Ghostly Encounters

GHOSTLY

ENCOUNTERS

JOE CONCEICAO

Copyright © 2014 by Joe Conceicao.

ISBN:                  Ebook                                 978-1-4828-9231-4

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CONTENTS

(1) Two Polongs

(2) To Catch A Pontianak

(3) The Maiden And The Devil Head

(4) Hantu At Chapel Road

(5) A Truly Haunted House

(6) Hantu Gala

(7) An Inflated Yarn

(8) The Triple Whammy

(9) The Durian Plantation

(10) Tangkal, The Magic Implant

(11) The Were-Tiger

(12) Toyol

(13) The Un-Haunted Apartment

(14) The Cat Jumped Over The Coffin

(15) Poltergeist

(16) The Good Man And The Devil

(17) The Maid’s Revenge

(18) Born With A Caul

(19) The Message Of The China Bowl

(20) The Evil Medium

(21) Ghost From The Ship

(22) Jonathan’s Hauntings

(23) Fairy From The Plantain Tree

(24) The Halfway House

(25) Hauntings From Phi-Lo

(26) Satanic Possession

(27) The Apparition In The Hospital Entry

(28) The Hauntings On Skeleton Island

(29) Ghost Story From The Philippines

(30) Magic And The Devil

(1)

TWO POLONGS

N o one seeing Kiai Surno would ever imagine that he was probably the greatest living dalang. Dalang implies expert. Kiai Surno was the greatest Wayang or shadow-play puppet-master in Java in his time. Actually Kiai meant preacher. But this Kiai dealt with something more than religion. The way he controlled the puppets seemed to give life to these leather carvings. It was simply a wonder to behold. But the Kiai enjoyed himself in his high-lighting especially of the wicked types and characters of the wayang stories. He found evil fascinating.

He went about his town of Solo, in his battered old Ford, although he could afford a more stylish vehicle if he wanted it. And he was always dressed in ordinary sarong and loose shirt. But he could, if he wanted to, also dress in a noble Javanese style. This was with fitting blouse and trim sarong written with the pattern allowed him by the Sultan. To complete this sartorial gear, a blankon (Javanese headdress) would rest firmly on his head. However he preferred dressing like ordinary people. He was a hypocrite out to impress people with put-on modesty.

Gossip had some eerie stories to tell about Kiai Surno. For example, it was rumoured that he was a master kris maker, an empu (craftsman) of outstanding merit. He shaped the wavy blade, it was said, by pinching with his fingers the beaten red-hot metal piece, just taken from the fiery furnace. The metal was precious because it had to contain a piece of some meteorite that had fallen to earth out of the sky. Kiai Surno breathed his own magic spirit into each weapon he shaped. Many gossiped that Kiai Surno was familiar with devilish spirits.

What was not too well known was that the Kiai was also a practitioner of the dark arts of black magic. Every time he wanted to summon up his evil magical energies he would choose an innocent woman to haunt her. The woman would dream of a dark male figure dressed in red sarong and black baju (blouse).

In a moment of her dream (or really nightmare) the baju would come alive with display of all sorts of beasts of prey, mostly wild dogs and tigers. They would seem to be trying to tear at the dreamer. The dark male’s red sarong would soon be bright red—with sticky blood flowing down the waist and legs. The man in the bad dream would raise a shiny, wicked-looking kris in front the victim’s eyes, which became wide with terror.

The woman would be shivering with fright and sweating profusely. At the same time she would feel attracted to the strange devilish figure. She even felt giddy. This was caused by the smell this figure exuded. The demon of the nightmare (who was really Kiai Surno) would touch the woman’s head with the kris. In this way he would suck out her partly willing spirit during the bad dream. If she resisted the wicked man’s evil attractions he would send a polong to punish her. Kiai Surno was a black-satanic arts magician who controlled polongs.

The village people knew of and dreaded the polong. A polong was a female head that had been severed and pulled out of its recently dead body, in such a way as to leave the guts dangling. The hanging guts would make a swishing sound as the polong hung from the treetops. The polong liked to suck the blood of a woman who was about to give birth, or who had just given birth. The creature, turned bloodthirsty by the kiai’s magic, would even attack a baby after its birth. But the villagers protected themselves from such a polong by surrounding their pondoks (native houses) with thorn plants.

When a village family head heard at night the sound like a devil cat screeching outside his house, he would smile grimly to himself. He knew it was a polong that had tried to gain entry, but had its hanging guts painfully entangled among the thorns. The polong was screaming in pain over its torn entrails.

After that encounter, that particular polong would have to go back to its treetop den or to its master. It would need a whole bowl of vinegar to soak its torn entrails in. The curing would be as painful as the wounding. At night, the kampong people would sometimes hear a screech of a ghostly creature in severe suffering. The polong would never return to that particular household which it had tried to attack with its haunting.

What most villagers did not know was that there was another, more evil and horribly destructive kind of polong. The Kiai controlled this devil too. This frightening, real sial or bad-luck creature was only one inch long. The black magician first obtained the blood of a murdered man. If no convenient body were found, the Kiai would murder somebody himself.

He would drain the blood out of the corpse of the murdered man. He would then deposit some of the blood in a container, like a bottle or a jar. Black magic man would prefer a bottle, as it was transparent, and the sorcerer could see what he was doing. Kiai Surno would chant obscene magic verses, of which he had many, over the ghastly blood in the transparent phial or bottle. He would occasionally tip the phial and taste the blood. Sometimes he would smack his lips in satisfaction.

The kiai would swing his head round and round, and his eyes would pop out as if they would jump out of their sockets. This would be frightening to anybody who could see him. The kiai would go through this grisly rite every day. Then there would slowly appear a female grasshopper—and in its long hairy legs it would hold a tiny creature that, in all appearances except size, looked exactly like a human female.

Kiai Surno would prick his finger and lower the bloody finger into the container and give this species of polong (for that was what the tiny figure was also called) to suck the blood. Receiving such nourishment, the polong would throw off the grip of the grasshopper. It would leap out of the bottle or whatever held it and settle on the hand of its creator, the polong-master. The grasshopper or cricket would remain in the bottle.

The cricket became the polong’s slave, as the polong was the slave of the kiai. The cricket would be ordered to enter the body of anybody who had earned the kiai’s disfavour. The cricket would bore a small hole in the flesh of its victim. However, the hole the cricket made would be just what the polong needed and desired. The tiny polong would enter this hole, and inhabit the victim’s body, until the victim sickened and died, if no cure were found.

The Kiai also practised the art of curing according to the deluded beliefs of the central Javanese countryside. He was seen as the master curer. He worked cures on those who would pay him handsomely. If he did not like a particular victim he would cause him or her to die. When the Kiai was called in, he would cut his finger with great ceremony, and utter his magic verses. He would know where the polong had entered the victim, and thus induce the obedient creature to come out. Its master’s blood was the most precious drink to the polong.

Thus when a person would be cured, the reputation of the Kiai would spread. He would become famous and rich. In this way he exploited the villages around and the innocent people. And all were ignorant that they were being taken advantage of, and were being milked so that an unscrupulous and cruel individual could benefit greatly.

Nobody on earth could see through the tough, hypocritical disguise under which Kiai Surno hid completely. But the poor people felt really their poverty and sufferings. This feeling reached into the spiritual regions that the true Javanese wayang dealt with so dramatically. One day the Kiai received a visitor. The newcomer had come to the kabupaten, or regency in which Surno had his permanent residence. The head of regency was called Bupati.

This caller was a person of unusual physical appearance. His western garb of a full suit, of a dark almost black colour, did not hide the visitor’s immense obesity. On the contrary it even stressed it. His prominent buttocks pulled at his loose trousers. His fleshy chest wobbled comically beneath his coat. No one could discern how fitting or descriptive this strange gentleman’s name could be. It was Ponorodjo, and it meant king of wisdom or clarity.

His servant, whom he treated in a familiar way like a son, accompanied Ponorodjo. Just as Pak (respectable) Pono was fat, his servant was lean, and with a long nose to set off against his master’s, which was snub and short. The servant, Petrus, wore a black waistcoat and a colourful sarong. Together both master and servant looked clownish.

When Kiai Surno heard about the new personality who had come to Solo, he resolved to get an introduction to Pak Pono. The Bupati showed such regard for this visitor. So the Kiai wanted to meet him. The visitor was one who even appeared friendly with such an exalted personage as the susuhunan (sultan). The Bupati was induced to invite the Kiai to a friendly dinner where both Pak Pono and his faithful attendant, Petrus, would also be present.

Pak Pono and Petrus accepted the invitation, but said they would prefer if it started late. And so the guests arrived at the Bupati’s residence at an hour when most early-dining towns-people or villagers around would be finishing their meal, and even preparing for bed. This would be so, of course, unless there was a wayang (puppet shadow-play) performance, in which case most of the people would be moving in and about at the popular performance. But on the night of the Bupati’s dinner there was no wayang in town or nearby villages.

When Pak Pono and Petrus arrived at the dinner they were dressed formally out of respect for their host. Petrus was dressed the same way as when he first arrived in Solo. But Pak Pono wore a Javanese style coat, and a sarong of four symbolic colours. White signified virtue, namely total absence of desire; the other colours reflected the awareness of sins of lust, laziness and greed. If, noticing such symbols in Pak Pono’s clothing, the Bupati and Surno expected the guests to look grave and serious, they were wrong.

Pak Pono was the life and soul of the party. He ate and drank merrily. He regaled the company with jokes, some on the crude side. He almost broke up with laughter when he recounted an oft-repeated joke. The droll account was of how a person called Habib felt embarassed one occasion after he passed wind in company, after a full and enjoyable meal. The food had contained a liberal amount of garlic.

This Habib tried to get out of his embarrassing situation by pointing at his neighbour. At this juncture Pak Pono himself guffawed and farted loudly and pointed at Kiai Surno. Surno laughed feebly. Thereon he came to the conclusion that the rich, coarse and mindless noble (who he thought Pono was) should be an easy next victim. Surno felt a deep contempt for the people at the party. He felt they were in a weak mental state. On the other hand, Pak Pono felt that this was the arrogant attitude he wanted Surno to be take on. Surno’s pride would be his fall.

The little party broke up at about midnight. As host and guests were taking leave of each other, Surno surreptitiously took out the small phial he always carried hidden on his person. He whispered an instruction to the devils in the bottle. And the demon-insect scuttled down Surno’s clothes while the fiendish imp remained to creep into his master’s pocket.

The cricket made for Petrus. Surno thought that if Petrus were infected with the bloodsucker, his lord Pono would pay heavily to get his servant cured. For Pono regarded Petrus as his brother. The cricket reached Petrus and leaped on his leg. The insect was about to climb up Petrus’ leg, when it felt some strange power that paralysed it, and rendered it stuck to where it was. The kiai was alarmed to hear frantic screeches coming from his creature. But Petrus bent down and picked the insect now struggling less and less.

What is that? The kiai asked, as if he did not know. Pak Ponorodjo answered. That’s the end of your magic. And he laughed as he crushed with his heavy shoes the insect that Petrus had thrown at his feet. The kiai gave an agonised wail of frustration. And his angry cry was echoed by a scream from inside his pocket.

Kiai Surno waved his arms in front of his face, and muttered magic words that seemed to reverberate to the depths of hell. A hissing sound issued from his mouth as he turned rapidly into a venomous snake. Pak Ponorodjo simply ambled with his awkward, heavy stride towards the reptile from the satanic regions. As he did so his body was surrounded by a rainbow-like glow. When the snake struck, it was immediately turned back into the kiai.

The kiai transformed himself into a snake again. This time the vicious reptile attacked Petrus, who was standing by as if not knowing what to do. As the snake slithered towards the gangling youth who was retreating before this menace, Petrus suddenly stopped his retreat. He bent down swiftly, scooped some soil with his left hand and threw it at the snake. The snake seemed dazzled and blinded by the sparkler effect that the sand appeared to have. It suddenly felt itself grabbed by the tail.

Kiai Surno felt the wind whistling about his ears as he was whirled through the air until he hit a tree-trunk. He slid down the tree and found himself sitting among its roots. He felt himself robbed of his magic powers. He still had the imp though. It had gnawed through his pocket, and was gnawing through his skin. The kiai screamed as he tried to pluck the polong sucking at his breast.

The kiai ran yelping and moaning as the little polong continued to bite, trying to find a proper tooth-hold so that it could suck well the kiai’s blood. Try as he might the kiai could not brush off his small tormentor. The polong, as soon as it lost one tooth-hold, quickly found another. By the time the exhausted kiai reached his pondok he had been weakened from loss of blood.

The next morning the village’s inhabitants found the kiai dead in his pondok. His body looked thin and pale, as if all the blood had been sucked out of him. What frightened those in charge of disposing the kiai’s body was seeing the kiai’s mouth opening and closing, emitting a fearful odour. But it was only a little creature emerging from the bad-smelling orifice.

The blood-filled creature was unlike anything anybody could recognise. As soon as it reached the outside of the kiai’s mouth, this bloated creature became even more swollen, until it burst, spilling dirty blood all over the kiai’s face, causing a worse odour and disfiguring it more and making it unrecognisable as a human face. The undertaker’s party shrunk away in disgust. They shovelled sand on to the dead man’s face. They shovelled the corpse into a box that they had called for. They managed to bury it as far as possible from the village.

(2)

TO CATCH A PONTIANAK

N arso was Javanese. He was the driver for the manager of the Ladang Itam, or Black Pepper, rubber estate in north Johore near the Negri Sembilan border. A British company had owned the estate. Communists towards the end of the emergency had killed its previous manager. It was unfortunate that he should have suffered that fate just when bad times were about to be over.

He happened to have had a wife in England who did not seem to have cared very much for her absent planter husband. She got his property in a beautiful part of Derbyshire. But he had also a Malay wife who was pregnant when her husband, whom she had married according to Malay custom, was killed. She also died as a result, it was said, of her sorrow over her husband’s death.

Narso had been the driver for the new European planter, Haldon. It was he who had persuaded Wati to meet and marry Haldon. Haldon trusted him so. Now Narso drove for Mr Chen, the new manager. Albert Chen soon discovered why Haldon had trusted Narso so much. Narso knew the estate inside out. He could also advise on the workers, and especially he understood all the quirks of the office staff.

Narso was a mysterious person. The Japanese had brought him as a slave labourer to Singapore during the war. Somehow or other Narso escaped from his prison camp for labourers, manned by the Japanese. Most of the other labourers who remained died of starvation or sickness.

Narso’s camp had been situated in Seletar, which is north of Singapore. The Javanese labourers were brought every day to the naval base, where they were given the most menial tasks—scrubbing and sweeping. But Narso impressed the Japanese overseers by the quiet way he went about work assigned to him. He became personal servant to a Japanese naval officer.

When Narso’s boss sailed away, Narso knew he would not come back. Perhaps the naval officer somehow conveyed to Narso his own resignation that he was going to die at sea. British and American submarines infested the sea routes the Japanese boats took. Narso did not wait. He escaped by swimming across the Tebrau Straits, from the naval base in Singapore to Johore.

Narso had survived in the jungle on the edges of Malay kampongs. He dared not show himself in case the Japanese caught him. He got whatever help some caring family gave him, but dared not stay