Kuntilanak - The Long‑Haired Shadow Whispering “Give Me the Baby” Through the Window
That night, my older sister was about to give birth.
Only women were inside the house—
my mother, my aunt, the village midwife, and me.
The men were outside in the front yard.
They must have been told not to come near the door, because they stayed quiet.
At first, it was just a hot night.
The windows were closed, and the thin curtains swayed slightly.
Outside stood a banana tree.
Its large leaves made a scraping sound across the yard whenever the wind blew.
My sister clutched her belly and breathed heavily.
The midwife kept telling her she was doing fine.
Then we heard a baby crying outside.
Soft.
Like a newborn.
For a moment, I thought my sister had already given birth.
But she was still lying in the room.
My mother looked at me.
“Don’t look at the window.”
That made it worse.
The baby’s cry grew closer.
First, it was at the far end of the yard.
Then beneath the window.
Then right behind the glass.
Waaah.
Waaah.
But something was wrong.
Between the cries, a woman’s laughter slipped through.
Very faint.
Heehee.
Heeheehee.
My aunt began whispering a prayer.
The midwife sat near my sister’s legs and told us not to look outside, no matter what.
My sister suddenly cried out.
“Someone called my name.”
No one had.
Then th