Bloodshot

‘Are you Mr. Sunglass?’ Said the middle-aged man with this shockingly young girl behind him. ‘Excuse me?’ Salamanca replied and squinted at both of them. The darkness in the corner of St. Domingo street was enough to reduce their faces to mere silhouettes. ‘They say you're Mr. Sunglass.’ Said the young girl, shyly. Her cheek glinted with glitters under the faint light. Salamanca thought she could be a prostitute, but she was eerily young. Hell, she could be this guy's daughter for all he knew. But who would take their daughter out to the streets to buy some stone? The mere thought made Salamanca sick. ‘No, I am not Mr. Sunglass.’ ‘Well.’ The man said rather unquestioningly. ‘How many?’ Salamanca said. A line he has uttered a thousand times to a lot of people under the darkness and solitude of the street corners of nighttime Manila. ‘A pack.’ The man said. The young girl was looking around anxiously while twirling a clump of her hair with her delicate fingers. Salamanca nodded, told them to wait, then disappeared into an alleyway. A minute later, he comes back with the stuff. ‘Well,’ The man starts. "The reason I asked earlier was because of this rumour I heard. I don't know if you've heard of it.’ ‘Look, I don't have time for chit-chat, if you don't mind.’ Salamanca said bluntly and held up his palm. The man handed him the bills and took the packet, pushing it deep into his coat pocket. ‘Thanks.’ The man said and they left. Tony Salamanca counted the bills and stepped off the curb and into the darkness. The image of the young girl still fresh in his mind; how she twirled her hair and how the glitter in her cheek glinted under the minuscule light the street corner could offer. He imagined what it would be like to feel her skin... her lips.. her BLOOD Then suddenly, the gear in his playful mind clicked. He wanted to know about this rumour. Something about what the man said was peculiar. Something about this ‘Mr. Sunglass’ person. Could it be one of those modern folktale being passed around through tongue and mouth? Through the hearsay and tattletales of bored and lazy people? Perhaps, and perhaps it has even reached the corners of the internet with how easily one can post and disseminate information. That was something he would be interested about. ‘Hey, wait.’ He called out. They looked back, startled at the call. Salamanca half-expected them to start running for fear of getting mugged and robbed, but the man recognized it was him. ‘Did... did I give you the wrong amount?’ The man asked nervously. There was a mild shudder in his voice. ‘Not at all.’ Salamanca said, holding up both his hands to show he meant no harm. ‘The rumour. Let me hear it.’ ‘Oh.’ The man almost gave a nervous chuckle. ‘Wait.’ They stepped unto the curb of the empty street. Above their heads, an old acacia tree loomed like a soundless giant. The night was still, yet somewhere not far you can hear the buzzing of a late-night television show occasionally interrupted by the prompt of flashy commercials, and that faraway howl of a dog cutting through the night. ‘Well.’ The man talked. ‘I’ve heard this story from a driver down south. They say a person in these parts, a peculiar one they say, wears sunglasses while conducting his business.. at night.’ ‘That’s it?’ ‘You don’t find it weird?’ ‘I do. But why me?’ ‘Well.’ The man said, gesturing at the sunglasses hanging on the collar of Salamanca’s shirt. ‘Can’t a man own sunglasses?’ Salamanca retorted. ‘Look, man. If it’s not you, it’s not you.’ ‘Sounds fair.’ ‘And another thing, though I’m not sure if this is real. It seems crazy to me.’ The man said hesitantly. Perhaps it was the darkness that made him mumble and doubt his sentences. ‘They say this Mr. Sunglass guy has sharp teeth.’ ‘Like canines?’ ‘Sort of.. but not quite.’ ‘Like dogs, you know.’ Salamanca said. ‘Like sharks.’ The man said. The look on his face was a man that couldn’t believe what he just said. Tony Salamanca just looked at him curiously. ‘The story goes that someone went to transact with this guy and the streetlight illuminated his face. According to the story, the man saw dozens of sharp white teeth.’ ‘Do you see sharp teeth here?’ Salamanca said and grinned, showing his teeth. The man laughed. The young girl giggling behind him. There was a nervous tension in the air that all of them could clearly feel. ‘I guess not.’ The man said. ‘Now get out of here. And don’t talk to me next time.’ Salamanca said and began walking away, his head beginning to throb and ache. He staggered towards a dark alleyway and felt his temples pulse like a dying animal. He knew it was time to hunt. He glanced at the faint glow of his watch and the clock read 11 p.m. There was more work to do. Suddenly, the gloomy streetlight felt like a burning sun, his eyes couldn’t do as much as even look into their direction. He fumbled for his sunglasses and put them on. Much better. He caught his breath and the headache began to cease. He was indeed what they called “Mr. Sunglass”, and he’s about to go on his evening hunt.