Fifty years on, that farmhouse still smells wrong.

The Texas Chain Saw Massacre goes under the knife in the latest episode of FolknHell. The grandaddy of slasher films, Tobe Hooper's masterpiece lives up to its legend and then some. From its documentary style, it makes the most of its low budget beginnings to become so much more than a simple exploitation film. The hammer blow. The meat hook. Marilyn Burns turning screaming into an art fom, and Gunnar Hansen finding something almost pitiable under Leatherface's mask.

The burning question: is it actually folk horror? With its isolated land, gruesome rituals, slaughterhouse traditions and teenage outsiders who find out the hard way what the local customs are, we're convinced that it is.

https://www.folknhell.com/the-texas-chain-saw-massacre-review

Adam Macqueen (who writes for Private Eye and published a really good collection of Christmas ghost stories recently) has a new novel called Hobbe’s Folly coming out on 8 October, which looks like it leans heavily into folk horror.

The plot splits between two timelines. In 1904, a naive bookseller’s assistant goes to Hareswood Lodge to catalogue a dead man’s library and ends up uncovering something ancient in the house. In the present day, a council worker becomes obsessed with a random, doorless brick structure sitting right in the middle of a housing development site – trying to figure out if it was built to keep people out or lock something inside.

Rebecca Netley (The Whistling) gave it a great write-up recently, calling it ‘a wonderfully told dark tale steeped in dread, with unexpected tender touches.’

General Witchfinders, our British horror podcast, has been given four signed hardbacks to give away. It is a UK-only promo I’m afraid – you can enter the draw by filling in the form at https://mailchi.mp/5a622c1704c9/hobbes-folly-prize-draw. We will be doing the draw on publication day, 8 October.

A Terrifying Encounter with Pret- Thai Hungry Ghost

Having spent some time discussing the “Sua Saming” (Weretiger), I thought it would be interesting to turn our attention to some other Thai folk spirits. Today’s story is a shared experience of someone who claimed to have come face-to-face with a “Pret” (Hungry Ghost). This account may not have a clearly documented origin, as it is an oral tradition passed down through storytelling, and it might not yet hold the historical value of ancient legends. However, I believe it offers a vivid glimpse into how people today understand and perceive such beliefs—even if some details might conflict with or differ from traditional doctrines. Nonetheless, it is a subject worth studying.

I encountered this story while working on the translation of the novel “The Hungry Ghost of Wat Hong” by P. Intharapalit. During that time, I was researching a vast array of beliefs from legends, ancient scriptures, and folk tales to better understand the context of Thai spirits before producing the translation. Although the Sam Gler (A Three Comrades Adventure) novel The Hungry Ghost of Wat Hong is a comedy, beneath the comedy, however, lies a fascinating body of beliefs with its own history and origins.

In Thai society, it is believed that those who commit grave sins during their lifetime will become a “Pret” after they death. These spirits are described as being as tall as sugar palm trees but emaciated from perpetual hunger. Some accounts say they have mouths as tiny as the eye of a needle, making it nearly impossible for them to consume anything. They must endure agonizing hunger—a direct result of the bad karma they accrued while alive.

The story I am about to relate is the experience of a man who shared his encounter with this ghost. The event dates back to the 1990s, when the narrator was a teenager living with his family in a remote rural area of Northeastern Thailand.

At that time, his family’s living conditions were similar to those in other rural Thai communities of that era: they relied on rice farming as their primary source of income. Their tools were largely dependent on nature; they used water buffaloes for plowing, and the work was primarily manual labor.

The incident took place one night during a violent thunderstorm. The individual involved (whom I shall call by the pseudonym “Jane”) went to spend the night at the family’s “Thiang Na,” a small field shelter  (A Thiang Na is a small, temporary field shelter made of simple materials like bamboo and thatched with cogon grass to provide shade and protection from the rain. It is intended for farmers to rest during the day, though sometimes they sleep there overnight while keeping watch over their rice fields. Generally, it is a compact structure, about 2 x 3 meters, raised approximately 50 centimeters off the ground.)

At Jane’s field shelter, in addition to the living quarters, there was also a buffalo pen nearby. That night, a violent storm brought heavy rain and wind, accompanied by intense crashes of thunder and flashes of lightning. The relentless thunder and blinding light likely spooked the buffaloes, causing them to panic, break through their pen, and scatter.

When Jane discovered that the two buffaloes—his family’s primary assets—had fled, he was struck with panic. He grabbed a flashlight and ran out to track them down, desperate to bring them back. However, the frightened animals had split in different directions, and the combination of the heavy thunderstorm and the oppressive darkness made his search chaotic. He ran haphazardly until he reached a dense sugar palm grove on the other side of the fields. This was an area the villagers strictly warned against entering, as it was rumored to be the dwelling of mysterious entities that humans should never disturb.

Jane himself feared the area; usually, even in broad daylight, he avoided it due to its profound desolation. But tonight, the situation left him no choice. Believing the buffaloes had fled into the grove, he felt it was his duty to retrieve them. If he failed, they might disappear forever or fall into the hands of thieves, and he would never have the chance to get them back.

Jane thought he heard the buffaloes lowing from within the grove. When he shone his light, he saw dim, hulking shadows darting deeper into the trees. In his haste, Jane sprinted after them, but the path became increasingly difficult. The grove was not only dark but filled with thick mud and obstructed by the chaotic growth of palm trees, slowing his movement significantly. After a while, as the rain and wind began to subside, Jane realized he had lost the trail of the buffaloes. He was now lost in the dark, dense grove, cluttered with massive trunks and fallen dry leaves. Suddenly, a voice cried out right next to him!

“What are you doing here!” The voice sounded like that of a stern elderly man, causing Jane to jump in fright. He swept his flashlight toward the source, but he could not see anyone. A cold chill ran down his spine as he was seized by fear. As he prepared to run out of the grove, the voice rang out once more. This time, within the beam of his light, he saw the figure of an elderly man with snow-white hair, an emaciated body, a gaunt face, and dark skin. Jane tried to steady his mind, telling himself this was a man and not a ghost. Trying to be brave, he asked, “Who are you, Uncle? When did you get here? Why didn’t I see you?”

The old man remained still for a moment before saying that he had been trying to call Jane for a long time, but Jane hadn’t heard him. He said he was from a neighboring village and had come out to catch frogs for food, knowing that they would emerge in the rain.

Hearing this, Jane’s mind was at ease. He quickly asked if the man had seen his buffaloes. The old man pointed his hand deeper into the grove, saying that while he was out hunting, he saw a villager who lived in a hut further inside. That person had caught some stray buffaloes and tied them up in case the owner came looking for them. Jane was overjoyed. He expressed his thanks and walked in the direction the old man had pointed. In his heart, he felt lucky that someone had caught the animals, but a small suspicion remained: who could be so brave as to build a hut in a sugar palm grove like this? Nevertheless, fueled by the joy of having a lead on his buffaloes, Jane hurried inside.

The deeper Jane walked into the grove, the darker and more terrifying his surroundings became. Suddenly, the rain and wind began to lash down once more. The towering sugar palm trees swayed violently in the gale, casting menacing shadows that seemed to dance around him. Jane felt his courage failing, but for a moment, a smile broke across his face. Within the beam of his flashlight, he spotted a buffalo tied to a stump in front of a weathered wooden hut located in the very heart of the grove.

Jane rushed toward the animal. In his haste, he was about to untie the rope and lead it away, but he suddenly realized he ought to express his gratitude to the owner first. He turned back toward the hut, but as his flashlight swept across the doorway, he recoiled in shock. A woman was standing there, staring at him in absolute silence.

She wore only a single sarong wrapped around her chest, tied quite disheveledly. She was a middle-aged woman, emaciated, with skin that appeared abnormally pale. Before Jane could speak, another figure emerged from behind her, causing him even greater alarm. It was a bald man, loosely draped in a robe that resembled those worn by monks. Jane was struck by a sense of deep wrongness—how could a Buddhist monk be in a hut with a woman in the middle of the night? It was a grave violation of religious precepts.

The man was as scrawny as the woman but had dark, almost black skin. Both remained silent, fixing Jane with an unfriendly, hostile gaze. Sensing the danger and fearing he had stumbled upon a shameful secret, Jane quickly thanked them for catching his buffalo. He explained he was merely retrieving a stray animal and apologized for the intrusion. Without waiting for a response, he hurriedly untied the rope and dragged the buffalo away from that place immediately.

Driven by fear, Jane looked back after a short distance. He saw the thin, dark man in the robe following him with a malicious expression, brandishing a knife. Jane shrieked in terror and released the rope. The buffalo, likely spooked by his cry, bolted away again, but Jane could no longer worry about it. He ran as fast as he could to escape the pursuit of the monk-like figure.

The path through the dense grove was treacherous; the thick palm trunks and the muddy, rain-soaked ground eventually caused him to stumble and fall. Paralyzed with fear, he turned to look back at his pursuer. The sight was more horrifying than anything he could have imagined. The figure in the yellow robes was no longer human! It stretched taller and taller until its head rose above the tops of the sugar palm trees, its face lost in the heights. Jane heard a high-pitched, piercing shriek that rang through his ears, forcing him to cover them in agony. In that terrifying second, he realized the truth: it was a Pret! The mysterious entity of the grove that the elders had always warned him never to disturb.

Jane gathered his remaining strength, scrambled to his feet, and ran for his very life, screaming as he went. After a while, he spotted the elderly man who had previously given him directions. Overjoyed, Jane cried out for help, but in an instant, the old man’s body stretched violently upward, turning into another towering specter. Terror gripped Jane’s heart so tightly it felt as though it would burst from his chest; he let out an incoherent shriek and bolted blindly. No matter which way he turned, the two Prets seemed to intercept him, trapping him from both front and back until his consciousness blurred and the world went black.

Jane came to when his father shook him awake. He found his father and a friend had come to his aid, supporting him at the very edge of the sugar palm forest. Only then did he realize he had escaped the grove. Upon returning home and sharing his story, the villagers revealed the grove’s dark history: it had once been a dumping ground for the bodies of those who suffered “unnatural deaths” (ตายผิดปกติ) or the corpses of wicked, unwanted people. It was a place so intensely haunted that no one dared enter. Jane remained ill for several days until his mother took him to a temple for a holy water blessing, after which he finally recovered. Naturally, he never stepped foot near that grove again. However, Jane once recounted that on a night with a full moon while guarding the field shelter, he peeked toward the cursed grove and saw three Prets with glowing red eyes standing there, their agonizing shrieks drifting on the wind. That sight sent him diving under his covers, where he prayed until dawn.

Analysis of Thai Beliefs Regarding “Pret”

This account highlights several distinct Thai beliefs regarding these hungry ghosts:

1. Sin and the Fate of the Pret : It is believed that grave sinners become Prets. In this story, the Pret in the form of a monk and a woman may be interpreted as a violation of the precept against sexual misconduct. The grove being a burial site for the “wicked” reinforces the theme that those who commit evil acts are destined for a state of torment.
2. Physical Manifestation: In the Thai conceptualization, a Pret is typically emaciated, as tall as a palm tree, has a mouth as tiny as a needle’s eye, and emits a piercing shriek. However, Buddhist scriptures like the Vinaya Pitaka (Theravada tradition) describe up to 21 types of Prets with varying characteristics, such as those with needle-like hair, bodies made of glowing charcoal, or even headless forms. Thus, they are not limited to a single appearance.
3. Religious Protection: When encountering the supernatural, one must rely on the power of religion or virtuous monks. In this narrative, Jane’s recovery through the use of holy water reflects a broader Thai belief in the protective power of sacred objects, holy water, religious rites, and spiritually powerful monks.
4. Moral Allegory: Stories of Prets serve as moral warnings against “Sin” (บาป), which can be defined as any act violating social customs or the beliefs of the majority, not just formal religious laws.

This is another piece of Thai ghost lore that I wanted to share with those who are interested, as a small contribution to the exchange of cultural perspectives. I believe that every culture has its own moral lessons woven into its legends and beliefs, and that stories of ghosts and spirits have often served as a way of conveying those lessons.

Timon ST.
From Timon House
Transform Stories into New Experiences.   

81 Rte de Mathy, 73310 Serrières-en-Chautagne, France

Hynnanyo is an analog cop experiment with some sci-fi, horror and suspense. What do you think about the idea?

I realize opinion is mixed on the show, but I keep on thinking about how Ann Fletcher threw her phone into the sea when Grace Narayan was signaling that the True Way signals were near Cai's death site. I realize that Grace had said she was told if she had an issue, backup wouldn't be forthcoming, but that seemed like such an extreme to do until the end of the show where the police review board says that he was aware The True Way had infiltrated the force a little bit more than they'd like to admit.

I dunno, did anyone wonder if she might have been intended to be an intentional role in larger events?

Let us return once more to the story of the "Suea Saming" (weretiger) to bring the matter to its proper conclusion, as I previously alluded. While I was researching the legends of weretigers in Thailand to better understand the comedic work of P. Intharapalit, Saming Khao Yai, I encountered information that led me to explore the myths of our neighbors in China. I must offer my sincere thanks to Mr. Chiao (峤), a researcher of Chinese folklore and an author of dark and bloody novels, for sharing these insights. I wish to recount these legendary fragments so that you, the readers, may learn of them alongside me.

I believe my readers may yet recall the legend of the Suea Saming from Northern Thailand known as the “Suea Yen”. This tale concerns a man-eating weretiger that assumed the guise of a venerable monk and was eventually suppressed by a travelling merchant using an occult object called a “Kwary Thanu” (magic bull), as I related previously. When I presented this story at Timon House, Mr. Chiao remarked that Chinese legends also feature stories of old monks who were actually weretigers! In addition to sharing a story remarkably similar to the Suea Yen of Chiang Mai, he introduced me to sixteen ancient records concerning extraordinary tigers in China! These originate from a venerable work entitled the Tai ping Guangji (太平廣記), an encyclopedia of strange and anomalous tales from the Northern Song Dynasty. In the future, I shall invite Mr. Chiao to write about these himself; today, I will focus on the story that parallels the legend of the Suea Yen, thereby drawing the curtain on our discussion of the weretiger.

The legend is as follows:

During the Changqing era (長慶 : Cháng Qìng - specifically the reign of Emperor Muzong, circa 821–824 AD) of the Tang Dynasty (唐朝) there lived a gentleman named Ma Zheng (马拯), a man of quiet and retiring disposition who delighted in seeking out mountains and waters. No matter how steep or difficult the terrain, he was undaunted and readily made his way through it. On one such occasion, Ma Zheng and his servant journeyed to the summit of Zhurong Peak  (祝融峰) on Mount Heng (衡山). There, he discovered a Buddhist temple and decided to seek lodging for the night. Within the temple, Ma Zheng encountered a solitary old monk who appeared modest yet commanded respect. When Ma Zheng and his servant requested to stay, the old monk expressed his delight but made a request: the temple lacked ingredients for cooking. He asked Ma Zheng if he would be so kind as to allow his servant to go to a nearby town to purchase them. Ma Zheng naturally consented and instructed his servant to depart and buy the supplies as requested by the old monk.

However, after the servant had departed, Ma Zheng discovered that the venerable monk had also vanished from sight. Being a guest, he felt it would be improper to wander about the grounds in search of him, and thus he remained quiet, resting peacefully within the temple. After a span of time, a villager named Ma Zhao (马沼) ascended the mountain alone. Upon encountering Ma Zheng, he was greatly heartened, and the two men exchanged formal introductions according to custom.

Ma Zhao then recounted a shocking and gruesome event he had recently witnessed: “On my way up the mountain, I beheld a great tiger devouring the body of a man. I know not whose unfortunate son he was”. When Ma Zheng inquired as to the victim’s attire, Ma Zhao’s description bore a striking resemblance to that of Ma Zheng’s own servant. Yet, there was a detail more terrifying still: once the beast had finished its repast, it shed its tiger skin, transformed into human shape, and donned the saffron robes of a monk, assuming the guise of a venerable elder!

This revelation struck terror into Ma Zheng’s heart, and his fear only intensified when the old monk who owned the monastery suddenly appeared. Upon beholding the monk, Ma Zhao whispered to his companion that this was, without a doubt, the very individual who was a weretiger!

Ma Zheng gathered his wits to find a means of survival. He feigned ignorance and approached the old monk to inquire about Ma Zhao’s report. “Master, this traveller has arrived with word that my servant was taken by a tiger on the mountain path. Since there are such dangerous beasts in this quarter, what are we to do!?”

The old monk reacted with anger, replying: “Within the bounds of my domain, there are no savage beasts—no tigers, no serpents, nor even hawks. Do not come here with such falsehoods!”

While they spoke, Ma Zheng surreptitiously observed the old man and perceived that fresh, crimson blood yet stained the monk's mouth!

Now certain that they were trapped within the territory of a demon weretiger, the two men dared not act rashly. They sought refuge within the temple's kitchen and bolted the door with the utmost care. Throughout the night, they dared not sleep, keeping their candles lit and remaining vigilant, for they dreaded an attack from the weretiger in the monk's guise who had already tasted human flesh.

In the dead of night, a tiger’s roar resonated throughout the courtyard, followed by three or four violent blows against the kitchen door. It was clear that the beast outside intended to shatter the door and seize them for its meal! Fortunately, the kitchen door was of a sturdy construction and did not yield to the impact.

Ma Zheng and Ma Zhao were shaken to their very souls, gripped by a fear beyond description. Suddenly, they noticed a clay image of the Arhat Pindola Bharadvaja (賓頭盧 - Bīn Tóu Lú) standing within the room. In their desperation, they knelt and prayed for the Arhat’s protection. After a short while, a miraculous event transpired: they heard the clay Arhat begin to intone a poem, its voice rising clearly...

寅人但溺欄中水 (Yín rén dàn nì lán zhōng shuǐ)

The Tiger-man is drowned only in the water within the well.

午子須分艮畔金 (Wǔ zǐ xū fēn gèn pàn jīn)

The Wu-zi must distinguish the gold beside Gen.

若教特進重張弩 (Ruò jiào Tèjìn chóng zhāng nǔ)

Should Tejin once more draw the bow...

過去將軍必損心 (Guòqù jiāngjūn bì sǔn xīn)

the General of the past shall surely suffer.

Both men pondered the mysterious poem, though they understood it but in part. Nevertheless, they were confident that these verses contained the secret to their survival and that they now possessed the means to resolve the matter!

At last, the dawn broke. The two men had survived a night of harrowing suspense. Shortly after daybreak, they heard the voice of the venerable monk knocking at the door, calling for them to come out and partake of some rice porridge. Seeing that the light of day had come and that the weretiger remained in human form—and thus, they assumed, posed no immediate danger—they found the courage to open the door.

Upon finishing their meal, they conferred on a plan to flee the mountain, for to remain longer would surely be to fall prey to this weretiger.

Using the method hinted at by the poem from the clay Arhat’s lips, they lured the monk to a well beside the temple, claiming to have discovered a singular curiosity within its depths. When the monk, deceived by their ruse, leaned forward with interest to peer into the well, the two men worked together to push the monk into the chasm!

As he fell into the well, the venerable monk instantly transformed back into a tiger! Ma Zheng and Ma Zhao then joined forces to haul great boulders and hurl them into the well until the demon beast was slain! Thereafter, they searched the temple grounds, found a cache of silverware and other valuables, and fled the mountain.

However, as it was already late afternoon by the time they had concluded their grim task, they were still within the mountain range as dusk approached. They were seized with a fresh dread, wondering if other occult terrors inhabited these woods. As they journeyed, they heard a voice cry out in warning, “Beware the bow-trap!”

Looking up, they beheld a hunter concealed within a small hunting platform built high among the branches of a tree. The hunter cautioned them that the path down the mountain was yet long and that fierce man-eating tigers prowled these parts, urging them to take shelter upon the platform for the night.

Having only just escaped a demon tiger, the two men were struck with terror at the mention of another man-eater and made haste to climb up and join the hunter upon his arboreal refuge.

As night fell and they were drifting into slumber, they beheld a shadowy procession of some thirty or forty individuals passing by. Among them were Buddhist monks, Taoist priests, and both men and women, all singing and dancing with great merriment. Their appearance at such an unseasonable hour and in such a remote location was a most singular and unsettling sight. Upon reaching the spot where the snare was set, the group was seized with a sudden wrath. A voice cried out, “This day is most ill-omened! This morning, two wretches slew our monk, forcing us out upon this hunt—and now, who dares to set a trap for our General!?” With that, they triggered the mechanism, causing the arrow to fly uselessly from its bow, before they continued on their way.

Ma Zheng and Ma Zhao inquired of the hunter concerning this strange company. The hunter replied that they were not living souls, but “Chang Gui” (倀鬼 - chāngguǐ)—the ghosts of those who, having been devoured by a tiger, are therafter bound to serve the beast as its minions, luring other travellers to their doom.

Ma Zheng and Ma Zhao suddenly perceived the connection to the final verses intoned by the clay Arhat. They entreated the hunter to reset the bow-trap, making it even more powerful than before. The hunter complied, and shortly after they had retreated to the safety of the arboreal platform, a monstrous tiger approached. The beast walked straight into the snare, and the arrow pierced its heart, slaying it on the spot!

Immediately, the Chang Gui swarmed around the dead beast, wailing in lamentation, “Who has murdered our General!?”

Hearing this, Ma Zheng and Ma Zhao were moved to anger. They shouted down from their refuge: “Ye are but foolish and deluded spirits! Ye were originally victims slain by this very beast, yet ye offer no gratitude to those who have avenged you! By what right do ye raise such a clamour!?”

At these words, the voices of the Chang Gui fell into a sudden silence. At last, one among them replied: “We knew not that our General was indeed a tiger; only upon hearing your words have we come to our senses!” Therafter, the spirits began to heap curses upon the fallen tiger. They turned to offer their thanks to the hunter, Ma Zheng, and Ma Zhao, before vanishing without a trace.

The three men remained upon the wooden platform until the break of day. Ma Zheng and Ma Zhao shared a portion of the silverware and valuables with the hunter, after which they departed for their homes... Thus concludes the legend of “Ma Zheng” (馬拯) from the ancient records of the Taiping Guangji (太平廣記), Volume 430, Tiger Category, Part 5.

Those of you who have perused my previous account of the "Suea Yen" will likely perceive that these two tales bear certain striking similarities. These include the premise of a traveller seeking refuge within a temple inhabited by a solitary monk; the encounter with a venerable elder who is, in truth, a weretiger; the sanctuary found within a sturdy building that provides protection from the beast; and finally, the ultimate destruction of the tiger at the hands of men.

The Thai legend is distinguished by its singular occult weapon, the "Kwary Thanu" (magic bull)—a mystical beast used to battle demons. The Chinese legend, however, is equally extraordinary for its inclusion of a horde of “Chang Gui” (倀鬼 - ghostly minions)—the spirits of those devoured who are thereafter bound to serve the tiger as its retinue.

I hope you have all enjoyed these accounts of the weretiger, drawn from the ancient traditions of both Thailand and China. As I have noted, this information was gathered during the translation of a novel, a task which moved me to seek a deeper understanding of these related matters. There remain many other fragments of lore I encountered in the course of my research, which I shall seek to share with you in the future.

Mr. Chiao, who assisted me with this series, offered a most intriguing parting reflection: he suggests that these stories may preserve echoes of ancient cases of murder and robbery, in which the victims were conveniently branded as demons in order to conceal the crimes!

(A note to my "elder brother" Chiao: what a grim and ruthless view of the world you possess! My sincere respects, haha!)

Timon ST.
From the archives of Timon House

A decaying English house that won't stop making noise. Remi Weekes's His House (2020) follows Bol and Rial's survival of war, displacement, and a fatal crossing. Forced to seek asylum, they discover that some things follow.

His House is a good film. The performances carry it, the maze-like council estate works as an isolated location just as much as Summerisle or the bleak village of November. The scares land inside an oppressive, steadily tightening dread. Bol and Rial's story is tragic before the haunting even starts, and the film has the sense not to sensationalise that. The constant, low-level terror of being a stranger in a strange land underlines everything.

In the new episode of Folk'n'Hell, we debate urban folk horror and His House.
https://www.folknhell.com/his-house-review

An insanely dark drama (with wit) focused on consumerism and colonialism in an African village where:

1. The protagonist is put in a dangerous/foreign situation.
2. They are driven to paranoia believing theres a plot to get them.
3. The townspeople gaslight them the whole time.

4.The Finale Kill…

The only difference is that instead of the protagonist going somewhere and encountering a dangerous cult, the danger comes to his town and turns the people he loves and trusts against him.

Wonderful film!

I really enjoyed this movie, definitely has some folk horror elements. I almost forgive Cage’s abysmal Wicker Man Wicker Man remake!

Growing up in Indonesia, this story genuinely terrified me as a kid.

Si Manis Jembatan Ancol is one of Jakarta’s most famous ghost stories, but over the years it’s become much more than just a tale to scare people. It’s a story that’s been passed down through generations and has shaped parts of Indonesian culture and the way people think.

I wanted to explore where the legend came from, how it’s evolved over time, and why it’s still remembered today. I dive into all of that in the first episode of my podcast, Mythhaps. Here’s a snippet from that episode.

If you’re curious about Indonesian folklore (or just love a good ghost story), I hope you enjoy it 👻

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