*Note this story is in Aklanon

Nabatyagan ko ro kaeamig it saesaeon ku siyaw nga nagaduot sa akong panit.

Nag-umpisa raya ku 5:30 it hapon. Ro hampang nga basketbol hay owa man magbuhay ag ginapauli ako it timprano ku akong nanay ngani pinaspasan ko ro pagpadueong sa baeay. Ro huni hay mahinay, apang bation nga mayad. Tumueok ako sa akong tuo ag kat hakita ko ro puno it santoe hay sayod ko eon kon ano rato.

“Wak….wak…..wak….”

Bati ko gid nga mayad ro tunog sa akong mga dueunggan ag gulpi eamang hay habatian ko man ro mga limog it akong lolo ag lola, “Kon ro huni it wakwak hay mabaskug buot-hambaeon karon hay maeayo ron imaw, apang magdahan ka kon mahinay ro limog kara, bangod ro buot-hambaeon karon hay maeapit eang imaw ra nga mayad.” Maemae ro akong kakueba kat sumueod eon ako sa baeay.

Ro puno it santoe hay una git-a pa man sa ibabaw it hueot ku akong mga ginikanan, ngani sayod ko nga hikita ko gid kon may una gid man idto nga mailaan du wakwak. Kat hakita ko ro akong nabdos nga nanay nga nagapamantaw it TV, sayod ko eon. Ro away hay nag-umpisa eon.

Nagpaeangumang ako sa pagbuoe it siyaw sa kusina, matsa kaugan kara sa akong alima, bangod siguro nga sayod ko kon ano ro akong ubrahon. Tinago ko ro siyaw sa akong shorts, ag lumingkod kaiping ni nanay, hinueat ko ro pagguwa it puea nga dila ku halimaw.

Humueat ko.

Naghilinueat ko.

Mga 30 minuto akong gabilinantay. 30 minuto asta ako hay gumuwa sa liwan padueong sa puno it santoe agud pamatian kon una pa ro limog.

Hinueat ko ag daya hay owa eon.

Asta makaron, gusto kong isipon nga habatyag it tinuga nga ako hay haum sa pagsukoe ag ro akong nanay hay indi basta-basta nga hikaon. Apang ginakilinuebaan man gihapon ako sa kada pagtueok ko sa puno it santoe, naga-eaum nga hibatian ro kanamiton nga falsetto nga

“Wak…..wak…..wak….”

=——————-=

English Version

I could feel the cold steel of the knife pressing against my skin.

It started at 5:30 pm. The basketball game didn’t take too long and my mom wanted me home early so I rushed home as soon as I could. The sound was faint, but very distinct. I looked towards my right and when I saw the santol tree I knew exactly what it was.

“Wak….wak…..wak….”

The sound rang in my ears and suddenly I was hit with my grandparents voices, “If the wakwak sound is loud then that means the creature is far, but be careful if the voice is soft, for that means it is very near.” My blood ran cold the moment I entered the house.

The santol tree was right above the bedroom of my parents, so I knew I had to see if there was anything there that the wakwak might want. When I saw my pregnant mother watching TV, that’s when I knew. The fight had begun.

I raced to the kitchen to get a knife, it felt light in my hand, probably because I was sure of what I had to do. I hid the knife in my shorts, and sat next to my mother, waiting for the moment the monster would let loose its red tongue.

I waited.

I waited.

It was 30 minutes that I stayed on guard. 30 minutes until I ventured outside to the santol tree to hear if the voice persisted.

I waited and it was gone.

To this day, I’d like to think the creature sensed that I was ready for a fight and that my mother wouldn’t be easy prey. But there are still shivers down my spine every time I look at that santol tree, half expecting to hear a soft falsetto of

“Wak…..wak…..wak….”

=——————————-=

*Aklanon (Akeanon), also known as Bisaya/Binisaya nga Aklanon/Inaklanon or simply Aklan, is an Austronesian language of the Bisayan subgroup spoken by the Aklanon people in the province of Aklan on the island of Panay in the Philippines. Its unique feature among other Bisayan languages is the close-mid back unrounded vowel [ɤ] occurring as part of diphthongs and traditionally written with the letter ⟨Ee⟩ such as in the autonyms Akean and Akeanon. However, this phoneme is also present in other but geographically scattered and distant Philippine languages, namely Itbayat, Isneg, Manobo, Samal and Sagada.

Written by Karl Gaverza
Aklanon Translation by WJ Manares
Copyright © Karl Gaverza
Translation Copyright © WJ Manares

Inspired by a story told by Ian Quirante

Wak-wak Illustration by Ian Quirante
FB: Ian Quirante Illustrations

Batyagan ko mangud ya pagdúot kang maramig nga sundang sa pánit ko.

Nagsugod ja kayang hapon kang alas singko y medya. Natapos bai timprano ya sipal namon mu karan nga si Nanay gina pa-uli’ du ko tulad. Apang samtang ga panaw ko pa-uli’, may nabati-an ko nga daw urangol pai hinay. Gin lisó ko ya ulo ko sa tu’ú kag kang nakita ko ya púno ka Santol, man’an ko run kung ano agtong nabatían ko.

“Wak.. wak.. wak….”

Gatagring nga huní sa taringa ko. Pai naaligmatan takón kang madumduman ko ya gin kuon kanakon kang mga katigulangan kauna. “Kung ya huní kang Wakwak matúnog, marayo day’á kanimo. Pai halong timo kung maghinay ana huní kai marapit du ran tana..”

Sa huná-huná ko samtang ga parang lápsi’on takón pasulod sa balay.

Ya sanga kang Santol nmon ga latay sa atup kang kwarto dai Nanay, muran makita ko gilayún kung may wakwak mangud o wara. Kang nakita ko ya gamabdos ko nga iloy garantaw ti TV, man’an ko run ano ana kinutuyó. Daw ma supúkay gid kami kara.

Dayon ko daragan pa kamalig kag bul’on ya sundang. Man’an ko run ya buhaton ko mu ja guro du kamag’an tana ti bit-biton. Tinago ko ya sundang sa bulsa ko kag nagpungko íngud kay Nanay samtang gahurat ka mga tini-ón nga magpakita ana marabog nga díla’.

Naghurat ko…

Kag naghurat…

Tungá’ dun sa oras nagdayon, tinak’an du ko kahurat mura nag panaw ko paagto sa puno kang Santol kag namati kung bati’on pa ti limog na.

Nadura dun ya huní na..

Asta tulad, gina binag-binag ko nga basi man’an ka wakwak nga batu-an ko gid tana kung biktímahun ya si Nanay. Pai di ko japon maributay kag gaparindog balahibu ko kada turok ko sa puno ka Santol. Inang bisán san’o, basí makabatí du man ko mahinay nga huní ka…

“Wak..wak..wak..”

=——————————————=

English Version

I could feel the cold steel of the knife pressing against my skin.

It started at 5:30 pm. The basketball game didn’t take too long and my mom wanted me home early so I rushed home as soon as I could. The sound was faint, but very distinct. I looked towards my right and when I saw the santol tree I knew exactly what it was.

“Wak….wak…..wak….”

The sound rang in my ears and suddenly I was hit with my grandparents voices, “If the wakwak sound is loud then that means the creature is far, but be careful if the voice is soft, for that means it is very near.” My blood ran cold the moment I entered the house.

The santol tree was right above the bedroom of my parents, so I knew I had to see if there was anything there that the wakwak might want. When I saw my pregnant mother watching TV, that’s when I knew. The fight had begun.

I raced to the kitchen to get a knife, it felt light in my hand,
probably because I was sure of what I had to do. I hid the knife in my shorts, and sat next to my mother, waiting for the moment the monster would let loose its red tongue.

I waited.

I waited.

It was 30 minutes that I stayed on guard. 30 minutes until I ventured outside to the santol tree to hear if the voice persisted.

I waited and it was gone.

To this day, I’d like to think the creature sensed that I was ready for a fight and that my mother wouldn’t be easy prey. But there are still shivers down my spine every time I look at that santol tree, half expecting to hear a soft falsetto of

“Wak…..wak…..wak….”

=——————————————=

*The Karay-a language, or Kinaray-a is an Austronesian regional language spoken by the Karay-a people, mainly in Antique in the Philippines, Iloilo and other provinces on the island of Panay, as well as portions of the SOCCSKSARGEN region in Mindanao. It is one of the Visayan languages, mainly along with Aklanon/Malaynon, Capiznon and Hiligaynon. As of 2015, there is an estimated 1,200,000 speakers of Kinaray-a with almost half of them are from Antique and Iloilo provinces.

Written by Karl Gaverza

Translation by Arj Horlador

Copyright © Karl Gaverza

Translation Copyright © Arj Horlador

Inspired by a story told by Ian Quirante

Wak-wak Illustration by Ian Quirante
FB: Ian Quirante Illustrations

IG: https://www.instagram.com/iq_artworks/

*Note this story is in Tagalog

Nararamdaman ko ang malamig na kutsilyo na nakadiin sa aking balat.

Nagsimula ito ng ika-5:30 ng hapon. Natapos kaagad ang laro ng basketball at nagmamadali ako dahil pinapauwi ako ng maaga ng aking nanay. Mayroon akong naririnig na mahinang tunog pero parang nakikilala ko ito. Tumingin ako sa aking kanan at sa puno ng santol nalaman ko ng tuluyan kung ano ito.

“Wak….wak….wak….”

Nagtagal ang tunog nito sa aking tenga at biglang naalala ko ang payo ng aking lolo’t lola, “Malayo ang Wak-wak kapag maingay ito, pero mag-alala ka kapag humina ang tunog nito, ibig sabihin malapit lang ito sa iyo.” Nanlamig ang buong katawan ko habang papasok ako sa bahay.

Ang puno ng santol ay nasa taas lamang ng tulugan ng aking mga magulang, kaya kailangan ko agad tingnan kung ano ang pinag-iinteresan ng Wak-wak. Noong nakita kong buntis yung nanay ko at nanonood siya ng TV, iyon yung puntong naintindihan ko ang lahat. Nagsimula na ang laban.

Tumakbo ako sa kusina para kumuha ng kutsilyo, magaan ito nang hinawakan ko, marahil ito ay sa kadahilanan na alam ko ang kinakailangan kong gawin. Tinago ko ito sa aking shorts, tumabi ako sa aking nanay, at naghihintay kung sakaling sumugod ang halimaw at ilabas ang pulang dila nito.

Naghintay ako nang naghintay.

Tatlumpong minuto akong nakabantay. Tatlumpong minuto rin bago ako lumabas para pakinggan kung nag-iingay pa rin ito.

Naghihintay ako pero wala akong naririnig.

Hanggang sa araw na ito, iniisip ko na baka naramdaman ng Wak-wak na handa akong lumaban at hindi agad mabibiktima ang aking nanay. Pero hanggang ngayon ako ay kinakabahan tuwing ako ay titingin sa puno ng santol, na baka may marinig ako na

“Wak….wak….wak….”

=————————————————————————-=

English version

I could feel the cold steel of the knife pressing against my skin.

It started at 5:30 pm. The basketball game didn’t take too long and my mom wanted me home early so I rushed home as soon as I could. The sound was faint, but very distinct. I looked towards my right and when I saw the santol tree I knew exactly what it was.

“Wak….wak…..wak….”

The sound rang in my ears and suddenly I was hit with my grandparents voices, “If the wakwak sound is loud then that means the creature is far, but be careful if the voice is soft, for that means it is very near.” My blood ran cold the moment I entered the house.

The santol tree was right above the bedroom of my parents, so I knew I had to see if there was anything there that the wakwak might want. When I saw my pregnant mother watching TV, that’s when I knew. The fight had begun.

I raced to the kitchen to get a knife, it felt light in my hand,
probably because I was sure of what I had to do. I hid the knife in my shorts, and sat next to my mother, waiting for the moment the monster would let loose its red tongue.

I waited.

I waited.

It was 30 minutes that I stayed on guard. 30 minutes until I ventured outside to the santol tree to hear if the voice persisted.

I waited and it was gone.

To this day, I’d like to think the creature sensed that I was ready for a fight and that my mother wouldn’t be easy prey. But there are still shivers down my spine every time I look at that santol tree, half expecting to hear a soft falsetto of

“Wak…..wak…..wak….”

=——————————————=

*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 Emman Bernardino
Copyright © Karl Gaverza
Translation Copyright © Emman Bernardino

Inspired by a story told by Ian Quirante

Wak-wak Illustration by Ian Quirante
FB: Ian Quirante Illustrations

IG: https://www.instagram.com/iq_artworks/

The air was slick with the smell of bullets and sweat. The soldier didn’t know why he could not reach his commander or any of his regiment, but he knew he had to be steadfast in the face of danger. He would not abandon his mission by the emperor to claim these islands.

The cave he was hiding in was fetid with the smell of filth but there was nothing he could do about that. The Americans came in and stopped all line of supply, he did not know what happened to the rest of his comrades, they may have been killed, or worse captured.

Night after night he felt the creeping sense of something that was watching him. He had laid out traps for food, and he always made sure to check them every day. He did not know what lurked in the mountains during the night, but he was a soldier and he would face it with bravery in his heart.

He missed the coast that was his childhood home, he missed having food that he did not have to hunt, but most of all he missed the safety of his old home.

The people of these mountains told tales that reminded him of his boyhood, tales of spirit women with long hair. Part of him did not believe such silly superstition, but another part called out to his soul. The soldier’s nights were filled with waiting for the long haired woman to claim him.

In this land the spirit was called Manlalayog, but whatever the name he knew what she could do to him. The long hair draining his youth until nothing would be left but a husk.

It was a hot afternoon when the soldier found the strands of hair in his cave. He did not know where they came from, but he knew they were not his.

Panic surged though his body, he knew there would be an American patrol nearby, and he could throw himself on their mercy, for what mercy could he expect from a ghost? All the bravery he thought he could possess melted away in that instant.

He ran, faster than he thought he ever could, he ran from the danger of his temporary home and into the arms of his most hated enemies.

All because of a few strands of long hair.

————————–————————–————————–—

*The manlalayog resembles myths of long-haired ghost women in Japanese folklore. American and Filipino soldiers used to tell these stories in hopes of scaring Japanese soldiers hiding in the mountains.

Written by Karl Gaverza
Copyright © Karl Gaverza

Inspired by a tale told by the grandmother of Ian Quirante

Manlalayog Illustration by Maku Felix
FB: Art of Maku Felix

Watercolor by Yanna Gemora
FB: Yannami

I could feel the cold steel of the knife pressing against my skin.

It started at 5:30 pm. The basketball game didn’t take too long and my mom wanted me home early so I rushed home as soon as I could. The sound was faint, but very distinct. I looked towards my right and when I saw the santol tree I knew exactly what it was.

“Wak….wak…..wak….”

The sound rang in my ears and suddenly I was hit with my grandparents voices, “If the wakwak sound is loud then that means the creature is far, but be careful if the voice is soft, for that means it is very near.” My blood ran cold the moment I entered the house.

The santol tree was right above the bedroom of my parents, so I knew I had to see if there was anything there that the wakwak might want. When I saw my pregnant mother watching TV, that’s when I knew. The fight had begun.

I raced to the kitchen to get a knife, it felt light in my hand,
probably because I was sure of what I had to do. I hid the knife in my shorts, and sat next to my mother, waiting for the moment the monster would let loose its red tongue.

I waited.

I waited.

It was 30 minutes that I stayed on guard. 30 minutes until I ventured outside to the santol tree to hear if the voice persisted.

I waited and it was gone.

To this day, I’d like to think the creature sensed that I was ready for a fight and that my mother wouldn’t be easy prey. But there are still shivers down my spine every time I look at that santol tree, half expecting to hear a soft falsetto of

“Wak…..wak…..wak….”

————————–————————–————————––

Written by Karl Gaverza
Copyright © Karl Gaverza

Inspired by a story told by Ian Quirante

Wak-wak Illustration by Ian Quirante
FB: Ian Quirante Illustrations