This post was written and submitted by Juliet Leow.
Things that go bump in the night make good reads. They are a must during camp fires and children and ladies are somehow besotted by them. Ghosties (ghost stories ) break through many boundaries, bringing people closer together. They are good conversation tidbits.
In 1991, due to my husband’s work, we were relocated to Kuantan, Pahang from Alor Setar. There were five of us. My spouse and I and our three young girls.
Because of time constrains, we unhesitatingly agreed to rent a single, storey terrace house in a quaint neighbourhood. The address is still embedded in my mind, ‘B2679, Taman Timur Raya, 25250, Kuantan’.
It was a rather a large house for a single storey terrace. The rent was extremely cheap and I’d thought we had a great deal. We settled in quickly and grew comfortable with the house.
It was semi-furnished, spacious with some renovations thrown in. Months rolled by with no unusual incidents. It started at that one evening, an abrupt shriek from my daughter prompted me to the dining hall. She pointed to the upper wall of the dining wall. Lo and behold, a slithering movement caught the corner of my eyes. It was a snake.
For the life of me, I could never fathom nor comprehend how a snake could be on the wall. I mean, aren’t they supposed to be on the ground, eating dirt as was written in the bible?
Without much ado, I called out to my husband and he in turn shot it down with a catapult. And it was quickly ushered out onto the porch where it was mercilessly battered to smithereens. It was disposed of quickly in the fire.
From thence on, things moved on to a quicker pace.
One cloudy evening, my husband’s friend sent him home after tea. As his trusty Mazda 323 pulled up outside the gate, they chatted briefly in the car. I peeped through the window curtains and saw a long-haired figure of a female leaning against the back of my husband’s seat. She had on a white robe. Her face was partially hidden under her dark mane. She was motionless, she was just pressing onto the back of the front seat.
In a fit of jealous frenzy, I’d called out to my daughter to help me get a better look at the mystery woman. She replied her father and his friend were the only ones in the car. I’d insisted there was another in the back seat but she reiterated there was nobody else. I was agog with fear when that realisation began to sink in.
When my husband stepped out of the car, the lone figure at the back made no gestures nor movements.
The following week, I received news the Mazda 323 was in a very bad accident and the driver died.
My young daughters had seen glimpses of me stepping into other rooms, albeit in different attires only to see me moments later in another location of the house.
In hindsight, they often wondered what the outcome would be if they had followed or called out to me.
Sicknesses abounded in that house.
Every other week someone in the family would be down with some sickness or other. I’d attributed it to our hectic lifestyles and even to the weather.
It was only later, much later that a close family had revealed that the house might be haunted. The reason the house owner was willing to rent out at dirt cheap price was because it had been vacant for years after a police shootout in the house left 5 dead in the 3rd bedroom.
The chronology of the melee began when five men pulled off several outre heists in and around Kuantan town in the 80s. They had rented THE house then as the neighbourhood was sequestered. There they were free to plot and plan their outlandish schemes.
Away from prying inquisitiveness, the house was an ideal place for pillaged spoils. At the height of their notoriety, policemen had their hands full tracking their whereabouts.
As fate would have it, the police finally zeroed in on them. An elaborate blueprint was hatched whereby the police would pose as banana fritters sellers in the vicinity, just adjacent to the house. The police kept vigil 24/7 for 30 days, charting every movement.
Finally, they were ready to move in for the kill. They had patiently waited for all five to be in the house. When the last of the wanted went into the house, the police barged in with their weaponry. The wanted men answered with their guns. They had intended to make a run through the back door and into the alley leading to the secondary jungle nearby. But the police had already envisaged such a move and stomped into the house from the back door. Surrounded, the wanted men were cornered into the third bedroom whereby a shoot-to-the-death culminated to the deaths of all the five wanted men. The bedroom walls were riddled with bullet holes as did the men.
News of this were splashed across all headlines.
The house owner then had the third bedroom walls plastered, washed and painted. It stayed vacant for many years before my family moved in.
I remembered the room reeked of fresh paint then but thought nothing of it.
Often, during rainy nights, my girls could see five figures in the dark watching them sleep. I’d also seen flashes of dark figures watching me sleep.
After three years, we moved away. Now my girls are adults with children of their own. At family get-togethers, we still talk about this particular house. We are somehow amazed that we were not frightened off during our stay there despite all that had happened. Guess what they say about family bond withstanding all odds are true indeed.
There are loads of other such incidences but ah, that’s another story….. 😉
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