You have been gone for 12 years now, Celsa but your memories still float on this lonely sea of Puerto Maria. Your sun-kissed yellow hair, almost translucent white skin and fierce red eyes have haunted this tiny fishing village.
Mario has been working tirelessly ever since you vanished into the waters. It wasn’t easy for him when you left, he had battled the stormy seas to search for you but alas, the envious sea had claimed you as his own. He would return empty handed except for the pieces of abaca rope that the anchor’s heaviness have chipped off. It’s been whispered across the small fishing town of Costa Marina how the greedy God of the Sea was captured by your strange ethereal beauty which even the mermaids sought to possess. The face of an angel, which you took after your grandfather Juan, was no match for those jealous creatures who lured you into their kingdom where they showered you with wealth and glamour as the men of the sea drank in your beauty.
Mario never intended to give up searching for you but when he chanced upon your son Miguelito, who quite resembles you in some ways like your penchant of tying a large bow on your head or your gay melodious laughter, one day being beaten by four boys, he then knew that young Miguelito needed him. Mario have finally given up his search for you and dreaded the day that the sea will return your lifeless angelic body just as it had done with your father, Jose, a year before your marriage to Mario.
Do you remember those bitter days? Oh! Your poor father got hit by the bow from his behind as he danced drunk on his boss’ deck and fell into the sea. After your father’s death, His boss, Mariano had come to ask for the money your father owed him. He had touched your face and told you his son Mario would gladly have you as his own, a bittersweet price for your father’s debt. “Never!” you shouted. After which, you have slapped him so hard on the face the he almost fell onto his side, his quite expensive false tooth flew out of his foul scented mouth and dropped on the sandy ground as you ran away into the beach where you usually play with your childhood friend Amado.
You have adored ambitious Amado ever since he had given you the red velvet ribbon that matched your fierce red eyes on your 16th birthday. He probably cut it off from the missing patron’s red antique velvet cloak in the church at the town’s plaza. The devotees had shrieked in shame as the priest instantly died of a heart attack when they found the patron stark naked one early morning. You knew that Amado as he grew up, had changed. In particular his pudgy hands that expertly haunt tiny crabs with you in the beach years ago were now the same masculine hands that expertly haunt anything of value. But everyone knew he had a way with you.
The villager have whispered carelessly into your ears how Mario would be a better match for you not because of his physical looks but because his father owns the biggest fishing boat in this island, the anchor of which is the biggest that the town had ever seen, the very anchor that even the strongest ropes ever made in these islands cannot hold it’s strength for a long time. You have lived the life of a woman cursed right from the moment you have been born, where town folks make fun of you behind your back for having been a product of a curse that had befallen your great grandfather when he refused to throw back into the sea the albino dragon fish he caught, an old tale that has been told by the villagers. But at that time, when your fortune might change, everyone revered your peculiar beauty.
Months after your initial refusal to marry Mario, the townsfolk’s cooperative has been robbed. The money that the cooperative have been saving for the town’s grand 100th foundation day as well as your beloved Amado had also vanished.
You have cried relentlessly and were inconsolable for weeks. Mario had been kind enough to see to it that you were alright bringing you fresh fruits and your favourite fish to cheer you up. As been described, no rope is strong enough to resist the strength of the anchor like you did as you gave in and married Mario.
Not anyone ever doubted the love that Mario had given you unlike the love that you have given him. For one night, after two weeks of just giving birth to young Miguelito, You have restlessly lain in your bed as your husband went to catch fish. Rumours have circulated how a familiar bandit has sought refuge in this tiny town.
In the morning, a happy Mario who had caught a great haul returned just before noon to check on his newborn son and wife. As he opened the door, your son was crying desperately because of hunger and the sight of an empty creased bed froze him in fear. Footsteps, undoubtedly yours, were left on the beach as your shawl was strewn on the beach next to where the tiny boat that your husband had made in honour of your newborn son has been. That was the day you never returned home.
The villagers have helped him sought for you but you seem to have vanished without a trace. The only thing that they have seen was the abandoned tiny boat. The villagers have kept a vigil to the town’s patron saint now shabbily clothed in cheap satin for your return for weeks until it was apparent that you have been lured by the mermaids in their mystical kingdom. It’s been twelve years.
A few days ago, your husband has just heard of the new large wet market that had opened in the adjacent island. No one from this small simple town ever wanted to do business in that sinful island. The island where the big ships of the colonizers dock has been cluttered by promiscuous women and naughty gamblers. Along with that news, your husband’s cousin, Manuel had come to your husband from that island to strike a deal that was too good to be refused. Miguelito will be graduating from elementary soon and needs more money from his father to send him to a high school in the neighbouring town. That new market’s insatiable demand for fresh fish would finance Miguelito’s education and sustain him even through his university years.
Your husband have decided to pay that island a visit giving in to his mischievous cousin Manuel’s request to form an alliance with him to strike a deal with the market’s owners. Manuel had even maliciously hinted, “You can expect to have a good time there cousin. You’ll meet people who will take your blues off and cast them into the sea. Even mermaids cannot eclipse beauties in our island. Before he left, he had been warned about these women, “They will steal your heart out but they will only be after your wealth. Do not allow them to fool you. The scent of lust and money will cast a spell on you if you forget to cast your anchor” But of course, no one had expected him to stir away from those tempting endeavour for it’s been more than a decade since he had breathed the scent of a woman. While some of the fishermen dared him to bring a wife back, “Mario, do not deprive your self. Although you don’t have the looks, you have the money to buy yourself a wife!”
Your husband have just returned from his visit to the other island, his head bowed and his eyes, downcast.
His fishermen gathered around him, expectant for good news about the deal. His hand shook as he slowly opened his fist. Instead of the usual torn pieces of abaca rope, in his hand was unmistakably your velvet red ribbon.
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