Moonlight Curse: The Hunger

Chapter 19

Miguel and I ran in slow and steady pace towards the village. It took us about 45 minutes of jogging and running on a rugged path.

Running really quiet my mind and takes away any stress. All worries and concerns are forgotten only to be replaced with the aches of my back thighs and legs, the glorious feel of tricking hot sweat, the fast beating of my heart, laboring breaths and my lungs were about to explode with every oxygen I inhaled. It is such an addictive feeling. The adrenaline pumped up my whole system with strength and power.

I was out of breath when we slowed down for a power walk. But I felt wonderful!

Then I started telling him about different beliefs about the rooster crowing at dawn. Muhammad, founder of Islam once said, “When you hear the crowing of c***s, ask for Allah’s blessings for they have seen an angel.” In Christianity, Jesus used the crowing of a rooster to remind Peter of his denial of him three times. 

In Ilocano Pre-Hispanic epic poem of Biag ni Lam-Ang (Life of Lam-Ang), he used his rooster to woo his beloved Ines Cannoyan. When Lam-Ang’s rooster crowed, it caused the nearby house to fall which made Ines look out of the window. And lastly, the legend of the crowing roosters and why they have crowns were very popular to kids. 

“Sorry, I don’t know that legend,” Miguel said which surprised me. I thought all Filipino children were told this as bedtime stories like my father used to tell us whenever they got home from hunts. Then I remembered he grew up away from his father.

“For the first time, I feel sorry for you!” I said out loud and proceeded to tell him the Legend of the Crowing Roosters and Their Crowns.

Long before when roosters were known to crow, there was a kingdom called Batalla, nestled in between high mountains. Batalla was a cold place because of the thick fog coming down from the two mountains. Because of the weather, the people ate and slept a lot which made them fat and slow. They did not even exercise or train to defend their kingdom in times of an invasion. Unknown to them, another kingdom found out of their unhealthy eating habits and unpreparedness for any attacks. They decided to invade Batalla just before dawn. The whole kingdom was sound asleep because it was another cold night and they ate a lot at supper. Just before the enemies could enter the kingdom, they heard unusual cries and shouts they had not heard of before. Thinking that it was the kingdom's alarm signifying an ambush attack from the soldiers of Batalla, they ran away as fast as they could, retreating and never wanting to go back to Batalla ever again. They thought the soldiers of Batalla were well-trained and well-prepared for after all. The shouts and cries they heard were from the roosters atop fences and houses of Batalla. They saw the enemies advancing from the mountains and so they crowed as loud as possible to wake up their masters. As a reward for their heroic acts, the king of Batalla gave each rooster a crown and gave them instructions to therefore crow every break of dawn to arouse their sleepy masters.

He laughed at the story and said, “I was glad I did not hear that as a kid, that’s a lame story!”

“Oh, so you think you could do better? I mean, make up your own legend of the crowing rooster and its crown?”

“How about he was a Prince who volunteered to wake up Sleeping Beauty? He was even very “cocky” about it,” winking at me emphasizing the word “cocky” again, “But since he could not wake up the princess, he was cursed and transformed into a c**k by Sleeping Beauty’s fairy godmother. So he tried again as a c**k and therefore started crowing instead.”

I was laughing as hard as I could when we entered the Village. No wonder he was a writer, he came up with that story in just a second.

The village consisted of just 3 to 4 blocks of clustered Nipa huts, unfinished cemented walled houses roofed with weaved coconut leaves and bungalow wooden houses. The houses had no gates but opened into a center single-basketball court. Animals like dogs, pigs and chickens were freed to roam around, like trained domestic animals; they knew exactly where they live.

Miguel joked, “There’s a c**k!” and curtsied saying, “Your Royal Cockness.”

I laughed and told him to stop and try to behave, people started to watch us.

Housewives were already busily sweeping their front steps. Others were gathered in the only store to buy pandesal, a small-sized bread bun Filipinos love to eat for breakfast.

I loved pandesal especially when I dunk it into my coffee for a few seconds to absorb just enough liquid then slurp on it. It is a very annoying habit of mine which Aura hated.

She used to say, "Eeeewwie!"

And I would annoy her more by slurping on the pandesal a little bit louder saying, “Shhaaarrraap!” (Sarap means delicious)

"Let's buy some pandesal," I said enthusiastically to Miguel.

The smell of the bread wafting through the air was making my tummy growl.

"Do they have coffee for you to dunk the pandesal into?" he asked as he led the way to the store.

He remembered my nasty habit. It made me smile and made my heart flutter. Oh brother, he’s doing it again, and I am letting him.

"Manang, 10 pesos of pandesal. Do you sell coffee in a cup?"  Miguel was already ordering when I joined him in front of the store leaving my “kilig-ness” on the street. Kilig is a feeling you get when you are fluttered, or like having butterflies in your stomach, or your heart somersaults and feels like you are in 7th heaven. Complicated huh, but Miguel just did that to me with a coffee and pandesal.

The old ladies who were seated in front of the store were eyeing me from head to foot.

I greeted them with my warmest smile and a cheerful, "Good morning po!"

One of my so many endearing talents is dealing with strict, ill-mannered, sour-tempered, old-fashioned grandmothers.

They continued to look at me with their overbearing and judgmental eyes.

"You have a lovely village," I still continued to break their icy surface.

One of them finally spoke with an irate tone, "Where are you from?"

Instead of giving her my hometown, Tuguegarao, I answered, "Manila po."

My answer made them smile, nod at each other as if reaching a consensus. I knew what they were thinking and I knew I penetrated their defenses.

"We thought so, only girls from Manila go out in their panty and b*a," One of them voiced out loud and again a chorus of more ah-has, yeses and forceful nods.

I looked down at my clothes and tried to tell them I was wearing proper jogging clothes but just held my tongue instead.

"You surely know how to charm old ladies," Miguel whispered behind me. And I could not help but laugh.

"Where are you staying?" asked the youngest amongst them who introduced herself as Lola Mercy.

I guessed she was just 60 years old.

"At Mang Reno's house, this is Miguel, his son and my name's Maya," I answered introducing ourselves. Lola Mercy mentioned the names of the other three as Clara, Maring and Berta.

"You are that son of Reno who rarely comes to visit, aren't you?" Lola Berta, the skinniest one asked, "We barely recognize you now."

The old ladies were smiling at him. Their sour expression evaporated in a flick of a finger. Even with the senior citizens, he was a heartthrob; I tried not to laugh out loud.

"Yes, Ma'am. I mostly live in Tuguegarao now," he answered.

"We heard a loud booming sound in the middle of the night. The dogs here were howling," Lola Mercy said and then whispered, "There are dark elements roaming in this part and beyond the creek. Be careful to stay inside the house after dark."

"What do you think is out there?" Miguel asked.

"Aswang, from the sound of its wings alone. That wak-wak-wak sound of its flapping wings and the sound it made with its teeth, tik-tik-tik."

"Did you see it?" I asked, "Or are there newly-moved folks on those parts of the barrio?"

"A few families lived beyond the creek, during the early years. They were quiet folks and rarely crossed the creek," Lola Mercy answered and added, "Then suddenly they kept dying. They said there was a disease that spread in the village. So, we never went there."

"So, no one lives there anymore?" I asked.

"When I was just a young girl, only an old couple lived in a hut just beyond the thickest part of the forest. They had a grandson who left the barrio to work when he was 25 years old, I don't know where. When his grandparents died about 14 or 15 years ago, he returned with a wife, 3 sons and his niece, a thin girl with a lovely face," Lola Mercy narrated.

"Was the girl about 11 or 12?" I asked.

"Just about or maybe even older. The boys were younger between ages 10 to 5. And their mother was rather plain and sickly looking," she recalled, then added, "I never saw them again after their arrival. All these years, they kept to themselves. Others said they only went out at 

night or at dawn. We suspected they were aswangs really. So, we never dared cross the creek ever since. Except for Reno, that was why they got angry and killed his cows."

"You suspected they killed the cows?" Miguel asked, "Why didn't you tell the Barangay Captain or the police?"

"The Barangay Captain is a non-believer of aswangs, and the police are young stupid men influenced by modern times. Only old folks here knew what truly happened. Even Reno knew but denied the fact. If you believe in aswang nowadays, you are labelled as crazy, senile, hallucinating or on drugs."

Lola Mercy gave a very valid point. And I understood her quite clearly since my family dealt with non-believers all our lives. Even if they already saw it with their own eyes, they would still look for rational explanations for it, or blame us for tainting their consciousness with thoughts of monsters and evil spirits.

People have a hard time accepting supernatural events because their subconscious minds cannot handle the fear and so, it will devise protective shells surrounding their conscious minds to help them cope with the scary truth. So, no wonder why during the dark periods of history, witches were burned on the stakes even without a trial, because people could not handle watching the powers of the witches unfold during the tests when tried in courts. Another example was the alien cover-ups allegedly made by the U.S. government. Many witnesses were already claiming seeing UFOs, being abducted, seeing alien technologies everywhere, unearthing ancient alien artefacts and still, people had various scientific explanations for these events and phenomenon. And so, the U.S. government made a decision to just keep a lid on these secrets because the generation of human beings now had a tendency to overreact, panic and create a pandemonium before accepting hard evidence and truths.

Our generation is intellectually underdeveloped, spiritually weak and emotionally drained by chaos, war, famine and depression. These are some reasons why supernatural events are none of our concerns or cannot be dealt with as mature beings.

Each of us have a “Chicken Little” mentality, we have the tendency to run around town shouting, "The sky is falling!"

Growing up as a hunter, I always made sure it was kept a secret. We asked help only from fellow hunters or from those folks we had helped in the past who accepted the hard truth of the existence of supernatural beings and elementals. Hunters called them “Convert/s” just like Roberto. We called non-believers/doubters as “Thomas/es” after the apostle Thomas who doubted the resurrected Christ. Convincing the Thomases proved to be futile and dangerous for them and for us. Also there are those who do not have any first hand experiences nor heard of the stories of monsters, we called them simply as “Normal/s”.

In Lola Mercy's and her friends' cases, since they were raised to believe, we called them as our “Aids”, because they become a hunter's helpers for hunts. I only needed to warn them to be careful.

"Lola, no matter what you hear tomorrow night and the night after that; do not go out. Tell the other families here to stay inside their houses."

"Tomorrow night's the start of the full moon. We know what to do, Hija," the oldest woman named Lola Clara said, "A mass will be held here this afternoon, you better join us. Our priest will be blessing each house. We do this every coming of the full moon."

"Since when did you have this ritual?" I asked. I knew they had more stories to tell.

"When the local quack doctor here died named Amang Tasyo, the protection he made around the village extending to Reno's farm lost its power. We thought it was just, you know hearsay. But we then had unfortunate events happening here when the full moon grew near. Like, a pregnant mother losing her baby while asleep or a dying sick man seeing black dog or pig at his doorsteps. Hearing the wak-wak and tik-tik noises at night, dogs were also disappearing and animals getting killed. We knew then, we were under attack by aswangs or other dark beings. Only old people here believed, so we took upon ourselves along with our husbands and siblings to hold masses, blessing our surroundings, hanging crucifixes on the doors, hanging bags of salt and garlic on the windows. We talked about adding nightly patrols but, we are old. If they attack, we could not be able to fight them off. So, we just have to pray at night and ask for protection from God," said Lola Clara who turned paler and paler by each sentence she uttered.

I forgot all about my coffee and pandesal. While Miguel had already eaten his share and drank nearly all his coffee.

"How could you eat while listening to these stories?" I asked and dunk a pandesal into my coffee.

He answered, “I’m a horror fiction writer. ”He was watching me rather amused as I sucked the coffee from the pandesal.

"What's funny?" I asked, then ate the pandesal whole.

"It's an annoyingly cute habit," he answered, shaking his head.

I ignored the comment and how it made my heart go a flutter, another “kilig” moment, so I directed my attention back to Lola Clara.

"One last question, Lola Mercy, do you know the name of the family who lived across the forest?" I asked, hoping she remembered.

"Mariano was their last name. I forgot his given name though."

"That was the name of the boy who said he witnessed 7 men killed your cows," I whispered to Miguel.

"So, he was the aswang all along," he speculated, which sounded plausible.

I thanked the old ladies and bid them farewell, promising to join the mass. The fattest amongst them, Lola Maring said with a sharp tone, "Make sure to wear pants and a t-shirt over your underwear. Father might suffer from heart attack if he sees you in your bathing suit."

And with that, I nodded while Miguel laughed as we walked all the way home. I thought it was funny too, but I was no longer in the mood.

*

While taking a bath, a thought was bothering me. Another nasty habit I have is analyzing and solving problems, planning my day, worrying about a job and praying to God while taking a bath. Usually, I stayed 1-2 hours in the C.R. But still, it depends on what was bothering me the minute I entered the bathroom.

When I was still living with my parents and siblings, this habit had been the cause of so many fights between Aura and me. I shared a bathroom with my sister then. She would bang the door for a good 30 minutes long. I would be so deep in thought that the banging could easily be dismissed. At some point, they thought I had already died in the bathroom. My brothers actually rammed the door open only to find me sitting on the toilet bowl lost in thought.

The solution was to make me a separate bathroom outside the house, near Nana's pigpen. I hated the smell of my bathroom, naturally it smelled like pig’s manure. At first, the pig’s “oink-oink” cries and snoring noises disrupted my meditation. But with practice and tolerance, I was grateful for having my own smelly bathroom with oink music for background. At least, I was left alone no matter how many hours it took for me to stay there.

The witness is named Mariano, that’s what he gave to the police. It was a common name in the barrio though. But it was easy to speculate that he was part of the family living in the forest. But since he was 24 years old, he was too old to be the couple’s son.

Who was he?

There was only one place where I could get an answer... the police station. Hopefully, the interview of the witness was recorded on video or tape recorder. Maybe, the police knew who he was or had asked for i.ds.

If he were not one of the sons, then who was he? Where did he come from and what was his part in all this?

The most disturbing question was how did he know about the Lost Seven? Where did he meet them or see them before?

If the Lost Seven had died years ago, where then did he get his information about the appearances, the clothes they wore and even the talisman on their necks?

I needed answers and I could not rest easy. My heart was beating faster and no matter how long I stayed under the shower, I felt heat radiating through my every pore.

"Ahhh! I hate being clueless!" I screamed.

Then a loud bang on the door, "Maya! Quit rationalizing in there." It was Miguel. Of course he knew this other habit since he used to pick me up at home but had to wait for a few more hours playing scrabble with Aura because I was still thinking in the shower.

After my 2-hour bath, I asked Miguel to drive to town so I could call up my brothers. Roberto had not come back yet. He left early this a.m. according to Mang Reno who was then feeding his cows.

I went to ask Mang Reno why he went across the creek and what he knew about the people living across the forest. He was reluctant to answer and I could still sense his fear. He said that one day, one of the cows ventured into the creek maybe to drink water. 

He remembered seeing a young lady, about my age watching him across the creek. She was lovely, he recalled and could not get her out of his mind, like he wanted to jump the creek to speak to her.

She was wearing a white blouse and gray skirt. She had long black hair reaching her hips. She had pale white skin, big lovely sad eyes, red sultry lips and a very delicate nose. Her cheeks were tinged with rosy color matching her lips. She smiled at him and walked towards the forest.

He obsessed over her for almost a month, until he got the courage to cross the creek and find her. So, he tied a rope around the Banaba tree’s trunk, crossed the creek and tied the other end around the thick protruding roots of the acacia tree.

He went into the forest, and noted the smell of rotten flesh. It was coming from the center of the forest. When he got there, he saw carcasses of what looked to be wild pigs and dogs. It was odd how the dogs were positioned on top of each other onto a pile of huge rocks. Then, it was clear to him, it was like a picnic area, circular in shape, at the center were the piled rocks and carcasses, 6 or 7 cut tree logs made into seats were stationed around it. He could no longer go beyond that area, so he ran as fast as he could away from the forest.

I did not tell him that the girl was the aswang in my dream and the same one I met just before dawn. I did not want to spook him even more. But warned him never to go looking for her ever again and if ever he sees her again, do not look into her eyes.

"What you saw is their dining area. They feed on animals for the rest of the month, but feed on humans when the full moon is near. If you had gone beyond that area, you could have seen their nesting or sleeping caverns," I said and asked, "The old women in the village said there's another village beyond the forest, just at the foot of the hill?"

"What I heard from my parents was, only one family survived an outbreak of influenza during the year 1928. The village became a cemetery in a span of one month. The remaining family stayed there though, and they rarely leave the place," he answered.

"Or, that one family could have consumed the whole village. They never left because aswangs feed on corpses too. Maybe that was the very reason why they lived in peace without killing anyone for a very long time because they had food to last decades or more. I think that was why the grandson left the village in the 80s because food was getting short or boring for him then."

"Yes, it was a possibility," he nodded and was looking at me with amazement; as if I solved a mystery he was trying to c***k all his life.

"Don't worry Mang Reno, we'll be back as soon as possible. We had a lot of planning and talking to do. But first, I need to check in with my brothers."

"I am safe at day time, right?" he asked.

"Yes, don't worry. Even tonight, we are safe. Because tomorrow night's the full moon, they need to hibernate at least 2 days to prepare for the full moon," I explained.

"Good, cause we needed to make more weapons," Miguel said, joining us outside.

"Let's hurry then," I said moving towards his vehicle.

Miguel drove a black owner-type jeep which he customized with big wheels. It was suited for rugged and muddy roads which were common in far-flung barrios in Isabela.

"What happened to your pick-up truck?" I asked as I climbed into the passenger's seat.

"I covered giant attacks in Pampanga, near Mt. Pinatubo. One giant accidentally stepped on it. Luckily, I was hiding behind a big rock."

It wasn't funny, but I couldn't help but laugh. Ha, ha, ha! There is a God! 

I remembered how he loved that truck. It was his pride and joy! Again I laughed louder. Ha, ha, ha! Vengeance is mine!

"Hey, be respectful," he genuinely sounded hurt then muttered, "Rest in peace old truck."

"I'm sorry," I tried to sound contrite. But still deep within, I was still doing my evil laugh and victory dance. 

Then I remembered, "That was only last year right? My Uncle Doming subdued the giants and moved them to a much more suitable environment. He never mentioned you were there."

"I was hiding, remember? He did not let me tag along. He said, if the giants saw unfamiliar faces, they will get more aggravated," he explained.

"Yes, it is very difficult to earn the trust of giants.  Uncle Doming is the only hunter they let get close to them. Maybe because he’s tall and big like a teenage giant.” 

"Or his face is as ugly as a baby giants," he said with a chuckle.

“I went with Uncle Doming once in Mt. Arayat, but got really scared because one giant wanted to make me his wife, he actually paid Uncle Doming gold bars for my dowry, he said,” I shuddered while narrating the story.

“Wow!” he exclaimed and asked, “How did you get out of your engagement?”

“Uncle Doming, when he did not accept the dowry, the giant named Gru, my suitor, went into a tantrum. There was an earthquake… a deadly one even. Uncle Doming had to appease him by promising a continuous supply of live goats, cows and ducks every day for the rest of his eternal life. So, until now, my family is paying or buying me back from Gru.”

"Those savages need to be hunted down, not sheltered. Just imagine if your Uncle Doming was greedy and accepted the gold bars,” he shuddered and so did I but still defended the giants. 

"Hey, they serve a purpose on this earth. They are guardians of the mountains, keepers of caves and volcanoes and they actually prevent devastating earthquakes or tremors to further damage the undergrounds, prevent caves from collapsing, mountains to erode and they actually guard the gates of hell from opening every time volcanoes erupt. Along with the forest nymphs, elves and fairies, they create lakes and lagoons surrounding or flooding the mouths of erupted volcanoes to close or to create blockage covering the gates of hell."

"Wow, you are making those giants into unsung heroes. No wonder you are attracted to tall, big and ugly men," he scoffed.

"Are you referring to whom, in particular?" I growled... he always brought out the worst in me. I would love to see him getting squashed by Gru.

"Like that gladiator boyfriend of yours, Roberto," he answered as we exited rough roads towards the highway.

"Roberto is not my boyfriend and he does not resemble any giant! He is just tall and muscular, which you are neither!"

"Thankfully, for I do not want to look like a wrestler anyway, for I look more of a lover than a fighter," his voice sounded irritated and I knew then, he was rather serious about this conversation. It was not one of his jokes or was just teasing me.

"Are you jealous of Roberto?" I asked, trying not to laugh.

"What?” he looked baffled, “No way. I was just telling you what I observed."

"Which is?" I inquired.

"How you try to resist not sighing whenever he flexes his muscles and walks towards you like he was treading down a runway," he glanced at me and saw a hint of laughter in his lovely brown eyes.

I punched his right arm and in between laughter I said, "Stop that. You are so annoying!"

"Honestly though, that man likes you," and then asked, "You like him, don't you?"

"I am not about to talk to you about my love life, okay?"

"Why not? We used to be so close. You used to tell me everything. I used to think, you were the reason why I became a writer, because you had so many wonderful stories to tell and I wanted to capture each story in black and white," he said, sounding rather forlorn.

"Yeah, we used to be best friends until you made a book out of my life story and made me a source of more stories to write." I looked away from him and settled my gaze on the scenery we were passing by.

"I know you would never learn to forgive or trust me again, but I did regret losing you, Maya," he reached for my left hand and squeezed it. 

The familiar heat and instant electric energy passed to my hand and into my fast-beating heart. 

I forgot how I always reacted to his touch. I used to avoid getting close to him, because of fear of getting electrocuted. Aura used to tease me, "C'mon sis, faint already, I do know how to perform CPR."

I definitely could relate to MTV’s show “Friendship Zone”. 

That moment, memories of the past came flooding in along with Lea Salonga’s version of the song “Friend of Mine” as background music to this flashback in my head:

I've known you all my life

You are a friend of mine

I know this is how it's gonna be

I've loved you then and I love you still

You're a friend of mine

Now, I know friends are all we ever could be