Ghosts: flashing like neon signs, disappearing on second glance. We thrive on data. We run our ghost boxes 24 hours a day: at our homes, at our schools, at our offices, in the palm of our hands and under our pillows. We are now hunting ghosts with our mind, trying to satiate curiosities that take fears away.
Staying up late has killed our ability to be truly terrified.
Can we believe in ghost stories again? Is it entirely possible to recapture the fear? I like the unknown. I like the aimless rage against this nameless, faceless intangible thing or feeling. We try to meet it again through cheap thrills: horror movies (The modern ones focus entirely on the gore. Why?) and rollercoaster rides. (Unless you’re into that.)
I choose to believe that there are things out there without form or eyes or are all teeth and claws and darkness and are most likely misunderstood spooklings I have not fully encountered or understood yet. Instead, these are the ghosts that I know:
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Possession Nation
There’s this odd phenomena in most highschools: the possession.
I don’t know if this is specific to Catholic highschools, but there’s always one. Most times there is a lot of shouting. And speaking in an imagined-demon’s voice. There’s also a lot of sweating profusely. Class gets disrupted as school custodians and security try to take the “possessed” student to the clinic. Or the church. I don’t actually know what they do once the possessed student gets taken away from the classroom. Maybe they get that student a glass of water? There’s probably a psychological profile being written at the same time.
There’s probably an exorcism. The school I went to is run by nuns and is just behind the big church in Antipolo. I have never seen a full neck rotation or awesome-Hollywood-style special-effects projectile vomiting.
Sadly, years later, we realize that the demons these “possessed” kids face can be traced to a lack of love from their homes, or school. Sometimes, some of them just truly craved the attention. Possession as cry-for-help.
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Alcohol Identity
There’s this nice excerpt from a study by an anthropologist on drinking:
There’s a duality when it comes to drinking. Drunk-you versus sober-you. You are the ghost in this story. You are Mr. Hyde. You are Tyler Durden watching yourself destroy yourself.
There are fun stories, sometimes. Sometimes, drunk-you marks all your new email as read. Other times there’s you waking up beside possibly-drunklifted food items. Withdrawal slips in your jeans backpocket and you wonder where the money went. A cut on your lip where your teeth meet the mouth: you got smacked and you can’t even remember. What’s truly horrible is third-party accounts where you use your elbows as missiles, leaving bruises and black eyes that sober-you will have to answer for tomorrow in his hungover state. That shit will haunt you. (Not me. Or possibly me.)
There’s also the vomiting of past sins the next day.
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Whiching Hour
If you’re anything like me, the daylight makes you sleepy. How will anything truly haunt you when you’re the one haunting everyone else while they’re asleep?
What time is witching hour anyway? Is it at 12 AM? Is it at 3 AM? In which timezone? I still wonder if a manananggal can two-time you.
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It’s goth-kid-Christmas month! These are the real ghosts that I know. What ghosts do you believe in?
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