to write or not to write

YOU WERE ON YOUR WAY HOME and suddenly you saw this notebook lying on your front lawn. a black one. it seemed just an ordinary notebook to you, but the large, white letters against the black cover caught you: death note. you picked it up out of curiosity and opened it. there were instructions scribbled on one of its lined pages:

“The human whose name is written in this note shall die…”

you thought it was absurd. pathetic. ridiculous. but still there was apart of you that made you anxious. it made you fidget on the thought that you could kill someone by just writing his name on freaking notebook, but curiosity took you over. your hand is itching to get that pen from you right pocket. “there’s no harm in trying,” you told yourself just to relieve your ego of the conflict it suffers. you remembered the name of the criminal on the loose, who killed two innocent people, from the news earlier this morning.

you wrote it down. just the name. nothing will happen, of course. or so you thought.

you suddenly felt stupid for writing the name down, but you didn’t dare erase the name nor throw away the note. you kept it. put it inside your bag. there was a relief for a moment.

the next day, you were watching the early morning news. a man died of a heart attack. the man’s name was exactly the name of the person you wrote on the note, you thought was pathetic. not anymore, i suppose.

“if the cause of death is not specified, the person will simply die with heart attack…”

you read the whole set of instructions. very specific and detailed instructions. you were shocked. scared. guilty, perhaps, but the ego had a clever way to resolve such conflict that your conscience and what you have done had made. logic told you that it was just a coincidence. just an inevitable event. you had nothing to do with it. it was destiny that happened. it was his time to die. but the conflict that had been raging inside you persisted. you had to be sure.

“after writing the cause of death, details of the death should be written in the next 6 minutes and 40 seconds…”

you wrote the name of the absolute dictator that plans to unleash nuclear war against the world

“_________ will die of choking at 8:00 am, philippine time…”

you didn’t know what to feel. you just had to be sure if the death note was real and if you’re responsible for the demise of a cold-blooded criminal. something inside you felt hopeful that it’s real. do you think that what you were feeling was evil?

you couldn’t sleep. but you were tired. physically. emotionally. and you were swallowed by darkness that seemed to come from your own beating heart.

8:00 am— you panicked as you looked at your wall clock. you forgot to set the alarm. something in your head told you that the person with the name you wrote on the note was probably dead. choked and died, while having his breakfast, perhaps, on a large piece of chicken meat he was munching with his pearly white teeth. eyes open and face flat on his plate of expensive food he failed to finish.

you turned on the television. you decided not to go to work. this was more important than work. the world will change, somehow, in any second. your heart is racing as the news rolled on. you wondered how long will it take for the philippine media to get the information. you hesitated and decided to search for what you were looking for on the internet. you knew the exact words to type on the search box… it was so easy… like scribbling a name on a piece of paper…

and there he was… eyes open and face flat on his plate of expensive food…

the death note was real. you relieved the world two of all the people that make it sick. make it rot. you felt powerful. you could change the world with just the note, a pen, a name, and a face. your hand itched again… and wrote names.

Murderers…

mafia members…

cruel dictators…

terrorists…

corrupt government officials…

sex maniacs…

rapists…

robbers…

abortionists…

the list went on, and on, and on… there seemed to be no end. Your dominant hand was tiring… it seemed endless… you wished you can’t tire… but you were… the only thought that got you going was the thought of a better world. a peaceful one. no poverty. no crimes. no suffering. a perfect world everyone had been dreaming about, and you could make it happen for them. utopia was so near you could almost touch it… but still you’re human and you were bound to tire… then, you hand gave up, your eyes closed… and then there was darkness…

---

you opened your eyes. the driver woke you up with his booming voice.

driver: miss dito na po ang baba niyo ‘di ba?

you: opo. maraming salamat, manong. crap.

it was not your first time to have slept on a jeepney ride home but it was still embarrassing as usual.

you were on your way home and suddenly you saw this notebook lying on your front lawn. a black one. it seemed just an ordinary notebook to you, but the large, white letters against the black cover caught you: death note.

what would you do?

would you dare to write anything in it?

your ego sensed another conflict. this time on the question: “does the end really justifies the means?”

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haha! isn’t it obvious that i’m currently addicted to the japanese manga series death note? i have heard about this a long time ago, but i was never an avid fan of anime…until now. haha! i got hooked and now i just can’t stop. this entry is getting longer. i guess i’ll just save the rest when i am done with the whole series. i’m done with the 6^th episode. i’m going to start the 7^th tomorrow… 30 episodes to go. haha!

by the way, could you please vote on my poll? i would really want to know your opinion about it. thanks a lot. ciao!