We’ve gathered spooky Halloween stories from our community vapers! Now these terrifying tales are waiting for you vote. Which one will keep you up all night? Choose one!
Haunting Story 
#1 From Luka Scarborough – ‘The Last Puff’
Story of The Last Puff
Darren found the vape pen on the bar counter after closing.
He was the last one in “Neon Fog,” a dive that smelled like spilled beer and bad decisions. The vape didn’t belong to any of the regulars—too sleek, too new. A chrome cylinder with a faint, pulsing glow. The engraving on the side read:
LIMITED EDITION.
He shrugged. A free vape was a free vape.
First puff—smooth. Cotton candy. Then came the whisper.
“Another hit, Darren?”
He froze. The bar was empty, the jukebox long dead. The vape buzzed in his palm like it was laughing. When he tried to set it down, it stuck—as if his fingers were glued to it. The metal was hot, throbbing like it had a pulse.
Outside, the fog thickened. He staggered into the parking lot, coughing, but the vapor didn’t leave his mouth—it poured out, swirling around him, sweet and heavy. For a moment, he thought he saw faces in it.
When the morning bartender arrived, the bar was silent. Just the faint hiss of vapor. Darren’s phone lay on the counter, screen cracked, and beside it—the vape pen. Bigger now. Its light pulsed faster, brighter.
That night, someone else found it—a rideshare driver, waiting for his next pickup. He didn’t question the strange warmth or the whisper that came after the first puff.
By the weekend, half the town was gone. All that remained was a low, sugary mist that clung to the streets, humming softly, like something alive.
The engraving on the side of the vape had changed.
It no longer said LIMITED EDITION.
It said INHALE FOREVER.
#2 From Jenno Franciliso - The Aswang’s Tail
The Story of The Aswang's Tail
The group gathered at the foot of the trail, excitement buzzing in the air. “Alright, team! Who’s ready to conquer this beast?” Maya asked, adjusting her backpack.
“Born ready!” Ben replied, grinning. “But seriously, did you guys hear what the locals said about this place?”
“Aswang stories, right?” Leo scoffed. “Come on, Ben, don’t tell me you actually believe that stuff.”
“Hey, I’m just saying, they seemed pretty serious,” Ben defended. “Something about not going past a certain point after dark.”
“We’ll be fine,” Maya said confidently. “We’re not planning on staying out here all night, are we? Let’s stick together, and we’ll be back before sunset.”
As they ventured deeper into the forest, the atmosphere shifted. The sunlight struggled to penetrate the dense canopy, casting long, eerie shadows. “Okay, this is getting a little creepy,” Ben admitted, his voice slightly subdued.
“Relax, it’s just a forest,” Leo said, though he quickened his pace. “Besides, think of the bragging rights! We’ll be legends back home for conquering this trail.”
Suddenly, a twig snapped nearby. “Did you guys hear that?” Sarah whispered, her eyes wide.
“Probably just an animal,” Maya reassured, but her voice lacked its earlier confidence. “Let’s keep moving.”
As dusk approached, they realized they had lost track of time. “Guys, I don’t like this,” Sarah said, her voice trembling. “Maybe we should turn back.”
“We’re almost there, I can feel it!” Leo urged, pushing ahead.
That’s when it happened. A bloodcurdling scream pierced the silence. “Mark!” Maya yelled, turning back. But Mark was gone. Vanished.
“What was that?” Ben stammered, his face pale.
“Mark! Mark!” Maya screamed, her voice cracking with panic.
“We need to find him,” Leo said, trying to regain control. “Ben, Sarah, you check over there. Maya and I will go this way. Shout if you see anything!”
As they split up, the forest seemed to close in around them, the shadows dancing with malevolent intent. The hunt for Mark had begun, but little did they know, they were now the ones being hunted.
#3 Najib Alghif - The Shadow Beneath the Tamarind Tree — A Javanese Ghost Tale
The Story of The Shadow Beneath Tarmarind Tree
In a small village in Central Java, there stood an old tamarind tree that no one dared to pass by at night. The villagers believed it was the dwelling place of a genderuwo — a giant shadow spirit known to deceive humans by imitating the voices of those they love.
One night, I decided to prove that all the rumors were false. I took a shortcut past the tamarind tree just after midnight, humming softly to calm my nerves.
Suddenly, I heard my mother’s voice calling from behind me.
“My child… come home… come home, dear…”
I froze. I knew she was already asleep at home — I had left her only minutes ago.
I tried to ignore it and walked faster, but the voice kept following.
“Don’t be afraid… I’m right here…”
Now the voice sounded closer — right next to my ear.
With my heart pounding, I whispered a Javanese prayer under my breath.
The air suddenly grew cold. The ground beneath my feet trembled slightly. Slowly… I turned around.
Standing beneath the tamarind tree was a tall, hairy figure with glowing red eyes — smiling with too many teeth.
The creature spoke again, this time using my own voice.
“Hey…”
I ran as fast as I could without looking back. The voice echoed behind me, laughing in many tones — my mother’s voice, my father’s, and then my own.
The next morning, I reached home pale and trembling. My parents found me sitting on the porch, staring blankly at the road.
Since that night, I have never taken that shortcut again.
To this day, the villagers still say — if you walk past that tamarind tree at night…
you might hear your own voice calling you from the darkness.
#4 JoLene Scribner - It Only Happens When You’re Alone
The Story of It Only Happens When You're Alone
It only happens when you’re alone…when no one else is in the house or you’re walking down the sidewalk late at night. When you’re the last one to leave work or driving down the road by yourself after dark. It only happens when you’re alone…when the peaceful calmness and quiet become a little too quiet.
When you can’t fully focus your eyes due to the darkness of the night or when you try to listen extra hard to find out what might be around you. It only happens when you’re alone…when you KNOW you’re alone…you see movement out of the corner of your eye or you swear you hear a strange noise.
When your senses become amplified the quieter or darker or more still your surroundings become. Something feels…off! It only happens when you’re alone…you tell yourself “It’s nothing, it’s just my imagination.” You do your best to ignore it…but you can’t. Instead, you focus more on what could be making you uneasy. That shadow, that sound, that odd chill up your spin! It’s nothing…it has to be nothing, right?
You start to laugh and tell yourself you’re just being foolish and scaring yourself for no reason. You continue on with what you’re doing, only a little quicker. Yet, you can’t shake that feeling. The feeling of uncertainty and sense that something just isn’t right! It only happens when you’re alone…that feeling of dread when fear is getting the better of you.
Your heart quickens and you feel every beat! The air feels heavy around you and you start to sweat! “Why do I do this?”, you ask out loud, hoping to bring yourself some comfort…it doesn’t work. You feel like you’re on display, being viewed…being watched! That’s crazy, no one else is around…right? Then, you hear something! Was that a voice? Did I hear footsteps? Did I see something? You freeze…unable to move, feeling like you can hardly breathe! You listen more intently but, your heartbeat is in your ears…pounding!
You stair into the darkness looking for any hint of what it was. Nothing…it was nothing! I’m sure it was Nothing! You start to move, to pick your feet up from where they were frozen in place. You turn your head away from the place you were watching. You blink your eyes. It only happens when you’re alone…it happens again! This time you’re sure you heard your name or swear you see an outline of a figure among the shadows! What is going on? Is someone messing with me? Am I losing my mind? You are chilled to the bone!
You can’t swallow! You ask yourself, “Should I run…do I fight…do I scream?” “What if it’s nothing, I will feel so stupid!” What if it is something? It only happens when you’re alone…it feels like a hundred eyes are on you! Like someone is right behind you, breathing on your neck! But nothing is there! Yet, you feel there IS something!
Watching, waiting…wanting to make it’s self known and doesn’t want to at the same time. You start to tremble and muster up enough courage to call out, “Hellooooo?” in a shaky voice. Nothing but silence. It only happens when you’re alone…the feeling of being trapped, being stalked, being hunted…but by what? It’s nothing and it’s everything! It’s your worst nightmare, it’s everything in your life you have ever feared! You say to yourself, “Why…why me?” “What did I do?” “I’m no one important!” Then…as quickly as it began, it all stops!
Your family comes home, you get to where you were driving, or someone turns on their porch light. It breaks you free from the danger…from its spell…from the unknown force that felt like it was mere seconds from having you in its grasp! You’re safe now, it was your mind playing tricks on you. There wasn’t anything there to be afraid of…right?
It doesn’t take long for you to feel safe and normal again. You get preoccupied with the things going on in your life and your responsibilities. Until, you find yourself back in that same situation when it makes itself known. It only happens…IT ALWAYS HAPPENS…when you’re alone!
#5 From Zao - The Knock That Never Stopped
The Story of The Knock That Never Stopped
It all began the night I returned to my hometown a small, quiet village tucked between misty hills and endless rice fields. After years in the city, I had forgotten how still the nights could be. No car horns, no chatter, only the wind brushing against the bamboo trees. But that night, something felt… different.
Around midnight, a soft knock echoed through the village. Tok… tok… tok.
It came from nowhere and everywhere at once one house, then another, as if someone was moving door to door. Dogs didn’t bark, and no one dared to open their doors. My grandmother whispered, “Don’t answer it. That’s not a person.”
But I couldn’t resist.
The next evening, I stayed awake, waiting. And again tok… tok… tok. Slow. Polite. But chillingly patient. When the knock reached our gate, I peeked through the curtain. There was no one there. Only the silhouette of the old well at the edge of the field, where moonlight didn’t quite reach.
The following day, I asked the elders. They exchanged uneasy glances before one of them finally spoke, “Years ago, a traveler vanished here. They said he stopped by this village but never left. We searched, but no one found him. Since then, the knocking comes every time someone returns home after a long absence maybe asking for help to be found.”
That night, I lit a lantern and walked toward the old well. The air grew heavier with every step. When I stood before it, a faint whisper floated up from the darkness“Find me.”
My skin turned cold, but I followed the feeling pulling me toward the banyan tree behind the well. The earth beneath it looked… uneven. I knelt and brushed away the dry leaves, uncovering what seemed to be a piece of old fabric, half-buried in the dirt.
The next morning, the villagers gathered to dig properly. Beneath the roots, they found remnants of a torn bag, and inside it a rusted necklace with initials no one recognized. We gave it a proper burial and prayed for the restless spirit.
Since that night, no more knocking has been heard in the village. Only the sound of crickets and the gentle wind returning peace to the fields.
But sometimes, when I visit home again… I swear I still hear one faint tok…
Just one.
As if to say…thank you.
#6 From Mikel - This happened to me long time ago, Real Story
The Story of This happened to me long time ago
I was reheating some food in the microwave at around 2am-ish.
I was just standing & watching the timer then I suddenly felt something pulling at my shirt. It felt as if my shirt was pinched then pulled. Thinking nothing of it, I assume that my shirt just kind of slid, I pull my shirt down really hard to flatten it. I feel the pulling again and I see a part of my shirt sticking out, the way it does when it gets pinched and pulled.
Now I’m f****ing creeped out and I wanted to bail but there was only a minute left on the timer so I decide to man up. I take my shirt of to get rid of this shirt pulling shenanigans.
Not even 10 seconds after I remove my shirt, I feel this really cold sensation on my side In a sudden movement. If you ever touched a corpse before, it was this kind of coldness. To those of you who haven’t touched a corpse before, it’s like the coldness it’s seeping right through your flesh. It’s like holding a metal bar on a cold day.
I f*k ran away and left my food on the microwave and slept hungry because of this s**. I know ive got a tight body but not hot enough to get groped by ghosts.
#7 ~кυяηια ѕαη∂у - The Red Wristband
The Story of The Red Wristband
A doctor was working at a hospital, a hospital where the patients were tagged with coloured bands. Green: alive. Red: deceased.
One night, the doctor was instructed to get a few supplies from the basement of the hospital, and so he headed to the lift. The lift doors opened and there was a patient inside, minding her own business. Patients were allowed to roam around the hospital to stretch, especially those who have stayed long. The rule was to be back in their rooms before ten.
The doctor smiled at the patient before pressing the number for the basement. He found it unusual that the woman didn’t have a button already pressed. He wondered if she was heading to the basement too.
The lift finally reached the floor where the doors opened. In the distance a man was limping towards the elevator, and in a panic the doctor slammed the elevator button to close. It finally did and the lift began to ascend back up, the doctor’s heart pounding.
“Why did you do that? He was trying to use the lift.” The woman stated, annoyed.
“Did you see his wrist?” The doctor asked, “It was red. He died last night. I would know because I did his surgery.”
The woman lifted her wrist. He saw red. She smiled. “Like this one?”
#8 From Ada -The Little Figure I Saw That Night (2016)
The Little Figure I Saw That Night
It happened back in 2016, when I was living alone in a small rented room in Central Java, Indonesia.
I usually worked late and went to bed after midnight.
Everything was normal, until I noticed something strange.
Every Friday morning, some of my money would go missing.
Not much, just a few small bills, like one or two dollars.
At first, I thought I must’ve forgotten using it.
But it kept happening, week after week.
So one night, I decided not to sleep.
I wanted to see what was really going on.
It was around 1:45 a.m.
The whole place was quiet. I turned off the lights, leaving only a dim glow from the street lamp outside.
I lay on my bed, pretending to sleep, but kept my eyes half-open toward the table where my wallet was.
Then, around 2 a.m., I heard it, a soft rustling sound, like plastic or paper money being moved.
I held my breath.
Something small was moving near the table.
It looked like a child, bald, naked, with grayish skin that seemed damp and shiny under the light.
Its body was thin, its eyes large and black, like deep holes.
It climbed onto the chair, stood on the table, and leaned over my wallet.
I watched as its tiny fingers opened the wallet, pulled out a bill, and clutched it tight.
Then, it slowly turned its head toward me.
Our eyes met.
My body froze. I couldn’t move or scream — just stare.
The creature gave me a strange, crooked smile…
and in the blink of an eye, it leapt down and vanished through the locked window.
When I finally moved, I ran to the table. My wallet was open, and yes, the money was gone.
On the floor, I saw a tiny footprint, about the size of a baby’s… but the skin looked scaly and cold when I touched it.
The next morning, I told my landlady. She just nodded and whispered,
“That’s a tuyul. A spirit child people keep to steal money. You’re lucky it only took a little.”
Since that night, I keep my money somewhere else and play prayers before bed. But sometimes, around 2 a.m., when the lights are off,
I still hear that same faint rustling sound near the table,
and it always feels like something small is watching me from the shadows.
#9 From Nono - The Passenger in the Rear Mirror
The Story of The Passenger in the Rear Mirror
This story happened about four years ago in Yogyakarta, Indonesia — a city still surrounded by sacred places and old mysteries.
There had been a tragic bus accident on a winding mountain road. Everyone on board was killed instantly. After that, some locals claimed they could still hear people screaming at night — voices full of pain, fading into the wind.
Time passed, and the story slowly disappeared.
Three years later, my wife and I drove along that same road late at night in our sedan. Every 25 meters, a streetlight would pass behind us, glowing faintly in the rear-view mirror. We were simply enjoying the mountain drive, chatting softly, not thinking about anything… and no one was sitting in the back seat.
Then suddenly, our conversation stopped.
I saw something — a dark silhouette in the rear-view mirror, blocking the light of the streetlamp we had just passed. My chest tightened — fear mixed with curiosity. I looked again at the next light, and the shadow was still there. It looked like someone sitting right in the middle of the back seat… but I could only see its outline.
I glanced at my wife. She was silent, like holding her breath, staring straight ahead. I said nothing — I didn’t want to scare her.
With each passing streetlight, the figure remained. Only I could see it — the angle of the mirror aligned perfectly with my eyes and that shadow.
After about five streetlights, we turned a corner and began to see the lights of nearby houses. Suddenly, I felt the car lift slightly — the suspension rising as if a weight had just been lifted… or as if someone had quietly stepped out.
The shadow was gone.
I gathered my courage and turned around. The back seat was empty — only a tumbler and two packs of snacks lay there.
Then my wife broke the silence.
“Did you feel it too?” she asked softly.
“I saw it… in the mirror,” I replied.
She nodded, her voice trembling.
“I smelled blood. That’s why I held my breath.”
#10 From Ssuka - THE LEGEND STORY OF PARAKANG
The Story of THE LEGEND STORY OF PARAKANG
In the darkness of night in remote parts of South Sulawesi, the sounds of wild animals sometimes cease for a moment—as if making room for something more terrifying. Many residents of ancient villages believe that when the night falls silent and a sudden chill envelops the body, it is a sign that the Parakang are on the prowl.
The Parakang are not just bedtime stories, but rather part of Bugis mystical lore, steeped in mystery. Legend has it that they are ordinary humans who mastered black magic but failed to control it. As a result, they become werewolves, haunted by the desire to prey.
Legend has it that the Parakang are humans who master ancient spiritual knowledge for power or immortality. However, if the possessor of the knowledge fails to fulfill certain requirements or breaks a taboo, they will transform into a Parakang.
The Parakang are believed to have slightly red noses, sharp eyes, disheveled hair, and a distinctive odor. The Parakang ghost is considered dangerous because it can prey on humans, especially babies and children.
These creatures live among humans, disguised as ordinary people, but actually carry a curse that makes them hungry for human blood and organs. “The Parakang can be anyone—a neighbor, a friend, even a family member,” said Haji Andi, a traditional elder in Bone Regency. “They can’t be recognized unless we know the signs.”
Stories about the Parakang are often passed down by word of mouth. One famous story concerns an incident in a village in Gowa Regency, South Sulawesi. Several years ago, a middle-aged woman named Tanga became a topic of conversation after her behavior drastically changed. She was often seen walking alone at night, aimlessly.
One night, a young villager saw a small red light drifting from Tanga’s house toward the forest. “We thought it was a kerosene lamp or a campfire,” said the young man, who asked to remain anonymous. “But as we approached, the light suddenly disappeared, and we heard footsteps receding.”
Shortly afterward, livestock in the village were found dead with suspicious wounds, as if something had sucked their blood. Residents began to suspect that Tanga was a Parakang.
According to tradition, a ritual is used to exorcise the Parakang. A shaman is called to perform a pasang (a spell to summon and paralyze the Parakang). During the ritual, Tanga’s body convulsed, and she confessed that she was indeed cursed.
#11 From Nurul - Someone asked me when I was sleeping
The Story of Someone asked me when I was sleeping
One day I was accompanying my toddler playing in the room, around 3 pm I felt sleepy, and finally I accidentally fell asleep.
A few moments later I woke up because I heard my husband’s voice asking “Is my wife sleeping?” I was a little surprised when I heard that voice. Then I thought if my husband hadn’t come home from work, and suddenly my toddler walked towards the bedroom door as if he wanted to see something outside the room, it turned out my toddler also heard the voice, and he thought his father had come home.
I immediately got goosebumps. Until now I’m telling this, I still get goosebumps, and I immediately turned on the lights in every corner of the house. Even though it’s 12 noon 
#12 From PNS - Seeing a shroud
The Story of Seeing a shroud
When I was little, I often saw many strange things. The first time I learned about ghosts was in first grade. It was Ramadan, and I remember it was a Sunday. It was normal for me to go out for morning walks with my friends after dawn. But I chose to go out before 5:00. I don’t remember the exact time. But I remember the prayer service was being held at the mosque near our house.
I was out with my little brother, who was in kindergarten. Usually, I would go out with my older brother. But that day, I felt like going for a walk alone with my little brother. My house is right in front of the village main road. I walked to the side of the road, checking left and right for any vehicles.
At that time, my little brother was still following behind. I looked a little further ahead, and saw a person in a white robe in the distance, standing under a lamppost. I assumed it was a woman returning from the mosque and about to cross the street, as she was standing in the opposite direction from the road to the mosque. For some reason, I just stared at the woman. I watched her slowly cross the street. It took quite a while, actually.
After she reached the other side, she turned straight ahead, her back to me. From there, it started to feel strange. Her slow walk suddenly turned into small leaps and then disappeared into the darkness. Honestly, when I realized this, I was still frozen. My little brother kept calling out to me, but I couldn’t answer.
Not long after, I heard the call to prayer from the nearby mosque. It was like being struck by lightning. I realized it couldn’t be that the woman I saw was returning from the mosque, because prayer hadn’t even started yet. I ran as fast as I could toward the house, screaming, leaving my confused little brother behind.
When I got home, my mom asked why she wasn’t going for a walk. I just shook my head and sat in front of the TV.
That was the first time I’d seen a ghost, and after that incident, I started seeing them often.
#13 From Joshef Myrnt - True Story from Mine
The Story of The True Story from Mine
This is a true story from when I worked at a food company, or more precisely, the place I used to work was producing bread and sponge cakes. The place I worked was indeed known to be very haunted. I often heard mystical stories about what happened in the factory from my coworkers who had worked for the company for a long time.
At that time, I was on the night shift and when dinner break arrived, I was assigned to clean the egg-breaking area with my friend. In the factory, it was just me and my friend because the other employees were taking a dinner break outside the factory. There was also a security guard but it was far from us, they stayed in the security room which was located on the side of the entrance gate where we worked.
Then, my friend and I focused on cleaning the egg-breaking area without a word because we wanted to quickly finish our work and go out to take a break for dinner with all our friends. Then, when the room was very quiet, suddenly we heard a woman laughing loudly in the corner of the room, and suddenly my friend and I looked at each other and we felt like all the blood in our bodies was drained because we were so scared.
Then my friend and I decided not to continue our work, we decided to run out of the room and go outside the factory for a dinner break while our hearts felt like they were going to explode.
And that day was my last day working at the factory, the next day I decided to resign from the factory because I thought it was unhealthy to continue working there considering the many horror stories that happened, even I myself experienced them.
I was afraid that if I continued working there, something even more terrifying would happen than just the voices and apparitions.
#14 From Odi - The Flying Head: A Tale of the Kuyang in Kalimantan
The Story of The Flying Head: A Tale of the Kuyang in Kalimantan
The Kuyang is the specter of dark ambition. It is believed to be a normal woman by day—often recognized by a faint line around her neck, which she covers with a high collar or scarf. At night, however, she succumbs to the black magic she practices to achieve eternal life or unearthly beauty.
In the dead of night, the Kuyang sheds her body like a useless cocoon. Her head detaches, and she flies into the darkness, her internal organs—the heart, lungs, and intestines—dangling in a horrific, glistening mass beneath her neck.
Her arrival is announced not by a chilling cry, but by a faint, whistling sound and a sickly, pungent odor—like a decaying fish—that drifts through the humid night air. If you look up, you might see a small, reddish or greenish glowing orb swiftly moving through the palm fronds. That is the Kuyang on the hunt.
The creature’s preferred prey is the most vulnerable: the blood of a newborn baby or a woman who has just given birth. This blood, they say, replenishes her dark powers and extends her cursed life.
The Midnight Terror
In a small, isolated village along the Barito River, where the darkness is absolute and the air hangs heavy with the scent of wet earth, a young mother named Sari had just given birth to her first child. On the fifth night, as the oil lamp cast long, dancing shadows, she felt a sudden, icy draft.
Sari’s grandmother, who slept beside her, was a woman steeped in the old ways. She snapped awake, her eyes wide, and without a word, she began frantically searching for two objects: a handful of crushed garlic and a mirror.
"Sari, don’t look at the window, don’t make a sound," she whispered, her voice strained with terror.
A chilling whistle pierced the air, closer this time, followed by the unmistakable sound of wet, flopping tissue against the wooden roof. It was directly above them.
The grandmother hurled the crushed garlic against the wall. The whistling intensified, turning into a hissing sound of fury.
Then, at the small gap in the window frame, it appeared: a disembodied head, its eyes burning with a cruel hunger, framed by a horrible curtain of dark, wet organs swaying just below the sill. The Kuyang was staring directly at the bundle on the bed.
The grandmother acted instantly. She didn’t scream or pray; she simply held the small mirror up to the creature.
The Kuyang froze. The woman who was the Kuyang was said to be repulsed and temporarily driven away when she saw her horrific, detached form reflected back at her. The hissing turned into a screech of pure malice, and with a heavy, wet smack against the wall, the flying head was gone, receding into the darkness.
Sari clutched her baby, the scent of fish and blood still strong in the air. The next morning, a woman in the village—who always wore a high, thick scarf—was found to be inexplicably ill, with a fresh, raw scar circling her neck. They knew the Kuyang had been among them, and they knew who she was. They knew her body lay vacant somewhere, waiting for its gruesome head to return.
There was an incident involving the kuyang in Bontang (224 km from my City, approximately 4 and half hours drive) in 2016/2017, that caused a commotion. It started with a post by a young mother who said her child died because of the kuyang.
“Suddenly, at 4 a.m., my husband and I woke up at the same time. Kayla was lying on her side. When my husband picked her up, there was blood on her forehead. I thought it was a mosquito. Why, when I looked at my child, was pale, her mouth was blue, her eyes were bleeding from her nose and water, and her mouth was mucus,” wrote the young mother.
When the child was taken to the hospital, the doctor stated that the child died from a fall, as he had ruptured a blood vessel. However, according to the deceased’s parents, they had been sleeping on the floor. They also initially suspected that the child had been crushed while sleeping, but the doctor stated that if the child had died from being crushed, he would have suffocated.
When the body was washed, the family discovered that the baby’s head was hollow and soft. From the buttocks to the spine, it was blue and soft. Therefore, the baby’s mother firmly believed that her child had died from a kuyang.
Although there is no definitive information on whether this is true or not, the local community is growing concerned and vigilant. Some residents have even prepared certain leaves and placed them on windows as a means of warding off the kuyang.
People believe the kuyang is not a ghost but a human who possesses black magic for eternal life. During the day, the kuyang often wears a black robe.
At night, the kuyang detaches its head and internal organs from its body to hunt for prey. The kuyang usually preys on babies or childbirth blood to increase its knowledge. People who have seen the kuyang say it flies like a large bird. Not only can it hover and fly quickly, but this creature is also said to disappear and reappear instantly.
The kuyang can be passed on to those it chooses.
According to the book “Pacarku Perempuan Kuyang,” which the author claims is based on a true story, a person who practices black magic cannot die if their knowledge has not been passed on. Usually, their descendants will pass on the knowledge.
A broom, a mirror, a comb, and shallots are said to be weapons against the kuyang. But again, the most important thing is to ask for help from God.
Time to Vote 
These are 14 Haunting story we gathered, choose one that you prefer!
- #1 From Luka Scarborough – ‘The Last Puff’
- #2 From Jenno Franciliso - The Aswang’s Tail
- #3 Najib Alghif - The Shadow Beneath the Tamarind Tree — A Javanese Ghost Tale
- #4 JoLene Scribner - It Only Happens When You’re Alone
- #5 From Zao - The Knock That Never Stopped
- #6 From Mikel - This happened to me long time ago, Real Story
- #7 ~кυяηια ѕαη∂у - The Red Wristband
- #8 From Ada -The Little Figure I Saw That Night (2016)
- #9 From Nono - The Passenger in the Rear Mirror
- #10 From Ssuka - THE LEGEND STORY OF PARAKANG
- #11 From Nurul - Someone asked me when I was sleeping
- #12 From PNS - Seeing a shroud
- #13 From Joshef Myrnt - True Story from Mine
- #14 From Odi - The Flying Head: A Tale of the Kuyang in Kalimantan
We’re closing voting on Nov 11 and will reveal the top three most‑voted haunting stories!
