Floating heads, vanishing strangers, and spirits in white: Local celebs recall their scariest hauntings

Just because the Hungry Ghost Festival has come and gone doesn’t mean the spirits have clocked out.

In fact, our office was recently visited by a little mystery of its own – a faint, uncanny whistling that drifted from the empty cubicle beside one of our interns while she was in the bathroom.

As it turns out, we’re not the only ones with brushes from beyond.

From old broadcast studios to shadowy hotel corridors in Kuala Lumpur, these Singaporean celebrities have their own stories to tell –  unsettling, unexpected, and vivid enough to leave a chill in your bones.

Here, we share a few of the most disturbingly relatable ghost stories – because they didn’t happen to strangers in far-off places, but to familiar faces you’ve seen on screen. From Crazy Rich Asians heartthrob Pierre Png, to veteran actress Priscelia Chan, to multi-hyphenate media personality Dennis Chew (who now investigates haunted locations in the new season of Mr Zhou’s Ghost Stories @ Singapore Sightings, streaming on meWATCH) –  these encounters hit far closer to home than you might expect.

Ready to get goosebumps? These real-life tales might just make you think twice before brushing off that sudden gust of cold air.

Pierre Png’s spine-tingling episode with the vanishing man at Caldecott Hill’s Studio Six

If you’ve ever been captivated by Pierre Png’s on-screen intensity – from his role as the impeccably dressed Michael Teo in Crazy Rich Asians to his villainous turn in The Journey: A Voyage – then you’ll know the man doesn’t rattle easily.

But one eerie encounter inside Mediacorp’s now-defunct Caldecott Hill campus left him speechless.

It happened years ago, inside the cavernous Studio Six, the second-largest studio on the property. The set he was working on had two full builds separated by a long runway where three cameras would travel – think of it as the spine of the studio. When the floor manager announced dinner break, the crew scattered in a hurry.

“I realised I’d left my wallet behind,” Pierre recalls. “So I turned back.”

As Pierre crossed the dim studio to retrieve his bag, he noticed a man, whose back was facing him, still seated on a chair by the runway. Arms folded, headset and jacket still on, he looked as if he hadn’t moved since the crew was dismissed. Pierre, asked the crew member casually, “Not going for dinner?” before continuing on his way.

It wasn’t until he was almost at the door that something didn’t sit right.

“I turned around. He was gone just like that. And there was no way he could’ve exited without me seeing him.”

Pierre replayed the scene in his head: the distance from the chair to the single exit and the time it would take for anyone to slip away simply didn’t add up. The studio was still and empty, before he realised that he was alone.

“I ran out to check. Maybe we could catch up,” he said. “But nope. There was no one.”

Priscelia Chan’s mysterious 3am disturbances in Kuala Lumpur

Priscelia Chan, the veteran actress you’ve seen in dramas like In Pursuit of Peace, Emerald Hill and most recently in the film Don’t Go Home Tonight, had her most disturbing supernatural encounter almost 18 years ago.

She remembers it clearly: just two days after her wedding, she was in Kuala Lumpur for a shoot. Bone-tired but pressing on, she checked into the service apartment arranged for her stay. From the moment she entered, she felt like the vibe was just not it.

Imagine a queen-sized bed directly facing the door. To the left, a narrow, oddly elongated walkway led to the toilet, lined with two towering cupboards – one near the entrance, the other ominously tucked at the end.

“I was exhausted,” she says. “But I’d wake up at 3am, night after night. It was draining.”

And then, one night, she was visited by an unusual dream.

She saw a woman in white, long hair cascading down her back, standing at the foot of her bed. Beside her was a little boy holding the lady’s hands. The two figures turned and walked slowly into that narrow walkway, disappearing near the second cupboard Priscelia never used.

Instead of panic, exhaustion took over.

“In my sleep, I spoke out loud in Mandarin saying, ‘I’m only here to work. I just want to sleep well and go home after filming. Thank you.’”

She drifted off… and after that night, the 3am disturbances stopped completely.

It wasn’t until she returned to Singapore that she mentioned the dream to a friend with a sensitivity to the spirit realm.

“That wasn’t just a dream,” he told her.

According to him, the woman and her child were the resident spirits of the space. Harmless, perhaps even protective. And maybe, just maybe, they left her alone because she spoke to them with calm and respect.

Dennis Chew’s chilling encounter with the floating head

When it comes to ghost stories, few Singaporean celebs tell them quite like Dennis Chew – beloved DJ, actor, and the voice behind “Mr Zhou” on Love 972. These days, he’s the face of Mr Zhou’s Ghost Stories @ Singapore Sightings, now in its second season on meWATCH and fast becoming one of the platform’s spookiest hits.

For this piece, Dennis shares with us a chilling encounter of his own.

It happened on a quiet Friday evening at the former Mediacorp premises. Dennis and veteran broadcaster He Ai Ling, affectionately known as Miss Mole, had arrived early for their shift on Mr Zhou’s Ghost Stories @ Singapore Sightings. With time to spare, they settled into casual conversation before they began shooting.

For context, the old broadcast studios all shared the same unnerving architecture. To get inside, you first had to push past a thick, heavy soundproof door, each fitted with a small glass window. Beyond it stretched two rows of announcers’ lockers, dimly lit, almost claustrophobic in their symmetry. Then came a second soundproof door – another barrier before you could finally step into the studio proper.

Most of the time, that inner door was left propped open. It made the air less stifling, and allowed easy access for anyone running in and out to grab notes or equipment. From her chair, Miss Mole only needed to tilt her head slightly to see directly through the open doorway, across the locker area, and out the window of the first door into the corridor beyond.

At one point during their conversation, Dennis noticed that Miss Mole suddenly went still. Her gaze snapped toward the window on the main door, her expression clouding. In an instant, the chatter between them dissolved into silence.

Dennis, seated out of sight of the door, noticed the shift immediately. “What’s wrong?” he asked, trying to catch her eye. But Miss Mole didn’t answer. She kept staring, transfixed, before briefly glancing at him, rising to her feet, and stepping briskly out of the studio.

Moments later, she returned. Her face had drained of colour, lips faintly bluish. She sat back down, exhaled, and said, “It’s nothing.”

They went on with the programme as usual, and once they wrapped up, Miss Mole urged Dennis to go for supper. 

“I knew in my gut she had something to tell me,” he explained.

True enough, Miss Mole finally opened up over their shared meal.

As Dennis recounted: “She told me she saw a human head fly straight past the studio window. Yes, I’m using the words “fly” because if someone had run past, their head would’ve bobbed with each step. But she said that this head glided past in a smooth, eerie motion. Then it stopped, turned to face her, and stared directly at Miss Mole.”

She described the face to be that of a young man’s – colourless, neckless. And then, it slowly drifted away.

Miss Mole had rushed out, hoping to catch someone in the corridor. But the hallway was deserted.

“She knew what she saw,” Dennis says. “And I believe her.”