Yesterday's Tale: Beyond the Walls, Behind the Shadows

            It was creepy as hell—exactly like how they described it.  On point.  Nevertheless, Samantha Salazar continued on her way along the dirt path up to the old, deteriorating plantation-style mansion on the East face of Mount Sambrano.   It had been almost ten years since its last occupant.  She was expecting the worst—cobwebs all over, dust everywhere and pest invasion.  She came prepared—she just did not know if that would be enough.             The high, intricately designed wrought iron gate greeted her.  Weeds and ivy were helping themselves, growing wherever they want, almost covering the lower half of the gate.  Samantha had no other option but to get out of her SUV, pull some of them away, to make opening the gates a possibility.  She had to use a wrench to break the rusty padlock, because in the course of ten years, only heaven knows who had the key to it.             It was a good thing that she reached the place early in the morning.  She had to check out of the hotel in Makati at dusk to stick to her schedule.  She had anticipated losing cell phone signals, getting lost along the way and unwelcoming townsfolks and distant relatives, so might as well get a head start to deal with them early on.             She had only been here three or four times—she was not sure; she could not remember anyway—during her thirty-year existence.  Although the property had been owned by the Salazar clan for more than a century, and had been handed down from generation to generation, beginning from her great-grandmother, she was not fond of visiting her relatives in this quaint town of Casa Real.  Somehow, she just did not feel at home.  She did not exactly know why.  Perhaps being brought up in LA was a big factor.             She drove past the wrought-iron gate and into the two-hectare property.  She parked in front of the mansion, got out of her SUV and surveyed the area.  The boundaries were marked by stone walls covered with green moss built around the premises.  But the lack of occupancy had taken its toll, because some parts of the wall had eroded, due to natural calamities or through time, she was yet to check.             She then took the five steps up the patio of the mansion.  Her Tia Lida said it would not be locked (that was why the gates were), so getting in was an easy task.             As she had expected, dust and cobwebs galore.  No visible signs of pest invasion, but she was yet to prove that.             She went around the house, taking her time.  She wanted to see if there was still something that could be valuable, or could be salvaged, at least, if the property was to be sold.  She went from room to room, checking the covered furniture.              These antiques could fetch a fair price from the collectors.             She went up the stairs to the second floor of the mansion, to the grand master’s bedroom, where the best view in the house is.  She opened the swing door to the balcony where a clear, unobstructed view of the Laguna Bay, the Talim Island and the entire town was to behold.              Not much in this town…But I gotta admit, that’s quite a view.             After enjoying the view, she went back inside the room and surveyed the floor.  She knew this place has so much history written all over it, that was why it is a pity that her family wanted it to be sold.  She could understand them, though.  If they, who knew of the place’s history, wanted it out of their hands, who is she—someone who almost had no idea about it—to stop them.              After surveying the entire second floor, she decided to go check the tower room.  Only….                 How do I go up?  Where’s the stairs?             She looked around for anything that indicated a hidden staircase to access the tower, but she did not find any.  Instead, she found a secret passage in one of the smaller rooms that directly led to the master’s bedroom.             This is interesting.  Sam thought with a smile.  I have never seen anything like this. Being led back to the master’s bedroom, she began checking the walls to see if there is another passage that would lead somewhere else.  To her surprise, there was!  With the access hidden inside the closet—a small room of only about four-square meters—probably served as a private study.  Unlike the other rooms, this room seemed untouched—perhaps even unknown—because everything in it is so properly arranged, and even after being uncovered for years, dust collection was at a minimum.  There were books on the recessed shelf on the wall, and there were notebooks neatly stacked on the table.  Curiosity getting into her, she opened the notebook with the fanciest cover.             She had never seen a handwriting as beautiful and intricate as the one she was staring at.  It was…enchanting.             Wow…How could someone write so artistically?              Scanning the pages, she realized it was a diary written by someone named Salvacion.  She took the diary, got out of the room and went downstairs.  She was so intrigued she wanted to read it and know more about the writer with the enchanting handwriting.             She pulled the white, dusty fabric covering a birthing chair and sat down to begin reading.             The first entry is exactly a hundred years old to date!             Dated August 21, 1920, Saturday, Salvacion wrote:                     It’s raining again.  How I wish I were in his arms, locked in his embrace, to fight the chill of the night.              But for now, these are all mere dreams that I pray will someday come true.  I don’t know for how long we can             keep this up.  It is just a matter of time.           To her astonishment, a loud thunder proceeded by a sudden heavy rainfall enveloped the atmosphere.  It was only three in the afternoon, but the sky was so dark with rain-filled clouds, it was like seven in the evening.            Nice…Who knew it would rain?  This weather is so unpredictable….          She stood up, stared at the heavy raindrops, holding the diary in her hand, while contemplating on how to get back down to Tia Lida’s house if the rain did not stop.          Nope…Not gonna spend the night in this creepy house.  No way…This rain is gonna stop….          As the rain kept pouring, the house grew darker and she was straining to see her surroundings.  She turned on her phone’s flashlight and saw hundreds—perhaps thousands—of small bats began flying in circles above her.  She was startled by the unwanted visitors—or current tenants—she was taken aback, stumbled on a chair, and felt something hit her head.  As she fell, she held onto another covered furniture which also fell on her, and everything turned black.