Haunted House

Fantasy

The world is but a canvas to the imagination. - Thoreau

It was our ultimate fantasy. Getting the crap scared out of us.

That was why Third Brother and I made up this story about the Ancheta family who lived in the Spanish-style house from across our home on Fountain Street.

It went like this.

Dona Cheta and her family were long gone. All but one. She had turned into a witch.

Their great house in the center of the garden had been empty for a great while. Shunned by people of the neighborhood. No one ever went near it, either by day or night. 

Because.It.Is.Haunted. 

One time when Mum wasn't looking, we crossed the street and entered through the open side door of the black wrought-iron fence to watch for ghosts within. Of course, there was nothing to see because all the windows had bars and opaque glass panes. 

Except for one small window of a room that was probably the chauffeur's through which, very slowly, we leaned forward to take a peek.

Yes, we saw apparitions of the dead hiding behind the curtain. Beyond, the sala was cold and bare of furniture, the surroundings having the eerie atmosphere of a place in which death had recently occurred. Chills were running up our spine.

Thus, we barely noticed when someone came from out the front narra door, like a ghost debating whether to vanish.

She did not.

In an instance, she hovered over us. The witch! 

Stiffening her shoulders, she narrowed her gaze, her thick face twisting to a scowl. Dyaskeng mga bata! What are you up to, kids?

She was anxiously tapping a tsinela-clad foot, letting out audible sighs of annoyance.

I shut my eyes tightly, not wanting to cry, but I could feel a lump in the back of my throat like I'd swallowed a sweet potato whole. Any second, I felt like my heart was going to rocket right out of my chest.

Yikes! How did we get into this mess? It was our fantasy and damned curiosity that got us into this trouble, that was what it was.

Patawad po. So sorry. Our voices suddently sounded squeaky, the tremulous voice of children we were trying not to be. We backed out slowly, then ran the hell out of there.

Just as we gained asylum within our yard, I looked back.

The darkening sky had cast the witch's face in shadow making her appear mysterious, unknowable.