EK-EK-EK

Nalumos ang tigulang sa kakulba nga dili masabtan pagkadungog niya sa tingog gawas sa iyang kwarto. Sa mahinay nga tingog, miingon siya: “O Ginoo ko, dili lang unta siya”. Gisulayan niya’g siyagit para muhawa ang dautang presensya. Unta mihawa na to apan nahibalo siya nga dili ‘to makaabot sa kwarto sa iyang anak nga natulog.

EK-Ek-Ek

Buot unta niyang mukuha ug kutsilyo gikan sa kusina apan nagdagan ang oras. Busa, nagdali-dali na lang siya ug pangukay ug butang sa iyang kwarto. Nakit-an niya ang dako niyang gunting nga gigamit niya kaniadto. “Sakto ra ni”. Nahurot na ang oras para sa paghuna-huna, labi na ‘ron niining sitwasyong delikado. Gikuha niya ang gunting ug mibulhot ang tigulang ngadto sa kwarto sa iyang anak, nag-ampo nga husto ra ang gikuptan niya.

Ek-ek-ek

Pagkaabot niya sa purtahan, misinggit usab siya ug labi pang isog ug dako, naninguha nga mapukaw ang uban tawo sa balay apan nagiunsara ang iyang anak sa kwarto. Nahibalo siya sa angay niyang buhaton. Sa wala’y pagduhaduha, misulod siya sa kwarto.

ek-ek-ek….

Gitutokan niya ang mangtas, kansang dilang taas ug ngil-ad nagtilap-tilap na sa tiyan sa iyang minahal nga anak. Nakahinumdom siya niadtong gabiing labing alaut, diin una niyang nadunggan ang tingog. Diin gikuha kaniya ang iyang kinaunhang anak sa kalaluman sa gabii nga nalumos sa tingog sa ulan ug hangin. Nanumpa siya nga dili kini mahitabo na usab.

…

Sa pagbuot nga dili mantandog maskin naay kahadlok, gikuptan niya’g maayo ang gunting ug misulong siya.

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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 before. 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-EK

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

=————————=

*The Cebuano language, alternatively called Cebuan and also often colloquially albeit informally referred to by most of its speakers simply as Bisaya (“Visayan”, not to be confused with other Visayan languages nor Brunei Bisaya language), is an Austronesian regional language spoken in the Philippines by about 21 million people, mostly in Central Visayas, western parts of Eastern Visayas and most parts of Mindanao, most of whom belong to various Visayan ethnolingusitic groups, mainly the Cebuanos. It is the by far the most widely spoken of the Visayan languages, which are in turn part of wider the Philippine languages. The reference to the language as Bisaya is not encouraged anymore by linguists due to the many languages within the Visayan language group that may be confused with the term.

Written by Karl Gaverza
Cebuano Translation by Carl Ritchie S. Temple

Copyright © Karl Gaverza
Translation Copyright © Carl Ritchie S. Temple

Story inspired by the Ekek legends

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

Watercolor by Catherine Chiu
FB: Wildling Child
IG: https://www.instagram.com/wildlingchild/

*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.

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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
FB: That Guy With A Pen

Doctora rubbed her temples and feigned interest in the new girl’s story.

It was something she had heard a hundred times over. ‘My boyfriend left me and I can’t take care of it by myself.’, ‘I’m too young for this.’, ‘it’s the hardest decision I’ve ever had to make.’

Blah blah blah blah blah

It was late and Doctora was tired so she went straight to the point.

“We can do the procedure tomorrow. Meet me at this address and have the payment with you.”

The crying girl could only mumble a ‘yes’ through her tears.

It was going to be one of those weeks.

The girl left and Doctora waited until he arrived.

“I trust you heard all that?”

“Of course.”

“I don’t know why you bother eavesdropping on their stories. You’ll do the same thing anyway.”

“It makes it all the more… delicious.”

“You disgust me.”

“Such hurtful words. You know we can’t live without each other. It’s been too long.”

Doctora sighed and avoided his gaze.

“You have the address. Just go there at the agreed time.”

“Make sure she’s asleep. Remember that time in Laguna.”

“That was 20 years ago. I learn from my mistakes, something you should try thinking about.”

He let out a shrill laugh that sent a shock down Doctora’s spine. He threw his neck back and bellowed.

It should be loud. Why isn’t it loud? She thought.

She shook her head to clear the thought away. After the long decades she still never got used to him.

Maybe she never will.

“Just go.”

“Of course, Doctora, I will see you soon.”

He left, but it gave no reprieve.

Doctora went to the kitchen and brought out the bottle she was saving for this one.

Her ‘patients’ thought that this was her home, a single bedroom that looked neat and clean. It added to the illusion and fed on their hopes making them think that the procedure would be the same.

Such idiots.

She took a swig of gin and let the memories take her over.

She thought back to a time when she had a name.

Life was easier then, there was one goal that she needed to reach.

I wasn’t about the knowledge or the oath. She needed the title. It would complete her.

Or so she thought.

Another gulp, another memory.

It was robbery what they charged for the procedure. And she was sure that they didn’t even have any actual medical knowledge.

But she was desperate.

She pooled her savings and met them in a dingy motel. They told her to lie down and they prepared their instruments.

When she saw what they were going to use, she shouted.

She demanded that they sterilize their tools.

She told them which painkillers to get.

She spat at their incompetence and told them simply,

She wanted to be awake.

They told her it was crazy, better to be under and wake up with the procedure complete without having to look at the disturbing operation.

That was when she met him.

He walked into the room with a gravitas that made even her pause.

He told the workers to leave the room. He asked her if she really wanted to be awake for this.

She said yes.

The alcohol had gotten to her and she was sprawled on the sofa, the bottle almost empty.

She thought about the girl and her stupid choices and cried, one solitary idea racing through her brain.

Maybe after this one I’ll finally do it.

But deep down she knew she was too much of a coward to end it.

As the inebriation took over and forced her into slumber, a familiar phrase left her lips.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

=———————————————————————————

Written by Karl Gaverza
Copyright © Karl Gaverza

Based on the Ekek myths/urban legends

Ekek Illustration by Timothy Aldrin Ocleasa

FB: @notsoperfect_art

IG: notsoperfect_art

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

*Note this story is in Bicol Sorsogon

“Duwang minuto lang yada na ako. Haranihon lang ina nan makaskas man ako magdalagan.” Makusog na tibok san puso, mahagkot na kamot, nan an balhas nagtuturo. Hangos san hararom, batog san lakat.

“Basi urhi ko na ini na hangos.” Kada lakat pamate mo ikaw an pinamakaskas na tawo sa kinab-an. Maugma ang saimong pamati. “Amu na ini,” naisip mo, “Nakaya ko.” Diyot na lakat na lang.

“Hala!” Yada na tulos. Huna mo mauunahan mo siya. Inkita ka niya kan saiyang mga mata. “Ayaw!” Naisip mo, “Dili ini puwede!”

Nagbalyo ka san lakat, pabalik sa puno. “Dapat dili na lang ako nagluwas!” Inisip mo ang naging desisyon mo. “Dapat dili na ako nagdalagan! Nanu kay ginibo ko ini? Dapat dili na lang ako nagbati sainda!” Dili ka inuudungan san utak mo.

Harani ka na sa puno. “Dili man ina makalagpas.” Wara pa limang minuto an dinalagan mo. Wara pa limang minuto nagbag-o an buhay mo.

“Harani na. Diyot na lang.” Dili ka mapadakob. Dili ka mapatumba. Dili mo namamatian an pagal “Buhay pa ako.” Dakol an saimong pasasalamat.

Kapot sa dughan. “Dili ini puwede.” Nawawara ka na sa sadiri mo. “Kakaskas man.” Nagtuturo na an dugo sa kamot mo nan sa bado mo. “Nagibo ko. Dapat maayos an kamutangan ko.”

Inulit ulit mo na dapat nasa mayad an kamutangan mo hanggang sa paubos na an saimong dugo. “Dapat nasa maayos an kamutangan ko.” An urhi mo na sinabi.

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 screaming.

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.

*The Bikol languages or Bicolano languages are a group of Central Philippine languages spoken mostly in the Bicol Peninsula in the island of Luzon, the neighboring island province of Catanduanes and the island of Burias in Masbate. There is a dialect continuum between the Visayan languages and the Bikol languages; the two together are called the Bisakol languages.

The Tabaco-Legazpi-Sorsogon (TLS) dialect is spoken in the eastern coast of Albay and the northeastern part of Sorsogon. TLS is the dialect that has been most influenced by the Inland Bikol languages.

Written by Karl Gaverza
Bicol Translation by Sara Grace C. Fojas
Copyright © Karl Gaverza
Translation Copyright © Sara Grace C. Fojas

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

“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

The woods seem different now. It’s been a while since they all gathered and they didn’t know if it would be the same. They didn’t have to worry; everyone knew their places around the fire. They didn’t know who would start the story this time, so they drew straws. Luck came to the leader. He fumbled his glasses and sat on the stone chair. Just like old times.

He looked around at his old friends, much older now, just like he was, but time didn’t do anything to their stories. Not in this place. He drew a breath and started:

“My story is about a group of friends who find something that brings them together, but ultimately also tears them apart.” His hands shake as he grabs the pouch. It’s been too long since he’s done this, but he remembers it shouldn’t matter. He grabs a handful and tosses it in the fire.

“Submitted for the approval of the midnight society, I call this story: The Tale of the Black Feather.

Angela, David, Danielle and John were friends that liked to explore places off the beaten path. They’d spend their vacations traveling around wherever they could drive to.

This time their hearts led them to the North, somewhere near Vigan. Danielle’s parents were from that area and they were able to board at her great-lola’s house. It was a good deal, they had free board and they were able to go around the area to their hearts content. That kind of luck was a sign of a good trip.

David and Danielle were the type to stay in while John and Angela went outdoors, so while the other two were off finding a tree to take pictures with, David and Danielle went to scout the places where they could eat.

‘There sure are a lot of old people here,’ David said. ‘It’s a thing with this town, there aren’t many people our age since most of the younger generation moved to the bigger cities to find jobs, the ones that did stay behind… actually I don’t know about them, I should ask my great-lola about it. I don’t think we’ve met anyone under 50 today.’ Danielle, stopped by a craft store and started picking out souvenirs.

‘What makes your lola so great?’ David knew better than to stop a girl in the middle of shopping, and this happened a lot which is why he always kept his phone handy. ‘She’s my lola’s mother, dummy and you’ve said that joke five times already.’ Danielle took a bracelet she thought was pretty. ‘Well it was funny then too.’ David started a game and hoped her browsing would end soon.

Angela and John were looking at the forest near the town and they were lost. As usual. ‘I think we should go north.’ Angela had the compass and she was waving it around. ‘Do you even know how to use that?’ John was too busy taking pictures to notice they were in a situation. ‘Move a little to your left, your arm is blocking my light.’

A peal of thunder echoed through the forest and John snapped out of his photographer instincts. ‘I didn’t pack a waterproof case, we should head back.’

‘What do you think I’ve been trying to do?’ Angela’s struggle with the compass had reached its end. ‘Okay I think I found where north is, we just need to keep going—-‘

‘Watch out!’ John tackled Angela to the ground. ‘What was that for?!’ Angela shouted, but she was answered with another question.

‘What kind of bird is that?!’ John picked up his camera and tried to get as many shots as he could of the fast moving creature.

‘This is not the time to be taking pictures!’ Angela grabbed his arm and started to run. ‘Whatever it is it’s starting to get violent and I’d like to see my next birthday.’

‘But—-‘ John started to protest but one look at her face and he knew he already lost. ‘Fine! Go into that cave, it won’t follow us in there.’

Angela and John ran as fast as they could, avoiding the thick patch of brush blocking their way. ‘My camera!’ John fumbled with his hands and tried to get it back. ‘Is your camera more important than your life?!’ Angela grabbed him again and pushed him to the cave. ‘My camera IS my life! Let me go!’ John struggled for a second before he saw the bird headed straight for them. He scrambled for the cave shouting, ‘Fine, but you owe me a new one!’

‘I think we’re safe.’ Angela leaned against a rock. ‘There’s no way it can fly in here.’

‘Angela–’ John motioned to his friend to look ahead. ‘What the hell is that?!’

David and Danielle were worried. It was already 8pm and their friends were later than usual. ‘Something happened to them.’ Danielle stood up and took her backpack. ‘We have to find them.’

‘I’m sure they’re fine. They probably got lost. Again. Remember Palawan?’ David was going through his third serving of bagnet.
‘Don’t you notice anything when you’re eating?’ Danielle pointed to the restaurant. ‘We’re the only ones here.’

‘And your point is?’ David took another bite of bagnet.
‘The cashier and the waitress also left. There’s no one in the restaurant next door and the streets are empty.’ She started walking in the direction of her great-lola’s house.

‘Wait! Shouldn’t we pay for dinner?’ David looked at his food and wondered if he could bring the plate.

‘Just leave some money! We’re running out of time and we need answers!’ Danielle was running now and David knew she was going to be mad if he didn’t catch up to her.

‘Why am I always stuck with the bill?’”

The story teller looked around and saw his friend’s faces illuminated by the fireside. Years of memories and countless stories flooded through his mind. He smiled and said, “I declare this meeting of the midnight society closed,” as he took a bucket and doused the fire.

There were shouts and protests around the circle and he knew they would ask what happened after.

They had to wait until next week to find out, as always.

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Written by Karl Gaverza
Copyright © Karl Gaverza

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

Boroka Illustration by Leandro Geniston from Aklat ng mga Anito
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