By Jeffry Tim Tinga

What really caught his attention when he first arrived in the place is the numbing coldness. It starts during noon when stratus clouds will cover the majestic Mount Kitanglad; when an occasional fog drifts all around. In the first week, he caught a cold and got a fever that made him uncomfortable in doing his work. But, he knew that his body was just trying to adjust to the new environment. The climate was too much for him who was used to the warmer side of the province.

At first, he found it difficult to find a song house or a room to rent; his only option was to go home every day, even though Kibenton is miles away from Manolo Fortich; an hour and a half bus and habal-habal ride. One of his co-teachers, a resident of the place, suggested a house on the side of the road, just a few blocks away from the school. The owner, a man in his sixties, was at first hesitant to rent the house because there were few things that still needed to be fixed. The owner was moved when he told him of the hardships that he was going through. The agreement was made, and he immediately settled in the house.

The house was made of concrete, old, and dilapidated. It was situated near a farm. At the back of it was a grove that somehow added to its gloomy appearance. Its interior was quite dark because the windows were small. It has an “L” shape hallway that extend from the main door to the kitchen. It has two rooms of different sizes, whose doors open on each sides of the angle. Dust and cobwebs dominated everything therein. When he first arrived he saw a stick broom and a heap of trash on the side of the hallway; a sign that the owner did an unthorough tidying.

He prepared the room where there was a bed; however, its electrical connection was burned out. Instead, he plugged a bulb using a long wire into the hallway. It was so inconvenient because every night he would always transfer the light into the hallway. Every time he came back to the house after school, he would hurriedly cook his dinner and ate while it was still not very dark. Nighttime always terrified him. He was apprehensive every time he walked into the hallway. He felt that somebody was always watching him whenever he passed the room near the kitchen.

Since his stay, he never ate in the kitchen due to its untidiness; there were rotting piles of garbage of all sorts all around outside. Inches away, yawned the decomposing door of the toilet. But, what really disgusted him was the extremely putrid smell that he could not guess what. It seem to follow him wherever he went inside the house. To somehow ease his nausea, he always ate his food inside the room, always closing it.

Another of his co-teachers, kept on asking if he was alright while staying in the house. His response was always positive, hiding the fact that his stay was already becoming an ordeal.

One Friday night—he did not go home that time because it rained very hard—he found it too difficult to produce a fire. Fog had gotten inside the house, and soaked the matchsticks and firewoods. The wind blew so strong that he was afraid he would be blown away with the kitchen. It was on that moment when he discovered that there were holes on the roof. The hallway was already flooded when he went to the room. He spent the whole night with an empty stomach and shivering of the cold. It was already dawn when the rain stopped completely. He left early, and took his breakfast in the bus terminal.

He only went back to the house to get his things. Luckily, he found a very comfortable room in a house just across the school campus. When his co-teacher inquired why he left the house, he told her what he had experienced. She laughed so hard, and told him that somebody died in the house. His hair stood when she said that the deceased was embalmed in the kitchen.