by Randy Topacio | SouthofMetro.com |
Back when I was a kid, I did not believe that there were things that were hard to explain. Beings that existed only in the imagination of many. But to some, has become a reality. To this date, there are things that remains unsolved. Leaving it to the people we talk too decide, should they believe or not.
And this is “HIStorya.”
HIStorya will take you to a journey across time. Or maybe even through dimensions. It deals with people, places and events that took place in past or who knows, even in the future.
We are aware of the fact that folklores remain as folklores unless proven so. With today’s technology, these things we considered fiction has become factual. The element of proving visual proof has made it easier to convince people of our stories. The so called, hearsay is now a click away on your cameras, phones, webcams and other recording equipment made available to man.
I may not be able to provide picture evidence all the time. However, we will try to gather proof from a third party thus not limiting the experience to just my own.
In this episode of HIStorya, I shall take you back to my childhood days. Young and energetic. Active in sports. Willing to take challenges. This is how competitive I am when it comes to sports. Always on the go. No Fear. I had a lot of friends in the neighborhood. We would gather together at night to eat the extra food that I get from the canteen. Sorry Mom. Our family used to own a canteen that my parents personally managed. My parents had a busy life. Trying to make a decent living. Sometimes I didn’t tell her that I took some food for my buddies.
I was ready to explore the world beyond the walls of my room, our house and our fence. Me and my best friends and neighborhood buddies (some are street kids) would play after class and all day on weekends. We stayed out late in our neighbor’s house which was just across the street where we lived.
Well, I was an outgoing kid willing to take risks. And that was one of them. I proceeded to my best friend’s house across the street. This is where we ate together and would have the boodle fight. They would cut some banana leaves and lay it out on a makeshift table. We would eat under a huge mango tree with only the street lamp shinning on the food we are to partake. No one even bothered to wash their hands before eating. We were young and adventurous.
On one late night at around 9pm, my friend, a street kid ask me if I wanted to go across to my best friend’s house. We often did this whenever he was hungry. Come to think of it, I learned how to share food to the needy at an early age. And he was one who fits the description. His family is the caretaker of a vacant lot several houses away. Anyway, as we approached the gate with my flashlight on and as I stepped in the gate, my flashlight suddenly turned off. It was dark.
My neighbor’s house used to be an old Spanish looking house made of wood. It has a fountain at the front of the house and wide stairway with curved banisters. Very old design and materials. Capiz sliding windows and a statue mounted outside the window of the 2nd floor. A beautiful Spanish house during the day, but scary at night. It is surrounded by “fortune” plants positioned along the fence that encloses the compound. This is the original house of the compound. The other two at the back are modern.
Anyway, as I stepped back out of the gate, it turned back on. So I and my street buddy went back in. As we got in my flashlight begun to flicker and die out. I tapped on the casing several times but to no avail. It was dead. At the moment, my street buddy told me that there was someone on the staircase. I tried to look at the direction where he was pointing but could not see anything. He said, “Ayan, tumayo na. Nakasandal na sya sa poste”. (Translated in English: “Look, he stood up and is leaning now on the post.”)
After clearing my eyes and focusing on the post he pointed out, I saw a dark figure of a man. The only light in the area was coming from the street lamp. We got the chills. As we observed this man, we realized that we could not see him clearly. Although there was the street light, he still was a dark figure. My buddy shouted, “Aswang! Aswang!” As soon as he shouted, we both dashed out of the gate and ran across the street to our place and ran towards our house.
After a few minutes, a tenant of the apartment behind the Spanish house. A tall, stocky fellow who was about to drive his taxi parked outside came out of the gate. We asked him if he was at the staircase at the time we were there. He answered, No. He was taking a shower preparing for work as the driver of the cab. We told him what we had experienced. Little did we know that this big hunk of a man was actually weak when it comes to ghost stories. The driver never went back in the house until the next morning.
Is this real or not? You decide.
This is HIStorya.
