Dumb Found (1)

CHAPTER 1    

From the handsome terrace of a colossal mansion atop a plateau in a small island, Gabby had  seen the sudden uproar in the middle part of the ocean. He was not shocked. It’s not unusual matter to his sight. He just made a quick glance.    

He was wearing a blank face. His emotion was indefinable and in the small interval of time, he was quaffing liquor from a wine glass.      

Gabby stopped the rocking chair. He anticipated the second explosion. He failed to see it after few minutes. He knew exactly the time span of dynamite explosion since he often witnessed this kind of illegal activity of fishermen.      

He snatched the binocular on the side table. Then, he got a good view of the activity. Four men were registered in his telescope. He focused it on the acting-weird fisherman, who was holding  the dynamite. The scenario enlivened his interest. However, he was startled by the cell phone ring. He just glared at it. And when he returned his focus to the scene, kablam was heard. He also beheld an upward fall of sea water. He looked for that man. He found him not in the boat. There were only three in there.    

“Bullshit”, he wanted to throw the mobile phone away. “Damn you!” Instead he pocketed it. Then, he focused again his sight to the motorboat, which was leaving away. He did not take away his device to it till it became a dot.      

Gabby went directly to the masculine bathroom. While waiting for the water to fill in the tub, he lit a light cigarette. The thought of queer fisherman made him smile a bit, with a tsk tsk!      

The water on the bathtub was overflowing when he noticed it. “Shit!” He Abruptly turned off the bulb and unclogged the drainer.      

Later, he was on the water, thinking again of the cowardly man on the boat. He was wondering why he’s gone. What’s happening to you, Gabby? He asked himself silently.      

He submerged his entire body leaving the face not drowned. He stayed in that position for many minutes, thinking nothing.      

The sunrays were already penetrating to skin. The ocean was so serene. The breeze was humming. Sea birds were playing under the skies, like cheerful kids in the playground.      

A sea bird got tired. It rested on a floating matter and pecked a reddish part of an object.      

“Argh!” The bird flew away when wounded man cried out of pain and moved suddenly to catch breath. He changed his position of embracing the empty mineral water gallon, then he began stroking his feet through the direction of an islet.      

 The small island he could see was not that far but he calculated that it would take time to be there. Yet, he was decisive to survive the planned tragedy, though his right hand was bleeding and it was weakening him too much.        

It was so hard for someone who has a wound on the right hand to swim. He couldn’t even plunge the wound to the water. It’s hurtful and he possibly be attacked by a shark. In lieu, he kicked his foot with determination. He swam like a frog.        

Gabby left the tub. He faced the mirror and looked down at his penis. It has been a long time since he last used his schlong in copulation with his girlfriend. He could not believe that he could bear many days without sexual intercourse.        

He aroused it. However, it was a failure. It disgusted him.        

Then, he looked at the man in front of him. Questions crammed his head. He considered it karma.        

He is a sex addict. A playboy. He’s up to woman’s body only. No girl would never be his victim and would never come to his naughty fingers and mouth.        

It’s obvious.        

He’s a man that every woman is dreaming of to be with. His well-groomed and maintained beard and moustache give him the appeal that other men don’t have. He  has the abss and chests that everyone could love to fondle.        

Besides of his masculinity, he’s born with a golden spoon on his mouth.  It is the penile impotency that hinders his bliss. Gabby yelled. Then he grabbed the robe and went to his bedroom. There, he got magazines from the cabinet. He scanned each one. “Come on dick! Come on..” slapping his penis, as he pursued browsing the men’s magazines and indulging to the nude pictures.      

He has almost skimmed all the porn magazines but his schlong was still soft. “Bullshit!, mothafucking dick!” He threw away some of them.      

The wounded man was gasping for breath yet he pursued stroking his feet. He was so tired and exhausted due to terrible heat of the sun. He wanted to drink water.      

He shifted his style. He moved through the isle by floating, which was a bit faster than a frog stroke. His wounds hurt but he neglected it. He went on.        

Two soundly shouts were echoed within Gabby’s room. He was torturing his dick. Slapped it. Spanked it.  And, even tried to pull it up. Nevertheless, there was no development from his actions. It frustrated him so badly.      

For the first time, tears fell on his face. They were the rarest tears he had ever made. The last time he cried was when he was fifteen years old, when a girl broke his heart.      

Gabby let the tears crawl down his face.      

The castaway was holding still the mineral water gallon and he stopped feeling the ache of the wounds. In addition, the sun helped in its quick clotting. The pain reduced as it dried up.      

Gabby was talking with someone over his cellular phone. He was wearing a robe now. “I need it now!.. What?...No! Fix it soon. Bullshit! I need a psychiatrist..” He clicked it off. “fuck! I can’t wait no more!” He sobbed in the sofa. He touched his penis again after a while.        

The ocean was so calm. Its quietness was deafening. There has no visible floating thing around the islet. The beaches of the small island were lethargic. The waves were inviting to booze.        

In a sandy part of the islet, a man crawled out of the sea and stood up very slowly when he was already in the sand that was when he felt the ache of his wounds on the right hand. However, he did not distort his face by that mere pain. Those were iota compared to the pains he felt before, when the world has been so cruel to him and the blames were put to him.      

His throat was on draught.      

He looked around and saw a coconut tree yonder. He searched again for water source, when he realized that he couldn’t climb due to his wounded hand.      

Nothing. He couldn’t hear no sign of waterfalls nearby and it’s already noon. He of course couldn’t find dews anywhere. The only hope was the ‘buko’. Thus, he tried to invigorate his body. He uttered a long ‘aaahh’ while stretching his muscles. Afterwards, he approached the tree. Chicken feed, his mind said.      

Under the tree, he tore off his shirt and made a  4’’ x 10’’ thick gauze. The climbing would be done fast when his wounds were covered by cloth. He did not need to give it first aid because saltwater alone has a healing power.      

Without further ado, he climbed up the coco tree yet he stopped in the middle because he saw the gallon which was floating in the 25-feet deep part of the ocean. He abruptly climbed down, as fast as he ascended.        

The gallon was floating twenty meters away from the shore. He was determined to save it from being left out. To him, it’s not a trash. It saved his life.        

He swam to the direction of it. He was like an Olympic swimmer --- a determined one to get the prize.        

When he recovered the object, he triumphantly rose it up and embraced it for a while.      

Going back to the shore has been so tough for him. But he does not mind it anymore. He suddenly forgot his thirst, because of the successful recovery of that petty thing. He was not craving for liquid anymore. His exaggerated appreciation was what he did when he was ashore ---- kissing and embracing the gallon.        

But wait! There’s a few water inside. He opened it and smelled the liquid. Oh! It’s water. Smell-less. He must thank the person who threw it.        

Like a thirsty marathon runner, he gulped the potable water in the gallon. It anyhow soothed his terribly cracked-up throat. The thirst was quenched already though the liquid was very little. Yet, his stomach was revolutionizing. He needed solid food.        

He walked on.        

The island is not that big. Its perimeter is enough to shelter more or less one hundred families or to build one barangay. Varieties of trees were occupying the seventy-eight percent of the area. Wild animals are present. There’s a rocky portion in the beach but most of the part is sandy, which is inviting tourists and beach bums.        

Seawater was so bright and clear. Sign of pollution was unseen. Colorful pebbles were visible through the crystal clear water. It was stimulating.        

He was fascinated by the place. He wanted to beach comb but he must find food to eat.        

He entered the forest when he saw the big, colorful bird, which flew away when their eyes met. He was not going to run after it, he’s looking for fruit, which would energize him.        

There’s a mansion up there and he knew it. However, he could not enter on that palatial house because it’s fully-loaded with securities. He was sure the owner wants tranquility, peace and security in the secluded place where he was now. He was also certain that the man behinds the colossal home is deep, as deep as silent water.          

The wounded man carefully walked on and looked around. Hunting for foods was his mere purpose on trekking the vastness of forest. He was expecting wild animals on his path but he was ready. His readiness including alertness, since anytime the owner might fire at him or shoot him to death for trespassing the privacy of that property. Pessimism was always on his mind, since then.          

Life is unfair. He hasn’t had happy moment in his entire life. Just this morning, Andoy, Enan and Pedring left him half-dead floating in the ocean. They’re so merciless. After they insisted him to light the dynamite and after the blast that caused him an accidental fall, they rushed away. Nobody thought and suggested that he might still be breathing. No one tried to lift him up to the motorboat. He just fainted. It was his first time to do that. Dynamite-fishing was not his line.          

He was one of the best fishermen in their barrio, with a small boat and fishing net and hooks. He was a fair fishing folk. A legal fishing practice and uncertain of indefinite catch contented him. His satiability gave him utmost happiness that the world could not give him.          

That morning, he set up his fishing equipments and materials. With a happy heart, he paddled forward. The calmness of the sea gave him easy paddling. With no greed, he expected for enough catch.          

He was living solo. His relatives were negligent for his welfare. His parents passed away. His brother, his only sibling, was murdered brutally. He’s now an orphan.          

In a nipa hut, he was living quietly and happily. He was striving merely for himself. Nobody was offering him food. Nobody was extending him support and help, during his fall and crises.          

That morning, the sun was smiling down at him. Its rays embraced him warmly.            

He unrolled the fishing baits down the sea, with a hope of bountiful catch that would give him financial freedom. While doing it, he uttered a prayer to God. He told Him about his plan of renovating his house. He wanted to dwell in a secured, concrete home. His surrounding was the most perilous place to live in, where people were crude and humiliating.            

It was only seven o’clock in the morning. The sun has just started to shower wonderful rays. He decided to nap, while waiting for the effort’s result.            

The sun cooperated with him. He fell into a deep sleep. The breeze seemed like a lullaby and the salty air helped for his quick plunge to consciousness.            

Thirty minutes later, a motorized boat approached his craft. However, he was in a deep state of dreaming, that he could not hear the sound of the motor and the flaky laughs of three fishermen.            

The motored boat stopped. The antagonistic looking men looked at each other with wry smiles. First man grabbed the dynamite. Second man handed him down a lighter and the third man started the engine. The boat geared forward.            

Kaboom!            

The small boat turned upside down. He could not even dare to jump out.Gasping, he tried to look who did it. Unfortunately, he did not even recognize the name and color of the boat. “Aaah!” He was so angry, clenching his fists. He tried to turn up the boat but he failed. It would not sink but he could not put it back to its normal position, impossible since he was in the water.            

From the shore of their barrio, he was too far. The boat is too heavy if he would pull it while swimming back ashore. Thus, he needed another boat to do the pulling. He looked around, waited. Anxious, he was. But still he hoped.          

He almost gave up, when a boat approached. He waved his hand. Fortunately, it headed to his direction. The men asked but he could not verbally answer them. He spoke through his hands. Without further ado, he was taken out from the ocean.          

The three who saved him laughed soundly. The sound of motor joined them.          

He tapped the arm of a tanned man and pointed at his upside-down boat.          

“No!” Irritated. “You’re coming with us in fishing.”          

A very loud laugh was heard.          

The man with a curly hair and big eyes said, “We’ll help you pull your dilapidated boat out of the ocean, if you will help us catch fish. Understand?”          

“It’s our law!”, strongly declared by the tattooed fisherman.          

In his eagerness to save his boat, he nodded. Then, the three looked at each other with tyrannical smiles in their eyes.           

Flock of birds fly away when he stepped on the dried leaves of coconut tree. He enjoyed the sight. It seemed like a welcome, for him.          

He moved forward, while his eyes were seeking foods. Later, a banana tree caught his sight. He almost ran towards it. However he paused abruptly and made sure no one was around except to him and the banana tree with ripe fruits.          

No one was around other than him.          

Looking up at the banana, he wowed on his mind and touched his abdomen.          

For a while, the faces of the mean fisher folks who caused him this were on his mind.  He could still picture them out. He could not forget their hideous faces as long as he lives.          

In his rage, he clenched his fists and boxed the banana tree. He gave his all might just to put the tree down.          

He made it!          

His right hand was bleeding.