My Playmate

Living in a country where it is part of the culture to believe in the paranormal and the supernatural, it is easy to hear stories of ghosts or hauntings in every island in this archipelago. Some are stories handed down from generation to generation, some are true, some are for entertainment purposes, some actually happened to other people and some actually happen to you.

Since this is my first time to share a story online, I decided to write about my history of different paranormal encounters and why since I was a young girl, I have always been a believer.

I have always believed in the paranormal since I was a little girl. My grandfather died before I turned 3 years old. I was the only female grandchild at that time and even when he passed on when I was so young, I can still remember him, and I still remember when he died of liver cancer. At least the diagnosis by his doctor was liver cancer. I will save the reason for his death in another story. My first encounter was before my grandfather passed. And I still remember it, everything that happened, the smell, the sight, the fear I felt, when it happened.

I have always been my grandfather's favorite grandchild, since I was the youngest when he was still alive. I remember taking naps with him in the afternoon, I remember always asking him for ice cream and he wouldn't wait one second to tell the maid to get ice cream for me. We have a family business which he founded and built and struggled to keep. Every afternoon, he would take me out for an afternoon snack in a restaurant just near our store.

It is kind of a tradition in our country that the wake should be in the home if your home is large enough. When he died, the viewing (or wake) was in our ancestral home which my grandfather had built in the early 60's. He loved the house so much and he even personally chose all the wood used to build the house. This is my mother's story of my first paranormal encounter.

Like I said, I was only 2 years old when he passed. I remember him, the time I spent with him, but I do not remember this incident. One day, during his wake, my mother was attending to some of the mourners and making sure they had something to eat. She said I was just sitting on the couch near the coffin, just staring at it. Then she said I fell asleep on the couch. Probably a good half hour later, she said she noticed me waking up and smiling at something (or someone) but she didn't really pay attention. My grandfather's favorite spot in the house is the terrace right beside the living room where the wake was. My mother then noticed me walk towards the terrace and there was an empty chair and she said I was talking to someone sitting on the chair, but she couldn't see who I was talking to. But she said I was smiling and laughing and then I went up to the bedroom.

My mother, starting to get curious, followed me upstairs and she said she found me in the master's bedroom, my grandparents' room. She said I sat down on the bed, just sitting there. I had this toy tv when I was a kid, the kind that you wind and there's a jewelry-box kind of music that plays when you wind it. The toy was on the table across the room, not playing. My mother asked me what I was doing in the room and I said "Angkong told me to come here so we can play." Angkong, by the way, is Chinese for "grandfather". My mom got spooked by what I said and she got and carried me out the room so we can go downstairs.

Just as we passed the table where my tv toy was, it began to play "Its A Small World" in its jewelry-boxish sound. And all my mother thought was "how can it play for so long without winding it?". But before she could even pick up the toy to examine it, I wriggled in her arms, trying to get free from her, and she said I had my arms extended out as if someone wanted to pick me from her and I shouted "Angkong! Angkong!". Needless to say, my mother, still carrying me in her arms, hurried out the room and went downstairs.

My mother tells me I still played, laughed and talked to someone even after the funeral. And whenever she asked me, I always told her it was Angkong. As I got older, the "visitations" started to become lesser and lesser. She never told me the story until I turned 10.