Epoch 3: Unveiling the Specter of Death (Inmey si am-ama da)
surrealistic
The sun has set, I headed home. After a short pause for a prayer, I went straight to bed. As I was trying to sleep, I heard commotions in the neighborhood. It sounded like people are walking fast back and forth and mumbling. The commotion outside my door was like a blue riddle, its meaning shrouded in the veil of sleep. I felt confused and couldn’t understand what was happening.
I was alone lying in my bed. Then, the unexpected knocking on my bedroom door heralded a curious visitor—a meek young boy. Clad in the muted tones of a humble earthly apparel, the timid lad, a stranger to my eyes, bowed his head with a message to deliver. As his shy gaze remained fixed upon the ground, I strained to make sense of his cryptic entreaty. Who was this boy, this cloaked emissary of distress? I didn’t know who the boy was, and I had never seen him before. There were no other enigmatic children in our neighborhood except for the “tauhan’s” children messing with our Sasso chickens. The quiver in his voice betraying his fear, he implored me to visit the neighbor’s abode. He told me that someone had just died. Then, he withdrew into the shadows, the last remnants of his presence fading into the darkness with a silent grace and without a trace.
In the morning, my sister’s frantic cry, “Ibangon mo essa, natey kanos uncle…” freaking out telling me to get up. She urged me that we need to go down to our neighbor. It is because for real, it was where the harsh truth of a tragic passing had taken hold. Our neighbors’ dad died that night. This revelation left my mind struggling to make sense of the chilling sequence of events.
The next day, I sought out the wise counsel of a shaman’s grandchild. I wondered if he can find interpretations laced with the enigmatic wisdom of his ancestors. As I hung on his every word, his revelation gave me a shiver, dismantling the foundations of my belief.
As the shaman’s heir spoke, his words conjured a chilling image of the specter of death, silently stalking the shadows of the night. “The boy was a menacing shape of death. That while you were sleeping, death has been lurking that night; and made its move. Its nefarious intent hidden from view. It descended upon the unwitting victim, reaping his soul with ruthless efficiency.“
But the shaman’s grandchild magnified a realization: “The spirit of death had paid you a visit in your bed. Its presence was looming like a specter in the darkness. Yet, in the face of its ominous aura, you remained unperturbed, untouched by the chilling fear that often accompanies such encounters.”
As I left the interpreter, I ponder about the last thing he said; that I got lucky to be left untouched by the specter of death.
In the hours that followed, his words about my strange visitor haunted me like a persistent specter, whispering in the dark, questioning my luck. Then came the epiphany. Like a parched plant suddenly given life by a single, refreshing drop of rain, my spirit was reborn; transformed by this moment of clarity and optimism. As the enigmatic specter of death donned the guise of a child, it had approached me in my room, its ominous presence threatening to extinguish the light of my spirit. Yet, shielded by the protective cloak of faith, I stood unyielding, invoking the power of the Conqueror of Death, whose precious blood had been shed for me. Like a radiant barrier, this blood encircled me, covering me in the divine light of resilience. My life, my spirit, remained unscathed, untouched by the specter’s dark grasp.
So I kneeled down and praised the redeemer of my soul. It is he who said,
“I am the living one! I was dead, but now I am alive forever and ever. I have authority over death and the world of the dead.” Revelation 1:18
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- narrative poem by Zerayn D.
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- ✧𝓔𝓜𝓞𝓥𝓔𝓡𝓔✧- Epoch 8
Per-nal 
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