funereal winds

raincloudsHad my usual pre-bedtime smoke last night, in the garage of Charmaine’s residence in the heart of storm-wrecked Quezon City. Smoking before bedtime is my way of assessing the day that is about to die (or had just died depending on what time I sleep).

Last night was a particularly dark night. Quiet, too, except for the distant hum of traffic along Mindanao Avenue. I could hear the city breathing around me – the soft inhale-exhale of souls moving on and of souls giving up. Every now and then a siren would cut through the stillness, piercing the gloom with its implied misfortune, reminding me of the tragedy around, only to fade out moments later.

There is something oddly surreal in sirens heard in the dead of night.

Cold wind was blowing from somewhere, chilling me to the bone. Above, the moon stared down like God’s lonely eye peeking at His creation. But like the siren, it was gone in an instant, leaving only a faint sheen behind the ominously drifting rain clouds. It was as if God himself couldn’t bear to look at all the sadness.

Then there was only the wind.

Full moon, silence, solitude. I used to enjoy nights like this. But not tonight, I thought.

Not tonight.


2 Comments (+add yours?)

  1. Marky
    Oct 23, 2009 @ 13:56:42

    Love the writing dude…its like HST…

  2. Karl
    Oct 25, 2009 @ 19:00:50

    Haha… Thanks, dude. Gonzo!!! 🙂

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