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 By
the light of the full moon I saw through a rent in my window curtain my big brother's
bloody red eyes. Purple hair topped his green lids and his long tongue latched on to the
window. I hid my head under a pillow. When the moon shadows turned blue on the very next
night, my brother's top half flew off and the smell of damp earth went with him.
Riceplants bowed low as he flew on by and the dogs howled wildly in the distance.
 Meanwhile
under our balete tree, so silent and still, his lower half stood still waiting. "My
brother is an aswang!" That's what the old folks would whisper, whenever they felt
something sinister. Then children would run for cover while garlic was strung on their
doors. I had to save my brother. |
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