In Indonesia, stories about spirits or “things” that live in forests and villages are very common. We grow up hearing them. But honestly, I always treated them as just part of the culture—old stories, nothing more. Until last year. I live in a small village not far from Yogyakarta. I have a motorbike, and sometimes at night I visit a friend in a neighboring village. It’s about a 25-minute ride, through rice fields and a stretch of old forest. The road is narrow, the asphalt is uneven in places, but I’ve taken it hundreds of times. That night felt normal. It was around 9:30 PM—already dark, but not completely, because the moon was almost full. I was heading home from my friend’s place when, about halfway through the route—right where the forest begins—I noticed something strange: it was too quiet. It’s hard to explain. Usually at night you still hear things— insects, crickets, sometimes dogs in the distance. But this time it was like… someone had turned all the sound off. At first, I didn’t think much of it. But a couple of minutes later, I saw someone standing in the middle of the road. That was already unusual. No one really walks there at night. I slowed down and got closer. It was a man, dressed normally—a shirt and pants. He was standing with his back to me, completely still. I stopped about five meters away and called out, “Hey, are you okay?” No response. Nothing at all. I thought maybe he was drunk or not feeling well. I turned off the engine and started walking toward him. That’s when things got strange. Every step I took forward, it felt like the distance between us didn’t change. I stepped again—same thing. It was like he stayed exactly where he was, even though I was clearly moving closer. I stopped. At that moment, he began to turn his head… very slowly. Not his body—just his head. And the way it moved… it wasn’t right. Too slow, and at an angle I can’t really describe. I didn’t wait for him to fully turn around. Suddenly I had a strong feeling that I needed to leave. Not even fear exactly—more like instinct. I quickly turned back, started my motorbike, and sped off. After about 20 or 30 meters, I heard footsteps behind me. At first soft, then faster. I looked in the mirror—and I saw him. He was walking behind me. Not running. Just walking… but getting closer. I accelerated as much as I could. The road doesn’t allow high speed, but I pushed it anyway. I checked the mirror again—he was closer now. And that’s when I noticed something that still scares me: his legs weren’t moving the way they should. It was like… he was gliding. I don’t know how long it lasted—maybe 20 seconds, maybe a minute. Then suddenly, the sound stopped. I looked back again—no one there. I didn’t stop until I was out of the forest. Only when I got closer to the village did I finally stop and realize my hands were shaking. I went home and didn’t tell anyone. I thought maybe I was just tired, or imagining things. But a few days later, I noticed something else. On the back of my motorbike, there were marks—like dirty handprints. Not mine—I know where I usually hold. These were higher… and the fingers looked longer. I later asked my friend, carefully, if he had ever seen anyone on that road at night. He said he tries not to go that way after dark. I asked why. He just said, “Just don’t go there at night.” Since then, I never take that road at night anymore. During the day, everything feels normal. But every time I pass that part of the forest, I get this strange feeling… like someone is watching me from behind. I know this sounds made up. I’m not trying to convince anyone. I just wanted to share it, because even now, I still can’t explain what I saw that night.