By Patricia S. Servano
My alma mater, St. Scholastica's College in Leon Guinto, Manila is one of the older schools in the country. As a former sanctuary for soldiers, it lay witness to the brutalities wreaked by the invading forces during World War Two.
Bombed, destroyed and eventually rebuilt, St. Scho has withstood the test of time and ravages of nature. The institution takes pride in its antiquity, and among its jewels is the home of the dramaric kulasas---the Little Theater, situated in the high school building.
During my senior year, my classmate was the director of the theater group. This gave our class an excuse to enjoy such perks as being excused from class to see the productions.
After a successful season, which culminated in a well-received play at the end of the semester, the theater group decided to celebrate their triumph backstage. Nearly everyone came to the party.
Needless to say there was lots of picture taking to record the occasion. Cameras popped everywhere to capture the high-spirited actors.
The moment was captured -- and so was the image of an uninvited guest.
When the film was developed, the pictures were passed around so that everyone could have a look-see.
One of the pictures of the group contained a headless silhouette in between two of the girls. The figure was very hazy, but one could clearly delineate a dress hanging without a head and feet on the ground. The dress was backlit and looked totally ethereal.
Almost half of the student population at St. Scho saw the picture. Everyone who saw it said it gave them creeps. We all tried to grope for an earthly explanation for the apparition.
We tried blowing up the picture to figure out what it was, whether it was just a trick of camera lighting. But enlarging the picture solved nothing except to make the image even more frightening. Although the figure looked harmless, everyone who saw it felt a profound sense of suffering.
More than a little spooked, the theater group had the Little Theater blessed.
That was the last play I watched in the Little Theater. After a while, the controversy died down and our batch graduated without much incidence.
After graduation, I took a vacation in the province. It was, I felt, a much needed break before I entered the world of the working class.
Back from my vacation, with no prospect yet of a job, I was spending a little more quality time at home alone.
One day, as I was taking a siesta, I had a weird dream. I dreamt of the image and she was warning me about something.
In my dream I was at the foot of an old wooden bridge. It was dark, and the evening sky was painted a solid, inky blue, like it was colored in with craypas (the Japanese crayons).
At the other end, lying in wait, was the image from the photograph. Unlike in the picture where the image did not have a head, this time I could see the face of the image cleary. It was the face of a young woman. I saw her serene, young face. She was wearing the same dress in the picture. She was surrounded by big pine trees and I can feel the mist on my skin. She just stood there, waiting.
As I walked toward her, I bacame aware of the chasm underneath the bridge. I refuse to look down. I kept my focus on my pace and joined her on the other side. I counldn't vividly remember what happened when we met. She was trying to explain to me a lot of things and telling me not to go to a Hindu seminar I was planning to attend.
All of a sudden, I woke yp, gasping for air. I was shaken, my heart was pounding a mile a minute.
When I managed to catch my breath I remembered that I saw an ad in the papers for a seminar on Hindu teaching and I was asking a friend to go with me. Why was she warning me about that?
I never did find out. A few days later I landed my first job and concentrated on my career.
I never went to that seminar. And she never appeared in my dreams.
Taken from True Philippine Ghost Stories
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