*Note this story is in Tagalog

Napabuntong-hininga si Leoncio. Panahon na ng mga batong simbahan at mga kalesa ngunit sa lahat ng

modernong hiwaga ay mukhang wala pa ring gamot sa madaling paglipas ng oras. Siya’y napatingin muli

sa kalyeng gawa sa cobblestone at nanalangin na dumating ang kanyang karwahe sa lalong madaling

panahon.

Tigidig – Tigidig – Tigidig – Tigidig

Narinig na ata siya ng diyos at bumati sa kanyang tainga ang hindi maipagkakamaling tunog ng kanyang

karwahe na kanina pa niyang sabik na hinihintay. Baka sa ngayong pagkakataon ay makakauwi na siya sa

oras at masasamahan ang kanyang pamilya kumain ng hapunan.

Nakasabit ang maputlang buwan sa taas ng kalangitan habang pasakay si Leoncio sa kanyang karwahe.

Binati niya ang kanyang kutsero at sinabihan na uuwi na siya sa kanyang bahay. Ito ang kanyang pang

araw-araw na gawi at mukhang wala namang maiiba sa normal hanggang sa may isang estrangherong

kumaway at nais na kausapin ang may-ari ng karwahe.

Nakiusap ang estranghero kay Leoncio na payagan siya makisakay sa karwahe. Madilim na raw kasi at

kinakatakot niya ang mapanganib na daan. Minasahe ni Leoncio ang gilid ng kanyang noo at natandaan

niya ang isang kasabihan na inuulit ng kanyang lolo “Ang diyos ay patas, hindi niya kakalimutan ang

ginawa mo at ang pagmamahal na pinakita mo sa kanya sa pagtulong ng kanyang mga tao at sa patuloy

na pagtulong sa kanila.”

Hindi niya nais mahuli sa hapunan ng kanyang pamilya ngunit hindi rin niya maiwan ang taong ito na

nangangailangan. May takot siya sa diyos at alam niyang merong nasa kaitaasan na nanonood sa kanya.

Nang may konting pag-aatubili, tumabi si Leoncio at inalok ang estranghero na umupo sa tabi niya sa

karwahe.

“Pansin ko isa kang relihiyoso,” sabi ng estranghero, tinapos ang katahimikan.

“Siguro, oo,” hinawakan ni Leoncio ang krus na suot niya sa kanyang leeg. “Nakagawian ko na siguro,”

kanyang sagot.

“Relihiyoso din ako dati.”

“Dati?”

Hindi preparado si Leoncio para sa ganitong usapan. Pagod na siya galing sa trabaho at ‘di niya nais

makipagdaldalan sa isang estranghero na nakilala niya pa lang sampung minutong nakalipas.

“Matagal na rin ‘yun, baka ayaw mo rin mapakinggan.”

Ngunit malakas na pwersa ang kuryosidad.

“Bakit hindi mo ikwento sa ’kin?”

Nagsimula ang lahat sa gabing tulad nito. Ang araw ay naglaho na at ang mga bituin ay nagsimula na

magsipaglaro. Iisa lamang akong munting magsasaka, pauwi ng bahay matapos ng isang nakakapagod na

araw mula sa trabaho sa pamilihan.

Mapagdasal ako dati, laging naniniwala na may plano para sa akin ang diyos.

Nang makauwi na ako sa bahay, alam kong may kaduda-duda. Nakabukas ang pinto at hindi ako binati ng

aking asawa. Kinatakot ko ang aking mahahanap.

Binati ako ng katawan ng aking pamilya na nakabalandra sa sala. Mukhang hinimasok ang aming bahay

ng mga tulisan at pinagtataga ang aking pamilya.

Napuno ang aking loob-looban ng luha ng galit at kalungkutan at sa sandaling iyon ay isinumpa ko ang

pangalan ng diyos sa kaitaasan. Hindi ako magiging parte ng kahit anong planong nais saktan ang aking

pamilya.

At noong araw na iyon, umalis ako sa aking bahay sa bukid na naglalagablab ng galit.

Hindi na siya ang aking diyos at pumunta ako sa iba upang humingi ng tulong ipaghiganti ang aking

pamilya.

Hindi alam ni Leoncio kung ano ang dapat niyang sabihin. Nanatili siyang nakatitig, nakatunganga, sa

estranghero na katabi niya.

“Iyon lamang ang una sa aking nararaming kalapastanganan, at hindi rin ito ang magiging huli.”

Parang may kumukulo sa loob-loob ni Leoncio, gusto niyang sabihin sa kutsero na tumigil, na itapon ang

estranghero palabas ng karwahe, ngunit parang siya rin ay nasa ilalim ng isang trance.

Kung kaya’t ipinagpatuloy ng estranghero ang kanyang kwento.

Pumunta ako sa mga lugar na hinawakan ng dilim, yung nakalimutan na ng mga naka-robe na

kalalakihan. Handa ako gawin ang lahat para mahanap ang pumatay sa aking pamilya, handa akong

bayaran anumang halaga.

Nagdemanda sila sa akin ng mga bagay na wala akong lakas na sabihin, dahil sa ala-ala nito ay

napapaiyak pa rin ako ng mapait na luha. Ngunit ito ay tiniis ko, oo.

Hindi ko kailangan ng kahit sino. Minsan sa gabi, natatandaan ko ang aking mga magulang at napapaisip

kung ano ang kanilang reaksyon sa aking mga nagawa, pero dinuraan ko ang kanilang ala-ala. Ito lamang

ang paraan upang managot sila sa kanilang ginawa.

Dahil matapos ang lahat-lahat, mayroon akong bagong mga diyos na nagbigay sakin ng sigasig sa

pagkuha ng aking paghihiganti.

Gumuhit ako ng mga idolo sa kanilang imahe upang mas mapakinabangan ko ang kanilang

kapangyarihan at pinatili na malapit ang mga ito sa akin. Ang kanilang mga bulong ang siyang nadadala

sa akin ng pinagpalang pagtulog bawat gabi.

Aking binalewala ang Araw ng Sabbath, dahil ano naman ang gamit sa akin nito noon? Wala na akong

naririnig na hipokritong pari at ang kanilang mapanlasong salita, wala nang pagluhod sa pew at pagdasal

ng mga bagay na hindi naman darating.

Buo ako sa kanilang presensya. Sa aking binyag ng dugo, nalaman ko kung saan ako dapat pumunta.

Ginabay ako ng kanilang mga bulong tungo sa isang kweba sa kalaliman ng isang gubat. Doon, nakarinig

ako ng tawanan at musika mula sa labi ng mga tulisan na nagnakaw ng aking pamilya.

Natapos ito sa isang tibok ng puso.

Iniwan ko isa sa kanila ng buhay na may patalim sa isang kamay at sinabi sa isang guardia civil na may

narinig ako na komosyon mula sa kweba. Napakadaling isisi sa kanya ang pagkamatay ng kanyang

kasamahan. Dahil sino ba naman ang maniniwala sa salita ng isang tulisan?

Pero sino ba naman ako upang manghusga? May kinuha ako sa kanila bilang pananda sa aking sarili ng

kalupitan ng tao, isang sensilyo na siguradong ninakaw nila mula sa isang kawawang kaluluwa.

Alam ko na hindi nito maibabalik ang aking pamilya. Ngunit nabubulag sa kintab ng pilak kahit ang

pinakamarangal na tao.

Nakalimutan ko na lahat ay merong kabayaran at ang mga pinaniwalaan kong tumulong sa akin ay handa

nang mangolekta.

Sinubukan kong tumako. Maniwala ka, wala na akong ibang gugustuhin pa kundi umuwi sa aking bahay,

napapalibutan ng aking pamilya. Tumakbo ako tungo sa bahay ng aking kapitbahay at humingi ng tulong

pero alam kong wala siyang tulong na maibibigay sa akin.

Ang huling bagay sa aking isipan bago nila pilasin ang aking balat mula sa aking dugo’t laman ay kung

gaano ko gusto ang bahay ng aking kapitbahay. Kung gaano ko gusto maging ligtas at kumportable sa

yakap ng pamilya na nasa loob.

Siyam na beses ko iniulit ang mga pangyayaring ito. Yung patalim, yung katakot-takot na imahe, at ang

pagbigo ng kasunduan na inilatag ng iyong diyos.

Nahirapan maghanap ng salita si Leoncio. Mula tao, ang estranghero ay naging isang nilalang na

mukhang kalansay, ang kanyang damit ay gulanit.

“Siya nga pala. Alam mo kung saan ang pinakamalapit na simbahan?”

Tinuro ni Leoncio ang kanyang daliri tungo Timog, sa direksyon ng simbahan ng Molo. Sa sunod na kurap

ng kanyang mata, wala na ang estranghero at ere na lang ang natira kung saan siya nakaupo.

Sa gabing iyon, rinig ang mga hiyaw ni Leoncio kahit ilang kilometro kalayo sa paligid at kumalat ang

alamat ng Siyam-siyam sa Iloilo.

*Sa gitna hanggang dulo ng ika-19 dantaon sa Iloilo, may mga manlalakbay sa gabi na nakasakay sa

kabayo o karwahe na nagkwento na nakasalamuha sila ng isang multo. Noong una, yung multo ay

mukhang normal na tao at nakiusap na makisakay sa mga manlalakbay. Ngunit habang naglalakbay,

kakausapin nito ang kasakay niya at ipapagtapat sa kanila ang siyam na kasalanan na ginawa niya ng

siyam na beses. Sunod, ang multo ay magmumukhang kalansay na may suot na damit na gulanit at

magtatanong kung saan ang pinakamalapit na simbahan at maglalaho habang humihiyaw o tumitili ang

naiwan na manlalakbay. Sa isang kwento, nakahanap ng kapayapaan ang Siyam-Siyam noong nakahanap

ito ng isang pari.

=——————————–

Leoncio sighed deep. It was the era of stone churches and horse drawn carriages, but it seemed that with all those modern marvels time was still running out. He glanced once more at the cobblestone street and prayed that his carriage would arrive soon.

Tigidig – Tigidig – Tigidig – Tigidig

God must have finally heard him and the telltale sound of his carriage greeted his ears with fervent anticipation. Maybe this time he would make it in time to join his family for dinner.

The pale moon hung high in the sky as Leoncio boarded the carriage. He greeted his driver and told him that he was headed home. It was his daily routine and things seemed to be going normally until a stranger waved his arms and asked to speak with the owner of the carriage.

The stranger begged Leoncio for a lift, it was dark and he was afraid of the treacherous road. Leoncio rubbed his temples and remembered a verse that his grandmother would repeat “God is not unjust; he will not forget your work and the love you have shown him as you have helped his people and continue to help them.”

He didn’t want to be late to have supper with his family, but he couldn’t leave a person in need. He was a God-fearing man and knew that there was someone up there, watching.

With a hint of reluctance Leoncio moved and offered the man a seat in his carriage.

It was going to be a long night.

“I see you’re a religious man,” the stranger said, breaking the silence.

“I guess I am,” Leoncio clutched the cross around his neck. “A force of habit I guess,” he replied.

“I was a religious man too.”

“Was?”

Leoncio felt unprepared for this conversation. He was tired from the day’s work and would rather not have to engage in petty small talk with a stranger he had just met ten minutes ago.

“It was a long time ago, you probably don’t want to hear about it.”

But curiosity is a strong force.

“Why don’t you tell me about it?”

It was a night much light this. The sun had faded and the stars began to play their games. I was a lowly farmer, headed home after a hard day’s work in the market.

I was a prayerful man, always believing the Lord had a plan for me.

As I reached my house I knew something was amiss. The door was hanging open and my wife did not greet me. I feared the worst.

I was greeted by the bodies of my family sprawled across the living room. It seemed that robbers had broken in and put them to the knife.

Tears of sadness and rage filled me and it was then that I cursed the name of the Lord, most high. I would not be part of any plan that sought to do my family harm.

And that day I left my farmhouse in a blaze of anger.

He was no longer my God and I turned to others to help me avenge my family.

Leoncio didn’t know what to say. He stared, mouth agape, at the stranger beside him.

“That was the first of my many misdeeds, but it wouldn’t be the last.”

Something was bubbling inside Leoncio, he wanted to tell the driver to stop, to throw the stranger out of the carriage, but it seemed that he too was in a trance.

And thus did the stranger continued on with his tale.

I went to the places touched by the dark, to those forgotten by the men in robes. I would have done anything to find those that killed my family, I would have paid any price.

They demanded things I dare not speak aloud, for the memory still makes me weep bitter tears. But endured them, I did.

I needed no one. Sometimes in the night I would remember my parents and wonder what they would have thought of my actions, but I spat at their memory. This was the only way to make them pay for what they had done.

And when all was said and done, I had new gods who gave me the zeal to take my revenge.

I carved idols in their image to better gain their power and kept them close to me. Their whispers carried me off to blessed sleep every night.

I ignored the Sabbath day, for what use was it to me then? No more hearing the hypocritical friars and their words of venom, no more sitting at the pews praying for things that would not come.

I was whole in their presence. In my baptism of blood, I knew where I should go.

Their whispers lead me to a cave hidden deep within the forest. It was there I heard laughter and music on the lips of the men that took my family from me.

It was over in a heartbeat.

I left one of them alive with a knife in his hand and told the guardia civil that I had heard a commotion from the cave. It was all too easy to blame the man for the deaths of his compatriots. Who would believe a thief?

Though who am I to judge? I took something from them to remind myself of the cruelty of man, a single coin that they had no doubt stolen from another poor soul.

It would not bring my family back, that much I knew. But the glint of silver blinds even the most righteous men. I took it and fled to the forest.

I had forgotten that everything came at a price, and those that I believed had helped me were ready to collect.

I tried to run, believe me I wanted nothing more than to be back in my house, surrounded by my family. I ran to a neighbor’s house and asked for help, but I knew he could give me none.

My last thoughts before they ripped the skin from my flesh was how I wanted my neighbor’s house. To be safe and warm in the embrace of the family inside.

And I relived those events nine times. The knife, the craven images, breaking the covenants set by your god.

Leoncio struggled to find words. The stranger had suddenly turned from a man into a skeletal being, its clothes in tatters.

“By the way, my good man. Where is the nearest church?”

Leoncio pointed to the south, in the direction of Molo church. He blinked and the stranger was gone, an empty seat was all that remained.

That night Leoncio’s screams could be heard for miles around as the legend of Siyam-Siyam was spread throughout Iloilo.

*In mid to late 19th century Iloilo, travelers on horseback or carriage told of encountering a restless spirit at night. The spirit at first appeared as a normal human and asked to hitch a ride. On the way it would talk casually and confess of its nine sins that it committed nine times. Then the hitchhiker will turn into a skeleton in tatters and ask for the nearest church and disappear while the travelers screamed their heads off. In one story, Siyam-Siyam finally found peace when he encountered a friar.

=————————-=

Based on the Siyam-Siyam myth from Iloilo

Siyam-siyam Illustration by Justine André Villapa
Instagram: @art.justineandrev

*Note this story is in Tagalog

Isa itong magandang lugar para manalangin. Ang mga salita ng kaniyang mga magulang ay umalingawngaw sa puso ni Alfonso.

Sa unang pagkakataon na sinabi ng kaniyang mga magulang na sila ay pupunta ng La Union, naisip na ni Alfonso ang mga itatanong niya sa surfing instructor.

Ngunit hindi niya inaasahan ang mga batong walang laman sa isang lumang simbahan.

Sa paglipas ng mga taon, sila ay nagbigay ng isang uri ng kaginhawaan.

Anuman ang mangyari sa kaniyang buhay, nandoon lamang ang mg bato. Nandoon sana siya.

Naalala ni Alfonso ang unang beses nang makita niya ang pari.

Nakita niya ito sa gilid ng kaniyang mga mata. Ginagalugad niya noon ang mga guho at tinitingnan kung sino pa ang ibang naroroon.

Nagtawag siya ng isang kaibigan at nakakita siya ng isang multo.

Tumatangis, tumakbo siya papunta sa kaniyang mga magulang at sinabi sa kanila ang kaniyang nakita.

Pareho ang kanilang naging sagot — “Ipanalangin mo siya.”

Alas-otso na ng gabi, tatlong oras buhat nang dumating si Alfonso sa simbahan. Muli siyang nanigarilyo at inalala ang nakaraan.

Tinangka niyang alamin lahat ng tungkol sa pari, ang mga alamat patungkol sa pugot na ulo, ngunit wala siyang napala.

Walang nakaaalam kung paano siya napugutan ng ulo. “Pero mahalaga pa ba ito?” naisip niya.

Sumagi ang isa na namang repleksyon sa isip niya. “Ang salitang ‘nawala’ ay nangangahulugang alam mo kung saan ka papunta, hindi mo lang alam paano makarating doon.” Hindi siya makahanap ng iba pang salitang makapagpapaliwanag ng sitwasyon niya.

Hindi siya nagkaroon ng anumang layunin na maaari niyang habulinl

Alas-nuebe na at sa wakas nagpakita na rin ang pari, nag-iikot-ikot sa mga pinagpalang bato.

At sinimulan na ni Alfonso:

Ama namin sa langit

Sa Iyo namin matatagpuan ang kaligtasan

Ang mga kaluluwa ay gumagala

At itinatangis ko sa Iyo

Para sa mga nawawalan ng pag-asa

Para sa mga nawawalan ng pag-ibig

Ikaw nawa ang maging lahat ng bagay

Sa lahat ng tao

Upang mailigtas Mo sila

Itaas mo ang Iyong mga kamay

Palayain mo ang aming mga kaluluwa

Pakawalan mo kami sa aming mga tanikala

Linisin mo kami mula sa aming mga nakaraan

Gamutin mo ang aming mga sugat

Upang kami ay umasa sa hinaharap

Ito ay nangyayari lamang sa pamamagitan ng Iyong biyaya

Sa pangalan Mo

Na nagliligtas sa amin

Amen

Inulit-ulit ito ni Alfonso nang walang tigil hanggang sa tumulo ang kaniyang mga luha sa mga bato/

Alam niya na naroon pa rin ang pari sa susunod.

Alam niya na hindi ito patatawarin.

Ngunit naniniwala siya sa kapangyarihan ng panalangin.

Mula sa isang ligaw na kaluluwa papunta sa isa pa.

=———————————–=

English Version

It’s a good place to pray. His parent’s words rang hollow in Alfonso’s heart.

The first time his parents said they were going to La Union Alfonso had already thought of the questions he would ask the surfing instructor.

He didn’t expect the empty stones of an old church.

Through the years they became a sort of comfort. No matter what happened in his life, the stones would be there. He would be there.

Alfonso remembers the first time he saw the priest.

It was out the corner of his eye. He was exploring the ruins and wanted to know who else was there.

He called out for a friend and he found a phantasm.

Tears in his eyes, he ran to his parents and told them what he saw.

Their answer was always the same – ‘Pray for him’

It is 8PM, 3 hours since Alfonso arrived at the church. He takes another drag on his cigarette and remembers better times.

He tried to find out everything about the priest, of course, digging through urban legends about the headless specter and finding nothing of note.

No one knows why he lost his head. ‘But does it matter?’ he thought.

Another drag, another reflection. ‘The word ‘lost’ implies that you know your destination and you just don’t know how to get there.’ He couldn’t find another word to explain his situation.

He never had a goal he could chase.

9PM and the priest finally shows up, making his rounds through the once-blessed stones.

And Alfonso begins:

Heavenly Father

In You we find salvation

Souls wander

And I cry to you

For those that are hopeless

To those that do not know love

You become all things

To all people

That you may save them

Lift Your hands

Set our souls free

Undo our chains

Cleanse us of the past

Heal our scars

That we may look forward

It happens only through your grace

In your name

Who saves us

Amen

He repeats this without pause and Alfonso’s tears fall on the stones below.

He knows that the priest will still be there the next time.

He knows that he won’t be forgiven.

But he trusts in the power of prayer.

From one lost soul to another.

=====—————————————

*Tagalog is an Austronesian language spoken as a first language by a quarter of the population of the Philippines and as a second language by the majority. Its standardized form, officially named Filipino, is the national language of the Philippines, and is one of two official languages alongside English.

Written by Karl Gaverza

Translation by Gabriela Baron
Copyright © Karl Gaverza

Translation Copyright © Gabriela Baron

Inspired by The Headless Priest of Pindangan Ruins urban legends

The Headless Priest of Pindangan Ruins Illustration by Kring Demetrio
IG: www.instagram.com/thekringles
FB: facebook.com/thedrawerkring

He thought of the kind of person that would be out at 3AM on a Saturday night. Kids partying until the sunrise or office workers finished with the graveyard shift, those were the usual suspects. This passenger was wearing office wear so he assumed the latter.

Rolito opened the door for his latest passenger and waited until he got in. If he didn’t need the money to pay for his daughter’s new baby (Her husband was a good for nothing lout) he would have enjoyed his retirement.

The passenger’s voice was familiar, he had heard it a hundred times before from different people – broken hearts, failures, business deals gone bad – same old, same old.

The drunk grumbled, ”St. Michael’s church.”

At least this one had a destination. Rolito turned right and started going down the avenue.

His passenger was mumbling to himself, Rolito tried to ignore it but his car radio was broken so he had to sit through the soliloquy. He did notice that the drunk was counting his fingers.

1

I’m sorry mom and dad, I lost the scholarship on my own. I should have listened to you and not my friends.

2

I didn’t tell her I took the condom off. And there you were, still so beautiful. Carrying our child – our child.

3

You needed me and I wasn’t there – but she was. She was everything you were and everything I shouldn’t have wanted. Her lips were so soft. So soft.

4

My old friends found me and gave me a pill. I took it to show that I was a part of something, but they all left. They always left. Now I take from those that did nothing but give. And robbed the future of the only one who loved me unconditionally.

5

I had a second chance. Then a third. Then a fourth. I got a job that could sustain us but what did I do? I stole and cheated the one who would look over my indiscretions. He was such a kind man. But kindness never lasted with me.

6

It was dark. I swear to God it was dark. He was only a boy, not much older than our child. I could only drive away. I’m a coward.

7

My life was full of lies, I would do anything to get what I craved. Lie to my love, lie to my friends, lie to myself. Blasphemous things would escape my lips and I didn’t care.

8

You only tried to help me and I called you brother. But the gravity of my world collapsed over you. It was only one drink, but one was too much and never enough. I don’t even know where you are now, but I must live with the fact that I put you there.

9

And in the end, I committed the most terrible sin of all. Taking what only God could take. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.

The whispers continued going from 1 to 9, over and over again. At a certain point the man was shouting. Rolito looked behind him to calm the man down.

And he saw a skeleton in a tattered suit.

He remembered now where he heard the passenger’s voice. He remembered the last time he saw his grandchild’s father, it was the same coat, same tie.

They had reached their destination but the only remnant that Rolito even had a passenger were some tattered rags in the taxi’s back seat.

=——————————-=

Written by Karl Gaverza
Copyright © Karl Gaverza

Based on the Siyam-Siyam myth from Iloilo

Illustration by Leandro Geniston

From @Thatguywithapen

It’s a good place to pray. His parent’s words rang hollow in Alfonso’s heart.

The first time his parents said they were going to La Union Alfonso had already thought of the questions he would ask the surfing instructor.

He didn’t expect the empty stones of an old church.

Through the years they became a sort of comfort. No matter what happened in his life, the stones would be there. He would be there.

Alfonso remembers the first time he saw the priest.

It was out the corner of his eye. He was exploring the ruins and wanted to know who else was there.

He called out for a friend and he found a phantasm.

Tears in his eyes, he ran to his parents and told them what he saw.

Their answer was always the same – ‘Pray for him’

It is 8PM, 3 hours since Alfonso arrived at the church. He takes another drag on his cigarette and remembers better times.

He tried to find out everything about the priest, of course, digging through urban legends about the headless specter and finding nothing of note.

No one knows why he lost his head. ‘But does it matter?’ he thought.

Another drag, another reflection. ‘The word ‘lost’ implies that you know your destination and you just don’t know how to get there.’ He couldn’t find another word to explain his situation.

He never had a goal he could chase.

9PM and the priest finally shows up, making his rounds through the once-blessed stones.

And Alfonso begins:

Heavenly Father

In You we find salvation

Souls wander

And I cry to you

For those that are hopeless

To those that do not know love

You become all things

To all people

That you may save them

Lift Your hands

Set our souls free

Undo our chains

Cleanse us of the past

Heal our scars

That we may look forward

It happens only through your grace

In your name

Who saves us

Amen

He repeats this without pause and Alfonso’s tears fall on the stones below.

He knows that the priest will still be there the next time.

He knows that he won’t be forgiven.

But he trusts in the power of prayer.

From one lost soul to another.

=====—————————————

Written by Karl Gaverza
Copyright © Karl Gaverza

Inspired by The Headless Priest of Pindangan Ruins urban legends

The Headless Priest of Pindangan Ruins Illustration by Kring Demetrio
IG: www.instagram.com/thekringles
FB: facebook.com/thedrawerkring