But I refused.

"No, it's okay, my father will arrive early this afternoon. I will wait for him. "

"You sure?" Fabio asked.

"No, I insist," as she went to the kitchen and transferred the dish from the pan to the big white bowl. And then she was disposing of the plates and silver utensils on the table.

" come… sit here ms. Ellena while the soup is still hot" she ordered and smiled at my direction.

They were all too nice to be rejected, I thought and the savoury smell that waft under my nose told me to do so, and as soon as I got up, I heard my belly snarl. I look at the wall clock with a cuckoo Bird, just above the dining table; it's past 11.

My parents were close to them as far as I can remember when I was a younger kid, I don't know what happened after that. The less interactions had started a few years ago, when my dad was in the long process of grieving for losing mom and after that— on my stepmother, Melinda.

Then, I noticed things I haven't had before; the living room was a bit larger than ours and the walls were furnished with lots of small picture frames and crude paintings. The place was neat and average looking.

"So how's the seminar?" Mr. Smith asked Fabio.

"Good… good, it was just but tiring, but nonetheless it's still fun."

"We're grouped together with other districts…"

"Is the place huge enough?"

" yes. The place was big enough and we almost occupied the whole place"

"Really?"

"Yes"

While still gorging quietly on my food, I glance back again on the collection of photos on the wall. Most of them were photos of both Mr and Mrs Smith, the larger one was their wedding photo; Mrs. Smith in a white elegant dress and Mr. Smith in a black suit, and when I looked at them, chatting happily. Then back on the photo, I can discern that they were too young when they committed their vows to each other. Others belong to Ms. Smith, the one's prominent was her photo, on a side view with her hair cascading. And the rest was all about certificates.

But when I was about to go back to eating, I saw a one picture just above the table, below the collection of wall pictures. It was in the middle of two vases.

A picture of a young man who seemingly posed for his graduation. Wearing a blue academic dress and a red necktie. He has an awkward smile.

Then, Mrs. Smith caught a glimpse of me, looking at what was supposedly the photo of their deceased son. She looked at it, too.

"That's my son, mike…" Mrs. Smith said.

"You still remembered him?"

My eyebrows furrowed and examined more of his face. I couldn't remember so much of him, I tried to scour the corners of my brain, bug the only thing I can remeu was that they did really have a son. It was a long time ago when I saw him, and for me, to young to remember everything.

So I asked, "who is he?"

"He's your brother Mike, remember he used to play with you, and when you— ohh! I almost forgot, you were only 8 at that time and too young, maybe that's the reason you can't remember it all anymore. "

I only nodded, still baffled.

"You can't really remember him?" Mr. Smith asked.

"Yeah, he's a bit familiar to me, but I don't know, I can't remember so much more," I answered, "but where is he?"

Then at that questy, there's a terrible silence that resided on the three of them. I looked to see all their sad- serious looking reactions.

Then Mrs. Smith smiled and said

"He's gone already"

"What do you mean by that?"

"I mean he had already passed away…" and from the tone of her voice, there was emotional vulnerability, a braying voice.

She sighed. "If only he was still here. He will be a licensed engineer, right now, for sure" she boasted.

"I'm so sorry for your loss," I said.

Suddenly their high energy, lowered down.

"I don't know what happened… if there's something unknown possessed him or maybe the tale was right"

"Past is past" Mr. Smith overrode.

"Let's just forget the past, it's already done. Let's just move on and be grateful for what we have now " he tried to sound encouraging amidst the still disappointment sounding of Mrs. Smith. While Fabio was still quietly eating on his plate.

"That kid was so silent, and if only —"

"Ma… pls stop already. Let's just not talk who's not here" he asked politely

Then from out of nowhere, we all heard a ring of a nail being hammered down a wall or any solid matter. We all rise up from our plate and search the whole place, where is that coming from. And even from the outside, Fabio searched, too, while still sitting on his chair, since he's the nearest. Its continuously going, and from the sound of it were ringing on our ears which made us grimaced a bit. Absolutely, it's from their house and each blow of it seems to stagger the building a bit.

Then I came to a sudden conclusion, a cold breeze whispering at my back up to my neck. I knew or I almost knew where and to whom it was all coming. If then what I'd just seen is true, then why didn't they know about that? I felt my chest tightened and my heart started to hammer just like how the noise is still going. If I was right, it's coming upstairs. I wanted to say it, but somehow I can't get the right moment and even the words seem to be oppressed from the inside.

They finally realized it was just coming from ahead above. Before even Mr. Smith had rose up, already Fabio had volunteered and now slowly finding his way upstairs. And the sound of his stepping foot on their wooden staircase, were creaky. The noise had stopped as soon as he came upstairs. We heard the opening and closing door, creaky, and then the another. The first one was what I assumed to be Fabio's room, the second belongs to the couple; seemingly now undisturbed as I looked at them, finishing their plates. Later on, we heard him clattered down the stairs

"I didn't find anything," he said.

"Then where it was coming?" Mr. Smith posed

He only shrugged it off and went one back again on the outside, peeking on the nearby houses, where it was probably coming, but seeing none, even the noise was already gone. This seems to completely baffle me.

And to double check, Mr. Smith went to their sink and peek in their backyard, from the window, and still see none. But there were only trees and the serenade of bird chirps. Then he went back.

What was that, I thought, is it made only by my imagination. But definitely, I know I'm not the only one who hears it all.

Then from the luminous light above, something tiny whirled past on it, that reflects its shadows. I looked up to see what seemingly looked like a moth, hovering above it, before clinging onto it and when it did, on its back— I saw a human skull figure.

Then suddenly, I heard a honk of a car, twice and its mechanically churning stomach died down. I looked outside to see dad got out of his jeepney.

"Who's that?" Asked Mr. Smith, then he looked outside, too.

"It's dad" I said quietly

"Oh, you're dad already arrived"

"So how's the dishes?"

"It's good, thank you so much," I said gratefully.

"Then you can now go to him, he must be looking for you"

"Okay, thank you again"

And with that, I left their home. Only with still a few thoughts bulking; the intrusive noises of the metallic rung that seems to be nowhere to be found. His son, that I used to play with when I was younger, but my childhood memories are dimly litten, although I agreed when she said that I used to play with him. If that's him, something I was not so sure of, then finally, that's the first time I saw an insect with that kind of drawing on the back.

Before finally entering inside our home, I glimpse back, once again, on their home— searching for the unsearchable.

————

"Where did you go? I already told you, you must stay at home. And you even left the door open" he said rising in exasperation.

He was sweating pool and basking from his face and skin sunburn, he must have been standing in the middle of a bare field, under the sun, for long hours.

"I came from Smith's home," I answered.

He's right though, when he said I shouldn't leave home for some preventive measures, I thought or, if I did leave, I should at least think of closing the door. I slumped shamefully. But I didn't say sorry, even though I felt it.

"Let's eat" he offered, now taking out the hot soup on a plastic bag, from a paper bag.

"I ate already" I said timidly,

"Mr. And Mrs. Smith offered me some lunch"

"So you can't wait for me? Huh?" He said in a bit mocking tone, then shook his head. I'm confused if that's something I need to feel ashamed of.

"Because they insisted and I can't refuse because they prepared it already for me…" and I said it in a tone of someone defending herself.

"Are you already full?"

"Yes, I'am."

"If you're still hungry, then eat. I can't finish this thing off. There's so much. Just don't hesitate"

I nodded only to agree. Then I sat on the sofa, facing the flashing television. The t.v show was cut short by breaking news. A woman in a pink dress delivering news about a storm that is expected to be a strong one, and preparation is needed. But she gave a quick chest relief, when she said that it will be fast and will not stay in the region for too long. Then I quickly remembered the girl's description of the storm and its resemblance to the boy wearing a wolf-mask that nearly caused our death. I suddenly realized as I looked at dad, who's gulfing on his feast, why he didn't even bother again to mention or even discuss it. How fast he had forgotten, as if that near-to-death experience was somewhat comically so sudden. But from the thought of it, I grimace in the pain, knowing life can only live at once.

In the late afternoon, father went back to his shop in the main town and in an instant, I was alone again. Bewildered still to the things I'd just witnessed; from the carcass of Mr. And Mrs. Celestio's son, the what I supposed to be the killer that I'd caught with my two naked eye; all this stirred questions; who's the killer. But clearly, when I thought some people around me seemingly not disturbed at all, and maybe because there is so much evidence that can pinpoint where all of these were coming from, and why he's doing this.

This put a large question mark on my head and a furrow on my brow.

But there's one thing I knew right now. I'm with one of the bravest people in the world, with the bravest obligation to protect the freedom of his people from the corrupt, even for the sake of losing him. Seasoned with years and years of experience from the combat field.

All the scars and marks left by the wars on him, was a token of his bravery and unceasing hope. I just can't imagine how hard those days can be for him. Knowing there's a higher stake he couldn't retain back; his own life and ours.

The sun is dimming away. Tree tops peppered with blotches of gold light, swaying and rustling in the sudden rush of wind, every now and then. The enveloping home for wildlife, aroused with the concerting insects. I sat on my bed, looking through, beyond the window, to the horizon, to the dripping gold in the sky and how it thins down. Then, I stood up to look from the