Cly’S ENIGMAS: The Voices at Room 533 September 8, 2015 at 2:05pm
Mr. Saimada’s screechy voice rang loudly throughout the navy-green flooded room of 533. Half of the 3rd year Criminology Class intently listened and jotted down to his boredom-inducing discussion on the Philippine Economy while others wore awed faces that Friday morning. It was still 11:14 and the consecutively smooth howling has captured the attention of the room, both of its students and its irritated teacher.
“Kinsa ron?” Mr. Saimada asked.
Everyone eyed the big-bellied boys at the back where the serene voices seem to originate. The young men stared back to the front looking as innocent as a criminology student deems to look. Minutes of deafening silence passed and the ever-so popular “criminology sense of humor” kicked in.
Students started to mock the unexplainable phenomenon as they mimic each high-pitch note. Not everyone got the jokes. There were giggles and whispered invectives mixing with the heavy atmosphere of the room.
The girls sitting at the front row draw closer to each other with every gush of wind. Kate sharply eyed the boys at the back.
“Dili sila, Chae.” Cindy whispered. Kate faced her with an irritated look.
Cindy didn’t mind. She knows that Kate is afraid, like most of them. She needs to act and feel annoyed or she’ll be the first to run through the huge, dark brown door. Cindy felt the obligation to let Kate know what she knew.
“Dili man guro sila ang naghilakhilak, Kate. Nagsige na unta na’g pangatawa ang mga labad kung mutalikod si Sir, di’ ba? Pero tan-awa, bulldog gihapon kaayo, ay.” Cindy emphasized.
Kate stared at the board. She didn’t need to look back at the boys to prove the reliability of Cindy’s observation.
“Kadungug naka anang Clara?” Cindy finally asked.
Kate looked at Cindy. Which BICUlite would not know the Maiden at the Winter Floor? Even those who have not enrolled at Bogo Intercontinental University are too familiar with the name. Her story has been passed from generation to generation, to relatives, to classmates, to friends –and Kate is about to take part of this tradition.
“Kato laging working nga ninglayat?” Kate blurted out.
“Working student di ay na siya?” Cindy asked in an irritated tone.
Kate answered back, “Working student man daw na si Clara, Wins. Namiga ug sayo ang bayot, aw ‘di ninghubag! Karon, ka’baw ka aning ikal nga may lang kung ang salad init pa, wa’na nagpakita kang inday Clara. Sa kauwaw or kahiubus, aw nagdarna!”
Mr. Saimada stood as awkwardly upright as his skinny body frame opt him to as he discreetly said, “Class,.. hilomi.”
And they did what was told, even the whimpers resuscitating throughout the room took heed. He continued his discussion as his eyes pierced each listener, as if telling them to shut the hell up or face the unbearable consequences he might be able to think of later. Then the instructor turned his back, convinced that he had made his point. But just as he finished writing the word “Colonization” on the board, a gush of wind angrily blew. The eraser fell with a loud thud on the floor and papers started flying around. Window panes stared vibrating like thunder and a chilling howl broke the silence once again. It was followed by another and another, each louder than the first as the wind grew strong at Room 533.
Everyone was scared now, and cold.
“Nagpatuyang nalang ju’g pataka si Kate.” Ernest butted in with a smirk in his futile attempt to distract his peers from the unnatural condition of their class room. “Dato man gud na si Clara, day.” He said as he observed the facial expressions of his audience. They’re starting to relax. “Di’ lang to sila taga diri. Nah, ingun gani sila nga gwapa, puti, mamords. Sus, lubot pa’y imo-“
“Unya?!’ Lori asked her boyfriend in a high pitched voice, as if reminding him to watch his tone while talking about another girl.
“Di’ man gud.” Ernest decided to choose his next words carefully. “Kuan, basta nabuntis! Mahadlok daw mangatubang ang uyab, muto nagkalalis sila diri. S’yagit-s’yagit, nagtinukmuray. Nagtalikod man si Clara sa bintana, natukmuran, nahulog.”
“Ingon pa, gitukmod kuno’g tuyo?” Lori felt the urge to contribute. “Mao daw, bae, nga di’ mahimutang kay gipatay aron dili nalang panagutan ang baby.”
The howls were unforced and almost relaxing to the ears. Like listening to a soloist at church singing the Magnificat at dawn, the sound was beautiful.
“Pero ngano kaha nga magparamdam na s’ya this time of the year jud? Daghan baya’ng kabantay ana. Abi nako kay working s’ya. Mura ma’g weird nga magbati siya’g months before founders, mura’g naa sya’y buot ipasabot ba.”
Cindy looked at her classmates, as if looking for something from their eyes. She knows a different story, more gruesome and yet very believable. Should she say it? Should she not?
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