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
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