*Note this story in in Tagalog

Day 5

Hindi ko pa rin alam kung anong nangyayari. Sabi nila maaari naman akong umalis kahit kailan ko gusto, pero sa tuwing susubukan kong lumabas, hindi ako makagalaw. Para bang itinutulak ako palayo ng isang pwersa. Sinubukan kong magmakaawa para paalisin ako, ngunit isa pala yung isang pagkakamali. Sinabi kong may pamilya ako at gusto ko na silang makita ulit, ngunit sa tingin ko wala silang pakialam. Sinabi nilang kinain ko ang itim na kanin at ayon sa utos, kailangan kong manatili kasama sila. Habambuhay.

Day 14

Ngayon alam ko na kung bakit itinayo nila ang mansyong ito. Hindi lang ako ang tanging taong andito, ang iba, sa tingin ko mas matagal nang nananatili rito. Parang wala nang kaluluwa ang kanilang mga mata at hindi na sila halos nagsasalita maliban na lang kung tutugon sila sa mga utos ng aming mga amo Tinanong ko ang isa sa kanila kung gaano na siya katagal dito sinabi niyang “taon na” bago siya nagsimulang umiyak. Pero parang hindi makatwiran, kaedad ko rin silang lahat.

Day 25

Nagdala sila ng bagong bilanggo, sa pagkakataong ito ay isang maliit na bata. Naisip ko na baka ang bata ang isa rin sa kanila, maputi ang kanyang balat at buhok at para bang siya ay kumikinang, ngunit sinipa siya ng aming mga amo papunta sa hukay at pinagbuhat ng bato katulad ng ginagawa namin. kakausapin ko siya kapag pinagpahinga na kami ng aming mga amo.

Day 26

Hindi ko alam kung paano ko pa nabibilang ang mga araw. Walang araw rito, ang tanging ilaw lang ay mula sa apoy sa loob ng mansyon. Ang sabi ni Cirilo ay dahil ang masamang engkanto ay sanay na sa dilim, ito ang nagpapanatili sa kanilang mga alagang aswang na masaya. Cirilo ang pangalan ng batang bilanggo, sabi rin niya na ganun ang kanyang itsura dahil ang kanyang ama ay isang engkanto, isa sa mga mabubuting engkanto. Sinabi rin niyang dinala sila ng nanay nila para tumira sa kanyang tatay bago ito pumanaw, kusang-loob naglakbay ang kanyang nanay sa puno ng Balete, hindi tulad ng karamihan sa mga tao.

Day ???

Nandito pa rin kami ni Cirilo, gumagawa ng mansyon para sa aming mga amo. Hindi ko na alam kung ilang araw na ang lumipas, kung buwan o mga taon na. Sa palagay ko tinutulungan ako ni Cirilo para hindi maging katulad ng ibang bilanggo dito, siguro dahil meron akong kausap. Malakas siyang bata, ni minsan ay hindi niya kinibo ang aming mga amo, siguro malamang ito ang dahilan bakit galit sila sa kanya. Lagi siyang nakatingin sa dilim. Marahil may hinihintay siya.

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English Version

Day 5

I still don’t know what’s happening. They say I can leave any time I want, but whenever I try and go out the door, I can’t move. It’s like I’m being pushed away by some force. I tried begging my hosts to let me go, that this is some sort of mistake. That I have a family and I want to see them again, but I don’t think they care. They told me that I ate the black rice and by the “rules” I have to stay with them. Forever.

Day 14

Now I know how they built this mansion. I’m not the only human they have here, but the others, I think they’ve been here longer than I have. Their eyes seem dead and they barely talk except to acknowledge orders from the masters. I asked one of them how long she’d been here and she said ‘years’ before she started crying. But that doesn’t make sense, they’re all still my age.

Day 25

They brought in a new prisoner, this time it’s a small child. I thought that the child might be one of them, he had white skin and white hair and he seemed to glow, but the masters kicked him to the pit and made him lift rocks like the rest of us. I’ll go talk to him when the masters let us rest.

Day 26

I don’t even know how I’m counting the days. There’s no sun here at all, the only lights are from the fires inside the mansion. Cirilo says it’s because it’s because the bad engkanto are used to living in the dark, it keeps their Aswang pets happy. That’s the kid’s name, Cirilo, he says that he looks the way he does because his father was an engkanto. One of the good ones, or so he says. He tells me that his mother took them to live with his father before she died, she willingly took the trip through the Balete tree, unlike most humans.

Day ???

Cirilo and I are still here, still stuck building a new wing of the mansion for the masters. I don’t know how many days I’ve been here, it may be months, even years. I think being around Cirilo stops me from ending up like the others, maybe it’s because I have someone to talk to. The kid’s strong though, he’s never once flinched at the masters, maybe it’s why they hate them so much. He’s always looking out into the dark. Maybe he’s waiting for something.

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Story Continued from the Dalaketnon’s Tale

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

Written by Karl Gaverza

Translation by Gabriela Baron
Copyright © Karl Gaverza

Translation Copyright © Gabriela Baron

Story inspired by Albino description in Bikol Beliefs and Folkways: A Showcase of Tradition. Nasayao. 2010.

Albino Illustration and Watercolor by Sam Despi
Website: http://samdespi.com/
IG: @samdespi

“Aren’t you tired yet? I’ve never met humans as stubborn as you,” The beautiful woman said to Cirilo and me. “Why it could already be a hundred years since you’ve been here. Everyone you’ve ever loved could be gone by now.”

“If that was true then you’d show us,” Cirilo snapped back.

“Ahh the half-breed, always racing for a fight. You know we told your father to stop playing around with that girl but in the end it didn’t even matter. We found the place where your mother died. It made for such a good party.”

Cirilo spat at the woman.

“Now, now, what a useless display of bravado. I’ll tell the aswang to make your punishments extra harsh this time.” She laughed as she exited into the hallway.

“That wasn’t a smart thing to do,” I told Cirilo.

“I know,” he replied, “but I was just so angry.”

“Don’t let her get to you.” I put my hand on Cirilio’s shoulder. “Besides I heard that she can’t even lure humans to her realm.”

“Who’s been telling you that?” All the other slaves barely had enough energy to build the castle and after a few days all vestiges of humanity left them.

“I overheard it from the other dalaketnon,” I smiled. It was nice to know that even in this situation their captors weren’t all friends.

“What did she do?” Cirilo asked.
“It’s more like what she didn’t do. She told a girl called Julia that she would love to have her as a friend and playmate and invited her inside the balete tree that was her house. She spent weeks trying to convince Julia to eat , until eventually she gave up and brought Julia back to her home. No matter how beautiful the house was Julia didn’t want to live there.”

“She was a smart girl.”

We both sat there in silence, two victims of the dalaketnon’s greed. One tricked by lust and power and the other, taken from the only person who ever loved him.

And I asked out loud, “How are we still talking?”

“With our voices?” Cirilo replied sarcastically.

“No I mean really, look at all the other slaves they have here. Not a single one of them can hold a conversation, at least not after a few days. You’re half engkanto so that must be what makes you special but where does that leave me? I’m just human.”

“Maybe more than just human.”
Cirilo took my hands in his and closed his eyes. He breathed in deep and stood in silence for what felt like an eternity.

“Someone likes you,” Cirilo smiled.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
I can feel it in your aura, there’s an engkanto that has a strong emotional bond with you.

“You mean one of those monsters loves me?!”

“Maybe not one of the bad ones, but one powerful enough to fight through their magic.”

I take time to process what Cirilio just said. What could like me enough that I would be protected. I think back to when I first met them. The beautiful people. There was a woman in a black dress, a boy in a leather jacket and a girl wearing white.

They lead him to the back part of the house and fed him what he thought was drugs. It turned out to be far worse. Once it touched his lips he could never return to the life he lead before.

But there was something in the girl’s eyes that gave a measure of reassurance. He was scared of the woman and the boy, but someone as beautiful as her wouldn’t lead him down the wrong path.

He was mistaken, of course, now trapped in the dalaketnon’s realm, building a castle for god-knows-what-reason. But things just didn’t add up. Why was he able to remain relatively normal compared to the other victims. Why did they send the aswang to torture only Cirilo and himself?

There were too many questions that needed answering.

I turned to Cirilo and asked, “There’s more to this than I know isn’t there.”
Cirilo could only nod.

“Are you going to tell me?”

He shook his head.

“You’ll know soon enough,” he looked me in the eye and for that moment I felt reassured.

“Something’s going to happen, isn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“Will I be a part of it?”

“Yes”

“Does it have to do with your father?”

Cirilo didn’t answer.

“Come on, we still need to move those stones to the other end of the staircase,” he finally said

I nod and silently walk with him to our work with newfound knowledge and resolve.

At least I know I have a guardian angel somewhere.

Continued from the Engkantada’s Tale

Written by Karl Gaverza
Copyright © Karl Gaverza

Inspired by Julia in Fairyland in Philippine Folk Literature: The Legends. Eugenio. 2002.

Illustration by Armie Loraine Corpuz
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/armieraine/

Part 3 of Escape from Trapped in the Engkanto’s Realm

“It’s my turn isn’t it?” Cirilo looks at me expectantly.

“Yeah,” I reply. Cirilo and I swap stories to pass time in this hellhole. It passes the time until the bad engkanto make us go to work again, building their palace for god-knows-what reason.

“Have you ever been to Polangui?”

“Not really, where is it?”

“Albay. This is the story of a man named Jose and an engkanta.”

“Why do all of your stories have to do with the engkanto?”

“They’re the only ones I know,” Cirilo said sadly.

I had forgotten that he was just a child that had been raised in their world. The poor thing probably hadn’t heard of anything from the human world apart from the stories that I told him.

“I’m sorry,” I apologized, and Cirilo continued with his story.

“In the town of Polangui, there is a spring gushing from the foot of a hill. The brook served as the source of water for the people in the nearby barrio. One noon, a man named Jose saw a girl alone, bathing. The woman was very beautiful, her long hair wafted fragrance even from a distance. She greeted Jose who was surprised, as he had never met the woman before.

The two became friends, until one day when he did not return home. His father followed him to the brook but he was not there. The whole village looked for him, but he was nowhere to be found.

After ninety days, he returned to his home. Jose was wearing the same clothes that he had on the day he was lost. He was surprised when his family said he disappeared as he said he only spent a few hours in the house of the beautiful girl.

He told his family that he had been taken to her home on the top of the mountain. The house was made of full crystal, all the servants were Aetas and he was fed all kinds of food.

There was black rice there too.” Cirilo stopped the story then and laughed.

It was morbid, but I laughed too.

“As soon as he left the house, he appeared back at the brook—

“And then his family found him and told him to stay away from engkantos.”

“That’s the way all my stories end don’t they?”

“It’s a good moral.”

————————–————————–———————-

Continued from the Albino’s tale

Written by Karl Gaverza
Copyright © Karl Gaverza

Inspired by ‘The Fairy at the Brook.’ in Philippine Folk Literature: The Legends. Eugenio. 2002.

Engkantada Illustration by Ysa Peñas
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/theonechitect/

Day 5

I still don’t know what’s happening. They say I can leave any time I want, but whenever I try and go out the door, I can’t move. It’s like I’m being pushed away by some force. I tried begging my hosts to let me go, that this is some sort of mistake. That I have a family and I want to see them again, but I don’t think they care. They told me that I ate the black rice and by the “rules” I have to stay with them. Forever.

Day 14

Now I know how they built this mansion. I’m not the only human they have here, but the others, I think they’ve been here longer than I have. Their eyes seem dead and they barely talk except to acknowledge orders from the masters. I asked one of them how long she’d been here and she said ‘years’ before she started crying. But that doesn’t make sense, they’re all still my age.

Day 25

They brought in a new prisoner, this time it’s a small child. I thought that the child might be one of them, he had white skin and white hair and he seemed to glow, but the masters kicked him to the pit and made him lift rocks like the rest of us. I’ll go talk to him when the masters let us rest.

Day 26

I don’t even know how I’m counting the days. There’s no sun here at all, the only lights are from the fires inside the mansion. Cirilo says it’s because it’s because the bad engkanto are used to living in the dark, it keeps their Aswang pets happy. That’s the kid’s name, Cirilo, he says that he looks the way he does because his father was an engkanto. One of the good ones, or so he says. He tells me that his mother took them to live with his father before she died, she willingly took the trip through the Balete tree, unlike most humans.

Day ???

Cirilo and I are still here, still stuck building a new wing of the mansion for the masters. I don’t know how many days I’ve been here, it may be months, even years. I think being around Cirilo stops me from ending up like the others, maybe it’s because I have someone to talk to. The kid’s strong though, he’s never once flinched at the masters, maybe it’s why they hate them so much. He’s always looking out into the dark. Maybe he’s waiting for something.

————————–————————–————————––

Story Continued from the Dalaketnon’s Tale

Written by Karl Gaverza
Copyright © Karl Gaverza

Story inspired by Albino description in Bikol Beliefs and Folkways: A Showcase of Tradition. Nasayao. 2010.

Albino Illustration and Watercolor by Sam Despi
Website: http://samdespi.com/
IG: @samdespi

You hear their voices calling your name and you smile. Another night of fun out in the city, you think. You don’t remember where you met them or when that was, but it doesn’t matter, all you know is the thrill. How it makes your heart beat when you’re with them, how the world is somehow open and beautiful again.

Beautiful. They’re so beautiful. And rich. These people are almost too good to be true. They have eyes that just captivate you within a second of looking at them. You’re almost afraid to touch their clothes, like touching them might destroy the delicate fabric. They shine so brightly in the light you almost think they might be made of gold. Maybe they are.

Tonight they take you somewhere different. They say it’s a house party. When you arrive it’s unlike any house you’ve ever seen before. Regal, spacious, luxurious, you can’t even find the words to describe how amazing it is just to be inside.

The party is filled with equally beautiful people, but also some strange ones. No one told you it would be a costume party. So many people dressed as witches and aswang that you feel under-dressed at this occasion. Your new friends don’t mind though, they say it’s so great to have you here.

They offer you some food, it looks like some kind of black rice, but you know better. They have all the best things, including the best drugs. You eat it without a second thought. The high is amazing. You feel things start to change and move around you. Everyone seems to be changing, their hair and eyes turning white. You can feel yourself floating, like you’re being lifted off the floor. The music feels like it’s getting louder.

You look at your watch. It’s 2am. Getting late. You know you have to get home. Have to go back to your normal, boring life, with your normal, boring friends. But somehow you don’t care anymore, it doesn’t seem like a bad idea to stay.

You never want to go home.

You don’t think you can.

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Written by Karl Gaverza
Copyright © Karl Gaverza

Story inspired by the Dalaketnon entry in Creatures of Philippine Lower Mythology. Ramos.

Illustration and Watercolor by Laura Katigbak
FB: Rabbit Heart
IG: https://www.instagram.com/rabbitheartart/