CONTENT WARNING

This chapter contains mature themes and a lot of profanity that may not be suitable for a very young audience.

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Danilo wanted to die. For a long time, his heart had twisted in tight and painful knots of anguish, fear, and depression, but it all unraveled when his escape finally came to him. All he needed to do was jump.

He weighed the heavy rock in his hands, cradling it against his slowly heaving stomach. He wasn't the most competent man--only a high school graduate, not like his sister and brothers who went to college--but he understood that he would sink and drown with the rock tied to his leg.

He opened his eyes and watched the small ripples on the lake made by the cool December winds. The warm lights of Burnham Park shimmered over the water. Living in Baguio City all his life, he had never appreciated this view. It had always been an ordinary thing, a part of his ordinary life. He never thought it was beautiful until now, when all he could think about was death.

He couldn't remember the last time he felt relieved. He was at peace, knowing his rest was only a step away. Death would give him what he needed. He had thought about it for a while now. It played a game of tug-of-war in his mind. But when he eventually gave in, the fighting stopped. The anguish, the fear, the depression, all of it vanished.

A slow smile curved his lips, and he allowed himself to indulge in the Oooh-yes sensation. Despite the large rock exhausting his shoulders, his whole body was afloat. It wasn't due to the alcohol or the cigarette. He was so sure it was because death was welcoming him to the finality of his suffering.

"What are you doing?" A voice behind Danilo rattled him from the cemented railing he stood on. He toppled back and fell on his ass. The rock dropped on the ground beside him with a heavy thud.

"Fuck!" Danilo cursed and looked up. A woman, wearing a shawl and tapis patterned in the striped red and black tapestry of the Igorots, stood before him. What the hell was a girl like her doing here at three in the morning?

"Can you see me?" the woman asked. Her voice was soft, like the glow of lights against the dark.

"What?" Danilo asked as if he couldn't comprehend the question, shaking his head to lose his drunkenness. He squinted, his vision fuzzy, trying to focus until the woman in front of him steadied.

"You can see me." The woman gave a shaky breath. "And you can hear me too." She grinned.

"What are you ta--" the words stuck in Danilo's throat when he grasped who or what he was looking at as if his brain had just completed the processing of the image in front of him. Alarm bells rang in his mind.

The woman was barefoot. Her clothes weren't enough to guard against the cold. But those weren't what triggered Danilo's panic button. It was the fact that he could see through her. Like through the stretched fabric of a lady's stockings, he saw the dark and tiny green leaves of the shrubs behind her.

"What the fuck!" He crawled backward away from her but only got a few added inches of distance. The rope tied to his leg tugged him to stop. "Shit! Shit!" He reached for the rope, trying to untie it, but the knot was too tight. "Shit!"

"Wait, no. Please." The woman reached for him.

"Mother of fuck! God help me!" This wasn't how he wanted to die.

"Please." The woman touched his knee.

Danilo gasped but felt nothing as her fingers sunk into his leg. "No!"

"Please," the woman said again, pleading. Her voice shook as if she was crying. Kneeling in front of him, she leaned closer.

He looked up at her face and found her eyes curved with a smile but filled with tears. He heaved a breath unable to move, unable to do anything but stare at the ghost and wait for it to eat his soul.

"I will not hurt you," the woman said, raising her hands away from him and leaning back. "I will not hurt you," she repeated.

"What do you want?" he managed to ask.

"I--" she shook her head. "I don't know. This is the first time."

Danilo found the courage to take in the details of the woman's face, expecting a horror come to life, with vicious snarled lips, sharp fangs, and blood red murderous eyes. Instead he found unexpected sweetness in the bow of her lips and her thin-almond eyes.

He swallowed, slowly sitting up right. Glancing at the rope around his ankle, his mind still raced to find a way to run.

"Can you still see me?" The woman sat in front of him, crossing her legs.

"I can," he answered.

"How can you see me?" she asked, disbelief coiled in her voice.

"I don't know."

She stared at him like she was relishing his gaze.

"What are you?" Danilo asked, though he already knew what she was.

The woman pressed her lips together and didn't answer.

He tried a different question. "Who are you?"

Her eyes widened. "I--" she looked sideways, thinking. "My name is Dulnuan," she said, her gaze returning to him.

"Dulnuan?" he repeated. It sounded like the last name of a mountain province native.

She nodded. "It means morning dew."

He blinked at her. "That sounds beautiful." He was somehow more relaxed now, less fearful even when Dulnuan's transparency had not changed.

She beamed a smile. "What is your name?" There was something about the way she spoke that sounded too formal.

"Uh--" He hesitated. Why would a ghost want to know his name? Would she curse him with it? But he had asked her name first, and she had willingly shared it. If she wanted to hurt him in any way, she would have already done it. "Danilo. Danilo Bautista."

Dulnuan blinked. "Spanish? You do not look like a Spaniard."

Danilo shook his head. "No, I'm Filipino."

"Did the Spaniards force you to take that name?"

"No. My parents gave me my name."

"Your parents are Spaniards?" She raised a brow at him.

He almost laughed. Unfortunately, he hadn't listened much in history class when he was in high school to learn why Filipinos had Spanish names. "My mother is Filipino." He paused. "My father was too."

Dulnuan tilted her head to the side as if trying to decide whether to believe him or not. "Danilo means God is my judge, and Bautista means baptist. Are you a holy man?"

"No. I'm not." Whatever holy man meant, he knew he was not that despite his earlier cry for help, asking God to defend him against this supernatural being. "I'm just--" he looked out to the lake. "I'm a custodian here. I keep watch of one of the boat stalls."

Dulnuan tucked her hair behind her right ear, and he saw a glittering gold hoop ring hanging from her earlobe. "I believe I know you."

"You know me?" he asked.

"You take money from people who ride the boats? You are the one watching the white swan boats at the other side of the lake." She pointed through the dark where the stall would be.

"I am," he confirmed.

Dulnuan tilted her head to the side again, pausing as her eyes wandered from his face to his chest to the rest of him.

A shiver ran up his spine as if he could feel the touch of her gaze. He coughed to distract her from her venture. "How can I see you?" he asked.

Her eyes snapped back to his face. "How can you see me indeed?" she said as if only realizing what had been occurring for the last five minutes.

"You said it's the first time. You mean that someone saw you?" Danilo tried to cross his legs but the tug on his ankle reminded him he was still tied to the rock.

She shook her head. "It is the first time someone heard me."

"But not the first time someone saw you?" he asked.

She nodded. "People see me. Not often, but they do, especially during the witching hours," she explained.

"The witching hours?"

"The time after midnight and after 3:00 a.m. The time when the veil between the spirit realm and the world of the living thins."

"After 3:00 a.m.?" He knew the time when all the monsters from his grandmother's horror stories came out at night. Past midnight and past 3:00 a.m. were when someone's third eye could awaken to see a ghost. That was what's happening to him now. "So, you're a spirit? A ghost?"

"A spirit, yes. A ghost, no," Dulnuan answered.

What was the difference between a ghost and a spirit anyway? "Are you haunting the park?"

She let out a giggle. "No. Why would I do that?"

"Then why are you here? What do you want?" he asked.

"I--" she hesitated before determination grew in her eyes. "I want to live again. To be seen and heard. To feel. To have a body."

"Well, you're not getting my body." Danilo made sure that was clear, cautious to remember she was still a ghost despite keeping her word not to hurt him.

"Why would I want your body?" Dulnuan furrowed her brows. "I do not wish to be a boy." Her eyes wandered between his legs.

Heat rose up his neck, and he turned his lower body away from her.

As if she noticed his withdrawal, she raised her hand. "I will not harm you. I only want to converse. This is the first time since my passing that I talked to a person. I am very lonely. If, for only this hour, you could grant me this conversation, I would be grateful to you for the rest of my--" She could not say life.

"--haunting years?" he supplied for her.

"I am not haunting anything or anyone."

Danilo smiled at how he annoyed her.

The way she scrunched her nose was adorable. If she wasn't a dead person, she could be one of those touristy morena-skinned girls Danilo liked to watch while manning the boat stall. The ones who liked to wear super mini-shorts they could already be called panties.

He swallowed, telling himself to stay cautious. He could not be crushing on a ghost right now. "So, back to my question. How can I see you?" He wondered if his third eye had awakened, his hand itching to touch his forehead because that was where the extra eye should be. At least, that's where it usually was in his grandmother's stories.

Dulnuan pursed her lips, and her eyes dropped to the rope tied to his leg and the other end tied to the large rock. "Were you trying to kill yourself?"

He remembered why he was at the park at a time like this when no one was supposed to be around, except for ghosts, he guessed. "I was," he admitted. "I was trying to kill myself." He thought it would be harder to say it out loud, but the words easily rolled over his tongue. And like earlier, rest and acceptance overcame him.

Dulnuan nodded. "That must be why. You have wished for death enough to open yourself to the other side."

"I wished for death, and I got a ghost?"

"I am not a ghost," Dulnuan scrunched her nose with distaste.

Danilo thought she was in denial or perhaps a dead person who had a preference. Like her pronoun, she did not want to be called a ghost. A spirit instead.

"Aren't you curious why I wanted to kill myself?" he asked her.

"No. Unless you want to tell me, I shall not be curious. It is a personal matter," she answered.

He thought about sharing it with her but stopped himself. Why would he tell his troubles to someone he'd just met? Why would he tell a gho--spirit? He nodded to her.

Dulnuan opened her mouth to speak, but she turned, looking over her shoulder as if someone called her. But there was nothing behind her but the bushes. She turned back to him, her eyes upturned with sadness. "I have to go," she told him.

"Go? Where?" What a stupid thing to ask, Danilo thought. Where else would a spirit go? The Other Side, most would call it.

She shook her head and stood up. "The witching hour is nearly over. I have to return now. I am grateful for your time and for this conversation."

"Wait, what?" Danilo glanced at the digital watch on his wrist--a cheap accessory he bought from a stall in the park for only two hundred pesos. It told the time correctly, but all its other features was a scam.

"Goodbye, Danilo," Dulnuan said, lowering her head as if to bow.

"Hang on!" Danilo got up, almost stumbling because of the rope around his ankle. "Will I see you again?" He asked, patting the dust off his pants.

Dulnuan blinked, her eyes widening and lips curling into a smile. "You might if you are not successful in killing yourself. But if you are, you might see me as you pass to the other side."

There was no assurance in her answer, but it was enough for Danilo to know there was a possibility. "Goodbye, Dulnuan," he said.

She turned her back to him, her straight black hair swaying to her waist. She walked, passing through the bushes like air and fading into the dark, away from the yellow glow of a lamp post. Just like that, she was gone.

Danilo looked down at his leg. He'd only brought the rock and the rope, tying it tight without intending to get it off. So, he brought no scissors or a knife, nothing but the two.

He looked around the dimly lit walkway. No one would be around for a few more hours.

He sighed. "Well, fuck me."

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☠ Pronunciation: Dulnuan [Dool-noo-an]

☠ Glossary:

Igorot: Indigenous people from ethnic groups in the mountains of northern Luzon, Philippines. The word Igorot means mountaineer in the Tagalog language.

Tapis: A piece of cloth wrapped around the waist like a skirt.

Morena: Brown. Usually used to describe darker Filipino skin tone.

☠ Fun Fact: 

Baguio is a city about 4,600 feet above sea level situated in the mountainous region of northern Luzon, Philippines. It has mild and cool weather that tourists come for. It's the summer capital of the country, otherwise known as the City of Pines.

Baguio City with the lake in the middle of Burn Ham Park.