Nadado | 1

Monster, Monster
By Kit Nadado

Nadado | 2 Andres was tired. It had been a long day in the rice fields. He ambled, knee deep in the muddy sea of rice paddies trying to get to the other side where the soil was firmer. He took one last look at the piece of land he plowed today. He saw an abstract mass of broken soil and mud. His masterpiece. Usually, seeing his work comforted him. Somehow, it did not today. The broken chunks of soil looked like legions of gaping mouths with jagged and filthy teeth, hungry for life. Sowing would start next week. He wasnt excited at all. They still needed money. More money. Her wife suggested putting their wedding rings in the town pawnshop for some money, promising to redeem it after the harvest. He stopped her. She then promised him that she would try and borrow some from the money lender in town instead since they had not managed to buy the rice seedlings for next weeks planting yet. He doubted her promises. Sighing, he resumed his pace. Andres scanned the area and realized he was alone. The rest of the farmers went home early to attend a fiesta at the next town. He declined their invitations. He was never a social person. In fact, he hated crowds. The prospect of mingling in a crowd bothered him and so he politely refused. Andres resumed his walk. A water buffalo tied to an old and twisted acacia tree bellowed a low call, swatting flies with its tail. He felt a sense of urgency to go home. The dirt road would be harder to see in the dark. A few flies buzzed around his head, attempting to annoy him but he never seemed to mind. He was too tired to bother. His eyes scanned the horizon and saw the remaining rays of the sun painting bluish yellow swirls on the sky. He knew too well. Half an hour more and it would be dark. He lifted one leg up and started scratching. He lifted his hands caked with mud and sniffed them. Ah, Good. His fingers smelled like wet earth. Good. Good. He was glad his wife wasnt there or she might have slapped his hands. His wife would always get bothered when he sniffed his fingers and so Andres sniffed his fingers secretly. He could not help it. He sniffed them when hes tired. He sniffed them when he is nervous. Andres would sniff his fingers every time he took his wife to the market. He would always feel the

Nadado | 3 urge every time they walk past the town marketplace where people would come flocking and screaming their merchandise around him. Andres found the crowd and the noise suffocating. He would sniff his fingers at the back of a stall at the far end of the market where no one was around and his wife was not looking. He would sniff his fingers in a number of occasions. On Christmas day, the only day he and his wife ever went to church, Andres would sniff his fingers during the prayer. He would sniff them when everybodys eyes were closed after the priest delivered a sermon about sin. He would sniff his fingers long and hard while everybodys head is bowed low, the prayer lashing into his head like whip. He would sniff his fingers when he went to work while listening to the rumors and gossips the other farmers told each other. He was sure, so sure that they were talking about him. Him and his wife. He did not believe them. At least he tried not to. Still, their rumors made him nervous, made him angry, perhaps a little too much, especially rumors about his wife. He decided to block them from his thoughts. And so he sniffed his fingers. Andres eventually reached the other side of the paddies and began to walk in a steadier pace towards the main dirt road. He saw the familiar path he took every single day. He started walking a little faster, his hands still under his nose. Sniff. Sniff. As always, sniffing comforted him. The walk home would take about an hour and a half. Andres was hoping his wife cooked something special for him. He was famished. Driven by hunger, he started to jog. He came to the usual road lined with coconut trees on both sides. The coconut farm was about half a mile long and was owned by some rich families living in Manila who seldom visit. The tall coconut trees casted a grim shadow on Andres path, blocking the few remaining weak rays of the sun. The place looked grim. It smelled of fermenting coconuts and human excrement. Afternoon crickets chirruped in unison somewhere in the thick of the trees. Usually, there were workers who stay late to check on the area, but today the place was deserted. A slight breeze blew at Andres direction. Even the breeze tasted sour. Andres spat and continued jogging. He was now

Nadado | 4 halfway through the coconut path. It was wispy dark now, the coconut trees thickened the farther he ran. For some unknown reason, Andres felt a slight shudder. Strange. The crickets had stopped. The breeze stopped blowing. A deep silence settled like a thick blanket on the area. The coconut trees stopped swaying and seemed frozen in a stop dance. Andres slowed down. Wary and confused, he raised his hands under his nose and started sniffing his fingers. It was pretty dark now, the moon, a wispy crescent peeping through the leaves did not help much in lighting his path. Sniff. Sniff. He walked on. Then he saw it, through the shadows and the darkness, a wispy figure, perhaps four feet taller than him, looming like a sentinel, blocking his path. He stopped. He stopped. He could not feel his feet anymore. He was cold, so cold. The looming figure turned sideways in slow motion, as if in pain. Andres adjusted his eyes, trying hard to see beyond the shadows. Then Andres saw it. The figure turned its face towards his direction. He saw the figures eyes. It was staring back at him. Two fiery orbs, expressionless, glowing like embers, staring into his soul. He choked in fear. Sniff. Sniff. As he stared into those eyes, Andres felt as if he dove into the depths of hell and felt all its terrors. His head seemed so heavy and large, yet he stood there, him and the dark figure in a staring contest. Andres is on the losing side. Sniff. Sniff. Sniff. Andres stood there, frozen, his head spinning, his hands still up his nose. Sniff. Sniff. And like the nightmare it was, the figure moved. It started to walk in horrifying slow motion towards him. The figure seemed to be sucking all the air around them. Andres was breathless. He sniffed his hands in a frenzy that felt like a heart attack, smelling nothing but infinite coldness. It did not comfort him. Yet he sniffed. Sniff. Sniff. The figure continued to move towards Andres, its eyes fixed on him. Sniff. Sniff. Sniff. Andres stood there. It kept walking, breaking the distance between them. Slowly, it caught a weak sliver of moonlight passing through the coconut trees. Andres saw everything. Andres saw its mouth. A black void, curled and wrinkly, gaping in a wide toothless grin. Its nose was two black slits. Its face was hideous, grotesquely moving in all directions, like it had some kind of seizure. Its body was covered with

Nadado | 5 black hair almost invisible in the dark, twisted sideways in an unearthly pose, writhing and walking at the same time. Sniff. Sniff. Sniff. The creature stopped in front of Andres. Andres stopped sniffing his hands. It lifted what appeared to be its hands to its face in painful slow motion. Its hands came to its nose and sniffed. Sniff. Andres screamed and ran for his life.

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Andres did not eat dinner that night. His wife was puzzled by his sudden strangeness. I cooked your favorite. Are you not hungry?, his wife asked. Andres sat there on the bamboo bench by the table watching the cat. The cat mewed, staring intently at the meal on the table. Andres did not dare answer his wife. She eventually took the steaming fish soup from the wooden table looking very annoyed. Fine. Suit yourself. His wife said as she threw the soup back to the pot and hanged the handle by a hook above the wood stove, letting the metal lid clang noisily. The cat mewed in disappointment. Andres just sat there, the creatures face etched in his mind. His wife gave up and stopped talking to him. She grabbed the broom made from coconut midribs and swept the dirt floor. Andres said nothing. Andres never slept that night. His wife tried many times to make love to him but he was not in the mood. He eventually stopped his wifes hand going down his thighs and pulled it out from the blankets. You never make love to me anymore, his wife said, turning her back against him and placing a pillow between them.

Nadado | 6 Andres sighed but said nothing. Strangely, he did not sniff his hands that night. The urge was still there but the thought of sniffing made him shudder. Andres eventually fell asleep. He dreamed that night. It was a nightmare. He was in his own bed, making love with somebody. They were thrashing violently in bed, the blankets crumpled at their side. He was sweating hard. They eventually fell from the bed. Then he saw, against the floor, with moonlight shining on its face, the creature, the monster he saw that night, sighing and moaning in his arms. Its fiery eyes burned his soul. The monster moaned some more mumbling something incomprehensible. Andres woke up. The monster sounded just like his wife. ___________________________________________ Andres did not eat breakfast that morning. He felt weak, but had no appetite at all. His wife seemed vexed by his behavior. Talk to me, his wife said, What is happening with you? Andres pushed away the bowl of left-over fish soup. It fell on the floor with a thud and rolled to the side, spilling fish and limp spinach on the dirt floor. The cat rushed and lapped at the unexpected treat. His wife hit the cat with the broom and tossed the broom aside. She stormed from the kitchen into their bedroom looking like she was about to cry. I hate you. Andres heard his wife mutter softly in the bedroom, her voice muffled by a pillow. Andres stood up, picked his machete and walked towards the door. Im going to the fields, Andres said, Im sorry. His wife said nothing. He sniffed at his fingers. It did not bother him anymore. He walked away from their hut, his head starting to ache, the memories of the dream clung to his mind like a leech, sucking him dry. Sniff. Sniff ____________________________________

Nadado | 7 Andres did not go to the fields. He went to the village chapel to pray. He had never prayed for a very long time. The old chapel stood on the outskirts of town. It was a small hut made from wood with dried coconut leaves woven for its roof. Some of the walls were rotten and moldy from the constant rain. At the center of the chapel stood an altar, lit by candles brought by visitors. A statue of the Virgin Mary stood above the altar, held by some nails sticking out in awkward places. Andres walked to the altar and grabbed a rosary. He knelt on one of the prayer benches and started to pray. Clutching the rosary, feeling the small beads on his fingers, he closed his eyes and muttered some incomprehensible words. He stopped. He could not understand himself. He could not pray. His tongue felt numb and stuck. He began to sweat. He opened his eyes and saw blood all over his arm. The blood was gone in an instant. He shook his head in desperation. Crazed and alarmed, Andres ran out from the chapel and ran home.

He came to his house, weak and half conscious. He ambled to the door. He wanted to see his wife. He had to tell her everything. Everything he knew. Everything he found out. Andres wanted to hear her tell him that everything was not true. That everything was nothing but a lie. He felt like his head was about to burst. He must tell her. Andres came to the kitchen. His wife was not there. The cat, sitting by the stove stared mutely at him, as if it knew everything. He called weakly to his wife. It was almost a whisper. His head was spinning like a whirlwind. He walked towards their bedroom in a slow and almost painful gait. He stopped. Andres was hearing voices. Soft moans. The bed creaked in unison. He opened the bedroom door and stared in horror. His wife on their bed, eyes closed and sweaty, was writhing under the weight of a dark figure. It was the creature he met on his way home. The creature was kissing his wife, its long tongue on her cheeks. Andres eyes burned. His head felt like bursting. He grabbed the machete from the sheath on his side. The creature turned its head to him and muttered something unearthly, its hands reaching out to him. Andres wife screamed upon seeing Andres. Andres lifted the machete and hacked at the monster. It was

Nadado | 8 screaming. The creatures blood splattered on the white sheets. He aimed for the head, hacking away until it hung limp to the side, a small piece of flesh holding it, keeping it from falling. The creature fell with a sick thud on the ground. It was dead. Andres blinked. Lying on the ground was a man, naked and bloody. The creature was gone. His wife screamed in horror. Andres looked at his wife with spinning eyes. His wife. His wife. His wife, covering her naked body with bloody blankets. His wife. His wife. So its true. All they said about you was true, Andres mumbled weakly. His wife, pale and pink, half naked on their bed looking like a newborn pig, started muttering something. She sounded desperate yet Andres could not make out anything she said. Slowly, almost in slow motion, Andres watched his wife. He watched her as she changed, her mouth caving in a toothless and wrinkled grin. Her eyes grew and glowed fiery red in their sockets. Her nose shrinking into a pair of dark slits. Andres, no! the creature said, pleading with his wifes voice. Trembling, Andres closed his eyes and raised the machete high in the air again, like some eagle, ready to swoop down for the kill.