Some of you may not know that I lived on the farm for several years—nine years to be exact—without proper electricity. We are highly dependable with our batteries and solar panels, but they will not last long. Life on a farm is truly hard and unbearable when you experience the deepest lows of not earning much because your crops are either destroyed by typhoons or pests. I would like you to imagine a place with absolute darkness, and the only light you can see is the moonlight.
I was around eleven or twelve years old at the time when my father asked me to go with him to get some wood in the middle of the secluded area. I’ve known the place’s history since my grandfather always shared a creepy experience he had when he was young, too. We were walking to the forest-like place, and I enjoyed my time glorifying the different animals I encountered. You will not believe that I hopped on a horse at that time because the owner was asking me to experience it as well.
The fun started; we strolled around a few times, and my father decided to continue going to the secluded area. We crossed the river because it was too far away if we were going the other way. The place seemed calm; heaps of various trees could be spotted, and there were no animals living there aside from some flying birds. My father started to cut trees, or branches of trees, to be exact, and I was the one stacking them in a proper way. I knew exactly where we came from, but at that time, we always ended up in the same place, near where we cut branches of trees.
I knew you were thinking that this was impossible to be off track, but I was telling you now. It confused me, and my father started to get mad. It was a popular belief that you had to reverse your shirt and the elements would stop toying with you. But we didn’t do that. Since we had plenty of ropes because of the woods, my father decided to tie them to the nearest tree, and we started walking again.
Surprisingly, we didn’t get back to the same place, but we still walked down the same path we had taken earlier. I decided to stay near the bridge, and my father went back to loosen the rope.
On the same night, I couldn’t understand the logic of why we kept getting back to the same place over and over again when we had just walked the exact same path. The creepy, confusing story didn’t end there. We finished dinner early that time because it was our usual given the fact that we had no electricity. I did my usual routine, which was brushing my teeth, washing my feet, and preparing my bed with a mosquito net (or kulambo). It was around 7:30 p.m. when my family decided to get some sleep, and my body knew exactly that the moment I lay down, I would fall fast asleep.
My window was widely opened because if I didn’t, it would be so hot inside my room. I don’t have an electric fan to use or open. If you were looking at my window from the inside, you'd see two mango trees and a mini hut in the middle. I was horrified by the unexpected, and when I opened my eyes, there was a black figure standing in my window. Like, literally, a darkened image of a black woman, she was just there and doing nothing. I tell you, that time I didn’t get scared at all.
Instead of shouting and wrapping myself with a blanket, I sat on my bed and touched the black lady. I couldn’t reach her so much, but it was enough for me to feel her presence. This young man of yours even asked, "Ano bang ginagawa mo dito? (What do you do here?)" I do not know why I asked that question, but I know I had to if I wanted an answer. She didn’t reply back. She stood still until I turned back to get the flashlight on the right side of my pillow, and when I looked back at her again, she wasn’t there anymore.
The moment I remembered what my grandfather said to me a long time ago about an old woman who used to live alone in the old hut since her husband died. There were no days when she didn’t wear a black dress, a black shirt, or any black clothes. As far as I remembered, my grandfather was around 40 at the time when an old woman’s husband died. It was a famous story that she appeared in the woods or would follow people to their houses. I believed that since the old woman’s husband was quite a terror, only a few people visited and attended the funeral.
In the morning, I was burning like charcoal, and I told them what I saw last night. My grandmother was furious, and my grandfather went to the old woman’s house and lit a candle. I had no idea what that was for, but it was effective because, before sunrise, my 39-degree fever suddenly went down. I didn’t drink any paracetamol because my grandfather believed that it was the old woman’s doing, and he was right. It was a story that only a few in my family knew, and now you do, too.