Her Eighth Life

Chapter 1

In an old lore we met

One of the gods,

and one of the rest.

SELENE

THE old narra house stands before me as I dread the movement of the gate opening. The heaviness of my bags adds to the difficulty I felt while trying to breathe in the nostalgic air of my once home.

" Magandang umaga po!" greeted the guard, Kuya Berto. I internally praised myself for remembering the guard's name after five years of being away. I returned his greeting and asked for assistance with my bags.

When we reached the front door, Kuya Berto smiled at me brightly. It felt like he was wishing me good luck for what I am about to deal with after entering the house. The doors still has their beautiful but now fading carvings of old letters, which I think is Baybayin, and gods and goddesses that our family believes in for many generations now until me.

I do not believe in those deities. They are myths and old tales. I believe in science and data collected from researches and observations. Albularyo, the witch doctors are nothing but frauds who tries to trick the locals with their herbs and enchantments against curses, hexes, and other illnesses. Patients should visit real hospitals, real doctors, and get real medicines.

I gathered my courage and knocked three times on the door. Waiting for someone to respond, I shouted, "Tao po! Tita Helen?"

When no one answered, I tried to see if the door is locked--it wasn't. I turned the knob and opened the door. I nervously crossed the threshold and continued to scan the inside of the house.

"Tao po! Tita Helen?" I called again. The house was as I remembered it five years ago. It was still untidy and full of antique vases, paintings, and other furniture. Books scattered on the wooden floor with several pages torn from its cover. The chairs were used as shelves for books and scrolled parchments. Herbs and spices scented the room which made my dizziness to come back. On its walls, there were daggers, spears, bolo, and a huge kalasag hanging. It looked liked a basement of an old museum.

On the dining table, there were two forgotten plates of dinner and spilled wine. I looked at the big antique clock and saw that it was already ten o'clock in the morning, yet it seemed like everyone was still asleep.

"Tita Helen? I'm home! Lola?" Nothing. 'Where is everyone? Even Lola is not here.'

I went back to the bags I placed by the door minutes ago. I am too tired from the journey to play hide and seek. If there is a room for me to sleep, I will.

As I was picking up my things, a warm hand tapped on my shoulder which surprised me. "What the hell?!"

I turned around and calmed my breathing, scanning a stranger inside our house. He seemed older than me by a few years with a tall frame, moreno skin, dark brown hair that is only slightly longer than mine, and brown eyes that I swear almost looked like they were gold.

"Is that how city kids greet people now? Curse then stare?" My train of thought was put to a halt by the boy's remark. To call him a boy is a bit...he looked like a childish man.

He snatched my bags away and walked inside the mess. He stepped while avoiding the clutter like he was already used to it.

"Excuse me, who are you?" I asked while trying to catch up with him to take back my stuff.