In the year 1951, one small particular village in Singapore was infamous for unusual sightings of the supernatural. But when mysterious deaths and unfortunate infanticides kept on plaguing the village, everyone knew that there was something far more...
My fear deepened as the temperature at my back started to heat up with strong intensity. A foreboding presence had formed behind me. Whatever it was, it was dangerously hostile. I sensed its anger rising. In a quick second, it emerged from behind me full of wrath, charged towards Melati in one meteoric leap and both of them instantly vanished.
It was Mak Bidan's saka (spirit guardian). Unfortunately, it was a second too late to save its master.
Something white flashed past me but disappeared just as I turned my head towards it. I tried to calm down my nerves, but it was to no avail.
Still shaking, I stared at Mak Bidan's corpse along with her severed head. There was no way that the police would believe that a spirit had committed such a heinous act. The village boy from Mak Bidan's kampung knew that I was the last to see her. Naturally, the police would make me the prime suspect. Especially so when the ground was soaked with her blood.
I needed to get rid of the body, but how?
How does one cover up a murder?
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Mak Bidan's chilling dead eyes stayed wide open in shock and screamed at me for help as they bore into mine, as though still showing signs of life. The way the gaping eyes begged me to do the right thing only served to increase my guilt-ridden soul. Her jaw was still stretched open. The earth-shattering scream kept replaying in my mind like a horrifying nightmare.
I took a step back as a strange, dark smoke started to seep out of her mouth. Instead of dispersing, the smoke floated above her head and lingered in place. As the last bit of smoke drifted out and joined the rest in the air, the shape slowly formed into a faded shadow of a penanggal's head. Eventually, it blended with the night sky, never to be seen again.
As the sky cleared, the disused granite quarry that held the island's strongest rock formations came into view. It was the second tallest hill in Singapore, with its highest peak reaching a hundred and thirty-three metres. The moonlight shone on the dramatic rocky hills which added a magnificent backdrop to the village as the granite formations resembled China's majestic limestone karst hills in Guilin. The only difference was that the rainwater had filled the abandoned granite quarry over the years and formed it into a lake.
I could not believe that the abandoned granite quarry did not cross my mind before, but now that it did, I knew that it was a perfect place to cover up a crime.
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The old wooden sampan rocked unsteadily under our weight as it dragged itself over the man-made lake. I had brought some loose and heavy rocks that I found along the way, onto the sampan for use later. The extra weight had unfortunately caused the sampan, which was not structurally sound in the first place, to wobble drastically. I had to ensure that I paddled my way slowly to the middle of the lake without tipping us all over.
