The Old Wall Clock

I had a possessed old wall clock. It would function normally but whence came midnight, it would stop. All I had to do was push the pendulum to swing and it would work again - until come midnight, of course.

At first I thought it could be the positions of the hands at midnight that could be brushing on each other, causing friction, hence the jam. But then, at midday when the mechanism worked exactly like it would at midnight, the clock never stopped.

I was puzzled so I decided to send the clock to my friend, Mohammed, who is a very skillful watch repairman. After a day, Mohammed rang me up and advised me to take the clock back. "A strange thing happened," he said. "The clock, upon midnight, started to 'ding-dong non stop'". Those were his exact words. He had to manually stop the pendulum from swinging, to stop the clanging. Obviously, I was tickled.

At the shop, Mohammed was looking tired and a little spooked. He said in Malay, "Jam kau masuk hantu, lah" - (Your clock is possessed by an evil spirit) He told me to throw it away but I couldn't, it was my late father's favourite clock. I remember the day my father brought this clock home. He was so proud of it. He hung it on the wall and dusted it everyday. He would wind it every month without fail. He never let the clock stop, not even once.

Once, when he was sick and lying in bed, he made my mother take care of the clock as if it were a living thing. We, my family, found it peculiar that he was totally devoted to the clock.

Although tickled, I felt uneasy after what Mohammed told me about the clock being possessed that I left it unused for a couple of days. During those couple of days, I couldn't sleep very well. I kept dreaming of a giant with a huge club pounding on an enormous gong which gave me terrible headaches.

I decided, then, to take the clock to a "bomoh" (physic). I knew my dreams were related to the clock for obvious reasons – the gong.

The physic was a very old and frail woman – somehow, they always are – who possessed powerful spiritual magic. She handled the clock carefully, then mumbled some unintelligible verses. She looked at me and said indeed the clock was possessed and the spirit, a Jinn, that was trapped inside was very angry.

I asked her how the spirit got inside in the first place. She replied that it was put in there by my late father to grant him special favours. And, in return, the spirit must be fed, and the clock, cleaned. My father did all that as a ritual but when he died, we, didn't carry on the care. The Jinn was neglected and was hungry and angry.

In retrospect, I do remember good things started to happen after the clock was bought. My father got a raise, my sister who was unable to bear children, gave birth to a baby girl - everyone was surprised, even the doctors. Yes, it's true, many good things did happen until my father died 5 years ago.

Maybe the Jinn's resentment had something to do with my wife's miscarriage 4 months ago. I don't want to find out.

I left the clock with the "bomoh". I didn't want to have anything to do with it anymore. The memory of my father will come from my head and not from the clock.

Ali Osman, 35
Security Guard - 24 Apr 2003

Evil Omar
The year was 1955. A year after their marriage, my parents immigrated to Malaysia from India. Traveling by sea was the only mode they could afford. It was also a good way to make acquaintances. My mother, only 17 years old then, was pregnant with her first child – me. My father, then a young man of 25, was a labourer in India and was hoping to find a better job in Malaysia.

On the ship, they met a kind hearted man who was in his 60’s. He was a frequent traveler to Malaysia and Singapore. They all got along very well, he had also offered to introduce my parents to a Malay family in Penang, Malaysia. He said that they were kind and surely would not mind my parents staying in one of their spare rooms. He would also help my father get a job. His name was Samy but he preferred to be called Jaffar.

Once in Penang, Jaffar introduced my parents to a man named Omar. Omar owned a flour and spice manufacturing business. Jaffar served Omar by buying spices and lentil seeds for him on his trips to India. Jaffar was very fond of my father and had planned to speak to Omar about a job for him.

When they finally met, Omar greeted my father, then complimented on how beautiful my mother looked. My parents were discomfited by Omar's bold remark, but being young and traditional in upbringing, they didn't criticise.

Omar drove Jaffar and my parents to the house of the Malay family and left. There were 4 of them in the family, the head of the house was Syed. He had a pretty wife, Tipah and two daughters, Hasnah and Norma. Tipah immediately took a liking to my mother and cared for her just like one of her own daughters. My father too was well liked by the family.

After having traveled for more than two weeks on a slow, old ship, my parents slept peacefully throughout the night on the cozy warm bed. Jafar slept in Syed's old wooden bunk bed.

In the morning, Omar came to the house and paid Jaffar a visit; they had planned to go somewhere to talk business. Omar suggested that my father came along. My mother objected with a front of unhappiness. She is a very good judge of character, and immediately sensed Omar’s ulterior motives. My father, being an obliging man, thought it would be impolite to reject the invitation. Despite my mother’s objections, he went ahead and joined them.

Along the way, Omar talked to my father about working for him. He planned for my father to go with Jaffar to India every month or so to scout for cheaper and better spices. My father felt exalted by Omar’s faith in him.

When he returned home, he told my mother about Omar's plans to include him as a business associate just like Jaffa. My mother was furious and it led to a big argument. My father refused to accept her rationale about how Omar looked at her in a deprave way whenever he saw her. He disregarded her sentiment altogether and went ahead to work for Omar.

Omar, being also close to Syed and his family, visited them often. But, more often now since my mother was there. My father was, of course, indebted to Omar for the job and trust in him that he became too blind to realise what Omar was up to.

One day, my father had to leave for India, it was to be a long trip – three weeks was planned. He would go to Jaipur with Jaffar and thereafter to Madras. Jaffar would stay in jaipur for longer.
The weeks when my father was away, my mother had to rely on Omar for information with regards to my father. She had to hide her personal disgust for him and treated him with formal respect.

Omar was a cunning and manipulative man. He had his ways to get what he wanted — he wanted my mother.

He visited her everyday, showing great concern for her and the unborn child. He would spend money on her - buying food, gifts and take her to the clinic whenever needed. He extended similar generosity to Syed and his family too but Syed was skeptical of Omar’s newly acquired personality, for he knew Omar was a miser. Syed suspected he was up to no good and cautioned my mother not to trust him. It was too late, though. My mother was always strong willed, but mysteriously, she succumbed rather easily to Omar's deceptive actions. She became fond of him — too fond of him.

Three weeks had passed yet there was no news about my father or Jaffar. That didn’t seem to bother my mother at all. Syed was noticeably concerned. He asked Omar one day, when Omar came to the house, of my father’s return but Omar simply blamed it on a delay in Madras which he said was beyond his control. Syed, feeling responsible for my mother's wellbeing, expressed his disapproval to Omar’s frequent visits to see her. Omar was offended by Syed's comments and that let to an argument which left Omar furious. He left the house cursing.

Omar had not returned to the house for two days. On the third day, Syed’s first daughter, Hasnah, fell very ill. She was vomiting blood and screaming, hysterically, in pain. It didn’t take Syed too long to figure out what had happened. He took her to a bomoh (witch doctor) immediately. The bomoh told him that she was being possessed by a powerful evil spirit and that her life was in grave danger. The bomoh, admitting he was not knowledgeable enough to remove the powerful hex, recommended they went to Perak to see a very powerful medium. Syed also asked the bomoh about my mother's condition and wanted some help. The bomoh gave him a herbal mixture for my mother.

Tipah made soup, poured the herbal concoction in it and served it to my mother at dinner. After drinking it, my mother became nauseous and vomited. To the shock and horror of everyone present, they saw tiny nails in the contents of her vomit.

My mother was ill for two days afterwards. The disgust for Omar returned and she started getting worried again about my father. There was no other alternative but to face Omar once again if she wanted information on my father's whereabouts. My mother, along with Syed, took a taxi to Omar’s house but he wasn’t home so they went to his factory. What awaited them there, was the biggest surprise – my father.

He had not gone to India at all. Omar had lied and had made him work at the factory as a slave. When my father saw my mother, he didn’t show any sign of recognition of her. He was, literally, a zombie. He just stared at her blankly. The whole ordeal was too much for her to handle that she fainted into Syed's arms. My father, unimpressed, turned away and carried on working. Syed put my mother into the taxi and rushed to my father. He shook my father by the shoulders but my father was lifeless. He stared expressionless at Syed. Syed pulled him away from the machine he was working on to take him home but he wouldn't budge. There was nothing else Syed could do, so he returned home with my mother.

They visited the bomoh again the next evening and attained a concoction for my father to drink. Getting him to drink it would mean a likely confrontation with Omar. Syed advised my mother to stay home while he went with a friend, Ahmin, to see my father.
At the factory, he saw Omar and charged at him. Omar and Syed engaged in a violent fight — if not for Ahmin’s intervention, Omar would have perished for Syed’s rage was uncontrollable.
Omar’s three workers, including my father, just stood and watched the incident unmoved. Omar knelt before Syed, crying and pleading for forgiveness but Syed kicked him away and warned him that should his daughter’s condition worsened, he would kill him. Syed and Ahmin then grabbed my father and brought him home.

The next day, Syed, together with Ahmin and Hasnah, made their way to Perak. After some days of travel they came across a remote village. There were no motorized vehicles; only bullock carts, so they hired one to take them to the medium’s house.

The house was a very simple and basic wooden structure with straw rooftop. The medium was an old man in his eighties. He welcomed them in and, without being enlightened on the situation at hand, told them not to worry for all will be fine.

He was indeed a powerful medium, thought Syed, for Hasnah was showing signs of normalcy immediately upon entering his house. He was a man who could talk to, and see, spirits. He told Syed that the spirit which was possessing Hasnah was standing outside the house; it couldn’t come in. That explained Hasnah’s sudden recovery.

The medium then went outside, did some chanting, and splashed water around the perimeter of his house. He gave Syed two talismans; one for Hasnah and the other for my mother.

Syed asked the medium how he knew about my mother's condition. He smiled and said that someone was trying to win her over with black magic and he wasn't going to stop trying. Therefore, she should wear the talisman always.

The medium was indeed a very powerful seer. When Syed asked him about my father, he shook his head in sadness and said he couldn't do much for him, for his soul was missing. That was a heart wrenching news for Syed and Hasnah for they knew it would devastate my mother.

Syed was happy to see his daughter recover and he would pay the medium anything he wanted but all he asked for was a simple favour. He gave Syed a bundled cloth and told him to burry it by a banana tree somewhere behind the house. Syed did as he was told without questioning, then gave him 25 ringgit as a token of appreciation.

Meanwhile back at Syed’s home: three days had passed after drinking the concoction given by the bomoh, my father still showed no improvement. My mother and Tipah took him to the hospital but he still remained a zombie.

Syed’s return showed promise for peace for his family but not for my mother, for my father died four days later. My mother was so distraught and fell into depression. Had it not been for the talisman protecting her, she would have committed suicide. And, I wouldn't exist today.

The eeriest thing about the whole event was the recovery of a doll. It was a muddy looking doll made of sticks and cloth. There were some Arabic words written on the cloth. Part of what was written was my father’s name! The doll was apparently dropped somewhere in the bushes in front of Syed’s house. The doll’s limbs were bound very tightly so as to render the represented person a prisoner - a zombie. If only they had found the doll sooner, I think they could have saved my father's life.

I was born on 15th March 1956. Wasn’t born healthy though, I had yellow fever and a weak heart. I had given the doctors at the hospital lots to worry about. Nevertheless, I survived and was brought home after a month of intensive care. Life was hard on my mother but, thanks to Syed and his extremely kind family adopting my mother as their own child, she survived the ordeal and brought me up well.

If you’re wondering what happened to Omar, he was last heard of in 1956 leaving for Singapore.

Jaffar was never heard of or heard from.

Syed died peacefully in 1988. His wife, Tipah died in 1991. His two daughters sold the house and left for Kuantan after his death. Where exactly, I don't know.

My mother and I are still living somewhere in Penang. I have a beautiful wife and a 12 years old son.

I hope I will never cross path with Omar or anyone related to him for I don’t know what I will do. If Omar ever reads this, I want him to know that there is a severe punishment awaiting him in hell.
My advice to all you readers: please don’t meddle with the supernatural. You really don’t know what you are getting yourself into.

Kumaran 46, Textile trader.
12 May 2003

The Landlord’s Daughter
During the early fifties, my dad, in his early twenties, worked as an office assistant. His chores were easy: taking checks to the bank, sending invoices and collecting bills. When his routine work was done, he would do some cleaning up back at the office before leaving for home.

Of course, he had ambitions and was using that job as a stepping stone for something better. Back then, it was easy to take these slow steps for there were relatively very few experienced or qualified workers; not much competition. He would work very diligently and hoped to be noticed and poached by other companies offering better pay.

One end of a particularly long day, tired, his boss asked him for a personal favour. The office rent money was due and he wanted my dad to deliver the rent money to the landlord at his house. Being a smart man, he knew the seeds he sowed today will bear fruits tomorrow, he obliged.

Whilst on the way to the landlord’s house, he passed a “sarabat” stall (mobile tea stand) and stopped for a class of tea and nasi lemak (coconut rice with seafood).

Whilst enjoying his nasi lemak, a beautiful Malay girl walked in and sat to have tea too. She sat two stools away from him. She looked over at him and smiled. (My dad was a handsome young man back then – not so, now.) He too was attracted to her and reciprocated with a cool smile. The girl showed extreme interest in him and they kept exchanging glances and smiles all the time. She then asked him, “abang datang dari mana, tak perna kenal?” (where do you come from, never seen you before?).

Before my dad could reply, the stand owner disrupted their acquaintance process with his change. My dad took his change, smiled at her then went over to his bicycle and started to ride off. He looked back again just to see if she was looking but she had vanished!

He hopped off the bike and went towards the stall and looked around perplexed. The stall owner asked him who he was looking for and he replied that there was a pretty girl in black who had sat there; he pointed at the stool. The man shook his head and said there hadn't been anyone sitting there. They looked at each other and fear filled the air. The hairs on his arms rose and he walked to his bicycle as quickly as he could.

Trembling, perspiring and nearly hitting a passerby, he sped as fast as he could to the landlord’s house. The evening was quickly turning dark. He rode faster and faster for he didn't want to stay out too late. As he got to the house, to his horror “THAT GIRL" greeted him at the door. His eyes widened, gasped and he choked! Then, he passed out.

When he came to, he was hysterical to see her staring down at him. He was pointing at her and gasping for air, she was frightened off and went to her room. The landlord, who had rushed out by the time, managed to calm him down after some words of prayer.

After all was calm, the landlord’s wife brought him a cup of tea and he conveyed his story to them. They were puzzled as to why the “puntianak”(vampire) took the form of the landlord's daughter.

My dad was very lucky to NOT have engaged in a conversation with the “puntianak” for if he had, he would very easily had been lured by her charm and beauty to his doom!

Kaslan 48, Driver
15 May 2003

The Fruit Lady
Ram was late. We waited, Milkha and I, patiently at Newton circus food center in Singapore. We talked excitedly about our planned trip – the things we were going to do and how much fun we would have doing them. We had planned to travel to Thailand via Malaysia. We would stop at a few places in Malaysia, then leave the jeep at the Thai-Malaysia border and take the train up to Hatyai, Thailand. The anticipation was electrifying!

He arrived; 20 minutes late. Wished we could have kicked his butt, but his wife was there with him. Saved by his wife, that devil!

After some food and drinks, we got ourselves in the jeep. It was cramped but still comfortable. Ram took the wheel and was about to inaugurated the journey when we heard someone calling. “Ram! Ram!”

It was his wife. She was running after us with a blue pail in her hand.

“What the hell is that?” I asked laughingly.

Well, we found out what the pail was for but ah ah, we won’t say – for Ram’s sake.

It was almost 2am, we were traveling through “Palm Country”(Malaysia). The only illumination on the road was the jeep’s headlights; everywhere else was pitch-black. Up ahead in the distance was a fluorescent lit wooden hut slowly increasing in size.

“Wow that’s what I call ‘happening,’” I said.

It made Ram and Milkha laugh – they knew me well enough to know, it could only be someplace like a Disco or a busy nite-spot that would normally command an expression like, "happening," from me.

Upon closing in, we realized that the wooden hut was a coffee shop, a lonely coffee shop, miles away from any other, by the side of a lonely dark road that stretched across states. It had a mystical “feel” about it that we just couldn’t let pass. There’s nothing like it in Singapore. Curious, tired, and hungry, we pull over and walked toward the hut. We were greeted by flying insects, attracted by the fluorescent ceiling lights, whirling over and around us.

We sat at a crudely crafted wooden table by a small window. Outside, darkness stretched forever, and engulfing us, were crickets' chirpings. The ambience gave us a sense of mystery, mystic and suspense. And, as the night progressed, the temperature fell, slowly and surely.

The proprietor, a young man, came to take our order. We ordered roti prata (flat, fluffy, crispy, Indian bread served with curry or dhall) and tea. We were the only customers there.

While waiting, we engage ourselves in some corny jokes. In the midst of one, we were astounded by a figure appearing at the window. There, standing dimly lit by the shop’s escaping fluorescent light, was an old woman. She stretched a hand out halfway with her palm facing up; as if begging. In her other she held a small papaya. We presumed she was selling the papaya, I didn’t want the papaya but I reached inside my pants pocket and took out a ringgit (Malaysian dollar) coin and placed it in her hand. She put her hand at her heart as a gesture of appreciation, tipped her head low and beckoned away disappearing into the shadows.
Just then, the proprietor appeared and asked why I dropped the ringgit coin outside. We were all perplexed by his question. "Dropped the coin? Didn’t he see the woman?” The three of us most likely thought in accordance. Nevertheless, we explained it to him. He smiled, apparently wiser than us, and asked me to come outside with him. I went, frowning. He took me to the spot where she was standing. He pointed to the ground and I looked. There it was – the ringgit coin! Right there on the ground. We were bewildered.

“Did she drop it? But, I put it in her hand and she walked away with it, didn’t she?” These thoughts were rushing through my head desperately seeking answers – I felt a little embarrassed!
He also showed me, just steps away from the spot, — a grave! It was a small headstone protruding from the ground. I looked at him, and felt a chill rush through me all of a sudden. He said that the 'woman' was the lady who used to own the hut before him. She was poor, and sold fruits to travelers, but would never accept charity.

The experience left us feeling uneasy. There was a strange silence in the jeep after that. We didn't feel like talking, or joking, or listening to the radio, or anything at all for that matter. We felt a strange sense of another being's presence in the jeep — a wiser being.

After some hours of travel, we came to a rumah tumpangan (motel). We grabbed our backpacks from the jeep and made our way into the hotel. We checked into a nice big room.

In the room, away from the jeep, we felt the presence disappear. I broke the ice and asked, “Did you guys feel it? The strange forth presence kind of feel?”

Milkha and Ram exchange glances. They shuddered, took a long deep breath, and let out a sigh.“Foooh!” “Ya man, f__king scary, man!” Milkha expressed.

After showers, we sat for a drink of suku,(hard liquor) as Ram calls it. We talked again about the strange incident. It just wouldn’t leave our minds, especially mine. We could have talked all the way till sunrise but we stopped a little after 4 am. We wanted to have some rest before driving off again the next daylight.

Only like an hour or so into our sleep, Milkha’s jeep alarm went off, waking almost everyone in the hotel. He jumped out of bed, grabbed his keys and scurried out hurling, “What the F__K!”

We followed suite. “Was it a cat?” Ram asked.

“Don’t know! F__K! The remote doesn’t work!” Milkha yelled.

“Open the door and slam it back!” Ram shouted over the loud alarm.

By that time, we had not only awaken the hotel guests, but the duty manager as well. He was wide eyed and enquiring.

Milkha was closest to the back-seat door, so he slipped the key in and opened the door. The alarm stopped - only murmurs from the commotion was heard.

Milkha was shaken by what he saw lying on the floorboard of his jeep – THE PAPAYA!

Shan, Photographer
18 May 2003

Senawang Ghosts
Our convoy was making its way down from Malaysia back to Singapore. I looked at my watch, it was 4:30pm. I was in my brother's car with my mother and he was driving.

Suddenly, unexpectingly, smoke came oozing out of the corners of the car's bonnet - the car’s engine was heating up. We had to pull over to the road shoulder.

Our friends in the other cars proceeded on. They couldn't afford to be delayed, for their children had to go to school early the next morning.

There we were, the three of us stranded somewhere in Senawang.

While waiting for the car to cool down, some of the locals, looking to make a quick buck, came by and offered help. Of course, there was nothing they could do, for ours was a continental car - only our mechanic in Singapore would know what to do. I called him on my mobile phone and relayed to him our predicament. He said, regretfully, he could only come there not earlier than 1am.

If it wasn't for our old and sick mother, we would have walked some two kilometers to the guest house we saw earlier. Hence, we remained where we were. The day was slowly dusking and we were cold, tired, hungry and I was bursting to go to the toilet. At that time, the locals have returned home and there were hardly cars driving by. We were very alone.

My brother, feeling restless, decided to go out of the car for a smoke. He sat on the railing by the road. Behind him, was a drain, and further back, were trees and thick shrub.

Feeling chilly and carrying a full bladder, I had to relieve myself urgently. My brother discouraged me from going into the bushes so I opened the car doors and squatted between them while my brother kept vigil.

In the midst of relieving myself, I saw at the distant trees - on a perch, engulfed by the increasing darkness - were three human figures. I stared harder and saw that they were girls - pretty young girls. “What were they? Why were they there in an odd, bird like, posture” I thought.

Then, one of the girls climbed down from the perch and walked towards my brother from behind him. She floated over the drain behind him, went close to his ear and said something. My brother, startled, jumped off the railing and ran towards the car. I jumped too!

The girls pointed at me and squealed a laughter so chilling that drove me near insanity.

I don’t know what came over me? I became hysterical and started laughing uncontrollably – that made the girls really mad and one of them sneered at me.

My brother pushed me into the car, slammed the doors shut, locked them and wound up the windows. My mother was awoken from her blissful nap. "What's going on?" She asked but we didn't answer.

We looked around frantically but didn't see them. For a while we waited and scrutanised the area around us - they seemed to have vanished. We were relieved.

Just then, I turned around and there she was! Right outside my window! Staring with wide elongated eyes. She was no more pretty. In fact, she was ugly as hell! She looked very angry and malevolent.

I was scared. If I hadn’t relieved myself just now, I would surely had wet myself right then. I yelled uncontrollably and my brother took out the Quran and started reading some verses. My mother looked at us like we had gone insane. She asked and asked, "What's wrong? What's happened?" But we couldn't tell her - not in state of health she was in. She wasn't stupid, she soon figured it out and joined in the prayers.

My brother was reading the Quaran frantically and I was looking around desperately. They disappeared! Everything became quiet. Unfortunately, not for long.

I heard knocking on the window. I asked my mother if she was doing it? She denied. My brother claimed that it was her, the puntianak. At this point, even my mom - who can't see spirits or ghosts - sensed something ominous.

Then, I saw two of the girls moving about outside. They moved very stealthily and quick. One moment, they were here, then the next, they were gone, and then the next, they were somewhere else. It was eerie.

At this time, we were missing the third puntianak, the one who had a personal grudge against me, the one who sneered at me earlier for laughing. I looked at my brother, he was reading the Quran verses without stopping. I knew he was frightened, very frightened.

The sun had already set almost half an hour and all seemed calm. We didn't see any of the puntianak since then and my brother had stopped reading the Quran.

Then, to our relieve, we saw bright lights coming towards our car from behind – it was a tow truck. My Singapore mechanic was worried about us and called a towing company in Senawang to tow our car to Malacca where we would stay the night and be picked up the next day.

My watch showed 7 o'clock exactly.

My mom and I sat in our car while by brother sat in the tow truck with the driver. I was seated at the driver’s seat and my mother, at the back. We thought all was well until I heard someone breathing at my ear. I turned. To my horror, it was her!

Instead of being afraid, I realised I was angry and I wanted to scream at her but somehow my voice just wouldn't come out! Then, with her bloodshot eyes she stared at me and yelled. "Why did you laugh at me? Do you think we are funny? WHYYYYYYYYY?" She screamed so loud in my ear that I felt my head was going to explode!

I recall, she was pretty on one side of her face but on the other, she was bleeding profusely – her face had been smashed flat and she was in a horrendous state. The sight made my stomach churn violently, pushing acid up my gullet. I let out a horrible scream and burst out crying! I may have puked. I pleaded with her to leave me alone and I apologised teemingly.

My mother heard me screaming and was jolted out of her stupor. She called my name many times before I opened my eyes to find the puntianak gone and we had already moved quite a distance from that spot.

Later on, in Malacca we related to each other the things that had happened and my brother said that whilst in the tow truck, the driver said to him that the place where we were stranded was a very haunted area. There had been many accidents there – one after another. Our car, breaking down suddenly, could also have been the doing of the angry spirits stranded there.

The girls are just few of the spirits trapped on this earth. They had died in car accidents and could cross over until their actual predetermined lifetime had been served. I feel sad for them all.

My brother and I are gifted with a unique sixth sense – we are able to see spirits. I realised my special talent when I was at the tender age of 11 – I used to see an old woman at a nearby playground in my neighborhood. She would always sit at the bench and not talk or look at anyone. I became curious and asked my friends about her. Obviously, my friends were puzzled. That’s when I realised that I was special. I could see – spirits.

Sheera,
25 May 2003

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