BLACK SEA, DARK NIGHT

A Novella by Yusop B. Masdal

(This is an unfinished manuscript of a novel I was trying to complete so many years ago. I just
thought it is worth sharing. )

The devil in his black robes and black cape, with his black teeth that gnash into the darkness with
unseen ferocity. Those rangy eyes that slit to the sides like cats on the prowl. I have not seen him
before except in the fertile ground of my mind, in my pregnant imagination and the intricacies in
which it is capable of inventing. The lengthy tongue of fires billowed here and there like giant
waves in the high seas, swallowing hapless fishing boats caught in the midst of a raging storm,
within a Pacific Ocean caught in one of its hellish moods. That is inferno that I never knew could
exist in this mortal world, however briefly they may have come to me, interfering with the
cinema of my mind without any regard or consideration for the permanent stain that it might cast
over my mind's landscape.. And yet, the most fearful episode is still about to happen.
I fear most the devil when he appears suddenly in front of the doorway of my dingy room
upstairs, hovering in midair, neither his serpentine feet nor his massive head touching any sides
of the wooden entrance. While all the lights are out and the sound of crickets lay very still in the
thickness of the dawn. And then in those unholy hours, my eyelids appeared to open forcibly by
some unknown persuasion that even while I am gasping for air, struggling from steep anxiety. It
was useless to think of running away for the source of terror lies there, in the only passage out of
the room. No scream would escape my mouth, much less a verifiable holler. To make matters
worst, sleep completely leaves me from the very moment of terror, that I have become a terrified
victim of darkness, a tortured soul of the night.

Sometimes the devil merely speaks to me without transgressing my sight, in a voice that
whispers like leeches poring into my skin and into my veins. At first, the conversation we had
was directionless, discouraged by the crippling fear that had enveloped my whole being as every
limb an nodes trembled steadily almost crackling my whole being like a crisp biscuit pounded
into bits of flour. How could you ever spew discerning words when you are cold like polar ice?
How could one ever speak to a devil? Is there any precedence that could guide my notions and
insinuations? How do I confer with someone, rather with an entity, whose existence is at most
mythical, highly unverifiable and definitely not within the bounds of reality as the word outsides
this room knows? And yet the devil talk to me, of what subject I never moment of such luciferic
pronouncement s, I always had to run away, at times into the earliest at most up and down, to and
fro, inside the house that my mother never hesitated to declare me a mental case my sister Leda,
and so did the neighbors, and later on my friends and everyday acquaintances. I got tired of
running out, sweating profusely like a swine put on its death row, with the eyes of the word
piercing my soul, accusing, and convicting: all at the same time

Somehow, somewhat we all get to used to everything, however strange things may have became
in this world that is continually challenging the bounds of morality, customs cordiality, ordinary
notions and knowledge-the bounds of reality.

Finally, in the evening that the first moon of July finally appeared, I have resolved to make the
necessary clarifications as to the purpose of the devil.
“ There must be something I have that may be of use to you. “ I said half stating. half questioning
as I retreated to my bed h, murmuring all the prayer that I know, hoping the devil would not
instead make appearance whilst he speaks to me. When after half an hour that voice did not
come. I turned my cassette on and plugged- in the areas of Bocelli. “ Cantero. cantero. In si
mezzo llari es me returno…”

The air was cool the evening, and the noises made by people still in the streets reverberated
smoothly towards my room together with the sound of leaves blowing into the night wind. I put
up mild sign that the moment of contact with devil has not actually been forthcoming. Strangely,
I felt a little bit disappointed that my preparation has come to naught. Or I thought.

About an hour or so before midnight, the sound emitted by my cassette recorder started to
feedback. Screeching into a high pitch ambulance siren that I was suddenly jerked out my state
of h0alf sleepless. The wind steadily grew louder and more forceful that the air carried with it
debris of no small amount and sizes, as I glared towards the window. A sudden panic made my
heartbeat run like wild stallions as I triad to reach for the door. I could not open the door and I
swore it almost blew my brains out when after the wind had ceased abruptly, and the air become
so pregnant with a silence so heavy that I could feel it pushing me down , there, at the edge of
my bed, with his back towards me, was a man, some sort of an old man wearing a hat, an flayed
and graying hat, a painter’s hat it seemed. The apparition was vague, like looking into an opaque
window, aggravating the strangenees of the moment as I literally become pasted to the surface of
the wall, not moving, and perhaps not even breathing

“ I come in all shapes and size, as I want to” the old men said without making and movement. “ I
am the one you have been waiting for”.

I stayed petrified for a moment that seemed to run eternity. Most me wanted to shout or at least
murmur some thoughts clarify possible explanation for this very strange occurrence, to put
matters into its proper perspective however unreal my visions have become, but words or even
semblance of did not follow suit. The mountain fear searing into my veins reached critical level
that I have to master all what is left of me and sought for the door as I scurried downstairs to
seek salvation, if you could actually cal that.
My mom and Leda were in the sala, sipping cold tea and Chinese biscuits. I tried best effort to
compose myself, swiping on my forehead and all over my body as it seemed, and located a
comfortable corner in the sala to stay anonymous. Leda, that skin and bones sister of mine was to
engrossed on a late night Mexican soap on TV and it was no use bothering her anything, not not
even to breath when she is holding to that proverbial remote control, the symbol of the modern
age, with agitated determination. I used to have long ago touched the velvety surface of that
gadget, but not anymore, not in a very long, long time first, it was a mere battle of wills between
us that the gadget seesawed possession depending whose ability to gnash and growl is at its peak
time of conflict. It was ugly but it has its rewards.

Things started to turn bad for me when the great Mediator , my mom , started to metamorphosed
into the great Ally of the opponent, always ready to bail out my sister whenever I attain an
advantageous warring position; and with goes the chunk of my TV privileges. Who said life is
not unfair.

Skinny and short-tempered, Leda could turn devilish even over matters of very little
consequence, turning into a tongue-lashing, fire-breathing serpent without any provocation. She
is a nervous wrecked I guess, just like I am perhaps, or just worse for I rarely spew invectives,
and only when there is extremely provocation. When my nerves get wracked, I was the opposite
of Leda, turning into a turtle and submerging myself inside my hot and humid room, for hours,
even days coming out nly for lunch or dinner and sometimes, not at all. I guess schizophrenia is a
disease by affinity. Of course, the commonality between Leda and me probably ends there, for
while she is similarly neurotically situated, she gets the privileges that I could only wish. TV,
clothing, cosmetics, chocolates and chips while I languish for shoes on my feet” my father was
always berating me. Even while father was already earning a lot of mullahs in middle East, all I
deserved was oversized T-Shirts that was always telling you not to go out when you’re wearing
it, or that seems to shouts’ “Stay Home, Idiot!”.

Life is really unfair for most of us, unfair in so different ways for each and every one of us. Leda,
aside from wallowing in underserved attentions, has that most coveted privilege, the privilege of
traipsing to and fro, up and down stairways and halls of our rotting old wooden house without
absorbing a single scathing remarks from mom while I have been a walking magnet for mom’s
irreverent indictment, “God, do you call that a haircut?”. “ Look at your beard, dirty, dirty,
dirty!!, “ Have you not attended your classes again?”. When, I thought when father left overseas,
I had final redemptions from these tongue-lashings but alas, I never realized that mom could be
doubly worse. The reason is because my mom is a woman. Tongue lashers extraordinaire.
With television not possible, I strolled lazily to the backyard and list some cigarette. It was
nearly midnight but strangely the night felt alive that whatever fear I had of darkness has ceased
or at least settled calmly. There were the occasional sounds of passing vehicles and the wicked
laughter of a group of bystanders wallowing in gallons of coconut wine. To simply feel not alone
was enough for me at that moment. This was a strange night, a very strange and surreal night.
My skin felt the heaviness in the air as I gazed toward the night sky full of novas, imploding or
exploding, of distant stars and galaxies, quasars, meteors and all. I tried to busy my mind with
every though possible, every idea that is not the devil. I let my second cigarette and went farther
towards the back fences where the rooster slept on their peculiar position. This was no place for
any apparition, I summoned my thought, and where the streets still reverberated with the usual
noises it makes. At least, this was a better place than my bedroom.

On my fifth cigarette, I was still deep into ponderings about this phenomenon, this sort of malady
that has ensconced upon my being. What malady is this? What cure is possible to alleviate this
seemingly unexplainable situation? Just thinking about it, without actually being inside the
experience renders me discomposed and unsure whether this is a malady of the strangest kind or
simply the hallucination of a failing mind. I heard or read once that people that are about to
become crazy often talk about their fear of finally lapsing into the abyss of mental incompetence,
that sooner or later their common sense would betray them. Do I have that fear? Am I courting
insanity as the most logical explanation to all of this? I really have to resolve, as soon as
possible, this malady, this fearfulness, and these uncertainties.

Next day came and through one of those very rare occurrences, I corned Leda while she was
gorging the morning’s chow. She was supposed to be already in school earlier than the first
rooster could even crow but now. In one of those rare occasions, she was still taking her time on
the dining table. “You must not tell this to mom, Leda but I saw the devil again".
“How did you know that it was the devil in the place ? Cut the crap or you better off be escorted
to ward 9”, Leda answered nonchalantly, without even a hint of tone indicated in her speech.”
You should get help immediately peter” she continued, “ You’re brain is dying, you drink to
much … you smoke to much… you stunted by hour in front of that useless video game console.
You’ve been taking drugs again, Peter. It’s no wonder you’re seeing things. I bet you are
technically crazy now”.

“Just what do you mean by that” I protested, “How could you say that? Craziness could not be
sized up technically, for your information. I knew it, I should have not spoken to you about all
these, you could not even discern technical matters from those that are intrinsically and non-
materials,”

“Quit your being a scientist again you don’t sound a bet like that”. Leda was at her usual warring
stand. “What mean is that your apparition talk has gone too far now, Peter, At first I thought you
just lacked sleep but is a conclusion. Bad blood is running in your veins that you are now a
walking factory spewing toxic materials everywhere. The moment you started running to the
streets like an amok, you should have been herded to the hospital or some mental asylum. It
should been long ago….

Leda was her most serpentine mood that I could actually see fire coming out of her mouth. She
speaks so bluntly and she could actually get away with Mom and Dad. She is forgiven for that.
She talked that away ever since she was declared the Family Scholar, when she got valedictory
honors in Grade School while I languished pitifully in anonymity and almost missed the march
as my Music teacher then was threatening to give me failing mark, in music in all subjects.

“You speaks too dryly and so technically” I retorted,” you think you are so intelligent that you
harbor that silly dream of becoming an astronaut. Intelligent people do not watch some silly
Mexican soap opera full of actors compounded with a silly plot of any factual and significant
human experience”.

“At least, I do not speak of demons or some old decrepit man in a Parisian head gear.” Leda
stated sarcastically.
For the coming nights, I had avoided sleeping in my bedroom again, preferring the sofa to harbor
whatever sleep that may come to me. Watching cable programs until dawn, watching kung-fu
movies in complete Chinese language, without the subtitles. It was a breather, to enjoy a show
without being pressured to understand the conversation, for I have never really understood a
single Chinese word. The French movies were just as good, but lack of materials arts content had
rendered these frenchies not as palatable. The anxieties left me wide-eyed still for there was no
assurance that the devil, or whoever that creators is, would not appear in the sala. My relief is
that until now, that devil has not yet appeared to me in any other place except my room, I didn’t
fully understand this for if the devil was such a powerful being, he could appear anywhere
anytime I come in all forms and sizes, perhaps he may not be that powerful, perhaps most of is
just a myth. Craps. Bull Horseshit. Maybe I should not fear him at all. Maybe I should. Should
such wishful thinking

I spent the rest of coming days sleeping in the sala, stuck to cable movies until dawn gives up on
me. At daytime, I was virtually transformed into a zombie, walking dead, with eyes swollen from
wakefulness that built eye shadows black as the night sagging face and thoroughly unkempt hair.
The prolonged lack of sleep took so much of the life in me; the liveliness of my body has
defaulted to a major red light as I tried to kept mental balance, physically and mentally, while I
was trying to run away from the demonic scourge. And to make it worse. My body is so in heat,
no not the usual meaning for it. What I mean is that an invisible source of heat, or a brimming
fire of unknown location, attacking me from the back, without giving me any chance to retaliate.
The devil must be nearby, for hell is. The burning sensation was so overwhelming that it
contributed greatly to my failure to fend sleep, and worse of all, it drained my body fluids that
my Mom could actually tell from a mile about my loss in weight,” Oh God peter, what happened
to you. You look so horrible. You’re sweating like a pig.

I told you that if you go to drugs again, I’ll let the police drag you to man’s land.”

“No Mom, it just the weather perhaps. It’s so hot.”

The morning was heavy with clouds above that what is imminent should be a major downpour.
There was no wind, that’s actually how the weather behaves, I read in a science textbook, where
there is a threatening downpour. The heavy clouds actually restrict the movement of air that
almost no wind could be felt.

“What do you mean the weather is hot? The sun had barely come up and you tell me it’s hot. Go
take a shower you must see Dr. Felisberto, if it’s not drugs, then you must be suffering from liver
problems. Mom was fairly knowledgeable with some sickness, being a midwife in one of the
municipal hospital here. There was relief that Mom suspected hepatitis rather than drugs. But
when I sweat like this, it’s hard to explain when in fact, I really have not taken drugs for a long,
long, time. I started to hate it. Never really wanted it. The withdrawal symptoms has just gotten
so worst that the momentary enjoyment it brings is greatly overshadowed by the fangs, pains,
sorrow, the unexplainable anxieties, the extreme heaviness of my body, my soul, the denigration
of my pride, my person. The downside of drugs was so huge that, never again shall I wallow in
such foolishness, in such grave massacre of the human soul. Drugs had actually been always an
afterthought, present when the friends are in town, when my buddies have something to talk
about, until the wee hours of the morning. I never took it alone, not to alleviate any sorrow, to
solve any problems or to elevate my consciousness. It was always with friends. My over dosage
of such last year was not a result of helplessness, but merely resulting from unabated and
uncontrolled sequence of parting. Saturday was birthday. Monday was a town fiesta. On
Tuesday, long-lost friends fatso was in town from the states, on Wednesday Herman got too
emotional over a break-up with his girl of five years. The stuff were there, in constant
consumption side to side with booze of different sorts, beer, gin, rum, even wines displayed by
the Ricky’s father were not forgiven. On Saturday, I was driving the car at 120 kilometers per
hour, shouting as I arrived home that a gang armed with guns and knives were following and
trying to kill me. The next day I run to the streets half naked and on Monday I found myself tied
down to a hospital bed, with bottled fluids hanging over my head and wishing all that I am home.
”You really looked emaciated,: Mom continued,” were you last night? You couldn’t possibly be.
I didn’t hear dogs barking.”

“No Mom, I’m just here. I slept at the sala last night.

“I think you should go to Dr. Felisberto. You should get help immediately. Don’t let me drag
you, you are old already.
“Fine, Mom I think I’m going there this afternoon.”

Mom was a little bit caring. It felt uncomfortable but still, like always it was like she always
wants to get rid of me. She gives me a massive dose of rebuke then left me to fend for my own
self. Fortunately, I have grown use to that it didn’t matter anymore, never matters anymore.

Harley, or Dr. Harly David O. Felisberto was the doctor of choice ever since I could remember.
He was that lanky, balding guy who is a natural chameleon. Prim and proper, formal and
courteous when in front of adults but a easy going, sometimes a clown when he speaks to me. I
may not be a child now but I still call him Harley, except when Mom is around. Mom always
berated me: “Where’s your manner, peter. It’s Dr. Felisberto. Show some respect.” I may not be
a child anymore but Harly maintained his easy speak with me.

“It’s unlikely that you have liver problem.” Dr. Felisberto started, “Most likely, you have been
taking drugs , Pete. There’s no use in hiding it.

“No, Harley, you know that I wouldn’t lie to you about such thing. If I had done such
foolishness, there’s no point in arguing with you because you are a doctor. But the truth is I have
not taken the stuff even for once.”

“You must be experiencing withdrawal symptoms, it’s most possible. You need to have your
blood rested and comeback immediately after you have the result.”

“It’s not really about drugs. It’s something different. It’s something supernatural. Do you believe
in such thing?” I felt a little embarrassed saying this but there was no choice.

“What do you mean?

“You know, ghosts, and spirits…the devils”

“Oh, come on, you know I am doctor. I approached my work scientifically. Don’t tell me, Peter.
It must be hallucination…I hope its temporary…?”
“It’s the devil Harly, when I had that overdose, I never had seen such apparition it’s definitely a
bewitchment okay, perhaps I’ve imagined thing before but this time its different. I know it, you
must believe. The devil speaks to me, he appears before me twice or thrice already, but he speaks
to me in so many occasions already. Inside my room…God you must help must help me
Harvey.”

Dr. Felisberto did not speak for nearly a minute, massaging his forehead with his lengthened
fingers. He sat back to his executive chair, a certain desperation was written in his face.

“Peter, you should go home now. Have some good sleep, force yourself to sleep, count the
sheep, drink a lot milk, and think, just think hardly that the devil, or whatever it is that appears or
talk to you is definitely unreal. Then come back tomorrow or the day after, I am sure you’ll be
just fine. I recommend that you see Dr. Marquez, he is a good friend, you could trust him.”

“Hey , I am not crazy just as yet, I don’t need no psychiatrist. I just better leave.”

“Call me tomorrow Peter.”

The point is this strange occurrence is all for me to keep Leda and Harvey must have been the
only person in this world that I could talk to about those experiences but both proved useless
bottled fluids hanging over my head and some oversized fat idiot forcing us to do seat-ups,
feeding us rice cereals with no bit of chicken in it.

I cannot talk about this to just anybody. Of most things I hate is being implicated as a mental
case, that’s the worst of it. It really drives anyone paranoid.

Nothing matters to me anymore but to escape this predicament. My law subjects do not matter
anymore, the food I eat, the kung-fu movies, the latest Grisham thriller, Pearl Jam’s new release.
Everything in my life had turned into a turn still, upside down, downside up. Every second and
every minute my mind is invaded by the devil and his soldiers of fear, his warriors of the dark
and there is a battle that seems to be intractable, not to be won by a side so dilapidated and
untrained in the art of war, what more a war against the unknown and the unexplainable.
My room has become so disarranged for lack of attention. I only go up there during the day,
when I have no other mind but to sleep, lug around and sleep. I even oversleep one night that
woke up when the evening was still early. The lights were out and the moment I woke up, the
panic was so sudden that I virtually could feel it running through my veins, from my feet towards
my feet. Again, I lifted myself immediately, jerking my body from my bed and run as fast as my
legs could afford.

I took my supper alone, as always and tried to calm down the racing heartbeat.

The phone rating when I was about to finish up my meal and Leda was gracious enough to
sacrifice some second of her attention from the television to answer the call. “Peter, its Dr.
Felisberto”.

I never expected the call that I wanted to make further clarification with Leda. “It’s really for
you. Why do you have to still have to argue?”

“Peter, its Harley, I was worried about you. I think we need to talk this evening. Come to my
house in an hour. I’ll be home by that time.”

Harley’s house was about ten kilometers away from so I borrowed the car from my Mom. The
weather averaged to windy, to rainy, to stormy for almost a week now. The night was unusually
dark, the sky no stars or moon above.

At about nine o’clock, I arrived at the suburb residence of Harley and he was on the front porch
with Mrs. Felisberto.

“Good Evening, Peter”, Mrs. Felisberto greeted me as I took my seat on a steel chair. “Please
have a seat. Have some cookies and coffee.”

“No, no coffee for Peter for the meantime. What you need now is a good pint of rum.” Harley
said to Mrs. Felisberto and to myself while she was about to enter the house. “Executing me,
Peter,” she said, “I need to sleep early. I hope you could tend for yourself.”
“Thank you Ma’am, do not worry about me”, I said as Harley poured some rum-coke into a
small glass.

“Sit down, Peter,” Harley started as he sipped his liquor, “There is something that I am going to
tell you and you have to listen carefully. When you came to me that day, I couldn’t help but
conclude that you are again wallowing in drugs for what else could be wrong with you. All
through your childhood you were healthy as a horse on the desert, expect for some occasional
bronchitis and bouts with the sinusitis. Aside from these weaknesses of your respiratory system,
you were definitely a healthy child, at least one that you could not call sickly. I told you to call
me immediately because I need to stay in contact with you. I was so worried about you. I
received the immediately because I need to stay in contact with you. I received the blood
examination result that you sent through your maid and you were right, you could not have been
taking drugs for almost a year now. I checked your records in the Sinai Hospital where you were
detoxified and there were general conclusion that your paranoia had not in fact lapsed into
hallucination meaning to say, you have not yet experienced visual or sonar miscalculation of
things at that time and it is unlikely that you developed such. Still, insanity may still come from
other sources aside from drugs, or that in your you may have been affected too much by the drug
overdose that eventually now your mental environment already. Or you may have been gravely
affected by Trisha, you know, you told me that she was not really worth it, but who can tell, I
cannot tell.”

“Trishia, well, there’s really nothing to it, no big deal…. I just feel uncomfortable not to be
seeing her again. Wanting to see her, when there’s that glimmer to hope but not enough resolved
to kneel down and apologized. But it never really mattered when I am without her. I am just
alright with or without her?

“Uh huh. Let me continue.” Harley cleared his throat and gobbled down another shot of rum.”
The point is you could most probably be already experiencing the very stages of insanity.
However, I could tell you that I know a crazy person when I see one. Just by the way he looks,
much more by the way he talks.”

“Come on Harley, you called me here just to tell me in my face that I am crazy?”
“No, no, no…. let me continue, what I am saying is that, for all the experiences you have had.
You are not crazy peter. Believe me. I know you ever since you are a child. I have not gained
expert knowledge on psychiatry…. Or whatever it is they call that… that’s why I made you note
that there is probability that you may be going crazy in the head. Anyone could become crazy; no
one is exempted. Rich, poor gay person, white people, black people…. even dogs could go
haywire in the head. But I know you. I believe you when you when you said that you are not
crazy. Pardon me if I had insinuated otherwise.”

“Well…. Thanks Harley’’, for a while almost could not speak. I felt I could cry from this rare
affirmation, which I really needed at this time.” Well, what can I say Harley? But it still does not
solve my problem. I am terrified and wouldn’t be too soon till myself would announce to the
entire world that I am really a goner in the head. Come handcuff me and throw me to the Lion.

“Calm down peter what are saying. Please let me continue”

“Okay…. Go on….

“Another thing is that I believe you when you said devil had talk to you.”

“Are you serious? Do not make fun of me especially in my present condition, Harley.”

“No, Listen. I believe you because let us just say that I know someone who had similar
experience, about voices and apparitions. It was long ago. So long ago peter that I thought I have
already forgotten it until you come to me that day.” Harley Look the bottle of the liquor and
drank whatever left of it without using the glass. Something in his face was unusual, a face, that
tells me of a Harley that I didn’t know. There was a thin layer of sweat all over his face, which
was red and Harley suddenly looked feverish that I stated to worry about him.

“Are you alright, Harley Am I bothering you already.

“No again, listen to me and please do not interrupt me, okay I was a little bit surprised on the
sudden abruptness in the speech of Harley. Definitely, I have never seen him in such condition
even when I have known him for almost all my life.
“yes see, peter” Harley continued as he opened another bottle of, liquor, it was a scotch whisky
this time,” It happened when I was about a child of ten, again do not interrupt me, just listen. I
guess it was about the year 1967 or 1969, I am not sure anymore, back in our town in Mercedes.
One afternoon, while we were playing games with my friends at the backyard of our old house,
the house at the house that I told about which was built during the Spanish time by our great
grandparents, my grandpa shrieked and shouted for help. The neighbours heard he cry of my
grandpa that many came running towards our house. I run as fast as I could to see what the
commotion was all about. The earth seemed to move as I pass the hallway that I almost fell on
the stairway, grabbing the handles before I completely lose my footing, and then I saw blood on
the floor of the room of my grandpa. There were huge amount of fresh blood on the floor that it
seemingly flowed like a river. Before I could see what was really happening, the men who
answered the call for help rushed my grandpa out of the bedroom and I later on learned that
grandma was rushed to the hospital in the City area, unconscious and bleeding profusely.

“That afternoon, just as the sun was about to set down on the horizon, most of the relatives and
some neighbours gathered in our house. The sala was so spacious that even if the people who
gathered around numbered to almost twenty, you could still feel empty spaces all around. They
were waiting for father and grandpa to arrive from the municipal hall and until that time, nobody
seemed to know to speak. It was some sort of unusual, Uncle Bert, the fat and clown of an uncle
of mine would surely have monopolized the conversation and let the conversation explode with
laughter and merriment were it not for what had happened to grandma. The silence was
augmented by the yellow luminescence coming from the lamps that filled the corners of the Sala
and the hidden shadows it had built. We did not have electricity in our place at that time and
ventilation was attained by the windows so wide that you could mistake it for doors if you were
not careful enough.”

“My father has gone straight to the municipal hall from the general hospital per invitation of the
police. No, there was no wrong suspicion of the murder indicated by the authorities, against
grandpa or any against member of the house; no one was made to answer for highly interrogative
inquiries that are usual in similar situation. Corporal San Diego has sent some of his men to
make. Routinely police work, inspecting the passage ways for any sign of forcible entry,
scanning for finger and foot print, taking away some pieces of clothing and belongings that were
not really of great consequence to us, the bed sheet, the blanket, some hankies. That was all. We
saw the police asking our maid, Delia, a question or two, after that, the police took their leave. In
the police station, Corporal Son Diego apologized for the inconvenience and informed my father
that he needs to make some sort of statement for records purposes and that’s all and there was a
promise of a speedy resolution to this unfortunate event.”

“The maids serve coffees and a biscuit for there was no time anymore to prepare food for such a
short time. My fathers arrive about seven o’ clock in the evening. With red stains still his shirts.
It was clear that he tried to wash it off with water for the color of blood on his, shirt has appeared
muddled and diluted. Everyone was tense and worried. It was never spoken but I could tell the
general expectation is that grandma would not make it, what with huge amount of blood that had
been loss from her, Cousin Betty, the oldest cousin that I knew of it was already inconsolable
while uncle Berto scolded her that she was already counting grandma dead even even if news has
not yet arrive from the hospital.’ Let us wait for Daniel’ uncle Berto reminded everyone,’ I sure
Mama would be all right. Now calm down Betty. You there Harley, go to the front gate and wait
there for your father and stop playing with your toy car. This is no time for playing, gaddemet ’ I
seemed to have isolated myself from entire happening, looking in from the outside, seemingly
oblivious to the graveness of the situation and unfeeling to the heavy emotion that seemed to
have enveloped the surrounding of our house. Despite my relative detachment from it all, I have
sort of become witnessed the entire experience, not only from within but also from without. I
may have not seen most of the physical sequences but somehow, inside my head I was aware that
something not ordinary was happening even before the elders has come to the open about it.
Aside from my mother and father, It was only Uncle Bert and Manang Lita , our Yaya that had
knowledge about the things that was about to come open in this hastily scheduled meeting
although most of us in the household already was aware of the unusual sickness of grandma,
There nights when our sleep were disturb by the sudden shrieking and crying of the grandma,
right in the middle of dawn. Every time grandma was attacked by that “sickness”, she become
uncomfortable and her face assumed a distraught look that she seems to look like somebody else.
Manong Godo, my ninong, his brother Nito and wife Melinda were allowed to hear the
testimonies for they were nearly our relatives, leaving so close to us and having been in very
good relations with our family,”
“Before the revelation, father position himself in the middle of the room where everyone could
hear him. He did not bother to find a seat and stood there talking like a politician declaiming his
fortitudes. The condition of my grandma has stabilized my father said without much modifying
the tired look on his face. Blood has been found but it were never used because the doctor found
out that her blood pressure was just a little beyond normal and any transfusion would in fact
bring her harm than good. She was still unconscious when father left the hospital but the doctor
guaranteed the stabilization of her condition. In fact the doctor was a little bit disturbed grandma
seem to have not suffered so much of a weakening in her body, it was as if she just feel into very
deep sleep. And until moment, the doctor had not yet identified the wound where the pools of
blood come out. They examined her nose, mouth and earlobes and did not find any sign that
blood had run through it. They are to examine her other orifices by tomorrow and they were
relatively positive that most possibly the outpour of blood was a result of a bowel or renal
movements. These conclusions by the doctor will prove to be immature for when tomorrow
came, the result of the examination did not indicate any internal hemorrhage. Grandma had not
complained of pains in her body and continued to spew out crystalline urines and maintain a
healthy bowel activity, the case of grandma had become some sort of modern controversy within
the doctor in the at that time. When the finally decided that didn’t have an answer of the case,
they invited attention from medical authorities in Manila by sending medical reports of grandma
only to wait for nothing. When nothing actually happened to the investigation of the doctor, they
no choice but to fall down and agree with the preliminary findings of the police which indicated,
among possibilities, that a stranger might have slipped into the house with some malevolence in
mind and stranger was wounded gravely by grandma or grandma Of course there was question if
grandpa or much less grandma could have sufficient strength to actually bleed a stranger poised
to violate the peace and vandalize the house/ Another thing was that there was no bladed weapon
to be seen around scene of the…..er…….not the scene of crime for it were never decided as a
crime for lack of assailant and of a victim.. but the scene of that…. Shall’ we call the
supernatural bloodletting by grandma.”

“‘Listen carefully, all of you’, father started, he scourge of grandma had gone too far this time.
What really, happened to her this afternoon is not for us to know about just as yet, not until she
recovers and come home from the hospital. Most of you here may probably know that mama has
a disease that is unusual, although I have known the cases. Still it is unusual for it could not be
understood by everyday common sense. To say the least it is something from the unknown.’’

“Father stuttered once in a while that he often took a small breather before continuing his speech,
He told the gathering that the time to believe has arrived, There is no turning back now,. He said
further that for those who still doubt the unnatural sickness of grandma should leave the room for
he or she wouldn’t help. It was apparent that father was never comfortable with the things that
were about to come open that evening. Things that should not be spoken were it not for the grave
situation of grandma and the things that had just happened to that afternoon. After taking deep
breaths father continued his speech, I know some of you or most of you already knows about the
haunting that had trouble this house for a very long time now. The last time gin made his
presence felt so seriously was the time that I almost died of unknown sickness. You could
remember sometime last year when I could not even move my hand, enable to feed my self and
look for my own being. That was the time I cried in anguished like a child, kneeling before the
unknown to beg not to bother us anymore especially grandma. It was the time that Nyor
Temyong frequented our house, trying to exorcise and tame the gin. WE thought we could really
beat him with all mantras and chants that we have done, The gin was hurt but was so strong we
could not entirely make him go away. And so I had to beg like I never did before. We promised
the gin everything that we could give and we promised that we would do away with the

Ceremonies if it would vanish and never come back After long nights in constant battle with
spirit, we were able to make the haunting stop, and we thought it would be for the rest of our
lives when however. The gin Has again begin to make his presence felt. Now more grave than
ever, with so much blood and I have feeling this time, the gin is coming with more ferocity, with
a vengeance. When we had the exorcism last year, I could actually hear the gin screaming in pain
although I never knew in what form of voice it spoke. We tried to speak to the gin, to clarify its
purpose and desire but to no avail…we have to be prepared this time. The gin has come back and
we must drive it away at all cost for there is no guarantee that it has any resolve to live us alone.
Maybe when grandma is dead but even if grandma is already in her twilight years, we could not
allow her departure from this world through the malice of the gin…or of the devil. The gin is a
devil alright for what else could it be when grandma has become so agitated over the years and
now, blood was spilt so horribly that clearly, it is a sign of something senister to come.’. There
was glassiness in the eyes of father that you could tell that he was either furious of just being
overwhelmed by fear. I could tell that he spoke with lesser resolve than we had aimed to do. ‘We
have to do what we have to do’, father continued and he made gestured as if trying to uplift the
morale of those who were around when in fact it was apparent that father needed that most. By
tomorrow, I am to consult Nyor Temyong and bring back the fight that we almost won last year.
This time, we are going for the kill. There is no turning back now. I need most of you to be
present tomorrow for the ceremonies and the players. We do the ceremonies at the first sign of
twilight tomorrow. Something might happen gravely so be prepare. We have to expect for
anything to happen for we do not know the length of the gin’s power. It has been a tiring day, we
all need to rest now for tomorrow is the day of reckoning’.’’
``The meeting ended without any more conversations after father made his long talk. Everybody
seem to have decided that nobody was allowed to speak, or perhaps they were just careful not to
say anything stupid in such a very fragile situation. Everybody realized that in times like that,
there was no used talking about worldly things when foremost of all consideration was
something supernatural. They decided that the gates of the unknown have started to open and
they have to prepare themselves, to reset their minds and cleanse of whatever disbelief they have
of otherworldly beings. Most retreated to their beds with their heads heavy with visions of the
gin, taking many forms, having many sizes for who could actually visualize the image of such
being. Any sleep they had was not substantial if actually they had any. Most turn in their beds,
fearing for their own well-being, each wishing that they were away in some far away in place
when the scourge has again began to reek of haughtiness, of menace. They remember so well last
year when the exorcism was in full gear that my father had become so feverish that no one could
tell that he was the same person if nobody care to further verify. My father had become so
emaciated that he himself told me that he was close to expecting the inevitable, the sacrifice of
his own life. He was sweating almost all the time during that span of days, never took much
food, only water and some syrupy preparation given to him by Nyor Temyong. When darkness
fell, father would scream like cattle about to be slaughtered, running to the open fields like a
madman, half naked and weeping like a spanked child and everyone was running after him, to
pacify him and tie him down. I would cry too when I saw father being so strange and acting so
bizarre. I just could not accept him to be so denigrated and helpless. My father had always been
the image of a gallant warrior, galloping in a white horse, always on the prowl, always on the
lookout for any enemy, to vanish and repel whatever harm that may come our way. Being a law
practitioner, he was a respected personage in the community in every time trouble and conflicts
disturbed the peace of our community; father seemed to always have the solution up on his
sleeves. He was also some sort of a philanthropist, always ready to give a helping hand. Were it
not for his busy occupation, he would have been a cinch to become the selected leader of our
community.