Grand Prize winner of the 1st Makati Collegian's Literary Competition in a Short Story Category (2005)
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WHILE many ceased to exist, I continue to live. I have been alive for so many a year and will always live. Here on earth, or even in the afterlife, my presence shall be there. Find out why...
I was twenty-three years old when the Japanese troops besieged our province. They stormed our town like bees disturbed from their hive. They were the most ruthless creatures God has ever created--cold blooded both to children and adults, male and female. I could only sneer whenever I hear present-day stories concerning their brutality, for they were far more fiendish in reality.
They barged into our house in the dead of night. As a matter of fact, the whole town woke up in a confused noise of yells and cries. The Japanese were everywhere and they seemed to enjoy wrecking havoc all over the place. And amidst all these turmoil, when everything else appeared to have been embraced by the shadows of darkness, I saw an infant tossed high up in the air. It appeared to be suspended for a while in the center of the bright, round moon, and then very instantly it was swathed in crimson. Finally, there sprang out of the infant's chest, proud and sparkling under the light of the moon, the menacing blade of the Japanese bayonetta.
A woman not far from where I stood cried out with a loud voice and called out the murdered baby's name. I knelt down in utter dismay upon realizing that the child was my own son and the woman was my wife. I wanted to do something, but gunshots arrested me. Finally, there were flames, then pain, then darkness...
~~~
Six months after that diabolic night, I was taking shelter in the woods within our province. I just realized that i did not have to run away from danger all the ttme. Because sometimes, the safest place to hide turns out to be the devil's lair itself. I stood panting in the middle of the clearing of the woods. I had just finished planting my tree and was about to salute my own accomplishment when a boy spoke from behind me.
"So, you want to be immortal, huh?" He asked. Then, looking at my bewildered eyes, he explained. "There are three ways to be immortal. First, you can die as a hero and someone else will build you a statue, then you may also write a book and lastly..."
"Plant a tree," I put in. "Well, here in Cavite it means something like that."
"Something like that?"
"You see, when folks here bear a grudge, they plant a tree. And as long as the tree lives, the grudge will never be assuaged."
"Are you telling me, then, that you are bearing a grudge?"
