It is dinner time once again.

        Seated at the long, narrow table are me, my sister, and my eldest brother. On either side of the table are my mother and father.

        Seven chimes. The grand clock looming over the dining table tells us when it is time to eat. When the 7 chimes are up, we must all be in our proper seats.

        No one has ever been seated after the 7 chimes.

        It is always quiet at the dinner table. For a common household, it is imperative that the family exchanges conversation to establish a bond between its members. In a situation where members of the family are stuck with each other for a period of time, unable to leave, silence becomes a deterrent, unbearable to have within the vicinity. Total silence at the dinner table usually indicates that a family’s condition is uneasy, after all who could get in the mood to talk when the family isn’t getting along well?

        However in this household, silence is revered. It is what ties our family together. Silence at the dinner table is comfortable, enjoyable even. I’m sure everyone here at the table thinks so, too.

        The meals in our house are impeccable, cooked by the finest chefs you wouldn’t be able to find even in the highest class restaurant. After the meal was finished, the next course would be served, and so on and so forth. Empty plates would be taken in the blink of an eye, as quick as the dishes were served. As dinner is ongoing, no one is allowed to leave nor stand up. It is considered incredibly rude. One time, my sister nearly left her restraints, and I nearly broke the silence with my anger. Luckily, I was able to pull her back just in time with the promise of dessert. Tonight, it was strawberry panna cotta, topped with a garnish of caramel sauce.

        Eight chimes on the grand clock indicate it’s time to go. Once again, before the 8 chimes are up, everyone must leave the dining room. No one’s ever stayed after the 8 chimes to find out what happens.

        This is dinner time at our household. It’s a relaxing experience, yet it seems mother and father are still not satisfied. After the meal is over, from their confines, they beg me to let them go. They try to convince me they’re not my mother and father, and I laugh at their silliness. They really do love to play tricks. It’s like this every night, no wonder they’re exhausted beyond belief. Behind them, brother looks at me with livid eyes, while sister’s pupils are filled with fear. I walk over to her and smile, my dear sister always looks wonderful. She shakes in delight as I kiss her forehead, my hands still stained red from dessert, and tell her it’ll be alright.

        After all, we’re a family aren’t we?

        Playgrounds are such a joy. Seeing the schoolchildren play on the swings and go down the slides every morning and afternoon always bring a smile to my face.

        Sometimes when I pass by the playground after work, I still see the children laughing and smiling, playing tag and hide-and-seek. Their laughter takes away my fatigue for the day.

        One time, they asked me to play with them. Of course, I agreed, how could I not? I pushed them on the swing and they shouted with delight and pointed to the sky. I caught them as they went down the slides; I even played tag and hide-and-seek with them-- they were not very good hiders because they would laugh with glee, not being able to contain their excitement. Even when it was already evening, I couldn’t feel the exhaustion. What a wonder kids are! Their bright grins light up the playground-- no, the entire town.

        When I got home, all smiles and laughs, I saw my neighbor approach me. She asked, “Who were you playing with down at the playground?” I had to laugh heartily and joyfully reply, “Why, those nice schoolchildren needed a playmate!”

       I saw my neighbor’s face whiten and with a shivering voice she replied, “There were no schoolchildren down at the playground.” My brows furrowed and I looked at the playground. They were still there; I could hear the echoes of their high-pitched screams. I felt a cold wind pass by me and the smile was instantly washed off my face.

        “You have to let them go, Mr. Bus Driver.”

Ang bawat tao

ay may kaniya kaniyang takot

Sila ay may sariling paraan

kung paano nila ito lalagpasan

Pinaniniwala ang sarili

Na sila ang pinakamasasayang tao

na gagawin ang lahat

makatakas lamang sa realidad

Sila ang pinakaduwag sa lahat ng takot

ang taong hindi marunong

sumugal o sumubok

dahil sa takot na magkamali’t matalo

Ito ang taong nagpalamon na sa takot

Hinihigop ang kanilang lakas

Pinahihina ang loob

Kaya’t sila ay tumatakbo na lamang

Palayo sa kanilang mga responsibilidad

Ang habambuhay na pagtakbo

Ay walang papupuntahan

Sapagkat walang taong nagtatagumpay

Ng hindi tumataya sa kanyang sariling sugal

Higit na mas nakakatakot

Na sa iyong pagtakbo

palayo sa mga kinatatakutan

Ay ang dahan dahang paglapit

Ng realidad na hindi mo na matatakasan

Cold air bites my cheeks as I briskly walk towards the main entrance of our building. The street is dimly lit by the few lamp posts standing around our block. Light drops of drizzle tickle my face as I stumble on the uneven sidewalk. My hands are numb even though they're shoved deep into my jacket pockets. It seems to be the coldest day of October. I reach the doors and immediately feel relief as warmth greets my body.

My footsteps echo through the empty lobby which is usually bustling with people, especially when December begins to near. I glance at my watch and see that it is two minutes before 12:00AM and realize that only a few people are likely to be up and out at this hour on a Wednesday night.

And lately, many of my neighbors have been moving out ever since articles have been released that the land where our building was built on was once land of Lumads. Rumour has it that many were buried under this very land just so that the company owners could finally start their construction.

To the company's defense, the CEO said that when the permit for the land was finally signed to their name, they offered to give the Lumads an entire floor for themselves but they refused. They denied committing murder.

I don't know what to think about the issue yet but I don't think I could leave this place any time soon.

When I reach the elevator, I press the up button and check my phone while I wait.

2 new text messages.

Mom: U home?

Unknown number: Be careful.

The second text message immediately makes my heart beat faster. I read it over and over again. Be careful. Though they are only two words, they somehow send me into a cyclone of scattered panicked thoughts.

I reply. Who's this?

The elevator doors open and I step inside. I keep my eyes glued to the screen of my phone as my hand felt for the button of the 15th floor at the topmost of the panel since it is the highest floor of our building.

I wait for the unknown number to reply but I don't get any. I decide to answer my mom first. The message fails to send. There seems to be no signal in here. Weird. In the two years that I have lived here, signal has always been available except in the basement.

Suddenly, the lights flicker. Then darkness envelops me. The elevator abruptly stops.

Only my phone illuminates the space I am trapped in and the little light hardly does me any good. It must be my imagination but it seems even colder in here than outside. I reach out to press the emergency button on the panel but... the panel is gone.

A shiver rolls down my spine. My hands shake in anticipation that someone or something will suddenly jump me or touch me or seize me. But I shouldn't panic. I'm just trapped in the elevator and I'm sure one of the security guards or maintenance staff will get me out of here.

I hear a crash in a far corner-- but it sounds so far away that it would be impossible for me to still be in the small elevator. I jump and my head whips toward the crash and I turn on the flashlight of my phone. But there's nothing but a long stretch of darkness. Sweat starts to bead on my forehead.

A crash sounds again. From the opposite side of the dark space, this time. My eyes strain against the darkness, desperate to see anything. To get out of here.

The noise slowly continues until they no longer sound abrupt and scattered. They start to sound like drums, struck like a beating heart. The steady beat sounds familiar-- just like the music usually played in the elevator. Each sound echoes around me and then I start to hear low voices chanting in unison.

"Sa aming lupa, hindi kami lilisan,

Kapalit man ay luha't dugo, itong aming tahanan."

My phone vibrates in my hand, indicating that I received a message.

Unknown number: Close your eyes.

Close my eyes? Why on Earth would I close my eyes when I am all alone in the dark, on edge and jumping at the slightest noise?

Is there signal already? I try to reply to the unknown number but it fails to send.

Is this some kind of prank? What's going on?

Before I can do anything else, the beating and chanting stop. Blood-chilling screams echo around me and then total silence fills the air until I hear footsteps clacking above me. My heart begins to pound as they louden and slow until then come to a full stop.

Should I even risk looking up?

Unknown Number: Don't.

I do.

Two glowing red eyes meet mine, suspended in the darkness, merely three feet away from my head. They burn with an eerie fire. Slowly, the figure emerges until I can make out a man in a suit, eyes bloodshot and somehow with a lust for blood.

A chilling voice resounds around me, making the hairs on my skin stand. "Welcome to the 16th floor."

I feel something fall onto the back of my hand, something thick and wet. I flash my phone toward it and see that it is deep red. Blood. My nose usually bleeds whenever there is a sudden change in temperature. But when I touch my nose, it is dry. Instead, I find the dripping coming from my eyes, as if I were crying tears of blood.

And then suddenly I feel my body falling at a rapid speed, my arms flailing to the sides, my hair whipping against my cheeks as I fall farther away from the two horrifying eyes.

I close my eyes in an effort to erase the horrific scene. When I open them again, I am no longer falling through a dark emptiness, but I find myself in the elevator, my phone vibrating in my hand.

Mom: Psst! Answer, I'm worried.

The elevator doors open to the 15th floor at that moment. I'm too stunned to move, still out of breath from what I just experienced, that the doors begin to close. Just then, a hand is shoved between them and a man enters the elevator. He wears a gray jumpsuit and carries a toolbox, and if my instincts are right, he's probably an elevator repairman. He smiles at me and asks, "Isn't this your floor?"

It takes me about two seconds before I find the will to nod. My body remains limp and weak that I use all my strength just to step my two feet forward.

At the last moment, I step back to keep the elevator from closing.

"Sir, I-I think the elevator is..."

"Broken?" His lips form an odd smile. "The rains have brought some fluctuations in the electricity of the building."

I was going to say that the elevator is cursed but he might've called me mad. Does he know about the 16th floor? Or am I officially losing it? Must it be hypothermia?

"Oh, okay," I answer. "Just, um, be--"

"Careful?" he supplies. "We should always be. Here."

He hands me a newspaper with a picture of our building in the headlines.

"It's best to know about where you are, don't you think?"

I nod and start to walk towards my door. I am more than unsettled. So many questions occupy my head but I want to know most of all, who is the unknown number?

Who are you?

I quickly type into my phone, each tap as fast as my breathing.

And just at that moment, I hear a ding from behind me.

My eyes widen even before I look back. And when I do, the elevators are just about to close with the man grinning at me, a phone lighting up in his hand.

I wake up to the sound of someone cooking. Clack clack clack. I hear the sound of a knife hitting a hard surface. I sit up and look at the clock at the far end of my room. 5:04 AM. My mom is preparing breakfast this early?

That’s weird. It’s Saturday, so I don’t have school today. She shouldn’t be cooking at this hour. Maybe she forgot? I grab my phone on the table beside my bed and head down to the kitchen.

I went down the stairs and see my mother preparing some ingredients on the kitchen counter. I walk towards her and tap her on the shoulder.

“Mom, why are you cooking breakfast?”

My mom stops cutting the vegetables and turns around. She smiles at me.

“Well, I woke up today and decided that maybe I should cook something special for my beloved son.”

“O-oh, okay then. So what are you cooking?”

She looks at me, her smile even wider than before.

“It’s something that you love.”

She turns away from me and goes back to cutting the ingredients.

I stand there for a couple of seconds not knowing what to do before deciding to sit down at the dining table to wait for her to finish cooking. The sound of her knife’s cutting repeats again and again. Clack clack clack. It continues for a couple of minutes until finally, boredom gets the best of me.

“Mom, could you at least give a hint?”

The sound of cutting stops.

“It’s a secret.”

Then she continues cutting.

Ten minutes pass.

Twenty…

Then thirty minutes.

Why is she taking so long? It’s been over half an hour and she’s still cutting.

I am really getting bored, so I decide to take a peek at what she is doing.

I see some vegetables on the table. Cloves of garlic, bell peppers, and carrots. Then the usual kitchen tools -- a frying pan, a spatula, and a bowl where the vegetables will be placed. Everything seems pretty normal, but the meat looks… weird. Or should I say it looks kind of big? What kind of meat is that? Which animal did that come from? I stand up from my chair to get closer to the table.

On it are ribs and a slab of what looks like belly meat. Now that I think about it, why is there so much meat? The meat takes up half of the table. I look at the ribs. Something tells me those are not pig ribs. I lean in to take a closer look at the meat until suddenly--

“Hey, don’t touch that.”

I stop and look at what she has been cutting. It appears to be a long piece of meat that looks like a leg--but it doesn’t look like a pig’s or a cow’s legs.

Then I look at my mother’s face. On her face was a smile that sent a shiver down my spine.

I slowly back away from her and hurry towards the bathroom. I open the door and slam it shut after going in. I turn the faucet on and splash water onto my face. I must be dreaming. There’s no way. I must be hallucinating or something. I wash my face again. That’s when I smell it. A horrible stench. What is that? Did a rat die in here? I look around to search for where the smell is coming from. My eyes land on the bathtub covered by the curtains. The foul smell is coming from there. I walk towards the curtain and pull it open.

There, I see my mother’s sleeping face. She looks so peaceful and relaxed… then I look at her body…

Where’s the body?

I feel bile coming up my throat and I try to force it down. But seeing the decapitated head of my mother is too much for me to bear. I lurch forward and puke, sinking down to my knees. I can feel my hands trembling as I try to contain the stomach fluids coming out of my mouth.

Then I hear her voice from outside the door.

“Son, breakfast is ready.”

Asawa ko

Kailan ka mapapasaakin?

Nandito ako,

Sa likod ng iyong paningin

Tumalikod ka,

Ika’y sa akin mahumaling

Sa tagal kong naghihintay lamang

Ika’y dapat nang mapasaakin.

Buhok mong kay kapal,

Nais kong haplusin at samyuin

At kung tayo na lang dalawa,

Ika’y matagal kong hahagkan at yayakapin.

Buksan mo ang iyong pinto!

Ipararamdam ko sa’yo ang aking pag-irog!

Wala nang tutulong sa’yo!

        It was a cold December night when my cousins and I gathered around the fireplace to thaw our freezing skin from the icy breeze of Baguio. Our parents decided to go out for a drink, leaving us all alone in the cabin. It was already midnight and we decided to break the silence with small talk and a few mini-games. We weren’t exactly close growing up, simply because we didn’t have time to bond with one another, so today was the perfect opportunity for us to get to know each other better. We played games such as Monopoly and Uno, but after a while, we got bored and decided to play Truth or Dare. The game started out easy, but then some of my cousins chose to switch things up. Little did I know, it will be the biggest regret of my life.

        When it was my turn, they dared me to go to the basement and lock myself in for ten minutes straight, with all the lights off. I didn’t agree at first because it was nonsense, but then being the oldest of the group, I saw this as an opportunity to show my bravery to them, plus, I wouldn’t want them to think I’m a coward. Thus, I accepted the challenge. I didn’t mind going there, really, because I didn’t believe anything about ghosts or the creatures that “lay beneath.”

        One minute in, and I could already feel the cold breeze once again touch my skin. Let’s hope this dare won’t give me hypothermia and put me in a coma. To get my blood flowing, I started to walk around the room. Thank God it wasn’t too dark because of the light shining through the windows. I stumbled upon a box filled with pictures. Curious, I picked it up and moved closer to a window to see the pictures more clearly.

        “Hey, it’s Grandma!”

        It’s nice to see her smile even from a picture. ‘oh how I miss her already’. She used to bake me cookies every time I came to her house, she would create scary costumes for me to wear on Halloween, and she would sing me lullabies whenever I get scared. Grandma, why did you have to go?

        As I scrolled through her pictures, I kept seeing this lady standing with an eerie smile and a dark aura. She somehow appears in every picture and is always behind my grandma.

        “Huh? Weird.”

        I flipped through the pictures to look for names, dates, or clues to find out who this creepy lady is.

        “Aha!” something was scribbled behind one of the pictures. Anne.

        “Anne? Who’s that?”

        I yelled at my cousins to open the door to show them what I found, but all I got in return was complete silence. I knocked and shouted to hear if they were there, still no response. After about a few seconds, I heard a soft knock. I didn’t mind it at first, but after a few more seconds, I heard it again. I figured that it was just my cousins pulling a prank on me.

        “Okay guys, you can stop now. I have to show you something really cool.”

        I noticed the room darken a bit. My heart skipped a beat and my hands started to sweat when I saw a figure in the window, tapping the glass. I slowly walked towards it to see who it was, but when I got closer, the figure disappeared. I turned around only to see a woman standing in front of me, smiling and staring blankly. I wasn’t able to scream but I felt my feet running towards the door. I tried to open it as fast as I could but my hands were shaking so badly. Luckily, someone opened the door from outside.

        “What’s wrong, sweetie?”

        The sweet voice of Grandma immediately calmed me down. I hugged her as tightly as I could with my eyes wet from tears, my hands cold from trembling in fear. She hugged me back and the silence comforted me.

        “Ah, I see you’ve met my friend Anne.”

        My eyes opened in complete shock only to remember that Grandma passed away a year ago.

        Who was I hugging? I slowly looked up to see who it is. My body started to tremble in fear when I saw its big red eyes staring deep into my soul and that eerie grin slowly turned into a wide vacant smile.