Haunted houses are made when they have a dark past in which the ghost still haunts. Those ghosts might seek for revenge to his/her captor, and they might be jealous to the living.

I found a story in a book about a 1950s house in Cavite wherein a ghost of a young lady still haunts and scares his neighbors through her sad moaning.

[Taken from The Sound of Fear by Gabby Libarios]


Built during the 1950s, it was a baronial house belonging to the landed gentry of Cavite. Bathe in opulence and grandeur, the house was not only meant for residence. It was also a place for grand celebrations, where the cultured, the educated, and the toast of the town converged to partake of joyous merrymaking that lasted until the wee hours.

Some townsfolk would suggest that the festivities held there were always of grand scale. Music spilled into the streets, wine flowed like water, and all the lights switched on, making the house look ablaze from afar.

However boisterous and pompous the celebration were, people in the surrounding area regarded the house as their temporary escape, which offered them an experience - albeit vicariously - what it was like the charmed life.

But as always, there was another side of the story, especially if no one alive could attest to the house's history, which, over the years, has become a mix of truth and untruth passed around by word of mouth.

Some people would say that it was the hiding place of powerful drug lord. Other would suggest that it was a hotbed of vice, where the high rollers and card sharks gamble their riches, sometimes life and limb, all in the name of money. Just the same, the houses had nothing but notoriety. But among the lies and fabricated tales, there was always one story that kept the house's history interesting, horrifying, and sad all at the same time. It was the story of the Santos family.

Despite their wealth, which came from the father's successful mining company, the sons and daughters were taught to lead a simple, low key life.

Every morning, the father would read the paper and drink his coffee on the veranda. The mother, who always wore melancholic smile, would tend their garden, quietly pruning the plants and pulling out the weed sprouts, while the kids, except the eldest who was always in her room, would run around the garden.

Named after a flower, Daisy had always been quiet and reserved. She would spend most of her time inside her room, carefully thumbing through her dog-eared books by classic authors. Oftentimes, she would just sit in front of her dresser and comb he long black hair for hours. If the weather permitted, she would linger on her balcony and relish the crisp, fresh air summer. Their neighbors would say that sometimes they would hear Daisy singing from the balcony. Her voice is so lovely, they would say.

On days when Daisy would accompany her mother to church, people would always notice her. Some say Daisy was the most beautiful girl in town. In fact, her mother's friends never failed to compliment her, however inadequately or too informally clothed she was. Boys, on the other hand, simply gawked at her presence.

Little did Daisy know that her beauty, which held so much power, would soon be her curse.

Barely a month after her 18th birthday, Daisy was brutally raped and murdered. The crime happened when the rest of the family was out for an afternoon mass. Her lifeless body was found in the backyard. Her clothes were ripped, blood dripping between her legs. Investigations said she was in her room when her attacker barged in. Bruises on her stomach and legs suggested she was beaten first. Loose black hair found on the floorboards near her bedroom indicated that the rapist dragged Daisy by the hair out of her room before committing the heinous crime.

Despite the thorough investigation, the culprit was never found. Some say it was Daisy's spurned lover. Others say it was their house help who always harbored feelings for Daisy.

The family eventually moved out and never returned. Although there were the occasional visits from real estate agents, no one had ever taken interest in the house since then.

Though it was relegated to a mere urban legend, Daisy's death still echoes in that little town in Cavite. Legend has it that every night, the sound of a weeping young girl can be heard from the house.


True Philippine Ghost Story Book 15

Note(s): The picture depicted above is not the actual picture.