Essay Writing

Topic: Christmas Celebration in the Pandemic

Hindsight of Every Screen Scroll

Justin Jones G. Notarte

Living in a digital age can liberate people by providing them access to information and
establishing stronger communication despite the challenge of space and distance. By simply
clicking buttons on electronic screens, data can be obtained. The information superhighway
combats ignorance and puts the digital natives as the forerunners of change. Apparently, the
virtual world has become a place for everything, a one-stop platform of this generation. Yet, life
goes beyond what stories on screen tell the mass.

For a very long time, people have indulged the boons of technology regardless of their
social status. Also, the digital space has redefined the ways people celebrate their life moments.
Before the coronavirus pandemic, people had the luxury to personally share their gifts during
birthdays, attend banquets during social gatherings, and travel during holidays and many more.
However, the current health crisis has dramatically affected people’s mobility. Celebrations are
now sternly restricted. Consequently, people have profoundly clung on to their gadgets as a way
to get the most recent news, be entertained, and pursue academic goals amid strict community
quarantine protocols.

Today, most people join the digital space and face an influx of both –– information and
disinformation. Sadly, the latter is another virus to deal with aside from the contagion that has
already crippled the world. The barrage of misleading information online can potentially brainwash
gullible minds and provoked conflicts. It seems that the pure, white screens have gone dirtied by
dangerous information, such as inaccurate facts, biased opinions, and unregulated data or
images proliferated on the internet.

Nonetheless, people continue taking small strides to keep life moving onward. Some have
let go of their gadgets to embrace a more realistic and active lifestyle while others have remained
dependent on their devices. On the former note, people have turned their rooms into in-house
gym, perspiring to achieve their body goals. Some traverse miles on their bicycles, pedalling for
better health. Additionally, some have ventured along the countryside to discover hidden wonders.
Plantitos and plantitas have reverted to natural ways by transforming their vacant yards into
verdant havens rich with ornamental plants and bonsais. In general, leisure has evolved into
healthier and greener habits.

On the latter note, some have become more tenacious of their gadgets, spending more
time online than they used to be. Business people have turned their screens into marketplaces.
Many employees have worked at the comfort of their homes. Moreover, students have adapted
to distant learning to pursue academic endeavors. Overall, business and education have
continued charging towards better ways and means.

With these in mind, both online and offline activities have crushed the isolation walls built
by the pandemic. Our creative ways of coping against the crisis pave the way for the coming of
the Messiah so that we remain steadfast despite these dark times. Every screen scroll can ignite
hope and radiate positivity among the deprived and the weary.

However, the hindsight is more precious than what meets the eyes. Digital users might
overlook the true essence of every post. Unconsciously, we have the privilege of reflection –– to
look back and learn from the past. Reflection may come last, but it has the capacity to withstand
any drawback. Although the Christmas celebration this year would be less merry than before, the
hindsight of every screen scroll means hope for this ill-stricken world.
Narrative Story
Topic: Unforgettable Stories

Horrors in my heart
Justin Jones G. Notarte

For my entire life, I always had feared ghosts. It would make me shiver when I go to dark
places with my friends, let alone venture it without company. However, this constant dislike of
horror had a major turn when life takes everything all-in, when all that we treasure slip from our
hands ice cold. Left with nothing but regrets and grief.

Back when I was just a child, my grandfather, Delfin, would share his stories about lore of
paranormal mysteries that lingered in our neighborhood. He would try to retell that most of his
encounters were after losing all his money gambling, as he remarked that ghosts were only visible
to the sad. I always considered those as realities I would never want to come across. As we live
near the cemetery, going inch closer towards the bed of corpses would become harder and harder
in each step. For me, the gothic stories of my grandfather harbored my imagination with great
terror.

However, in the year 2018, the narratives that shook my knees, froze my jaw, and bulged
my eyes came to life – or rather, ended. As a young child who loved the pleasure and misery from
the vivid descriptions of the thriller in darkness, I never imagined that the most frightening story
took place in my grandfather’s deathbed. In a cold well-lit ward with a lot of people gambling for
life, I had the horror that broke my heart.

About four days before that soul-crushing picture, I was in Dumaguete attending the
National School Press Conference. I, unaware of the problem in my home, shared joyous
moments with my co-writers. No horror ever struck my mind as I was living a dream. Not until I
went home.

The moment I arrived from a long trip, I could sense an eerie silence, notwithstanding the
heavy baggage I got on my shoulder – or unknowingly, inside my chest. My mother told me in a
composed calm tone, “Nak, naa sa hospital si Lolo Delfin nimo.” Stunned by the news, I got out
of words. “Gi-atake siya og high blood og na-stroke,” she continued. I was speechless.
 On that very night, I sat beside the deathbed of my beloved Lolo, holding his rough hands
and syncing with every gasp of his breath. My tears burst out in each of his faint squeeze of my
hand, sending a message about his agony. I never thought that my most unforgettable horror was
never heard but witnessed painfully. Besides, it was in his hands who got a pair of twos against
death who had pocket aces.

Since then, night and day had shifted until I decided to go home, deterring the fact that his
condition got even worse. The doctor prescribed to transfer my grandfather to the ward for grave
and hopeless patients. Bluntly, it was a place for people waiting for death. I can recount how
everything imprisoned a young grandson in a vacuum who did only one thing – cried a river.

With the decision of my grandmother who rushed to the hospital to rescue me from my
helplessness, my grandfather crossed his one leg to the afterlife, withdrawn from all medications
and life support.

But, with my delusional hopes that he could still hold on to his pair of twos longer, I went
home to rest from the horror I had to live in that moment. I took a bath and even surfed the internet
to check on my messages. After an hour later, I went back just to witness the conclusion of my
love-and-hate relationship with horror stories. I knew from the look of my grandmother that a bad
omen was about to be revealed. I was right. My Lolo lost to death, a better gambler perhaps.
Inevitably, he died.

I knew I am frightened by ghosts. Yet, for once in my life, when I was too late, I never felt
the shiver nor fear in my body. I was ready to face the daunt of horror, not knowing it was worse
to see the vivid descriptions than just hearing it. I entered the morgue and searched for a familiar
toe whose entirety was dear to me. There I found a lifeless vessel of the horror stories that
haunted me for years, but, in reality, fascinated my cravings for spectral mysteries. Later I realized
that the death of my grandfather was the ending all those horror stories that no longer resided in
our neighborhood, but in the depths of my heart.