I came to this century-old house to stay for a month. So far away from home; twenty helpless miles in Siquijor. Where can you find a work stationed in the land of transparent people?
Five corners and thirty blocks of native houses, this decent middle class shelter sprouted from view. “Room for rent” sign hanging by the gate. A kind smile by an old woman greeted me on the other side.
Cheap room for only one thousand five hundred pesos a month. Only fifteen blocks from work. I walked for so long only to find this hidden treasure. Retro-finished tiles, cracked ceilings, dirty mirrors, rusty fans, and even the caretaker seemed like she just got out of her casket. I was pretty much instilled with liking for old things.
Cutting the crap.. night came and peace enveloped the vicinity. Crickets and dogs were the only ones orchestrating. I fell asleep instantly and I woke up as quickly. There was a lucid woman floating at the foot of my bed. I hollered at her till my throat turned inside-out and my tonsils gone like punching bag.
I actually enjoyed that moment when I was letting myself experience the wholeness of fear. Let fear consume even the dirt stuck in your toenails and it will eventually turn into yummy stupor.
I only stayed in that place for two days, though.
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Originally published in happyobituary.blogspot.com.