Spooky stories and other tales

This is the time of the year when we come up with horror stories to scare ourselves with – all in the name of this Western tradition called Halloween.

Of course, when we get older, we become less scared of ghosts, but at the same time become more fearful of the other realities of life.

In my case, spooky tales still scare me and, let me tell you about it – along with the other things in this world I am afraid/scared of.

Ghost stories, but only when told orally or in print. Let me state this categorically: no horror movie would ever scare me. When I was a kid, sure – I had sleepless nights after watching Christopher Lee’s Dracula Has Risen from the Grave. But you can’t scare me now – at least not with horror pictures.

For sure, this has something to do with the fact that I am aware that all these supposedly scary scenes on the big screen are part of modern technology – so why should I be scared? In the case of local horror movies, you can’t fool me because I know personally the actors appearing as ghosts and other underworld creatures.

However, if a ghost story is told to me orally, that’s when I get scared because my imagination runs wild. It’s the same with horror tales I read in books and magazines. Just the other day, I got scared reading Ching Alano’s feature entitled Ghost Appearances in the Sunday Lifestyle section of this paper. Particularly scary was this part about this lady hotel guest who went to the bathroom to fix herself, and while doing so heard somebody ask, "Am I beautiful?" Well, when she looked at the mirror, she saw the image of a lady with a charred face. It turned out that the upper floors of that hotel caught fire a few years back and left hundreds of guests fried to death – including that lady ghost whose vanity lives on even in the afterlife.

Lingering and terminal illnesses. Who is not afraid to get sick? My heart bleeds for people (even those I do not personally know) afflicted with cancer and those who have to undergo chemotherapy. I am actually amazed at the courage of some of them. Most of the time, I even end up drawing inspiration about life from these people whose days on earth, sadly, are numbered.

The ringing of the telephone. The ringing of my phone brings both joy and fear. Joy because it may be a call from a loved one who just wants to check on me – and fear because it may be a piece of bad news that needs to be relayed to me. Oh, there was a time when I used to get startled with the ringing of the phone – especially in the middle of the night. It’s not as bad anymore. I’ve learned to turn off the ringer.

Anything about the airport. Strangely enough, it’s not the flying I’m afraid of. On the contrary, I enjoy airplane rides and I’m probably the only one in this world who gets lulled to sleep by air pockets. But airports? I am scared of them – starting with getting there.

Since there is so much traffic around our airports, you’re never sure if you’re going to make it to boarding time – especially for somebody like me who is perennially late. (The only occasion I come ahead of time is when I have an appointment with Rosa Rosal, who is the mother of punctuality.)

And when you get to the airport, you get harassed by all sorts of people – from porters to minor airport officials out on a power trip. I get scared because you can never tell if the immigration will make it difficult for you – especially when you get to your destination.

At my port of entry in the US, I get scared because the customs official might make me open my balikbayan box and confiscate my suman sa latik and laing. (I’ve solved the laing problem by buying those available in cans – the Moon Dish brand in particular because it’s the best in the market so far.)

Flying back to Manila from the US also scares me because I might exceed my weight limit and the nasty ground stewardess might charge me for the excess or make me open my boxes again to lighten the load.

Traveling has become even scarier now – no thanks to those terrorists who continue to make life more miserable for all of us all over the world.

Black cats. I adore dogs. But cats? No offense to cat lovers, but I don’t like feline creatures – especially black cats. Just looking at their black coat of hair and I get the creeps.

And yes, I associate them with bad luck. I am a very superstitious person and whenever a black cat crosses my path, I feel like something bad is going to happen to me. So if I have to turn around to avoid a path crossed by a black cat, I do. What a waste of gas! But I can be that dumb and stupid to believe in superstition.

My problem now concerns Ali Sotto’s pet cat. Ali and diplomat-husband Omar Bsaes are back in Manila for a Manila post at the US embassy, and with them are two dogs and a cat. Oh, she’s so proud of the cat because it was born in Washington, D.C., reared in Curacao and later in Mexico. When I went to visit their Magallanes Village home recently, I found out that the cat is actually black.

Now, how do I tell Ali I can’t be visiting her home because they have a black cat there? I know how Ali loves her pets. Just the other week, I thought she was going to lose her mind because her dog got lost, but was mercifully recovered the same evening.

I already met the cat when I went to their house and we developed an instant dislike for each other. From that time on, I’ve been trying to figure out how to get rid of it. No, I can’t kidnap, er, "catnap" it. I’m afraid of black cats, remember?

Maybe I’ll just hire somebody to do it for me. Siopao, anyone? Ughh! Happy Halloween!

(To be concluded)