Everybody likes to listen to ghost stories once in awhile, right? And what better time is there for one than at Halloween.
When i was little i always loved to listen to scary tales late at night in my bedroom. But always making sure i went to the washroom room first cos after listening to the story i dare not go anywhere except under my blanket. It would be great to have the lights off as well to listen.
One time my dad just held a torchlight below his face to tell me and my sister a ghost story. We were scared stiff. The very next morning my dad got banned from entering our bedroom at night.
I would like to relate something that i experienced at age 12.
I was living in Ipoh then. Our house was right in the town centre and pretty old. And like most of the houses along the road, it was poorly lighted.
I remember there was a death in my neighbours house that day and that night a chinese prayer ceremony was going on.
The monks were like chanting throughout the night. In the still of the night, their chants and prayers seemed to sound louder. I could hear it even from my bedroom.
I didn't know what time of the night it was, i was awoken from a vivid dream of someone handling me a RM10 note. It was so real that i lifted up my right hand to receive it. As i did so, i opened my eyes . There was no RM10 note, but only my hand, raised high above my body. I instantly realised that i had woken from a dream.
It was at that instant that i saw, standing right in front of my bedroom door, a figure dressed in black.
It appeared to be a figure of a man, standing there as still as a statue.
By his features i could recognise. He was my neighbour. I thought, didn't he pass away earlier in the afternoon?
Why was he still here? Why in my room?
The figure began to walk from the door to the window and back again towards me. Seeing this, I covered my head with my blanket. I shut my eyes tightly and dared not move. Silently i was crying. I was scared.
I listened and listened. I could hear the sound of his movements around my room while the monks next door were still praying and chanting.
I listened and listened till, i hardly could remember when, i fell back to sleep.
The next morning i told my mum everything. She said it was only a bad dream.
That afternoon my father went over to my neighbours to pay respect to the dead man.
When my dad returned home, he told my mum that he took a look at the dead body in the coffin.
He said the dead man was dressed in black.