Unreasonable Invasion of Privacy

By N. S. Rosner

After a massive storm completely destroyed El Nado City and its surrounding neighborhoods, the residents were all too excited to reconstruct their lives and to move into their newly constructed high-tech homes. Malaya and Alon thought they were the luckiest college students in the world when they landed the internship op

• Language: English
• Publisher: Bookable Moments LLC
• Release date: Aug 13, 2022
• ISBN: 9798986692999

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

Maybe it was true that it started with the storm, many people believed. At some point, I was a part of that group of people. It seemed so perfect to blame a natural disaster for our misfortune and not point a twisted accusing finger at the truth right in front of us.

On March 9th, there was a storm, and it had a name — The El Nado City windy disaster. It was named after our ever-growing town and found its way into the daily newspaper, next to the announcement of the death of Tom Russo. Tom Russo died of a heart attack after reading a breakup text message from his lover, the newspaper reported. It was due to the fact that he had his phone with him when he died after he was heard screaming, the message! No one knows what the content of the text message was.

It was the talk of the town. The death of Tom Russo and El Nado City windy disaster were the most used words on everyone’s tongue. When the storm was over, which lasted for an hour approximately, we all came outside to see how much damage was done and the future of our fate — it was worse than we imagined.

Some of the houses no longer had a roof on them. The houses were torn and broken and the people who owned them were badly injured though not dead — surprisingly. There were no deaths reported. Fortunately, the houses suffered more damages than the people did.

My neighborhoods on Alpine Street, were by far the unluckiest victims of the storm. At approximately 8:00 p.m., on March 9th, the same day and only about an hour after the storm broke out, I stepped out of my half-roofed home, for I couldn’t bare one more minute in a house that felt like it was about to collapse.

My father began to prepare for war, the moment the storm began. Like an army sergeant who was commanding his army, he screamed at the top of his lungs, commanding us like soldiers in a troop, to march outside at once, with our hands over our heads which must be bent low. The scene was comical, because even then, my feeble heart and iron strong father, thought he was still a commander in the army, and we were the people he must lead to safety.

Are we all alright? My father asked with his large eyes taking in every one of our facial expressions — probably scanning for injuries. When his eyes landed on me, his lips turned to a sad frown and in one rough movement, grabbed my shoulders and stared at my forehead, My darling. My sweet Malaya, your head doesn’t seem alright. You’re bleeding. Then to my mother, quick! Hand me a towel, or a scarf, hand me something!

My mother tried to maintain a brave face for all of us, even though a few tears had slipped down her cheeks. She cut a small piece of clothing from her skirt and gave it to my dad, who in turn tied it around my head. We have nothing to clean the wound now. At least, let’s make sure it doesn’t get infected.

I closed my eyes as dad added pressure to the wound. My father was so into caring for his family, that he wasn’t aware of the condition surrounding him. I think I’m okay, Dad, I said and motioned to him to look around him. Look at everyone else. It was then as I motioned ahead of me that he took in the condition of our neighborhood. Our dear, quaint neighborhood.

Melburgh is gone… My father said after a while. He was referring to our small neighborhood coffee shop. He turned his head, avoiding eye contact as he scanned what remained of Alpine Street. What used to be Alpine Street.

Are we going to sleep here tonight? Angelo, my youngest brother asked. I looked at my father, really looked at him. For the first time, my father didn’t hide his sadness, confusion, or his anger. It was raw and bare to us, and it was the most heartbreaking sight in my nineteen years of living and knowing my father. I wondered if he had any thoughts or ideas of what will come out from our situation, or where we would go from here.

I turned to the house, what remained of it, trying to absorb what memory I had of the house in comparison to what it was now — broken, damaged, covered with specks of snow. That was one thing I never understood. There was snow. It was snowing, here, in the Philippines. It was snowing in a land where it had never snowed before, and with the snow, came a blizzard, so rough and wrathful on us.

I remembered how I hated that it never snowed in the Philippines. We were blessed with rain, heat, sun but never snow. When December came around, I would enjoy all the American shows that aired on tv, mainly because the screen would be filled with snow. It was the closest I could get to it. I loved snow without ever feeling it, and the first time I experienced it, that was the day my hatred for it began.

Don’t worry. My mother replied to Angelo, combing his hair with her hands and drawing his body closer to hers, trying to keep him warm. We’ll find a place to sleep. She assured him.

Find a place. I looked at my father as he did nothing but stared at the chaos in front of us. Why did we need to find a place to sleep, when we have a home? I wondered.

Marisol, My Father beckoned to my mother, stay here with Angelo. Malaya and Andres will help look for the others, I will go along to help with the search, he said.

Andres was my older brother by a year, but to him it meant ten years. In many ways, Daniel was my protector. In the five years that my father served in the army, before he was discharged due to a leg injury, my brother took it upon himself to be ‘the man of the house.’ It’s what my dad expected of him. Now, I wasn’t sure Andres remembered his protecting duty. It seemed he was too preoccupied with the storm. His eyes were wide opened at the devastation in front of him. His lips parted slightly and when I went ahead to shake him out of it, he whispered the same thing that I was thinking…snow.

Is this what snow is like in America? Angelo asked, tugging at my mother’s skirt.

Let’s just wait here, honey. Mother replied while trying to keep us sheltered from the excessive wind, snow and elements flying around us.

Father, though, was not as patient as my mom. He snapped at Angelo to get his head in the game and focus on what was ahead of us. Before I could clear my eyes enough to see ahead of us, we were being dragged to other areas in the neighborhood. We picked up whatever valuables we could salvage and putting them back in place. There were other people walking around, doing the same thing. We helped others whose cars were stuck in the middle of the street. Some people were injured due to flying objects in the storm. We checked on some of our neighbors to ensure they survived the blizzard.

It wasn’t until the moon had set in the sky, behind the moving clouds, that we decided we should rest. There wasn’t much we could do anyway, not when everything was broken and shattered to its core. It was also around the same time Lady