the tides, part 10

Note : The following is a continuation to a story this author started writing last year. While he believes in the idea of intertextuality, he is also a firm believer of the concept of intellectual property, and will invoke his rights under the Copyright Law to the full extent, should his story be subjected to acts of plagiarism.
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With nothing but the sun’s slow descent from the zenith to keep Theo company that afternoon, he watched with growing interest the blur of activities taking place near his perch, by the jagged rocks along the beach. It had already been more than an hour, when, from the six village men that had appeared by the curve, setting down the life-sized statue of the Blessed Virgin on the sands which was followed closely by this year’s hermana mayor—a woman with greying hair and a loud mouth— the spot had become a veritable hub of religious activity, this side of the island. Little girls clad in white, carrying baskets of red and white petals, formed a neat little line beside the hermana, who’s now caught in the heat of an argument, driving her point at the reverend with clenched fists as to why the cantores should go ahead of the altar boys the minute the procession starts. Filling the air with voices badly in need of fine-tuning, are the cantores themselves, practicing the hymns that will accompany the procession to the small chapel just a little way after the bend, on the island’s other side.

Theo watched all of these with the curiosity of an outsider; amazed at how even though the event badly needed the expertise of a professional events organizer from a city-dweller’s viewpoint, the whole affair still managed to retain an air of wonder and mysticism. He only had to look at the faces of those in attendance to see—fishermen’s wives with their kids and dogs in tow; all wide-eyed with excitement. Even the men of the village were present—standing by their boats adorned with triangular pieces of paper especially made for the occasion—in rapt attention as the hermana issued her final instruction : to haul the statue of the Blessed Virgin over to one of the boats. And, finally, sealing an hour’s worth of preparation, the loud clanging of hand bells from two altar boys going around the crowd amidst the persistent yapping of dogs.

A hand tentatively brushed past his right shoulder. He looked to see Manang Linda smiling. Behind her, Manong Gerry is busy getting his candle lit by someone from the crowd. “We told you its gonna be a special one, didn’t we? It’s sad that Clem couldn’t be with us this year. He should have gotten a vacation too and came here with you. Come now, the procession’s about to start”.

Theo smiled the sanest one he could muster, and motioned for the couple to go ahead. He looked in the direction of the sea. In just a few minutes of losing himself to the preparations, its waters had turned golden in the light of the setting sun. Boats have become mere ashen wraiths plying its waters, swallowed by the magnificence of its glittering tides; and the songs, just as they were starting to get sung, instantaneously receded with each step, as the procession started to make its way to the chapel.


to be continued

happy, reprised

my valentines day turned out to be ok afterall. and that is saying it with a lot of smiles. :) i'm just one big drama queen. told dee i wrote the preceding entry out of sheer frustration at the turn of events, but told him i left out the details [to keep the fans guessing, haha!]. he told me i better make up by telling here that "i punished him, and punished him good last night", but that is too much information already, if you get my drift. hehe.

dee, thank you so much, that were still us. for exercising constraint in times when i take centerstage. for seeing me in my good times and the bad, and still loving me anyway. and though you keep on telling me that i have many "fans", kaw lang ang nagmahal at nagmamahal sa akin ng ganito at ikaw lang ang mamahalin ko ng ganito.

now, to say it again, properly this time : happy valentines day dadee.

happy

i know what we have is not perfect. but time and again whenever something upsets that delicate balance, we somehow always manage to meet halfway and do the necessary talking til we are both satisfied and the balance restored. what really irks me now is that this has to happen today. of all days, sheesh. and i thought i've so much to blog about, so many ideas and events in the past days that needed blogging--things that are sunny and bright--and when free time finally visits my doorstep, those will be the things i'm gonna write about. not this. fuck. happy valentines day.

the tides, part 9

Note : The following is a continuation to a story this author started writing last year. While he believes in the idea of intertextuality, he is also a firm believer of the concept of intellectual property, and will invoke his rights under the Copyright Law to the full extent, should his story be subjected to acts of plagiarism
_______________________________________________

Why does it have to be this way, Theo? This boat, this trip—what else am i to endure just to reclaim your heart? I don’t deserve you walking out on me just like that. i don’t deserve all the hurt feelings you hurled at me—coz i have, and i am, hurting too; hurting still, as much as you are. You think you’re the only one who’s losing sleep over all of this? You think you’re the only one dying a little each day, when you realize you’re all alone, facing and greeting the wall good mornings upon waking up? God knows, i haven’t asked for this. It all happened so fast; i bet you didn’t see this one coming, too. It seems to me he just appeared out of nowhere just to mess up our perfect little world. I won’t claim complete innocence and say i didn’t fall for his charms, even for a bit. Yes, he is attractive; yes, he pulled me in right away with his devil-may-care attitude. But you have to believe me when i say i won’t exchange our years together for a mere wink, attitude or charm. All the pretty boys in the world could easily have those and flaunt them, but none of your tenderness that make you beautiful; none of your caring, none of those loving looks you throw at me from across our dinner table after our teasing bouts. Whatever you think you saw that afternoon, it’s not what you think it was, Theo. Come back to me, please. Come back..

The sudden surge of the shrieking instantly pulled Clem out of his stupor and into the present. The gulls have appeared, seemingly, out of nowhere—carried by the gentle tides that now began a tender, rythmic rocking of the boat. Laced with the noise of the gulls flying overhead came another sound, faint at first, then steadily gaining ground with his consciousness. He had heard this before; at a time when he was happiest—in this exact same place, about a year ago. Ave Maria. Ave Maria sung with passion by the faithful throng gathered at the beach. Closing his eyes, he could very well see hundreds of candles lit, thrust to the heavens—their combined light slowly gaining prominence against a darkening sky; he could very well feel that familiar hand taking its place beside his, the warmth of its palm and fingers locked with his, in one glorious moment just before the rain of red and white petals eclipsed his view of the Blessed Virgin; local children running barefoot in the sand, squeezing through the crowd to get a closer look of the spectacle; beaming, happy faces. The din of the song echoed loudly in his ears. He somehow knew that if the sound and these images stayed inside his head even for just a mere second longer, he’d lose his outward calm. He had to snap out of it, and fast. He willed his eyes to open. The boat is now inching its way towards the shore, gently carried by the tides and the memories of the place. Just a little ahead, towards the direction of the boat’s mast, he could see tiny dots of light slowly coming alive in the gathering dark.

Candle lights.

to be continued



image source : http://30daysout.wordpress.com/2008/09/24/lights-out-the-night-the-lights-went-out-in-southeast-texas/