The alley lay shrouded in darkness, its lights extinguished, casting an eerie stillness upon the scene—a stark contrast to the vitality we had left behind just moments ago. Solemn shadows dominated, and the feeble glow of a nearby streetlight loomed behind us, hesitant to venture far into the suffocating blackness, as if the very shadows conspired to defy its weak illumination.
Elmer led the way into the dimly lit space, and I trailed in his wake, my senses on high alert for the subtlest hints of danger. Beads of sweat trickled down my forehead, an indistinct blend of nervous tension and the city's relentless, sweltering embrace. The oppressive heat clung to my skin, making it unclear whether the moisture on my brow was born of anxiety or the unforgiving heat that cloaked the streets.
A line of vividly green potted plants adorned the edge of the alley, their vibrancy a stark contrast to the small heaps of discarded refuse scattered about. Overhead, a web of wires crisscrossed the narrow passage, casting intricate shadows below. To our sides, the haphazard stone abodes, crowned with corrugated metal roofs salvaged from the remains of urban neglect, pressed claustrophobically close, as if assembled from the remnants of a city's forgotten soul to create a labyrinth of makeshift tenements, one of many that twisted and cracked throughout Manila.
There were signs of life throughout the alley. Clotheslines hung across the alley overhead, draped with laundry that swayed gently in the rain. Gas-powered scooters slumbered to the wayside. Storefronts and makeshift food stalls emerged from the shadows, their roofs defiantly resisting the relentless rain beneath tarps and large umbrellas. A jumble of pots, pans, brooms, and stools created a dissonant harmony of urban survival. One of the tables was adorned with an assortment of vibrantly purple ube snacks, and I was almost tempted to taste them.
Yes, there were signs of life, but where were the people? All I heard was the sound of rain hitting corrugated metal. No shouts, cries, or whispers dared to punctuate the silence of the alley. It stood as a desolate enclave, devoid of vitality or uttered words, as if a spectral hush had settled over the entire barangay. Not even cats or dogs roamed here.
We turned the corner, delving into the labyrinthine heart of the shanty town. Elmer manoeuvred through the narrow passages, slipping under makeshift tarps. The journey took us past imposing water drums, a fleet of silent mopeds, motorcycles, and bikes leaning against the walls. Boxes and baby strollers formed a silent congregation as we moved. Underneath the laundry lines we navigated past makeshift shrines adorned with statues of Jesus and Mary, their silent gaze watching over us. It felt like walking past a microcosm of humanity, passing by all these humble belongings.
Elmer came to an abrupt halt, and I slowed down. Sidling up next to him, I cast a glance in the direction of his gaze, and that's when I saw it. A corpse lay in a pool of blood underneath a flickering neon sign. It was pale and thin, as if it had been sucked dry of all its fluids. Judging by the swelling of the woman's belly, the telltale sign of impending motherhood, she appeared to be several months pregnant. And in the twisted lore of the manananggal, such expecting souls were the preferred prey, chosen with sinister intent.
A solitary drop of blood fell next to us, and my gaze shot upwards. Above, a shadowy, skeletal silhouette clutched an air conditioner, monstrous bat-like wings unfurling ominously from its back. It had no legs, and intestines trailed out of the bottom of its torso. The manananggal stared at us with glowing eyes, its mouth and claws stained red.
Elmer flicked his aspergillum and splashed the monster with holy water. The creature recoiled with a tortured screech, its pain evident. Without hesitation, it took flight, and we chased relentlessly, sprinting through the alley in pursuit of the echoes of its anguished screams.
Elmer started climbing and I followed him, grasping handholds as we clambered on top of the slum roofs. From our elevated vantage point, we spotted the manananggal gliding nearby. In a swift motion, Elmer brandished his stingray tail, unleashing it like a supernatural whip. The appendage magically elongated, lashing out and coiling around the monster's wing just as it attempted to launch itself into the night sky.
