All the male lines in my family can see Spirits when we turn eighteen. Given that the world is already a couple of millennia, I had imagined more than just a few has this sight. Through observation however it became apparent that seeing Spirits was a rather rare gene.
In Bacolod City, around forty of us have transitioned into the para-realm (half the number are close relatives). My transition got me into liking Spirits—basically because one of them saved my life. Months after my sight, I found that Spirits are actually cool. I've witnessed them play hide and seek, run fashion shows, and read other people's text messages from their backs. Spirits can touch stuff, but the contact hurts them intensely—so they'd almost always choose to just smoke through objects. You'll know if a Spirit is new to the para-realm because they usually forget that touching stuff hurts them (hence, the moving chairs) and that they can pass through walls (hence, the groaning doors).
The transition granted us vision, but all other sensory functions with the Spirits were not given—we cannot hear, feel, smell, or taste them. One does not need these other functions, however; Spirits are easily distinguished because of their glow and foggy color.
And then there are the Swine.
Aside from the cuckoos (our label to Spirits that takeover living bodies), there are those Spirits who were so vile, so cruel, so monstrous, that the para-realm granted them a smell. A stink of their own. A wafting odor that follows them, marking them. All infirmities disappear upon death. In exchange, the para-realm imposed these monsters a stench.
I heard about these Swine from one of my uncles. Where the cuckoos inhabit bodies of the living who intentionally projected themselves out, Swine are like parasites. They latch themselves to hosts and eat off their joy and hopes, more often than not resulting to the psychological breakdown of the host. The Swine's stink is so strong that even non-transitioners tend to stay away from the attached host, as if they themselves can see and smell the Swine.
My first experience with Swine was months after my transition. During that time I was already told about these Spirits but since I have never seen one, I badly underestimated their monstrosity. The Swine that I saw was latched onto the back of a jeepney driver that I rode to school, locked so tight that I initially thought it was a conjoined twin. I got down from the vehicle about ten seconds since I stepped into it. There was an instance when a garbage truck crashed against a siphoning septic truck, their heaps unloaded along the sidewalk—I gagged each time I passed that crash location. Compared to the Swine, that heap was like mint.
Why were the Swine so accursed? The rule throughout time was simple. There was only one basis for a Spirit to become Swine. One sin. A Swine is a Spirit who has eaten human meat in life.
Now, there was this encounter that was rather odd.
It began when I was applying for a student internship in the Commission on Audit. I was pretty late given the storm, but managed to arrive just in time to see the last applicant leave the interview room. She was fuming, wisps of tears sparkling at the corner of her eyes. I quivered as I imagined what might have produced such an emotion in an internship application.
Upon entering the room, I was greeted by two Commission officers. The petite lady in the black blazer was sighing deeply as she checked the previous girl's application form, apparently regretting the incident that had occurred before my entrance. To her side was a robust man grinning arrogantly. I quickly confirmed without a shadow of doubt who caused the disagreement.
I handed my application documents as soon as the lady, Miss Rochelle, extended her welcome. The interview turned out to be pleasant, with the man, Sir Vince, simply staring at my resume in boredom. Sir Vince said very little during the interview. I later found out that the pervert was only interested in talking to girls.
