My name is Jess. I'm seventeen now, but this happened when I was fifteen. It's the story of a mysterious island in the Philippines called "Siquijor," famous for its magic and witches. My family moved there for a while after my father's job transfer. At first, everything was normal, but then, gradually, events began to unfold that convinced me something supernatural was at play.
Siquijor's atmosphere was profoundly different. Dense forests, mysterious hills, and an uncanny depth in the eyes of the locals. The people there believed deeply in spells and spirits. As dusk fell, the streets would empty, and people would lock themselves indoors. I had often heard that spirits roamed the island at night, but I dismissed it as mere folklore.
For a few months, all was well. We lived in a small house surrounded by thick trees. I had a dog named Bruno, who was loyal and alert. One night, I saw him sitting in the middle of the road, staring intently into the darkness at the roadside, occasionally barking in fear. I thought it was just an animal and ignored it.
But then, one night, everything changed. I was watching a K-drama late in my room when I suddenly heard a sharp scream—a sound of utter agony. I put the remote down and listened. Then, I heard footsteps outside the house, as if someone was running. I looked out the window but saw nothing.
After that, the motion-sensor light outside began to flicker on and off repeatedly. It would stay on for a few seconds, then go dark, but there was nothing there to trigger it. My heart raced. I held my breath. Then a voice came... faint, yet clear. It was neither male nor female—it sounded like a mysterious entity speaking. I tried to make out words, but the voice was muffled, as if pleading for help.
Panic set in. I looked at Bruno; he was barking fiercely, growling at the door. Yet, strangely, all the other dogs in the neighborhood were silent that night... only Bruno was barking. This made it even more terrifying for me.
I trembled with fear. I quickly checked on my mother and sister—they were both deep asleep. I thought maybe I had just dreamed it, but then the voice came again... this time, closer. I peeked out the back window—Bruno was tense, staring into the darkness. The road was completely empty, lit only by a single dim streetlamp, while the rest of the house was swallowed by darkness.
I decided not to go outside. I checked all the doors and windows—they were locked. I lay down on my bed, but sleep was miles away. Every sound, every rustle filled me with dread. I stayed awake all night, with Bruno by my side, barking intermittently.
In the morning, I told my mother everything. Her face turned pale. She took a deep breath and said, "My child, your cousin passed away from a heart attack last night." A chill ran down my spine. The same night... the same screams... the same voice calling for help. Was it just a coincidence?
My mother explained that our cousin lived nearby and had the heart attack around the same time I heard those voices. She said, "Perhaps her spirit was wandering... she was calling for help, but we couldn't save her."
After that incident, I never heard such voices again. But even today, when I remember that night, one question echoes in my mind: Did I truly hear the voice of my cousin's spirit? Or was it all just a trick of my mind? Did the island's mysterious aura make me feel this way? I can never say for sure.
But one thing is certain: The island of Siquijor remains a mystery to me, and that dark night will live on in my memories forever.
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