The Starlight that Never Shines

(a poem)


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Blog Entry #41

Sometimes I’d think it was just someone’s doing—spreading the rumors and all—probably one who clearly wants the townsfolk to learn to love the river again despite what it has done to our homes. But then at night, when I’m wide awake and ready to escape the realities of the world once more, I’d hear faint splashes in the river. The sounds were so light I often ask myself if it actually happened or if it was just a fragment of my imagination.

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Blog Entry #40

It has been two days ago when we came back to the house and we were still not done cleaning up the mess that the flood left us.

     It’s ten past nine now, my parents are fast asleep from exhaustion. My newly replaced bed sheet was a comfort beneath my body. I sat up and touched my back to the headboard as I looked outside. The sky was nothing but a dark paint splattered across a blank canvas. There was nothing—not even a single glimmer in the darkness to reveal the tiniest of light except that of the moon which cast a faint glow on the river. It was just like any other nights I have watched before.

     I didn’t think tonight would be different at all.

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Blog Entry #39

There were rumors about a golden bull spreading around the town. They said that someone saw it by the river, nudging the riverbed as it tried to look for golden jars. Where were those golden jars from? Where and when did the golden bull appear? I have no idea.

     Anyway, they were just rumors—false news. I did not believe them.

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Blog Entry #37

The river behind our house started to overflow. The authorities warned us and the others living by the riverbank to move somewhere else—preferably to a higher area, like my aunt’s house a few blocks from ours. We have been staying here for half a day already. The sun has not greeted us for the past few days. We were never more eager to see it again.

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Blog Entry #36

Today had been awful. The downpour was so heavy that I was soaking wet by the time I arrived at home from school. Not only that, but the river behind our house was continuously rising just like it always does whenever a rainstorm occurs in our town. My mother was cooking adobo when I entered the house. When she saw me, she pulled me into a hug before proceeding to what she was doing. We waited for father to arrive from work—he was not to be at home before seven sharp—so I decided to help mother with the cooking instead.

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