Three

Halloween is tonight. Gather 'round.

1. Sanskrit for "Nobody."

On a Sunday, about 30+ years ago (I forgot what month), our church was celebrating it's 50th founding anniversary. Our Sundays have always been divided into three separate services, but that one was different. All the community was there: ushers, deacons, pastors, elders, and of course, our loyal followers who stayed in the spirit all throughout the afternoon. It's safe to estimate more than 300 people came; it was a merrymaking to remember. Breakfast, lunch, and dinner was served. Happy hymns (as opposed to the solemn ones that lull me to sleep every Sunday), were heard in the halls. The elders claimed a more fruitful future for the church. The finger foods were fresh 'til dusk.

Later in the evening, the chatter was dying down and the pastors gathered everyone in the chapel to close the ceremony. As they were closing in prayer, they heard a distant thud. Like a wooden plank hitting the mezzanine roof (which was also made of wood). Everyone's head was bowed and the prayer was not over. Hoping to not break the silent and solemn atmosphere, everyone didn't mind it.

And "Amen,"--the prayer was over. People shook hands and composed themselves to go home. The chatter grew once again as everyone walked toward the chapel door which was opened as wide as it could. Everyone was about to head out when they noticed a crowd gathered on the street. Some of us were curious. They joined in and tried to make it to the front. It seemed like everyone had a hunch so they tried to see what it was all about. But even before they could eavesdrop on the crowd, an ambulance came. Apparently, it was an accident and someone's been hurt. Rescuers pulled out a stretcher and hurried to the middle. After a minute or so, they lifted the person off the ground. They pushed the stretcher into the ambulance and closed the door. Some of our members in the outer circle of the crowd caught a glimpse of who it was. They said it was Andrea, the rumored town witch.

A while later, our members have already gone on their way home. But the crowd was still there. It was only when the police arrived that they dispersed. The men with  "FORENSICS" jackets drew how Andrea laid down with chalk. Slowly, it became clear she was dead. It looked like something was beside where she laid; like a stone or a hole on the ground. At least that was what it looked like in the dark. But the moon rose higher and (barely) illuminated some kind of black mark, like a hexagram. A forensics guy put a tag with a "3" next to it, then photographed it.

Two months later, Andrea's case was close to becoming shelved. A policeman who was also a member of our church, solicited a little help from our elders and gave a them a picture the forensics took that night.

They were dumbfounded upon seeing the it. They knew deep down they recognize it, they just couldn't tell what. They didn't know what was in the picture, but it was familiar.  So they took it in and studied it... for more than 30 years.

The photograph was of a black formation on the ground. Back then, roads were not paved in concrete and were sandy. It looked like Andrea drew it as she laid dying, with her own blood--and the sand gave it a deep brown-black color. She drew a symbol which was found to be in Vedan Sanskrit:  a circle with 3 lines intersecting inside it. It was deciphered it to be a hunting symbol meaning "Nobody," or "nobody in." Sanskrit was used by the refined and the rulers of the ancient Hindu world. It Vedan Sanskrit is used today and you were a governor, you have the symbol etched on a tree after your people hunts in a certain part of a forest, telling freelance hunters that there is "No body in here," so they could give that part of the forest a chance to replenish.

Apparently, Andrea wrote it on the ground to note, that there was nobody in the car that hit her.

2. "Knock Knock."

About 5 years ago, my Aunt contacted a rare disease similar to goiter. A part of her neck swelled up to a size where you could cup the lump with your hand. But it didn't happen overnight. Weeks before the swell appeared, she was repeatedly coming down with fluctuating fevers and headaches. So, on a cold midnight of All Hallow's Eve, we decided to draw a pentagram on the ground to contact another realm so the spirits could end her misery once and for all.

Kidding. Her family actually got her checked out. They went, if I remember correctly, to a well-known hospital in Manila: The Chinese General Hospital. She went under a lot of tests and procedures in there. Weeks passed, and the next I heard about Aunt Amber was her transfer to the UST Hospital, located inside the UST campus in España. Back then, I was a real (and tortured) fan of horror pocketbooks so I've heard stories about the place. Also, the fact that UST is somewhat the oldest university in Asia, surviving the Japanese and American war, didn't help me clear my head. But these thoughts came to a halt when mom got off the phone with another Aunt; she said Aunt Amber will be going under a biopsy (meaning she's suspected of cancer). Then another couple of weeks later, the suspicion proved true. Aunt Amber had Hodgkin's Disease; a rare cancer of the lymph nodes. She was confined in the hospital for chemotherapy and other tests.

One day, my mom told us Aunt Amber isn't doing very well and we should pay her a visit. Other than missing my late afternoon cartoons, I had nothing against it. So, one rainy afternoon, we madeour way to the hospital. We boarded a cab to get  there. My head was filled with ghoulish and scary on our drive around the campus. The buildings were obviously old; most of them were not painted. Their designs featured a lot of steeples and arches. And man, stained glass windows on a sunless dusk are downright creepy.

We got off the cab five minutes later--in front of an unpainted building with scaffolding on the front. There was also a prominent "Watch out! Falling debris!" sign. It looked unfinished. I stepped on the sidewalk and followed my family as they hurried to the covered entrance. As the doors closed behind us, I felt realized how eerie the place was. Unlike the usual bustle in hospitals: you know, residents and nurses walking room to room and the like--it was silent in this one. It seemed like all I could hear were our own footsteps and the coins jiggling in my pocket. A minute later, we approached a receptionist's desk. 

"Amber Smith's room, please." asked my mom calmly. It was cold and getting colder. 

"4W09, ma'am." My Aunt's room was in the 4th floor. 

So, we boarded the elevator. We went down a couple of hallways to her private room. It was filled with get well soon letters and postcards, helping me forget about the deathlike hospital air.

"Kumusta ka na? (How have you been?)" 

"Anong sabi ng mga doktor? (What did the doctors say?)" 

"Kumusta ang mga bata? (How are the kids taking it?)" Mom really seemed to miss Aunt Amber. 

"Ang pangit ng pagkain dito. (The food here is terrible)" she answered back with a giggle. 

It was a private room with just two windows and a door; there was a couch left of the bed. Other than the desk next to the bed and the dextrose, the only things inside was a crucifix on the wall and one fluorescent lamp. Kind of bleak to be honest but, Mom and Aunt were chatting and laughing warmly, not minding how things looked.

But the weather wasn't getting better. I looked out the window and no cars were in sight. Only thing I could see through the rain was the creepy chapel with the stained glass windows I was talking about. Mom, knowing how easily España floods, said we would probably stay the night. It was way past visiting hours anyway so I think the crew understood her decision. After all, we weren't the only visitors stuck there. Dad came in with a folding couch (which unfortunately, did not fit through the door), and spare blankets. Mom made coffee and the room smelled of the stuff. A couple of hours later, 11:30 to be exact, was the hospital's "lights out" time. The PA system echoed across the halls.

"Please turn off your lights and remain in your rooms. Residents are on patrol and will check your rooms regularly. In case of an emergency, please press the red button on the bed's headboard and a nurse will attend to you shortly." 

Mom decided I should watch over Aunt Amber (by the way, I have the worst case of insomnia on the planet). Dad, mom, and my sister are to sleep in a room mom rented next to us. It was past midnight so I didn't really have the time to object.

Sifting through a stack of comics and magazines, I braved the first hours if the night. I was on my third volume of Batman (and was sinking into a Gotham-induced depression), when I heard a faint knock on the door.

*Knock, knock.*

"It's the resident, Dave. Let's hope it's a she and she's sexy." I thought to myself.

The gentle, feminine way the fingers tapped the door had me hoping I could glance at something pretty. But looking through the fish-eye, I saw no one. It was pitch-black. Just the darkness staring back. I opened the door and there was still nobody there. Feeling a bit disappointed, I shrugged it off and laid back on the couch. With a single glance, I found where I left on Batman. (Boy, I'm such a good reader.)

"Guns! Razors! Knives!! Play with me!" says the hysterical Joker. Batman stared back, clutching something left of his belt. "If it were you and me, we knock, knock."

"What?" I thought. 

"Knock, knock, knock." I awoke from my daydream to a knock on the door. 

"Just when it was getting good." I murmured. 

So, I walked toward the door and hastily opened it. Again, there was no one there. I was starting to get annoyed. After quickly closing it shut, I threw myself back on the couch. 

"It's my sister. Who else could it be? A resident can't be that trippy. Hah! She won't get the best of me! Let's see her try." I thought to myself grinning.

I was forming a plan to startle her the next time she knocks. So, looking around the room, I saw this medical device on top of the desk. It's the one with this... thing you put on your ring finger and beeps out your heart rate; it goes beeeeeeep when it does not detect any (possibly meaning you're a zombie). I... didn't know if I shouldn't play with it. It must be worth a ton of money. So, I crept back to the couch empty handed, continuing Batman to chase away my annoyance. But after an hour, there was still no knocking. 

"Maybe she's finally asleep." I said to Joker's face as I finished the volume. 

Since I was still not sleepy, I began reading another volume. That was when I slowly began falling asleep.

"Knock, knock, knock." I woke up with the comic on my face. 

"AH!" First thing I saw was the enraged Two-Face staring back. 

I put the comic down, and with my heart still beating a hundred miles a minute, I looked at the door angrily. 

"What do you want from me?!" I murmured. 

But after realizing I was scared silly by a comic book, appealed to my anger: "Okay, okay. Calm yourself, Dave. She isn't getting the best of you tonight." I turned on the heart rate monitor and put the thing on my finger.

"Beep... beep... beep..."  I carried it near the door.

"Knock, knock, knock." 

"Damn, she's persistent." I whispered to myself. 

I waited for the next batch of knocks--and they came: "Knock, knock, knock." 

So, I pulled the thing off my finger and "beeeeeeep," went the monitor. I put my ear on the door, hoping to hear hurried footsteps and a "Nurse! Nurse! My Aunt! MY AUNT!"--but I didn't hear anything. I pressed my ear harder against it... still nothing.

About another minute passed and my neck was getting tired when... "knock, knock, knock"--damn it, that was right against my ear!

"No way. There is no way she could've figured me out." I thought.

Frustrated, I put heart rate monitor back on the desk. Then I leaped back on the couch saying "Fuck you, I'm not opening that." inwardly. But the knocking continued--and it was growing louder. 

"Knock, knock, knock."" "Knock, KNOCK, KNOCK!!" 

I covered my ears but about 5 minutes later, it was getting unbearable. It sounded like someone trying bust down the door! I looked at my Aunt who still fast asleep. How in the world could she not hear that ruckus?!

I walked to the door enraged. It couldn't be my sister. She wouldn't do this. I looked through the fish-eye and (surprise) there was still no one there. I held the knob and breathed deeply. "Whoever you are, I'm gonna knock you the fuck out."--that was me talking to the door.

I turned the knob and pulled it with all I could give. The door banged against the wall--but alas: there was still no one there. I sighed and composed myself; I said to the dark corridor in front of me, "Whoever you are--Irene--please, I'd really appreciate some sleep."

I was about to close the door--when to my surprise, I heard a faint knocking. "Knock, knock, knock..." 

I felt the doorknob vibrate in my hands. I looked around. There was no one in front of me and no one behind. I stood there frozen with fear. I was growing goosebumps all over my arms. 

"Knock... knock... knock..." It knocked again! This time with more force but slowly--as if knowing I was right there, holding the door!

After gathering up my wits, I managed to closed the door before it knocked again. (It actually didn't. Those were the last knocks I heard that night.) But what made my hair stand on end was what I saw after I turned back: The crucifix was upside-down. I know it isn't much of a scary sight, but it was then I knew--something else was in the room with us. And it went in when I opened the door.

I snuggled up with Aunt Amber and spent the whole night awake, hoping whatever it was wouldn't bug me anymore. 

We went home the next morning. I didn't tell anyone about what happened except my best friend, who told me it could be what she called a "Soul-sucker," (or Death itself) trying to drain what's left of Aunt Amber's spiritual energy. She said my energy could have blocked it from taking Aunt Amber herself. A friend from UST said that it could be a soldier's lost soul as the site where the hospital is built was a former garrison.

To this day, I still don't know who to believe in. I don't even know if I should believe myself whenever I recount the experience. But somewhere in my mind, is the memory of what happened--and how undeniable it was.

3. Good Evening, Father.

When I was a kid, I was a real fan of Halloween. It was quite an occasion back in my province. People would dress up as different creatures without looking slutty; they go out to really put on a scare, not for a change of profile pictures. Back then, horror movies were good not because of special effects or gore, but because of a good story line. Halloween was real. My grandparents team up to spread (even more) urban legends to us kids to make sure we make home early. While I don't really approve of their methods, I particularly remember listening to this one story about the aswang--a mysterious lady fading into the night as a demon, taking kids who are still out late and feeding on them. Mom told me about the aswang once abducting a kid from our village so graphically, I was downright scared to stay out after dusk. Of course, I told my playmates about it and (thank goodness), they were scared, too.

One Halloween, a feast--or as we Filipinos coin it, a pista was held in our town. Banderitas were hung across the streets and we kids were allowed to take a shot of wine or two. Karaoke machines blared kundimans and Aerosmith songs from house to house. Figuring we wouldn't get any sleep that night, mom allowed us to stay out late. But remembering her old aswang story, we were careful not to go past midnight. Besides, what kind of mysterious demon-lady would choose to appear in the middle of a drunk town, right? The tanods and kagawads are all out on patrol. 

Shrugging off our worries, we faded into the crowd; carefully steering our way from house to house and only eating little from each host who gladly welcomed us so we get a taste of all the treats everyone has to offer. We went by Aling Nena's, Manang Lucing's, Manong Tanoc's, Aling Bora's... but we could only eat (and drink) so much. The townsfolk (merry and albeit drunk) just never tire of karaoke and we needed some peace and quiet. So, after we were filled, we headed for the church. Some of my playmates had the mind to go home, so we let them. My best friend Berto was the only one left for company. He, too, was drunk and I thought we could get some sleep in the church pews. So we walked church-ward trying not to trip over our own legs. The road (which back then was unpaved and unlit), set an eerie atmosphere. Berto shared his corny ghost stories so we wouldn't mind how dizzy we felt. He was babbling something about a creature called the tikbalang when I looked around and noticed: the trees beside the road are getting dense. If I were a first timer in those parts, I'd daydream about being in The Jungle Book. I've completely forgotten about the aswang! Anyway, after what seemed like forever, we finally reached the church.

Hoping to find Father Aman there, we went in without knocking. We stepped on stage and behind the pulpit, we screamed. 

"Father Amaaaaaan!" Our drunken, high-pitched voices echoed across the dark chapel. 

"Father Amaaaaaan!" 

Looks like he's not here. We looked at each other and laughed at ourselves. What were we thinking, screaming in an empty chapel? We must be losing our heads. Anyway, remembering why I decided to take Berto there in the first place, I suggested he get some sleep on a pew. Strangely, he took my advice and laid down without complain. Man, he must be really drunk. So, I just sat there, standing watch as he slept.

A while later, I was falling asleep, too. When suddenly, he sat up in a quick jolt and grabbed my arm. It felt like he was going to rip off my sleeve!

"Ano ba?! (What the?!)" I said in surprise. 

I was met with silence. 

"Gurg..." sounds like he was trying to talk to me. 

"Ano? (What?)" I replied. 

Suddenly, he stood up and pulled me as he race walked down the aisle. His head was down and he was walking in one direction. It became clear all the sudden: he wanted to throw up. The bathroom was all the way to the back of the church though. Berto's throat already got the best of him in the hall.

"Urrrrgh." "Urrrrgh..." He went, bent over. I patted his back just like any good friend would do to a friend who doesn't know his limits. After fits of (gross sounding) contractions, it looked like he was out of stuff to expel. Not to mention, his junk was all over the hallway! He leaned on the wall, slowly sliding down to the floor. 

"Ano, pre, okay ka lang? (Dude, are you okay?)" I asked. He was breathing slow and deep.

"Huling inom mo na 'yan! Ha ha ha! (That's the last time you drink!)" 

"Gurg..." he responded. That familiar sound... he's got more in him! This time, it was I who grabbed his arm and dragged him out to the boys' room. We arrived just in time.

"Urgh. Urrrrgh." Again he spilled, barely missing the toilet seat.

After I made sure he was good to go, we decided to leave. We stepped outside the comfort room and composed ourselves. There shouldn't be any vomit on our clothes or our parents would know we drank too much. It was then when the church bells rang.

"Bong, bong, bong..." It sounded... unusual. Painfully unusual. It had this deep, dark undertone to it. 

"Bong... bong... bong..." It continued. This time, slower. 

It had gone beyond unusual--it was getting scary. All my mother's tales about the aswang and some other monsters have crept their way back into my head. Listening to the bells, I felt an urge below...

"Berto, maghintay ka dito, a. Iihi lang ako. (Berto, wait here. I have to pee.)"  

"H-hindi! Sasama 'ko. (No! I'll come with you)." he said. 

So, I got back to the boys' room and did my business. Berto stood beside the whole time; it was kinda awkward. When I was done, I had the good sense to tidy up the cubicle. Finally, we made our way out of the bathroom. It had only one door--or should I say door frame. There was no door. You could see the outside. I saw a figure closing in from a distance... a veiled, wide, and tall figure. At first, I thought it was an aswang. But as it walked closer, I realized it was Father Aman! How in the world am I to explain the mess in the hallway?!

I hurried to the door, but unfortunately, it was there we came across each other. 

"Good evening, Father!" I greeted him, trying not to sound obvious. I

 didn't look up (he was 6 foot something); instead, I went out as he entered. My chest bumped against his abdomen, shortening any confrontation the might happen (a long one would seem awkward with both of us leaning against each other). Finally, I was out of the bathroom and he was inside. What a relief. I looked around and realized Berto was nowhere to be found! Where is he?! Did the aswang take him?!

I ran as quick as I could to go home. I was still pink from being drunk, but I didn't care if my parents found out; not anymore. I ran for my life! I didn't care if I trip. Who knows what that demented lady did to Berto?! I could be next!

I jumped over our wooden fence, rushing with all my might to get to the doorway. Good thing the door was open; I barged in and tried the fridge for water (the room with the door leading outside was our kitchen). All the lights were out and it was really quiet. Mom and Dad must've already hit the sack. I tried to tip-toe to the living room, but it was very hard to balance. I guess I swung my arm in the wrong direction and spilled some water on the kitchen floor. I felt it splash on my toes. So, I put my glass down on the table and fetched a rug from the counter. As I bent down to wipe the floor, I heard a sound. It was like someone whimpering. I looked under the table and was dumbfounded at what I saw. It was Berto! He was lying under the table, curled up in fear. He was crying and breathing heavily. "Berto?!" I pulled him out. He looked even paler in the moonlight.

 "Anong nangyari sa 'yo?! (What happened to you?!)" 

"S-si F-f..." he struggled to speak.

 "Ano? (What?)" I asked. 

"S-si... Si Father Aman..." 

"Ano? Ano?" 

"W-wala... Walang ulo! (He's headless!)" 

My hair stood on end. "S-si Father Aman?"

I got goosebumps all over my arms. I couldn't answer. I just stared at him, frozen and growing pale.

The next Sunday, I couldn't go to church. But my family forced me enough to come along. I saw Father Aman there. Apart from a slight increase in attendance, there was nothing new. I even asked Father if he went to the church that night. 

"Hindi, nasa Rome ako last month pa. Hindi ka nagsisimba, ha. Hindi 'yan maganda. (No, in fact I was in Rome since last month. You have missing church a lot. That isn't good.)"--I was scolded in return. 

Whoever it was I came across that night remains a mystery. I've never heard the bells ring that way again, too, and I'm thankful for it.