The Color of My Fears [COMPLETE]

Chapter 3 - The Race is On [#10]

"Come on, Junior, let's begin!" I heard Nilo call me again. His voice had stopped my reverie and his shout brought me back to my senses. Since that episode at Tio Berto's house, I began to have these visions, if I may say so, or hallucinations. And I recalled it all started when I spoke the words that should been left unspoken. To a boy barely out of childhood, visions or hallucinations were as real as the bite of the pala on my skin. That hallucination or vision of mine wanted to blend into my reality. The line between the metaphysical and the mundane was so thin as to be non-existent at all.

With one quick lash of the kagingking, I hit my carabao's rump. Plak! The kagingking made a cracking sound against the animal's flesh. Because of its thin pointed tip, it could lash through the air at the speed of sound, like a true whip. I might have whipped it a little bit too hard. Back then, the kagingking was every parent's tool of last resort, when their patience had run out, for their children who willfully disobeyed their repeated commands.

"Hyaah!" I shouted, without waiting for Nilo to say another word. Apparently startled, my carabao shook its head, its long, curved horns swaying, forcing the insects hovering over it to scatter away quickly in all directions. The poor animal gave a defiant cry, disturbed from its quiet graze on the roadside bordered by drainage canals. The carabao kicked its legs and started to gallop, slowly at first, taking a few steps, then took great strides as if it was jumping over ditches without letup. I held onto the rope with one hand; my other hand groped for the carabao's tail, which served as an anchor to prevent myself from falling down. I looked back. Nilo's carabao jumped in a rhythmic motion, kicking dust and pebbles with every step. I looked for Edwin; he was nowhere to be seen. I just hoped he stayed behind and tried not to catch up with the race.

Beads of sweat streamed off my forehead, warmed by the morning sun. There was Nilo beating his poor carabao to death, but there were only so many steps the poor animal could manage. I shouted all manner of taunts and dared him to pass by me if he could. When I took another glimpse back, all I saw was a hazy figure of boy and carabao amidst a blanket of dust. There he was; Nilo was shouting, standing on the back of his carabao! Shades of Tarzan!

I let go of my carabao's tail. Looking back again, I squinted at the figure following me. Boyhood adrenalin surged in. This can't be, I thought. I can't allow him to beat me. I didn't have to think otherwise. I knew I could win this impromptu contest of two boys with inflated egos. Even without any forethought.

Because of dusts rising from the road, the figure of Nilo and his carabao looked hazy. However, every time I glimpsed back at the hazy figure, it grew larger by the second, the blanket of dusts took a definite form, its color turning into gray. In the few instances when I glimpsed back, the shape had turned into a bird for I saw its wings stretched out fleetingly. Before my eyes were half-blinded with dusts, the bird shot upwards!

I turned my gaze forward, with all that heaving motion sitting on the carabao's back. There was a fork in the road, the one on the left pointed to the cirujano's house. The other would lead us to the Gate to the Other Side; the Other Side was the name that we called the neighboring hacienda in the east. That iron gate marked the boundary between the hacienda village and the next hacienda.

Feeling relieved to see the fork up ahead, I knew I would win. The image of that bird didn't register in my brain, so fleeting it existed, seen and unseen almost at the same time. Another whack of the kagingking on the carabao's rump, and victory would be mine. Then there was that bird again, coming straight at me from the front, with outstretched wings, blocking the sun. I could see its outline, defined by sunlight striking its back. Its wingspan filled my vision; it was so thin like gossamer that I was able to see the black criscrossed lines running across it. It was getting nearer every second. The sight took me aback. Not that I had not seen enough of birds after that incident at Ismael's house, but this one was different. It had a human head staring at me with otherworldly eyes! I ducked and almost fell from my carabao but managed to heave myself up just in time. Facing the road with my eyes closed, I leaned forward. I let my carabao run to its heart's content. I couldn't care less to where it was running, my heart pounding inside my chest. Time stopped for me, and when I opened my eyes, I was stunned. There, a few paces in front of me were Nilo and his carabao, galloping with all the stamina of one huge beast, and ahead was the fork in the road.

After what seemed to be an eternity of heaving on the carabao's back, I reached the fork in the road. I pulled the rope to the left and my carabao obligingly followed, puffing heavily while trying to walk slowly. There ahead I saw Nilo smiling broadly with a grin as wide as the creek. He and his poor carabao, panting for breath with white foam bubbling from its broken mouth, were resting beside the guava tree. From Nilo's right hand dangled the queer black bird inside the cage. And Edwin was really nowhere to be found.

[End of Chapter 3]

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