Monday, April 12

Black Saturday

RAINIEL ANGELYN FIGUEROA/The Flame

The lights flickered off at sunset, just as his prayers began.

He was hoping for a delay; that the electric distribution company would be lenient. Darkness pervaded just in time for Black Saturday. Still, he remained in solemn posture.

“…he was crucified, died…”

As he prayed, a door opened.

They looked at him. 

His wife and daughter’s eyes shut melancholy, but that was not all. They held culpability in their gaze, directed towards him. They clenched it like a lance, almost with aggression.  He twitched as it pierced his heart.

His breathing paused. For a moment, he thought blood streamed down from his torso.

“…he descended into hell…”

It was sweat trickling on his skin. A sudden heat expanded throughout his body.

“…he rose again from the dead…”

He held the beads tighter and looked at the sky.

“…he ascended into heaven…”

He took a deep breath, thinking only of tomorrow. FATIMA B. BADURIA

 

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