Family Untied
"Pua iyam." The sound, barely audible came from behind the excruciatingly slow opening of the grand door. Miguel in his swirling and nauseating state tried to discern the words.
"Pua iyam." The phrase, difficult to understand yet he knew he already heard it years ago. He knew it is deeply seated at the far reach of his memory.
"Welcome home, you pua iyam." And the monstrous, antique, wooden carved door finally opened in its full glory, with the exquisite dining room seen from a distance, its area large enough to hold twenty, no, even thirty people. With eyes transfixed on the whitish figure in front of him, Miguel rubbed his eyes repeatedly just to make sure he was not dreaming or being caught by hallucination.
The whitish figure luminated like a disco ball hanging at the middle of the club although the one in front of him resembled that of a woman, with the perfect set concaves and convexes. The silhouette remained in front of him for the longest time, its eyes were blank and so were the ears and nose, however, the lips, pursed ever so slightly was intently smiling at Miguel who by then seemed dazed. Little by little the figure stepped closer to the gate, its right hand reaching towards his face. Miguel was now trembling with fear!
Who or what is this woman doing? He could not speak.
I need to get away! He could not move a single muscle.
Look away, look away! He could not stray his gaze.
The woman cupped his face and, with the sweetest smile she could show she removed her hand from underneath his chin and gave Miguel the strongest slap she can.
With a figure of a hand embedded on his now painful left cheek, Miguel looked dangerously at the woman, he stared that of a devil, his smile that of a psycho.
"What the hell did you just do?" He demanded for a concrete answer. He was already clenching his fists, building with rage.
"I slapped you, you pua iyam." Alexa told him in a fiercely manner.
The word, pua iyam, I could not fathom why it seems significant. Miguel, riddled even interested by the meaning of it, tried hard to search his thoughts. The drug and the alcohol seemed to mix his mind into a fluid of some sort: he had disorganization of thoughts, he had flight of ideas, he had alogia, he had the current mind of a schizophrenia.
But something in those two words made him completely uneasy, uneasy for him to storm into his room while shoving his sister to their pavement.
"You one-balled freak!!!" Screamed his sister.
He suddenly stopped mid-way across the balustrade of their winding stairs then proceeded to open his room and shut out from the world.
Oh! The nerve of that faggot! Alexa, fuming madly and placing her hands on her sides while trying to pick her balance but what Miguel just did made her reminisce their childhood past.
She could still remember when they were barely stepping primary level: Alexa was in prep while Miguel was in kinder. They were inseparable. He would always go to her class during recess and they would eat together for the whole thirty minutes. She also remembers how her younger brother never really was too fond of people, being in a patriarchal locality really has its benefits and disadvantages. He barely plays with other kids their age aside from their cousins and he stays away from kids even his parents introduce to him. He was really a picky, picky child. But somehow it lessened when their cousins started playing sports, well, more particularly soccer from there they met a lot of children around the neighborhood - social status was inexistent that time. They did not give a damn whether their playmates had soiled clothes or if they were somehow covered in grease or that their soccer shoes were nearly decapitated. What matters that time was the laughter, the fun, the enjoyment they shared together.
However, as Alexa recalls, Miguel never really liked any contact sports. No, he despised the idea of contact sports from basketball to volleyball to soccer, anything that has got to do with sweat and rubbing with each other's bodies. His playmates would really have a hard time requesting for him to join them. Sure, he would play, but somehow it just does not feel like he's giving it his all. That was what was bothering her for a long time. She was concerned for her brother, being only a brood of two.
And it did not help either that he was getting chubbier everyday. His brother had a voracious appetite. She thought that was only part of boys, hormones and growing up.
Little did she know it would turn into something, hmmm, difficult.
Part 3
"Pua iyam." The phrase, difficult to understand yet he knew he already heard it years ago. He knew it is deeply seated at the far reach of his memory.
"Welcome home, you pua iyam." And the monstrous, antique, wooden carved door finally opened in its full glory, with the exquisite dining room seen from a distance, its area large enough to hold twenty, no, even thirty people. With eyes transfixed on the whitish figure in front of him, Miguel rubbed his eyes repeatedly just to make sure he was not dreaming or being caught by hallucination.
The whitish figure luminated like a disco ball hanging at the middle of the club although the one in front of him resembled that of a woman, with the perfect set concaves and convexes. The silhouette remained in front of him for the longest time, its eyes were blank and so were the ears and nose, however, the lips, pursed ever so slightly was intently smiling at Miguel who by then seemed dazed. Little by little the figure stepped closer to the gate, its right hand reaching towards his face. Miguel was now trembling with fear!
Who or what is this woman doing? He could not speak.
I need to get away! He could not move a single muscle.
Look away, look away! He could not stray his gaze.
The woman cupped his face and, with the sweetest smile she could show she removed her hand from underneath his chin and gave Miguel the strongest slap she can.
With a figure of a hand embedded on his now painful left cheek, Miguel looked dangerously at the woman, he stared that of a devil, his smile that of a psycho.
"What the hell did you just do?" He demanded for a concrete answer. He was already clenching his fists, building with rage.
"I slapped you, you pua iyam." Alexa told him in a fiercely manner.
The word, pua iyam, I could not fathom why it seems significant. Miguel, riddled even interested by the meaning of it, tried hard to search his thoughts. The drug and the alcohol seemed to mix his mind into a fluid of some sort: he had disorganization of thoughts, he had flight of ideas, he had alogia, he had the current mind of a schizophrenia.
But something in those two words made him completely uneasy, uneasy for him to storm into his room while shoving his sister to their pavement.
"You one-balled freak!!!" Screamed his sister.
He suddenly stopped mid-way across the balustrade of their winding stairs then proceeded to open his room and shut out from the world.
Oh! The nerve of that faggot! Alexa, fuming madly and placing her hands on her sides while trying to pick her balance but what Miguel just did made her reminisce their childhood past.
She could still remember when they were barely stepping primary level: Alexa was in prep while Miguel was in kinder. They were inseparable. He would always go to her class during recess and they would eat together for the whole thirty minutes. She also remembers how her younger brother never really was too fond of people, being in a patriarchal locality really has its benefits and disadvantages. He barely plays with other kids their age aside from their cousins and he stays away from kids even his parents introduce to him. He was really a picky, picky child. But somehow it lessened when their cousins started playing sports, well, more particularly soccer from there they met a lot of children around the neighborhood - social status was inexistent that time. They did not give a damn whether their playmates had soiled clothes or if they were somehow covered in grease or that their soccer shoes were nearly decapitated. What matters that time was the laughter, the fun, the enjoyment they shared together.
However, as Alexa recalls, Miguel never really liked any contact sports. No, he despised the idea of contact sports from basketball to volleyball to soccer, anything that has got to do with sweat and rubbing with each other's bodies. His playmates would really have a hard time requesting for him to join them. Sure, he would play, but somehow it just does not feel like he's giving it his all. That was what was bothering her for a long time. She was concerned for her brother, being only a brood of two.
And it did not help either that he was getting chubbier everyday. His brother had a voracious appetite. She thought that was only part of boys, hormones and growing up.
Little did she know it would turn into something, hmmm, difficult.
Part 3
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