They say behind every successful man there is a patient and tired woman. Although I cannot profess that I am a successful man, I can definitely claim that this book and a lot of things in my life would not have been possible without my wife’s constant support. She and my studious daughter would check my stories and would be the first ones to provide me with valuable feedback.

I am most grateful and continue to be indebted to my team of first or ‘alpha’ readers, which included my 11-year-old son, who gave honest and crucial feedback to make this book happen.

I thank the story contributors for this third book; in particular, Bob, Ariz, Amal, Yusof, Mimi, Uncle Mahmud, Aunt Lina, Farah, Desmond, Mr. Shah, Rea, Teacher Rabiatul, Syifa and Misha.  I also thank the many contributors who chose to remain anonymous. 

Finally, I thank the support of my compatriots in the Reading & Literacy Association (RELA). Together we will instill the reading and writing culture amongst our people.

I never thought the third Real Ghost Stories of Borneo book would be this hard to write. It has been the slowest book I have ever written. I am so glad that you are reading this book as I can tell you I had a myriad of distractions and challenges that were stopping me from completing this book.Time was a big factor, as I worked most days and evenings at the clinic. I began to pity myself as I reflected upon how I had frequently talked about the importance of time-wealth compared to money wealth, and here I was finding myself in time-poverty. I would come back home late at night, finding myself tired and uninspired. My insomniac daughter was the only one who was awake to greet me, whilst my wife and sons were fast asleep. I missed my sons terribly and began to fantasize pathologically about quitting and moving to a new country or alternate dimension. Eventually, I concluded I had to renegotiate my work schedule, which was to allow me to work six days a week instead of seven. In case you are wondering; I have every Friday off, as most private clinics close on Sundays, so it made sense to open when everyone else was closed.The pressure to get this book to publication was incredible and constant. Friends, family members, and bookstores constantly enquired about when Book 3 would be out. Many had brought forward their own ghost stories, which were in complete written form, in sporadic voice notes, WhatsApp messages, or shared with me in between clinic consultations. Others had sent me a few lines of text, and I had to research the area, the incident and then re-interview them. In the accounts, there were several locations I was not familiar with. I would frequently ask for ‘Google Earth’ snapshots to help explain their stories. I felt obliged to visit these places during lunchtime as I was not brave (or stupid) enough to venture late at night to these ghostly sites.Some stories had to be edited and certain details changed to protect either the person(s) involved. On some occasions, the actual locations were not disclosed as there were concerns that the identities of the person(s) involved would be revealed.In my last book, I had mentioned about the intention for a new theme for the third book - which was supposed to be ‘travel and places’....

Abidin was a 40-year-old businessman. He owned a small restaurant and had set up a managerial system, which effectively gave him more free time as he did not have to micromanage. However, his free time was quickly taken over by his extended families’ needs to resolve their issues. Abidin had a very large extended family. He had so many uncles and aunts and he was thankful for that as it helped his business thrive. He realised it was time for him to give back to them.Other than the occasional financial help, he would be asked to carry out tasks or help problem-solve his nephews’ or nieces’ issues. Abidin had a way with the younger generation. He never showed any judgement, and he always seemed receptive to everyone’s opinion.Anyway, one day, his mother asked him to check out his Uncle Alimin’s house. Uncle Alimin was a rich businessman himself. Perhaps the word tycoon was a better description. However, he had been unwell for some time. Abidin’s other uncles and aunts knew very little about his happenings. He had been keeping to himself, which was unlike his other siblings. It turned out he was suffering from a poorly misunderstood auto-immune illness and he could no longer take care of himself. He had been in hospital for the past month and none of his siblings were aware of this.It was not his only misfortune. He had recent troubles with his current wife. This was his third marriage after two very messy and public divorces. His wife had left him. Though still legally married, she was seeking a mutual separation. None of his children was staying with him and he was truly alone in the hospital.It took a while for Uncle Alimin to swallow his pride and sought help from his siblings. In the past, when he was arrogant and full of himself, he had said some nasty things to them. He did not think he would be forgiven. Luckily for him, his siblings came to his help, without reservation and without judgement. Abidin’s mother had instructed Abidin to take his cousins and nephews to go to Uncle Alimin’s house.The idea was to pack his belongings, clean the house, and arrange for it to be rented out. The once affluent and powerful Uncle Alimin confided that he was broke, and his once massive savings had now been depleted. He had been so emotionally traumatised...

Fina, her fiancé Hakim and his mother, Mrs. Lela, wanted to have a quick weekend escapade. It was really meant to be for Fina and Hakim, but Mrs. Lela did not want any hanky-panky between the two, especially when they were due to get married in several months’ time. Of course, Mrs. Lela was up-to-date with modern times. She knew her son and her future daughter-in-law were ‘pre-wedlock sulliers’.Hakim also had another intention. His father died 2 years ago, and he hated leaving his mother alone at home. Mrs. Lela did not want to admit it, but she had difficulty coping with her loss, especially when she was alone. Fina, whose own mother had died at an early age, had agreed that she would do her best to be there for his mother, especially when Hakim had a job that took him away from home for several days at a time. She had good relations with Fina, though Mrs. Lela had some reservations.It was decided that they should go to the nearby Labuan island for a few days. They had frequented this island many times before, though they would usually stay at a hotel in the town city. However, Hakim wanted to surprise the two women he loved by booking two rooms at a beach resort. He thought it was a new place, but his mother pointed out that it was actually an old beach resort that had been bought over, renovated and then rebranded. None of them had ever been to this hotel before, even when Mrs. Lela’s husband was still alive.The three of them got on a car ferry to the island and drove to the hotel. It was a beautiful beach resort, lined with coconut palm trees and with its own private beach. There was also a picturesque, heart-shaped swimming pool in the centre of the resort. Fina and Hakim wondered if this would be how their honeymoon destination would be like, except they hoped it would be much further away and more exotic.They didn’t get connecting rooms, so Hakim stayed in a room which was a few rooms away, whilst his mother and Fina shared a different room. Luckily, both rooms were on the same floor.Once unpacked, they spent the day exploring the resort and then headed to the beach, where Fina and Hakim frolicked on the sun-kissed white sand beach. Of course, this was all...

Jenny had dug her heels in that year. She knew the first year of her medical degree course at the local university was only a taste of the things to come. The first academic year was designed to get students settled in, to weed out the fake ‘wannabe’s whilst nurturing those who have the genuine passion to become medical doctors. The second year was going to be harder; they would have to study and learn faster and harder. No ‘spoon-feeding education style’ as common in the local high schools and colleges.Everyone in her family looked at her like a beacon of hope. Jenny didn’t understand why. She knew there were other career paths that had better wage prospects than a medical doctor. Jenny would be the first medical doctor in her ‘family clan’. Jenny’s father was a Chinese retired government teacher whilst her mother was a faithful housewife. She assumed they both wanted their eldest child to be in a very respectable profession. Sometimes, she wondered if her parents thought they lived through her, and if she graduated as a medical doctor, it would be like they themselves became doctors. It was added pressure to her workload.Jenny and several of her friends would spend their free time at the university library, where they would go through different textbooks and journals and create their own revision notes, whilst completing their numerous assignments. They would have preferred to have joined their other friends, who were undertaking non-medical degrees; and enjoy their free time at the cinema, chill-out at cafes or let themselves loose at secret parties, but alas such was the sacrifice for the pursuit of medicine.Jenny thought she would excel in her studies, as she had no distractions in her life. However, life can be full of unpleasant surprises. Jenny never expected her father would die during this time. His sudden death was almost without warning. He woke up one early morning to get milk from the fridge to ease his ‘gastric heartburn symptoms’, and the next thing was he was unconscious on the floor. Her family doctor concluded that he must have had a massive ‘myocardial infarction’ - a fancy word for heart attack. He was supposed to have had a coronary angiogram a year ago, but didn’t want to distract Jenny from her studies.Jenny felt numb throughout the mourning period, but she put on a brave face for her...

Before I became a Muslim convert or the correct term would be, Muslim revert, my name was Chong and I used to work for a construction company. We were mainly involved in building and civil works projects. Those in my industry would say we learnt best on-site. Truer words were never spoken.In 2005, we were awarded a government project to construct a multi-storey building with its surrounding facilities. Make no mistake; we fought tooth-and-nail to win this contract tender. It was a do-or-die situation as, at that time; the country was going through an economic recession.Construction companies were scrambling to win any construction contracts so as to keep their heads above water, doing their best to keep ahead of their debts. ‘Ride out the tide and hang on until things get better’.During this time, many construction companies went belly up, adding themselves to the ever-increasing list of bankrupt and failed companies.Winning the contract meant that we had work, and we did not have to shut down the company, but it was no golden egg. The project they awarded us was worth $8 million. The management had to price itself over-competitively as they were not sure how long the recession would last. Essentially, the two-year construction project was done at a loss of $450,000, provided there were no further surprises. The economy was that bad. In order to survive, we had to take a loss. It was important that the company remained functioning, and its employees continued to have jobs to do.There were the three of us who were tasked with managing the construction project at the site-office. The project was located at an old public dumping ground in the Capital. I remembered when I was still a child back in the 1970s, this was the place where stray dogs were kept before being ‘put down’.We had the area cleared and leveled. A ‘Portakabin-style’ office and plywood temporary housing for around 100 labourers were built in record time. Our labour workforce was an international mix of Thai, Indonesian, Indian, Bangladeshi, Vietnamese and Malaysian Murut. Each nationality group had built their own quarters, but they all mingled well as one big family. They had been with the company for many years then.Work was arduous. I frequently worked till late and many times I had to stay in until the next day. There was no choice as our boss had to reduce our...

Amal had shared and written a few stories with me. She had previously shared with me a story titled “A Father’s Daughter - which can be found in the second book: Real Ghost Stories of Borneo 2.***My siblings and I were pretty much used to seeing spirits here and there. I could feel their presence even if they did not reveal themselves. However, I had never let them bother me. I was never spooked by any ‘presence’.After I had gotten married, which was 5 years ago, I seemed to have lost that ability. I was no longer sensing or seeing any spirit beings, which was good as it helped me focus on my life with my Eurasian husband.About a year ago, things changed. My husband got an amazing offer to buy a house in the city. It was too good to think twice about as the location was central, and everything was near it, i.e. the highway, the airport, the Mall and the mosque. He looked at the house and saw it was beautiful and could not believe it was unsold for a year, and at that price, he thought he wouldn’t need to consult his wife! It would be a pleasant surprise, he thought. He signed the papers and came home to tell me the good news.I was very shocked at how easy it was for him to make such a big decision. A man should not buy a house without consulting his wife first. I had expected a joint decision. I did not want to dampen his jovial mood as he had always mentioned buying our first house would be a life milestone for him. As much as I tried to warm to the idea, I felt something was wrong. My female intuition was warning me that there was much more to this house, and that I had to be ready.The house was located in a cul-de-sac that seemed invisible from the main road. The vegetation and the way the trees had been planted had been intentional in making the entry road inconspicuous. I could not believe this amazing location. This neighbourhood had appeared out of nowhere. Mature gentle tall trees surrounded both sides of the driveway.The house itself was a semi-detached house with a beautiful front-yard garden. Its pearl white paint was flawless, which meant it had been newly painted. Flowers of every shape and every colour...

How did I meet Adam? I had finished work and realised I had a business question to ask Johnny, a good friend of mine. He asked me to join him for dinner at his Kota Batu house. He mentioned his brother was cooking, and he was an excellent cook. His brother Adam was a Chinese Muslim convert. When I first met Adam, Adam was keen to share about his life experience. Immediately, I knew that my mentor’s mentor and his mentor are the same person.Gobsmacked, I realised that my meeting with him was no coincidence. It was of ‘divine’ significance. And indeed, it was a strange evening and an even stranger conversation. We stayed up all night, whilst Johnny - whom I had intended to talk to - fell asleep by the dining table.Before Adam converted to Islam, he had many, many adventures. Of course, his adventures did not stop after he converted, but it was less ‘daring’. You see, Adam was always looking for strange things. Magical things. Perhaps he was looking for proof of God. He wondered if he could witness magic or something beyond science, then it would prove the existence of God.Anyway, about 25 years ago, Adam was a successful Chinese businessman. Being wealthy, he would travel a lot, especially around the region. This was the time when he started collecting bizarre mystical items. During that time, he was married to a woman who was living in Kuching city. This gave him an opportunity to spend a lot of time on his own exploring the tropical rainforest of Sarawak. He was yearning for something, but he was not sure what it was. Perhaps it was the same lure of the rainforest and tribes people that brought the likes of Bruno Manser to Sarawak.One day, Adam had heard about a magical waterfall deep in the jungle. He was told that a spirit princess lived there. The waterfall was located somewhere near Mount Singai and Bau Village. Adam tried to find a local guide and porter to bring him and his supplies, but most were reluctant to go there, no matter how much money he offered them.“Are you crazy or what?!” was their standard response. Eventually, Adam decided he had to put his foot down with the next guide he was going to negotiate with. Anyway, he offered that the guide didn’t have to stay at the waterfall...

Junaidi and his wife had just started moving to the new national housing scheme area at Lugu Village. The national housing scheme was basically an affordable housing project set up by the government to allow its citizens to purchase cheap and yet decent built houses interest-free. They considered it to be one of their great personal milestones: house ownership.To drive to their house, they would have to drive pass by a man-made lake at the bottom of a hill. The housing construction company had used the clay soil here to top up and elevate the surrounding plain, where the houses were to be built. They had dug a hole so deep and large that rainwater started to collect. The water was so clear you could see the bottom of the lake, and best of all, the lake had a light blue hue to it. Hence, the lake was frequently referred to as The Blue Lake of Lugu.Even before Junaidi found out he had been granted the house at Lugu Village, he had always desired to snorkel and dive in the lake. He was very much inspired by a free-diver named Justin (you can check his YouTube video). He tried to convince his best friend, Jus, to explore the lake. However, Jus was a ‘spiritually connected’ friend, and he told Junaidi that the lake had a ‘penunggu’ or a powerful spirit dweller.The main Lugu LakeNo matter how many times Junaidi tried to convince his best friend, Jus would always say bad things would happen if they went there. Junaidi thought that was all rubbish superstition. Of course, when Junaidi started moving to the new house, he kept nagging for Jus to swim and dive into the lake, but to no avail.Interestingly, he heard a few of his co-workers mentioned the same thing. Junaidi brushed it off, believing it was a deterrent urban myth meant to keep children from swimming and consequently drowning there. After all, if Justin, the famous free-diver, survived snorkeling and free-diving there, then it should be pretty safe from ‘spirits’.Anyway, Junaidi and his wife moved their belongings piecemeal into their own cars. They would pack as much as they could and then drive to their new house after work. When they arrive, they would start cleaning, dreaming about and debating on their ever-changing plans for the interior design of the house. Then they would drive home late at...

My uncle Mahmud is a well-respected recently retired police officer. Every time I mentioned to a police officer that he’s my uncle, I seemed to gain access to a whole different attitude. It was clear that he was a good police officer; he was smart enough not to get involved in the politics of work and, more importantly; he carried his good character values with him during duty, off-duty and now during retirement. I have always bumped into him walking with his smart and beautiful wife (yes, Auntie; I am super-praising you!) at the local malls, and even in the neighbouring country. I would joke with him, and say “Hey Uncle, you are retired now, you got no right to follow me around!” Him and his wife lead what seem to be a simple life with their grown children, and they spend their time travelling regionally. One day, I decided that since I have bumped into them too many times, I ought to stop my so-called busy life, sit down and have a good chat with them over coffee.They would ask me about my dual life, i.e. being a family doctor and an author and somehow, I always ended up asking them if they have had any ghost encounters…It was the 1990s, when life seemed to flow abundantly; at least on the surface, it seemed to do so. Mahmud, a graduate police officer, was made detective. Everything in his life was picking up; his work and family life. He had just gotten married to an awesome Chinese lady who had started out her career as a science teacher.As glorious as it may sound, Detective Mahmud’s job was arduous and painstakingly difficult. He had to deal with difficult people and people in difficulty whilst the working hours were long and unpredictable. The nation’s people, who were not accustomed to reporting crimes and incidents to the police and would previously prefer to deal with matters in their own hands, began to seek police help and police involvement. Expectations ran high. Of course, expectations would usually lead to disappointments.Detective Mahmud did his best to keep his spirits up, being humble and supportive to his fellow officers and underlings, whilst listening with good intent to the parties in difficulties.As part of his work experience rotation, Mahmud was transferred to the Belait district. The Belait district, is known as the oil-mining district, is on the...

Manisah, a nurse graduate, had shared an incident that happened to her father a long time ago.Sometime in the year 2002, Manisah, who was eleven years old at that time, was staying in a wooden stilted house on the mangrove muddy banks of the river at Sungai Matan Village. Her parents, along with her, shared the house with her two aunts, who themselves had their own families.It was an old yet sturdy, large stilted house; there was more than enough space for everyone. Her grandparents had actually moved to a brick and mortar house higher up the riverbank, on dry land.Her grandfather actually gave the house to his eldest son, but he himself had already built his own house in the suburb, so he got his younger brother, i.e. Manisah’s father, to live there with their two sisters. That way, the mangrove-wood house would not be left vacant.Her grandfather had built a wooden walkway that connected the modern house to the stilted house so that way, they could walk to their grandparents’ house and onto the main road without getting their feet wet. They had a peculiar setting. There was another stilted house in front of theirs. There used to be a connected wooden walkway between the two houses, but a dispute upset their grandfather and he demolished his part of the walkway. The neighbours had been throwing rubbish into the river and no matter how many times they were advised not to do so; they persisted, even to this very day.Manisah’s grandparents were very upset as their neighbours’ plastic rubbish would accumulate at the riverbank, and eventually, the swans which would usually flock and wade near their house stopped visiting altogether. That was the last straw for her grandfather.The adults no longer talked to each other; even during festivities, they did not visit each other’s houses. They pretended the other did not exist, though Manisah and her neighbour’s children would play together around the area. Even the children did not talk about the problems of the adults. As long as everybody minded their own business, there was peace.Unlike typical ‘Kampong Ayer’ or water village residents, neither Manisah’s families nor the neighbours had ‘perahu’ or wooden boats and they were not involved in the nation’s favourite pastime, i.e. fishing. No one ventured down into the river or on to the brackish muddy mangrove flats. Their world was connected to everything on...

I have mentioned Zul’s ghostly encounters a few times already, as these stories were narrated by my mentor Bob, and later on, by Zul himself. However, the actual first story was something I had first decided not to write about, as I was unsure of what to make of it. As I got to know more ghost encounters from other people, I realised that at least one other person had a similar encounter as Zul’s.Zul lives in a large house near Junjungan village. He has 5 siblings and they all live in the same house. Zul’s eldest sister, Julia, was 19 years old then and had one of these sticky relationships with a policeman from a nearby village. They had been together for a few years now and their relationship never seemed to wane. They went everywhere together, constantly text messaging, phoning and video-calling each other.When they went out together, they would sit or walk so close to each other as though attempting to defy the borders of unacceptable PDA in this society.Of course, when the adults weren’t around, they would hold hands and cuddle each other tightly. The parents of this young policeman wanted a speedy engagement and marriage, but Julia’s parents disagreed. It was important for Julia to graduate with a bachelor’s degree from the local university. They would have preferred if she would work for a few years before actually settling down.However, Julia and her beau could not accept this, so they had gotten formally engaged with the plan of getting married immediately after graduation. Sometimes, Zul felt overwhelmed with the mushiness of their relationship and promised himself that when he grows up and has his own girlfriend, he would not be such a pathetic dope like his sister and her fiancé.One of the things that the family found annoying was their almost 24-hour video-calls. It did not run up their mobile phone bills because they would connect their mobiles through the house Wi-Fi. This meant everyone else may have slower internet download rates. Julia was the eldest sibling, so essentially amongst the siblings, she was the boss, and no one could tell her to stop video-calling.One evening, Julia felt a bit insecure in her room. She didn’t want to be left alone, and yet she had to finish her assignment. Her room was the best place to finish her work, away from her rowdy siblings. Julia...

I had met Nikki whilst working at an on-site clinic for one of the construction consortium companies who was undertaking the largest construction project in the country. Nikki, a Filipino nurse, had been working for the company for the past 5 years. Although she missed home, she was always surrounded by other Filipinos. In fact, she shared the same accommodation as the other Filipinos in the company.Nikki decided to tell me about her strange experience at this staff-house in Pintu Malim village.The company needed to rent a house near the construction site. An old but large rectangular house was found in Pintu Malim village, and it was literally next to the construction site. The house was really meant for a large family, as it had ten large rooms. The view from the house was splendid as you could see the river from the front and you had the jungle and hill view at the back of the house.There was also a large abandoned backyard which had several trees, including rambutan fruit trees growing fruitfully. However, this house had not been rented for the past 10 years, and the owner offered such a low rental for the house with ten rooms, a mere $500 for a large house. Of course, the company was expected to pay for the renovation of the house, to convert it into a suitable staff-house.The men stayed in the rooms downstairs, whilst the female staff were given the upstairs rooms. There was a hallway that connected all the rooms upstairs and unlike the downstairs room, each room had their own bathrooms en-suite. The men had to share the downstairs bathroom and shower rooms. The women were quiet about this arrangement, as it was a luxury to have been considered by their company. As a security arrangement, there was a double lock on the main door on the upstairs floor. There was only one entrance and exit, which was this main door.When Nikki had first moved in, they allocated her the room at the end which faced the river. She was sharing the room with two other Filipino female staff. Nikki chose to have the bed that was closest to the en-suite bathroom - shower. This meant she would be the first to shower in the morning, at least that was what she had hoped for.Nikki had had no trouble staying in the room. The three ladies would...

Angel was one of Nikki’s roommates. Like Nikki, she was also from the Philippines and worked for the same construction company. Angel had issues living away from home, in a foreign country but that all got better once she met Jerome. Jerome was working for a different construction company that was also working on the same mega national construction project in this country. When they first met, she was 24 whilst he was 27. She never imagined how fast their relationship would develop and how comfortable she was with him. She wondered if it was genuine love or homesickness. Angel kept telling herself not to think too much about the future. She needed him. He needed her for both their emotional and physical needs.Angel stayed at the staff house in Pintu Malim village. At first, she had not noticed any oddities, other than it was a very old but large house. The renovation and fresh coat of paint could not hide its true age. Angel did not always sleep in that house as her boyfriend had his own place, which was a company house shared with other men. She spent most nights at her beau’s as it was more comfortable, and Jerome did not have to share his room with anyone.However, one day, Jerome’s housemates had a loud party in the house, and they both decided it was best to sleepover at Angel’s house. Conveniently, Angel’s other roommates had to work outstation, which meant Angel and Jerome had the room to themselves.Like delinquent school children, Angel and Jerome snuck to the first floor of the staff-house, laughing and giggling. Angel made sure the upstairs main door was locked. The upstairs was eerily quiet. They thought they would have the entire floor to themselves.“You could scream all night if you want, and no one would hear you,” Jerome laughed as he pecked sensually on Angel’s neck. She pulled him to their room, and after locking the room, they both peeled off their clothes so fast that it should have been made an Olympic sport. They jumped into bed with vigor and turned their past experiences into raucous new climatic highs.After it was over, the couple in their post-coital perspiration talked about the things they missed about in the Philippines and their hopes and dreams. One thing about Jerome was that he was a loud person. He didn’t just talk loudly, he...

After Angel had moved out, Maria became one of Nikki’s roommates. Maria is also a Filipino, but unlike Nikki, she is distinctly from Mindanao, which is commonly known as the Southern Philippines. Maria was what others would call a more conservative Filipino.The first day Maria moved in, Nikki could see how uneasy she was with the room. Maria was not comfortable. Maria wondered if this was because of homesickness. This was the first year of working abroad and she had already missed her family, especially her mother.She had asked Nikki if anything had happened in the area. Nikki was at first puzzled by the vague questions, but reassured Maria that everything was safe in this area.From the first night, Maria would insist that they left a small night light on, and Maria prayed each night before going to bed. The other roommates tried their best to be understanding and accommodated to her request.By habit, Maria was always checking every corner of the room before sleeping, and her roommates did their best not to notice Maria’s peculiar behaviour. Eventually, Maria checked the room less often before going to bed, and slowly settled down.Who could not fall in love with this old large house? Maria would wake up to the majestic view of the serene tea-coloured river and their backyard was abundant with mature and productive rambutan fruit trees. Monkeys from the surrounding jungle would swing by every two to three days in full troupe to feast on the rambutans and other fruits that grew here. Maria, whose family were farmers, started growing papayas and chili plants with ease, as the soil was very fertile.One Thursday evening, Maria was alone in the room. Her roommates were working in a different district and were sleeping elsewhere for the night. Feeling lonely and missing home, she decided to video-call her mother using her mobile phone. It thrilled her to see her face and smiled as tears streamed down. They both professed how much they had missed each other. Her mother talked about the latest happenings at home, which was really gossip, about the people who were dating each other or gotten engaged, whilst Maria shared with her about the people she had met.Out of the blue, Maria noticed her mother’s face had changed. She looked worried. Before she could ask her mother, her mother asked Maria, “I thought you’re on your own tonight. Who...

Farah was a nursing student whom had shared a story about the time she had a clinical work attachment at the hospital in the Capital. She had read Real Ghost stories of Borneo 1 and was shocked to read one of the stories as she had a connected event.She was already in her 2nd year of nursing college. Student nurses must undertake clinical attachments to gain work experience in the hospitals as well as clinics. There was pride and joy to be dressed in their student nurse uniforms, observing and sometimes helping their nurse compatriots.However, it was not all fine and dandy. It was not about the fact that Farah was in the presence of her sick and unwell patients; it was the other things she could see that were invisible to most.Sometimes she could see apparitions, some appeared as tall shadow-like figures whilst others appeared as womanly figures whose long hair never revealed their faces. They would appear standing and motionless near one or two of the patients in the hospital wards. Farah would feel apprehensive and yet, she did her best to ignore them.“If I pretend I did not see you, then I hope you will pretend you did not notice that I can see you.”Her father, who was aware of her ‘gift’, kept on reminding Farah to ignore them. Her father advised her to recite a prayer before entering the hospital. She should not stare, look or interact with whatever she saw.“They are busy with their own doings, as we, humans are busy in with our own lives,” her father had told her.One day, she was told her colleagues and her would be visiting the Intensive Care Unit (ICU) wards, where they would have a chance to experience and work aside hard-working, dedicated critical-care nurses who were treating and tending to patients on life-support machines. Her colleagues and her were to be there for two days.The excitement quickly died down the moment Farah entered the ICU ward. She saw tall faceless shadow-like figures with long dark slender limbs. Some were hovering around the patients and their beds. It was her first day in an intense clinical environment, with many alarms and beeps going off, and the sound of life support machines, including lung ventilators continuously working without fail. To top everything, she could see the demon-like supernatural beings there. She was not happy; this was very difficult for...

Two people introduced me to Tina’s recording. It was a short 10 second audio clip. I was not sure what to make of it. This is her story.In Kota Kinabalu city, Tina, an unemployed school dropout, initially didn’t mind the stagnant life. Like other girls, she tried to find work, but she never got any interviews or offers for the jobs she wanted. On the other hand, the other jobs that were available were too lowly paid.That was the dilemma, so Tina felt it was better to be unemployed, whilst the great opportunity awaited her. She would stay at home as her friends seemed to have their own lives either in full-time employment, in their busy married lives, or in further studies. As much as she wanted to simply watch TV, or chat and play with her mobile phone all day long, being at home came at a price. She was always inundated with all these menial tasks, such as taking care of the children, i.e. her troublesome toddler nephews and nieces, and cooking.Luckily, Tina decided not to renew her driving licence. She made up some excuse that she had a traumatising ‘near accident’ and she could not drive the car anymore. She knew if she did not do this, she would end up being the permanent family chauffeur - stuck in perpetual school runs.Even so, the house had become a free day-care centre for her siblings’ children, which she found very annoying. It was another unpaid job and yet she believed it carried all the ‘employers’ expectations of proper employment. Of course, there were no benefits, let alone, paid leave for her. It was truly modern-day slavery. Tina never shared with anyone, but she frequently yearned for the ‘knight in shining armour’ to rescue her from her predicament.One day, her grandmother, who lived in the same house, had fallen down the stairs. She had a serious hip bone fracture and had to be admitted for major hip surgery. It was going to be an extensive surgery, and they expected her to be in the hospital for some time. The common practice was that a family member should be there at the hospital, to help her grandmother with daily things and to keep the rest of the family updated with any progress or otherwise. Her parents, uncles and aunts agreed that the only unemployed adult was to be assigned to...

I met ‘Mimi’, a middle-aged mother (she would dread that term) at my clinic. She reminded me we were school-mates. Even though I was trying to ascertain her teenage daughter’s ailment, Mimi and I ended up chatting about quite a few things under the sun. Despite my constant apologies, her daughter was not too pleased with the both of us, as it was supposed to be her time with the doctor and not her mother’s!Mimi ran a small family restaurant at the Sungai Basong Recreational Park, which was in Tutong town. Having worked and lived in Tutong town, I was quite familiar with this restaurant. It was the first time I had ever seen a Malay woman make an Indian roti or martabak (I still don’t understand the difference between the two!) The Sungai Basong park was a few minutes’ walk away from the hospital and the clinic that I had previously worked at. After work, I would usually either walk or cycle around the area. There was a large man-made pool there, as well as a few smaller ponds. There were also a few cultural installations: small stilted huts with cultural displays representing the five ethnic groups of Tutong district.She shared a few stories with me regarding the incidents that she had witnessed or have heard of in the park.Mimi’s family’s restaurant was situated inside a small bungalow hut, next to one of the smaller ponds. One day, Mimi had been tasked with preparing several dishes for the Tutong town celebrations. She had undertaken a contract to cater for a few hundred people during the town council function. Hence, the day before, Mimi, her mother and their main chef of 18 years, Hamid, had slaved away from noon till late night at the restaurant whilst her cousin Jan loitered and smoked the night away outside. He was like their security guard for the night.They had been busy preparing their famous ‘Ungkil’, a chili paste delicacy or ‘sambal’ which was enhanced with ‘Ikan Bakulan’. ‘Ikan Bakulan’ is a smaller tuna species (Thunnus tonggol species, to be precise). The preparations were painstakingly arduous, especially with the volume and the consistency that was needed. They were finishing the last batch when the otherwise silent night in the park was interrupted by a heart-stopping sound of the clanging of metal in the area. Another sound, which sounded like a heavy piece of metal...

Original story from Nur Khayrin Sofiya Noorismawarddy, from PAP Hajah Masna high school (Year 8)I could barely keep my eyes open as the car poorly negotiated the narrow bumpy road to my grandmother’s house. There were no streetlights and the car’s headlights could barely illuminate the road on this particularly dark night. My mother was fast asleep and snoring gracefully in the passenger seat in front, whilst my father was tensely silent. His eyes were wide open and completely focused on driving. I could tell he was not happy about driving these roads. He had to be ready for any horrible surprises.I felt obliged to stay awake, to watch over him, in case he too fell asleep, but in the end, I caved in and dozed off. When the car slowed down and came to an abrupt halt, my father’s deep voice woke us up, “We’re here.”My grandmother’s house was a wooden stilted house, with grey weathered wooden stairs in the front and a red vernacular roof. Unlike our house, grandmother’s house was still using the old and energy inefficient incandescent lightbulbs, which barely lit the outside of the house, and yet gave a romantic vintage look. A dim yellow light behind the white curtains of the living room meant grandmother was inside. She was always at home, as she had no other place to go.My parents got out of the car and we brought out our ‘weekend-stay’ luggage. When we climbed up the short flight of wooden stairs, each step creaked so loudly it would have woken up the neighbours, but my grandmother had no neighbours.She should have heard us by then, but she was hard of hearing. My mother had to knock hard on the door and shout out for my grandmother several times before she finally opened the door. My grandmother stood in the doorway, her ‘sarong’ wrapped around her waist, her white hair tied back in a bun and her face had deep wrinkles.My mother dropped her luggage and embraced my grandmother tightly.“It has been a long time,” said my grandmother over my mother’s shoulder, her voice hoarse. Her hollow eyes drifted, and when her eyes focused on me, they widened.“Oh my…,” my grandmother took a deep breath, pulling away from my mother, who was about to speak.I stiffened as my grandmother walked on, trembling and seemingly unsteady towards me. She pinched my chin with her...

I had met Fadil at the Mentiri private clinic I worked at. It was good to see him again as he and I had many paintball tournaments together in the United Kingdom. He is currently working on one of the massive tanker ships that carry ‘Liquefied Natural Gas’ or LNG back and forth to Japan. He shared a story with me, which I was initially not keen to write.It was the year 2012. Fadil, at 27 years old, was up to his usual work arrangement, i.e. 4 months out at sea (offshore) and 4 months resting on land (onshore). His wife and his son lived in Sungai Besar village, which is in Kota Batu. Some would refer to Kota Batu as the country’s ‘French Riviera’.There were several houses built onto the hillside which faced the slow-moving serene river. There were other houses on the riverbanks too, and many of those houses were wooden-stilted houses. They were living with Fadil’s in-laws, whose house was on the hilly side of Kota Batu, facing the river. They had a splendid view from there.His father-in-law; Mr. Maidin, and his brother-in-law Malik would hike around the surrounding area. You could say it was a family tradition for father and son to explore their surrounding area, which was covered by pristine jungle, brooks and secret mini-waterfalls.Somehow, as soon as Fadil had gotten married, he had also gotten pulled into the male family tradition. Initially, it was hard climbing up the hills, which were slippery at places, but eventually, he became accustomed to it. It became one of the things that he looked forward to once he was onshore again. Fadil hoped that one day he could bring his son to hike around the area.The area they would trek was vast. Although they had spent many, many weekends exploring the area which extended to Subok village, there were still a lot of unexplored areas for them.Mr. Maidin had opted to explore a new area which they had previously avoided repeatedly due to frequent rainstorms. It would usually be too slippery to access. They had set off early morning and by the time they reached the new area; it was already noontime. The trees were much taller than the other areas; the air was more humid, and the tree canopy was extensive and let very little sunlight passed through to the ground.At places it was so dark, Fadil...

Manisah had just finished her final year exams in nursing college. After this, she would become a full-fledged nurse. The semester had not yet finished. Manisah and her classmates had expected to turn up to the college and somehow skip whatever in-school extracurricular activities and ‘chill-ax’. However, the first day after her exams had finished, they were told to attend an ‘adventure learning’ course in the Temburong district.She was shocked to learn that they were expected to stay there for 3 nights. Manisah had never camped, let alone go to some adventure smack in the middle of ‘nowhere’!You see, the course center is situated in the Temburong district, which is commonly referred to as the green district. Here, the lush tropical rainforest is largely intact and to get there you have to travel by boat or cross the border twice! It was everything it should be: environmentally intact and isolated.When Manisah told her mother; who was very protective of her eldest petite daughter. Her mother nearly had an anxiety attack.“You can’t go there for 4 days! That’s 3 whole nights! They don’t have electricity at that centre and there is no mobile phone reception! What if you need to call me in the middle of the night?”Manisah’s mother ranted on about her relatives who had encountered unfriendly jungle spirits there. Her mother was unreasonably worried about all the potential mishaps, including the worst and improbable scenario that she would be abducted by one of the ‘Bunian’ jungle spirits. Her mother tried to persuade her to get a ‘medical reason’ not to partake in the course.Of course, Manisah couldn’t do that. She didn’t want to be labelled by her colleagues as the timid one, it was bad enough that she was the shortest nursing student in her class!She put on her bravest face and convinced her mother that prayers would protect her from any mishaps, including evil spirits. Manisah’s mind was full of doubt, and she was scared.A few days later, after having done a medical fitness examination, she and her twelve classmates started their journey to the Temburong district. Whatever concerns the group had, it disappeared the moment they got onto the coffin-shaped speedboat; the excitement of traversing the river, the bay and entering the Temburong river was a completely new adventure for Manisah and her friends. She thought how funny it was that all her life; she had never...

It is strange that when I share about poltergeist sightings and experiences at Jalan Kebangsaan Lama or the Kebangsaan Lama Road area, I often get several people who have their own experiences to share. This is Yusof’s story. In 1981, my parents had bought their first house at ‘Jalan Kebangsaan Lama’ or Kebangsaan Lama Road. My parents were overjoyed and zealously proud, as it was deemed as an important milestone achievement for citizens, who are second generation Chinese, to own property. No one could say we were not of this land, not of this beautiful country anymore. Even though I did end up working in the construction industry, I never quite understood this until my wife and I bought our own house together.Our ‘new’ house was a large house on a large piece of land, as per most ‘modern’ houses back then in the 1980s. Everything was per the trend back then, the rooms were spacious and had horizontal window pane shutters that creaked loudly every time you open and close it. Sometimes, you would wonder if the window panes would break when you open the windows too fast. Downstairs, the windows had cast-iron security grille installed as an anti-burglar deterrent. My parents allocated one of the upstairs rooms for me. I was glad to finally have my own room and not have to share with my brother.Everyone was very excited about settling down in the house and had not noticed the strange occurrences at home.It all began one evening in 1988, or at least that was when I first noticed it. I was never a superstitious child, and I used to never believe in any supernatural entities.  I had been staying up late at night to study and prepare for my ‘BJCE’ exams (now this has been changed to the Year 8 ‘SPE’ exam). The window shutters in my room would rattle from time to time. I thought it was the vibrations from the window air-conditioner. Initially, I thought nothing of it. The windows rattled on and off until early morning. The next day, the same thing had reoccurred. And again, the following day. It came to a point where I got quite annoyed, so I switched off the air-con and hit the books again.A few minutes later, the sound was there again. It was much louder. This time, it sounded more like something hard and sharp was tapping on...

Aswadi had been a security guard for many years. He was 30 years old and had been working at various facilities in the Tutong district. His transfer to the Sungai Basong Recreational Park was quite sudden. It was his first time working at a recreational park. He was told to fill an unexpected vacancy as the previous elderly security guard had passed away. Aswadi did not mind, as it meant the commute to work was nearer and he assumed the job would be ‘less risky’ and less demanding than being a security guard at a water plant, for example.Aswadi had been to the Sungai Basong recreational park several times though during leisure time and this was during the occasional afternoons. He was expected to work the night shifts there.His boss told him not to worry, that although he was the lone security guard there, he should be able to have ample sleep time. All he had to do was to make sure he had his mobile phone and walkie-talkie radio with him at all times and to respond to it, in cases of emergencies. This was unlikely to happen as the park was closed at night.Aswadi started his first shift late in the afternoon. His day-shift colleague could not wait to go home, eagerly passing him the walkie-talkie radio and designated mobile phone, and then going through the motions and emergency contact details.After that, Aswadi made his pre-dusk round, which was a good flat circuit walk around the park. He watched the various people jogging and walking pass-by.Most were in their sports gear, whilst a few were still wearing their work clothes and had only changed their work shoes to sports shoes. Some walked with their spouses or boyfriends and girlfriends, whilst a few others brought along their children. Everyone had to squeeze in their exercise time in their busy daily lives.There were also a few cyclists, including children who brought their bicycles with training wheels. Most cyclists in the district would prefer to join the many cycling groups who cycled on the main roads and highway - complete with escort cars.Aswadi took notice of the rollerblading ‘couples’ who appreciated the smooth asphalt and cement pathways to lap through circuits. He wished he could have moments like that, but time seemed to have passed by with nothing but lost opportunities and bitter memories.Aswadi always smiled as he made his round,...

Syifa; a 9-year-old girl, has been living in England for the past few years, whilst her mother, an orthopedic surgeon, was completing her specialist training in the United Kingdom. This is her story.***It was strange to come back home again. Even though we visited our home country for the holidays, there was nothing like coming home and knowing we were here to stay. Our house in Jerudong had been vacant most of the time. Its only visitors were my grandmother and my uncles, who would check on the house and clean the house from time to time.I never thought one could be a stranger to one’s own house, and yet that was what it had been. There was an uneasy feeling when we stayed the first night at home. It made little sense, as we should be overjoyed by the thought of being back for good. I told my mom it was like we had moved into someone else’s house and we weren’t welcome.My mom was a bit spooked out about it, but none of us had seen or experienced anything else. She reasoned that perhaps we were simply used to our own place in the UK. It was then I realised I missed what I had in England: my school friends, the usual creature comforts and my routine habits.Mom said sometimes it is hard to accept change, but everyone goes through it. Being a doctor, she had to give it a diagnosis or at least a name: adjustment issues. I don’t like it when she does that.I guess that’s what doctors do; they have to give things labels - make life and people easier to organise; I think. She reminded me that the only constant in life is change. She asked me to remember her words and think about it from time to time.I did my best to accept what Mom had said, but I could not help from noticing that occasionally when I was alone, the shadows in the corner seem to be longer, seem to be more playful. Sometimes, in the corner of my eyes, I would catch a glimpse of the shadows moving away as though trying to catch me.At times, when I was in my room, it would feel as though someone was there with me, someone I could not see. I would get goosebumps all over my body or it would suddenly feel chilly...