|Janiuay Cemetery - built in 1875. Middle entrance.|
I am a big fan of horror stories. Growing up in a Spiritista environment, my grandfather used to receive visitors from neighboring barangays dealing with their personal problems and creating, let just say weird solutions. When he was still alive, he would wake up early dawn, ride around his mountain bike and by the time I wake up he is already cooking meals and the altar is laden with fresh flowers. Living in the boondocks is one thing I missed. Fresh air, fresh food and plenty of stories abound. My grandfather was a science teacher and also a mananambal. Add to that, some members of the family have third eye. And allegedly, one of my grandmothers was an aswang. Sad to say I did not inherit any of her powers, I could use a wing to fly all over the archipelago. Up to now, I do not know how did that story came up. Speculations from relatives and hand me down info revealed that one time when my uncle accompanied my lolo (her husband) to their house, it was a great surprise to see my lola (the alleged aswang) having red eyes and unkempt hair. In my case, anyone can look grumpy when awaken in the middle of the night.
Growing up, I have my own experiences living in the mountains. I would wake up sometimes having bruises on some parts of my body. Leukemia was not part of the possibility. I was just told that a duwende did it because I was hyper. I did not believe it until one afternoon, my sister and I were playing habolan at a basketball court when all of a sudden a big force hit me (like I was pushed intentionally) and fell into the ground yielding abrasion to my shoulders and knees. The ground was smooth, my slippers were fit, I had good legs and my sister was a few meters away. I went home limping and crying. In the middle of the night, my sister awoke from her sleep and heard my grandfather, in front of a burning candle, calling names and scolding a specific one. I would also get sick during my birthdays for several years and would disappear once my grandfather performs one of his rituals. We have our own stories to tell even the bookstores are flooded with volumes.
I came across several books when I was in college written by Tony Perez, Jaime Licauco and others which was to my delight since I can empathize with the narration. But what struck me the most was the Spirit Quest Chronicles. It was animatedly written, accounts after accounts of journeys to the Spirit World. I was amazed even to learn that there was a course in ADMU for that. But I did not have the confidence to apply. I bought some of the installments and store it in my shelf. I have forgotten its memories not until two months ago I came across two books, Tragic Theater and Tomb Keeper by G.M. Coronel.
|this gave me sleepless nights|
This is a grueling account of de spiriting the Manila Film Center, who plenty have died and was buried alive during its construction as it was hurriedly done to meet the deadline. Despite the tragedy and instead of looking for survivors, the place was covered with cement to be able to hold the first Manila Film International Festival wayback in 1982. I have read several accounts of paranormal activity inside the center as to get healing and forgiveness and yet some went home a failure. So when this came out I bought it right away and was done in minutes but it clang on me for several days. I got restless at night and cannot sleep. I was keeping my room lights on because images were running through my head. I am writing this blog in the hope that the writer would read this.
" Sir Coronel,
I finished your books over soda and food. I never stopped reading up to the last page not only because it was fast paced but it sparked my interest. As I've said I was a lover of horror stories and grew up in an environment full of them. I want you to know that it keep me awake on several nights not because I can remember the name of the Demon who possessed your main character, nor saddened by the stories of the spirits left behind but because the place where the Demon lived in our country as written in your book was in my grandparents hometown. Imagine the surprise when the priest have to travel from Guimaras and locate an old woman in Janiuay. I paused and remembered my vacations I had with my deceased grandparents. The cemetery where your evil spirit walked on and stayed and feast on other poor souls is the same ground where we used to go and lit a candle at the entrance of the church since my great grandmothers tomb was buried underneath during the construction. I hope my great grandmother was not captured by the beast and hoping that she is in the loving arms of our Lord. I went back three weeks ago in the same area but never mentioned it to my 89 year old grandmother nor asked if there was an old lady residing near the cemetery. I pray that those who have been buried earlier, the earliest I saw on the tomb was 1890's, is resting peacefully. I commend you on your two books sir despite having no literary background and hoping the read more from you. May the Lord God continually hear our prayers and save souls from fiery pits of hell.
|giving me the creeps|
|so many years have passed and still no changes|
|i wonder if this moves at night|