In Singapore, Bukit Timah is known for its lush nature reserves, towering trees, and hiking trails that wind through dense forests. By day, it's a paradise for nature lovers. But when night falls, the place takes on a different tone—a tone that few dare to explore.
It was the beginning of the Hungry Ghost Festival, a time when the gates of the underworld are said to open, and the spirits of the dead wander freely among the living. The air was thick with the scent of incense and burnt offerings. Every street corner had a small altar set up with food, candles, and burning joss paper—gifts for the spirits to appease them.
Tan Wei, a curious university student, was never one to believe in superstitions. Ghosts, spirits, and hauntings were for the old folks who clung to old tales and myths. To him, it was nonsense, a relic of the past that didn't belong in the modern, fast-paced city of Singapore. But the stories he'd heard about Bukit Timah during the Hungry Ghost Festival intrigued him.
He had heard whispers that the forest had its own guardian spirit, an entity that protected the land but could be vengeful if disturbed. Some said it was a hungry ghost, a spirit of someone who had died violently, filled with rage and insatiable hunger, forever searching for peace it would never find.
Wei had always loved challenging the status quo. So, on the seventh night of the festival, when the moon was full and glowing bright, he decided to hike through Bukit Timah alone—after dark.
The trail was eerily quiet. The usual sounds of crickets and nocturnal creatures seemed muffled, like the forest was holding its breath. As Wei walked deeper into the woods, the trees seemed to close in around him, their branches hanging low, casting long, ghostly shadows across the path.
He had been walking for nearly an hour when he noticed something strange. There, just off the trail, was an old, crumbling stone shrine, overgrown with vines and moss. It was hidden behind a thicket, and he wondered how many people had ever seen it.
As he approached the shrine, Wei saw faint carvings in the stone—ancient Chinese characters he couldn't fully understand. But one word stood out: "Hungry."
Wei chuckled to himself, thinking how fitting it was for the festival. Without much thought, he pulled out his phone and snapped a few pictures. As soon as the flash went off, he felt a sudden chill run down his spine, like the temperature had dropped by several degrees.
Brushing it off, he continued his hike, but now, the forest felt… different. The air felt thicker, almost oppressive, and he began to feel a strange weight on his shoulders, like something was watching him, something unseen but very close. The usual excitement he had when pushing against the unknown had shifted into unease.
He heard a rustling sound behind him. Wei stopped and turned, shining his phone's flashlight into the trees. Nothing. Just shadows and leaves swaying in the slight breeze. He laughed nervously, scolding himself for letting his imagination get the best of him. But when he turned back around, his heart nearly stopped.
A woman stood on the path ahead, her back to him. She wore a white cheongsam, stained and torn, with long black hair hanging loose down her back, almost touching the ground. Her skin was pale, unnaturally so, like she hadn't seen sunlight in years.
"Excuse me?" Wei called out, but his voice sounded weaker than he intended.
The woman didn't move.
He took a step closer. "Are you okay?"
Still no response. His mind raced—how could she have appeared out of nowhere? Was she lost? Maybe a fellow hiker? But something in his gut told him to stay back.
Suddenly, she moved. But not in a way that humans should. She didn't walk; instead, her body seemed to glide slightly, her feet dragging across the dirt, as she slowly turned to face him. Wei's breath caught in his throat.
Her face was gaunt, her eyes hollow and black, and her mouth—her mouth was the worst part. It was stretched unnaturally wide, revealing jagged, decayed teeth, and from the corners of her mouth, thick black blood oozed down her chin. She let out a low, guttural growl, a sound that seemed to echo through the forest.
Wei froze in terror, his legs like lead. The woman's eyes locked onto his, and in them, he saw something he could only describe as hunger. She took a step toward him, dragging her feet in the dirt.
Instinct finally kicked in, and Wei turned and ran, the flashlight on his phone bouncing wildly as he sprinted down the trail. His heart pounded in his ears, drowning out all other sounds. He didn't dare look back, afraid that if he did, she'd be right there—her face inches from his, her cold breath on his neck.
The path twisted and turned, and soon Wei realized he had no idea where he was. The forest seemed to close in on him, the trees looming like giant skeletal figures. His lungs burned, his legs screamed in pain, but he kept running, the image of that woman's face seared into his mind.
Finally, after what felt like hours, he burst out of the trees and into a small clearing. His legs gave out, and he collapsed onto the grass, gasping for air. The only sound was his own labored breathing and the frantic beating of his heart.
But then, from the darkness, came the soft crunch of footsteps on the gravel. He wasn't alone.
Wei scrambled to his feet, spinning around to face the direction of the sound. Standing at the edge of the clearing was the woman, her head tilted unnaturally to one side, her wide mouth still dripping black blood.
She whispered something, her voice soft but echoing in the still night air. "I'm… so… hungry…"
Without thinking, Wei grabbed his phone and hurled it at her, hoping to buy himself some time. But the moment it left his hand, she vanished.
He stood there, panting, his eyes darting around the clearing. Had she gone? Was she a hallucination? The forest was dead silent once more, but the weight in the air told him something was still wrong.
A sudden, cold gust of wind swept through the trees, and with it came the unmistakable scent of decay. Wei turned toward the source, and his heart dropped. The shrine. The old, crumbling stone shrine was standing at the far end of the clearing, the same one he had seen earlier on his hike. But this time, it was different.
The carvings on the stone glowed faintly, and sitting at the base of the shrine was an offering—a bowl filled with rotting food, crawling with maggots. And kneeling beside it, was the woman.
Her head snapped up, her black eyes locking onto his once more, and she smiled, her mouth stretching wider than should have been possible.
Wei tried to run, but his feet wouldn't move. He was rooted to the spot, paralyzed by fear as the woman slowly rose to her feet, her body contorting unnaturally. She took one slow, deliberate step toward him, then another.
The last thing Wei saw before the world went black was her face, inches from his, her wide, bloody mouth opening as she whispered again:
"I'm… still… hungry…"
The next morning, the hikers at Bukit Timah found Wei's body near the old stone shrine. His face was frozen in terror, eyes wide open, mouth stretched into a silent scream. There were no visible wounds, no signs of struggle. But around him, the forest was quiet—too quiet.
That night, the shrine received new offerings.