Just a few days ago walking with my sun-baked scalp in the heat of lunchtime I thought of this: I was in this gymnasium, like our school’s gymnasium, with the bleechers at the sides and the stage and the basketball court in the middle of everything. I was with a lot of different people wearing barong and gowns or just the plain shirts, or sando, though bloodstained. Other people I saw were wearing white, hospital gowns. A lot of people my age wear the usual fashion: the skinny jeans, the statement shirts. We’re all in this congregation of strangers. Like Nazis huddled in a concentration camp. Then we heard a sound blare from a huge amplifier of some sort. Then a voice. It said hi like the intercom of a High School. We were shocked because we were so dumbfounded about the amplifier; we didn’t even know it was there. Some people were even scared of the sound. Some toddlers were crying already. Others just stared at the amplifier, as if it was their first time to see an object. Now all of us went silent, waiting for something to happen, there must be something more than just the greeting. Then it apologized, said they were sorry, there is no god, and that all of us might want to leave. Go home or something. Just leave the goddamn gymnasium.
Then, nothingness.
July 29, 2010 at 12:13 am, filed under Vignettes. Bookmark the permalink. Follow any comments here with the RSS feed for this post.