Que Horror!

My grade school and high school years were spent studying in what used to be a burying ground that became a place where prisoners of war were tortured, killed or left to die.

And nothing could be more horrific for a girl blessed (or cursed?) with a wild imagination. According to old townsfolk, my school was a cemetery during Spanish times and later used as a garrison during the Japanese Occupation. Its main building was a very old structure, maybe almost as old as the Immaculate Conception Parish Church to which it was adjacent.

Like any old building, the mere sight of the school's aging adobe walls would tell you there was something there, something weird, something... In this 1950's photo that belonged to my mother, the walls looked even spookier back then without any trappings of modernity such as paint. Beyond those windows was my classroom when I was in 1st Grade. And on the floor directly above was part of the convent used as living quarters by the Sisters who run the school. Legend had it that at night when everything was quiet, the sound of heavy chains being dragged on the floor could be heard. It was said that those chains were attached to the feet of a headless nun bearing a candle in each of her hands who did the rounds as soon as the whole convent fell asleep.

When I was a lot younger, I couldn't bring myself to raise my eyes higher than where this photo was cropped. I was afraid the headless nun would peer out the window and my friends and I won't be able to run in time. This was like a movie sequence that would replay itself again and again in my little head. Poor me. (Picture courtesy of an aunt, Tia Nene, who was a college student in the 1950s.)

The thick adobe walls that belonged to the Church seemed like a good choice for a background in this 1950's class picture. It also looked even more perfect as a backdrop for a horror flick. I remember when I was in 3rd Grade, our classroom was just across this wall. There were a tall ancient-looking tree standing close by and its branches would cast eerie shadows on the ground even in broad daylight. The window was home to a large group of bats that I would always see hanging creepily upside down from the grills. There seemed to be too many of them and their number was good enough for a scene from the Dark Knight.

This was a gated grotto to the right of the wall in the previous photo. I was actually surprised to find this picture and see my young mom, who was now a college professor in her alma mater after graduating from a university in the city, posing in this scary corner of the school yard. During our time, nobody went to this place. Only the Sisters—who believed, as their faith dictated, that God would protect them from whatever evil lurking in that place—had the guts to go past the gates. Many of my classmates insisted there was a kapre who lived there. Others said there were duwendes. Whatever it was, I never ventured anywhere near the grotto.

This covered walk that connected the old school grounds to the new college building was the setting of one of the creepiest legends in town. The utility boys who used to spend their nights nearby were said to have witnessed the galloping of a knight on horseback right on the walk's roof. Like the chained nun, it was also said that the ghost knight was dismembered, without a head on its body.

As I write this, chills are running down my spine. And I'm seeing flashes of the headless nun sequence again. Gotta run!