*Note this story is in Hiligaynon

Ek-Ek-Ek

Kinulbaan ang mal-am sang makabati kang huni halin sang iya kwarto. Hutik na, “ Dios ko, indi daad tana.” Nagsinggit siya kag nagapangamuyo nga kahadlukan kang sapat ang iya tingug. Pay nakabalo siya nga indi makaabot ang iya tingug sa kwarto sang iya bata nga nagakaturog.

Ek-Ek-Ek

Uyon niya magdara sang kutsilyo pay waay  dun tana ka oras nga mag-adto sang kusina. Nagapangita siya ka puwede madara gikan sa iya kuwarto. Nakit-an na ang pares kang gunting. “Sakto na diya.” Waay dun sang oras nga mag-isip, karun pa nga na sa pigado dun sanda nga sitwasyon.  Nagdalagan tana paguwa sa iya nga kwarto nga may kaput nga gunting, nagapangamuyo nga sakto dun ang iyang ginakaptan.

Ek-Ek-Ek

Sang paparapit dun, nagsinggit duman tana kang tama ka kakusog. Nagahandum siya nga mapukaw ang tanan nga imaw sa balay. Man-an niya nga isa lang ang iya bata sa kwarto. Ginbuksan niya ang puwertahan samtang may kaput niya mangid ang gunting.

Ek-Ek-Ek

Nakit-an niya ang sapat. Malabog, adto ang pula nga dila sang busong sang iya bata. Nadumduman na ang indi malimtam nga gab-I sang mabatian niya ang huni.  Ang gab-I kun diin nadura ang iya una nga bata. Nangako tana nga indi dun matabo sa kung sin-o man sa iya nga pamilya ang natabo sa iya.

Ek-Ek-Ek

Kaput sang mal-am  ang  gunting kag gin atubang ang iya nga daman.

=-=——————————–=

English Version

Ek-Ek-Ek

The old woman hears the sound from her bedroom and her heart drops. “Please God not her.”, she whispers. She screams, and silently hopes that this can be enough to scare the creature away but she knows that her voice isn’t strong enough to reach her daughter’s bedroom.

Ek-Ek-EK

There’s not enough time to go to the kitchen to get a knife, it might be too late. She looks around her room and sees a pair of scissors. “Good enough.” she thinks. But there’s no time to think, not when this much is at stake. She runs out of her room with the scissors in her hand, praying that it may be enough.

Ek-EK-EK

She is close enough now. She screams again, louder than before, louder than anything she has ever screamed. It may be enough to wake up the others in the house, but she knows her daughter is alone in the room. She opens the door with the scissors in her hand.

EK-EK-EK

She stares down the beast. She sees its long, red tongue attached to her daughter’s womb and she remembers that dark stormy night when she first heard the sounds. When she lost her first baby. She vows that it will never hurt her family ever again.

EK-EK-EK

The old woman grasps the scissors in her hand and charges at her nightmare.

————————–————————–————————–—

*The Hiligaynon language, also colloquially referred often by most of its speakers simply as Ilonggo, is an Austronesian regional language spoken in the Philippines by about 9.1 million people, mainly in Western Visayas and SOCCSKSARGEN, most of whom belong to the Visayan ethnic group, mainly the Hiligaynons. It is the second-most widely spoken language and a member of the so-named Visayan language family and is more distantly related to other Philippine languages.

Written by Karl Gaverza
Hiligaynon translation by Zyryl Leal Abuyen
Copyright © Karl Gaverza
Translation Copyright © Zyryl Leal Abuyen

Story inspired by the Ekek legends

Ekek Illustration by Leandro Geniston from Aklat ng mga Anito
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Watercolor by Catherine Chiu
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The horror caught up to her yet again.

It wasn’t fair, it shouldn’t have been that way.

But life has a different view than most.

Alma carefully applied the ointments and said the eldritch words. She had not eaten since the week before and the others were concerned – well as much as manananggals could be.

They all knew what almost happened.

It was a brisk summer night and the sisters knew that it was time for the hunt. To be safe they all left their legs at the same place, casting dark magic to hide their lower halves as banana stalks.

The sisters soared through the sky, blocking out the silver moonlight.

Alma had begun late, she decided to leave her lower half by the river and used the incantations to summon an illusion. The humans would never know where they were, at least that’s what she thought.

She joined her sisters in flight and thought of what she would like to eat.

Menfolk? No, they were too wiry and tough. Sister Paya almost broke a tooth rending the flesh and shattering the bone.

Children? Those were a lot easier to catch. It seemed these days that there were more and more out and about past their bedtime. ‘Maybe a last resort,’ Alma thought.

Or the shining prize? There was a certain house that the sisters promised not to touch as there was a succulent pregnant woman there. And everyone knows that the more developed the fetus the tastier it would be. The sisters all drew straws and luck fell upon Alma. She could almost taste the sweet meat of the unborn.

If not for her hunger she would have seen the signs.

First was the acrid smell of the suha. It was left on the roof, most likely as a ward against the Manananggal. Alma’s nausea was palpable, but she would not give in. She squatted on the roof and let her long tongue slither down into the woman’s room, carefully, slowly. She had reached the edge of the bedframe before she realized, there was nobody there.

Alma’s screams echoed through the barangay. A man, perhaps her victim’s husband cut off her tongue with a slash by his bolo. The remains of the long, red organ flopping around like a fish out of water.

The sisters came to her aid. They were equally sickened by the suha, but she was their sister and their blood bond was too strong to deny.

Alma was carried off by the stronger sisters and they hastily made their exit. It was almost morning and they had to reattach else they would be dust in the sunlight.

There were shouts from below them and they turned and looked.

What they saw sent a chill down half of their spines.

The husband was following them, with others from the barangay, all armed with bolos, torches and sharpened bamboo spears.

The sisters rushed to their lower halves, all except for Alma.

The mob was by the river, almost on top of her other half.

Alma was weak and she didn’t have the willpower to continue casting the illusion. She had heard tales of the excruciating pain one felt when they could not reattach. That was what scared her the most.

“If I should die, please let it be fast,” she hoped the dark gods heard her prayer.

There was no choice. The illusion would run out soon, and she would have only one chance. Fly fast, grab her legs and hope that she could dodge the slashes of the bolos.

No sisters were beside her and her loneliness only added to the adrenaline pumping through her hideous veins.

She cried out a deafening scream. Momentarily, the mob was caught unawares, and she deftly flew in between the banana trees grabbing her legs. One human was lucky and managed to stab her in the shoulder. She shrieked in pain and could feel the ichor seep from the wound.

“It’s ok. You’re ok. It’s ok,” she said to herself in the middle of her sobs. “I just need to be complete; I just need to be complete.”

Alma joined her two halves together and started for the sisters’ home.

She had never felt such fear before and promised herself that she would never feel that way again. Alma would not let the humans win. From that point on she would be cautious.

Too cautious, her sisters felt.

She had stopped joining the weekly raids to the barangay, her emaciated form giving her sisters pause.
They tried to share their hunt, but, still crestfallen, she would not accept it. She felt it was a problem that only she could tackle.

Alma had never come that close to death before, though she knew its shadow always loomed around the Manananggal. She knew that one day she would have to pass on her powers to an initiate, probably one of her nieces, but those were always fleeting thoughts.

What was happening now was real.

Alma was not spending her time idling by. She sought power, but a specific kind, one not usually found in the islands she called home.

She heard of a creature from a faraway land that would put their soul into an object and they could not be killed unless that object was destroyed.

There were echoes of the Manananggal magic there, old and bloody. She had to find out for herself.

It took her many moons to travel to the land of the Lich. She disguised herself as a caregiver from an agency. No one ever suspected that she was a Manananggal, or maybe they didn’t remember their parents’ stories. Human lives were so fleeting, it was a wonder any of them were able to get things done.

Alma only had vague and broken stories about the whereabouts of the lich. But they were more than enough. Her magic was also able to let her hear conversations from miles away. She waited patiently until she heard it.

“Lich.”

The statement was from an old woman, cleaning out a dusty bookshelf.

“You know you always hear stories about them but they’re all make-believe. They said that this castle is haunted by the Lich, but look at us now, just an old woman and her cat, making the most of life.”

Alma was still trepidatious from her trauma. She would not fly unless she was holding her lower half. It made hunting more difficult, but she managed. There were scant traces of humans around the area, but she made do ripping the viscera out of deer.

She flew with her legs and landed on the upper rampart of the castle. Using her ointments and incantations she disguised her lower half as a pile of stones. Her magic was weak in these parts and she had to be quick.

Alma abandoned her legs for what she felt was the last time and ventured into the castle.

Floating through the corridors she shuddered. There was something dark, something that made her feel alive. She followed the taste of power until it led her to a cave, far beneath the castle.

Alma stopped when she saw her savior.

“You are a long way from home, creature” the wind bellowed from the Lich’s ancient form. It almost seemed like its bones were fused to the marble of the throne.

“I will not waste your time,” Alma said. “Let me know your secrets and I will leave.”

“Pitiable whelp! How dare you come into my place of power and demand such?!”

“You know of my kind, ancient as you are. You know our power. I seek yours.”

“And what can you offer me?”

“If you teach me, I will no longer fear death. I will do your bidding… Master.”

The magic ensnared her senses. The Lich sang in a long-forgotten tongue. As if by lightning, her lower half flew through the castle and settled in the middle of Alma and the Lich.

Twisting, the legs wrapped around themselves and compacted in a sickening munch.

She looked up and saw the fruits of the ritual. Her legs had become the phylactery in the form of a ruby jewel.

Alma would no longer fear the sunlight.  Not the suha, not the bolos, not the humans.

Her fealty to the Lich would be no matter, she could always escape when she felt like it. As of now, she was finally ready to hunt and she said to no one in particular:

“I’m hungry.”

=——————————————————=

Written by Karl Gaverza
Copyright © Karl Gaverza
Baconaua Illustration by Benedict Jose Villarante

The post Manananggal appeared first on Philippine Spirits.

*Note this story is in Bicol – Naga

“Selamat pagi!” bati ni Aish sa local niyang taramon asin nagsimbag ako na “Maray man mahiling ka.” Siya bago pa sana, sarong estudyante haling Malaysia na muya mahiling ang igwa ang Pilipinas kaya uni kami ngonyan. Nasa katahawan ning Negros, masakat pasiring sa kabuludan. Yay.

Dae man sa habo kung maging tour guide pero mahambog lang ako kung masabi akong iyo. Saro akong taga syudad, pinangaki asin nagdakula duman kaya habo ko sa arog kani igdi. Kadakulon mga kahoy, kadakulon maray masitas asin dae pa ko nainom kape sa limang oras na nakaagi. Dae ko maisip na kakayahon kong mabuhay sa arog kani.

Pagkatapos kang lakaw na garo mayong katapusan, nakaabot man kami sa campsite. Naglibot si Aish sa lugar para magkua ning mga magagayon na litrato para sa saiyang souvenir book asin ako man nawalat sa campsite habang minaisip kung panong ang arog kaning bagay naging pamuso sa arog kaning panahon. Ang pagsakat sa mga tukad bako ko talagang ideya ning kaogmahan asin pagkatapos kaning lakaw na ni, dae ko maisip na maulit pa ko.

Naglatag ako ning duyan asin nagpurbar magturog nguna bago magpreparar ning pamanggihan. Naglubog na ang aldaw ning amay ngonyan na banggi pero ang bulan bilogon kaya dae man problema. Nagsara ako ning mata asin nag-isip na mangiturugan ning marhay na bagay.

“Penanggalan! Penanggalan!” namata ako sa kurahaw ni Aish asin dae ko aram kung saro pa ini sa mga gawi ning Malaysian, pero mayo akong interes ngonyan sa pag-aadal kultura. Pigyugo ako ni Aish sa sakuyang duyan asin naghapot, “Haen si mga kakanon!?”

“Aram mo Aish—” nagpundo ako sa katahawan ning taram kang mahiling ko siya. Ito. Aram ko kung ano ito. Sarong ungga-ungga o kung ano mang apod saiya sa parteng ini, pero sa Bikol inaapod mi ining anananggal. Ang mga tour groups madalas tinatakot ang mga turista kang mga istorya kang bruhang naglalayog na naglalaylay ang lamang loob. Dae na ko nag isip isip asin nagdalagan ning abang rikas. Dapat talagang ngpirmi na lang ako sa harong.

“Hain si kakanon?!” Kurahaw ni Aish giraray. “Dae ini oras para mag-isp kang tulak mo!” Kurahaw ko man habang nagdadalagan kasabay niya. Dae ko maisip na maiintindihan ko ang mga Malaysians talaga. “Seryoso ako!” kurahaw niya giraray, kaya tano dae, kung gusto niya ang huri niyang pagkakan, dae ko siya pupugulan. “Yaon sa likod kang tent.”

Nagdalagan si Aish pasiring sa tent asin pigsusog siya kang ungga-ungga. Bako ako itong maisog na tawo pero barkada ko man giraray si Aish. Garo arog kayan, kaya kaipuhan ko magdalagan pabalik para kuanon siya. Nahiling ko siya na may kapot pinya asin pigdaklag ini sa ungga-ungga asin tinamaan ini. Dae ko aram kung anong nangyayari pero nagkurahaw ang ungga-ungga asin naglayog parayo.

Nagtindog lang ako duman, ribaraw.

“Sa pinaghalian ko, ang pinya pigtatanom gibo kang ang mga tunok kang dahon kani pinapahali ang Penanggalan. Ang mga tunok napasiring sa mga baga asin laman loob kani kaya nasasakitan sindang maglayog. Aram kong mabisa ini dawa igdi.” Nagngingirit si Aish sin nag-abot sako ning mga isnakan.

“Gutom ka?”

=—————————=

English Version

“Selamat pagi!” Aish greets me in his native language and I reply “Nice to see you.” He’s a new guy, an exchange student from Malaysia who wanted to see what the Philippines had to offer so here we are. In the middle of Negros backpacking through the “great” outdoors. Yay.

It’s not that I don’t like being a tour guide, but that would be a lie. I am a city boy, born and raised and I do not like it here. There are too many trees, there’s too much green and I haven’t had coffee in 5 hours. I don’t think I’ll survive this.

After a trek that seemed to last forever we finally hit camp. Aish goes around the area to take some nice pictures for his souvenir book and I’m left at the campsite wondering how this sort of thing is popular these days. Trekking through the mountains is just not my idea of fun and after this trip I don’t think it will ever be.

I lay out a hammock and try to take a small nap before preparing dinner. The sun set early tonight but the moon is full so it isn’t that inconvenient. I close my eyes and hope that I get to dream about something good.

“Penanggalan! Penanggalan!”Aish’s shouts wake me up and I don’t know if it’s another one of his Malaysian customs, but right now I am not interested in a cultural exchange. Aish shakes me from my hammock and says, “Where is the food!?”

“Look Aish—“ I stop mid-sentence when I see her. It. I know what that is.  An ungga-ungga or at least that’s what they call it in these parts, back in Bikol we just call them anananggal. The tour groups would always try to scare tourists with stories of the witch that flies with its guts hanging out. I don’t take another moment before I run like hell. I should have stayed in my house.

“Where is the food?!” Aish shouts again. “This is no time to think about your stomach!” I scream as I run alongside him. I don’t think I’ll ever get Malaysians. “I’m serious!” he shouts again, so why not, if the guy wants his last meal then I won’t stop him. “It’s behind the tent.”

Aish dashes to the tent and the ungga-ungga follows him. I was never the brave one but Aish is still my friend. Kind of. I have to run back and get him. I see him with a pineapple and he throws it at the thing and hits it. I don’t know what’s happening but the ungga-ungga screams and flies away.

I just stand there, confused.

“Where I come from, pineapples are grown because their thorns keep the Penanggalan away. The thorns go into their lungs and intestines which makes it harder for them to fly. I knew that would work just as well here.” Aish smiles and hands me some snacks.

“You hungry?”

=——————————————-=

*Central Bicol, commonly called Bicol Naga, is the most-spoken language in the Bicol Region of southern Luzon, Philippines. It is spoken in the northern and western part of Camarines Sur, second congressional district of Camarines Norte, eastern part of Albay, northeastern part of Sorsogon, San Pascual town in Masbate, and southwestern part of Catanduanes. Central Bicol speakers can be found in all provinces of Bicol and it is a majority language in Camarines Sur.

Written by Karl Gaverza
Translation by Monmon Nietes
Copyright © Karl Gaverza
Translation Copyright © Monmon Nietes

Inspired by the Ananaggal entry in Bikol Beliefs and Folkways: A Showcase of Tradition. Nasayao 2010.

Anananggal Illustration by Leandro Geniston fromAklat ng mga Anito
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Watercolor by Catherine Chiu
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The post Anananggal – Bicol Naga Translation appeared first on Philippine Spirits.

*Note this story is in Tagalog

“Kaya ko ito sa loob ng dalawang minuto. Ilang talampakan lang naman ang layo patungo sa susunod na gusali at kaya kong tumakbo ng mabilis.” Ramdam mo ang tibok ng iyong puso na umaabot hanggang sa iyong talampakan, pinagpapawisan ng malamig ang iyong mga kamay, at mula pa lang sa simula, hindi maalis ang kilabot na iyong nararamdaman. Nagsimulang maghigpit ang kalamnan sa iyong mga binti at huminga ka ng malalim bago mo simulan ang iyong pagtakas.

“Ito na marahil ang huling beses na gagawin ko ito.” Tumindi ang pagsidhi ng lakas sa buo mong katawan. Ang bawat yapak ay tila nagbibigay sayo ng pakiramdam na ikaw ang pinakamabilis na tao sa buong mundo. “Eto na ‘yon,” sabi mo sa sarili mo,”nagawa ko!” Ang iyong inaasam ay ay halos abot kamay na lang.

“Hindi.” Wala kang ideya kung paano ito nakarating agad, kumpyansa ka na mauunahan mo ito. Subalit, ang bumungad sayo ay isang babeng may kahindik-hindik na mukha at ang kanyang panlilisik mula sa mga mapupulang niyang mga mata. HINDI!” Sigaw mo sa isipan mo. “… Hindi dapat nagkaganito!”

Di umano ay dinala ka ng mga binti mo sa kabilang direksyon, pabalik sa kaligtasan ng puno. “Bakit hindi ba ako nanatili sa loob?” Nagbalik sa iyo ang lahat. “Bakit hindi pa ba ako tumakbo?”, “bakit ba ako nasa lugar na ito?”, “bakit ba hindi ako nakinig nung may pagkakataon pa ako.” Hindi tumigil ang mga tinig sa isipan mo.

Tanaw mo na ang puno. “Hindi ito makakalampas sa mga sanga.” Napagtanto mo na wala pang limang minuto mula nung tumakbo ka, ang tila limang minuto na may malaking pagkakaiba sa ngayon at sa natitira mong mga sandali.

“Isang hakbang na lang at nandiyan na ako.” Isang mabilis na sugod na lang at hindi ka na nito maaabot. May konti kang pag-aagam-agam nang sumuong ka sa puno at sa kailaliman ng mga malalaking ugat nito, subalit, hindi mo na ininda ang sakit at laking pasalamat ka na lang. “Buhay pa ako”.

Datapwat bigla ka na lang napaisip ng ilagay mo ang iyong mga kamay sa iyong dibdib. “Hindi maaari… Hindi dapat ito ganun kabilis.” Nagsimula tumulo ang dugo pababa sa iyong mga daliri at dagling nagsikalat sa iyong damit. “Nakarating ako, dapat ay ligtas ako.”

Paulit-ulit mong binibigkas ang mga salitang ito sa iyong isipan hanggang sa iyong mga huling sandali.”Dapat ay ligtas na ako.” Ito na lang ang namutawi sa iyong kaisipan, bago magsara ang iyong mga mata. Marahil, sa huling pagkakataon.

=————————————————=

English Version

“I can make it in two minutes. It’s only a few feet to the next building and I can run fast.” You can feel your heartbeat reverberate to your feet, your hands are cold and sweaty and the chill down your spine has been there for the better part of an hour. The muscles in your legs start to tighten and you take one deep breath before starting your sprint.

“This might be the last breath I’ll ever take.” The adrenaline surges through your body. Each step makes you feel like you’re the fastest person in the world. Your face betrays a smile, “This is it!” you think, “I made it!” Your objective is just a few steps away.

“Oh no.” You don’t know how it got there so fast. You were so sure that you were going to outrun it. The woman stares at you with her bulging red eyes and her hideous face twists in a scream. “No!” The voice in your head shouts “It wasn’t supposed to be this way!”

Your legs take you in the opposite direction, back to the relative safety of the tree. “Why didn’t I stay indoors?” The decisions all start coming back to haunt you “Why didn’t I take up running?”, “Why am I in this place?”, “Why didn’t I listen when I had the chance.” The voices in your head won’t stop talking.

The tree is in sight now. “It won’t be able to get past the branches.” You realize it’s been less than five minutes since you started running. Less than five minutes would make the difference between now and the rest of your life.

“One more step and I’m there.” Just one last dash and it won’t be able to grab you. There is a moment of doubt before you lunge under the tree and crash into the roots. You don’t feel much of the pain because of your adrenaline. “I’m still alive.” You’ve never been more grateful.

Until you put your hand to your chest. “No, no, no…” Your mind trails off. “It couldn’t have been that fast.” The blood starts to trickle down your fingers onto the rest of your clothes. “I made it, I’m supposed to be safe.”

You repeat those words in your head until there’s too much blood loss. “I should be safe.” Was what you thought before you closed your eyes. Maybe for the last time.

=——————————————–=

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

Abat illustration by Leandro Geniston from Aklat ng mga Anito
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“Abaadaw kay kabog gud adto! Waray na gud iba. Nakit-an ko adto lahos han bintana ngan may ada hini dagko nga mga pako, lugaring maaram ako kun ano’t kabog.”

“Lurong ka, tuko adto. Nakit-an ko an pula nga mga mata hadto tikang pira ka milya an kahirayo. May ada ulo hin tuko ngan daw usa hadto’n nakakalupad. Diri adto kabog uy! ngan siring mo pa, likod la hadto an imo nakit-an!”

“Nga duha kamo sayop, nakit-an ko an mga kamot hadto ngan makakasiring gud ako nga amu adto.”

“Bungaw ka.”

“Mamaupay na la kontra hit’ sayop.”

“Mga kaupdanan, may ada la hito nag-iinintrimis ha aton. Nakit-an ko an mga tiil hadto nga kanan tawo, ngan nakit-an man naton an ikog di ba nga daw sugad hin hilaba nga buhok hin babayi. Bangin ada may ada la karuyag manhadlok ha aton tikang han mga babayi.”

“Maaram ako kun ano an akon nakit-an ngan waray bisan hin-o nga makakalupad sugad hadto.”

“Bangin may nagbunlot ha ira gamit hin higot o kun ano man.”

“Diri gud kamo natuod ano?”

“Ah! waray dadangatan inin aton pagrinungag!”

“Man, nakit-an ta na an aton nakit-an, puyde adto kabog, puyde adto tuko o amu, puyde liwat nga may ada gud nag-iinintrimis ha at’. It importante, waray na ini, adto na.”

“Asya na. Unta. Kun ano man adto, baadaw kay napangirhat nga gayod.”

“Mga kaupdanan?…”

“Hunahunaa daw niyo kun nga tanan kita sakto? Kay puyde man liwat nga adto nga binuhat kay naghahalo nga tuko-kabog-amu?”

“Tinuyaw na iton, kay ano ka maghuhunahuna hin sugad?”

“Kitaa daw ha igbaw.”

=———————————————————-=

English Version

“It was a bat! That’s the only thing it could be. I saw it through a window and it had huge wings, but I know a bat when I see it.”

“You’re crazy it was a lizard. I could see the red in its eyes from a mile away. It had the head of a lizard and it was probably one of those flying ones. There’s no way it could have been a bat, besides you only saw it from behind!”

“You’re both wrong, I saw its hands and I can definitely say it was a monkey.”

“You’re crazy.”

“Better than being wrong.”

“Guys it was someone playing a prank. I saw the thing’s feet and it was human, besides we all saw the tail anyway and it looked like a woman’s long hair. Probably one of the girls wanted to scare us or something.”

“I know what I saw and there’s no way someone could fly like that.”

“Maybe they pulled themselves up on a string or something.”

“You really don’t believe that do you?”

“This arguing is getting us nowhere!”

“Look we all saw what we saw, it could have been a bat, it could have been a lizard or a monkey or someone pranking us. What matters is that it’s gone.”

“Yeah I hope so. Whatever that thing was it gave me the creeps.”

“Guys?”

“You think we could all be right? Like the thing could be a weird lizard-bat-monkey hybrid?”

“That’s crazy, what makes you think that?”

“Look up.”

=————————————————————–=

*Waray is the fifth-most-spoken native regional language of the Philippines, native to Eastern Visayas. It is the native language of the Waray people and second language of the Abaknon people of Capul, Northern Samar and some Cebuano-speaking peoples of eastern and southern parts of Leyte island. It is the third most spoken language among the Visayan languages, only behind Hiligaynon and Cebuano.

Written by Karl Gaverza
Waray translation by Hiyom Labon Buhi
Copyright © Karl Gaverza
Translation Copyright © Hiyom Labon Buhi

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

Mansalauan Illustration by Jowee Aguinaldo.

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*Note this story is in Tagalog

“Paniki yung nakita ko! Sigurado ako dahil nakita kong mayroon itong malalaking pakpak sa bintana.”

“Baliw butiki iyon. Hindi mo ba napansin yung pula sa mga mata nito sa kalayuan. Ang ulo niya ay kahalintulad ng sa butiki at maaring nakakalipad ito. Hindi maaring paniki yung nakita mo, dahil nasilayan mo lang likuran nito.”

“Mali kayong dalawa, hindi niyo naman napansin yung kamay eh. Unggoy iyon.”

“Baliw.”

“Sa halip naman na mali.”

“Pards, may nanloloko ata sa atin. Nasilayan ko na yung paa nito ay paa ng isang tao at napansin naman natin yung mahabang buntot ay isang mahabang buhok lamang ng isang babae. Maaring isa ito sa mga babaeng gusto tayong takutin.”

“Alam ko yung nakita ko, walang taong nakakalipad.”

“Baka saranggola lang iyon at may humahatak ng tali.”

“Walang pupuntahan itong pag-aaway natin!”

“Iba-iba yung nakita natin kanina, puwede itong paniki, butiki, unggoy, at maaring may nanloloko sa atin. Pero ang mahalaga wala na iyon.”

“Sana nga. Kasi kinalibutan ako sa nakita natin, kung ano man iyon.”

“Pre?”

“Magiging maayos lang ba tayo? Na maaring yung nakita natin ay pinagsama-samang butiki, paniki, at unggoy?

“Baliw, paano mo naman naisip iyon?”

“Tingnan mo.”

=——————————————————-=

English Version

“It was a bat! That’s the only thing it could be. I saw it through a window and it had huge wings, but I know a bat when I see it.”

“You’re crazy it was a lizard. I could see the red in its eyes from a mile away. It had the head of a lizard and it was probably one of those flying ones. There’s no way it could have been a bat, besides you only saw it from behind!”

“You’re both wrong, I saw its hands and I can definitely say it was a monkey.”

“You’re crazy.”

“Better than being wrong.”

“Guys it was someone playing a prank. I saw the thing’s feet and it was human, besides we all saw the tail anyway and it looked like a woman’s long hair. Probably one of the girls wanted to scare us or something.”

“I know what I saw and there’s no way someone could fly like that.”

“Maybe they pulled themselves up on a string or something.”

“You really don’t believe that do you?”

“This arguing is getting us nowhere!”

“Look we all saw what we saw, it could have been a bat, it could have been a lizard or a monkey or someone pranking us. What matters is that it’s gone.”

“Yeah I hope so. Whatever that thing was it gave me the creeps.”

“Guys?”

“You think we could all be right? Like the thing could be a weird lizard-bat-monkey hybrid?”

“That’s crazy, what makes you think that?”

“Look up.”

=—————————————————————=

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

Written by Karl Gaverza
Translation by Emman Bernardino
Copyright © Karl Gaverza
Translation Copyright © Emman Bernardino

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

Mansalauan Illustration by Jowee Aguinaldo.

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Not much of my childhood was spent in Libacao.

Both my parents worked in Manila and would only take me there for vacations once or twice a year.

I would always look forward to those. Spending the day running around the coconut trees, making new friends with our neighbors and ending the night with one of Lola Maria’s stories are memories I still hold dear today.

There was one person that I will always remember though.

Every evening like clockwork, there would be a man with a shovel and a lantern going around the barangay. It always looked like he was looking for something but all I could see was him taking a shovel to some mounds.

When I asked my lola about him she just said *“Kaumangon imaw.” And made me promise never to go near him.

I said I wouldn’t, but you know how kids are.

One night when I was about ten, I lost track of time and ended up out after my curfew (around 6pm). Afraid I might get sermoned I rushed back to my lola’s house. On the way I saw the man lighting his lantern.

I knew the adults would be mad and worried if they knew what I was doing. But I was too curious to think about that.

I approached him and asked, “Excuse me, what are you doing?”

He replied with a gruff tone, “Making sure they don’t come back.”

My eyes opened wide with interest and my mouth couldn’t keep up with my thoughts.

“What do you mean ‘they’?”

“Why do you carry a shovel around with you everywhere?”

“Can I see your lantern?”

“Everyone says you dig up anthills, is that true?”

“Are you searching for something? Is that why you have a shovel?”

“Why are you out every night? What does your family think?”

On that last question he stared me in the eye and I stepped back.

“Go back to your home, child. The nights are dangerous, especially here.”

“What do you mean? I know I’m not allowed to go out at night, but this town seems pretty safe to me. Not like where I’m from in Manila.”

“JUST GO!”

I knew I wore out my welcome and rushed back to my lola’s house.

After dinner and the sermon, I had to find out more about him. I was incessant and bombarded my parents and lola with question after question after question.

They knew when to give up.

My lola started the story:

“His name is Candido del Castillo. We used to make fun of him about his name, but he took it all in stride. He was actually a very handsome young man. In those days those lads would actually take the time to woo a girl and serenade her. Not like today, with your televisions and radio and the miniskirts that let the whole world see—”

“Lola, can you finish the story?”

“Alright, alright. Back then the most beautiful girl in the barrio was Risa. It was actually a surprise when they got married. It took years of trying for Candido to be able to even take her out. She was so cold and aloof that many of us thought she would be an old spinster. I remember when he finally got a ‘yes’ from her. He took his guitar and serenaded her in the moonlight. She looked out her window and smiled (Which was a shock to most of us, we had known her for years and barely even a grin showed on her lips). Their favorite thing to do was sitting by the river, telling stories about what their lives were and where they wanted to go. They got married at the church in Poblacion and it seemed like their life together was going to be happy.”

“That was before Risa got pregnant,” lola looked wistfully to the starlight.

“You may not understand, but a pregnancy is a difficult thing. There are many ways it could end badly. And that’s what happened with Risa. I won’t let you know all the details, you’re much too young to hear them. Ever since Candido lost her, he was never the same.”

“Lola, why does he carry the shovel around?”

“There are…. stories, handed down by people older than I. When Risa died there were… murmurs about how what happened to Risa wasn’t natural, that something else was responsible.”

“What was that something else?”

“Just an old story, nothing more. It was probably easier for Candido to have something to blame rather than accept the face that she was gone.”

“But what about—-”

“It’s past your bedtime. Go to sleep and we’ll talk about it tomorrow.”

We never did.

As the years went by, I visited Libacao less and less. I was too busy facing the horrors of medical school to even think about that old place.

I graduated and finished my residency in Manila, choosing Obstetrics & Gynecology as my specialty. The stress of working in Manila was taking its toll on me and I decided to take some time off and go back to the province.

Lola had passed by then, leaving the house cold and empty. I spent my free time giving medial advice to people in the area.

I asked about the man with the shovel and they told me that he passed away as well.

I hope that he found the peace he was looking for.

Most of the people that come to me are women (not surprising considering my specialty), and they all seem to have the same story. Miscarriages are very common in the area with some women saying that they had at least 3 miscarriages. Women are scared to get pregnant because so many die in childbirth.

I ask for help trying to find the cause of these issues. There doesn’t seem to be anything wrong with the women physically, so it might be an environmental factor.

I can’t leave until I help these people, though I’m not sure how I can do that.

The only thing different that people have noticed is that there have been a lot more anthills popping up in the area.

But that can’t be connected.

Can it?

*This Aklanon phrase means ’Baliw siya’ in Tagalog, or ‘He/she is crazy’ in English

Written by Karl Gaverza
Copyright © Karl Gaverza

Story inspired by the Tanggae depictions from Aklan

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

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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

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One night, an owl poked its head out of its tree hole. The rain was weakening into a manageable shower.

Hungry as it was, it stretched its wings and flew to the perches where it could find prey.

It imagined its first meal of the night, how it couldn’t wait to crush their prey and swallow it whole. The thought made it positively giddy.

Now the owl had a very good sense of hearing, in fact it was adept at listening for even the slightest hints of movement to catch their quarry.

As it flew over a human village it heard a familiar sound.

The unmistakable cadence of ‘kik kik kik’.

The owl would have ignored it as it always had, but it was curious and the rain was starting to get stronger. The elder owls told the young that these creatures are harmless to their kind, only targeting humans. They described in detail the long tongue, perching on the roofs of human houses and their confusing sound.

Closing its eyes, the owl concentrated to find the source of the sound, remembering what it should be looking for.

After a few moments it was confident that it located where the creature would be.

So, it stayed by the window and watched the events unfold.

There were three humans sleeping side by side. One child, a woman that was clearly pregnant and a man.

Even through the noise of the raindrops the owl could clearly hear the sound of some liquid dropping on the stomach of the woman. The owl saw her stand up and put a dipper where she was. The woman moved and found another place to sleep, but again the owl could hear the same sound of droplets hitting her stomach in a familiar tempo.

And then the owl’s ears piqued.

There it was. ‘kik kik kik’

It was almost like a whisper, as if the sound traveled great distances to settle on their ears.

The owl’s blood ran cold.

The man and the child both woke up to the sound and almost through instinct the man grabbed a bolo and rushed outside.

The owl flew to the front of the house to see what the man would do.

The man shouted “If you don’t leave my family, I will go to your house tomorrow!” All the while swinging his bolo through the rain.

And in an instant, it stopped, the owl could only hear the pitter-patter of the drizzle as it washed over the midnight moon.

The creature left, unable to get its meal, and the owl scoffed and told itself that wasn’t going to happen to it tonight.

As the owl flew to its hunting grounds it wondered.

Did the man really know where the tiktik’s house was?

————————————————————————-

Written by Karl Gaverza

Copyright © Karl Gaverza

Story inspired by a story told by Gil Geolingo

Tiktik Illustration by Gil Geolingo

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“I can make it in two minutes. It’s only a few feet to the next building and I can run fast.” You can feel your heartbeat reverberate to your feet, your hands are cold and sweaty and the chill down your spine has been there for the better part of an hour. The muscles in your legs start to tighten and you take one deep breath before starting your sprint.

“This might be the last breath I’ll ever take.” The adrenaline surges through your body. Each step makes you feel like you’re the fastest person in the world. Your face betrays a smile, “This is it!” you think, “I made it!” Your objective is just a few steps away.

“Oh no.” You don’t know how it got there so fast. You were so sure that you were going to outrun it. The woman stares at you with her bulging red eyes and her hideous face twists in a scream. “No!” The voice in your head shouts “It wasn’t supposed to be this way!”

Your legs take you in the opposite direction, back to the relative safety of the tree. “Why didn’t I stay indoors?” The decisions all start coming back to haunt you “Why didn’t I take up running?”, “Why am I in this place?”, “Why didn’t I listen when I had the chance.” The voices in your head won’t stop talking.

The tree is in sight now. “It won’t be able to get past the branches.” You realize it’s been less than five minutes since you started running. Less than five minutes would make the difference between now and the rest of your life.

“One more step and I’m there.” Just one last dash and it won’t be able to grab you. There is a moment of doubt before you lunge under the tree and crash into the roots. You don’t feel much of the pain because of your adrenaline. “I’m still alive.” You’ve never been more grateful.

Until you put your hand to your chest. “No, no, no…” Your mind trails off. “It couldn’t have been that fast.” The blood starts to trickle down your fingers onto the rest of your clothes. “I made it, I’m supposed to be safe.”

You repeat those words in your head until there’s too much blood loss. “I should be safe.” Was what you thought before you closed your eyes. Maybe for the last time.

————————–————————–————————

Written by Karl Gaverza
Copyright © Karl Gaverza

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

Abat illustration by Leandro Geniston from Aklat ng mga Anito
FB: That Guy With A Pen

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