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Soul Remembrance: A Tale of Rainy Days
Soul Remembrance: A Tale of Rainy Days
Soul Remembrance: A Tale of Rainy Days
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Soul Remembrance: A Tale of Rainy Days

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An old house that appears near a cliff every rainy day--will he find something or someone inside?

LanguageEnglish
PublisherJ. Deytiquez
Release dateJun 1, 2022
ISBN9781005673352
Soul Remembrance: A Tale of Rainy Days
Author

J. Deytiquez

I grew up in a sleepy town in the midst of the vast expanse of rice fields in Luzon, Philippines. Though inspired mainly by the simplicity of nature of my hometown, to read and to write, I am also inspired by my experiences in the cold and rainy mountain city of Baguio.

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    Book preview

    Soul Remembrance - J. Deytiquez

    Soul Remembrance: A Tale of Rainy Days

    Copyright 2022 J. Deytiquez

    Published by J. Deytiquez at Smashwords

    deytiquezjesus@gmail.com

    Smashwords Edition License Notes

    This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your enjoyment only, then please return to Smashwords.com or your favorite retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

    Soft rain falls again on the leaves,

    As the gentle nature heaves,

    To breathe out pinkish white petals

    From the red buds that lull.

    Table of Contents

    New Foreword

    Old Foreword

    Chapter 1: Journey Towards Home

    Chapter 2: Old Friend and the Cold Nostalgia

    Chapter 3: The Old Man and the Tree of Promise

    Chapter 4: Harvest Season Cheerfulness

    Chapter 5: We Meet Again

    Chapter 6: The Lonely House

    Chapter 7: The Rain Brought Me to You

    Chapter 8: A Voice from a Faraway Place

    Chapter 9: You Came Back!

    Chapter 10: The Pandemonium and the Grace of Father

    Chapter 11: The Power of Prayer and the Bitter Memories of Bygone Days

    Chapter 12: Serena Abigail

    Chapter 13: The Parable of the Prodigal Son

    Chapter 14: A Little Prayer Book and the Letter for Her

    Chapter 15: Claire and the Daydreamer

    Chapter 16: The Blue Sky and the Flowers of Faith

    Chapter 17: The Power of Faith

    Chapter 18: Tears of Soul Remembrance

    Chapter 19: Her Precious Picture and Her Loving Heart

    Chapter 20: A Letter from Her

    Chapter 21: I Will Do Everything for You

    Chapter 22: Her Love in a Lunchbox and the Fireflies by the River

    Chapter 23: Days of Serenity and the White Dress

    Chapter 24: Why?

    Chapter 25: She Needs Me

    Chapter 26: I'm Sorry

    Chapter 27: Her Song and the Unfailing Love of Our Father

    Epilogue

    New Foreword

    Hi! Thank you for your interest in this book of mine. First of all, I want to tell you that this story was written by me several years ago (around 2015), so this is a pretty old one. Looking back at the things that I encountered and experienced during that time when I was just starting to write my first two relatively lengthier stories, and reading this one to proofread it, I grew fond of that time and also recognized how different that time was compared to now. Of course, there are so many things that changed but I realized how strong or evident was my faith during that time which, this story reflected very much to the point of some parts being cringey, maybe, for some people. It was because of that reason, along with several others, that I wanted to change this story so much along with its ending, but I just decided not to: I want it to reflect that fond and innocent time with all its weaknesses and strengths, and I don’t want to erase the things that made me happy once by writing them. And I wish that you will somehow get something good from reading this story of rainy days from the bygone days.

    ---

    Shout out to Gabrielle Aplin and her songs, especially Ghost that became one of the inspiration for this story back then—and also Owl City’s Plant Life!

    JCD 2022

    Old Foreword

    In memory of Kayla Mueller. A humanitarian worker till the end. I do not know whether you were murdered by those terrorists, or were killed by that Jordanian airstrike. But I know one thing is for sure: that you have a good and kind heart. You are not a mere collateral damage. Your death in 2015 touched me and this story of mine.

    And for our heavenly Father who is always there for us 24/7.

    Deo Gratias

    ---

    I know it is hard to believe, but whenever I write a part of this story or even just edit it,

    it is always raining—like a downpour of mercy from heaven’s grace.

    Chapter 1: Journey Towards Home

    Sigh, summer is finally here.

    After our final exams, I hastily packed up my things that cluttered my boarding house and headed towards the train station. It was about three o’clock in the afternoon and I was carrying a very heavy luggage during a sweltering hot day amid the busy city sidewalks. Fountains of sweat fell on my face and those salty drops of liquid occasionally founding their own ways into my eyes, made me blink. People were looking at me like I’m some weird guy, but hey! I just want to spend my summer vacation at my hometown, Brielle.

    At length, I arrived in the train station. It was a hassle carrying a huge luggage and riding a train because the guard will inspect and rummage to your belongings for so long that you will be a source of annoyance to the people waiting in a line behind you.

    Whew! After a few moments, she finally finished checking my things, and I then proceeded to the ticket booth. The line at the ticket booth was very long too. After buying the ticket, I waited again for some time for a train to arrive.

    Few minutes later, the train finally arrived, but it was already pretty much full, and I had to squeeze in just to get in. We were like sardines in a can inside that train. And it took about ten minutes before the train finally managed to get through countless of other stations and arrive at that station where I must get off. I started to walk towards the bus station where there are buses that goes straight to my hometown. Sigh, the things that you will do just to get home. Not to mention that it was still not rush hour during that time.

    ...

    After a little walk, I was finally able to rest my tired body while seating beside the window as the bus slowly cruised along the expressway. Personally, I like seating beside the bus window while traveling because you can see the places that you pass along the whole trip, and that in itself is a very calming way to let the time go by. The rice fields, rivers, little irrigations, prairies, and some meadows are all so beautiful to gaze on for me—maybe because I like the simplicity of nature, and looking at Her stillness amidst the indwelling static nature of everything, including my restless soul, brings a warm feeling in my heart. Luckily, it rained along the way, cooling the hot asphalt road. If there is something else that I like more than traveling, it is traveling while it is raining. Although the rain makes traveling more dangerous, I don’t seem to mind it. The TV inside the bus was playing some old romantic film, while the other passengers were busy browsing the Internet through their smartphones because of the free WI-FI that the bus also provided. I didn’t bother watching the film nor checking the Internet (doing those things while traveling will only make one dizzy). I just listened to my favorite songs through my earphones while I watched the sceneries outside the window, like the faraway trees swaying because of the wind that the rain brought along with it.

    Tap! Tap!

    The raindrops were hitting the window, and then they slide downwards like tears that leave fragmented streaks of water. Broken pieces of an ephemeral passage. During such moments, I can’t help but remember Claire Anne Marie.

    The rain can sure bring nostalgia.

    After about two hours, I was finally able to see the magnificent Mt. Earheart. My sighting of that old mountain, that’s shaped like three mountains united, always tell me that it will not be long till I arrive at my hometown.

    ...

    It was already dark when I arrived at my grandmother’s house where both of my parents waited for me. The moment I stepped out of the bus, the very familiar smell of wet earth greeted me. Luckily, the rain had already stopped a little earlier before the bus arrived at my hometown, so my parents can give me a ride back home (my father's dirtbike is the only available mode of transportation for us, so we needed to avoid the rain in order to stay dry). Our house is located in the middle of a hamlet where the immediate neighbors are hundreds of yards away—okay, that might be an exaggeration but you get the point. At length, after a bumpy ride, we finally arrived at home.

    Sigh... it has been so long since I had been home. After doing several things like eating dinner and endless chatting with my mom and dad, I was finally able to catch some sleep and store some energy: I needed that, because tomorrow would be the start of my long summer vacation.

    Chapter 2: Old Friend and the Cold Nostalgia

    Yawn!

    It was already late in the morning when I woke up. It was only during summer vacations that I can get up late like that. College life can really sap sleep hours from you like a very thirsty vampire.

    Great, I thought to myself, now what will I do first? Maybe I’ll go out after breakfast and find some of my friends. It has also been awhile since I last talked to them... wait... I don’t have that many friends, there are just about two of them, and the other one is no longer in this world with us. But I’m sure that Katelyn is here. (She is studying at a nearby university because she don’t want to leave Brielle). I’ll ask her what happened in Brielle while I’m gone.

    ...

    The late morning walk turned out to be nice. The harvest season was just around the corner, and you can easily know that because the rice fields were already golden yellow during that time. The harvest season is the time that you can see the whole town happy; everybody is always smiling and cheerful.

    One thing that I also missed was the serene silence that you can experience at provinces and rural towns. Only the constant chirping of playing birds can be heard, and sometimes, if you are blessed, you can hear their songs too. While I was thinking and experiencing of these things, I was already just a few meters away from the gate of Katelyn’s house.

    I wish she is there.

    ...

    From afar I can already see Katelyn’s back while she tends their garden.

    Thank God she is here!

    Hey! Katelyn! I shouted happily.

    She turned around while still holding a spade in her hands that are both covered with gloves that were, in turn, decorated with dirt.

    Hey! Jess! It is so nice to see you back!

    I ran towards her and she opened the creaking old gate. It sounds like it really needed some oil—a burglar should not

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