Everyday Routine


And as I went out, there was nothing but mist covering every inch of the road leading to my destination.  It was a Monday morning and I had hoped that even at 4 AM, a tricycle would pass by saving me the task of walking alone in a pitch black morning clouded with thick fog.  But none came.  So with thoughts of Lestat, Whitechapel and Jack the Ripper, Mr. Hyde, and Dracula in mind, I started pacing the long stretch of sand and gravel, praying that none of the characters in my mind at the time would materialize.  A few weeks ago, there had been news of "Manananggal" sightings within the vicinity.  But manananggals were the least of my concerns at that moment since I've been told that they normally come out from the months of May to August, months without the letter "R" in their spellings.  What I feared was meeting a knife-wielding psycho, standing amidst the mist waiting for a victim.  Cloaked in black clothing, long curly hair covering his face, standing more than six feet, fiery eyes that seems to penetrate the very depths of your soul, that would have been the figure.

Hearing nothing except the swaying of the trees, the slow hum of the wind, and the sound of nocturnal insects, I walked, slowly as not to stir the consciousness of whatever creature was lurking behind the shadows.  CRACK!  Damn branch.  I looked around just to make sure that I was still alone...nothing but desolate space - trees, tall grasses.  I continued walking.  Just a few meters more.  The fog seemed to be getting thicker by the moment.

Passed the FLCS Chapel, the Mason house, the tricycle station...at last, the waiting shade and Aguinaldo Highway.  The wind was still crisp, and the cold...biting.  Just a few more minutes I said to myself.  As a dog howled to bid farewell to the night, a light pierced through the thick fog and in a few while, a bus stopped to pick me up.  Tomorrow was going to be another adventure.

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