hm, buti na lang walang ganito sa masscomm aney? o meron nga ba? heheh.
sa upfi, iba naman kwento. eheheheh. but that's another blogpost. :)
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A new professor recalled that during one of her classes, she had noticed that two of her students seated at the back were busy whispering to each other and glancing at the door. Irritated, she called their attention after class. They explained that they were bothered by a man in white at the door, watching the professor. When they asked around, the librarians told them to look at the board, which had photographs of past and present deans.
“There! That’s him!” said the students, pointing to the picture of Dean Benitez, the man after whom the College of Education was named.
The librarians then explained that when Dean Benitez was still alive, he would walk around and observe the new professors as they conducted their classes. So it seems that to this very day, the Dean does pay a visit to each new professor in the college.
afweyd. heheh.
original post here.
the whole article eto:
Ghosts of State U
MANILA, Philippines – The University of the Philippines is known to be many things, both true and untrue. Now, let’s delve into the supernatural landscape and reputation of the Diliman campus, even the urban legends that have been told and retold so many times over that they now have several versions and variations.
Abelardo Hall
The UP College of Music has a curfew. At exactly 8 p.m., the bell will ring and all who are still inside must exit the building before the guard locks it up. People used to be able to stay as long as they wanted as we music majors are addicted to practice. So understandably, many of us were disgruntled when the 8 p.m. rule was first imposed.
Several weeks ago, we happened to mention to one of our professors, a College of Music alumna, how we envied the earlier batches because they could practice well into the night since there was no building curfew. “Oh, but we had a natural curfew,” she replied. “Once you start to hear someone playing, singing, or dancing along to your solitary music, ay, umuwi ka na (head for home)!”
Janitors claim that they sometimes hear passionate piano playing in one of the classrooms, but when they go to check it out, they find the room empty. They also say that in the gamelan room, the biggest gong in the ensemble (gong ageng) vibrates by itself at 12 midnight. Every gamelan set is believed to have its own identity and to be inhabited by spirits whom one must not offend—which is why the instruments must always be treated with care and respect. Piano professors also claim there’s a little girl who wanders around the second floor of the annex building at night, especially if you’re the only one left on the premises.
Jeepney Stories
It was late at night when a man flagged down and boarded a jeepney on campus. He stood at the edge of the vehicle and held on to the railings, sabit-style. The jeepney driver looked at him curiously and called out to him to come in and take his seat properly. The man was about to answer irately that there was no space available because the jeep was full of passengers, except that when he looked up to snap at the driver, he realized that the vehicle was actually empty.
Another tale is that of a girl who got on the jeepney by herself. The driver suddenly veered away from the regular route into unknown territory, while glancing cautiously at the girl over his shoulder. The girl started to grow afraid and asked to be dropped off at her dorm immediately. The jeepney resumed its regular route and stopped in front of her building. But before leaving, the driver said, “Miss, as soon as you get inside, get out of your clothes and burn them. Because when I looked at your reflection in the rear view mirror, you were headless.” The reason he took several unusual turns, he said, was because he felt that the reflection was an omen of the girl’s impending death, and that it might happen in his vehicle if he kept to the regular course.
Vinzon’s Hall
It was semester’s end, and a student was waiting to meet a friend at Vinzon’s. As he went up to the second floor, he heard a woman eerily gasping for breath from within the men’s rest room. A few minutes later, his friend walked out, and he asked him if he heard anything. His friend said no, and laughed at how his cynical buddy was imagining things.
Before they left, the cynic decided to relieve himself in one of the cubicles. While there, he felt a pat on his head. Looking up, he saw a girl hanging by the neck, her skin gray from lack of oxygen, and her eyes bulging out of their sockets as she looked at him. Grazing his head were the soles of her feet. He ran out with his zipper still undone, and never used that rest room again.
Benitez Hall
The College of Education remains to be the most notoriously haunted, being the oldest building on campus.
A friend studied at the UP Integrated School, from where she and her friends had a full view of the College of Education. She spoke of a girl who committed suicide at the fourth floor of the building. Some nights, she said, they could see her jumping from the topmost floor, and then vanishing before her body hit the ground.
A new professor recalled that during one of her classes, she had noticed that two of her students seated at the back were busy whispering to each other and glancing at the door. Irritated, she called their attention after class. They explained that they were bothered by a man in white at the door, watching the professor. When they asked around, the librarians told them to look at the board, which had photographs of past and present deans.
“There! That’s him!” said the students, pointing to the picture of Dean Benitez, the man after whom the College of Education was named.
The librarians then explained that when Dean Benitez was still alive, he would walk around and observe the new professors as they conducted their classes. So it seems that to this very day, the Dean does pay a visit to each new professor in the college.
The next story I’m going to share has reached true urban legend status.
It was raining late at night. A professor was the only one left at the College of Education, and she couldn’t leave because of the downpour. She approached the guard and asked if she could stay in the building until the rain stopped. He obliged, but on several conditions.
He brought her to one of the rooms and instructed her to lock the door. She was to stay inside until he came back to get her. Under no circumstances was she to open the door unless she heard him knock. The professor agreed and the guard returned to his post.
After some time, the professor heard footsteps outside the room. Someone was walking along the corridor. Approaching the door, she peeked through the keyhole. The footsteps stopped and all she could see was the color red. She stood up, curious at what she just saw, but heeding the guard’s instructions, didn’t open the door.
Hours later, the guard returned and knocked. She opened the door and he said it was okay for her to come out now. She thanked him, but couldn’t keep from asking. Whose footsteps were those, and why was the view from the keyhole nothing but red.
Don’t be afraid, ma’am, the guard responded. He explained that there really was a ghost that walked along the corridor at a certain hour every night. That was why he instructed her to stay inside the room and keep the door locked at all times. And that ghost, he continued, had big red eyes.
UP Infant Center
Students in Family Life and Child Development (FLCD) have a subject called Home Management, which they have to take up while living at the Infant Center. They often awaken to find all the cupboards in the kitchen flung open. A guy reportedly went to bed without a blanket, and when he woke up, he was snuggled up under one.
One night, my friend, her fellow-students and their professor were having a quiet dinner, when all of a sudden they heard the sound of a baby’s laughter. At the time, all infants had already been brought back to their respective homes. Their eyes grew wide and they held their breaths.
After a moment of frightened silence, the professor spoke up. “Cellphone ko yon. Paabot nga (That’s my cellphone. Please hand it over).”
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