I AM HERE...

I am a ghost who has been haunting apartment number A65. I have been staying in this place even before I enter this ethereal plane where wandering souls lost their way to the next life. Someone murdered me when I was sleeping in my apartment on a sunny Sunday afternoon about a year ago. Whoever that someone is, he or she got away with most of my possessions. I have a suspicion that one of the apartment's personnel has got something to do with my death, because they are the only ones who has access to our rooms besides ourselves. But it is still a mystery, even to me. Maybe that is why I am still here, unable to leave my room, wanting to solve the mystery to my murder.

The apartment's personnel managed to dispose of my body quietly without letting the other occupants know about such thing happening in their building. It was not hard for them, I could tell. They did not have to report this incident to my relatives because I had none. Being an orphan, having no family of my own, and having no close friends made it possible for the murder to go unnoticed by people, except of course for the apartment's personnel. I also noticed that the apartment's owners managed to bribe the police to shut their mouth and just rest this case. A murder in the apartment they own could hurt business real bad. Even the apartment's personnel got a sudden hefty bonus in the month following my death. Money to keep their mouth shut.

However, probably to respect the dead, my apartment was made unavailable for the following three months by the apartment's management. Whenever anyone asked, they would say that the apartment was under repair due to some heavy leakage problems. Room A65 has become my one and only anchor. For some reason, my spirit could not leave the place as of yet. At first I thought that my not being able to leave this room has got to do with the nature of my murder. You see, my death was a violent and abrupt death. As my soul was leaving my dying body, I saw my severed head and blood coloring my apartment bed with dark red. I also remembered the apartment people having a hard time carrying my bloodstained bed outside the building in the middle of the night, trying not to attract too much attention. Maybe such violent deaths leave souls wandering, because it was not right time for Death to pay them a visit. No matter what the reason is, here I still am, in Room A65.

My solitary time in Room A65 came to an end one Sunday evening about 3 months ago (which happens to be also the time when the 3 months time the apartment people gave to my room was up) when a young man entered A65 with his luggage, being led by one of the apartment receptionist. She showed him around the room, and I could feel the excitement emanating from his soul. It seemed that it was his first time here in the Philippines. His English was quite good, and he seemed to take comfort and confidence in it. After the receptionist had left, he started to unload his luggage and arranging his possessions in room A65. Some of his friends came by later on to pick him up and they took him somewhere. I overhead something about dinner. I would come to find out later on that my new 'roommate' was an expatriate sent to work here in Manila for some kind of an IT project.

As the days go by, little by little I got to know this young man better. Earlier, when he'd just arrived, he seemed to enjoy the solitude of the apartment. He loved his books and his many electronic gadgets, and he spent a lot of time with them in A65. But as days go by, he treated A65 more as a place to rest only. It would seem that the project was picking up on pace. That is the nature of the human world nowadays, the business world striving to gain more and more although what they gain sometimes could not be understood. And most of the time, people got lost in the jungle that is the corporate world. They lost sense of direction, and forgotten their purpose in life. I knew the corporate world quite well, and I managed to stay on course, treating this it as only a means to my ends. I was doing just fine until that fine Sunday afternoon when I was asleep in A65 and someone slit my throat open. As for the young man, he started working more hours at the office. I could only look on as another person is lured into that jungle. He might, or might not, come out of it. As long as he does not forget his purpose. But that was all up to him.

As I get to spend more time with him, I sense many things within this young man's heart. There was a darkness in his soul, but he hid it quite well from the people around him. I sensed a lot of good in him, but the darkness was also lurking in the crevices of his soul. Darkness cloaked in bitterness. The man has gone through many disappointments in life, just like I did. But being an orphan and knowing that there was no one to count on in this world, I just accept it. This young man, however, tried hard to deny it. It would also seemed that he was heart-broken. There were times when he shed tears during the night, and there were times when he unleashed his fury on the walls of the apartment. 'Love' problems are always one of the most complicated and complex in this world. And one of the most unnecessary one. Most people could not even define what 'love' is. And many got their ideas of 'love' from one of those many pop-corn movies they watch over the weekend. This young man was just wasting his time and energy for a useless idea. I felt as if there was a cloud hanging over his head, covering his mind and heart. Broken-hearted and world weary, I was expecting this man to try to lose himself in his work just to get away. And I was not wrong. He would come back to A65 later and later each passing day.

It would seem that loneliness does not afflict only the living. Even the dead feel it, and that would seem to include me. At the moment that young man walked in A65, I felt a sense of relieve. A relieve that at last my solitary spell has been broken by the presence of another soul. But that did not last for long for I also realized that this young man would not be able to sense my presence. And even if he could, he would probably reacted the way that poor janitor lady did when she 'accidentally' felt my presence.

The apartment, even when it was not occupied, needed to be cleaned from time to time. As she came in to the bedroom, I was lingering in the bedroom, near the bed where I was killed. About the same time that she started taking care of the bed, I sensed a tingling sensation. And right at that time, for some reasons our eyes met. I did not know what she saw, but after an awkward moment of silence she screamed and ran out of the room. All I could do was linger in the room. A few moments later, a man came in. It seemed that he was one of the apartment personnel. As he came into A65, I could sense fear in him. I was still there, yet unlike the maid, he could not see me. I saw the maid made an attempt to peek inside the room and this time, she could not see me. I know, because the tingling sensation was not there anymore and our eyes did not meet they way they did before. I heard her explained to the man about seeing a ghost with a severed head as he took her in his arms and led her away from A65. I later overheard from some of the personnel that she stopped working here.

I was wrong about this young man, however. One time he came back to A65 late in the night. I could feel that he was very tired and world-weary. He came into A65, and opened up his laptop, probably trying to entertain himself just like he usually did during the evening when he came back from his working place. I was lingering in the bedroom, as I always do, when that tingling sensation came again and I saw him look from the corner of his eyes towards my direction. And he then said casually, "Is anyone there?" I knew that the young man would probably dismiss it, thinking that it was probably his imagination, but there was no denying that tingling sensation. Later on, he would sense my presence almost every night. And the tingling sensation would be a sign for me letting me know that he's come back to the apartment. It seems that this young man has, what most people call, a sixth sense. I did not understand why, but from what I can feel was that his disposition has changed since the first time he was here. I felt like he was somewhat more...brooding.

Regardless, in a way I felt a sense of gladness that my presence was felt. And, out of playfulness, the young man would sometimes greet me by saying "Good evening, I bet you've been waiting for me to come home, eh?" But that did not happen too often. Most of the time he seemed to tired to care. It only added to the gladness that I felt. Here he is, someone who acknowledged my presence and actually talked to me. I know that he probably thought that it was his imagination that he was talking to. But for me, it was enough.

However, I am still unable to solve the mystery of my murder. Or, to be exact, I haven't been able to find out who the murderer is. And, I am not sure whether or not this is the reason why I still linger on in this world. My purpose is still not clear. And out of my frustration, one night when he was deep in his sleep I 'borrowed' the young man's computer and typed this short story in one of his web log account. I did not know why, but I felt I must make my presence clear, and my story told. It would also be nice to let the young man know that I was not his imagination.

My story is not over yet. I linger still. It is to continue until I find out my purpose. And all I can say for now is that....





"I am here..."