Wooden Planks

It was pitch black outside. Under the refuge of the damp wooden planks, not a soul could hear them. The footsteps have been gone for about an hour now. At that moment, everything in their little world became still.

It was a small hole in the ground, with slashes of moonlight peeking through the gaps of the planks. The air inside was heavy with the fragrance of the earth and the smell of their breaths as they panted quietly beneath. All was still that night, and not a soul could be heard. If you focused hard enough, you would be able to hear the rush of your own blood, coursing through your veins. This, along with the tremendous fright he got before they went in there, was all too much for Uriel.

"Inday, let's play a game." Uriel muttered in the dark. His dark hair, matted with mud, clung to his soft, delicate face. His features spoke of a well-caring Mama and Papa who tried so hard not to let anything touch the sweet proportions that is him, and of careless days spent baking under the sun, so free and so young, just how a boy of thirteen ought to be. He was the poster boy of youth: wild, reckless, and free.

His sister was no such thing. With skin as brown and bumpy as a nut, and a face akin to that of a malnourished goat, she was everything you could describe as unsightly for a girl coming of age. But poor, ugly Inday wasn't just any girl. To Uriel, Inday meant the world, in all her poverty and homeliness.

"What game?" She whispered.

"A confession game. What else?" Uriel rolled his eyes, until he realized Inday couldn't even see his insult.

"Haven't we already played that?"

"Yes...but I want to play it again."

"But kuya, I have nothing to confess anymore." Inday whined.

"Yes, you do. Come on, this could be the last time we could ever-" The words caught on his throat.

"The last time we could ever play." Inday finished for her brother. Then, the air inside the little hole was once again fell into quiet. Little, ugly Inday always knew what to say. Even with no proper schooling, Inday was a smart little bug, always had an idea for everything. Oftentimes, Kuya Uriel felt like he should be the one addressing her with respect, not the other way around.

Neither of the siblings spoke for a while. The words sunk deep in their hearts. Suddenly, Uriel didn't feel like playing anymore.

"Go on...say something..." Inday finally broke the silence with a voice as shaken as she was. Suddenly, Kuya Uriel didn't feel like being a kuya anymore.

"I wish Mama and Papa are still okay." He whispered.

A few hours ago, while the blazing sun was still smiling above the mountain, Uriel remembered seeing his Mama doing Aling Jenny's laundry, just a few yards down from the hill where their humble nipa hut stood. He was chewing on the freshly picked bayabas that his sister handed to him before she sauntered off to elsewhere. At the back of the hut, he heard his father's shovel, hurriedly digging . Everything was right where it was supposed to be.

They lived under the covers of the forests, a place where nothing ever happens and no ever complains. It wasn't a place where you grab a beer or a nice lass - it wasn't like that at all. It was the kind of place where everyone knew everyone. It's a place you go to to find peace and tranquility. A place of refuge. A place that Uriel and Inday once called home.

Suddenly, home felt like a world away. Uriel longed for his Mama's cooking and his father's stories. Like the boy he was, Uriel thought that if he could just squeeze his eyes tight enough, he would be able to smell the earthy scent of the grass above them, feel the soft breeze of summer on his cheeks, and taste the tanginess of the bayabas Inday had picked from their backyard. Isn't it funny how time flies so fast in a place where nothing ever happens? One moment, Uriel was a boy of thirteen, the next, he was a man of thirty.

He heard his sister sniff from across the hole that their Papa made.

"Why are you crying, Inday?"

"Why are you not?"

"Why should I?"

"Can't you see?"

"What can I not see?"

"Listen."

And Uriel did. Beyond the covers of the wooden planks, not a soul could be heard. Not the footsteps of a curious neighbor, not a single crackle from a fire, not even the singing of the crickets. At that moment, everything was too still for Uriel to handle. Uriel felt like a lonely boy of thirteen again.

A few hours before supper, he remembered his Papa at the backyard. His Papa had called for him, and when Uriel appeared, his Papa whispered a secret.

"See that hole, son?" He said, pointing at the freshly dug hole behind a bush.

"Yes, papa."

"When they come, you know where to go, okay?" He patted Uriel's dark locks. "Be a big boy, Uriel." And with that, he went off to fetch himself some water.

While their family was enjoying their meager meal, they heard them. Their coming was always heralded by the sounds of screaming and gunfire, always, always the gunfire. Uriel had heard them before, back in town. He was with Papa then. It was supposed to be a normal day of picking up the fertilizer and heading home. But they had no such plans. The ruin they made of Mindanao is enough proof of that. Luckily, father and son escaped the town before it collapsed. Terrorists rarely have notions for politeness.

Their Mama put out the ligh in the oil lamp and closed the shutters. Their Papa went to the kitchen and grabbed his itak. The children sat by the low table, still chewing on the few scraps Mama had made for them. In a frenzy, their Mama grabbed both the children by the hands and led them out through the back door.

"Kuya, you take care of Inday for Mama, okay?" She whispered as she led them both to the backyard. There, she lifted three, large, wooden planks and carefully set down her children down the hole.

"Mama, there's still room for you here!" Inday said, patting the space next to her.

"No, no, dear. Mama, will no be going down there." She said, stifling the tears threatening to pour. She kissed each of her children in the forehead. "I love you." She placed the wooden planks back above the hole before covering it with a false bush.

That supper felt like a lifetime ago to the two siblings.

"Kuya, I want Mam-" Before Inday could even finish what she had to say, Uriel took her under his hands. The world beyond the wooden planks wasn't quiet anymore. Outside, Uriel heard the deep voices of men, their laughter piercing the quiet of the night. They were talking in strange tongues that neither of them understood, but both of them knew what the sounds meant.

They're here.

Where is Mama and Papa? Why didn't they come down with us? Why did they leave us? Why did they leave us? As much as Uriel wanted to scream out his queries, he knew it was too late, for he had heard the first shot. It was a sharp, shrill sound, so loud that it felt as if it were shot right beside his ear. Uriel felt hot tears rushing down his face as he tried to muffle Inday's protests.

Suddenly, he heard a man scream. It was loud, angry, and full of hatred. Then he heard a quick slash in the wind as his father's itak slit one of the men's throat. The scream didn't last long however, for a second shot was fired. Uriel did not need to see his Papa to know that he was dead. Under his hands, he felt Inday try to fight his iron hold. He tightened his grip and held back the violent rush from his eyes.

The men were laughing now. Uriel heard two, three men climbing up the bamboo stairs of their house. Not even a minute after, he heard a woman scream.

Mama!

He felt his grip getting tighter.

"PLEASE! NO! PLEASE!" Uriel heard his mother scream as one of the men ripped off her skirt. Uriel had to hold back his own screams as he listened to his mother's agony.

"STOP! PLEASE!" His Mama wailed and wailed but none of them listened. Big men with big guns rarely listen to farmer's wives, especially when they're too busy taking their dignity. Just when he thought that the screams would go on forever, his Mama was relieved of the pain. Uriel was very sure of that because her wailing stopped after the third bullet.

From under the hole, Uriel listened as the men descended the stairs and waited until their cold, cold laughter was out of earshot.

"Inday, it's okay now." He whispered as he slowly let go of his hold on Inday. Her head fell limp on his arms.

"Inday, please wake up now. The bad men are gone, see? The bad men are gone..."

That night, under the covers of the wooden planks, their little world felt all too quiet for Uriel.

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Hey guys! So the story you've just read (assuming that you did read) is actually my assignment for my Creative Writing class. I hope you guys enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! Also, constructive criticism is always appreciated here. Thanks, guys!