The old maternity ward of Jakarta General Hospital stood like a forgotten memory, its walls holding secrets from decades past. In the 1970s, this wing had witnessed an unusually high number of maternal deaths, leaving behind an unexplained darkness that seemed to linger long after the ward was closed for renovation.
Rina Martinez, a young nurse recently transferred from Surabaya, found herself assigned to the night shift in this eerily quiet hospital section. Her unfamiliarity with local folklore made her particularly vulnerable to the supernatural whispers that echoed through the empty corridors. The ward felt different – a strange heaviness hung in the air, thick with unspoken stories and forgotten pain.
During her routine midnight rounds, Rina first noticed something was terribly wrong. A faint baby’s cry drifted from an empty room, soft yet distinct. The sound would rise and fall, almost like a distant lullaby, sending chills down her spine. A sweet, overwhelming floral scent – reminiscent of jasmine and something more ancient – began to permeate the hallway. Experienced nurses had warned her about such signs, but Rina had always dismissed them as superstition.
Suddenly, a woman’s distant laughter cut through the silence. Not a menacing cackle, but a haunting, melodic sound that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere. Rina’s flashlight flickered, casting long shadows across the peeling walls. There – in the corner of her vision – a figure in white, long hair cascading down her back, standing perfectly still. When Rina turned, the figure would move, always just beyond her direct line of sight.
The chase began unexpectedly. Rina found herself running through dark corridors, the white-clad figure always tantalizingly close yet impossibly distant. Her heart raced as she realized she was no longer hunting the apparition – she was being hunted. The laughter grew closer, more intimate, surrounding her from all directions. Trapped between two spectral figures, Rina felt the temperature drop dramatically.
An elderly cleaning lady, Ibu Siti, emerged from the shadows. Her weathered hands clutched a small bundle of traditional protective herbs. “The Kuntilanak,” she whispered, “they seek justice for their unborn children.” Ibu Siti revealed she had lost her own daughter during childbirth in this very ward decades ago. She knew the spirits’ pain, their unresolved grief that kept them tethered to this place.
With guidance from Ibu Siti, the hospital eventually conducted a traditional cleansing ceremony. Local spiritual leaders performed rituals to honor the lost mothers and their unborn children. The ward was blessed, the spirits acknowledged. Yet, locals still whisper about occasional sightings – a white-clad figure, a distant cry, a sweet floral scent lingering in the night.
Some stories, it seems, are never truly forgotten. They remain, waiting to be remembered, to be understood.
Horror Level:
4 / 5
Categories: Asian Horror, Cultural Folklore, Ghost Stories, Ghost Stories, Hospital Hauntings
Tags: asian folklore, ghost story, hospital haunting, indonesian ghost, Kuntilanak, maternity ward, supernatural encounter
Religion: Traditional Indonesian
Country of Origin: Indonesia
Topic: Supernatural Encounter
Ethnicity: Indonesian
