The Midnight Riders

This is a ghost story submitted to me by EA Tiwat. It is a ghost story written in Thai Language, translated by Nye. I’m not a biker and might have used the lingo incorrectly, I translated as is.

In 1987 (the Thai year 2530), the story took place here in Bangkok, amongst the wild and daring group of teenagers who like to bike race for speed and visit haunted places or abandon houses known for scary ghosts.

If you had to rate the haunting of different places, there’s no exception to this place because you can say it’s on the top of the haunted list in Bangkok, Thailand. This place is a burying ground for Thai and Thai Chinese; it’s Wat Don Cemetery Yannawa Bangkok that everyone mentioned because it’s haunted. The story was about a group of teenagers who like to race for speed and want to visit abandoned houses known for horror stories or rumors that it’s haunted.

I like to take you back to around 1987 (the Thai year 2530), which is different from now. It’s not as modern as right now. There’s no street light in the alleyways. Bangkok at the time lacked electricity; some area was as dark as a cave, and only some section had street lights. Unlike nowadays, everywhere in Bangkok is as bright as if they were having a temple festival; every street and corner has street lights.

My uncle was around 19; he liked to drink and smoke like most teenagers on the block. During the day, they would hang out at the movie, smoking cigarettes and flirting with girls. When nightfall, they would hang out at the bar, and at closing time, they had nothing better to do, so they visited known haunted places famous for scary ghosts or bike racing for money to see who the speed devil was. The loser had to pay the winner, and the winning amount was according to the agreed betting amount, which is my uncle’s group. You get to pick your own rival. This was their regular routine; they took turns losing and winning. It depends on how fast and horsepower the bike used for the race.

One night after, my uncle’s group sat and drank until the bar closed and still didn’t want to go home, so they went to the bikers’ meeting place around Krongtey Bangkok. This time the starting point for the race was from Thareu Street, passing Sathon, Trok Chan, Yannawa, and entering Chomthong, which was the end of the route for the race. The person in the group that enters the finish line first wins the race and takes home the cash prize. After that, they all agreed that they would go to Wat Don Cemetery Yannawa Bangkok and challenged the ghost spirits that lived in the cemetery to come out and see with their own eyes. Perhaps shout daring anything so that they would know that ghost spirits do exist. Everyone was excited; they had never done this before. They just wanted to see that ghost spirits exist and not just rumors.

My uncle rode the bike at the starting line, and his friend rode in the back seat as the back warmer. The engine fired once the race started, and everyone rolled on the throttle to increase their speed. The low bikes side left and right according to their racing techniques until they reached the entrance of Wat Don Cemetery, which was a narrow road; only 1 could enter or come out at a time because the route to enter and exit was the same. Usually, the already entered vehicle had to back out to exit; there’s not enough room to make a U-turn to come back out.

We all got excited once we reached the entrance since we had never done this before. It was very dark at the gate; there was no street light.

One of the guys in the group, named Joe, yelled, “Let’s rock and roll! I want to know if it’s as haunted as we have heard. Let’s go!” Once Joe finished speaking, he fired his engine, took off with his motorcycle, and was the first to enter the cemetery, followed by 3-4 friends who followed him from a distance. My uncle and his friend, that rode in the back, were the last bikes to enter the cemetery. It was a dark gravel dirt road, plus it was not a smooth ride; potholes and dust were flying everywhere. He couldn’t see the bikes in front of him, just the headlight of his own motorcycle that cut through the darkness. Once they rode through the cemetery entrance, my uncle’s bike got closer to the graveyard’s destination.

My uncle and his friend heard one of his friends named Chid yell, “Hoy! Run, can’t stay anymore, Yo, let’s go!” a few seconds after they heard Chid, my uncle heard motorcycles roaring heading toward the entrance coming from the graveyard. My uncle and his friend saw several headlights from the motorcycles, and the roaring of the engines was running toward them. Everyone was riding low side left and right, and it’s like they weren’t afraid that they might fall even though the road had potholes and could easily cause them to crash. Joe was the first to go in and now yelling for my uncle to turn his bike around and that the ghost was following them from behind. My uncle’s friends sped past him and disappeared into the darkness, leaving my uncle and his friend at Wat Don Cemetery.

My uncle saw motorcycle headlights from another group heading his way and coming out from the graveyard. My uncle stopped his motorcycle and was making a U-turn at that time. His friend turned back to look and told my uncle to move ASAP because the group coming out was not your typical bikers. My uncle rolled the throttle and took off, but it seemed as if he’s rolling the throttle to speed up didn’t seem to work as well; he came out from Wat Don Cemetery in slow motion as it seemed.

Once he had reached the road, he looked ahead for his friends, but they were nowhere. Then his friend that rode with him said, ‘Hoy! Gogol! They are catching up.” My uncle turned around to look; he was shocked when he saw a gang of ghost bikers riding mangled motorcycles; it’s more like scrap metal and not in any condition to ride. It looked totaled and could only be sold for scrap metal. The ghosts rode behind my uncle, my uncle rolling on the throttle and took off. He thought he had lost them, so he stopped his bike and turned around to look. Suddenly there was a gust of winds, then they heard the sound of the dog howling from a distance, and there was a foul rotten smell in the air. They listened to the sound of the owl flying back and forth, making a circle above their heads. My uncle and his friend looked around and didn’t see anything. Then my uncle and his friend looked at each other, froze, and in panic, my uncle took off with his motorcycle and headed home.

He thought that his friends had probably returned and waited for them at home. Then my uncle heard the motorcycles roaring in front of them; he was happy and pointed for his friend to see that the guys had slowed down to wait for them. My uncle sped up to catch up with his friends. Once he caught up with them, he then sped up to the middle, and it turned out that what they saw was bone-chilling and they were shocked; the group that my uncle rode with was the ghost riders that came out to scare the bikers. They were riding mangled motorcycles, the ghost bikers were headless bloody running down from a severed neck, and the foul odor was everywhere; some had brains dripping and skull crushed on one side, some only had the upper body, and another one didn’t have left arm and left leg. They were riding scrap metal motorcycles and appeared to be totaled for many years. They turned to ask my uncle and his friend to join their gang.

In a split second, my uncle closed his eyes, rolled on the throttle, and sped off. He was scared and shocked, he tried to increase his speed and roll on the throttle in panic, but it appeared that it was not going any faster until his friend that rode behind fell off the motorcycle and lost conscience. My uncle ran off the road and hit a big tree.

My uncle was in a critical condition and was admitted to the hospital. His friends visited him at the hospital and saw that he had several cuts and bruises but not as severe. Joe was the first to go inside the cemetery and told my uncle that Nung had lost consciousness for 3 days; he had already checked out from the hospital. He was so scared that he was ordained as a novice monk offering merit to the ghost spirits as soon as he got out of the hospital.

As for Joe and his friends, after they took off and thought that they were safe, the ghost spirits they had challenged to come out of the graveyard suddenly appeared on the side of the road, and everyone saw right in front of them was, shocked. They took off, rolling on the throttle, and took off for their dear lives. The ghost spirits followed them; they rode low left and right and crashed their motorcycles. They were injured but nothing serious. They met again to make merit for the ghost spirits at Wat Don Cemetery Yannawa. After that incident, no one dared to rechallenge the ghost because they were afraid of encountering the midnight riders.