The first time was around 3-4 years ago when I and my family — my parents and my two younger sisters — had a holiday trip to Hua Hin. After we had enjoyed the sun, sea and sand for hours, our stomach growled for food so we decided to go grab something for dinner at a restaurant near the hotel. It was around 8 p.m. and the path from the hotel to its parking lot lay in darkness. The night was cold and full of the sound of crickets chirping here and there like someone was whispering something to someone. In the gathering gloom, we carefully walked to our car, trying not to stumble over the gravel walkway. All of a sudden, after we had managed to get into the car, my 6-year-old sister, Ung-ing, began to whimper. At that time, we all were completely confused about what was going on and why she was crying. My mother worried that she had injured herself so she asked if my sister was hurt somewhere. But all my sister did was shake her head, then, her whimpers became loud sobs.
I knew that something was not quite right so I petted her head and calmly said, “Please tell me why you are crying so that I can help you.”
She looked at me with her tearful eyes. Her face was pale like a piece of paper. After a second of silence, she began to say in a trembling voice, “A ghost.”
We all froze. That was a very unexpected thing to hear.
I asked, “Do you mean that you saw a ghost and it scared you?” She nodded with her face full of terror. I frowned and asked her another question, “Where?”
There was a momentary hesitation before she slowly dragged her finger up to point at the dark alley which we had walked through a moment before.
I do not know what got into me at that time but I was so irate that this ghost I could not see made my sister cry like she was bullied. Angrily, I lowered the window beside me and shouted into the darkness “Don’t scare the kid! If you think you are good at scaring people that bad, try scaring me, coward! Come! So I can punch you in the face, you (a swear word inserted here).”
And I meant it. I was so enraged that I wanted it to really appear before me so I could give it a lesson. My sister stopped crying for some reason (I think she was scared of me instead.) Luckily, that ghost might have been so confused and decided not to play with this mad girl so I did not encounter any paranormal incidents on that trip.
The second time I completely forgot to be scared of any supernatural beings is when I was in the third year during final exam week. I studied alone in my dining room since I shared my bedroom with my sister and I did not want to disturb her sleep. It was fairly dark around me; the only source of light was from the miniature chandelier above my head. Nevertheless, my future seemed to be darker than my dining room. There was not much time left for me to study. Stress and strain increased as every minute went by.
While I was listening to a 2202266 Background to British Literature lecture I had recorded on my phone, I saw something move out of the corner of my eye. Right away, I turned to the kitchen where the movement came from.
No one there.
At that time, I thought to myself: if it was really a ghost trying to scare me, then come on. Once it appeared, I would scream in agony and cry and tell it how stressed I was. I wanted someone to listen to my pain and sadness of being an undergraduate student. So, I stopped the recording and kept staring into the darkness, hoping something would come out and say, “boo!” Then I could reply with “boohoo”.
But nothing happened.
I shrugged and thought that I might have stayed up too late and my brain had started to imagine something that wasn’t there. Or that ghost might not know how to deal with this weird girl trying to make a ghost listen to her life problems so it decided not to reappear. From those two events, now I know what is scarier than ghosts: the angry and depressed me.