The Alan's Plea Part 1

The Alan’s Plea Part 1



Myuma worked in the late hours of night. The lamp stood on the table embellished by the fine metal workings that cast shadows on the walls and the lit parts of the shadow glowed like fiery eyes. Myuma’s mind was deep in thought, every detail passed by in her mind like a stream, scrutinized down the image before she drew. She would add them to her work and see if it made sense with the rest. “Myuma, go to sleep, it’s late.” His father, a wrinkled scrawny man supported by a cane stepped into the living room, only a few feet from Myuma. “Later, dad.” Myuma replied without a glance. As always, the father left her just like that every night, knowing that the child would go to sleep in a few moments. It was customary like checking on employees in the farm in the morning. The father had gone to sleep as Myuma stayed up but too late, she hadn’t noticed the time as she got hooked onto her own work. The inner workings of her mind trapped her, “A few more strokes.” She urged as she painted down more strokes and always checked if they made sense with the rest. The village shared the silence with the night except with the occasional hounding of wolves that prowled the deep parts of the forest. The painting went on as the night went deeper. Soon she felt the urge to sleep.

"Wake up, Myuma!" a sudden call accompanied by tugging sent her out of the deep confines of sleep. "What is it, dad?" she asked, startled in her wake. The old man stared at her, worried or more likely horrified. "Your painting!" he replied. Myuma did not need to hear any explanation to know that something terrible had happened. She got out of bed and went straight to the living room in a whiz. There she saw her work bathed in blood. She glared with an open mouth. She was speechless but tried to walk slowly toward her vandalized fruit of labor. The father appeared at the door frame. She tried to examine her work, "How could this be? Who could have done it?" She asked, facing her equally mystified father but he has no answer. A town elder was called to review the case. He watched with an ever scrutinizing gaze as his view panned left to right. "This is the work of an evil spirit." He declared. Myuma was sceptical, however, he wanted to object but the elder will simply wave off her argument.

"Could it be a burglar?" Myuma's father suggested. The elder ignored him. "Get the shaman." he replied instead. While the elders and the shaman made preparations, Myuma decided to investigate on her own. She was brave in her mid-teens. She held a reputation as an artist in the village and this was the first time someone ever dared to ruin her work. "Whoever it was will pay." she thought as she checked the windows and the back door of the hut, all were untouched. Maya went in to see her, "Have you heard of the news?" She said catching Myuma bewildered.

"What news?" she replied.

"Lusing gave birth last night." Maya surprised her with that. But it also puzzled the artist, "Since when? I didn't hear anyone scream like hell?"

"You were probably asleep when it happened. Anyway, come-" Maya's words were cut off by a strange sound above them. Both ladies looked up and were shocked to see an alan that nested at the attic. Alans never do this but this one did it. The two screamed like hell! The village men nearby rushed inside to witness the discovery, spears were immediately brought in. Barku pulled the two ladies out of the way before the alan could come down and smite one of the two. The creature, fueled by the need to survive, showed off its fiercest features but the men stood their ground. Barku grabbed a spear and threw it straight at the creature's heart. It screamed in pain. It was hellish, evil, and scary. Then the creature dropped and vanished. Such creatures were evil spirits but still they are capable of obtaining physical form.

"It figures. The Chief went in, “That creature was after Lusing's child. It came here to nest and when the time is right. He will come out to grab Lusing's child and carry him into the forest never to be seen again."

“But what does that have to do with ruining my work?’ Myuma dashed in.

“I have no answers,” the Chief replied. At the same moment, a terrible scream caused everyone’s head to turn around.

About the Alan:
The Alan are deformed spirits from the folklore of the Tinguian tribe of the Philippines. They have wings, and their fingers and toes point backwards.
The Alan are said to take drops of menstrual blood, miscarried fetuses, afterbirth, or other reproductive waste and transform them into human children, whom they then raise as their own. They live near springs in extremely fine houses, made of gold and other valuables.