"He who strikes a man so that he dies shall surely be put to death" (Exodus 21:12).
Ang karumaldumal na krimen na ginawa sa Maguindanao ay labag, hindi lamang sa batas ng tao, sa batas din ng Diyos. Ang mga kapatid nating mga manunulat, media men, abugado, politiko at mga kaibigan ay magkakasamang pinaslang.
"Whoever sheds man’s blood, by man his blood shall be shed; for in the image of God He made man." Genesis 9:6
Sa lumipas na limang araw, naging kulay dugo ang kulay ng bawat pahayagan. Ang lumalabas sa balita sa T.V. at radio ay nakakakilabot. Mahigit sa dalawmpung Journalist ang pinatay. Ang mismong mga naglalabas ng mga balita; Mga abugadong nagtatanggol sa atin; at mga babaeng walang kalaban-laban.
"...for he is God’s minister, an avenger to execute wrath on him who practices evil" (Romans 13:4)
Ang ginawa ng gobyerno ay mas masakit.
Ang nakikita ko sa mga sine ay kung may mga ganitong nangyari, nagsisigaw na ang pangulo at sinasabing "I want you to find who ever did this and punish them... punish them hard." sa mga pulis, militar at F.B.I.
Pero dito sa Pinas, sy*7! Anak ng ulupong! Nagdeclare lang ang pangulo ng day of mourning?
Anak ng tutpik talaga! Sa halip na kumilos ang mga AFP (armed forces of the Philippines) pinatagal pa ang paghuli kay Ampatuan na alam ng lahat na Siya ang prime suspect sa Krimen.
Isang linggo ang nakalipas ay nakita na ng 601st Brigade ng Army na may grupo ng kalalakihan na nagaaligid sa Ampatuan, Maguindanao. Ang masaklap, noong nag-request ang mga biktima (Mangudadatu) ng Police escort para mag-file ng COC (certificate of candidacy), tinanggihan ng PNP.
Palakpakan naman natin ang AFP. "to serve and protect" ang motto nila! TO SERVE AND PROTECT THE HIGHEST BIDDER! May private army na nga si Ampatuan, kampi pa ang Philipine Army. SY*7!
"But if a man come presumptuously upon his neighbor, to slay him with guile, thou shalt take him from Mine altar, that he may die." Exodus 21:14,
Sa ngayon, alam natin na natagalan ang pag huli kay Ampatuan. Bakit? Ganito kasi. Kaalyado siya ng pinakamalaking mamamatay tao sa Pinas. Si Gloria Arroyo. Sa Maguindanao nangyari, noong last election, na naging Zero (0) ang boto sa mga hindi kaalyado ni GMA. Dats why parang walang pakundangan pumatay si Ampatuan. Dahil ang amo niya, wxpert sa extra judicial murder.
Ang panawagan:
Sama-sama po tayong mga Kristyanong mag martsa at sa malakas na boses, isigaw ang ating galit at hingin ang hustisya! Kristyano tayo at hindi dapat nating bale walain ang karumaldumal na krimeng ito.
Philippine Christian University, Kung totoong Kristyano kayo, huwag niyong palampasin ang mga ganitong gawaain.
" learn to do good;
seek justice,
correct oppression;
bring justice to the fatherless,
plead the widow’s cause. "
Isaiah 1:17
Friday, November 27
Saturday, November 14
pages of a fantasy - High
Adrian woke up startled by a voice. All traces of sleep rushed away as he lay still -- his senses heightened. Listening for any sound in his room.
Seconds ticked into minutes with him straining his ears to hear the faintest sound an intruder might make. He lay still for a few more moments before he decided he was safe and alone. He sat up. That's when he realized that his nose was bleeding.
He grabbed his blanket and wrapped it around his waist and ran outside his room towards the bathroom. He stooped over the bathroom sink and let the faucet and let it run washing his nose constantly as he let it bleed out.
When he steeped out of the bathroom, he realized that the lights to the apartment parlor was on. His house mate, Aeron,was already awake, staring at him.
Aeron was a tall young man with a heavy built body. He had an almost flawless face with only a few laugh lines on the side of his deep brown eyes, that said that he was a happy and smiling fellow. But, tonight, Aeron wasn't smiling. The dark bags under his eyes and the ashtray full of cigarette butts told Adrian that he was was awake for a long time now.
Aeron, on the other hand, was studying Adrian. Adrian was almost the opposite of Aeron. He was a thin young man with only a few inches shorter that Aeron. His chest was covered by a thin layer of black fine hair. His face, usually clear and bold and the eyes that were always a view of the great happy times were now ashen and dark with a sign of worry and confusion.
It was Adrian who broke the silence with a question. "Why are you up so early?"
"Dude! It's really hard to sleep with you screaming in the other room like some love drunk Lunatic." Aeron, though he tried, could not hide the tone of concern in his voice.
Adrian flopped down on the chair in front of the small table, right across Aeron and he reached for the pack of cigarettes on the middle of the table just as Aeron was putting out his latest cigarette.
As Adrian was lighting his cigarette, Aeron spoke, now with a hint of teasing in his voice. "So... Who's 'Sarah'? have I met her?"
Adrian with a half smile, showing more confusion than amusement said, "Even I haven't a Sarah."
"Then why, pray tell, were you screaming..."--Aeron help up his hands and waved them around-- "Sarah!!"
"I'm sorry I woke you."
"You should be sorry you got me worried, you jack ass. Now, who's Sarah?"
"No idea. How long have I been 'screaming Sarah'?"
"A little over one and a half. I was irritated for the first hour. Got worried when you went quiet."
"Sorry about that. What time is it?"
"Five. Just enough for an hour nap. We won't be needed 'till nine. We are our own bosses."
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At around eight am, the two were ready to set out for another day of renovating beat up buildings ad looking for potential clients. It was a gloomy Saturday. The air felt cold and there was a little drizzle. The rain was thin; instead of falling, the drops were floating aimlessly, going whichever way the breeze would take them. A sign that, both men knew, meant summer was coming.
Aeron wore his 'NFL'-plastic-leather black jacket over a brown 'Siemens' Soccer shirt, blue denim jeans and a pair of Jordan Airs -- although Aeron never had once set out for sports. And the final touch was a 'Neo-style-Matrix sunglasses. The day was gloomy but Aeron believed that if you're 'cool': the sun shines 24/7.
Adrian, on the other hand, has always gone with the grunge look. He wore a pair of vintage--really old-- red Chuck Taylor sneakers; a pair of fading, blue jeans noticeably ripped at the right knee; a red and white horizontally striped shirt. His hair was thick and black as night but never did he comb it. He prefers the messed up look. And, now, as the circumstance calls for it, he wore and old, beaten up, brown, leather jacket.
He remembered when he first found the jacket. He and Aeron were checking a project a few months ago. They were checking the pipes and the electrical wires of an apartment building they were going to restore. When he ventured on himself to check one of the rooms, it was there he found it. Or rather, he stumbled over it. He hit the floor hard and had his nose bleeding--my nose broke my fall. Cursing, he got up, staining his favorite Nirvana shirt with his blood. He admired the jacket when he picked it up and dusted it off.
This would only be the second time he would wear this jacket. He blushed as he caught himself getting excited by the thought.
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As Aron and Adrian were commuting to their make shift office the affectionately referred to 'HQ', Aron sat next to a beautifully shaped woman who wore enough perfume that Adrian could smell her even though he sat between Aeron and the window. Aeron was busy staring at the woman's cleavage through his sunglasses that he did not notice the woman staring at their direction. Adrian was chuckling hard and had to elbow Aeron on his side to break his concentration.
"Nice jacket." The woman said.
She had thick blackish-brown hair that ended in curls at her shoulders. She was wearing a 'hoodie', open at the top, over a plunging neckline blouse. She wore tight black jeans and a pair of doll shoes. Her face resembled a beautiful Mexican soap opera star from the nineties.
"Thanks! It's an original NFL Ja..." Aeron started but both his voice and his smile vanished when the woman flashed him an eyebrow raised in confusion.
"Yeah, yours too. But I was talking about his." The woman said pointing at Adrian and trying to be polite. She failed.
Adrian was now laughing, mouth open with no sound coming out of it. Aeron blushed bright pink and kicked Adrian on the shin.
"Which are you: a cop or a poet?" The woman asked making them both turn to her with a look of confusion.
"Which would you prefer?" Aeron finally blurted out after a few awkward moments.
"Although you're interesting and attractive in your own way but I'm more interested in your friends jacket."
"Ouch!" both men said in a duet that seemed to the woman, quite rehearsed.
"Sorry for being blunt, I'm Summer." She held out her hand for Adrian but Aeron took it in his, and gave her knuckles a light peck.
"Aeron. John Aeron." He said trying to imitate James Bond's charisma. Failing miserably.
Adrian was now wheezing for air in his laughter at Aeron's James-Bond-like introduction of himself.
Summer, with an authentic grin on her face let Aeron hold on to her hand.
"Well, John Aeron. You're hot, attractive and a funny guy. under any other circumstance, I would probably get you on a date but I'm really intrigued about your friend here."
Now in spasms from all his laughing at Aerons expense, Adrian Held out his hand for Summer and said: "My name's Adrian. I'm neither a cop nor a poet. I'm a boring, under board, engineering graduate set on restoring every broken down building I could find. Nice meeting you, Summer. I always love a good laugh in the expense of my friend here. Thank you very much."
"Oh, I'm sorry. I thought, with the badge number and all the verses, you were a cop with a sense of literary arts." Summer took his hand and smiled apologetically.
Adrian spent the rest of their commute laughing at Aeron making a fool of himself trying to impress Summer with his literary knowledge. Mostly, he got the poets' names mixed up with each other's lives and works. but apparently, it worked. When Adrian reminded Aeron that they'll be getting of at the next stop, Summer Gave Aeron her number without Aeron even asking for it.
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As Aeron was counting their collectibles from a burned up art shop they recently converted to a seven eleven, Adrian was phasing around. Killing time while waiting for the call that would say if the people they sub-contracted would agree with their contract. He got to thinking about what summer said.
So, this jacket belonged to a cop. So it is a badge number. I always thought it was some sort of tracking code the tailor put in. I should have figured it out-- what with "Makati's Finest" embroidered on a stub on the inside of the jacket. Well, it could have been the tailor shop's name. Or maybe I'm just that naive.
So, this Michael could be a poet. An unsung artist. Yeah, he could be.
Adrian picked up the jacket and reread the entries and verses again.
Michael ain't no cop. His dad was. Maybe this kid had more than one screw loose. Maybe he got so high that he started hearing things. I wonder what happened to this kid? There wasn't any record of anybody named Rodriguez that lived in that building. That apartment was only operational for two years. and it was abandoned for around ten years. Maybe he and his friends used it as a pot house or something.
Wonder where this kid is now? This Michael. And what did he do to a certain Cherry?
It was then that a totally not connectible thought came to his mind.
Who the hell is Sarah?
Adrian was pulled out of his reverie when Aeron yelled at him.
"Adrian! Where the hell are you drifting to?"
Adrian flashed him an apologetic grin and asked: "Are we good to go on that apartment building?"
"The people we sub-contracted are already there."
"To the 'Dork Mobile,!"
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"Dork Mobile" was an understatement. It was a 1966 Chevrolet El Camino Adrian pulled out from a car grave yard. Its paint was pealing off and Adrian thought he'd save it with a ton of Polly ester body filler. Now it looks like some thing Godzilla scraped with it's tail. The front bumper was missing and it had only two working head lights on the right side of the car. The roof had dents the size of Adrian's knees and had holes that he covered with duck tape and body filler. Adrian had an eye for the arts and beauty. What he lacked was the ability to be artistic.
Adrian also thought that he could fix the engine himself. He gave up on that when he realized that what he was calling the 'intake valves' were actually just the valve stems for the exhaust valves. Aeron talked him into calling in expert mechanics.
The 'Dork Mobile' was now running in good condition. But the engine is still old and damaged from wear and tear that it gave out a back fire ever now and then. and less could be said for the interior of the car. Adrian said that it would take an army of upholsters to fix the chairs, a mob of electricians to fix the interior electronics and whole lot of money. Later, they just figured to be content on it running.
They were driving on Taft Avenue to finally get to work and get some 'hard earned cash. Aeron was driving, reciting the lyrics to Bulls on Parade of the band Rage Against The Machine while Adrian was staring out the windows. Flipping about the pages of his memories, which he often does, and unconsciously starts to flip through the pages of his fantasy.
He thinking about last night. He recalled him arguing with his girl friend on the phone. Arguing about things that meant mostly nothing. He let out a little chuckle but Aeron barely noticed it. They arguing about what she should do to loose weight. He kept saying that she wasn't fat, but a woman would rarely take a man's opinion about her weight. The argument got lost and they ended up fighting about something he could quite grasp. He hung up on her and went out to the seven eleven outlet to buy a pack of cigarettes. It was the first time he wore the leather jacket. When he got there, he realized it was pass midnight. They were arguing for hours. He spent a few moments admiring their work on the seven eleven that used to be an old art shop.
His thoughts strayed again. He was now wondering what that shop looked like and who ran it. He heard that the owner burned it himself and killed himself in that art shop. His imagination took over and he thought about what it would be like to feel your skin burn. He also thought about what it would feel like seeing your art burn and even more, burning it yourself.
Adrian played with the thought of being an artist. He wished he had the hands that could make the beauty and aesthetics he envisions. To be an artist that could mold clay and influence lives; hands that could paint color into life's dull moments. he couldn't help and think how his girlfriend would treat him if he was. Would he even have noticed her if he was? He thought artists have a long line of women on his doorstep. It might be dead wrong but that was how he thought artists to be.
He started reading a verse from the sleeve of the jacket that hurled him into another flip through the pages of his fantasies.
He saw himself sitting down on a grassy Field with his back against a tree. His girlfriend sat in front of him with her back against his chest. He had his arms around her. He presses his cheek against her straight black hair. The sweet smell of her hair filling his nostrils. He whispers a verse into her ear, letting his warm breath blow against her ear and makes her giggle. She turns to him and gives him a soft kiss on the lips--soft yet deep and passionate.
"Whack! Right on the top of his head!"
Aeron had hit him on the top of his head with a roll of plans they have for the apartment building, that pulled him out of his daydream.
"What was that for?!" Adrian sounded hurt. Even betrayed. And the whack didn't even hurt.
Aeron felt hurt, too, but he knew better than to raise his voice.
"I was talking on and on and you weren't even listening. That hurts you know."
"Oh." Adrian felt the sting of Aeron's words and also the sting of his ignoring him. "Sorry. I was having a daydream. What were you saying to me?"
Aeron let out a laugh that sounded notorious. The kind of laugh you would expect to hear from an evil scientist from old sci-fi movies.
"I was talking about that girl, Summer. But there's no time for that now. We're here. We arrived two minutes ago."
Adrian looked out of the window and started laughing himself. But when he got out of the El Camino, he felt the feeling of foreboding and being at home.
..................................................................................................................
Adrian thought hard but still couldn't believe he spent the whole hour's drive daydreaming. He kept apologizing to Aeron on their way up to the second floor of the apartment building. On the top of the stairs, they were met by six people. Two of which they had already worked with before. One had a special place in his heart.
Her name was Carmina but would only answer to the name "Mina." She has this weird thought that if you used Carmina, that meant you were mad at her. She had flawless brown skin. She had straight hair that flowed down to end an outside wave at the tip of her breast. She had a figure that Adrian called voluptuous but she herself called fat. She wore a body hugging, blue shirt that said "STUNTMAN" on the back that made her look bold yet sexy. Her eyes were almond shaped--brown and deep, a button nose and a crooked smile that sent chills up and down Adrian's spine. He loves her and she knows it. But the look in her eyes said that she has not yet gotten over the argument they had last night.
The other was Joseph Drake; He preferred to be called Jake. Jake was a thin young fellow with a shaved head and a bushy goatee. He wore Round-rimmed "John Lennon" glasses that made him look older and timed. He wore his favorite White-shirt-blue-jeans-black-sneakers-outfit. Adrian and Aeron didn't know much about Jake's personal life, but they knew that could count on him and he would do a good job at whatever he's set to. Jake took care of the legal stuff. He was as under-the-table-out-of-the-books employee and he saw to it that only the best for the job will be sub-contracted for a project of the A&A. Jake introduced the four other men with them.
There was Carl-- the master electrician. A medium built young man with straight long hair and a well-defined face that switched on Adrian's insecurities.
There was Travis-- the pipe expert. A strong middle aged man with almost graying hair.
There was Joel-- the plaster and carpentry. Also middle aged yet a tad shorter and thinner than Travis.
And there was Luie-- the fixture and furniture guy. He seemed well out of place. He was the only one wearing slacks and a long sleeved polo shirt. It made him look like he was the one who was sub-contracting everyone.
"And of course, dear Mina here, will be doing the interior design and facade. Jake finished the introduction with Mina, stating each qualification and competence but Aeron and Adrian learned long ago how to ignore Jake's Babbling. They learned to catch the name and the specialty and did not bother to hear their resume. Not that Jake bore them but because they learned to trust Jake's judgment.
Adrian was staring straight into Mina's eyes with full apology. Her eyes answered 'we'll talk later'.
Aeron took the group to see the all the rooms and bit by bit told them what A&A envisioned for the building. They progressed deliberately slow and after all the rooms were shown, Aeron took them to the reception area and showed them the plans Adrian and Aeron had worked on and discussed it with the group. When he turned to clarify something with Adrian, it was then He realized he wasn't there.
"He hasn't been with us since the second floor." Jake stated.
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Adrian found himself drawn to the room where he found the jacket. He fell behind and stayed in that room when Aeron was showing the others the apartment building. He felt warm and quiet in that room. He felt like all his troubles melted away in that room and he was left with himself to figure out his life.
Adrian took off the jacket and started reading everything again.
This must be where he wrote it. He imagined the city. This place is too far for me to run from the city hall, but just a few blocks from the transit. What were you going through, Michael?
He moved towards the window, he looked down on a ladder and a two-foot square platform. Below it were the busy streets. Noises of jeepney and cars and the incoherent voices of the people. He closed his eyes and listened.
What, Michael? What was the presence?
He was pulled out from his reverie when he heard Mina's voice.
"What are you doing?"
"I was just thinking." He turned to mina with a smile that was erased when he saw the expression on Mina's face.
"What happened to you?" Mina looked shocked and her voice full of fear and concern.
"What?"
"Your nose." Mina moved towards him and he touched his nose.
It was then that he realized that his upper lip to the left side of his chin was covered in blood. And so was the window sill. And his blood was dry.
"I'm okay."
"What were you doing here?! What happened?!"
"I just fell behind to think. I'm okay, really. You should catch up with Aeron and the others. you should see the whole building."
Mina placed her palm on Adrian's neck, then his cheek. Adrian reveled under her touch.
"Oh, Adi!" The tone of concern was strong in her voice. "We're done here. It's three o'clock."
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It was around 6pm when the three got off the bus--Aeron, Adrian and Mina. Mina made it clear to both of them that she was going to spend the night with Adrian just in case more weird stuff would happen. Aeron told her about Adrian screaming in his sleep. "And if he screams 'Sarah' again, I'll cut his balls off and nail 'em to his door." Mina threatened with more concern that jealousy.
they walked in the seven eleven on their way home to buy a six pack. The branch manager met them. His name was Jim: a stout and short man with his hair thinning at the top of his head. His eyes shown the all the hardship he's been through--sad eyes.
"Hey Aeron! Remember that girl that was always across the street, staring while yous guys was fixing up this place?" Jim said winking at mina.
"The hot chick? Yeah. Did she come around looking for me?" Aeron's joke didn't receive a chuckle from Jim.
"They found her dead this morning in her room. Poor kid. She was gonna take the bar exams too."
"Oh." Aeron felt a bit of guilt from his joke.
"Turns out that she know the guy that owned the art shop. They found a lot of sketches of his face in her room."
"Too bad." Aeron said, quite lost for words.
"Yeah. Poor Sarah." Jim said as he turned and walked away.
"Excuse me, What?" Adrian now at the counter over heard Jim.
It was Aeron who answered. "He said 'Sarah'. Last night. She knew the art shop."
Aeron turned and saw both Adrian and Mina's faces having the same look that he had. Fear and shock.
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When the three arrived at Adrian and Aeron's apartment, mina went straight to Aeron's computer in the apartment's parlor. They discussed the discovery while walking home.
From what Aeron and Adrian knew, the art shop was owned by a certain Khael Reyes and as Mina was waiting for the computer applications to load, her fingers were tensed and excited to type the name.
She typed the name "Khael Reyes" on the search engine. The results were not much. She clicked on the link at the top of the list and the screen showed an art blog page.
The entry talked about Khael's art, it's critiques and Khael's background. Skimming through the words displayed on the screen, Adrian saw what they were looking for -- a link.
Adrian reread an entry on the jacket and got more excited.
"Search for Cherry Ann Reyes." The excitement in Adrian's voice took Mina by surprise.
"The sister? Why?"
Adrian showed her the entry on the jacket and she quickly typed the name on the search engine. There were only three results. Two from social network sites and one from a tabloid news paper. She clicked on the link to the news paper.
They both read the report slowly.
People can drown in a tub but it usually involves another person drowning her. Mina thought to herself when she understood the implications that her mind conjured up while she was reading.
"Now try Michael Rodriguez."
"And who the hell is that?" Mina asked while she was typing the name on the search engine.
"It's the guy who wrote on this jacket. I think."
They were now looking at another tabloid newspaper article about Michael's death.
"If it was suicide; how did he manage to shoot himself twice in the head?" Mina thought out loud. Adrian answered her question by reading her an entry on the jacket.
Seconds ticked into minutes with him straining his ears to hear the faintest sound an intruder might make. He lay still for a few more moments before he decided he was safe and alone. He sat up. That's when he realized that his nose was bleeding.
He grabbed his blanket and wrapped it around his waist and ran outside his room towards the bathroom. He stooped over the bathroom sink and let the faucet and let it run washing his nose constantly as he let it bleed out.
When he steeped out of the bathroom, he realized that the lights to the apartment parlor was on. His house mate, Aeron,was already awake, staring at him.
Aeron was a tall young man with a heavy built body. He had an almost flawless face with only a few laugh lines on the side of his deep brown eyes, that said that he was a happy and smiling fellow. But, tonight, Aeron wasn't smiling. The dark bags under his eyes and the ashtray full of cigarette butts told Adrian that he was was awake for a long time now.
Aeron, on the other hand, was studying Adrian. Adrian was almost the opposite of Aeron. He was a thin young man with only a few inches shorter that Aeron. His chest was covered by a thin layer of black fine hair. His face, usually clear and bold and the eyes that were always a view of the great happy times were now ashen and dark with a sign of worry and confusion.
It was Adrian who broke the silence with a question. "Why are you up so early?"
"Dude! It's really hard to sleep with you screaming in the other room like some love drunk Lunatic." Aeron, though he tried, could not hide the tone of concern in his voice.
Adrian flopped down on the chair in front of the small table, right across Aeron and he reached for the pack of cigarettes on the middle of the table just as Aeron was putting out his latest cigarette.
As Adrian was lighting his cigarette, Aeron spoke, now with a hint of teasing in his voice. "So... Who's 'Sarah'? have I met her?"
Adrian with a half smile, showing more confusion than amusement said, "Even I haven't a Sarah."
"Then why, pray tell, were you screaming..."--Aeron help up his hands and waved them around-- "Sarah!!"
"I'm sorry I woke you."
"You should be sorry you got me worried, you jack ass. Now, who's Sarah?"
"No idea. How long have I been 'screaming Sarah'?"
"A little over one and a half. I was irritated for the first hour. Got worried when you went quiet."
"Sorry about that. What time is it?"
"Five. Just enough for an hour nap. We won't be needed 'till nine. We are our own bosses."
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At around eight am, the two were ready to set out for another day of renovating beat up buildings ad looking for potential clients. It was a gloomy Saturday. The air felt cold and there was a little drizzle. The rain was thin; instead of falling, the drops were floating aimlessly, going whichever way the breeze would take them. A sign that, both men knew, meant summer was coming.
Aeron wore his 'NFL'-plastic-leather black jacket over a brown 'Siemens' Soccer shirt, blue denim jeans and a pair of Jordan Airs -- although Aeron never had once set out for sports. And the final touch was a 'Neo-style-Matrix sunglasses. The day was gloomy but Aeron believed that if you're 'cool': the sun shines 24/7.
Adrian, on the other hand, has always gone with the grunge look. He wore a pair of vintage--really old-- red Chuck Taylor sneakers; a pair of fading, blue jeans noticeably ripped at the right knee; a red and white horizontally striped shirt. His hair was thick and black as night but never did he comb it. He prefers the messed up look. And, now, as the circumstance calls for it, he wore and old, beaten up, brown, leather jacket.
He remembered when he first found the jacket. He and Aeron were checking a project a few months ago. They were checking the pipes and the electrical wires of an apartment building they were going to restore. When he ventured on himself to check one of the rooms, it was there he found it. Or rather, he stumbled over it. He hit the floor hard and had his nose bleeding--my nose broke my fall. Cursing, he got up, staining his favorite Nirvana shirt with his blood. He admired the jacket when he picked it up and dusted it off.
This would only be the second time he would wear this jacket. He blushed as he caught himself getting excited by the thought.
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As Aron and Adrian were commuting to their make shift office the affectionately referred to 'HQ', Aron sat next to a beautifully shaped woman who wore enough perfume that Adrian could smell her even though he sat between Aeron and the window. Aeron was busy staring at the woman's cleavage through his sunglasses that he did not notice the woman staring at their direction. Adrian was chuckling hard and had to elbow Aeron on his side to break his concentration.
"Nice jacket." The woman said.
She had thick blackish-brown hair that ended in curls at her shoulders. She was wearing a 'hoodie', open at the top, over a plunging neckline blouse. She wore tight black jeans and a pair of doll shoes. Her face resembled a beautiful Mexican soap opera star from the nineties.
"Thanks! It's an original NFL Ja..." Aeron started but both his voice and his smile vanished when the woman flashed him an eyebrow raised in confusion.
"Yeah, yours too. But I was talking about his." The woman said pointing at Adrian and trying to be polite. She failed.
Adrian was now laughing, mouth open with no sound coming out of it. Aeron blushed bright pink and kicked Adrian on the shin.
"Which are you: a cop or a poet?" The woman asked making them both turn to her with a look of confusion.
"Which would you prefer?" Aeron finally blurted out after a few awkward moments.
"Although you're interesting and attractive in your own way but I'm more interested in your friends jacket."
"Ouch!" both men said in a duet that seemed to the woman, quite rehearsed.
"Sorry for being blunt, I'm Summer." She held out her hand for Adrian but Aeron took it in his, and gave her knuckles a light peck.
"Aeron. John Aeron." He said trying to imitate James Bond's charisma. Failing miserably.
Adrian was now wheezing for air in his laughter at Aeron's James-Bond-like introduction of himself.
Summer, with an authentic grin on her face let Aeron hold on to her hand.
"Well, John Aeron. You're hot, attractive and a funny guy. under any other circumstance, I would probably get you on a date but I'm really intrigued about your friend here."
Now in spasms from all his laughing at Aerons expense, Adrian Held out his hand for Summer and said: "My name's Adrian. I'm neither a cop nor a poet. I'm a boring, under board, engineering graduate set on restoring every broken down building I could find. Nice meeting you, Summer. I always love a good laugh in the expense of my friend here. Thank you very much."
"Oh, I'm sorry. I thought, with the badge number and all the verses, you were a cop with a sense of literary arts." Summer took his hand and smiled apologetically.
Adrian spent the rest of their commute laughing at Aeron making a fool of himself trying to impress Summer with his literary knowledge. Mostly, he got the poets' names mixed up with each other's lives and works. but apparently, it worked. When Adrian reminded Aeron that they'll be getting of at the next stop, Summer Gave Aeron her number without Aeron even asking for it.
...................................................................................................................
As Aeron was counting their collectibles from a burned up art shop they recently converted to a seven eleven, Adrian was phasing around. Killing time while waiting for the call that would say if the people they sub-contracted would agree with their contract. He got to thinking about what summer said.
So, this jacket belonged to a cop. So it is a badge number. I always thought it was some sort of tracking code the tailor put in. I should have figured it out-- what with "Makati's Finest" embroidered on a stub on the inside of the jacket. Well, it could have been the tailor shop's name. Or maybe I'm just that naive.
So, this Michael could be a poet. An unsung artist. Yeah, he could be.
Adrian picked up the jacket and reread the entries and verses again.
Michael ain't no cop. His dad was. Maybe this kid had more than one screw loose. Maybe he got so high that he started hearing things. I wonder what happened to this kid? There wasn't any record of anybody named Rodriguez that lived in that building. That apartment was only operational for two years. and it was abandoned for around ten years. Maybe he and his friends used it as a pot house or something.
Wonder where this kid is now? This Michael. And what did he do to a certain Cherry?
It was then that a totally not connectible thought came to his mind.
Who the hell is Sarah?
Adrian was pulled out of his reverie when Aeron yelled at him.
"Adrian! Where the hell are you drifting to?"
Adrian flashed him an apologetic grin and asked: "Are we good to go on that apartment building?"
"The people we sub-contracted are already there."
"To the 'Dork Mobile,!"
...................................................................................................................
"Dork Mobile" was an understatement. It was a 1966 Chevrolet El Camino Adrian pulled out from a car grave yard. Its paint was pealing off and Adrian thought he'd save it with a ton of Polly ester body filler. Now it looks like some thing Godzilla scraped with it's tail. The front bumper was missing and it had only two working head lights on the right side of the car. The roof had dents the size of Adrian's knees and had holes that he covered with duck tape and body filler. Adrian had an eye for the arts and beauty. What he lacked was the ability to be artistic.
Adrian also thought that he could fix the engine himself. He gave up on that when he realized that what he was calling the 'intake valves' were actually just the valve stems for the exhaust valves. Aeron talked him into calling in expert mechanics.
The 'Dork Mobile' was now running in good condition. But the engine is still old and damaged from wear and tear that it gave out a back fire ever now and then. and less could be said for the interior of the car. Adrian said that it would take an army of upholsters to fix the chairs, a mob of electricians to fix the interior electronics and whole lot of money. Later, they just figured to be content on it running.
They were driving on Taft Avenue to finally get to work and get some 'hard earned cash. Aeron was driving, reciting the lyrics to Bulls on Parade of the band Rage Against The Machine while Adrian was staring out the windows. Flipping about the pages of his memories, which he often does, and unconsciously starts to flip through the pages of his fantasy.
He thinking about last night. He recalled him arguing with his girl friend on the phone. Arguing about things that meant mostly nothing. He let out a little chuckle but Aeron barely noticed it. They arguing about what she should do to loose weight. He kept saying that she wasn't fat, but a woman would rarely take a man's opinion about her weight. The argument got lost and they ended up fighting about something he could quite grasp. He hung up on her and went out to the seven eleven outlet to buy a pack of cigarettes. It was the first time he wore the leather jacket. When he got there, he realized it was pass midnight. They were arguing for hours. He spent a few moments admiring their work on the seven eleven that used to be an old art shop.
His thoughts strayed again. He was now wondering what that shop looked like and who ran it. He heard that the owner burned it himself and killed himself in that art shop. His imagination took over and he thought about what it would be like to feel your skin burn. He also thought about what it would feel like seeing your art burn and even more, burning it yourself.
Adrian played with the thought of being an artist. He wished he had the hands that could make the beauty and aesthetics he envisions. To be an artist that could mold clay and influence lives; hands that could paint color into life's dull moments. he couldn't help and think how his girlfriend would treat him if he was. Would he even have noticed her if he was? He thought artists have a long line of women on his doorstep. It might be dead wrong but that was how he thought artists to be.
He started reading a verse from the sleeve of the jacket that hurled him into another flip through the pages of his fantasies.
He saw himself sitting down on a grassy Field with his back against a tree. His girlfriend sat in front of him with her back against his chest. He had his arms around her. He presses his cheek against her straight black hair. The sweet smell of her hair filling his nostrils. He whispers a verse into her ear, letting his warm breath blow against her ear and makes her giggle. She turns to him and gives him a soft kiss on the lips--soft yet deep and passionate.
"Whack! Right on the top of his head!"
Aeron had hit him on the top of his head with a roll of plans they have for the apartment building, that pulled him out of his daydream.
"What was that for?!" Adrian sounded hurt. Even betrayed. And the whack didn't even hurt.
Aeron felt hurt, too, but he knew better than to raise his voice.
"I was talking on and on and you weren't even listening. That hurts you know."
"Oh." Adrian felt the sting of Aeron's words and also the sting of his ignoring him. "Sorry. I was having a daydream. What were you saying to me?"
Aeron let out a laugh that sounded notorious. The kind of laugh you would expect to hear from an evil scientist from old sci-fi movies.
"I was talking about that girl, Summer. But there's no time for that now. We're here. We arrived two minutes ago."
Adrian looked out of the window and started laughing himself. But when he got out of the El Camino, he felt the feeling of foreboding and being at home.
..................................................................................................................
Adrian thought hard but still couldn't believe he spent the whole hour's drive daydreaming. He kept apologizing to Aeron on their way up to the second floor of the apartment building. On the top of the stairs, they were met by six people. Two of which they had already worked with before. One had a special place in his heart.
Her name was Carmina but would only answer to the name "Mina." She has this weird thought that if you used Carmina, that meant you were mad at her. She had flawless brown skin. She had straight hair that flowed down to end an outside wave at the tip of her breast. She had a figure that Adrian called voluptuous but she herself called fat. She wore a body hugging, blue shirt that said "STUNTMAN" on the back that made her look bold yet sexy. Her eyes were almond shaped--brown and deep, a button nose and a crooked smile that sent chills up and down Adrian's spine. He loves her and she knows it. But the look in her eyes said that she has not yet gotten over the argument they had last night.
The other was Joseph Drake; He preferred to be called Jake. Jake was a thin young fellow with a shaved head and a bushy goatee. He wore Round-rimmed "John Lennon" glasses that made him look older and timed. He wore his favorite White-shirt-blue-jeans-black-sneakers-outfit. Adrian and Aeron didn't know much about Jake's personal life, but they knew that could count on him and he would do a good job at whatever he's set to. Jake took care of the legal stuff. He was as under-the-table-out-of-the-books employee and he saw to it that only the best for the job will be sub-contracted for a project of the A&A. Jake introduced the four other men with them.
There was Carl-- the master electrician. A medium built young man with straight long hair and a well-defined face that switched on Adrian's insecurities.
There was Travis-- the pipe expert. A strong middle aged man with almost graying hair.
There was Joel-- the plaster and carpentry. Also middle aged yet a tad shorter and thinner than Travis.
And there was Luie-- the fixture and furniture guy. He seemed well out of place. He was the only one wearing slacks and a long sleeved polo shirt. It made him look like he was the one who was sub-contracting everyone.
"And of course, dear Mina here, will be doing the interior design and facade. Jake finished the introduction with Mina, stating each qualification and competence but Aeron and Adrian learned long ago how to ignore Jake's Babbling. They learned to catch the name and the specialty and did not bother to hear their resume. Not that Jake bore them but because they learned to trust Jake's judgment.
Adrian was staring straight into Mina's eyes with full apology. Her eyes answered 'we'll talk later'.
Aeron took the group to see the all the rooms and bit by bit told them what A&A envisioned for the building. They progressed deliberately slow and after all the rooms were shown, Aeron took them to the reception area and showed them the plans Adrian and Aeron had worked on and discussed it with the group. When he turned to clarify something with Adrian, it was then He realized he wasn't there.
"He hasn't been with us since the second floor." Jake stated.
..................................................................................................................
Adrian found himself drawn to the room where he found the jacket. He fell behind and stayed in that room when Aeron was showing the others the apartment building. He felt warm and quiet in that room. He felt like all his troubles melted away in that room and he was left with himself to figure out his life.
Adrian took off the jacket and started reading everything again.
This must be where he wrote it. He imagined the city. This place is too far for me to run from the city hall, but just a few blocks from the transit. What were you going through, Michael?
He moved towards the window, he looked down on a ladder and a two-foot square platform. Below it were the busy streets. Noises of jeepney and cars and the incoherent voices of the people. He closed his eyes and listened.
What, Michael? What was the presence?
He was pulled out from his reverie when he heard Mina's voice.
"What are you doing?"
"I was just thinking." He turned to mina with a smile that was erased when he saw the expression on Mina's face.
"What happened to you?" Mina looked shocked and her voice full of fear and concern.
"What?"
"Your nose." Mina moved towards him and he touched his nose.
It was then that he realized that his upper lip to the left side of his chin was covered in blood. And so was the window sill. And his blood was dry.
"I'm okay."
"What were you doing here?! What happened?!"
"I just fell behind to think. I'm okay, really. You should catch up with Aeron and the others. you should see the whole building."
Mina placed her palm on Adrian's neck, then his cheek. Adrian reveled under her touch.
"Oh, Adi!" The tone of concern was strong in her voice. "We're done here. It's three o'clock."
.................................................................................................................
It was around 6pm when the three got off the bus--Aeron, Adrian and Mina. Mina made it clear to both of them that she was going to spend the night with Adrian just in case more weird stuff would happen. Aeron told her about Adrian screaming in his sleep. "And if he screams 'Sarah' again, I'll cut his balls off and nail 'em to his door." Mina threatened with more concern that jealousy.
they walked in the seven eleven on their way home to buy a six pack. The branch manager met them. His name was Jim: a stout and short man with his hair thinning at the top of his head. His eyes shown the all the hardship he's been through--sad eyes.
"Hey Aeron! Remember that girl that was always across the street, staring while yous guys was fixing up this place?" Jim said winking at mina.
"The hot chick? Yeah. Did she come around looking for me?" Aeron's joke didn't receive a chuckle from Jim.
"They found her dead this morning in her room. Poor kid. She was gonna take the bar exams too."
"Oh." Aeron felt a bit of guilt from his joke.
"Turns out that she know the guy that owned the art shop. They found a lot of sketches of his face in her room."
"Too bad." Aeron said, quite lost for words.
"Yeah. Poor Sarah." Jim said as he turned and walked away.
"Excuse me, What?" Adrian now at the counter over heard Jim.
It was Aeron who answered. "He said 'Sarah'. Last night. She knew the art shop."
Aeron turned and saw both Adrian and Mina's faces having the same look that he had. Fear and shock.
..................................................................................................................
When the three arrived at Adrian and Aeron's apartment, mina went straight to Aeron's computer in the apartment's parlor. They discussed the discovery while walking home.
From what Aeron and Adrian knew, the art shop was owned by a certain Khael Reyes and as Mina was waiting for the computer applications to load, her fingers were tensed and excited to type the name.
She typed the name "Khael Reyes" on the search engine. The results were not much. She clicked on the link at the top of the list and the screen showed an art blog page.
The entry talked about Khael's art, it's critiques and Khael's background. Skimming through the words displayed on the screen, Adrian saw what they were looking for -- a link.
Adrian reread an entry on the jacket and got more excited.
"Search for Cherry Ann Reyes." The excitement in Adrian's voice took Mina by surprise.
"The sister? Why?"
Adrian showed her the entry on the jacket and she quickly typed the name on the search engine. There were only three results. Two from social network sites and one from a tabloid news paper. She clicked on the link to the news paper.
They both read the report slowly.
People can drown in a tub but it usually involves another person drowning her. Mina thought to herself when she understood the implications that her mind conjured up while she was reading.
"Now try Michael Rodriguez."
"And who the hell is that?" Mina asked while she was typing the name on the search engine.
"It's the guy who wrote on this jacket. I think."
They were now looking at another tabloid newspaper article about Michael's death.
"If it was suicide; how did he manage to shoot himself twice in the head?" Mina thought out loud. Adrian answered her question by reading her an entry on the jacket.
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 savoring the taste of burnt powder, brass, steel and a slight stinging from the cleaning agent dad used to clean the gun.
Mina interrupted Adrian and grunted: "We've already out grown believing in ghost stories, Adi."
"You're in one."
Mina and Adrian turned to Aeron leaning against the door way, staring at the empty hallway outside. And without turning to face them, he spoke on.
"Remember Jason? He always talked about his kid brother: Mike. Right?"
The question was directed to Adrian but it was Mina who answered. "Go on."
"I'm not sure about Mike but I'm sure that their dad was a cop. And Jason always said his brother had a way with words and verses."
"What's your point?" Adrian blurted out in annoyance.
"Remember that house we remodeled for that old lady?"
"Mrs. Rodriguez." Mina answered with a tone of foreboding.
"What about that apartment that needed a lot of work for the bathroom floor? You know who rented it out last?" Aeron turned to face Mina.
"Dr. Rodriguez-Reyes."
"She had a daughter named Cherry Ann." Aeron pointed to the computer screen. "And a runaway son named Khael. We cleaned up his mess with the art shop. And guess who's finding these clients for us?"
Mina's eyes widened as if she were having an epiphany. "Jake."
"Joseph Drake." Aeron nodded in confirmation. "And I think I know Our next project-- Sarah's place."
Mina stood up from the computer and started towards the refrigerator as she spoke. "We need to talk to Jake."
"About what?"
The voice came from behind Aeron. And slowly, a figure stepped into the light spilling out from the doorway to the darkened hallway.
Jake handed Aeron a roll of plans. "You left this at the apartment building." Jake looked at Mina in the eyes. "Now, what do we have to talk about?"
..................................................................................................................
Adrian woke up with an unbearable headache. When he opened his eyes, He noticed that he wasn't in his bedroom. He looked around and saw an I.V. bag hanging to his left. His eyes followed the tubes that stuck in to his left arm. Beyond his view of the tubes was Mina, lying on a bench, asleep.
He called her name gently and she awoke with a start. She hurried to his side.
"What happened to me?"
"You were unconscious on your chair last night. When your nose started bleeding, we brought you here."
"What happened with Jake?"
"Hush, now, rest. He'll tell us when they come back." Mina soothed him and hummed him back to sleep.
The sun shine ripped through the window and woke Adrian. He slowly opened his eyes and saw Mina asleep on a chair beside his bed, her head rested on the bed. He ran his fingers through her hair. the gentle touch woke her and she gave Adrian a weak smile. Behind her, he saw Aeron looking down on him with concern.
"Here, try a banana. It'll do you good." Jake spoke from the other side of the bed.
Adrian turned to look at him. The bright sun was shining through the window behind Jake. Seeing the trouble, Jake moved around the bed. He positioned himself at the left foot corner of the bed placing the banana on the tray on a table beside him.
"So, what's happening to me Jake?" Adrian managed with a weak sounding voice.
"Well, I don't know if you'd believe my story, boss. But let me tell it anyways.
Ten years ago, my brother had a dream of making music that could change the world. He wanted to give the world a new kind of high..."
An image flashed in Adrian's mind. There was a blank sheet music and a pencil on a drawing table and a bright red Gibson Les Paul’s Studio Guitar on his lap. He shook his head to get rid of the image.
"...He was working day and night on it. And there was this kid on his way home to his apartment. He was riding the train..."
The image of the inside of the train was in Adrian's mind. He saw the people staring at him. His view went down, lower and lower. He now saw the shoes and ankles of people rushing towards him. Then darkness.
He opened his eyes and he was back in the hospital, Jake still telling them a weird story.
"...This kid's younger brother was in the news weeks later. Apparently, he had shot himself..."
An image of a revolver in his hand began in Adrian's mind. But as quickly as it began, it vanished.
"...I thought it ended there but then I had this dream about this kid, Michael, stalking some girl..."
Adrian's mind wandered into a memory of him caressing a girl. Her back was faced him, his hands cupping her breast and the rhythm of the splashing water in time with theirs. His mind was pulled out of the reminiscing when Mina held his hand.
"...Again, it got quiet. I thought that was it, but..."
Adrian saw fire al around him. The flames getting higher and it was getting harder to breath. he spun around and saw all the carvings, sketches, paintings and equipment burning. He was hurled back suddenly in the hospital bed. His eyes still painful from the smoke and his breathing still shallow.
"...And now I heard about this Sarah..."
Adrian was again thrown somewhere else. He was in a bedroom. He saw a girl curled up on a bed, facing towards him. Arms came from behind and wrapped themselves around her. A silhouette slowly came into the light. A man covered in tattoos was caressing her. She moans at his every touch. Somehow, Adrian understood who this man was-- Khael.
Khael turned the girl around and kissed her wildly on her lips. She returned Khaels passion. Now Adrian saw the flames starting to burn the bed. Kahel held the girl's wrists on the bed and pulled his kisses from her mouth and went to kiss her throat. She moaned and the flames grew larger. Khael ran his hands from her wrists to her soulders to her waist and gently pulled off her shirt. She moaned as Khael kissed her from her belly making his way up to her breasts. And the flames grew larger and larger.
Adrian watched as Khael made love to her, the flames engulfed the bed and it's occupants. Adrian tried to make a move but his body didn't obey him. The flames were now all around him. He opened his mouth and try to call out for help. The only word that escaped his mouth was "Sarah".
Jake and Aeron were holding Adrian down as he was struggling and screaming violently. Mina went to get help. Aeron and Jake stepped aside when the doctors came. Mina was crying hysterically and both Aeron and Jake were in shock.
Adrian struggled and screamed. His body convulsed. And he exhaled his last breath screaming "Sarah."
As Adrian's Body went limp, Jake closed his sigh and let out a sigh. Then a he felt a drop of water fall on his fore head.
..................................................................................................................
Jake opened his eyes to see the last of the visitors and mourners were leaving. Only a few people were left behind. His mother was standing beside him with her hand under his arm. He was standing over a freshly covered grave, staring at the headstone. His eyes started to fill with tears.
"That was a great peice." He said talking to the grave that lay before him.
"Not like any high I ever had. I guess I should find these people and tell them what you showed me, huh? Do you think they'd believe me?"
Mother and son finally turned and walked away.
.................................................................................................................
the guitar player, Jason Rodriguez, bent down to read the dedication on the headstone of the fresh grave. He has just played the best music he has heard and the one that lay here wrote it.
"Here lies a dreamer who dreamed to see the Cosmos."
"May he see it now and show us what he sees."
"Machree Reyes 1985-2001"
..........................................End.........................................
Saturday, November 7
pages of a fantasy - dream catcher
Sarah is walking home, where she came from is not clear, even to her. A bit confused and a bit cold from the night air, but she's sure where she was headed. This wasn't her usual route home but she knows a place around the corner and a few more blocks and she's home.
The night air blows colder, she pulls her coat on tighter and she walks faster. A few more meters and she'll find a familiar place: the dwellings of a beautiful, tormented soul; a place of arts where she felt like home. But the closer she gets there, the colder she feels. She reaches for her coat again but touches nothing but her skin.
Realizing this, she hastens her pace slowly breaking in to a jog.
"Just around the corner" she tolls herself.
Before she gets to that corner, she notice something absurd -- snow.
"Snow? In this city?"
But when one of the failing specks touches her skin, it wasn't snow. It was ash. But it feels so cold.
As she rounds the corner, she sees it -- a towering inferno.
She runs toward the burning art shop. As she gets closer to the fire, she feels colder. And as she stands across the street, staring at the flames, she sees it. A wave of panic, pain and fear hits her.
The artist; the beautiful, tormented soul, was burning with his art.
She runs towards the burning building with intents to save her artist. But it seems like she never even took a step. She notices someone beside her. His hand clasped on her wrist.
She turns to face the stranger.
She sees the fire in his eyes, and as if she is under a spell, she loses her thought of her artist. The stranger gives her his brown leather jacket to keep her warm. As the stranger lead her away, she steals a look back. Now, it's only a pile of charred wood and ash. And a whisper leaves her lips -- Khael.
.................................................................................................................................................................
It has been two years since Khael burned his own shop, with him along with it but the dreams keep haunting Sarah. It feels so real to her that she thinks she might actually have been there when it all happened.
But She could not have been there. It could not have happened that way, in her dream. She remembers that night well, she was woken up from her nap on a pile of her textbooks by the wailing sirens from the fire trucks. But even before the fire truck got there, the shop was already burning to a crisp.
But her dreams feels so real that she's not sure anymore.
But the biggest question on her mind was: "who was that stranger?"
She memorized the stranger's face now. Every crease, every frown line and those fiery sad eyes.
She knew the stranger's face so well that she draws it besides Khael's face every time she gets bored. And another thing she remembers is the brown leather jacket, the warmth it offered and the words or verses written all over it. And like every part of the dream, it felt so real.
Sarah still lives in the same apartment building a few blocks away from Khael's art shop. from her window, she can see the seven eleven outlet that now occupies what used to be Khael's art shop. She catches herself once in a while, staring at the store reminiscing on what it used to look like and how it used to draw her near every day as if the art shop was calling her to come home to it. But, now, staring at the seven eleven, it doesn't feel the same.
Or maybe it was Khael that she felt at home with.
One night, after waking up from the same dream, she stares out the window, looking at the store. And just as her head was beginning to clear from the dreams, she spots a kid wearing a brown leather jacket and the same messed up hair as stranger from her dream.
driven by curiosity and partly because she haven't felt the night air since she started having the dream and she missed it. She grabs her coat and her keys and still in her pajamas, runs to the store.
The air was cool but not biting. There was a light breeze blowing from the west, but Sarah barely notices it. She had her mind set on catching up to the kid and see if he was the stranger.
She bursts through the convenience store's double doors and starts looking around in every isle. The Kid was no longer there. Quite disappointed, Sarah steps out of the store with her head down and not even looking where she was headed.
She was four blocks away when she noticed that she wasn't walking towards her apartment. She chuckled at her absent mindedness and turned around and started her way back to her apartment.
When she got to the corner of the convenience store, she spotted the kid from the corner of her eye.
When she turned, the same wave of panic,pain and fear that she felt in her dreams swept over her.
"It's You!" She says out loud.
She stepped towards the stranger never pulling her eyes from the stranger's fiery eyes. Surprisingly enough, the stranger didn't look confused. Instead, he looked at her as if he knew her.
As she got closer to the stranger, she asked tactlessly: "Who are you? Do you know Khael?"
"My name is Michael, and I've talked with Khael once or twice." The stranger took a deep breath just as Sarah started to feel the biting cold.
"Why?" The only word uttered by Sarah as a reply.
"Stop chasing shadows, Sarah. Khael did it to himself. Don't get obsessed like he is." Michael said in a calm and steady tone.
"What? You said 'is'. Where is he?" Now, Sarah's voice was shaking from the cold.
"Don't Sarah. I'm trying to Keep you away from the shadows. Stop chasing them."
"Shadows?! I just want to know if he's alright."
"He's dead, Sarah. You saw him burn."
"No! No, I did not! And reports said the body was too burned to be recognized. They just assumed it was him." Sarah's voice now growing louder.
"He's gone, Sarah. So, just wake up." Michael said keeping a calm and steady tone.
"NO! You know where he is, don't you?"
"Look, Sarah, Khael is no more. You can't keep on chasing him."
"Take me to him, please."
"Sarah--" Michael's words trailed off as his finally let go of its hold on Sarah's.
Michael was now staring at someone behind Sarah. Following Michael's gaze, Sarah turns around and finds Khael behind her.
"No, Khael!" Michael grabs Sarah by the wrist to stop her from walking Khael. "Sarah, Khael's dead. Wake up."
Sarah, not even taking her eyes of Khael, says; "He's not dead. He's Right here."
"I'm right here, Sarah." Khael assures her.
"Khael, please, don't do this." Michael begs as he lets go of Sarah's wrist.
"C'mon, Sarah. I'll walk you home." Khael takes Sarah in his arm and started away from Michael.
Michael calls out to Sarah but, Sarah, now felt at home and no longer cared for anything else.
.................................................................................................................................................................
SPO1 Badua:Sorry I'm late. I was in the bathroom when you called. What do we have?
SPO1 Suarez:25 years old, female, goes by the name of Sarah. Land lady said she heard screaming from the apartment. we found our Sarah dead and her apartment door open.
Badua:So, what you think killed her?
Suarez: I can't say. No bruises, no wounds. Just died.
Badua: I don't think she just died, may. It has to have a reason.
Suarez: Whatever. But check out her sketch pad on the table.
Badua: What about it? Did she happen to sketch her killer's face? (chuckle)
Suarez: Nope. Not exactly. Look.
Badua:Huh. Looks like Rodriguez's son and that arson kid.
Suarez:Rodriguez died Six years ago. two years before Sarah here moved to this region. And Rodriguez lived in the next city.
Badua: What are you saying, May?
Suarez: It's just weird. She never could have known Rodriguez.
Badua: Maybe it's not Rodriguez. Maybe it's some kid who looks like him.
Suarez: A kid that looked like Rodriguez's son with a jacket with Rodriguez badge number?
Badua: No shit?
Suarez: No shit.
The night air blows colder, she pulls her coat on tighter and she walks faster. A few more meters and she'll find a familiar place: the dwellings of a beautiful, tormented soul; a place of arts where she felt like home. But the closer she gets there, the colder she feels. She reaches for her coat again but touches nothing but her skin.
Realizing this, she hastens her pace slowly breaking in to a jog.
"Just around the corner" she tolls herself.
Before she gets to that corner, she notice something absurd -- snow.
"Snow? In this city?"
But when one of the failing specks touches her skin, it wasn't snow. It was ash. But it feels so cold.
As she rounds the corner, she sees it -- a towering inferno.
She runs toward the burning art shop. As she gets closer to the fire, she feels colder. And as she stands across the street, staring at the flames, she sees it. A wave of panic, pain and fear hits her.
The artist; the beautiful, tormented soul, was burning with his art.
She runs towards the burning building with intents to save her artist. But it seems like she never even took a step. She notices someone beside her. His hand clasped on her wrist.
She turns to face the stranger.
She sees the fire in his eyes, and as if she is under a spell, she loses her thought of her artist. The stranger gives her his brown leather jacket to keep her warm. As the stranger lead her away, she steals a look back. Now, it's only a pile of charred wood and ash. And a whisper leaves her lips -- Khael.
.................................................................................................................................................................
It has been two years since Khael burned his own shop, with him along with it but the dreams keep haunting Sarah. It feels so real to her that she thinks she might actually have been there when it all happened.
But She could not have been there. It could not have happened that way, in her dream. She remembers that night well, she was woken up from her nap on a pile of her textbooks by the wailing sirens from the fire trucks. But even before the fire truck got there, the shop was already burning to a crisp.
But her dreams feels so real that she's not sure anymore.
But the biggest question on her mind was: "who was that stranger?"
She memorized the stranger's face now. Every crease, every frown line and those fiery sad eyes.
She knew the stranger's face so well that she draws it besides Khael's face every time she gets bored. And another thing she remembers is the brown leather jacket, the warmth it offered and the words or verses written all over it. And like every part of the dream, it felt so real.
Sarah still lives in the same apartment building a few blocks away from Khael's art shop. from her window, she can see the seven eleven outlet that now occupies what used to be Khael's art shop. She catches herself once in a while, staring at the store reminiscing on what it used to look like and how it used to draw her near every day as if the art shop was calling her to come home to it. But, now, staring at the seven eleven, it doesn't feel the same.
Or maybe it was Khael that she felt at home with.
One night, after waking up from the same dream, she stares out the window, looking at the store. And just as her head was beginning to clear from the dreams, she spots a kid wearing a brown leather jacket and the same messed up hair as stranger from her dream.
driven by curiosity and partly because she haven't felt the night air since she started having the dream and she missed it. She grabs her coat and her keys and still in her pajamas, runs to the store.
The air was cool but not biting. There was a light breeze blowing from the west, but Sarah barely notices it. She had her mind set on catching up to the kid and see if he was the stranger.
She bursts through the convenience store's double doors and starts looking around in every isle. The Kid was no longer there. Quite disappointed, Sarah steps out of the store with her head down and not even looking where she was headed.
She was four blocks away when she noticed that she wasn't walking towards her apartment. She chuckled at her absent mindedness and turned around and started her way back to her apartment.
When she got to the corner of the convenience store, she spotted the kid from the corner of her eye.
When she turned, the same wave of panic,pain and fear that she felt in her dreams swept over her.
"It's You!" She says out loud.
She stepped towards the stranger never pulling her eyes from the stranger's fiery eyes. Surprisingly enough, the stranger didn't look confused. Instead, he looked at her as if he knew her.
As she got closer to the stranger, she asked tactlessly: "Who are you? Do you know Khael?"
"My name is Michael, and I've talked with Khael once or twice." The stranger took a deep breath just as Sarah started to feel the biting cold.
"Why?" The only word uttered by Sarah as a reply.
"Stop chasing shadows, Sarah. Khael did it to himself. Don't get obsessed like he is." Michael said in a calm and steady tone.
"What? You said 'is'. Where is he?" Now, Sarah's voice was shaking from the cold.
"Don't Sarah. I'm trying to Keep you away from the shadows. Stop chasing them."
"Shadows?! I just want to know if he's alright."
"He's dead, Sarah. You saw him burn."
"No! No, I did not! And reports said the body was too burned to be recognized. They just assumed it was him." Sarah's voice now growing louder.
"He's gone, Sarah. So, just wake up." Michael said keeping a calm and steady tone.
"NO! You know where he is, don't you?"
"Look, Sarah, Khael is no more. You can't keep on chasing him."
"Take me to him, please."
"Sarah--" Michael's words trailed off as his finally let go of its hold on Sarah's.
Michael was now staring at someone behind Sarah. Following Michael's gaze, Sarah turns around and finds Khael behind her.
"No, Khael!" Michael grabs Sarah by the wrist to stop her from walking Khael. "Sarah, Khael's dead. Wake up."
Sarah, not even taking her eyes of Khael, says; "He's not dead. He's Right here."
"I'm right here, Sarah." Khael assures her.
"Khael, please, don't do this." Michael begs as he lets go of Sarah's wrist.
"C'mon, Sarah. I'll walk you home." Khael takes Sarah in his arm and started away from Michael.
Michael calls out to Sarah but, Sarah, now felt at home and no longer cared for anything else.
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SPO1 Badua:Sorry I'm late. I was in the bathroom when you called. What do we have?
SPO1 Suarez:25 years old, female, goes by the name of Sarah. Land lady said she heard screaming from the apartment. we found our Sarah dead and her apartment door open.
Badua:So, what you think killed her?
Suarez: I can't say. No bruises, no wounds. Just died.
Badua: I don't think she just died, may. It has to have a reason.
Suarez: Whatever. But check out her sketch pad on the table.
Badua: What about it? Did she happen to sketch her killer's face? (chuckle)
Suarez: Nope. Not exactly. Look.
Badua:Huh. Looks like Rodriguez's son and that arson kid.
Suarez:Rodriguez died Six years ago. two years before Sarah here moved to this region. And Rodriguez lived in the next city.
Badua: What are you saying, May?
Suarez: It's just weird. She never could have known Rodriguez.
Badua: Maybe it's not Rodriguez. Maybe it's some kid who looks like him.
Suarez: A kid that looked like Rodriguez's son with a jacket with Rodriguez badge number?
Badua: No shit?
Suarez: No shit.
Thursday, November 5
the fate of the people
Presidential hopefulls:
1, the ex-president: a has been bent on taking back the political power he lost by his own stupidity. hoping to get back on his high horse and rule the country "for the people." But the question here is; who are "the people"? are they the poor (vendors, farmers, the free economy), the middle class (people with stable salaries and pay the right taxes), or is his people the rich people with the intentions to milk the other classes to line their pockets with more wealth by any means (gambling, drugs, organized crime money loundering)?
2, "talino at galing": true enough; the heart alone is not enough to run a country. But let us look back in history; the last president we had was a genius. YES! a genius! she has slid in and out of all the empeachments and managed to stay in power even though everybody knows she's a criminal. A CRIMINAL GENIUS! and all it took was "talino at galing." the question now is: are we going to make the same mistake?
3, "galing sa mahirap": this guy is rich! stinkin' rich. he said he came from a poor family and worked for where he is now (sipag at tiyaga). if this guy wants to help the poor, I mean realy help the poor, he would have given the homeless Filipinos a home by now. he has the means, he has the wealth. but what he lacks is the sense to actually help the people without seeking personal gain. if he is not the rich-self-promoting-jerk that I think he is, he would not be publishing his "kawang gawa." I have'nt seen him talk to the poor and help the poor with out media coverage. nor have I heard the poor talk about him in praise.
4, the late president's son: all I could do is laugh about it. sympathy voting is the trend that is being followed in this country. people think because his dad died for his belief in making this country better, he would carry on that belief. bull feces, if he wanted to make this country better, he would have started to do so when he was just a senator. maybe he could have talked his family out of causing the masacre at hacienda Luisita. but he did not. what makes us so sure he would stand up against the evils that has dwelt in Philippine Governance since our so called independence?
5, the curch leader: they claim to want to change the way of life in the Philippines, but hell if they know anything to run a country. think about it, when it comes to looking out for the future of this country, they have the foresight of a snake. they only see black and white. sometimes not at all. and in our constitution, " The separation of Church and State shall be inviolable." what is there to asure us that they will seperate their political judgement from their religious beliefs?
6, "kailangan bayani": well, he does not look like a hero in the eyes of the Marikina-Ondoy victims. he has done nothing to be called a hero and thus making him a pretentious prick. he could not even help his hometown's people, what could he possibly do for a country?
7,the critics: full of enthusiasm. filled with good ideas. a natural critique of the present administration. full of angst and energy. but the problem is, he reacts. when shit happenes, he reacts. I have rarely seen him act and prevent. I have mostly seen him react and acusse. will he just react to what happens? does he even know how to act and make something happen?
1, the ex-president: a has been bent on taking back the political power he lost by his own stupidity. hoping to get back on his high horse and rule the country "for the people." But the question here is; who are "the people"? are they the poor (vendors, farmers, the free economy), the middle class (people with stable salaries and pay the right taxes), or is his people the rich people with the intentions to milk the other classes to line their pockets with more wealth by any means (gambling, drugs, organized crime money loundering)?
2, "talino at galing": true enough; the heart alone is not enough to run a country. But let us look back in history; the last president we had was a genius. YES! a genius! she has slid in and out of all the empeachments and managed to stay in power even though everybody knows she's a criminal. A CRIMINAL GENIUS! and all it took was "talino at galing." the question now is: are we going to make the same mistake?
3, "galing sa mahirap": this guy is rich! stinkin' rich. he said he came from a poor family and worked for where he is now (sipag at tiyaga). if this guy wants to help the poor, I mean realy help the poor, he would have given the homeless Filipinos a home by now. he has the means, he has the wealth. but what he lacks is the sense to actually help the people without seeking personal gain. if he is not the rich-self-promoting-jerk that I think he is, he would not be publishing his "kawang gawa." I have'nt seen him talk to the poor and help the poor with out media coverage. nor have I heard the poor talk about him in praise.
4, the late president's son: all I could do is laugh about it. sympathy voting is the trend that is being followed in this country. people think because his dad died for his belief in making this country better, he would carry on that belief. bull feces, if he wanted to make this country better, he would have started to do so when he was just a senator. maybe he could have talked his family out of causing the masacre at hacienda Luisita. but he did not. what makes us so sure he would stand up against the evils that has dwelt in Philippine Governance since our so called independence?
5, the curch leader: they claim to want to change the way of life in the Philippines, but hell if they know anything to run a country. think about it, when it comes to looking out for the future of this country, they have the foresight of a snake. they only see black and white. sometimes not at all. and in our constitution, " The separation of Church and State shall be inviolable." what is there to asure us that they will seperate their political judgement from their religious beliefs?
6, "kailangan bayani": well, he does not look like a hero in the eyes of the Marikina-Ondoy victims. he has done nothing to be called a hero and thus making him a pretentious prick. he could not even help his hometown's people, what could he possibly do for a country?
7,the critics: full of enthusiasm. filled with good ideas. a natural critique of the present administration. full of angst and energy. but the problem is, he reacts. when shit happenes, he reacts. I have rarely seen him act and prevent. I have mostly seen him react and acusse. will he just react to what happens? does he even know how to act and make something happen?
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