Heirloom Ghost Stories
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Illustration by Alex G. Paman
Specifically, family ghost stories.
Growing up in the Philippines, ghost stories abounded wherever I went -- from the deep province to the city, from home to school to movies and television; I heard them from classmates, older siblings, and even from my parents, especially when discussing a relative who just suddenly passed away.
Ghosts were never too far away, and as frightful as they were, they were accepted as just a part of life. Of course, faith and religion were our only safeguards against them, along with occasional folk shaman remedies.
On those hot and humid nights when rolling blackouts meant spending the evening outside to cool down, there was an eerie glee in sharing ghost stories with others over candlelight. Of course, hearing scary stories from other people was just as sinfully fun, and it just gave the listener even more ammo for the next session of storytelling with another group.
Looking back at those days now through the lens of a grown writer, I’ve developed a deeper appreciation for this genre, beyond just the cheap scares. In a sense, exchanging ghostly tales is akin to the pollen shared by bees; they are to be spread everywhere so that our oral traditions can continue. In the shadow of modern technology, where communication has been reduced mostly to text messages and emails, the value of these stories has never been more important.
Because personal ghost stories are unique to ourselves and our families, they deserve to be recorded and remembered for posterity, like priceless heirlooms. No two are exactly alike, and they are directly connected to our family’s history and lineage.
To this end, my friend, Eric Canites, and I have created content for a YouTube channel to keep these stories alive. Titled “The Filipino Supernatural,” it’s a series of video shorts that re-tell classic tales from my family, presented with still images, sound effects and narration that’s reminiscent of old-style storytelling around candlelight.
It is our hope that, through our efforts, families will write their own stories down and re-tell them with each new generation. Not only does it perpetuate their family history and identity, but it also gives uniquely signature scares during Halloween.
Having been born in the Philippines but raised in America, I’ve found that one of the best sources of ghost stories is family reunions. You’re unlikely to meet someone there who doesn’t have a story tell you. On one such reunion, from ten years ago, came this eerie tale:
Something on my mind
It’s often been said that children can see things that others -- particularly adults -- can’t…or won’t. Whether it’s something as simple as creating make-believe friends, to even remembering details of a past life, children seem as cognitive as they are vulnerable to forces beyond what we can see or measure. Is it their imagination? Or do they truly have senses or abilities that become dull and forgotten as they grow up?
Anabel was the only child of a young couple who attended school in a small barrio in the deep province. She was an above-average student with plenty of friends, but she was also known to have a short temper. On more than one occasion, her teachers, and even the principal, had called her parents to discuss certain disagreements (or altercations, depending who you asked) with classmates over grades.
“Having been born in the Philippines but raised in America, I’ve found that one of the best sources of ghost stories is family reunions”
But those behavioral issues aside, she was an otherwise normal child.
Which was why her father noticed immediately the subtle change in her appearance one night during dinner.
“Anabel,” he commented, staring at her hair, “are you wearing your hair differently?”
“No, sir,” she replied.
“Did someone in school cut it?
She looked down and away. “No, po.”
“It looks fine,” reassured her mom. “If someone in school is giving you trouble, be sure to let us know, alright?”
Anabel nodded, then went to her room.
The next few days were quiet and uneventful, and all seemed well. But a week later, her appearance continued to be scrutinized.
“Again with the hair?” asked her father. “Why are you wearing it that way? It’s almost as if you’re trying to cover something up.”
“Are you fighting with your classmates again? Is someone harassing you in school?”
“No, mom,” she reiterated. “No one in school is teasing me.”
“Dad, go to her school tomorrow, please,” said her mom. “We need to get to the bottom of this.”
“I will, believe me,” he said. “No one is going to mess with our girl.”
“Can I sleep with you and dad tonight?” said Anabel, almost begging. “Please?”
“Of course, you can,” said her mom. “Don’t worry, all of this will be taken care of.”
They sent her off to school the following day. That night, however, the parents began talking just as they were setting up the dinner table.
“I spoke to the principal and her teachers,” said the father. “They insist that no one is giving Anabel problems. They’ve noticed her appearance, too.”
“How can that be? Why is she acting and looking that way, then? She does have some anger issues, so it must be towards something. Or someone.”
“Let’s get to the point and ask her. Anabel? Time for dinner, honey. Come on out and join us.”
Mom and Dad stared at each other anxiously when it took their daughter an inordinate amount of time to come out. When she finally did, they both gasped in shock.
Anabel was nearly bald, her scalp bleeding in strings from her hair being torn out by their roots. But even with the clumps of hair snaking out of her balled fists, Anabel wasn’t scared or crying. She was just furious.
“Oh my god,” screamed her mother, rushing to embrace her. “Who did this to you?”
The father grabbed a towel and immediately rested it on her head to dab the blood. “You heard your mother. Who did this?”
“The little boy, daddy,” she said with a frown.
“What? There’s a little boy inside your room?” He grabbed a butter knife and stood up.
“No, daddy. It’s that little boy who lives in the corner of my room. The one who never leaves? He’s been there since we moved in.”
The mother stared back in disbelief. “But there’s no boy living in this house. It’s just us three. You, me, and daddy.”
“Sure there is, mom. He’s a ghost. He’s always saying things just to get on my nerves. I normally try to ignore him, but lately, he’s been too much. Since I can’t take it out on anyone in school, I just take it out on myself. He makes me so mad, I just want to rip my own hair out.”
The Filipino Supernatural YouTube channel can be found on this link:
The Filipino Supernatural YouTube channel
Merchandise related to the channel can also be accessed on this link:
Alex Paman
Alex G. Paman is a graphic designer and freelance journalist who lives in Sacramento, California. He is the author of “Filipino Ghost Stories” with Tuttle/Periplus, and “Asian Supernatural, including Hawai’i and the Pacific” with Mutual Publishing.
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