I heard a story once, from a neighbor, a possession they said. I was young, and everything to me was real. But I guess that stuck with me, huh?
Well, anyway, a possession. The story was as it usually went, people messing around not knowing what they were messing with. They were around their 20s, and they were having a congratulations party for a friend. They drank outside near a very old mango tree. It’s always trees aren’t it, or rocks set in the soil longer than you and me. Earthly spirits have always fascinated me, though curious as I was, I’d never be foolish enough to pursue it. So I relied on stories and the occasional present, kinda like you, I suppose.
Oh, right, the story. Where was I? Right, the mango tree. They were drinking and messing around with the roots of the old tree. I don’t recall why they were messing with the tree roots, but they were. When one of them, one perhaps more susceptible to these kinds of inklings, felt a chill ran down her spine. She fell sick, and so they sent her back. That should’ve been a sure-fire way of knowing something was wrong. But humans typically rationalize things, their minds fit it into boxes that make sense.
A few days later, she had fallen quite worse. They had taken her to the hospital, but nothing was wrong with her. So they took her back home, to her room, and decided to have a good night's rest. But later that evening, the girl, whose name I forget, started acting funny. The usual possession stuff where their voices changed, appearances too in a way. They looked human, they weren’t. Their eyes, irises maybe a little darker than usual. Skin that looked like skin but wasn’t. Cold to the touch like the dead. She had taunted our neighbor, Mellie was her name. And she spoke words that rattled Mellie. Words of her family, of her life. I think they told her about their deaths, how bloody and mangled it would be. Mellie cried and the girl, no, the thing that in her laughed a cruel yet delighted laugh. Though I don’t know how I know that.
Of course, Mellie never wanted to talk about that part, she always brushed it off when someone asked. She never told much though, as far as I know, she only recalled this story once. She always emphasized, however, how long the girl’s tongue was and how purple it was, like a really bad bruise. They took her to someone, obviously, someone who was more versed in spiritual stuff, albularyo, they called those people. And, well, how did it go?
They had set her down in what looked like an old hospital with sliding doors. Everyone in their small community was there, at the time of the possession Mellie was living somewhere else, a small village I guess, a few ways out of our current barangay then. The girl was fast asleep, or it looked like she was. The Albularyo who came started and Mellie was inside with them, along with a few friends. The ritual started, though Mellie never dived into the details of what happened.
The girl, or whatever was in her, was obviously angry when the ritual began. She said words, Mellie said, horrid words of hate and anguish. It took all her courage not to scream in horror or panic. They were advised not to engage, but help the Albularyo in silent prayer, I think. Of course, I might add that these events were told to the mind of a young girl and some of it my imagination might have already twisted so forgive me if some retellings are inaccurate to what the current day albularyos may be doing or how they go about.
Anyways, the ritual had stretched long, and the thing that was in her was getting angrier. Bloodshot eyes, joints, and muscles that spasmed, and with every movement, it shrieked in pain. I honestly can’t believe they stayed that long as the thing convulsed and ached and screamed. But it was getting more dangerous, so the Albularyo had them leave. They all got up, Mellie and the two friends, and started to the door. The two friends came out first, and Mellie could see everyone outside looking, a look of horror and apprehension. And when the sliding door opened she heard them scream as someone from the crowd pulled her out.
They all backed away, and when Mellie looked back, there the girl was, her face stuck to the sliding doors looking at her in rage. Thinking back, the sliding doors didn’t open up for the girl, as if it sensed it wasn’t even human. Funny, isn’t it?
Turns out Mellie was something of a battery, I suppose. She was the girl and that thing inside hers lifeline. So she had to go back in and sit in the corner as the Albularyo sorted things out.
Went well though, thankfully. They got the girl back and, well, all’s well that ends well. She didn’t remember what happened, and I don’t think anyone told her what exactly happened. Mellie never said otherwise. But I think the girl knew, though I never met her. I just think in some part of her, she knew. Or maybe that’s just me trying to spook myself.
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