The day was dark
Thick grey clouds hover around
Sometimes sun would peek in,
Sometimes you would see some slight color to this place.
Sometimes you would hear the sound of people striving.
It was a dark night,
The darkest night I had seen.
The clouds was too thick for the moon nor the stars to shine through.
The shadows were greater than the candles could ever reach.
The cold was slipping through the gaps of our wooden walls,
The howling winds sounded like countless wailing souls.
Our roof was almost torned off like countless neighbor's roof had, banging all over the place as it made the winds sound more of a suffering ghost parade slowly passing by.
My young imaginative mind was not very helpful at that time.
The devastation passed like nothing happened, except it left a trail that took months to fix.
It left scars that couldn't properly heal after time passed.
The old model of the cellphone my father owned was close to draining.
Only the two songs that are saved on the phone were playing nonstop, which could only be heared echoing throughout the night.
The same song would be played by the light of dawn while the roosters tries to break the deafening silence in our neighborhood.
After a few days,
The roof we had was crooked,
The streetlight across our neighbor toppled over, blocking the path.
The province lacked electricity for a month and over.
Mom was away for weeks.
Dad, my brother, and I was only there trying to live through the cold silence.
While the songs were there accompanying the stillness.
I was 7 years old.
Few years later, a random song was played by one of my neighbor through their speakers.
It sounded so familiar, I was bewildered by how much of a song could make me chocke my breath and force a bit of tears on me.
Then the memory came back like giant waves crushing me, drowning me, and doing it all over again.
For some unknown reason, countless typhoons were part of my core memory.