The Horror Was the Gateway Drug

October has long been one of my favorite months, as it starts one of my favorite seasons. I've always preferred shoulder seasons. I like the transitional feel of them, of things turning, different ways of becoming.

October is especially cool because it means creepy, spooky things all day long! I mean, tbh, those things are all year round for me, but it does hit differently when the weather is cooler and the leaves are falling.

I’ve been conducting numerous in-depth investigations into Filipino ghost stories for the book-writing escapade. And, yo, shit is WILD.

The stories and monsters are unique, gross always, terrifying. I’m also learning so much about pre-colonial Filipino history and culture.

Some of my earliest childhood memories involve scary movies. The Exorcist, William Friedkin's 1973 film, really stands out. I can’t tell you what age I was, but I can tell you we most definitely shouldn’t have been watching it.

I remember being a child in the Philippines and hearing ghost stories whispered by shadowy adult figures—half-believed, half-invoked. Stories about a wraith knocking on the window while my brother was in bed, chasing him out of the room. Stories about monsters who would climb into windows and steal us out of our beds.

Like the Manananggal—a vampiric, shape-shifting woman who could tear her upper body from her lower half and fly through the night on bat-like wings. Her tongue, long and proboscis-like, would snake into open wounds or belly buttons to suck blood, sometimes even unborn children from their mothers. Horrifying. Glorious.

And I’m eternally grateful for those stories.

They built something in me—maybe a backbone, maybe just an appetite for awe. But I’ve carried it into adulthood. I still love horror. I still love stories that make your skin crawl.

It was while thinking about these monsters—the monsters of my childhood—that I realized how rare Filipino culture is in fantasy literature. How often our stories are overlooked. And how perfect these creatures would be—are—for the genre. Mythic, brutal, poetic. Sometimes beautiful. Always broken.

This is the first time I’ve attempted worldbuilding. It’s been unpredictable. Fun. Mostly, it’s been healing.

Assimilation is a cruel and total thing. It doesn't work in half measures. And it works quickly. I immigrated to America when I was 5 years old. I remember celebrating my sixth birthday at my aunt and uncle's apartment in Glendale, California. I remember my first taste of American food being pizza.

The most vivid memories are my first days? weeks? months? in school. Time blurs when you're a child. I was placed in an all-Spanish-speaking class because there was no place for a Tagalog-speaking child. With the Spanish colonization of the Philippines, Tagalog adopted and evolved many words from the Spanish. So into the Spanish class I went.

I think my first friend's name was America. I shit you not. Maybe it was the only American word her parents knew. Talk about assimilation. Maybe it was actually her name. A hopeful love letter. A good luck spell.

I don't know how long I was in that class. All I know is that I very quickly lost my Tagalog and was only speaking English. Not even a bit of Spanish. To this day, I can only understand Tagalog, not speak it. My brain doesn't think in Tagalog anymore. It has to translate the English into Tagalog, which is extremely difficult. The words are like tiny fish I'm trying to catch in murky water.

So it doesn't surprise me that this world I'm imagining is bound by elements and cultural details from one that exists in the real world, but one that I've lost. A culture that is fantastical to me. One that, while in many ways is familiar, is also new and alien.

I’m relearning fragments of a language I was forced to forget, reconnecting with a culture I erased in order to fit in. Every monster and cultural callback I write is a memory, is a puzzle piece, is a component of self-identity that I get to reclaim.

The next few Kalibayan Project articles on here, I’ll be taking y’all along for the ride into mythic monsters (real ones and the ones I made up), more worldbuilding chaos, and how memory and Filipino folklore are shaping my fantasy novel.

I hope readers feel wonder when they enter Kalibayan, just as I do when I write about it.

The Philippine islands hold vast, ancient magic.

The monsters have always been here.

We just have to remember them. Let's get haunted.