The HDB flats hum with static. Power cuts last
hours. Water flows only twice a week. The old
man’s ghost lingers in Unit 12B, where he died
waiting for a repair.
The grab driver’s phone buzzes. A lottery win—
$30,000. He smiles, but the app freezes. A voice
whispers, “You owe.”
He recalls the night his father vanished. No
warning. No body. Only a note: “Tell the others.
”
The flat’s walls bleed ink. The ghost
materialises, faceless, pointing at the driver’s
chest. A contract appears—written in blood. A
debt from 1978.
He refuses. The ghost vanishes, but the power
fails. His phone dies. The building darkens.
In the blackout, he finds his father’s photo in
a drawer. A name: Ah Meng. A address: Kampong
Bahru.
He drives through the old town, past shuttered
shops and burning trash. The ghost reappears,
now with a face—his own.
A shrine stands in the ruins. He lights incense.
The ghost speaks: “You are the heir.”
The lottery money vanishes. A new message: “Pay
in blood.”
He returns to the HDB, finds the ghost’s
daughter—a child with no eyes. She hands him a
knife. “Cut your palm.”
He obeys. The flat fills with light. The ghost
smiles. “You are free.”
The next morning, the power is back. The lottery
win is gone. But the flat is clean. The walls no
longer bleed.
He drives again. The city still cracks, but the
ghosts are quieter.
The child’s voice lingers in his head: “You are
the heir.”
