"Woke up at 7 AM, threw together a quick breakfast: sunny-side-up eggs, some of that sweet skinless longganisa from Pampanga, garlic rice, and coffee. Classic.
After grubbing down, I hopped in the shower. Had to be at Anthony's convenience store by 9:30 AM. Anthony, or as we call him, Tony, is my best friend, and he really came through for me after my accident. He even opened this store for me, which is why I'm forever grateful.
Stepping out of the shower, I went to grab some clothes, and noticed my old cabinet was practically termite food. It'd been around since before my parents' accident, so it was definitely time for an upgrade. Thinking a plastic one would work for now.
While I was minding the store, a Mustang GT rolls up. The driver steps out, and I instantly pegged him as a cocky jerk. It was Albert, from our college days. Used to be a varsity jock and a notorious bully.
He strutted up to the counter. "Gimme a pack of Heets and some Durex," he drawled. (For context, Heets are like those tobacco sticks for
E-Cigarettes .)
I limped over to the cigarette rack with my crutches.
"Hurry it up, cripple," he barked.
Back at the counter, I rang up his stuff. "That'll be ₱277, sir."
He stared at me, like he was trying to jog his memory.
"You look familiar... We were in the same college batch, right?" he asked. I just gave him a curt nod.
He smirked. "Man, life ain't fair. Same batch, and I'm a supervisor at a major jewelry store, while you're just a convenience store cashier," he said, shaking his head.
I ignored him. "That's ₱277, sir."
He tossed me ₱300. "Keep the change," he said, then swaggered out, revved his Mustang, and peeled off.
I checked my cracked iPhone 5s. 12:17 PM already. Decided to call it a half-day, so I could grab a new cabinet and get my place sorted. I scrolled through my contacts and called Tony. After three rings, he picked up.
"Hey, Henry! What's up? Everything okay?"
"Yeah, Tony, just wanted to see if I could close up early. Gotta run some errands."
"Oh, right. No problem. You know that store's yours as much as mine. You don't need to ask permission."
"Still, it's your business, you deserve to know."
"Dude, you're acting like a stranger," he joked, faking a sad voice.
"Alright, alright, you're probably busy at the company. Thanks, man."
"Need Andrew to give you a hand?" Tony's younger brother.
"Nah, I got this. Thanks again."
"Alright, see ya." Click
After the call, I did some inventory and sales reports before closing up shop. Hopped into a tricycle and headed to the plasticware store. They had everything: chairs, tables, buckets, drawers, cabinets, you name it.
"How much for the plastic cabinets?" I asked the vendor.
"Single door with four drawers is ₱2,978. The two-door with two drawers is ₱3,288."
"Any discount on the single door, four drawers?" I asked. That one seemed perfect, since my shirts were mostly folded.
"Alright, how about ₱2,850?"
"Make it ₱2,800, and I'll have fare money," I countered.
"Fine, fine!" he agreed.
Paid up, and they loaded the cabinet onto the tricycle. I got home, and said.
"Hey, can you help me bring this inside? I'll add to your fare," I asked the driver. He nodded, carried it in, and set it down in my room. Plastic's light, thankfully.
"Just here is fine, thanks."
"What're you gonna do with that old wooden cabinet?" he asked, pointing.
"Toss it. Termites got to it."
"Man, that's a waste. Some solignum and varnish, and it'd be good as new," he said, sounding disappointed.
"You want it? I don't know how I'd get it out," I said, pointing to my paralyzed right leg.
I emptied my stuff from the old cabinet, which didn't take long. The driver hauled it out, and I paid him an extra ₱100, even though the fare was only ₱50. He hopped back on his tricycle and left.
Grabbed a wet and dry rag, and went back to my room to clean the spot where the old cabinet was. The floor's wood too, thankfully, and no termites.
While I was wiping the floor, I noticed a tiny hole. It was clogged with dust, so I grabbed a pick to clean it out.
Once the dust was gone, I got a good look at the hole. "A keyhole?" I muttered. "What the heck is a keyhole doing on my floor?"
"This keyhole... seriously, what's its deal?" I muttered, poking at the thing with a bit of wire I found. I tried twisting, jiggling, even shoving the wire in deeper. Nothing. It wouldn't budge. Not even a little. Frustrated, I grabbed my phone and started searching for locksmiths, then threw up a post on the local group: "Anyone know a locksmith near ****, Pampanga? Need help ASAP!"
While I waited for replies, I figured I might as well unpack. I mean, my stuff wasn't exactly a mountain, but still. As I was folding my favorite (and only) hoodie, my phone buzzed.
"Yo, locksmith here, close by," someone messaged.
We haggled a bit, settled on ₱500 plus travel fare, and I sent him my address. Back to folding. Then, sweeping. Then, wiping stuff down. Forty minutes later, knock-knock. I opened the door, and this dude with a toolbox walks in. I point at the keyhole in the floor.
"Maybe it's buried treasure, man," he joked, grinning.
"Yeah, right," I said, rolling my eyes. "If it is, you're getting a cut."
He pulls out this set of lock picks, you know, like in those old movies. He fiddles with the lock, twists, turns, nothing. Tries a few more, still nothing.
"Dude, this thing's rusted shut," he says, giving up. "Want me to just hammer it?"
I shrugged. "Sure, why not?"
He gets a screwdriver and hammer, starts whacking the lock. Like, really whacking it. Minutes go by, and... nothing. Not even a dent. He looks as confused as I feel.
"Maybe it's just set in concrete, bro. Someone's idea of a prank."
"Yeah, maybe," I sighed, kinda bummed. "Forget it."
I paid him the ₱500, but he refused the travel fare, saying he didn't actually fix anything. Nice guy, actually.
After he left, I was starving. I threw together some fried fish and eggplant, with that weird fermented fish stuff from the fridge. (Don't judge, it's a local thing.) Ate, showered, flopped on the bed, and started scrolling. Next thing I know, I'm out cold.
* * * Third Person Stuff:
There's this guy, middle-aged, chilling on a couch with a little kid on his lap. A woman, really pretty, sits next to them. The kid's fiddling with the guy's necklace.
"Dad, what's this?" the kid asks.
"You'll get it when you're older, kiddo," he says, smiling.
The kid turns to the woman. "Mom, you and Dad have necklaces. I want one!"
"We'll get you one tomorrow, sweetie," she says, beaming.
"Yay! A necklace!" the kid shouts, all excited.
Back to Me:
I wake up, phone says 11 PM. Ugh. I get up for water, and then it hits me.
"The necklace!" I whisper. "The pendant... it was a key!" I remember my parents' necklaces.
I rush to the storage room, the room full of my parents' old stuff. It's pitch black, so I use my phone's flashlight. I find their jewelry box, and bam, two necklaces with key pendants.
Back in my room, I try one key in the floor keyhole. Fits, but won't turn. Try again, nope.
I grab the other key, stick it in, and as I'm about to turn it, ow! Sharp pain in my finger. Blood. And there's blood on the key. Then, the key turns, twice, and the floor cracks, a piece sticking up.
I pry it open, and there's a wooden box. I pull it out, totally freaked.
"What the heck?" I mutter.
The box is locked. I use the other key, careful not to get stabbed again. It turns, and I open the box.
Inside? Three vials, like test tubes, with weird colored liquids: red, green, blue. A scroll with one word in Baybayin, that old Filipino writing: "MAPA" (Map).
And a ring box. I open it, and it's a ring, a bit big for me. It's got Baybayin writing: "Royal Blood." And a triangle in the middle. I think about the key thing. "What happens if I put blood in that triangle?"