Fisherboy and Other Stories

By Jonathan Aquino

A young radio talk show host meets an angel during a live broadcast. A fifteen-year orphan discovers the ways of the world yet also finds he is not alone. A young woman goes to the city to start a new life and learns that redemption begins with letting go of the past.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jonathan Aquino
• Release date: May 4, 2014
• ISBN: 9781311984203

Jonathan Aquino

Jonathan Aquino is the author of Fisherboy, A Wonderful World, A Celebration of Life and The Way To Inner Peace. His stories, essays, articles, poetry and special reports have appeared in various major publications. His Saturday night blog 2Rivers.blogspot.com is about music and individual self expression. His plays have aired on national radio in the Philippines. Jonathan's philosophy is summed up in Ralph Waldo Emerson's On Self-Reliance: “A man should learn to detect and watch that gleam of light which flashes across his mind from within, more than the lustre of the firmament of bards and sages."

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Fisherboy

Stories and Short Novels

By Jonathan Aquino

Copyright 2014 Jonathan Aquino

Smashwords Edition

David's Soul

The Vampire Michael

Class of ‘07

Baywalk

Toti Cabrera and the Mystery of the Mind

Johnnybee

Jukebox

Fisherboy: Imaginarily Directed By Ishmael Bernal

Rain

David’s Soul

The street was deserted. Rats scurry through the remains of the city's wastes under a broken lamp post. The dark windows of the ancient houses watched our passage like the eyes of blind sentinels. We were alone; the pungent smell of rodents our only reminder from the land where we once lived. My companion, a wistful man shrunken with age, gazed in silence towards the sky. The moon was hidden, the stars mute.

When I was young, he sighed with an air of dignified sadness, I used to walk these streets when, as a boy, I would accompany my father to the shop. He was a fine barber, my father. When he cuts your hair, you emerge a new person. A damn good chess player too. There was nobody in town who could beat him, not even the capitan del barrio.God bless their souls.

God, I scoffed, not without bitterness. You're a fool, old man. There is no God. There is nothing.

He looked at me with eyes clouded in despair.

Yesterday was the last day of my old life, I continued. I went to the hills, on the other side of town. It was nearly dusk then. Twilight, the struggle of good and evil.And darkness reigned. I shouted to the heavens, no, I take that back, there is no heaven either. I shouted to the sky. If there is a God, I said, show yourself! Show me! Show me the face of the jester who delights in the sufferings of humanity. There was no answer. Nothing. Not even a sparrow flying over the field. I was looking for a sign. There was nothing. I made the decision that midnight, the time when the spirits from the netherworld are said to roam.I dreamt that I, like Faust, can bargain for my soul. A deal with the Devil – untold wealth, glory, absolute power! But nothing. There was no Devil either.

Why did you do it? asked my companion with a troubled frown.

I narrowed my eyes, gazing thoughtfully at the blooming bougainvilleas in a dilapidated trellis of an empty house.

Why? I replied.

He nodded with an air of compassion.

Why did I? I asked myself. Why not? What's the point of it all anyway? I’m seventeen. I was, as they say, at my prime. A promising young man, they called me. I was at the top of my class. They said, just by looking at me, that I had a great future. They said that I'll be a successful doctor, a famous surgeon in the city. That I'll grow in fortune and fame. And they'll proclaim me as the town's beloved son. My mother, she was proud, very proud. My only boy, she said, will bring the family great honor. I had two sisters. One went away with a farmer's son from the next barrio. She never came back.They said that that no-good bastard left her, and she killed the baby in her womb. They said she had gone to the city, selling herself. I don't believe that. But they were just rumors. Nobody really knew anything. Anyway, my other sister was – different. She never went to school. No, she did sometime, but they can never teach her to read. They said she had the mind of a child. And now, she's already a woman but can never do anything except play with her dolls. Mother once taught her to sew, but she can't learn even that. Once, she pricked her fingers. The sight of her own blood terrified her so much she locked herself in her room the whole day. Even her neighbors heard her hysterical cries. We weren't rich but my grandmother left a substantial amount of money when she died. That was why they were able to send me to school. I used to walk barefoot as a child.

My father? I continued, as he asked. Well, my father left us when I was boy. I never really knew him. Oh, he used to visit us then. He even took me to the woods to teach me how to use a slingshot. I killed a bird. I remember killing a bird with my slinghsot and I cried. I hated myself then. I guess maybe I even hated my father. It was a sparrow. I saw it quiver before it died. I saw Death took it's grip and it lied still. Eventually his visits became fewer and fewer. And then one day, he was there no more. Even his photographs were hidden in the trunk. There was nothing to remind us of him. I've even forgottten the scent of his cologne. He was, after all, a fastidious dresser. A handsome man. He was, well, they called him dandy. He was the driver of a calesa. One day, while taking some passengers to church, he just fell dead. They said he was clutching his chest when he died. He was shaking, they said, his agonized cry was barely audible. It reminded me of the sparrow I killed, shivering in the cold clutches of death. I never went to the funeral. I saw no reason to. I wasn't even sure if I loved him.

Then suddenly I laughed bitterly. Love, I said with resentment. There was a girl, Iwent out. "Her name was Sonia. She works in the market. Her spinster aunt was running this food stall. I called it a restaurant when her aunt was there -- flatter people's egos and it's easier to manipulate them. I made it a point to eat there just to see Sonia. I met her last year, during vacation. She had just arrived fom their province in the north. A year. Was it only a year? Seems like a thousand summers. Yet I can still remember it clearly, like it happened only yesterday. We went to the carnival. That was during the fiesta. We saw this half woman, half fish. She looked sad. Then there was this old man who was only a foot tall. Oh it was wonderful.I never really believed in those stuff but Sonia did. She wasn't dumb but it was her first encounter with such things. She was a bit naive. She was younger than me by a year. Long hair, graceful moves, pretty smile. She was beautiful in her own way. She had this aura, you know what I mean?

Yes I loved her. Probably too much. I wanted to marry her. But something happened before New Year's Eve. Just a month ago if you think about it. Her childhood sweetheart came. Sounds romantic isn't it? Well, it wasn't for me! She never even told me! She never told me about Rogelio. They were in love before. When he came all the way from Ilagan, she must have realized that she loved him still. Worse, that she loved him more than me. I found them in the fields. I always go there as a boy, when I want to be alone, when I want to think. Her aunt told me she went to the next town to buy something from a Chinese merchant there. But I saw her in the fields, under the shade of the big acacia tree. With Rogelio. I saw him put his arms around her. I saw her lift her head when he kissed her.

They didn't see me. I crept away like a thief. Since then, that image of betrayal never left me. Many times I've asked myself why did it have to happen. Why did it have to be me? I questioned everything. I questioned God. I was looking for blame, and I found Him. And began to doubt.I drowned bottles of cerveza. My mother was very alarmed but I didn't tell her. Not even Anton, my childhood friend. I was ashamed of myself. I hated her, I hated Rogelio, but most of all, I hated myself. Finally, when I couldn't stand it any longer, I went to the hills like I told you. And found nothing. Somehow I wanted revenge, but there was nothing. I have nothing to live for, nothing to keep me here. That night, I cut one of the clothesline and tied it to a beam in my room. I never even left a note. I tied the rope to my neck and jumped from the chair. The noise it made was what probably woke my mother up. She was banging at the door while I hung there.

"I thought it was suppose to be painless and quick. I was wrong. I was terrified. I was choking. My body struggled to breathe, but I wouldn't let it. The pain was unbearable. My lungs were bursting with pressure. There was a ringing in my ears like