Decay In Her Bones

CHAPTER 4

It was past midnight but Bobby was still online; the noise of the keyboard's tabs continued to click as he was rapidly typing words in front of the computer. Although he was occasionally checking for incoming e-mails, he was actually focused on writing a news article that he needed to submit to the school publication. All articles were due that weekend, for the week that followed was spent for editing and the next for final approval. The article he was writing was about the upcoming activities of their school in connection with the celebration of the feast of La Naval which happened in October yearly.

Mylene was already asleep; her last text message was received by Bobby at past eleven, saying good night. Before that, Bobby had already forgotten about his Bloody Mary mission that night, but it came back to his mind while he was browsing his newsfeed. A post from Franz was all it took for him to remember. Still, he had decided to do it after he was finished with his writing assignments. The house remained silent for the past few hours. Only Bobby's room remained lit. There was a deafening silence, the kind of quietness that would not promote concentration. With this, Bobby reached towards the cassette player and started playing a tape by his favorite English choir, Libera. He hit a few buttons and 'Salva Me' slowly filled the air, soothing his mind. Micheal Horncastle's solo rang like a quiet cry that sounded like a hymn so peaceful. Bobby's mind suddenly felt like stilled water. He was able to write substantially even when the song had captivated his heart. Perhaps it was his multiple intelligence; he became productive when he was listening to music.

After what seemed like an hour, Bobby was able to finish two articles. One was about the ongoing Retreat for graduating college students. It started last week and would continue until the end of the semester. The Journalism students were scheduled on Friday together with the Education and Communication majors. Meaning, Mylene was to be with them in that ceremonial event. As he was writing the article, he thought about his expectations on Friday which were roused by the stories he was able to get from a staff in the Religious Affairs Department. He ended the write up with the listing of courses that were to be scheduled yet, including the Friday group. Bobby checked the time: 2:03 AM.

Damn, I forgot. A cup of coffee was left untouched beside the computer table. When Bobby had touched the surface of his mug, he found out that it was already cold. He drank it, anyway. It drew a line of sweet liquid down his throat, immediately awakening his senses. He emptied the mug and left his desktop idle.

Bobby walked in tiptoe, switched on the light, and went downstairs. Just before he was able to put the mug on the sink, though, something caught his eyes that made all the hairs of his body stand up. My dear readers, it was not a ghost that he saw. At least, not yet. It was a cockroach.

Bobby observed the insect for a while. That little while became an hour, and then years. He stood motionless, anticipating even the smallest movement it made. After resolving that it would not leave its grounds, Bobby decided to leave the empty mug on the dining table. His chicken skin remained, for the insect gave an impression that it would fly at any moment.

Twenty minutes had already passed.

Bobby scurried upstairs, skipping steps in a heartbeat. He hurried back to his room and closed the door, panting. And then, he smiled, realizing how silly he may have looked like. Real men are not excused from fears even like this, he reminded himself.

He sat in front of the computer again and heard the soothing song playing on the background. 'Tomorrow Shall Be My Dancing Day' was playing, and the song's sad melody helped him reduce his breathing. Bobby went back to his e-mail and uploaded his articles there for the editors' checking. It loaded for quite some time, but it finished eventually. After stealing a glance on his newsfeed, he saw that only a few of his friends remained online. His editors were not online as well, considering the time. He logged out, and then, he was finally done. It's time.