Kali [Flash Fiction]
I’ve known Kali since sixth grade. Although her real name wasn’t Kali, people called her that because it was short for “Kaliwete,” which means lefty in English. She was known for her left-handedness, and it was a defining trait that everyone noticed.
We bonded over our love for badminton. Every afternoon, after our classes at the local elementary school, we’d rush to the barangay court with our rackets. Kali’s left hand was swift and precise, making her a formidable opponent.
Kali’s family had just moved into a big, old house that everyone in the neighborhood said was haunted. A lush canopy of ancient trees enveloped it, their gnarled branches casting long, dancing shadows that seemed to beckon from the twilight. One day, as young and curious kids, we explored the second floor of her family’s newly bought house.
Inside, the house was a labyrinth of dimly lit corridors and spacious rooms. The worn wooden floorboards creaked underfoot, their rich, warm tones contrasting with the cool, shadowy interiors. The air was thick with the scent of old wood and forgotten memories. The room on the second floor was unlike any other. Its high, beamed ceiling soared upwards. Sunlight filtered through the antique window panes, casting intricate patterns of light and shadow on the polished wooden floor.
In the center of the room stood a giant, ornate mirror. Its frame was carved with intricate flourishes of gilded wood, resembling a delicate filigree of vines and leaves. The mirror was antique, its glass slightly warped and uneven, casting distorted reflections. The ornate frame, intricate carvings, and gilded details added to the room’s air of mystery. I pointed to the mirror in front of us. My voice dropped to a whisper as I leaned closer to Kali.
“Huy, ana baya sa mga movies na haunted ng mga ing ana,” She just laughed, a light, carefree sound that echoed eerily in the dim room. She stepped closer to the mirror, her eyes fixed on her reflection.
“Awa akong nawng,” she said, her face contorting into a playful grimace as the old glass warped her features.
I watched her, feeling a strange unease settle over me. “Wait lang,” I replied, my voice sounding distant even to my ears. “Lipong man”. The room seemed to tilt, and my vision blurred.
When I opened my eyes, the world had changed. The room looked the same, but everything was bathed in a strange, silvery hue. The air felt thick and cold, and a faint hum filled my ears. I turned to Kali, her face pale and eyes wide with fear. “We’re trapped.”
I grabbed her hand, the only solid thing in this surreal nightmare. “We have to get out of here,” I said, my voice firm despite the panic rising in my chest. We started pounding on the glass, our fists hitting the cold surface with a dull thud. After what felt like an eternity, a crack appeared, spider webbing across the glass. With one final punch, the mirror shattered, and we tumbled out, gasping for breath. The room around us was back to normal. Kali and I exchanged looks of both shock and fear. Pale as ghosts, our eyes widened while we pinched ourselves to make sure that we really got out of there.
Today was Saturday. “Unsa man, badminton ta?” she suggested.
We walked to the court and talked about the mirror incident yesterday. “Maynalang nakahawa ta didto, noh?” she said. I ignored the slight smile she gave. “Gani, do you remember how cold it was inside the mirror?”
Kali nodded in reply. “Yes, it felt like the air was being sucked out of the room. And the way our reflections moved… it was like they had a mind of their own.”
We then proceeded to play badminton for the next hour or two. The familiar rhythm of the game usually brought me comfort, but today, something felt off. Kali was using her right hand to hit the shuttlecock. I watched her movements, smooth and precise. When did she get so good at using her right hand?
I brushed the thought away and continued playing, trying to focus on the game. But the more I watched her, the more uneasy I felt. Her right-handed swings were powerful and accurate, almost too perfect.
She won!
She always had a competitive streak, but her victory felt different today, almost possessed. I rushed to the monoblocks and sat on it, my breath coming in short gasps. “O, gihangak na pud ka,” Kali said, her voice light and teasing. With her right hand, she handed me a bottle of water. I took it, my hands trembling slightly. Despite the comforting tone, I decided I couldn’t take it anymore. The questions that had been swirling in my mind demanded answers.
“Kali, kailan ka pa natuto na gamitin ang right hand mo?” My voice trembled a bit, betraying my inner confusion and fear.
“What do you mean?” She looked at me, and the corners of her lips turned to a smirk. “I’ve always been right-handed.”
Victory Valenciano is a 17-year-old HUMSS Learner from Ateneo de Davao Senior High School. She spends countless hours lost in the world of music, arts, and literature.
Illustration by Noy Narciso