Marco: Hey, slow down! Don’t walk near that big acacia tree.
Lena: Why? It’s just a tree. A very old, very normal tree.
Marco: Just a tree? That’s exactly where a kapre would live. Big tree, quiet area, almost sunset—classic kapre territory.
Lena: Ah yes, the checklist. Tree: check. Silence: check. Poor lighting: check. Conclusion—giant smoking creature. Very scientific.
Marco: Laugh all you want, but my uncle swears he saw one there when he was younger. Tall, red eyes, cigar bigger than my arm. After that, he got lost even though he knew the area.
Lena: Or… hear me out… he was tired, it was dark, and the brain filled in the blanks. You know how human perception works under stress, right?
Marco: You always say that. But why is it that people always get lost near places where kapres or tikbalang are said to live?
Lena: Because those places are usually forests or rural paths with poor landmarks. Tikbalang stories are common in areas with winding trails. Disorientation plus fear equals “horse demon.”
Marco: Still, why take the risk? Our lola always said, “Avoid their territory and you’ll be safe.” Respect the unseen.
Lena: I agree about respect—just not fear. Avoiding dangerous terrain makes sense. But calling it a tikbalang instead of uneven paths and bad lighting doesn’t make it supernatural.
Marco: Okay, then explain this. My cousin was biking near Mount Makiling. He mocked the tikbalang stories, took a shortcut, and suddenly his bike chain snapped. Coincidence?
Lena: Bikes break, Marco. Especially on rough trails. If the tikbalang really wanted revenge, wouldn’t it do something more… dramatic?
Marco: Maybe it was just a warning.
Lena: Or confirmation bias. You notice the accident because of the belief. If nothing happened, no one would talk about it.
Marco: You’re saying it’s all in our heads?
Lena: I’m saying our brains are very good at storytelling. Especially when we grow up with stories. Tikbalang myths probably helped keep people away from dangerous areas long before warning signs existed.
Marco: Huh. So you’re saying tikbalangs are basically ancient safety officers?
Lena: Exactly. “Beware: Slippery Path” just sounded cooler as “Half-horse demon who messes with travelers.”
Marco: I hate that this makes sense.
Lena: Look, I’m not saying our folklore is useless. It’s part of who we are. Just that fear shouldn’t replace thinking. If a place is unsafe, avoid it for real reasons—steep cliffs, wild animals, no signal.
Marco: But you have to admit… if you suddenly smelled cigar smoke near that tree, you’d run.
Lena: I’d run because someone is illegally smoking near dry leaves, not because of a kapre.
Marco: You’re no fun.
Lena: I’m very fun. I just don’t blame horse demons when Google Maps fails.
Marco: Fine. But just in case, let’s walk a bit farther from the tree.
Lena: Sure. Not because of a kapre—because I don’t want bird poop on my head.
Marco: See? Even science agrees with tradition sometimes.
Lena: Accidental agreement doesn’t count—but I’ll take it.
(They laugh and keep walking, giving the old tree a wide berth—one out of caution, the other out of common sense.)
Science Vs Superstition 
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