Ronnie's Room

Location: Chartwell.

My family and I love the area around Serangoon Gardens. Our first home was a HDB apartment along Yio Chu Kang, then we shifted to a condo nearby and eventually to a house in Chartwell. This is my parents' dream home. They had worked hard their entire life to provide the best for my two sisters and I, and this is their retirement nest.

One second sister is married and doesn't live with us. My youngest sister is studying in the UK and comes back only once a year during CNY. I’m the eldest in the family and also the one responsible for taking care of family matters and the business. So in part, I’m guilty of choosing this place.

When we first viewed the place, we immediately fell in love with it. The previous owner had taken good care of the house and we felt renovation wise would not cost too much. The location was splendid. We didn’t check on the background or asked questions - not the kind that mattered, supernaturally speaking. People don’t normally ask questions like “Is the place haunted?”.

My parents took the second level because it’s easier for them to go up and down the stairs. I’ve got the top most level which is also the largest with a sloping roof.

My room is constantly cold, even though logically speaking, the uppermost level should be the warmest. Another thing I noticed was a very strong scent of koyak. You know, the ointment patch you use for muscle pull or aches? A strong medicated smell.

It came and went. I tried to look for the source but couldn’t pin it down to any location. The thing is, the scent moves about but only around the third level.

Some other odd occurrences were minor poltergeist activities - Spotify changing channel, pen rolling off bed, lights going on and off on their own. Nothing life threatening. Once, the letter “R” was written on the fogged up mirror. My bathroom door was locked and no one else was in it other than me. That, I totally can’t explain. It was clear, not faded lettering, as if somebody had written it with a finger. But who the hell did that finger belong to?

But all things considered, these were minor spooks. I learned to live with them. If I’m in my room it’s mainly for gaming and sleeping.

My helpers weren't so lucky.

In the period of 10 months, we had a change of maid twice. Both would rather leave and accept penalties. It was only after we got our third maid that we finally had answers.

The new maid had the third eye. Probably more. She could communicate with the spirit. First day she came, she actually asked about my grandfather and if he needed anything, because she saw him standing on the third floor in a parapet just staring at her grumpily. She went “ah” when I told her that I am the only one staying up there.

One day I saw her talking to herself on the staircase landing between the two floors. Initially I assumed she was on a phone call and was on her ear piece. But just as I was about to walk past her; she held me back and said, “Wait”.

I just waited. Again, thinking nothing more. Maybe she wanted to let the floor dry or to clear stuff.

Then I saw it for myself, the family photograph toppled forward and off the table.

“Do you believe in ghosts, sir?” She asked me.

That caught me by surprise. “Yeah I suppose so”.

“Because your room got ghost, sir” she said.

From her I found out that the ghost was called Ronnie and he had been the first owner of this home. He loved this place and had planted the tree in the front yard. She provided a lot more answers. Later on when I investigated and verified, they all turned out to be true.

But more importantly right now I needed to know what to do with this ghost in my room.

She said that Ronnie was waiting for his family to come back. And he didn't want us here nor me in his room. Very noisy.

I told her to tell him that there’s nothing I can do. This is our house now. His family, I assumed the previous owners were his children, had already sold the place to us.

Then, according to my helper, Ronnie started crying. She looked at me. I shrugged at her.

“Can he stay here?”
“No!”
“He got no place to go.”
“Not my problem.”
“He just wants his family”

Sigh.

So through the agent who sold us the place, we managed to get in touch with the previous owners and told them what I knew about Ronnie.

Apparently some of the things I knew were intimate details that only a family member would know. Like Ronnie’s cause of death, or the pencil lead scar in his granddaughter’s thigh from a pencil accident.

Eventually they came over one day with a priest in tow to conduct a ritual and reunite Ronnie and his family.
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I picked a day my own family weren’t around for this. I had no desire to explain to them any of this or that their dream home was once haunted.

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