When I Was With Kuntilanak

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, and there were no signs of anything. I 

thought maybe the following night, Thursday night, would be more exciting. Finally, at 8 PM, I 

decided to go home. 

It was pitch black around me. On my left was my father's bamboo grove, with several graves 

beneath it that were more than 40 years old. On my right was a large mango tree and a few other 

big trees. The atmosphere felt cold, and I wasn’t wearing a jacket, just a T-shirt and jeans.

Since there was still no sign of anything, I tried to lure them out by whistling and saying, "Come on, 

where’s the Kuntilanak? Not showing up tonight, huh?"

When there was no response from any spirits around, I decided to head home. But just as I was 

about to leave, a cold wind made the hair on the back of my neck stand up, and out of all the trees 

around, only the mango tree’s leaves swayed in the wind. Not only that, but there was also a musty 

smell that made my stomach turn. I tried recording with my handycam, but suddenly, it ran out of 

battery and died, making it difficult for me to walk home in the dark. 

I don’t know, maybe I stepped on a grave because it was really dark due to the thick bamboo trees. 

Finally, around 9 PM, I made it home, took a shower, and watched TV with my family in the living 

room where we parked the motorbike. Here’s the English translation:

**11 PM, Everyone Had Gone to Bed**

At 11 PM, everyone had gone to bed, including me. Nothing happened in my room, but it was a 

different story in my sister’s room—the same sister who had joined me on the ghost hunt. While she 

was sleeping, she felt something blowing on her ear, making her body shiver uncontrollably. Not 

only that, she also felt a cold hand brushing her shoulder. A short while later, her son Gilang, who 

was still very young at the time, suddenly screamed and gripped her shirt tightly. He cried out, 

saying he was scared, while pointing at the dark corner of the room. On top of that, there was a 

knocking on her window.

My sister didn’t sleep the whole night until 4 AM because Gilang kept crying.

The next day...

On Thursday night, I went hunting at the same spot. But just as I was about to begin, my father 

called for me, looking for me. He forbade me from hunting, so I went home. 

At 10 PM, an old friend from elementary school visited me. He works as a security guard at the 

post office in Bandung. He told me that every time he comes home late, near the bend with the 

waru tree, he feels like something is following him. 

We got carried away talking about supernatural things until my sister told my friend, the security 

guard, to leave.

**Sister:** "It’s late, and you're being careless talking about these things. What if 'they' hear you? 

You might not see them, but they can see and hear you."  

**Me:** "Well, so what if they hear? If it's a beautiful one, maybe she can join me in my room!" I 

joked.

At 1 AM, I went to my room, changed my clothes, closed the curtains, and turned off the lights.

Just as my head hit the pillow... suddenly...  

My body felt extremely cold, and then I felt compelled to leave the house. I walked towards the well 

beneath the banyan tree. I leaned in to look down into the well, and I almost gasped and fell 

because suddenly, my parents' heads were rising and sinking in a well of blood. I screamed and 

started trembling as I tried to make sense of what was happening.

I then called the Adhan (the call to prayer) and attempted to recite verses from the Quran. But the 

verses came out jumbled—just halfway through Ayat al-Kursi, I jumped to reciting Shalawat 

Nariyah. Finally, I remembered a prayer my late grandmother had taught me, one meant to destroy 

or drive away evil spirits.

I stood up, recited "Bismillah," closed my eyes, and began repeating the prayer over and over. I only 

stopped when I heard the sound of someone hitting the electric pole three times (it seemed like the 

night watch). When I opened my eyes, I found myself lying on my bed with my feet hanging off the 

side, touching the floor.

Before I could fully regain my senses, I almost screamed again, as I saw the figure of a woman 

floating above my wardrobe. Here’s the English translation:

**A Thin Woman with a Pale Bluish Face**

Her skin was peeling in some places, and her eyes were long and white with small black pupils in 

the center. Her nose had holes, exposing the bone, and her thin, wrinkled mouth stretched from ear 

to ear in a slight, eerie smile. Her head was tilted, staring straight at me. What terrified me the 

most was her hair—it wasn’t long but shoulder-length, slightly curly, and so sparse that her scalp 

was visible. In fact, she was almost bald.

I immediately jumped up and tried to grab her legs. (In an old Sundanese script, it is mentioned 

that the weakness of the Kuntilanak is the earth; when she touches the ground, she loses her 

strength. Maybe that’s why she floats and her feet never touch the ground.) But when I tried to grab 

her, she vanished, disappearing through the roof of my room.

I rushed out of my room, flinging the door open with all my strength, making a loud thud against 

the wall. The whole family woke up, including my mom and dad. They asked what happened, but I 

just sat there, weak and drenched in sweat. I told them what happened. But my dad just said it 

was a dream, blaming it on the fact that I forgot to recite my prayers. I felt upset because he didn’t 

believe me, but I had no proof.

My mom gave me a glass of water and told me to go back to sleep. 

I went back to my room and played some MP3 recitations of Quranic verses I had downloaded at 

that moment. The next day, I told my family again. I thought that was the end of it, that nothing 

more would happen since I decided to stop hunting and even went back to the place to apologize, 

in case I had disturbed them.

But that was just the beginning… The next night, the attacks turned physical. I became ill, my body 

burned with fever, and my skin turned black, like iron that had been scorched. For almost two 

weeks, I wandered around aimlessly after the Asr prayer, hearing whispers of death and voices 

urging me to die, especially as the night approached.

Thank you, and that is the story of me and the Kuntilanak.