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Lost Souls

Lost Souls

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Published by Elmer Saba Ereño

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Published by: Elmer Saba Ereño on Aug 04, 2012
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08/04/2012

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LOST SOULS
February 2007. Latest newspaper headlines read: “Journalist murdered while probingunsolved slays.” “Batang Pinoy High Blood Na!” “Inciting to sedition raps filed vs.Tribune chief.”I do not care.Milu’s head swayed back full in perfect delirium. Her sweat-soaked hair flowedtouching enticingly the cold and lonely ground. The earth trembled with her moaningand the portals of heaven shook me as her anterior boasted of the perfect image of Mayon threatening to explode while her ebony crystal eyes swung up revealing onlytheir whites. She brushed her oily forehead with her right feverish forearm as her albuminous writhing physique bounced tremulously to the totally extricated music sungfrom her helpless wide gaping mouth. Her claws left red marks upon my back anddisheveled my hair as we both reached the height of our ecstatic momentum in spiritualunion. Her red lips glowed wet. The shadows vanished. The prickly cold turned toinvigorating warmth. Vases, plates, pitcher, cabinet, stools, walls, all, all vanished oneby one as we soared higher to that titillating pleasure that penetrated every inch of our bodies and disturbed our souls. We were alone in our world and we drifted lost in theexpanse of unexplained madness.Day in day out, this goes. Then afterwards, the reality.
Dear Woodrow,I was recently married. Sorry I haven’t found the way to inform you. I waited for you for so long with many a woman’s expectations, but I felt no signs of you willing to
 
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embrace me for the rest of your life. Woods, I love you, and though I gave my mortality away, my husband will never, never take my heart and soul from you.You’ll know from what I say, I am not guaranteed with my decision the happinessI sought for, the joy that rightfully should belong to me. But Woodrow, sad I may be, thisis perhaps the only way to teach you. I love you, and will love you always….Mama
I am Artemio Villa Nuñez, yes…no, but that is how I wished to be publicly known.Some others call me Wilson, a few Mujahid. I was Woodrow P. Abanil, now 35, and Ilive under an assumed name.
Dear Papa,Wherever you may be now, I am worrying about your safety and health. Pleasefind a way to write or call me more often. Days of your absence are long years of my waiting.Take good care,Mama
My days with Adelfa were the best moments of my life. We used to live together happily under one roof at Sta. Ana, Pateros, while she was studying her Law at ManuelL. Quezon University. That was way back the 90’s when I was a full-pledged missionaryof the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints for six years. As the calling wasstrong, life was full of meaningful experiences: some subtle, some visible, some hardtrials, but with abundant successes providing many defining moments -- those hours of most worth with eternal significance -- faith-promoting and which have “wrought amighty change in our hearts.” (Mosiah 5:2).
 
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 Dear Papa,While you are out for long on your mission, I keep on having nightmares about women robbing you away from me. It’s cold at night you know, but much colder is theknowledge that you are far from me right now and that I cannot take care of you.I know that anytime you could be lost to another woman, especially one near withyou in mission. I don’t know why I have this strange feeling, but I just wish you to know,I long for your return and presence. Please see me soon.God bless us always.Love,Mama
Then District President and Sister Alston wrote: “We know that you and thoseyou influence will have frequent spiritual experiences – defining moments
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whileserving as a full-time missionary. This Sacred Personal Record is given to you as a giftto record your experiences and testimony, to give you added strength, as well asprovide your posterity with a legacy of your belief and accomplishments as a missionaryin serving the Lord and Savior.”It’s now twenty minutes past twelve, and the moon floated like ice in my glass of beer. Reminiscing like this is pleasurable, addicting to the psyche.
“’lam mo Papa, I like you so much. You’re so malambing and I gigil over youespecially at night when you lingkis-lingkis me like sawa every time you notice I’mgetting bored with my legal cases and endless succession of articles to be memorized.” “I love you Papa.” 

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