The Dragon Warrior

Ranniele F. Maspat @lalalaheyitisme

Themotorcycle stops in front of a dingy corner store; the rider sighing for the umpteenth time that day. JB is exhausted, long hours of picking up orders and driving them to their destination ran him ragged all day. He takes off his helmet and sits by the sidewalk, basking in the cold brought by the Christmas season.

It was 11:30 in the evening, the city had slowed down, blanketed by the lulling chill November wind, the city was asleep. JB lights a cigarette, holding it like a lifeline. He takes a long drag out of stress, puffing out the smoke; watching in amusement as it rises and slowly disappears into nothingness.

It was another suffocating day for him; bombarded by the unending dings of his smartphone at the crack of dawn, overcoming the grueling task of taking his heavy body out of bed, starting his day with a frown.

An ever present frown that has been his trademark ever since he started wearing it in every waking moment of his life.

JB takes another long drag.

His mind reels back into a strange encounter he had with a customer earlier. The one good thing out of the sh_t life he has.

“Wow!” round bambi eyes greeted him when the door swung open. JB had never seen such an interesting pair of eyes. It feels like he’s staring at a cabinet of curiosities.

The child, a four-year old based on his guess, continues to look up at him like he’s a rare flavored cotton candy on display in a carnival.

“Wow, you are real!” the child whispers to herself, still staring, still in awe, and JB has no idea what was so interesting about a delivery guy to warrant such fascination from a child.

“Raya, honey, you’re staring,” the child’s mother’s voice calls out as she meets JB by the door. She readies her wallet to pay, asking for the exact amount of the delivery. He gives her the exact total of her items and hands over the packages. While transacting with the mother, the child who’s named Raya continues to stare by the side, watching JB.

Feeling uncomfortable with the unwanted attention, he waves at the child waiting for the mother to finish taking the food bags from his other hand.

“Can you really fight and-and, ummm, do-uh do kung fu!!?” she asks, curious while fumbling with her words. Of all the strangest things he had encountered, being asked if you can fight and do kung fu takes the cake. He doesn’t have a single clue how the child came up with that idea, but he’s awed and curious to know what the child thinks.

“Fight? Kung fu? I don’t know, little one. Why do you ask?” he crouches down to meet the child’s gaze and have a leveled conversation with her. The mother comes back to take the second set of food bags from him, then disappears once again to God-knows-where.

“Yes! Fighting and doing Kung fu! Like the one from the movies my mom and I saw last night,” the child explains. JB smiles, still lost to what the child is talking about.

“Wait, I’ll show you kuya. Dito ka lang po. I’ll take the movie case and bring it to you,” before Jb could protest, the child was already on her merry way, the small pitter pattering of her feet echoing to the warm home.

With the child gone, he has no other choice but to wait for her and to finally know what the child means by fighting and kung fu. JB silently prays that the child did not smell a stench of cigarette on him, or saw any of his tattoos. One of his worst nightmares would be to have a child think he’s a delinquent or something, especially with how boomers frame people like him. Tattoo clad, cigarette smoking dude, and with a motorcycle to boot? Yep, definitely a look.

The mother takes the last of the food bags from him. She smiles as he hands over the bags, her sheepish look sending a child-sized warning on his way. She disappears once again to put down the bags, and the child emerges from a corner holding a dvd case as promised.

The child sends a toothy grin as she hands him the case.

“See? It was so awesome! The dragon warrior was like, whoosh! Whack! Thwack!” she excitedly exclaims, demonstrating the ‘kung fu’ moves the dragon warrior does in the movie.

Laughter blooms out of his chest as he reads the title of the dvd. He laughs, endeared at the child’s antics. Who would have thought that there will come a day when he would be mistaken for the dragon warrior? Never in his life would he have thought about it.

“Kuya don’t laugh. It really is an aweso-awesom-uhh, awesome movie. I want to be as strong as the dragon warrior,” the child’s energy seemed to dissipate as another, this time a sadder thought took over her bubbly energy. “Mama said I have to be strong to fight the bad aches I feel here,” she points at where her heart is, “so I can reach twen-twenty years old.”

JB stares as the child looks sullen. He feels a sudden wave of sadness as he realizes the meaning behind the child’s words. Embarrassment be damned, even if it’s for a short time, he wants to comfort her; to return the good laugh he had out of her story.

He tucks the dvd case under his armpits after observing the cover. He taps the child on her shoulder and shows her a pose similar to the cover.

The sweet laughter of the child played like a broken record in his mind.

With a final drag from his cigarette he sighs, more than an umpteenth time all day. Days like these he feels hopeless, doomed to an unending cycle of working hard to get by everyday. Waiting for life to get better, even if it was next to impossible.

He wants to end it all.

He would’ve done that. If not for the strange encounter he had earlier.

He can’t bring himself to do that. Giving up was no longer an option. The child had called him the dragon warrior, the brave and strong protector of the Valley of Peace as the movie said. He may not be Po, the Kung Fu panda, but he is JB, the honorable FoodPanda (delivery man, but you get the point).

Who was he to end it all? Succumb to that nagging intrusive thought in the corners of his mind.

When he can make a better end for it. He may have been robbed of opportunities and good chances in life, but he won’t waste it.

“I think I’ll live better tomorrow.” tiny tale

He’d live a life not perfect and not harsh, one that is better than his today. He’d live until he gets old, he’d live.

For himself.

And for the child who can’t live past five.

He stubs the finished cigarette, puts on his helmet, and drives.

Second Thoughts

Ingrid M. Lescano @ingridlscn

I remembered; near midnight, on their website, staring at the ‘take test’ button; one click away to make it all happen.

If only I didn’t hesitate, would it be any different?

poem

Ahead

Ariel L. Magpantay Jr. @mistereyyyy

Someday I will be living in my faultless dreams

A great world as I imagined

No sadness but only joy

No past and future

Present is the only time dimension

Surely, forever will vanish

But we will remain in love in this faultless dreams

poem