Selarang Camp, located in Changi, Singapore, bears a dark and storied history. Constructed by the British between 1936 and 1938, it gained notoriety during the Second World War when it was repurposed as a Japanese prisoner-of-war camp. Thousands of Allied soldiers, predominantly British and Australian, were confined there under brutal conditions, witnessing and enduring unspeakable horrors.

Today, the camp remains in active use, housing the 9th Division and the 3rd Singapore Infantry Regiment. Despite its current function, the camp's past continues to haunt it, with persistent tales of ghostly apparitions and eerie encounters. One of the most chilling legends involves the appearance of coffins on the parade square during rainy days, a haunting reminder of its tragic history.

As storm clouds gathered over Selarang Camp, the air grew thick with anticipation. Corporal Ahmad, a duty clerk with the 3SIR, had heard the stories—whispers of coffins appearing on the parade square during heavy rain. He dismissed them as mere campfire tales, designed to spook the new recruits. Yet, as he gazed out of the company office window at the darkening sky, a shiver ran down his spine.

That evening, the rain began to fall in earnest, a relentless downpour echoing through the empty corridors of the camp. Ahmad sat at his desk, reading the news on The Straits Times, when a sudden chill filled the room. He glanced at the clock—midnight. The rain hammered against the windows, and a sense of uneasiness settled over him.

Unable to shake the feeling, Ahmad decided to walk to the vending machine at the next block to buy some drinks. He donned his poncho and stepped out into the night. The parade square was deserted, illuminated only by the dim glow of the perimeter lights. As he trudged through the rainwater to the next block, he couldn't help but recall the stories he'd heard from his fellow soldiers.

"They say the coffins appear where the old execution grounds used to be," Private Lim had whispered one night, his voice barely audible. "It's the spirits of those who suffered here, unable to find peace."

Ahmad shook his head, trying to dispel the uneasy feeling. As he was walking towards the vending machine, Ahmad's heart skipped a beat. There, shrouded in mist and rain, stood a row of wooden coffins in the centre of the parade square. They were old, their surfaces weathered and worn. He blinked, convinced it was a trick of the light, but the coffins remained, solid and real.

As if in a trance, Ahmad felt an irresistible pull towards the coffins, his curiosity battling with the growing sense of dread. The rain poured relentlessly, creating a steady rhythm that seemed to synchronise with the pounding of his heart. Each step he took echoed in the empty parade square, the mist swirling around him like a ghostly shroud.

The closer he got, the more palpable the air became, heavy with the scent of damp earth and decaying wood. Memories of the camp's haunting stories flooded his mind, amplifying his unease. His breath quickened, forming misty clouds in the cold night air.

As he approached the row of coffins, Ahmad's hesitation grew. They stood in a solemn line, their surfaces worn and weathered by time, a stark contrast to the modern surroundings of the camp. Despite the surreal scene before him, he felt compelled to confirm its reality. Slowly, he extended his hand, half expecting his fingers to pass through the apparition.

To his astonishment, the wood was solid and cold under his touch, sending a chill up his spine. The texture was rough and splintered, a tangible connection to the camp's grim past. Ahmad's mind raced, filled with an overwhelming sense of sorrow and despair that seemed to emanate from the coffins themselves. He felt as if he could hear the echoes of the souls who had suffered and perished within the camp's confines, their anguish lingering in the very air he breathed.

A sudden flash of lightning illuminated the square, and Ahmad gasped. Standing at the far end of the row of coffins was a figure, dressed in the tattered uniform of a Second World War soldier. The man's eyes were hollow, his face gaunt and pale. He raised a skeletal hand and pointed towards Ahmad.

"Why are you here?" Ahmad whispered, his voice trembling.

The figure's mouth moved, but no sound emerged. Instead, a flood of images filled Ahmad's mind, overwhelming him with vivid scenes of torment and suffering. He saw men huddled together in makeshift shelters, their faces etched with fear and despair. Allied soldiers, alongside Japanese guards, appeared in his mind’s eye, all bound by the brutal history that had unfolded within these walls. The agony of starvation, the hopelessness of captivity, and the relentless march of disease played out before him in a horrific tableau.

Ahmad's vision was filled with the pained expressions of soldiers who had once walked the same grounds. He could almost hear the murmurs of their desperate conversations, feel the weight of their lost hope. It was as if the walls themselves were whispering the stories of those who had suffered and perished there.

Tears streamed down Ahmad's face as he witnessed their pain. He realised that the coffins before him were not just symbols of death, but representations of unfulfilled duty and unresolved grief. The spirits of the past were trapped in this place, seeking recognition and remembrance. The weight of their sorrow pressed down on him, a palpable force that seemed to merge with the storm around him.

Another flash of lightning illuminated the scene, and the spectral figure vanished, leaving Ahmad alone with the fading coffins. As the mist swallowed them up, Ahmad fell to his knees, overcome by the intensity of the experience. His body shook with the emotional weight he had just borne witness to, and he found himself unable to rise, his strength sapped by the encounter.

When the COS found Ahmad unconscious in the middle of the parade square, they quickly transported him to the camp’s medical centre. Upon assessing his condition, the medics determined that he needed more comprehensive care.

Ahmad was rushed to Changi Hospital, where he was admitted and placed under intensive observation. His initial symptoms included a high fever and severe dehydration, but as the medical team began their treatment, they noticed something more alarming.

Ahmad experienced vivid hallucinations, often murmuring about coffins and ghostly figures. Deeply concerned by these symptoms, the doctors kept him under close watch. They suspected that the stress of his duties, combined with the high fever, had induced a state of delirium. As a result, Ahmad was downgraded and relieved of any future guard duties to ensure a complete recovery.