Siya yadto.

Permiro naay, wara pa ako kabantay na siya baya yadto. Yadto na gabii, may yakit-an ko na di maitsura na bayho ug mga pangil. Yakakita ako nan morag dugo sa kapuwa na tanod ug gisundan nako pasingod sa atop.

Ug ngadto nakita nako ang wakwak.

Yapulihan nan dako na ngisi ang kaina na mga pangil ug ang buhok na yapuno nan pomada ug yakahipay na sa likod, pero pareha da na bayho.

Yhibaw-an nako na Fortunato Leviste kuno iya pangan laong nan mga taga ngadi. Yangampanya baya sa pagka gobernador.

Kung kasayod pa lamang sila.

Yagdako ako na pirmi lang-on na mag-amping basta gabii na, labi na basta masakit kami. May mga nilalang na manlupad basta buwanon, mantugpa sa atop kay kan-on imo mga tinae.

May gilaong yadto ni lola sa ako na storya mahitungod sa inin mga wakwak. Laong niya mga gwapa kuno sila, mga pution ang palis ug mga mata na amo dan makalumay. Gipasidaanan ang mga laki tungod sa ila, kay ang laong sa gud na pakaslan kuno nila ang ila mga biktima tapos mulayas da dayon, di na magpakita balik.

Basin amo sab inin iya gihimo ngadi. Gwapo siya ug mistiso, di gayud malikayan na makatan-aw ang mga babae sa iya bisan hain siya kadto. Maningkamot gayud sila para da lamang makastorya sila sa iya.

Pero may isa gayud ka butang na di ako mahiluna.

Mga babae da sa ang manananggal, ‘di ba?

Madumduman ko ang mga storya.

Mga bae na matunga ang lawas.

Mga bae na amo da nan kagi ang ampak.

Mga bae na dili masumpay ang ubos na parte nan ila lawas basta butngan nan abo, sukaan, o asinan.

Mga babae na tag-as nan dila na mokaon nan tinae sa ila biktima.

Dili.

Hibawo ako kun uno ang ako yakita.

Gatindog siya duha ka dupa ang kalayo sa ako tapos yagkatawa.

Uno kaha iya gihuna-huna. Iya siguro sunod na biktimahon?

Di nako yaon pasagdan na mahitabo.

Labi na kuman na may ako yakita.

Gisundan nako siya pagawas sa pirtahan pasingod sa dan. Masimhotan nako ang baho nan tabako.

Yakit-an niya ako ug mindako ang iya ngisi.

Gilang-an ko siya na hibawo ako kun uno siya ug hibawo ako kung uno ang iya hapit gihimo sa ako. Gilang-an ko siya na dili nako pasagdan na mahitabo yadto utro, na wara nay iya mabiktima.

Mikatawa siya.

Yabuang na kuno ako laong niya.

Sin-oy mutuo sa ako?

Ang pulis?

Ako mga amigo?

Ako pamilya?

Unoy ila mahimo?

Minpanaw siya pasingod sa ako ug gitan-awan ako sa mata. Yanimbarot ako kalawasan.

“Ngadi naay ako,” laong niya “wara pa raba ako kapanihapon.”

Makalaong ako na mintaas ang iya dila, sakto da para maabot ang likod sa ako liog.

Yatumba ako sa lupa, grabe na hilak ko.

Dili.

Dili nako ihatag ang iya gusto.

Hanapon ko kung hain siya gahuya.

Mag-andam ako.

Asin, bumbay, ug kutsilyo.

Tana sakto da ini.

Ginoo ko, paigoa ini.

=———————–=

English Version

It’s him.

At first, I didn’t recognize him. That night, I saw a twisted face and fangs. I saw the blood-red thread and followed it to the roof.

And I saw the monster.

The fangs are replaced by a gleeful smile and the hair is slicked back with too much pomade, but it’s the same face.

I ask around and find out that his name is Fortunato Leviste. He’s in the area trying to get some votes to be the governor.

If only they knew.

Growing up we’d be told to be careful in the night, especially if we were sick. There were creatures that flew through the moonlit sky, ready to land on your roof and feast on your bowels.

My lola told me a story once about these monsters. She said they were beautiful, with ivory-white skin and alluring eyes. Men were warned against this beauty though, for it was said that they marry their victims and flee, never to be seen again.

Maybe he’s doing the same here. He’s handsome and mestizo, charming every woman in the room. They’re practically falling over themselves to have a conversation with him.

But one thing keeps nagging me.

Mananaggal are only female, right?

I think back to all the stories.

Women that remove the upper half of their bodies.

Women with batlike wings.

Women that can’t reconnect their lower parts if it’s covered with ash, vinegar or salt.

Women with a threadlike tongue that sucks the bowels of their victims and feast on them.

No.

I know what I saw.

He’s standing four feet away from me and laughing.

I wonder what he’s thinking about. His next victim perhaps?

I won’t let that happen.

Not after what I’ve seen.

I follow him out the door into the street. The smell of tobacco cloyingly lingers on my nose.

He sees me and his smile widens.

Then I tell him I know what he is and I know what he tried to do to me. I tell him I won’t let that happen, that there would be no more victims.

And then he laughs.

He tells me I’m just a hysterical girl.

Who would believe me?

The police?

My friends?

My family?

What could they do?

He walks by me and looks me in the eye. Fear rolls down my spine.

“I’m going to go ahead,” he says “I haven’t had dinner.”

I could feel his tongue get longer, long enough to reach the back of my neck.

I fall to the ground, tears streaming down my face.

No.

I won’t give him the satisfaction.

I find out where he’s staying.

And prepare.

Salt, garlic and a knife.

I hope this is enough.

Please God, let this be enough.

=—————————=

*Tandaganon (also called Tinandag, Naturalis, Tagon-on) is a closely related variety of Surigaonon spoken in the central Surigao del Sur municipalities of Tandag City, San Miguel, Tago, Bayabas, Cagwait, Marihatag, San Agustin, and most of Lianga. It can be classified as a separate language or alternatively as a southern variety of Surigaonon. There are about 100,000 speakers.

Written by Karl Gaverza
Tandaganon Translation by Mark Anthony Ramos
Copyright © Karl Gaverza
Translation Copyright © Mark Anthony Ramos

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

Iqui Illustration by Michael Sean B. Talavera
IG: @maykelshan
Deviantart: https://www.deviantart.com/isaneleach13

*Note this story is in Tagalog

Siya iyon.

Hindi ako maaaring magkamali. Nakita ko siya nang gabing iyon, ang pangil niya at ang kulubot niyang mukha. Ang mga patak ng dugo, nakita ko at sinundan ko iyon hanggang sa bubong.

Halimaw ang nakita ko.

Nakangiti siya na nakalabas ang mga pangil na ang buhok ay naka-pomada pero siya talaga iyon.

Fortunato Leviste ang pangalan niya ayon sa mga napagtanungan ko. Nandito siya para makapangampanya sa pagtakbo niya sa pagka-Gobernador.

Kung alam lang nila.

Natatandaan ko noong mga bata kami. Lumaki akong palaging pinag-iingat sa gabi lalo na kung may sakit dahil sa mga nilalang na lumilipad na handang bumaba sa bubong at pagpiyestahan ang bituka ng magiging biktima.

Kwento pa ng Lola ko noon, maganda raw ang mga halimaw, mapuputi at may mapang-akit na mga mata. Kaya’t pinag-iingat rin ang mga kalalakihan dahil ayon sa mga kwento, pinakakasalan ng mga ito ang biktima nila, pagkatapos ay lilipad at hindi na muling magpapakita.

Marahil ay ganoon din sya, magandang lalake at mestiso, kaakit-akit rin sa mga kababaihan. Karamihan ay nagkakandarapang makausap siya.

Pero isa lang ang ipinagtataka ko.

Hindi ba’t babae lang ang mga manananggal?

Binabalikan ko ang mga kwento noon.

Babae na natatanggal ang kalahati ng katawan

Babaeng may pakpak na tulad ng sa paniki

Babaeng hindi na makababalik sa kanilang kalahating katawan kapag nilagyan ito ng abo, suka at asin.

Babaeng may mala-sinulid na dila na sumisipsip sa bituka ng kanilang biktima.

Pero hindi.

Alam ko ang nakita ko.

Nakatayo siya sa di kalayuan sa akin at tumatawa.

Ano kayang iniisip niya. Siguro ‘yong susunod niyang biktima?

Hindi ko hahayaang mangyari iyon.

Matapos ang mga nakita ko.

Sinundan ko siya papalabas sa kalsada. Naaamoy ko ang usok ng kaniyang Tabako.

Nakita niya ako at ngumiti.

Sinabi ko sa kaniya na alam ko kung ano siya at kung anong nais niyang gawin sa akin. Sinabi kong hindi ko hahayaang mangyari iyon at wala nang magiging biktima pa.

Tumawa lang siya.

Naghihisterikal lang daw ako.

Sinong maniniwala sa akin?

Ang mga pulis?

Mga kaibigan ko?

Pamilya ko?

Lumapit siya sa akin at tinitigan ako at nagsimula akong kilabutan.

“Tutuloy na ako,” and sabi niya, “hindi pa ako naghahapunan”

Parang naramdaman ko ang paghaba ng kaniyang dila na hanggang sa may leeg ko

Umiiyak akong bumagsak sa sahig.

Hindi.

Hindi maaaring hayaan ko na lang siya.

Natunton ko na ang kaniyang lungga.

At ito. Asin, suka at kutsilyo.

Sana’y sapat na ito.

Diyos ko, sana…

=——————————————–=

English Version

It’s him.

At first, I didn’t recognize him. That night, I saw a twisted face and fangs. I saw the blood-red thread and followed it to the roof.

And I saw the monster.

The fangs are replaced by a gleeful smile and the hair is slicked back with too much pomade, but it’s the same face.

I ask around and find out that his name is Fortunato Leviste. He’s in the area trying to get some votes to be the governor.

If only they knew.

Growing up we’d be told to be careful in the night, especially if we were sick. There were creatures that flew through the moonlit sky, ready to land on your roof and feast on your bowels.

My lola told me a story once about these monsters. She said they were beautiful, with ivory-white skin and alluring eyes. Men were warned against this beauty though, for it was said that they marry their victims and flee, never to be seen again.

Maybe he’s doing the same here. He’s handsome and mestizo, charming every woman in the room. They’re practically falling over themselves to have a conversation with him.

But one thing keeps nagging me.

Mananaggal are only female, right?

I think back to all the stories.

Women that remove the upper half of their bodies.

Women with batlike wings.

Women that can’t reconnect their lower parts if it’s covered with ash, vinegar or salt.

Women with a threadlike tongue that sucks the bowels of their victims and feast on them.

No.

I know what I saw.

He’s standing four feet away from me and laughing.

I wonder what he’s thinking about. His next victim perhaps?

I won’t let that happen.

Not after what I’ve seen.

I follow him out the door into the street. The smell of tobacco cloyingly lingers on my nose.

He sees me and his smile widens.

Then I tell him I know what he is and I know what he tried to do to me. I tell him I won’t let that happen, that there would be no more victims.

And then he laughs.

He tells me I’m just a hysterical girl.

Who would believe me?

The police?

My friends?

My family?

What could they do?

He walks by me and looks me in the eye. Fear rolls down my spine.

“I’m going to go ahead,” he says “I haven’t had dinner.”

I could feel his tongue get longer, long enough to reach the back of my neck.

I fall to the ground, tears streaming down my face.

No.

I won’t give him the satisfaction.

I find out where he’s staying.

And prepare.

Salt, garlic and a knife.

I hope this is enough.

Please God, let this be enough.

=——————————————-=

*The Iqui is also known as Ikki / Ike

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

Iqui Illustration by Michael Sean B. Talavera
IG: @maykelshan
Deviantart: https://www.deviantart.com/isaneleach13

It’s him.

At first, I didn’t recognize him. That night, I saw a twisted face and fangs. I saw the blood-red thread and followed it to the roof.

And I saw the monster.

The fangs are replaced by a gleeful smile and the hair is slicked back with too much pomade, but it’s the same face.

I ask around and find out that his name is Fortunato Leviste. He’s in the area trying to get some votes to be the governor.

If only they knew.

Growing up we’d be told to be careful in the night, especially if we were sick. There were creatures that flew through the moonlit sky, ready to land on your roof and feast on your bowels.

My lola told me a story once about these monsters. She said they were beautiful, with ivory-white skin and alluring eyes. Men were warned against this beauty though, for it was said that they marry their victims and flee, never to be seen again.

Maybe he’s doing the same here. He’s handsome and mestizo, charming every woman in the room. They’re practically falling over themselves to have a conversation with him.

But one thing keeps nagging me.

Mananaggal are only female, right?

I think back to all the stories.

Women that remove the upper half of their bodies.

Women with batlike wings.

Women that can’t reconnect their lower parts if it’s covered with ash, vinegar or salt.

Women with a threadlike tongue that sucks the bowels of their victims and feast on them.

No.

I know what I saw.

He’s standing four feet away from me and laughing.

I wonder what he’s thinking about. His next victim perhaps?

I won’t let that happen.

Not after what I’ve seen.

I follow him out the door into the street. The smell of tobacco cloyingly lingers on my nose.

He sees me and his smile widens.

Then I tell him I know what he is and I know what he tried to do to me. I tell him I won’t let that happen, that there would be no more victims.

And then he laughs.

He tells me I’m just a hysterical girl.

Who would believe me?

The police?

My friends?

My family?

What could they do?

He walks by me and looks me in the eye. Fear rolls down my spine.

“I’m going to go ahead,” he says “I haven’t had dinner.”

I could feel his tongue get longer, long enough to reach the back of my neck.

I fall to the ground, tears streaming down my face.

No.

I won’t give him the satisfaction.

I find out where he’s staying.

And prepare.

Salt, garlic and a knife.

I hope this is enough.

Please God, let this be enough.

*The Iqui is also known as Ikki / Ike

Written by Karl Gaverza
Copyright © Karl Gaverza

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

Iqui Illustration by Michael Sean B. Talavera
IG: @maykelshan
Deviantart: https://www.deviantart.com/isaneleach13