Ronoele's Tree

The First Victim

Sobs of heartbroken parents stirred to the normal day of the residents in Yacag. Rissa’s disappearance for three days caused commotion within their compound. It was the first time that someone vanished without a trace in their village.

“Have you asked her friends about her?” Iryang asked. She was the go-to charlatan to find whatever or whoever would go missing.

Despite modernization, the villagers still relied on traditional ways of living. They had depended on animals to plow the fields instead of utilizing modern farming equipment. The children would play in their lawns and nearby rivers and fields instead of spending hours on video games. Most houses glowed with gas lamps at night; only a few had an electrical power source.

Yacag depicted a vibe of a typical village with a dingy hue. A time when people favored black and white photos over colored ones just because they couldn’t afford them. A time that when anything strange happened, supernatural beings took the blame.

The people there were pictures of hope frozen in time.

“We did,” Felix replied. His biceps bulged when he clenched, making the eagle and snake tattoo on his right arm move as if they were alive.

They had gathered some relatives in their house to perform a ritual to find her. They sat on the bamboo floor, circling their halad: a plate of rice, a small serving of viand, some chicken blood in a bowl, a glass of coconut wine, and some lit incense. The attendees believed those offerings could appease the invisible creatures living amongst them.

Iryang closed her eyes and uttered an inaudible prayer only she could understand. Her tight long sleeves woven from synthetic fabric made breathing a struggle for her weak lungs. A turban covered her head, making it look heavy.

“A tamawo might’ve taken her,” she said without opening her eyes. “Those creatures love women with round eyes, fair skin, beautiful smile, and jovial nature,” she added. “Isn’t your daughter that type?”

Sylvia clasped her hands in her mouth. Imagining her daughter snatched by an unsightly creature with a hairy body, pointed ears and teeth, bloodshot eyes, and greasy skin disguised as a handsome guy was a horrible sight.

“Wait! This doesn’t look good.” She raised her hands in the motion of stopping anyone from further reacting to what she said. With eyes still shut, she stood at her place balancing her wobbly old knees, making sure she didn’t trip on her overly lengthy skirt.

She sniffed. The air smelled of the combination of spicy and woodsy scent, which came from the lit stone incense on top of burning coals mixed with various minty leaves. Her audience held their breath in the anticipation of what she would say next.

“I hear running water and terrified footsteps. A sharp object glistened under the radiant moon. There is a huge, dead—no—it’s alive. The tree is alive.” She suddenly twisted in pain and grabbed her elbows as if protecting them from an invisible attacker. “My arms are pained by a cold metal.”

Murmurs from the skeptics filled the air.

“She’s definitely fake.”

Iryang opened her eyes and turned her attention to the hissers. Her gaunt face drew a sinister smile.

“You don’t believe me?” She simpered and ignored their sarcasm. “Tonight, while the moon casts its majestic light, go where I heard the water. Jangle kitchen utensils as you approach the area. There you’ll see what’re you looking for.”

Some onlookers, especially the elderlies, froze when their memories traveled back in time. Back to the place not known to the many residents, especially to the modern offsprings in their community. Only the older aboriginals knew about its existence and haunting story. A story they all forced to bury in the past.

***

“Rissa!”

Worried and scared men’s voices chorused with clunking metal pieces of stuff, disrupting the orchestra of crickets and owls in the middle of the night.

The search party, equipped with their torch, reached the place Iryang described, which was the place deserted for a long while. That place that had been a picture of death made lively by the murmurs of the river nearby. The place was inhabited only by different species of birds and insects. The place where bamboo grasses set their roots together with the old oak tree.

It was a massive tree amidst a once vast field used for agricultural purposes. The circumference of its trunk could only be measured by six to seven men with long arms. Its branches, extending to the sky, could fall free if the weather was gusty. The crevices of the tree’s body marked its surrender to time, but it seemed not willing to succumb to death! At least not yet.

It stood there like a mighty king who was able to withstand the tests of time. Despite its wrinkled appearance, it was a symbol of resilience. But the place where it stood is a place the old villagers wished to eradicate from their map if possible.

The searchers continued to play a piece of tumultuous music. Iryang told them that making noise at night time could annoy evil spirits. And doing so could force them to bring their captive back to the human world.

They had been desperately searching for three days and thought they had left no stones unturned. But no one ever thought of looking at that dreaded place.

“Are you sure about this?” Manolo asked Renato, the new village head. He was the successor of the late chieftain, Renan.

“It’s the only place we haven’t searched in. It’s not a bad idea to try,” he replied.

“But this place is cursed.”

“What was told to us was just folklore. Why would you believe that?”

“This place is giving me creeps. Even my insides are turning.”

“Quit whining, young man. We’re looking for your cousin, aren’t we? Put those muscles to work.”

Manolo shut his mouth and continued searching under the luminous orb that boasted its magnificence above their heads.

Fifteen minutes.

Thirty minutes.

Time went by as fast as they blink. The spine-crawling chilly breeze lingered. Moments later, dogs howled from the distant houses as some thick clouds embraced the moon.

“Well, that’s weird,” said Renato.

The place was deserted a long time ago, but it looked like someone had been there. The cogon grasses, though they stood as high as the searchers' waists, were bent.

“We found a trace!” someone cried.

Both Manolo and Renato dashed to the specific location, pushing through the tall grasses that blocked their way.

"It looked like someone was dragged from here to the—" all eyes fixed at the end of the trail.

“Oaktree,” all of them muttered in sync. No one moved—only ragged breathing of exhausted and appalled men filled the tune of the spine-chilling night.

Renato gave a cough to get everyone’s attention. Thanks to the moon, he could see their faces. All pale eyes widen in concern at what awaited them.

“So?” he asked. “Are you coming with me or not?”

“Isn’t that Ronoele’s tree?” a young chubby man stuttered. His belly growled as a direct NO to Renato’s question.

“Come on! Ronoele’s a story as old as time,” Renato said. “She’s just a character our ancestors used in order to frighten stubborn children.”

“But we were told about her curse,” another young man butt in. He is the opposite of the first one who objected. He was scrawny and gaunt, good thing the wind didn’t blow him anywhere. “She said she’ll be back.” He turned the other way and headed back.

“You see these grey hairs?” Renato ran his hand over his head. “I’ve grown these over the years, but I’ve never seen the slightest of her curse!”

“You know what? Let’s just go,” Manolo said, taking a step forward to follow the trail. “Those who don’t have the balls, you can stay! My cousin won’t be saved by your cowardice! The hell with that curse!”

Renato smiled at Manolo. This young man is good at pretense. One moment he’s a chicken, the next moment he’s.

The two of them walked down the track, hoping most of their comrades would be behind them.

The tree stood several meters away from their post. Its branches creaked as they swayed with the wind to welcome its visitors for the first time in several decades.

As if on cue, the clouds covering the moon gave way for some light to brighten the tree. And as the men approached it, their hearts stopped beating in sync when they found Rissa. But not in the state they have expected. A gruesome sight came into view instead.

***

“Crime scene—do not cross”

Yellow tapes secured the area where Rissa’s lifeless body was found. The villagers swarmed at the scene as if they were cueing for some freshly baked bread first thing in the morning.

Sylvia swept her way towards her daughter. Her hair, which used to be tied in a bun, turned messy as she fought to be freed from her husband’s embrace. Felix, however, was stunned and could only hold his wife to stop her from altering the crime scene.

The poor mother’s breathing was shabby. Undeniable sorrow grasped her by the throat, blocking the alveoli in her lungs and the arteries in her heart. She couldn’t do anything but cry her heart out. She screamed an endless cry of grief.

Seeing her daughter no longer breathing the life she gave her was poignant. But seeing her limbless is too much. Rissa’s lower torso was halfway buried from the waist down. Her dismembered hands were found a few meters away from her corpse, still tied to the poles.

Some onlookers sympathized with Sylvia. Others resented the idea of how Rissa was butchered. Most of them wore shocked faces.

“It looks like the victim was killed on this very spot,” a police officer said. He eyed the depressing view and hold himself not to puke. The expression on his youthful face stated it was his first time seeing a three-day-old decaying corpse.

“Something is off here,” a woman in her twenties said. Her eyes sparkled under her glasses while staring at the bloated, purplish torso with blood oozing from all the openings in the victim’s body. Her eyes reflected amazement as if she had seen a diamond in plain sight.

She lifted her glasses as she continued speaking. “How could she be killed on that spot when her arms are tied to the posts two meters away? She died lying on her back where the poles are. See the incredible amount of blood there?”

Those who heard her paid attention. When she noticed they were all ears, she continued.

“The body was dead for two to three days based on its skin color and rigidity, but it looks like she was buried only last night.” She walked in front of the police line to inspect without stepping inside it. Her hair tied in a pony fell free from her shoulder as she examined the soil.

“That’s impossible,” Renato said. “We found her body last night.”

“At what time?”

“Around nine in the evening.”

“Maybe she was dumped earlier, before nine in the evening, perhaps. The soil was still damp and looked like newly dug.”

“That could be, but it’s also impossible. If the body was buried before we found it, chances are the killer knew what time we will come to this place,” Renato said.

“I got your view. But look at the body. It’s stiff but straight. If she was buried right after she died, her upper body could’ve been bent.”

Some onlookers took her point. Others, however, found her idea skeptical.

“Do you mean she was killed on those poles? Whoever did it let her die there? Left her for two to three days and buried her halfway last night?” one passerby asked. “That’s gross!”

“It could be,” the girl replied.

“Excuse me? Who are you?” a police officer asked.

She smiled coyly and gave the officer a hesitant look.

“Well? don’t make me repeat myself, or you’ll be in for questioning.” He said with a stern look on his face.

“I’m Natalie. A criminology stu—”

“Back off!” he growled. “This is a crime scene, not a field study for a mutt!”

“Ooh… Sorry.” Natalie said with both hands in the air in a surrender gesture. Her eyes lingered on the officer’s right chest where his nameplate was. “Police officer Perez? I’ll show you what this ‘mutt’ can do,” she bragged and marched away while making a face.

“What a scene, Nat,” Manolo said as he approached Natalie. His handsome features twitched at the sight of his girl. His almond eyes glowed brighter than the sun. Natalie rarely visited their village because she studied in a city that was several hours away.

“Is that how you say hello now?” she said with puppy eyes and pouting lips. “And besides, I’m not making a scene. I’m trying to help here.”

“Okay. So, how can you help solve my cousin’s case?” he said with a teasing face.

She imagined the victim’s misery but kept silent.

“You better stay out of this,” he said with a serious look on his face—one she hadn’t seen yet until that time.

“But don’t you want justice for Rissa? She used to be my friend,” she paused and swallowed the last word, “When we were children. Well, she was a friend to me though she didn’t really like me.”

“I do! But I can’t afford to lose you, so don’t be nosy about this,” he said with authority which appalled her. He hugged her tight to lessen the tension between them. “So, when did you arrive?”

The sudden change in his tone and facial expression confused Natalie. His prominent jawbone relaxed as he asked the question. There was something distinct about how he looked at the corpse. It was not apathy or sorrow. It was more sinister than enigmatic, but she ignored it.

“I just arrived. Got curious about where people were headed, so I followed them,” she said and pointed at her backpack. “I wasn’t able to say hi to father yet,” she grinned.

Manolo took her by the hand, and they observed the scene together.