“At times, the self-centered nature of our egos we can’t peter out, our alter-egos will always be there to take charge—conscience can always haunt us wherever we go as we do something unlikable. Conscience will always be part of our ego’s constitution.”

Horrendously horrific horrible Horriplation!—the sudden puzzling redundancy I feel one Sunday morning as I wake up. It’s already 7 o’clock in the morning; I find the sunlight rays scorching hot which almost likely melts a human skin. Yet my body’s shivering like a poor little cat embraced by the rain’s cold. I crook myself, my arms holding my thighs together. Nevertheless, I feel far greater than shaking from the inexplicable chill of the air I am feeling. I feel like I’d given up life. I feel like I was despaired to continue my living.

Honestly, now I don’t know what to do. I am suffocated by the loneliness I am having. I am, with my family, spending a life under the same roof; I don’t want to recognize them though they’re just around. I am an ingrate, a shame, a bastardo, a delinquent.

Subsequently, maybe because of absolute sadness and regret, a hazy smoke appears just in front of the window. Then, a voice come out and said, “Charles, your loved ones weeping for you for so long, they’re in the front pew now!” “What do you mean?,” I questioned. I am scared. ‘Pews’ are those church’s long benches we sit in every Sunday mass. But, hearing it from a wondrous object as such, it connotes me death. I cried, “Hey!” The mystical object disappears.

What the voice told me electrifies my body like lightning strikes on me. It’s like an elixir of life which liven me up and revitalized me. I stand up. I remember its Sunday, Sabbath day—the day God given us to recreate ourselves, of course to confess and repent for our sins. And so, rapidly, I wash up and get dressed with a short-sleeved polo shirt and maong pants.

I want to catch up the next mass since the first mass had just finished by the time. I go down stairs and get surprised to find out my siblings in the kitchen, eating of no fond, and look appalled as if they are carrying heaven and earth. They look so skinny as if they haven’t eaten for years.

“What are you doing? Bakit nagmumukmok kayo? Anong meron?” I said. “Ate, balik na tayo kay kuya,” my little brother Rein said. “Ate!,” my 3 year old twin brothers replicated. “Huh!? What are you saying?,” I said, puzzled. They don’t respond as if they haven’t heard me, as if I am taken for granted. “What the hella everyone all you are saying!!? I’m here!! Hey!,” I whined.

They fix things up, leave the kitchen, and move towards the front door. I am so angry. I’m their older kuya and I shan’t be tolerating attitudes like that. I pat my sister’s right arm.What the? I am shocked to find out I’m one hella soul unconscious of what’s going on.

I follow them. They ride a taxi and I join them in since I’m one hella soul, after all. They drop by the Our Lady of the Abandoned Church main gate, the church I found myself comfortable spending a time for reconciliation of my whole self.

Its Sunday I am expecting a lot of people around, but I find no one. What’s happening around? What’s this? Just so, I don’t bother myself and go directly to the main entrance. As I enter the church, I genuflect, sign the cross, and I look at my ring with small engraved crucifix in it. I look at the crucifix of the church. I am touched, fall down on my knees, and pray.

I close my eyes.

Time is flashing back and I am remembering everything I did wrong, if not err, my faits accompli which retired my always illuminance of my self-proclaimed bright future, or at most, my whole life.

***

My story of despair…

Its summer vacation 2006, I thought of spending it to Boracay or, if not, Capiz will do as what the family had planned. But no vacation happened on that year and the succeeding years ‘til 2009 —just HOME

BITTER HOME.

One night, as I woke up around 2 am, I felt so thirsty. I was going down to the kitchen to get something to drink—water, juice or whatever. In my way, I was being conscious, as I passed by the door of the master’s bedroom, to find out that my parents were quarreling. That quarrel seemed taking place a week ago as I heard momma said, “Nung last week ka pa!? What you want this family become?” Whew! Don’t tell me it’s just fooling around; its April Fool’s, oh come on? I never mind it until my parents confessed us, their siblings, about their marital status. So it was no joke, the conversation I heard…

Allow me not to lend you the entirety of the story about what happened as it really broke my heart…‘til now. I said to myself as I was being fed up about the reality of our situation that kids dropping out school weren’t over-reacting. Masakit pala. I regretted that part of my life. From then on, my heart turned away from my parents.

Every day that passed by as I stared at the white door of the master’s bedroom, I was only seeing shambles of evidences of infidelity, marks of unforgiving unfavorable heartbreaker, and patches of selfish pride of them both. They should not be as parents been acting as such. They should not be letting us heard their screams of inconsistencies of love. I thought before, that love long as it’s true will find its way to heal, caress, and fix the broken pieces of the other half that can only make it whole and enduring forever. So we, their kids, what are we made out of? If their acting signifies no true love? Such childish heartaches that made me went wrong.

We tried to help them resolve it. Just then, ‘They can’t… they don’t … they won’t…,’ the voice of nightmare that gave me an everyday black-out dreams. My father stopped working, brought down our two business investments, no money circulating in our budget but the salary of my mom which by then an accounting manager at the head office of a national computer store.

My mother’s salary was just enough for us to sustain our daily living just so we must cut down into spending only the most needed. Nevertheless, if we don’t, we gotta be stopped our schooling. I haven’t had any scapegoat for those glitches but myself—to abuse myself. I became stubborn and rebellious. My mistake—allowing a curse dominates me.

Entering a Curse…

One afternoon in my way home, a smart-looking guy approached me. He offered me to join a fraternity—Fortis Citus Phi Fraternity. I had known in my conversation with him that I was being watched by a schoolmate who also a member of that fraternity. After sales-pitching that the brotherhood wasn’t associated with illegal paddling or whatever illegal, I got convinced. So, I joined it.

All the while, we did bar hopping, acquainting ourselves with hot chicks flirting around. We were liquor drunkard. We fumed cigarettes badly. We were always fooling around. We are so wild and dangerous!
My bestfriend Paulo then knew what hella I was doing. He talked to me. He sermon me alotsa pieces of advices but there’s a line which resonates and marks —Conscience can always haunt us wherever we go as we do something unlikable.

“Dude, I hope you change and reformat you self. You’re taking a wrong track,” Pau told me. He handed me a ring with small engraved crucifix in it. And he left.
Life-changing curse-breaking destiny…

After two weeks I’d spent time with them, the regularity of our tambayan at some bars in the metro had altered. One night Big Bro, the eldest cheerful big buddy in the group, took a different turn from the regular Quezon City belt of clubs to a place I haven’t been before. The street was something unusual, creepy indeed. But I found huge buildings in the place, most likely factories. I could see few people for their night shift duties walking their way to work. I asked, “Hey! This route’s different, huh? How long’s the trip?” Big Bro answered, “Two hours to go.” So, I slept, not considering my ignorance of the place. Maybe because of? Stupid trust?

I heard the engine stopped. I rekindled my senses and saw an old building, most likely seem to fall anytime. The building looked deteriorated not only its paint but also its column—I mean the entirety of the building’s foundation, I suppose. As we entered the haunted building, I said, “What are we gotta do in here??” Shhh… Big Bro was serious. “Big Bro, I need to go!,” I demanded. “Shhh… Stop for a while Charles, I’m getting irritated,” Big Bro said, annoyed. Okay. Shocked?

As we walked up the stairs, it moved as if going to fall. “Oh hey!!,” I said, surprised. Big Bro said, “Charles, please stop. We are three licensed civil engineers here, me, James, and Jesse; it won’t give up don’t you worry. So, shut up!!” As we continued our walk, I noticed Jesse, my brother in the fraternity, carrying a harden case of a guitar. “Hey! Why are you carrying a guitar?,” I wisphered. Jesse snobbed me. So, all them people are serious. I just kept my pace, trying to foretell the future. Conscience can always haunt us wherever we go as we dosomething unlikable. What the hella am I hearing?

Later that I discovered that the fraternity I joined in was really a gang. At the 2nd floor, we entered an audio-visual room; I estimated it about 100 sq. m. The moonlight was enough to light the room with big cracked windows. Big Bro walked towards the halfway of the room. He met someone. As I followed him with my stare, I noticed at the other end of the whole room a group of 7 people. We stopped. Jesse handed over me a 45’ caliber gun. What the hella are we gonna do?

After a minute at the center doing an I-don’t-know rendezvous, Big Bro fell down. I was shocked. Just then, Jesse fired a gun. And after which a succession of gun fires exploded my ears. It’s gang war. Whatta shit!? I was already there and I hated quitting. I was absolutely scared, but quitting are only manifestations of one’s weak colors. I hid myself behind a column. My joyous hours with them had just ended, now with bitter times.

I shot four bullets but aimless to hit someone. My conscience was starting to knock at my heart. I was nervous. How come a high school student handles such situation? I couldn’t stand the pressure, I wanted to run away but I couldn’t leave my once good brothers. So I said to myself, I would sacrifice my life. But, ironically, I just sit at the back of the column I’m hiding myself.

Half an hour had passed, only two of us, Jesse and I were alive. It was a deafening silence. I looked at the other side of the room, all were down. Anxiety surmounted above all my emotions. But I needed to keep intact, so I motioned Jesse to get out of that hellish chamber. Jesse first went out. I took another glance at the other side of the room, and counted them again. There were only 7 bodies. Where’s the other one?

Then outside the room, I heard someone chuckling, not of Jesse’s. I sneaked towards the door and peeked outside the room. “So, ano na gagawin mo ngayon? Huli ka! One on one tayo.,” the man said laughing, “Pa’no ba yan? My gun’s facing your back. Wala ka nang kawala!”

I pointed him my 45’ caliber gun. Conscience can always haunt us wherever we go as we do something unlikable. I’m hearing the man said, “Drop your gun! Isa!…” I paused for a moment. The man seemed counting down for my brother’s life. “Dalawa!…” I got it. My best friend Paulo for almost 10 years was right.

“Tatlo!..”

BANG!!!

The man was lying down at the corridor. I killed him, I guess. I thought that my best friend’s piece of advice only wanted me to think about the right things over the wrong ones. ‘Conscience is not about a feeling of guilt. It’s our principle. It’s how we weigh justice over truth. Guilt is only haunting us because it hurts our morale and egos,’ I said to myself.

When I saw Jesse all right, I ran towards him and motioned for the both of us to get out. We were at the hallway. We heard someone shouted, “NO ONE COULD EVER LEAVE THIS PLACE! EVERYBODY MUST DIE!” That’s the voice of the man I hit. Jesse and I were only about 15 meters away from the main door. I heard a loud explosion from every corner of the building. As we were running, there’s also an explosion happened from Jesse’s side. Oh! Goodness grace! Jesse’s upper body was torn apart from the bottom part. He was dead. The building was collapsing and I was about 5 meters away from the main door. I ran faster almost leaping like a deer escaping a lion’s brutality. I got the door knob.

The building collapsed.

***

At the opening of my eyes, I am hurt by the light maybe because of the long time in coma. I find my family crowding around my bed as if the room is small though just enough for my family to accommodate it. I see Paulo and the rest of my original barkadas also inside the room; merrily welcoming me coming back to life.

I find out that my body was found by the rescuers beneath the fallen concrete rubble of the veranda of the building. My head was injured by the concrete debris, bringing me badly to a coma—it was 2 years then under a coma. Whew! Too long!? I also find out that the building was a haunted residential mansion of the ancestries of King, Big Bro’s true name.

Hmmm… let bygones be bygones. I am happy to see my parents as sweet as if teenage lovers again; I can see the sparks of their connection in their eyes. My ever loving siblings I miss so much. I miss being alive again. I miss everything. And I will love my life even more. Welcome back LIFE!

***

When I’m almost a flatliner, my life in critical begets another life—the restoration of my family’s morale and compassion, a renewal for an upright life. My parents come back to God. My siblings come back to God. I come back to God. My parents exchange words of apology, caress each other again. They become more in love to each other, nothing can break their vows. And I am being brought back to life—determined, responsible, and wiser Charles.

Thanks for my alter-ego for breaking the curse. Thanks more for my best friend Pau for activating my conscience back, for the continual support and encouragement. At times, the self-centered nature of our egos we can’t peter out, our alter-egos will always be there to take charge—conscience can always haunt us wherever we go as we do something unlikable. Conscience is not about a feeling of guilt. It’s our principle. It’s how we weigh justice over truth. Guilt is only haunting us because it hurts our morale and egos. Conscience will always be part of our ego’s constitution.

Sometimes, life begets life. When one life had lost, there comes a new life to cherish and improve. I lost my cursed life, now I’m enduring a life worth living. Most of all, a life I will spend to praise and honor Lord Jesus.

CG 

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