19

The Catch at Siquijor

An unholy gust of air swept the shore in the early morning of June 27th 1996 at Minalulan, Siquijor, as a reddened sky loomed above like a floating inferno. It was on this eventful day, in which the ghostly silence that usually dominated the beach at 7 am was overridden with the overlapping whispers and chatter of townsfolk who had flocked in crowds along the beachfront in ritual-like manner. The residents, flocking from their beds in curiosity over a string of uncanny rumours, had all congregated near the sea body that day to await the arrival of several fisherman who had dispersed in their boats earlier on for a morning catch.

The morning fishing routine was habitual for the town fishermen as their duties would determine the local market's day sales and the profit to sustain the well-being of their individual families. Since the town itself wasn't economically rich, money had to be sustained in the most abundant of methods that were present in the natural world encompassing the town. Generally, for the residents who lived in Minaluluan, their outlook on the fishermen weren't at all much and were certainly not worth the attention that was amassed on June 27th as their job title wasn't the most impressive or recommendable. Whilst it could be said that fate had simply disappeared from the horizon for such lives, the event that came to unfold would certainly become known in future generations as an ironic display of tides turning for unnoticed men for the whole town's eyes were shifted towards the direction that never reached them in their pitiful, stressed working life.

Countless minutes of tension and discussion awaited the audience that had gathered as air currents that swept over the sea like a wraith carried with it only a cold unnerving breeze but no boats in sight. As 7:30 am came to pass, the chatter that had initially been progressive had begun to die down as an ominous aura plagued all the spectators over the uncertainty of return. The time was ticking so vehemently and contrary to the patterns of day, the sky was turning into an ever darker crimson shade. During the moment that spanned from 7:30 to 7:46 am, doubts had crept up on each individual spectator questioning whether the messenger responsible for the congregation gave reliable information on what had apparently been witnessed and caught by the fishermen in the forbidding crevices of a hidden sea cave complex that had been discovered earlier on in an adjacent shore a week prior to this day. The discovery of the cave in itself became a topic matter of superstition within a matter of days during the previous week and the news had easily spread like wildfire. This was mostly due to the fact that the locals held a culture which delved around the supernatural elements linked to the island for centuries past; even around the Philippines in the coming age of transport and computers, outsiders from cities like Manila grew to become exposed to the sinister talks that have given Siquijor a national cursed reputation. However, the news that was brought forward on June 27th at around 5 am by a fishing apprentice sent back in advance from the morning fishing party, captured even the mayor's attention, who at the time was still residing in slumber at his sturdy solid residence. From then on, those who were awake at the time of announcement crusaded through the town passing door by door like the angel of death that plagued Egypt in Exodus, spreading the word on the peculiar situation. For dozens of residents to make their way out of their resting hours and assimilate within two hours, those who came realized that the curiosity and superstition that the island embodied still burnt in people's hearts. And it was at 7:47 am, when two boats emerged under the crimson morning in the corner of spectators' weary eyes that the town fell into a deafening silence at what would be carried across into town.

As a grungy old 70's fishing boat which was still functioning but completely devoid of style, and a cheap wooden fishing dinghy similar to the one sent back earlier eventually made landfall onto the beach a few metres from where the closest onlookers were standing, there was a paused moment before three middle aged lean men drenched in a sleeve of water and bathed in murky debris begun to step out of the boat in uniform order one after another. Meanwhile, two young men who accounted for steering the dinghy remained seated coated with the same debris. Unlike the fishermen who stepped out of their boat with blank, disheveled faces, the men in the dinghy had a more sullen expression and from the eyes of the onlookers, one could only imagine what had transpired on their fishing trip. As the witnesses, still silent in suspense, watched on, the ones closer in view began to hear the sound of dragging which persisted until three more men on-board the ship eventually reached the public eye. It was these fishermen that had all eyes gazing - even the three men who stepped off the boat and the young men on the dinghy looked up at them. In the hands of the fishermen on-board ship was a black soulless bag that resembled a body-bag wide enough to fit a corpse in and it can only be assumed that it had quite a pressurising weight to it. With a couple of heavy huffs, the three men on the boat carefully lowered the bag to the three fishermen stood on shore as the crowd waited for whatever lurked inside to be delivered home. From that moment on, it came into thought that it would only be a matter of time before the long awaited catch would eventually be imprinted into each and every witness' memory.