This story happened when I was in elementary school, around 3rd or 4th grade. At that time, our family had a blue Daihatsu Charade, our favorite little car. I used to tag along with my parents everywhere — maybe because I was the youngest, so I was the one who still got invited to go places.
That night, I clearly remember my mom and dad had to attend a wake for one of my dad’s colleagues who had just passed away. We lived in Cipayung, East Jakarta, and we were heading toward Pasar Rebo through Kampung Rambutan. The drive there was smooth. Everyone at the wake wore black; my mom too — black dress, black hijab.
The night felt calm and a bit sleepy — light drizzle, quiet streets. Back then, the road from Kampung Rambutan to Pasar Rebo wasn’t nearly as crowded as it is today. The Jakarta Outer Ring Road was still being built, lots of red dirt everywhere, and the street lights were dim.
On the way back to Cipayung, I fell asleep in the back seat as usual. We always passed Simpang Mabes Hankam, then made a U-turn near Pintu 1 TMII to head toward Ceger.
Suddenly, I woke up halfway and thought,
“Wait… why are we at Hek? Where are we going now?”
Half-asleep, I asked my parents, “Where are we going?”
They stayed quiet — just blank stares, like they were hiding something.
I asked again, “Mom, where are we going?”
Still no answer.
So I just went silent, staring out the window at the passing streetlights, still feeling half-asleep and confused.
After a while, my mom finally spoke up.
“What just happened, Pap?” she asked my dad.
“I don’t know,” he replied.
Turns out, back at Simpang Mabes Hankam, our car suddenly couldn’t move. My dad said it felt like something lifted or held the car in the middle of the turn — as if the tires weren’t touching the ground. He panicked, floored the gas pedal, and suddenly the car broke free — almost swerving off the road.
Bro, that freaked me out.
If something lifted the car, that means it lifted it from the back.
And guess what? That’s exactly where I was sleeping.
Our Charade was tiny, with barely any trunk space — meaning whatever lifted the car was literally just a few centimeters behind me.
Holy sh*t.
I’ve lived in Cipayung since 1994 — from when it was all red dirt roads to now, with flyovers and multilayered streets everywhere. Back then, after 9 p.m., there were no public transports left, the roads went dead quiet, and the fog made it feel straight out of Silent Hill.
Our area was so far out that people used to call it “tempat jin buang anak” — literally, “the place where genies abandon their kids.”
Creepy as hell…
Guess that means those genie kids grew up fatherless. 😭
