04/12/2026
Podcast 1: The Lightning Scar of Bulusan (1993) by ZV
https://open.spotify.com/episode/1QCE4FB62fa2AMfbyRykba
https://zernainvillain.substack.com/p/the-lightning-scar-of-bulusan
In the shadow of Mount Bulusan, where the mist creeps low, and the air is thick with stories, a young man named Rolando lived a quiet life in the province of Sorsogon. He was known for being a hard worker—helping his father fish in the morning and tending their small coconut grove by afternoon. Life in Barangay San Rafael was simple, but it pulsed with ancient beliefs, whispered at dusk, and woven into lullabies.
One July evening, as the sky darkened with a sudden fury, Rolando was returning from the forest trails behind their nipa house, carrying bundles of rattan. Thunder rolled like an angry drumbeat across the heavens. He looked up just as a bolt of lightning, white and searing as the sun, struck him squarely in the back.
Rolando died—or so the villagers believed.
They found him lying beside a charred balete tree, clothes scorched, skin blistered. But when they brought him to the local health center, he awoke three hours later, dazed but alive. The barrio doctor could not explain it. There were no broken bones. No internal burns. Only one strange thing remained: an intricate pattern branded on the skin of his back, raised and red like a keloid scar.
At first, everyone believed it to be a grotesque birthmark—or maybe a trick of trauma. But Tata Toning, the oldest albularyo in the village, gasped when he saw it. He said it was no scar—it was a map.
He traced the lines with trembling fingers—mountains, rivers, a lake shaped like an eye. “This is Bulusan,” he whispered. “But older. From before the towns were named. Before the roads were carved. This is a map of the ancient land. And here—” he pointed to a jagged cross etched near the lake, “—is the Sigbin’s* grave.”
Rolando scoffed at first. Stories of mythical beasts and buried curses were just that—stories. But then the dreams began.
Each night, he saw a dark cave lined with obsidian stones. A low and gravelly voice called to him in a language older than Bicolano. He saw flickers of gold, bones coiled like serpents, and a light that seemed to pulse with a heartbeat. His back would burn in his sleep, the scar glowing faintly like embers.
Curiosity—or maybe something deeper—drove him into the forest one day. Guided by instinct and the searing pain in his back, he followed the ghostly geography etched into his skin. He hiked beyond known trails, into parts of Mt. Bulusan no one dared tread.
At the foot of a moss-covered ridge, he found it: the mouth of a cave shaped like a screaming face. The air grew colder inside, and the silence was absolute. Carvings covered the walls—beastmen, celestial symbols, and something that looked like a man being struck by lightning.
At the chamber’s center lay a massive stone slab, and atop it, a box bound in chains of iron and bone. When Rolando touched it, the scar on his back burned like fire—and the cave trembled.
Rolando never spoke of what happened next. Days later, he returned barefoot and pale, eyes shadowed with things he would not name. He no longer worked in the fields. Instead, he sat by the sea at dusk, staring at the volcano and listening. Some said he was cursed. Others said he had seen something sacred.
Every few weeks, when a storm rolled in from the Pacific, strange lights could be seen flickering above the forest. Thunder would echo even without lightning, and the elders would cross themselves, muttering, “The mountain remembers.”
*The Sigbin is said to resemble a hornless goat but walks backward with its head lowered between its hind legs. It is often described as nocturnal, moving in the shadows, and becoming invisible to humans. Some versions say it has long ears that can clap like hands, glowing red eyes, and gives off a terrible smell. It is also known to suck the blood of its victims through their shadows, making it a kind of vampiric entity.
—Zernain Villain
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