Romance in its sweetest splendor did come likewise to me. It was something I hold on to with life as it was my shackles of joy. Convoluted by it in life-giving springs, it was an oracle of a sparkling infusion of hues, a garden of red dazzle.…
But then as in all magical lands and fantasy bliss has that always an impending contrast of gruesome death, in our love fairy tale, it came twitchingly haunting. Death though was of a love affair turned sour. It was pure bereavement for the loss of a loved one and in my case, my fiancé. She became gradually cold to me after discovering one of my imperfections then secretly becoming romantically attached to somebody else. I saw them entered a motel. I was half expecting it as I was stalking them for weeks. Blood was seething in angry reeking red vapor through my eyes, and likewise, in retribution. Oh! Sweet sepulcher embalms me not from this entwining twitch of agony spare me the rod of murder!I kicked a dog in fury.
It was a heart ache of course. I mourned for our love affair, mourning it many days but then metamorphically it was full of bitterness and rage. Who can stand morbid jealousy when it clung like an influential parasite? Our love affair was reversed into acts of hatred and retaliation, a war. We became adversaries. What can I do, I was betrayed. It feels like I was slaughtered by my most trusted love. A blood stained dagger embedded in me that sparkles in its atrocity was how I felt betrayal. It framed me though likewise by how it sparkles. I became retributive. My thoughts marred to that depths of revenge, as jealousy was my spring of life.
I confronted her. It ended in bitter break up.
I burned her friend’s expensive car. I torched it in dire fuel of anger and malice. But stupidly, I was compromised by being reckless. I was seen by her as I was setting a time-delayed torch. When it was ashen, she knew it was me. She came by the house, my apartment, fueled and in heated confrontation. We had a serious argument, a barrage of interfusing hate. I don’t know but the intermingling then of emotions moved me for some compulsive rape, but she was triumphantly resistant. We fought in court. Our bitter war dragged on and on even through the days of court trial. i was charged with frustrated rape, and the other concerning her friend’s wrecked car.
Her friend, or boyfriend as I presumed, a spurred horse, faced me off likewise but then, who holds the deeper grudge as fuel. Damned spill of gasoline, it was my breath of fire.“Burned my car, eh?” Pointing his gun to me.
I faced him astride though, unafraid. I was cocked in deep resistance. We had a scuffle but then through the nitty gritty contention, such cocky arrogance ended me up in the hospital instead bec of a bullet wound. He ended up in jail.
Me and princess, our once golden cord of bind was irreparably shattered through as i by impulsion had believed then. But then, as in most cases, a tempestuous storm as our vehement battle has that inevitable nature of recession too. It died down but then not after something horrid and horribly murder came our way.
Me and princess, our once golden cord of bind was irreparably shattered through as i by impulsion had believed then. But then, as in most cases, a tempestuous storm as our vehement battle has that inevitable nature of recession too. It died down but then not after something horrid and horribly murder came our way.
But before it we were mortal enemies. Our interactions were seriously an estranged hostility.
Driving through the desolate road, I spotted her car catapulted in wild frenzy into an accident. It was by it that made me realize that true love however marred by such things as hatred will by its sparkle melts all ill by true love’s inevitable influence. Her car flipped a wrecking crash at the dark deserted road. It was beginning to burn as fuel spilled engulfed it in wicked fire. I rushed to it with a pipe and bludgeoned her windshield clean off the jagged danger. All animosity and grudges melt by the sight of her in earnest need. I shed off hatred by the sight of her in horrifying danger. I pulled her out unconscious of the burning inferno.
Boom! The car exploded seconds after safety.Tenderly I laid her down the grassy knoll nearby. She was still alive though battered but not badly though. I looked at her face, serene and calm yet marred with embedded glass and blood. I was softened by the sight of her, intimacy and longing entwined I kissed her. I know the love was still there though I knew, betrayal was unforgivable but then, love was a more driving pulse as it drove me to compassion. I stared at her glass battered face savoring the emotions as I once did. I knew then, I still love her. I rushed her to the hospital anonymously as a Good Samaritan but then not without taking her necklace as a testament someday, if need be, of this good deed offered out of true love.
Ironically though, she detested me still.8:30 A.M Monday…
I was going to the bank for some withdrawal. I was planning for a renovation of the apartment. It was a chilly December morning, as I took off my car into the sprawling crowd of rush-bound people. I parked a bit farther from the bank. It was for some walking exercise. Going to the over pass I bought some chocolate candies in one of the stalls. I savored its crispy juiciness as I was going through the overpass littered by street entrepreneurs. An old beggar was setting up his spot. An old guitar, a dilapidated sound system and a can for some spared coins. I dropped some coins and chocolates generously.
Some few more minutes I reached the bank. It was a two-storey building that housed one of the biggest banks of the country. First floor was a spacious teller-client transaction room. Second floor was a space for document storage for rent. Underground was the banks private storage facility.
Some few more minutes I reached the bank. It was a two-storey building that housed one of the biggest banks of the country. First floor was a spacious teller-client transaction room. Second floor was a space for document storage for rent. Underground was the banks private storage facility.
“Hey! JACK!” a jolly senior guard, an old acquaintance, greeted me at the glass door.
“How are you Romy?”He body checked me with his metal detector gadget. It was one of their strict precautionary measures but then will it always be effective against the determined evil? Nothing as a determined soul would be deterred by even the formidable. I patted him cordially.
“Take it easy buddy.”
Inside, the bank was already a hectic sight. Queue of clients were patiently in numerous lines, others were littered in various activities, chatting, reading magazines, loitering. Bank employees, dressed in blue uniforms were hospitably entertaining guests and clients alike. It was an ambience of undisturbed peace. I never suspected anything as danger was ever imminent at this juncture.
I took one of the forms and conformed accordingly. I looked at the time it was too early yet. I have other plans that day. I was planning to visit my parents in the province. It had been 2 years already since my last visit.
I took one of the forms and conformed accordingly. I looked at the time it was too early yet. I have other plans that day. I was planning to visit my parents in the province. It had been 2 years already since my last visit.
“That man looked suspicious.” A seat mate pointed to a man in coat and attaché case in jittery disposition.I looked, indeed he was and obviously disturbed.
“He seems to be in deep trouble.” I observed.
He became tensed and pressured into violent agitations with the guards afterwards. He begun to sob and cry though as escorted off.
Later on, a commotion pursued, next building, the man made a scuffle with one of the guards and snatched his revolver killed one and thereby committed suicide. It was a conscious chill of blood and wasted lives but then, always momentarily effectual. That is not an unusual phenomenon to me. I’ve witnessed more of it. It is just a revolution of fate, in the cycle of weakness and hopelessness. It was a disturbing commotion though but then momentarily. Occasional inquisitorial police visits pursued.
Later on, a commotion pursued, next building, the man made a scuffle with one of the guards and snatched his revolver killed one and thereby committed suicide. It was a conscious chill of blood and wasted lives but then, always momentarily effectual. That is not an unusual phenomenon to me. I’ve witnessed more of it. It is just a revolution of fate, in the cycle of weakness and hopelessness. It was a disturbing commotion though but then momentarily. Occasional inquisitorial police visits pursued.
10:10 A.M
I was in the third line from the withdrawal booth.
An explosion!
I was submerged into indifferent ambience of thought then but the way people reacted, intuitively was telling me something was alarming. It was a hold up. Very daring and undeterred by the swarms of possible investigating police around especially after a bloody tragedy. Daring and planned I supposed.
Subsequently, more of them stormed in as they unarmed the guards and detaining them sprawled on the floor as all the people inside were scampering into submission. They were doing it in lightning speed.
Subsequently, more of them stormed in as they unarmed the guards and detaining them sprawled on the floor as all the people inside were scampering into submission. They were doing it in lightning speed.
“To the floor! To the floor!”
An explosion.
“No funny moves or you’ll be blown a bleeding pipe!”
An evasive balding fat man in polo and tie in panic heads off towards the second floor hastily trying to seal the door off by swiping a card but then he was consequently shot. He sprawled in blood bath.
These bank robbers wore bonnets, military khakis and fully armed. At least ten of them were men.
They systematically, as planned, have purposed for the vaults but then failed. It has to be opened by two people having the numerical codes and fingerprints but then impulsively and thoughtlessly they killed the other before it. Thus it was impossible that a heist be fully implemented. Unfortunately for them, it was a failure.
These bank robbers wore bonnets, military khakis and fully armed. At least ten of them were men.
They systematically, as planned, have purposed for the vaults but then failed. It has to be opened by two people having the numerical codes and fingerprints but then impulsively and thoughtlessly they killed the other before it. Thus it was impossible that a heist be fully implemented. Unfortunately for them, it was a failure.
In rage and fury, their leader in utter frustration erupted in frantic scream and volleys of shots. During that moment, the police were already alerted as they swarmed the bank premises like a loaded hornets. We on the other hand were in anxious apprehensions. This is danger in its seething crest. Death provoked by the robber’s resistance, and possibly, for us likewise in that more compromised predicament was the inevitable prospects. I thought of Cristine then, as time was broiling in anxiety and doom.
Facing the floor and covertly, I manipulated my phone for some secret video taking. I conspired with one of the nervous lady employee. She kept a wary eye. We were at a clean vantage point thus we could reconnoiter and yet warily less suspicious.Police efforts and demands were futile for their surrender as their response was cold resistance. They targeted the police with bullet shots. We became hostages.
By then, it was big news. It was live on T.V. Media networks swarmed around giving off live feeds as police and robber interactions were an exchange of bullet fires. It dragged on in tactical strategies for both sides. Nothing yet materialized but lives at stake.
During those times, Cristine was then helping their maids cooking for the noon meal when the live feed of the encounter was flashed on T.V. She was never aware that I was then at the verge of peril but then, what does she care for? I was nothing in her life, much so, an adversary but then, it was by this horrid experience that would soon reconcile a love broken, as through it, clarity was open forth. A strong-fold cord unbroken being restored in unveiling resonance.
During those times, Cristine was then helping their maids cooking for the noon meal when the live feed of the encounter was flashed on T.V. She was never aware that I was then at the verge of peril but then, what does she care for? I was nothing in her life, much so, an adversary but then, it was by this horrid experience that would soon reconcile a love broken, as through it, clarity was open forth. A strong-fold cord unbroken being restored in unveiling resonance.
Sweat was permeating over my body as the heated situation was even aggravated by the shrill hopelessness these robbers were realizing then. It was a time for drastic measures as they made demands in order to free hostages. Through one of the hostages, they send off a message, demanding food and essential compromises. A helicopter must need been provided for their escape or else, head by head, we were to be blown. At a certain time, if denied, should the carnage been enforced. Compulsively, it gave me the chill.
It was then 2:00 P.M.
Beside me, one of the ladies was sobbing in tremors, her apprehension in its effectual paranoia. I clasped her hands.“Pray!” a compassionate friend whispered.
They were denied the helicopter and in the force of tight noosed circumstances, they were compulsively had to show off. “Let us go or we’ll leave you a mass funeral.” It was implicated on T.V. They would rather die than be debased by surrender so as they hardened. They had to sacrifice two hostages every time blowing their heads off under the scope of media til the authorities would then succumb. They send them cell phone videos of that subsequent slaughter through mass media to nail in their irreversible intentions. I was unnervingly troubled. I know that in such situation, police conformity was impossible and often wraps up in an inevitable break in assault. Special Forces would be storming in, I knew that. I have to be alert, but how shall an untrained helpless me ever be effective? Can I evade danger if bullets have no concept of spare? Blood and brain was indeed splattering as carnage was consummating in its wildest streak as hostages upon hostages were piled off in corsal mound. I secretly took videos as a memoir as I was planning to write about it. Thoughts of me being the next prospect pushed me to make my last farewell if in case I would be a casualty. I made one for Cristine.
In order to battle the nagging jitters and trauma, I concentrated thoughts on Cristine. Entering a motel? Was sex ever consummated? Perhaps it did then it was betrayal formalized. What if it didn’t and something had impeded it, as her conscience due by her care for me abides, wouldn’t it be unfair to hate her in the first place? Would it not be travesty, as making conclusions from something out of impulsion? But then, it didn’t matter anymore. I love her more than betrayal, if she so, first explained, then perhaps we were not dragged into this animosity we never made efforts to resolved.
I have forgiven you, I lastly, emphasized. Please forgive me, too. I just wanted to say, please don’t hate me.
Surveying the premises, these wicked bandits were scattered in provocative battle formations, eight of them were scattered strategically in the first floor. Four were positioned at the other floor while two were underground. Minutes turned to hours and hours to more hours, yet there was a suspended moments of inactivity, as though calculations were being apprehensively in action. Afterwards we were huddled in one of the employee’s rooms perhaps as preparatory for something, critical, inevitable. Silence had that sting like dagger. It was as if, the calm was being set for the murderous storm. It was a harrow of nightmare as though both were preparing for something big impending to happen. This is the kind that harrows deeper, an inactivity yet horror inclined, a seething tingle, a lingering fear provoking throb. The room was small, it was air-conditioned but then it was stifling due by the dreadful apprehensions as shadows on gloomy horror. It was like a creeping itch on its gradual caress. Momentarily, they stopped the execution. 12 were killed but not before leaving a threat of annihilation.
One of the kids was crying.“Mama, little Jenny is afraid.”
Hushed murmurs were enthrallingly appalled.
A man was likewise trembling and frightened, actually, who cannot be horrified in situation as such? It’s chokingly strangulation in its slow creeping tightening grasp, apprehension in its suspended twitch yet apprehension in certain whip slash. One was hyperventilating as others were sobbing in collective anxious empathy. I was silent through it though contemplating on things appeasing yet the horrid pull of nightmares was evidently adhering within. I was trembling inside and yet in denial. We were at the mouth of a cornered drooling predators agitated to savage recklessness. The mere sight of blood splatter and piles of the dead was a harrow by itself that bespeaks uncertainty. They were reckless. Recklessness as inherent in times of deathly danger, especially for brutes as these criminals was critically high. In times of this life or death situation, we were the crucial specimen.
The kids began to be hysterical when the first flash of fire fight begun to escalate, as then, soldiers were attempting a break in. It was 10 P.M. One of the brutes came in and put off the light, inside the building was a black out.
Vigilance was on cacophonic aggression and violence. Through the dim we can perceive the pursuing gun battle. Ricochet of bullets, explosions and shattering glass and cement were resonant. Moments passed then there was silence. We were in controlled restrained ventilation when the light went on. It was blinding in sharp strike, shielding it with my hands, the form of a desecrated mangle of bleeding mass was lay astride on the door. One of the robbers, wounded and yet still, a dangerous adversary, a wounded cornered cougar on its deviatory rage. In retaliative resolution he loaded his armalite with a click and by his demeanor, I intuitively read his ill intentions. He meant to annihilate us all. I crept for cover when the murder streak began. Ratatatat ratatatat! One by one his victims fall but before all evil was consummated, he was incapacitated through by a soldier’s aim though. He lay twitching in blood bath, lifeless. I was in dire shock, traumatized as the sight of the carnage was compelling, and horrendously, a massacre.
Bubbling in red froth my apparel was blood stained from one of the dying ladies as I tried to comfort her, trying to encourage a death resisting spirit, she died in my arms though. A girl was dressed in blood red. A blank haunting stare engraved in memory. Half of us were killed. Fortunately, survivors were redeemed from being prospective victims. I on the other hand was dazed and stunned. I was psychologically fighting off the trauma yet unappeased I was in tremors. Momentary shock had left me emotionally disturbed, in psychological agony. By then, military authorities were then swarming the place as we were escorted to ambulances. It was 5AM yet the place was littered with a crowd, spectators, media, police, medical crews, fire fighters. Everywhere was a blinking light of assortments. I looked up the sky. It was gloomy, and in an imminent drizzle.
I refrain going to the hospital but instead moved away and in a corner for seclusion. I have to unwind, to untangle myself from this lingering cord of morbidity that wrapped in me like a cold sheet of ice. I was sobbing not bec of anything else but just for release. I knew I was weak and now, crushed. I need a shoulder for comfort, an alleviating presence from this impairing sickness. I then thought of Cristine.
News flash and live feeds had all robbers neutralized, 3 soldiers were sacrificed while 24 civilians killed.
During this violence, Cristine was a hump of calm slumber. She was then bound for a movie shoot. She was an actress.
6AM
I have to see Cristine was my adhering thought. I need her arms, her company. I just want to feel her around and it would suffice for calm. Trudging, the wet pavement from last night’s rain, I directed towards their house. It took me more than an hour before I reached the subdivision.
The guard was alarmed though by the darkened stain on me and refused me an entrance but permissive though after an explanation.
7:20AM
An elegant and high class looking modern 2 storey building was panoramic in sight. I was appraising it in its fresh bluish paint. Cristine’s room was on 2nd floor behind. Perhaps she was asleep yet, I thought. Down casted I activated the door bell. It was opened by their maid.
“What are you doing here, kuya?” she was of course well aware of our durable hateful fight.
“Can I come in, Tanya?”
“Ate, don’t want you here” in utter resistance.
“I just want to see Cristine..” I had that dejected imploration. “Please”
She yielded but with a remarks of caution.“But no fight.”
As I opened the front door, Cristine was also coming out. Her first impression was of course disgust.
“WHAT! ARE YOU DOING HERE!?!” in her most hostile contempt. i disregarded her sharp edge stare though.
We were momentarily uncomfortable as I was locked in her hostile appraising eyes and contemptuous distrust but then afterwards she melted. it was due by my stun and dazed disposition. She noticed the blood and much so, aggravated by my down cast look had mellowed her somehow.
“Hi, Cristine.”
I didn’t know what went within her thoughts but obviously it has afterwards that manifestation of an spontaneous u-turn. Something marvelous though have penetrated through her hard shell of disregard at that sight of an adversary’s crash down , but was it mere nag of empathy or was it not love twitching as it was re-surging in its pervading miracle?
It was of course the wonder of true love, a tingle that had with it its compulsive throb. She was immobile, staring, savoring, appraising.
“What happened to you?”
Emotion seething within as I intently would submit myself to her compassion. Gradually, I saw her countenance was not anymore of animosity, or distrust. It was rather desire, perhaps longing. Perhaps affected by the way I looked, that’s why. What human heart as tender be not molten regressive to its tenderness after a grueling stern as mellowed by persisting compassion?
Indeed it was. Beneath hostile abrasions subconsciously abides within something indelible, an irrepressible hidden endearment, something that somehow and outwardly soon would manifests what lingering affection was indeed defined, potent, involuntary, that when a-glows supersedes in light all ugliness, hate and shadows. That was how it was to our case. A spark, just that but then a spark with power, indelible as replenish for the other half’s need, true love surging, true love triumphantly.
“Can I stay here for just a moment?” I pleaded.
My dispositional humility and respect was influential thus she yielded.
I headed for the couch, and slept. Cristine should have been off to work but then, she opted to stay. She was just there taking care of things occasionally checking, staring, longing. Was love diminished or was hatred just then its impeding masquerade, to then again revive by the battered sight of love’s recourse?
11:30 AM
I awakened with a fresh feel. The throbbing dull within had dissipated as its threatening havoc was dissolved by love’s true magic. I felt she was a graceful glow, something wrapped in that has that potent energy, for revival and resuscitation. Was her hospitality a sign of acceptance and reconciliation? Or was it just a mere reflex of good conscience, i thought. Either way, it was declaratory of a war ended.
It was spontaneous but couldn’t love surges all bound in spontaneity? It was unexpected. Love marred yet undiminished, both of us realized then.
She appeared from the kitchen and sat beside me.
“What happened Jack?”
We talked. It was a seal of our bitter repulsion’s dissolution. It was the beginning of a second chance shedding shadows in its timely depletion.
Occasionally, she gave me a hand tightening grip. It was ethereal and liberating for me, fulfilling. I was euphorical and freed. That fetters bound, was vaporized by that single twitch of her soft caress. Finally, after all dissention and repulsion was resolved, it was as if, the sunlight was breaking through the thick canopy of white gloom as it glows in its charismatic gold.
I said good bye later on.
3:30 PM
I refused her offer of a ride home. As I was leaving, through the gate and into the street, she rushed for me.
“I’m sorry, I hated you!” She blurted out excitedly from a distance.
I chuckled.
It was encouraging as well as, romantic. It was as if hell has frozen and then melted to a garden of red dazzle.
It was encouraging as well as, romantic. It was as if hell has frozen and then melted to a garden of red dazzle.
Back home, I detailed the bank tragedy in a blog and disseminated it to media networks online. Hours later I was rippled by subsequent media visits and interviews. Cristine was a pleasing comfort though on the phone after watching the interviews. She announced something rewardingly and formally, an emancipative end of our war, she had pulled off the frustrated rape case. I was ecstatic. There! At least, something good blossomed out of that senseless scarring experience. Two weeks later, we were reconciled as lovers again.
Late sunlight was accentuating in splendor the stagnant calm of the swimming pool. Suddenly, two small, colorful butterflies disturbed it with ripples from their intermittent flutter on the water. Sitting cuddled at the back of their house, we were contemplating the two beautiful butterflies doing the acrobatic mating chase from their back porch. Allured and hypnotized, she was moved for a revelation. She admitted something that I once mistook as her love’s betrayal against me.“Me and Aaron, nothing happened…
… When you saw us entered the motel, I admit, it was of sexual desire but then I desisted.” She looked me in the eye. “I thought of you.”
I kissed her forehead.“I am still a virgin, Jack.”
“thank you for being true…” I replied.
Giving it thought, naughtiness entered my thoughts though as uncontrollably has then manifested outwardly.
“What?… that’s annoying Jack..”
“What? I am not thinking anything… yeah, why not? I believe you.”
She had proven it though that night as our union was an interfusion of sumptuous bleed and a delectable red rose scent permeating through the coital senses.
Lying in bed i produced a red jewel.
Glistening red by the light of fluorescent, red rubies was of course less precious but then likewise memorable as the dazzle in life it thereby implied. I appreciated its entwining design. It was Cristine’s necklace I took from her during her accident. I gave it to her back.
She wore it on our wedding day a month after.
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