Another village, another massacre.
I give a silent offering to the spirits of the departed, but I know it is useless. Any souls that would have lingered were eaten by the Gatui. The air is thick with blood, I walk through the carnage and I see the humor this time.
Heads, everywhere. It seems like they were cut by an axe, like the ones the headhunters use. The Gatui must have transformed their guards. The villagers probably thought it was just another raid. I want to think they defended themselves, but there’s no defense against the spirits of death.
I don’t know why I follow them, the Gatui and their servants. I was the only one left alive after they devastated my village. We gave them the proper offerings, we did everything right.
They slaughtered us anyway.
All I heard after they ripped the heart out of my brother’s chest was their laughter. It rang in my skull until all I saw was black.
There is nothing left for me now. Not while they roam. My mother once told me that the Gatui are as much gods of jokes as they are gods of death.
Part of me thinks that if I keep following them I’ll get the joke.
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Written by Karl Gaverza
Copyright © Karl Gaverza
Inspired by the Kikilan description in Philippine Mythology by Jocano.1969.
Kikilan Illustration by Leandro Geniston from Aklat ng mga Anito
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