The tale of two spinsters

WHEN WE WERE YOUNG, my late father would always warn us not to get inside the big compound owned by the two spinsters, which occupies at least one-thirds of the entire block. Since the owner of the compound is a distant relative, and being young and innocent, we did not see anything wrong wandering and playing hide and seek inside. He would irrationally scold us whenever he saw me playing with my cousins and my nephews and nieces my age inside the compound. The compound was like a mini forest, planted with bamboo groves, fruit trees, bananas, bushes and tall grass. It was enough reason for a scolding because there might be snakes especially near the bamboo groves.

However, I could vividly recall that I could only freely roam if my father were with us during some gatherings and every time he would be asked to butcher pigs and other livestock. Aside from extracting tooth, he had the talent of hitting the jugular vein that allows faster and seemingly painless death of animals–without the long shrieking and crying sound. He also had the sharpest bolos and knives, thus the invitations for him to help relatives during birthdays, weddings, fiestas, and in every handaan.

One of our neighbors abhorred the two spinsters. She had a psychotic son and daughter. However, she was in denial that she attributed the mental illness to the spinsters, spreading gossips and openly uttering invectives redounding to the conclusion that they are evil and that they are witches playing with their lives.

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