At the Gates
1239 Words
“Today is a picture of tomorrow taken yesterday.”
The instant these words left the blistered lips of the wayfarer, the old beggar turned into a book without the burly school security guard Mang Ramon having an inkling of what had just happened that one fateful time one week and one day ago. That one fateful time one week and one day ago would be Christmas eve, by the way. Anyway, it might have been the realization of the imminent danger posed by an outsider suddenly being loose on the grounds of the academic institution he was supposed to be keeping watch over which seized Mang Ramon to immediately roll his eyes twice, then to scratch his head and to ask himself, "Now where the heck did old man Jonah go?" For Jonah was what Sir Raymond Damasco knew was the beggar’s name, having heard it come out of the old wayfarer’s lips himself, the guard remembered ever so vigilantly. It might also have been the fact that Mang Ramon knew that rarely did old Jonah left that particular part of the gates of the school for almost anything outside of hibernation mode, which triggered Mang Ramon, overflowing with curiosity, to go over the particular corner of the gates where the old beggar had built a makeshift castle for himself: a moat made of the small open canal which traversed the whole width and length of the outside of the academic institution; four towers made of old rice sacks filled to their top hems with four kinds of disposition: recyclables, compostables, biodegradables, and plastic, with each manning the four corners of Jonah's makeshift castle (barely two meters by two meters, it seemed) like bastions; and, most importantly, the throne which consisted of a long-disposed and worn-out feather pillow, a rag of a blanket - and nothing more.
Mang Ramon understood, with his great respect for the dignity of life, that this spot, this small corner in front of the gates of the school, this wayfarer's retreat, was none other but what Jonah considers as home.
Anyway, it might have been all of this, indeed, which pushed Mang Ramon to pick up a stray barbecue stick from the curb and to use it to poke around the castle-cave of old king Jonah. The query kept updating inside his brain with nary a prompt response: "Where the heck did old man Jonah go?" It was a classic case of now he sees him, now he doesn't. And after nervously hopping over the small open canal moat, he walked over an imaginary drawbridge and started to pick his own senses around the four bastions of collected waste and the throne of the wayfarer who was currently and mysteriously nowhere in sight. For Jonah was merely there sitting on the throne, and then in one instant disappeared in a poof, magically as if. "Talk about homelessness..." the guard muttered to himself. “Or about being a visible invisible. And now he’s clearly an invisible invisible! Hahaha!” The security guard laughed wryly.
Except for the reason why the mysterious disappearance happened earlier, however, Mang Ramon, the burly watchman of the school who had been raised to have great respect for the dignity of life, knew he had a good enough reason to check out Jonah's castle, Jonah's throne, Jonah's spot, Jonah's corner, Jonah's home, without going against his own nature of being violent or violative. Thus, after crossing the threshold of the small open canal serving as some sort of a moat, he started to poke around using the barbecue stick. Somehow, he understood where the old beggar Jonah was coming from. That the castle the old man had built for himself in this corner of the gates of the school was but a microcosmic representation of one human being's past, present and future all boxed, packaged, bundled together, organized in a way only Jonah would truly understand. Mang Ramon contemplated, "It's as if all of old Jonah's yesterdays, todays and tomorrows are all unpacked in this small spot." A nearby church, of course, served as the old beggar's haven for both his private and public convenience, for it housed a clean and well-maintained restroom, a small prayer room, and a small corner where a local NGO cooperative has set up a community pantry. In fact, and as a vital part of his hibernation mode, the wayfarer would spend most of his mornings on the steps of the church where the comers and goers would sometimes throw more than sideward glances at him, both of the positive and of the negative sort.
So except for the reason why the mysterious disappearance happened earlier, Mang Ramon understood that that one fateful time yesterday he had a good enough reason to check the heap of yesterdays, todays and tomorrows of Jonah who was currently and mysteriously amiss.
After some minutes of non-invasively checking out some of the bundles and piles, Mang Ramon decided to poke his barbecue stick on the long disposed of and worn-out feather pillow which rested somewhere in the middle of the beggar's throne. He then accidentally hit something hard, something which was buried under the pillow. With the barbecue stick, he easily lifted one side of the pillow. Much to his astonishment, he was surprised that underneath the pillow was - no, not food, not money, not papers; no, none of these - but a book. A tome, really, for it was hardbound, fairly larger than the regular size for a book, and, yes, the cover appeared to be gilded.
Mang Ramon being Mang Ramon, a great respecter for the dignity of life, at that one fateful time one week and one day ago - yesterday! - he quickly moved the pillow back to its original position to hide the book from anyone's prying eyes, niftily crossed an imaginary drawbridge which brought him out of Jonah's castle leaving it practically undisturbed, and, like a knight carrying a lance, withdrew and pointed up to the high heavens the barbecue stick and then sheathed it to the back pocket of his pants, and then quietly moved back to his quarters called the guardhouse.
The knight, the watchman, the lonely crusader, the security guard, however, would vigilantly keep an eye on the castle of the old king. And from time to time would leave his quarters to vigilantly patrol his beat on the grounds of the academic institution he was tasked to protect. And defend, if circumstances so required.
*
So for more than one week and one day ago before the proverbial New Year's eve, and for every school day thereafter, Mang Ramon had witnessed firsthand that Jonah disappearance from either his familiar spot near the gates of the school or the steps of the church. And now, at the present time, today, the morning after the New Year, a convergence of time - of Aaron's tomorrow, of Miss Emma's today, and of Sir Raymond's tomorrow - would be finally tested with what is to happen next.
And now, at the present time, today, the morning after the New Year, a convergence of lives would occur which would make all the previous errors of bringing the mysterious note from a school computer called Creamy Pie by the Shutdown Master Aaron the Third as nothing more but the key to unlocking a secret which is bound to change all their interwined lives forever.
- Writer
