Strange Faces

PALETA VI

Do you know what it’s like to be in the face of death and be the face of death itself?“ “

-I didn’t know him, he did not know me, but somehow we had to fight for a stupid flag. A stupid flag, I say. But it was on a land that was worth fighting for.

He was stroked by what he heard. It was almost a murmur from the whistling wind from all the gloominess of the surrounding. He looked up to the sky and saw dark clouds that weren’t ready yet to give in. He ignored what he heard and kept walking with the others, carrying umbrellas of dark colors. They walked within an inch of silence, only the sound of the cold breeze and the clacking of heels from the women’s shoes were heard. Such unlucky fate.

He continued walking until a woman broke down in tears. It has caused a slight commotion, and he was amazed at how the people were supportive of helping her up. He stopped looking at her, while the others remain with the same regular phase. And then, along with the sudden blow of cold air, he heard a man at the back of the crowd, wearing a dark coat, talking and with the same voice from what he heard earlier. It has caught his attention and walked to the opposite direction to where the crowd was leading. It has led him to a man with a distinctive unlikeness of the others. He was tall and thin, with small ears and a shaggy haircut. He walked beside him not saying a word until the man broke the ice. -Do you know what it’s like to be in the face of death and be the face of death itself? He looked at the man. His face making wrinkles from his expression of what seemed like regret and grief. He couldn’t answer his question, and so he remained silent. -I think not. And I truly hope you don’t. He sighed. -What do you mean? He asked the man. -What was it like to be in the face of death?

He stopped to answer the young man’s question. With a pat on the shoulder, he spoke in his deep voice. -You see, my child, we think death is as simple as just not being able to feel anything, being painless. But that is where you are wrong.

The man was interrupted as a bolt of lightning pierced through the sky followed by a roaring thunder. Yet the rain still wouldn’t give in. So the man continued to speak. -As death’s face peers into your eyes, you feel your soul trembling and screaming inside your lungs, but death wouldn’t let you

go without a fight. So you struggle to keep yourself alive while wishing you shouldn’t have survived. -How do you know all of these? The young man felt uncomfortable all of a sudden. -Have you ever... killed someone? He felt a sudden chill in his spine as he thought of all the possibilities. -My child... I have. He answered back.

The young man widened his eyes in shock and fear. -But, it was in a war and I had no choice.

The young man looked relieved for a moment, and tensed up again at the thought of knowing he was speaking to a soldier who went in war. They both kept walking in the same regular phase as any other else in the crowd. -Then what is it like to be in the opposite place, to be the face of death itself? The young man asked out of curiosity. -It is terrifying. He emphasized with his strange accent. -It is horrid and despicable. He emphasized more.

He lowered his voice and he looked down. -It consumes you out of power and fear.

The rain started to pour down and the people put up their umbrellas and stopped as they reached their destination. A man carrying a cross and a bible spoke. He paid attention to him, until the man he was talking to broke down in tears. His eyebrows meeting each other with the most pain in his eyes. He looked like a mess, and everyone started crying under their umbrellas, with the rain. It was such a gloomy sight and he couldn’t bear to see everyone like that. The old man in front of him, walked away from everyone. He followed the man, passing by tombstones and monuments. He looked back at the crowd of people, hearing their cries along with the drips of raindrops. The view was unbearable. He knew the person in that box covered in flag, was a good man who tried to protect everyone. And he was now gone.

He kept walking towards the man until he came across him sitting under a willow tree. He was crying alone. -He was a good friend wasn’t he? The young man tapped his shoulders.

The man looked up at him. -It was me. I didn’t mean to. The young man was confused. -I didn’t know him, he did not know me, but somehow we had to fight.

The man was shocked his eyes wide open as he kept his distance from the man. -I wished times would have been different. I wished it didn’t turn out like this but it was a fight for a land he loved so much and for the people he dearly kept.

The young man was still in shock. The man sighed heavily, stood up and slowly walked away. He knew it wasn’t his place for grief or apologies.