June 16, 2000
Her name is Christy Marksman, a woman in her mid-twenty’s. She has the face as sweet as roses in a greenhouse. She is about 5 foot 4 tall. She had a body that would marvel every man's sense of touch if they could only feel every corner of her body. She almost looks perfect. But there is something in her that could bother even the petals of the flowers that she resembles.
She sits at the shoulder of the street, by the gutter of Reynold Cor. Bluestone Ave. She sits their all alone every afternoon, 4:00pm. She does this every Fridays of the week. It's a small and quiet neighborhood. Everybody knows her story. They all want to help her but they don't know how. They are helpless. People just watch from the windows of their houses. No one even bothered to offer her a shoulder to cry on. Some tried but only felt as helpless as her. They could only share her grief.
She reaches for her phone. Dials a number yet never says a word. She only listens and burst into tears and does it all over again for the next thirty minutes. Then she reaches in her pocket and pulls out a news article clipping and cry some more.
"Hi honey! Me and the girls had a blast at the theme park. We are walking our way home."
"Daddy! Katy is running after the little dove." A little angel's voice suddenly declared in the background.
"It looks funny!" and burst into a giggle as ticklish as a feather to the ears.
"Don't you run off too far sweety. Stay close to your sister."
More giggles could be heard in the background as the other voice joins the other in the giggling spree.
"Honey, sorry about that. The kids and I are just goofing around. Hope your boss didn't give you a hard time at work. We'll be home in twenty minutes. Call me when you get home. Hugs and kisses to you!"
A tone. You no longer have any voicemail left unread.
Tears flow some more from her cheeks, rushing like lives depend on it. And she dials the voicemail number again, hearing the same message and crying some more. She reaches for the article and reads it again.
A father and his two children get killed in a hit and run.
John Marksman and his two daughters, Katy and Clarice, died after being hit and run at Reynold Cor. Blustone Ave. at 4pm. of June 13, 1999.
That is as far as she could bear to read. Everytime she does that, she hurts herself some more. She knows it. But she never really minded. Maybe she wanted to get numb to it. Maybe she just can't for her loss has left her so shattered and lost in the wilderness everybody calls life. No one would ever know because not even her knows the answer.
A man then sits beside her. Never says a word but just hugs her tight and holds her in his arms. At first glance, he would seem like a stranger for she never turns towards him nor acknowledges his presence, yet not. He was not a stranger.
His name is Greg Stevenson, a 5 foot 7 man, in his early thirty’s, quite attractive for a man as most woman in the neighborhood thought. He has vowed to offer his second life in taking care of the woman that John has left her for he knows that he owes his second life the night of June 13, 1999 to the same man she weeps for.
She rests her head on Greg's chest. She could hear a familiar sound, a beat she knows and has felt number of times more than the dirt on her boots. She listens and would weep some more as she felt the large scar on Greg's chest under his shirt. She feels angry. She feels like hitting him hard for reasons she could not quite make out of. But she knows that Greg is the closest that she could be with John for Greg now has the heart of the man she truly loved and will love forever.
08 May 2011
23 July 2010
Soda
I was suppose to write a story earlier yet ended up reading the blogs of the people that I follow in my blog site. I haven't been able to check those in ages. One blog after another, I never really noticed that I ended up going each and every one of them for almost two hours.
I jumped on the keyboard with a heavy heart and ended up with a smile after going over those blogs. I'm sure you're asking "why?"
As much as I would want to go over each of those blogs, I can't, there's just too many. Here's what I think:
Love has evolved into something I find weird. With the advancement of technology, people have depended on "wall post" to profess or express their love for a particular person. I have nothing against expressing ones self as I am guilty of such. If you could only get to see the strings of cheesiness that I have been up to. But "it" being the basis of how true your love is for a person is a bit bogus for me. An empty can of soda in a shelf waiting for an unsuspecting victim who wishes to quench his/her thirst, only to get disappointed.
I am a traditional guy. I believe that being with the person is what matters most. Being able to share a cup of coffee in the morning. Being able to read your favorite books together in silence and yet never feeling alone nor neglected. Being able to lay under a sheet of stars holding hands, feeling the blanket of grass under your skin. Being able to enjoy long talks of almost anything, from the weather to the lousy the movie you watched together.
Reading the blogs, made me hopeful of people to still feel the same. Made me realize that despite how I see things, love has still been true for some. Some, of course, is better than none. Not an empty can of soda but a rich cup of coffee to energize us for a journey we call life.
Now, time for me to go back to my stories. ^_^
I jumped on the keyboard with a heavy heart and ended up with a smile after going over those blogs. I'm sure you're asking "why?"
As much as I would want to go over each of those blogs, I can't, there's just too many. Here's what I think:
Love has evolved into something I find weird. With the advancement of technology, people have depended on "wall post" to profess or express their love for a particular person. I have nothing against expressing ones self as I am guilty of such. If you could only get to see the strings of cheesiness that I have been up to. But "it" being the basis of how true your love is for a person is a bit bogus for me. An empty can of soda in a shelf waiting for an unsuspecting victim who wishes to quench his/her thirst, only to get disappointed.
I am a traditional guy. I believe that being with the person is what matters most. Being able to share a cup of coffee in the morning. Being able to read your favorite books together in silence and yet never feeling alone nor neglected. Being able to lay under a sheet of stars holding hands, feeling the blanket of grass under your skin. Being able to enjoy long talks of almost anything, from the weather to the lousy the movie you watched together.
Reading the blogs, made me hopeful of people to still feel the same. Made me realize that despite how I see things, love has still been true for some. Some, of course, is better than none. Not an empty can of soda but a rich cup of coffee to energize us for a journey we call life.
Now, time for me to go back to my stories. ^_^
04 April 2010
To the woman of my life - Thank you
He sits on his bed, puffing his cigarrete. He is staring blankly at the laptop. He looked like he is mesmerized by the blinking cursor. Something was disturbing him, inside. It woke him up in his slumber and now he finds it difficult to go back to sleep. If he could only have one of those apples that brough Snow White to sleep, he would gladly eat a dozen. That's how desperate he is. He just can't stand the flashes of memory anymore. It pains him a lot. It's like poking an open wound with a hot metal iron rod. So painful, you would rather choose death. He wanted to do something but he just couldn't figure it out.
Then his phone rings. Who would be calling at this time, he asked himself. The clock ticks and just hit 4:05am. The phone's caller ID showed the mystery caller. It simply showed, "Mama".
At first, he couldn't believe his eyes. He thought that he was dreaming. His mom wouldn't call at this time of the night. Then it hit him, it could be an emergency or something. His heart raced and he hurriedly picked up the phone and said hello.
Instead of hearing panic or fear, he heard something unexpected, she simply said "Hello" in her most calming and soothing voice.
"Are you at work?", she asked.
"No. But I'll be going there in about an hour.", he replied. Although he was not even suppose to work since it was his off, he was telling the truth. So much has been bothering him that he would rather spend his time working for him to be preoccupied.
"How are you?", her inquiry was delivered with such concern that he thought for a moment that she knows what is happening to him. Of course she doesn't. He convinced himself since no one knew. Maybe a couple of people but they would never be in anyway in contact with her.
He wanted to say he was okay. That he was doing just fine. Much to his surprise though, he found it hard to say. His heart was filled with sadness. Whomever said that it is easier to lie on the phone had to be kidding during that moment. He mustered all his strength though say it anyway and hoped he was convincing. But no, he was not.
His mother never reacted to the lie. Instead she asked, "Who are you with tonight?", as if expecting a familiar name to hear from him, well more of hoping to hear a familiar name.
His heart beat faster and became heavier. His breath became short and shallow. He wanted to cry. His voice started to break but he kept his composure. He mustered all his might to say, "No one."
There was a moment of silence between as if she understood and shared his sadness.
"Me and your sister will be dropping by the next day. You don't tire yourself too much at work."
"Yes. I'll see you by then."
"You take care." Those last three words hit him as hard as a rock against concrete. He couldn't understood how he was feeling. The urge to cry was clearly at the end of the ropes. And he knew that he could no longer keep up the act any longer.
"You too. Bye." That was all he could said and his mother hung up.
And then he broke down. He cried, cried like a baby in a cradle.
"Thank you mom."
Then his phone rings. Who would be calling at this time, he asked himself. The clock ticks and just hit 4:05am. The phone's caller ID showed the mystery caller. It simply showed, "Mama".
At first, he couldn't believe his eyes. He thought that he was dreaming. His mom wouldn't call at this time of the night. Then it hit him, it could be an emergency or something. His heart raced and he hurriedly picked up the phone and said hello.
Instead of hearing panic or fear, he heard something unexpected, she simply said "Hello" in her most calming and soothing voice.
"Are you at work?", she asked.
"No. But I'll be going there in about an hour.", he replied. Although he was not even suppose to work since it was his off, he was telling the truth. So much has been bothering him that he would rather spend his time working for him to be preoccupied.
"How are you?", her inquiry was delivered with such concern that he thought for a moment that she knows what is happening to him. Of course she doesn't. He convinced himself since no one knew. Maybe a couple of people but they would never be in anyway in contact with her.
He wanted to say he was okay. That he was doing just fine. Much to his surprise though, he found it hard to say. His heart was filled with sadness. Whomever said that it is easier to lie on the phone had to be kidding during that moment. He mustered all his strength though say it anyway and hoped he was convincing. But no, he was not.
His mother never reacted to the lie. Instead she asked, "Who are you with tonight?", as if expecting a familiar name to hear from him, well more of hoping to hear a familiar name.
His heart beat faster and became heavier. His breath became short and shallow. He wanted to cry. His voice started to break but he kept his composure. He mustered all his might to say, "No one."
There was a moment of silence between as if she understood and shared his sadness.
"Me and your sister will be dropping by the next day. You don't tire yourself too much at work."
"Yes. I'll see you by then."
"You take care." Those last three words hit him as hard as a rock against concrete. He couldn't understood how he was feeling. The urge to cry was clearly at the end of the ropes. And he knew that he could no longer keep up the act any longer.
"You too. Bye." That was all he could said and his mother hung up.
And then he broke down. He cried, cried like a baby in a cradle.
"Thank you mom."
03 April 2010
Dance Part 2
They stand in the middle of the room.
Holding each other's hands.
Feeling each other's warmth, not filling the room, but filling their hearts and body.
A warmth that brings together day and night; that brings together the ends of the earth, a warmth that binds two souls into one.
But all of a sudden, the music stopped. They were both in a dilemma how to continue the dance, doubted if they would even continue or not. They struggled. They tripped and stepped on each other's foot. It became the clumsiest dance. In fact, it didn't look like a dance anymore but a routine of struggle. A routine wherein participants struggle to keep up and show the world that each remains standing.
They stopped. It was pointless. But the the silence brought them something unimaginable. They started to hear something. A rythmn? A melody? A music? A song? No! They weren't hearing any of those for they knew that it has stopped.
But what they heard was something beyond reason, beyond the boundaries of what they knew, what everyone knew.
But what the heck, they thought. They started dancing again to the sound that they hear, only they can hear.
The steps then became perfect again. Every stride became like a river flowing in its righful current. Bringing everything where it should be, rightfully.
The sound became stronger as they held each other close, closer.
It was later then they realized that what they have been hearing all this time were they hearts beating. Their hearts were giving them everything they needed to continue the dance. The dance we call life.
The beat of the music doesn't determine the steps and strides they took but rather the beat of their hearts, for what they feel inside, together, is what makes the dance perfect and not the music.
14 December 2009
"Will You Marry Me?"
He woke up looking at the dark sky. It was evening and the stars were beautiful. He could see the street lights glitter. He wanted to stand up but he couldn't. He couldn't feel anything. He knows his limbs are still with him yet he couldn't tell them to help him up. He tried to move his arms. Same thing. After a couple of tries, he stopped trying. He liked the view anyway. What are the chances of you laying in the middle of the street during rush hour and marveling at the beautiful sky and get away with it, he thought. Good thing he could still move his eyes. For a moment he wondered. He just didn't understand why.
Shattered glass lay everywhere, even on him. His clothes are torn. His face is ripped with wounds. A puddle of blood formed just behind his neck down his back. He could feel it. he knows he is dripped yet he doesn't know what it was made of. He could smell the stench of rust and burning gasoline up his nostrils down his lungs. He could hear but with a faining ring in his eardrums.
"I didn't touch him!i was driving right behind him and it just..." the woman stopped and just burst into tears and disappeared into her car.
A focused light suddenly flashed before his eyes with a faint face of a man behind it.
"Buddy! Can you hear me? Don't move. I'm a dcotor."
The man whose face he didn't recognize told him. Believe me I tried moving, he thought. the man shoved his penlight back into his breast pocket and felt his pulse.
Another woman ran towards them. "let me help! I'm a nurse!"
She took off her jacket and made an improvized c-collar and gently placed it behind her neck, carefully as she could just like an expert.
"You have a phone?" the doctor asked. "I already called."
"what's your name?"
"Lila!"
"Lila, my name is Sam. I'm a doctor."
"Buddy! Can you tell me your name?"
He tried to answer. He wasn't surprised that he failed again. He was getting used to the feeling. The doctor searched for his pocket and found a wallet. as he opened it, a glass fell from it.
His name was Henry dawson, 21 years old who lives uptown.
"Henry, my name is Sam and I'm a doctor. I have Lila with me. She is a nurse. I want you to look at her and stay with her."
"Lila, stay with him as I check on the others."
The doctor went to the wrecked car and check on two women and a man who lay lifeless inside the carnaged coffin. A woman of her twentys has half her body through the windshield and into the dashboard. No pulse. The doctor could tell that she had a beauty much like of Naomi Watts before she was shoved into her state. The remaining two, both man and woman, elderly, were tucked at the back seat. No pulse as well.
Sam went back to Henry and Lila.
"He is loosing a lot of blood and his pulse slowing down." declared Lila.
"Where is the fucking ambulance!"
A crowd gathered around the scene watching in horror as the doctor and nurse trie to save the life of the boy. Some were crying. a couple were hugging each other as most of them offered a prayer of their own to pull this kid out of this misery.
"Forgive me. Forgive me."
Henry mustered with all his might. It felt like a scream to him yet it only came out as a whisper, barely audible for everyone to hear.
"It wasn't your fault. I was driving right behind you when your front tire blew." Lila said in a much comforting voice.
He tried once again to move. Much to his surprise he could. He felt the gravel under his hands. He was trying to look for something. Sam noticed this and looked at his hand. He was surprised to see a ring near Henry's pocket. It must have been what fell from his wallet, Sam thought. Sam then helped him and put the ring in his hand.
"Will you marry me? Will you marry me Athena?" Henry asked while looking at Lila.
Both Sam and Lila had question marks on their faces. Both then looked at the carnaged car at looked at the girl in the front seat, shoved into the windshield.
"Will you marry me?", he asked again as more blood flowed. his pulse failing him.
"Yes. I will" Lila replied as tears flowed down her cheeks.
Henry smiled as he finally was able to ask the question to his love. It was Athena he saw saying it as stars danced in the sky behind her. How lovelier could the moment be.
And Henry took his last breath.
Shattered glass lay everywhere, even on him. His clothes are torn. His face is ripped with wounds. A puddle of blood formed just behind his neck down his back. He could feel it. he knows he is dripped yet he doesn't know what it was made of. He could smell the stench of rust and burning gasoline up his nostrils down his lungs. He could hear but with a faining ring in his eardrums.
"I didn't touch him!i was driving right behind him and it just..." the woman stopped and just burst into tears and disappeared into her car.
A focused light suddenly flashed before his eyes with a faint face of a man behind it.
"Buddy! Can you hear me? Don't move. I'm a dcotor."
The man whose face he didn't recognize told him. Believe me I tried moving, he thought. the man shoved his penlight back into his breast pocket and felt his pulse.
Another woman ran towards them. "let me help! I'm a nurse!"
She took off her jacket and made an improvized c-collar and gently placed it behind her neck, carefully as she could just like an expert.
"You have a phone?" the doctor asked. "I already called."
"what's your name?"
"Lila!"
"Lila, my name is Sam. I'm a doctor."
"Buddy! Can you tell me your name?"
He tried to answer. He wasn't surprised that he failed again. He was getting used to the feeling. The doctor searched for his pocket and found a wallet. as he opened it, a glass fell from it.
His name was Henry dawson, 21 years old who lives uptown.
"Henry, my name is Sam and I'm a doctor. I have Lila with me. She is a nurse. I want you to look at her and stay with her."
"Lila, stay with him as I check on the others."
The doctor went to the wrecked car and check on two women and a man who lay lifeless inside the carnaged coffin. A woman of her twentys has half her body through the windshield and into the dashboard. No pulse. The doctor could tell that she had a beauty much like of Naomi Watts before she was shoved into her state. The remaining two, both man and woman, elderly, were tucked at the back seat. No pulse as well.
Sam went back to Henry and Lila.
"He is loosing a lot of blood and his pulse slowing down." declared Lila.
"Where is the fucking ambulance!"
A crowd gathered around the scene watching in horror as the doctor and nurse trie to save the life of the boy. Some were crying. a couple were hugging each other as most of them offered a prayer of their own to pull this kid out of this misery.
"Forgive me. Forgive me."
Henry mustered with all his might. It felt like a scream to him yet it only came out as a whisper, barely audible for everyone to hear.
"It wasn't your fault. I was driving right behind you when your front tire blew." Lila said in a much comforting voice.
He tried once again to move. Much to his surprise he could. He felt the gravel under his hands. He was trying to look for something. Sam noticed this and looked at his hand. He was surprised to see a ring near Henry's pocket. It must have been what fell from his wallet, Sam thought. Sam then helped him and put the ring in his hand.
"Will you marry me? Will you marry me Athena?" Henry asked while looking at Lila.
Both Sam and Lila had question marks on their faces. Both then looked at the carnaged car at looked at the girl in the front seat, shoved into the windshield.
"Will you marry me?", he asked again as more blood flowed. his pulse failing him.
"Yes. I will" Lila replied as tears flowed down her cheeks.
Henry smiled as he finally was able to ask the question to his love. It was Athena he saw saying it as stars danced in the sky behind her. How lovelier could the moment be.
And Henry took his last breath.
26 November 2009
Forbidden IV
Eric missed his 7:30am bus. He didn't have a clue how that would change his life. He had to take the 8:00am bus to work. It was not the best situation he would want to get himself into; late for his court hearing and his client has been ringing his phone like crazy. The judge isn't going to like his late for bus excuse as well. There was nothing he could do anyway.
Aboard the bus, he was reading a ton of papers stuffed in his suit case when the a man approached him. "That would be twenty mister." He then realized that he didn't have any stash with him. He left his wallet. Not a single cent with him. He only had his credit card with him. Of course, no bus would be willing enough to accept a swipe.
"I think I left my wallet." He didn't have any other words to say as the man looked at him blankly.
"We've heard that excuse a number of times already mister. It's either you pay up or off the bus."
"I'll pay for him.", the woman in front of his seat suddenly declared.
"Excuse me?", Eric asked. "You really don't have to", he added.
"I'll pay. I don't want any ruckus happening. And I wouldn't want to be late for work if they have to stop to kick you off."
The man made no objection and got the twenty from her. Eric, stumped, moved right beside the woman as the man continued his collection with the other passengers.
"I'll pay you back."
"Let me see. Twenty? I think I have enough for me to not to starve. I think I can manage.", the woman said as she continued going through her magazine.
Eric immediately noticed how beautiful and attractive the woman was. Her legs were crossed in a pencil skirt, showing her as white as snow legs. He really didn't have anything else to say. He remained quiet in the last fifteen minutes of the ride. Finally, the bus reached its destination.
"Is this your daily bus?", Eric inquired. "If you take this same bus tomorrow, you will know."
Eric took the 8:00am bus the next day, not a good idea for him as he will be again be bombarded with questions and demands for explanation from his client and the judge, not to mention the firm he works for. For some reason, he thought that paying the little money he owed is more important than his job. And he wasn't disappointed. The same girl who saved him the previous day was there. Seated in the same place. He sat beside her.
"I guess I now have an answer to my question yesterday."
The woman just smiled as she turned her attention from her magazine she held in her hands to him. Eric reached for his wallet.
"Here you go. Thank you.", as Eric handed her the twenty.
"Is that your daughter?", she asked. Eric gave a puzzled look.
"I'm sorry. I just saw a picture of a lovely girl in your wallet."
"Oh, her?", as he realized that she was talking about the kid in his wallet. "She is actually my niece. I'm taking care of her since her father passed away.", he declared.
"That is sweet.", a lovely light suddenly brightened up her face as she said those words.
"You have a kid of your own?", Eric thought of throwing a question as he thought it was the polite thing to do.
"In fact I do." She reached for wallet in her purse and showed him the picture of a little girl closely resembling the woman's angelic face. No doubt it was her daughter.
"She is lovely. I think I know where she got it from. My name is Eric"
She answered with a shy smile. She extended her hand to him. "April."
Aboard the bus, he was reading a ton of papers stuffed in his suit case when the a man approached him. "That would be twenty mister." He then realized that he didn't have any stash with him. He left his wallet. Not a single cent with him. He only had his credit card with him. Of course, no bus would be willing enough to accept a swipe.
"I think I left my wallet." He didn't have any other words to say as the man looked at him blankly.
"We've heard that excuse a number of times already mister. It's either you pay up or off the bus."
"I'll pay for him.", the woman in front of his seat suddenly declared.
"Excuse me?", Eric asked. "You really don't have to", he added.
"I'll pay. I don't want any ruckus happening. And I wouldn't want to be late for work if they have to stop to kick you off."
The man made no objection and got the twenty from her. Eric, stumped, moved right beside the woman as the man continued his collection with the other passengers.
"I'll pay you back."
"Let me see. Twenty? I think I have enough for me to not to starve. I think I can manage.", the woman said as she continued going through her magazine.
Eric immediately noticed how beautiful and attractive the woman was. Her legs were crossed in a pencil skirt, showing her as white as snow legs. He really didn't have anything else to say. He remained quiet in the last fifteen minutes of the ride. Finally, the bus reached its destination.
"Is this your daily bus?", Eric inquired. "If you take this same bus tomorrow, you will know."
Eric took the 8:00am bus the next day, not a good idea for him as he will be again be bombarded with questions and demands for explanation from his client and the judge, not to mention the firm he works for. For some reason, he thought that paying the little money he owed is more important than his job. And he wasn't disappointed. The same girl who saved him the previous day was there. Seated in the same place. He sat beside her.
"I guess I now have an answer to my question yesterday."
The woman just smiled as she turned her attention from her magazine she held in her hands to him. Eric reached for his wallet.
"Here you go. Thank you.", as Eric handed her the twenty.
"Is that your daughter?", she asked. Eric gave a puzzled look.
"I'm sorry. I just saw a picture of a lovely girl in your wallet."
"Oh, her?", as he realized that she was talking about the kid in his wallet. "She is actually my niece. I'm taking care of her since her father passed away.", he declared.
"That is sweet.", a lovely light suddenly brightened up her face as she said those words.
"You have a kid of your own?", Eric thought of throwing a question as he thought it was the polite thing to do.
"In fact I do." She reached for wallet in her purse and showed him the picture of a little girl closely resembling the woman's angelic face. No doubt it was her daughter.
"She is lovely. I think I know where she got it from. My name is Eric"
She answered with a shy smile. She extended her hand to him. "April."
Forbidden III
Eric now sits on a bench against a wall, his back rested against it. He looked like a man who has survived a tornado attack in Texas. His suit, which looked impressive, powerful, neatly pressed, just hours ago is now like a wardrobe taken out from a pile of dirty laundry. It was now a darker shade. April's blood has dried. From one look, you would think he was the one shot or stabbed.
His once finely combed hair is now gone. He looked like he has just woke up from a nightmare, thankful for the awakening yet not since he just woke up to live in another nightmare. April was shot.
The hospital was filled with a murky stink of air mixed with chemicals meant to keep sterility. He thought how the mix of stench in the air represented how life and death meet in this place; the stench of blood and pukes for death and the stinging scent of life. It gave him a chilling feeling.
From his bench, just outside April's room - 203 - he waits; uncertain of what's going to happen next. To his right was the hallway leading to the elevator. To his left was another hallway, leading to the nurse's station. There was only one nurse left to man the station since the rest are busy attending to other patients, most of them were from the same restaurant wherein he had a dream that turned to a nightmare. A small TV played, and he could hear it from his place. It was the flash news special edition. One of those news programs that cuts of any show in the middle of it when something exciting happens. Poor Will & Grace.
Richard Gammon, he was the madman who just barged into the restaurant and shot everyone in sight to his satisfaction. Then a mugshot of the man was shown on the screen. He has been arrested multiple times for robbery and other offenses and has been rehabbed for drug addiction three times. That night was one of the nights wherein sanity has left him because of pot. According to the report, he was high on dope in an alley at the back of the restaurant. He sneaked his way into the kitchen and stabbed a couple of cooks, two of the five were critical. He then went to the main lobby through the kitchen door and started shooting on sight with a gun that he got from the streets. One of the security personnel, MIB he thought, shot him in the head causing instant death.
Photos of the victims were then flashed, one after the other. Short stories of their lives unfold before everyone glued to the boob tube. And then there was April, beautiful as ever in her photos that one could not imagine how she suffered such ordeal. He even started to wonder how they got a quick biography of her life.
April, 27 years old, married to a pilot of a popular, big time airliner. She has become successful in her chosen field of Law. She usually works with women and children's rights protection. The repart says, she was in business meeting with his partner Atty. Eric Maxwell at the time of the shooting.
As the reporter started to narrate the police’s additional findings in the case, the nurse turned the television off. It was a deafening silence. Nothing could be heard in the hallway that even a single drop of a needle would resound with such power and might in the place. It is now 1:32am, the clock hanging on the wall says. Eric never really noticed the time. He just realized that it’s been almost four hours since April was rushed to the hospital from a circus of events that left no one smiling. He felt his consciousness flee him. Then there was darkness.
His once finely combed hair is now gone. He looked like he has just woke up from a nightmare, thankful for the awakening yet not since he just woke up to live in another nightmare. April was shot.
The hospital was filled with a murky stink of air mixed with chemicals meant to keep sterility. He thought how the mix of stench in the air represented how life and death meet in this place; the stench of blood and pukes for death and the stinging scent of life. It gave him a chilling feeling.
From his bench, just outside April's room - 203 - he waits; uncertain of what's going to happen next. To his right was the hallway leading to the elevator. To his left was another hallway, leading to the nurse's station. There was only one nurse left to man the station since the rest are busy attending to other patients, most of them were from the same restaurant wherein he had a dream that turned to a nightmare. A small TV played, and he could hear it from his place. It was the flash news special edition. One of those news programs that cuts of any show in the middle of it when something exciting happens. Poor Will & Grace.
Richard Gammon, he was the madman who just barged into the restaurant and shot everyone in sight to his satisfaction. Then a mugshot of the man was shown on the screen. He has been arrested multiple times for robbery and other offenses and has been rehabbed for drug addiction three times. That night was one of the nights wherein sanity has left him because of pot. According to the report, he was high on dope in an alley at the back of the restaurant. He sneaked his way into the kitchen and stabbed a couple of cooks, two of the five were critical. He then went to the main lobby through the kitchen door and started shooting on sight with a gun that he got from the streets. One of the security personnel, MIB he thought, shot him in the head causing instant death.
Photos of the victims were then flashed, one after the other. Short stories of their lives unfold before everyone glued to the boob tube. And then there was April, beautiful as ever in her photos that one could not imagine how she suffered such ordeal. He even started to wonder how they got a quick biography of her life.
April, 27 years old, married to a pilot of a popular, big time airliner. She has become successful in her chosen field of Law. She usually works with women and children's rights protection. The repart says, she was in business meeting with his partner Atty. Eric Maxwell at the time of the shooting.
As the reporter started to narrate the police’s additional findings in the case, the nurse turned the television off. It was a deafening silence. Nothing could be heard in the hallway that even a single drop of a needle would resound with such power and might in the place. It is now 1:32am, the clock hanging on the wall says. Eric never really noticed the time. He just realized that it’s been almost four hours since April was rushed to the hospital from a circus of events that left no one smiling. He felt his consciousness flee him. Then there was darkness.
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