Incredible Tales

I decided to write this as I watched Incredible Tales being shown on the idiot box. All 3 kids are in the room, curled under the blankets (Zafran denies it...but I know better....)

Somehow between the Western 'scream fest' and Asian ghost stories, I think our version beats our Western counterparts hands down. It is not about the blood and gore...but I supposed it is because the elements of 'the other world' are more 'real' and recognisable to us.

As a child, I was scared silly of the classic Malay "Pontianak' or even "Sumpah Orang Minyak." The children of yester-years would tow the line when parents referred to supernatural beings as bogeymen. I dread watching movies at my grandma's place...for the toilet seemed like miles away from the rest of the house, tucked at darkest corner...God knows what lurked in those places...with the worst possible creatures around.

I have said that I acknowledge that there are beings out there...whose world I do not quite understand. But I find it scarier when humans make use of these beings for their own personal gain (that is another story altogether)

My earliest recollection of an encounter happened at a cousin's place. She was an only child then, and her doting parents filled her room with lots and lots of dolls - many of which were displayed in the cupboards and shelves. I felt uneasy looking at so many pairs of staring, unmoving eyes.

One evening, after putting my cousin to bed, my aunt and I watched TV in the living room. But we heard laughter and giggles coming from from the little girl's room. Thinking that her daughter was up and about, my aunt decided to check on her.

I opened the door first. I saw my cousin on the floor playing with all her dolls. They were all around her...and she was talking to them; having a conversation. This was the first time I have seen her dolls being taken out from their display cabinets.

My aunt who was behind me gave a gasp. I was startled...and saw something I'll never forget. On the bed...was my cousin, ...fast asleep.

My aunt clamped a hand over my mouth. She need not worry. I do not think I was even capable of screaming aloud even then. She half-dragged me out of the room, closed the door quietly behind us, and sat down on the floor...muttering furiously verses from the Quran.

I clung on to her in fear...but I think I was too young to fully comprehend what was going on. We held on to each other for at least 20 minutes...I think...when we no longer could hear voices coming from the other room.

After half an hour, my aunt managed to compose herself. She took a deep breath,and gingerly opened the door.

The room was indeed very quiet...and there on the bed, was the figure of my little cousin, curled up in deep sleep. The dolls? There were none on the floor...they were all back in their original places, as if they were never touched at all.

She then took several large plastic bags, and removed every single one of those dolls and put them outside the house, for the garbage collector to take away the next day.

Who was the little girl I saw on the floor playing with them....I dared not ask then...I dare not guess ...even now.