Tuesday, November 1, 2016

School Spirits: CR Stories



Even in our advanced age, my sisters and I still love telling each other ghost stories and every time we all get together, horror movie marathons is a favorite activity. It’s a tradition that every year I get to tell them of a new tale of the supernatural; but on occasion, Ate Annette’s or Giselle’s sharing beats mine -  like the time Ate Annette came back from a stay-in seminar at Clark, Angeles City and complained she got enveloped by a strange, cold embrace as she smoked at their cottage’s veranda, or the time Giselle came back from a flight speaking of a haunted hotel in Riyadh where a stewardess came out of a hot shower and  saw on the mist-covered mirror a traced message saying, “Help Me”. 

I had long promised them I’d do a compilation of my stories, so this is a long-overdue piece. Let me begin with campus ghosts. 

I first got introduced to school spirits when Mama shared some of her own paranormal experiences. She went to Philippine Normal College (now University) in the 1950s, and like all young probinsyanas, had to live in a ladies’ dormitory. During one of their late night study sessions for exams week, they wanted to buy some balut from the manong passing by. But the nuns operating the dorm forbade them to go down after curfew, much less go out. However, their peanuts and dried fruits supply was running low and studying made them hungry. The more practical among them proposed bribing the dorm security guard, convincing him not to report them to the Mother Superior. Others were more afraid of the other stories circulating in the dorm – of the piano in the cafeteria playing late at night or the typewriter typing and moving by itself in the office. Nonetheless, their physical need for added nourishment took precedence and they trooped down to get their balut. But as they were going back up the stairs, they perceived the dark figure of Mother Superior at the landing. Arms akimbo at her hips, she was staring down at them, her face hidden in shadow. Guilty at being caught breaking the rules, they all hurried up, mumbling their apologies and certain they would get sanctioned. The next day, they all nervously waited to get called to the office of the Mother Superior. But as the day wore on, they all came back from class, and still no notice from the office. Not being able to stand the tension any longer, they went to the office to ask the secretary. She was surprised about their inquiry because Mother Superior could not have seen them that previous night. She had been away on official business for a few days already.

Mama’s second best ghost story was at the school where she taught as a primary education teacher. Unfortunately, it was also where I went for my elementary and high school. She told us of the Faculty restroom at the bottom of the stairs near the Oxford gate. Especially reserved for the use of teachers and other school administrative officials, it was always locked and each one had to get a key to enter. Mama also said it only had a few cubicles, so it can never be crowded enough where one doesn’t know who is in there with you. One afternoon after class, she was preparing to go home and was retouching her make-up in that comfort room. Suddenly, one of the toilets flushed itself. She called out, “Who’s there?” It flushed again, and the door swung as if someone was coming out. Mama didn’t see anyone come out from the mirror’s reflection. “Hello!”, she shouted out again. The toilet kept flushing and the door swinging, but no answer. Mama rushed out of there quick.

Years later, I would hear shared stories about a white lady that the security guards and gardeners reputedly saw walking up and down the corridors and hallways. Upperclassmen would say that the statues of the nun and St. Claire at the side door of the chapel were originally at the second and third floors, but were eventually moved because they were often seen moving at night.

Nevermind that there were reports of a white lady or a nun seen at the balcony of our school auditorium by rehearsing performers from the stage. It was our elongated restrooms, lined with multiple cubicles that forever bothered me. Traversing the length of it to find a working toilet with a fully functioning flush or lock seemed like a game show. A classmate once had a terrifying experience in one of them which we were never able to debunk. It was during one of our annual musical presentations – evening events that had all sections of every grade  performing. Since we couldn’t all fit backstage and it was too much of a disturbance to let us back into our seats in the auditorium, we were stuck in the library to wait it out. Some of my rather impatient classmates got bored and decided to play Hide-and-Seek although we were forbidden to race up and down the corridors. The restrooms were never locked unlike the classrooms, so the “it”, our class bully and known braggart started searching in the third floor CR. She swung each cubicle open, confident to catch at least one of her playmates hiding there. As she neared the end, she swung one door and found a nun clothed in black. Our school’s Franciscan sisters wore only white, so this sent her running for the door. She couldn’t help herself and she looked back, only to see the black nun floating, chasing after her. Other classmates told of her rushing into the arms of a teacher, screaming about what she saw before eventually fainting in utter fright. 

During religious retreats or recollections commonly required by Catholic schools like ours, we had to be boarded at old dormitories, convents, or retreat houses. Again, the worst ghost stories come from the communal toilet and baths. One version had a set of footsteps heard walking into the CR as a girl was in one of the toilets. She heard the footsteps stop by her cubicle and this was confirmed as she saw a pair of feet under the door slit. The shoes were facing in the direction to her right, so the person must be standing sideways. Something made her look up, and from the top of the door, she saw a woman in black leaning over from her waist, staring at her. 

There are a few UP Los Banos versions of these CR stories. One actually involved my sister Giselle. Traditionally, at our co-ed dorm, Men’s Dorm, incoming freshmen almost always get “greeted” by the supernatural creatures our campus is known for. Of course, upperclassmen never tell you about this until after you survive your first semester. Like me, Giselle had the misfortune of frequently needing to use the toilet in the middle of the night.  Her first week in college, she went out of our room and headed for the communal first floor bathroom. She said she found it weird that the bakyas or wooden clogs which were left there for everyone’s use were placed one after the other like dominoes, as if a child played with them to make them into a train.  Most unusual of all, Giselle said, was the fact they were placed, leading up to one of the cubicles. Fortunately, she was too sleepy and not curious enough to follow them into that cubicle or who knows what she would’ve seen.

A girl at the nearby Women’s Dorm, was less fortunate. She wanted to hear an early mass and went to take a shower ahead of the others to avoid the morning bathroom rush. It was still dark and no one was awake yet. She was already shampooing her hair when she felt that someone was waiting outside her cubicle door. She called out but didn’t get an answer. She felt strange with her back turned against the door, so she turned around and looked at the slit at bottom of the door to check. Suddenly, a very black face with red eyes peeped at her from underneath. She screamed, grabbed her towel and ran out of there. 

The mirrors at these comfort rooms were also known to be haunted. Girls complained of brushing their teeth or washing their face and suddenly seeing their face change into an old hag, or finding a stranger’s face staring back at them instead of their own. 

One thing I learned from those years at the dorm – communal CRs were made for that purpose, jointly using the facilities as a group, lined up and queued. Forget about insisting on your privacy to do your thing. Heaven help you should you find yourself needing to use it alone especially late at night…because you are never alone in there.   

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