It was a cold summer night in the Disney’s Tinker Bell-themed room that I shared with my younger sister. The bright pastel colors were muted by the darkness, and the only source of light came from the blue screen of my broken HP laptop. It was around 3:30 AM, and I was all alone since my sister was stuck in the hospital suffering from appendicitis. Not too worried about her, since I had seen her earlier in the day, I fell into the familiar comfort of being alone during a summer night. The shackles of academic responsibility were gone, and so I was finally free to reign, read everything I wanted, watch all the anime I desired, and relish in-
The computer shut off.
A normal occurrence, considering it used to happen when it got overheated. Taking this as a sign to go to sleep, I slid the laptop under my bed as I often did. To start the search for sleep, I moved from one side to the other, clutching my comfort blanket, or as I called it kiki, seeking comfort—but I just couldn’t. I stared at the pink wall on the other side of the room, just waiting for Sandman to arrive. By then, the moon shone brightly through the window on my left side. But it shone a bit too brightly.
That’s when I looked up and saw it. A bright light, with a slight blue hue, overtaking one half of the window. I felt every hair on my body stand in absolute fear, as my flight or fight instinct activated itself. Who was it? Was someone trying to break into the house? Impossible, I couldn’t hear the crinkle of leaves that I knew were on the ground of that side of the house. It was a certain type of hallway that ran outside all that part of the house, which was full of plantain trees, palm trees, and plants. There was no way one could walk in there without making noise. Then what was the cause of my unsettling distress?
An alien? A ghost? An angel? These questions ran through my brain at 100 miles per hour, yet I stood still.
Do I run to the door? No. That’s too dangerous, what if it comes to the room? What do I do then?
The light moved to the right, away from my sight, towards my parents’ room. An opportunity, I thought, relieved.
Besides my bed, stood my nightstand. On top of it was a trophy of an award I had won. I quickly grabbed it and clutched it to my chest, a lame attempt to defend myself from whatever It was.
My body started shaking from absolute fear and tears escaped my eyes, as I hoped It didn’t come back. But it did.
It was as if—It was searching for something, and as I tried not to scream, the light kept moving left and right. This supernatural event must’ve happened in just a few seconds, but to me it felt like hours. My brain just could not form a rational explanation for it.
While deciding what to do next, the light darted back towards my parents’ room, and I once again stood still. Waiting.
Afterwards, the light didn’t come back, and I decided that I wasn’t going to wait any longer. It had gone to my parents’ room! What if the light did something to them?!
I bolted to my bedroom door, trophy and kiki still in hand, and walked as quickly as I could to their door. I knocked once, then twice, no answer. I twisted the doorknob; it was locked. There was nothing I could do. Scared of what would happen if I came back to my room, I had no other choice but to softly knock on my grandparents’ door: the next pair of adults available to a tear-stained teen in fear.
I heard my grandpa’s gruff voice telling me to come in, and as I walked to the front of their bed, everything I bottled up snapped. I put the trophy on top of their wooden vanity and slid in between them on the bed. Safe between them, I wept and told them what had happened.
My grandfather, always the cynic, didn’t believe me and told me that it was clearly the reflection of car lights or even a police car. My grandmother, however, cradled me into her arms and told me:
“Ay niña, don’t fret, lights are good.”
“Then, why was I so scared?”
“Go to sleep, I’ll talk to you about it tomorrow.”
So, I snuggled with my grandparents—mind you, I was about 13 at the time, and way too old to do so. Yet their familiar comfort lulled me to sleep, and Sandman finally overtook me.
To my surprise, the morning after did come, and the darkness of the night before was long gone. The bright light of the sun shone all over the windows of the house. It was after breakfast, safe in our living room, that my grandma sat me down and told me the truth about her family.
Turns out, her family line sees ghosts! “Someone from each generation has had something happen to them, it appears that you’re the one from yours,” she told me. My eyes widened in amazement.
Today, almost ten years later, the memory is still clear, and perhaps many people don’t believe me. But that’s my truth; one lonely night, a light shone through my window.
