When Humans Cry Monster (Part 1)

Whoever fights monsters should see to it that in the process
he does not become a monster. And when you look long
into the abyss, the abyss also looks into you.
- Friedrich Wilhelm Nietzsche

Part I: The Adventurer

          "The monster is in there!"

          Ilona followed the multitude of pointing fingers to the large, dilapidated house that stood looming despondently over the crowd like some dead giant insect. It was a depressing, almost repulsive sight to behold. The front door had been loosened off its hinges, hanging slack as if torn muscle by its tendons. The windows were draped with curtains decaying and thick with dust, permitting no light to enter the empty hollows that lay just beyond. Walls of wood were rotten and crumbled, a royal breeding ground for a whole world of termites and other unsavory pests.

          Ilona brushed at the sleek, black hair that had fallen in front of her pale face, locking the chin-length of it behind an ear. She listened to the growing sound of unease among the crowd. It was late in the afternoon in the quaint Maharlikan town of Santa Estasias, and the air was unbearably hot and sticky. Ilona had thought the people would be in their homes, sitting on their porches, fanning themselves with handkerchiefs or straw hats as they cursed at the confounded weather. But she had thought wrong. The majority of the town's populace was here in the open, fast forming a disgruntled throng in front of this lonely house.

          They wanted to see the monster dead. The monster that, just the previous night, had entered the chapel, perhaps seeking refuge, but instead had frightened the sacristans near out of their robes. It had desecrated the most blessed altar, throwing candles, hosts and chalice this way and that, and had even broken the holy crucifix in three. Padre Penitente had awoken just in time to see the shadow bursting for the chapel doors, and when the sacristans had given chase, the monster had run and then chosen to hide itself in this old, rotting house at the edge of the town.

          Ilona herself had not seen the monster. But whatever it was that hid within the shadows of the old house, it was a blight in the minds of the townspeople that was better off exterminated.

          Ilona felt her hand drop to her hips, where the fingers traced the faint outline of the Biting Blade, hidden just underneath the short, black skirt. A magical bolo given her by a voodoo priestess she had met on her travels, it was a treasured and deadly weapon.

          "Kill the monster!" one among the crowd urged. "Demonyo!" another cried.

          "Ilona the Adventurer!" a thick, heavy voice boomed above the rising din. At once the crowd grew quiet, and Ilona turned to meet her caller.

          She stood face to face with an even thicker, heavier man, whose stomach was so large it looked about to jump out of his coat. His dark face was greasy and mustached, the hair atop his head thin and strand-like. His eyes looked sleepy and uninterested, as if he found every minute of his waking life a complete bore. Clothed in a fine, gaudily embellished coat, this man, Ilona knew at once, had to be no one else but the town mayor.

          "Ilona the Adventurer!" the mayor greeted once more, a smile spreading across his lips. His right hand stretched forward and found hers. She took it reluctantly in her own only to release it almost as immediately. Scowling, she wiped the grease on her skirt. All eyes had turned to her now, as if the men and women in the crowd were seeing her for the first time.

          "Welcome to our humble town, Ilona the Adventurer." Ilona gave him a quick, forced smile, neglecting to hide her growing irritation. She did not like the way some of the men were staring at her. "I am Mayor Aldez," the fat man continued, "I came as soon as I found out that you were here in our town."

          Ilona eyed him, stone-faced, already knowing what he was going to ask of her. "We need your help, Ilona," the mayor started grimly. "There is a monster of great evil hiding within that house. We need you to go into the house and kill it and bring its head back to us."

          Ilona glared at him. This had happened all too many times. The great Ilona the Adventurer. Reduced to nothing more than a pest killer and an errand girl. Go kill this. Go kill that. Bring this note to this woman, to this man. Watch over the baby until the mistress comes back. That was life of the adventurer these days. An endless barrage of meaningless quests and pointless tasks. And Ilona was no exception to this kind of life.

          To think that the reason she had run away from her rich, sheltered home-life was to become a fearless adventurer, a seeker of risk and of danger! Almost two years had passed since that fateful night of her fourteenth birthday, when she had decided she no longer wanted the sedentary life of the rich, noble girl. Almost a year since she had left home and family with the intention of never going back. Now she wondered if she would have made the same decisions had she known they were all to lead to this.

          Ilona's eyes fell to the ground. She had been so excited then. So filled with hope and courage. She had always thought that by running away, she would find the life she had always dreamt of having. But now as the days slowly passed by, the faint realization inched ever the hopelessly closer that the life so desired would never be. She had given up family, she had given up home. She had given up all that she had had for the life of the adventurer. But now she had not even that. Now she had nothing.

          "We will pay you fifty pesos," the mayor said.

          At once her eyes lifted to meet his. "I'll do it," she said, sighing inwardly. "And I don't need your money." She stalked off towards the house, not knowing why she had agreed to help, why she had given in so easily to the mayor's demands. Perhaps it was her desire to prove to them that she could still be a heroine. Or perhaps it was simply a helpless resignation to the fate whose path she had so paved for herself a whole year ago.

          She stopped just a few feet in front of the decaying door. Behind her, she could hear the crowd grumble in discontent. What are you waiting for? she thought she would hear one of them yell. Indeed, what was she waiting for?

          She suddenly wondered what was inside that house. Which was strange. She had fought dozens of monsters before; from Tikbalangs to Mananan Ghouls, from Goblins to Kapres. And none had stood any match against her Biting Blade. She was not afraid of this monster. Yet somehow she could not help but feel differently about the whole situation. She could not exactly put to words what it was she sensed or felt. But she knew she did not like it.

          "Go, Ilona!" a voice catcalled from behind.

          "Yeah!" another screamed. Then a dozen derogatory hoots broke out in unison.

          "Yeah, yeah," she growled underneath her breath, "I'll show you, you bastards. Just you wait and see."

          She walked past the door and disappeared into the blackness.





          It was cool inside. The sudden drop in the temperature left her chilled, and she clutched at herself almost protectively. Shadows filled her vision. Slowly, gradually, however, the coating blackness reluctantly made way for objects of all sizes, the obscurity of the gloom finally losing its shapelessness and taking form. From where she crouched she could see a table and chair here, a cabinet, shelf or an assortment of drawers there. A set of stairs spiraled upwards from one side of the wall. Set upon some table in a dark, dark corner she spotted the unmistakable shape of a crucifix, large and foreboding. Strange shadows were draped around its form, and Ilona found herself half-expecting the idol to move.

          That was when she heard the noise.

          A bang. A rattle. Then silence. Ilona stopped dead on her feet. Cautiously she scanned the surrounding gloom for the thing which she knew now hunted her. Yet she found nothing.

          Then it appeared before her. She started backwards in surprise. As silent as a dream, it materialized from out of nowhere, as if the engulfing shadows had suddenly coalesced and taken form.

          It was upon her in seconds. A mass of claws and bristling hair, it attacked. Ilona brought her arms up reflexively, a reaction so quick it was cat-like. She was thrown to the ground as the monster crashed into her. She kicked at it then, a powerful push of both feet as they made contact with the creature's body. She felt its weight lift from her as it was hurled backwards into the black.

          Still on her back, she groped blindly in the darkness for the Biting Blade. She heard the sound of metal sliding free from the leather that sheathed it, and at once the enchanted bolo was in her hand. It grew bright green upon her will, the explosive illumination causing her to squint her eyes in pain.

          The monster lunged at her. Silent, unscreaming, yet as relentless as a roaring lion. Again the claws ripped and scratched, but Ilona was quick this time. Crouched low, her right foot kicked from underneath her, her leg jetting outwards in a wide, semicircular arc. The movement caught the monster, swept it off its feet, and caused it to tumble backwards on to the whining floorboards.

          At once Ilona was up, legs uncoiling from under her like vengeful cobras. She rushed forward, springing on to the monster, catching it writhing underneath her. The monster struggled. Claws ripped and flailed. But she pinned the arms down to the floor with her knees. The monster made no sound as it continued to fight. Ilona fought back then, her hands reaching forward to find the thing's neck, fingers squeezing around the windpipe as an effort to restrain the violent thrashing. Then she brought the Biting Blade up towards the monster's throat, meaning to slit it. The eerie green light flared and flashed. It fell upon the creature's face and illuminated it completely.

          Ilona gasped in shock.

          A small girl's face stared up at her, plump at the cheeks and full at the lips, eyes large and round. The face stilled, the struggling stopped.

          Ilona's mind reeled, her eyes unmoving from the innocent face, as if searching for the truth behind the lie. How could this be?

          Ilona released her hold on the monster with the child's face, got up from on top of her, and slumped back into the gloom, defeated. Her defenses dissolved, Ilona sat wearily upon the floor. The girl child had sat up as well, the small, round face oddly impassive.

          Oh God! the voice screamed inside her head. Ilona stared, mouth gaping open as if in a perpetual scream. A girl! A girl! And she had almost killed her!

          But something about this girl... something was different. At first she thought the shadows were no more than playing tricks upon her vision, stealing not only color but so too reason from everything her sight touched. But as she sat before this girl, unable to peel her eyes away from her stare, she realized there was something terribly wrong with what she was seeing.

          The girl before her was young, perhaps fourteen years of age. But something terrible had been done to her. She had no eyes. Either that or the eyes had gone black all over, as if the whites surrounding the iris had been splashed with tar. A singular line of crooked stitches marked its way across the left side of her face. From chin to cheek, the ugly, centipede-like sutures then continued across the hollows of her left eye and upwards across the forehead before finally disappearing beneath a black jungle of mop-like hair. The surgeries did not end in her face though; underneath tattered rags for clothing, Ilona could just make out the unmistakable marks that crisscrossed her gray, ghostly flesh like dead rivers. The last of her humanity ended just below her elbows. The naturally slender, delicate forelimbs of the young woman were no more; a pair of disfigured, reptilian limbs with claws that ended in razor-sharp nails had taken their place.

          Oh God! she heard her mind screaming. What have they done to you?

          The girl sat, unmoved, dead eyes staring at her and yet not at her at the same time. Ilona wondered at the mystery behind those depthless eyes. Could she see her? Could she feel? What was going on in her mind? Could she even think?
A faint rumbling, distant and yet so seemingly near, broke the stillness of the air. Ilona started.

          Outside, the mob was growing impatient.

          Ilona turned back to face the girl. The eyes, black and pearl-smooth, remained detached and empty. What was she going to do? The question was a frantic scream inside her head. Indeed, what was she going to do? She could not kill this... this... girl. And this was a girl sitting before her. It was just that, somehow... something had been done to her. Something had been done to her so that she no longer seemed -

          She pushed the thought aside. She would not kill the girl and that was final. The crowd would have it otherwise. But she would reason it out with them. She would save this girl's life.

          Slowly, cautiously, she raised herself from her sitting position, careful not to make any sudden movements that might frighten the girl into another violent frenzy. The depthless eyes followed her almost mechanically. A glint of curiosity sparkled in the child's face and then was gone. Surprised, Ilona lingered a moment longer, hoping perhaps to find beneath the dead doll's mask another inkling of that reclusive human trait.

          Finding none, she decided to leave.