At the foot of a small mountain shrine, two farmers were planting rice in their small plantation. It was only halfway through the morning when a figure dressed in vibrant colors and golden jewelry passed by, escorted by a flock of swooning adolescents.
What was supposed to be a quiet morning was ruined by incessant coos of the young ones and the loud obnoxious laugh of the colorful peacock who they assumed was a traveler from the Capital.
One of the farmers sighed in aggravation, stood up, and extended her sore back, earning a few loud cracks. "Good grief," she grumbled, eyeing the crowd. "It seems like every day is getting louder and louder. Those flashy city babaylans always make a ruckus wherever they go. Soon us old folks won't be able to die in peace."
Her companion only hummed as he occupied himself with his work.
"Ah, well. It really can't be helped," the woman continued on, eyes still not leaving the crowd that was just a few meters away from them even as she dabbed the sweat forming on her forehead. "Those shameless demons have been popping up like cockroaches ever since the war. But did they really have to make our little village's mountain shrine a tourist destination?"
The other farmer hummed again, earning an annoyed face from his company.
"Hoy, are you even listening to me?"
No response.
The old woman sighed again in frustration. "Tsk, whatever," she said and went back to planting rice grains on the wet soil. It was only a few moments later when the woman's annoyance died and down that man began to speak.
"That young man is going to get an earful when he reaches that shop," he commented.
The woman let out a breathy laugh. "Heh, you think so? Isn't he the, what, twenty-third person who visited that shrine?"
"Thirty-seven."
"Oh, my. Do you think he'll come running down like the one from last time?"
"Not sure. This one looks like he has chicken sticks for legs- I doubt he'll even reach the top, especially with those heavy-looking jewelry on."
The old woman threw her head back guffawed.
While the two hardworking farmers went on with their work while gossiping about their neighbors, the group of young women a few feet ahead of them whined as the young traveler began to climb the first few steps to the shrine.
"Aw, kuya, won't you stay with us for a while longer?" one of the girls asked, batting her long eyelashes at the bejeweled newcomer. "We really want to know what it's like in the big city."
The young man in question preened at the attention he was being given by the young ladies. "Oh dear, as much as I'd love to, sadly, this kuya still has lots of work to do," he said, dramatically. "Maybe next time when I have the opportunity, I'll talk to you about how I took down a manananggal single-handedly." The girls gasped and their eyes widened in curiosity.
A chorus of 'really?'s and 'wow's rang throughout the group. The girl who batted her eyes spoke up again. "That's really impressive, kuya!" she said, voice uncharacteristically high. "Now that you've mentioned it, I wanna know how that played out."
The young man smiled cockily. "Well then, if you really must know, why don't you accompany me up the shrine and I'll tell you?"
The group of girls looked at each other in hesitance, and the young lady put her hand on her chin, feigning innocence. "Hm," she said then smiled innocently and shrugged him off. "No thank you. I'm pretty busy today."
Taken aback by the young girl's sudden change in tone, the young man opened his mouth to reply but was immediately cut off.
"And besides," the girl said, "the shrine takes at least half an hour to climb. I really wouldn't want to make kuya late for his work." She batted her eyes at him again. "Maybe next time when kuya is finished he can treat me to some halo-halo, and he can tell me all about how his heroic deeds?" she asked again with that innocent voice that now had a hint of mischievous intent hiding behind it.
The young man, unsure of what to think, dumbly stuttered a 'sure' before awkwardly turning around after bidding the group a farewell.
As the babaylan climbed the stairs, the young girl who had been waving and smiling at his bejeweled figure, turned sour as her innocent mask was taken off. She checked her polished nails to see if there were dirt stuck in between as she turned around to face her group.
"Maya, don't you think that was a bit mean?" one of her companions asked. Another one tutted.
"Poor man is gonna get ripped off his money. At least be nice and choose the less expensive food this time."
The girl- Maya- flipped her hair and started heading towards town. "Oh hush, you know how much I find those types of people annoying. They think they're better than us just because they live in the Capital and have more money than us, pah! Oh well, if that's the case, then I'll just make sure they put their money to good use."
"You're horrible," another one of the girls commented with a giggle.
Maya hummed. "So it would seem," she replied. "In any case though, I think that woman is far more horrible than I am."
The rest of the group nodded and hummed in agreement before they all decided to get some snacks.
That woman that the old farmer man and the young lady were talking about, was the shopkeeper at the agimat shop at the shrine on the top of the mountain who suddenly appeared thirteen years ago.
Thirteen years ago, a few days after the war, Mang Ulan- the barangay's oldest babaylan and shrine-keeper- brought her into town along with a newborn child.
Her name was Tala, the old man informed villagers when he came down to pick up some groceries and medicines for her and the child a couple of days after.
He told them about how he found her with her sister's crying child lying on the side of the streets, passed out, a few miles from where the war had taken place. The woman was tired, covered with dirt and wounds, and she told him how her family was killed by a group of aswangs. With a weak hand, she tried to push the babe to the old man saying to leave her and take the child, but with his stubbornness, the old man decided to take them both back to their village to heal.
After hearing her pitiful story, many of the villagers have tried to approach Tala, to empathize with her in the hopes of making her feel welcomed within the community. But no matter how hard they tried, all their efforts were mere met with a look of disgust and ignorance.
At first, many of the villagers thought that her attitude was because of the trauma of losing her family or because she was grieving, but after a few weeks of giving them the cold shoulder, they just chalked her up to be a bitter person who did not like to socialize with the others (which many found ironic considering she became the agimat shop's keeper).
Other than her obvious disinterest in interacting with the other villagers, she also had a distaste in babaylans- or basically anyone who practiced in the art of spiritual healing. That was, anyone other than Mang Ulan, at least.
Nobody knew why, not even the old babaylan. All they knew was that for the past thirteen years, every babaylan who came to the village for spiritual work and dared to climb the mountain, ended up being chased down and leaving the day after.
Because of these occurrences, word spread throughout the other barangays and cities, although most of the rumors and accounts have been so muddled together that people thought there was a terrifying monster that lived in the mountain rather than a human.
Eventually, the shrine had become a tourist destination for babaylans, much to the dismay of the woman. And every so often, there would be one or two smug travelers that came by, thinking that they could handle the creature in the mountain and hoping to be the one to 'free' the people of its 'terror'.
Coincidentally, it just so happened that the young, bejeweled man that had just arrived this morning was one of those said people.
As he took his final step at the top of the mountain, the said man was immediately greeted by the site of an old payag* decorated with a hanging few talismans and potted herbal plants a few feet ahead of him.
'That must be the rumored shop,' he thought before wiping the sweat of his brow and regaining his composure.
He took a deep breath then strode towards the cottage.
It was a slow day for the shop.
Normally around this time, there would be a handful of people who visited- mostly farmers and barterers looking for the typical farming talismans and charms. But today, the shop merely had two boys and one young girl who were most likely sent out here to do some errands.
It was unsettlingly quiet, save for the nervous whispers of the children as they huddled by the corner shelf, many feet away from the demon shopkeeper. Tala paid no mind to it, however. Because, like those kids, she also didn't want to be near anyone or working right now, for that matter, sadly.
The woman sighed as she finished rearranging the shelves.
In the late mornings, it was usually Mang Ulan's turn to manage the counter since during these hours, it was when most of the customers arrive. But to the children's dismay (as well as the woman's), the kind old man was whisked away by some other shrinegoers, leaving Tala to manage the store instead of practicing her daily round of meditation.
The woman turned around and sat on the stool behind the counter as she waited for the kids to finish choosing their talismans. It took about five minutes of the children nervously mumbling before she suspected that they may have been having a hard time sorting through the shelves. Tala stood up, intending to help them but the door chimes rang, and in came a young flamboyant man.
"Oh, my what a quaint shop," the young man's voice rang throughout the quiet store, and Tala knew immediately that this individual will be the cause of her ruined day. He looked around the shop with a cocky smile on his face as if he were looking for- no, expecting something to come out. Tala looked away and scoffed. Another one of them, she thought bitterly.
Ever since that ridiculous rumor about the monster at the top of the shrine had spread, countless babaylans have popped in here, eager to be the ones to vanquish the demon. But compared to the others who've come, this man was by far the most extravagant of them all. She grimaced.
The children at the corner stopped from what they were doing to look at the man in curiosity and shyness. They whispered among themselves praises and words of awe about the man, and the said man, who noticed their admiring gazes, preened and gave them a smile.
The shopkeeper scoffed once more. To feel pride at being complimented by children- how pitiful.
She shook her head and returned her attention back to the customer.
"Customer, are you looking for something?" she asked, catching his attention.