This ghost story was shared by my friend’s parents during our gathering last week which send chills down our spine as I thought Singapore had no ghost or all were fluff. Below is their story and I have changed their names below.
Adrian and Mei finally bought their first home — a 1970s two-storey terrace house along Jalan Bahagia Road on blk 52, just a short walk from the old Chinese cemetery-turned-industry area. The house was had only 2 rooms but had wide backyard, but the price was too good to ignore.
The agent spoke quickly during the handover.
“Previous owner… left in a hurry. Didn’t want to talk about it. Elderly lady staying alone. Said the house felt ‘crowded’ at night.”
Adrian laughed it off. Mei didn’t.
They moved in on a humid Saturday night. As they were carrying boxes up, the moment Adrian reached the second last step, a cold breath exhaled right behind him.
Not wind.
Not the fan.
Not Mei.
He spun around. Nothing.
“Old houses make noise,” he muttered.
But old houses don’t breathe.
II. The Creak at 3:03 a.m.
For the first week, the house was quiet except for one thing:
Every night at exactly 3:03 a.m., the second stair from the top creaked.
Not the stairs they stepped on.
Not wood expanding.
Not a stray animal — their terrace was sealed tightly.
This was a footstep.
Like someone climbing the stairs…
…stopping on that exact stair…
…never going further.
Just waiting.
They tried checking CCTV from their hallway camera. At 3:03 a.m., the feed always glitched for 3 seconds — snowy static.
“Maybe the WiFi is weak upstairs,” Adrian suggested.
But downstairs the signal was perfect.
Only the landing — the place the previous owner said felt “crowded” — had dead spots.
III. The Landing Shadow
One night, Mei woke up thirsty. She opened the room door and immediately froze.
A tall, thin silhouette stood at the dim end of the landing, facing her.
Long arms.
No face.
Slightly leaning forward.
She blinked.
It was gone.
But the second stair creaked.
Slow. Heavy. Deliberate.
She slammed the door and shook Adrian awake. But when he checked, the landing was empty.
Except for one detail:
Although no one had stepped there…
dust on the second stair was disturbed.
Like a footprint that didn’t belong to either of them.
IV. The Hidden Room
Disturbed, Adrian checked the attic crawlspace above the second floor. At the very back, half-covered by insulation, was a bricked-up wall.
The bricks were new — less than a decade old.
Someone intentionally sealed something.
They rented tools. Broke it open.
Behind the bricks was a narrow, windowless room no bigger than a walk-in wardrobe.
Inside:
• A rusted metal chair
• A child’s study table
• Drawings pinned to the wall
• A cracked mirror facing the door
Every drawing showed the staircase.
And the landing.
And a tall, faceless shadow.
In one drawing, a shaky childlike scribble read:
“He likes the second stair.”
On the table lay a diary belonging to the previous owner’s grandson.
They flipped through. The writing grew increasingly unstable.
“I hear him breathing next to my bed.”
“He stands at the landing every night.”
“Gong Gong told me not to use the stairs after 3 a.m.”
“He hates when you look at him through the mirror.”
“He gets angry when you find his room.”
Then a final line — written freshly, in pencil, though the boy had left the country years ago:
“He is on the second stair now.”
The stair creaked.
Right below them.
V. The Final Night
That night, Adrian slept holding a hammer. Mei refused to switch off the hallway light.
At 3:03 a.m. sharp:
CREEAAAAK.
They heard a second sound.
Footsteps.
Slow.
Dragging something behind it.
Adrian opened the room door a crack.
The tall shadow stood on the second stair, facing away — as if waiting for someone behind him to climb.
Suddenly, the shadow turned its head, even though it had no face.
It turned toward Adrian.
The landing light flickered once.
Twice.
Died.
Darkness swallowed everything.
Mei screamed as something exhaled right into both their ears.
A long… slow… breath.
By morning, neighbours heard their shouts, their door bursting open, footsteps sprinting down the pavement — but no one saw what chased them.
They never returned to the house and sold it to another person immediately with a low price.
And to this day, at 3:03 a.m., residents walking past the terrace row swear they hear a single stair creak inside the house. It is also said accidents tend to happen jalan Bahagia road near blk 52 especially at 3.30am.
Waiting.