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!'

The Skulls Of Kuala Banat

This story happened about fifty years ago when a close friend of mine, Martin Haliday, was a District Officer in the East Coast of Malaya. Obsessed with the mystery surrounding a place called Kuala Banat, Martin had embarked on a plan to open a settlement there. He succeeded  after much effort to get official approval, but ran into problems when he tried to attract settlers. Villagers from around the area, aware of the mysterious character of the place, and superstitious as always, refused to uproot themselves for such a venture. The government finally had to transplant about thirty Malay families from the Kuala Terengganu area to establish the first Kuala Banat village. Then something terrible happened. Days after it was opened, a team of government officials visited the new settlement, and made a shocking discovery. It seemed as if a plague had overrun it. Bodies lay all over the place, children, men, women, even poultry and livestock. None carried any injuries, but every single one of them had the look of terror, wide open eyes, open mouths, bodies contorted as if cowering in the face of a monstrosity. They were taken to town for investigations, but to this day, no one could shed any light on the cause of their deaths. All the doctors could say was it was probably some unknown contagion. martin himself, who was found unconscious, never recovered. He was brought back for treatment, but went from bad to worst and finally succumbed to his condition. When questioned about Kuala Banat before he passed away, he become incoherent and could not explain clearly what had happened.

I was the last person to see Martin. He sent for me just before he died and I rushed right away to his place where he was being treated. It was in the late evening then. He was lying on an old metal bed, his eyes shut. The only visible sign of life in him was the rapid pumping of his chest for he was panting like he had just had a hard run. The table beside him was completely covered by medicine bottles and a cold plate of dinner. The house was quiet except for the distant calls of owls and insects. As I pulled a chair to his side, Martin opened his eyes weakly and stared at the ceiling for some time before slowly turning to me. He smiled a pathetic smile and, his voice choking, spoke to me. 'I have to tell you what happened. I must, or I'll have no peace in my grave. I must tell you everything about Kuala Banat, from beginning to the end. But before I do, swear to God's name that you will not let anyone open another settlement or live in Kuala Banat, ever. Please, swear now, before I go.'

Well, I did as he told me to, just to humor him. He smiled that smile again and, almost whispering, said, 'I'm not mad, you know! I'm sane like you, but everyone says I'm mad. You can see I'm not, can't you? But there's no point trying to convince them. They'll never believe  you anyway.' He paused to catch his breath, and then gestured to an old book by his side. 'I know what I'm saying, I know what I'm writing. Here's my diary. It has everything you'll need to know about Kuala Banat. And everything it says is true. I'm not lying, and I'm not crazy. Please believe me.'

I nodded, just to make him feel better. Moments later, he closed his eyes, and slept. Forever. I took on the task of packing up Martin's belongings and clearing them from the house, mostly to be shipped to his family, some to be disposed off. I kept only the diary, for I wanted badly to know what really happened in Kuala Banat.

One thing Martin Haliday loved to do in his spare time was going fishing with the local Malay fisherman. On those jaunts at sea, he was just like any of them, spending days at a stretch, working their lines, their nets and their traps, being grilled by the hot sun by day and chilled by cold winds and dew by night. He thoroughly enjoyed their company and would rather toil with them than sit in the comfort of his office. He found it an exhilarating experience just to drift in the open sea as dawn broke over an uninterrupted horizon. It was this favorite pastime of his that led Martin to discover the mystery of Kuala Banat. He was then with his usual band of fishermen from Kuala Pulai, on a long journey back from their favorite fishing grounds. It was early dawn and, seated in the middle of the boat, Martin could not help but be struck by the sparkling stars dotting the sky that was turning light with the first rays of the rising sun. The party had by then found themselves becalmed by lack of wind and had to resort to rowing . They soon became exhausted and, with still a long way to go before reaching home, they decided to stop over at Kuala Banat. The sun was up by the time they beached there and everyone alighted from the boat to erect temporary shelters, as they were going to spend the day there. After breakfast, they lay down for a good rest.

When Martin awoke, the sun was well on its way down to the west. Some of the boatmen were preparing dinner while others were bringing down their shelters for soon they would be resuming their journey home. Martin went down to a stream to bathe. Then, deciding he had some time to kill, he slung his rifle over his shoulder and went off to explore the forest. As he went in, he noticed flocks of birds, of various sizes and colors, flying about and creating a racket as they scrambled and jostled for a perch to spend the night. Rambling further inland, he suddenly found himself in a clearing. It was a surprise to him to find this bald space in the thick of the jungle, where every inch of the ground was otherwise covered by vegetation. It was as if the jungle had decided to avoid it. As he stepped into the clearing, Martin was struck by the concrete like hardness of the ground. he looked around, intrigued, and something caught his attention. Something almost concealed by the lush undergrowth at the edge of the clearing. he went up for a closer look. At that very moment, the noisy birds abruptly became silent, as if sensing danger. Martin noticed that and wondered why, but went ahead anyway.

He discovered among the undergrowth, the ruins of an ancient stone wall. As he probed further in the scrub, he found pieces of broken masonry, some big, some small, with features that reminded him of European buildings of the medieval era. It soon dawned upon him that he must be standing on the ruins of a fortress of some kind. Questions then came in a deluge. Masonry? Fortress? In this part of the world? The natives here used wood in their grandest of buildings, so it must have been foreigners who built this. But who? What were they doing building a fortress in this place? And what made them abandon it? He sat down to reflect on the puzzle, searching his own knowledge of the history of Malaya for some clues. but nothing seemed to help. Dusk came but, deep in his thoughts over the mystery, Martin took no notice. If not for the persistent shouts of the men on the beach, he would have remained at the clearing right through nightfall. Jolted out of reverie, he got up and hurried back. But even as he did, he resolved to return one day to probe further into the mystery of the ruins.

As he sailed home that evening, Martin could not get Kuala Banat out of his mind. He asked everyone in the boat, but not one of them seemed to know anything, or seemed prepared to say anything about it. Their attitude strengthened his resolve to dig into the mystery. There must be a story behind it, something extraordinary, for these guys seemed so reluctant to say more than a few words about what they knew. Back home, Martin wasted no time digging into the background of the area. He started spending all his leisure hours in the library at his office, reading up on the history of Malaya, seeking any scrap of information he could glean about Kuala Banat. As a result, he no longer found the time to join the folks of Kuala Pulai on their fishing trips. this change in his behaviour was quickly noticed by the folks. It aroused the particular concern of one man, Pawang Mat Yasin, the village shaman.

Martin's interest in Kuala Banat had turned into an obsession. The mysterious place had so enchanted him that all he wanted to do in his life was to be among the ruins, to live there, and to work there. That was how he came up with plans to open the settlement. The idea was, with the place inhabited, he could live there and be where he really loved to be. He wrote to his superiors and, after months of hard work, finally obtained official approval. Elated, Martin gathered the villagers of Kuala Pulai to announce the plan. He tried to entice them to settle there, telling them what a blessed land it was and what abundance it offered. He described to them the exciting ideas he had for the settlement. he told them many wonderful things about Kuala Banat, but to his disappointment, they refused to resettle. The folks simply would not hear about moving there. Undeterred, Martin got in touch with his superiors again, and sometime later, a government boat arrived at Kuala Pulai with thirty families from Kuala Terengganu, to found the new settlement of Kuala Banat.

Martin received them with obvious delight and quickly arranged for thirty native prahus to transport them there. but the folks of Kuala Pulai simply watched as the settlers prepared for their journey, saying nothing to stop or encourage them. On the eve of their departure, Pawang Mat Yassin called on martin. He wanted him to abandon the plan. As expected, martin would not have it. It would be unthinkable to call off the plan now, after so much had been done to get it going. Kuala Banat was, after all, such a lovely place to live and make one's living. Indeed, Martin thought it odd that anyone should try to discourage him from going. He found it even more puzzling when Pawang Mat Yassin became insistent, and talked of some 'great peril' that Martin and his people would suffer should they proceed with the plan. Martin responded with assurances that all necessary precautions would be taken and that he would personally see to it that no danger would come to his people. In fact, he invited the shaman to join them. 'I'd rather be cut into pieces than step foot in that cursed place. It's full of evil,' replied Pawang Mat Yassin, looking very anxious. But when Martin dismissed his fears as pure superstition, the shaman, his anxiety replaced by indignation, immediately agreed to join him just so that martin could see for himself that he was telling the truth. All he asked was the freedom to return to Kuala Pulai anytime he wanted.

Early the next morning, martin and his party of settlers set off for Kuala Banat. Pawang mat Yassin, sharing the same boat with Martin, lodged himself in the aft and immediately started chanting quietly all the prayers for safety he could think of. Occasionally martin would catch him shuddering in fear, but he simply ignored him and pretended no tot notice. The sun had almost set when Martin's party made it to the waters off Kuala Banat, so the settlers decided to spend the night in their boats and to land the next morning. But already that evening, Kuala Banat was seeing the change that was coming its way as dozens of lanterns and the drone of human voices turned the sea alive. The moon shone bright under a pristine sky. The Kuala Banat beach looked invitingly pure. Beyond the beach, the leaves on the trees glimmered under the moonlight to contrast with the dark, solid profile of the mountains in the background. martin told himself it was a scene like he had never seen before. he wondered how his ruined fortress would look in the golden moonlight. It must be fabulous. He felt a sense of elation because God had now granted his wishes. He could imagine what a great place Kuala Banat would be once his people had settled down.

Next morning, Martin and his men were up with the sun to get their stuff unloaded and taken to the shore and to start clearing the land where they were to build their new houses. Tasks were allocated among themselves, some to cut trees, some to level the ground, others to fish and yet others to prepare the meals. But one man stood out in the midst of this hubbub. He was none other than Pawang Mat Yassin, who, for the best part of the day, remained stuck to his place in the boat. It took a lot of persuasion by Martin before he finally agreed to step ashore, and even then that ominous look never left his face. 'We have not really settled down, sir,' he warned. 'We've not seen this venture through. So, don't start celebrating yet.' 'Well, we've landed and we've spent the whole day on the beach, haven't we?' countered Martin. 'Yes, but spending the night at sea,' the old man replied. 'No, no, Sir. I think we should just abandon this idea and return home.' 'Come on, Pawang, don't talk nonsense. It's not that simple, you know,' said Martin, getting a little exasperated. Then, seeing how earnest and sincere the old shaman was, he felt a little uneasy. Why is this old man so persistent? Does he know something about the place that no one else does?

On the third day, Martin joined some of the men on a tree cutting foray into the woods, and unwittingly led them to the site of the ruins. He had been visiting the place quite frequently ever since the party arrived in Kuala Banat, but none of the other men had ever been there before. They were clearing the undergrowth around the base of a tall tree they were going to fell, close to the site, when they stumbled upon three human skulls. The men were terrified, but Martin picked up the skulls and carefully examined them. The largest had a fracture, presumably having been bashed by a heavy object. From its size and features, Martin could guess that it belonged to a Caucasian. The smallest obviously belonged to a child while the one in between was quite possibly an adult female. Martin brought the skulls to the open space, where he dug a hole and buried them. As he did, he wondered who the trio could be, how they came to be in the country and how they were connected to the ruins.

That night, as the moon rose and bathed Kuala Banat in its light, Martin lay restlessly in the boat. Try as he might, he could not close his eyes to sleep, and lay bobbing in a sea of thoughts over the mystery of the ruins and the skulls. Finally, he got up and looked out across the water to the shore, and remembered his wish to see the ruins in moonlight. Quietly, he put on his shoes and got off the boat, now tied to the jetty which the folks had just completed. He strode down the jetty to the shore, where he quickly followed the trail leading to the ruins. All the time, he was sure he was alone. What a shock he had when he reached the clearing, and suddenly heard the growl of a dog behind him. He turned around, and was relieved to see it was none other than his own dog. Somehow, it had managed to follow him all the way there without him noticing it. The dog seemed to be attracted to something at the spot where the skulls were buried. Martin could see that as its eyes were fixed there. But then, something happened and, its fierce mien was instantly replaced by a look of terror. the dog then turned on its tail and fled along the track back to the beach, whining all the way. martin gave a whistle to summon it back but it never returned. he wondered if it was a snake or some beast that had terrified the dog, but saw nothing there. Martin felt a sense of alarm building up inside him, heightened by the absolute silence about him. He looked around uneasily, sensing something watching his every movement and waiting for the right moment to pounce on him. He sniffed the air for the scent of wild animals, but there was only the aroma of leaves damp with the night's dew in his nostrils.

Then something caught his eyes, something at the spot where he had buried the three skulls, something that stood out under the bright moonlight. He bent down for a closer look, and was shocked to find it was none other than the skulls! They were back on the ground, arranged in a row just like when he had first discovered them. His heart went racing and blood surged through his body. Who could have dug up the grave and removed the skulls? There was no one in the area other than the settlers, and he knew none of them would dare touch the skulls. It could not have been wild animals either, considering how neatly they had been arranged. In any case, what would any animal want with some old, abandoned skulls long bleached by the elements? Indeed, when he looked around, he could not find any tracks to indicate the presence of any animal or humans before him. martin notice the odd way the skulls looked. Their jaws hung like they were grinning at him. And something deep within those hollow eye sockets, seemed to be staring at him. They seemed to be waiting for him to do something he knew not what for them. For the first time since he set foot among the ruins, Martin was really scared. He felt like fleeing back to the boat, but every muscle and joint in his body seemed to have seized. He stood facing the skulls, unable to move an inch as though he had been nailed to the ground. He could not take his eyes off those hollow eye sockets. Then he felt a strange sensation building up inside him. His soul was rising, leaving his body and flying towards the skulls! What happened next was a complete blank to him.


When he came next morning, he was back in the boat, and everything was a haze. He could not be sure if he had gone through what he had gone through. It felt like a dreamy experience to him. He could not even be sure he had left his bed and the boat until he saw the shoes still on his feet. Seeking to reassure himself, he hurried ashore, back to the ruins. he found the three skulls just as he thought he had seen them neatly arranged on the ground, at the exact spot where they had earlier been buried. Horrified, he retraced his footstep back to the boat, trying to recall along the way what happened the other night. Everything seemed real enough from the time he stepped ashore until the time he discovered the skulls back on the ground. But beyond that point, it was all a strange dream to him. He recalled seeing himself or was it himself? standing on the beach, looking out across the ocean. He recalled crossing himself. He recalled mouthing a string of words in a language he could not understand. He recalled feeling despondent, and scanning the horizon in a vain search for sign to bring back a ray of hope. He recalled making his way, in despair, back to the fortress in the jungle.

It was an odd feeling. He remembered doing all this, and yet it was not him. It was as if someone else had taken his body, making him do these things he could not comprehend. He recalled how surprised he was then he saw the fortress, It was solid and strong, a far cry from the ruined fortress he knew. Within its fortifications stood a house. Smoke billowed from its chimney. He was a complete stranger to all this. Yet to that other self within him, it was a familiar scene. Suddenly, he felt alarmed. He rushed to the house and burst inside. No one was around. Frantic, he called out names he had never heard of. He dashed into a dark room. As he looked around in bewilderment, something tugged at his feet. He bent down to find out what it was, and touched a form drenched in some slimy substance. He grope around, found an oil lamp, lit it and shone it on the floor. To his horror, it was a woman and a child, both European, dressed in the style of a bygone era. They lay motionless in a pool of blood. He threw himself beside them and broke down, anguished. He rose, gritting his teeth, and silently swore he would avenge their deaths.

He went out of the house and strode under the moonlight, cursing and swearing in that strange language again. As he did so, he noticed from the corner of his eye something flashing behind him. Before he could even turn to look, a violent blow landed on his head. That was the last thing he remembered before he was jolted out of sleep. What was really happening to him? Could Pawang Mat Yassin be right after all? Could there really be something evil in Kuala Banat? His dream struck him as a kind of possession. Had it to do with some supernatural presence there? But why him? Was it because he had been showing too much interest in the place? Had he disturbed something he should not have? 

What if Pawang Mat Yassin was also right about the peril awaiting the settlers? It was a terrifying prospect indeed. But what could he do now? he would be in for a lot of trouble if he told the settlers to go back and abandon Kuala Banat. By this time, the settlers had complete their houses and other structures for the new settlement, and began moving ashore. In the afternoon, as Martin sat watching the sunset with troubles in his mind, Pawang Mat Yassin came along and joined him. For several minuets, he just sat quietly beside him, staring at the sea. Then he spoke. 'I guess you must be getting the feeling now, don't you, that something terrible is going to happen here? Am I right? I know because I've been watching you. Please take my advice, Sir. Abandon this place. There's still time for us to save our skins. Come on, let's get out of here, right now. My boat is just over there.' 'Abandon the place? What about these folks?' 'Let them carry on as they are,' Pawang Mat Yassin replied, his eyes still fixed at some point far away at sea. 'We can't possibly take them all back now. You'll get into a lot of trouble if we did. Let them stay. That way, both of us can go!' 'No. I can't do that. But, why don't you go, Pawang? You, of all persons, should go. You would not have been in this mess if not for me, so go on. Save yourself.' Really, Martin wished he could just flee. But he knew he could not.

'Come on, Sir. Come with me, please, while there's still a chance,' pressed Pawang Mat Yassin. Then, finally revealing the cause of his concern, he exclaimed, 'Look over there! Do you see that?' and grabbing Martin by the arm, he pointed with a trembling right hand in the direction of the sea, at what he had been watching all this time. Martin could feel the surge of blood through his body when he saw it. Way out in the ocean, in between a pair of islets close to the horizon, a sailing ship was heading for Kuala Banat. It was no ordinary sailing ship. In form and design, it belonged to an European era of five hundred years ago! And astonishingly, it was speeding their way, against the wind! 'What kind of ship is that?' asked Martin. 'Looks like a junk.' Even as he said that, it was clear to him that there was something very wrong about that vessel.

'It's a demon ship, Sir. My God! That vessel's full of evil, and it's coming our way. Please, Sir, you've got to listen to me. Let's get out of this place while we still have the chance. Come with me to my boat!' pressed an anxious Pawang Mat Yassin. But it was clear to the shaman that Martin was not going to quit Kuala Banat, or abandon his folks, for anything. Finally giving up, he released his grip on Martin's arm and unsheathed his kris. In the sand at his feet, Pawang Mat Yassin quickly drew a human figure with the dagger. 'Here. This is a talisman. If you really must stay, please use it. make sure you lie down inside the figure before the ship reaches the shore. It will be just enough to protect you from peril, by the Grace of Allah. But if there is any doubt in your mind that you can survive this, for your own sake, get out of here.' And with those words, Pawang Mat Yassin dashed for his boat, got in and rowed furiously away. 

Martin spent some time, standing motionlessly on the beach, watching Pawang Mat Yassin and his boat fade into the distance. Then he shifted his eyes, first to the fast approaching ship, then to the talisman Pawang Mat Yassin had drawn for him in the sand. The last thing he saw before the sun set, plunging Kuala Banat into darkness, was his dog. It was looking up at the sky and howling like it had never howled before. 

The rest of the story was told by a government official who was among those who visited Kuala Banat and discovered the deaths. 'I'll never forget that morning in Kuala Banat,' he said as he began the story. 'We went there by a government launch, arriving just before noon. From the distance we could already see the grisly scene awaiting us. Everything was still, except for the howling of a dog somewhere. My boatmen, all Malays, did not hide their sense of terror. I went ashore and, my God, it was like a battle scene. The whole place was littered with dead bodies. Men, women, children, young and old, even livestock and poultry! Everyone of them sprawled face down on the earth, hands and feet jerked behind them, like they were trying to flee from something when death struck. Their eyes were open wide, and their mouths looked like they had been screaming in terror. 'It was a really shocking sight. We had to dig a huge grave to bury them, and that was only after I'd spent a long time persuading the men to do it. They were so terrified they dared not step out of the boat. And then I found Martin. He was sprawled on the ground just like the others, except that, he lay within a human figure drawn in the sand. The dog, who was beside him, kept on howling. Martin was unconscious, and no wonder too. He had been lying in the heat of day without his clothes. He behaved like a madman when he came to.

'We rushed him back for treatment and had some of the dead bodies removed for medical investigations. But, no clue was found as to what could have caused their deaths. All the doctors could say was that it was probably some unknown contagion.' What really happened to the Kuala Banat settlers? What caused their deaths? what about that mysterious sailing ship? To this day, no one has the answers.