Horror Story 4

In the heart of Indonesia, where the dense jungle meets the sprawling rice fields, lies a small, isolated village named Desa Sukamaju. The villagers lived in harmony with nature, but they harbored a deep fear of the night. For when darkness fell, the Pocong—a ghostly figure wrapped in a burial shroud—was said to roam the land.

The Pocong is a spirit of the dead, bound in its shroud, hopping eerily as it seeks release from its earthly bindings. Legend has it that if the burial shroud's knot at the head isn't untied after 40 days, the soul cannot move on and returns to haunt the living.

Rina, a young woman who had recently moved to the village, was intrigued by the legend. She was a journalist with a penchant for uncovering the truth behind local myths. Despite the villagers' warnings, she decided to investigate the story of the Pocong, convinced it was nothing more than superstition.

One moonless night, Rina set out with her camera and notebook, heading towards the village cemetery. The air was thick with humidity, and the sounds of the jungle seemed muted, as if the very earth held its breath. As she approached the cemetery, an overwhelming sense of unease washed over her. The ancient, crumbling tombstones stood like silent sentinels in the darkness.

Rina set up her camera, pointing it towards the graves, and began to take notes. Hours passed, and nothing happened. She began to feel foolish, ready to pack up and leave, when she heard a soft rustling sound. Her heart pounded as she scanned the cemetery with her flashlight.

Then, she saw it.

A figure, wrapped tightly in a white burial shroud, was hopping towards her. The face was obscured by the shroud, but she could see dark, empty eye sockets peering through the fabric. The Pocong moved in a jerky, unnatural manner, as if struggling against its bindings.

Rina's blood ran cold, and her instincts screamed at her to run. But her legs felt like lead, and she could only watch in horror as the apparition drew closer. The stench of decay filled the air, making her gag. Summoning all her courage, she raised her camera and took a picture, the flash momentarily illuminating the ghastly figure.

The Pocong stopped, its head tilting as if studying her. In a voice that seemed to echo from the depths of the grave, it spoke. "Release me."

Rina's terror was palpable, but her curiosity outweighed her fear. "How?" she managed to choke out.

"The knot," the Pocong rasped. "Untie the knot."

Rina understood. The villagers had mentioned the ritual to free the spirit, but no one dared to perform it. With trembling hands, she approached the ghost. The air around it was freezing, and she could see her breath in the night air. She reached up, fingers fumbling to find the knot at the top of the shroud.

As she untied the knot, the Pocong's form began to shimmer and fade. A sense of peace washed over the cemetery, and the oppressive atmosphere lifted. The figure before her slowly disintegrated, leaving only the empty shroud behind.

Rina stumbled back, her heart racing. She quickly gathered her equipment and fled the cemetery, not stopping until she was back in the safety of her home. She reviewed the footage, seeing the terrifying image of the Pocong, but also the moment it found release.

The next day, Rina shared her experience with the villagers. They were skeptical at first, but when she showed them the footage, their fear turned to awe. The legend of the Pocong was true, and Rina had freed a tormented spirit.

From that day forward, the villagers ensured that every burial was conducted with the utmost care, and the knots on the shrouds were always untied. Rina's encounter became a story passed down through generations, a reminder of the thin veil between the living and the dead, and the importance of honoring the departed.

And in the village of Desa Sukamaju, the night was no longer a time of fear, but of respect and remembrance for those who had passed on.