The flat in Block 14B is listed as vacant, but
the app shows it’s occupied. A digital nomad
from Penang signs a lease, unaware of the ghost
stories that linger in the concrete. The walls
hum with static, and the fridge door opens on
its own. She finds a faded photo of a man in a
white Tshirt, eyes hollow, standing in the same
spot where she now sleeps.
The flat’s previous tenant was a local Ah Beng
who disappeared after a feud. His name is etched
into the wall behind the toilet, scratched deep
with a knife. The woman notices the pattern of
the scratches matches a tattoo she once saw on a
street vendor’s arm—part of a gang symbol no
longer active. She tries to delete the photo,
but it reappears each morning, the man’s face
more defined.
She downloads a local folklore app, which warns
of "HDB ghosts"—spirits trapped by unresolved
trauma. The app’s algorithm flags her location
as a highrisk zone. She calls the estate office,
but the line goes dead. The building’s
maintenance staff vanish overnight. Her internet
cuts out, and the lights flicker in time with
her heartbeat.
In the kitchen, she finds a jar of preserved
tamarind under the sink. Inside, a note written
in old Singlish: “Don’t trust the flat. He’s
still here.” The tamarind is sour, but the jar
is sealed. She opens it, and the air turns cold.
The man from the photo appears in the mirror,
his mouth moving without sound. She backs into
the wall, and the door locks.
The next day, she finds a new message on her
phone: “He wants you to finish what he started.”
She realizes the curse is tied to the flat’s
original owner, a gangster who died during the
1960s riots. His spirit lingers, waiting for
someone to break the cycle. She searches for his
name in old newspapers, finds a record of his
death, and writes a short story about him. The
flat’s power surges, and the man’s image
dissolves into smoke.
The next morning, the flat is empty. The lease
is canceled. No one remembers the gangster’s
name. The woman moves out, but the tamarind jar
remains on the shelf. She never sees the man
again, but sometimes, when the wind blows
through the estate, she hears his laugh echo
from the void between the blocks.
