test book0423

The majestic moon takes its throne up high and the stars scatter and glitter against the blackness of the sky. Both illuminate brightly but their radiances are not enough to get the slightest glimpse of what lies behind the steady thick fog which disperses above the massive ocean. It’s the start of a long dusky night - and when I say long, I mean way longer than that of the dazzling day. An unbalance justice that we have to endure for a hundred year. It might be a beautiful scene to look at but it hides a dark and sorrow history of hate, jealousy and power. Underneath from where I stand, the waves thump against the foot of the large cauldron-like hollow which acts as a natural prison wall as the hasty wind gusts from the western peninsula. How I wish that my body could be carried away by the strong wind somewhere far from here…but it’s impossible. I belong here, I should stay here. No one can escape the punishment of the gods, a punishment because of a certain prophecy that doesn’t concern me one bit. As I continue to fascinate, a moist hand squeezes my shoulder. “Liyab, I knew I’ll find you here. Day…I mean night dreaming again?” a familiar boy who is a bit taller than me teases. but ever since I became part of their family when I was about 3 or 4,…I don’t remember exactly, his parents take care of it’s for you,” I say without removing my gaze from above. “Are you saying that you have given up? Did an evil deity take over your body? Don’t tell me you’re not the Liyab who is always talking about his…uhm…quite impossible dream?” he says with an obvious sarcasm. He doesn’t really care whether I answer his question or not, so I throw a question back at him. “Hn. What would you do if the chi of the sun doesn’t choose you?” “Well…” he sighs. I tilt my head on the direction where Sinag is lying. The strands of his fringy hair girdle with mud, his uniform becomes even more tattered and his face smothers with soil. Water starts to form in my eyes as I boot my legs in mid-air and clasp my stomach as I chortle. Sinag raises his eyebrows, but the moment he lays his eyes on me, he also bursts into laughter. Bang! Bang! Bang! The sound overshadows both the quivering chime of the waves on the other side of the caldera and our juvenile guffaw. The human-size rimmed brass gong that is suspended a couple of inches from the ground through a pyramidal iron steel serves as the Haribon Island’s timepiece. It is situated in the middle of the island and is loud enough to signal everyone when to wake up, to study, to train, to work or prepare or celebrate some important or not so-important events. When we hear the bass sound, both of us look at each other and smile then we run down the steep slope. Sinag gets on first on one of the bamboo boats dock in a row at the base of the caldera. The lake, though calm as it always has been, is steaming hot even at night and especially during the day. Hot enough that it penetrates through the hull to my thighs and legs but bearable enough that others prefer to swim rather than to ride a boat. This lake is also what we use for bathing and washing clothes. It only takes a minute or two, depending on how fast you paddle or if the boat is still in good condition, to reach the shore. “Get ready. We’re here. Help me...,” Without letting him finish what he’s about to say, I hop off the boat to the rough sandy ground and run. “Hey! What do you think you’re doing?!” Sinag shouts. His face turns red, his jaw drops as he grasps the rope on his hand. Just when I’m meters away from him, I turn to face him and wave both my hands while grinning. “Who asks help in tying a boat? You’ll be fine!” I turn around and my feet fly over the ground. Adrenaline pumps through my veins as I pass through the rotting tree trunks, brush off overhanging branches and step on crunching twigs while leaves continue to fall like rain. My legs tingle and my stomach titters and a wide curve stretches my lips as I race to my destination. Hands on my knees, I stop for a moment to catch my breath. In front of me, about a couple of feet away, is the large crimson bonfire. Its flames follow the wind’s direction and the stronger the wind blows, the more aggressive and mightier it becomes. My fellow Haribons lit up their torches from the bonfire and rush towards the karakoa, a crescent-shaped colossal ship use for both war and trade which only comes here once every fifteen days to bring the cheapest quality textiles, produce such as fruits, vegetables that are almost inedible, you’re lucky if you get the ones with black spots than the ones with molds. The animals are skin and bones that sometimes it’s hard to get meat out of them and not to mention, some of them look unwell and crooked. The most desirable is the fresh water which we only use for drinking since the supply is limited. Aside from necessities, it also carries some things that are only available in the mainland. However it is prohibited to sell us weaponries - their products, their rules. All these in exchange for gold and silver which are the most common minerals of the island. This karakoa is said to be blessed by Mayari, the goddess of the moon, so it can freely go back and forth in this f*******n part of the kingdom without a problem. When I see my mother carrying boxes in her arms, I run to her and before I know it, a middle age man wearing a bright colored upper garment with tribal tattoos all over his body and swords hanging on his waist appears before me. My forehead hits his well-sculpted arms. I step backward still maintaining my balance then scratch my brow before lifting my face to look at him. “Be careful, cursed boy,” he says with a complete hostility in his tone. ‘cursed…boy?’ My jaw clenches and my hands clutch firmly. Just when I am about to say something, a hand pushes the back of my head until it leans forward. “I’m sure he didn’t mean it, so please forgive him,” Sinag says while bending his waist. I bit my lip and shut my eyes temporarily until the presence of the annoying man slowly vanishes. These people, who think highly of themselves, are the lowest of the royal guards. They are here not only to trade but to inspect the area to make sure we’re not doing anything suspicious. Like the ones in the Pearl Castle, they too are Mayari’s descendants – the ones in control over the kingdom, the ones the gods favor, the ones commoners glorify and the ones imprison us here. I remove Sinag’s hand from my head with force, stand up straight, chin up before letting out a long deep breath. “Are you okay?” he asks. “Why did you do that?” I reply with irritation and without looking at him. “Did what?” he asks again, still pretending not to know what I mean. “He should be the one apologizing for calling me a…something I am not!” Sinag wraps his arms around my shoulders and shifts his sight to the people who are boarding and unboarding the karakoa. “This won’t last any longer. I’ll do anything to flip our worlds around.” His words are sharp but with these, the remaining yet diminishing hope embraces my heart. I look at my brother and give him a faint smile. “I’ll take that as a promise.” “of course!” he says. He tightens his arms around my shoulders as we start walking towards our mother. Taking some of the boxes from my mother’s hands, I immediately climb up the bamboo ladder that leads to our living area. Sinag and mother head to the space beneath our house which serves as our kitchen and toilet. Our house, like the others, is small and cube in shape and the roof is tall and steeply pitched with long eaves made out of nipa. I place the boxes on top of the wooden table. Then I open the large window by placing a wooden rod between its sill and lid to get as much fresh air and natural light as possible. The soft bamboo slat floor against my feet is relaxing. I take this moment to stretch and wiggle my finger toes while wiping the sap on my worn leather boots. Once I’m done cleaning, I reach out to the boxes that are delivered from the mainland kingdom. My breathing quickens and a sudden warmth flush on my cheeks. “Ahum!!” growls a voice from behind. It’s father. Even though it’s quite dim, I still see the wrinkles on my father’s face and some white strands in his nearly bald head. The human-size rimmed brass gong that is suspended a couple of inches from the ground through a pyramidal iron steel serves as the Haribon Island’s timepiece. It is situated in the middle of the island and is loud enough to signal everyone when to wake up, to study, to train, to work or prepare or celebrate some important or not so-important events. When we hear the bass sound, both of us look at each other and smile then we run down the steep slope. Sinag gets on