...I sat there on my bed, waiting for that sound.
But the sound I heard was not what I expected.
I heard the hammer hit the firing pin. But then nothing happened.
I opened it and checked if it was a miss fire.
The bullet in the chamber was hit squarely in the center of its primer.
I shrugged it as a dud. So I tried it again with a new bullet.
I closed my eyes real tight and pulled the trigger.
"CLICK"
That was all I heard.
I opened my eyes and asked myself out loud,
"where's the bang?"
I sat there for a moment staring at the gun and savouring the taste of burnt powder,
brass, steel and a slight stinging from the cleaning agent dad used to clean the gun.
"Revolver' as he proudly called it.
I shook myself out of my reverie. I left the "revolver" on the bed and went out of my room.
The house was still quiet. I guess mom wasn't home yet and, well, dad died and was buried
a week ago.
I pulled out an old leather jacket from my dad's stuff in the closet and went out of the house
to find another way to end my misery. I was up a few blocks, walking, when I noticed it.
Silence.
This city couldn't keep silent in the middle of the night up to the wee hours of the morning.
Yet, it was silent now, between three and four in the afternoon.
I looked around me and saw no jeepneys. Some of the stores were open but there was no one
inside them.
No costumers, no clerks.
I looked around some more, no sea of people moving on the streets except maybe for a
few homeless people minding their own business.
I went inside the Internet cafe where I usually hang out. It was deserted, but the computers were still on and running.
A shiver wend down my spine as I felt a presence around me that I could not see.
I backed up out of the door, spinning around as I felt the breeze of the outside.
Still, I felt the presence all around me.
Panicked, I ran aimlessly, few of the homeless people staring at me and the neighborhood wacko screaming at me.
I found myself running towards my mother's office. This, too, was abandoned.
I started to look around and I calmed down when I saw a janitor doing his business with the floor. I approached him and asked him what was happening. He said nothing, like he didn't even hear me. If he did, he didn't show any sign of it.
I was starting to cry when I felt a shiver down my spine again.
I spun around to see if someone was behind me. Nothing, just the blank empty silence.
I turned to the janitor but he was no longer there. Not even the mop or the bucket or any sign of them.
I was scared now and ran out city hall.
I ran 'till I found myself in front of our house. I stepped in side hoping that it's familiar confines will keep me safe from what made everyone disappear.
But as I sank in the sofa, I started to hear voices. I couldn't understand what they were saying but I knew they were talking to each other.
Then I heard a howl of pain as if someone in great grief.
Then I felt the presence again. The presence of something I could not see and begin to understand. But I could now hear them and sense them.
Quietly, I sat still, observing as the howls turned into sobbing. Then the voices I've been hearing swelled, as if more and more voices came in o join them. And the presence grew stronger.
I felt the presence sink beside me on the sofa, sobbing and wheezing for air.
I was petrified when it called my name. As if calling out to me to come to it.
I started to run for the door but I couldn't go through it as fast as I planned.
As if there was a sea of people blocking the door was that I had to push my way through it.
I finally and started running. I don't know where, but it seemed like the best idea.
I kept running and running 'till I just dropped.
I sat down on the pavement and as I looked up, I was in front of an abandoned apartment building.
Then I felt the presence brushing against me, over and over.
I ran across the street to an open diner. There, I felt the presence stronger, the voices louder.
I ran out and tried the other open establishments, they were all the same.
I found myself running up the fire exit of the abandoned apartment building.
I climbed in through the window.
I curled up into a ball in one of the corners.
Waiting, observing If I felt any presence.
Hours later I decided it was safe in here.
I don't know what time it is now, I looked out the window and everything is closed now.
I here noises on the street, like roars, screams and voices but I don't see who or what they are.
It's already dark out side but some how I don't feel tired nor hungry. All I feel is fear.
I'm writing this so I could keep record of what is happening. All I had was this pen and no paper so I'm writing this on my dad's jacket.
I intend to find out what happened. Tomorrow, at first light, I'll go back out there again and ask the homeless people what they know. And if I never get back, I hope someone would find this jacket and look for my mom.
(TABLOID NEWS)
"...At around four thirty yesterday afternoon. Mrs. Rodriguez, a government employee, the widow of a police officer and a mother of a teenage boy, shook the city with her cries as police escorted her to her son's bedroom..."
"...The police received a call from neighbors saying they heard what sounded like gunshots. Police discovered the teenage Rodriguez dead on his bed with his fathers 38.mm. revolver. Although the scene suggested suicide and witnesses claim that they saw no one else with Rodriguez when he had come home and no one came out after the shots, Police are suspecting foul play..."
"...'If the boy shot himself, he could have never made the second shot,' police said. 'As the scene reveals two slugs with brain matter, two empty shells in the revolver and two exit wounds at the back of the boy's head going in different angles..."
"...the gun was still in the boy's hand when they found him but police still say it could have been planted..."
"...Michael Rodriguez was sixteen years old and a student of ...."
-Orville "chubby" Basas
