I was a baby at the time, and I cannot remember what happened. but my mother told me this story recently, and now I know why we moved from that old house so suddenly.
My mother, father and my three sisters moved into this old bungalow sometime before I was born. It was an old house, built by the British who had come to Malaya. I remember it was beautiful, with a lovely verandah and a huge garden. You could imagine the lanky resident walk through the rooms, with his little 'memsahib'.
There was one problem, however; the house was haunted.
The ghost, my mother realized, was a young boy who had died in the house years ago. This was a problem because he was as cheeky as hell, and he also took a liking to the newborn in the house which was me!.
One night I could not sleep. My mother carried me and rocked me in her arms in the middle of the night. It was dark, she told me, and my father, who was asleep at the time, was the only other person in the room. Suddenly, she felt something pull my leg. The force was so great that she swung sideways with the pull. She looked around but there was nothing there.
When I had learnt to talk, I used to sit by the cupboard in the hallway and speak to myself. When my sisters asked me who I was speaking to , I would tell them it was my friend. Friend? I had never known any other child my age, I had never been to nursery.
When I was seven years old, I was taking my bath in the bathroom. I had gotten out of the tub to get something. I suddenly felt this push on my back. I fell on my face, so hard one of my teeth was shoved back into the root. That did it. We moved out A.S.A.P. We now live in another house some miles away, and I am glad to say the ghost has not followed. But sometimes I have nightmares that he has come back...looking for me to be his friend.