12.06.06
wHiTe OleAnder
The lawn is green, every blade of grass decked with liquid pearls from last night’s downpour. There grow four old and sturdy oaks, the wide front porch of the country house stretched as their backdrop. The oaks have always been there since we were still children, serving as shades for us whenever we want to spend the entire day playing outside. But today is special. They are now adorned with a plethora of powdery blue ribbons tied upon their branches.
Tables and chairs stand grouped across the lawn, and clutched on them are white balloons, motionless and waiting to be popped. Along the perimeter of the place is a white picket fence, about 3 feet high, which touches a row of sweetbriar bushes boastful of their bloom.
With the air quiet and still, it was actually a sight to behold, as if Persephone had again escaped the underworld. Yet its splendour was of no use now as I scurried myself through the flagstone walk leading up to the slightly open white door, clasping the sides of my chiffon dress as I fought for balance.
I spotted her off to one side, slumped on the floor, her white wedding gown splaying on the white Grecian tiles, leaving a turmoil of creases on its train, her father helding her. He was stroking her hair which was sleekly tied in a bun —- long slow strokes, careful not to shove the lone white oleander pinned on its place along the back of her head, and whispering “My Angel” to her. He had tears welling up his eyes, fighting them like how soldiers would when seeing a picture of their loved ones a minute before going to battle.
The moment went on seeping like poison to my consciousness. I saw her shoulders trembling, her face covered with her hand, while i am standing there beside that white door — worthless, choking up as i saw a crumpled letter on her other hand.
r said,
December 6, 2006 at 11:50 am
nice timing for a change of theme… (it) complements your entry very well…
i thought you loathed things like these…
or at least, a part of this.
its wonderful.
“They are now adorned with a plethora of powdery blue ribbons tied upon their branches.”
good choice of words.
the images are crystal clear.
saikow said,
December 7, 2006 at 2:51 pm
wow, im a sucker for tragic things… anyway, a usual story told in a way na parang masakit parin… nalingaw ko… WRITE MORE!!!! WRITE MOR!!!! *gigil face*
Evil Genius Extraordinary said,
December 7, 2006 at 10:04 pm
cool, you can write entries as long as you wanted, and it just never seems to tire anyone out (reading your entry)..
“leaving a turmoil of creases on its train, her father helding her. ”
BTW
what’s with the word “helding”? edit it…
amazing write….:)
modthryth said,
December 8, 2006 at 4:21 am
To Evil Genius: do u have any suggestions for your demand?? i would gladly welcome them..
Evil Genius Extraordinary said,
December 8, 2006 at 11:49 am
I mean’t there’s no word as “HELDING”
past tense of hold is held…
hold = holding
should be.. “her father was holding her…”
nyahaha…
saikow said,
December 12, 2006 at 3:54 pm
yup… tama c ebil…
rij said,
December 13, 2006 at 10:36 am
to ebil: thnx for the correction.:)
kalme said,
December 19, 2006 at 4:56 pm
hay..how tragic..babae pa naman ang character.hehehe..
nice images.. and i like the way things are narrated and the metaphors too…
karryl said,
January 26, 2007 at 5:30 am
hi ridge… i’m here, heheh… i kept my promise. wow, i feel like i’m reading a bestseller’s work… i’ve been anticipating for this day- the day i would read your entry… wow napaisip gd ko “si rigil na ni?” i’m so proud of you ridge… galing mo!
i remembered the letters (in ilonggo) you used to give me… now, i don’t even understand some of your words (sa iba mong entries)…heheh…
nami gid story mo… so sad.