5 Chilling Tales from Singapore
1. The Haunting of Bedok: Sarah, 29, Bedok
Profile: Sarah is a 29-year-old graphic designer who has lived in Bedok her entire life. A skeptic when it comes to the paranormal, she shares this story to this day because she can’t explain what happened.
Story:
It was a typical evening in Bedok. I had just come home from work and was looking forward to a quiet night in. The flat I live in is one of those older ones, the ones that have been around for decades, and honestly, I didn’t think much of it. It’s home, right?
That night, I had the strangest feeling as I entered my apartment. The air felt thick, almost heavy. I didn’t think much of it; maybe I was just tired. But then, I heard it. A soft tapping sound, coming from the kitchen. I froze. It wasn’t the wind or any other natural sound; it was rhythmic, like someone was tapping their fingers on the counter.
I walked cautiously towards the kitchen, and the sound stopped. When I turned on the light, everything was normal. But then, I noticed something strange. The cabinet door was slightly ajar, and I was sure I had closed it earlier. I shrugged it off as a small mistake, but I was on edge.
That night, I tried to sleep, but I felt like I wasn’t alone. Every little sound felt amplified, and the temperature in the room seemed to drop. The next morning, I went to the kitchen to make breakfast, and I noticed the cabinet door was open again. This time, I couldn’t ignore it. Something was off.
A few days later, I mentioned it to my neighbor, an elderly lady who had lived in the building for decades. She just looked at me, her expression grave. She said, “You know, this place has a history. There were rumors that a woman died in that flat a long time ago. They say she never left.”
It was then that I started researching the flat’s history. The story was unsettling—an older woman had passed away under strange circumstances years ago, and some residents had said they still heard strange noises coming from that apartment. I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was watching me.
I moved out shortly after that, but to this day, I can’t explain what happened. The tapping, the cold spots, and the strange feeling of being watched—was it just my imagination, or was something more sinister at play?
2. The Whispering Woods: Omar, 35, Bukit Timah
Profile: Omar is a 35-year-old marketing manager who loves hiking in Singapore’s nature reserves. He’s always been a firm believer in nature’s beauty, but after one experience, he’s no longer so sure.
Story:
I’ve always loved hiking, and Bukit Timah is one of my favorite places to explore. The dense jungle, the wildlife, it all feels so peaceful. But one weekend, that peace was shattered in a way I’ll never forget.
I was hiking along the trails near the nature reserve, something I’d done countless times before. It was a Saturday afternoon, and the park was relatively quiet, with only a few other hikers scattered about. As I walked further, I felt like the atmosphere shifted. The usual sounds of nature—the birds, the rustling leaves—suddenly stopped. An unnatural silence took over.
I shrugged it off, figuring it was just the quiet of the reserve. But then, I heard something. It was a soft whisper, faint but distinct, like someone calling my name. I turned around, expecting to see someone close by, but there was no one.
The whispers grew louder as I continued down the path. At first, I thought it was the wind, but it was too clear. I could make out words. It sounded like someone was warning me, telling me to “turn back.” My heart raced. I had heard of people claiming to hear strange things in the woods, but I never thought it would happen to me.
At this point, I was starting to feel uneasy. I quickened my pace, but the whispers seemed to follow me, growing louder and more insistent. I kept looking around, but there was nothing. The feeling of being watched grew overwhelming.
Finally, I decided to leave the trail and head back to the park entrance. The whispers stopped as soon as I left the woods. I haven’t been back since that day, and I still don’t know what I experienced. But I can’t shake the feeling that the jungle knows more than we think.
3. The Changi Curse: Ahmed, 42, Changi
Profile: Ahmed is a 42-year-old taxi driver who has been driving around Singapore for years. He’s seen a lot of strange things, but there’s one story from Changi that still haunts him.
Story:
I’ve been driving a taxi for over 20 years, and I’ve heard my fair share of strange stories from passengers. But there’s one experience in Changi that still sends shivers down my spine.
It was late at night, and I was driving along the quiet streets near Changi. The usual sounds of the city were absent—no cars, no people, just an eerie stillness. I picked up a passenger from a dimly lit bus stop. She was an older woman, dressed in black, with long, unkempt hair. She didn’t say much, but there was something about her presence that made me uneasy.
As we drove, I noticed that she kept staring out of the window, as if lost in thought. The further we went, the more oppressive the atmosphere became. The streets seemed to get darker, and the air grew thick with an odd heaviness. I couldn’t shake the feeling that something wasn’t right.
Then, she suddenly spoke. Her voice was low, almost like a whisper. “Do you know about the curse of Changi?” she asked. I didn’t know what she meant, but before I could respond, she continued. “There are spirits here, old ones. They never left.”
I laughed it off, trying to make light of it, but I felt the temperature in the cab drop. I looked at her, and her eyes were wide open, unblinking, as if she were staring at something I couldn’t see.
As we approached a quiet stretch of road near Changi, the cab’s headlights flickered, and the radio turned on by itself, playing static. I glanced at her, but she was now gone. I pulled over, stunned. I checked the back seat, but there was no sign of the woman. I had no idea when or how she had disappeared, but the whole situation felt like a strange nightmare.
I don’t know what happened that night, but every time I pass through Changi, I can’t help but feel a chill in the air. The curse, whatever it is, lingers, and I don’t think I’ll ever understand it.
4. The Mysterious Encounter: Mei Lin, 56, Toa Payoh
Profile: Mei Lin is a 56-year-old retired school teacher who has lived in Toa Payoh for most of her life. She’s never been superstitious, but something happened to her that made her reconsider.
Story:
I’ve lived in Toa Payoh all my life, and I’ve never had any reason to believe in ghosts or spirits. But the night I encountered something inexplicable, I became a believer.
It was around 2 a.m., and I was awake in bed, unable to sleep. The house was quiet, and the moonlight filtered through the curtains. Suddenly, I heard footsteps in the hallway. At first, I thought it was just the house settling, but the steps grew louder, more deliberate.
I got up and peeked out of my bedroom door, expecting to see one of my children, but there was no one. The footsteps continued, and I couldn’t understand where they were coming from. I checked every room, but the house was empty.
Just as I was about to go back to bed, I heard a voice. It was soft, almost a whisper, but unmistakable. “Mei Lin, I’m here,” the voice said.
My heart raced, and I turned around, but no one was there. The air felt thick, and I could see my breath forming in front of me. I rushed to turn on the lights, but the voice came again, this time louder. “Mei Lin.”
I rushed to call my daughter, but when she came out of her room, she saw nothing. No one was there. To this day, I don’t know who—or what—was in my house that night, but I’ll never forget the voice calling my name.
5. The Haunted MRT: Zhi Wei, 24, Clementi
Profile: Zhi Wei is a 24-year-old university student who often travels late at night. His story comes from a strange encounter during one of his late-night commutes.
Story:
I was on the MRT, heading home from a late-night study session at the library. It was almost 2 a.m., and the train was mostly empty. I sat near the doors, scrolling through my phone, when I noticed something odd.
A man sat across from me, but he looked… strange. His clothes were outdated, like something from decades ago, and his eyes were wide and unblinking. I tried to ignore him, thinking he was just another tired commuter, but the longer I looked at him, the more unsettling he became. His face was pale, and there was something about his stare that felt wrong.
Suddenly, the train stopped at an empty station. The lights flickered, and the air grew cold. I glanced around, but the man was gone. I checked the entire train, but there was no sign of him. I thought maybe I had imagined it, but when I reached my stop, I saw something chilling.
On the train doors, in the condensation, were handprints. Small, delicate, as if someone had pressed their hands against the glass. But no one had gotten off. I’ve never taken the late-night MRT again, and every time I pass that station, I can’t shake the feeling that I wasn’t alone that night.
