To give some context to this story, I will explain what a “Barong” is for the non-Filipino readers. A Barong or Barong Tagalong is an embroidered dress shirt traditionally worn by men in the Philippines. They’re typically worn during special occasions, and even is one of the choice of fabric for the dead during their wakes. This story happened about three years ago. I just moved to my very first apartment located in Quiapo, Manila. I was a fresh graduate, and I didn’t want to waste time and money doing nothing, so I decided to move away from my parents’ house to Manila, hoping I can find a decent enough job there. For the meantime, I decided to get a temporary job at a call center. That’s how I ended up in Quiapo. For the first few days that I was there, everything seemed normal. Sure, there were the usual misfits, beggars, “freaks”, but nothing to be so freaked out about. For a while I was getting the hang of my new situation. I would even pass by the infamous Quiapo Church whenever I walked home from work.
Everything seemed normal, until I took the graveyard shift in my job at the call center. It was around four o’clock in the morning when I ended my shift, and I decided to take my time and walk my way back to my apartment, seeing that my surroundings were quiet, and the usual busy streets were almost completely empty. I put on my earphones and went on my way. As I walked, I could feel the brisk morning winds run through my body, and I noticed how unusually foggy the alleys ahead of me became.
At that moment, I really dd not think of it too much, thinking what could go wrong with just a little bit more fog. Then in the thickness of the fog, I noticed something. No, someone, it seems. As I walked closer the shadowy figure in the distance, its image became much clearer. It was a man, dressed in a traditional barong tagalog. Not going to lie, the sight of the man spooked me, and I tried to walk in a faster pace due to this. As I walked past the man, I saw how pale and almost inhumane his skin was. It looked cold and lifeless. His sunken facial expression accentuated by those cavernous, dark eyelids, and the numerous deep wrinkles scattered all over his face.
As I came closer, the man lifted his arm out and tried to reach out for me, as he let out a blunt, and monotone grunt. I’ve had enough. I ran as fast as I can and looked down, never lifting my head up until I recognized the floor that was nearby my apartment complex. That day, I barely fell asleep. I was too spooked from that encounter. Little did I know that was just the beginning of my nightmare.
A few days pass, and I opt to take a tricycle on the way home from work ever since the event that spooked me. Even if the ride was expensive, I could not bear walk on the way home. One time, as my ride dropped me off in front of my apartment complex, my eye catches something not too far from where I was that made the hairs at the back of my neck stand. In the foggy distance, I could have sworn that I saw the man in Barong, slowly walking towards my direction.
My whole body trembled, as the cold air ran through my whole body. I hurriedly paid for my ride and ran up my apartment complex’s stairs into my room. I locked my door as soon as I got in, and I then looked out my window. And there he was, still slowly pacing, but this time, I knew, that he was coming after me. I turned away from my window and jumped into my bed. I covered myself in my blanket and hid, praying that the man walks past my building and leave me alone.
It was a Sunday, so I decided to go to Quiapo church for Sunday mass. For the first time in a while, I felt like my ever-growing fear was lifted as I entered the church. Well, that’s how it felt initially, anyway. I figured that if what was following me was a malevolent spirit, one place they wouldn’t be able to touch me in was church. Boy was I naïve. As my eyes paced through the church’s pews, there I saw something that almost gave me a heart attack.
Not one, but two, men in barong tagalog, staring at me. I immediately left the premises. As I pushed through the crowds of patrons entering the church, I caught glimpses of yet another man, clad in the same barong tagalog, pointing at me, his mouth wide open in a silent scream. His face, distinctly pale and lifeless staring at me, in the sea of hundreds of people. I hurried home.
Tonight, I made the stupidest decision of my life. A few days ago, I decided to quit my job, and stay at home, hide away from the outside world. The dread, the men in barong, I couldn’t take it. And just a few minutes ago, out of dumb curiosity, I looked out my apartment window. And there I saw, more than a dozen of them. The Men in Barong. All staring up at my room, all opening their mouths, all pointing in my direction. Moments later, I could hear heavy footsteps, approaching my room, climbing up the wooden stairs of my apartment. Just now, I could hear slow, heavy banging on my door. I don’t know what to do anymore. I can’t move. I can’t scream. They’re coming for me, and there is no escape.