The HDB block shudders at midnight. Lights

flicker. Residents whisper of a ghost that walks

the stairwells, leaving no trace but cold air

and faint Singlish curses.

The Grab driver’s app glitches. Route updates

reroute him to a deadend alley. His passenger, a

pale man in a motheaten suit, vanishes midride.

The app logs the trip as canceled.

He finds a torn photo in his car: a 1950sera

hawker stall, his grandfather standing behind

the counter. The date is 1948 — before the man

was born.

The estate committee bans all nighttime rides.

He ignores the warning. A child’s voice calls

from the lift shaft. He turns, sees nothing. The

next day, his phone receives a message: “You’re

next.”

He traces the number to a defunct landline in

the old kampong. The operator answers with

static. A woman’s voice says, “You don’t belong

here.”

He visits the old hawker centre, now a carpark.

A vendor recognizes his face. “You look like him,

” she says. “The one who took the last meal

before the fire.”

The ghost appears in his mirror. It mimics his

movements. He slams the door. The next morning,

his car is parked outside the estate, engine

running, keys inside.

He discovers a hidden room beneath the HDB. A

shrine built by his grandfather, who once sold

food to resistance fighters. The walls are

covered in names. His own is scratched into the

floor.

The ghost materializes. It speaks in a mix of

Malay, Teochew, and English. “You think you’re

saving them. But you’re just repeating the cycle.

”

He refuses to leave. The ghost fades, but the

estate begins to crumble. Residents evacuate.

The government declares it a disaster zone.

His app reboots. A new ride request appears:

“Take me home.” The destination is the old

kampong. He accepts.

The car drives itself. The road ahead is gone.

The screen flashes: “Destination unreachable.

Try again.”

He hits the brakes. The screen goes black. A

single line appears: “You’re safe now.”

The HDB block is rebuilt. New tenants move in.

No one remembers the ghost. But the driver keeps

the photo. He never takes night rides again.