Kapre

In a small village surrounded by dense forests, there lived a boy named Joseph. He was twelve years old, full of curiosity, and always looking for adventure. He loved exploring places that no one else dared to go, even when the elders warned him not to.

\"Stay away from the deep forest,\" his grandmother would say. \"There are things in there that humans should not disturb.\"

Joseph would roll his eyes and smile. \"They\'re just stories, Grandma,\" he said. \"Monsters aren’t real.\"

His grandmother sighed. \"You think you know everything, but there are things beyond what you see, my child. Some stories are warnings.\"

His friends, however, were more afraid of the stories.

One evening, just as the sun was setting and the sky turned orange and pink, Joseph sat with his friends in the village square. They were talking about the legend of the kapre—a giant creature that lived in the trees, smoking cigars and waiting to catch anyone who wandered too close.

\"My uncle swears he saw the kapre once,\" said Daniel, his best friend. \"He said it had glowing red eyes and was taller than the biggest tree in the forest.\"

\"My mother told me kapres trick people,\" said another friend, Pedro. \"They make you get lost so you can never find your way home.\"

Joseph crossed his arms and laughed. \"You\'re all just scared of shadows. There\'s no such thing as a kapre. It\'s just a story to make children behave.\"

\"But what if it’s real?\" Daniel asked.

\"If it’s real, then I’ll prove it!\" Joseph said. \"I’ll go into the forest tonight and see for myself.\"

His friends gasped. \"No, Joseph! That’s too dangerous!\"

Pedro shook his head. \"The forest is different at night. My grandfather says the kapre watches from the trees and waits for people like you.\"

Joseph smirked. \"If I don’t come back, then maybe you can say I was wrong. But I will come back.\"

That night, after everyone in his house had gone to sleep, he grabbed a flashlight, slipped on his sandals, and quietly sneaked out.

The night air was cold, and the wind made the trees whisper. The village was silent, but the forest was alive with the sound of chirping crickets and rustling leaves. Joseph hesitated for a moment, then shook his head. \"There\'s nothing to be afraid of,\" he whispered to himself.

As he walked deeper into the forest, the trees grew taller, their branches like arms reaching toward the sky. His flashlight flickered, casting eerie shadows on the ground. His heart beat a little faster, but he told himself to keep going.

Then, something strange happened.

He smelled smoke. Not the kind from a fire, but thick, strong cigar smoke. It hung in the air like a heavy cloud, making his nose sting.

His heart began to race. \"Maybe a villager is nearby,\" he thought.

But then he heard a sound—a low, deep growl.

Joseph stopped in his tracks. The growl rumbled through the trees like distant thunder. He swallowed hard and slowly pointed his flashlight upward.

There, high in the trees, two glowing red eyes stared down at him.

Joseph\'s breath caught in his throat. His legs felt frozen. He wanted to run, but his body refused to move.

A deep, rough voice spoke. \"Who dares to enter my forest?\"

The voice sent shivers down Joseph’s spine. The kapre moved, and the leaves rustled as it climbed down. The creature was enormous—its dark skin blended with the shadows, and it had thick, muscular arms covered in hair. A long cigar burned between its sharp teeth, glowing like an ember in the darkness.

Joseph tried to speak, but no words came out.

The kapre took a step forward. \"You do not belong here,\" it growled. \"Why have you come?\"

Joseph’s knees shook. He finally found his voice. \"I—I just wanted to see if you were real,\" he stammered.

The kapre let out a deep chuckle. \"Foolish boy. Now you have seen me… and now, you are mine!\"

The giant reached out a hand the size of a tree branch, its sharp nails gleaming under the moonlight. Joseph panicked. He had to do something!

Then, he remembered.

His grandmother once told him a secret. \"Kapres are afraid of calamansi,\" she had said. \"Always carry one when you go near the forest.\"

Joseph quickly dug into his pocket. His fingers wrapped around a small calamansi fruit—his grandmother had given it to him that morning, saying it would keep him safe. He didn’t believe her then, but now, it was his only hope.

He squeezed the calamansi hard. The juice squirted into the kapre’s outstretched hand.

The effect was immediate.

The kapre let out a terrible roar, dropping its cigar. Smoke swirled around it as it staggered back. \"Agh! The sour fruit!\" it bellowed, clutching its hand.

Joseph didn’t wait. He turned and ran.

Branches scratched his arms, and roots tried to trip him, but he kept running. Behind him, the kapre’s growls echoed through the trees, but it did not follow.

Joseph didn’t stop until he reached the village. He collapsed near his house, gasping for breath. His heart pounded so hard he thought it might burst.

His grandmother was waiting for him at the door. She shook her head. \"I told you,\" she said softly.

Joseph looked up at her, still shaking. \"You were right,\" he whispered. \"The kapre is real.\"

His grandmother knelt beside him and held his hands. \"You are lucky to be alive,\" she said. \"The forest is full of things beyond our understanding. Do not go there again.\"

Joseph nodded. He would never step foot in the forest again.

The next day, his friends crowded around him. \"What happened?\" Daniel asked. \"Did you see anything?\"

Joseph hesitated. He could tell them everything, but would they believe him?

He finally said, \"I saw something... and I don’t want to see it again.\"

His friends\' eyes widened. \"So the stories are true?\"

Joseph nodded. \"Yes. And from now on, I will listen to the elders.\"

From that day on, Joseph carried a calamansi in his pocket wherever he went. He never spoke of the kapre again, but at night, when the wind rustled the trees, he sometimes thought he could still smell the faint scent of cigar smoke.

The forest remained dark and mysterious, and the legend of the kapre lived on. But Joseph knew the truth: some stories were not just tales—they were warnings. And he had learned his lesson the hard way.

He never forgot the night he met the kapre. The glowing red eyes, the deep growl, and the fear that gripped his heart would stay with him forever.

And so, the village continued to tell stories of the kapre, warning children never to go into the forest at night.

But Joseph did not need the warning.

He already knew what lurked in the shadows.