I was standing perplexed looking around the room that I was in. It was an old empty building by the river once used as a security post in my neighborhood. I was looking at my older brother and his friends, who were seemingly unbothered and still playing around as cheerful as they could be. What had happened was, I felt the earth shaking so hard, like the ground was about to rip open. I was 6 or 7, well aware of what an earthquake is. I was the only one seeing and sensing it. I kept that to myself not wanting my brother and his friends to regard me as a dullard little child, they were at least five years older. So, I brushed it off and didn’t tell anyone.

Supernatural or not, it was one of the many strange events that I experienced.

But I’m not about to narrate those occurrences, but rather what sparked my interest. I’ve always had a predilection for liking all things creepy and grim. This interest of mine dates back to when I was just a mere grade schooler, my age hasn’t even hit double digits yet. Back then, aside from the craze of Harry Potter, there were mangas called “Nakayoshi” and “Serial Cantik” (do I tingle some memory strands in your brain?). I tried reading both, but I always gave up halfway. I chose “Serial Hantu” and “Cerita Hantu di Sekolah” instead. I too loved reading funny comics like “Kungfu Komang”, “Hagemaru”, and “Master Q”. Even for Lupus novels, my favorite ones were ghost-themed ones. Only when I entered middle school, I dived more into the ‘teen lit’ romance genre such as “Dealova“, “Lovely Luna“, and “Eiffel, I’m in Love“. But most of the time I enjoy those horror comics and novels the most.

My enthusiasm toward scary things continues to this day. I contemplated and tried to recall what made me love this genre so much.

If I’m putting the pieces together, my Dad’s influence had a pivotal role in it. I used to watch horror TV shows, the most prominent one was of course “Dunia Lain”. My Dad would often watch it every time he was home (he used to travel a lot for work), and the curious me snuck out of bed even when my Mom forbade me from watching the show in fear of having nightmares. But my wayward behavior and great inquisitiveness made my Mom give up and eventually let me relish the terror aired on TV with Dad. There was another show that I vividly remember called “Scariest Places on Earth” which mostly visited old castles in Europe. I was just mesmerized by those shows. Yes, it was dreadful and nerve-wracking, but I always felt safe because Dad was always within my eyesight. While watching, he usually played Solitaire on our Windows ’98 computer if commercial breaks were showing (which can be very long). Before owning a computer, he’d play Tetris on his light grey game bot on the terrace while smoking, I’d yell or go outside and tell him when the show was starting back on. 

I think that’s what started it. The feeling of comfort when enjoying horror-related content. I know it sounds contradictory, but that’s just how it is. From time to time, when I lose sight of myself, engaging with ghost stories is a familiar act, which I have been doing for more than 20 years. Hence the consolation to feel like me again.

Telling ghost stories is also one of the ways my Dad and I bond. I subconsciously found solace in his presence. Sometimes he liked to tell me about scary stuff that he experienced because he was also quite ‘sensitive’. From meeting the ghost pastor in Jeruk Purut Cemetery to seeing my Grandma’s doppelgänger while studying for his master’s at my grandparents’ house. I’d attentively listen to his tales, my expression would be illustrated as that Puss in Boots meme, staring at my Dad with a wide-rounded gaze, smitten by his words.

Now my Dad and I no longer share the same dimension. But I still share the same sentiments, especially when I’m watching a movie or series. Sometimes I thought to myself, “Man, my Dad would’ve loved this”. We too share the same taste when it comes to movies. Sometimes his commentaries irked me, when there was an absurd scene, he’d say “That didn’t happen, it’s a lie.” Over and over again until I’d say to him: “Of course. It’s JUST a movie.” With a deadpan, annoyed face followed by his cheeky laugh. In retrospect, I think he was just teasing me.

Nowadays in Indonesia, horror-themed movies, shows, and contents surely still attract major crowds. For me, it’s a pleasant thing because there are so many options that I can choose. I often listen to horror podcasts while doing my activities, from working to putting on makeup. I don’t give a rat’s bum whether or not the stories were true. When I don’t quite enjoy the story that I’m currently listening to, I’ll simply move on to the next one. If there’s a story that seems really beyond reason or I suspect its authenticity, I still really salute that person for having an above-average imagination.

In fact, due to listening to horror podcasts, I know more about the culture, habits, customs, and even the religion of many Indonesian citizens. It moved me somehow ̶ as cheesy and cringe-y as it sounds ̶ we are united by our liking of ghost stories. I think we need to find more things in common these days. 

I also tried listening to horror podcasts from the West, but they’re not as interesting and diverse as Indonesians’. They are mostly just about murders, psychopaths, and aliens.

And for those who consider Indonesians are dumb for still believing in the supernatural and superstitions, well to each their own I guess. Everyone is entitled of their own opinion. 

So there’s that. I’m beyond delighted when I’m meeting people who share the same love for things creepy. Personally, I think there are two ways to unite people: telling gossip and telling horror stories. I’d prefer to choose the latter because, well, less chance of causing havoc (probably).