There were bizarre and strange happenings I found as I try to recall this part of my childhood. In 1970s, rural Pardo in Cebu was filled with beliefs in local folklore. I even had eerie encounters or maybe just my overactive imagination. From ghostly shadows, whispers at dawn, and tales of witches and doppelgangers to unsettling nights of unexplainable sounds, these memories blend fear, wonder, and the magic of growing up. Such a nostalgic review of my childhood innocence shape a kind of mystery that uniquely defined that era.
The Invisible Slap
One afternoon, I was alone in the living room, playing quietly by myself. I pretended to be a driver, using a fallen chair as a steering wheel. I was fully engrossed in my make-believe world when, out of nowhere, someone slapped the back of my head very hard. I immediately turned around, startled. I knew I was alone. Mama was in the kitchen, and no one else was supposed to be home. But I clearly heard someone running through the three connecting rooms, from one to the next, all the way to the last room.
I searched every corner, even inside cabinets. But no one was there. I waited, hoping whoever it was would reveal themselves, but no one ever did. Later on, all my other siblings came in from the outside of the house. To this day, I still don’t know who or what it was. I only hoped, at the time, that it was human.
A Ghostly Shadow
One dark night stands out vividly. There was a brownout, and we all gathered on our porch to share ghost stories. As we spoke, we suddenly heard a rattling at the wooden, grilled front door. We thought someone was outside. I peeked out, and there it was a shadow, clearly forming a human silhouette. I gasped and shouted that I had seen a ghost.To this day, I still wonder: was it real, or just a figment of my overactive imagination? But as a child, everything felt real. And if the elders said something was true, I believed it wholeheartedly.
The Neighborhood Witch
There was also a woman in our neighborhood who people whispered was a witch. Her eyes were red and somewhat terrifying to a child, so were her son’s. When she walked by our house, we children would mischievously shout, “Balen Ongo!” (Balen, the witch!). She always walked quickly, barely looking anyone in the eye.But one time, when I stared at her closely, I noticed her eyes were oddly red. What made things even stranger was that her son seemed to have the same eerie traits. Looking back, it may have been cruel, but that was how we coped with things we didn’t understand.
Back then, people believed that an "ongo" possessed supernatural powers. According to stories, an "ongo" could transform into different animals, most commonly a pig. But this wasn’t an ordinary pig. This one wore wooden sandals, which locals referred to as “anay nga nagbakya.” That sound of wooden clogs in the night became something to fear.
An Ongo is also said to have companions. One of them is a creature of the night called the "Sigbin", a strange animal that supposedly looked like a kangaroo but moved differently, almost hauntingly.
Another was a bird known as the "Kikik", a black night bird named after the chilling “kikik” sound it made as it flew in the darkness.
Both were said to appear only at night, and many folks swore they had encountered them. I, however, never saw any of them myself, only the stories remain with me.
Back in the 70s, especially during brownouts, it was common for boys and girls to gather around under the moonlight. We spoke among ourselves, sharing eerie experiences. But most of the time, we’d sit outside and listen as the elders told stories, tales mostly of witches, the enchanted world, supernatural beings, and ghosts. Those stories weren’t just entertainment. They were part of our growing up that we took by heart.
The Doppleganger
Another strange memory lingers in my mind. One sunny afternoon, I asked my father if I could go with him to the market. He said no and went alone. I stayed home as he told me to. But when he returned, he was furious. He accused me of disappearing from my aunt’s house, he claimed he had left me there before heading to the market. My aunt had even searched for me, worried.
But all along, I was just in the house and never had left. To this day, I wonder: did he see my double? There’s a paranormal term for that, isn’t there? He must be my doppelganger. I must have been around five or six years old at that time.
The Doppleganger Again?
Maybe that explains the confusion I always felt as a child whenever my mom would tell our relatives and visitors that I was a lucky kid. She loved to share a story about how my older brother and sister supposedly won a fortune at a fiesta carnival, all because of me. My brother and sister told her so and showed to her their winnings.Mama would proudly say that thanks to my presence, they always went home with handfuls of coins from the carnival games. But I always never reacted and just disappeared in the scene out of confusion.
I don’t ever remember ever going with them. As the younger brother, I was often left behind. My older siblings rarely took me along. They said I was just a kid and would only get in the way. That’s probably why I was always puzzled by my mom’s tale. How could she say those things so convincingly, as if they really happened?
There was even a time when my father believed her. He once brought me to the carnival and asked me to choose a number for a bet. He was hopeful, trusting that "luck" I was said to have. But he didn’t win much, maybe few times or just once in the jumping horse game. Looking back, I can’t help but laugh. Maybe my brother and sister were just really good at the games… or maybe they were with my doppelganger instead.
Loud Voices in the Kitchen
There were people in the kitchen in the middle of the night.
As a young child, I had the freedom to sleep wherever I wanted. One night, I chose to sleep in the room with Papa, which was right next to the kitchen. Sometime past midnight, I was suddenly awakened by the sound of voices lively chatter, as if there was a gathering or a celebration going on.
The noise puzzled me. How could there be so many people in the kitchen at that hour? It sounded like a fiesta. Curious and a bit uneasy, I quietly moved closer and peeked through a small hole in the wall to see what was happening.
To my surprise, the kitchen was completely dark. There was no one there.
I lay back down, confused. Maybe I was just imagining things. Maybe I was dreaming with my eyes open. But the sounds were so vivid, so real. Even now, I still wonder, was it just a child’s imagination, or something else entirely?
Sharp Finger Beneath the Floor
One stormy night, a sharp finger-like object rose from beneath the floor of the room where I was sleeping.
It happened in the last room of the house, the third one, where we used to sleep on a mat laid out over wooden slats. We had a mosquito net hung over us, and the floor was slightly elevated, about a meter above the ground. The wooden slats had small finger-sized gaps between them, maybe to help with air circulation, or simply as a way to save on wood.
That night, the heavy rain outside lulled me into a deep, peaceful sleep. But then, I was suddenly jolted awake by a loud thud on the wall just below the window, right beside where I lay. It felt like something massive had slammed into the house.
I knew it was windy outside, but this didn’t feel like just the wind. It was as if a winged creature had crashed into the side of our home and then slid down, crawling beneath the house, right under the floor where I was sleeping.
And then it happened.
A sharp, pointed thing like a finger rose up through the mat beside me. I panicked. Without making a sound, I quickly turned to my side and stacked pillows between me and the floor, hoping to block whatever it was.
Was it my imagination? A trick of the stormy night? Or something darker, something real? I never found out. But even now, I can still remember that strange sensation that mix of fear and wonder only a child could feel.
Whispers at Dawn
There was this sweet old woman who was fond of me, "Mama Diyang", that's how I called her. She was the wife of my father’s uncle, "Papa Filo", who lived about a kilometer away from our house, near the public market. Every time I passed by her home, she would warmly reach out her hand and press it gently against my forehead, the traditional bless that elders gave to children. She always smiled, spoke kindly, and often pinched my cheeks in that affectionate way old folks do. Before I left, she would slip a few coins into my hand.
It was sometime around the 1970s, at dawn, when something stirred me from my sleep. I couldn’t explain it, but I suddenly felt a deep certainty, Mama Diyang had passed away. It was more than just a thought; it felt real. After a moment, I drifted back to sleep.
In the morning, my mother confirmed what I already somehow knew: Mama Diyang had died at dawn.
The Trumpet-like sound in the middle of the night
I was awakened in the middle of the night by a strange, trumpet-like sound, something that didn’t sound human at all.
Everyone in the house was fast asleep. Then I heard the front door at the porch shake, followed by that eerie noise, like a creature blowing through a trumpet. It was loud and unsettling. My mother had always stacked several chairs behind that door as a makeshift alarm, if someone tried to get in, the chairs would fall and make enough noise to wake us.
That night, I was certain I heard them crashing down. The clatter echoed in my half-asleep mind. But when morning came, I was surprised to see the chairs still neatly in place, untouched. Nothing seemed out of order, except for one small detail: the chain on the grilled door had been moved up one notch higher.
This didn’t just happen once. I experienced it a few times, always during the quietest hours of the night. Out of curiosity, I asked my younger brother if he ever heard anything like it. To my surprise, he had. He described it just as I remembered it.
What was it? A trick of the mind? A restless dream? Or something else beyond explanation?
To this day, I still don’t know. But the memory lingers, mysterious and unresolved.
The Male Vampire in the Ricefields
Years later, when I was in Grade 6, another chilling encounter occurred. After school, I had lunch at home and walked to the rice fields nearby with my net. It was the perfect season for catching small fish for my little acquarium in the irrigation streams. The fields stretched endlessly, bordered by flowering plants and dotted with scarecrows. Birds chirped, butterflies danced, and dragonflies skimmed the water’s surface.
I saw no one else, except an old, stooped man by the kangkong patch. Something about him gave me chills. He moved slowly, always hunched, dipping his hands in water and glancing at me now and then.
When he finally looked up, his eyes pierced through me and he had a fang. Just one, but long and sharp. My heart pounded. At first, I told myself it wasn’t real. But as he came closer, about three meters away, I ran. I ran as fast as I could, never daring to look back.