The Old Lady in the Mysterious House

Father had decided we settle in barangay San Roque, his birthplace. He said life in the rural area is not as tiresome as it is in the city because it is not as fast-moving as it is in the city. He would always say that to Mother, who hadn’t experienced living in the rural area. He would also add, “If we live in the city, we would old easily or die young.”

San Roque is a small barangay at the heart of a remote town in the province of Leyte. It would take four hours to get there from Tacloban City. The houses in San Roque were scattered among coconut farms and rice fields. There were hectares of rice fields and San Roque was a supplier of rice in town and exporter to Tacloban City.

The house and the rice field next to the backyard were Father’s heirlooms from his parents, who had passed away long before I was born. His parents had left the rice fields and the house to the care of a close relative until we came in.

Unlike in the slum areas of Cebu, San Roque’s houses were a bit far from each other. To the right of our new house, one house stood three hundred meters across the coconut farm that spread alongside the road. The house was owned by Collette’s family. Next to his house, fifty meters away, was the barangay’s chapel. In front of our house was a narrow road. Across was a thicket that led to a forest. To our left, clusters of bushes spread to a group of rice fields. And, at the back of our house, a hundred meters across our rice field, was another house. The villagers called it the “mysterious house”.

Father told me that the mysterious house hadn’t been there before he left the village. It was two decades ago. He didn’t know who owned it. He still recognized other houses in the village, though.

Collette spoke with me about the mysterious house. He said the owner of the house, a mid-sixty lady, didn’t talk to anybody ever since the house was constructed a year ago. He told me it was unbelievable that the house construction finished in less than a week.

The villagers never saw lights inside the mysterious house every night. It was invisible when the total dark came. No one had ever gone inside or tried to see what was inside. Everybody was afraid to go near it. It had even come to a point when the house became a local legend, that whoever gets in couldn’t get out or wouldn’t be seen forever. Although there had been no one who vanished in the village.

The villagers didn’t know the name of the old lady. They would say “the old lady” if they spoke of her. I could notice her outside of the house on weekends, but not on weekdays. On Saturdays, she would work on cultivating the plants and young trees around the house. On Sundays, she would go to the chapel in her black gown, a scapular around the rumpled neck, and a rosary slung around one slim hand. She didn’t talk to the attendees, even to the visiting priest. At the end of the mass, she would move out, silently avoiding the villagers’ eyes. If somebody would courageously greet her, she would just nod.

One Sunday mass, I was glancing at her sometimes, trying to examine her appearance. Her hair, tied on her back, was graying. She didn’t wear makeup, like Mother, because I could see her wrinkles on the cheeks and forehead. She was serious, and she didn’t know how to smile. She responded to the mass, gave out a sign of peace to us, and took communion. When she glanced at me, I couldn’t look straight into her black eyes. They seemed to scold me and I shivered when I did. I felt they were different. As though behind them lay treacherous thoughts.

One Friday afternoon, Collette and Lolito, his older brother, and I were hunting wild ducks using slingshots. We crossed the coconut farm by their house to the rice field to search for our first victim. A brown wild duck fluttering low over the rice plants caught Lolito’s attention.

“There,” muttered Lolito.

We fumbled pebbles in our pockets. We aimed our slingshots at the bird while it was busy pecking snails by the dike. Lolito shot first. The wild duck dodged it. Collette followed, and the bird plummeted amidst the yellow-green blades of rice. It came out to the dike limping. It spread its wings as it ran away. I centered the wild duck between the twigs of my slingshot and released the pebble. It fell off. We hurried towards it, submerging our feet in the mud. The wild duck strove to hop and run away. We were so close to it that we could grab it, but it flew up toward the mysterious house.

We stopped and looked at each other. Our eyes almost fell out.

“I won’t go there.” Collette broke out. He put the slingshot on his neck like it was a precious necklace.

I turned to Lolito.

He grinned. “It’s all yours, Matt.”

It was a big wild duck and could weigh one kilo. I thought Mother would be proud of me if I would bring her a viand for dinner. But I also thought of the old lady who might be there and might see me if I sneak in her backyard.

Courage still won. I thought of an answer if ever the old lady would see me. I would tell her the truth, that I went after the wounded wild duck. And so I proceeded, leaving the siblings hunkering over the dikes.

“Take care!” hollered Collette.

I looked back and nodded at them.

My heart was beating faster as I crossed the wide squares of rice fields. I arrived at the hibiscus that thickly grew by the cyclone fence of the mysterious house. I moved along the hibiscus and reached the gates. The gates were steel and chained with a padlock. It made me think that the old lady was out and away. I searched for an entry through the cyclone fence, but I didn’t find one.

I thought I couldn’t get in except if I climb above the hibiscus and jump across the cyclone fence. I wore the slingshot around my neck and climbed the hibiscus. Newly trimmed twigs lashed at my arms, creating rashes. I balanced my weight on the top of the hibiscus. I heard the slender trunks snapped, so I quickly leaped inside the backyard.

The backyard was filled with plastic containers of seedlings and plastic pots of tree saplings, grafted young trees, and flowering plants. There were also citrus, mango, guava, and banana trees growing in containers made from aluminum pails. There were daisies of various colors, chrysanthemums, baby’s breath, heliconias, roses, zinnias, and sunflowers in flowering pots. The flowers enticed me so much that I forgot the reason I was there.

I tiptoed around the mysterious house. The four walls appeared to be the same in size. They could be fifteen meters from end to end. If I was right, the area inside could be a perfect square. All four walls had three-hinged windows. The windows could be 4 meters from the ground. They were opened wide.

I continued walking until I got near the main door. Though I knew the gates were locked, I had the feeling that the old lady was looking at me. I felt she was somewhere inside the house, looking out through a secret peephole. I also thought that if she was there, she would have known that someone had got in her backyard and have already reprimanded me.

I pondered on how I could see inside. I gazed at the door. There was no doorknob or latch. The temptation to push it told me so. Apparently, it was locked inside. Thinking that the old lady was inside, I hastened out of the house premises. I headed back to my uncooperative friends.

“The old lady is a plant lover,” I spread the news, as soon as I settled down beside Collette.

Lolito’s eyebrows scrunched up.

“Where’s the wild duck?” asked Collette.

I had forgotten about it. “Oh, I didn’t see it. Maybe it flew out of the backyard before I got in.”

“Did you see the old lady?” Lolito said. It sounded like he’d gone there so many times.

I shook my head.

“So what did you see?” said Collette.

“Plant seedlings, flowers, and young trees.”

“So, she’s not a witch,” Collette commented.

“I think so,” I said. “Maybe, she’s a horticulturist, so why be afraid of her.”

“I’m not afraid of her,” Lolito chimed.

“Yeah.” I laughed. Collette laughed too. Lolito’s lips were pointing down, and then he walked away.

That night, before I slept, I thought about the mysterious house. With its size, I thought it was the biggest house in the village. It probably had a luxurious living and dining room, a comfy bedroom, and a wide kitchen. Maybe it had a second floor, and on it were four bedrooms, and each bedroom had windows. Maybe it had sofa chairs with cushions and a flat-screen TV with a DVD player and speakers on the ground floor. Or maybe it had a Nintendo computer, the one I used to play with when we were still in Cebu.

Since we came into Father’s village, I had become an out-of-school kid. I spent my days helping Father in the rice fields. I plucked weeds as it contests to grow with rice plants. I also removed snails. They suck the leaves of rice plants. I sometimes picked up dead rats. They had taken in the poison father had put inside the bamboo set along the dikes. Every noon, I would stay inside the house and watch Eat Bulaga on our old 16-inch Panasonic TV. And sometimes when I was alone, I would think of the mysterious house.

I couldn’t get away with the thought of going inside the mysterious house. I wanted to prove something. To make my friends, especially Lolito, respect me because I’m brave. To make them believe that the old lady was a normal person. I never believed in their story that the old lady was a witch and that she had a cauldron where she cooked her captives, especially children.

My plan was to get inside through the window. I needed to do it with the help of my friends or a ladder. The latter was laborious because I had to build it first, and what if Father would ask me what that was for? And so I asked the siblings. We would do it on Sunday, just after she would go to the chapel.

My first move was to convince Collette and Lolito to come with me. They would help me up on the window. They would be my ladder. Lolito was difficult to convince at first, but I assured both of them that the lady was no witch or any supernatural being and that she was just a plant fanatic or a horticulturist. And I persuaded them.

Author's note: Please continue in Part II