The Altar

The first message

It was seven in the morning. My family was at the breakfast table when my mom's phone rang. A message with Chinese characters was sent to her. My father, a Chinese Singaporean, living in Hong Kong read the message, as my mother only knew Sundanese (Indonesian regional language), Javanese (Another Indonesian regional language), English, and Indonesian. My father's face turned deadly pale, and he immediately demanded we all investigate. The police were called, and the messages stopped. That is for a while.

A month later, at 5:30 am my father began his morning ritual. My father was a devout Chinese Buddhist and Taoist, a religion filled with mysticism. My father would meditate at his shrine, and offer the gods fruit, tea, incense, as well as burn hell money (Chinese "afterlife money, which ancestors get in the afterlife). My mother was mostly unbothered by this. She was born as a Muslim, but like most Indonesian women she wasn't religious. She then heard her phone ring. A feeling of dread crossed her face. The messages were starting. 

Again, the police were called, but of course, nothing stopped the messages. She then took matters in her own hands and called the number. In the distance, near the altar, a ringing sound began to play. She ran over and saw a phone there. She smashed it with a hammer, and then called my father. However, he did not know of a phone there. My mother took the memory card to the police as evidence. The next day another message came. My mother called again. Another phone was lying there. She knew it couldn't be my father, after all, he was on a business trip in Singapore, 3 hours away by plane. 

My mother decided, with the consent of my father that we leave the home and find a temporary apartment. When my father came home, he prayed at the shrine for 6 hours straight chanting Buddhist sutras. Before we moved back, we installed high tech surveillance. All was well for a bit...

The messages stopped, but while my mom was revising security footage she saw an altar statue stand up and walk. It was a local deity, one from Singapore, that my father prayed to a lot. He said thanks to the deities blessing he achieved economic prosperity. Startled by what we were seeing, my mom and I chose to go to a spiritual advisor. We invited her home and immediately she let out a shriek. She said that the statue was cursed by a demon. My mom tried to hold back a laugh, as it was a very absurd situation, but my father's face looked stern. We paid for the blessing and went to bed early that night. 

The next day, at school I found a message in my locker. It was in Sundanese. Not in Roman script, but in the ancient script my mom's ancestors used. I immediately sent my mom an image, and she replied telling me to burn that paper immediately. I told her I was at school and had no lighter. 20 minutes later my mom rushed in and snatched the paper. She said it was a curse, then she left. I obviously felt freaked out, and 30 minutes faked sick, so I could get sent home. I ran home and took the MTR a few stops. As the MTR was cruising through a tunnel the lights went out. Suddenly everyone in the train carriage disappeared. I freaked out and screamed. I then saw a shadow approach me, and I could hear a voice in Chinese say "Death to your family and to you". I blacked out and woke up in a hospital, with an IV in my hand. My mother was next to me crying uncontrollably. My father rushed into the room and I told him what happened. He told My mother and I were in danger. He rushed to the school to pick up my younger sister and my middle brother. My mom rushed to the daycare to pick up my 3-year-old brother. After that my parents packed a few belonging, the altar included, and told my siblings and I were going to Singapore for two weeks to recover from the mental stress. After being discharged we went to the airport and boarded a plane.