What happens when a serial killer crosses paths with provincial folklore? |
Nighttime Monstrosities By Mary Lewis The sun had just set on the small town in a Philippine province. Night was beginning to creep into the amber-colored sky. The wind blew noiselessly, caressing the graceful branches of the trees that covered the nearby forest. Life went about as usual in the quiet little village. An expensive, black SUV arrived and parked right in front of the city mayor's lavish mansion. The visitor had just arrived from the city: a handsome and wealthy young man. Stepping out of his vehicle, he looked about and noticed that not a lot of things have changed since his last visit several years ago. Beside the spot where he was parked, a group of elderly women stood huddled together, chatting as they collected water from a lone water pump. As young man gave instructions to his driver and supervised the unloading of his baggage, a young woman, attractive by his standards, passed in front of him. His gaze followed her as she walked by. She had long, tangled masses of black hair that fell to her waist, her skin was tanned to a golden brown color that was common in provincial regions where women were expected to work under the heat of the sun. She walked with an almost supernatural grace past the elderly group, who greeted her with seething stares. "Get out of here and leave us alone, Nena! Aswang!" one of the old women called out to her as she disappeared into the creeping darkness. They huddled closer together and began talking in whispers. From the way they kept looking at the direction where the young woman went, the young visitor concluded that they were discussing her. Intrigued, the young man approached the group of elderly women, introduced himself, and made his inquiries about the woman who had just passed. The elderly group was only too happy to share their juiciest gossip about her. He discovered that the woman, Nena, lived alone at the edge of the forest just on the outskirts of the town. She hardly socialized with the people in the village, always keeping to herself and is rarely seen. When the women had finished their task of collecting water, they said their goodbyes, each one asking the young man to visit them sometime, and made their way back to their respective houses. So much emotions stirred within him as he walked the long, stone walkway to the entrance of the mansion. Thinking of his father, the town's Mayor, and his corrupt political activities made his stomach churn with hatred. Thinking of Nena, however, made him anxious and excited. How he longed to feel her skin on his. Her face haunted him each time he closed his eyes and his fingers itched with the need to touch her. Although this visit was made against his will, the tales he heard gave him something to look forward to. "I think I’ll pay this woman a visit." He whispered to himself, a malicious smile spreading across his face. Later, as the sky turned black and the moon rose into the night, the young man left his father's house and made his way into the little hut at the edge of the forest. ********* A little after midnight, stillness enveloped the little village as well as the forest beside it. The handsome youth just finished indulging in his twisted, sadistic fantasies. Nena lay unconscious on the forest floor not far from her own hut, breathing heavily as the young man admired her unclothed body. Nena was not his first victim. There had been others before, so many others. She would be no different, he thought to himself. She was indeed beautiful with her long hair and slender body. He licked his lips as he watched her stir and begin to regain consciousness. The chloroform he used on her earlier had begun to wear off. It was time. He walked over to the side of Nena's small hut and saw a large cleaving knife. "No wonder the village people feared her" The amused thought crept through his mind as he picked up the knife and returned to his prey. He looked at her and wondered at how the village's lack of education and conservative traditions could condemn someone to be branded as a monster. He had learned from his education in the city that since women in small towns such as this were often under the care of a male figure, the fact that women like Nena chose to live independently made them an object of fear and hate. "Aswang" they had called her. Aswang: fearful creatures that supposedly sucked blood or ate entrails. Some took the form of birds, while others took the shape of attractive women. He recalled how his nursemaid would tell him stories of such creatures during his unhappy childhood. A common tale he had heard often was that of an aswang called the manananggal, a woman who detaches herself from her lower body and flies into the night to feed on people's internal organs. "Then an aswang she will be" he said, clutching the knife tighter. Slowly, his skilled hand pressed the knife through the soft skin of Nena's stomach. A slow and painful death, that was how he liked to do it. With a careful stroke and a perverted smile, he forced the knife deeper into her, cutting her body in two, just like the manananggal. A cry of death echoed into the forest and the nearby village. The wind carried the scent of blood along with its melancholy howls. The monster has claimed another life. ********* Dawn came and a commotion brewed at the edge of the forest, not far from Nena's hut. A body lay dead on the dirt. Gossip-mongers from the village arrived when they heard of the fuss. Many stared in horror at what they saw. Others turned away; the sight unbearable to their eyes and their stomachs. "What twisted mind would do such a thing?" One villager commented. "I recognize this body!" Said the local priest. "It's horrible! It is the work of the Devil!" Cried another resident. At the corner of their eyes, some of the townsfolk noticed a figure peering from the partly opened door of Nena’s hut. "Not the devil… an aswang!" said an elderly woman, clutching her rosary and making the sign of the cross. "Aswang?!" the crowd echoed. At the mention of the word, all eyes turned to Nena’s hut in time to see an attractive young woman with long, unkempt hair and tanned skin close the door in order to hide from the village people’s accusing stares. At that moment, the village’s mayor arrived and immediately walked over to the subject of the commotion. His eyes widened in terror at the repulsive sight that beheld him. “My son! Who did this to my son?!” He cried, kneeling beside the almost unrecognizable body of his only child, his face buried in his palms. The once handsome, young man was now a corpse, with limbs contorted inhumanely and parts of his flesh ripped off in the most grotesque and sickening manner. The sun rose as it usually did and wind sang of the sight it witnessed during the night, but no one listened. |