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 and while all the lights are out and the sound of crickets lay very still in
the thickness of the dawn. In these unholy hours, my eyelids appeared to open forcibly by some
unknown persuasion that even while I am gasping for air, struggling from it, It was useless to
think of running away for the source of terror lies there, in the only passage from outside my
room. No words could 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
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 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 common knowledge- meaning, the bounds of reality.

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 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 insane just as yet, I don’t need no psychiatrist. I think just better leave,
Harley”

“Ok Peter. Please, call me first thing in the morning tomorrow, Peter.”

“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 mi 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 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 half sleepless. The wind steadily grew louder and more forceful that the air carried with it
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 tried 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 be,…..with his back towards me, was a man, some sort of an old man wearing a hat, an
flayed and graying hat, a painter’s hat, it had seemed to appear ghostly but clearly. The
apparition was vague, like looking into an opaque window, aggravating the strangeness 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 man said without making and
movement. “I am the one you have been waiting for”.

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 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
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
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 you’re 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 rotten old wooden house
without absorbing a single scathing remarks from mom while I have been a walking magnet for
mom’s 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.

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 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 any apparition, I summoned my thought, and 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 morning’s 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, “ You’re brain is dying, you
drink to much … you smoke to much… you stunted by hour in front of that useless video game
console. You’ve been taking drugs again, Peter. It’s no wonder you’re seeing things. I bet you
are technically crazy now”.

“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 don’t 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….
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 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.

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 didn’t
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…Or
should not...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 actually tell from a mile about my loss in weight,” Oh God peter, what
happened to you. You look so horrible. You’re sweating like a pig. I told you that if You go to
drugs again, I’ll let the police drag you to man’s land.”

“No Mom, it just the weather perhaps. It’s so hot.”

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 The morning was heavy with clouds above that what is imminent should be a major
downpour. There was no wind, that’s 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 it’s
hot. Go take a shower you must see Dr. Felisberto, if it’s 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, it’s hard to explain when in fact, I really have not taken drugs for a
long, long, time. I started to hate it. I 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, 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 Ricky’s 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 couldn’t
possibly be. I didn’t hear dogs barking.”

“No Mom, I’m just here. I slept at the sala last night.”

“I think you should go to Dr. Felisberto. You should get help immediately. Don’t let me
drag you, you are old already.”

“Fine, Mom I think I’m 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 didn’t matter anymore, never matters anymore.

Dr. Harley David O. Felisberto, or simply Harley as I used to call him back then, 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,
6
except when Mom is around. Mom always berated me: “Where’s your manner, Peter. It’s Dr.
Felisberto. Show some respect.” I may not be a child anymore but Harley maintained his easy
speak with me.

“It’s unlikely that you have liver problem.” Dr. Felisberto started, “Most likely, you have
been taking drugs again, Pete. There’s no use in hiding it.

“No, Harley, you know that I wouldn’t lie to you about such thing. If I had sniffed again,
there’s 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, it’s possible in
certain cases. You need to have your blood rested and comeback immediately after you have the
result.”

“It’s not really about drugs. It’s 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 spirits…the devils”

“Oh, come on, you know I am doctor. I approached my work scientifically. Don’t tell me,
Peter. It must be hallucination…I hope its temporary…?”

“It’s the devil Harley, when I had that overdose, I never had seen such apparition it’s
definitely a bewitchment okay, perhaps I’ve 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 room…God you must help must
help me Harvey.”

The point of these strange occurrences are all for me to keep for myself. It was hard to
deal with something that could not be spoken, such as a sickness or a personal conflict. For how
could one ever speak of the devil himself, Satan himself; lest I be inquired upon my sanity over
and over again or problems with alcohol and treatments. Then I must be dragged once again to
the hospital rooms with 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.

My ever fierce sister Leda and Harvey must have been the only person in this world that
I could talk to about those experiences but both proved useless.

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 studies 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
7
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 head
towards my feet. Again, I lifted myself immediately, jerking my body from my bed and run
towards the living room as fast as my legs could afford.

I took my supper alone that night, 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 from Harvey so that I wanted to make further clarification with
Leda. “It’s really for you. Why do you have to ask?”

“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 our house 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. “Excuse 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 minor weaknesses of your respiratory
system, you were definitely a healthy child, at least one that you could not call sickly. I told you
8
to call me immediately because I need to stay in contact with you. I was so worried about 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 sound
miscalculation of things at that time and it is unlikely that you developed such symptoms. Still,
insanity may still come from other sources aside from drugs, or that in your case you may have
been affected too much by the drug overdose that eventually now your mental environment is
already blurred. 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.”

9
 “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 grandparents, 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
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
10
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 father arrived about seven o’ clock in the evening. With red stains still his
shirts. It was clear that he tried to wash off whatever that had stained his clothes with water for
the color of blood was on his shirt and it has appeared muddled and thinned.

Everyone was tense and worried. No one was speaking about it but I could tell the
general expectation is that grandma would not make it past the day, what with huge amount of
blood that had been lost 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 being dead
even if news has not yet arrive from the hospital.

“Let us wait for Daniel” Uncle Berto reminded everyone, “I’m 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 severity 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,”

“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
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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 didn’t 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 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 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 wouldn’t 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 jinn
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 jinn. WE thought we could
really beat him with all mantras and chants that we have done, The jinn was hurt but was so
strong we could not entirely make him go away. And so I had to beg like I never did before. We
promised the jinn everything that we could give and we promised that we would do away with
the jinn …

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 jinn have once again begun to make his presence felt. Now more
grave than ever, with so much blood and I have feeling this time, the jinn is coming with more
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ferocity, with a vengeance. When we had the exorcism last year, I could actually hear the jinn
screaming in pain although I never knew in what form of voice it spoke. We tried to speak to the
jinn, to clarify its purpose and desire but to no avail…we have to be prepared this time. The jinn
have 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 jinn …
or of the devil. The jinn is a 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
sinister 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 do not know the length of the jinn’s 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 these, 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 jinn, 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 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 syrupy preparation given to him by Nyor
Temyong. When darkness fell, father would scream like 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 seemed 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.
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