Whispers from Singapore’s Shadows: Tales of Terror from Seven Faiths

Story 1: The White Figure at Choa Chu Kang Cemetery

Growing up, my parents always warned me to avoid cemeteries after sunset, especially as a Hindu. Spirits don’t rest peacefully at night, they’d say, and you never know when you might catch the eye of something dark. I always took their advice seriously—until one night, my curiosity got the better of me.

My friends dared me to go with them to Choa Chu Kang Cemetery. They laughed it off, saying they’d done it before and it was just empty graves. So, reluctantly, I joined them. The moment we entered, I felt a heavy, uneasy feeling. I started reciting a short prayer under my breath, hoping it would protect me from whatever lingered there.

As we walked deeper into the cemetery, I saw something white in the corner of my eye. It seemed like a woman, but she wasn’t… right. She was hovering, her eyes were hollow and dark, and her face—expressionless. I tried to look away, but she seemed to notice me, her face turning slowly to meet my gaze. My legs felt paralyzed. I wanted to run, but I couldn’t move.

One of my friends noticed I’d stopped and turned back, but by the time he reached me, the figure had vanished. I finally broke free from my frozen state and ran out of there without looking back. The memory of that face haunts me to this day.

— Rajesh, 28, Yishun, Singapore

Story 2: The Phantom Call to Prayer

As a Muslim, I’ve grown up with the sound of the call to prayer echoing through my home. It’s a familiar, comforting sound—until that night it became something else entirely. I was visiting a friend in Woodlands when, around midnight, I heard the faint echo of a adhan, or call to prayer, in the distance. But it was the wrong time for it.

Curiosity got the better of me, so I stepped outside. The streets were quiet, and everything was still. Then I heard it again, louder, but strange and distorted, as if coming from under water. The voice was haunting, like it was calling not for prayer, but something darker. I felt an eerie chill down my spine, something telling me I shouldn’t be listening.

Suddenly, I noticed a shadow moving between the buildings across the street, like a cloaked figure. It seemed to be the source of the eerie sound. My heart raced, and I whispered a prayer, hoping for protection. The moment I did, the sound faded away, as if it never existed. I quickly went back inside, shaken. I never found out who—or what—was behind that call.

— Faridah, 35, Woodlands, Singapore

Story 3: The Old Lady in the Temple

I’m a Buddhist, and I often visit temples in Singapore to pray and seek blessings. One evening, while I was at the Thian Hock Keng Temple in Chinatown, I had a chilling experience that still leaves me trembling when I think about it.

It was late, and I had stayed back to meditate. The temple was quiet, with only a few people left. Suddenly, I saw an old woman sitting near the altar, her head down, mumbling in a low voice. I thought she was praying, so I went back to my meditation. But then I noticed she wasn’t facing the altar—she was facing me.

Her eyes were sunken, and her face looked strangely lifeless, as though she was wearing a mask. She pointed at me and whispered something in a language I didn’t understand. I couldn’t move, my entire body was frozen with fear. Then, as quickly as she had appeared, she was gone. No one else had seen her. I left the temple immediately, feeling an icy chill that lingered long after.

— Mei Ling, 42, Chinatown, Singapore

Story 4: The Whispering Spirits at Haw Par Villa

As a Taoist, I’ve always believed in spirits and the afterlife. That belief was challenged one evening at Haw Par Villa, the park known for its eerie displays of the Ten Courts of Hell. I was exploring the park with some friends, and as night fell, we lingered a bit too long.

I felt a sudden chill, like a thousand whispers were surrounding me. My friends started feeling uneasy too, and we all heard faint voices, as though the statues themselves were whispering. One of the voices distinctly called my name. I turned around, but no one was there—just the cold, lifeless statues.

The atmosphere was thick with dread, and I felt as though unseen eyes were watching me. I grabbed my friends, and we left, shaken and silent. Since that day, I’ve been cautious about visiting places associated with spirits.

— Zhang Wei, 33, Hougang, Singapore

Story 5: The Shadow in the Church Basement

I volunteer at a church in Bukit Timah, and one evening, I was asked to help organize supplies in the basement. As a Christian, I always found comfort within the church walls, but that night, something felt different. The basement was dimly lit, and a strange chill filled the room.

I was busy arranging boxes when I felt something watching me. I turned, and in the corner, I saw a shadowy figure. It didn’t look human—it was more like a tall, dark silhouette, with no face, just emptiness where eyes should be. I whispered a prayer, but the figure seemed to grow darker and closer.

The lights flickered, and in that moment, it vanished. I quickly left, heart pounding, praying all the way up the stairs. I’ve never gone down to the basement alone again.

— Sarah, 29, Bukit Timah, Singapore

Story 6: The Screaming Woman at Bedok Reservoir

One evening, I was jogging around Bedok Reservoir. As a free-thinker, I don’t believe in spirits or the supernatural, but that night, I experienced something I can’t explain. The area was mostly empty, and the only sound was my footsteps.

Suddenly, I heard a scream—a woman’s scream, piercing and filled with terror. I stopped, looking around, but I couldn’t see anyone. The scream echoed again, chilling me to the bone. I felt compelled to run, but something kept me rooted to the spot. Then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw her—a woman standing by the water, staring at me with hollow eyes.

I ran as fast as I could, and I haven’t been back to that reservoir since.

— Joshua, 26, Bedok, Singapore

Story 7: The Child in the Void Deck

As a Sikh, I often pray for protection and strength, and I believe it has kept me safe. But one evening, at the void deck of my HDB block in Yishun, I encountered something that tested my faith.

I was heading home late when I saw a child standing alone near the pillars. His back was turned, and he looked lost. I approached him to offer help, but as I got closer, I noticed his feet weren’t touching the ground. He turned, and his face was pale, his eyes dark and empty. My heart dropped, and I froze in terror.

I whispered a prayer, and the child slowly vanished, leaving only the faint sound of laughter echoing in the empty void deck. I hurried home, my heart racing, grateful for the protection my prayers had offered.

— Harjit, 38, Yishun, Singapore