In a quiet neighborhood nestled amongst the trees, where history and ethereal tales intermingled, lived a couple, Amelia and John. Amelia’s ancestral home stood amidst the compound of five houses, each housing stories of their own. The setting held a past marred by the echoes of Katipunero soldiers traversing the land to reach Balintawak, a history laden with battles and lost lives.
Though surrounded by whispers of apparitions and spirits, Amelia embraced the coexistence of the seen and unseen, including her husband John’s third eye that cautiously gazed into the paranormal. While Amelia’s home held its unique stories, John was still hesitant to sleep within its walls. He shared tales of maids encountering spectral visitors and battled his own apprehensions.
As nightfall embraced the couple, the comfort of the bedroom beckoned them. As they lounged, conversing and watching television, John confessed that despite his initial fears, he had yet to witness anything supernatural in the house. Teasingly, Amelia chided that perhaps the ghosts didn’t fancy his company. The TV dimmed, and the couple nestled into bed, lulled by the hum of the air conditioning.
As the room embraced tranquility, John’s expression changed, his face drained of color. He whispered, “Honey, something’s sitting at the end of the bed beside me.” Amelia dismissed it as an overactive imagination, a trick of the mind in the quiet hours. John persisted, claiming he felt the bed shift beside him. Amelia pulled him close, soothing his fears with an embrace, gently jesting that it might be a friendly ghost dropping in to say hello.
Amelia’s nonchalance was a testament to her familiarity with the supernatural. Her house was home to various entities, each peacefully coexisting with the living. Her room bore the presence of a benevolent entity, one she shared space with since her youth. As John clung to her, seeking reassurance, Amelia remained unfazed by the unseen.
As they drifted into slumber, a surreal hush enveloped the room. Yet, John’s apprehension intensified, and he roused Amelia, his face marked by alarm. He stammered, “Honey, it’s not at the end of the bed anymore. It’s touching my—”
Interrupting his words, Amelia calmly suggested they recite a prayer, a beacon of protection against the unknown. Retrieving a vial of holy water, she gently sprayed the room, hoping its sanctity would bring respite to whatever entity lingered near.
Together, they clasped their hands and uttered their prayers, the tranquil rhythm guiding them into sleep. Sunlight kissed the curtains as dawn broke, revealing a room unchanged. Amelia stirred, awoken by the morning rays filtering through the windows. Beside her, John blinked awake, the previous night’s events a blur.
The hours of the night had given way to morning, as the passage of time seemed to have washed away any lingering unease. Amelia and John shared a knowing look, the events of the night now part of their collective memory. The spirits of the ancestral home remained intertwined with their lives, their stories, and their embrace.