Safe Spaces

In the Prayer Room

A corner of our second floor is dedicated to religious figurines, to which our big family—composed of us six children, our parents, our aunt, and our grandparents—gather and pray the rosary every six in the evening. We call this the prayer room, even though it is not enclosed by four walls and is actually a part of the second's floor entertainment room.

We did this every day. So when Zenaida, 8, the youngest in the family, complained about how she saw the small Sto. Niño figurine moving on the table one night, we dismissed this as a simple hallucination driven by fear. Since then, she would always sit behind Grandma during the six o'clock prayer to avoid seeing it.

A few days after this incident, Freud and Lito—aged 9 and 11, respectively—came running to our room, the girl's room. "It's not funny!" they both shouted. We were all confused about what they were talking about when they suddenly threw the headless Sto. Niño figurine on my bed. The four of us girls loudly screamed in horror that Mama hurried toward our room. She reprimanded the two boys for pranking us, but they insisted that we were the ones who pranked them. I knew it wasn't me, so I calmly asked my three other sisters individually and promised not to tell anyone. But none of them admitted to it.

My aunt glued the head of the Sto. Niño to its body afterward.

These strange occurrences didn't stop. I awoke one morning to pee, at around four in the morning. When I came upstairs, the Sto. Niño was at the last step. "Freud? Lito?" I asked. "Miya? Angel? Hey, this isn't funny!" I grunted before continuing to walk. I picked up the figurine, placed it on the table, and then went back to my bed.

It was seven in the morning when I felt Mama sit beside me on the bed. She tried to wake me up by pulling my blanket to my feet. Then, I heard her say, "Charity, what is the Sto. Niño doing on your bed?"

This immediately woke me to my senses. "Ma! This isn't funny!"

"What? Are you thinking I placed this beside you?"

I told her what happened this morning. She was slightly convinced after three separate incidents. But the last straw was when my aunt tripped by the stairs. And guess what came with her fall—the Sto. Niño.

The family, bothered by these unexplained events, gathered in the prayer room. Papa placed the Sto. Niño and then asked us to raise our hands to pray over it. "Everyone," he started, "pray using your own words and ask God Almighty to drive unwanted spirits away from our home."

And so we did. With closed eyes, each of us loudly spoke our own prayer, filling the room with different words. However, we were all stopped by our aunt's scream.

"Ate Karla, what's the matter—" Papa asked Auntie. But she didn't allow him to finish. She just pleaded for Grandpa and Grandma to stay by her side.

"S-s-someone was beside Papa!" she replied. "I-I am not joking!"

"Ate, calm down—"

"N-n-no! B-believe me! It's n-naked . . . and thin and . . . it just looks evil."

Scared, we all went beside her. Papa and Mama immediately called for the assistance of our parish, but no one answered the call. Through Facebook, they were connected to a certain Father Solomon. We all saw him pray over, somewhat speaking in tongues, and spray holy water on the Sto. Niño figurine.

We were able to sleep soundly that night.

For days, nothing happened. We thought it was over.

But when Zenaida clung to Mama and cried that she saw the Immaculate Conception figurine pouted at her, we did not hesitate to remove the prayer corner altogether and have our whole house blessed once again.

Astonished how could this happen to a very religious and prayerful family like us, we asked FatherSolomon. He said, "The evil does not have a conscience. They will attack whenever they want to, no matter the time, no matter the place. As long as there is fear, as long as there is sin. Prayer and faith are your only weapons, but sometimes their weapon is much stronger than yours. Still, do not drop them during the battle. Be careful."