Unfinished Business

Australia's popular Sydney harbour is flanked by two of the country's most prized possessions the Sydney Opera House on the one side and directly across the water is its equally popular cousin, The Rocks. The Rocks is where Australia's first settlers initially landed. Most of them were convicts, living in cramped quarters where only the fittest managed to tough it out and survive. In those times, men outnumbered women by a ratio of four to one. I mention this statistic because it has a strong bearing on the story behind the hauntings at The Rocks. The incident dates back to the early twentieth century. It involves an 18 year old love struck couple a wide eyed, pale Irish girl with long, flaming red hair and her tall, dark haired heart throb. It was love at first sight for this convict couple, and after a heady courtship of two months they could no longer stand to be apart. They planned to get married. The all important day was set for an early winter's morning. It was going to be a very simple wedding. They did not have the money to even buy a half decent wedding gown and tuxedo. They planned simply to wear their best Sunday clothes and exchange vows in front of a handful of friends. But it was common in those times when women were few and far between, she was also particularly attractive to another man in the settlement. he was well into his twenties, with a weather beaten face and very rough manners that earned him a reputation as a rowdie. He had tried persistently to win the red head over but she had always rejected his advances.

But like most men, he did not give up. He still kept trying to entice her. To avoid trouble, she chose to keep her wedding plans a secret from him. but on the all important day, he managed to get wind of the planned wedding. He became wildly jealous, so the story goes. He confronted the groom and a full blown argument soon erupted by the pier. One thing led to another and soon the two were engaged in a fist fight. A crowd of settlers soon gathered to watch the two contestants. They lost no time in excitedly laying their best for a winner. But there was no winner that morning. in a bitter twist of irony, both men managed to kill each other with the bloody blows they inflicted on one another. It was a gory sight. Their blood intermingled together as their bruised and battered bodies lay dead amongst the excited crowd. The crowd had not seen such a brutal and exciting fight before that climaxed with such a finish. Some of them cheered, others jeered. The racket they made could be heard for miles. All this time, the bride had waited patiently for her husband to be to arrive at her tiny, cramped quarters and take her away for their secret wedding. When he did not come at the appointed hour, the nervous bride slowly became aware of the noisy cheers and jeers along the pier. She hesitated to go forward to see what the fuss was all about. She did not want to soil her best dress amongst the crush of the unruly crowd. but a little voice inside her head told her to go. Tentatively she went ahead and slowly elbowed her way through the rowdy crowd to see what the commotion was about. When she stumbled on the sight of her dead lover, it was all too much for her. in the early hours of that grey winter's morning, she took her own life.

She jumped off the pier and drowned in the cold, murky waters of Sydney harbour. But that was not the end of that sorry tale. Sydneysiders insist that on the occasional misty, grey winter's morning you can still see her the heart broken bride. She still roams The Rocks looking for her groom. All those who have seen her always remember her big, sorrowful eyes, her white gown and her flaming red hair. She walks right through living people totally oblivious to them, searching in vain for her lover. According to a press report in 1979, a 53 year old local resident was strolling along the pier in the early hours of the morning when he had a one on one encounter with her that he will not forget in a hurry. He was half way down the deserted pier when he suddenly became aware of a woman in white coming towards him. He could not make her out clearly but he remembered her long, red tresses blowing around her face. He thought it was strange for a young girl to be walking the streets of Sydney unaccompanied so early in the morning, wearing only a flimsy gown on such a cold winter's day. He was walking close to the railing along the pier as she walked up to him. She seemed to be directly in his path and being a gentlemen, he planned to greet her and step aside to let her pass. As she approached him, he nodded and said, 'Good morning.' But the woman had a vacant look in her large grey eyes and she stared straight ahead, completely ignoring him. Before he could step aside to let her pass, a strange thing happened. The man felt the entire right side of his body go cold.

It took awhile for the stunned man to realize what had happened, she walked right through his side.

Baby Blues

In one of the poshest suburbs on the east side of Melbourne, where spanking BMW's, Mercedes and Porches are the favored mode of transport, there is a grand, old Victorian mansion. I say it is grand because the building is massive. It is three storeys high and sprawls over a total of 1,000 sq meters. And that's just the building, mind you. The 'garden' is even bigger. The huge beautifully manicured lawn of 10 acres id dotted with massive, shady oak trees, rows of rose beds and a huge fountain filled with fishes. In the days of old, the family that lived there rode their horses around the 'garden'. To put it in Singaporean context, we could well put 10 HDB block of flats on this one piece of land and still have room to spare. Melbournians come from all over the city to have cosy picnics here with their families when the whether is good, and the neigbourhood folk walk their dogs here on a daily basis. The truly wealthy go one step further; they hold their wedding receptions in the grand, old building for a princely sum. 

Sounds peachy, doesn't it? But this impressive looking place, now used by the public for merry making and revelry was once the residence of a proud and wealthy owner. But how did the house of such a substantial man become public property? The answer lies in the tragic and brutal events that transpired behind the thick walls of that solid Victorian mansion more than 50 years ago. People believe those involved in the tragedy, long since gone on to the Other Side of the Veil, still restlessly stalk the grand building and its magnificent garden to this day. But wait, let me start from the very beginning, and tell you the story as I heard it first hand from the caretaker of the mansion...

Caretaker, male, 49 - The man who built the mansion was a Scottish merchant. They say he made wads of money from buying and selling land. But he was arrogant, ruthless businessman, disliked by most and feared by others. People claimed even his beautiful wife was afraid of him. but the merchant could not care less; he was interested only in having children. You see, he was obsessed with having children to whom he could pass on all the wealth he had accumulated. But his wife could not seem to have a baby. It really came as no surprise when she had difficulty conceiving, But the merchant abused and humiliated his wife for this; he often threatened to abandon her if she did not get pregnant. His poor wife was terrified at the thought of being turned out of the mansion as she had come to Australia all by herself, with her family and friends thousands of miles away in Scotland. The maids would often find the tall and elegant dark haired woman crouched in the corner of an upstairs bedroom, weeping softly into a pillow. Sometimes she wondered into the courtyard and had a good weep there. But 12 years into their marriage, the unexpected happened. The merchant's wife became pregnant. For the first time the two of them seemed genuinely happy. But their joy was short lived. The frail woman could not bear the pain of childbirth, she died while giving birth.

But the little baby girl grew up a splitting image of her mother, tall and slim with jet black hair that framed her beautiful face and highlighted her shimmering blue eyes. But like her mother, this elegant beauty was ruled by her father with an iron fist. Nobody was good enough for his daughter, so much so she had no contact with the outside world, except for the butler and the maids who ran the mansion they lived in. The merchant himself never found a woman he thought suitable enough to remarry and he remained a widower till he died. They say he distrusted everyone he came in contact with. He always felt people were after his money and nothing else. He jealously guarded his most precious treasure, his only child, his daughter. She was after all the only heir to all his riches. No man seemed good enough to be the husband of his precious daughter. But one fine day, the young woman chanced to meet a man, a guy in charge of the family stable and she fell in love with him. But she did not dare tell her father about him; she was sure he would disapprove of him as he was just a lowly paid servant of the family. But the butler in the mansion took pity on the love struck couple and acted as a go between for the lovers. he helped to cover up her absences in the mansion when she was meeting her lover. By and by nature took its course and the young beauty became pregnant. When her father came to know of this, all hell broke loose. He pressured her to let on who her lover was, but she refused. She feared her enraged father would have him killed. To avoid scandalizing the family name, the father is said to have drugged his own daughter and made a doctor perform an abortion on her against her own will.

The night it happened, the servants in the house heard strange noises coming from a bedroom upstairs. But before they could investigate the noises, it was all over. The house was silent again. Nobody knows where the fetus was buried. But many suspect the unborn child was disposed off by the reluctant butler. When he was threatened with losing his job, the old butler confessed his crime of acting as the go between; he was given the dreaded task of disposing of the fetus  until today there is one particular stubborn spot in the back portion of the huge garden where absolutely perfectly good explanation for it. That is the spot on the infant's unmarked grave. When the merchant's daughter came to and realized what had been done to her, she was distraught and completely unconsolable. They say she lot her mind from the grief and turmoil of the whole tragedy. And then one cold, wintery night, she did the unthinkable. She plunged to her death from the third storey of the mansion. Her father finally realized, too late, the folly of his actions. They say the proud and arrogant man pined away in the huge study room, upstairs in the mansion. he buried himself in books and shut out all human companionship. He became pale and haggard, a shadow of his proud and stately figure of before. A lonely, bitter man, he grew increasingly distrustful of those around him as he became weaker and more vulnerable. Then one stormy winter's night, a horrible 'accident' happened. A terrible storm erupted. The angry, grey skies above poured down sheets of rain, and a wild wind whipped around the mansion.

The servants bolted every door and window in the house and huddled together around the fireplace. but the savage wind rattled the doors around the mansion as if someone was pounding on every door around the huge house, begging to come in. When the skies open up, the merchant looked out his study room window. He thought he saw a figure in white underneath the oak tree in the garden below, standing in the rain, staring at him. The frail old merchant was stunned. He was sure he recognized the figure. he moved closer to the window to get a better look. That's when tragedy struck. A piece of timber from the roof broke loose, flew down to the window and went right through his heart. The bitter, old man let out a piercing scream. Then he spoke no more. When the servants got to him, his eyes were still wide open, filled with shock and horror from what he had just seen. Many believe what happened to him was no accident, it was an act of God. It was punishment for his sin, they said. Others believe it was caused by the spirit of his daughter, seeking revenge. Sadly, we will never know the truth. But whatever the verdict, the mansion was now without a master or an heir. The servants who had stayed with him left the mansion and it soon fell into disrepair. Rumours flew around the neighbourhood of sightings of terrifying apparitions and eerie shrieks and cries coming from the huge mansion and its surrounding garden. No local resident dared to go near it. But the local municipal council, realizing the value of the house, stepped in. They negotiated to take over the little of the mansion, and then repaired the ruined house. Soon after, it was opened to the public for use for wedding receptions and other grand dinners and get-togethers.

But rumours that the mansion and its huge garden is haunted continued to this day. I must admit when I first accepted the job as caretaker of the building, I thumbed my nose at all those rumours. I just don't believe in all that ghostly garbage. At least I didn't then. But within the first few days of working there, a strange feeling would come over me everytime I started to climb up the stairs. I felt a chilly feeling touch me and slowly envelope me. At first I brushed it off as just the moist atmosphere of the old house. But in my heart I often wondered why it happened only when I approached the staircase to head upstairs. A few months passed before the eerie explanation slowly become obvious. One evening, just as I was getting ready to lock up the mansion and leave, I felt as if a pair of eyes were staring at me from behind. I instinctively turned around to see who it was. A young woman was eyeballing me from the staircase landing. I remember the first thing that struck me was how pretty she was. She looked just like a movie star. She wore an elaborate, old fashioned gown that emphasized her tiny waist. As I stood there gaping in awe, she simply vanished. At first I refused to even think about the incident again. You see, I couldn't explain it and that made me very nervous and uncomfortable, so I just tried to blot it out of my mind altogether. But it happened again several times, and always in the evening. each time I saw her, I was alone in the house.

From then on I tried to get out of the mansion before sunset. But one night I was forced to go back in there at night, against my better judgement. It was an emergency. I was forced to go back because I had accidentally left my house key there. It was almost seven pm when I returned to the mansion. because it was the dead of winter, the place was already pitch black. There were just a few sodium lamps lit around the garden, casting an eerie, orange glow around the huge, old house. I was definitely all alone when I unlocked the solid wooden teak door at the entrance to the mansion. But as I walked in and started to search for my keys on the groundfloor where I usually left them, I slowly became aware of something that frightening me. There was someone else in the house, very close to me. As odd as it seems, I have to tell you I didn't hear any footsteps or rustling of clothes. None of that sort of thing. Yet I know someone was there, observing me. It was the sting of the person's gaze that made me turn. A misty white figure stood at the edge of the corridor leading to the garden. When I made eye contact with the figure, it made a dash out of the room through the Victorian doors on the left, into the courtyard. But in the process of fleeing, the figure accidentally knocked the Venetian blinds on the door and caused them to sway back and forth. It was a freezing cold winter's night. Every window and door was bolted to prevent any draft from entering the house. Yet there were the blinds, swaying eerily before my eyes. I had taken more than 40 minutes to drive back to that grand, old house to get my own keys that I had forgotten. But I tell you, at that point I simply lost my nerve.

I flew out that door without so much as a second thought. All along I kept wanting to turn back and look to see if anyone was behind me, but somehow I resisted the urge. I knew I shouldn't look back. I just shot out. I crashed at a friend's place that night. The next day I found my keys out in the courtyard, where the figure had fled. From that day on, I have always got out of the mansion before sunset. I really believe the house becomes 'different' after that. I can't quite explain it. You have just got to be there to know what I mean. And there's one other eerie thing that happens in the house that makes my skin crawl. and it always occur on the anniversary of the young girl's death. Anyone who walks into the mansion, regardless of whether they know the history of the building, will do an uncanny thing. They unconsciously walk around the foot of the staircase as if they're avoiding an unseen object. They, of course, do not know her body landed at the foot of those stairs with a sickening thud on that very day, more than 50 years ago. And you know, it isn't just a one off coincidence. It has happened on every anniversary of her death since I started work here, and I have been working here for almost nine years now. But the mansion is not the only haunted place. many people have spoken of the presence of an evil, malevolent force in the garden on late, misty evenings. Some describe this evil spirit as a beautiful, darkhaired woman. Others say it looks like a tall, dark shadow of a woman in along dress and shoes. But I must confess I myself have not seen her. Not yet anyway. But there was this woman I know, C, who experienced something sinister.

I had seen C strolling in the garden on many pleasant evenings. She was fairly advanced in her pregnancy and I guess she came to the huge garden for exercise and relaxation. We had become accustomed to exchanging the token nods and smiles that come naturally when you keep running into a stranger at the same place all the time. But one Friday evening, as I got out of the mansion and headed towards my car, I noticed something by the footpath that made my heart skip a beat. it was the body of a woman. When I rushed to her aid, I noticed she was lying face down. I turned her over and I was shocked to find that it was C, the pregnant woman who I used to seeing in the garden at that time of the evening. When I managed to resuscitate her, C told me what had made her pass out. Quite frankly, her story made a little hairs on my body stand on end. Not just because of what she saw, but because I knew she was telling the truth. C was walking up the main garden path towards the mansion when she suddenly thought to turn back. She saw a woman some distance behind her. The woman appeared to have just walk in through the main gate and up the same garden path. At first C stopped and waited for her because she thought the woman looked like a friend of hers. But as the woman came closer, C realized she was mistaken; she didn't know her. But she also realized with a jolt, there was something strange about the woman. She seemed to glow all over right from the top of her long, black hair to the bottom of her white, flowing skirt.

The strange woman kept coming forward. but when she was about 200 yards from C, she seemed to abruptly stop. The she very deliberately started to wrap a long, white scarf around her neck, all along keeping her eyes focused on C. All this while C seemed transfixed, mesmerized by the woman. But when the woman stopped suddenly and started to wrap the scarf around her neck, for some reason C suddenly became frightened. She also realized she was staring her eyes out at a complete stranger and she felt embarrassed for gawking. She was just about to turn around and walk away when she slowly became aware of the most eerie thing of all. The woman had started to sink into the ground. Slowly but surely, bit by bit she gradually disappeared into the ground. It was only then C started to feel faint and everything around her begin to spin. A few day passed before C noticed that the seven month old fetus in her womb, previously very active, had now become still. It had not moved for days. When the doctors confirmed the baby had died, they performed an operation to abort the fetus. It was only then they found out what had caused the fetus to die. The umbilical cord had somehow wrapped itself around the baby and strangled it. When C was told this, she couldn't help remembering how the strange woman very deliberately wrapped the white scarf around her neck and how it had frightened C. I also know of another woman in the garden neighbourhood who saw something in the garden that totally creeped her out. Infact what she saw happened before C's experience. Coincidentally, she was also pregnant.

She was standing at the water fountain in the garden with her little four year old nephew, looking for fishes in the fountain, when she thought she felt someone looking at them. She instinctively looked up at the huge acorn tree just ahead of them. She thought she saw a tall, dark shadow standing under the massive tree. Strangely enough, just as she spotted the shadow, it seemed to disappear; but at that very point she felt a cold breeze come from that direction. The cold air seemed to whip around her and her little nephew. But just as suddenly as the cold wind appeared, it went away. She could actually feel it drifting away. She said she tried to keep calm throughout the incident even though she was stunned. But then her nephew looked up and asked her, 'Aunt B, why did that pretty lady run her hands through my hair?' At that point she started to tremble. She didn't even answer him. She just grabbed him by the hand and bolted from the park. Somehow she felt she just had to get away from there. For the next three nights, she had repeated nightmares where she felt herself falling from great heights. She would wake up with a terrible jolt and find herself in a cold sweat. On the third night she woke up from this same nightmare, she found she had started to spot. She wasted no time in going to see her gynecologist  He checked her out and said she had suffered a miscarriage. He assured her it was common for a woman experiencing her first pregnancy to suffer a miscarriage, especially in the first three months of pregnancy. He said the baby was especially vulnerable during that time. But she was sure she lost the baby because of that sinister incident at the mansion.

Surprisingly, her nightmares stopped as soon as the baby had been lost. But I am glad to say she has since had two happy, healthy baby girls. when she was pregnant with her girls however, she avoided the mansion like the plague, even though it had the most beautiful garden in the neighbourhood. She said she just wanted to play it safe. Others, like the gardeners who tend the garden, have also said they have seen a filmy, cloudy figure of a woman in the garden. Most of the time they have spotted her sitting on one particular garden bench in the most secluded part of the sprawling garden. The sightings of her  have almost always been during the evenings in springtime. And those that have seen her say they have heard her weeping. Others say she was humming a tune. But when she sees them, she always does the same thing. She raises her hand and motions them to go away. They say the gesture is so commanding, they have felt compelled to obey her. There is another report, an unconfirmed one, I found very interesting. It was from a group of children who had come to the mansion to play during the spring school holidays. They say a woman came out from the mansion and offered them chocolates. But they did not dare accept them because they could see through the woman she was transparent. The stories continue to come until this day. After all my years here, from what I have experienced first hand and all that I have heard from others, I have reluctantly come to the conclusion there is a ghostly presence here. There is no question about it; the evidence is overwhelming.

The real mystery is whose restless spirit stalks the place the mother's or the daughter's. Some believe both their restless souls wander around the garden preying on pregnant woman to avenge the child neither of them could ever enjoy.

Bedah's Doll

There was something odd about that night. bathed in brilliant moonlight just a while ago, it was now blanketed in utter darkness. An omen, perhaps, of the sinister happenings that were about to take place in the otherwise quiet household of Captain Mohamad Zain. The lights in his splendid double storey house were off too, as everyone had turned in. Just outside, along the narrow, lonely street on which it stood, the darkness was relieved by a solitary gas lamp. Within this small oasis of rather dim light, the leaves on the trees and bushes glistened with the wetness left behind by the heavy rainstorm that fell that afternoon. The leaves hung heavy with rain water, to be shaken off now and then by a gust of cool wind. everything else was still and silent. And now mist was forming, despite the early hour, rolling and tumbling in the shine of the lamp each time the wind blew, adding a ghostly quality to the scene. This silence was abruptly broken by someone rapping rudely at the front door of the Captain's house. The caller kept knocking persistently until the door was finally opened and a tiny lamp inside shone on his face. 

The light was held by Mak Munah, the Captain's cook. She answered the door with a bit of surprise and trepidation, expecting to see her employer back from his usual evening walk. What a fright she had when she came face to face instead with a big, dark, hirsute fellow dressed in an all white garb with a turban around his head, like a Sikh. She could not tell if he was Indian, African or Arab, though. With fiery eyes staring into hers, the man shoved a parcel into her hands and instructed her in a rough voice and broken Malay to give it to Captain Mohamad Zain and no one else. And without a word of explanation, he dashed off and disappeared in the thick mist, leaving Mak Munah with the parcel in hand and puzzles in her mind. 'I can never forget those eyes,' Mak Munah was later to tell Kak Yam, the only other servant in the house and governess of the Captain's six year old daughter, Bedah. 'They shone and glared at me like he was going to eat me up. And the hand, they looked withered, the fingers thin as sticks and the nails ghastly looking,' the old woman pointed out. 'If only you had seen him... I mean, I think he looked like... like a zombie.' 

Captain Mohamad Zain came home very late that night, and Mak Munah did not have the chance to hand the parcel personally to him. Instead, she left it on the table in the living room where he usually sat down to rest upon his return from work. Next morning, Mak Munah found the parcel still there, apparently untouched. She dared not, however, speak to the captain about it, nor hand the parcel personally to him. One thing, the man was a private, taciturn person, who seldom chatted with his two servants and rarely showed even Bedah, his only child, any affection. The girl hardly saw him anyway, as he would leave for the office early in the morning and sometimes would not return until late at night. 'I've feeling there's something evil about the parcel,' Mak Munah said. 'Don't give it to anyone but the Captain,' the man said. Believe you me, that thing's going to be bad news for all of us.' 'What have you done with it?' asked Kak Yam.

'What do you think? When I noticed Captain Zain would not touch it at all this morning, I grabbed it and threw it into the rubbish bin. I think he must have been too scared to open it. I've been watching him and I noticed he dared not touch the parcel. In fact, he did not even dare sit beside it. 'I wonder. Could this have anything to do with the time when he was in India? Perhaps he had done somebody wrong, hurt someone so badly, that the fellow tracked him all the way here to have his revenge. That could be what that parcel is all about. That could be why that zombie was here!' Then, almost whispering, Mak Munah said, 'You know why I say so? You know what's in the parcel? You won't believe it if I tell you. It's just a doll, a fabric doll. But it's so filthy, I felt sick just looking at it. Why would anyone want to give you something like that, if he's got nothing against you? Right? There must be something evil about it. That's why I just dumped it into the dustbin.' 

Kak Yam listened to Mak Munah's story with amusement. Much younger, she was more broad minded than the old lady. To her, stories like this need to be taken with a generous pinch of salt. In any case, she felt it was up to the Captain to decide what to make of the parcel. It was, after all, meant for him. Quietly, she took the back door and went for the dustbin where she found, wrapped in a sheet of rough paper, a dirty fabric doll. Just like Mak Munah said. She took the parcel, cleaned it, and without a word to Mak Munah, placed it back on Captain Zain's desk. For the rest of the day, nothing happened. Next morning, Mak Munah was setting the breakfast table when Captain Zain Summoned her. As she entered the living room to see him, Mak Munah saw the Captain with the parcel in his hand. 'Who opened this?' asked Captain Zain. Mak Munah did not say a word. 'Who dared open this bundle without my knowledge? And how on earth did it get into my house?' He sounded furious. Mak Munah replied, 'There was this man, big and tall and very dark. I've never seen him before, Sir. He came with the parcel the other night and simply said I should give it to you.' 'He didn't say anything else?' 'Nothing, Sir,' she replied in a trembling voice.

'Now, take it away and burn everything,' said Captain Zain, as he handed the parcel and the doll to Mak Munah. Reluctant as she was, Mak Munah took the dreadful thing and hurried out of the room. At the kitchen, she passed it on to Kak Yam with great relief. Despite her instructions, however, Kak Yam, who was still skeptical  decided there was no sense wasting a nice toy when there was someone who really needed one. She took the doll, washed it and gave it to Bedah. Bedah, who did not have many toys to begin with, was naturally delighted when she got the doll. She fell in love with it the moment she set eyes on it, and the doll never left her side ever since. She played with it, gave it all her attention, and would not go to bed without it. Sometimes she even talked to it, as if the doll could respond. 

Then, out of the blue, about a week later, Kak Yam resigned. It took the household by surprise, but there really nothing Captain Zain could do but let her go. 'I can't stop you from going, really. But Bedah is going to miss you a lot. She has been very close to you. If ever you feel like coming back, please do. I'd be very happy to have you here again,' said the Captain. Kak Yam explained that she had to leave at such short notice as her father had just written to say her old mother was seriously ill and needed her around. But the truth was, her mother has nothing to do with the decision at all. The real reason for Kak Yam's sudden departure was the doll. It was beginning to give her the creeps!

As had been her habit, she went to Bedah's room one night just to check if the girl was alright and sleeping well. As she opened the door to the bedroom, she saw in the dim light within, some strange movements on the bed. She took a closer look and saw something walking about like a human being. And yet it seemed too small to be one. As she kept watching, the thing went first to the window, paused, and turned around to face the door where she stood. What a shock Kak Yam had when she realized it was the doll. It glared at her with shining eyes seemed to glow in the darkness. Kak Yam could not do a thing. She felt like she had been nailed to the floor. He whole body froze and all her joints seemed to have seized. She felt like screaming, but all she could release was a feeble whimper. An eerie feeling was on the back of her neck and she felt her hair standing on end. The doll clambered down the bed, and now coming towards Kak Yam. Not for one moment did it take its gaze off her. She could see it was no longer the lovable toy she knew, but something horrid and menacing. It seemed to be muttering something, though she could not hear what it was. Step by step the doll came. Closer and closer it drew, and all Kak Yam could do was stare in horror. The doll reached out for her face. Kak Yam blacked out.

When Kak Yam told Mak Munah all about this just before she left for her village, the old lady kept reciting Quranic verses silently. Kak Yam told her how, when she came to, she steeled her nerves to step into Bedah's bedroom, and found the girl sound asleep and the doll that had earlier been going after her lying motionless below the bed. 'I picked it up. it didn't move, didn't look as horrible as I thought it was, didn't look anything more than just... a doll. Did I really see what I thought I saw? I really don't know. I just put it back on the desk beside the bed and dashed out.' All the way in the bus that took her back home, Kak Yam could not get the incident out of her mind. Was it all just her imagination? How could a doll walk? Was this some sort of black magic? Would Bedah be in any danger? Perhaps, being the child's governess, she should have stayed  and protected her. Perhaps she should have destroyed that doll while she had the chance.

But if the doll was black magic, who was it meant for? Suppose, like Mak Munah suspected, the Captain had done someone wrong while he was in India. Suppose his enemies had now come to settle scores. Then Bedah would not be the only one in danger! Which reminded her of something Mak Munah had insisted on whispering into her ears as she was leaving. It sounded a little far fetched at first, but now, as she thought over it in the light of her own experiences, she began to wonder. What if Mak Munah was right? 'I was about to wash Bedah's clothes and bed linen when I found some red stains on them. At first, I thought some paint must have flaked off the doll. But no, it wasn't it. In fact, the doll wasn't even painted, and had nothing but cotton wool inside. I'm convinced now. It's blood, no doubt about it. The only question is, if it's blood, where could it have come from? Certainly not Bedah because I didn't find any cut on her.' These thoughts continued to haunt Kak Yam even as she settled down to life at home.

Soon, she began to wonder about the Captain himself. Surely, he must have something to do with all this. The thing was, no one, not even Mak Munah, seemed to know much about him other than that he used to serve in the British forces in Malaya, had withdrawn along with them to India when the Japanese invaded the country, and had remained there till the end of the war. He came back when Malaya was under the British Military Administration, and along with him came a little girl. That was Bedah, who everyone presumed, was his daughter. But who the mother was and what had happened to her, no one knew. Besides her, the Captain was alone when he returned. And he had remained single ever since. Kak Yam often wondered why the Captain never remarried. How she wished she could be his wife. How she wished she could be by his side, take care of him, and take care of Bedah, too. Had he ever looked at her as a woman, and not just as his servant? Sometimes, posing in front of a tall mirror at his place, she could not help noticing her good looks. No one could call her old. She was still attractive and cut a great looking figure. Indeed, she had noted more than a few men who had found her worth a second glance. Three weeks back home, and Kak Yam was already feeling like a fish out of water. Perhaps it was her anxiety over Bedah's safety, or perhaps her heart was really with the girl's father. In any case, she felt being drawn back to the Captain's household. Finally, she decided to come back.

The Captain was not around when Kak Yam returned but she was welcomed with delight by Mak Munah and Bedah. Mak Munah could not wait to be alone with her, to share with her everything that had transpired during her absence. 'You know, ever since you left, I've found more and more traces of blood on Bedah's bedsheet. I really don't know what I ought to do. I'm not sure I want to tell Captain. And I've yet to find out where they came from. Certainly not Bedah. I know because I've been bathing her myself. 'That girl has been spending so much time with the doll. In fact, I dare say she has completely ignored all her other toys, preferring it above all else. And yet, other than the traces of blood, nothing of concern has happened to her.

'I'm beginning to think,' Mak Munah continued, Bedah is not the one in danger. I suspect the target is someone else!' That night, as she tucked Bedah in, Kak Yam could not help thinking about the doll, then lying beside the girl. It did not make sense to her that something so harmless could bring any sort of tragedy to the household. Afterwards, back in her bedroom, she took her Quran out of her bag and started reciting the verses slowly line by line, to soothe her nerves. Before she had reached the twentieth verse, however, Mak Munah had rushed inside, looking very excited. 'Yam, Yam, come quick, follow me. You've got to listen to this. They're talking to each other.' 'Talking? Who?' asked Kak Yamas she hurried out. 'Who else? Bedah and her doll, of course.' Mak Munah half jogged to Bedah's room. It was sometime past eleven then. The two servants placed their ears against the door to the little girl's bedroom and in the silence, heard two voices in conversation. One was definitely Bedah's, but the other was a voice they had never heard before. 'What did I say?' whispered Mak Munah to Kak Yam. 'She could be talking in her sleep, you know,' replied Kak Yam.

'Yes, but in two different voices?' Mak Munah was still trembling. Then, rising, she said, 'Come on, Yam. I think we've heard enough. I'm not going to stay here any longer.' She dashed back to her room. But Kak Yam hesitated. Scared as she was, she wanted badly to find out what was really happening inside. As she considered what she ought to do, she suddenly heard the front door being opened, followed by a cough. Captain Zain was back. Reluctantly, she rose and went into Bedah's room, closing the door behind her. She was not prepared to face the unpleasant questioning that will certainly follow if he caught her lurking in the darkness outside his daughter's bedroom. She found Bedah fast asleep. her hand was holding the doll, squeezing it repeatedly, as she murmured softly. Then there was that alien voice. It was clearly not from the girl's mouth. It has got to be the doll, she thought. Must be some part of it making noises everytime it was squeezed.

Next moment, Bedah's hand went to the doll's neck and started squeezing it. To Kak Yam astonishment, the head turned round and round. Then she heard a voice, seemingly from the doll, pleading for help. Kak Yam felt a chill coming over her and she froze with horror. Somehow Bedah released her grip. The doll landed on the floor, but instantly got up and limped to the side of the bed, before clambering up to lie down beside Bedah again. Kak Yam did not know if she walked or ran back to her room. All she knew was she had fled in terror and was now in bed, her face buried in the pillow. Next morning, she plucked up enough courage to speak to Captain Zain. 'Oh, it's great to see you back. Bedah missed you terribly.' It was the first time the Captain saw her since her return.

Before Captain Zain could continue, Kak Yam cut in, 'Did you know about her new toy?' 'Oh, yes, I do. You sure know how to find her the nicest of things. Thank you.' 'But,' Kak Yam replied, 'it's really not a nice toy, you know.' For the first time, Captain Zain laughed. 'Well, sometimes we adults do find our kids toys horrid, don't we? I haven't actually seen what you bought Bedah, but if she likes it, fine. And if there's anything else you'd like to get her...' he shrugged his shoulders to indicate he had no objections. 'Actually, I did not buy her the toy,' Kak Yam replied, with growing anxiety. 'Actually, it came from the parcel that stranger delivered here not long ago. Remember that parcel you told Mak Munah to dump? The doll was in it. Mak Munah gave it to me to throw away like you said, but I took it and gave it to Bedah. And now it's starting to do some weird things. Like walking and talking!' 'What? What are you talking about?'

'The doll's alive, Sir! It walks and it talks! I've seen it and I've heard it with my own eyes and ears. God, I don't know what kind of black magic this is, but I'm troubled by it. To think that I gave it to that sweet little girl!' She hung her head down in obvious despair. Captain Zain was speechless. After some time, regaining him composure, he spoke, 'Thank you for telling me about it. I think I know what this is all about. I've been expecting it for a long time, actually. I knew it had to come, sooner or later. But... have you really seen the doll walking and heard it talking?' Drawing closer, Kak Yam said, 'If you're still skeptical  let's meet outside her bedroom tonight. You can confirm it with your own eyes and ears.'

'Alright,' said Captain Zain as he prepared to leave for work, 'I'll see you there at 12.30 tonight.' That evening, Kak Yam was not her usual self. Nervousness having killed all her appetite, she spent the time closeted in her room, getting more and more fidgety as the night wore on. Nine o'clock, and it was bedtime for Bedah. Dragging her feet, she went out and took the girl to bed. 'But where's  my doll? Please bring it to me. I won't get any sleep if I don't have it.' Kak Yam fetched the doll and gave it to her, whereupon she hugged it lovingly and lay it beside her. 'Why do you like this dirty thing so much? Couldn't you be without it even for one night?' asked Kak Yam. 'No, I must sleep with my doll,' she replied as she held it tight and patted it lovingly. 'Alright, alright. Now, shall we close our eyes ans have some sleep?' After dimming the light, Kak Yam left the room, praying for God's protection for the innocent child. Back in her bedroom, Kak Yam lay down and soon dozed off. Her sleep was interrupted at about eleven, when she awoke to find the house completely quiet. Mak Munah must be in bed and fast asleep by now, she thought as she closed her eyes again. When she awoke the next time, it was already past midnight. She got up hurriedly, primmed her dress and quietly left her room.

The night was still. Not the slightest wind blew outside. And everything was so quiet that her bare footsteps sounded loud and clear. She was tiptoeing to Bedah's room when suddenly, sounding like an exploding gun amid the silence, the front door opened. It was none other then Captain Zain. He quickly joined her and together they waited, side by side, outside the door to Bedah's room. At first, all they heard was Bedah's steady breathing. but then came two voices in conversation, growing louder and louder. 'There,' whispered Kak Yam excitedly, 'you heard that, Sir?' The Captain pressed his ears against the door. Instinttively, Kak Yam turned her against it too, and before they knew it, they were standing face to face, so close she could feel his warm breath on her cheeks. In the meantime, there was a pause in the strange chatter inside. Gingerly, Captain Zain pushed the door open slightly to take a peek. Suddenly, he grabbed Kak Yam's hand and held it tight. Drawing his head out, he whispered. 'I saw it! I saw the doll walking!'

Kak Yam stiffened up. 'The doll stared at me,' he said. 'It actually had its eyes on me.' Then, with an abrupt change of tone, he went on, 'I've been expecting this, you know. Though I never imagined this is what it's going to be.' Kak Yam did not respond. She was not sure she understood him. Within the bedroom, the talking voices continued. This time, Bedah's voices was more distint, 'Come over here, please. Don't leave me alone. Come sleep with me... hurry!' Another voice, from the doll, came in response. The words were clear, but Kak Yam could not understand any of them. They sounded like... Badh-la! Whispered Captain Zain, echoing the words. 'Badh-la! It's Hindi, and it means revenge,' he explained, drawing a deep breath. 'I knew it. I knew it all along. And now it's here. Well, I'm ready.' Kak Yam recalled the suspicions Mak Munah had had from the very beginning about the doll.

'I've got to go in there. I've got to face this, and do something about it,' said the Captain. 'No, wait. Let me go with you.' And Kak yam followed Captain Zain inside.From behind him, Kak Yam scrutinized the room. Bedah was fast asleep in her bed. Nothing seemed out of place. Except for one thing. The doll was nowhere to be seen. She took a good look around her, but nothing was astir. Yet, she could sense it. It was there, somewhere. Kak Yam drew Captain Zain back. 'Don't move, Sir. You've just seen it, so it must be in here somewhere. We've got to be careful.' But he stepped ahead instead, and stood protectively before her. 'No, I think it's safer if you stay put. let me look around. Kak Yam's eyes were still searching warily for the doll, when they landed on the sheets covering Bedah's feet. Something was stirring underneath. Was that just Bedah's feet, or what? The edge of the blanket lifted slightly and instantly she caught a pair of eyes staring at her. Instinctively, Kak Yam dashed in front of Captain Zain, trying to shield him. But, again, he would not let her, and quickly drew her back. 'Let it come. I'm ready for it,' he said.

In the meantime, the doll had appeared from under the blanket and now stood boldly at Bedah's feet. Its eyes shone and its mouth spewed strange, threatening words, 'Badh-la! Badh-la!' And like lightning, it sprang towards the Captain. It landed on his neck, and had sunk its teeth into his throat before he could do anything to avoid it. Everything happened so fast that Kak Yam was not even sure what was going on. All she saw was the Captain striking something on his neck and trying to brush it off. He seemed to succeed after a few times, and Kak Yam heard a light thud as the thing landed stiffly on the floor. Everything was over quickly and he seemed none the worse for it. Moments later, Captain Zain spoke, 'Could you please straighten Bedah's sheets?' Still confused, Kak Yam went to the side of the bed and did as she was told. That awoke Bedah, and she sat up, surprised. 'Auntie Yam? Daddy, is that you, too?' 'Yes, we've come just to see if you're OK. You can go back to sleep, dear,' replied Kak Yam as she patted the girl.

All the time, Kak Yam did not stop looking out for the doll. Suddenly she saw a hand slipping inside through the bedroom window. It seemed to retrieve something from the floor before swiftly slipping out again. For a fleeting moment, there was a dark figure in the window, but it vanished before Kak Yam could do anything. She heard Bedah talking to her father, 'Aren't you in bed yet, Daddy? I've just had a dream, but now I can't remember what it was.' 'That's alright. Go back to sleep. It's late,' the Captain replied. Kak Yam and Captain Mohamad Zain later made their way back to their bedrooms. In the darkness along the way, he suddenly stopped her. He turned around, and gave her a look that made her skin tingle uncomfortably. Without saying a word, he embraced her. Then, holding her tight in his arms, he pressed his lips onto hers. She struggled, but could not free herself. Her breathing became hard. She felt drained of energy. She felt her body turning limp, and surrendered herself to his warm kiss.

'Thank you for everything,' he said as he finally released her. He left a stunned Kak Yam with a warm grip on her hand, and made for his room. At the door, he turned around and, with a smile, added, 'In case I get up late tomorrow morning, please don't wake me up. I think I'm going to stay in bed a little later than usual.' it was almost noon the next day when the police came to Captain Zain's house. An anxious Kak Yam had called for help when she failed to wake him up, despite knocking repeatedly on his bedroom door. Police broke the lock and rushed inside to find Captain Zain still in bed. His mouth was agape, the tongue sticking out. His throat was swollen like it had been stung by hornets. He was no longer alive.

Dollah And 'Satan'

Kampung Keledek was a small village along the railway line between Kuala Lumpur and Tanjung Malim. It had just about ten houses and no more that fifty inhabitants, men, women and children. There was a railway station, an old, decrepit wooden structure. Kampung Keledek was too small for mails, so only the ordinary or local trains called at the station, beside the goods trains that halted to load rubber from the large plantation surrounding the village, itself encircled by the jungle. Most of the villagers were rubber tappers or gatherers who worked the jungle. Aside from the railway, their only other lifeline to civilization was a small track that cut through the rubber plantation to the main road. The events took place when a tiger started terrorizing the district. The whole area was plunged into a state of constant fear, keeping many of the folks to their homes and off their livelihood in the plantation and the forest, unless they had guns with them. Livestock had not been spared. People, both rubber tappers and gatherers, had not been spared either. Many had fallen victim to 'satan'. That was what they called the man eater for it was a diabolical killer, bold, swift, merciless and very effective.

The latest attack was just days earlier in Kampung Manggis. Satan killed a woman collecting wood in the jungle, with her small child in tow. It was not discovered until the following day, when the child's body was found in the scrub at the edge of the forest. Not far away were Satan's tracks. The mother was nowhere in sight. The incidents had attracted the attention of a young Forest Ranger from Kuala Lumpur. Dollah had a passion for game hunting. The idea of stalking a man eating tiger excited him and, since no one had managed to kill Satan, he thought he would give it a go.  It was evening when Dollah arrived by train at Kampung Keledek to launch the hunt. As usual, the station was deserted. A single lap lit its platform. Dollah hastened for the Rest House about five hundred yards away. He knew the place, having spent nights there several hunting trips ago. He had even made friends with the caretaker, Pak Karim. The old man was easily seventy, his hair mustache and beard were white as snow, yet he was still going strong. A fastidious man, he always kept himself and the Rest House clean and neat.

A party of assistant was to join Dollah later that night. They must have left Kuala Lumpur by now with all the equipment and supplies they would need to spend a week in the jungle. The Rest House clock showed eight when Dollah arrived. That was a late hour by the norms of Kampung Keledek, for it was the way of the folks to rise and retire with the sun. The house was dark and no one seemed to be around. Dollah had to call out several times before the front door opened and the old caretaker appeared. He carried a lamp in his hand. Little change ever takes place in out of the way places like this. And as far as Dollah could tell, hardly anything had changed in the Rest House. The table and chairs in the verandah, the pictures adorning the walls, indeed, everything was practically as it was when he last spent the night there a year ago.

As in Dollah's previous arrivals, Pak karim was soon busy helping him unpack and preparing his bath, before going to bed himself. It was some time before Dollah's party arrived and, not wanting to trouble the old man anymore, Dollah decided they should all go to bed right away. Dollah and his party rose early next morning and set off on their jungle adventure. Before they left, Pak karim produced the house register, a very old and worn out book with torn pages, and asked them to enter their names and other particulars. When they had done so, Dollah handed a dollar bill to the old man as a token of appreciation. Pak Karim accepted it with profuse thanks. After trekking for several hours along the jungle trail from Kampung Keledek, Dollah and his men arrived at Kampung Manggis in the afternoon. And for the next several days, they went from village to village through the jungle trying to track Satan, without much success. Indeed, they rarely heard anymore reports about it. After six fruitless days, Dollah gave up. He decided to abandon the quest, and to head back towards Kampung Keledek before returning to Kuala Lumpur. The tiger must be elsewhere, some place far away, he told himself.

It was to have been the final night of his venture. Dollah had difficulty sleeping. He was restless for some inexplicable reason. Perhaps it was the frustration of failure, or perhaps it was something else. Anyway, he fell asleep only after much effort. And then he had a strange dream. He saw Satan being pursued by about twenty men and women armed with sticks, guns, hoes, machetes and all sorts of weapons. And among them was Pak Karim, carrying a long, hefty stuff. Satan ran past Dollah, and it was obviosly limping. But Dollah, gun in hand, failed to take advantage of his position. He simply could not lift his weapon to take aim and shoot. Soon, Pak Karim reached him. The old man told him who the men and women pursuing Satan were. They were the man eater's own victims. he also told Dollah he must lay a trap along Sungai Bernam, a river near a village called Kampung Nangak, to end the beast's reign of terror. When Dollah awoke the morning after, he could not help thinking about the dream.A dream is a dream and, usually, he would not have given it much thought. But thins time, something in his guts told him he ought to give the hunt for Satan a last try. He changed his mind about returning to Kampung Keledek, instead, proceeded to Kampung Nangka. On reaching Kampung Nangka, Dollah hastened for the river he heard about in his dream. He found it, Sungai Bernam. And there, along its banks, close to a swamp and the jungle, were tiger tracks. Later that day, Dollah took a goat to the swamp's edge and tethered it to a tree. But it apparently failed to attract the tiger's attention that night. Dollah found his bait the next morning unharmed and no new tracks along or near the river.

Dollah was resting in his tent that afternoon, waiting for nightfall to make another attempt to draw the tiger out, when along came a party from Kampung Nangka led by the chief with the news that Satan had struck again. It was another rubber tapper, attacked the night before. Dollah took his gun, gathered his men and asked the village folks to join him in search of the victim's body. They did not have to look far. A short distance into the jungle were tiger tracks. There was blood on the ground and marks indicating that the unfortunate victim had been dragged along. The tiger appeared to have paused several times along the way. The they found the body, or rather the remains of it, hidden in some undergrowth.

Knowing the beast would not return to finish its dinner during the day, Dollah obtained the chief's permission to leave the body where it was and to use it as bait. Next, he told his men to build hides up in the trees near the corpse, for they were going to spend the night lying in wait for Satan. Dollah was ready in his hide well before nightfall. It was not so frightening or troubling at first, as the captivating calls of a variety of birds returning to their nests kept him occupied. But when the sun set and everything around him turned dark, trepidation set in and all sorts of ideas and terrifying thoughts started playing in his mind. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end and a queasy feeling went up his spine, as if something was running its hairy arms up and down his back. The rising moon sent a minimum of light through the canopy. At first, he could see nothing at all, but once his eyes had adjusted to the darkness, he could make out the vague outlines of the trees, vines and scrub around and below. Alone in the middle of the jungle on an unearthly night like this, one never knows what one could suddenly see. What with that half devoured corpse down below, just yards away, Dollah was never so scared in his life. He shivered all over, and it was not out of cold, for he was also sweating profusely.

He had been waiting a long time, and nothing was happening. He brought out his thermos flask, poured some coffee, and took a sip. weary, he leaned against the tree trunk, and dozed off. He could not tell how long he had been asleep, but the next thing he knew, there was a tugging at his arm. When he opened his eyes, he could feel someone or something seated beside him and staring at the body below. And yet, as hard as he tried, he could see nothing. He dared not move. Only his eyes scanned the surroundings. Had it been daytime, he would have fled and not looked back. Then suddenly he heard something moving through the scrub. Somehow, that made him forget all his fears instantly. Quickly, silently, he loaded his gun as his eyes searched the spot from where the sound came. under what little moonlight that reached the ground he soon saw a tiger peering from behind a tree. It moved, but not towards the body. Instead, it circled the area, eyes searching about, nose sniffing the as if seeking something. Dollah gripped the gun, raised it and took aim. All he needed now was the right moment to pull the trigger. The tiger, having circled the place, retreated slowly before lying on the ground, eyes fixed at the corpse.

Then an unusual thing happened. The corpse began to stir, got up, and walked away! Satan roared and lunged at it. Dollah pulled the trigger. The sound of gunfire was accompanied almost simultaneously by another roar from Satan. It fell with a bullet in its head. Dollah sent another shot, and then everything went silent. Then out of the corpse, a hazy figure in white rose and floated to the dead tiger. It hovered above for a moment before  turning to look at Dollah. Before he knew it, Dollah was screaming with shock. The face that he saw, under the dim light of the moon, was none other than Pak Karim, the caretaker from Kampung Keledek, hair and beard as white as snow! The silent figure wafted away and disappeared into the jungle. Dollah sat petrified. His whole body turned limp. He became confused, unsure whether what he had just seen was real. Soon, vaguelt at first but louder and louder, came a cacophony of shouts and excited banter. It was the village folks, turning out in full force with torches in hand. They must have heard the gunshots and somehow knew their nemesis was now dead.

The next day, his mission completed, Dollah left Kampung Nangka for Kampung Keledek. The first thing he did on arrival there was to visit the Rest House. It was nightfall when he reached it. He called out Pak Karim's name well before he came up to the front door. When no one responded, Dollah opened the unlocked door and went in. To his utter horror, he found the place totally different from the way he saw it just a week ago. There was no one in Pak Karim's bedroom and, indeed, the whole place was deserted. Worst, it was in a terrible state of disrepair, its wooden walls were mouldy and covered with cobwebs, certain parts were termite infested, elsewhere the walls were even broken. It was as if no one had lived there for a long time. Dollah stood stunned in the middle of the hall. Incredulous, his eyes ran from one point to another all around him, until they fell on the register. The old register he and his party had signed lay on a table. He went up to it and opened the pages in search of its last entries. There they were, clearly written, the names and particulars of every member of his hunting team, registered before they sat off for the jungle a week ago. He also found a dollar bill, the tip he gave Pak Karim.

Reeling with shock and confounded by the turn of events, Dollah left the place and headed for the headman's house to seek an explanation. There he found it. The headman told him that the Rest House had been left vacant for many months. Those who had dared go there said the place was haunted. 'Old Pak Karim went missing about six months ago. We had no idea where he was until his body was found one morning in the jungle. It was Satan, no doubt about it. We buried the remains in the Rest House grounds.'

All For One

'Come and spend a night or two with us if you don't believe me,' suggested my cousin Zulkifli. His voice came through quite clearly over the telephone. 'You wouldn't be pulling a fast one on me, would you?' I probed. 'I'm dead serious. Ask Ani if you think I'm bluffing,' he replied. I heard him calling out for Norani. Seconds later, she had taken over his end of the line. 

Zul and I were about the same age, thirteen. Norani, his sister, was ten. They were the only children of my Uncle Bujang, a customs officer, and Auntie Hawa. The family had just moved into their government quarters in the west coast of Singapore three months ago. 'It's true, Din. Trust me, no tricks here. There is a ghost at our place. It looks like a young girl, about my age. We've been seeing her these past few days in Zul's  bedroom, in the dining room and even in my own room. She doesn't bother us actually, so we're not scared at all. And we only see her for a few seconds. She always looks so sad. 'Come on. Spend a night here. See her with your own eyes,' urged Ani excitedly.

A ghost! They insisted it was real, and they weren't even scared? I could already feel the hair on the back of my neck standing on end. But it was December, and school was out. Something egged me to go on and see for myself what my cousin were so excited about. 'Alright, I'll be there tomorrow afternoon,' I replied, before hanging up. I was met by Zul at his place the following day, as agreed. Uncle Bujang, who had just returned from the office, was there too. 'Well, all ready to meet the ghost, Din? I was a little too shy to reply, I guess. I just took his hand and kissed it.

'Oh, come on. he has hardly stepped inside and already you're scaring him,' quipped Auntie hawa, who was also at the door. Uncle laughed, and so did Zul and Ani. Zul took me to his room. He was to share it with me during my stay there, he said. And as soon as I had settled down and we were alone, he also began sharing with me his personal encounters with the ghost, whom he first saw three nights ago as he lay in bed. When at first he saw the door swinging, he said, he thought it was just Ani. But a second look told him it was not his little sister, but a girl he had never seen before, dressed in the deep blue sarong and white baju kurung that was the uniform of Malay school girls.

The girl disappeared from view before he could utter a word. But he did get a look at her face, and how could he ever forget that face. She looked so doleful. The second time the ghost was sighted was in the dining room as Ani was preparing the table for lunch. Like the first time, she was gone as soon as she appeared, before Ani could say anything. Ani, too, said she looked very, very sad indeed. Ani also happened to be the one who saw her the next time she appeared. It was late at night when she awoke to find the ghost standing at the foot of her bed. Like before, she vanished in no time. As for me, I did not have too long a wait for my first encounter with the ghost. It happened while I was having dinner with the family that very evening. we were enjoying a lively chat as we tucked in when Ani, who sat directly opposite the door, suddenly started pointing excitedly in its direction. We all turned around at once, in time to see the ghost sauntering in. She halted after a few steps, and gazed at us with that soulful look of hers, just like my cousins said. And then she vanished.

Uncle was the first to speak, 'Wonder why she looks so sad? I feel sorry for her. Maybe there's something she wants to say to us.' We went back to our meal, but by then the liveliness in our conversation was already gone. The rest of that night went uneventfully. We had a good sleep, Zul and I, and I guess so did uncle, auntie and Ani. The following day, the three of us kids whiled away the hours with reading and games, while uncle was at work and auntie kept herself busy with the chores. Uncle came home around six. As he rested in the living room, he told us something he had just learnt back at the office that day. He had been asking around if anyone knew anything out of the ordinary about the house. And he found one guy who actually did. The guy said he had known for a number of years now that the house was haunted. In fact, he said, that was the very reason the place was not taken up for so long time, despite being offered to several customs officers before uncle finally moved in.

And what was the story? It seemed many years ago a widowed senior customs officer used to live there with his daughter, a student age about thirteen. Trouble started when the man remarried a lady who turned out to be a regular wicked step mother. 'Whenever her father was out to work or elsewhere, the girl would get hell from the woman. She was abused, beaten up, tortured. The man did not know about it, or perhaps he did but pretended not to know, lest he displeased his beloved new lady. Well, unable to take it anymore, the poor little girl finally committed suicide. She poisoned herself. Ever since then, the house had been haunted,' said uncle. We listened to the story in silent horror. Poor girl, I thought. How sad to hear someone so young being forced to take her own life to relieve herself of misery. I had seen such scenes in movies, and read about it in books, but it shocked me to learn that they do happen in real life.

Later that night, Zul and I saw the ghost again when we were both in bed. Something jerked us out of sleep, almost at the same time. As we woke up, we both became immediately aware of someone else's presence in the bedroom. We looked around, and there she was, at our feet, gazing at us. The words left my mouth before I knew what I was saying. 'Why are you always in such sorrow?' The ghost looked at ma, and tears seemed to well up in her eyes and slowly wet her cheeks. And instantly, she was gone. 'Did you see that? Did you see how she cried?' whispered Zul. I nodded. 

The next morning, after breakfast, uncle and auntie left for the market, leaving the three of us on our own. Zul and I sat down to some books in the living room, while Ani went to her bedroom. Abruptly, the weather turned gloomy. Dark clouds quickly blocked the morning sun and successive  claps of thunder split the sky as blustery winds brought a sudden, heavy downpour. Zul and I rushed from window to window, shutting them to keep the rain out. We came to Ani's room, and that was when we realized she was no longer around. We could not find her, though we did notice fresh depressions on her bed and pillow. We called out for her several times, but there was no response. 'The kitchen, maybe,' suggested Zul. 'But I didn't see her leave her room,' I replied.

We dashed to the living room. It was pretty dark, what with all the window shut. Zul switched the light on. But no light came. 'Now the lights won't work!' He sounded a little shaken. 'Ani, Ani, where are you?' he called out. Silence. There was no reply. My heart was pounding. 'Come on, Ani, don't play hide and seek with me, please!' Zul called out again. We waited for a few minutes and still there was no sign of her. 'Why don't you look for her in my dad's room? I'll see if she's in the dining room.' There was a distinct tremble in my cousin's voice. I dashed to uncle's room. The door was shut but not locked. I opened it gently, and found it empty. I went in. There was definitely no one there. I went into the bathroom and toilet. They were empty too. I lifted the bedsheet and peered under the bed, just in case Ani was hiding there. No, there was no one there either.

I went out and hurried to the dining room, expecting to find Zul searching for his sister there. I found the door shut. I tried to open it, and found it locked. 'Zul, would you open the door, please. I can't find her.' No reply from within. I shook the door as I called out again, 'Zul! Hey, where the hell are you? Come on, open the door!' Nothing moved. I tried forcing my way in, but the door would not budge. Then I heard different voices cackling from within. I was stunned. I could recognise two of them, Zul and Ani. But the third was a stranger to me. Are Zul and Ani with someone else? But who? What are they up to? I knocked on the door repeatedly. 'Zul, Ani, hurry up! Open this door, please!'

Footsteps. Someone's coming to the door. Moments later, it opened slowly and Zul's head appeared. What a shock I had. He was grinning wide, but his face was pale as a corpse's. 'Come on in, Din,' he said, pulling me inside by the arm. I was surprised by the unusually strong grip and smell like hardness of his hand. As soon as I was inside, Zul locked the door, and I found myself in a dark room. All the windows were shut, all the lights off. He drew me to the middle of the room, near one end of the dining table. I could make out two figures at the other end. 'Won't you join us, Din? We can have some fun,' came Ani's voice.

Before I could see who was beside her, Ani said, 'Din, meet Rosie, our new friend. 'She got up and led 'Rosie' by the hand to meet me. 'Rosie', who was about my age, was dressed in a blue sarong and white baju kurung. She drew closer and closer and held my hand. 'Let's play here, Din. Don't go out and leave us again, please.' The voice was deep and rough. Certainly not the voice of a young girl. And the grip! It was as hard as Zul's. So hard that her nails were digging into my flesh. Then Rosie gave out a devilish cackle. And so did Zul and Ani. Zul and Ani put their arms around me and held me tight. And they kept cackling, tearing my mind. Then the three of them put their hands on my throat. I could not breathe. I screamed at the top of my voice. I wanted to escape. But I could only feel blood spurting out of my throat and mouth. In my eyes there was only a haze. The room was turning round and round. My breathing became increasingly feeble. Everything was turning into darkness. I felt myself rising, hovering in the air, along with Zul, Ani and Rosie. And they kept cackling.

The Ghost Of The Blue House

The big, two storey house stood close to the roadside. It looked rather old and rundown, but good enough for shelter from the sun and rain, I thought. It had been painted blue, not light blue, not dark blue, but pale blue, pale like a corpse's face. A concrete wall, just as old surrounded its grounds. Outside, at least there was the excitement of discovery. The moment I stepped inside the house, however, everything seemed depressing. The rooms, while clean, were all dampness and gloom. And though the windows were open, very little of the warmth and the bustle from outside, filtered through, as though there was something preventing their entry. Still, I could not resist the cheap rental proclaimed by the sign at the door, and immediately decided to rent it for my family, at least as a temporary accommodation until we found a more suitable place. It was about three miles from town. There were other houses nearby, the closest being within hail. The house lacked quite a few things, including electricity, although there was piped water. But that did not discourage me for it offered big rooms and spacious areas, just what I wanted for the family.

Saodah, my wife, did not share my enthusiasm, though. 'Yes, the house is spacious and I like that. But the interior is so depressing, as if something tragic had happened here.' 'Oh, come on. That doesn't really matter, does it?' I replied, trying to win her to my side. 'The rent's cheap and for such a big place too. Safiah and Dahlia will not have to play outdoors all the time. And you'll have more space to yourself.' Safiah, eleven, and Dahlia, ten are our two daughters. We moved into the blue house a few days later. With us came two cats which we had kept for some years. These were not mere pets. They were the darlings of our two girls.

The first thing which puzzled me upon moving in was that, from the moment the cats were let free in the house, they rarely kept away from us. They were always mewing and casting terrified, side long glances about, and their bodies were trembling. They would run after us to keep pace with us as we went from one room to another, as if afraid to be left alone. And that constant mewing and the terrified looks... it seemed as though some fearsome but invisible thing was scaring the wits out of them. it did not bother me at first. I thought their strange behaviour must somehow have to do with being suddenly thrown into a new environment. But when we had stayed there for three days and the two cats were still like that, I began to get quite concerned. I did not talk about it with Saodah or the kids, though. Everything else was fine in the house until one night about two weeks after we had moved in. I was not sure what time it was, but I was jerked out of sleep by the loud cries of our two cats just outside the bedroom and what sounded like a heavy barrel being rolled on the floor. I leaped out of bed, quite certain that it was a burglar. I checked the corridor outside the bedroom but it was deserted. In the moonlight that shone through the window, I could see no one around. And yet the sound of a heavy barrel rolling on the floor and down the flight of stairs was clear in my ears. Moments later, from the kitchen, I heard the crashing of our crockery as if that barrel had brought them all down. Saodah and I, lamp in hand, ran down expecting to see the plates, bowls, cups and saucers we had just bought that day in smithereens. But we were surprised to find the kitchen in the same state as we left it before going to bed.

Saodah and I looked at each other, and it was clear both of us shared the same thoughts. We sped headlong back to our room, jumped into bed and pulled the blanket completely over our heads. We were shivering uncontrollably, like someone stricken by malaria, and were beading cold sweat. All night long, we did not dare close our eyes to sleep, so terrified we were by that inexplicable incident. And we let the bedroom lamp shine to its full brightness right until daybreak. The next morning, I asked Safiah and Dahlia if they had heard any strange noises during the night. Both said no, and I related the incident to them. I spent the rest of the day trying to calm Saodah's nerves. She was horror stricken and was begging me to let us move out of the place.

'I'm scared, dear,' she pleaded while the two of us were in the kitchen. 'That thing, whatever it is, might harm our kids next. This whole place is haunted, I tel you!' 'Humbug!' I said, confidently dismissing her fears. 'This is the twentieth century, there are no ghosts anymore. Don't you believe all those nonsense. Just be a little patient. Give it some time. We've been here for only two weeks; we can't be moving out at the lightest problem, for every irrational reason. Let's wait and see how things go. Then, if you really cannot stand it, we'll move out.' God alone knew the way I felt when I said those words, for I was no less terrified than her. Two days later, Safiah and Dahlia told me they caught a stench on their way to the kitchen. 'Smelled like a dead animal, dad,'They explained. 'Perhaps your mother forgot to dispose of the gut she cleaned out of the fish this morning,' I said. They said the stench came from under the flight of stairs, and when I went there, it was just like they described. But hard as I tried, I could not trace what gave the smell.

The evening after, I was alone on my way to the kitchen when I found the stench still lingering. Unable to take it anymore, I decided to open the nearby window to let in some fresh air. I thought, maybe then the smell would go away. I was standing by the window sipping the cool breeze coming in, when suddenly there came a strange noise from behind me. I turned, and was immediately petrified with shock, for over there, flying from one corner of the kitchen to the front door, was a huge, black shadow. It sailed straight through and out the door. Well, just like two days ago, I went speeding like a bullet to my bedroom, where Saodah and two girls were chatting. They jumped up screaming when I burst in. I threw myself onto the bed and buried my face under the blanket. It took some time before the shock wore off, before I could relate to them what I had witnessed. But, just to assure them, I said, 'It's probably nothing. I guess I was just seeing things.'

Another strange incident took place the following evening. As had been my habit, I sat down to read the newspapers after dinner. I was engrossed in my reading when I felt a sudden gust of cold wind blowing into the room. I lifted my head and saw the door open. I thought it was shut when I last saw it! Puzzled, I got up and closed the door. Hardly had I returned to my seat when I felt the cold wind blowing again. I turned to look, and the door was again open. Who did that? It was beginning to get on my nerves. I made for the door again, but had taken just a few steps when, out of the blue, came the same stench that had been lingering around the flight of stairs to the kitchen. The stench seemed to be coming from somewhere near the door. I looked, and saw nothing, and yet I could sense it. Something, some... thing... was there... watching. And then I saw it. A fleeting, hazy apparition. A lifeless human form. It appeared in a flash, and went away as suddenly as it came. Leaving that stench, that sick smell that reminded me of death, I opened the window, and the smell seemed to disappear that way. I did not tell my wife and children about this.

One afternoon days later, Safiah and Dahlia went out to play in the yard. Our two cats, not willing to be left out, ran about them trying to catch a ball the two girls were tossing each other. Then Safiah threw the ball wide, sending it into some undergrowth along the wall. Blackie, one of the two cats, plunged in after it, but gave a shrill cry a split second later, and jumped out and fled into the house like a frightened mouse. And before Safiah and Dahlia could even figure out what was happening, out came their ball like a cannon shot from the bushes, to land at their feet. It was as if someone had hurled it out. Who it was, the girls decided they would rather not know. Following that incident, Blackie fell ill. He spent three days sprawled in my bedroom, eating nothing, drinking nothing, refusing all our attempts to feed him. Then he died, plunging the whole family into sorrow. For more than a week afterwards, nothing out of the ordinary happened, although we did occasionally catch that horrible smell again. Then one afternoon, as our two girls were taking a walk in the grounds, they suddenly sensed something trailing them, something they could not see. That scared them so much, they stopped and hastened right back into the house. That very night, Safiah came down with fever and turned delirious. We summoned a doctor, but despite his able attempts, the fever did not abate.

Saodah start nagging me all over again to get out of the place, because she could not stand living there any longer after all these strange and frightening incidents. I stuck to my decision not to move out, if only because it would be very difficult to find another place to live. But I also asked for her patience, at least until I found another accommodation.  I spent that night alone in my bedroom. Saodah slept in the children's room as Safiah was still sick. As I lay in bed, each chilling encounter we had had ever since moving into the blue house came flashing before my eyes. I had no idea when I finally dozed off, but I had a horrible nightmare that jolted me out of slumber, screaming. I got up, sat on the edge of the bed, my eyes scanning the room left and right, my ears straining to detect any unusual sound. I shivered all over, the hair on my body standing on end. On my right, close by, stood the rather dim bedroom light. The door was closed and the windows were shut. My eyes wandered around the room until they fell on the curtain over the door... it seemed to bulge, as though blown by wind from the outside. Or is there somebody, or something, lurking behind? Then, slowly, the curtain moved, as if the thing behind it, whatever it was, was coming towards me. I expected the worst, but by then, there was nothing more I could do. I tried to scream, but no sound emerged; I tried to flee, but my whole body had gone limp. I could not even lift my hands to cover my eyes.

And then the thing revealed itself. Before my very eyes stood a most terrifying being, huge body, huge head, in horrible nakedness except for a strange glow that surrounded it. The face was that of a decomposed corpse. Indeed, its torso was not even intact, just a massive skeleton with remnants of flesh dangling from various bones. Its lips were gone, leaving a mouth with a ghastly grin that revealed long, saber like teeth. And those eyes, green and penetrating, were staring straight at me. Its hands reached for my throat, and it drew closer and closer and closer, until... everything turned black. When I came to, the room was in darkness. I dared not leave the bed and just lay there in terror, protected by my blanket until morning came. I did not tell Saodah what happened. But then, it appeared I did not to. Somehow she knew. Somehow she could read it on my face. She simply started packing up our clothes and things.

'Well,' I said, 'I think we've had enough. Let's get out of here. I cannot stand this place anymore.' Much later, I managed to dig out the history of the site on which the blue house was built on. I learnt that it was a detention centre during the Japanese Occupation. The Kempeitai sent many of its victims to death by torture there. Then, just before they surrendered, the detention centre was set on fire, and that took several more lives, detainees alike. Some said it was the anti-Japanese guerrillas who did it. Safiah recovered from her illness a few days after we moved out of the blue house.

A Mosque In The Jungle

I have never believed in ghosts. I have never seen one, however fleetingly, in all my 29 years of life. I considered all those who believe in ghosts or love telling ghost stories, fools. In this age of the atomic bomb and the hydrogen bomb, how could ghosts exist? There were friends of mine who really believed all those ghost tale, and could tell you some weird things too. They say, if a person happens to be somewhere he has never been before, he must pay obeisance and say 'Hail' to the guardian spirits before doing anything. Likewise if a person going to, say, bathe in some deserted, remote pool or river. If these rites are not adhered to, he will incur the wrath of the guardian spirits and they would possess and do horrible things to him. What nonsense! No one was a greater believer in the supernatural, and no one loved talking about it more than Dol. He said if a person should lose his way in a jungle, the jungle spirit would help and lead this person to its home, which is a mosque. But it would only help the good, those who said, 'Hail', O Spirit. Your child seeks permission to pass.'

Well, we had been in the jungle since morning, the twelve of us from the 9th Jungle Company. We had spent the whole day there and we were lost. Where's that spirit who's supposed to help us? Where's that mosque... where's that place of refuge? All we met at nightfall was a band of communist terrorists. When it was all over, I had no idea where Dol and the others, including Sergeant Junid, were. Night had come. I was all alone now, walking aimlessly about, stumbling here and there in such darkness that one cannot see the back of one's hand. I dared not shout for help for fear of attracting wild animals and those terrorists. As I groped my way in the blackness, I kept running against thorns and bumping into branches and tree trunks and falling over exposed roots. Around me, it was so quiet, even the little creatures one normally hears at night were silent. I looked up occasionally and saw a star or two twinkling in the sky through gaps in the thick canopy above. I sat down and rested my aching back against the base of a big tree. Soon fear began creeping in.

Every so often, I could hear twigs breaking, as if some animal had stepped on them. Other times, there were dragging sounds like something was creeping, crawling along. Having once seen a fifteen or sixteen feet long python, I shuddered thinking how it would feel to have a snake like that coiled around me and crushing me in that darkness. I resumed my aimless, stumbling, staggering progress through the black jungle. And then suddenly there came a smell that had no business being there, so far removed from civilization. It was the smell of burning incense... and it was getting stronger and stronger as if someone was burning it right beside me. That reminded me of something else Dol used to say. The smell of incense mean anything but... 

Suddenly I saw the flickering light of a torch in the pitch darkness. Who could it be? Someone lost? Terrorist? Cautiously, I gripped the sten gun and held it ready. The torch came towards me swinging left and right. When it was about twenty five yards away, I saw for the first time that the bearer was an old man, hunched, grey haired, in robes and white cap, the typical pious Muslim. He waved the torch about, apparently giving me the signal to approach him. I went forward, but had hardly taken ten steps when I plunged waist deep in water. Only with the light from the torch was I able to see that I had fallen into a swamp. The commotion I made brought many pairs of green, blinking eyes rushing towards me. Oh no! Crocodiles! I've got to get out of here!

The old man kept swinging his torch. Behind him I could make out a mosque dimly lit by a single lamp. The man came even closer and under the light from his torch I could see a bund like those commonly seen in paddy fields. That's my escape route! I made a dash for it. The green eyes in the water followed me, but as it was high ground there was nothing they could do. 'Are you lost, son?' asked the old man, smiling, but ignoring the hand I proffered to shake his. 'It was fortunate I saw you, otherwise you would have foundered in this crocodile infested swamp,' he said. I listened to him, silently wondering who this old fellow could be, living in the middle of the jungle. Perhaps there is a village here, I thought.

'Wash up at the pool,' he said as his hand gestured towards a pool, apparently meant for ablutions, beside the mosque. 'Then go up,' he instructed. The man went into the mosque, where I could see someone reciting the Quran; others in the midst of worship and others still saying prayers for the departed. Their voices came drumming into my ears. The pool water was terribly cold, but so refreshing.

Having cleansed myself, I entered the mosque. The old man came up to me. 'We are poor people here. The mosque doesn't have a proper place for you to spend the night. But if you please I could take you where I usually sleep. I will sleep with the others down here,' he said. The old man, still a stranger to me, took me out to a corner of the building, and there stood a huge tree, its trunk four times a man's outreached arms in circumference. One of its enormous branches had been levelled on top and turned into a bunk of sorts. 'Sleep here and do not worry about me,' said the man softly. I climbed up my bunk. Uncomfortable that I should be sleeping while other were still praying and reciting the holy book, I sat cross legged and observed them, deeply engrossed in their devotions. I studied their faces. They looked just like everybody else, nothing odd. I decided I should ask the old man the next day where the mosque was and what they called the village.

Half an hour later, having finished reciting the Quran and praying, the men left the mosque one by one, presumably heading for home. The old man come back to see me. 'Please try not to move about too much when you sleep, because one or two crocodiles from the swamp usually come up the banks when the mosque is deserted,' he advised. Then, seeing that I was now lying down and ready to go to sleep, he snuffed out the lamp, plunging the mosque into darkness. Exhausted from the trudging that day, I fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

I was awakened by the burning stabs of sunlight on my face. At first, I could not remember where I was, but gradually everything that happened the night before came back to me. I got up with such a start I almost fell. I realized then that I had been sleeping on nothing more than the bough of a tree in the middle of a vast swamp. Thankfully, I did not thrash about when I slept, or I would surely have turned dinner for the five or six crocodiles that had lain in wait all night below. Then I looked around me. Where was the mosque? Where was that old man who helped me last night? I simply had no answer. I found myself this morning perched on a tree in the middle of nowhere. No village, no mosque, just one big, wild swamp around me. Nor could I figure out how I made it across, for the bund that brought me to safety last night was nowhere to be seen. I was still trying to unravel the puzzle when I heard excited voices in the distance. Soon, who else appeared but Dol and the other guys. They had just reached the far edge of the swamp.

'Hey, there you are. What are you doing up that tree? How did you get up there?' Dol shouted. 'Would you please let me get down first?' I shouted back. 'I'll tell you all about it.' Dol and the others did all they could to find a way to get to my perch, but failed. There was no bund or dike, no bridge of any sort they could cross to reach me. Finally, sergeant Junid decided they build a raft with some large bamboo found on the banks. It took them two hours to complete it, and that was how i managed to set foot once again on solid ground. As I told them my story, I studied their faces one by one. It was clear to me, not one of them believed it. Even Dol, that faithful believer in the supernatural, gave me an incredulous smile. It was not long before I burst out in exasperation, 'well, if you guys really must know, I got up that tree in the middle of the swamp, to sleep up there by stepping over the backs of all those crocodiles in there!'