Undas: Philippine Ghost Stories

It's Dark Out

This story happened to my uncle in the province of Nueva Ecija.

Now, you have to understand that, in the Philippines, there's a huge gap in the kind of environment people who live in Metro Manila and people who live in the provinces thrive in.

There are, for example, still areas in the provinces where cell towers aren't commonplace. You'd have to trek way out of your village to get a decent signal. There are places where plumbing is scarce and the villagers have to share a single water pump for their daily needs. It could be that only one house in the entire barangay has a television and everyone else would convene there so they could watch the noontime variety shows. A trip to the city could take hours on a tractor pulled by either a sputtering engine or a weary water buffalo.

In these areas, a blackout could paralyze an entire populace, plunging the barangay into suffocating darkness on a cloud-covered night. It was on a dark, summer night like this when my uncle had the most frightening experience of his life.

At the time, he lived with his wife, their newborn son, a baby girl on the way, and his wife's parents (In most cultures in Asia, it's normal for both the immediate and extended family to live under one roof).

The power went out during the afternoon, so they already had candles at the ready. Rather than stumble blindly throughout their modest home to reach each other when it got dark, they elected to stay at the kubo (nipa hut) my uncle had built across the street from their house. It was small-a single, doorless room with benches lining the walls and a wooden table at the center. The hut overlooked a shallow gorge that dipped down into an ankle-deep river that ran the length of their street.

When night came, my uncle and his family ate dinner at the hut by candlelight. There was no television or radio so they told each other stories, played cards and chess, and basically kept themselves busy as they waited for the day's weariness to set in.

My grandparents caved first, bidding everyone good night. It had gotten deathly dark, with only a tiny bit of starlight glinting off the river's surface.

"Don't stay out too late," my grandmother, ever the superstitious one, told them. "The neighbors' dogs keep barking it night. Can't be a good sign."

After a while, my aunt decided to turn in too, carrying their sleeping son with her. That left my uncle who decided to clean up the hut first. He was about to toss their leftovers over the back of the kubo and into the river when he saw it.

A shadow watched him from the middle of the water. That's how my uncle described it. A solid black outline that somehow stood out from the blackness of the night, skin indistinguishable from the rest of its surroundings. The only reason my uncle noticed it at all was because of how its thin, spindly legs broke the water's surface-and the fact that it was staring right at him. The whites of the humanoid creatures eyes stood starkly against its skin and it didn't so much smile at my uncle as it did show its teeth, yellow and crooked. It crouched low, or maybe it was just really short and childlike-there was no way of knowing in the dark.

As my uncle watched, the thing closed its mouth and then its eyes, effectively vanishing from sight. He continued to stare at the spot where he saw the creature, watching for any sign of its return.

And then he heard a splash. And then another. And then another.

Each one echoing closer and closer...

...until the next sound was the crunch of gravel at the bottom of the gorge.

My uncle bolted, scattering plates and leftovers across the hut's floor. He plunged into the darkness to cross their street, not daring to glance behind him. He slammed their doors closed, locking the deadbolt in place. His pulse hammered in his ears, breathing quick and shallow, as he collapsed against the two-inch-thick slab of wood that stood between him and whatever was out there.

He stayed there, ear pressed against the wood, listening. When nothing came knocking, he decided that maybe the tiredness had just gotten to him. The splashing could have been anything. Those teeth and eyes-he shuddered-a trick of the light. It was nothing.

My aunt was sleeping when he finally went to bed. Even after deciding and convincing himself that it had all been his imagination, he struggled to fall asleep. When he did, it was not a restful one.

He woke up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat and the overwhelming feeling that something was wrong. The world was a bit too silent, the shadows a bit too dark, his vision a bit too narrow, and the air a bit too thin. Although his eyes were open and he knew he was fully awake, he couldn't move, couldn't talk.

His eyes darted to my aunt, hoping the sight of her would give him a little bit of courage.

What he saw only filled him with dread.

The shadow from the river sat by his wife, crouched over her body. The bit of moonlight that streamed through their windows glinted against the shadow's ebony skin. Though its hands hovered over his wife's pregnant belly, the creature's gaze and grin were again fixed on my uncle.

Up close, my uncle could now see how small the creature really was, as if it were a small child.

They stared at each other, unmoving for what seemed like an eternity, when suddenly, the row of glinting yellow teeth parted.

The creature opened its mouth and a sound came out, an ear-piercing screech that my uncle described as like cold nails being driven into his skull, a numbing pain that made him wish he could clamp his hands over his ears. My uncle's vision blurred and when it cleared again, the creature had vanished, leaving nary a trace.

Their neighbors' dogs erupted into a symphony of barking. Almost instantly, my uncle could move again. He jostled my aunt awake. His panic was enough to alarm her into alertness. They scrambled to check on their son and my grandparents to make sure they were all safe.

That night, their son slept in their room. My uncle stayed awake until dawn.

They had their house blessed that weekend as well as the river. If anyone else in their street had seen the creature, no one spoke of it. The creature never reappeared, but my uncle never stayed out in the dark again. He didn't think he'd survive it a third time.