i know no one has checked my page in this blog particularly the’remnants’ page. so, i copy-paste the page here.basaha lang gud..i would appreciate it very much kung mg-comment mu..assssss innnnn…:-)

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i was checking my files in the computer when i ran through this document. i remembered this was my first attempt to make a story in one of my creative writing class. this is not my first writing stint, i mean the story and the fiction stuff, but i would consider this as one that i carefully thought of. (not to say that i really have to do something about this since its a major paper.*grins*)
anyway, this story highlights a few places in up min. as a requirement, the setting should be in the university and the story should be “verisimilitude.” or so i thought..

i was inspired by john saul the time when i wrote this thing. i just don’t know if i sound convincing with the details..ahahahaha..it’s entitled Shadow and….
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Shadows
“She knew she wasn’t ready to face death, but it took her anyway. That’s why people had to know her story.”
She wished this was only a dream insisting in her mind. But then, she knew how it was to fear before and she felt fear right now as if it was the cold wind kissing her skin. She wondered whether her stalker had returned after last year’s attempted assault on her. But then, she could only wonder. She must not be found, she realized. But, the nearby rustling of leaves had brought back the panic Sheila was trying to conceal as she was also hiding from that unknown assailant. Fear, death and common sense drove her to run and hide herself behind the bushes near the UP Community Police Post. She knew she won’t be able to forget what she had just seen. Her disheveled hair, torn sleeves of her red shirt, mud smeared legs and bare feet would now be a constant reminder of the murder she had witnessed hours ago.
It was raining hard and the habal-habal, a single motor used as transportation in UP, she rode on skidded just by the end of the cemented road, in front of the 11th Engineering Brigade of the Philippine Army post. She should be embarrassed knowing that the soft ground and the graveled path invaded her clothes and her slippered-feet. But at that time, she can’t think of anything but a place out of the rain since she was already dripping wet. She was furious with the driver for skidding and for herself because she had been unmindful of the time spent with her boyfriend at the Venue that she angrily paid the driver then hastily ran over to the canopy of leaves at the post that would temporarily sheltered her. She could have asked the driver to drop her at the dorm but she was boiling to her toes and not in the mood to be nice with another being. Besides, the driver had left her eagerly after she paid him.
“Shit! Joseph should be blamed for this. Men are really rotten species. They can’t be trusted with time. I’m sure Mom’s gonna give me a lecture in her Time Management 101. The dormitory security guard will really kick me out of EBL this time. Grrrrr!!! I really hate this kind of situation.” Sheila scolded herself over and over again.
Fortunately, the rain slowed down, thus giving Sheila a chance to hurriedly go to the dormitory before another downpour occurs. But, only if she would run fast enough to reach the building. However, when she was in sight of the new library, something, like an invisible hand and an inward voice were telling her to go near it. And which she willingly obliged herself to be drawn to the silent building, unknowing of the events she will witness later on.
The library was a large square building with white painted walls. It was the former UP Mindanao Cultural Center and so the paint on the walls was chipping away as if attesting to the age of its existence. It had grilled, closed windows on all sides. The place was surrounded with moist grasses and mango trees were aligned at the posterior of the building facing the road leading to Saint Michael’s Chapel. A light post was erected on the road and it was the only illumination that the whole place had.
Reaching the library, Sheila heard angry murmurs from behind the building. It was evident that the voices were trying not to shout. Sheila was totally intrigued who on Earth were arguing there at such an unlikely place in an unlikely hour. She moved closer, following the source of the voice, just to satisfy her curiosity. She wanted to see and to know who these persons were, but she did not have the courage to move closer now. It was as if the invisible hand and the inward voice held her in the position where she can only take a glimpse of these two shadows. She was positioned against the wall, along the side of the entrance of the library while the shadows were just steps away from her, at the building’s rear, disguised by the tall grasses in the background.
Indeed, the outlines of the two individuals were now visible to Sheila. She could not make out the faces but she could discern their shadows. A light coming from the post nearby helped in illuminating the place. Sheila saw that one of the shadows was large in size with a hairless head and muscled arms. It was a man’s shadow. An imposing man, Sheila supposed, since this large shadowy figure was towering over the other smaller shadow. Maybe it’s just a lover’s quarrel, she thought.
This second shadowy figure had a ponytail and its frame was somewhat that of a woman. It was a thin figure that somehow made Sheila to conclude that there was a man and a woman arguing behind the library.
“Well, it’s a lover’s quarrel after all.” Sheila whispered with certainty to herself and continued watching the play from the shadows.
She heard the larger shadow throwing angry words to Efren, the name of the smaller shadow with the ponytail. It was not a squabble between lovers, as Sheila had presumed. Rather, it was a quarrel, until now she hadn’t known, between two men and one of the men was called Efren.
“Gee, I’m enjoying this. I can make a story out of these shadows. Perhaps, I don’t have to fail in my AH 1 subject after all.” Sheila thought.
She continually looked blankly at the side of the building where the shadows were clearly reflected. But before she could think further on what to write in her AH 1 class based on these shadows, she saw the larger of the shadows stab Efren in the stomach repeatedly. Sheila could see that something liquid—blood—spurted from the stabbed area of the other shadow. Sheila gasped in horror and quickly turned away from that side of the new library to a place she didn’t know where, not able to see how the murderous shadow turned its head towards the loud gasped he heard.
Sheila was panting hard while running northward, following the road heading to Ate Marichu’s carinderia. It was the only place she was familiar with, however, she was not sure whether or not she can still carry herself onwards. She knew she was afraid; very much afraid, and all that matter at the moment was to find a hiding place.
I don’t want to die. God, I don’t want to die. Not now.
Looking sideways on her right, she saw a bush and there she hastily brought herself in hiding. She was already a distance from the library. Then, she silently prayed that the assailant won’t be able to find her. Panic had warmed her, but only for a short period of time. Sheila felt the numbness of her feet. She didn’t know how her slippers left her. All she knew was that as she was running, she stumbled by a graveled road. Then, she realized that it was the road with the gasoline station structure and abandoned buildings of the Engineering Brigade, which were the EP Clubhouse, Brigade Provost Marshall and Guardhouse and another structure much smaller than the two mentioned, aligned with the location of the library, and then a wide plaza on its left and she didn’t know what happened next to that.
The rush of adrenaline in her system had pushed her to run fast and be oblivious of the sharp stones she’ll be stepping into. It was only now that Sheila felt the stinging pain from the stones and the coldness getting into her skin. Her teeth were chattering both from fear of an unknown assailant and the coldness from the wet clothes she had.
It was eternity for her being drawn in this misadventure when really it’s already five in the morning. But, the sky still had the darkness of the night and the wind blows hard as if rain is just nearby. Sheila was still afraid and so she positioned herself like that of a fetus, trying to ward off the coldness of her place and the creepy feeling that was already so distinct in her system. The rustling of leaves was getting clearer every second telling Sheila that the assailant was also nearer by the hour.
“If black holes are possible, I would gladly lead myself to it.” Sheila told herself over hot tears that were trickling down her face.
“Hello, Sheila…” the deep cynical voice whispering behind her.
She knew she wasn’t ready to face death, but she felt its claws reaching for her.
After people found Sheila, with blood pooling round her, she was rushed to the hospital, but then, reported dead on arrival by the doctors. A tape recorder was found on the place where Sheila have been known to lie for almost an hour, recounting the assault that had just happened to her.

He wrapped me his blanket hoping, perhaps, that by the act he could drive away the cold and his betrayal. He was not the type who leaves his friends but when times call for desperate measures, he runs away. And yesterday I witnessed it all.

He called my house early in the morning.

Jane, could we have lunch together?
Sure. Where do you want to go?
I don’t know yet. I’ll meet you in McDonald’s parking lot.
Ok. Bye.

And, he had not called me again until lunch time. Indeed, he was waiting in the parking lot looking aghast. It is not unusual for him to invite me to lunch but him looking weary during lunch time means problem; big problem, actually.

Where to?
Susie’s.

Susie’s Carenderia is just across the street where we are standing. The place always bustles with customer coming in and out. One can have a variety of food to choose from in Susie’s. Tables align neatly at the center with the counter occupying the far end of the carenderia. There were big casseroles, small casseroles, bowls, Pyrex trays, spoon and fork dispenser and glass container at the edge of the counter. Susie’s waving at us. We are one of the numerous customers who frequently eat at her place.

Kare-kare for me and a lot of bagoong and two cups rice.

He was eerily silent. His shoulders slump, his hair disheveled and his blue polo un-ironed. But still he looks gorgeous. Too bad, he’s my best friend. Best friends don’t fall in love. We told each other before when Digimon was still our favorite topic. We even signed a paper with our names on it saying we are best friends for life. Family friends would say that we make a good couple but we simply laughed it off because, we are best friends.

Jane, Sarah wants us to get married.

So, that’s the point of it. What’s wrong with getting married? I thought you want your own family?

I do. But my own family! Not somebody else’s family. Sarah’s been having an affair with her boss and she has his child.

Sarah’s my close friend since we were high school. The three of us were classmates and we were inseparable. We would go to school together and go home together, as well. We even attended the same college. We sleep in each other’s house depending whose turn is it to be the host. Though our sleep over stopped when he and Sarah become an item, we are still the three stooges people jokingly named us.

I don’t know how she could do that to me.

Riiiiiiiinnnnggggg!!!!

My cellphone rang.

Jane, help! I’m bleeding!

That was Sarah.

Only I ran out from Susie’s. With keys in hand, I drove madly to Sarah’s apartment.

Then, to the hospital.

Where are you? Sarah’s in ER. She needs you!

10p.m.— He arrived, at last, but still disheveled from head to foot. I was outside the ER waiting for him and for the doctor attending Sarah.

I went to her office and talked to her boss. That bullshit! He denied his child! I haven’t even fucked her!

He was again the boy who I first met in our subdivision. Bangs covering much of his forehead, misty eyes and a sad smile, then, we became fast friends.

Jane, am I stupid?

He banged the ER door which had the Security transferred us outside the hospital. We will just call you, ma’am.

Why don’t best friends fall in love? You could have been my wife now if we haven’t made that stupid promise in our childhood.Sshhh… Sarah needs you.No!

He ran off to his Convertible and went away leaving me open-mouthed with his actions… And his words.

∞∞∞∞

Still outside and waiting for him, the rain consumed me. There’s nothing left for me, now.

The security guard just looked at me from his post without even offering his umbrella. My long sleeves were heavy and my skirt hugged my legs. The wind howled. It was two a.m. The doctor had said his condolences and muttered that he has another patient to attend.

Jane? I’m sorry.

He wrapped his blanket around me. I haven’t known he arrived. He looks younger and more handsome. But he’s as cold as the stone I’m sitting on; harsh as the pouring of the rain and insignificant in my memory.

I pulled off the blanket and walked past him towards the hospital.

Minggay died.
My brother buried it.

i really didn’t know what to feel. but i already missed Minggay now. it usually slept in our house.

but not anymore.

The thought of converting a few meters of our living room into an office wholly affected the family atmosphere into formal and restrictive temperament— and more after that murderous night last August of 2003.

I was in my senior high school and an honor student, for that. Projects seemed endless and with the Press Con approaching, I had to finish a paper due the next day. But it showed that my paper works had to wait because five gun shots shattered the companionable silence in our house. The television went static. My brother, by the television, hunkered on his seat and futilely covered his ears with his hands. My two-year-old niece enclosed in my arms. My other brother, beside my father but sitting by the floor because he was massaging my father’s knees, managed to keep papa from falling on his armless chair.  My father anchored to the right with blood gurgling down from his mouth and nose.

“’Paaaaaa!!!”

It was that accident that kept most of us from home for almost a month stay at the hospital. Our rented house temporarily abandoned as my father, my brother—the one beside my father— and my niece was driven to the hospital for immediate medical attention. (those things as operation and blood transfusion for the three of them)  

Our sala smelled of blood for several weeks that even scrubbing the floor had not lessened the rusty smell.

Most of the time I spent home was not just by myself. Having a number of siblings did not allow me to have an area in our house all by myself. The kitchen area, which is by the right side of the living room, is where I frequented most of the time. (Pinasagdan sa kusina? Not really.) I cook for my family, and in so doing, have to be by the kitchen by 5 a.m to prepare breakfast and change the water in the thermos. I guess, the kitchen is my domain. I don’t have to talk of tragedy to say that the place is important to me as it is to anyone else in our household.

Then again, like our living room, our kitchen has been renovated but not as frequent as our sala has been. It has green plastic screen over the sink area after the fire of ‘91 consumed half of the wooden grille. A plywood-patched (if there’s such a thing) concealed the broken brick wall in our kitchen. (And there were countless times in my childhood where I remembered imagining what if the wall would completely collapse and bare our kitchen to the people outside. What could have happened if that happens?*tsktskstk*)  

To the other side of the living room, more exact to say is, the adjacent side of the living room— the one on the left are— is the two adjacent and only bedrooms in our house. It has not changed over the years, though. The biggest of the rooms is where the females of the family sleep in except my mother who occupied the smaller adjacent room, separated by another door.    

 Much of what should be a must-see in our house is situated in our living room. And just as I said, it has been the soul in our house. However, it has not been that way after that night years ago. The aluminum screen that used to be the other half of the wall facing the road outside was changed into concrete. A gate was even constructed signifying that our house is “off limits” to stranger. (Limited version, kumbaga!) Nobody could get in our house as people has used to come in and out our door. Even our friends, mine and those of my siblings, are “selectively chosen” to visit.

Yet, I don’t think, that the cold atmosphere of our house has get into the minds of its occupants. My parents, though strict most of the time, are still hospitable as they can be. My sibling, having outgrown a few of their immaturities, are becoming more like my parents– finer sensibility to take note of. As for me? Well, I still have many years ahead to understand things. Many things. (this include why a frustrated massacre happened in my family.)