after interviewing Wailing Woman in front of Faceless Man, blood oozing from his back and right ear, as though in awkward prayer in a dark alley

 The death card in a pre-Halloween party, was it called that way, did long-haired Dulce, who read my cards (my cards? something new now for wasted me with nothing I can call my own), the death card that came fourth among three other rectangles with drawings in them I can't recognize, that card which reminded me of Nanay and her skin and bones, lying there somewhere in a house I once called my house, my home. Nanay there in her sickness that ate away at her body, but not her eyes that scanned the house, or did she try to look inside of me; was she afraid, too?

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Mountain lake Djupvatnet

Image
Mountain lake Djupvatnet (Deep Water), 1,016 meters above sea level, on an August day. The wind was blowing strong and cold from the nearby Blåfjell glacier. I’ve seen this place in all seasons, and it has seen our family grow from two to three, and then to four. When we have family visiting from the Philippines, we take them here—a snapshot of my new home, Norway. Travelers mostly pass by here en route to Mount Dalsnibba to view the village of Geiranger and the Geiranger Fjord. This year, we stopped at this particular spot  to eat an early dinner of sandwiches. My sister has been to Norway three times now, but this is her first time seeing Geiranger.  
Read more

I can hardly hear myself

Christmas vacation has started, and I find myself restless. Last night, I had difficulty sleeping, watching shadows play on the unfinished wall in Tita Maricar's room, shifting from side to side and stubbornly refusing a blanket. Blankets at night are rare for me. Slowly breaking through the daylight -- Coldplay is literally blasting in my ears, a little piece of Jay without his selfishness in my ears, and Russ's company while he's not here, laughing and thinking with me. Songs and artists pass through me like light, something you take in without minding the science behind it. That's me. Not your typical music lover. The names and titles do not stay, just their rhythms and their stories. Yesterday, I read a book with the headphones on, an alternation of a woman's voice saying, "I will not let them ruin me," and an instrumental that sounds straight from the big screen, the soundtrack of an epic film. Lines from songs, lines from the book - they all come was...
Read more

The in-betweens

Image
  ...are all in black. dull black on a rug left hanging, home, 2001  Last night, I went out of the house and slept inside the van for at least two hours. Ate Ivy was very much upset and angry with me (because of very much valid reasons, yes...). I felt like the house suddenly shrank like that little globe of a "lemonsito;" and, mind you, it didn't feel good inside, my senses confused whether I was the seed or the juice evaporating towards nowhere in particular. With the middle seat conveniently slapped down halfway its length, I rested my body. "I want to suffocate and die," was that cliché chant inside my head, and then out of my mouth; like those children's games with songs in them, the ones that you keep repeating, in a monotonous kind of way, the ones you absentmindedly sing in front of your breakfast plate. The fluorescent lamp of the parking area, with hazy light patterns through the tinted glass, caught my attention, and I turned to chanting, "An...
Read more