One cloudy afternoon I was reading a book, so in to it, I was in Alabama. I was reading Looking For Alaska by John Green. I was on my bed hearing only the low hum of the ventilator. Of course you also hear the rustles of passing people and some chats that didn’t make any sense. Just passing noises. On and off.

Then all of a sudden I heard murmurs. Murmurs that sounded like it had powers because our overly-noisy community turned ultra-silent. I thought I’d be scared like a puppy infront of a lion, but then the sounds were consolidated. They became one chanting, but not enchanting.

I ran by the window to see what was going on. On the alley below, I saw a petite table with a filthy red velvet matting on it. A photo of a criminal and a candle were set up like the usual altar for a saint. There was also a combined boquet of chrysanthemums and malaysians nearly torn they looked like it was just stolen from someone’s niche.

I saw a bunch of criminals infront of our neighbors’ house. Our neighbors. With stealth like Tom Cruise in the movie Minority Report steal other people’s belongings in the middle of an innocent night.

They were praying for another criminal who died about a decade ago. Nothing more. The prayers, droned for several minutes with an unbelievable blur in enunciation.

I don’t hate the tradition. Its the hypocrisy in the act.

When that person died I thought I’d be happy. Its not like I’ve been a victim, but also I have been so annoyed with their megalithic speakers with nearly the sounds of an exploding hiroshimaic atomic bomb at one kilometer distance. But not one blast. Once started, it would go on for hours and hours.

The music they’re listening? Forgive me I hate Nora Aunor for singing. For even recording those songs with very poor English pronunciation. No joke, no tricks, no exaggeration, we hear four rounds of the album or plaque everyday.

The worst thing you must not do is tell them they are annoying because they will rat your house.

Its suffocating. Its like our freedom is taken away from us. Everyday. I want all of them to die. Now. Please.

About pinoyjournalist

Journalist. Son. Bum. Bored.Inspired. Loves. Loved. Runs. Backpacker wanna be. Silently noisy. Dreamer. Believer.
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