Obet was scared to go out of the house that
night. It was the eve of the “Araw ng mga
Patay” – the Day of the Dead. Earlier that day he was listening to his
Lolo, great raconteur that he is, as he told tales of horror and ghosts and
things that go bump in the night. So when Nanay Gloria asked Obet to go on a
certain mission for her, he took the order with some trepidation.
He stepped out in the cold night, eyes darting
side to side, praying he will not see any of the creatures his Lolo frightfully
portrayed in his stories. The street was unusually quiet, Obet observed. The
usual group of kids playing patintero at this time of the
evening were not there. The perpetually bibulous Mang Tomas was conspicuously
absent from his spot near the corner of Lanzones and Atis.
As he approached the leafless madre kakaw,
a freezing wind blew and the bare branches of the tree seemed to come alive and
started reaching out to him. The wind moaned like the cries of anguished souls from
the unfathomable depths of Sheol. The dark shadows from the clump of banana
trees took on hideous forms beckoning at him. He wanted to turn back but the
weight of this mission was heavy on his shoulders and he knew that there was
nothing or no one that he might encounter in this journey would be worse than
incurring the wrath of his Nanay. He had to complete this task no matter what.
The wind died down somewhat as he passed by the
bamboo grove near the creek. It was then that he heard the creaking noise not
unlike the opening of an ancient coffin that seemed to come from within the
thickets. He thought he heard a snickering laughter but he rationalized it as
only bamboo leaves rustling in the soft breeze that came blowing by. Suddenly a
long and mournful ululation pierced the darkness and made Obet almost jump out
of his skin. It’s that stupid mongrel of the Santiagos he explained to himself.
Breathing heavily and with leaden feet he crossed
the rickety bridge. Just as he came at the northern end he glimpsed a small fire
flickering by the edge of the creek. With disbelieving eyes he saw the flame
move slowly. It was very close to but not touching the ground! His hair stood
on its end. He wanted to run away from it but he kept telling himself that
there must be a perfectly logical explanation for this apparition. Gathering up
all his courage he picked up a stick lying nearby and inched slowly towards the
source of his fear. As he came closer he could make out that it was actually a
lighted candle that seems to be moving on its own volition. Fingering the
crucifix that dangled from his necklace and offering a quick prayer he crept
slowly and prodded the mobile incandescence with his stick. The candle tumbled
to the ground and lit up the dried grass thereby illuminating the scene. It was
then that he saw a befuddled tortoise scramble away from him as fast as it
could. Apparently some practical joker stuck a flaming candle on the poor
creature’s back and set it free near the bridge with the intent of scaring the
wits off of an unwary passersby. Obet quickly doused the fire and emboldened by
this discovery continued on his journey.
It wasn’t long before he saw a faint light in the
distance. That must be my destination, he assured himself. His
footsteps echoed on the cobbled street as he half-ran towards the light. Obet
was almost out of breath and sweating profusely despite the clammy air when he
entered the nipa thatched structure with only three walls. In front of him were
several jars and assorted bottles. The tiny gas lamp that hung from the low
ceiling cast a harsh glow on a head with white unkempt hair. The head bobbed a
little and then Obet saw an old face, wrinkled beyond belief. A pair of
blood-shot eyes squinted unwaveringly at Obet. Dark red fluid slowly dribbled
on the person’s chin as she stared at him expectantly.
Obet took a deep breath and in a quivering voice
said:
“Aling Tekla, pagbilhan nga po ng suka.
Pakilista na lang daw po sabi ni Nanay.”
