The Karak Highway, a notorious stretch of road in Malaysia, winds its way through the lush, mountainous landscape of the Genting Highlands. Its serpentine curves and steep descents are a challenge for even the most skilled drivers. This highway has long been the subject of dark tales and eerie whispers, earning a reputation as one of the most haunted roads in the country. Many attribute this to the numerous accidents that have occurred there over the years, leaving behind a trail of tragedy and loss.
On a misty evening in late autumn, Nigel Thompson, an expatriate from Britain working in Kuala Lumpur, found himself driving along the Karak Highway. His destination was the Genting Highlands, a renowned hill resort offering a plethora of attractions including a vibrant casino, theme parks, and luxury hotels. Nigel’s friends had already arrived earlier in the day, but he had been held back at work and was now racing to join them for a weekend of relaxation and fun, away from the city's bustle. The air was thick with fog, and the headlights of his car barely pierced the gloom ahead. The road was eerily quiet, with no other vehicles in sight.
As Nigel navigated the treacherous bends, he couldn't shake the feeling of being watched. The dense foliage seemed to close in on him, and shadows danced just beyond the reach of his lights. He had heard the stories—how drivers would see apparitions on the road, only to crash moments later. He tried to dismiss these thoughts as mere superstition, but the unease lingered.
Suddenly, through the haze, Nigel spotted a small figure standing by the roadside. As he drew closer, he saw that it was a young boy, no older than ten, dressed in a school uniform that seemed oddly out of place. The boy was pale and looked frightened, holding up a hand as if to flag down a passing car. Nigel's heart raced. Stopping for strangers on this road was advised against, yet something in the boy's eyes compelled him to pull over.
"Are you lost?" Nigel asked, rolling down his window.
The boy nodded, his voice barely above a whisper. "I need help. Please."
Nigel hesitated but then unlocked the door, allowing the boy to climb into the passenger seat. The child’s clothes were damp and cold, and a chill seemed to follow him into the car.
"What's your name?" Nigel asked, trying to sound reassuring.
"Azman," the boy replied. "I need to get home."
Nigel agreed to help, asking for directions, but Azman remained vague, pointing ahead and murmuring about a house that Nigel couldn't see. As they continued driving, the atmosphere in the car grew increasingly oppressive. The temperature seemed to drop, and the fog outside thickened.
After what felt like hours but was likely only minutes, Azman began to tell his story. He spoke of an accident—a horrific collision on the highway that had claimed his life along with his family's. They had been on their way home from a holiday when their car had skidded off the road and into the ravine below. Azman’s voice was tinged with sorrow as he described the aftermath, the feeling of being trapped, and the desperation to find his parents.
Nigel listened, horrified, and then realised that Azman was not of this world. The boy was a restless spirit, doomed to wander the highway in search of help that would never come. Fear gnawed at Nigel, but he also felt a profound sadness for the boy's plight. Nigel braked hard, and the car skidded to a halt. He turned to look at Azman, but the boy was gone. The passenger seat was empty, and the air felt noticeably warmer. Shaken, Nigel got out of the car and looked around.
Nigel stood there, heart pounding, as he realised the tragic truth. Azman's spirit had led him to the site of his family's accident. The stories were true—this highway was haunted by the souls of those who had perished here. Climbing back into his car, Nigel continued to drive to meet his friends, where he recounted his encounters. They listened with solemn faces, nodding in understanding. One of them shared his own story about the yellow car on Karak Highway and the ghosts that haunted it.