THOUGH A MIRROR, DARKLY
Published Oct 27, 2018 02:13 pm
By Vlad Hexenhammer
Please call me Vlad. I am an occultist, a paranormal researcher, a believer in things that go bump in the night, to name a few. I am what you would call an “antingero,” someone who believes and practices our version of Folk Catholicism, a belief system rife with Catholic imagery and belief while also blending and interspersing it with more native customs. Anitos, diwatas, engkantos, and lamang lupas are not so different from Angels, Demons, and Fay.
My practice has brought me all over the country, mostly because people have exhausted all normal and medical means to solve their woes. I come in at a time when a sick person begins vomiting nails or when a suspicious animal is always seen at night. It has brought me face to face with things that normal and modern society cannot even begin to imagine.
Know this Truth: “They care not if you believe in them for they believe in you.”
I’ll see you all on the other side of the rabbit hole.
I was fortunate enough to visit a beautiful, rural town in the Visayas Region.
A spate of unnatural occurrences was plaguing this particular town. Four young women were found in a catatonic state. Two were totally unresponsive while the other two were babbling incoherently. My good friend Barbie caught wind of the incident and headed to the town to investigate. What she discovered sent a chill down her spine.
There were already four victims. Doctors were baffled since they could not find any medical link among the four cases and they have ruled out most of the common neuroses. They tagged the incidents as complete mental breakdowns due to stress and other environmental factors. They suggested that the girls be admitted to a local care facility were they could be monitored.
The two girls who were babbling kept repeating: “Anino, anino, sa kwarto. Anino, anino, galing sa salamin. Anino, anino, nandito ako.”
The others simply looked ahead with a blank expression. The only odd thing that the care personnel noted was that they would sometimes blankly stare at a person.
Two of the families, in a state of despair, consulted the local shamans, spirit healers, and the parish priest as to what could have happened to their beloved daughters. The shamans and spirit healers did a ritual called the “tawas” or, as it is known in the west, divination. Different methods were used but every reading pointed to one disturbing fact, every incident was linked. A shadow was above all the girls, four yet ultimately one was the reading. The parish priest, Padre Ben, offered no cause but a simple solution.
“Pray to Archangel Michael,” said the old priest.
The healers and shamans offered their best solutions, ranging from bloodletting to various banishing rituals designed to cast away the malevolent presence. The families spared no expense in procuring all the necessary materials for the different rituals. None of them worked.
“Pray to Archangel Michael,” repeated the priest to the families.
The very next morning, Barbie called me. A day later, I was in Iloilo waiting for the shuttle to arrive. On the way to town, I interviewed the family members who came to fetch me. I asked them the routine questions trying to ascertain if this was a medical, psychological, or purely spiritual case. I asked them when the incidents started and if they happened out of the blue or was a progressive degradation. All the families told me variations of the same story.
When the first wedding in a decade was announced, the whole town was in a jubilant uproar. Everyone was pitching in, from food preparation to venue decorations. Young Ernesto, the local sacristan, was tasked to help with the non-gospel reading for the Liturgy of the Word. Following tradition, 1 Corinthians 13 was chosen due to its message about the true nature of love.
Father Benjie, commonly called Padre Ben by the local townspeople, was overcome with joy. “Finally a wedding,” he said with tears in his eyes.
The young couple were the offspring of two famous families. Though they grew up in Manila, they never forgot their hometown. Exceptional care was taken since they wanted a lavish and traditional wedding. Old muebles were brought out, cleaned, and restored to their colonial beauty. The old church was spruced up, new lights were installed, the brassware was meticulously cleaned and the old books were dusted and their covers were oiled.
Among the furniture brought out of storage was a beautiful antique mirror. This mirror would serve as the centerpiece of the reception proceedings. The mirror would stand near the entrance to greet the guests with its old-world splendor.
The day of the wedding arrived and the whole town was as beautiful as could be. The church was vibrant and the plaza was simply stunning. Four girls were chosen to be maidens of honor. They were Ana, Patricia, Jessa, and Ruby. They were childhood friends of the bride, Rose. All five of them had remained close despite their distance from one another. The groom, Leon, chose Ernesto’s older brother, Juan, to be his best man. Though they were not the closest of friends, Juan was the most memorable friend he had.
Everything was like clockwork for that day. The guests and sponsors arrived on time. The food and the reception venue were already prepared. Everything was fine except for one glaring detail—Juan had not yet arrived. This was out of character for him that it immediately sent waves of discomfort through the gathered townspeople. Before long, friends and concerned people began searching for the missing Juan.
They searched his favorite haunts. They thought that he might have lost track of time while doing something he enjoyed. First on the checklist was Juan and Ernesto’s house. The brothers were orphans so they simply called out to him. No answer. They checked the local watering hole in the off chance he could have been drunk the evening prior and was just sleeping it off. No luck. Then they tried the garden in the outskirts of town, which they knew Juan was fond of visiting. They thought that he could be personally picking flowers for Rose. Still out of luck.
With noon fast approaching, the search party had all but given up until they decided to check his house one more time. Again, they called out to him and once more there was no answer. A sudden wave of gloom and dread washed over them. The men looked at each other as if searching for affirmation that they felt it, too. Everyone did. With that feeling, they decided to enter the house and check.
What they found was nothing short of horrifying. They found Juan in front of a mirror, his eyes gouged out and shards of glass embedded into his torso and neck. But what made their knees weak was that Juan was still alive. He was repeating a phrase over and over again. “”
The men rushed Juan to the town clinic. Unfortunately, he was dead by the time they arrived. Cause of death was massive blood loss due to the seemingly self-inflicted wounds on his chest. Suffice to say, this caused no small amount of grief on the townspeople and the couple to be wed. Murmurs of a curse and a haunting spread like wildfire. Rose and Leon’s wedding was postponed indefinitely.
All the while, young Ernesto was at a loss for words. He was silent all throughout the wake, not once betraying a hint of emotion. The day of internment came and Ernesto was nowhere to be found. The people feared the worst. Searching every nook and cranny of their house and the town, they failed to find him. The town eventually gave up the search and ultimately decided that Ernesto just ran away.
The wedding eventually took place years later, but no longer in the rural town. To distance themselves from the tragedy, the couple wed in a small chapel in Manila, with only the closest of friends and relatives in attendance. The incident was almost forgotten until the couple received a curious package. It was from their hometown yet there was no sender named. When they opened the box, lo and behold, it was the beautiful mirror from that ill-fated day. It was as pristine and gorgeous as it was that day, years ago. It was then they decided to come back to the sleepy little town and finally tie up all loose ends they might have inadvertently left behind.
We arrived at the town after about four hours. There, the young couple, Rose and Leon, was waiting for me as well. They told me the same story and wanted me to check them as well. We settled everything and waited for the proper time to start. I asked them if they brought the mirror and they answered in the affirmative.
I asked if I could see this heirloom and they acquiesced. The moment I saw this full-body mirror, I got goose bumps all over. In my line of interest, this was a normal reaction. But something felt different. Something felt heavy, malevolent, and directed.
Something or someone was actively and purposely trying to harm these people.
Immediately, I asked them to form circles comprised of seven people each. Doing a hasty protection ritual, I dismissed them for the night.
All was silent until a blood-curdling scream woke us up at around three in the morning. Someone had heard footsteps on the roof and saw what appeared to be eyes looking at her from the third floor window.
I calmed them best as I could and told them to occupy and sleep at the communal areas. No one was to be left alone until morning. After a few hours of sleeping fitfully, we were finally able to visit the four girls. Ana, Patricia, Jessa, and Ruby were all in the local care facility, kept in separate quarters as per the requests of the families.
We started the cleansing process immediately. First, we visited Ana, one of the two unresponsive ones. It was apparent something was not right. The room was a few degrees colder than it should have been and Ana, once catatonic, was now manic. She was resisting all efforts to get her to lie down on the bed. Then it started.
The facility was in an uproar. There were only a total of 10 patients but all of them seemed to have gone wild. Each was stronger than was humanly possible for their builds and frames. Two of them, elderly women both, were able to overpower the male nurses and locked them inside the rooms. Curiously, none of the patients tried to escape. Then the howling and whistling noises came from the intercoms. Below the cacophony one could barely make out a message,
“Akin sila. Akin Sila. Akin Sila.”
Over and over again. This was no longer a simple cleansing. It was now a full blown exorcism. I asked everyone to leave the premises and wait outside and call for help if I gave them the go signal.
Alone, I confronted this entity. Imagine, a care facility where all lights went on and off at random and where you thought there were voices at each corner and blind turn.
The wind carried a chill even though it was midday.
“Tick Tock, Tick Tock” went the clocks and the faucets started to drip. There were footfalls all over the place and weird marks on the walls. A shrill laugh would echo here and there. One was thankful that the care facility was not that big, but with things as they are, even a one bedroom apartment would have been enough to cause fright.
Trudging on, I retraced my steps back to Ana’s room. My Cross of the Merciful Death was at the ready. As expected, a foul odor greeted me when I opened the room. This was all indicative of possession, though at this junction I had yet to know if it was demonic or something else.
When I reached Ana’s bedside, her smile was, quite literally from ear to ear, such an unnatural grimace would have sent anyone running. Calling to mind every discipline I had at my disposal, I chose the one most appropriate for the Primera of this Combate Espiritual. I chose the simple and very powerful Prayer of St. Benedict. Thus I Began: Crux Sancti Pater…
Thrice did I repeat this Oracion along with the proper name. It produced the effect I needed. At first, it hurled various insults my way then it began crying using the host’s voice and finally it became silent.
It was then that I asked the question. “What is your name?”
Names have power. This is why in most exorcism rituals you must ask the spirit the name he answers to.
Again, I asked, “What is your name?”
No answer, only weak sobs. Finally, I made the exhortation and curse.
“Spirit,” I said. “By the holy names of G-D, I command you to tell me your name. By the Holy wounds of the Christ, I command you to submit yourself to my dominion and by the grace of the Holy Spirit I command you to obey me!”
Finally, it gave out an inhuman shriek, Anino. Anino ako!
Then a black plume of smoke exited the girl’s mouth. She shuddered and then finally settled into sleep. I quietly closed the door and marked it with oil so as to make it a sanctuary.
Three more times did I repeat this, one each for Patricia, Jessa, and Ruby. All scenes ended in the same way and each gave out the same answer, Anino.
Puzzled, I tried to recall all myths of this particular region, seeing as how it was near impossible for any entity to resist the Exhortations of Solomon King. Then it hit me, there was a particular legend about “other forms” existing in our world, but on a separate layer. In this case, they were the “mirror entities,” they existed as our reflections and yet were separate beings. Their main function was “to protect us and prevent us from accessing the other side.”
I thought to myself, they are usually benevolent and in the worst cases they were indifferent. There was only one report of a malevolent “mirror entity” and that happened miles away from here.
Still, clinging to this small insight, I performed a quick containment ritual and immediately quieted the place.
I went back outside and asked the young couple were the mirror was located. They told me it was back at the hotel. I asked some of the male members of the group to fetch it and to avoid touching it directly. I gave them instructions to wrap it in whatever red cloth they happened to find and to bring it here with all haste.
An hour passed and they returned. As expected, the mirror was heavier than usual and it seemed to be radiating a palpable aura of gloom. I asked them to bring it to the lobby and then instructed them to stay with the group and intone St. Michael’s Prayer.
I opened the wrapping, lo and behold, the mirror was stained with blood. I repeated the exhortations and the mirror started cracking and laughing. It was not a malevolent voice but rather a voice of a man and a child, speaking in unison.
It was Juan and Ernesto. They somehow either got trapped or wilfully broke the barrier between layers.
Little fool! it said. The women are mine! The Bride is mine! They will never know peace until death claims him!
I performed the greater banishing ritual of the Pentagram. At this it shouted. It cursed. It yelled invectives and threats and finally it broke. I called on those who were brave enough to come inside and help me. I told them to dispose of the mirror at the nearest graveyard. I prayed and hoped that the incident was over.
With that, dear reader, I ask you to look at the nearest mirror and then ready the verse of Corinthians. Love is patient and kind. You would do well to remember, someone loves you.
The two girls who were babbling kept repeating: “Anino, anino, sa kwarto. Anino, anino, galing sa salamin. Anino, anino, nandito ako.”
The others simply looked ahead with a blank expression. The only odd thing that the care personnel noted was that they would sometimes blankly stare at a person.
Two of the families, in a state of despair, consulted the local shamans, spirit healers, and the parish priest as to what could have happened to their beloved daughters. The shamans and spirit healers did a ritual called the “tawas” or, as it is known in the west, divination. Different methods were used but every reading pointed to one disturbing fact, every incident was linked. A shadow was above all the girls, four yet ultimately one was the reading. The parish priest, Padre Ben, offered no cause but a simple solution.
“Pray to Archangel Michael,” said the old priest.
The healers and shamans offered their best solutions, ranging from bloodletting to various banishing rituals designed to cast away the malevolent presence. The families spared no expense in procuring all the necessary materials for the different rituals. None of them worked.
“Pray to Archangel Michael,” repeated the priest to the families.
The very next morning, Barbie called me. A day later, I was in Iloilo waiting for the shuttle to arrive. On the way to town, I interviewed the family members who came to fetch me. I asked them the routine questions trying to ascertain if this was a medical, psychological, or purely spiritual case. I asked them when the incidents started and if they happened out of the blue or was a progressive degradation. All the families told me variations of the same story.
When the first wedding in a decade was announced, the whole town was in a jubilant uproar. Everyone was pitching in, from food preparation to venue decorations. Young Ernesto, the local sacristan, was tasked to help with the non-gospel reading for the Liturgy of the Word. Following tradition, 1 Corinthians 13 was chosen due to its message about the true nature of love.
Father Benjie, commonly called Padre Ben by the local townspeople, was overcome with joy. “Finally a wedding,” he said with tears in his eyes.
The young couple were the offspring of two famous families. Though they grew up in Manila, they never forgot their hometown. Exceptional care was taken since they wanted a lavish and traditional wedding. Old muebles were brought out, cleaned, and restored to their colonial beauty. The old church was spruced up, new lights were installed, the brassware was meticulously cleaned and the old books were dusted and their covers were oiled.
Among the furniture brought out of storage was a beautiful antique mirror. This mirror would serve as the centerpiece of the reception proceedings. The mirror would stand near the entrance to greet the guests with its old-world splendor.
The day of the wedding arrived and the whole town was as beautiful as could be. The church was vibrant and the plaza was simply stunning. Four girls were chosen to be maidens of honor. They were Ana, Patricia, Jessa, and Ruby. They were childhood friends of the bride, Rose. All five of them had remained close despite their distance from one another. The groom, Leon, chose Ernesto’s older brother, Juan, to be his best man. Though they were not the closest of friends, Juan was the most memorable friend he had.
Everything was like clockwork for that day. The guests and sponsors arrived on time. The food and the reception venue were already prepared. Everything was fine except for one glaring detail—Juan had not yet arrived. This was out of character for him that it immediately sent waves of discomfort through the gathered townspeople. Before long, friends and concerned people began searching for the missing Juan.
They searched his favorite haunts. They thought that he might have lost track of time while doing something he enjoyed. First on the checklist was Juan and Ernesto’s house. The brothers were orphans so they simply called out to him. No answer. They checked the local watering hole in the off chance he could have been drunk the evening prior and was just sleeping it off. No luck. Then they tried the garden in the outskirts of town, which they knew Juan was fond of visiting. They thought that he could be personally picking flowers for Rose. Still out of luck.
With noon fast approaching, the search party had all but given up until they decided to check his house one more time. Again, they called out to him and once more there was no answer. A sudden wave of gloom and dread washed over them. The men looked at each other as if searching for affirmation that they felt it, too. Everyone did. With that feeling, they decided to enter the house and check.
What they found was nothing short of horrifying. They found Juan in front of a mirror, his eyes gouged out and shards of glass embedded into his torso and neck. But what made their knees weak was that Juan was still alive. He was repeating a phrase over and over again. “”
The men rushed Juan to the town clinic. Unfortunately, he was dead by the time they arrived. Cause of death was massive blood loss due to the seemingly self-inflicted wounds on his chest. Suffice to say, this caused no small amount of grief on the townspeople and the couple to be wed. Murmurs of a curse and a haunting spread like wildfire. Rose and Leon’s wedding was postponed indefinitely.
All the while, young Ernesto was at a loss for words. He was silent all throughout the wake, not once betraying a hint of emotion. The day of internment came and Ernesto was nowhere to be found. The people feared the worst. Searching every nook and cranny of their house and the town, they failed to find him. The town eventually gave up the search and ultimately decided that Ernesto just ran away.
The wedding eventually took place years later, but no longer in the rural town. To distance themselves from the tragedy, the couple wed in a small chapel in Manila, with only the closest of friends and relatives in attendance. The incident was almost forgotten until the couple received a curious package. It was from their hometown yet there was no sender named. When they opened the box, lo and behold, it was the beautiful mirror from that ill-fated day. It was as pristine and gorgeous as it was that day, years ago. It was then they decided to come back to the sleepy little town and finally tie up all loose ends they might have inadvertently left behind.
We arrived at the town after about four hours. There, the young couple, Rose and Leon, was waiting for me as well. They told me the same story and wanted me to check them as well. We settled everything and waited for the proper time to start. I asked them if they brought the mirror and they answered in the affirmative.
I asked if I could see this heirloom and they acquiesced. The moment I saw this full-body mirror, I got goose bumps all over. In my line of interest, this was a normal reaction. But something felt different. Something felt heavy, malevolent, and directed.
Something or someone was actively and purposely trying to harm these people.
Immediately, I asked them to form circles comprised of seven people each. Doing a hasty protection ritual, I dismissed them for the night.
All was silent until a blood-curdling scream woke us up at around three in the morning. Someone had heard footsteps on the roof and saw what appeared to be eyes looking at her from the third floor window.
I calmed them best as I could and told them to occupy and sleep at the communal areas. No one was to be left alone until morning. After a few hours of sleeping fitfully, we were finally able to visit the four girls. Ana, Patricia, Jessa, and Ruby were all in the local care facility, kept in separate quarters as per the requests of the families.
We started the cleansing process immediately. First, we visited Ana, one of the two unresponsive ones. It was apparent something was not right. The room was a few degrees colder than it should have been and Ana, once catatonic, was now manic. She was resisting all efforts to get her to lie down on the bed. Then it started.
The facility was in an uproar. There were only a total of 10 patients but all of them seemed to have gone wild. Each was stronger than was humanly possible for their builds and frames. Two of them, elderly women both, were able to overpower the male nurses and locked them inside the rooms. Curiously, none of the patients tried to escape. Then the howling and whistling noises came from the intercoms. Below the cacophony one could barely make out a message,
“Akin sila. Akin Sila. Akin Sila.”
Over and over again. This was no longer a simple cleansing. It was now a full blown exorcism. I asked everyone to leave the premises and wait outside and call for help if I gave them the go signal.
Alone, I confronted this entity. Imagine, a care facility where all lights went on and off at random and where you thought there were voices at each corner and blind turn.
The wind carried a chill even though it was midday.
“Tick Tock, Tick Tock” went the clocks and the faucets started to drip. There were footfalls all over the place and weird marks on the walls. A shrill laugh would echo here and there. One was thankful that the care facility was not that big, but with things as they are, even a one bedroom apartment would have been enough to cause fright.
Trudging on, I retraced my steps back to Ana’s room. My Cross of the Merciful Death was at the ready. As expected, a foul odor greeted me when I opened the room. This was all indicative of possession, though at this junction I had yet to know if it was demonic or something else.
When I reached Ana’s bedside, her smile was, quite literally from ear to ear, such an unnatural grimace would have sent anyone running. Calling to mind every discipline I had at my disposal, I chose the one most appropriate for the Primera of this Combate Espiritual. I chose the simple and very powerful Prayer of St. Benedict. Thus I Began: Crux Sancti Pater…
Thrice did I repeat this Oracion along with the proper name. It produced the effect I needed. At first, it hurled various insults my way then it began crying using the host’s voice and finally it became silent.
It was then that I asked the question. “What is your name?”
Names have power. This is why in most exorcism rituals you must ask the spirit the name he answers to.
Again, I asked, “What is your name?”
No answer, only weak sobs. Finally, I made the exhortation and curse.
“Spirit,” I said. “By the holy names of G-D, I command you to tell me your name. By the Holy wounds of the Christ, I command you to submit yourself to my dominion and by the grace of the Holy Spirit I command you to obey me!”
Finally, it gave out an inhuman shriek, Anino. Anino ako!
Then a black plume of smoke exited the girl’s mouth. She shuddered and then finally settled into sleep. I quietly closed the door and marked it with oil so as to make it a sanctuary.
Three more times did I repeat this, one each for Patricia, Jessa, and Ruby. All scenes ended in the same way and each gave out the same answer, Anino.
Puzzled, I tried to recall all myths of this particular region, seeing as how it was near impossible for any entity to resist the Exhortations of Solomon King. Then it hit me, there was a particular legend about “other forms” existing in our world, but on a separate layer. In this case, they were the “mirror entities,” they existed as our reflections and yet were separate beings. Their main function was “to protect us and prevent us from accessing the other side.”
I thought to myself, they are usually benevolent and in the worst cases they were indifferent. There was only one report of a malevolent “mirror entity” and that happened miles away from here.
Still, clinging to this small insight, I performed a quick containment ritual and immediately quieted the place.
I went back outside and asked the young couple were the mirror was located. They told me it was back at the hotel. I asked some of the male members of the group to fetch it and to avoid touching it directly. I gave them instructions to wrap it in whatever red cloth they happened to find and to bring it here with all haste.
An hour passed and they returned. As expected, the mirror was heavier than usual and it seemed to be radiating a palpable aura of gloom. I asked them to bring it to the lobby and then instructed them to stay with the group and intone St. Michael’s Prayer.
I opened the wrapping, lo and behold, the mirror was stained with blood. I repeated the exhortations and the mirror started cracking and laughing. It was not a malevolent voice but rather a voice of a man and a child, speaking in unison.
It was Juan and Ernesto. They somehow either got trapped or wilfully broke the barrier between layers.
Little fool! it said. The women are mine! The Bride is mine! They will never know peace until death claims him!
I performed the greater banishing ritual of the Pentagram. At this it shouted. It cursed. It yelled invectives and threats and finally it broke. I called on those who were brave enough to come inside and help me. I told them to dispose of the mirror at the nearest graveyard. I prayed and hoped that the incident was over.
With that, dear reader, I ask you to look at the nearest mirror and then ready the verse of Corinthians. Love is patient and kind. You would do well to remember, someone loves you.