The Mound (Part Three)

Our summer vacation which seemed very promising in the beginning had turned out to be a nightmare, I began to realize. The succeeding days had proven it.

Camp around bonfires will never be the same because of what had transpired in the following nights. As if to say "they haven't had enough," these beings, which seemed to have been responsible for all the strange happenings, gave me another reason to worry.

That very night the strange markings had appeared on my torso, I tried to isolate myself from everyone, thinking that by doing so, it would save us the trouble of being dragged into the entire voodoo experience.

Away from the only source of light, the beach was a darkly lit canvas--- its tint exuded all shades of black. And while walking along the shore, I was approached by my friend Bella to tell me I was without a head. 

I made her say it again. 

"You are headless!" 

"I should slap you--- that's what they say," added my stuttering friend. "They say if I slap you, you won't die,"  to which I gave in and let her. What harm could it do? I was in no position to show skepticism especially after everything that has happened. 


"Okay," was all I managed to say.



Bella approached me and said, "I should slap you; you're headless!"

***

The next morning, we boarded the ferry. I was reluctant to leave without any attempt at initiating a proper closure--- to make amends with the beings, elementals, or whatever else they may be called. But I didn't know how. 

The port of Batangas slowly drifted away from my view. The occurrences in the resort made a believer out of me. Indeed there are things beyond our understanding--- things that, however absurd, must be regarded with respectful distance. I knew my place right away.

I was awakened from my reverie by Oscar, who asked me to accompany him to the men's room. I was in no mood for anything so I simply said "no." I was too occupied to entertain anyone.

*** 

Arriving in Manila, we readily got off the ferry, our backpacks already slung on our tired backs. Cabs abound the port area, but we could not hail one because Oscar was nowhere to be found. It was then that I remembered where I last saw him. "Check the men's room," I offered. True to my words, Oscar was waving from the second deck of the ferry. We motioned him to go down.

Approaching us, he exclaimed, "How did you get here," in apparent irritation to me. 

"You're asking me?"

"Yes."

"I didn't move in my place from the time we left Batangas."

"Don't toy with me. I asked you to come with me."

"And I said 'no'"

"No, you didn't. You went with me." 

"I didn't." And I was telling the truth. The look on Oscar's face indicated the he, too, was telling the truth. 

"I should have said 'sorry' to them," I found myself muttering. 

*** 

While everybody forgot about our heated argument, I was in low spirits the whole time we were driving home. The service dropped me off my gate and I bid my friends goodbye. I rang the doorbell and it was my brother who opened the gate. 

He was saying something unintelligible so I motioned to him "later." Once inside, I asked, "O, what were you saying?"

"Kuya, you have no head," to which I retaliated, "Huwag mo akong bibiruin ng ganyan. (Don't use that prank on me.)" I had to coax him to admitting, but my brother simply claimed he was joking. Was he really? I didn't know which to believe already. Jiro would not joke about such things. He's not just the type. Did he retract because he sensed that I was dead frightened? 

To make matters worst, my mother, who then still lived with us, told me my girlfriend had called. "She says it's urgent." I was too tired to make phone calls. So I headed for my room.  "Bukas na lang. (I'll call here tomorrow)." Incidentally, the phone rang. It was Nesell. I lifted the receiver to my ears. "Hello." 

"Gi, are you okay?" 

"Yeah, why wouldn't I be?"

"Your lola (grandmother) called." 

"Huh?"

How would any of my grandmothers know of Nesell's phone number, and how would any of them call, when my Lola Simplicia had just passed away not too long ago, and my Lola Amalia was in Bicol?  The other lola I know, my Lola Rose, was in the States, and none of my living grandmothers would make a personal call to me. 

"The machine has her message," interrupted Nesell. 

"Can you play that for me?"

Beep. (Static). Ibalik n'yo sa akin ang apo ko. Ibalik n'yo sa akin si Gian! End of message.

I was dumbfounded. It was my lola's voice. The one who had died.

The strange dream. My having to sleepwalk. The red markings on my torso. The two sightings of me being headless. My doppelganger. I had to talk to someone. I needed help. "Yes, it was I!" "I did it!" "It was I, who destroyed the mound!" "I was to blame!" 

*** 

Eleven years have passed. I glad to be smiling today. They say that everything that we go through--- whether they be challenges or small victories in life--- they will come to pass. 

Proof of that is me telling this particular story. I guess, many would be curious as to how I came to put an end to the curse (if it may be called that) that changed my perception of many things. 

The night I admitted my faults to my parents, Nesell called me again. 

"Mommy had asked an albularyo (a witch doctor). The albularyo said you must bury the shirt you were in when you destroyed the mound." 

That I did. That ended it.

***

To this day, I learned not to laugh at folklore. Fact or fiction, I have high regard for the wisdom of the country folk.