They made screeching, squealing, earsplitting noise with their cruel, big laughs. The words they uttered sounded like evil chants to me. My ears bled inside. They pricked my skin with teeny-tiny tridents that stung. Their invisible, furry tails wagged before they strangled me one by one and then altogether. I gasped for air, but there was only car fumes to breathe. Their presence gave off heat as hot as the initial heat of an iron that my brain cells burned and I perspired like cold bottle of water. My face slowly turned red, covering its overall paleness. My lips were dry and choppy, barely moving. My tiny eyes started to get wet as I started screaming in my head words I did not even understand. It was the devil's hour in the afternoon.
Besides religious teachings and literary readings on the concept of hell, no one among us has really ever been to hell, nor heaven, to speak widely and intelligently about such metaphysical topic. It is the same case with death; yet it is ironic how people assume vast knowledge that of a dead person, or in my case, that of a person in hell. Nevertheless, today, I encountered hell.
TO THOSE UP RURAL STUDENTS I RODE WITH IN THE JEEPNEY TO CALAMBA THIS AFTERNOON, I BEG ALL THE GODS TO MAKE YOU GROW UP IMMEDIATELY AND STOP BEING A THREAT TO HUMANITY. Albeit our attempts to ssshhh your big mouths, you remained insensitive. Your noise was unreasonable and unbearable. With all the traffic and your noise, I literally wanted to jump out of the jeepney. That was the worst trip I ever had in my entire life.
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