Asian horror stories have created a stir around the world- even Hollywood. But unlike my country’s neighbours, the Philippines is home to quite a lot of urban legends and spooktacular stories.

Growing up, I was like any other child. Tries to break free for mid afternoon naps, snacks on candies and run like there’s no tomorrow. Living next to my father’s siblings, we are tight knit family. I had friends in school but I’m closer with my cousins than other people. They were instant playmates.

And like any other kids, we get into trouble and even if we are told to stay away from things- we persist.

I was around 10 years old when my Grandfather, with the help of my Dad, was able to acquire the oldest house in our street. It was a good investment since it was only at the back of Grandfather’s house.

And because it wasn’t utilized for years, it was a mess. It was used as a crack house by the previous owners’ children. Wooden tiles were uneven, the walls have not been painted for decades and everything smelled like shit- or so I was told.

Soon my uncle and some hired carpenters worked on restoring the house that was once considered the prettiest and most expensive in our street. My older guy cousins were asked to help cleaning the place and insuring that nothing that we don’t own would be left in the house before any changes would be made.

And of course, being the youngest girl, I didn’t have to help but I was eager to snoop around. So together with my other young cousin (he was just a year older than I am), after our afternoon nap, we checked around for neat stuff we can play with.

We went upstairs and couldn’t keep our noses away from the interesting things we can find. It was actually our official first time to see the whole house completely, and of course we had to check the rooms upstairs.

On the second level, it has two medium sized rooms and a bathroom in the middle as well as a patio overlooking the roof (whenever we hang out in that house, there are chances that we climbed on to the roof and pick mangoes from the tree). We were checking the smaller room and opening the built in dressers when we both saw a brown manila envelope.

It was the only thing in the empty room.

Without even thinking that it might be something weird, my cousin grabbed it and was intrigued by its contents. And as he pulled the portrait, we both saw a family that stood behind a casket, I gasped. We quickly shouted and ran towards my uncle and cousins to show the picture. I’m not sure if my cousins intentionally left the envelope (they denied) there but have I never heard of people taking pictures around a casket.

It was definitely a shock and that is how we started fearing that house. And we named it White House because of the new coat we gave it and in memory of once the grandest house in our street.

My Grandmother’s Aunt was the one who take care of my Dad as he was growing up. We called her Nanay Edeng, short for Mercedes and Nanay is the Filipino term for Mother. She and her husband Tatay Godjong (Tatay is Father) owned the house we currently live in and since they didn’t have any children of their own, it was passed on to my Dad.

Nanay lived up to the age of around 90 but she soon became senile after a minor accident (she slipped). We hired her a caregiver and was placed on the White House. It was already fixed and cleaned and it was the best place to make her stay since it was exactly just across our house. Her new room was much more spacious but I guess she grew lonely there even if we visited her daily.

I was in school when she died, they didn’t tell me at first because they thought I would insist on going home or cry and break down in school. I only found out once I got home.

Her wake was in the White House. Old relatives, neighbours and friends came to offer their condolences. I didn’t cry the whole week of the wake (In our country, it usually takes a few days before the funeral- and we also believe that the soul is still around up to 40 days from the day of death).

But when she was laid to her final rest, I was breaking down real bad. You see, I was closer to Nanay than my own Grandmother and I was much mature during this time so I understand the pain of losing a loved one.

But being stupid kids, we kept on scaring ourselves with the tale of another soul that would haunt the White House. And I remember, I just finished seventh grade during a summer break. The sun was unbearable yet as a kid, I couldn’t be stopped in enjoying myself with my cousins.

Nanay had passed away months ago. And because the house was like a portal to one place to another, I use it as a short cut. I just woke from my afternoon nap, the sun was more bearable since it was almost setting. As I opened the gate, something was already bugging me. I’m not sure if it was the thought of the stories that came with the house or I was just a plain wuss.

I closed the gate and went inside. It was always open during daytime and locked during night. I had full access to it and I was alone. And as I went to the side of the house, I tried to brush the nervousness I continued to walk towards my Grandfather’s house that would lead me to the compound.

I was about to pass by Nanay’s window, the room she used to occupy when all of a sudden all the hair in my body stood up.

I paused, a voice inside my head kept on pushing me to turn my head sideways and look into Nanay’s room.

I shut my eyes closed and just started running. My feet took me to the familiar path.

That was the last time I used that short cut alone.

~

Christmas night. My brothers, cousins and I decided to cap the night off with a session of Videoke and drinks at the White House’s balcony on the second floor. It was the perfect spot since we won’t be bothering other people with our noise and the breeze was enough to keep us comfortable. With full stomachs and still a hangover from the Christmas party we had, we all agreed with the idea of waiting for the sunrise with silly singing.

We were in the middle of laughing, singing and joking when my older cousin, Joseph, complained that his tummy was upset. He needed to go number 2. Some pointed to the toilet on the second floor while some suggested that he just rush home and do his business there. No one wants to clean his shit, the others joked.

With much contemplation, he stood up and asked for a cigarette before heading out for his business. Soon as he was done with a stick he went on his way. If I could remember correctly, he was wearing a yellow shirt.

We continued with our singing. 5 minutes later my brother, who’s chair was facing sideways the door of the balcony, was looking inside the staircase 2nd floor landing (it was just outside the balcony door). With a wrinkle on his forehead he kept looking and as if trying to figure out who he saw. We all noticed his actions and he asked, “Isn’t that Joseph? I thought he went back to their house to take a dump?”

“He did,” We all said in different tones.

“And isn’t he wearing a red shirt?” He asked.

“Nope yellow,” Joseph’s brother answered.

“So who passed by the door on the landing?” He pointed.

It was an automatic response from all of us to move away from the door and get scared. My other brother just brushed it away and said not to mind it. It, whatever it was, will go away. But surely- it didn’t.

~

Another year, it was Christmas time as well. Again, we will be having our annual Christmas party. My aunt’s plastic chairs were all stocked in the White House since no one was occupying it. The space provided a good storage area. And all her plastic chairs were under the stairs.

It was just a space where you can see everything under it through the spaces in the steps.

My brother and two cousins were tasked to collect the chairs for the party while my Aunts cooked. It was broad daylight and they were joking. They each had a stack of plastic chairs to carry when all of a sudden the 1st floor’s bathroom door knob shook.

“Did you hear that?” My brother asked my two cousins and they nodded.

“Who’s in there?” My brother shouted, thinking that maybe one of the house helps was told to clean the bathroom.

There was no answer.

“Who’s in there?!” This time my brother’s voice was louder.

Still no answer...

THEN IT SHOOK VIOLENTLY!

All three of them stepped backwards and cursed. But knowing that they shouldn’t be scared even if they were, my brother tried to act brave and shouted, “Who the fuck are you?! Whoever you are, get out of this fucking house!” He then kicked the door with all his might.

They found nothing inside.

Oh and I forgot to mention, the bathroom is the closest door to where Nanay used to stay. I don't think its Nanay since she won't scare us. Whatever it was, it must have been there even before we bought the property.

(I'm not really that good with English so bare with my mistakes)