*Note this story is in Tagalog

Nagtipon tipon ang mga mangangaso para sa isang piging. Lingid sa kanilang kaalaman hindi lamang sila ang naroroon.

Matagal ko na silang sinusubaybayan.  Ilang buwan na. May mga pagkakatulad din sila ng mga Kagkag na nakasalamuha ko, magkatulad ngunit magkaiba.

Unang una ang kanilang pagsasalo salo ay hindi kagaya sa amin.  Bawat wirwir ay nagbabantay sa mga puntod tulad ng mga buwitreng sabik sa inuuod na laman.  Sa sandalling alam nila na walang ibang nilalang sa paligid sisimulan nila ang pagkain sa bankay.  Hindi sila magaaksaya ng panahon at hindi sila magaantay ng mga kauri nila.  Hindi ko rin alam kung nakapagpapalit sila ng anyo tulad ng aking kaibigan.

Lingid sa kaalam ng mga magulang ko, bawat gabi kapiling ko ang mga kagkag.  Akala nila’y natutulog laman ako sa aking kwarto, at iyon ang gusto kong isipin nila.  Hindi nila maiintindihan kung bakit nais kong kasama ang mga kagkag.

Ang tanging sandali na nadarama ko na ako’y buhay ay sa piling ng mga patay.

Napawi ang aking pagmumuni muni dahil sa mga tunog ng mga nababaling buto at ang matamis na tunog ng nadudurog na mga laman.  Isa pang pagkakaiba nila sa mga kagkag.  Tinatanggalan nila ng laman ang mga bankay at naninirahan dito.  Tumatagal sila ng ilang linggo sa loob ng bangkay.  Sa tingin ko kaya nila ito ginagawa upang matakot ang iba pang mangangain ng bangkay.

Nakakatawang isipin na kailangan nila itong gawin para paalisin ang ibang masasamang ispiritung kauri nila nang sagayon ay hindi maantala ang kanilang pagkain.

Dumapa ako at ipinatong ang aking ulo sa ibabaw ng malamig na lupa. Pinakikinggan ko ang tugtog ng kadiliman. Ang tunog ng kamatayan na aking ninanais. Tinuruan ako ng mga kagkag na gamitin ang aking mga pandama upang malaman kung kailan darating ang kamatayan.

Nakarinig ako ng panaghoy ng isang kaluluwa sa hindi kalayuan.  Bibilang ng ilang araw bago mailibing ang bangkay.  Naglalaway ako sa lasa ng isang bagong libing na bangkay.  Walang sasarap pa dito.

Ngunit ito ay makapaghihintay. Nandirito ako para sa ibang pakay.

Dinikit ko pa ang aking tenga sa lupa ang nadarama ko na ang mga mangangso ay nakahanap na ng kanilang susunod na pagkain. Hinukay nila ang lupa at unti unting binuksan ang kabaong na naroon upang makamit ang kanila minimithing premyo.

Panahon na upang magkaroon ng bagong kaibigan.

Sa paglapit ko nagsimulang umangil ang wirwir.  Hindi nila tinutuing na kaibigan ang mga tao, kahit ako hindi ko sila tinuturing kaibigan.

Binigyan ko sila ilang pirasong tenga na tira ng mga kagkag.  Sumisimbulon a nais kong makipag kaibigan.  Sa kanila ang tenga ang pinakamasarap na parte ng bangkay.

Pinalibutan ako ng mga wirwir. Magkahalong takot at pagsusupetsa ang nadarama ko buhat sa kanila.  Napansin ko nakalabas ang kanilang mga kutsilyong gawa sa buto.  Handa nilang ipagtanggol ang kanila sarili mula sa akin.

Maliwanag ang buwan ngayong gabi at kitang kita ko ang lahat ng wirwir na naroroon sa sementeryo. Nang mapansin nila akong lahat nadama kong nagiba ang kanilang pakiramdam.  Puno na ito ngayon ng kuryosidad.

Hinanap ko ang pinakamalaking wirwir.  Nagtama ang aming paningin at kinagat ko ang kapirasong tenga na nasa aking kamay.

Napuno ng tawanan ang sementeryo.  Kitang kita ko sa kanilang mukha ang magkahalong gulat at pagkamangha.

Sa isip ko “tama yan, tao ako pero pareho lang tayo.”

Lumapit sa akin ang pinakamalaking wirwir at binigyan niya akong kapirasong atay.  Agad ko itong kinuha at sinulang ngasabin.

Nawalan ng interest sa akin ang ibang wirwir nang mapagtanto nil ana katulad nila ako.  Bumalik sila sa mga nakabukas na libingan ang pinagpatuloy ang pagkain.

Tinitigan ako ng ng wirwir sa harap ko at umungol.

Ungol na animo’y nagtatanong kung ako ako.

Pinunasan ko ang aking bibig na puno ng dugo mula sa atay.  Inilahad ko sa kanya ang aking palad at sinabing “kaibigan”.

Matagal na silang takot sa mga gawi at gawa ng mga tao.  Nasa aking mga kamay ngayon ang pagasa nil ana muli silang makililala.  Na ang mga aswang ay maghaharing muli.

Kinuha niya ang kamay ko at hinila niya ko sa bangkay na siya niya ring ginawang tahanan.  Naamoy ko ang pinaghalo halong dugo, bangkay at lupa na lalong nakapaglaway sa aking bibig.

Hinandog ko sa kanya ang dala kong tenga na kanya naman tinanggap at kinain. Napansin kong gutom na gutom siya.

Maya maya pa ay tumayo ang aking baging kaibiga at tumili ng pagkatinistinis.

Mali… bakit andito na sila? Bakit maaga sila?

Nakita ko ang mga kagkag na unti unting nagbabago ng anyo.  Mula sa hayop nilang anyo ay nagpalit ito ng totoong anyo. Ang bago kong kaibigan ay bumalik sa loob ng bangkay na kanyang tahanan at hapunan. Mukhang gusto din magdaos ng piging ang mga kagkag at hindi nila gusting may ibang kasalamuha.

Tumayo ako at sumigaw na animo’y nanggagaling sa ilalim ng lupa.

Sa sandalling iyon ang mga kagkag at wirwir ay naintindihan ang nais ko.

“Dapat tayong magsamasama at magsanib ng pwersa.  May paparating na malaking sakuna” Dinig ang tinig ko sa buong sementeryo.

Binaba ng mga wirwir ang kanilang mga kutsilyong yar isa buto gayon din ang mga kagkag na nagbaba ng mga bungong kanilang sandata.

Hindi nila kailangang magtalo at magkasakitan.  Pareho lang ang minimithi naming.

Gusto naming pare pareho ng puwang sa sanlibutan.

“sama sama tayo” winika ko ito gamit ang aking bibig at mata.

“Simulan ang piging!”

=—————————-=

English Version

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.”

=—————–=

Continued from the Kagkag’s tale

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

*Not this story is in Cebuano

Nagpulong ang mga mangangalisyam para sa ilang pista, pero wala sila kabalo nga wala sila nag inusura.

Pipila na ko ka buwan nagtan-aw sa ilaha, pareho kaayo sila sa mga Kagkag nga akong nakauban, pero naa sad sila’y kalahian.

Una, wala sila’y pista parehas ka nato. Ang kada usa nga Wirwir magtambay sa mga lubnganan pareha anang mga buwitre ug mangalkal sa mga lubnganan kung nakapamati sila na nag inusara nalang sila. Di na gani sila mag hulat sa uban nilang mga kabanay. Kung makasuot sila ug pigura sa tao, basin nawong sa akong mga amigo ba ron, wala pa ko ka kita.

Kada gabii ko mo bisita sa mga kagkag. Tuo sa akong mga ginikanan natulog na ko sa akong kwarto ug gusto ko kana ra ang ilang tuohan. Kabalo ko nga ang akong kamaayuhan ra ang ilang gi atiman pero dili sila makasabot sa akong mga nakita ug nahibaw-an

Dili sila makasabot nga ang oras nga pamati nako nga buhi ko kay ang oras nga ako i-gugol sa mga patay.

Na hunong akong paghuna-huna sa pag siak sa bukog ug sa tam-is nga tingog sa pagkalata sa usa ka unod. Usa ka rason ngano lahi sila sa mga kagkag. Ilang bungkagon ang mga patay nga lawas ug mo puyo sa sulod niini, usahay mo abot og usa ka semana ilang pagpuyo sa kalabera. Gi himo ‘guro na nila para hadlukon ang mga ubang ungo nga mo kaon ug patayng lawas.

Makatawa ta usahay nila, hadlokun ang ubang ungo, bisag wala’y maka hunong nila basta pagkaon na nila ang hisgutan.

Akong gi butang akong ulo sa salog utro ug gipaminaw ang kanindot nga tingog sa kagabihion, ang tingog sa mga patay. Gi tudluan ko sa mga kagkag kung unsaon paggamit sa akong lawas para mapaduol ko sa lubnganan ug mga sekretong niini.

Kadungog ko sa pamilyar nga ginhawa sa nalabtan na og kinabuhi, duol lang sa lubnganan. Pipila pa nga adlaw ang kinahanglan para malubong ang patayng lawas pero wala’y kapareha ang kalami sa mga lawas nga bag-ong gi lubong.

Pero makahulat ra na sila. Lain akong tuyo diri karon.

Akong gi tarong og posisyon akong dalunggan sa salog ug nagpaabot sa tingog nga pasabot naa nay nakit-an nga bag-ong pagkaon ang mga mangangayam. Para makuha ilang premyong gi atngan, ilang kaoton ang yuta ug gubaon ang mga lungon.

Oras na para mangita og mga amigo.

Ni hishis ang wirwir, di sila gusto og mga tawo ug di ko makabasol nila. Bisag akong tawo mismo, di sad ko ganahan og mga tawo.

Ako silang gihatagan og butang nga nagpasabot maayo akong tuyo sa ilaha, mga pipili ka dalunggan nga nabilin gikan sa piyesta sa mga kagkag. Kanunay nila i-ulahi og kaon ang pinakalami.

Ni palibot ang mga mangangayam sa akoa, na hadlok ug nagduda. Ako nabantayan naa sila’y kutsilyo nga gihimo gikan sa bukog, pang panalipod sa mga tawo parehas nako.

Hayag kaayo ang bulan karon ug makita nako ang mga wirwir sa lubnganan. Karon nga nagpakita nako sa ilaha, ilang pagkamaukiton ni paibabaw kaysa sa ilahang kahadlok.

Ni tan-aw ko sa mga mata sa pinakadakong wirwir ug ni paak sa mga usa nga dalunggan akong gi dala.

Usa ka halakhak ang ni buto sa lubnganan. Ang uban ila gi kagulkol ang ilang mga butang nga gihimo gikan sa bukog, klarong nalingaw sa ilang nakit-an.

“Tinood, tawo ko pero parehas ra ko ninyo,” akong huna-huna sa akong kaugalingon.

Ang wirwir kanina nga ni sulod sa usa ka patayng lawas ni gawas sa iyang bag-ong panimalay ug gi hatagan ko og atay. Akong gi dawat ug ni sugod na ang pista.

Ni tan-aw ang wirwir sa akong mga mata og ni utnga.

“Kinsa ka?” Murag mao’y iyang pasabot.

Akong gi isa akong tudlo ug gi pahid sa akong baba nga nagkamuritsing og dugo. Akong gi pakita sa wirwir.

“Usa ka amiga.” May unta nakasabot siya.

Dugay na nga ang mga ungo sige ug tago sa kagabihion. Pero kaya nako ng bag-uhon kay oras na nga dapat makakita og adlaw akong mga higala.

Gi dala ko sa akong bag-ong amigo sa iyahang panimalay. Naglaway ko sa baho sa dugo ug sa yuta. Akong gi dawat ang imbitasyon sa wirwir nga mo kaon kauban niya.

Ako siyang gi hatagan og dalunggan ug gi kaon dayun ni niya.

Pero kalit siya nahunong, gi isa niya iyang ulo ug ni shagit.

Sayo ra kaayo silang niabot.

Ang mga kagkag nag bag-o na ug itsura, gi sul-ob ang mga porma sa mga mananap. Akong higala nagpalayo ug ni suksok sa patayng lawas nga among gi estaran karon. Murag gusto nila nga mag pista sad, pero ang uban dili welcome.

Ni shagit ko og kusog.

Ning lupad ang mga mata sa akoa, murag nakasabot ang wirwir ug kagkag sa unsa akong gustong himoon.

“Kinahanglan nato mag kinausa kay naa pa’y mas labaw nga hulga sa atoa.” Akong tingog ni lanog sa tibook sementeryo.

Gi butang sa mga wirwir ilang mga kutsilyo, ug gipadaplin sa mga kagkag ilang mga bungo.

Ang duha ka grupo di angay mabalaka kay parehas ra kaming tanan.

Gusto man kaha sila makakaon ug tawo, diba?

Akong nagkadugo nga kamot akong gi gamit sa paggunit sa akong wirwir nga higala, ug ang usa nako ka kamot akong gi bira ang pinakaduol nga kagkag.

“Kauban ta.” Akong gi sulti gamit akong baba ug akong mata, para masabtan gyud ko nila.

“Sugdi na ang kapistahan!”

=———————————————–=

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.”

=———————————————-=

Continued from the Kagkag’s tale

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

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

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

Pt 1 of The Diary of a Teenage Cannibal

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.

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Written by Karl Gaverza
Copyright © Karl Gaverza

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