Things will change | Inquirer Opinion
Young Blood

Things will change

I was coming home from school; I looked at what lay ahead on the dusty street. The smell of oil filled the air, a haze overshadowed the road, loud mechanical crackles could be heard. I froze in shock when I saw the behemoth devouring the land.

It stood on all fours, legs bigger than electrical poles, its metal base standing firmly on the ground, giant long hands with monster claws that crushed rocks like tin cans. And it seemed to smoke giant cigars that looked like tubes puffing smoke, making the scene seem foggy—an image out of a horror movie.

Its giant mouth ingested gravel and rocks like they were popcorn, and I could hear the sound of its feast swirling inside its monster belly. It moved around, flattening everything on its path with the strength of a thousand steamrollers. The ground trembled with its every movement.

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I stood frozen inside ice caps of curiosity and terror. The monster was different from anything I had ever seen. It seemed to stand still, until I realized that the thing was coming toward me. The adrenalin pumped, I could feel my blood telling me to move. I ran like I had never run before, and I dropped my coins along the way. A pocketful of 25-cent coins rolled out onto the streets.

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I ran and ran, ignoring my exhaustion. It felt like a hammer was beating down on my feet. The sweat dripped off my face. But I ignored it all. I just focused on reaching the safety of my home, feeling rescued just by seeing the faintest blur of it.

At home, I sat down and tried to recover my energy. I told Nanay about what I saw, but she told me it was all a product of my creative imagination. Later I tried to tell our barangay captain, but he just smiled at me and went off. I tried to tell my friends, but they said I was only making things up.

Was it just my imagination? I had never seen anything else in such vivid detail. I went up to our roof and reflected.

I had trouble sleeping that night. I will never forget the monster’s horrid face, its terrifying grin, its scaly, metallic skin, and its loud crackles. The thought of it devoured my sleep, the terrible sight plagued my mind. It was like a pill that kept me awake, creeping into my thoughts every time I came close to forgetting. I cried myself to sleep.

Days later, at the same place where I saw my nightmare, I saw more of them—an armada of metal titans lined up, thrusting their big long mouths into the ground and absorbing the earth. They grumbled and roared. The ground trembled, begging them to stop, to no avail.

After a week the smoke from their cigars clouded the air, turning the sky from blue to black. The dark was accompanied by the sound of people coughing. I heard some of them talking on the curb, saying that the monsters were performing rituals, contaminating our water, poisoning the livestock.

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I thought: Now they believe me, but it’s too late. At home I saw my dad sitting in our makeshift porch. “Why are they doing this, Tatay?” I said. “It’s because of this,” he said, opening my hand and dropping in a 25-cent coin. It’s funny what people are willing to do for money, he said. It’s what makes the world spin.

The monsters were masters of destruction, causing poisoning and pollution, floods and landslides. They mowed down the trees, destroyed the mountains, and killed the wildlife. It was a brutal scene, and I had a front-row ticket to the show.

My family and I packed our things, stocked up on food, and gathered our resources. We rode a bus to Manila in the hope of a new start. I looked out the bus window and saw a tarpaulin with the name “Precious Rocks Mining Firm.”

My dad held my hand, gave me 25 cents, and said things will change.

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J.M. Alquinto, 14, is in Grade 8 at the School of Saint Anthony in Lagro, Quezon City.

TAGS: environment, mining, opinion, Young Blood

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