Calling All Angels

(Originally written on 01 February 2006)


Looking for work is as difficult and as pressure filled as taking the licensure exam. As an ECE, I understood the market saturation for board passers like me. Having a license is not a guarantee; it is just a feather to one’s cap. It is probably this rationale that grouped seven young engineers together in a cramped three-bedroom apartment. We recognized the strength in numbers. The more persons sharing, the lighter the load.

Not used to affluent living, the apartment was just right for me. At first, we cooked our own food through wood and charcoal. The quarters we had had a small backyard with a big tamarind that has fallen to the ground. The backyard was slowly cleared as the tamarind wood got consumed day by day. In the span of two months, the tamarind has served its final purpose. As the tamarind wood supply dwindled, the area on the other side of the wall got visible. It also took several weeks for us to discover that the other side of the two adjacent bedrooms’ walls of our apartment also served as walls of other apartments.

Beyond the wall is a cemetery. We knew when one night while cooking our dinner we heard voices calling our attention. Some pebbles were thrown at us. Some of those faint-hearted felt the need to retreat. It was I who discovered that there were three ladies on the roof deck of the adjacent apartment making fun out of others’ fear of the dark. They were the ones who told us that we live right next to a cemetery.

As a child, I have always been used to hearing stories about paranormal events. And I also had a share of my own experiences. I have not really thought of having dead neighbors right behind the wall of the room where I slept. In fact, my bed was adjacent to it. A few weeks after settling in our apartment, I had a paranormal experience. My third one to be exact. And I did not tell a soul until now.

There are really nights when my insomnia prevails over common beliefs. A glass of milk won’t help nor a few hundred pages of a book. I was reading a book that I just bought from a thrift house. It was about two o’ clock in the morning when I felt thirsty and I decided to drink some water. Our refrigerator is just opposite of my room’s door. I was actually having a drink when I noticed him. An old man with hollowed eyes dressed in light brown polo shirt was standing right beside the refrigerator. To my utter shock and surprise, I choked on water and it spilled on my shirt to the floor. I dropped the plastic glass while I did my best to move my legs to no avail and coughing hard at the same time. The door to my room is about three feet away from the refrigerator, yet there I was, unable to move back and coughing my lungs out. When my coughing ceased, the old man was no longer there. It was then when I was able to move with lightning speed. I turned on the lights. I changed my shirt and looked for my prayer guide. I offered a prayer for the dead. And I called on all angels to protect us. I was half-asleep until dawn came.

The very next day I paid the cemetery a visit with two of my friends. These two friends never knew what I experienced the night before. If they did, they would have been packing instead of going with me to the cemetery. When we were already there, I tried to remember the names of our nearest neighbors. For quite sometime, they became household names. And I had begun a nightly ritual the entire time that we lived there. I always offer a prayer for the dead and I call all the angels.