  Whoo, dapat nung June 13 ko pa ito ipo- post , kaya lang medyo nabubuwang ako nung mga nakaraang araw (kelan kaya ako 'di buwang). Kamakailan kasi, nakatapos ako ng maikling kwento. Pangalawa na 'to bali na natapos ko (marami akong nasusulat na kwento dati, kaya lang 'di ko natatapos dahil nagiging masyadong detalyado). Sa totoo, nung nasa ikalawang taon pa lang ng haiskul ako nung naisip ko ang konsepto nito—at hindi, hindi ako pangit magsulat nung haiskul (mukhang mas magaling pa nga ako sa paggamit ng salita nung haiskul pa lang ako kesa ngayon, kaya lang tumigil ako sa pagsusulat ng 2 taon). Naalala ko bigla ang istoryang ito habang binasa ang isang maikling kwentong sinulat ni Haruki Murakami, yung All God's Children can Dance (kabilang sa koleksiyon ng mga maiikling kwento niyang nagngangalang After the Quake , na pinublish ng Knopf Books). Wala silang pinagkakatulad sa istorya, pero pareho silang may pagka- surrealistic .
Basahin n'yo na lang: ===== Beyond the Abyss of Minds His face was like a frozen mask, one that held no light. As he looked upon the scented stationary, no emotion can be traced upon his features: no anger, nor grief, nor laughter; it was as lifeless as a newborn corpse. Still he stared upon that piece of paper and its prosaic content. It's not as if they cared about each other the way married people should; they never did—never had, and never will. Their relationship was as empty as a bag filled with air. Why the hell should he care about her letter, then?
Reginald leaned back on his chair and adjusted his glasses. He cleared his mind by looking around his study. Then he straightened, and reread Hilda's letter. It ran: By the time you receive this, I would be very far away from you. The two years we spent together have done nothing to improve our declining relationship. You have not even taken any steps for the betterment of our situation.
It's not that you're a bad guy, or anything. It's just that you've never done a thing to show that you really love me. You've done everything to keep me satisfied, and we've had happy times, but that's not enough. You never loved me. You never had. "So what?
" He murmured. "I never knew what love meant. " Reginald negligently threw the paper to his desk. He went to the kitchen, took down a bottle of beer from the chiller, and went back to the study. He took two swallows of the cold brew, settled down in his favorite chair, and drank in his surroundings. The room was painted in gray, his favorite color—though, once, his favorite was blue.
The desk was placed on the right wall, giving a convenient view of both door and window. His writing implements were arranged in an orderly fashion on the desk. A sturdy shelf can be found beside the window, on its left side; books on many subjects—from biology to literary criticism to history—embraced the spaces of that antique structure. There was a small bunk beside the door, which he uses when he needs to take a quick rest. What always caught his eyes when he lets them wander, however, were the walls. To the left and right of the square room were the paintings of his best friend.
On the wall behind his desk were three of her paintings: a vivid description of a quiet country setting on the left, a grotesque portrayal of the horrors of war on the right. In the middle was an ambiguous painting—anyone he invited to scrutinize it described it differently. Whenever he looks up from his desk, he will find two more of her paintings: to the left was a painting of them both, looking at the sunset; to the right was a portrait of her own face. Trina's face. His best friend, and Hilda's older sister. Katrina...who died four years ago.
***** He had known Trina for as long as he can remember. They might even have shared a cradle, for all he knew—but he could never have asked his parents; they were good for nothing, except providing for his sustenance. Between his every breath, he had never seen his father's pride and had never felt the warmth of his mother's heart. They were always busy in their work, so he was almost always left in the care of Trina's parents, who worked at home. Trina's father was a sculptor, and her mother was already a well-known writer. They were always very compassionate.
Anytime school was done, he and Trina would always be together, brewing up things to do. Sometimes they would watch either Trina's mother or father at work. Other times, they would pester Hilda, and tell stories to each other. When they tire of their activities at home, they'll go out to freshen themselves. They would visit the park or buy things at the plaza; play in the arcades, or play pranks on Hilda. As they grew older, he began to notice how pretty Trina was.
Everybody began to notice, actually. While Hilda was, in truth, prettier than Trina, people automatically noticed Trina because she always seemed to have a smile on her face. But they didn't know that she could also be very serious, especially when painting. Painting was a natural thing to her, but patience wasn't. There were times when he irritated her, and that usually led to their throwing of colorful remarks to each other. They would shout at each other when that happened, but when they've sufficiently cooled down, they'll shut up and everything would be all right again.
When his parents died on a plane crash, he didn't feel a thing. He didn't feel any sadder than he should be. It was when Trina's mother died of cancer—and her husband's eventual death due to grief—that he cried. They were the only ones whom he could call mother and father, but now they were gone. Reginald and Trina did the best they could to support Hilda's education. They were just gone from college, but Hilda was still struggling on.
It was a few weeks after Hilda's graduation that the tragedy happened. Reginald was just coming home from his work on the net shop. It was raining heavily outside. As he was nearing the house they stayed in, Trina ran to him, carrying an umbrella. She was only two paces from him when a speeding car ran her down. The driver didn't even bother to help.
The car just changed lanes and flew away, leaving them behind. He couldn't think clearly, but Hilda saw what happened and hurriedly called an ambulance. The doctor told them that Trina's wounds were fatal, and there was nothing he could do. Reginald wanted to hit him, but decided against it. It would only be a waste of time. He and Hilda looked in on Trina.
The doctor said she only had a few minutes left. "I'm glad you came," Trina said, "I almost thought I'd die alone. " She smiled weakly. Hilda tried to smile, but she didn't succeed. She broke down and cried. Reginald took a chair and sat close to Trina's bed.
He caught her looking at him. There was a strange look in her eyes. "I wanted to give you something before..." she didn't finish her words. Instead, she pointed at a small box on a table beside her bed. "It's your birthday today, you know? " She tried to sound casual.
He didn't open the box, but he put it on his shirt pocket. He smiled at her, and enclosed her hand with his. She sighed slowly. "No matter what happens, I want you to be happy. " She closed her eyes and slept. Fifteen minutes later, she died.
***** He remembered that strange look in her eyes, and the weight that came over his heart when he saw it. He also remembered the box. He opened the lowest drawer of his desk and took out the box. He had never opened it since Trina gave it to him. He didn't want to remember her death back then, and that was why he kept it hidden—he had hoped, even to himself. He looked at the curious engraving on it.
Trina , the letters said. He opened the box. He almost dropped it when he saw what was inside. It was a silver locket, shaped like a heart. He took it in his left hand, and opened it. On a vibrant blue background, he found three words written: I Love You .
Unbidden, the tears came to his eyes. He felt his throat constrict, and couldn’t breathe. Beyond the abyss of his mind, he knew why. "And did it take you so long to admit it to yourself? " He heard a light voice behind him. He turned quickly, and there, with a silver nimbus around her, was Trina.
She was smiling at him. He took her in his arms, and their lips touched. Even unto this day, he was never quite sure that it was just a dream. ***** The next day, his neighbor delivered him a letter from Hilda: I'm sorry about yesterday. I wasn't feeling very well. It was unfair of me to make you suffer over our relationship; I had faults too.
We'll never be a true couple, but we can still be friends. We owe that to Trina. Let's get this done the right way. In spite of his situation, he smiled. Why not? He thought.
Their annulment left them without regrets, and they went back to their old friendship. ***** The church bells sung the climax of the wedding, and the people cheered. Two years after his disastrous relationship, Reginald met Melina. She was a new employee in the office he worked in. They became friends instantly. The first time he saw her, Reginald's heart almost stopped.
Melina, whom some people called Merry—but whom he preferred to call Lina—looked too much like Trina. His heart didn't stop, but he dropped the CPU box he was carrying...on his feet. The CPU was fine, but he had to walk slowly for a few minutes. Lina’s eyes bulged a bit, but she recovered quickly. She put a hand to her mouth and laughed. He couldn't believe his eyes—and ears.
Even her manner was too much like Trina. But maybe it was just a coincidence. ***** Later the next day, he opened the middle drawer of his desk and took out an old diary. He stopped writing on it ever since Trina died, but he wanted to write one last time. The entry read: Was what happened before just a dream, and what happened after that a coincidence? Who knows, and who cares?
===== Nag- enjoy ba kayo? ^_^ Natutukso akong isama 'to sa susunod na issue ng Tinig, kaya lang tinatamad akong ipadala kay Vlad (at sa dami ng literary na dumarating, mahirap itong ipasok niya). Ayoko namang basta na lang isaksak sa susunod na isyu, dahil wala naman ako sa pool of editors para sa Literary Section . Nakakahiya na yun...^_^ Sabagay, tiyak namang maisasama 'to sa susunod na update ng urlLink sayt ko! (Siyempre dapat energetic tayo para sipaging mag- update . ) Nga pala, nakita ko kamakailan sa Power Books ng Greenbelt si Ronald[Atilano].
Mukhang namayat, at dumami ang puti ng buhok—siguro sa hirap ng trabaho (Kaya mo yan! Relaks lang. ) Sa September na pala ang due ni Eris. Okey, tama na 'to at baka humaba pang lalo. (Sana pala makapag- set ng EB bago matapos ang buwan na 'to; inaabangan ko ang panlilibre ni Melis ng inom...sana. ) LOL 
