Haunted places, haunting memory

I am a writer. A journalist with the New Straits Times, the oldest in the country at 170.
Naturally, I write and now I edit. But my obsession with mysteries and ghosts and horror stories had brought me to some of the most haunted places in the country.
I spent several hours with colleagues at the ruins of Highland Towers, where 48 people were killed when one of the towers collapsed 22 years ago. Nothing unusual.
I spent overnight at Ayer Molek prison in a cell. Alone. I played the role of a prisoner and together with some 10 other reporters from other publications, we were assgiend to a night in solitary confinement.
There, right in front of me, the half filled plate rose above the floor and started swaying.
And toothpicks used by prisoners to hang their clothes, multiplied. The sound of a trolley passing under the small iron clad window was deafening in the middle of the night.
We were told to break the seal of our handphones and call the warden if we wanted out.
But, I did not. I wanted to complete the assignment.
I used the Nokia Communicator to snap pictures at random. And one of the pictures revealed a white shadowy figure squatting under the staircase outside the cell.
Unfortunately, I misplaced the photo and could not show you the evidence.
The following morning, one of the wardens who roughly handled my enrolment the day before, explained that outside my wall was a route for bodies to be wheeled out and no one had used the pathway when I was there.
Sound of water streaming under my thick, hard, cold floor was actually a river. Apparently, the prison was built more than a 100 years ago above a river.
Butvbefore I could leave hell, I had to clean the black bucket which I used to ease myself first.
That was scary but a very good experience.
Then I had ventured into an abandoned bungalow in Jalan Tenggiri, Bangsar in the 90s.
I used to pass by the house, abandoned for years, on my way home every night and I thought I saw a flickering light.
Thinking some addicts may have sought refuge. I told my editor I wanted to check it out.
But then, with my colleagues Yushaimi and Alina, we did not find evidence of anyone who had lived there.
It was clean but the thick dust in the house was evidence that no one had dared to go in.
My favourite spot was Kellie's Castle in Batu Gajah, Perak.
Built my Mr Kellie for his belved wife, the project was abandoned when his wife and son refused to come down to Malaysia. He died.
His spirit was spotted by many. But my visits to the huge mansion did not reveal anything out of the ordinary.
I was more intrigued with the design and thought that one day I wanted to build a mansion just like Mr Kellie's.
There are other haunted spots I would love to visit. Among them are Villa Nabila, Kemayan shopping complex and many bungalows were murders had occured.