Lately I have been experiencing rather weird occurrences in the middle of the night in my room. Ever since the house was renovated about a week ago, every night at around 2am, I will hear marbles dropping and rolling around on my ceiling. This would be followed by the sounds of furnitures being pushed around. It will go on and on until at about 4am and by then I would either be scared out of my wits or really angry because my sleep have been gravely affected.
As far as I can remember, the family living upstairs don't have any young kinds and I dread to imagine my fifty something neighbour playing with marbles in the middle of the night. Of course being Asian, the only way to conveniently explain the weird nightly noises is if we go the supernatural route.
As a kid growing up, and I am talking about ALL Singaporean kids, we are being brought up with countless stories about ghosts, spirits and the likes of it. "Got ghosts!" is by far the only phrase (and last resort) that our parents use to deter us from playing hide and seek, loitering at the corridor at dusk, extending our play session at the playground etc.
And so we grew up, that and coupled with our Asian culture that is very predominantly heavy on the supernatural way of thinking, to be really in tuned with anything that is remotely different from the ordinary.
According to stories by my mum (who is a total supernatural junkie), if we hear such noises on our ceiling in the middle of the night, it means that there are spirits playing with us and the best part? If you hear it up on your ceiling, they are actually inside your room beside you.
"You're not scared?" my mum asked yesterday during breakfast when I told her.
"No," I replied half-lying and mouth full of hash browns.
My mum is lazy these past few days and so for the past week she calls McDonalds delivery for breakfast but I think the real reason is because she doesn't want to dirty her new stove. It takes an OCD to know another.
"Just pray," my said, wiping her mouth with a serviette.
"What if they're Chinese ghosts? They wouldn't understand me," I shrugged.
"Huh?" my mum said, confused.
"Or PRC ghosts. That one pray in English also cannot understand," Harold added.
"Huh?!" my mum explained, more confused that the first time. "Yes, please joke about it boys. One day when you really see it, then you will know!"
"I seriously don't think there is anything more terrifying than you," I caustically replied. My mum glared at me.
"I don't think our house is haunted. It's too clean and sterile for anything to "stop by". And besides the only ghost I know feasts on virgins and there is none on this table right now," Harold said, face deadpan.
"I hope the ghosts will come and show themselves in front of you boys tonight then you both will know!" my mum raised her voice, exasperated that her two sons are not taking her seriously.
"A mother who wishes the worst for her kids? Tsk tsk tsk! What has the world came to?" I mocked her.
"I will throw my hash browns at you, stop it," my mum rolled her eyes.