By Farah G. Decano

 

​HALLOWEEN is creeping closer, and after a misguided deep-dive into horror documentaries, my imagination has been running wild. To purge this unnecessary fear, I’m passing on a couple of my own, real-life chilling experiences. Damay-damay na lang. *wink*

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​In June 2012, I was a facilitator for a youth forum in Baguio City. My mother joined me in my room at a top hotel. That first night, I returned to find she’d scattered religious “stampita” cards everywhere. She explained she felt a “creepy” presence.  Exhausted, I brushed off her fear.

 ​The next morning, I advised my mother to take breakfast ahead because I still needed to bathe. While I was in the shower, two loud, solid knocks struck the door. I ignored them. Then, two more—firmer, more impatient. I rushed my bath, dressed quickly, and peered through the peephole.

A hazy image of a woman with short hair was visible, but she wasn’t facing the door. She was looking sideways.  

​“Yes?” I called out. No answer. I repeated myself, louder. The woman remained frozen, a blurry, side-facing silhouette. Annoyed, I thought it was a prank, ignored the final pair of knocks, and finished dressing.

​Later, my father explained it was likely a ghostly encounter. Folk tales often describe apparitions that avoid a frontal appearance, presenting themselves only sideways. No wonder the image was so blurry—I’d initially thought the peephole was just dirty. I was an oblivious victim of an apparition. I still wonder what the ghost felt after its failed attempt to scare me.

​My second encounter took place in 2015 at a newer Baguio hotel. I was checking in with two colleagues for a city government delegation. They got to the room ahead of me and texted the number: Room 312.

​While I showered, I struggled to regulate the scalding water. Then, the toilet flushed itself. I mentally blamed the cheap hotel malfunctions.

​It was only when I got out that my colleagues asked, “Did you feel anything in the bathroom?” One confessed that the shower turned on and off while she used it. The other admitted to feeling a heavy aura surrounding her that kept her nervously spinning around

​As we discussed their experiences, the shower in our bathroom suddenly switched on. It sprayed a heavy stream of soaking water, then abruptly stopped.

​“We need to leave,” one whispered.

“No, we have to stay,” the other countered.

​At that moment, the shower turned on again. Fear finally seized me. We immediately transferred to another room.

​But the story didn’t end. That Saturday, back home in Dagupan, I received a text at 10 PM: “Rm 312.”

​Chilled, I called the colleague I thought had sent it. She swore she hadn’t; the last time she messaged me, the room number was Wednesday. Could a text be delayed for three days?

​That night, I dreamt that I was back inside Room 312. While in there, I felt fear and courage battling inside me.  Determined to pray for the unknown presence, I recited the Apostle’s Creed and stepped into the shower room to cleanse the area. The moment my foot crossed the threshold, I was instantly, inexplicably, outside the hotel room door. Then, I woke up.

​Was it a ghost needing prayer? A spirit trying to claim me through a bangungot? Or just bizarre coincidences knitted neatly together?

​For all their unsettling nature, these encounters have deepened my dependence on prayer. For if God is with you, who can go against you? Human or ghost.