ASLEEP BENEATH THE CITY

Image Source: D. Gastin. License: https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0/deed.en

“I hate this city old man!” The lad in hipster clothes did his third spitting on the concrete as he cast a scornful look to the towering pillars placed randomly around Manila.

Neon glows, voices and noises; everything breeds nothing but shallow pretense to him. Submerging his senses on those stimulants is akin to eating a burger that upon the first bite, you will eventually notice that the patties are missing.

It is always been hollow in the inside.

“Those skyscrapers look like giant tombstone if you ask me.” He continue while trying to find his last stick of cigarette on his pocket.

“Why that is exactly the truth son.” The old man of the city who live day and night begging and sleeping answer him as he ponder with his own set of pale eyes the technicolor lights blinking against the black horizon of the city like countless candles in the wind.

“This the graveyard of creatures who once tried to devour the moon. But thanks to the Catalonan’s, they are now in deep, undisturbed slumber.”

The young lad chuckle upon hearing the short excerpt from the old man as he puffed thin wisp of bluish white vapor from his lips with arms akimbo.

“Nice one old man. But what if they rise from the grave? I would be fucking thankful if they resurface and eat not just the moon…”

The old man looked at the lad and found that he is not spouting a joke at all. The lad’s dead set eyes and icy voice tells him that he means every word he spit.

“…he can eat all of ‘em.”

With one flash of darkness all the artificial stars in the city was snuffed; a domino of brightness that went dead one by one.

“Do you know why the city must always be noisy as if it knows no sleep?”

The lad shook his head as he wonder how the city suddenly become a lifeless ruin of silhouette with all its three dimensional structures become cardboard cutout that emit opaqueness under the cover of the peerless moon.

He wanted to commend the old man for another entertaining excerpt but his mouth can’t produce any single sound; his throat now a futile chunk of flesh and nerves void of any words or whispers. The hollowness perpetually choking his voice.

Ground moves underneath their feet; a spasm of chaotic nature as if they are stepping on a womb preparing its arduous labor. It doesn’t scream but the agony can be felt from the movement that exhibits violence and pleading for release. From the colossal urban obelisk come forth another gigantic structures but not of steel and concrete. They are made of scales, feathers, pincers and claws.

The climax begin when these structure starts moving; rising from their tomb and ready to raise a primal yet familiar vision of  fear that still bears a deafening ring to the people of the city despite that this was only a fragment of their ancestor’s memory that unfortunately remain still in their psyche.

It was scene both painted in poetic beauty and visceral nightmare: a serpent, a bird, a tiger and a crustacean all bearing the size of a god laying waste upon each other and city that is now turning into a violent playground for them.

A stampede of silent, horrified crowd added a final touch to the whole catastrophic landscape.

“…and the winner is…”The old man is having fun as he place his bet to the monstrous being who he thinks will swallow the moon first.

“Ah. Of course it’s the good old Bakunawa. The snake is really persistent no?” He snicker as he and the lad (who still desperately trying to make a sound from his throat) albeit with futile effort) witness the slithering body of the colossal Bakunawa inch its way towards the moon while the other moon eaters busy themselves in crushing each other with their own set of feral weapons.

As the jaw of the Bakunawa tear the pearl of the night from space, the whole heaven turn into crimson as if it was inflicted by a wound so deep that healing is not even an option anymore.

“When the moon is gone, they’ll go for men to satisfy their hunger.”

Minokawa, the avian with sword feathers, swoop down the city; slicing everything on its way with its wings and scooping hundreds of people from its beak. The chariot of the Arimaonga grind both flesh and dirt on its wheel as it pounce on everything that moves on its sight. Massive number of bodies and buildings are cut into countless snippets of bones and entrails every time the gigantic Tambanokawa swing its titanic pincer.

“Well, your wish just happen lad…but you still don’t look happy.” The old man said while seeing the distraught face of the young man as he watch, without any voice to spare, how the world comes to an end.

“You’re supposed to take selfie isn’t it? And make some hashtag for it. Why aren’t you doing anything?”

The lad with nothing to say and nothing to hold on to just ran as fast as he can away from him.

“Silly child…all rants and no guts.” The old man sigh as he wait for the moon eaters to finish their meal.

“Guess I need to start all over again and create men with tongue connected to their brain.” He went back to heaven to prepare his cauldron and a fresh batch of clay. Maybe this time he will not focus more on color but the substance of the clay he will use.