Perhaps you have never done this, but when I was younger, I used to play this game on the eve of All Saints' Day with the rest of the young men and women in the barrio of Sagpang. Pangangaluluwa, we called it. We went from house to house, begging for alms, pretending to be wandering ghosts, lost souls doomed to walk the earth. There was a song we all used to sing, most of which I have forgotten now. I only remember Juli's voice as she sang, soft and hesitant, like small ripples in the sea of voices, almost lost in the roar of the incoming waves.
We no longer play this game. Maybe because we are no longer young, or the years have finally forced us to leave our youth behind. Back then, we had no fear. We did not fear the night then, but now we can see the once invisible monsters, waiting to pounce on us while we so recklessly wandered the streets. We laughed at the ghosts that we pretended to be because we thought they were not real, but now, we know otherwise.
Or at least, we know that there are things to fear, after all.
Stay for a moment, if you wish. Maybe you will learn something from our tales.
BINABASA MO ANG
Pangangaluluwa
ParanormalOutside the convento of Tiano, Basilio tells a young boy stories of ghosts that haunt their town; ghosts seeking solace, as well as redemption and revenge. He also speaks of his longing to see these ghosts, to find the answers to his own questions. ...
