The funeral wake was meant to be a solemn farewell for Mr. Tan, a beloved relative who had recently passed away. Known for his kindness and gentle spirit, his passing left a void in the hearts of his family. Following tradition, a wake was held, allowing relatives and friends to gather and pay their final respects.
The wake was held in Punggol Drive, a new estate that had just reached its Minimum Occupation Period (MOP). Many parts of the area were still undeveloped, with empty plots, quiet streets, and dimly lit pathways that gave it an eerie, almost desolate feel once the sun went down. The setting was a stark contrast to the bustling, familiar neighbourhoods where wakes are often held, making the silence feel even more profound.
Dave, a close relative of Mr. Tan, volunteered to keep watch over the coffin during the first night. It was a customary gesture, a way to show respect and ensure that the deceased was not left alone. This vigil had deeper roots in local beliefs—there was a superstition that if a black cat were to leap over the coffin, it could cause the spirit of the deceased to awaken and return.
To prevent this, someone had to stay nearby to keep watch throughout the night. Additionally, the person keeping vigil would need to constantly burn offerings to guide the spirit and protect it from harm. Dave wasn’t one to believe easily in supernatural tales, but he understood the tradition and took his place beside the coffin, tending to the burning incense that glowed in the dark, the soft light cutting through the shadows around him.
For the first few hours, nothing unusual happened. Occasionally, a car would pass by on the distant road, and there were faint echoes of footsteps somewhere in the estate, but nothing to raise concern. Dave continued to tend to the offerings, making sure the incense was always burning, and the night was peaceful—until it wasn’t.
After midnight, the atmosphere began to change. The quietness of the undeveloped estate seemed to amplify every small noise, and soon, Dave noticed something strange. It started as a faint, metallic clicking, like keys being jostled or metal tapping against metal. Dave looked around, puzzled, but found no source for the sound. The silence of the area only made the noise more pronounced. The coffin lay undisturbed under the warm light, and no one else was around. Then, he heard footsteps. Soft, deliberate, as if someone was pacing near the side of the setup, close to where the coffin stood.
At one point, Dave caught a distinct scent drifting through the air—a sweet, floral fragrance that reminded him of frangipani. It was strong and unmistakable, like the scent of flowers often associated with cemeteries and funerals. Dave glanced around, but there were no fresh flowers nearby, just the usual arrangements placed earlier that day. He dismissed it, assuming it was nothing more than a lingering scent from the surroundings.
Feeling slightly unnerved, he tried to convince himself it was just his imagination. Perhaps the somber mood, the scent of burning offerings, and the unsettling quiet of the estate were playing tricks on him. He returned to his chair, making sure the incense was still burning, and tried to lose himself in his phone once more. But as soon as he sat back down, the sounds returned, louder and clearer. The footsteps seemed to draw nearer, and the clicking noise grew more distinct, almost rhythmic.
Despite his rising anxiety, Dave resisted the urge to move again. Something inside told him it would be best to ignore it, to not give in to the eerie sensation creeping over him. He remained seated, focusing on keeping the incense burning, pretending the noises did not exist, until the first light of dawn finally broke and the disturbances ceased.
The following night, it was Dave's brother-in-law’s turn to keep watch. Initially, his wife stayed with him, but she left around midnight, leaving him alone in the silent void deck. Dave hadn’t mentioned his experience from the previous night—there seemed no reason to share something that could easily be dismissed as imagination. Yet, the next morning, he could tell that his brother-in-law was not his usual self. He seemed distracted, as if something was on his mind.
Later that day, his brother-in-law hesitantly recounted what had happened. He had been sitting quietly after his wife went upstairs to rest, ensuring that the incense continued to burn, when he noticed a distinct scent, one that sent a chill down his spine—frangipani. The fragrance was strong and unmistakable, just like what Dave had smelled the night before. He thought that perhaps someone had brought flowers, but there was no one else around. That’s when he saw it.
“I didn’t want to look directly at it,” he said, his voice shaking slightly, “but there was this figure, a white shape, moving back and forth near the coffin. It wasn’t clear, but I could see it from the corner of my eye. It just kept pacing, like it was waiting for something or someone.”
As if that wasn’t unsettling enough, he witnessed something that made his heart race—a black cat, which seemed to appear out of nowhere, silently approaching the coffin. It crept closer, eyes fixed on the casket, as if it was considering making the leap. Dave’s brother-in-law watched, his breath caught in his throat, but at the last moment, the cat turned and slinked away into the shadows without jumping over the coffin. A wave of relief washed over him, knowing what could have happened if it had crossed over.
Dave listened, feeling a shiver run down his spine. His brother-in-law’s account matched the very spot where he had heard the footsteps the night before. The two hadn’t discussed their experiences, yet there was a strange, unsettling connection between them. His brother-in-law had seen what Dave had only heard, and now there was the troubling presence of the black cat. Neither of them felt terrified, but there was a shared sense of discomfort, a feeling that something wasn’t quite right.
As is common in Singaporean folklore, the scent of frangipani, the sight of a white figure, and even the presence of the black cat brought to mind stories of the pontianak, a vengeful female spirit often said to linger near cemeteries and forested areas.
Although Punggol, being a newly developed estate, was known for paranormal sightings, it made them wonder—could spirits be drawn to the solemnity of a wake, regardless of the location? The isolated, undeveloped nature of the area only added to the feeling of unease. Perhaps it was a restless soul, paying its respects. Or maybe it was something else entirely.
It was easy to dismiss their experiences as a mix of imagination and atmosphere, yet they couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to it. Dave and his brother-in-law decided to keep these experiences to themselves, not wishing to stir unnecessary fear among the family. But privately, they wondered if anyone else in the area had witnessed similar things. Had others seen the white figure or smelled the frangipani scent?
As they left the void deck that morning, they cast one last look at the now-empty space where the wake had been. The thought lingered—what if it was the pontianak, or perhaps another spirit drawn to the solemnity of the occasion? It was a mystery that would remain unsolved, but one thing was certain: Dave and his brother-in-law would not forget the unsettling experience of the funeral wake anytime soon.