Castor was once again arguing with Betelgeuse as to who could shine brightest. Everytime the white light of Castor won over the ominous red of Betelgeuse. As always, Betelgeuse would throw invectives at Castor, trying to bait him into a fight. He was 100% sure that he’d always win if that were the terms of the contest. But everytime, Pollux would step in, stopping Castor from doing anything brash. There was one rule to be followed once nighttime came, if one engages in a fight his twinkle will bit by bit fade until none is left. While these three stars argue with one another, Polaris always stepped in and twinkled as bright as she could, and all the other stars stopped and were left in awe at her light. She would always remind the young ones to remember the rule of peace. Betelgeuse would always say he didn’t start it, and the twins would back each other up. Oh yes, it was a neverending feud between the two.

Moon always sighed when she would see the stars fought with one another. She was too concerned with when she’d be able to talk to Sun again. It would always be a few minutes everyday. And everyday Moon yearns for dusk and dawn to arrive, as it meant seeing the bright and warm light of Sun. In those limited minutes, they would talk about how different the green grass were and how beautiful the clouds were when they danced with the mountaintops. Moon would excitedly share her night of watching over lovers strolling in the park, and eating under her delicate light, or the excitement of seeing the police frantically trying to catch up with an escaped fugitive. Sun always wondered about the night, and how different his stories were with hers. He narrated the black smoke that seemed to choke the tall buildings every morning and people enjoying his warm embrace when they were near Ocean or Sea, like hitting a ball back and forth over a net, and scantilly clad men and women lying down on the sand. In those few stories, Moon and Sun always wondered what it would be like if they could switch places and view for themselves the stories they shared with one another.

Left at the cliff was Happy. It’s been three years since her last and only attempt at the edge. Every year, she’d attend the ceremonies and watch as more of friends zoomed skywards. Every time, she’d wish again to be able to muster enough gumption to jump and ultimately to fly. She remembers clearly that one time she dove into the abyss.

It was like today with the clear sky and light breeze swirling and blowing their hair into their faces. She was the last in line and watched intently how the kids before her managed to soar. She heard them screaming their lungs out as they plummeted down. First it was from fear and then, when they zoomed upwards, it was definitely of elation. It was her turn and her knees were shaking terribly. Her feet felt heavy and each step felt like a mile. And the moment came, when she stepped into the air with her eyes closed. She could feel the wind enveloping her whole body and an exhilaration growing inside her as she plummeted down the hole. She spread her hands and basked in the freedom. And then, she realized she was falling into a pit. All the freedom, she felt a quarter of a second ago morphed into fear. She was falling to her death and she didn’t know how to save herself. Those before her had flown upwards already and she was left alone. The adults chaperoning the ceremonies noticed immediately Happy’s continued descent and swooped down to scoop her up. Happy never tried again after that until today.

She once again lined up and again was last in the queue. Everyone was cheering her on. This was her moment and she felt it. It couldn’t be helped that flashes of her previous experience were creeping up inside her. When it was her turn, she jumped feet first and as she once again descended rapidly into the crevice, she closed her eyes and let every feeling of fear and elation pass her by. She just thought of flying and letting go. And flew she did. She opened her eyes to the warm rays of the sun and the other kids playing in the clouds. From then on, she understood and knew how to fly.

There is no moment wherein you don’t check on the time by taking out your cell or looking at your wristwatch or just simply asking your friend beside you. You remember that you have a meeting to go to, an errand to run, a pile of work that needs to be finished. But even with this fast-paced life, you make time for whatever little time you have to at least enjoy a moment of that day with friends and those little quirks you enjoy. Sometimes you just want to express the happiness you’re feeling and announce it to the whole world but a lot of the times you just want to hide what you’re really feeling, fearing that noone would really understand what you’re going through and most of the time you’re right. You realize that you have to do it on your own. You realize that this life of yours is only worth living if you are the one in control, but then that’s the hard part about it because that’s when you see that your life now seems out of your control. Now, you feel lost, confused and tired.

The day starts with you trudging along the path, and maybe weighing the options of saying yes or no. But the day ends with you left wondering whether you made the right decisions. It’s a cycle and you know that, but you just can’t help yourself. You decide to find reprieve in what seemingly feels like control, but really it’s just the same old spiral.

A relationship can only go two ways, marriage or separation, and any person trying to find their spot in the grey will only be prolonging the agony of making the choice. This was the situation of almost-but-never-there couple Vince and Camille. They’ve been friends for the past five years, and have practically been inseparable since the moment they met in college. They found themselves in the same barkada, drinking booze, hanging out, getting the same schedule. You name it, we did the whole group shebang. But even then, the two did have separate lives. Vince had an on and off relationship with his high school sweetheart, and Camille pretty much preoccupied herself with finding the perfect man. In fact, she was passionately searching for the one through the numerous dates she went on. Every drinking session we had, she’d tell us what was wrong with Date Number 231 and everytime, we’d find ourselves snickering at the absurdity of Camille’s reasons.

During junior year, Vince and his girlfriend decided to remain broken up. I remember him saying they just grew apart. It was at this period, as well, that Vince and Camille decided to date each other. Maybe it was the familiarity, the common interests and friends, and having realized that they enjoyed each others company, like spending countless hours laughing over a marathon of Friends DVDs. We never really got to ask them the exact reason, but who does anyway? We never really noticed this shift in their relationship, since they didn’t really have any abnormally sweet moments nor did they engage in public displays of affection, when they were with the whole group. It wasn’t until Kenneth, Rose and I bumped into them in the mall and their hands were undeniably intertwined with one another, which they suddenly loosened from each other when they caught sight of us.

The love affair unfolded in our eyes. It was the natural progression of things, Kenneth would always tell us, to assuage Rose’s apprehension with this new set-up. We all knew Camille had this uncanny knack for finding the wrong things in what we’d all deem as perfect. Vince, on the other hand, was always indecisive when it came to his life in general. Days, weeks and months passed, and we all grew accustomed to our new barkada. We’d have nights out together and pretty much nothing changed, except maybe for the more frequent separate dates.

I can’t believe that was just a year ago. Now, we have to toss a coin on whom to invite between them on the rare time we do get to do the whole group shebang. To think, we all had five years worth of friendship cut up into pieces that don’t seem to all fit one another. Sometimes I wonder if we all grew apart too.

“Tonyo…” whispered the wind.

“Five more minutes lola,” he would always reply.

“But this can’t wait Tonyo,” suddenly the whispers replied in a more commanding tone, “Tonyo..wake up!”

And when Tonyo decided to wake up, he realized there was nobody there, whispering to him. Still drowsy, he slept again, only to wake up to the urge of going to the bathroom. Lolo was in the CR, so he suddenly perked up enough to exit the house to do his business near the bushes at the back of the house.

“Tonyo…we need you.”

“I’m outside ‘lo.” he replied, as he rushed to go back inside the house. Only to find out that his grandfather was still taking the number two. So he knocked and asked, “What do you need me to do?”

“Nothing, anak,” his grandfather replied.

“Then why did you call me?”

“Anak, I didn’t call you. Can you let me finish first, before we have this talk?”

Tonyo left for the yard and sat on the porch. The sun was already high now and he reveled under the warm rays of the sun. He didn’t understand why his grandfather would call him and say he didn’t, but that didn’t stop him from enjoying the day. He went about playing in the yard, along the beach, the pond and the trek around the forest, but he couldn’t shake off the whispers inside his head. It was during their game of hide and seek that Tonyo realized where he heard the whispers, but wasn’t sure yet, so he waited again for the calls the next morning. Sure enough, they came, but now with a different message.

“Tonyo…come visit me. Let’s play in the forest,” the whispers said with a hint of excitement.

“None of the girls in school had the giggle she makes when she went higher and higher,” continued Jack, as he marveled at this discovery of his, “none of the girls could swing as high as she could!”

Jill didn’t notice the boy at the entrance of the playground, until she heard her mom call her for their family’s mid-afternoon snack. As she slowed down, she espied a short boy leaning on the fence of the playground. He wasn’t especially tall nor odd-looking, so she decided to call him.

“Hi there!” she shouted from the swing, “I’m Jill. What’s your name?”

“Jack,” he stuttered, startled by the girl’s voice, and walked closer to the swing.

“Jack, would you like to join me for a snack? My mom said I should make new friends and be nice, since we’re new here.”

“Okay, I guess,” he sheepishly answered. So, Jill stood up and pulled Jack’s hand, as she led him to her home. She asked a flurry of questions, like the usual where does he live, to the odd question of whether he’s ever eaten fried squid, and of course, he gamely answered with one-worded replies of “Yep,” and the occasional, “Of course.” The whole sequence repeated itself even with the orange juice and biscuits Jill’s mom offered and until it was half past four – Jack had to go home already. He extended his goodbye and thanked them for their hospitality. As he left the yard, he heard Jill shouting at him, “Jack, let’s play again on the swing tomorrow!”

It was a whole year of riding the swing and enjoying each others’ company. They discovered the seesaw, but never did enjoy the slide. Jill would giggle at his jokes and he would stare at her, while she shared her life before moving to this town. And in one of their dates, Jack shared his deep dark secret, “Did you know, the first time I saw you on the swing, I was smitten with you? And I still can’t believe we’ve been doing this for a whole year.”

It was two years ago, I received the letter. I called Mother and Father to the living room, so that we could open it together. I surmised that there was more than one sheet of paper folded inside since it looked quite bulky. I slowly sat myself in the middle seat of the sofa, with my parents steadying themselves at my flanks.

“It’ll be okay, honey,” mother quickly said, trying quickly to defuse the tension that filled the air.

I looked at both their eyes, looking for assurance that everything would be fine. I slowly used my finger to pry open the flap of the envelope. And as soon as it opened and as I prepared to take out its contents, I took a deep breath. My heart was racing and my mind was going crazy stirring up a storm of dark thoughts.

As I read the first few lines, my pounding heart was crushed. All the strength that kept me sitting up straight crumbled and seeped away from me. Water suddenly welled up in my eyes. You know when you want to just have a vacuum inside those ducts so that they could just drain the tears before they could even go out and roll down your cheeks? I was exactly at that moment. I wanted to stay calm. I wanted to keep my hands from fidgeting and tensing up. I wanted to lay still and be unaffected. I tried to achieve what I pictured in my head to be the ideal response to this kind of situation, but I couldn’t seem to conceal the emotions. It didn’t help that my parents’ faces were equally distraught. Only my sobs and stifled sniffles filled the air. I didn’t have that moment of seeing everything passing me by where the past, present and future seemed to converge in our thoughts, though.

“We’ll get through this,” father said in a calm manner, trying to get back the composure he lost when he read the letter, he repeated again and again in my ear, while Mother embraced me tightly, enveloping me in her warmth and trying her best to take away the pain of the reality I now faced.

“Breakfast’s ready!” mother yelled from the kitchen.

“I’ll be down in a minute,” I replied in my whiny manner.

I lay on my bed, having my eyes roam and scan the room. I look at the white ceiling, noticing how there were little cracks in the paint, probably because of the extremely warm weather last summer. I move my eyes to the window and for a second was blinded at how bright the day was already, at this early hour. I hope today wouldn’t be as rough as yesterday’s debacle. Everything was just wrong.

I haven’t slept the past two days and my parents don’t really know about it. They’ve been under the impression that I’m handling everything with a level-headed approach. I eat my breakfast, go to school, do my chores, accomplish my homework and in their belief, sleep at night.

Dad with his well starched oxfords and perfectly matched tie, was ready to earn money at the firm. He called from the kitchen to come down already or I’ll have to deal with the cool toast. Who would want to eat that right? I gave myself five to compose myself before rushing downstairs for that good old family breakfast before being dropped off by dad in school. Mom reminded me to drink the orange juice she freshly squeezed, instead of the coffee I’ve grown accustomed to. I could hear dad snicker. After a kiss and a hug, it was time to go.

Bang!

Suddenly all heard an unnervingly loud blast. Everyone stood still and kept quiet for what seemed like a few seconds in forever. Then, panic ensued. The elderly were scuttling to the outskirts to avoid being mauled by the mob. The little tots playing were separated with each other. Some just sat down on the street covering their heads and ears, believing that this would protect them. Amidst the frenzy, everything seemed to switch from slow motion and fast forward, confused with what to do first, save themselves or look for their friends. Each second seemed so important, thinking that the shooting wasn’t over, and all it would take is that one second they still found themselves in the area. Parents, who were calm enough, were able to shield their children as they scurried away to their cars. Many didn’t know what was happening but were infected by the panic of those around them. Kids were suddenly crying and many were running away. The pushing and panic eventually had people falling to the ground, children getting separated from their parents and the scene falling into utter chaos.

In the middle of the plaza, a man was lying on the floor with his blood splattered on where he lay and standing near him was the silhouette of a woman, holding a gun freshly fired. Her job was done. The man was dead.

The mystery lady rushed into the sea of people, drowning her image into the throngs of strangers and panicked crowd. She went with the pace of those around her, blending her screams, doe-eyed face and quick steps, while the police combed through the streets looking for the culprit. All they knew was that a woman fired a gun and left without a trace.

It was my usual routine of scampering to the elevator bound for the fifth floor, after staring straight into that flashing multicolored bulb of a computer for two straight hours. I hurriedly pressed the down button to signal the elevator to fetch me already.

“Jessie, you going to the fifth?” asked Fred.

I hurriedly made up a lie and told him I needed to go to the nearby bank to pay a couple of bills. I knew he detested my errands and at best I bought myself enough alone time for a quickie on the fifth. I didn’t need the company right now, especially that loud and proud ape. He always wants to show off how great and awesome his campaigns are and I just need a break from that whole scene, else I breakdown and cry in front of him. I needed to be alone and…

“But aren’t banks closed, at this time?” opined Fred.

Beep.

At last, the elevator’s here!

“I’m sure my bank’s still open! See you later!” I replied with the biggest smile I could muster at the time.

The whole time in the elevator I was berating myself on how stupid I was. My sister always told me that I was the worst liar, especially during times I needed to bend the truth a bit. Now, when I get back to the office, I’ll have to give a proper explanation to Fred. Lest, we get into an awkward situation of avoidance and mistrust. After all, as much as I dislike him for being an ape, he’s still one of those few people I could act like an ape to. I sighed hoping to release all this pent up tension.

At last, the fifth floor!

I found myself looking at the whole city skyline at the edge of the open air floor. It was probably past five already, I surmised. The sun had already turned a burnt orange and the buildings seemed to be shadows of their normal selves. The start of the afternoon rush hour could be seen from my spot. I could hear the cars honking their horns at those pesky pedestrians, who don’t know how to cross the streets and the stupid driver in front of them, who doesn’t know that green light means go. The sight and sounds were beautiful and it made me smile. I was momentarily disturbed by a tapping on my shoulder.

“Excuse me miss,” a stranger asked me, “could I possibly borrow a light?”

“Sure!” I shot back and searched my pockets for the lighter and handed it over to him.

I was too deep in (non-)thought, I guess, and I was a bit startled by the man. I settled down shortly after, and fixed my gaze at the horizon again.

“Nice view isn’t it?” he commented, “It’s the first time I’ve seen the city at this hour.”

I nodded silently, and it suddenly dawned on me, I wasn’t alone anymore.