I was just 10 years old that time. The year was 1964 in our native Dumangas in the island of Panay in the Philippines. I was born there, of course.
My cousins, of the same ages as mine, invited me to go to a fish harvest at the pond owned by an uncle. The harvest was scheduled so the families and folks could celebrate the Halloween, which is called "tagkalalag" in our native tongue, meaning "day of the souls" when souls of our dead relatives return to feast with us every November 1. The practice there was to gather all the fishes from the main pond tank to a containment canal where all the milk fishes would be caught with our hands. And the job was always done in the wee hours after midnight!
As we walked huddled together above the narrow dike leading to the ponds that early evening, the half moon looked down on us and the night was cold somewhat as it was in a tropical country. Laughter and brags about different childish achievements for the day reverberate in the expanse of shallow water and algae. Occasional bushes brushed our arms and legs along the way. Suddenly, one of us shouted like he saw a ghost. He was pointing in front of us, almost on the verge of crying, telling us to run back! Before I went to run myself back, I gathered the little courage I had and looked back to where my cousin was pointing moments ago. I saw a horrific form of a face, with eyes of fire and a nose with fire oozing out of it as well and the mouth was seemingly having fire inside instead of tongue! Then I also ran as fast as I can...
On the evening of November 1, I heard one of my uncles bragging among the crowded relatives during our dinner for the souls that he had conducted another trick and treat for the young gentlemen of the harvest the other night.
