The Incarnates

CHAPTER I : Filipinas 1893

It was a dark summer night. A sudden rush of warm wind blows through the streets of Ilocos and takes away the leaves scattered on the pavement which once swayed playfully with the young branches of the trees, now withered away by the heat of the summer afternoon. The amber from the street lamps flickered, fighting for its own survival, for a chance to provide light to the intricacies of the picturesque homes of the elites. These houses can never be compared to the homes of those who are native to the islands, for the huts of the locals made out of coconut timber and its withered leaves lack the majestic air of the homes of their Spanish counterparts-- which boasts of carved wooden posts and wide staircases that lead to enormous wooden doors with carvings of flowers, leaves or whatever deity or unearthly creature the masters of the house desired. Their huge capiz shell windows are now firmly shut but once the dawn comes, it would again serve as a frame to enclose the elegance of the people residing inside, living the life of nobility and luxury.

Not an Indio soul dare walk the streets where these lights flickered during the night, for one wrong move will alert the owner of these houses of their presence, and a commotion will later ensue, a scream, a loud shout for help-- and the Royal Spanish guards will arrive, taking away the poor soul whose only wish is to get home through the lighted street, in hopes that the asuangs and tikbalangs and the monsters that lurk in the dark will think twice about attacking them under the dull illuminant.

But on that night, one brave soul dare come. He was running barefooted, panting furiously while intermittently looking behind him. He then wipes away the sweat that has formed on his forehead and started looking around as he stood for a moment in the middle of the deserted street, surrounded by the homes he had never once set foot on.

Strong streams of flickering light suddenly came from the road he had arrived from. It was accompanied by fast and heavy footsteps, a commanding voice shouting orders in Spanish, and then a reply in chorus from what seemed like a hundred men although only a quarter of them were there. As they reached the center of the street, they stood still. The man from earlier was gone. A shush was heard and then there was silence, the sound of crushing leaves beneath their feet the only evidence of their presence. A search commenced, every soldier looked through every nook where a human being can possibly seek refuge, and every door that was left unlocked was slowly and carefully opened, wary of either finding what they were searching for or the enraged master of the house cursing at them for disturbing his slumber.

As they realized their search had produced nothing but some leftover food from one of the households' kitchens, they decided to leave and head towards the next village, where houses are in great contrast with the ones on the lighted kalsada (street), and where when they opened doors they wouldn't be cursed at but would be welcomed with fearful eyes and apologetic expressions.

A moment after the soldiers left, inside one of the beautiful homes in the lighted kalsada, the one which boasts of the grand stone staircase at the entrance and is undeniably the biggest and most beautiful among all the homes in town, a young Spanish maiden named Gertrude was awakened from her sleep. She sat on her bed and as she opened her eyes, she realized that it was still dark, and wondered if she only dreamt of hearing noises of doors closing and of her neighbors cursing. She looked towards her bedroom window, the small square capiz shells inside the wooden frames were made faintly luminous by the street lamps outside. She listened for a moment and she heard nothing but the occasional cry of a stray feline.

She left the comforts of her bed, the bottom of her long white kamison falling all the way down her legs to cover her ankles, and her long black hair which reaches down her waist swayed freely with her movements. She walked towards the shutters and slid it open. As she looked around she saw a group of torches burning from the distance, slowly drifting away from their village. Realizing that the militia have possibly conducted a search, she felt uneasy. She was alone inside the beautiful mansion, her parents have left for a neighboring town the day before to accept a weekend invitation to stay with the family of the Governor General and her Governess, Tiya Pacencia, the only companion she have while her parents are away-- sleeps in the detached structure behind their house. She wondered if the helpers locked the main door before they left that night because they were used to leaving it open until recently, when the news of the Katipunan broke out and the heads of the militia advised the rich families to secure their homes to prevent the Katipuneros from hiding and accessing their properties.