The World According to Inong Pak-An

The man’s footsteps echoed in the still, humid air as the sharp tang of old copra and burnt oil saturated the night. On the ground, he could detect some underlying decay mingling with the smell of peat smoke that grew stronger the deeper he moved into the dark, decrepit hut. He wished the others were here. As the night settled, he felt that the aura surrounding the hut had become syrupy with malevolence.

The man stared at an old woman’s back. He had a sinking realization that he might have to force the crone to engage with him. He wished he wasn’t so quick to volunteer to search for a presumably missing neighbor. But it had been a week and the whole town was up in arms in trying to find him. This was the last place on their list. Still no neighbor and now others were gone, too. It finally dawned on him that he might be irrevocably lost and alone. Dejected and no less irritated, the man called to the old woman, “Manang, may I speak with you, please?”

The clattering of dishes was his only answer.

He cleared his throat. “I am looking for a man; it has been a week since we saw him last. Did he pass this way by any chance?”

The hag bent over a stack of wood, muttering something under her breath. From time to time, she would turn her head and pin him with a warning glare. It was apparent that he might have to abandon this miserable mission. But still he waited.

The small, sputtering gas light clutched in his hand made every corner and

line in the shadows sway and tremble. He tried again, “Manang. Did you see a man pass this way?”

But the old woman ignored him again. The man sighed. He surmised he could walk back to town on his own and, if he hurried, there might be some light left for him to find his way. Decision made, he prepared to leave when the bent figure called to him.

Finished with whatever nefarious business she was concocting in the deepest pit of the hut, the old crone inclined her head to the table in the corner. The man frowned. It was dark and he couldn’t see much of anything. Why wasn’t there any light in the room? He was about to lift the gas light he was holding when he noticed that the old crone looked different. Her bent, gnarled body changed to that of a very young woman and back again. He blinked a few times. He was just imagining things. He swallowed and shook his head, trying to summon his flailing nerves.

“We are looking for Inong. I know you have heard of him. He has been missing—”

“Be quiet, and come inside.” He flinched at the harshness of the voice and started to step back. There was no fire or smoke, but he could discern something was cooking. His stomach twisted with sudden apprehension. The old woman observed him now, her eyes hard with malicious intent.

“Now you can come closer.” The low sound of her voice changed. It became lilting and soothing and made all the hair on his body stand on end. He blinked again, and the old woman’s face became translucent. Her hair

grew longer, and if he wasn’t mistaken, turned darker. Her body became fluid and straight. She started humming a beautiful, distant melody he had never heard before. It was making his heart pound faster.

“Will you—will you answer my question if I do?” was his last attempt at bravado.

The old crone smiled—no—not the old crone. The bent gnarled figure disappeared, and in her place stood the most beautiful young woman he had ever seen.

He was not young or naïve. He had heard stories. Horrific stories of aswang and other dark creatures surrounding the land. But he had never encountered one, nor seen evidence of them. They said that a long time ago, the town eliminated them. In fact, the father of Inong, the missing person, had been the town’s hero for killing the last aswang.

“Where is the old crone?” he asked.

“Don’t be afraid. You can now cross the threshold.” The young woman extended her hand in invitation, her smile bright and friendly. “I have plenty of food. Enough for the two of us. Come.”

Her smile seemed shark-like in the gloomy darkness. Her eyes shone an eerie light and she wavered, fusing with the moving shadows.

“Why?” was his confused reply. But the woman didn’t respond. She just stood there with her hand still extended. Now it felt like his limbs had become paralyzed as he tried to tighten his grip on the small gas light. He knew something was terribly wrong…

ABOUT MARILYN L. MYERS

This short story by Spokane Public Library employee Marilyn L. Myers is inspired by her father’s town of Inopacan in the Philippines. The name of the town is also the name of a legendary winged creature, Inong Pak-An. Marilyn’s story introduces a member of the aswang, shape-shifting menacing creatures in Filipino folklore. Aswang can be vampires, ghouls, witches, and other transforming human-beast