Junjun — The Call Center Ghost
Every BPO floor in the country has heard the name. Nobody agrees on which building it happened in.
Every terror documented. Every legend preserved. Filipino horror stories, Tagalog-narrated ghost stories and folklore-inspired tales, all in one archive.
Every BPO floor in the country has heard the name. Nobody agrees on which building it happened in.
For years it was Metro Manila's default haunted mall. Then it burned down and was rebuilt under another name.
The nightmare ended when she woke up. The face under the bamboo floor did not.
Taxi drivers still avoid the street at night. She is the reason the whole country knows its name.
A seminary, then a wartime refuge, then a hotel, then nothing. Baguio's default haunted address.
The country's most successful corporate rumour: a fitting room, a trapdoor, and something in the basement.
162 people went in for an ordinary night. The fire was not the worst part — the exit was.
Four centuries of campus. A friar on a garden bench, and a nurse with no face in the lift.
After the water went back out, people said the ones it took were still walking the coast road.
Presidents, their families, and their security detail have all reported the same corridors.
A fully loaded train, running the line with its headlights off, hours after the power was cut.
No shop sells one. Every Filipino teenager knows how to build one out of paper and a drinking glass.
Two decades of unfinished concrete on Ayala Avenue. They say not every worker left.
Letran, Mapúa, Lyceum. Before your next late review session, check who is sitting behind you.
The wards treated wounded soldiers for decades. The building was abandoned; the stories were not.
The office is dark and you are the only one awake. So who is typing at the desk behind you?
A building rushed to a deadline, a collapse in 1981, and a death toll nobody ever settled.
You cross that bridge every day. More than a thousand people died on this ground.
From above, the building is shaped like a coffin. Nobody wants to be the last one inside at six.
She left to work abroad for her family. What came home was not what left.
One of the country's grandest hotels, and one floor the staff talk about carefully.
Over 100,000 civilians died in thirty days. The city was rebuilt. The ground was not replaced.
They say a boy was left in an office lobby. This is the part of the story nobody tells first.