THE REALMS OF KAHILWAYAN: Alunsina Chronicles

Chapter 1 - Dark Fog

It was a dark and dry summer night. The waning crescent lent her faint light to the skies. There were no stars. Not even the north star was visible. The surrounding trees, the bamboos, especially the ones outlining the horizon before the towering dark blue mountains seem lifeless. There was no wind. Not even a breeze. Even the crickets were silent.

Everything was still.

Suddenly, from all directions, a dark fog crept into the town of Santa Rita, covering it in a matter of seconds. What was already dark and dry became pitch black and thick. Suffocating. Dark nights were not uncommon to the "tumandoks". Situated in a town three hours drive away from Poblacion and surrounded by a mountain range, they have had more than a fair share of blackouts. Even on a good day. But they felt there was something sinister lurking, prowling, in the dark fog.

A sing-song of the rosary echoed through the darkness, becoming muffled as more and more people got to their knees, trembling, in supplication.

Clara looked out into the fog from her veranda hoping to find something. What that something was, she did not know, her intuition on alert, she just felt she was drawn to it. But as she tried to look for something in the thickness of it, all she could see was the dark fog coming closer until it surrounded her. "Por Dios, por santo," she prayed, doing the sign of the cross, and wrapped her thick shawl around her.

On every other night, she would come to the veranda to reward herself with some me-time after a long day's work. She would sit on her rocking chair and take out from one of the pockets of her duster one wide potent tobacco leaf. Just one. She would sniff it ceremoniously and with delight fold it to just about the right size for her, about a "dangaw" long, and roll it to a perfectly stuffed and tight cylinder. She would bring it to her mouth and light it with a matchstick from her other duster pocket. After inhaling and puffing smoke the first time, she would let loose a long sigh as she reached for the switch of her transistor radio hanging on one of the posts of the veranda. She would search for her favorite AM station, ["Bombo Radio"], pushing and pulling slowly with the tip of her pointer finger the makeshift knob Kulas made for her until the white noise was covered by the thick bass voice of [Reno Arconez], her favorite ["Sona Libre"] announcer.

But tonight was not one of those nights.

"Kulas!" She called out.

There was no reply from Kulas. She waited a few seconds and called out again, "Kulas, you have to see this!"

The kitchen door opened and a dancing light from a candle spilled through the dark fog. From where Clara was standing, a silhouette of a man emerged, who hurriedly shut the kitchen door behind him before more dark fog got in.

"What are you doing here, Clara?" He asked and sipped a mouthful of his favorite Marlboro red as he went to her.

It never occurred to her that she skipped her daily dose of nicotine, and seeing her husband enjoying his own poison made her crave for hers. Worse, she could smell it all the more as he came closer. She searched her duster pockets, but couldn't find her usual paraphernalia. Lintik, she cursed to herself.

Seeing her rummaging through her pockets, Kulas knew what she was looking for. He took the stick of a cigarette tucked in his right ear, one he always had when he felt one was not enough, and offered it to her.

Clara just looked at him with disdain and glared at the cigarette. "What? They are all the same." He teased, bringing it closer to her face.

"Get that out of my face, Kulas. There's a big difference between organic and synthetic." She declared taking the stick of Marlboro red from him and tossed it away. "And my nicotine comes directly from our fields. Big difference!"