*Note this story is in Ibanag

“Wiyyang innang i gukag na kama?” Mahina dang i boses ni Jess ta mippiga ngana itinubbo
tannisa. Megafu ta neyali kami tu ospital, kada gabi na ngana lamang iyavu nu egga i mayan na
gukag na kama na tu mappataki nisa. Tallu vulang tu tests, duwa na medisina ngana i naddalang,
amme na pa rin, adde sangawe, mammapya.

Ammu tu akkang tu balanse i pattolay ngyem sais pala i
dagunni Jess para ta kunne. Awang tu abbing ta mundo i dapat makaramdam tu piga nga aggaw tu
matubbo na dagung duwa na tube tapus awang pa rin tu mala tu sagut. Amme na wiyya.

Inumokkakku quiray na. “Awang tu banig ta gukag na kamang, magibannag ka dang.
Mawag mu i sikan para ta exam mu sonumma, di ba?” Nawawwang i assinni Jess. Babbayag
nekatrugang. Magaling i abbing ta kunne nga ira situacion, kaya ipaddasal ku na lang tu mabalinna
yawe i zigaziga na pattolay.

Ngyem, amme na nabaling. Natay si Jess ta gabi. Nekatrugang nga, ta biko na. I sunud ku
nala tu nakannamwang ay maginna ira nars duwa na doktor tu mappabibibi, makkule. Egga paga
tadday tu nars tu mappigil nyo para masingang nu anni i mesimmu. Vinulunganna ta pwerta at tari
ku nasingang ngaming. Abatakku yari normal tu tube tu masingakku la kada aggaw kani Jess i
nakaipay nisa, ngyem akkang. Duma yari. Dakal tu nagadde ngana ta gukag na kama. Yari la maalala
ta kagabi, tas nesimmu ngana i duma-duma tu bagay ira.

Nawawwang i baggi ni Jess paangay ta morgue. Tabbag na morgue, awang tu mali ta takay,
ngyem amme na nagadde na baggi tannira. Kwakku ngaming i kaya para kani Jess. Egga bi nabida
na nars, tu egga siminallung dati ta third floor na ospital. Baka egga kinalaman na ta
pakkawawwang ni Jess.

Panolikku yayya.

Mapya la metanang.

=———————–=

English Version

“Can you check under my bed?”  Jess’ voice was weak from the treatments. It had been her routine every night since we moved to the hospital, she was convinced there was something under her bed that kept making her sick.

Three months of tests and medicine and she still hasn’t gotten any better. I know life’s not supposed to be fair but Jess is only six years old. No child should have to go through days of needles and tubes and still not getting any answers. It wasn’t fair.

I smile and I kiss her forehead. “There aren’t any monsters under your bed, now go get some rest. You need your strength for the tests tomorrow, alright?” Jess smiles at me and drifts off to sleep. The resilience of youth never failed to impress me, but I hoped that it would be enough to get her through one more day.

It wasn’t. Jess died that night. I had fallen asleep next to her and the next thing I knew doctors and nurses were rushing in and shouting. One of the nurses had to restrain me because I kept trying to see what was happening.

The nurse lead me to the door and I that was when I saw it. At first I thought it was one of the tubes that was attached to Jess, but there was something off about it. It was too big to be a wire or anything like that and it ended at the bottom of the bed.

That’s all I remember from that night and there were too many strange things that happened after. Jess’ body was “lost” en route to the funeral home, the morgue says there was nothing wrong with the transport, but the body never got there.

I’m doing all I can now to find out what happened to Jess. The nurses said that there was a break-in a month ago on the third floor of the hospital, maybe that’s connected to Jess’ disappearance.

I will get her back.

If only to bury her.

=—————————=

*Note this story is in Cebuano

Ni abot na pud ning orasa.

Ang mga tao ganahan magpalayo sa mga lubnganan. Dili sila ganahan makahinumdom nga ang mga patay naa ra gihapon duol nila—sa ubos sa ilang gi barugan, mga lawas na ning gahi agi sa toneladang yuta nga gi taklob sa ila. Pero di sila angay mabalaka, dili dugay magpabilin ang ilang mga patayng lawas sa ilang gi kabutangan. Usa ka tingog sa tambol ang nisurok sa palibot sa sementeryo. Dili kaayo kusog kapareha anang mabatian kung naay selebrasyon, pero ang mga bungo sa tao wa gihimo para sa mga kasikas. Kinahanglan sila mahimong abtik ug utokan.

Mangutana ‘guro ka nganong naa ko dinhi. Ngano sama nakong respetadong babae naa sa usa ka sementeryo, nagsunod sa tingog na madunggan didto. Nagsugod ni tungod sa akong pagkamausisaon, parehas sa mga naandang sugilanon. Ni ingon akong mga ginikanan nga di mo adto sa lubnganan, ug ni adto ko. Ing-ana ka simple.

Sa unang gabii nakadungog ko sa tingog sa tambol. Ni lingi ang mga iro, kwaknit, ug mga mananap. Ni tan-aw sila nako, ug wala ko kabalo unsa’y himoon. Ni tudlo sila sa usa ka dakong dahon sa saging ug naa didto si Manong Tonio. Pero sa niaging bulan, ni tambong ko sa iyang lubong.

Ila kong gi ubanan sa patayng lawas ug nakakita ko nga mura silag ga pista. Usa ka makalilisang nga pista. Naa sila’y kutsilyo ug sundang nga gi gama sa bukog, pero ako rang nabatian kay kalinaw ug kahapsayon. Wala ko nahadlok, di parehas sa mga lain tao. Bisag kadtong ila kong gi tagaan sa ilang handang pagkaon, wala ko nahadlok.

Naa na pud ning orasa, ug nagkakusog ang tingog sa tambol.

Kinsa ka ha ron ilang pagpistahan?

=————————————————————–=

English Version

It’s time again.

Most people like to keep graveyards at a safe distance. They don’t like to be reminded that the dead still linger somewhere in the cold, dark earth, but they shouldn’t worry, the dead never stay in the grave for long. The drums ring across the gravestones. The sound isn’t as loud as you would expect from the celebrations, but human skulls weren’t made for noise. They had to be resourceful.

You would ask why I’m here. Why a respectable girl like me would be in a cemetery following the sound towards them. It all started with curiosity, like most stories do. My parents told me not to go to the graveyard, and I went. It was as simple as that.

That first night I heard the drums. I saw the bats and dogs and bugs turn into them. They looked at me as soon as they turned, and I didn’t know what to do. They pointed towards a huge banana leaf and on it was Manong Tonio. A month before I was at his funeral.

They led me to the body and I could see they were celebrating. It was a macabre fiesta. They had knives and clubs made out of bones and somehow, I felt at peace. The fear that I expected never arrived. Not even when they offered me a piece of their meal.

It’s time again and I can hear the drumbeats get louder.

I wonder who will be the feast this time.

=————————————————-=

Inspired by the Kagkag entry in Creatures of Philippine Lower Mythology. Ramos. 1971.

Kagkag Illustration by Leandro Geniston from Aklat ng mga Anito
FB: That Guy With A Pen

*Note this story is in Hiligaynon

“Pwede mo ma lantaw ang idalom sang katre ko?” Nagluya ang tingog ni Jess tungod sang mga bulong. Amo ina ang iya gina himu kada gab-e sugod sang nagsaylo kami sa hospital, nagapati siya nga may ara ang sa idalom sang iya katre nga gapamasakit sa iya.

Tatlo ka bulan nga pagsulay kag bulong kag wala man siya gihapon naga-ayu. Kabalo ko nga ang kabuhi indi dapat patas pero sais-anyos palang si Jess. Dapat wala bata nga magaagi sa mga inadlaw sang mga dagum kag tubo, kag indi gihapun makabaton sang bisan ano nga sabat. Indi gid patas.

Nagyuhum ako kag ginhalukan iya agtang. “Wala halimaw sa idalom sang imo katre, magpahuway ka na. Kinahanglan mo ang imo kakusog para sa “test” mo buas, sige?” Nagyuhum si Jess sa akon kag nagtulog. Ang kalig-on sang mga kabata-an, gapabilib guid sa akun, pero nagala-um ako nga maka-igo ina para makasalbar pa siya isa ka adlaw.

Wala guid. Napatay si Jess sa ina nga gab-e. Natulugan ako sa tupad ya kag ang sunod ko nalang nabal-an ang mga doktor kag nars nagadinalidali kag nagashinagit. Ginpunggan ako sang isa ka nars kay gusto ko guid makita ang gakatabo.

Gindul-ong ko sang nars sa may pertahan kag didto ko una nga nakita. Sa una sa hunahuna ko isa lang sa mga tubo nga nagatakod kay Jess, pero daw may indi insakto sa ina nga tubo. Kadako gid to para maging tubo ukon ano man gid kag nagatapos ina sa ubos sang katre.

Amo lang to ang nadumduman ko sa ina nga gab-e kag kadamo sang mga malain nga bagay nga nagkalatabo pagkatapos to. Ang lawas ni Jess “nadula” sang pakadto na sa pulenarya, hambal sang morque nga wala man lain nga matabo sa transportasyon, pero ang bangkay wala to nag-abot.

Ginahimo ko ang tanan nga makaya ko para mabal-an kun ano natabo kay Jess. Ang hambal ka mga nars nga may nagsulod sang isa ka bulan sa ikatlo nga palapag sang hospital, basi konektado to sa pagkadula ni Jess.

Ibalik ko siya.

Basta malubong lang siya.

English Version

“Can you check under my bed?” Jess’ voice was weak from the treatments. It had been her routine every night since we moved to the hospital, she was convinced there was something under her bed that kept making her sick.

Three months of tests and medicine and she still hasn’t gotten any better. I know life’s not supposed to be fair but Jess is only six years old. No child should have to go through days of needles and tubes and still not getting any answers. It wasn’t fair.

I smile and I kiss her forehead. “There aren’t any monsters under your bed, now go get some rest. You need your strength for the tests tomorrow, alright?” Jess smiles at me and drifts off to sleep. The resilience of youth never failed to impress me, but I hoped that it would be enough to get her through one more day.

It wasn’t. Jess died that night. I had fallen asleep next to her and the next thing I knew doctors and nurses were rushing in and shouting. One of the nurses had to restrain me because I kept trying to see what was happening.

The nurse led me to the door and I that was when I saw it. At first I thought it was one of the tubes that was attached to Jess, but there was something off about it. It was too big to be a wire or anything like that and it ended at the bottom of the bed.

That’s all I remember from that night and there were too many strange things that happened after. Jess’ body was “lost” en route to the funeral home, the morgue says there was nothing wrong with the transport, but the body never got there.

I’m doing all I can now to find out what happened to Jess. The nurses said that there was a break-in a month ago on the third floor of the hospital, maybe that’s connected to Jess’ disappearance.

I will get her back.

If only to bury her.

She lived like fire, everything she touched turned into a bright blaze.

There was no stopping her of course, though there were many that made that mistake. When she put her heart into something it was as if the universe didn’t exist. It was only her and what she needed to do. I would spend many nights watching her work, admiring the brushstrokes on the canvas.

The energy that radiated from her was a wild force, it wouldn’t be kept silent and she didn’t bother trying to hide it. It leaked through her every movement no matter how small and inconsequential. She inspired others with that energy. Some nights I think she could have taken over the world if she wanted to.

Let me go back to the start.

I met Leonora 2 years ago. I was then and now, a struggling artist, trying to find inspiration wherever I went. She was already a big name in the painting scene with many exhibits under her belt.

We bonded over smoke clouds and failed expectations.
I’d like to think that’s when we became friends. Every week after that I would go to her studio and try to learn what I could from her.

I realized too late that you couldn’t learn what she had.
One night, a few months ago, I was with her while she was working on her latest piece. It was entitled ‘A slow dance of red’. It was a landscape piece, unusual for her to do, but she said she wanted to remember the mountains of her childhood home.

She was from Kiokong, Bukidnon, a place that I’ve never been, and a place I know all too well. It was through her paintings that I was able to glimpse the rugged beauty of the rock walls and the rivers they stood guard over.

She would always ask me if it looked right and I had to remind her that it was her home and not mine that she was painting, though, looking back, I don’t think the question was directed at me.

Those were happier times.

I don’t know what to say about what happened. It was a shock to everyone, especially those closest to her.

We all knew she had her own demons to fight, and all of us let her know that we would be there if she ever stumbled.

But she never asked.

I… I want to take this opportunity to thank everyone that gathered to remember Leonora. She had a place in all our hearts and it will only grow now that she’s gone.

As I look over the faces here, some familiar and some strangers to me, I can’t help but think of the way Leonora would have wanted to paint this. She the rare talent of capturing the essence of emotion in a few strokes of paint.

A few… beautiful…. Strokes…. I… I can’t do this.

It’s all wrong.

Leonora didn’t die from an overdose.

She tried to tell us what she was going through, through her paintings, but we were too stubborn to listen.

Look at her final works. The clawed hands, the pointed teeth, the long tongue. It was all there.

And she tried to stop it.

She told me it listened for the sounds of death, maybe that’s why she spent so much time in the cemetery. We all brushed it off as an artistic peculiarity, after all we can’t judge where artists get their inspiration from.

Oh God… if only we had listened.

Look for yourselves! There’s nothing in the coffin!

No trace of her anywhere. They said her body was lost at the morgue, but now I know better.

It was that…. thing that did this.

Her last wish was that her body be washed with vinegar.

No one did the request. It was too strange. We thought it was a joke.

Now no one’s laughing.

Leonora I’m sorry. I should have listened. We all should have listened. The fault is not mine alone. We couldn’t see past the artist in you and now look what happened, watching over an empty coffin hoping that our prayers would be lifted to you.
But prayer can’t help us anymore.

I beg all of you gathered here to remember her last works. Look for yourselves what she was fighting against.

Go back to your homes and dream of her.

That’s the least we can do.

Written by Karl Gaverza
Copyright © Karl Gaverza

Illustration by Edson Espiritu
IG: @blackink.es

Inspired by the busaw/buso description in Creatures of Philippine Lower Mythology. Ramos. 1971.

Case #JKGM 9888

The captain of barangay San Pascual called the police in a state of distress. The call came a week before Undas and there were complaints of vandalism in the nearby cemetery. Two officers were dispatched to investigate.

Based on their reports the vandalism seemed minor. The ground around the graves was disturbed and some coffins were left exposed to the elements. The officers noted that there was nothing valuable in the graves themselves, wedding rings and other expensive objects were still with the remains. Nothing else out of the ordinary was noticed, except for a peculiar lack of thumbs on the bodies that were fully exposed. 

The barangay captain insisted on a police presence in the graveyard on the days leading up to Undas. The same officers were sent to guard the graveyard during the night in the hope of catching the vandal in the act.

Conflicting reports from the two officers were submitted. One claimed that a large dog attacked the officers and nearly tore his shoe off. The other officer insisted that he saw the vandal was a young boy and gave chase, he was not aware of the attack on his comrade until the next morning.

Due to the lack of officers we are not able to spare resources to guard the whole Undas, but thankfully the holiday finished peacefully. No reports of vandals, human or otherwise were reported.

The next few weeks caretakers from the cemetery complained of the vandal becoming more bold. Even the mausoleums had been broken into. Nothing was taken from the bodies but a senior investigator noted that parts of the toes appeared to have been torn off.

The conclusion that the inspectors reached is that some sort of animal had been foraging for food and chanced upon the bodies.

Other officers, especially the one that said the vandal was a young boy, disagreed with the conclusion. An animal could not have broken through the mausoleum locks, and there were reports of vagabonds living in and around the cemetery.
With no evidence to support either theory the case was closed. Every few months the station gets calls from the caretakers about graves being dug up, but valuables still remained intact, though with each report the curious description of missing toes and thumbs is highlighted.

————————–————————–—————–

Written by Karl Gaverza
Copyright © Karl Gaverza

Umangob Illustration by Erik John Paredes

Inspired by the Ifugao Umangob legends

The Diary of a Teenage Cannibal Part 3

It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

I was so careful. I thought I covered my tracks completely. The nights when there would be a fiesta I would sneak out of my room and the next day I would smile at my parents as I got ready for school. Sometimes they would ask me why I looked so tired, but I blamed it on my studies. “There were too many tests that I had to deal with,” I would say, and my parents would believe me.

That is, until last week when my teacher paid us a visit. She told my parents that I was failing all my classes. She said she was worried about me.

She just wanted to meddle. If it wasn’t for her I would be enjoying the feast with my friends. It took me months to get the wirwir and the kagkag to trust each other and I don’t know if old rivalries would flare up if I wasn’t there.

I’m trapped in my room, being given a lecture by my mother. She thinks that I’m secretly seeing some boy. She tells me that he isn’t worth it and that I have so much potential. “There are people that will say anything to get what they want.” “We didn’t raise you to be like this.” “Why would you lie to us?”

The sermon goes on and on and I can barely keep my eyes from rolling to the back of my head. I tell my mother what she wants to hear. That’ll I’ll be honest from now on, that they can trust me. I look at my mother with tears in my eyes and promise that I’ll never see that boy again.

And technically I did keep my promise.

I had to wait until the next full moon to meet my friends. Hours of fake smiles and pretending I was like all the other girls took its toll on me. They dance to the putrid rhythm of their normal lives, they’ll never know how good it feels to escape from the pretension of normalcy, to fully embrace your primal urges and kiss the taboo.

I miss them. I miss the sound that bone makes as I bite into it to suck out the marrow. I miss the smell of dried blood on my lips. I miss the drumbeats and the sound of death.

I travel to the graveyard to see them. The moonlight feels perfect on my skin. I can feel the vibrations of the drumbeats race through the ground to find my heart.

It has begun.

There was a car accident a few days ago and Emilio Canoy didn’t make it. They had a closed casket ceremony and buried him right away, not even embalming him. I couldn’t help but think of the treasure that lay within.

I go to his grave and am surprised.

An ebwa fends of the wirwir and the kagkag. It’s bigger than any I’ve ever seen before and I’m overjoyed, another new friend to add to the collective.

My friends have already exhumed most of the body and I see that they had already started without me. Pieces of Emilio were suspended in their mouths and my mouth starts to water. There will be time for that later, I tell myself, for now I have to welcome our new friend.

The ebwa are cowardly by nature, kept at bay by even the smallest light, but we are all scavengers. I take a piece of Emilio’s liver and I offer it to the beast.

It’s a prized part, only reserved for the most honored among the scavengers. I think back to what my teacher said. “The liver is the repository of our emotions. Words like ‘pighati’, ‘luwalhati’, ‘dalamhati’ all trace part of their origins to the old word for liver, ‘hati’.

It works, the ebwa ceases its retreat and feasts on the organ. I approach it and it lets me touch its head. I feel a connection between us, the girl and the monster, both enjoying the same taboo. It makes my heart race and my pulse quiver.

I look back to the body of Emilio and wait for my turn. There’s enough of him to go around. I breathe in the smell of death and feel more alive than I ever have.

But she just had to ruin everything.

One moment I’m enjoying the fiesta with my friends and another my teacher, along with a group of townspeople, rush towards us, weapons in hand.

I scream to let my friends know they are coming but it’s too late. One by one the wirwir and the kagkag fall to the bolos and guns of the townsfolk.

I run with them. I know now that my place isn’t among humans. A misplaced bullet hits my side, but the ebwa carries me to safety. It takes an eternity for us to find a cave where we can hide.

I’m losing a lot of blood. The shot hit deep and I don’t know if I’ll make it. The ebwa stays by my side, but I can notice it staring at my blood. I take a bit of the crimson liquid and taste it. I never had fresh blood before, and nothing can compare to the rich taste.

I gesture to the ebwa, as well as the few remaining wirwir and kagkag and I smile.

I know my death will not be in vain.

The fiesta will continue.

————————–————————–————————–—

Continued from the Wirwir’s tale

Written by Karl Gaverza
Copyright © Karl Gaverza

Inspired by the Ebwa description in Creatures of Philippine Lower Mythology. Ramos. 1971.

Mandarangkal Illustration by Julius Arboleda

*Note this story is in Isneg

Syam nga algow

Baga da ya la’lakey, syam nga algow bit sikuha nga di madamdam ya di masingen; tuni tida dan itamen ya wagi nga babey. Adeddu pa ya syam nga algow ngem kasapulan koo kagina di.

Walo nga algow

Di nga kawas ya nonna algow na ngem kasapulan Kandela; toley ki lebut ya natey senu di makaadani ya di masingen. Iyow la ya nakakahu nga ammu.

Pitu nga algow

Awad la ki sagged nga magin-indeg. Mangsing-singen ki natey.
Anem nga algow

Magin-indeg pakam.

Lima nga algow

Bayuy! Nakatudug na lugud langin. Awan la pe nakasingenin gaages nala ya wagi. Di ngin nga maunsi tuni. Appat la nga algow ya nebtangin.

Appat nga algow

Di masingen ki sagged ngin. Di na kid madamdam ngin.

Tal-lu nga algow

Kawas pa ya dilag ki gyan nateyan. Nagiddep ammin dilag ki piga nga oras. Nammat na din la adu Kandela tunin. Awanin ya di masingen, ngem amu nga awad la agina kiyan magin-indeg magiddep ya Kandela senu mala na ya wagi ngem di na ma’wa tuni.

Duwa nga algow

Nagawi ya dilag. Nakadiyat na ki piga algowin gapu ki kape; redbull. Di na makakendeg ngin nga matudug. Magimmang din yanin nga di masingen.

Nona/Esa nga algow

Pakawanen na Sarah, ammu nga di na nga kakapyaan nga manung mu kitu nabiag ka kam ngem kuma ta idi nga kokoo e mepasingo ya awad ki un-uneg ku. Mawe taka dan sinsinen ki gyan mu. Nebaga manung.

Nawe ya syam algow nan, ustu ya nebaga da ya la’lakey. Di madamdam ngin ya di masingen. Kuma ta ya isarunu na e di da kalepanan magsibet Kandela. Kararag ku yan nga kaduduwa, ngem ustu la ta din nga iya.

————————–————————–————————–—
English Version

Nine Days

The elders say it will only take nine days for the creature to lose interest and then we can bury my sister. That’s nine days too long but I have to do it. For her.

Eight Days

The first day went without incident, as long as there are candles and people around for the wake the monster doesn’t seem to be able to get close. This may be easier than I thought.

Seven Days

It just waits outside. Staring at the wake.

Six Days

It’s still waiting.

Five Days

Damn it. I fell asleep. No one covered for me and the creature almost got to my sister. It won’t happen again. I only have four days left.

Four Days

I haven’t seen it outside lately. Maybe it already lost interest.

Three Days

There was a problem with the electricity in the funeral home. All the lights went out for a few hours. Damn it! I should have bought more candles. I can’t see the creature, but I know it’s somewhere here, just biding its time until the candles go out. But it won’t get her. I won’t let it.

Two Days

The power’s finally back on. I’ve been surviving the past week on nothing but coffee and red bull to make sure that I stay awake. I can’t wait until I finally get some sleep and to put the monster to rest.

One Day

I’m sorry Sarah, I know that I wasn’t the best brother when you were alive, but I hope that my vigil for you showed you how much I love you. I promise to visit you every day and make sure that nothing bad will happen to you. Kuya promises.

Nine days have passed and it was as the elders said. The creature just lost interest. I hope that whoever it stalks next knows to light a candle and keep it at bay. I pray for that poor soul, but I’m glad it isn’t me anymore.

————————–————————–————————––
*Isnag (also called Isneg) is a language spoken by around 40,000 Isnag people of Apayao Province in the Cordillera Administrative Region in the northern Philippines. Around 85% of Isnag are capable of reading the Isnag language. Many Isnag speakers also speak Ilocano.

Written by Karl Gaverza
Isneg Translation by Kristine Joy Rillera
Copyright © Karl Gaverza
Translation Copyright © Kristine Joy Rillera

Inspired by the Ebwa description in Creatures of Philippine Lower Mythology. Ramos. 1971.

Ebwa illustration by Andrew Rebuldela
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/andrewrebuldela/

The Diary of a Teenage Cannibal Part 2

The hunters gather for their feast, but little do they know they are not alone.

I’ve been watching them for months, so similar to the kagkag that I’ve spent so much time with, but also very different.

For one, they don’t have feasts like we do. Each wirwir hangs around graveyards like vultures and dig up the graves as soon as they think they’re alone, they don’t even wait for others of their kind to join in. If they can change their form like my friends, I haven’t seen it.

I’ve spent most of my nights around the kagkag. My parents think I’m quietly sleeping in my bedroom and that’s the way I want to keep it. They mean well, for old people anyway, but they would never understand.

The only time I feel alive is among the dead.

My thoughts are interrupted by the breaking of bone and the sweet sound of crushed flesh. Another way they are different from the kagkag. They hollow out the corpses and live inside them, sometimes for weeks at a time. I think it’s so that they can scare away the other corpse eaters.

What a silly notion, scaring the ghouls, as if anything can keep them away from their next meal.

I put my head on the ground and listen to the black harmony I love so much, the sound of death. The kagkag taught me how to use my senses in ways that I could keep the shroud of the grave close to me.

I hear the expiration of another soul not far from the graveyard, it may take a few days to get buried but nothing tastes as delectable as a freshly buried corpse.

But that can wait. I’m here for something different.

I press my ear closer to the earth and wait for the telltale beat that tell me the hunters have found their next meal. They part the earth and crack the coffin to get to their prize.

It’s time to make some new friends.

The wirwir hiss and snarl as I approach, they’re not fond of humans and I can’t blame them. Neither am I to be perfectly honest.

I give them a token of peace, some ears leftover from the last feast I had with the kagkag. They would always save the best parts for last.

The hunters surround me with fear and suspicion. I notice they have knives made from bone, probably to defend themselves against those that look like me.

The moon is bright tonight and I can see all the wirwir from around the graveyard. Once I made my presence known their curiosity outmatched their fear.

I lock eyes with the largest wirwir and take a bite out of one of the ears.

It’s laughter echoes through the graveyard. The others rattle their bony implements and join in the amusement.

“That’s right, I may be human, but I’m just like you,” I think to myself.

The wirwir that I made contact with shambles out of its corpse home and offers me a piece of liver, I gladly accept and start the feast.

The others seemed to lose interest once I proved that I was like them. They walked back to the graves and coffins, more focused on their next meal.

The wirwir looks me in the eye and grunts.

“What are you?” It seems to ask.

I take my finger and wipe the blood from my mouth. I spread it around my hands and offer them to the wirwir.

“A friend.” I hope it understands.

Too long have the ghouls stood scared against the workings of humankind. It’s up to me to make sure that my friends have their time in the sun.

So to speak.

My new friend takes my hand and leads me to his corpse house. The smell of blood and earth makes my mouth water, and I accept the invitation and share a meal with the wirwir.
I offer him the ears and he devours them like a glutton.
Suddenly it raises its head and shrieks.

No. They’ve come too early.

The kagkag shift from their animal forms and my new friend retreats back into the corpse we were sharing. They seem to want to hold one of their fiestas, and others are not welcome.
I shout at the top of my lungs, a deep, guttural dirge.

For a moment all eyes are on me, the wirwir and the kagkag both seem to understand what I’m trying to do.

“We must all come together to face a bigger threat.” My shout echoes to the far end of the cemetery.

The wirwir lay down their knives and the kagkag set aside their skulls.

Both groups need not worry, for we are all the same.
We all want a little piece of humanity, don’t we?

I take my bloodstained hands and hold my new friend and the closest kagkag.

“Together.” I say with both my eyes and my words.

“Let the fiesta begin.”

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Continued from the Kagkag’s tale

Written by Karl Gaverza
Copyright © Karl Gaverza

Inspired by the Wirwir entry in Creatures of Philippine Lower Mythology. Ramos. 1971.

Wirwir Illustration by Leandro Geniston from Aklat ng mga Anito
FB: That Guy With A Pen

Nine Days

The elders say it will only take nine days for the creature to lose interest and then we can bury my sister. That’s nine days too long but I have to do it. For her.

Eight Days

The first day went without incident, as long as there are candles and people around for the wake the monster doesn’t seem to be able to get close. This may be easier than I thought.

Seven Days

It just waits outside. Staring at the wake.

Six Days

It’s still waiting.

Five Days

Damn it. I fell asleep. No one covered for me and the creature almost got to my sister. It won’t happen again. I only have four days left.

Four Days

I haven’t seen it outside lately. Maybe it already lost interest.

Three Days

There was a problem with the electricity in the funeral home. All the lights went out for a few hours. Damn it! I should have bought more candles. I can’t see the creature, but I know it’s somewhere here, just biding its time until the candles go out. But it won’t get her. I won’t let it.

Two Days

The power’s finally back on. I’ve been surviving the past week on nothing but coffee and red bull to make sure that I stay awake. I can’t wait until I finally get some sleep and to put the monster to rest.

One Day

I’m sorry Sarah, I know that I wasn’t the best brother when you were alive, but I hope that my vigil for you showed you how much I love you. I promise to visit you every day and make sure that nothing bad will happen to you. Kuya promises.

Nine days have passed and it was as the elders said. The creature just lost interest. I hope that whoever it stalks next knows to light a candle and keep it at bay. I pray for that poor soul, but I’m glad it isn’t me anymore.

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Written by Karl Gaverza
Copyright © Karl Gaverza

Inspired by the Ebwa description in Creatures of Philippine Lower Mythology. Ramos. 1971.

Ebwa illustration by Andrew Rebuldela
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/andrewrebuldela/

“Can you check under my bed?” Jess’ voice was weak from the treatments. It had been her routine every night since we moved to the hospital, she was convinced there was something under her bed that kept making her sick.

Three months of tests and medicine and she still hasn’t gotten any better. I know life’s not supposed to be fair but Jess is only six years old. No child should have to go through days of needles and tubes and still not getting any answers. It wasn’t fair.

I smile and I kiss her forehead. “There aren’t any monsters under your bed, now go get some rest. You need your strength for the tests tomorrow, alright?” Jess smiles at me and drifts off to sleep. The resilience of youth never failed to impress me, but I hoped that it would be enough to get her through one more day.

It wasn’t. Jess died that night. I had fallen asleep next to her and the next thing I knew doctors and nurses were rushing in and shouting. One of the nurses had to restrain me because I kept trying to see what was happening.

The nurse led me to the door and I that was when I saw it. At first I thought it was one of the tubes that was attached to Jess, but there was something off about it. It was too big to be a wire or anything like that and it ended at the bottom of the bed.

That’s all I remember from that night and there were too many strange things that happened after. Jess’ body was “lost” en route to the funeral home, the morgue says there was nothing wrong with the transport, but the body never got there.

I’m doing all I can now to find out what happened to Jess. The nurses said that there was a break-in a month ago on the third floor of the hospital, maybe that’s connected to Jess’ disappearance.

I will get her back.

If only to bury her.

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Written by Karl Gaverza
Copyright © Karl Gaverza

Story inspired by the Balbal description in Creatures of Philippine Lower Mythology. Ramos. 1971.

Balbal Illustration and Watercolor by Nightmaresyrup
Tumblr: http://nightmaresyrup.tumblr.com/