Picked up at our hotel, ghoul guide Francis Nantha asked our intrepid British Columbia group, “Are you all ready for a spooky adventure?” How could we say no? Then we settled in the bus while Francis impishly grinned and dealt us a few official looking documents and requested, “Please sign these wavers declaring you’ve never been possessed, have good spiritual health and can control previous reincarnations.” Collecting these he thanked us adding, “Now only deviant spirits can be held accountable…” We uncomfortably snickered as our “Spookster” guides seemed genuinely relieved about being relieved of any responsibility should unearthly repercussions occur.

Arriving at Kuala Lumpur’s heritage rail station, we began checking for things lurking in the shadows. Its old dining room was well lit. Perfect! Yet the meal proved very unusual even regarding Malaysian standards. Francis prescribed the local spicy, sour, and seafood dishes as protective measures. “This cuisine provides mystical properties to approach the spirit world…”

Dark eyes peering, head spookster Francis counseled us on surviving our foray. “You must prepare for what lurks in the Malayan night. You may soon meet specters of our ancestors, deities and two divergent spirits. Fairies and genies are the good spirits. Demons or “orang halus” are spirits who have become rotten. Let us seek good spirits and use tried and true Malay methods to drive away those bad spirits!”

Giving us a string and lime Francis continued. ”Wear this yellow thread to ward off those evil spirits. Carry this small lime. The juice will cleanse off spirits who attach themselves in hopes of possessing you... And if any of your friends act weird, give them a squirt!”

Later following him in dim light on the station’s abandoned railway platforms, phantoms could be imagined. Francis told us about those active haunting linked to rail fatalities. “Perhaps such confounded spirits returned to complete unfinished business.” Gazing into the pitch-black silence, I sneezed with gusto and felt my neck drenched in sticky spray… I’d been limed!

Riding through the old capital, Francis pointed out Pudu Prison and told a disturbing tale. Built in 1895, its six hundred cells once held triad members. They had used blood to draw pentagrams, conjuring gateways to escape into the demonic world. Literally a hell-hole, priests successfully asked the government to maintain the prison until all its fiendish portals were found and exorcised. Consulting the new drug abuser population has helped them in this search as crazed inmates have revealed many of the affected cells.

Into the heavy darkness we arrived at Seputeh Cemetery. The graveyard extended over a grassy hillside, as the Chinese like to be buried close to heaven. Our group exits the bus and huddles around Francis. “You may not believe what my tour group saw last year. Arriving here an hour late during a raging storm, we experienced something extraordinary.” Francis spotted his flashlight on a knoll. “As the lightning flashed, we witnessed hundreds of writhing ghosts. Before the booming thunder, a Chinese voice wailed.” Francis began walking toward a grove of trees and stopped again to muse about this encounter. “You may wonder, ‘Why did they appear?’ I suspect that being just after sunset, these souls wished to cross this road for evening prayers at those sheltered Taoist and Buddhist shrines.” As we peered into the small brick shrines, Francis began lighting incense sticks and handing these to us. “These will help placate restless spirits.”

Learning specters may inhabit the tall trees surrounding us, our departure quickened along the dark roadway. Kuala Lumpur’s brilliant lights glowed below. Above us swooped shrieking bats. We planted the smoldering incense at nearby graves, hoping to pacify restless spirits.

Our bus next took us across an ominous looking valley. Francis pointed out the groves of silhouetted plants. “The spirits of wronged women dwell here. Known as pontianaks, these female vampires rise up from those large banana plants and take revenge on all males.” It seemed a perfect spot for wronged women to go bananas, yet I’m sure the only vampires reside in Transylvania! A fellow twilight zone passenger said he heard about a locally produced pontianak thriller. Francis noted, “This film is very popular, as Malaysians love good horror flicks and are open to the possibilities of the supernatural. . It may be hard to believe, yet Taxi drivers refuse to pick up women in this area. They’ve shared many stories about this district’s enticingly beautiful ladies, who transform into hideous, fanged avengers.”

Our spirited excursion climaxed at Kali Amman, tucked alongside Mid Valley Mega Mall. Francis recounted its astounding history, “Before the construction of this mall, the site contained a small Hindu shrine and holy Bodhi tree. In preparing the land, a branch was trimmed. Blood-like sap flowed. Alarmed, construction work halted until a Hindu priest prayed and placed holy ash to stop Bodhi’s bleeding. On the verge of moving this sacred tree, the bulldozer’s motor seized up. Calling in another bulldozer, it suffered similar engine failure. In this delicate matter, a worker tried a shovel. The handle broke.” Francis continued, “Guessing the gods needed to be placated, the contractor built this modern mall around the tree and replaced the simple shrine with this elaborate temple, painted white representing its amazing purity. As Buddha found enlightenment under the Bodhi, Hindu priests placed his stature uniquely on these sacred grounds.”

Enlightened about “spookster” metaphysics and Malaysian culture, we returned to our hotel. Exiting the van the protective yellow thread bracelets are burnt away. Knowing how spirits may commandeer abandoned spaces, we knocked three times on our door before entering the suite. In case this nighttime adventure evokes spirited consequences, limes are nervously placed on each nightstand...