Thursday, January 29, 2009

the visitor (2)

he found himself trembling again. the child tried his best to control his shaking but his body figured otherwise. "shhhhh, shhhhh...", he thought. stop moving or it will find us. his heartbeat was now deafening. he began to cry again. how could he have been so stupid? why didn't he listen? why didn't he just settle with what ate said? with what naynay said? "i'm sorry", he muttered softly as thick tears washed down his dirty face. "i'm so sorry ate. i'm so sorry naynay". the child was alone and only the humid darkness was there to witness his regret.

the child tried to breathe slowly, careful not to wheeze as his growing panic is becoming too much to bear. he listened intently to what was happening outside. he tried to listen for ate, for naynay. surely his last memories of them cannot be the sounds of screaming. surely there must be signs of hope. surely he cannot be all alone. the thoughts of him being all by himself caused him to begin shaking again, a loud cry bubbling from his gut. "it's all my fault.... NO!" he determined. he can't accept that he was alone! he just couldn't. he tried again to sense for his loved ones. naynay said before that he was special, that he could feel what other's could not feel. he will believe naynay's words now. he relinquished his grip from the flashlight he was holding and set his hands upon the closet floor. he closed his eyes and with all the focus he could muster, he sent out himself through the house. he questioned the walls, the floors, the roof, the rooms, the furniture, "where are they?". up and down in his mind, the child ransacked the house in a feverish search but he could not find anyone. he could not sense anything alive. "traitors! cowards!" he screamed in his head at the house. how could it desert him now during his most desperate time of need? how could it repay him with dead silence when ate would slave over it to keep it looking immaculate? when naynay would buy decors to beautify it constantly so that the neighbors would not look down on it, despite it's age? how?! the child cursed the house in his mind. he wanted his rage to hurt it for its noncooperation, for he felt i abandoned them. that it abandoned him. this surge of emotions almost made the child sick and he quickly relaxed himself down. feeling hopeless now, he began to cry once more.

beyond the closet door, in the lifeless room, through the heavy wooden door, out into the still house, the visitor sensed a call from the walls, the floors, the roof, the rooms, the furniture. "how rude not to reply." it said as it walked down the corridor.

* * * * *

the child woke up with the sharp taste of blood in his mouth. he had bitten his lip as he crashed onto the floor. he tried to remember what had happened, how he got himself lying there. he then recalled the events that transpired, the fright jolted him to pick himself up and distance himself immediately from the door. he could still hear ate in the terrace. naynay was nowhere to be found. he must have not been unconscious long. he did not want to stay in the spot any longer and quickly proceeded to his room. he checked his face in the mirror and surveyed the cut on the inside of his lip. not too bad, nothing to be noticed. he didn't want to be caught in a situation wherein he had to explain how he got that cut, why he was loitering by the door. the child was not a good liar and even if he was, he knew naynay, with her sharp piercing eyes, can sense his dishonestly with the accuracy of a hawk. the afternoon was warm and humid and soon, the child found himself sleepy. the thoughts of the strange occurrence with him and the door were not enough for him to combat his drowsinees. his queen sized bed was calling onto him and he soon found himself curled up under its cool sheets, the afternoon's events fading in his memory.

tasya finally finished pruning the last of her beloved plants. she carefully took off her gardening gloves, for goodness forbid she dirties her finely manicured hands, and carefully set them aside together with her well oiled, well sharpened garden sheers. she then felt the weariness brought by the warm afternoon and decided to use the remaining time she had left before her next chore to take a brief nap. she walked through the corridor leading to her room, just two doors down from the locked door. on her way, she stopped in front of the closed room and jiggled the knob. locked. content with status of things, she continued on and disappeared into her room.

tasya should have lingered longer by the locked door. maybe if she did, she would have noticed the deep scratches at its base, or even the drop of her brother's blood, still crimson and wet from his collapse not too long ago. maybe if she did, all of this could have been prevented.

to be continued


joelmcvie said...

"The Visitor" aka "Ang Pagdadalaga Ni Jaime Olivera". Coming-of-age story pala itu! =)

jamie da vinci! said...

hahahaha...shhhh. don't kill the suspense! hehehehe. what was on chico and delamar?