Black Sea, Dark Night Complete

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BLACK SEA, DARK NIGHT

A novel by Yusop B. Masdal

The devil in his black robes and black cape, with his black teeth that gnash into the

darkness with unseen ferocity. Those rangy eyes that slit to the sides like cats on the prowl. I have

not seen him before except in the fertile ground of my mind, in my pregnant imagination and the

intricacies in which it is capable of inventing. The lengthy tongue of fires billowed here and there

like giant waves in the high seas, swallowing hapless fishing boats caught in the midst of a raging

storm, within a Pacific Ocean caught in one of its hellish moods. That is inferno that I never knew

could exist in this mortal world, however briefly they may have come to me, interfering with the

cinema of my mind without any regard or consideration for the permanent stain that it might cast

over my mental health. And yet, the most fearful episode is still about to happen.

I fear most the devil when he appears suddenly in front of the doorway of my dingy room

upstairs, hovering in midair, neither his serpentine feet nor his massive head touching any sides of

the wooden entrance. While all the lights are out and the sound of crickets lay very still in the

thickness of the dawn. And then in those unholy hours, my eyelids appeared to open forcibly by

some unknown persuasion that even while I am gasping for air, s struggling from it. It was useless

to think of running away for the source of terror lies there, in the only passage out escape my

mouth, much less a verifiable holler. To make matters worst, sleep completely leaves me from that

very moment of terror, that I have become a terrified victim of darkness, a tortured soul of the

night.

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Sometimes the devil merely speaks to me without transgressing my sight, in a voice that

whispers like leeches poring into my skin and into my veins. At first, the conversation we had was

directionless, discouraged by the crippling fear that had enveloped my whole being as every limb

an nodes trembled steadily almost crackling my whole being like a crisp biscuit pounded into bits

of flour. How could you ever spew discerning words when you are cold like polar ice? How could

one ever speak to a devil? Is there any precedence that could guide my notions and insinuations?

How do I confer with someone, rather with an entity, whose existence is at most mythical, highly

unverifiable and definitely not within the bounds of reality as the word outsides this room knows?

And yet the devil talk to me, of what subject I never moment of such luciferic pronouncement s, I

always had to run away, at times into the earliest at most up and down, to and fro, inside the house

that my mother never hesitated to declare me a mental case my sister Leda, and so did the

neighbors, and later on my friends and everyday acquaintances. I got tired of running out, sweating

profusely like a swine put on its death row, with the eyes of the word piercing my soul, accusing,

and convicting: all at the same time

Somehow, somewhat we all get to used to everything, however strange things may have

became in this world that is continually challenging the bounds of morality, customs cordiality,

ordinary notions and knowledge-the bounds of reality.

Finally, in the evening that the first moon of July finally appeared, I have resolved to make

the necessary clarifications as to the purpose of the devil.

Dr. Felisberto did not speak for nearly a minute, massaging his forehead with his

lengthened fingers. He sat back to his executive chair, a certain desperation was written in his face.

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Peter, you should go home now. Have some good sleep, force yourself to sleep, count the

sheep, drink a lot milk, and think, just think hardly that the devil, or whatever it is that appears or

talk to you is definitely unreal. Then come back tomorrow or the day after, I am sure youll be just

fine. I recommend that you see Dr. Marquez, he is a good friend, you could trust him.

Hey , I am not crazy just as yet, I dont need no psychiatrist. I just better leave.

Call me tomorrow Peter.

The point is this strange occurrence is all for me to keep Leda and Harvey must have been

the only person in this world that I could talk to about those experiences but both proved useless

bottled fluids hanging over my head and some oversized fat idiot forcing us to do seat-ups, feeding

us rice cereals with no bit of chicken in it.

I cannot talk about this to just anybody. Of most things I hate is being implicated as a

mental case, thats the worst of it. It really drives anyone paranoid.

Nothing matters to me anymore but to escape this predicament. My law subjects do not

matter anymore, the food I eat, the kung-fu movies, the latest Grisham thriller, Pearl Jams new

release. Everything in my life had turned into a turn still, upside down, downside up. Every second

and every minute my mind is invaded by the devil and his soldiers of fear, his warriors of the dark

and there is a battle that seems to be intractable, not to be won by a side so dilapidated and

untrained in the art of war, what more a war against the unknown and the unexplainable.

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My room has become so disarranged for lack of attention. I only go up there during the

day, when I have no other mind but to sleep, lug around and sleep. I even oversleep one night that

woke up when the evening was still early. The lights were out and the moment I woke up, the

panic was so sudden that I virtually could feel it running through my veins, from my feet towards

my feet. Again, I lifted myself immediately, jerking my body from my bed and run as fast as my

legs could afford.

I took my supper alone, as always and tried to calm down the racing heartbeat.

The phone rating when I was about to finish up my meal and Leda was gracious enough to

sacrifice some second of her attention from the television to answer the call. Peter, its Dr.

Felisberto.

I never expected the call that I wanted to make further clarification with Leda. Its really

for you. Why do you have to still have to argue?

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Peter, its Harley, I was worried about you. I think we need to talk this evening. Come to

my house in an hour. Ill be home by that time.

Harleys house was about ten kilometers away from so I borrowed the car from my Mom.

The weather averaged to windy, to rainy, to stormy for almost a week now. The night was

unusually dark, the sky no stars or moon above.

At about nine oclock, I arrived at the suburb residence of Harley and he was on the front

porch with Mrs. Felisberto.

Good Evening, Peter, Mrs. Felisberto greeted me as I took my seat on a steel chair.

Please have a seat. Have some cookies and coffee.

No, no coffee for Peter for the meantime. What you need now is a good pint of rum.

Harley said to Mrs. Felisberto and to myself while she was about to enter the house. Executing

me, Peter, she said, I need to sleep early. I hope you could tend for yourself.

Thank you Maam, do not worry about me, I said as Harley poured some rum-coke into a

small glass.

Sit down, Peter, Harley started as he sipped his liquor, There is something that I am

going to tell you and you have to listen carefully. When you came to me that day, I couldnt help

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but conclude that you are again wallowing in drugs for what else could be wrong with you. All

through your childhood you were healthy as a horse on the desert, expect for some occasional

bronchitis and bouts with the sinusitis. Aside from these weaknesses of your respiratory system,

you were definitely a healthy child, at least one that you could not call sickly. I told you to call me

immediately because I need to stay in contact with you. I was so worried about you. I received the

immediately because I need to stay in contact with you. I received the blood examination result

that you sent through your maid and you were right, you could not have been taking drugs for

almost a year now. I checked your records in the Sinai Hospital where you were detoxified and

there were general conclusion that your paranoia had not in fact lapsed into hallucination meaning

to say, you have not yet experienced visual or sonar miscalculation of things at that time and it is

unlikely that you developed such. Still, insanity may still come from other sources aside from

drugs, or that in your you may have been affected too much by the drug overdose that eventually

now your mental environment already. Or you may have been gravely affected by Trisha, you

know, you told me that she was not really worth it, but who can tell, I cannot tell.

Trishia, well, theres really nothing to it, no big deal. I just feel uncomfortable not to be

seeing her again. Wanting to see her, when theres that glimmer to hope but not enough resolved to

kneel down and apologized. But it never really mattered when I am without her. I am just alright

with or without her?

Uh huh. Let me continue. Harley cleared his throat and gobbled down another shot of

rum. The point is you could most probably be already experiencing the very stages of insanity.

However, I could tell you that I know a crazy person when I see one. Just by the way he looks,

much more by the way he talks.

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Come on Harley, you called me here just to tell me in my face that I am crazy?

No, no, no. let me continue, what I am saying is that, for all the experiences you have

had. You are not crazy peter. Believe me. I know you ever since you are a child. I have not gained

expert knowledge on psychiatry. Or whatever it is they call that thats why I made you note

that there is probability that you may be going crazy in the head. Anyone could become crazy; no

one is exempted. Rich, poor gay person, white people, black people. even dogs could go haywire

in the head. But I know you. I believe you when you when you said that you are not crazy. Pardon

me if I had insinuated otherwise.

Well. Thanks Harley, for a while almost could not speak. I felt I could cry from this

rare affirmation, which I really needed at this time. Well, what can I say Harley? But it still does

not solve my problem. I am terrified and wouldnt be too soon till myself would announce to the

entire world that I am really a goner in the head. Come handcuff me and throw me to the Lion.

Calm down peter what are saying. Please let me continue

Okay. Go on.

Another thing is that I believe you when you said devil had talk to you.

Are you serious? Do not make fun of me especially in my present condition, Harley.

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No, Listen. I believe you because let us just say that I know someone who had similar

experience, about voices and apparitions. It was long ago. So long ago peter that I thought I have

already forgotten it until you come to me that day. Harley Look the bottle of the liquor and drank

whatever left of it without using the glass. Something in his face was unusual, a face, that tells me

of a Harley that I didnt know. There was a thin layer of sweat all over his face, which was red and

Harley suddenly looked feverish that I stated to worry about him.

Are you alright, Harley Am I bothering you already.

No again, listen to me and please do not interrupt me, okay I was a little bit surprised on

the sudden abruptness in the speech of Harley. Definitely, I have never seen him in such condition

even when I have known him for almost all my life.

yes see, peter Harley continued as he opened another bottle of, liquor, it was a scotch

whisky this time, It happened when I was about a child of ten, again do not interrupt me, just

listen. I guess it was about the year 1967 or 1969, I am not sure anymore, back in our town in

Mercedes. One afternoon, while we were playing games with my friends at the backyard of our old

house, the house at the house that I told about which was built during the Spanish time by our great

grand parents, my grandpa shrieked and shouted for help. The neighbors heard he cry of my

grandpa that many came running towards our house. I run as fast as I could to see what the

commotion was all about. The earth seemed to move as I pass the hallway that I almost fell on the

stairway, grabbing the handles before I completely lose my footing, and then I saw blood on the

floor of the room of my grandpa. There were huge amount of fresh blood on the floor that it

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seemingly flowed like a river. Before I could see what was really happening, the men who

answered the call for help rushed my grandpa out of the bedroom and I later on learned that

grandma was rushed to the hospital in the City area, unconscious and bleeding profusely.

That afternoon, just as the sun was about to set down on the horizon, most of the relatives

and some neighbors gathered in our house. The Sala was so spacious that even if the people who

gathered around numbered to almost twenty, you could still feel empty spaces all around. They

were waiting for father and grandpa to arrive from the municipal hall and until that time, nobody

seemed to know to speak. It was some sort of unusual, Uncle Bert, the fat and clown of an uncle of

mine would surely have monopolized the conversation and let the conversation explode with

laughter and merriment were it not for what had happened to grandma. The silence was augmented

by the yellow luminescence coming from the lamps that filled the corners of the Sala and the

hidden shadows it had built. We did not have electricity in our place at that time and ventilation

was attained by the windows so wide that you could mistake it for doors if you were not careful

enough.

My father has gone straight to the municipal hall from the general hospital per invitation of the

police. No, there was no wrong suspicion of the murder indicated by the authorities, against

grandpa or any against member of the house; no one was made to answer for highly interrogative

inquiries that are usual in similar situation. Corporal San Diego has sent some of his men to make.

Routinely police work, inspecting the passage ways for any sign of forcible entry, scanning for

finger and foot print, taking away some pieces of clothing and belongings that were not really of

great consequence to us, the bed sheet, the blanket, some hankies. That was all. We saw the police

asking our maid, Delia, a question or two, after that, the police took their leave. In the police

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station, Corporal Son Diego apologized for the inconvenience and informed my father that he

needs to make some sort of statement for records purposes and thats all and there was a promise

of a speedy resolution to this unfortunate event.

The maids serve coffees and a biscuit for there was no time anymore to prepare food for

such a short time. My fathers arrive about seven o clock in the evening. With red stains still his

shirts. It was clear that he tried to wash it off with water for the color of blood on his, shirt has

appeared muddled and diluted. Everyone was tense and worried. It was never spoken but I could

tell the general expectation is that grandma would not make it, what with huge amount of blood

that had been loss from her, Cousin Betty, the oldest cousin that I knew of it was already

inconsolable while uncle Berto scolded her that she was already counting grandma dead even even

if news has not yet arrive from the hospital. Let us wait for Daniel uncle Berto reminded

everyone, I sure Mama would be all right. Now calm down Betty. You there Harley, go to the

front gate and wait there for your father and stop playing with your toy car. This is no time for

playing,gaddemet I seemed to have isolated myself from entire happening, looking in from the

outside, seemingly oblivious to the graveness of the situation and unfeeling to the heavy emotion

that seemed to have enveloped the surrounding of our house. Despite my relative detachment from

it all, I have sort of become witnessed the entire experience, not only from within but also from

without. I may have not seen most of the physical sequences but somehow, inside my head I was

aware that something not ordinary was happening even before the elders has come to the open

about it. Aside from my mother and father, It was only Uncle Bert and Manang Lita , our Yaya that

had knowledge about the things that was about to come open in this hastily scheduled meeting

although most of us in the household already was aware of the unusual sickness of grandma, There

nights when our sleep were disturb by the sudden shrieking and crying of the grandma, right in the

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middle of dawn. Every time grandma was attacked by that sickness, she become uncomfortable

and her face assumed a distraught look that she seems to look like somebody else. Manong Godo,

my ninong, his brother Nito and wife Melinda were allowed to hear the testimonies for they were

nearly our relatives, leaving so close to us and having been in very good relations with our family,

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Before the revelation, father position himself in the middle of the room where everyone

could hear him. He did not bother to find a seat and stood there talking like a politician declaiming

his fortitudes. The condition of my grandma has stabilized my father said without much modifying

the tired look on his face. Blood has been found but it were never used because the doctor found

out that her blood pressure was just a little beyond normal and any transfusion would in fact bring

her harm than good. She was still unconscious when father left the hospital but the doctor

guaranteed the stabilization of her condition. In fact the doctor was a little bit disturbed grandma

seem to have not suffered so much of a weakening in her body, it was as if she just feel into very

deep sleep. And until moment, the doctor had not yet identified the wound where the pools of

blood come out. They examined her nose, mouth and earlobes and did not find any sign that blood

had run through it. They are to examine her other orifices by tomorrow and they were relatively

positive that most possibly the outpour of blood was a result of a bowel or renal movements. These

conclusions by the doctor will prove to be immature for when tomorrow came, the result of the

examination did not indicate any internal hemorrhage. Grandma had not complained of pains in her

body and continued to spew out crystalline urines and maintain a healthy bowel activity, the case

of grandma had become some sort of modern controversy within the doctor in the at that time.

When the finally decided that didnt have an answer of the case, they invited attention from

medical authorities in Manila by sending medical reports of grandma only to wait for nothing.

When nothing actually happened to the investigation of the doctor, they no choice but to fall down

and agree with the preliminary findings of the police which indicated, among possibilities, that a

stranger might have slipped into the house with some malevolence in mind and stranger was

wounded gravely by grandma or grandma Of course there was question if grandpa or much less

grandma could have sufficient strength to actually bleed a stranger poised to violate the peace and

vandalize the house/ Another thing was that there was no bladed weapon to be seen around scene

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of the..er.not the scene of crime for it were never decided as a crime for lack of assailant

and of a victim.. but the scene of that. Shall we call the supernatural bloodletting by grandma.

Listen carefully, all of you, father started, he scourge of grandma had gone too far this

time. What really, happened to her this afternoon is not for us to know about just as yet, not until

she recovers and come home from the hospital. Most of you here may probably know that mama

has a disease that is unusual, although I have known the cases. Still it is unusual for it could not be

understood by everyday common sense. To say the least it is something from the unknown.

Father stuttered once in a while that he often took a small breather before continuing his

speech, He told the gathering that the time to believe has arrived, There is no turning back now,.

He said further that for those who still doubt the unnatural sickness of grandma should leave the

room for he or she wouldnt help. It was apparent that father was never comfortable with the things

that were about to come open that evening. Things that should not be spoken were it not for the

grave situation of grandma and the things that had just happened to that afternoon. After taking

deep breaths father continued his speech, I know some of you or most of you already knows about

the haunting that had trouble this house for a very long time now. The last time gin made his

presence felt so seriously was the time that I almost died of unknown sickness. You could

remember sometime last year when I could not even move my hand, enable to feed my self and

look for my own being. That was the time I cried in anguished like a child, kneeling before the

unknown to beg not to bother us anymore especially grandma. It was the time that Nyor Temyong

frequented our house, trying to exorcise and tame the gin. WE thought we could really beat him

with all mantras and chants that we have done, The gin was hurt but was so strong we could not

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entirely make him go away. And so I had to beg like I never did before. We promised the gin

everything that we could give and we promised that we would do away with the

Ceremonies if it would vanish and never come back After long nights in constant battle

with spirit, we were able to make the haunting stop, and we thought it would be for the rest of our

lives when however. The gin Has again begin to make his presence felt. Now more grave than

ever, with so much blood and I have feeling this time, the gin is coming with more ferocity, with a

vengeance. When we had the exorcism last year, I could actually hear the gin screaming in pain

although I never knew in what form of voice it spoke. We tried to speak to the gin, to clarify its

purpose and desire but to no availwe have to be prepared this time. The gin has come back and

we must drive it away at all cost for there is no guarantee that it has any resolve to live us alone.

Maybe when grandma is dead but even if grandma is already in her twilight years, we could not

allow her departure from this world through the malice of the ginor of the devil. The gin is a

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devil alright for what else could it be when grandma has become so agitated over the years and

now, blood was spilt so horribly that clearly, it is a sign of something senister to come.. There was

glassiness in the eyes of father that you could tell that he was either furious of just being

overwhelmed by fear. I could tell that he spoke with lesser resolve than we had aimed to do. We

have to do what we have to do, father continued and he made gestured as if trying to uplift the

morale of those who were around when in fact it was apparent that father needed that most. By

tomorrow, I am to consult Nyor Temyong and bring back the fight that we almost won last year.

This time, we are going for the kill. There is no turning back now. I need most of you to be present

tomorrow for the ceremonies and the players. We do the ceremonies at the first sign of twilight

tomorrow. Something might happen gravely so be prepare. We have to expect for anything to

happen for we don not know the length of the gins power. It has been a tiring day, we all need to

rest now for tomorrow is the day of reckoning.

``The meeting ended without any more conversations after father made his long talk.

Everybody seem to have decided that nobody was allowed to speak, or perhaps they were just

careful not to say anything stupid in such a very fragile situation. Everybody realized that in times

like that, there was no used talking about worldly things when foremost of all consideration was

something supernatural. They decided that the gates of the unknown have started to open and they

have to prepare themselves, to reset their minds and cleanse of whatever disbelief they have of

otherworldly beings. Most retreated to their beds with their heads heavy with visions of the gin,

taking many forms, having many sizes for who could actually visualize the image of such being.

Any sleep they had was not substantial if actually they had any. Most turn in their beds, fearing for

their own well-being, each wishing that they were away in some far away in place when the

scourge has again began to reek of haughtiness, of menace. They remember so well last year when

the exorcism was in full gear that my father had become so feverish that no one could tell that he

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was the same person if nobody care to further verify. My father had become so emaciated that he

himself told me that he was close to expecting the inevitable, the sacrifice of his own life. He was

sweating almost all the time during that span of days, never took much food, only water and some

syrufy preparation given to him by Nyor Temyong. When darkness fell, father would scream like a

cattle about to be slaughtered, running to the open fields like a madman, half naked and weeping

like a spanked child and everyone was running after him, to pacify him and tie him down. I would

cry too when I saw father being so strange and acting so bizarre. I just could not accept him to be

so denigrated and helpless. My father had always been the image of a gallant warrior, galloping in

a white horse, always on the prowl, always on the lookout for any enemy, to vanish and repel

whatever harm that may come our way. Being a law practitioner, he was a respected personage in

the community in every time trouble and conflicts disturbed the peace of our community, father

seem to always have the solution up on his sleeves. He was also some sort of a philanthropist,

always ready to give a helping hand. Were it not for his busy occupation, he would have been a

cinch to become the selected leader of our community.

There must be something I have that may be of use to you. I said half stating. half

questioning as I retreated to my bed holding a tasbi in my hand, murmuring all the prayer that I

know, hoping the devil would not instead make appearance whilst he speaks to me. When after

half an hour that voice did not come. I turned my cassette on and plugged- in the areas of Bocelli.

Cantero. cantero. In si mezzo llari es me returno

The air was cool the evening, and the noises made by people still in the streets reverberated

smoothly towards my room together with the sound of leaves blowing into the night wind. I put up

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mild sign that the moment of contact with devil has not actually been forthcoming. Strangely, I felt

a little bit disappointed that my preparation has come to naught. Or I thought.

About an hour or so before midnight, the sound emitted by my cassette recorder started to

feedback. Screeching into a high pitch ambulance siren that I was suddenly jerked out my state of

h0alf sleepless. The wind steadily grew louder and more forceful that air carried

With debris of no small amount and sizes, as I glared towards the window. A sudden panic made

my heartbeat run like wild stallions as I triad to reach for the door. I could not open the door and I

swore it almost blew my brains out when after the wind had ceased abruptly, and the air become so

pregnant with a silence so heavy that I could feel it pushing me down , there, at the edge of my

bed, with his back towards me, was a man, some sort of an old man wearing a hat, an flayed and

graying hat, a painters hat it seemed. The apparition was vague, like looking into an opaque

window, aggravating the strangenees of the moment as I literally become pasted to the surface of

the wall, not moving, and perhaps not even breathing

I come in all shapes and size, as I want to the old men said without making and movement. I

am the one you have been waiting for.

I stayed petrified for a moment that seemed to run eternity. Most me wanted to shout or at

least murmur some thoughts clarify possible explanation for this very strange occurrence, to put

matters into its proper perspective however unreal my visions have become, but words or even

semblance of did not follow suit. The mountain fear searing into my veins reached critical level

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that I have to master all what is left of me and sought for the door as I scurried downstairs to seek

salvation, if you could actually cal that.

.

My mom and Leda were in the sala, sipping cold tea and Chinese biscuits. I tried best effort

to compose myself, swiping on my forehead and all over my body as it seemed, and located a

comfortable corner in the sala to stay anonymous. Leda, that skin and bones sister of mine was to

engrossed on a late night Mexican soap on TV and it was no use bothering her anything, not not

even to breath when she is holding to that proverbial remote control, the symbol of the modern

age, with agitated determination. I used to have long ago touched the velvety surface of that

gadget, but not anymore, not in a very long, long time first, it was a mere battle of wills between us

that the gadget seesawed possession depending whose ability to gnash and growl is at its peak time

of conflict. It was ugly but it has its rewards

Things started to turn bad for me when the great Mediator , my mom , started to

metamorphosed into the great Ally of the opponent, always ready to bail out my sister whenever I

attain an advantageous warring position; and with goes the chunk of my TV privileges. Who said

life is not unfair.

Skinny and short-tempered, Leda could turn devilish even over matters of very little

consequence, turning into a tongue-lashing, fire-breathing serpent without any provocation. She is

a nervous wrecked I guess, just like I am perhaps, or just worse for I rarely spew invectives, and

only when there is extremely provocation. When my nerves get wracked, I was the opposite of

Leda, turning into a turtle and submerging myself inside my hot and humid room, for hours, even

days coming out nly for lunch or dinner and sometimes, not at all. I guess schizophrenia is a

disease by affinity. Of course, the commonality between Leda and me probably ends there, for

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while she is similarly neurotically situated, she gets the privileges that I could only wish. TV,

clothing, cosmetics, chocolates and chips while I languish for shoes on my feet my father was

always berating me. Even while father was already earning a lot of mullahs in middle East, all I

deserved was oversized T-Shirts that was always telling you not to go out when youre wearing it,

or that seems to shouts Stay Home, Idiot!.

Life is really unfair for most of us, unfair in so different ways for each and every one of us.

Leda, aside from wallowing in underserved attentions, has that most coveted privilege, the

privilege of traipsing to and fro, up and down stairways and halls of our rottening old wooden

house without absorbing a single scathing remarks from mom while I have been a walking magnet

for moms irreverent indictment, God, do you call that a haircut?. Look at your beard, dirty,

dirty, dirty!!, Have you not attended your classes again?. When, I thought when father left

overseas, I had final redemptions from these tongue-lashings but alas, I never realized that mom

could be doubly worse. The reason is because my mom is a woman. Tongue lashers extraordinaire.

With television not possible, I strolled lazily to the backyard and list some cigarette. It was

nearly midnight but strangely the night felt alive that whatever fear I had of darkness has ceased or

at least settled calmly. There were the occasional sounds of passing vehicles and the wicked

laughter of a group of bystanders wallowing in gallons of coconut wine. To simply feel not alone

was enough for me at that moment. This was a strange night, a very strange and surreal night. My

skin felt the heaviness in the air as I gazed toward the night sky full of novas, imploding or

exploding, of distant stars and galaxies, quasars, meteors and all. I tried to busy my mind with

every though possible, every idea that is not the devil. I let my second cigarette and went farther

towards the back fences where the rooster slept on their peculiar position. This was no place for

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any apparition, I summoned my thought, where the streets still reverberated with the usual noises it

makes. At least, this was a better place than my bedroom.

On my fifth cigarette, I was still deep into ponderings about this phenomenon, this sort of

malady that has ensconced upon my being. What malady is this? What cure is possible to alleviate

this seemingly unexplainable situation? Just thinking about it, without actually being inside the

experience renders me discomposed and unsure whether this is a malady of the strangest kind or

simply the hallucination of a failing mind. I heard or read once that people that are about to

become crazy often talk about their fear of finally lapsing into the abyss of mental incompetence,

that sooner or later their common sense would betray them. Do I have that fear? Am I courting

insanity as the most logical explanation to all of this? I really have to resolve, as soon as possible,

this malady, this fearfulness, and these uncertainties.

Next day came and through one of those very rare occurrences, I corned Leda while she

was gorging the mornings chow. She was supposed to be already in school earlier than the

first rooster could even crow but now. In one of those rare occasions, she was

still taking her time on the dining table. You must not tell this to mom, Leda but I saw the devil

again

How did you know that it was the devil in the place ? Cut the crap or you better off be

escorted to ward 9, Leda answered nonchalantly, without even a hint of tone indicated in her

speech. You should get help immediately peter she continued, Youre brain is dying, you drink

to much you smoke to much you stunted by hour in front of that useless video game console.

Youve been taking drugs again, Peter. Its no wonder youre seeing things. I bet you are

technically crazy now.

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Just what do you mean by that I protested, How could you say that? Craziness could not

be sized up technically, for your information. I knew it, I should have not spoken to you about all

these, you could not even discern technical matters from those that are intrinsically and non-

materials,

Quit your being a scientist again you dont sound a bet like that. Leda was at her usual

warring stand. What mean is that your apparition talk has gone too far now, Peter, At first I

thought you just lacked sleep but is a conclusion. Bad blood is running in your veins that you are

now a walking factory spewing toxic materials everywhere. The moment you started running to the

streets like an amok, you should have been herded to the hospital or some mental asylum. It should

been long ago.

Leda was her most serpentine mood that I could actually see fire coming out of her mouth.

She speaks so bluntly and she could actually get away with Mom and Dad. She is forgiven for that.

She talked that away ever since she was declared the Family Scholar, when she got valedictory

honors in Grade School while I languished pitifully in anonymity and almost missed the march as

my Music teacher then was threatening to give me failing mark, in music in all subjects.

You speaks too dryly and so technically I retorted, you think you are so intelligent that

you harbor that silly dream of becoming an astronaut. Intelligent people do not watch some silly

Mexican soap opera full of actors compounded with a silly plot of any factual and significant

human experience

At least, I do not speak of demons or some old decrepit man in a Parisian head gear.

Leda stated sarcastically.

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For the coming nights, I had avoided sleeping in my bedroom again, preferring the sofa to

harbor whatever sleep that may come to me. Watching cable programs until dawn, watching kung-

fu movies in complete Chinese language, without the subtitles. It was a breather, to enjoy a show

without being pressured to understand the conversation, for I have never really understood a single

Chinese word. The French movies were just as good, but lack of materials arts content had

rendered these frenchies not as palatable. The anxieties left me wide-eyed still for there was no

assurance that the devil, or whoever that creators is, would not appear in the sala. My relief is that

until now, that devil has not yet appeared to me in any other place except my room, I didnt fully

understand this for if the devil was such a powerful being, he could appear anywhere anytime I

come in all forms and sizes, perhaps he may not be that powerful, perhaps most of is just a myth.

Craps. Bull Horseshit. Maybe I should not fear him at all. Maybe I should. Should such wishful

thinking

I spent the rest of coming days sleeping in the sala, stuck to cable movies until dawn gives

up on me. At daytime, I was virtually transformed into a zombie, walking dead, with eyes swollen

from wakefulness that built eye shadows black as the night sagging face and thoroughly unkempt

hair. The prolonged lack of sleep took so much of the life in me; the liveliness of my body has

defaulted to a major red light as I tried to kept mental balance, physically and mentally, while I

was trying to run away from the demonic scourge. And to make it worse. My body is so in heat, no

not the usual meaning for it. What I mean is that an invisible source of heat, or a brimming fire of

unknown location, attacking me from the back, without giving me any chance to retaliate. The

devil must be nearby, for hell is. The burning sensation was so overwhelming that it contributed

greatly to my failure to fend sleep, and worse of all, it drained my body fluids that my Mom could

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actually tell from a mile about my loss in weight, Oh God peter, what happened to you. You look

so horrible. Youre sweating like a pig. I told you that if You go to drugs again, Ill let the police

drag you to mans land.

No Mom, it just the weather perhaps. Its so hot.

The morning was heavy with clouds above that what is imminent should be a major

downpour. There was no wind, thats actually how the weather behaves, I read in a science

textbook, where there is a threatening downpour. The heavy clouds actually restrict the movement

of air that almost no wind could be felt.

What do you mean the weather is hot? The sun had barely come up and you tell me its

hot. Go take a shower you must see Dr. Felisberto, if its not drugs, then you must be suffering

from liver problems. Mom was fairly knowledgeable with some sickness, being a midwife in one

of the municipal hospital here. There was relief that Mom suspected hepatitis rather than drugs.

But when I sweat like this, its hard to explain when in fact, I really have not taken drugs for a

long, long, time. I started to hate it. Never really wanted it. The withdrawal symptoms has just

gotten so worst that the momentary enjoyment it brings is greatly overshadowed by the fangs,

pains, sorrow, the unexplainable anxieties, the extreme heaviness of my body, my soul, the

denigration of my pride, my person. The downside of drugs was so huge that, never again shall I

wallow in such foolishness, in such grave massacre of the human soul. Drugs had actually been

always an afterthought, present when the friends are in town, when my buddies have something to

talk about, until the wee hours of the morning. I never took it alone, not to alleviate any sorrow, to

solve any problems or to elevate my consciousness. It was always with friends. My over dosage of

such last year was not a result of helplessness, but merely resulting from unabated and

uncontrolled sequence of parting. Saturday was birthday. Monday was a town fiesta. On Tuesday,

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long-lost friends fatso was in town from the states, on Wednesday Herman got too emotional over

a break-up with his girl of five years. The stuff were there, in constant consumption side to side

with booze of different sorts, beer, gin, rum, even wines displayed by the Rickys father were not

forgiven. On Saturday, I was driving the car at 120 kilometers per hour, shouting as I arrived home

that a gang armed with guns and knives were following and trying to kill me. The next day I run to

the streets half naked and on Monday I found myself tied down to a hospital bed, with bottled

fluids hanging over my head and wishing all that I am home.

You really looked emaciated,: Mom continued, were you last night? You couldnt

possibly be. I didnt hear dogs barking.

No Mom, Im just here. I slept at the sala last night.

I think you should go to Dr. Felisberto. You should get help immediately. Dont let me

drag you, you are old already.

Fine, Mom I think Im going there this afternoon.

Mom was a little bit caring. It felt uncomfortable but still, like always it was like she

always wants to get rid of me. She gives me a massive dose of rebuke then left me to fend for my

own self. Fortunately, I have grown use to that it didnt matter anymore, never matters anymore.

Harley, or Dr. Harly David O. Felisberto was the doctor of choice ever since I could

remember. He was that lanky, balding guy who is a natural chameleon. Prim and proper, formal

and courteous when in front of adults but a easy going, sometimes a clown when he speaks to me. I

may not be a child now but I still call him Harley, except when Mom is around. Mom always

berated me: Wheres your manner, peter. Its Dr. Felisberto. Show some respect. I may not be a

child anymore but Harly maintained his easy speak with me.

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Its unlikely that you have liver problem. Dr. Felisberto started, Most likely, you have

been taking drugs again, Pete. Theres no use in hiding it.

No, Harley, you know that I wouldnt lie to you about such thing. If I had sniffed again,

theres no point in arguing with you because you are a doctor. But the truth is I have not taken the

stuff for a year now or at least a year.

Then you must be experiencing very delayed withdrawal symptoms, its possible in

certain cases. You need to have your blood rested and comeback immediately after you have the

result.

Its not really about drugs. Its something different. Its something supernatural. Do you

believe in such thing? I felt a little embarrassed saying this but there was no choice.

What do you mean?

You know, ghosts, and spiritsthe devils

Oh, come on, you know I am doctor. I approached my work scientifically. Dont tell me,

Peter. It must be hallucinationI hope its temporary?

Its the devil Harly, when I had that overdose, I never had seen such apparition its

definitely a bewitchment okay, perhaps Ive imagined thing before but this time its different. I

know it, you must believe. The devil speaks to me, he appears before me twice or thrice already,

but he speaks to me in so many occasions already. Inside my roomGod you must help must help

me Harvey.

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