Pat
Bariring
And so there he was- showing his bare back and
bloody hands to me while holding a gun.
"He killed your mother and sister,"
the voice told me.
"Kill him. Look. You also have a
gun," he continued and so I found myself holding a gun.
My hands trembled. And gradually I pointed the
gun to the back of this man, on the back of this devil's head. And still my
hands, along the gun, trembled harder. I held the trigger...softly. Softly...
Softly... Then... Harder... I pressed it.
I shot the man who killed my mother and sister.
Black-out.
* * * * * * * * * *
My mother used to tell me tales from the Greek
mythology- heroes, monsters, romances. But among all of these, what felt
nostalgic in me was of what lies in the underworld- Charon driving a boat of
souls, Cerberus, the three-headed dog, and my all-time favorite, Sisyphus, the
soul bound to roll a stone forever going up and down a slope.
To Charon, I did not believe. To Cerberus, I
did not believe. But to Sisyphus, I did. These figures, however, blended with
what others think about the underworld or in simpler term, hell. When my
classmates were asked to draw what hell looks like, here is variety of
interesting images about hell.
Most of them associated hell with a devil- a
horned man with wings and tail holding a fork which is in fact a trident. We,
however, never knew what the trident for is. Does it have a spoon as a partner
in being a pair of giant utensils for eating? Nevertheless, devils, as others
said, are fallen angels who some said became jealous of man's special
connection to God and others believed became rebels who questioned God.
In connection to this, hell for them is a place
of fire, a river of fire where souls suffer. Others even imagined a bridge
wherein souls try to reach it for it will save them but fail to do so as
lightning strikes and therefore fall back to the river of fire.
One even drew souls in hell as androids with
666 tattooed on their foreheads.
No one drew Sisyphus. No one but me. And so
they laughed. Little did they know that someday, I would meet him.
* * * * * * * * * *
I was in a long passageway. There were no walls
but just an empty space. I never expected that hell looks like this and not
those striking images I remembered. While walking, I was thinking what kind of
suffering would I have upon finishing this long stroll. Would I be turned into a
stone like Niobe? Would I be chained on rocks and have my liver eaten by eagles
or vultures like Prometheus? Or would I suffer like Sisyphus or even meet him?
All these expectations were molten into pieces
when I saw him. It was him, the devil. Of that I was sure. He had no horns, no
wings, no tail, no fork. He was a man, simply a man. He looked at me without
any readable emotion. Or was it I who was looking at him?
And so they came back- the memories of joyful
birthdays in childhood, recognitions, jokes, playtimes, and at last that
haunting day.
* * * * * * * * * *
And so there he was- showing his bare back and
bloody hands to me while holding a gun.
"He killed your mother and sister,"
the voice told me.
"Kill him. Look. You also have a
gun," he continued and so I found myself holding a gun.
My hands trembled. And gradually I pointed the
gun to the back of this man, on the back of this devil's head. And still my
hands, along the gun, trembled harder. I held the trigger...softly. Softly...
Softly... Then... Harder... I pressed it.
I shot the man who killed my mother and sister.
Black-out.
* * * * * * * * * *
And out of nowhere, blood pelted down the right
side of my head.
"Are you satisfied?" the devil asked
me with a blank face.
"What?"
"For being an avenger. You just killed the
man who killed your mother and sister."
"I do not understand."
He looked at me trying to make me realize
something.
"Are you trying to tell me that I-"
"Yes."
"Flashbacks might be helpful."
In my college years, I had always lived far
from our home for I had to rent a dorm inside our campus where I studied. I
exerted efforts to get good grades. I joined organizations. I attended a lot of
conferences and competitions. I had this burning desire to prove something to
my mother. That I was worthy of being sent there. That I was worthy of being
her son.
But within my returns every weekend, I lost my
mother. I felt detached from our home. I was underappreciated. I looked at the
mirror and saw that I was still this boy, this worthless boy. But what about my
sister? She never showed any good grade nor any award? She took all of our
mother from me. They made me that I did not belong there anymore. That I had no
place there in their hearts anymore. It was painful. They created a world
without me. How could it be? While I was there busy, I expected a hero's
welcome. But there was none.
One night, a fight broke about things I did not
know at home because of staying far from them. I could not take it. I was
unrecognized. I was always wrong. I left. I sometimes returned at them but I
could see that nothing changed. They lived without me. They had forgotten me.
And so I never came back- as in never.
I grew old but never grew up. I never finished
college and became a wanderer. I got bored. I spent the money I saved to forget
the world and my messy life. I spent it with women and filled my lust. I spent
it with friends I just met. I spent it with gambling where losses are greater
than wins. I spent it drinking with them. I spent it for smoking cigarettes. I
spent it for inhaling drugs. I spent it to forget and escape. I forgot and
escaped. Or so I thought.
But money was gone in time. I had to live. I
had to earn. We tried to be beggars. We tried to collecting bottles and sold
them. But they were never enough. We tried to be snatchers. But it was never
enough. It was greed and need.
I returned to our old house and they were never
there. They abandoned the house and there I knew, I was the one abandoned.
Hatred. Thorns grew with the rose in my heart. And there it came, that night.
One night, our gang decided to enter a big
house. We easily penetrated it. I was the look-out. I never knew what happened
inside although yes, I heard the commotions. Picture frames falling and
breaking. Maids being stabbed. Bags being opened and the rattling sound of
jewelries being taken.
And suddenly, I heard the sound of clothes
being torn and the sounds of begs for mercy. Then I heard groans and moans.
Then I heard an old voice begging too. Then I heard it no more.
These things, I told the devil. But he
responded.
"Something was missing."
"What?"
"That you killed them."
"No I did not. I was a look-out."
"Doing nothing in times when you should is
worse than doing bad things when you should not. They are both crimes. You
killed them."
"But I never knew-"
"Never knew that they were there? You are
missing a small detail, a small detail you hid and escaped from."
The flashback continued. I went inside to pee
and I passed those departed ones but their faces were glued on the floor.
"Is that all you could remember?" the
devil asked.
"Yes."
"Liars go to hell."
Exiting the comfort room, I took my shirt off
to feel the cold air of that night. Out of nowhere, an old familiar voice
behind called me.
"Laurence?"
It was my mom. Of that I was sure. I was
petrified. How? How did she know me? And how, in all places of the world?
"Laurence?"
But still I showed my back on her. It was then
that I remembered. I had a star-shaped birthmark on my back.
"Laurence?"
And that was the last time I heard my name yet
I did not even showed my face to her.
And that was also the last moment of mine for I
drew out the gun, pointed it to my brain, and...
"They never forgot nor abandoned you. They
never lost you. It was you who did to them. You could have saved your mother
back then. You could have faced her and apologized for everything. They
searched for you in all those years," the devil said.
So for a long time, about 1000 years without
exaggeration, I watched the same night- those demons doing that to my sister,
my mother being barbecued with knives, my mother calling my name, me holding
the gun. Again and again. Repeatedly. Endlessly.
I thought it would never stop until one day.
Yes, it stopped. It simply stopped. I could not speak. There was no greater joy
and surprise than that. Then suddenly I felt small and alone.
The devil was nowhere to be found and I was
left alone in his place. And from the passageway to which I passed years
earlier, a man was walking towards me.
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