Do You Have Any Tips On How To Make Sure Your Character Stays Consistent Throughout The Book? (especially

PHILIPPINE GODS AND GODDESSES: Bathala

Bathala, also known as Abba, is said to be the creator of everything. He dwells in the sky which is called Kawalhatian together with the lesser gods and goddesses. He is kind, giving the people everything they need to the point of spoiling them. This was where the Filipino saying “Bahala na” (come what may) came from. It is also known that Bathala sends anito (ancestor spirits, nature spirits, and deities) to help mankind with their daily activities.

photo credits: ledsetgo & melisica

Luna: A Magindara’s Tale

A short story I wrote back in 2018 inspired by the Philippine mythological creature: magindara.

language: english, 3k+ words

- ☾ -

The sea engulfed the sun as the night took over the sky. Quiet cool and quiet calm, the moon revealed itself after hiding behind the clouds, illuminating the ripples of water surrounding an island. Sounds of small waves filled a young magindara’s ears as she rested her upper torso on a huge rock. One would rarely see a magindara out of the sea, only surfacing to drive away the humans wreaking havoc beneath the tranquil waters. However, in one particular night, underneath the majestic full moon and blazing stars littered across the sky, the young magindara let the wind kiss her cheeks and dance with her long hair. Her gaze reflected how enamored she was by the sight of the moon, gently but frivolously splashing the water with her blue tail. She started losing herself to the night’s trance, smiling unconsciously.

“Ja!”

The young magindara quickly slipped from the rock that she was positioned on, plummeting into the sea. Gasping and raising her head above the water, she turned to the direction of the familiar voice calling her name. Her eyes met the amused look of her elder sister and fellow magindara, whom she didn’t expect.

“You shouldn’t be up here, Jahaya. Let’s go,” the young magindara’s sister, Pamani, said in a wary tone.

Jahaya, the young magindara, looked hesitant in taking her sister’s advice. Glancing back up at the sky and then back to her sister who was definitely losing her patience, Jahaya only puckered her bottom lip to try and persuade the elder in letting her stay. She pleaded with her eyes as she continued to stick near the rock with no plans of returning to their district. Pamani glared at Jahaya, sighing in disbelief and aggravation.

“It’s late at night! We’re going to get in trouble for this.” Pamani snapped at the younger. She thought Jahaya was being naïve and careless with her actions. Deep within the sea, lies little source of light due to time and it would be hard for them to swim.

“Let’s just stay here, please? We won’t see anything down there if we start swimming now,” Jahaya knowingly said. Pamani, once again, heaved a heavy and defeated sigh. She knew Jahaya was right; nonetheless, she was also right about getting in trouble for not returning to their homes.

“I hate to say this but you’re right.”

The following night, Jahaya was simply back at the surface of the sea. She rushed through the waters, kicking like a dolphin being chased by its predator. Aware that she would end up in trouble for sneaking out at night, Jahaya knew it was best to be quick on her tail. The young magindara, even though she was previously scolded by her family, and mentor, could not be stopped from admiring the beauty of what she knew was dangerous for her— for their world. After all, the world has always been cruelly beautiful to them.

With her head emerging from the water and tilting up to see the stars, Jahaya smiled to her heart’s content. The stars always felt like friends and it sure did feel like a reunion whenever she saw them. For the past years, she lived in the murky, cold, and dark sea. It was not gravely bad; she didn’t despise it. The sea was just never enough.

As she bravely swam to the shore and almost onto the land, the young magindara felt her senses fall into tranquility’s spell of rest. Jahaya sat near the shoreline, her back turned to the island. Her mind was void of the fact that she was being completely impetuous about exposing herself into the open where humans lived. Magindaras and humans were never the best of friends.

“Hey, what are you doing out here?”

Jahaya froze in her place, eyes popping out of their sockets. Her mind completely went blank, unable to register the situation and allow her to escape. She remained turned back to the owner of the voice who asked her the question she left unanswered. The voice sounded foreign, small, and out of genuine curiosity. Soon enough, the owner of the voice took a step forward, the action making a crisp sound on the sand that was very distinct from the calm waves of the sea. Out of pure reflex, Jahaya turned to the stranger who noticed her presence beneath the star-littered sky.

Standing a few feet from the magindara, was a boy who looked the same age as her. It was hard for Jahaya to see him clearly but she was able to decipher his short stature and concerned eyes. She thought about swimming away; but she was unable to move due to how petrified she was.

“Don’t come near me. You’re bad luck,” Jahaya spat darkly, putting up a fearsome demeanor to protect herself from the human boy. Her intentions for the boy were clear as the dark sea. Stepping carefully into the light, the boy’s eyes twinkled in awe at the sight of the magindara. His mouth was set agape with a shocked expression plastered on his face. His gaze took into account Jahaya’s blue tail accented with peach scales, her long dark brown hair, and supposedly sharp brown eyes.

“You’re a magindara! Why are you here? People might find you and kill you!” the boy exclaimed deliberately.

Jahaya’s eyebrows scrunched down together, physically showing that she was confused with the boy’s statement. Constantly asking herself with the question, “Is he trying to help me?” while sitting still, she became a tad bit eager to learn about the boy before her. Such reaction was different from what the elders under the sea told her. She thought all of the humans were vile creatures who would instantly bring harm to her. Jahaya continued to wonder about what made this boy act any different towards her.

Tilting his head to the side, he told her, “I don’t want to cause any trouble. I just don’t want anybody to get hurt. You need to go soon because this island is swarming with people.”

“Why are you trying to help me? Are you not scared of me?” Jahaya asked the boy genuinely, maintaining her curiosity and wary stance at the same time. The boy carefully sat on the sand too, keeping his distance from the magindara to not scare her away. He turned his gaze towards the stars, smiling to himself. “You don’t look scary at all,” the boy innocently told her.

“That’s not the point. I think you know that our kind often kills yours, right?” Jahaya blatantly stated. The young boy turned to her, peering intensely. “I don’t think you kill mindlessly nor is that your intention here in the first place,” he said before taking a glance at the sky. The sky remained the same, breath-taking and overwhelming with glimmer. As a few moments passed by, Jahaya no longer felt scared of the boy; however, she did feel intrigued and annoyed by him.

“The sky is beautiful tonight. Is that why you’re here?” he asked her to confirm his early suspicions. Just by that, Jahaya’s mindset was swayed towards the thought of the moon and the stars. Gaping up the sky herself, the feeling of satisfaction and delight came rushing back to her. She unknowingly smiled, drinking the scene with her eyes. “I don’t see the sky down there. I have to come up here to see them. I really want to see it; even if it means that I’ll be in danger every time. Sihuya taught me how to fight back anyway,” Jahaya rambled without fully registering the thought that she was sharing too much information with a stranger. Once she was able to do so, her eyes widened a fraction, scolding herself in her head and looking down.

“We’re only children! You’re small like me! I’m quite sure that you won’t be able to fight a grown-up just like how I won’t be able to fight a fully-grown magindara,” the boy told her. Jahaya only rolled her eyes at him, even though she acknowledged the fact that he was right.

“I’m already twelve! My tail will surely grow longer and stronger next year and I will be able to swim away really fast if you insist that I won’t be able to fight anyone,” Jahaya snapped back. Giggling at her persistence to prove him wrong, the boy moved closer to Jahaya to be able to talk with her properly. “You’re funny… uh, what’s your name?” he asked the magindara.

Once again, Jahaya visibly froze. The thought of interacting with a human crossed her head once more and it became too real when she saw the boy smiling at her and waiting for her answer. Keeping silent for a few seconds, she examined the boy beside her. She memorized in her head his dark hair, dark skin, warm eyes, and overall lanky body. To her, he indeed looked harmless; but the thought of giving even the smallest amount of trust to the boy did not settle with her. However, as her gaze continued to stay glued to his, she felt herself lower her guard down.

“Jahaya. What’s yours?” she finally said, clearing her throat after. She felt the tiniest bit of regret afterwards; but she decided to disregard it.

“My name is Khani. Does this mean we’re going to be friends?”

Both of them chuckled slightly, turning their gaze back to the sky afterwards. The question was left unanswered because neither of the two knew the exact answer. After all, magindaras and humans were never the best of friends.

- ☾ -

After four years, the sea was disturbed with vigorous paddling and numerous webs of rope clawing at its possessions. Boisterous talking erupted from the fishermen who were responsible for such chaos. They continued to take the sea’s pearls, shells, and fish; irking the sea’s guardians. Gathering the fish in big nets and collecting corals, the fishermen remained oblivious to the magindaras who already had their eyes on taking them down.

“Jahaya, remember everything I taught you. The sea needs your help and you must give it to her,” Sihuya, her long-term mentor, stated. Jahaya gave her mentor a stern nod before swimming away quickly. She swam with anger and determination raging in her system, reaching the moving boats on the surface of the sea. She decided to carefully follow them, her mind slipping into the natural state the sea intended it to be. The seafloor began to grow taller and before she knew it, she was by the shore.

“There were so many pearls down there! We can trade them for silk.” Jahaya heard a fisherman blurt out loudly. Stealthily raising her head from the water, she saw two oblivious fishermen sorting out their new catch. She swam a few meters away from them so that her appearance would not be too clear for them. She did not want to reveal her secret just yet.

When Jahaya achieved the proximity she desired, she turned her back towards the island and began to sing a sweet melody. The melody she sang was newly made by her mentor, Sihuya. She was confident that the melody would instantly lure the humans. This was proven to be true when the footsteps behind Jahaya became more audible than before. Calling out to her, the fishermen made the biggest mistake of ever stepping into the sea again after taking all its possessions.

“Akin ka.”

With the last two words of the song, Jahaya quickly faced the two fishermen and gave them a sweet but sinister smile. Once she caught a glimpse of their stupefied expressions, she went back into the water and grabbed the two fishermen by their feet. Jahaya dragged the two men with all of her strength, swimming towards the deep depths of the sea.

After such an event, Jahaya started gaining control over her conscious mind. The feeling of exhaustion and regret stayed afloat in her head. She hated how nature intended her to be even if she could never fight against it. She steadily swam towards the shoreline, releasing an exasperated sigh as she sat down on the sand. The waves washed over her blood-stained tail, calming her down. Gazing up at the sky, a tiny smile appeared on her face when the moon and stars became visible to her.

“Tired?” Jahaya’s smile became bigger upon hearing the question. Turning to her right, she saw Khani with a smile on his face too. He sat down beside her, mimicking her actions by admiring the sky. The two uttered nothing to each other, basking in each other’s presence under the moonlight. After a few minutes, Khani ended up staring at Jahaya; noticing how lost she was gazing at the sky. Sighing, he looked down to see newly formed wounds on her hands. Khani, without even giving it a second thought, already knew that they were from Jahaya’s victims.

“I never really liked killing people. I just want to protect the sea,” Jahaya muttered quietly when she noticed Khani’s scrutinizing stare. His eyes softened at her aloof form, feeling his chest grow heavy at the sight of his distressed friend of four years.

After their first encounter, the two of them started to see each other at night. Their encounters stayed between them and soon, Jahaya became Khani’s secret while Khani was hers. Jahaya watched Khani grow into a young man responsible enough to partake in tilling the soil of their land. His hard labor not only showed itself on his taut muscles but his soul’s maturity. Naturally, the magindara grew up too, doomed to a fate she deeply abhorred. Nonetheless, the moon decided to mesh their souls. Khani became a huge part of Jahaya as she wished that she could be with him all the time. The boy thought the same, yearning for the night at every given hour. Their friendship continued to blossom but stayed unbeknownst to the world.

“Why are you staring at me like that?” Khani snapped out of his daze, blinking rapidly. “Like what?” he asked the magindara. Jahaya only frowned at him before her eyes met his. “Like I’m the best gift that this world has ever given you,” she cheekily said with a teasing grin on her face. The two of them shared a quick laugh, distracting themselves from all of life’s heart-wrenching complications.

Releasing a contented sigh, Jahaya leaned her head on her friend’s shoulder. Khani instinctively draped his arm over her, keeping her close to him. He placed his head on top of hers, directing his gaze up at the moon afterwards.

“You know, we always say that we’re each other’s secret but I don’t think that’s entirely true,” Khani whispered to Jahaya. The magindara scrunched her eyebrows together in confusion and said, “What? Do you think someone’s watching us right now?” Khani chortled a little before pointing to the sky. “The moon and the stars have always been our witnesses,” he told her. Jahaya let out an unamused laugh to purposely get under Khani’s skin. However, he knew her too well to see that she liked the thought of that.

The two stayed together for the rest of the night, staring at the moon and stars. Their minds quietly shared the same thought of these celestial bodies staring back, hearts beating in sync and ears attentive to one another’s breathing. Sadly, as the sun slowly came to life, Jahaya and Khani knew that the moon and stars could not always watch them; just like the way the two of them could not always see each other.

- ☾ -

The scorching heat burned Jahaya’s skin. Closing her hazy eyes, the sun’s rays felt like shards of glass piercing through her body. Although she felt immense pain, it was not enough to bring her back from her unconscious mind. Jahaya unknowingly let go of a boy’s deceased body, numb to everything else but fatigue. She held into the sand, her eyes dark as the murky sea. The foul smell of decaying bodies took over her system; but she sat there, unwavering and unaware. Soon enough, other magindaras emerged from the sea with human bodies occupying their clutches. Jahaya watched with a befuddled look as they continued to dump the humans on the island with expressionless faces and robotic gestures. When the deed was done, she swam back to the darkness she belonged to.

Above the sea, numerous boats carried the humans and their dangerous voyage. Having their home rattled, the magindaras were left with no choice but to continuously kill fishermen in order to defend their home. Most of the magindaras were out of their right state of mind, seeing most of their loved ones affected by the humans’ trespassing. Some were driven by anger and some were driven by pure devastation, dragging the fishermen to the depths of the sea and mercilessly drowning them.

“Sunset is near! We must retreat, now!” Jahaya heard their mentor, Sihuya, shout through the expanse of the sea. Hearing this, Jahaya felt relieved that the day was about to end. She weakly swam back to their district, slowly gaining back control in exchange for buried memories of the day.

As the night slowly took over, Jahaya snuck out for the nth time to see her friend. She was ready to have the highlight of her day, briskly swimming towards the island that her friend inhabited. Seeing a light glow surrounding the new moon, she patiently sat by the shore waiting for Khani. Jahaya closed her eyes for a while, letting the serenity of her surroundings take over. Opening her eyes, she hoped that she would already see Khani by her side again; however, she did not see him.

How could she when she already had him in her arms beneath the sun?

- ☾ -

The sea engulfed the sun as the night took over the sky. Quiet cool and quiet calm, the moon revealed itself after hiding behind the clouds, illuminating the ripples of water surrounding an island. Sounds of small waves filled a magindara’s ears as she sat on her usual spot on the sand. One would rarely see a magindara out of the sea, only surfacing to drive away the humans wreaking havoc beneath the tranquil waters. However, in one particular night, underneath the majestic full moon and blazing stars littered across the sky, the magindara let a human boy’s lips kiss her cheeks as his fingers combed through her hair. Her gaze reflected how enamored she was by the sight of him, gently but frivolously splashing the water with her blue tail. She started losing herself to the night’s trance, smiling unconsciously.

“The sky is beautiful tonight, right?” Jahaya asked the wind. The magindara turned to her side, seeing her old friend of seven years. He appeared with the same youthful glow that left Jahaya bewildered. Staring back at her reflection on the water, she wondered why she looked older than him. Nevertheless, she gave him a smile, eyes soft and fond. Turning her gaze back up at the moon and stars, she carefully leaned her head on her friend’s shoulder. She immediately felt cold, unlike the usual warmth she basked in when he would drape his arm around her. “Look, the moon and stars are watching us,” Jahaya whispered softly into thin air.

“Ja…”

The magindara quickly turned to the familiar owner of the voice, seeing Pamani staying afloat in the water. Pamani eyed her sister with an uneased expression, noticing her lack of glow and dead eyes. Frantically looking around and seeing no one but her reflection on the sea, sorrow started to cloud Jahaya’s form. She felt her chest grow heavy, seeing that Khani was not there with her.

He hasn’t been— for years.

“You shouldn’t be up here, Jahaya. Let’s go,” her sister said. Labored breathing filled the once dead silence, Jahaya muttering incoherent words to herself. Pamani made a move to approach her younger sister; but she immediately stopped when Jahaya held a hand up.

Jahaya attempted to push away the truth. She gazed back up at the blurred sky, seeing the moon and the stars staring down at her. Soon enough, tears started to cascade down her cheeks and blur her vision of the entities completely. The moonlight shone on her, reminding her of its difference between the sun’s rays. Sobs erupted from the back of her throat as the urge to scream came rushing to her. Jahaya opened her mouth to do so; but no sound came out for she could only sing a sweet melody.

“Jahaya, please,” Pamani pleaded. The older magindara only watched her sister get lost in her own thoughts and sight of the sky, having her own tears blur her own eyesight.

Jahaya sat still on the sand, letting her hand graze over Khani’s empty spot beside her. Instead of his arms around her, moroseness embraced Jahaya. Gone was her hatred for losing control, driving into complete lunacy.

-

beside you is the safest place 😴

philippine myth creatures gothic

they talk of creatures lurking in the night, always reminding you of their ways whenever you do something bad. using your fear as a way for you to obey them.

they talk of the tiyanak, and how they attract travelers by imitating a baby cry and then attack the victim. you walk home late one night from school, you hear the baby crying, not so distant. you stop for a second, the hairs on your arms rising, a shiver running down your spine. you resume walking. you don’t turn back.

you remember the tikbalang one time you got lost with your friends. you drive and drive but you keep returning to that tree with the branches that look like arms and it feels eerie. you had your stereo on full volume and you turn it down. you tell your friends to keep quiet and to turn their shirts inside out. you keep driving and this time you get out. but it’s been five hours when it felt like five minutes.

you think of the manananggal when your mom gets pregnant. you think of it flying to your house and using its long proboscis-like tongue to suck out the heart and blood of your would-be sibling. you think of its severed torso, the upper doing the job while the lower just stands there. you sit up every night waiting for it. you don’t get much sleep, too scared to sleep in case it comes.

you wait for your friend one time. you hear, ek ek ek. it seemed very far so you don’t pay much attention to it. you tell your friend this and they say it was probably an ekek, similar to the manananggal. your friend also says that they fool people into thinking they were far when they were actually very close.

your mom tells you that your maid’s mother is an aswang, a vampire-like witch ghoul. your maid is probably one too. you remember what happened to your neighbor, how he didn’t seem like himself and then he became sick and died. you hear people saying it was your maid and that it was the way of the aswangs to replace their victims with doppelgangers only to become sick and die. you’ve been very nice to you maid ever since. you don’t know who’s real, you don’t know who’s a doppelganger.

these are some of the creatures you’ve been afraid of your whole life. they tell you to let go of it. they tell you it’s not real. but you can’t, you can’t, you can’t.

For historical fic writers

This chair is called a GALLINERA

It was a furniture often seen on the porch, gate, or balconaje of the rich. Farmers and servants sit on this chair to wait for the their Masters when they're giving payments for using the farmland. The payments are usually chickens. The space with the sliding door underneath is where they keep the chickens. The chair is made from heavy wood and is adorned in inticate design. It is a status symbol, and the prettier your Gallinera is, the richer and kinder you are (Imagine buying expensive chair for the peasants).

Ideas to use the Gallinera:

1. Rich neigbors with rivalry - compete by beautifying the Gallinera.

2. A Señorito who said he's living on his own - lives under the Gallinera instead and he's never found out.

3. A Señorita lying down under the Gallinera to practice being dead inside a casket.

4. Poetic cinema - showing the status of the family by the cobwebs accumulating around the Gallinera.

Writing advice #?: Have your characters wash the dishes while they talk.

This is one of my favorite tricks, picked up from E.M. Forester and filtered through my own domestic-homebody lens.  Forester says that you should never ever tell us how a character feels; instead, show us what those emotions are doing to a character’s posture and tone and expression.  This makes “I felt sadness” into “my shoulders hunched and I sighed heavily, staring at the ground as my eyes filled with tears.”  Those emotions-as-motions are called objective correlatives.  Honestly, fic writers have gotten the memo on objective correlatives, but sometimes struggle with how to use them.

Objective correlatives can quickly become a) repetitive or b) melodramatic.  On the repetitive end, long scenes of dialogue can quickly turn into “he sighed” and “she nodded” so many times that he starts to feel like a window fan and she like a bobblehead.  On the melodramatic end, a debate about where to eat dinner can start to feel like an episode of Jerry Springer because “he shrieked” while “she clenched her fists” and they both “ground their teeth.”  If you leave the objective correlatives out entirely, then you have what’s known as “floating” dialogue — we get the words themselves but no idea how they’re being said, and feel completely disconnected from the scene.  If you try to get meaning across by telling us the characters’ thoughts instead, this quickly drifts into purple prose.

Instead, have them wash the dishes while they talk.

To be clear: it doesn’t have to be dishes.  They could be folding laundry or sweeping the floor or cooking a meal or making a bed or changing a lightbulb.  The point is to engage your characters in some meaningless, everyday household task that does not directly relate to the subject of the conversation.

This trick gives you a whole wealth of objective correlatives.  If your character is angry, then the way they scrub a bowl will be very different from how they’ll be scrubbing while happy.  If your character is taking a moment to think, then they might splash suds around for a few seconds.  A character who is not that invested in the conversation will be looking at the sink not paying much attention.  A character moderately invested will be looking at the speaker while continuing to scrub a pot.  If the character is suddenly very invested in the conversation, you can convey this by having them set the pot down entirely and give their full attention to the speaker.

A demonstration:

1

“I’m leaving,” Anastasia said.

“What?”  Drizella continued dropping forks into the dishwasher.

2

“I’m leaving,” Anastasia said.

Drizella paused midway through slotting a fork into the dishwasher.  “What?”

3

“I’m leaving,” Anastasia said.

Drizella laughed, not looking up from where she was arranging forks in the dishwasher.  “What?”

4

“I’m leaving,” Anastasia said.

The forks slipped out of Drizella’s hand and clattered onto the floor of the dishwasher.  “What?”

5

“I’m leaving,” Anastasia said.

“What?”  Drizella shoved several forks into the dishwasher with unnecessary force, not seeming to notice when several bounced back out of the silverware rack.

See how cheaply and easily we can get across Drizella’s five different emotions about Anastasia leaving, all by telling the reader how she’s doing the dishes?  And all the while no heads were nodded, no teeth were clenched.

The reason I recommend having it be one of these boring domestic chores instead of, say, scaling a building or picking a lock, is that chores add a sense of realism and are low-stakes enough not to be distracting.  If you add a concurrent task that’s high-stakes, then potentially your readers are going to be so focused on the question of whether your characters will pick the lock in time that they don’t catch the dialogue.  But no one’s going to be on the edge of their seat wondering whether Drizella’s going to have enough clean forks for tomorrow.

And chores are a cheap-n-easy way to add a lot of realism to your story.  So much of the appeal of contemporary superhero stories comes from Spider-Man having to wash his costume in a Queens laundromat or Green Arrow cheating at darts, because those details are fun and interesting and make a story feel “real.”  Actually ask the question of what dishes or clothing or furniture your character owns and how often that stuff gets washed.  That’s how you avoid reality-breaking continuity errors like stating in Chapter 3 that all of your character’s worldly possessions fit in a single backpack and in Chapter 7 having your character find a pair of pants he forgot he owns.  You don’t have to tell the reader what dishes your character owns (please don’t; it’s already bad enough when Tolkien does it) but you should ideally know for yourself.

Anyway: objective correlatives are your friends.  They get emotion across, but for low-energy scenes can become repetitive and for high-energy scenes can become melodramatic.  The solution is to give your characters something relatively mundane to do while the conversation is going on, and domestic chores are not a bad starting place.

Hope this isnt too heavy to type about but where do you get online sources of precolonial filipino stuff? I've been wanting to learn about those too since I only have info on during the colonialism.

I'm so sorry I hadn't been checking my blog for a long time :(

Mostly, my sources were books in DLSU library, and I didn't remember the sources because I'm that stupid. Lol.

About the online sources... Well... I went to Wikipedia. As long as I see Damiana Eugenio and some credible historians in the references, it's okay.

Aswang project... I remember citing them once or twice. Still, remember to look at the references. If the article writer cross-checked at least 3 sources, that's okay.

Google Schoolar and university databases are also the pool of credible research papers about the topic. Unfortunately, they're usually aggregate Phil History books, and they only have 1 chapter for precolonial. I don't usually trust history books that only have a brief info about the precolonial.

AND LASTLY, Tumblr. Many Filipino Tumblr users have sources on the precolonial. Just search tags and you will probably see many. We're mostly mythology crazy, tho. (I will tag them when I gather them all)

Recently, I discovered this website where you can take online sources dedicated to Filipino Culture and learning. It's called Suyomano.

Still navigating this site, and woop, it's not free. There are lessons about filipino sophisticated arts and traditions here, it's just sad that only a handful can have access.

When I get my hands on them, I'll share them to you, lol. Who cares if that's illegal.

I hope these helped.

“To Love an Aswang”

The bells were ringing too the day I met her. The first time I met her, it was a cloudy day and I had just come from mass, passing by some carts that sold food outside the old church. She was sitting behind the cart that sold fried potatoes on a skewer, and she eyed each person that passed by with interest, her silky voice calling out, “Ale, ale, bili kayo oh.” I stopped in front of her cart and bought two of the food she was selling. While we waited for the potatoes to fry, I casually made small talk with her.

“Ate, do you always sell here?” I asked.

She smile a tiny smile before answering, “Not always. Every other day and only before the sun goes down. At night, I head home.”

“Do you live near here?”

“Yes, I do.”

Once the potatoes were done, she put them in a brown paper bag and I gave her twenty pesos. Before I went on my way, I ventured on another question, not thinking much of it as I asked it. “Do you do this for a living or is this just a side job?”

She answered, “It’s more of a side job. After all, I have other means of getting my food. This just covers some of my other expenses.”

I gave a non-committal answer and proceeded to walk away when she said it.

“I’m an aswang.”

I didn’t think much of it, and I just thought it was the silly rambling of a creative woman with a quirky sense of humour.

I had started going to church in the mornings before I work at the nearest bank, and just as she said, the woman was there every other day, but never outside the church at night once I began my walk home after a long day at work. Every time I saw her, I bought some of her potatoes and talked with her, slowly beginning an odd friendship.

We chatted about anything and everything, except for each other’s personal lives. I regaled her with tales of my co-workers, occasionally complaining about them on a particularly harrowing day, and I shared with her my musings about life in general. She never asks about church, and I don’t say anything about it either. On the other hand, she tells me of silly adventures she has while selling the potatoes and of customers that particularly caught her eye. She once told me about this pregnant lady who reeked of perfume, that it hurt her nose and probably did the opposite of beckoning others to her. She told the story with a laugh, saying that perfume was meant to enhance and not to soak. We talked about anything and everything, Anna and I.

She said it again one day. “You know, I’m an aswang.”

I laughed at that and said, “Sure. You’re an aswang and you fly around at night looking for babies to devour.” I kept laughing.

She answered quite seriously, “Exactly.”

That was when I felt an odd chill run down my spine. I tried to cover up the following awkward silence with a cough and a shaky question. “If you really are one, why would you tell me?”

She shrugged at that and said, “You deserve to know, You’re not like other humans. Here you go.” She then handed me my usual brown bag of fried potatoes and I hesitantly began my walk to work, all the while turning over in my head what she said.

The next time I saw her, we spent a good deal of time discussing about trivial things, as if the past conversation never happened. It felt normal. Just two friends chatting about anything and everything. But then I worked up the courage to bring it up. “So you really are an aswang?”

I told myself I didn’t believe her, that I was just playing along to hear more of what she has to say. She was eccentric, that’s for sure.

“Mhm,” she chirped, turning over the skewers to let the other side of the potatoes fry. “I do eat babies, but only the unborn ones. I don’t like them outside their mother’s bellies. Too big to eat and less tasty. Not to mention that it makes more of a mess than when they’re inside waiting to be sucked out.”

I shuddered at her nonchalance and the graphic details of her supposed eating habits. “So you’re evil then?”

She gave an irritated click of her tongue at that. “Evil, you say? What exactly is evil? I am an aswang and you are a human. We are different. So I eat unborn babies. Is that evil? You eat unborn duck embryo, is that evil? It simply is the way it is. I may not know much but even I know about the food chain.”

“But you take the babies from their mothers. Who could do such a thing?”

She smiled meanly at that. “Careful, my dear. You’re about to venture into a question I don’t think you’re prepared to hear the answer to.”

I stopped at that, and for a few moments the only sounds were the chattering of other people outside the church and the sizzling of the frying oil. “I guess you’re right,” I said.

“But tell me,” I continued, “do you hate humans?”

She gave another annoyed grunt, rolling her eyes at the same time. “Hating humans would imply I have any sort of feeling toward them. Humans to me are nothing but a source of my food and my income.” She nodded toward a couple who stopped by in front of the cart next to me to buy Anna’s goods. They left, and Anna continued, “It’s like if I asked you, do you hate ducks because you eat balut? I have a certain apathy toward humanity, if that’s what you mean.”

Her answers were as eccentric as she was; as absurd as the notion that she was an aswang as she said. Still, I let the concept settle into my mind, no matter how uneasy it made me. “Well, what about me?”

“What about you?” she asked.

I didn’t know what came over me, but as I looked into Anna’s eyes, I felt a sort of calm and peace, even though she kept claiming she was this dangerous powerful creature that I didn’t believe in. I asked her quietly, “Do you feel nothing toward me?”

That’s when she stopped turning over the potato skewers to really look at me. Her eyes shone under the shade of the umbrella on her cart, and her shoulders sagged in a strange resignation before answering, “I guess not. You are my friend, after all.”

Friend. Her answer surprised me very much. Did this woman, who claimed she was an aswang, really consider me as a friend? A human and an aswang as friends was almost as laughable as me believing in the idea itself. But still, something in me was touched. If this beautiful woman was really an aswang, a more powerful creature than me, her choosing to befriend me was a feat in itself that touched me in no other way that my normal friendships did. I remembered all the conversations we’ve ever had here, about anything and everything, about life and its adventures… She made me rethink everything I knew before. Before I met her.

“You still don’t believe me, do you?” she asked once again.

I gave a shuddering breath, placing a hand on her cart to steady myself. “If I do believe you, that creatures like aswang exist and you are one of them, how can we be friends, Anna?”

“Is being an aswang really that bad?” Anna answered quietly. She resumed cooking her potatoes and serving one or two customers that stopped by.

“I am terrified, Anna. Frankly, I am. You eat unborn babies. You are a creature of the night.”

She did not like what I said. She stood up abruptly, her arms falling to her sides in annoyance. “This again? You have nothing to fear from me! Humanity is a much more terrifying evil than I can ever be! I’m still me, dear. Why would being an aswang change that?”

We didn’t say anything for a while. She scared me that day. I looked at the old looming church while feeling her glare. Her glare held no malice, only annoyance and a flash of pain. Still, she scared me.

“What if I had a baby and you ate it before it even got to live outside the womb? What then, Anna? I don’t think I’d ever be able to bear that. If you were really an aswang, why would you befriend me? Why?”

She sat back down, her beautiful face scrunched up in…pain? She wiped her tears, and she said quietly, “Do you really think I would do that to you? To you? You are different from all other humans. You are different from me, and yet…I have grown to love you despite our short time. I have grown to love you. Tell me, am I really as terrible as you think I am? Am I evil for being different than you?”

“Anna,” I said. “How can you love me? How can I love you?”

She didn’t answer. She never did. I left to go to work, and when I was on my way home that day with the moon already peeking out in the sky, she was gone. She never appeared again. Some days, when I pass by where her cart used to be and hear the ringing of the bells, I remember her silky voice and all the stories we used to tell each other. I would think of our last conversation and ask myself, “What is love? And what is evil?”

I still don’t have an answer.

the best thing about Trese is how it very carefully treads the fine line between urban fantasy, tropical gothic, and magical realism and how that specific brand of horror perfectly captures Manila's vibe because? honestly?

Manila really is Just Like That.

i go to Plaza Miranda and within seconds i will find a practicing mangkukulam selling cheap toys, tarot card readings, underwear, and curses all from the same stall in front of Quiapo Church. i have bought a curse off one of them once. i still have it in my bedside drawer because i chickened out last minute and never used it but now i'm too scared to get rid of it.

i walk through the informal settlers/squatter areas near my home and hear whispers of people dying in their sleep-- and it's almost always because of either two things: the police shot them in the night or because they brought something back with them from the province.

people disappear a lot. sometimes, they never find them again. sometimes, you only find parts of them. you're sure it's probably the work of a human but. you're never actually sure.

there are balete trees where you least expect them. there's one by one of the back roads leading to my office building and nobody wants to take it down because there's something living in it. same goes for the great sampalok tree in front of our office building. but they park their cars right next to them, paying a simple bow and "tabi, tabi po" as a parking fee. i try not to look at both trees when i pass by in the evenings on my commute home.

just last week my aunt called to casually tell me that they had their house blessed AGAIN because their maid had accidentally angered something the last time she visited her province of Nueva Ecija and everybody in the whole family has been waking up with scratches and bruises on their arms ever since. they had the house blessed by an abularyo this time because the first blessing from a catholic priest didn't work.

actually, my whole family on my grandmother's side is sensitive to this shit-- which explains the nonchalance, tbh. this isn't their first paranormal rodeo.

i know there is a branch of literary theory that studies why the development of magical realism, tropical gothic, and urban fantasy in fiction is largely credited to the global south (i.e. latin america, mainland asia, and south east asia), but fucking living in this bizarre city really drives it the fuck home.

there's at least two fucking balete trees near Manila's town hall. a building that is, by the way, shaped like a fucking coffin. i cannot make this up. it's so on-the-nose, it's like actual literary imagery right out of a magical realist/tropical gothic short horror story. and it's REAL.

and it's just normal here.