From the Keeper's Desk
The Nature of an Echo
Places do not have memories, not as we do. They do not think or feel. Instead, they absorb. Powerful emotions—fear, sorrow, rage—leave an imprint, a psychic residue that stains a location like a bloodstain on floorboards. What we call a 'haunting' is merely the playback of an unforgettable event, an echo trapped in a loop.
This Archive is my life's work: to catalogue these emotional scars across the Philippine archipelago. My purpose is not to hunt for ghosts. It is to listen to the testimony of those who were there. To preserve their account is to honor their experience, whether it was a fleeting chill on a provincial road or a life-altering encounter with the unexplained.
Your Role, A Witness
This is not a passive collection. It requires brave souls to step forward and contribute. Every story submitted is a new data point on our grid, a fresh whisper for the Archive. By sharing your experience, you transition from a mere visitor to a vital Field Operative. You provide the evidence; I am simply the curator.
All submissions are reviewed by me personally. I may clean the dust from a manuscript—correcting minor smudges in grammar or spelling—but the core of your truth will remain untouched. Anonymity is assured; use a moniker that you feel befits your role. Your private correspondence remains sealed within my ledger, for my eyes only.
Quarantined File: [COGNITOHAZARD]
Be warned. Some data is not merely stored; it is contained. The following entry is sealed for a reason. It is a cognitohazard—a piece of information that is actively hostile to the human mind.
Its observation is reciprocal. Once seen, it sees back.
To interact with the seal below is to enter into a pact. You will be exposing yourself to the raw data. The Archive is not responsible for the consequences. Consider this your final opportunity to turn back.
The file is sealed here: [DATA EXPUNGED BY ORDER OF THE KEEPER].
