TALES FROM A BUS STOP ON A RAINY DAY

John Carlo P. Villarin

It was a rainy Monday dusk. Nightfall was fast approaching but the gloomy sky made it seem like the sun had already set. With panted breaths, I hurried to the shade of the bus stop, hoping to catch an early bus ride home, but to no avail. The bus had just left, and now I had to wait for the 7 P.M. bus to arrive.

The bus stop was rather empty, other than the old man in the seat next to me. It seemed that he noticed the disappointment written all over my face and pulled out a Skyflakes cracker from his left pocket and handed it to me. “Here you go, young man. It would take a long time before the 7 P.M. bus arrives, so why don’t you take a seat?” he said. Of course, it was hard to refuse an offer from a nice old man, so I accepted the cracker and took a seat.

We exchanged pleasantries, and he introduced himself as Ramon Agbayani. Mr. Agbayani dressed and looked eccentric, yet I can feel the honesty and kindness in him by the way he speaks. He was also a knowledgeable old man, as he told me stories about his life and adventures when he was about my age. He was a retired military man after all, who has been on many missions during the prime of his life.

Mr. Agbayani told me a few stories about the missions and assignments he had been through. He told me about being included in a mission on storming a major terrorist holdout in deep in the mountains. He described the bitter memories of flying bullets and death during that encounter in full detail. I know it’s hard for him to talk about his comrades getting wounded or killed in that encounter, but I could also see the relief in his face when he said “I thank God every day, that I survived that encounter and was able to return home safe and sound”.

As Mr. Agbayani concluded his story, so too did the rain subside. But he had something else to share about that encounter, about how he met a young boy in the terrorist holdout. The boy had assisted the terrorists in fending of the military. Seeing that the boy was a minor, he was sent to the Department of Social Welfare and Development for rehabilitation and education. “But my story with that boy had not ended there” he said.

When I asked what happened next, the 7pm bus had pulled up in front of us. Mr. Agbayani looked at the bus then back at me and smiled. “Let’s save this story for another day, young man” he said. “I’ll always be here, the same time.” When I took a seat on the bus, I could see him waving back at me as the bus drove off.

When I finished work the next day, I went back to the bus stop at the same time. As usual it was raining again, but luckily Mr. Agbayani would already be there, sitting at the bus stop. As I approached the stop, I could make out a figure from a distance. It was him, and it seemed he saw me first. Just like last time, he pulled out a Skyflakes cracker from his left pocket and handed it to me. “Now where was I with the story again?” he asked. I told him about where we had last left off. As the rain grew stronger, he immediately he returned to storytelling.

After the boy’s capture, Mr. Agbayani described him as very hostile. In fact he disliked people from the military as he believed they were all cruel. Despite this, Mr. Agbayani never gave up on him. When he was assigned to a post near to where the boy now lived, He would hand him Skyflakes crackers and tell him stories if he had the chance. Time went by, and eventually the boy grew to trust him.

Mr. Agbayani, a well off military man at that time offered to pay for the boy’s education. He treated the boy as if he were his own child. During the boy’s graduation from University, it was Mr. Agbayani who bestowed him his medals. The boy revered his kindness, to the point that he would write to him every month.

I told Mr. Agbayani that his actions would make his family proud of him. In that statement I got curious and asked him about his family. The gleeful expression he always wears in his face suddenly turned upside down. “Oh, I’m sorry. Forget I asked that.” I said with regret. “No, It’s okay. I just remembered what happened during that tragic day” he replied.

In his reply, the rain subsided once again. Mr. Agbayani then told me that his wife and child perished in a bus during an explosion caused by an IED. And that’s the reason he waits in that bus station without actually riding a bus. Mr. Agbayani also told me that the IED belonged to the same terrorists that they fought in the holdout.

With the tragic turn of events, I asked Mr. Agbayani on why he would even treat the boy who once sided with the terrorists with so much kindness. He looked to the side and back at me. “Because the boy knew nothing before” he said. “I’ll tell you more tomorrow, young man. Good night.” he added, as he saw the bus slowly pull up by the bus station.

The next day after work, I was out early. As the rain persisted, I thought about what I said to Mr. Agbayani the other night, and went to the grocery store to buy him some chocolate. Afterwards, I proceeded to the bus station only to find that to my surprise, he wasn’t there. I waited all afternoon, and as each raindrop fell to the earth, I felt the time moving forward. It was already 7 P.M, still raining and no sign of Mr. Agbayani. It was there and then that I had to give up and return home.

Two days have passed; it was already weekend, and I had no work that day. While I was eating breakfast, I heard the doorbell ring. I assumed it was the mailman and that my bills for the month had arrived. To my surprise, other than my monthly bills, I received a letter with no information on the sender. I opened it and it read:

Dear Gio Morales,

By the time you are reading this I have already passed on. I hate to tell you this, but I have already been told by my doctor that I only had until Wednesday to live. That Monday, before I met you, I was dead set on ending it all. I would be dead anyway, so why prolong the agony? I thought.

And then I met you. The short time I had left is a time I enjoyed, with you listening to my tales of old. I’d hate to leave you on read, so now I’m telling you why I treated the boy as my own.

The boy used to be a member of the terrorist group, but then again, he was still a child who knew little of the great world around him; a child who deserved a better future ahead of him. My wife and child would’ve wanted this, and it turns out to be the right thing to do.

When he grew up and graduated from university, he became the best intelligence officer I ever knew. Because of him many terror attacks were prevented, and the lives of thousands of innocents were given another chance to live.

Speaking of which, I never told you the boy’s name. His name was Gerald Morales and you are the spitting image of him. Thank you, for making me feel like I wasn’t alone again. As thanks, I’ll be leaving to you my property near the beach. It’s just near the bus stop where we used to talk.

Goodbye Gio, I’ll be joining him, my wife, and my child soon…

Sincerely yours,

Ramon Agbayani

Dream Of One

Last Night, A little one dreamed. It’s about the future She wanted to achieved.

She walked trough it

With her courage and beliefs

But forgot the guts

That rocky would come ups.

Oh little dream, she fail and been pain She fight for you cause she know your worth it. Oh little dream just hang on there Cause I will make it through to hold you.

WHO ARE YOU DEMON?

Mary Ann Punsay

Flooded with too much thoughts, My mind swallowed by the demon I can fought, Hand tremors like an earthquake shakes, Frightening causing trembling knees.

Creating an imaginary thing, Seeing sinking in a deep water, Tear flows like water falls, Feels an emotional roller coaster.

This demon stopping me to be strong, Possessed me in my mind that all things wrong. Praying to leave me alone

And being his victim is like a lifeless meaning.

Who are you destroying my silence, Swallowing my inner peace, Sinking me deeper, Shaking my hands and trembling my knees?

Who are you demon?

“I am you.”

Who are you demon?

“I am depression.”