Webb Juro Theondre R.

Mirondo

11B – STEM
Reading and Writing Skills

Written Work #5

Going Backwards Journal, Entry 341

Date: August 31, 5189.

I have fully charged myself in my charging machine and the glass door slid open. I stepped outside and
fixed my visor. I looked around the desolate lab in which I was created. A protogen wolf named Altina. I
have found fun in time travel, which is a hobby I have gotten used to. In the past entry I have witnessed
the assassination of Abraham Lincoln in Ford’s Theatre on April 14 of 1865, the inauguration of
President Donald Trump and Joe Biden, and the Cold War. Now, I will be heading to Philippines for
today’s entry. Philippines is such a beautiful place but ever since humans and animals went extinct,
everywhere you see are ruins. Overgrown plants in every building, collapsing buildings, parks with
overgrown trees, and famous attractions that are now only written in the books I read. I must be careful
not to be seen in the past because who knows if they will destroy me or be used as a weapon. I have
combed my fur and was ready to go. I picked up the time travel watch and inputted a date and year. I
also grabbed my bag of supplies. Inside my bag were some spare power banks, various disguises, a
camera, a video recorder, and my diary. I took a last glance at my room filled with photos of the past,
the white computer I used to view the videos, and my bed, which served as my charging machine. I
pressed the travel button which sent me to December 30, 1965. I have quickly dressed into a white
Filipiniana costume. It was the inauguration of Ferdinand Marcos Senior. I looked at Ferdinand Marcos
Senior and took out my video recorder. I was hidden amongst the very large crowd of people. Using my
spare paw, I took out my diary and wrote the details of the place and some of Marcos’s speech.

“Today the challenge is less dramatic but no less urgent. We must repeat the feat of our forebears in a
more commonplace sphere, away from the bloody turmoil of heroic adventure – by hastening our social
and economic transformation. For today, the Filipino, it seems, has lost his soul, his dignity, and his
courage.

We have come upon a phase of our history when ideas are only a veneer for greed and power in public
and private affairs, when devotion to duty and dedication to a public trust are to be weighed at all times
against private advantages and personal gain, and when loyalties can be traded in the open market.

Our people have come to a point of despair. I know this for I have personally met many of you. I have
heard the cries of thousands and clasped hands in brotherhood with millions of you. I know the face of
despair and I know the face of hunger because I have seen it in our barrios, huts, and hovels all over our
land.”
After the speech, there were loud shouting and rounds of applauses. I have pressed the stop recording
button and put the recorder back to my bag, I took off my disguise and put it in the bag. I inputted some
numbers and pressed travel. It transported me to April 10, 1942. It was the Bataan Death March. There
were soldiers walking. I have hidden somewhere in the trees, noting the Filipino, Japanese, and
American soldiers. I took out my diary and pen.

“The American and Filipino soldiers were drowning in their sweat, while the Japanese were enjoying the
torture sessions. I have seen the soldiers who passed out and the weak ones get run over by a truck. It
was a sickening sight to see from my visor because of the blood, the gore, and the spilled organs on the
ground. I have recorded it. I have witnessed an American and a Filipino soldier get beaten by a Japanese
soldier. The American and Filipino soldier were given a black eye, bruises on the arms, knees, and chests,
and there were wounds. The Filipino soldier coughed up blood after being punched from the stomach. I
have heard a Filipino soldier ask for water. He said, “May I have some water?”. He was immediately shot
by the Japanese soldier.”

I closed my diary and put it in my bag along with the pen. I noticed that my battery ran low. I got a
power bank and hooked myself on to it. I inputted another date and year into my watch. It was my last
destination before going back to the year 5189. I pressed the travel button, and it took me to June 15,
1991. Eruption of Mount Pinatubo. Since the eruption haven’t started, and the people were evacuated, I
set up camp away from the volcano. Since I was a protogen, I am prone to the effects of smelling ashes.
When the eruption started, I felt the earthquake. I took out my video recorder and recorded the
eruption. My camp was set up with an invisible forcefield that can protect me from anything. After a few
minutes, there was ashfall. Thick layers of gray ashes were falling from the sky and Mount Pinatubo was
still erupting. After 5 hours, I took out my diary and pen. I started writing.

“The volcanic eruption is so intense it lasted for five hours. My camp wasn’t harmed and there were
now ashes in the surrounding area. Buildings were destroyed. The city was filled with ashes. There was
still ashfall from the sky. I have stopped recording and looked at Mt. Pinatubo. It was pitch black! You
can’t see any part of it. I was careful to fix my camp and after that I was ready to go.”

As I was done, I put back my diary and pen back in my bag, I dodged the falling ashes and quickly got
back to my timeline. I removed the power bank and put the bag on a chair. I laid on my bed to recharge.

Entry END.