Open Me Tenderly

By: Jayson Patalinghug
email: king_sky92@yahoo.com
FB: jaysoncbucable@aim.com
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Touch me and feel my warmth,
Hold me and hear the beating of my heart
Run your fingers through my soft skin
Rub me gently as you Open me Tenderly.

Remove every clothes that covers me,
The mask that hides all my pains- Tear them.
Slowly stare as you open me Tenderly
And feast on the nakedness of my soul.

Resist the temptation and do not cry
As your eyes laid sight on my dark side
Do not stop, do not fail – Just go and feel
The heat – the pain as you Open me Tenderly.

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Good Bye Tatay!

by Jayson Patalinghug


Note:  LOL friends, uwi muna ako sa Butuan City to bring my tatay to his resting place. Offline muna ako for a week. Do not worry, may update naman ang ibang writers gaya ni Dalisay at Emil. I will write updates when I come back.

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Photos credited to Ryan Cardone

Life can be compared to swimming in the ocean. Even if I know how to swim and I am confident that I can jump to the waves at the right time – sometimes when I least it expect it, I find my self drowning, spinning under the waves with my mouth full of sands. If I fight against the waves, it would be difficult for me to surface, but if I float with the current, I come right to the top. However, floating while afraid is difficult. It requires trust and faith in order to survive. Dealing with death of a love one is similar. In order to cope, I need to stregnthen my faith and put my trust to the one who gave us life.

Last Saturday my mom phoned me and told me that my grandfather had died already. The man who took care of me when I was young; the man who gave me my first name; the man who showered me with so much love when my parents failed to give it to me. At that moment, I asked myself “why?” I want answers. “Why is this happening? why me? What did I do to deserve this?”. As soon as I remember to trust His plan in my life – I found it easier to discover the answer to my questions. Death is the only thing in life that comes with a 100% guarantee. I should have realized that though our bodies are mortal, all human beings are eternal. Our soul will not die. Our spirit – the essence of who we are will live forever. The bible said in the book of Ecclesiastes chapter 3 verses 11 “He has made everything beautiful in its time. He has also set eternity in the hearts of men; yet they cannot fathom what God has done from beginning to end.

It is not easy when you see someone dear to you drawing near into that good night. In the poem written by Dylan Thomas to his dying father he said “Rage Rage against the dying of the light! Do not go gentle into that good night.”As much as possible we would want them to stay, we would want to hold them in our arms. But we all know that there is time for everything under the heaven (Eccleasiastes 3:1). We have no control over life and death and no one can fathom God’s plan in our lives. We might feel all the sorrows and pains of the present but we should always remember that in life, what matters the most are the things that happens in between. The most important are the things that we do, on how we spend our time between our birth and death. The people whom we touched with our simple actions. The friends we made and the families we built.

As I am about to bring him into his resting place, I know that he had served his purpose already. He had molded me to what I am today. He left memories that I would treasure for the rest of my life.

Good bye Tatay….thank you for the love you gave and for taking me as your own when my parents abandoned me.

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Welcome Emray...

I would like to introduce our new member of the Literary Circle.

His name is Emil known as Emray in his stories like “No Boundaries” and “Dreamer”. He is 19 years old, full of vigour and glamour of youth. He is quite an ambitious lad for he seeks social change that will benefit society and humanity at large. I must say, this kind of interest is heavy enough for young age. He likes to think but he does less action on his thoughts. He has a lot of stories in his imagination, but too lazy to write all of them. He describes himself as silent but once he opens his mouth no one can ever stop him from babbling. Aside from writing, he also loves photography, in fact it was his first love since elementary.

Emil was raised in a conservative family with three smart and beautiful sisters. Their orientation starts at school – House – and Church, it is like a routine that has been embedded in their lives which also greatly influences their characters.

This young and adorable guy loves to grow beards but shaves very often, harmless and approachable. Let us join his literary journey by reading his masterpieces which reflects his inner thoughts and aspirations in life.

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Friends that Matter : Joseph

By: Jayson

Note: The essay below is a raw article. There might be syntax error which you might find along the way. I apologize for the inconvenience. The author will be reviewing this article in his free time.

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He calls me kuya. His treatment to me is that of a brother. He is sweet and gentle. He is not ashamed to introduce me to his peers as his best friend even if he knows who I really am. His name is Joseph, my sworn brother and best friend.

We met last 2006, I was 3^rd year college and he was 2^nd year. He was one of the officers in the maritime academy and one of campus idols. He approached me after the debating contest, asked me if I could join their team for a dinner. I joined them and met the other members of the maritime debating team; Hiram, Peter John and Neil Francis. They were all friendly and they told me how they idolized me, Hiram said that if he was just given a chance, he wanted to have a match with me. However, he was not given a chance because they were eliminated in the semi-final round. Peter and Neil asked me if we could have a match after the dinner, while Joseph was just quite in the corner willing to ride-on whatever the group wants. We had a match after the dinner and I really enjoyed that time together with the maritime debaters.

A month after, I transferred to a boarding house near the school. I never knew that Peter, Neil and Joseph were also living in that boarding house. I was just surprise when the three of them visited me in my room. After that day, our bonding grew stronger, but of them all, it was Joseph who became too close to me. He was fun and he was always visiting me in my room every night. We watched TV shows together, ate together and he even slept in my room several times. He asked me if I can be his big brother and the thought of it made me laugh. I was short while he was tall, it would be awkward for him calling me kuya and besides I was also thinking that his co-officers might just laughed at him and might think that we were lovers. Well, we acted like lovers in the eyes of other people but the truth was, we were just brothers. We never had sexual thoughts of each other and it never came into my mind. We hugged and kissed on the cheeks and that was just it. There was nothing special more than that. For him I am his kuya and for me he is my baby brother.

When we graduated, we parted ways. I was absorbed as a college instructor in our school, while he left to continue his On the Job Training at Marlow Navigation. Even if we were far, he still contacted me and kept me updated. He even asked permission from me when he committed himself into a serious relationship with his girl friend.

Now, he is still sailing the seven seas and I am still a lowly teacher. But our communication has not stopped. Nothing has changed. I am still his Kuya and he is still my baby brother.

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BFF – Blogger’s Friend and Foe

“We cannot please everybody” That is fact that we cannot deny. Though we tried our best to be good for them, still there are people whose mind are shallow enough and cannot appreciate the simple things that we do.

I started blogging last 2007, my entries at that time were just letters to myself. I wrote stories that no one ever know because I am afraid to be criticized by other people. Let us just say I was a coward at that time; a year after, I never attended my blog and my stories were forgotten by time. I was so busy with my work and studies, and writing as a hobby had been neglected. I lived a life like of a robot for more than two years until I realized that I was already losing myself. I was drifted with responsibilities that I seldom see myself paint a genuine smile on my face. Recently, I was browsing the web and stumble in blog where I read the story that awaken my literary interest.  “Ang Kuya Kong Crush ng Bayan by Mike Juha”, the story of Jason and Romuel awaken my mind. It made me dream again, it brought new hope to my withering heart and at the end of their story, I found myself typing my college memory entitled “The Debater’s Love Story”. After that, I reopened my old blog and I am thankful because it was still active. I made major changes on the layout and renamed it “Literature of Life”. I chose that name because Literature reflects human experiences and it mirrors our humanity. Thus Literature itself is life and my blog will only publish the life of life itself.

Not so long after I reactivated my blog, I had made friends with the author itself of MSOB, Mike Juha. He was kind and warm to me. He invited me to write on his blog which made me feel honoured, and in return he also became a contributor in my blog. I regularly visited MSOB and read more stories and chatted with other readers and writers. One day I chatted with Rovi, the main character of Task Force Enigma and the author of UNBROKEN. I invited him to share his stories in my blog which he graciously accepted. He also introduced me to the author of TFE, no other than Dalisay who instantly became my friend and contributor in own blog. I fell in love with his story “Kung Kaya Mong Sabihin na Mahal Mo Ako” when I first read it. Mike and Dalisay encouraged me to write again which paved the way to my first tagalog story entitled “Ang mga Pangarap ni Fredo”. I began to enjoy reading and writing during my spare time in spite of my heavy schedule in the call center and in the school.  

I write not to empress anyone but to share my thoughts, my dreams and my aspirations. I intended to transform my experiences and the happenings around me into fiction and bring forth lessons to the readers. I have joined several blog sites and one of these is the BOL. At first, I already noticed some readers (not all) who displayed negative attitudes, but still I posted my articles there. My first article in BOL was a cold welcome, some commented why I wrote in English, they thought I was a trying hard writer. I never mind them, because I respected their right to say whatever they want to say. Recently, I wrote a true story entitled “Neltach”. I never expected that my simple request to rate my blog would create a negative impact on some readers. An anonymous reader posted a discriminatory comment which is pointed directly to me as the author and not to the story I wrote. I never wanted to reply on his comment so I deleted my post in BOL. A day after that, the anonymous reader followed me in my Facebook account and sent me a personal message “have originality on requesting torrid part..haizz pilipino nga naman gaya gaya ng style....”  The account was under a guy named Jay Parker. I replied to him, telling him that I was not forcing him to vote if he doesn’t want to, and thanked him for his comment. I closed the issue and decided to keep quite. I did not expect that because of this incident I would found a friend who is willing to lower down his level and fight for me. Dalisay is just like my heroine, protecting me from my attackers. When I read the thread of comments posted both in BOL and MSOB, I do not know how to react anymore, I do not want to post new comments as I don’t want to ignite the fire of the issue. Since the beginning, I have accepted the fact that I am not as good as the other writers here, but that did not hinder me from writing my thoughts in my own simple style. If someone does not like what I write, then don’t read. I am not forcing anyone here.

Mr. Jay Parker, you are still young and you will learn a lot along the way. I appreciate your honest comment, but always remember that we are not measured with our intelligence, our success in life is measured with our attitude. I would like to close this issue and may everyone have a peaceful life.

Dalisay, you were the only one who fought for me. I found a true friend in you. A friend that I will cherish for the rest of my life, I will never forget how you protected me. I never had a friend like you before. I must say, you are the first friend of all my friends who stood and fought in my behalf. Thank you very much!

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Nelatch

By: Jayson

FB: www.jaysoncbucable@aim.com

Blog: www.jaysoncnu.blogspot.com

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Ang kwento pong ito ay hango sa totoong pangyayari na naikwento sa akin ng isang kaibigan. Pinalitan ko lang po ang mga pangalan ng mga tauhan. Hindi po nito hangad na manira, Minsan kailangan po nating makita ang negatibong bahagi ng ating lipunan upang makita natin ang ating posisyon at kahalagahan sa minimithi nating pagbabago. Enjoy and thanks for your constant support!

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Alas onse na ng gabi, bit-bit ni Jed ang isang DVD na binili niya galing sa night market. Ang night market ay parang baklaran version ng Colon street sa Cebu tuwing December. Marami ang namimili dito dahil sa mura lang ang mga bilihin. Si Jed ay nakabili ng isang DVD sa halagang beynte pesos lang, napagpasyahan niyang bumili din ng rosas sa may freedom park. Naglakad lamang siya dahil sa malapit lang naman ito mula sa Colon street. Naglalakad siya sa kalsada ng mapansin niya ang isang grupo ng kabataan na nakatambay sa may kanto ng isang sikat na unibersidad. Nasa katorse hanggang dese otso anyos ang edad ng mga batang ito. Karamihan ay nakasoot ng damit na pang rapper or hip hop dancer. May itsora naman ang mga batang ito at di rin naman mukhang rugby boys ngunit sa panahon ngayon ay marami ng holdaper kaya medyo mag aalangan ang sino man na lumapit o di kaya ay magtanong sa kanila. Binilisan ni Jed ang paglakad at ng makita niya ang isang babae na nagtitinda ng prutas sa gilid ng unibersidad agad siyang huminto at nag nanatili lang dun nagbabaka sakaling makaligtas sa mga masasama ang loob. Sa pangamba niyang maholdap ay napagpasyahan nalang niya na umuwi at mag abang ng taxi. Ilang saglit lang may napansin siyang isang binatilyo; nakaputi ng t-shirt at naka short ng maong, naglalakad ito patungo sa kinatatayuan niya, kinabahan siya, ganito din kasi ang eksina nung naholdap siya sa may labas ng Robinsons mall. Dumaan ang binatilyo sa harapan niya, hindi naman tumingin sa kanya ngunit narinig niyang sinambit nito ang katagang “Nelatch”. Di niya maintindihan kung ano ang ibig sabihin ng salitang iyon kaya di nalang niya pinansin. Nakalagpas na sa kanya ang binatilyo at sinundan naman niya ito ng malagkit na tingin. Lumingon ang binatilyo at nagkasalubong ang kanilang mga mata.

“Sir, nelatch? “ sabi ng binatilyo na nakatingin kay Jed. Sa pagkakataong iyon, alam na ni Jed na siya ang kausap ng binatilyo. Tumingin lang si Jed sa binatilyo at bakas sa kanyang mukha ang pagkalito at ang kilay niya ay nagkasalubong na para bang nagtatanong “ano?”

Bumalik ang binatilyo at sa puntong iyon huminto sa tapat ni Jed “Sir, neltach po?” tanong ng binatilyo.

“Ha? Anong nelatch?” isang tanong ang isinagot ni jed sa tanong ng binatilyo.

Ngumiti ang binatilyo “Sir bago po kayo dito?”

“Oo, bibili lang sana ako ng rosas dyan sa may freedom park.” Sagot ni Jed.

“Gusto niyo po ng nelatch?” tanong ulit ng binatilyo.

“Pasensya na ha, di kasi kita maintindihan eh. Ano ba yung nelatch?” pagbalik ni jed sa tanong ng binatilyo.

“serbis po sir, kahit anong trip niyo. 100 lang po” sagot ng binatilyo sabay bitaw ng isang pilyong ngiti.

Di makasagot si Jed sa narinig, na shock kung baga. Ikaw ba naman ang makarinig ng ganoon galing sa isang cute na binatilyo.

“So ano po sir? Gusto niyo?” tanong ulit ng binatilyo.

“Huh, sure ka?” gulat na sagot ni Jed sa tanong ng binatilyo.

“Opo sir, marami kami dito. Kung di nyo pa nasubukan eh subukan niyo po, sigurado akong magugustuhan niyo kasi magaling ako.” Pang akit ng binatilyo. “May motel dyan sa may kanto sengkwenta lang” dagdag pa nito.

Biglang nalibugan si Jed at bakas ang pagtigas ng alaga niya sa soot nitong shorts. Ngunit, sumagi sa kanyang isip ang mga naririnig sa balita na mga baklang pinapatay sa loob ng motel o di kaya yung hinoholdap. Sa panahon ngayon di mo na alam kung sino ang pwede pagkatiwalaan.

“Salamat, di na siguro.” Sabi ni Jed na medyo nanginginig ang tinig sabay para sa taxi na papalapit. Nang huminto ang taxi, dali-dali siyang sumakay “Nong sa Brgy. San Roque po tayo.” Sabi niya sa driver.

Nang nasa taxi na siya, iniisip pa rin niya ang binatilyo. Gwapo ito, nasa desye siete anyos, matangkad, puti at singkit ang mata. Di niya mawari kung paano naging ganun ang trabaho ng binatilyo. Noon lang din niya narinig ang salitang nelatch na ang ibig sabihin pala ay serbis.

“Nong, alam niyo po ba kung ano ang nelatch?” tanong ni Jed sa driver.

“Ah yung nelatch ba? Yun ang tawag sa kabataang tumatambay diyan sa corner ng Bormeo street. Nag aalok sila ng serbis sa mga bakla. Sila mismo ang mag roromansa at chuchupa sayo. Marami ngang bakla at silahis ang pumupunta diyan tuwing sabado at linggo.” Sagot naman ng driver “Bakit inalok ka ba nung binatilyo?” dagdag pa nito.

“Ah sabi po niya nelatch, kaso di ko po maintindihan eh.” Sagot naman ni Jed.

“Hahaha, ganun talaga dun. Kapag natunugan nila ang kulay mo ay lalapitan ka talaga!” patawang sabi ng driver.

Lalo namang nanigas ang alaga ni Jed sa sinabi ng driver at tumahimik na lamang siya. Malapit na sila sa may cathedral “Nong, paki para po. Bababa na po ako” sabi ni Jed. Pagkababa niya may nakita siyang tricycle at pinara ito “Dong, sa may Boromeo street tayo.” Sabi niya sa batang driver ng tricycle de padyak. Kumakabog ang kanyang dib-dib sa kaba ngunit parang sasabog na rin ang alaga niya at gusto nang kumawala sa brief nito. Nang malapit na sila sa kanto ng Boromeo ay pinatigil na niya ang tricycle. Naglakad siya patungo sa gate ng unibersidad nang nilapitan siya ng isang binatilyo. Hindi ito ang bintalyong lumapit sa kanya kanina, Moreno ang isang ito, matangkad din at mas matipuno ang katawan. Halata na nagbabanat ito ng buto.

“Nelatch...nelatch..” sambit ng binatilyo na para bang nagtitinda ng karne sa may palengke habang papalapit ito kay Jed.

Kinabahan si Jed, ngunit mas matindi ang libog na nadarama nito. Kinilatis niya ang binata na sa tingin niya ay nasa dese nwebe anyos na. “Anong pangalan mo?” tanong ni Jed.

“RR po sir.” Sagot naman ng binata.

“Ilang taon ka na?” tanong ulit ni Jed.

“dese nwebe na po.” Sagot ulit ng binata.

Pumara ng taxi si Jed “Nong sa may SOGO hotel po tayo.” Sumakay si Jed at tiningnan ang binata “RR halika na.” Anyaya niya. Tahimik lang sila hanggang sa makarating sa hotel.

“Magkano ulit ang bayad sayo?” tanong ni Jed bago pa sila pumasok sa hotel. Libog na libog na siya.

“150 po.” Sagot ng binata. Mas mahal ang isang to, pero okay na kasi gwapo naman ito at saka affordable lang din naman ang 150.00.

“okay.” Tugon naman ni Jed.

Pumasok silang dawala sa loob ng SOGO hotel...

(Ang susunod na eksina ay medyo masilan kaya its only available upon request. If gusto niyo pong mabasa ang torrid scene na ito ay maari po lamang na i- rate nyo po ang star rating sa blog ko

http://www.blogsngpinoy.com/2010/12/literature-of-life-lol.html

Pagkatapos po ay mag send po ng email sa akin sa king_sky92@yahoo.com. Please indicate in your email if you are a follower of my blog at kung naka rate na po kayo. I will get back to you with the torrid scene ng kwentong ito. I appreciate your constant support. Happy New Year!

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December Memories

By: Jayson P.

FB: jaysoncbucable@aim.com

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We have two reasons to celebrate December; first, It is the birthday of our saviour; Second, at the end of this month we are about to face a new start.

Most people want to celebrate these important occasion with their families but I have never celebrated these occasions in the past 5 years with my family for a very complicated reason. Let us just say, I don’t have a happy home back in Mindanao. I had lonely Decembers in the past but I told myself that I won’t dwell on that anymore. So I decided to go on vacation.

Initially, I planned to visit Camotes Island but there was a change of plan when my contact in that island informed me that there was a little complication in the arrangements of my accommodation. I thought it would be another lonely December so I started to think of an option. A text message from my co-teacher was just timely, Miss Juliet invited me to go to Barili, Cebu for a trip. It was the home place of our department chairman and they would sponsor our accommodation there.

December 26, we went to Mantayupan Falls and the rest of December was spent in the remote barrio of Barili. Miss Juliet was not able to stay with us until new year because her fiancé arrived from Hawaii. Below are photos of that December memories. Thanks to Miss Juliet and Villarin Family for the home you gave me this December.

This beautiful landscape of nature is one of the tourist attraction in Barili Cebu. It is located in the southern part of Cebu which is approximately 61 kilometers southwest of Cebu City. Barili comprises of 42 Baranggays and the amazing Mantayupan Falls can be seen in Brgy. Campangga.

Above is Leah, my friend way back in college. She was my co-working student before but she decided to go abroad, that's why when she came back to school, I was already his Literature instructor. Now, Leah is working as call center agent. 

The photos above were taken from the camera of Ma'am Imelda. I was delayed in posting these because, I just saw these photos in FB. hehe. Thanks Rex for posting this in your wall.

On our way to Brgy. Malolos, we stopped by at Brgy. Mantalungon to buy something for lunch. It was their market day "tabu". Goods displayed were harvested directly from the farm. I wanted to take picture of the market but I was vomiting already due to seasickness, so I just took picture of myself while waiting for Rodney and Rex.

This is the road going to Brgy. Malolos Barili, Cebu. I wish I have a personal photographer so that I am included in all photos. hahaha.

Weeh, this is the road going to the Villarin's residence. When I took this photo, I remember my old home at San Miguel Surigao del Sur. Living in a place like this makes me feel serene, breathing the fresh air and listening to the songs of the birds.

This is their simple yet happy abode. I stayed here for 3 days. The Villarin family were so hospitable and I enjoyed my stay in their home sweet home.

Have you tried taking a bath in a well? hehe. This is where I took a bath every morning. I wish I had a photo taking a bath here, well I am too shy to ask Rex to take shots of me. hahhaa...

This is Rex. I took this photo beside  the cliff where the Chiong sisters were dumped after they were raped. Rex said this place is like a dumping site and is dangerous at night. Anyway, the rape and all the dangers happened before when this place was not yet developed.

This is the shop at Car Car City where Rex had his motor bike tuned up. While waiting, I had my hair cut at the barber shop. Hehe..

Weeh....This is me after I had my hair cut. (may nagbago ba? hahaha) I was just waiting for Rex. bored! haha

These folks were singing Christmas carols. What amazed me was that they managed to do this with only a lamp and a small flashlight in a dark village. Did I mention that the house of the Villarin's is located on top of the hill? 

The food we ate were just simple, just right for a simple home and simple people. Rodney was the one who usually cook for us. We had corn, rice, corned beef, dried fish and fish soup (tinola).

Dec 31, 2010. we went to Car Car City market. The people were everywhere busy buying for their media noche. My attention was captured by the tasty and affordable lechon which they are selling for 280.00 per kilo. We bought 1 kilo for lunch and believe me, you can only taste this kind of lechon in Cebu.

It's not an illusion and you are not dreaming. I was really cooking my first spaghetti. Ma'am Imelda helped me though. I was happy because Rex said that his father usually don't like spaghetti but he ate a lot and told me that it was delicious. 

Mr. Villarin, you just didn't know how happy I was when you said that. I never had a father who appreciates me. I never heard a word of praise from my own family. Thank you!

We went to church and prayed on the new year. In my heart, I was thankful that God gave me a wonderful vacation this year together with the Villarin family who showed me real family solidarity. One thing that my family never had. I prayed that one day, when I build my own family, I will never let them experience what I experienced. I will make sure that they will have a home sweet home with a loving and responsibly parents.

This is Mr. and Mrs. Villarin. They live a simple life in their home on top of the hill in the rural area of Barili. With hard work and discipline they are able to send all three children to school and all of them graduated. Richard the eldest has his own business and a happy family in Barili, Rodney married my chairman Ma'am Imelda after his adventures in the middle east and they are still sweet like a newly wed couple, and Rex is my co teacher in Cebu Technological University. The brothers were close to each other, they are a living example of how Mr. and Mrs. Villarin  brought up a good and responsible children.

Thank you and I am hoping to see you again soon! I am now ready to face another year of challenges.

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Moonlight

By: Jayson Patalinghug

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I remember the weight first.

It pinned my hand to the mattress, heavy and cold as stone. My body would not obey me; every breath I took felt stolen, as if invisible fingers were pressing against my lungs. My mind, however, was fully awake—painfully awake.

From beyond my room, I heard the sounds of chaos: the sharp shatter of plates, the piercing cries of someone breaking apart, the furious pounding of fists against doors. Walls trembled. Shadows roared.

I fought to open my eyes, to move even a finger, but the unseen weight grew heavier, as though an iron hand was holding me down. Panic welled up, and I whispered hoarsely, my words tripping over one another:

“Please… let me go.”

Nothing.

Then I remembered Him.

“I rebuke you, demon,” I gasped, “in the name of Jesus—my Lord, my Savior—leave me!”

The words cracked in the silence. And just like that—the force loosened its grip. My eyes flew open. I lay drenched in sweat, my chest heaving, my throat parched as though I had been drowning in a dream.

I stumbled out of bed, my legs trembling. The hallway stretched before me, dim and hollow. The front door hung open, swaying slightly, as if someone had just stepped out. I glanced at the clock—3:00 a.m. The hour when night feels older than death.

The moonlight spilled through the cracked window, silvering the veranda. It was strangely beautiful, almost tender, softening the brokenness around me. For a moment, it soothed me. Perhaps, I thought, the moon is God’s lantern, reminding me not all darkness is merciless.

But then—

Huhuhu…

A cry. Soft, mournful, and distant, yet so near it seemed to seep into my very bones.

I froze. My breath hitched. The sound grew clearer as I stepped through the sala, where only the pale glow of the moon lit my way. I reached for the switch but stumbled over something unseen.

That’s when I saw her.

She sat at the dining table, shoulders trembling, her head buried in her arms. Long strands of hair veiled her face. A white gown clung to her figure and shimmered faintly in the moonlight, as though it had been stitched from the light itself.

“Who… who are you?” I whispered, though my throat felt sealed shut.

Her sobbing slowed. She lifted her head just enough for her voice to escape, fragile and broken:

“Why did he leave us?”

The sound pierced me. My knees weakened. My sweat ran like rain down my face.

She stood then, slowly, her gown trailing like mist. Step by step, she moved toward me. My body screamed to run, but I could not. She knelt in front of me, her face finally revealed.

Her eyes—oh God, her eyes—were oceans of grief. They pulled me in, drowning me in her sorrow.

“My son,” she whispered, “your father has left us. He broke me when he went to her last night.”

Her words struck like lightning, illuminating everything I feared but dared not name. Tears blurred my sight.

“Mother?” I choked out, though I was not sure if it was truly her or a specter conjured by the moonlight.

She touched my cheek, her fingers cold but tender.

“Be strong,” she said, her voice trembling. “You must be strong, even when the world falls apart.”

And then—she was gone. The room stood empty, the moonlight cold and silent once more.

I remained there, tears dripping freely, unsure if I had dreamed her into being or if the moon itself had given her back to me for just one fleeting moment.

 

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