Tiyanak: A Short Story

I went to bed at around two-thirty a.m., when the summer heat had set itself on the night. My blanket sat at the corner of my bed. I was sharing the bed with my older brother, with my mother and two sisters in the other room. Even though we were the youngest , my brother and I were the only boys in the family. Besides, we used to share it with our father. Used to.

As I tried to fall asleep in the sweltering weather, the May heat suddenly gave away to a cold. I was surprised at the drop of temperature. Outside, dogs howled at the gibbous. The scene laid its effects on me, and sweat dripped from my temples despite the cold.

Then something called to my ears. A cry, as if from a small infant, came from outside. It was particularly loud and sounded

Like all monsters, tiyanak were most vulnerable to holy water, but I didn't have any. Then I remembered.

Tiyanak originated from aborted children, seeking revenge at their mothers. But they could also be from babies that died prematurely before they were baptized. To be free from a tiyanak, a person must give it a name.

The deranged, high-pitched laughter was coming closer. I got ready. I came into view and called out, "Perdio!"

The tiyanak stopped, confused. I continued, "Perdio! I give you this name, Perdio."

My heart rate sped up, but I tried to catch my breath. The child stood still. Then suddenly, the wind blew, bringing the misty fog along. The thickness of it blocked my view of the child, but I still saw it. I saw how its soul turned wispy white, floating up into the skies. It went towards the moon, now shining down where I was.

I realized it left something behind. A lampin1. I held it in my hands, Then finally, I fell.

My siblings found me the next morning and started to fuzz. I was dazed, heavy with relief, but burdened with what I had experienced. I still held the cloth in m hands.

Perdio. Lost. Like its soul, but I had found it. And now, hopefully, it was where it was supposed to