"And that's all the news for today. This is Channel 11's very own, Mel Enriquez, reminding everyone that today marks the start of the Haunting. Please make sure that your kids get their photos taken at the end of the day. Until next time, goodbye!"

"It's that time of the year again," Mom said with a shaky voice. My parents are of age. They've had me in their late twenties so now that I'm sixteen, the signs of aging are getting more pronounced. My mom made it clear that her flabby arms and the crow's feet around the corner of her eyes are forbidden subjects.

I turned the television off as mom sits down. Plates of chicken franks, pancakes, and fried eggs cooked sunny-side up filled our table. There's also a pastry basket full of round, bread rolls, next to a plate of cheese block, sliced to thin pieces. And for dessert, a custard pudding glazed with brown, caramel sauce. And a deep pan of chocolate rice porridge.

"You made champorado?" I said with a big grin and making sure the excitement in my voice is pronounced. I went to her side and give her a kiss on her cheek—something I don't normally do but the occasion calls for it. "I love you, mom."

The crease of her forehead tells me that that wasn't enough to take away her worry. "I thought I should make your favorite...especially today..."

By any standard, this is a bit extravagant for an ordinary, everyday breakfast. Except today isn't a normal day. Today is the start of the month every parent with a teenager fears.

The Haunting is a paranormal phenomenon unique here in Bastillio, our small city located between Manila and Quezon. It starts in October of every year. During this month, a creature of living shadow we call "Shade" haunts teenagers at night that often results in their deaths, making us the only city with "Haunted" written as the official cause of death.

Mr. Chua, our history teacher, taught us that the Shade first appeared fifty years ago, the year after the mass kidnapping of the cult (Mr. Chua said no one knows what they were called, as they were all killed during the massacre.) However, as we are underage, explicit details about the kidnapping are omitted from the books. You won't find any articles about the cult, their church, and belief system anywhere on the internet. Although he did say that the Shade was like a floating silhouette of a man, even though he never seen it before himself.

Back then, before U.V. lights were discovered to be an effective countermeasure against the Shade, there was no way of stopping the supernatural shadow from latching on to their kids. They've realized how helpless they were, so they did the one thing they could do. Accepting the fact that every morning might be their kid's last, families started preparing lavish breakfast for their loved ones every day or for as long as they would live every October. 

But that was decades ago. Although no one still knows what the Shade is exactly, at least we now have a system to identify who will be haunteds—the word became the name for those who had been identified as targets of the Shade. Best of all, we have the government shelter responsible for keeping haunteds alive. Anyway, the shelter has been doing a great job ever since. But the tradition sticks though, not that I'm complaining.

That's why this year, my sophomore year, I'm not too worried. Maybe a bit curious. I also haven't seen the Shade before. Or had been identified as haunted before, or knows someone who'd been haunted. And neither do my parents and my friends.

"Don't worry, mom," I said, loading up my plate with pancakes. "I'll be fine."

"He's right, honey," Dad said. He's the same age as my mom when they met way back in high school. One of those high school sweethearts that lasted forever, I guess.

People always told me I looked like dad. Fair skin, brown eyes, we even have the same straight black hair, only his have mixed of grays in them as if they were highlights. The wrinkles around his mouth and chin became more pronounced whenever he cracked a joke only other dads can appreciate. But when he's talking with mom, somehow, they don't seem so old all of the sudden.

His cheeks are a bit chubby, too. He's an IT specialist so maybe sitting all day does that.

But as a dad, he's fun, got a big heart and an even bigger belly. We always joked about it. I would ask when he was due or am I getting a little brother or a sister, to which he would respond, "Beer, you're getting beer."

Dad is of spanish/filipino descent, a mestizo. I learned in class that, historically, mestizo is used to describe filipinos with spanish blood during the Spanish colonial period, when the Philippines was under the Spanish Empire. But in modern times, we use it to describe fair-skinned filipinos, like my dad.

That's another unexpected effect the Shade had on our city. According to Mr. Chua, for the first years of the news of the Shade, it attracted all kinds of people to our city—from professional occult researchers and paranormal experts to thrill-seekers, and even amateur vloggers. These people from different country and of different race had flocked to our city, all with different intentions. Some driven by curiosity, some saw an opportunity to boost their careers, some have the genuine desire to study to Shade. Eventually, most of them settled here, making Bastillio their home.

Combine that with the Philippines' history of being colonized by Spaniards, Americans and Japanese and of Chinese migrating to the country, our city became a mixing pot of race and culture. So mixed race features is really a common sight here.

"The shelter works," Dad continued. "It's been a couple of decades since the last... incident," he said, wisely avoiding the word "death". He then looked at me and motioned his head towards mom.

"I'll be okay, mom, really," I said, following his cue. I try to sound as reassuring as I can but I'm paying more attention to the pancakes I'm spreading butter on.

Her lips curled upwards a bit, making that half-smile she always does when she tries to hide her worry.

"So, are we still good this Saturday at Ocean Park?" Mom said, changing the subject.

I forgot that we had planned the trip this weekend. My parents surprised me with tickets to Ocean Park. The attraction, although fairly old, is quite popular. I'm the only one from our class who haven't gone yet. The main attraction was a transparent glass tunnel under the massive aquarium. My friends said that it was like walking under the seafloor while countless fishes and different marine creatures swim over your head. I hope she got the deal that includes a ten-minute scuba diving inside the aquarium.

While my parents talk about our weekend plans, I drizzled maple syrup on my pancakes. Oh, the salty smell of butter mixed with the sweet, fruity scent of maple syrup makes my mouth water and my stomach rumble. I took a slice of the pancake and just inhaled the thing. Oh, it was so good. I forked in a couple of chicken franks, an egg and took the entire custard pudding for myself.

After brushing my teeth, I slung one strap of my backpack over my shoulder, slid inside my black converse shoes and was on my way out of the kitchen door. "I'll be going now," I said.

"Take care, Vergil," Mom said, standing in the doorway."We'll see you later, okay?"

"Or not," Dad joked, grinning beside her. Mom then hit him on his chest with the back of her hand.

"Stop that!" She said, glaring at my dad. But dad just hugged her from behind, still grinning.

"Thanks, dad!" I smiled, waving them goodbye as I left the house.

I live just three stations away from school so my daily trip was a short one. But when I pulled out my phone to check the time, I was ten minutes away from being late. In my school, Padua High, each year level has its own building. This building I'm in now, Acacia Building, is for the first years. So I had to exit out of the opposite side to get to the second year building, Narra Building.

As soon as I swipe my ID at the scanner I raced down the hall, weaving through crowds of students, barely managing to avoid bumping into a few. Running inside school premises is not allowed but during the first day of the Haunting, teachers are expected to have each of their students' pictures taken first thing in the morning, so I doubt I would run into one here.

The reason being is because once you're identified as haunted, you will immediately be brought to the shelter. I don't understand the need for such urgency because the Shade, as we were taught, only appeared after sunset, which is still at least a good eleven hours away. But I did hear rumors from past haunteds, about their stay in the shelter.

Surviving haunteds never appeared in T.V. shows or even tweet about their experiences. I don't know why groups of teenagers who live for the likes and internet fame would keep quiet about something like this over the years. So all we've got are rumors which supposedly came from them.

Apparently, they were briefed and prepared for their nightly encounter with the Shade. And there are only so many hours before the night comes so I guess they want to make use of every hour they can get. But those are rumors from ten, fifteen years ago when the system was fairly new. Things could have changed since then.

I came out to the covered walkway connecting this building to the Narra Building. It was a beautiful day outside. The sky was clear and bright. A cool morning breeze was blowing over as I slowed down to a walk, not risking getting caught running any further. And as expected, the large, grassy field where our general assembly is held daily was empty.

I continued walking by an assortment of food kiosks and refreshment stands. I spotted Ms. Garcia, our teacher's assistant, sitting with, I assumed, other student-teachers. According to her, if you want to be a teacher, you have to experience teaching for real before you graduate.

I thought of saying hi but seeing their table filled with disposable paper plates with half-eaten meals, their necks hunched down on laptops running Word documents and opened textbooks and a bunch of notes, I thought it best not to bother her.

I can't even imagine having to work while also preparing for your exams in school at the same time. Which reminded me of something even worse than the Shade, something all student dreads this time of the year—midterm exams.

It may be a bit strange that no one gives a second thought to the supernatural monster that will come tonight. But I don't blame them.

The Shade had never killed other people except haunteds. At least, that's what Mr. Chua told us. Then, there's that impeccable track record of the shelter keeping generations of haunteds safe. And I've never seen news or heard from someone about college students being haunted, which is probably why Ms. Garcia and her friends are not too worried.

And it's not just them; even my classmates, who are just as caught in the middle of this deadly phenomenon as I am, are more scared of flunking the exam than being haunted.

I even saw a documentary once, interviewing citizens of different countries abroad about the Shade and the cult. Some say it's a hoax. Some say it's an exaggeration of something that did happen. One claimed that it was simply an urban legend told by students to scare themselves. Another one claimed it was nothing more than a publicity stunt from decades past, arguing that the lack of photographic proof of the Shade proves his point.

There really isn't any information of the Shade and the cult in the internet so it's no wonder foreigners are skeptical. Maybe the Shade was the only headline around the globe forty, fifty years ago, but now that no one's dying and that the public never saw the Shade again for years now, everyone moved on with their lives.

The shelter and the system we have in place has been doing its job so well that people seem to forget that the whole thing is not normal.