Nightfall’s Echoes: A Lone Journey Home

 A Childhood in the Mountains

When I was seven years old, my family lived in the mountains. There were only a few houses in the area, mostly owned by landowners. The smallest piece of land was five hectares, but my grandfather owned over twenty hectares, where life moved with the sun and the rhythms of nature. We didn’t always need to buy things from the village, especially as night approached. But when the need arose, the journey was anything but simple.

Our place was far from the village—about one kilometer away, separated from our home. The path leading there was challenging—it crossed a big river and two smaller streams, with dense vegetation lining both sides. The banana leaves along the way often looked like shadowy figures lurking in the darkness.

The worst part was going to the store alone, especially at night. The path was pitch dark, as it wound under towering coconut trees and fruit-bearing plants. The most thrilling moment was when the fear became too much, and to shake off the fear, I would shout and run all the way home, hoping to scare off any spirits lurking in the shadows. 

If someone heard me, they might have thought I was being chased by a ghost. It was common knowledge in our area that "Tiaw"—mysterious beings with big heads—wandered about at night. Many believed in their presence, and I, too, had my share of spine-chilling experiences.

That was life for a child growing up in the mountains. Have you ever experienced something like this? I surely have.

Life in the mountains was tough back then, nothing like today, where electricity lights up the roads. In the past, the only guide we had in the darkness was the well-trodden path ahead.