Category Archives: Folk Beliefs

The Girl with the Red Thread

Age: 18

Context:

One evening, while walking on campus with my friend, we began sharing spooky stories. She suddenly recalled something that had haunted her for years — a strange experience she had as a child, which had blurred the lines between dream, memory, and legend. This is the story she told me.

The Story:

When she was around 7 or 8 years old, she lived in a home with a study room that had a bed but was rarely used. One night, after waking from a nightmare, she found herself in that very study — a place she never usually slept in. She remembered lying beside her mom, both of them facing the wall, and gently shaking her awake out of fear.

She asked her mom to tell her a story because she couldn’t sleep. Strangely, her mom — who was known to strictly avoid ghost stories or anything scary — agreed. What happened next would stay with her for life.

Still facing the wall, her mom began to tell a ghost story. In the story, a nurse was working the night shift at a hospital. One evening, while heading out from the first floor, she took the elevator — but somehow, the elevator inexplicably descended to the 4th basement level instead, a floor used as a morgue.

This floor had no button, no lights, and no one should have been able to access it. But the elevator stopped there, the doors opened, and the nurse saw a little girl standing silently in the dark. The girl got into the elevator with her.

As the nurse glanced over, she noticed a red thread tied around the girl’s wrist. In Chinese superstition, red thread on the wrist is sometimes associated with the dead. The nurse was so frightened she reportedly died on the spot.

What terrified my friend wasn’t just the story itself — it was the realization much later in life that this was a widely circulated urban legend. Many people she later met had heard it before. And yet, she had never heard it before that night, and neither had her mother — who later insisted, repeatedly and sincerely, that she had no memory of telling the story, or even of waking up that night.

My friend later searched the story online and found that it had indeed been turned into a movie, or at least referenced in popular media. This deepened the mystery: how could a widely known ghost story have been told to her by someone who had never heard it — someone who vehemently denied ever telling it?

To this day, my friend remains disturbed by this experience. She remembers it vividly. Her mother, however, insists it never happened.

The Informant’s Thoughts:

She finds this story creepy, not because of the ghost itself, but because of the contradiction between her clear memory and her mother’s absolute denial. She believes the most chilling part of the experience isn’t the plot, but the uncertainty of how she ever came to hear it.

Years later, when telling others the story of the girl with the red thread, people would say, “Oh, I’ve heard that one!” But she hadn’t. Not before that night. Not ever.

My Thoughts:

What makes this story so compelling is not just the content of the ghost story, but how it plays with memory, belief, and reality. The idea that a story could be “implanted” through a moment that no one else remembers adds an eerie, almost psychological horror element to the tale.

It made me question how many of our memories are truly our own — and how stories that seem personal might actually belong to something much larger, floating around in the cultural subconscious, waiting to find a host.

The repetition — her telling the story to others, retelling it to her mother, and hearing denials each time — builds a quiet but powerful kind of fear. Over time, the story’s scariness comes not from the ghost, but from the accumulated sense of being haunted by a memory no one else shares.

As a piece of folklore, it’s fascinating because it shows how legends can find their way into our lives, not just through media or hearsay, but through deeply personal and unexplainable experiences.

The Shadow Behind the Curtain

Age: 18

Context:

This story was told to me by a Chinese international student at USC, whom I’ll refer to as SG. We were sitting together in one of the quiet study lounges at Parkside after midnight, discussing the kinds of ghost stories we’d heard growing up in China. That’s when she told me something she had never written down or shared publicly—something that happened to her in her childhood that she still remembers with frightening clarity.

The Story:

When SG was 10 years old, she lived with her grandparents in Harbin, a city known for its long, dark winters. Her grandfather had a habit of rising very early, often before sunrise, to boil water and do light chores. Their apartment had large, thick curtains that covered the floor-to-ceiling windows in the living room.

One early winter morning, just before 6 a.m., SG woke up suddenly. She had heard soft footsteps and assumed her grandfather was up again. Curious and still sleepy, she wandered out to the living room—only to find it completely dark, with no lights on. She paused at the doorway.

That’s when she saw it: a silhouette of a person standing perfectly still behind the curtain, as if staring out the window. The form was unmistakably human—tall, slightly hunched, and entirely motionless.

Thinking it was her grandfather, she called out to him.

No answer.

She approached slowly, heart pounding. The air felt wrong—too still, too cold, as if the temperature had dropped. When she finally touched the curtain and pulled it aside—

There was no one there.

No one in the room. No sound of footsteps. No open windows. Just the snow falling silently outside.

Terrified, she ran back to her room and hid under her blanket. She didn’t tell anyone for weeks.

Informant’s Thoughts (SG):

SG says what disturbed her most wasn’t the sight of the shadow, but the fact that she saw it so clearly, and yet her grandfather had still been asleep in his room the whole time. Years later, she still isn’t sure if it was a dream, a hallucination, or something else.

What unsettles her most is that she continues to experience the exact same dream every few years: waking up in a different place, walking into a dark living room, and seeing a shadow behind a curtain.

Each time, she says, she wakes up before pulling the curtain open.

My Thoughts:

To me, what makes SG’s story haunting isn’t just the visual horror of the silhouette—it’s the way it has embedded itself into her memory and dreams, repeating like a ritual.

I’m struck by how familiar this setting feels: cold northern apartment, heavy winter curtains, the eeriness of early morning silence. Even though nothing explicitly supernatural happens, the ambiguity makes it even scarier.

It also makes me think about how many ghost stories we hear as children in China are tied to domestic spaces—kitchens, hallways, staircases—not abandoned mansions or graveyards. They are ordinary spaces made terrifying by something just a little out of place.

This story lingered with me long after she told it—not because of a ghost, but because of the uncertainty that still follows her.

The Sage of Room 108

Age: 50

Text (The Story): TT (my mother) told me a story from her college days in India about a particular dorm room, Room 108, which students treated almost like a sacred site.

Years before she arrived on campus, an older student, known simply as “the Sage of 108”, had lived in that very room. No​‍​‌‍​‍‌​‍​‌‍​‍‌ one was able to recall his original name. It was said that he was a very quiet, withdrawn, and even reclusive a philosophy scholar, who was so much absorbed in his meditation that he almost never spoke, hardly ate, and didn’t seem very attracted to the usual college life.

According to one version of the myth, he arrived at jivanmukti which is the freedom of the spirit during life. Another one suggested that he was able to foresee things way before time: a professor’s sudden resignation, a student’s family emergency, or even an exam question weeks before it was written. 

It was whispered that he could be none other than the very Dattatreya, the Hindu god who is the wandering teacher. Dattatreya is a character who is said to go about the world very quietly, and be there when you least expect it, in different guises, to help people. Stories on the campus, however, say that the person living in Room 108 and carrying the same vibe as Dattatreya. He was detached, loving, and very much aware without being told. 

During the last days of his final year, the Sage just went off the campus without informing anyone of his intention. He left hauling with him a single cloth sack one morning and walked out through the college gate. When someone came to his room a few hours later, they found it empty with the exception of a piece of cloth neatly folded on the ​‍​‌‍​‍‌​‍​‌‍​‍‌desk.

After that, strange things were reported. Students claimed the room smelled faintly of incense even when no one entered. One girl told TT that she stepped inside room 108 and felt a pressure, a kind of overwhelming stillness that made her leave immediately.

The administration eventually sealed Room 108. They gave practical explanations such as “structural damage” and “student safety”, but none of the students believed that. Everyone knew the real reason: the room was too spiritually charged. Too many people reported intense emotions inside it. Too many believed the Sage had left something behind.

When TT attended college, students had already begun a tradition:

Before any major exam, they would slip into the hallway, fold their hands, and offer a quick prayer outside the locked door of Room 108.

Some just tapped the door frame.

Some left flowers or pens on the ground.

Some whispered the Sage’s name, though no one could agree on what it was.

TT herself admitted that before her final board exams, she walked there with a group of friends in the early morning. They didn’t really know what they were praying for, whether it was luck, calmness, clarity, or perhaps the presence of someone who achieved spiritual awakening.

She​‍​‌‍​‍‌​‍​‌‍​‍‌ mentioned that the corridor outside 108 had this weirdly quiet vibe all the time, like the sounds were muffled. When she and her schoolmates meet for reunions, there is always a person who talks about “the Sage of 108,” and all the others acknowledge it by a nod as if it were a shared ​‍​‌‍​‍‌​‍​‌‍​‍‌secret.

Context: TT told me this story while reminiscing about her college years in India. This memorate is typically shared among alumni, usually during nostalgic conversations about exams, early adulthood, or campus myths.

The setting, an Indian university, makes belief in holy men, gurus, reincarnation, and spiritual presence feel normal rather than supernatural. Indian campuses often blend secular life with sacred spaces, and Room 108 became one such hybrid: part dorm room, part shrine, part student ritual.

This story also fits a larger South Asian cultural context where certain numbers (such as 108, a sacred number in Hinduism and Buddhism) carry deep spiritual significance.

The Teller’s Thoughts: TT treats the story with a mix of nostalgia and respect. She doesn’t necessarily claim the Sage was literally an incarnation of Dattatreya, but she believes he had a spiritual depth that left an imprint on the campus. She describes Room 108 as a place students approached with sincerity, not fear and something in between superstition and faith.

She said, “We all felt calmer after praying there. Maybe that’s all that mattered.”

My Thoughts (Analysis): This memorate blends campus legend, reincarnation belief, and folk religion into a single story.

This story functions as a sacred space on a secular campus, a rite of passage before exams, and a blending of Hindu spiritual motifs with student life. The association with Dattatreya deepens the story’s symbolic power. Dattatreya is the wandering divine teacher who appears in humble forms, and the idea that a spiritually advanced figure might quietly live in a college dorm room fits this motif perfectly.

The closure of Room 108, the lingering incense scent, and the informal prayer ritual all add to the all add to the mysterious atmosphere that made Room 108 feel like more than just a dorm room.. The story also shows how students use legend to navigate stress and this transforms anxiety about exams into a communal ritual that is rooted in cultural spirituality.

Personally, I think the story beautifully captures how folklore forms in modern environments. A single individual, remembered only in fragments, becomes a symbol of calm, wisdom, and hope for generations of students who never met him.

Friendly Ghost

Age: late 70s/early80s

Text:

In the mid 1950s my mom and dad were looking for a house. They get a tour of this house from Mr. P who is looking to sell because his wife recently died. During the showing, my mom wants to ask to look in the closet but she gets a weird feeling like she shouldn’t, a mental message that said “Don’t open the closet door”. Mr. P is also reluctant and not wanting to show them the closet. So she sends out a mental “Please let us see it, I just want to know how big it is.” and the feeling goes away and Mr. P says he guesses it’s all right. She looks in the closet to find suits and old dresses belonging to the dead wife. They buy the house and move in. One day, my mom is boiling water and she goes upstairs, forgetting about the water and some time later she hears three big bangs and runs back downstairs to find the water nearly boiled dry. Those sounds were, of course, Mrs. P warning her about her water so she wouldn’t destroy her house. Eventually the kids grow up and move into a new house. The new occupants of the house also hear strange things so they call my mom to ask if it’s haunted, she says yes it is but its only Mrs. P and she is very nice don’t worry.

Context:

My grandma told me this story that her mother sent her in a letter in the 1980s. It takes place in Washington state.

Analysis:

In the letter, my great grandma (grandma’s mom), says she recalls a couple other times where she did things like leave the water running and got the three big bangs again, because of this she believes Mrs. P didn’t think she was a very good housewife. In the letter she says that she believes the Bible is not clear about where spirits are until the second coming so it doesn’t surprise her that Mrs. P would be back in the house she loved. She also expressed surprise that the young lady who bought the house called their realtor to ask if it was haunted, she of course told them about Mrs. P being nice and helpful and guessed that the reason they felt Mrs. P might be because they were remodeling the house.

My grandma’s thoughts on this are that she completely believes her mother felt something as she herself, along with other family members, have also felt similar strange things in the past. 

It was very fun to learn that we have a “haunted house” story in our family, though it’s not a traditional haunting because Mrs. P seems like a very nice ghost. The reaction of my great grandma to having a ghost in her house is very fitting for the type of people my family are, she just accepted it, unafraid, and lived alongside the ghost. Even though she was religious, having mentioned the bible in her letter, my great grandma seemed completely open to the idea of having a “spirit” living in her house, not attempting to use the bible to explain it in any way. I found it interesting that the actions of the ghost and the explanation my great grandma gave line up almost exactly with what we learned in class (GESM 120, Ghost Stories – Throughout Time and Around the World). Mrs. P’s love for her house driving her ghost to remain to protect it makes a lot of sense and I believe this story has to have at least some aspect of truth to it because of that. Mrs. P can be seen as a representation of a true early 1900s housewife who devoted not only her life but also her afterlife to caring for her house. This story could serve as a lesson for young girls on how to properly run and care for a household, especially considering the time it happened.

Elf Under the Bed

Age: 50s

Text:

I was alone in our creepy apartment in Buffalo, New York, this apartment always gave me the creeps, it was cold and drafty and dark and spooky. My husband was out working or something, I don’t really remember. Anyways, I was laying alone reading my book, one of The Rift War Saga books and, oh! I was pregnant, forgot to mention that. I always have weird things happen to me when I’m pregnant. When it was time for bed, I got up to check that all the doors were locked and to turn the lights off. I turned around from the lightswitch and, in the dark, there was an elf crouched down by the bed that said “you forgot about me”.

Context:

This story was told to me over Thanksgiving break by my aunt, it’s her story and from her perspective. It takes place in my aunt’s old apartment in Buffalo, New York at the time she was pregnant with my cousin, so around 1999.

Analysis:

My aunt is adamant that she saw something but she is also a very rational person so she chalks it up to “pregnancy brain”. The atmosphere of the creepy apartment combined with the book she was reading and pregnancy delusions makes her think that the setting was prime for imagining weird things. 

The Rift War Saga that she was reading is a fantasy series so I theorize that that is the reason a fantasy character manifested itself in real life. This manifestation might be a ghost of the book or of the story, as the elf does not seem to be a specific character from the book. Pregnancy can be seen as a liminal time in between being childfree and being a parent, especially since my aunt was pregnant with her first kid at the time. Being in this liminal stage, alone, in a creepy apartment, and reading a book that challenges the mind to think beyond reality, creates the perfect atmosphere for otherworldly beings to make an appearance. While my aunt may think it’s “pregnancy brain” I find it interesting that all her weird, spooky stories come from the same apartment, she now lives in Oregon and has no stories from her home there. I think this spooky apartment had a specific type of energy that encouraged the supernatural and the manifestation of the creepy elf. 

This story could serve as a lesson about personal safety, my aunt was alone in an apartment that she didn’t feel safe in and pregnant, a state that many societies would deem vulnerable. The moral of the story being don’t be left alone as a woman, especially a pregnant one; or don’t be the one leaving your pregnant wife alone in your spooky apartment or something might come for her. In this interpretation, the elf would serve as a warning for what could happen, as this elf was non-violent but said “you forgot about me” which could be a warning to always check on your and your loved ones’ safety.