Friday the Thirteenth I
Part 1
This story is based on real events.
September 13, 2019, at the university where I was admitted. This is the day that, even now, has become part of my nightmare every night.
My first year in college wasn’t easy, especially since it was so far from home. I had to walk 25 minutes to the barangay, take a tricycle to the jeepney terminal, and then ride again to reach the only university in our city. When I first started, I was so strict with myself about going out and traveling due to fear of getting into trouble, but as a freshman, I had to adjust and be ready for new challenges and a new time zone.
It was already past 6 in the evening, but I was still on campus, in the office of our student publication where I was first a staff writer. Typically, classes for education students end by 5, unlike other departments where students seem to never sleep, and we would be shocked to see them with bags under their eyes, frightened during exams because suddenly zombies would appear.
Then my phone rang. My classmate called. My groupmates were waiting for me to work on our creative presentation for the next week. I scratched my head, almost forgetting one of the most important activities for my major subject. We planned to shoot a dramatic scene at our groupmate’s boarding house, which was relatively close to the university, so instead of heading straight to the terminal, I detoured for our group presentation.
Since we had prepared the...
This story is based on real events.
September 13, 2019, at the university where I was admitted. This is the day that, even now, has become part of my nightmare every night.
My first year in college wasn’t easy, especially since it was so far from home. I had to walk 25 minutes to the barangay, take a tricycle to the jeepney terminal, and then ride again to reach the only university in our city. When I first started, I was so strict with myself about going out and traveling due to fear of getting into trouble, but as a freshman, I had to adjust and be ready for new challenges and a new time zone.
It was already past 6 in the evening, but I was still on campus, in the office of our student publication where I was first a staff writer. Typically, classes for education students end by 5, unlike other departments where students seem to never sleep, and we would be shocked to see them with bags under their eyes, frightened during exams because suddenly zombies would appear.
Then my phone rang. My classmate called. My groupmates were waiting for me to work on our creative presentation for the next week. I scratched my head, almost forgetting one of the most important activities for my major subject. We planned to shoot a dramatic scene at our groupmate’s boarding house, which was relatively close to the university, so instead of heading straight to the terminal, I detoured for our group presentation.
Since we had prepared the...