In 1952, a superstitious auntie named Mei Lin
lives in a kampong near the old Kallang Airport,
where the air still smells of burnt rubber and
war. Her nephew, Liang, is called up for
National Service, and she clings to old rituals
to protect him. She keeps a rusted tin box under
her bed, filled with charms and relics from the
Japanese Occupation—items passed down by her
mother, who died in a bombing raid.
One night, Mei Lin dreams of a woman in a red
sash, whispering about a lost artifact buried
beneath the ruins of a British barracks. The
next morning, she finds a map etched into the
back of an old Malay kampung newspaper. The
symbol matches one on her tin box. She decides
to search the site, ignoring warnings from
neighbors about the place being cursed.
Liang returns from camp with a new scar and a
quiet bitterness. He doesn’t know his aunt has
been digging at the site. Mei Lin unearths a
jade pendant, its surface carved with the same
emblem as the newspaper. But the moment she
touches it, the ground shakes. A hidden tunnel
opens, revealing a chamber filled with human
bones and a faded British flag. The pendant
glows faintly, as if alive.
That night, Liang hears whispers in his dorm. He
sees a ghostly figure in the mirror, wearing a
red sash. Mei Lin begins to sleepwalk, muttering
in Malay. The artifact seems to draw spirits
from the past—British soldiers, Japanese
officers, Chinese rebels—all trapped in the era
when Singapore changed hands.
A rule emerges: the artifact cannot be moved
from the site, or the spirits will claim the
living. Another rule: only someone with blood
from both pre and postwar generations can
contain it. Mei Lin, born just after the war, is
the only one who fits.
She burns the pendant in the open air, watching
the flames turn blue. The spirits fade. The
tunnel collapses. The artifact is gone.
Liang, now home on leave, finds his aunt sitting
quietly by the river, her hands stained with
soot. She doesn’t speak of what happened. But he
knows the war hasn’t ended—it’s just buried
deeper.
