CONTENT WARNING

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

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When Danilo came home at five in the morning, his brother Marko opened the door and let him inside while their mother was still asleep. He went straight to his room without saying a word.

Sleep came easy but light and short. And when his alarm rang at seven, he snoozed three or four times before finally pushing himself out of bed.

He exited his room, ready for his mother's nagging, but only his brother was waiting for him in the living room.

"Where's Ma?" he asked.

His brother looked up from his coffee. "She went out to the market. Sit down." He gestured at an armchair opposite him.

Danilo complied. "Can I at least bathe before you kick me out again?"

"No one is kicking you out," Marko said, placing his mug on the coffee table. "At least not until Ma gets back. But we need to talk."

Danilo leaned back on the chair, tired. "About what?"

"You're getting worse, Danilo." His brother gestured at him. "Ma is always angry at you for drinking all the time."

"She doesn't understand me." Shaking his head, Danilo turned his face, ashamed to look into his brother's eyes. "None of you understands me."

"Then help us understand. Just talk to us. What is going on with you?"

"Nothing is going on with me. This is just who I am. You just can't accept that."

Marko pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose as if he had a headache. "This is not who you are, Danilo."

"You don't know who I am."

"I know you. You are my little brother. You don't used to be like this when Pa was alive. You've been spiraling down since then, and you're getting harder to control," Marko said.

"And why are you trying to control me?" Danilo's voice rose, angry. It was precisely what he felt. Everyone around him was restrictive. They couldn't just let him be and let him live his life. So, what if he was a drunk? So, what if he was always out at night?

"That's not--" Marko paused. "Let me try again." He raised his hand at Danilo, gesturing for him to stay calm. "I know you're still mourning Pa's death."

"Fuck you!"

"Danilo!" Marko warned.

"No! Fuck you, Marko!" He pointed a furious finger at his brother. "You're acting like Pa didn't die, like it meant nothing to you. You, Ma, Carlos, and Camila. You're all the same."

"Pa did die!" Marko matched the tone of his voice. "I mourned him too, but it shouldn't be this way. It's been seven years. You need to find a way to move on."

"I don't want to talk about this anymore." Danilo got up from his seat.

"Danilo, I'm still talking to you." Marko stood, but Danilo ignored him.

"We're done," he said as he marched back into his room, slamming the door shut and sinking back into his bed.

His brother hadn't gone after him despite muttering that Danilo was stubborn and their mother was right.

Danilo waited for his brother to leave for work before he came back out. He hurriedly sneaked into the bathroom to wash up and got a cup of three-in-one coffee after. He packed some clothes in a bag, planning to sleep somewhere else--anywhere else but in this house with his family.

His brother shouldn't have brought up the topic of their father. Danilo admitted to himself he hadn't moved on yet. After seven years--seven fucked up years--it was still difficult for him to discuss, too painful as if he was reliving the moment they received the news from a policeman in the early morning. Their father was found dead on the sidewalk.

When he finished prepping at past eight o'clock, he left the house before his mother came home.

Another ordinary day passed at the lake, with not many customers to entertain. After getting some sleep last night, he'd had fewer moments of nodding off. But his head still ached from time to time.

He'd brought a bottle of water with him so he could hydrate. Yeah, that was what it was. He was just dehydrated from all the drinking he'd been doing. Maybe his brother and mother were right after all. He had too many vices. But fuck that, there was no way for him to go back to that high school boy they remembered him to be.

"Slow day, huh?" Ramon nudged Danilo on the shoulder with an elbow.

Danilo looked at Ramon, glancing at the man's round belly that made him look like he was about to give birth. "It's what we like, though."

They sat there the whole day, waiting and tending to their customers. It was a good relationship between their stalls. They weren't competing with each other too much. It depended on what the customers wanted to ride--the swan boats or the lions. Though some customers didn't care, most had preferences.

The day went by, and the park's population dwindled. As promised, Danilo stayed to meet Dulnuan again.

His wristwatch beeped--2:59 a.m.

"Danilo."

He turned and saw Dulnuan standing on the pathway behind him. "Dulnuan." He grinned at her, glad she returned.

They found a spot to sit on the low cemented stone wall that railed the lake's edge. So, they sat with the view of the water behind them and the park's pathways and gardens in front of them.

"I will tell you my story now," Dulnuan said.

Danilo scooted close to her, touching but not touching their shoulders together. "Alright," he said, nodding.

"Do you remember I said I was not a ghost but a spirit?"

"Yeah, I remember," he answered, leaning forward and turning his body to her to see her face.

Dulnuan looked out as if she could see her life. "I was chosen to marry the chieftain when I was fourteen."

"That's very young," Danilo noted.

"Not in my days. We marry as soon as we have signs of fertility," Dulnuan explained. She kept her eyes gazing far away. "My husband's name was Ananayo. It means ruler. He was a good man, and I believe he loved me. He took care of me and gave me everything I wanted. Taught me how to sever a man's head." A smile hinted on her lips.

Danilo swallowed. He still couldn't believe the beautiful woman beside him could do such things.

"Ananayo and I tried for six years to have a child. But we couldn't," Dulnuan said.

"Oh." Danilo blinked, realizing the answer to one of his questions. She had no descendants, after all. And that meant she had not fulfilled her duty as the chieftain's wife.

"The elders of our tribe suggested a new wife for Ananayo." Pain flashed in Dulnuan's face. Her brows curled upward, and her eyes glistened.

"That's awful," Danilo said. It was like one of those telenovelas his mother liked to watch--all the drama and romance. But this one he was hearing was a true story.

"I did not want Ananayo to have a new wife. He did not want it either. We argued with the elders." She paused for a long while before taking in a deep breath and continuing. "But eventually, he agreed." Her voice shook in both sadness and anger. She looked down at her bare feet. "He agreed to have a new wife."

"I'm so sorry." Danilo didn't know what to say. Sensing her heartbrokenness, he felt like his chest contracted. If he'd been there during that time, he'd have punched her husband in the face. How could he hurt a sweet and beautiful woman like Dulnuan?

"I still fought. I did not want to let my husband go to another. And they punished me for my love." Dulnuan finally looked at him.

"What do you mean?" he asked, anticipating the end of her story to be even more cruel.

"They killed me."

Danilo swallowed, saying nothing and waiting for her to go on. This was some murder shit, for sure.

"They mummified me alive," she continued. "They bound me, curled. My whole body was wrapped in cloth except for my nose so I could breathe and suffer those nights in my coffin hanging on the cliffside. I couldn't even scream. I watched the light of the sun through the cracks in the wood. I watched it fade into the nights and watched its glow take the mornings. I think I died on the fifth day."

Danilo held his breath. Fuck! This was messed up.

"And then they cursed my soul."

"What?"

"Those days in my coffin, I prayed to die. I prayed for my rest, and when it finally came, they called me back," she explained. "My soul hovered in front of a mangkukulam. She was someone I didn't know. Not from my tribe. She told me she needed to cleanse my evil spirit that had influenced the village. My beheading practices and leading other women to believe we could be more than child bearers were the reasons for my infertility. She said I was a demon, and they couldn't let me go to my ancestors."

"That's--" Danilo swallowed again. All of a sudden, her life seemed much worse than his. And he'd been complaining for the last seven years that things weren't fair when here was a woman who endured a brutal death and suffered a curse for over a hundred and thirty years. "--shit," he whispered.

"Shit indeed," Dulnuan said. "The mangkukulam cursed me to stay between the land of the living and the afterlife. She said I wasn't truly dead, but neither was I alive. So here I am, roaming the park for the rest of my--" she paused "--as you said it, haunting years."

"But you're not haunting."

"No."

"You're not a ghost."

"No."

"You're a spirit separated from your body."

"Yes."

Danilo wasn't sure if that made sense, but he understood it in a way no words could explain.

"There may be a reason why you can see me. Or why I saved you from committing suicide."

"And what reason is that?" Danilo asked, but somehow, he already knew. And he was willing to do what it took.

"I think you're meant to help me," Dulnuan said. Then she started to fade, her opacity decreasing.

"What's happening?" he asked.

"It's time."

"Already?" Danilo glanced at his watch--4:00 a.m. "But--" He looked up at her, but she was gone. "Fuck!"

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☠ Pronunciation: Ananayo [A-na-na-yo]

☠ Fun Fact:

The Igorot tribe in Sagada, Mountain Province, has a unique way of burial rituals. Their elderly make their own coffins, and when they die, they are fitted in them. Their coffins are then hung inside cave walls or on cliffs because their people believe that their souls will have better chances of reaching the afterlife at higher locations.

The Hanging Coffins in Sagada, Mountain Province