your toga".

He was shocked and quite embarrassed. But still he managed to say, “I have no confidence then.”

"I really love flowers. Perhaps, if you took the dare, I might have taken you seriously then." There was another puff of smoke from her mouth. "Times have changed Anton". The smiling face turned into a serious look. "I am no longer the Rachel you once knew."

"What do you mean?" There was a concerned look on his face. “Are you married?”

"A client would pick me up in five minutes. If you want me for the whole night, that'll be three thousand pesos, discounted rate just for you. I'll give you my number if you're interested."