Creepy Personal Stories

I was talk­ing to my boyfriend Chris about my blog. He won­dered why I didn’t have blog entries for Octo­ber. I was busy with work, I told him. Now that I have all the time in my hands, I said I would write about creepy, scary sto­ries since it is almost Hal­loween. He sug­gest­ed that I write about local leg­ends and myths as well. Chris is Nava­jo, ghosts and creepy stuff are not strange to him too. I’m tack­ling hor­ror sto­ries first.

Most of these sto­ries hap­pened in my house. The land where it stands used to be a Japan­ese camp dur­ing the war. Sev­er­al psy­chics have vis­it­ed, and the con­sen­sus was, our land was soaked in blood. Bless­ings and cleans­ing cer­e­monies had been con­duct­ed. It is gen­er­al­ly tame now. Those who lin­gered are just play­ful. They aren’t real­ly both­er­some, but they tend to be active dur­ing cer­tain times. We’ve come to accept that we have house­mates. There were too many weird things that hap­pened. I’m pick­ing the ones that I couldn’t for­get.

The Tall Black Man


By black, I didn’t mean race — a tall “man” that wore all black, who didn’t have a face.

When I was in col­lege, it was my habit to go home a bit late (but not all the time). My late aunt, who was my father’s younger sis­ter, was vis­it­ing. My aunt was weird by nor­mal stan­dards — she was psy­chic, and a very sen­si­tive one at that. She saw things, made pre­dic­tions which came to pass. One night, I got home and found her in the kitchen. I did a mano po (Fil­ipinos’ way of show­ing respect. Think giv­ing respect to The God­fa­ther). There were two doors in our house — the main door and the kitchen. My back was to the kitchen door when my aunt told me some­thing that stopped me in my tracks. “You should stop com­ing home late,” my aunt said. “Why?” I asked, a lit­tle annoyed. She said that there was a tall, black man behind me. I almost jumped when I heard that. Mind you, I was a lit­tle drunk, and I think I sobered up in 2 sec­onds. “What black man?” I asked, aghast. She said she saw this tall, black man milling about out­side the house since she got here. She couldn’t see his face, only that he wears this long, black coat. His hair was a bit long and unruly. He couldn’t enter our house as it is well pro­tect­ed. This enti­ty goes with me wher­ev­er I go, she said. He didn’t seem to want to harm me, he was giv­ing off a pro­tec­tive vibe. She was adamant that he wasn’t human. I stopped going home late after that.

The Watch­er from the Win­dow


I live in a 2 sto­ry house. The mul­ti­me­dia desk­top just came out. My dad bought one, and nat­u­ral­ly, every­one was abuzz about it. It used to be locat­ed down­stairs. I used to stay up late at night on the com­put­er, with all the win­dows open. I used it when every­one else has had their fun. This was all good until my late aunt (again) took me aside. “Don’t stay up too late down­stairs,” she said. What is it now? “Did you ever feel like some­one was look­ing at you when­ev­er you are down there? Felt some­one blow on your ear or on your face? Did your com­put­er often shut down for no rea­son, or the lights flick­er­ing?” I said yes under my breath but all I could mut­ter was why. She said there was this face­less enti­ty who keep look­ing at me through the win­dows when­ev­er I was down there late at night. This wasn’t the black man, it was some­thing else, and had a nasty vibe.  It had been try­ing to get inside the house but was unsuc­cess­ful. I decid­ed it was best we moved the com­put­er upstairs. Nev­er­the­less, my late night com­put­er ses­sions stopped.

The Man by the Sink

In our house­hold, nobody real­ly sleeps reg­u­lar hours. When my broth­er still lived with us, he would be up at odd hours too, just like me. One night, around 230 am, I went down to do some busi­ness in the bath­room. We usu­al­ly leave the bath­room door ajar when it is late so that light could stream into the kitchen. Any­way, I was read­ing some­thing (a habit when in the bath­room) when I thought I saw some­one passed by.  “John, is that you? Are you up?”,  I called out. I didn’t get a reply so I fig­ured, he must be grumpy or just ignor­ing me. I heard move­ments in the kitchen, and I thought the water was left run­ning. I called out again and asked what was going on. I peered my head through the bath­room door and I saw some­one stand­ing by the kitchen sink. And it wasn’t my broth­er. This guy was wear­ing camisa de chi­no (turn of the cen­tu­ry Fil­ipino shirt) and dark gray trousers. He turned his head side­ways toward me, as if say­ing “Oh, I didn’t see you there.” I could dis­cern he was in his 30’s. It is still vivid in my memory—how he turned his head to look at me, how tall he was, his cloth­ing, but strange­ly, not his face. I hon­est­ly couldn’t remem­ber how I left the bath­room, if I flushed or washed myself, or how fast I ran. I just found myself in my bed­room, hud­dled and con­fused, won­der­ing if I sleep­walked or dreamed it. We kept cham­ber­pots in the room until now after I told them about that inci­dent.

The Play­ful House­mate


Chris nick­named him Casper. I told him about some creepy hap­pen­ings as of late. He said why not write about Casper as well. Casper has been turn­ing appli­ances on — air­con, the TV, the fan.

The air­con is in my room. I would turn it off, and I’m not even out the door yet, it would turn on. Or I would be down­stairs, I would hear it being turned on. My mom heard him too, and would just dis­miss it.

There was this recent inci­dent with my broth­er John. He just came home from Qatar. He liked sleep­ing in the liv­ing room as it was airy. He turned on the fan, kept it in a mov­ing direc­tion. He would wake up shiv­er­ing and find the fan point­ed steady at him. This hap­pened many times, and he would be like, “I’m so sleepy. Quit it and let me sleep.” He also felt like he was being watched. The same inci­dents hap­pened to my uncle as well.

Some­thing hap­pened recent­ly. I texted Chris about it as it hap­pened. I was home alone. It was day­time. I turned the TV off and went to my bed­room. From my bed­room, I was sur­prised to hear TV blast­ing on. I thought some­one came home. I went down again and turned it off, unplugged the out­let. I didn’t even reach my bed­room when I heard it being turned on. Before any­one says it could just be a mechan­i­cal or elec­tri­cal thing (or I was los­ing my mind), trust me, I checked and prop­er­ly inves­ti­gat­ed. Being exposed in the para­nor­mal field, I don’t eas­i­ly jump to con­clu­sions, and often try to keep my wits about. I didn’t get scared, until I remem­bered the out­let was unplugged, I was alone, and it start­ed to rain hard.

When I’m bored (and a lit­tle unnerved coz he is up to his usu­al antics), I would some­times talk to Casper. “Why don’t you bring me gold, or give me win­ning lot­tery num­bers. Make your­self use­ful for once.” Things die down when­ev­er I say that.

The Haunt­ed Con­do

I was stay­ing in this con­do in the Man­daluy­ong area. It was pret­ty cheap for a one bed­room con­do. It was lat­er on that I real­ized why.

When I first entered the con­do, I felt like I was pushed, and it took me by sur­prise. It was as if I was intrud­ing. The atmos­phere felt heavy. Mind you, the place itself didn’t look men­ac­ing or remote­ly scary. It was taste­ful­ly dec­o­rat­ed, with all the mod­ern ameni­ties, and the walls were in ecru. There was this big mir­ror in the bed­room, fac­ing the bed. I nev­er liked mir­rors fac­ing the bed so I cov­ered it. I tried to get a sense of the place and I felt unease. I also kept get­ting light­head­ed. I brushed it aside.

the tap looked like this

On the first night, my cousins in Mani­la came to vis­it. That night, we were drink­ing togeth­er with my then boyfriend. Around 2 am, every­one left. I cleaned the con­do, then got ready to show­er and do oth­er night­ly rit­u­als. I went to the bath­room first to show­er and sud­den­ly, the show­er turned on. I was tak­en a back, but not scared. Must be the water pres­sure, I said. I decid­ed to brush my teeth instead. To turn on the water, there was this tap where you pull it up to turn the water on, pull it down to turn off. Before I could even put my hand on the tap, I saw it being pulled up slow­ly. AAACKKKK!!! I ran as fast as I could down­stairs. The night guard was sur­prised to see me, espe­cial­ly when I was just clad in a tow­el, bare­foot. He asked what hap­pened. I didn’t tell him, I only said I need him to accom­pa­ny me to unit xxxx. “Did you say you are stay­ing in unit xxxx?” he repeat­ed. I nod­ded and the guard said, “Why don’t I get you a blan­ket and just stay here in the lob­by until there is day­light?” Gath­er­ing from his sud­den ner­vous look, I didn’t ask why as I was shook. My boyfriend came as soon as there was day­light. We moved out right then and there. I didn’t tell him what hap­pened until we were safe­ly out of the build­ing. He was glad I didn’t.

Lat­er on, I did some dig­ging and found out that some­one com­mit­ted sui­cide in that unit. I was the fifth renter after it had been vacant for 6 months. Most of the renters couldn’t stay long too. The last time I passed by that place, I saw that they changed the name of the con­do.

It’s 215 am now and I need to go down­stairs to brush my teeth.

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