In the heart of Kuala Lumpur, a nondescript office building stood tall, its floors stacked with cubicles and the dim glow of computers. The tech firm occupying the 13th floor was known for long hours, and tonight, Aina was alone, wrapping up her work on a tight deadline. The silence was comforting at first—just her and the hum of the air conditioning. But as the clock ticked toward midnight, something felt wrong.
Rumors swirled around the office about the 13th floor being haunted, but Aina never believed in that nonsense. Ghost stories were for bored uncles and superstitious grandmothers, not city dwellers. Yet, as the lights flickered and the air grew colder, she couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched.
Then came the sound. A soft, wet squelching noise, like something being dragged across the floor.
Aina froze. The sound was distant at first, but it grew louder, moving through the cubicles. She slowly peeked out from behind her desk. The hallway leading to the pantry was dark, the only light coming from the emergency exit sign. That’s when she saw it.
A floating head. No body, just a head—eyes glowing red, hair matted with blood, and veins dangling like grotesque tentacles from its neck. It was a Penanggal, a creature Aina’s grandmother had warned her about. A woman cursed, her head and entrails separated from her body, seeking fresh blood.
Aina’s pulse quickened, the stories rushing back to her. The Penanggal preyed on the living at night, slipping through cracks, looking for victims.
The creature floated closer, its intestines glistening with fresh blood. It was looking for an entrance. Aina could feel bile rise in her throat as the Penanggal’s eyes locked onto her.
She dove under her desk, covering her mouth, hoping the creature hadn’t seen her. But she heard the soft slither of entrails dragging along the carpet, inching nearer. The smell of decay filled the air. Her hands trembled as she fumbled for something—anything—to defend herself. A stapler? A ruler? Nothing could stop that thing.
Then, a wet drop hit her shoulder.
Slowly, Aina tilted her head upward. Above her desk, the Penanggal floated, its intestines hanging like vines, dripping blood. Before she could scream, it lunged down, wrapping its slick organs around her neck.
Aina kicked and struggled, the pain unbearable as the entrails tightened like a noose. The creature’s face was inches from hers, eyes glowing brighter, its mouth opening to reveal rows of sharp, bloodstained teeth. She could feel the life draining from her as the Penanggal fed.
With one last effort, Aina grabbed the office phone and smashed it into the creature’s face. It shrieked, letting go for just a moment, but it was enough. Aina crawled out, gasping for breath, blood smeared across her neck.
She staggered toward the elevator, the creature screeching behind her. The doors opened just as the Penanggal swooped in for the kill. Aina slammed the button for the ground floor. The doors closed, but not before she saw its grotesque face pressed against the crack, promising it would return.
The next morning, the cleaning staff found the office drenched in blood. Aina’s cubicle was empty, save for a pool of crimson and a trail of entrails leading to the ventilation shaft.
The office was shut down for investigation, but no one ever discovered what really happened to her. And every night, when the 13th floor is empty, some say you can still hear the sound of something wet, slithering through the dark hallways.
Waiting for its next victim.
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