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Short Stories: "Untitled" and "Confessions" Untitled By Rychus Guanzon Cortina All alone in a dark room, I sat crumpled in a corner, my back rapidly becoming numb to the chills of the walls behind me. From a curtained window filled in some rays of sunlight, just abundant enough to sustain life in the dying room. Actually, it was no more of a room than a prison cell. I've been stuck here for nearly 700 or so days now -- away from everyone else. I miss almost everything, back in my once normal life that it was almost as certain that I would enter the realms of the past, reminiscing. Again... My eyes were already drying up, as I've cried my tears away almost everyday. But no matter how much I wept, I knew I won't be back there -- because it's all long gone. Memories... I wondered, "Do they even remember me?" My, it's been over eleven years since we've all been together. I guess the last time was in that reunion, and I can't believe I didn't make the most out of it. "...high school..." Sure college was as significant as high school, but the latter was one of the best things that has yet happened in my whole life in general... How I formed my first "barkada," how I've cried over miserably failing an English exam (for forgetting to answer an essay question worth 25 points), how to be a teacher's pet and thus suffer the consequences of being teased accordingly, how I've written pieces for the class and won medals for them, how it was to win a banner for your friends, how we've made a teacher cry in hatred and how I've made the same teacher cry tears of joy, for being loved and finally appreciated... How to have a terrible Filipino teacher (who always thought we'd fall for her "skills"), how we underwent the tortures of an insane Biology teacher, how I've won first place medals for writing literary works in Filipino, how to meet and have a best friend and how to see a close friend of yours cry... How to indulge in something forbidden (ie: Magic), how to cheat, how I learned drinking twelve or so shots of bubblegum-flavored coconut wine and realized it wasn't worth it, how I've made promises and kept them, how to fall in love with a girl friend and break up with her, how to see myself and others love and not be loved in return, how to go stag in a promenade, how to be humiliated in front of the whole batch (as early-bird stag), discriminated and hated by people around you (as a playwright) and see my friends to the rescue, how people give up in life so easily so as to want to die and how your friends help you carry the burden, how to hate back a certain people and be thankful for them on end for teaching me what I would have never learned anywhere else, how to fall in love with ice cream and see it as an anti-depressant, how to have a comical yet fatherly class adviser, how to share secrets and to fall by those kept from you or unexpectedly revealed, how to lose it all and gain peace of mind... How to have a horrible yet sympathetic adviser, how to live away from an addiction, how to see others fall in love and love the martyrly yet gentlemanly way, how I've adapted the "bahala-na-si-Lord" attitude, how to debate so pathetically through the aid of all existing fallacies in this fallacious world, how I've cried for minutes long in a dark room full of people (around 40) due to self-hatred, how to be pained by the pains of your friends, how to see others let go, how to play the guitar and make a band, almost disband it and successfully bring it all back together again, how to forget a friend and be forgotten in return, how to have a date in a graduation ball, how to go sentimental in seeing it all come to an abrupt end, how to feel sorry that it really had to end... A sigh escaped me... Four years. It scares me that I might have to give up those four years of memories with the most important people in my life. All because of that one fateful day in the senior retreat... I found myself in the shores, amidst a roaring wind. Someone called me by the name; it was the wind. It led me down a path to the heart of a forest, to the resting place of a potter. There was a sparkle in his eyes. As if he knew me all too well, as I've known him close enough. Indeed I've known him before (through three certain people) but I have never gone this close to him. In fact I've never seen him this way before. "Imagine you are this chunk of clay," he began, giving me a slab of clay, "mold yourself into a symbolism of whatever you want to be." I gladly took the slab of moist earth and began molding an eagle -- soaring the skies with his friend wind, free. Then, he cradled it in his hands and remolded the figure. I watched closely as he made a figure of a man wearing a flowing, white robe. Contented, he put it down. "Now, this is what I want you to be," said he. I stared fixedly at the masterwork, not believing my eyes. "But why me?--" "Because I know you can do it..." I could not understand. "But why a priest?--" "Because you can be of help to more people this way." To me, he seemed so unreasonable. I wanted to argue my point out but he looked back at me with the same sparkling eyes, somehow whispering, "I'll be with you..." And now, because of that, I have to let go and start anew. Because of that incident, I am stuck here in this cold, dark room, waiting for these two years of isolation to finally end. For nearly two whole years, I've had nothing to do but think. But I can only think of nothing more than eleven years back. "Do they still remember or have they forgotten?" Silence echoed throughout the room and into my ears. Am I even doing the right thing? Why would I miss them if I'm doing the right thing? A teardrop escaped. I couldn't help it anymore. And in that time when I thought even Christ has forgotten me, I found myself in His arms. Anyway, there goes the first story. The second one has been done long ago and revolves around philosophy and religion. Here's one of the best philosophical stories I've ever written, "Confessions." Confessions By Rychus Guanzon Cortina The door creaked open and quietly slid close. "Good evening," I greeted. The man behind the trellis of secrecy and sins did not answer. In silence, he seemed heavily troubled. Apparently, he didn't step in for a confession; he simply wanted someone to talk to. And so I waited... He sighed and cleared his throat. "Yes?..." "Father," went a stiffly cold voice, "have you ever felt there was no -- have you ever felt like everything was pointless?..." "Sure I have," the words escaped, "like that time when I was turned by... Why? Is anything wrong, my son?" He doubted if he should ever have brought the topic. "I don't know. 'Coz I just feel my life is so fucked up right now." "Well," commented I, "that's just normal, isn't it? One day, you get to be on top of the world, next thing you know, you're way under." Surprisingly, before I noticed, he was laughing with a spice of mockery. "The only difference is that I never even got halfway up the hill..." I didn't know what to say. "It's -- It's," he sighed, "just like falling again and again. You keep stumbling now and then, and at some point, you'll lose the strength to get back on your feet. It's a tiring cycle, you know..." I ought to have said something by now, at least to ease the tension. "I'm such a big failure." Advice? I was no good in advising; all I was good at was preaching, hearing confessions, doing my job as a priest. I was good only to that extent. "Maybe, well maybe you're just getting it all wrong, you know." "I'm just so tired of being me," he continued, as though it was only the wind that passed by his ear. He sighed. And somehow, I felt like sighing too. "Have you ever felt there was -- there was really no God after all?" I couldn't answer. Even I had doubts, only they're locked away from consciousness. I never wanted to entertain such radical thoughts... "Have you, Father?..." And above all, the doubt of His existence. Why am I thinking of this? By now I should be able to clearly claim that there is indeed one all-powerful, Almighty God. Yes, after all these years in the ministry. But somehow, I just couldn't spit the words out. "Of course, there is... a God..." And that was the first time I doubted myself, as a priest, as a follower, as a believer. The first time I encountered someone who reflected my appearance but was never like me in any sense. That moment, it seemed like I didn't know myself anymore. "Then why wouldn't he help me?" "Son, these trials, they come and go," I explained. "While you are being tested, you need to be strong. Believe in Him, pray for courage and strength..." "I've been as close to him as I can get yet it seems he is so distant. I've been more than you can imagine, and still he refuses me. I've done everything, everything..." He sobbed in the silence of his heart. I, too, was near to letting my emotions out. And I can't help thinking, I just want to ask Him why this was happening to everyone. He sniffed, "But nothing happens." There was nothing I could do. Time seemed to freeze both heart and mind. "And I'm stuck in the dark, all alone, no one to help me, no God to even save me." No words could describe how we both felt. I wanted to say something, to help him but I didn't know how. It was him alone for himself. He sniffed and breathed in deep. He mumbled, "Or maybe it's just me..." For a while, the whole church became suddenly mute. "Look," I began, "don't take things upon yourself too much. It's not your fault. And about your problems, soon they shall pass. Just pray to God that it will soon end, okay?" He laughed, then sniffed. "Thank you for brightening up my perspective, Father. And I'm sorry I bothered you. I'll be going now..." A creak and he was gone. I'll never forget that talk with him, whoever he was who broadened my sphere of thoughts. That night was one I'll never forget. My body was still aching when I woke up at midnight to the wild clanging of the church bell. The bell boy must have lost his mind to do such a silly thing, madly rousing sleeping townsfolk in the houses nearby. Lazily, I got up and slowly traversed the cascade of steps up to the church tower. With a good deal of scolding, I'd surely slap him back to his senses, and for good. The chilly night wind blew through me. Until now, I didn't notice it was raining outside, thanks to the possessed bell. The last flight of steps and I'll be seeing a frown to be carved on his face for decades. The clanging was becoming terribly unbearable as I got nearer. "Boy, are you just out of your mind!..." Thunder rolled at the top of my voice. I switched on the lights to wake up to a nightmare: hanging on the rope of the bell was a sacristan, with a rosary tied onto his cold, sweaty hand. Post a comment in response: |
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