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WEWE GOMBEL (Short Story) Explanation of Traditional Indonesian Ghost

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  Wewe Gombel Wewe Gombel is one of the oldest Indonesian ghost stories that still exists today. It is believed to be the spirit of a woman who committed suicide after murdering her husband. The woman was unable to bear children, which led her husband to have an affair with another woman. In her distress, she killed him without hesitation. The ghost is said to originate from the Gombel area (Semarang), a place that was once used for executions during the colonial era. Wewe Gombel typically appears around dusk (just before the Maghrib prayer). She is believed to abduct children who are outside their homes during this time, taking them to another realm because she sees them as being homeless. Because of this myth, parents often forbid their children from going outside during Maghrib, fearing they might be kidnapped by Wewe Gombel. However, beneath this legend lies an important message for parents: always supervise and keep a close eye on your children, ensuring they don’t wander into...
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A Ghostly 'Friend' in the Boarding School

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(This story was experienced by a boarding school graduate named Fazri Ramdhan) Mystical stories in the boarding school environment are not uncommon. Whether it's a coincidence or something else, I can't explain it. As someone who used to attend a pesantren (Islamic boarding school), I also experienced such things. There were several eerie incidents during my time living there. One event, in particular, still lingers in my memory, even though it happened more than a decade ago. One night, my friend Amin and I were sitting on the second floor of the dormitory, ironing clothes. At that time, the boarding school was on break, so we could spend time doing whatever we liked, as the students’ routine activities were paused. Many of the students had gone home for the long holiday. Those left behind were students whose homes were on different islands, like Amin, or those who chose not to go home, like me, even though my home was nearby. The dormitory was situated directly behind the sch...
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When I Was With Kuntilanak

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This story happened in early 2008, specifically in January 2008. I had just returned from working  abroad after five years in a country where Petra is majestically carved between mountains of stone  and desert sands.  In 2008, I returned from my travels to a neighboring country between Turkey, Iraq, Syria, and  Lebanon. At that time, I bought a handycam, and because I’m the curious and playful type, this  story happened. That afternoon at 6:00 PM, just after Maghrib prayer, I asked my fourth sister to go ghost hunting  in the cemetery near my house, armed with my handycam. But because my sister is a bit scared,  she didn’t want to stay long and decided to go home, leaving me alone in a bamboo grove among  graves, some of which no longer had tombstones and were even leveled with the ground.  That night, I sat alone under a bamboo tree, observing my surroundings. It was a Wednesday night.  I set my handycam to infrared mode. An hour passed...
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"Stained by red marks (the spirit of Sari that forced me to confess)."

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  In early 2015, my name is Rudi. I’m 27 years old now. I live in a village in Central Java, and I’m the eldest of three siblings. Atif, my first younger brother, is only two years younger than me and is currently working away in Tangerang with a relative. Noufal, my youngest brother, is 18 years old. He recently graduated from vocational school (SMK) and is now doing an internship at a restaurant not far from our home. My mother is a traveling vegetable seller. She’s been doing this job for almost 20 years. My father passed away a few years ago. I work as a tent installer for events, and sometimes I also work as a construction laborer in the village. That morning, I woke up to the sound of a ringing phone next to me. "Hello, Rud..." "Hello... yes, Mas Gopri." "Still waking up, huh? Hurry and get ready... We’re supposed to install the tent at Pak Harto's place." "Oh, gosh... I forgot!" "Alright, hurry up. I’ll wait for you at the warehou...
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