By Ting Lian
This is a true story that was told by an older friend to me. It takes place in suburban Malaysia where I grew up.
The air was still, a moonless night, and Jane quietly walked out of her tuition class. She bid her friends goodbye as their parents picked them up. But not for Jane, she has to walk a little more than half a mile to get to the bus station and wait for the last bus at 11 p.m. The streetlights blinked like her tired eyes, barely illuminating her path. And she’s almost there–no, not the bus stop–but the odd road that always made her steps go faster. The road was curved along a wall like half-closed eyes, so you couldn’t see anybody more than six feet ahead of you at the path, a constant blind turn that made her anxiety go rampant.
As she followed the curve, her mind imagined that she was instead spiralling and spiralling into an unknown depth. But before she hits the bottom of the spiral, she is met with a little doll on the ground. She doesn’t scream or start running away, and simply walks away with bitter thoughts buzzing in her mind. Jane knows that it is superstitious to be afraid of dolls, but it doesn’t stop her mind from staying on the little doll. The doll had black hair, braided into two strands, and wore a frilly skirt, and had porcelain skin–a tiny perfect corpse of a toy.
The next night she tells her friend–who is allegedly “open-eyed”–about the doll on the ground, while they’re walking together on the same path, and following the same curving road. They would not be walking to the bus stop, the walk to her friend’s house is less than a half mile, a bus ride faster but more inefficient. At the hidden turn, an old lady appears and passes them; Jane notices her traditional top robe, elaborate embroidery on orange fabric, but not a hint of red, uncommon. But they keep walking on. Again, Jane knows nothing will happen, the doll is no longer there. But instead of a turn to their right to the local alleyways, they turned to the left for Jane’s usual route to the bus stop, through a micro-urban forest.
But sounds are following them now, wooden steps, steps, steps, on the concrete sidewalk, a hollow heartbeat at their backs. The forest is damp, and the air is floral at the margins of the forest, then it condenses into a putrid stench of something like decaying organic matter. Someone–or something–is catching up. Jane and her friend speed up, but do not utter a word, because the occult is ultimately not real. Their silence was a thin shield, and they held it tight.
They finally reach the bus stop, and Jane and her friend look at each other in trepidation. When they reached her friend’s house, the first thing they did was burn incense at the altar, and one, two, three bows. The next day, the friend would relay two things her mother told her to Jane: Two nights ago marked the beginning of the seventh month on the lunar calendar; A child in the neighborhood had passed away seven days ago.
Unless you were also raised in Southeast Asian mysticism, some of the cultural elements in this story may not have immediately made sense to you. While this story is told from a Chinese perspective, it is in Southeast Asian context, which holds a heavily diverse population. Thus intricate in blending different cultural elements together. So here’s some context and spooooooooky things(none of these have any scientific proof, by the way).
“Opened-eyed”: 开天眼/開天眼, literally means “open heavenly eyes”. A concept in buddhist, hindu, and daoist, in which the beholder can see beyond the physical world, and is commonly believed as a genetic trait.
“traditional top robe…but not a hint of red, uncommon”: Traditional attire in Chinese culture is limited to the older generation for the most part. Traditional robes are worn by the deceased at funeral and burial, and rarely use red, since red is a “lively” and celebratory color.
“wooden steps”: Wooden clogs are most commonly worn by an elder generation
“the air is floral at the margins of the forest, then it condenses into a putrid stench”: A floral scent turning into a stench is a significant indicator that a Pontianak (or Kuntilanak in Indonesia),a vengeful spirit in Southeast Asian folklore, may be nearby.
“Not utter a word”: When a said Pontianak is nearby, the proper procedure is to not speak, and to avoid approaching the sound or smell.
“Incense at the altar”: In Chinese culture, burning incense, and bowing is a way to show respect and appease spirits.
“Seventh month”: On the Chinese lunar calendar, the seventh month marks the Ghost Month, when underworld gates open, and ghosts, ancestors, and starving spirits roam the human realm. It is advised not to stay out late at night or hold anything festive during this month, to not come in contact with something “impure.”
“Seven days ago”: The seventh day after a death marks the 頭七/头七 in Buddhist, Taoist and other traditions, where the spirit of the deceased may briefly return to visit the family or home on this seventh day, and services and offerings are carried out accordingly.