Stealing Mangoes

I was young but not that young to not remember clearly what happened. There’s this one big empty house owned by my mother’s aunt that’s open for family, or at least to those who were asked to care for it and in that case, our family was. We don’t roam around the house. We only go to the backyard or the laundry area; it is very rare that we enter the house.

There’s this Indian mango tree behind the house. It was very rich in fruits. The fruits were within my reach despite being tiny since I was only 11 at that time. While I was about to pick the fruit, as I was reaching over, I heard a loud, “pssst”! I looked around and no one’s there, it couldn’t have been from outside because they couldn’t see me as I was inside a tall-fenced lot. So I reached over again, and yes, another loud pssst! I panicked not because I feared an authority figure but because that tree had been rumored to be haunted although I didn’t quite believe it (at that time).

I repeated the process few more times and the sound just became louder. My 11-year old me reacted bravely, like, “that’s it!” I had to run circling the entire yard and saw that no one was there. I had to go inside the house and yes, only Inay (my grandma) was there and she’s half-asleep watching a teleserye, I would bet that it’s Ana Luna!

Anyhow, she couldn’t have made that piercing sound because it sounded strong and sturdy; Inay’s voice isn’t like that. The decibel of the loudest sound she could emit was very far from what I heard. Realizing that I can’t explain what’s happening, I figured there’s only one thing a child can do and that is to run!

Moral of the Story: “Thou shall not pick fruits from your neighbor’s tree”

Side note: Inay passed away on the 27th (last Friday)  – no one can vouch for my story anymore 😦

 

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