Interviewer: Dad, did anything strange ever happen when you were growing up?

ES: Yeah, there was one thing. I don’t talk about it much.

It happened when I was maybe… thirteen? Around that age.

Interviewer: What happened?

ES: Back then, we didn’t have much. Our house was small, and at night it got very dark. No streetlights, nothing like that.

I used to help my parents with chores, and sometimes that meant walking out to the storage shed behind the house, even late at night.

Interviewer: Alone?

ES: Yeah, usually alone. It wasn’t a big deal… until that night.

I remember I went out to get something, maybe tools, I don’t remember exactly, and on my way back, I saw someone standing near the edge of our yard.

Interviewer: Did they look like someone you knew? Like, do you think it could’ve been someone from around?

ES: No. That’s the thing.

At first I thought it was a neighbor, but… it didn’t feel right. They were just standing there, completely still.

It was hard to see clearly, but I remember their clothes looked old. Not like what people wore at that time, more like traditional clothing.

And they were facing toward the house… not toward me.

Then, I hadn’t made any noise, but slowly… they turned their head. Not their body, just their head.

And when they looked at me, I realized… I couldn’t see their face clearly.

It was like the darkness was covering it, even though the moon was out.

Interviewer: Did they do anything, maybe say something?

ES: No, not at first.

I just stood there, holding what I had, not moving. Then they took one step toward me.

Just one.

And then I heard it, very faint

“춥다…” (Translated from Korean: “It’s cold…”)

It didn’t sound like they were talking to me exactly. More like… saying it to themselves.

But I felt it. The cold.

Not like normal cold weather. This was a sudden change. Like it went straight through my clothes.

Interviewer: What did you do?

ES: I remembered something my mother used to say. Don’t respond to voices at night.

So I didn’t say anything. I just slowly stepped back… and then I turned and ran inside.

I told my mother the next day. She didn’t look surprised.

She just said, “You didn’t answer, right?”

And when I said no, she nodded and told me not to go outside at night unless I had to.

Interviewer: Did you ever see it again? Or see anything similar?

ES: No.

But sometimes, late at night, I would look out toward that part of the yard… and feel like someone was still standing there.

Context

This story was told to me during one of my visits home after a family dinner. I received it from my father, who used to live in rural Korea before moving to the US for education and work. He stated that the region was naturally superstitious and strongly spiritual, and many other ghost stories populated the area. He mentioned that two large Buddhist temples were there as well. Due to some imperfect English, the transcript was slightly edited to improve flow.

The Informant’s Thoughts:

The informant was disinclined to call the entity he encountered a ghost, and instead preferred to call it a spirit conjured by the struggles of his community. He talked about how encounters with spirits and other supernatural phenomena are more likely to occur when peoples’ futures are uncertain, and that this is especially true in places where life was harder. He discussed how life in rural Korea was very difficult due to poverty and lack of support. He recalled how his village would regularly be flooded during monsoon season, flooding houses, and that farming in the Korean climate was a physically arduous process.

My Thoughts:

I am skeptical of the supernatural by default, making me also not wholly believe the story. I though the happenings could be attributed to local folklore, an active imagination from his young age at the time, or dramatization of a memory over time. However, the idea that spirits appear before us during times of hardship resonated deeply with me. The stress we feel during times of uncertainty makes us more prone to believing in ghosts and superstitions which could bring some stability or consolation. I interpreted the ghost as not a malevolent spirit, but instead a kindred spirit, a companion who shares the suffering of the people in the informant’s community.