Last Saturday, me and Wella finally got to try out Angel’s Kitchen, a small restaurant on Connecticut St., Greenhills. It’s run by four ladies that will probably remind you of your favorite aunt who spoils you silly. Since they personally attended to your orders and request, it really feels like you just visited aunties’ home and they’re just so excited to see you, they’ll stuff you with everything that’s in their fridge and cupboard. (Except in their case, they’ll hand you a bill after your meal.)
If you ever go there, try our their lamb curry and the roast chicken. After which, their chocolate molten cake will definitely make you forget about your diet, at least for the night.
By the time, we were finished with our meal it was too late for any movie, so we just went back to Wella’s house.
Now, despite the fact that we did nothing but eat that Saturday, Wella felt that her feet got strained from all the walking and needed a massage. So, seated at the couch in their living room, I massaged her aching feet. Soon enough, she was relaxed and her feet didn’t ache anymore and she was asleep.
There I was, pinned down by her legs (not that I’m saying she’s heavy) with not much to do. I started to surf some comic book sites using my phone, but was soon lulled to sleep by the droning lullaby of the electric fan that was set to “3”.
It was a little past two in the morning when Wella woke up because of my snoring. She was about to go back to sleep when she noticed a figure in the dining area. She stared at him and he stared back. Seated at the dining table was her grandfather.
Her grandfather had been dead for more than two years.
She jumped off the couch and dragged me up to her bedroom I was dazed. Not sure why we had run upstairs.
Wella got come candles from her cabinet and tried to light them, but some phantom breeze cause the candles to blow out.
She kept saying, “We need to pray. We need to pray,” as she tried to light the candles. Wella gave up on the candles and started to pray, but we could not remember the words. She opened her mouth, but no words came out. She closed her eyes tight til her head hurt and she tried to remember the prayer for the dearly departed.
This great, horrible guttural sound filled her head-- like the sound of someone expelling their last breath. She opened her eyes and she was back on the couch in the living room.
She looked at me. (I was snoring.)
She looked towards the dining area and saw nothing. Just the table and chairs and the shadows that seemed to shift in the heat.
I woke up and saw she had a troubled look on her face. I asked her what was wrong and she said she had a bad dream. I told her everything was okay and asked her what the dream was.
She said, “In my dream, we were here on the couch and then…”
“Stop!” I said.
“I don’t want to know.” I insisted.
“Tell me when I’m far away from here.”
So, she woke up the maid, to keep her company as she brought me to the door. “GoodnightIloveyoutextmewhenyougethome!” she said as she shut the door and ran up to her bedroom with the maid.
And I was left standing alone in front of their house.
In the distance, a dog started to howl.
I ran for my car and drove home as fast as I could and tried my best to not look at the rearview mirror (just in case whatever it was she saw decided to hitch a ride with me).
The next day, she told me about her dream and we found out that March 30 was her grandfather’s death anniversary. I guess he just wanted to say, “Hey! Remember me?”
I texted Jedi Jobert about it and he said, it could’ve also been Wella’s subconscious, reminding her about her grandfather.
What I didn’t Jedi Jobert was this other incident that happened the week before, which I doubt had anything to do with Wella’s subconscious (unless she’s a telekinetic and just doesn’t know it).
Two Saturday’s ago, me, Wella and her brother were watching “The Pursuit of Happyness” in her sister’s room. Before we even reached the middle of the movie, Wella and her brother fell asleep. (Must be a family thing.) So, while I watched the movie, their next door neighbor started to cause a racket. From outside the window, I could hear, what sounded like, plastic pails clatter on the concrete floor. This happened twice or thrice during the time I was watching the movie.
Couple of nights later, I was bringing Wella home when we saw her neighbors also arrive. I then mentioned that she has really noisy neighbors. She asked me when I heard them make any noise. Told her it was that particular Saturday night. Wella then pointed out that wasn’t possible.
Her sister’s room has two windows. The window on the left is beside an empty house.
The window behind the bed is right next to a water tank. So, the noises I heard could not have possibly been made by her neighbors.
I just comforted myself with the thought they probably have really large cats roaming their neighborhood. (And for some reason they run around with plastic pails.)
Black Saturday’s coming up. Makes me wonder what new incident will happen at Wella’s house.
(I know it’s not exactly the new TRESE mystery, but hope it spooked you nonetheless.)