ConfessionsA dedicated space for anyone who’s ever had a supernatural experience.
Let’s demystify the world unseen. We learn a little more with every story shared. Increase the knowledge repository by telling your story here. |
Confession by Cara Locals who have been around long enough would probably know, before the existence of the now bustling Harbourfront Centre and VivoCity, the buildings before were called World Trade Centre and World Trade Centre 2. I worked at WTC some 20 years ago and always rather enjoyed the fact that we had the sea so close to us. The luxury of being able to head outdoors during breaktime was a privilege my colleagues and I never took for granted. We would park ourselves at the edge of the breakwaters and depending on where we were sitting, we could either see the cruise ships docking and awaiting their next onboarding, or the twinkling lights of Sentosa in the distance. It felt peaceful and magnificent. The place I worked at was located on the ground floor and when we wanted to use the washroom, we had to head out to the shared restrooms. I worked there for several months before realizing the third cubicle door seemed to be permanently closed. I put it down to the fact that it was either out of order, or that the cleaner chose that spot as her designated rest area. One of those nights I was assigned the closing shift, which meant I had to be at work till 2 or 3am. It was probably past 1am when I had a nature call. For safety reasons when we did the graveyard shift, we would usually go in pairs but since I was the only female team member on shift that night, I had no choice but to answer the call alone. As all the shops were closed at that time, it certainly felt eerie to walk to the toilet on my own. Our of fear and also because I urgently needed to go, I made a run for it. When I got there, nothing seemed untoward and as usual the 3rd cubicle was shut, which reaffirmed what I had thought, that that toilet must be out of order. I chose the second cubicle, right next to the one that was shut and went about my business. As I was zipping my pants, I heard a distinct "thud, thud, thud" in the cubicle next to me. I assumed it was the pipes filling with water or something so I ignored it, but again, the sound "thud, thud, thud" came from the closed cubicle to my left. This happened a few times, always in a rhythmic succession of three and I began to feel fear washing over me. Call me crazy but it sounded like someone was knocking on the walls of the cubicle - but wasn't it permanently locked? In all the months I was there, I had never once seen the cubicle opened for use. I wasn't about to investigate so I quickly exited the cubicle and made a dash for the exit, but not before glancing surreptitiously at the mirrors that laid opposite the cubicles but noticing nothing out of the ordinary. The 3rd cubicle was still firmly closed. Nothing else eventful happened that night so I put it down to me being tired and having an overworked imagination. The next day when I got to work, I nonchalantly mentioned to one of my colleagues who had been with the company for at least a decade, about what I heard in the toilet. I tried to be casual about it, putting the cause out to be something else and said "Aiyo I think that the toilet needs to be quickly repaired, it’s been closed for so long that I think there's rats or something. I heard some knocking sound last night so maybe something got stuck in the pipes ah..." My colleague stopped what she was doing, abruptly turning to me and said "You heard the knocking sound ah?" It didn't go unnoticed to me that she said THE KNOCKING SOUND, as though it was something that someone had experienced before, and I went "Ya I did, like tok tok tok 3 times, then stop and then tok tok tok again. Why leh?" I could visibly see my poor 50-year-old colleague go pale before blurting out “Aiya, next time so late if can, you don't go to that toilet la. Last time I heard this Indo girl come to Singapore. Got one Singaporean married man made her pregnant, then he don't want to take care of her and she cannot go home cos the family angry with her, so she go hang herself in that toilet lor. After that the management lock that toilet. Sometimes open only when need to do maintenance la. Hearsay that the tok tok tok sound is her feet hitting the door when she was swinging from the ceiling la. Very long already la this story.Don't want to say la suay one." I wasn't quite sure how to handle that piece of news but I did verify the story with a couple of colleagues and tenants in other units that I was on good terms with. True enough, they all heard the same story/ experienced the same thing in their time working there. I do wonder till this day what happened to the poor girl now that the building has been revamped to the Harbourfront/VivoCity that we know of. May she rest in peace. The company I work for is situated in one of the industrial estates in Ang Mo Kio. Usually by My office space is moderate in size with an open cubicle concept. Each desk is divided by old fashioned partitions offering some form of privacy to the employees. My desk was situated somewhere in the middle of the office. Lily, the accountant, was situated a few cubicles down. She was slightly past middle aged and types with one finger, making distinct clicking sounds on her keyboard. Known to leave punctually on the dot. So I was a bit surprised when I heard her clicking away on her keyboard. I thought to myself, “ok lah, maybe she also got things to do and probably came into the office without me noticing.”6pm, most of the other offices around the area will close for the day after which it gets very quiet. I was rushing a deadline so I stayed back to finish prepping for an event the following day. I called out to her, “Lily, working late today ah?” But there was no reply. I called out to her again, louder this time, thinking she didn’t hear me the first time. The clicking sound stopped. I stood up and looked over the partition from my cubicle. From where I was standing, it was not possible to see if there was anyone seated in Lily’s cubicle, so I walked over to see. There was nobody at her desk. Her computer was off and everything looked tidy. I walked back to my cubicle and rationalized with myself that it was probably my imagination. Then I heard noises again; the sound of paper shuffling, and a ring binder file opening and closing. They sounded very distinct, sharp and piercing. This time I didn’t go over. I hunkered down behind my table and contemplated if I should just leave the office. However I thought the consequences of not finishing my work would be more terrible than being in the same room with whatever that thing was. Then the sound moved to where the metal cupboard was. This was where Lily usually placed her documents. The thuds coming from it were loud in a quiet office, reverberating throughout. From where I was, I could see the cupboard and there was no one. “Maybe it’s just a lizard,” I thought to myself. A giant lizard walked across the keyboard back and forth, turned the pages, opened the file, and now it leapt to the cupboard. Then the notice board on the wall beside the cupboard fell with a loud clutter. I was sure whatever did that was not a lizard. Maybe it was a sign that I shouldn’t be here at this time. Before I left, I took a photo of the cubicle and the fallen notice board. I wanted evidence of my experience in case everything was in their proper position when I came back on the next day and no one would believe what I encountered. That was one scary incident. What could it possibly be? Also, I do not know if this incident was connected but a few weeks before that day, my phone SIRI just activated itself and called me “Marcus”. Why this was strange for me is that… though Marcus is my birth name, my social contacts only know me as 'Mark'. So was that glitch on SIRI purely coincidental or a spirit in my phone trying to make contact? Confession by Q My grandfather was a rag and bone man, a karung guni man, who claimed he made his fortune through sheer sweat in an era where hard work paid off.
Back then, being a Rag and Bone man wasn't a bad career option. Singapore was going through a period of great change. There were as many rich people around as there were poor people, and if you knew where to look, there was lots of business to be done. During the period from the 60s to 90s, the economy picked up and people were buying things, which also meant, there were people getting rid of things. By then, when more and more people started going into the trade, my grandfather was doing it for leisure. He had already made his fortune in investments but you wouldn’t have known he was filthy rich. He had not changed his lifestyle or outlook one bit throughout his living years. He had three children with my grandmother, and managed to put two of three of them to higher education. My dad who was the oldest had to skip school to help with the family business. My grandma was extremely smart at her job. Grandpa would find the items, grandma would sort them out and price them. One of the places she would go to supply her finds was at Sungei Road Market. Later on it earned the reputation as the Thieves Market. If you had ever been pickpocketed or had something stolen from you, your best bet was to come to Sungei Road and buy it back. If you were discerning enough, one man’s trash could be your treasure. And that’s how my grandparents ran their business. He said in the early days he used to take discarded idols left under trees and bridges but those he said were sometimes more trouble than they were worth. You can’t tell if there were really gods inside or something evil. Also they had no resale value. Mirrors and old beds were things he also avoided. Mirrors because they trapped negative energy, and beds because they had very distinct and unique energy that could be in conflict with yours. So to be safe, don’t take it. The more he talked, the more curious I got. I asked him a cheeky question: had he picked up any haunted items and brought them home? He replied with deadpan seriousness. My grandpa doesn’t joke; my grandma, on the other hand, was the jovial one of the two and I guess that’s why they say opposites attract. Though grandma had defended grandpa on many occasions saying that his joke was high level: “You need degree to understand.” My grandpa would nod, and my grandma would laugh and say, “see, isn’t he funny?” So anyway, I digress. With regards to haunted items, he said there were many. But they can’t do anything. “What can they do? At night turn on and off the fan, the lights. Bang door. Then what? One haunted barang is scary, but when you got ten of them at home, just let them sort themselves out. Ghosts are like children. You have to treat them the same way.” That’s my grandpa for you. The items that he looked out for were discarded family heirlooms. According to grandpa, heirlooms had spirits. When people threw them away unwittingly, grandpa would take care of them and gave them a home. In return, whatever luck that was to go to that family would instead come to him and his family. Some heirlooms chose to leave the family when the spirits disagreed with how the family were doing things or they were being mistreated. I asked him how he knew which were heirlooms? His reply was, look for anything that’s made of wood, gemstones or natural rocks, and gold. The more normal looking they were, the higher the chance that they were home to something ancient. I then asked if he had rubbed any lamp to ask for any wish before. He paused for a moment and nodded. It wasn’t a lamp. It was a ring. The spirit was unhappy with its current owner and left. It found its way in my grandfather’s stash. “So grandpa, what did you wish for?” I asked. “Just that we always have food on the table, clothes to wear, and good health.” That last line always got to me. It sounded innocent enough, and quite frankly I’m not even sure if grandpa was pulling my leg, with his serious face, I really can’t tell. But grandpa was a shareholder to a large, renown, department store, a restaurant chain, and I don’t ever remember him falling sick, ever. He died close to a hundred years old, peacefully in his sleep. Confession by Unknown I had a friend who related this story to me. He had a friend James (not his real name), who had always been a defiant person, but an encounter was going to change that.
One day, while he was walking past one of those “mini altars”, (the ones they put in coffee shops, on the ground), he decided to give it a kick! Apparently the God that altar was erected for, followed him to his home and appeared before him. The God told him that he wasn’t going to take revenge or anything, but he wanted to help James change his ways, to become a better person. The God then brought him on a tour to Hell! Like the story from The Scrooge Before Christmas, James’ soul was brought to every level of Hell to see how torturous it was to be sent there for all the sins he has committed. James recalled Hell was like what the Chinese had described. It had different levels, but he couldn’t remember how many, and he saw the various forms of torture carried out on those who had sinned, like how the tongue was cut and whipping of the tormented souls. After the tour, the God brought his soul back to his resting body, then disappeared. According to my friend, James has changed for the better. I think after such a tour, anyone would! Confession by KK Heng The Old Granny and the Child
There’s a popular rumor of the ghost of a granny with her grandchild walking the grounds of BMTC in Tekong. According to it, this old granny and the child would point out whoever was still awake after lights out. Most of us understood that this was just a cautionary tale told by our sergeants to scare us into sleeping after lights out. But there was one incident that happened to a buddy of mine that made us rethink that there could be some truth to the tale. I was in Hawk Company and we stayed on level six of the barracks. My buddy had a high fever and he was given Pes C Bunk status, meaning he could rest in his bunk instead of the medical centre, and it wasn’t serious enough to release him from camp. It was in the evening right after sundown. The company was downstairs at the company line cleaning our rifles; my buddy was the only one in the bunk resting. In his half conscious state, he was awoken by a hunchbacked granny who spoke to him in hokkien asking him why he was the only one in the room? Still a little groggy from sleeping the whole day, he replied in his limited Hokkien that he was sick and that the others must be outfield or at the parade square. The old granny acknowledged and walked away. It was only a few minutes later that he realized what had just transpired. He jolted awake and found that he was alone in the bunk. The sun had set fully, and the room was in total darkness. The only light source came from the fluorescent ceiling lamps along the corridor. Could she be the ghost that people had claimed to witness previously? No Pork Allowed on the Island. It was well known that the Basic Military Training Centre (BMTC) was built atop a Muslim cemetery in Tekong and consumption of pork was not allowed anywhere else other than the cookhouse. This incident happened to a recruit from the company beside ours. The recruit was also given Pes C Bunk status. His buddy, looking out for him, brought back food from the cookhouse for him. It didn’t occur to the buddy that there was pork on the menu that day. So nice of him to tapao a packet of dinner up to the bunk. That night, while in the midst of slumber, this particular recruit was woken up by 3 green faces peering through his mosquito net but he brushed it off as his imagination. After that incident, it seemed like bad luck followed him throughout camp. A few days later during training, he felt like he had been pushed and was hurt so badly that he had to drop out of the course. Was this punishment for consuming pork on camp grounds? Confession by Eugene Tay I was a tenant of Peace Centre from 2007 to 2012, and had forged very close friendships with neighbours. Even the lady boss who was in-charge of property management would sit with the tenants at the third floor cafe to chat during the slow weekday afternoons. Ghost stories, especially in Asia, is the one conversational topic that immediately bonds those of different races and cultures. For an old building like the Peace Centre, the stories are endless. Many of these tales, though as scary as they are when narrated, oftentimes are urban legends - from someone who has heard it from someone who has heard it from someone else… and veracity yet proven.
The story I'm about to narrate is slightly more believable because it came directly from someone who worked in the management office. ‘T” was not known to be someone who joked a lot. Besides my mother, T was the only other person I know who could smile with a frown. I had a love-hate relationship with T, my landlady. Each month when I saw her, it was usually to pay rent, but there were also times where she and I would sit down to gossip about the events that took place in the next building, Peace Mansion. I remember in one conversation where I was due to renew my rental agreement and asked for a cheaper rate, she had offered her 7th floor office as an alternative. It had a bigger floor space and she was practically giving it away for free. So I asked her what was the catch? "It's haunted," she said. Just like that. No set up, no preamble. "Things can move around. Cupboards can open and close by themselves." "But you were in that office for many years, aren't you afraid?" "This place quite common. You can see spirits walking around the corridors at night. It's not harmful. They are like our tenants. We are used to them. That's why you see some offices will leave packet drinks and sweets outside their doors." "Then why move out?" "Last month the haunting in the office started getting violent. Got one new staff said he don't believe in all these nonsense. Around 5pm, before we knocked off, he heard the office chair rolled around. He went to check but most of us had already left for the day and there's no one in the adjoining room. He decided to scold the spirit. That's when the glass partition shattered and a large piece of glass cut his neck. He didn't die of course but since then, many of us in the office don't feel safe anymore. The energy got a bit darker. So we moved to the third floor." "Any ghost there?" "Yeah have, That one quite interesting. The room used to be rented by a church for their congregation, but then they moved out already and we used it as a store. There's a timid child spirit there, and I think over time, the place attracted other children spirits. The shifu [a holistic movement practitioner] on the fourth floor said that these are aborted child spirits. They got nowhere to go. But the mood is a lot better than on the seventh floor. They like music. Anytime of the day, our office radio can turn on and play on its own. Sometimes they even change the channel on their own. If you walk past and you hear music, that's not for us; it's for them." Confessions by Madam Ong In the 60s, there used to be a shop selling malay outfits and perfumes on Hoi How Road near the bus interchange. It was on the plot of land where Shaw Tower currently is, and one of the few Malay shops in an otherwise Chinese dominated area. I remember that when I was a child, walking by that shop always made me cry. I didn’t know why I behaved that way until I was a little older and realized that I could see things people can’t.
I’m quite certain that the shop kept “barang” - black magic things - and as a child, the sight or maybe the energy of the place affected me. One of the objects in the shop that really freaked me out was the mannequin. It would be on display in front of the store wearing different outfits. So I made it a habit to take a detour to avoid that shop for years. When I talked to my mom about the place later on in life, she said she couldn’t even remember a shop of that description. We moved out of that place sometime in the late 60s, early 70s when the whole place was leveled, and the housing area and shops had to be relocated. Shaw Towers took over and during that time, it was the most hip place to be. The thing about having the third eye is that I sometimes can’t tell real people from ghosts. To me they all look alike. And unlike the ghosts in stories and movies, the ones I see behave just like you and me. They walk amongst people, the only time I know when it’s a ghost and not a person is when it stares at me or when it walks through walls. The only entity that was different from all the rest is the mannequin. It would walk the mall in a very odd, jerky manner. Seeing it as a teenager frightened me as much as it did when I was a child. When the mannequin was around, there would be no other spirits around the area. I saw it on many occasions and sometimes it would move towards me, and I would always run away. My friends who knew I had the sight knew better than to question me. If I’m running away, so will they. Years later, I went back again. There was a stall selling crabs and we would frequent that place quite regularly. Thankfully I didn’t see her again. Confession by Unknown Here is a personal experience. In 1998, Singapore was screening the movie, The Ring. I did not keep track of when the period of the hungry ghost festival was and so happened that it was on the last day that I watched the movie.
Being the only one in the group with a car, I had to send my friends home after the late show, then make my way home, alone. After locking the car, I had a feeling that I was being watched, even as I walked along the void deck of my house. I took a glance around me but saw nothing. I’m not usually frightened by scary movies or supernatural occurrences, but this time, a chill was running up my spine. I shrugged it off as wild imagination and took the lift up to my level. Even along the corridor, I could feel that stare directed at me. I hurriedly opened the door into my house and went straight to the toilet to take a leak. In the midst of my business, I heard a female’s voice calling my name from outside the toilet and I replied “Wait sis, I’m still using the toilet”, as I thought it was my sister. There was no reply…. Which was strange, as my sister would usually say “Hurry up lah…” When I got out of the toilet, there was no one around. I checked my watch and realized it was past my sister’s bedtime so she would have been asleep hours ago (She taught the morning session and usually slept early). Furthermore, her room door was closed, and if she had opened or closed it, I'd have heard it. I kept reassuring myself that it was probably my imagination and went straight to bed. About half an hour passed, I was still tossing and turning about in my bed, finding it really hard to sleep. The images from the tape shown in the movie, kept replaying in my mind. Just then, I heard the sounds of pots and pans clanging (not so hard until bashing) distinctly right outside my room door. It didn’t seem possible, as my kitchen was on the lower level!! It was really frightening as I was trapped in my room, unable to go anywhere without walking past whatever was making that noise outside my room!! The thought of what was creating such a racket was scary, but the thought of “it” coming into my room was even more scary!! I said my prayers and asked for protection. I had to force myself to sleep while the disturbing sounds went on. I must have been really tired, as I fell asleep in the midst of saying my prayers. The next morning, I was telling my mum and my friends about what I encountered. My mum said it probably was my imagination, but she did admit she had never seen me so frightened by something supernatural in the past……. Then, one of my close friends told me that I shouldn’t have watched the movie. Apparently, the movie ‘The Ring’ was a cursed show, and those watching it would be cursed. Thus, what I had experienced was due to having been “cursed” or it could be that the spirits, knowing that was their last night of freedom before they had to “book in” to where they had to go, decided to have some fun? Confession by P and various confessors I used to work in a building with a mix of office and a shopping mall. My office is on level 8. In order to go to the toilet, we needed a key. If you were in the cubicle, you would definitely hear the sound of the door being unlocked, because the office toilets aren't very large. There were only three cubicles and you could hear the sound of the door opening very clearly.
This incident happened during the 7th lunar month - or more popularly called the Hungry Ghost Month. The mall management would invite the business owners to burn joss paper and incense. It was the first day of the hungry ghost month and we were at the area downstairs doing the prayers and offering. I needed to use the toilet so I went back upstairs where the toilet was cleaner compared to the one open to the public in the mall. I was the only one in the toilet and I welcomed that privacy. The toilet was designed in such a way that when you stepped in you could see three sinks. On the right side was a row of cubicles. I remember all the of sinks were dry. I went into one of the cubicles to do my business and heard water running from the tap. That got me thinking: I didn’t hear anyone coming in and the cubicle doors were all opened. So who could it be? I thought that maybe it was someone else in the other cubicle that I didn’t notice earlier. The sound of running water stopped, and I waited for the sound of footsteps and the opening of the door, but there was nothing. “Wah, ta ma de,” I cursed under my breath. “Eh, now is not the time to play me leh.” But I was in the middle of doing my business so I couldn't really run away. No choice, I stayed there and finished what I needed to do. All the while I was listening for sounds of another person in the toilet. The tap turned on and off a few more times, as if the thing could read my thoughts. When I got out, I saw one of the sinks was wet. It even had soap suds around the basin. I washed my hands, didn’t even dare look into the mirror, and ran out of the toilet. When I told my colleagues about the incident, she said maybe it was the sensor “pai already” - faulty. I said, “ok lah, the tap can be sensor spoil, but what about the soap? That one is not sensor what?” To date, I never got a plausible explanation. I had to use that toilet many more times over the years, but not once did a similar incident occur again. But that wasn't the only toilet in the building that’s haunted. This incident was related to me by one of the tenants. It also took place during the 7th lunar month. She was working late doing stock take; the mall was already closed to the public by this time. She went to the toilet at basement two to wash her hands and when she looked up at the mirror, she saw a black shadowy figure that stayed behind her for a few seconds before zooming away and out of the toilet in a flash. In her mind, she tried to rationalize that maybe it was someone who was also working late. She went back to the work area and asked if anyone else had gone into the toilet after her but no one did. Th next story was told to me by the security guard on duty. When they were. A3 doing their rounds, it is common for them to have sightings at the basement levels. Old guards will tell the 3new guards to just ignore the spirits. There was a story that one new guard who was very on the ball, decided to chase what he thought he saw was a young girl walking around the mall after hours. He ran after her and saw her standing at one of the closed shutters of the shop. She turned to look at him, smiled, and walked right through the shutters. He quit that very day. According to the popular belief amongst people working in that building is that the mall was built atop a large cemetery and that even though the building management tried their best to appease the spirits, they still cannot clear everything. Over time, the living found ways to co-exist with the spirits. For the office buildings, it isn’t so bad because most people would leave in the evening. Most of the tales are just hearing sounds in the toilet. Dave De Souza, 40s My work requires me to travel very frequently, almost 2 to 3 weeks out of a month. I get a travel package with a budget for very decent hotels and I enjoy staying at boutique hotels more than the usual branded chains because they've got more character. Refurbished heritage hotels are my favorite. These days though, after a particular incident, I think twice about staying in such places.
I wouldn’t consider myself a believer. Which is why most times when I listen to your podcast, I’d say I’m actually on team superational. I believe there are things we don’t understand, and unless I actually come face to face with a ghost, it’s hard for me to feel the way you do about them. But that all changed at the end of last year. I won’t tell you which hotel it was but it is an old historical building that had a very posh makeover. They gave me the corner unit with a nice view. There was nothing much to do around the area after dark and I’m not a nightlife type of guy, so I drank my duty free whisky by the balcony before bed. I had a really vivid dream that night. I “woke up” in my dream seeing an elderly caucasian man in my room. He was standing in front of the balcony doors looking outside. I called out to him. Note that at this point I did not feel any fear, just a sense of utter sadness. I could tell he wanted something but when he spoke there was no sound. He walked through the cupboard and in the next scene I was in another room. He pointed to his diary on the dressing table and I walked over to read it. I sobbed myself awake. Cheeks and pillow all wet. I had been crying in my sleep. What was odd was that unlike other dreams where after waking, memories of them soon faded away, this time they remained. I remembered the musky woody smell, the content of the diary and beyond all of that I could feel a sharp pain in my gut. I somehow knew that the man in my dream had been murdered by poison and his death was agonizing. I checked the time and it was still early in the night, so I went back to bed and forced myself to go back to sleep. When I got up in the morning, the feeling still weighed heavily on my chest. I tried to retrace the steps from the dream - I stood in front of the balcony and then I went to the cupboard. Something compelled me to open the cupboard and check inside. Nothing out of the ordinary. I looked around the wall it was put against and just tapped around mindlessly, not knowing what to expect and realized the wall was made of wood. This was strange because old buildings were usually bricked up on all sides, and it seemed as if there was a partition erected to divide the room which was larger originally. I looked outside to see if there was another room beside mine, but there was none. As I said, mine was the corner unit. Structure wise, it looked like there was space for another room but none for doors. After breakfast, I went to chat with the proprietor of the hotel. He was actually surprised when I asked about its history. His demeanor changed when I described the old man I saw in my dreams. Apparently over the years, many people have seen the “Baron”, a nickname the hotel staff gave the man. It turned out that there was indeed another room beside mine but due to the high number of sightings and complaints, they have had to seal up that room. I described the room in my dream and the proprietor validated that my description was accurate. As the legend goes, this building belonged to two business partners, but when one of the partners passed away, the younger partner sold off the property to new owners and left. A few months later, he came back to beg the new owners to let him buy back the building. The new owners had other plans in mind and refused the offer. The man was desperate and kept spouting that it was a matter of life and death. The new owners did not relent. Two days later, the young man did not wake up from his sleep. I did not know how but I just knew then that the partner had poisoned the old man because he wanted to sell the property for a tidy profit but the old man did not want to. The proprietor laughed and said, ‘maybe’, but he was curious about how I knew because the legend was not public knowledge or on the internet. Only people who were related to the family knew of this. I then gave him more information about my dream. He shook his head and said that it was really uncanny because everything I said were things only a small select group of people would know. I asked about a diary but the proprietor did not know anything about it. By the time he had taken over, the property had changed hands a few times. That night before I went to bed, I wrote a note to Baron and left a glass of whiskey for him by the dresser. I said that I knew of his secret and I believed him. It had been way too long and perhaps it was time he tried to let go of the past. Whoever had done him wrong have long passed on. I did not know if that message went through but that night and the few nights after, I slept peacefully. On the day I left and was about to get into the cab, I looked up at my room again - out of instinct - and I thought I saw someone standing on my balcony looking at me. When I took a second look, the man was gone. So yes, Eugene, I think this time I might have actually come face to face with a ghost and I’m thankfully it wasn’t like most of the stories I heard on your channel. Eugene’s Note
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