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.
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 pronouncements, 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. “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 you’ll 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 don’t 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, that’s 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 Jam’s 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. 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. “It’s really for you. Why do you have to still have to argue?” “Peter, its Harley, I was worried about you. I think we need to talk this evening. Come to my house in an hour. I’ll be home by that time.” Harley’s 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 o’clock, 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 Ma’am, 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 couldn’t help 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, there’s really nothing to it, no big deal…. I just feel uncomfortable not to be seeing her again. Wanting to see her, when there’s 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.” “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… that’s 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 wouldn’t 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.” “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 didn’t 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 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 my 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 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 that’s 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 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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