Whispers of the Dying Sun: Raven's Journey

Contented

I arrived home carrying the bundles of water spinach I had gathered earlier from the fields. Setting them down beside the jackfruit tree in our yard, I went to fetch a bucket and dipper so I could take a quick bath. I needed to get ready for school. It was still a bit early, but I didn’t want to rush. Raven? ” my mother called out. Yes, Ma? ” I replied, my voice half-curious. Before you go to school, sell these string beans first,” she said, handing me ten tied bundles. “We need money to buy rice later, and your brother needs fare for school. Alright, Ma. Just ten bundles? ” I asked, taking the vegetables from her. Just ten for now so you won’t be late. I harvested a lot today, but you can sell the rest later this afternoon after class.” Got it. That’s perfect—I’m sure I’ll sell everything quickly this morning. If there are any leftovers, I’ll just sell them to my teachers,” I said with a soft smile. Alright then. Go get ready; you might be late. It might take some time to sell everything,” she reminded me before walking away. We only really talked when it came to things like this—selling vegetables or running errands. I didn’t usually stay home when I didn’t have school. I was often out, only returning late in the evening. Maybe that’s why there's a distance between us. Besides, my mother was always busy too—with her garden and trying to find ways for us to get by. I knew life wasn’t easy for her either, especially since she was the only one working hard to feed us. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel hurt sometimes. Especially when she seemed to forget about me, favouring my brother instead. But I tried not to dwell on it. I told myself she was just too busy, too tired—too overwhelmed to remember everything. Even if, deep down, I knew that wasn’t entirely true. I’m leaving now, Ma! I called out toward the garden, where she was watering her plants—her daily routine. She looked up and said, “Alright, take care.” That simple line made me smile a little.” That simple line made me smile a little. She wasn’t completely cold toward me. But still, her treatment of me and my brother was different. And sometimes, that quiet difference swallowed me whole. Still, I sold everything I brought with me, just in time for school. It helped that I sold near the school gates—our house wasn’t far. Things like this had become normal for me. At this point, I was just in sixth grade—about to graduate elementary school. But I’d been doing this kind of work for as long as I could remember. Mama taught me to sell vegetables when I was just five. I don’t even remember if I ever got to play with kids my age back then. But I never really felt jealous of them. I had seen hardship up close, and I had watched my mother work herself to exhaustion in the fields. That was enough to keep me grounded. At five, I was already tagging along with her as she sold vegetables. Eventually, I learnt to do it on my own. Good morning, Ma’am,” I greeted my adviser as I entered the classroom. Good morning, Raven,” she replied with a warm smile. I sat down at my desk. In just a few minutes, our English class would begin. Hey, Raven, do we have any assignments? ”My classmate Fate asked as she slid into the seat beside me. Hmm... None, but Ms Fuentes said yesterday we’ll be having a long quiz today,” I told her. Ugh! That’s the problem with being absent. You miss everything,” she said with a sigh. Why weren’t you here yesterday, anyway? ” I went with my mom to the city. We bought new school supplies—and I had my hair rebonded,” she said, running her fingers through her sleek, shiny hair. As Fate continued admiring her newly straightened hair, I offered a small smile, then looked down at my worn-out notebook. The cover was peeling off, and the pages were filled with notes written in tight, careful handwriting—each line showing how hard I tried to keep up despite everything.My fingers brushed over the edge of the page, pausing at a small tear that I had tried to tape the night before.Sometimes, I wondered what it would feel like to be carefree like Fate—shopping in the city, rebonding her hair, talking about things that didn’t involve money or vegetables or early mornings in the fields.But that kind of life wasn’t mine.And I had accepted that a long time ago.“Class, please prepare a piece of paper for our quiz,” Ms Fuentes announced as she entered the room, her voice cutting through my thoughts.I quickly reached into my bag and took out the only sheet I had left—the last one in my folder. I straightened it carefully, not wanting to waste even a corner of it. As the teacher began writing questions on the board, I took a deep breath and focused. This was something I could control. I might not have had the newest school supplies or the prettiest uniform, but I had my determination. And that had to be enough. Halfway through the quiz, I noticed Ms Fuentes walking down the aisle. When she reached my desk, she paused, then whispered gently, Raven, I saw you this morning. You’re doing such a great job. Keep it up, okay? ”I blinked, surprised, then gave a tiny nod. She smiled at me—soft and sincere—before walking away. That simple recognition made something warm stir inside me. It wasn’t much, but it felt like someone saw me… really saw me. Not just as the girl who sold vegetables but as a student, as a child trying her best. And for now, that was enough to keep me going. --- After class, I rushed home. I didn’t want to be scolded for staying out too long or playing with my classmates. I still had something important to do—sell more vegetables. As soon as I arrived, I headed straight to Mama’s garden to let her know I’d be leaving again. I saw her sitting under the mango tree, resting. She looked exhausted, clearly worn out from cleaning the garden and applying fertiliser. That’s one of the reasons I had to help her—so she could rest even a little. Every day, I saw the tiredness in her eyes. The least I could do was help, even in small ways. Ma”, I called, and she looked up. Oh, you’re back already, Raven. Hurry up and get ready so you can sell those vegetables. It’s getting late. You still have a long way to walk to the next barangay,” she said gently as I approached. Mano po, Ma,” I said respectfully, taking her hand and pressing it to my forehead. She nodded. “Go on now. Get changed quickly. Yes, Ma’am. As you command, Your Highness,” I joked, grinning. She gave a faint smile in return. Mama wasn’t completely cold toward me. There were just things she didn’t always pay attention to—like my birthday. She always forgot. I knew it was because she had too much on her mind, too much to worry about. Still, it hurt. But what could I do? I stayed quiet and tried to understand her situation. After changing clothes, I gathered the vegetables I was going to sell—string beans and water spinach. I placed them all in a large basin to carry more easily. The water spinach would be for the pigs tomorrow, so I’d deliver that to my regular customers in the morning instead. Ma, I’m leaving now! ” I shouted, 'Alright. Take care, and don’t come home too late. Once you’ve sold everything, come straight back,” she replied from the garden. In moments like that, the sadness inside me lessened. It reminded me that I still had a place in her heart. She wouldn’t say those things if she didn’t care, right? And for me, that was enough.The sun had begun its descent as I made my way to the next barangay. The basin felt heavier with every step, not because of the vegetables inside, but because of the weight of exhaustion slowly settling into my bones. Still, I pressed on—because I had to. Along the way, I passed by kids my age playing patintero and luksong baka. Their laughter echoed in the breeze, light and carefree. One of the girls waved at me. I recognised her from school, but I didn’t wave back—just smiled faintly and kept walking. I didn’t have the energy for anything else. By the time I reached the barangay market, there were already a few vendors packing up for the day. I found an empty spot near a sari-sari store and placed my basin down. I didn’t shout to advertise my goods. I never really had to. The people here knew me already—"the quiet girl who sells vegetables every day after school. An old woman approached, her cane tapping softly against the pavement. “How much for the string beans today, iha? “Ten pesos per bundle, Lola,” I said, lifting one and handing it to her gently. “Give me two.”Give me two. I’ll cook adobo for my grandson tonight,” she said with a small smile. I handed her two bundles and thanked her. She didn’t ask for a discount—she never did. Maybe she saw something in me that reminded her of herself once. Soon, one sale turned into another. A tricycle driver bought some water spinach for his wife. A mother carrying a baby on her hip asked if the beans were fresh. They were. And just like that, one by one, the vegetables were gone. As I packed up my now-empty basin, the last sliver of sunlight dipped below the hills. I felt tired, but a sense of quiet satisfaction bloomed in my chest. I had done my part for the day. I had helped. I let out a small breath of relief and shifted the empty basin to my other arm. I glanced at the sky—dusky orange melting into soft purple. I still had time. Instead of going straight home, I took the familiar path that led toward the seaside. It wasn’t far, and my feet knew the way by heart. This place had become my quiet escape. Whenever I needed a break from everything—school, chores, even the silence of home—I found myself here. No one really came around this part in the late afternoons, which made it feel like mine. The sea was calm today, the breeze carrying the scent of salt and damp earth. I settled into my usual spot—an old rock partly shaded by a leaning coconut tree. It faced the wide ocean, where the sky met the water in an endless embrace. Seagulls soared above, their wings slicing through the wind as they cried out in the fading light. I tilted my head back, watching them, eyes tracing every swoop and glide. There was something freeing about the way they moved—no burdens, no weight—just wind and wings. The waves came and went, brushing the shore with soft, rhythmic hushes. I sat there in silence, arms wrapped loosely around my knees, just listening. Here, I wasn’t anyone’s helper or anyone’s burden. I didn’t have to sell or explain why I was quiet or why my notebooks were old. I could just sit and be still. It was peaceful—the kind of peace I couldn’t find anywhere else. And even if no one noticed how hard I worked, even if no one asked how I was feeling—this place made it easier to carry everything. The sky had turned deeper now, a curtain of indigo stretching across the horizon. The first few stars had begun to twinkle faintly, like shy lights peeking through. I watched them for a few more minutes before finally standing up and brushing the sand off my skirt. It was almost eight. Time to go home. I walked back slowly, letting the quiet linger with me for as long as it could before stepping back into the noise of everyday life.As I was walking home, I ran into two of my father's distant cousins—Uncle Jade and Uncle Mich. I approached them and offered mano, a gesture of respect I grew up practising with elders—whether they were aunts, uncles, grandparents, or even just acquaintances of our family. It’s what our parents taught us: wherever we went, if we saw someone older, we had to offer mano as a sign of respect. Mano po, Uncle,” I said, taking Uncle Jade’s hand first, then Uncle Mich’s. Oh? It’s already late… and you're walking home alone? ” Uncle Jade asked, his tone filled with concern. Yes, Uncle. But I can manage walking alone, even at this hour,” I replied. Still, Raven, the road you're taking barely has any houses nearby. And even if there are, they're far apart. You're a girl—it's dangerous for you to walk alone at this time,” Uncle Jade said, gently scolding me. That's right,” Uncle Mich added. “Your Uncle Jade is right. It’s not safe to walk alone this late. What if you run into addicts or troublemakers near the mango groves? What if they target you? You're still young—you need to be careful. Come on, we’ll walk you at least until we reach the barangay so we know you're safe. And next time, if you’re going to be out late again, just take a tricycle so you don’t put yourself at risk, alright? ”I smiled softly, feeling a warmth in my chest from their concern. “Thank you, Uncle. I’ll keep that in mind next time,” I said sincerely. They walked with me in silence for a while, occasionally pointing out familiar spots along the road and talking about the changes in the neighbourhood. I listened quietly, grateful for their company, their presence making the road feel less lonely and the night less heavy. When we reached the entrance of our barangay, I turned to them and said, “I can manage from here. It’s just a few minutes away now. Alright,” Uncle Jade nodded. “But be careful, okay? “Yes, and go straight home.” Don’t take any detours,” Uncle Mich added with a teasing smile. I laughed lightly. “I will. Thank you again. They both waved goodbye before heading back, their footsteps echoing faintly behind me. As I continued walking the final stretch, I looked up at the dark sky sprinkled with stars. The night air was cool against my skin, and the soft chirping of crickets accompanied me on the way. Despite the tiredness in my legs and the weight of the basin I had carried earlier, I felt a strange peace inside me. I had sold all the vegetables. I had done my part. When I finally arrived home, the house was quiet. The lights were dim, and Mama was already inside, probably getting ready for bed. I placed the empty basin by the corner and went straight to the back of the house where our water pump was. I washed my face and feet, letting the cold water refresh me. Then, I stood for a moment under the night sky, looking out toward the trees swaying gently in the breeze. It had been a long day—but I made it through. And tomorrow, I would do it all again. Because this was my life. And even if it wasn’t perfect, I was proud of how far I’d come.