Gabriel tossed and turned in his small bed, unable to shake the haunting images from the previous night. The Busaw’s glowing eyes, the deep growl, and the sight of the creature digging into the freshly turned earth at the cemetery gnawed at his thoughts.
The fear he had felt while witnessing the monstrous figure loomed over him like a dark cloud. He couldn't sleep, couldn’t rest. Every shadow in the room seemed to twist into unnatural shapes, and every creak of the house made his skin crawl.
As the night dragged on, Gabriel knew he couldn’t keep this terror to himself anymore. He needed answers. He needed to know what this place was hiding and why the villagers seemed so quiet about the horrors surrounding them.
By morning, Gabriel was exhausted but determined. After a brief class session, where his students noticed his pale, tired face, Gabriel made his way through the narrow dirt paths of the village, his mind set on finding the truth. He needed to speak to someone—someone who knew the history of this place.
There was one man in particular who might know more than anyone else: Mang Efrain, the village elder. The old man had mentioned the Busaw to him on his first day, but Gabriel had brushed it off as nothing more than folklore at the time. Now, after what he had seen, he wasn’t so sure.
Gabriel reached Mang Efrain’s home, a small nipa hut sitting at the edge of the village, near the thick trees that bordered the jungle. The old man was sitting outside, smoking a hand-rolled cigarette, his wrinkled face hidden behind a cloud of smoke.
"Manong Efrain," Gabriel called out as he approached, his voice tinged with urgency.
The elder looked up, his sharp eyes narrowing as he studied Gabriel. “Ah, Teacher Gabriel,” he said in his gravelly voice. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
Gabriel’s heart raced. He didn’t know how to start, but the words came tumbling out before he could stop them. “I saw it,” he blurted out. “I saw the Busaw.”
For a moment, Mang Efrain said nothing. He just stared at Gabriel, his eyes narrowing further, studying him carefully. Then, without a word, the old man motioned for Gabriel to sit beside him on a worn-out bamboo bench.
“You saw it, huh?” Mang Efrain finally said, his voice low, almost a whisper.
Gabriel nodded, his hands shaking. “Last night. I heard something by the cemetery, and when I looked, I saw it digging up a grave. It... it looked at me, and I swear it spoke.”
Mang Efrain took a long drag from his cigarette and exhaled slowly, the smoke curling around him like a ghostly mist. “The Busaw isn’t something many outsiders get to see,” he said quietly. “Most who do... don’t live long enough to talk about it.”
Gabriel felt a chill run down his spine. He had hoped that talking to the elder would bring some comfort, maybe a rational explanation. But instead, Mang Efrain’s words only deepened his fear.
“What is it?” Gabriel asked, his voice barely a whisper. “What does it want?”
Mang Efrain leaned back, his gaze drifting toward the distant cemetery. “The Busaw has been part of these lands for as long as anyone can remember,” he said. “It’s not just a creature. It’s something older, darker. Some say it’s a demon, cursed to roam these mountains and jungles, feeding on the dead—and the living.”
Gabriel’s stomach turned. “Feeding on the dead?”
The elder nodded solemnly. “It craves the flesh of the newly dead. But more than that, it hungers for organs—hearts, livers, intestines. The fresher, the better. The Busaw isn’t content with just feeding on corpses. If it doesn’t find what it wants in the graves, it’ll turn its attention to the living.”
Gabriel’s breath hitched in his throat. He had seen it, seen the creature tearing through the grave as if it was searching for something. Now he understood what it had been looking for.
“But why?” Gabriel asked. “Why does it do this? Why does it hunt people?”
Mang Efrain took another long drag from his cigarette, his eyes growing distant. “There are many stories,” he said, his voice heavy with the weight of the past. “Some say the Busaw was once a man, a wicked soul who made a pact with dark forces to gain immortality. But immortality came with a price—he could no longer eat normal food. Only human flesh could satisfy his hunger, and over the centuries, he became something... less than human.”
Gabriel shuddered. The idea of an ancient, cursed creature stalking the village at night was too horrifying to comprehend. But the memory of the Busaw’s yellow eyes, its twisted grin, and the sound of its voice echoed in his mind. He couldn’t deny what he had seen.
“Why doesn’t anyone do something about it?” Gabriel asked, frustration creeping into his voice. “Why don’t you warn the villagers?”
Mang Efrain chuckled bitterly, shaking his head. “What would we say? That a monster comes to dig up the dead and steal their organs? People already fear the night. They lock their doors, they bury their dead quickly, and they pray. But no one dares speak openly about it. It’s an old fear, an ancient curse. The Busaw has been here longer than any of us, and it will be here long after we’re gone.”
Gabriel swallowed hard, his mind racing. He had come to this village to teach, to help these people. But how could he help them when they were living in the shadow of something so terrifying? How could he protect himself from something like the Busaw?
“Is there no way to stop it?” Gabriel asked, his voice trembling. “Isn’t there anything we can do?”
Mang Efrain was silent for a long time. When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet, almost a whisper. “There are ways,” he said. “But they are dangerous, and they come at a cost. The Busaw isn’t like a normal beast that you can kill with bullets or knives. It’s a creature of darkness, and the only way to stop it is with dark means.”
Gabriel frowned. “What do you mean?”
Mang Efrain glanced around, as if making sure no one was listening. Then he leaned in closer and lowered his voice. “There are rituals, ancient rites passed down through generations. They say if you can summon the right spirits, you can banish the Busaw. But those rituals require blood—human blood.”
Gabriel’s heart skipped a beat. “Human blood?”
The elder nodded grimly. “The Busaw was born of blood, and it can only be stopped by blood. But even then, it’s not a guarantee. The creature is cunning, and it knows how to avoid those who hunt it. Many have tried, but few have succeeded.”
Gabriel’s mind was spinning. He had never believed in such things before, but after what he had seen, he didn’t know what to believe anymore. Could he really face this creature? Could he stop it?
Before Gabriel could ask more, Mang Efrain spoke again. “There’s something else you need to know, Teacher,” he said, his voice grave. “The Busaw... it’s not just any random spirit. It’s tied to this land. The deeper you dig, the more you’ll find that this village—this place—has dark roots. And once you’ve seen the Busaw, it doesn’t forget you.”
Gabriel’s blood ran cold.
“It saw you last night, didn’t it?” Mang Efrain asked, his gaze locking onto Gabriel’s. “It knows who you are now. And it won’t stop until it gets what it wants.”
Gabriel stood up abruptly, the weight of the elder’s words crashing down on him like a heavy stone. The Busaw had seen him. It had spoken to him. And now it was after him.
He could barely breathe. His vision swam as the reality of his situation began to sink in. He wasn’t safe here. He wasn’t safe anywhere.
Without another word, Gabriel thanked Mang Efrain and left the old man’s hut. His legs felt weak as he made his way back to his own small rented house, his mind racing with fear and confusion. He had come here to teach, to build a future for himself, but now he felt like he was trapped in a nightmare, surrounded by things he couldn’t understand and couldn’t fight.
As Gabriel approached his house, he glanced up at the sky. Dark clouds were gathering on the horizon, and the wind had picked up, howling through the trees like a warning. The village was eerily quiet, as if the very earth was holding its breath.
He knew that night was coming soon, and with it, the Busaw would return.
Gabriel hurried inside, locking the door behind him and pulling the thin curtains closed. He grabbed a kitchen knife, the only weapon he had, and sat down on the floor, his back pressed against the wall. His heart pounded in his chest, his breathing shallow and rapid.
The sun dipped below the horizon, and the village was plunged into darkness.
Gabriel’s grip tightened on the knife. He didn’t know if it would help him, but it was the only thing he had. He sat there in the darkness, waiting, listening for the sound of the creature’s growl, for the sound of digging outside his window.
Hours passed, but Gabriel didn't feel like any time had passed at all. The tension in his muscles had made his entire body rigid. The slightest noise—a creak in the floorboards, a rustling outside—made him jump. Every sound became a potential threat, every shadow a hiding place for the Busaw.
The night deepened, and the wind howled louder, making the trees outside sway ominously. The small house felt suffocating. Gabriel’s eyes darted toward the window, barely covered by the flimsy curtain. He thought about Mang Efrain’s words: “It won’t stop until it gets what it wants.”
What did it want from him? Was it coming for him tonight? He had seen it, yes, but why would that matter? There had to be something more, something deeper than just a random encounter at the cemetery. As his mind raced, trying to make sense of it all, a noise outside shattered the stillness.
A low growl.
Gabriel froze, gripping the knife tighter, his knuckles white. His heart hammered in his chest, the sound of it almost deafening in the otherwise silent room. The growl was unmistakable—it was the same one he had heard the night before. The same deep, guttural sound that sent chills crawling up his spine. It was close. Too close.
Slowly, Gabriel rose to his feet, moving silently toward the window. His body was shaking, his breath shallow as he inched closer to the thin fabric separating him from whatever was outside.
He hesitated for a moment, every instinct screaming at him to stay hidden, to not look. But something pushed him forward, some morbid curiosity or perhaps a desperate need to understand what he was up against.
With trembling fingers, Gabriel pulled the curtain aside just enough to peek through the crack.
At first, he saw nothing but darkness. The trees swayed in the wind, casting long shadows across the village. But then, his eyes focused on a shape—something moving slowly, deliberately through the cemetery, just beyond the houses. His breath caught in his throat as he recognized the figure.
The Busaw.
It was hunched over, its long arms digging into the fresh soil of another grave, just as it had done the night before. But this time, Gabriel noticed something he hadn’t before—the creature’s movements were almost ritualistic, precise. It wasn’t just an animal scavenging for food; it was searching for something specific.
The growl came again, low and guttural, vibrating through the air. The Busaw paused, lifting its head slightly as if it had sensed something. Its eyes, those same glowing yellow eyes, scanned the area slowly, methodically, until they landed directly on Gabriel’s window.
Gabriel’s heart stopped. He stumbled backward, dropping the curtain as if the flimsy cloth could somehow protect him from the creature’s gaze. He didn’t dare move, didn’t dare breathe. His pulse pounded in his ears, drowning out every other sound.
Did it see him?
The silence that followed was unbearable. Gabriel stood there in the darkness, knife in hand, his entire body trembling. He strained to hear something—anything—that would tell him what the creature was doing.
Then, out of the stillness, there came a soft scraping sound.
The door.
Gabriel’s blood ran cold. He could hear it now, the slow, deliberate sound of claws scraping against the wood of his front door. The Busaw was here. It had followed him. It had seen him, and now it was coming for him.
For a moment, Gabriel was paralyzed by fear, unable to move or think. The only thing he could focus on was the door, the thin barrier between him and the creature. His mind raced with thoughts of Mang Efrain’s warning: “Once you’ve seen the Busaw, it doesn’t forget you.”
It wanted him. It wanted his organs. His flesh.
The scraping grew louder, more insistent. Gabriel backed away from the door, his eyes darting around the room, searching for an escape. But there was nowhere to go. The windows were too small, the house too isolated. He was trapped.
The doorknob rattled.
Gabriel’s heart leapt into his throat. His hands shook so badly that he almost dropped the knife. He took a few steps back, his back pressing against the far wall. His breathing became shallow and rapid as the door creaked under the weight of whatever was on the other side.
Then, just as suddenly as it had begun, the scraping stopped.
The silence that followed was deafening. Gabriel stood frozen, his eyes locked on the door, waiting for something to happen. Minutes passed, but the door remained closed. No more sounds, no more growls. It was as if the Busaw had vanished.
Gabriel didn’t move. His mind raced, trying to make sense of what had just happened. Why had it stopped? Was it waiting for him to make a move? Was it still outside, lurking in the shadows?
He couldn’t take it anymore. He had to know.
Slowly, cautiously, Gabriel crept toward the door, his knife held out in front of him. His entire body was trembling, every step feeling like it took an eternity. When he reached the door, he hesitated for a moment, listening intently for any sound.
Nothing.
With a shaking hand, Gabriel reached for the doorknob. He twisted it slowly, the metal cold against his palm. The door creaked as it swung open, revealing the empty darkness outside.
There was nothing there.
No Busaw. No growls. Just the night, eerily quiet and still.
Gabriel let out a shaky breath, his body sagging with relief. For a moment, he thought it was over—that the creature had left, that he was safe. But deep down, he knew better. The Busaw was still out there, watching, waiting.
It wasn’t over.
Gabriel closed the door and locked it again, his mind racing with fear and confusion. He couldn’t stay here. He needed help. But who could he turn to? The villagers were too afraid to talk about the Busaw, too terrified to even acknowledge its existence. And Mang Efrain’s warning echoed in his mind: “The Busaw doesn’t forget.”
Gabriel slumped against the wall, exhaustion and fear weighing him down. He didn’t know what to do. He had never believed in monsters before, but now, standing alone in the darkness, he couldn’t deny what he had seen. The Busaw was real, and it was coming for him.
As the night wore on, Gabriel’s eyes grew heavy, his body drained from the adrenaline and fear. He drifted into an uneasy sleep, his mind filled with nightmares of glowing yellow eyes and the sound of claws scraping against wood.
But even in his sleep, Gabriel knew the truth.
The Busaw wouldn’t stop until it had what it wanted.
And Gabriel was running out of time.