Crimson Heavens

“If Senor Febin Crisostomo dela Vega had known that his great-great-grandson and namesake, is going to be a drunkard, and much worse, a self-proclaimed atheist, he would have castrated himself then and there,” he heard one of the old men say. Senor Febin, according to all these senile, toothless, nonagenarians who had claimed to have seen him, was a thorough gentleman and walked to church every-morning, his back as straight as a stick, until the day he died. They also said that he had strong distaste for alcohol that he firmly forbade “that poison” to be served on his own wedding—much to the embarrassment of the parents of the bride and groom.

To these old men, Senor Febin was a saint and if ever they do see their idol’s current descendant pass by their favorite hang-out, everyone would take a break from their very serious game of dama to watch one of them shout “Shame on you!” at the young dela Vega.

‘Just because I was named after him it doesn’t mean I have to live like that old bugger,’ Febin thought as he cleared his throat in the loudest, most disgusting way he could and spat. ‘Take that, you meddling old geezers!’ He opened his ever-reliable flask, drank from it will full gusto, waved at the old men and went on his way.

He continued walking on what seemed to be never-ending cobblestoned street, until he reached the end of it. It was difficult, but managed to open the rusting gates of his ancestral home-The dela Vega mansion. He was about to knock on the main door, when he remembered that nobody was there to open it for him. His mother and father had long passed away, and he had no brothers nor sisters. Instead, the forever-lingering smell of mold welcomed him as he entered. ‘I will soon rot, like this house. Well and good!’

He sat down, the chair almost falling on the marble floor of his used to be lively home. He used to be a lively too, sober, and proud of his name, not so many years ago. He laughed out loud, thinking about the past. “That was when you were living in a complete lie, you fool!” he shouted at his own reflection on the broken mirror in front of him. Tears started to flow down his cheeks, and still he was laughing, even louder than before. “The riches! The glory of the dela Vega name! The curse—“

Oh yes, the dela Vega curse! The reason why he chose to become a wretched man. The reason why he was an only child. The truth that he cannot disclose because he was, still, in the end, the descendant of the most-respected Senor Febin dela Vega. “The deceitful, two-faced bastard, Senor Febin Crisostomo dela Vega”.

It was on the night of his engagement party that his father told him the truth. “My son, soon you will be married to Corazon. As for me, one of the Devil’s minions will take me to hell himself, if not today, maybe tomorrow, or the day after that…Who knows when…But, it is my duty to tell you about the curse that all the dela Vega males and his family has to suffer…”

to be continued…