The Grumpy Housemate

Confession by Karl

As my parents got on in age, I moved back to Singapore to be closer to them. My dad is suffering from diabetes, high blood pressure and high cholesterol. My mum tries to make him eat right, but dad is a stubborn man who loves his drinks and sio bak. My younger sister is already married, with two kids, so it is up to me to take care of my parents. My family isn't very rich, but my dad had worked very hard during those years as a taxi driver and paid for my university fees. I stayed on in Perth after graduating and worked there for most of my adult life. My sister stayed with them till she moved out in her late 20s. I feel obligated and responsible to take over the duties now. 

So, the first thing I did was to find a resale flat near my folks. As it turned out, there was an empty unit opposite my parent’s flat. It's been vacant for years. I couldn’t believe my luck. The location was perfect. From my parents living room, it’s in direct line of sight to the other unit. I took it that the universe was reserving this unit for me; it didn’t occur to me then why no one wanted to buy or rent that unit. I had to find out for myself.

I got in touch with the agent who was surprised I enquired specifically about the unit, and even more surprised that I was keen to close the purchase. But she told me to slow down first and go take a look at the place. So I met her the next day and we went down to look at the place. The interior deco was very dated. Marble flooring and yellowed cornice. I was already thinking how much hacking I would have to do and the cost involved, but still, the location is really hard to give up on. 

The agent was less enthusiastic about the sale than I was, but we eventually closed the deal anyway. I asked belatedly about the previous owner and why they didn’t try to sell the place. The agent told me this unit had switched hands many times. The last owners, a retired couple, moved over to JB to live. They put the unit out for rent, but it’s probably due to the lack of amenities or a nearby MRT that made this place unattractive for rental tenants. It sounded very logical so I bought that.

After doing the necessary paperwork for purchase, and about a month of renovation work, I was finally ready to move my belongings into my new home.

The next day when I got to the house, the place smelled rank and musky, but I couldn’t find the source. I blamed it on the old piping and probably the cheap paint the contract used to save cost. My night lamp was no longer on my side table; it was now lying in a heap of broken pieces in the other end of the room. The fresh coat of white paint had turned yellow, and stains were starting to show through some of the places. The contract had hell from me that day.

That night when I was sleeping, I dreamed of an old man standing at the doorway of my room. He stood there screaming; his jaws unnaturally elongated. In my dream I kept asking it to get out, but the more I yelled at it the angrier it got. That’s all there is to that dream. I don’t remember head or tail, just this part of the dream, but every night after that day, I had the same dream, but each time it got closer and closer. Eventually by the end of the second week, I would wake in my dream to find the old man standing over me, strangling me.

Despite my best efforts, the paint wasn’t sticking to the wall. Patches of yellow would seep right through. I had used a primer, I had two layers of undercoat, nothing worked. My initial excitement was replaced by annoyance, 

I bumped into my next door neighbor in the lift on my way home one evening and we got to chatting. Boon had been staying there for over thirty years.

“How’s the house?” Boon asked. 

“That’s the first thing everyone asks when they see me?” I replied. “Just now I was at the mamak shop downstairs, and the shopkeeper asked me the same question.”

Boon went on to tell me about the rumors he had heard about the place from previous owners and he was curious to know if they were true. 

I asked him what rumors were they and he said that there’s the spirit of the previous owner, many years ago that wouldn’t leave the place. In fact, sometimes you can even smell the stale cigarette smell when he’s around. 

Then it all started to click. The dreams, the smell. Fuck lah, my house was haunted.

Through a common friend, I managed to invite a Buddhist shifu to help me cleanse the place. He didn’t come alone, he had a handful of assistants to help with the preparations and chanting of mantras.

The candle flames kept going off despite the widows being all closed and the room was stuffy as hell. And I saw this with my own eyes ok, the food offering were scattered and the packet drink burst open. Seriously, I wouldn’t have believed it if someone had told me, but this one happened right before my eyes. The shifu said that the spirit had rejected the offerings.

No shit, Sherlock.

The shifu said it was enough for the day and he would come back again the following day. That night I stayed at my parents place, and from there, I saw my room light turning on by itself, and then turned off again. This kept on going at different intervals till about 1am.

After a few more sessions, the shifu said that he managed to negotiate a “peace treaty” with the spirit of the home. I’m advised to play mantra throughout the day when I’m not at home and to gift the spirit with compassion and merits.

Seeing not much of a choice, I did as the shifu advised. Eventually the haunting got less and less, until about year later, I had one final dream of the old man. This time there was no angry yelling. He just smiled at me and patted me on my chest. I knew then that his spirit had moved on, and a part of me was sad. We had been housemates for over a year, but I’m also glad that he’s no longer stuck.

That weekend my unit number came out first prize.

But unfortunately, I didn’t buy the number.

​