Bukit Tulis Village in the Remote Jungle. I had never heard of Bukit Tulis Village before. It was not listed on any map. Google Maps only showed a faded patch of jungle, with no signs of habitation. Still, the motorbike driver insisted there was a village deep inside the hills. He said it was quiet, far from the chaos of city life. That was exactly what I wanted.
I imagined a peaceful retreat, a forgotten corner of the world that had slipped through the cracks of modern life. The idea of complete isolation felt strangely comforting. I was chasing silence, untouched nature, and maybe even something ancient.
But I should never have gone there. Something about that place was wrong in a way I couldn’t explain. It wasn’t just the silence or the isolation. It was the feeling that I had crossed into somewhere I was not supposed to be.
The Strange Arrival
The village began at a crumbling stone gate, nearly devoured by vines. My motorbike driver stopped there, whispered a quick prayer, and rode off without asking for payment. That should have been my first warning.
As I walked deeper into Bukit Tulis, I noticed something was off. The houses were wooden, old, and eerily symmetrical. No matter which way I turned, every structure looked the same. There were no sounds. No birds. No insects. Not even the wind.
Faces Without Names
The villagers stared at me without smiling. Their eyes followed me, yet no one spoke. An old woman approached and handed me a small woven talisman shaped like an eye. She placed it in my palm, held my hand tightly, and whispered, “Don’t look at the stones at night.” Then she walked away as if nothing happened.
I stayed in a guest hut near the edge of the village. There was no electricity, only oil lamps. That night, I lay awake, trying to make sense of what she meant. I heard whispers outside, though when I opened the door, there was nothing but trees and fog.
The Stones That Whisper
The next day, I wandered deeper into the woods behind the village. That was when I saw them. Dozens of stones, each carved with strange, spiral patterns. They were arranged in a circle. As I stepped closer, I felt a pressure in my ears, like the air itself was rejecting me.
I left immediately. That night, I heard heavy breathing outside my window. It was not animal. It was not human either. The talisman the old woman gave me had turned black.
The Village With No Past
I tried to ask the villagers about the stones. No one answered. One man simply shook his head and drew a line across his throat. Later, I found a small shack filled with books and papers, all in languages I could not recognize. Some pages were filled with drawings of the spiral stones. Others showed something worse. Figures with hollow faces. Mouths wide open. Standing among trees.
I Tried to Leave
The next morning, I packed my bag and tried to leave. The road was gone. Where the stone gate had been was now a wall of dense forest. The trees were too thick to cut through, and the sky had turned gray. The village no longer welcomed me. It never did. I was only ever meant to arrive, not to leave.
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Final Entry
I don’t know what day it is anymore. The villagers won’t speak to me. The talisman burns cold against my chest. Last night, I heard footsteps in my room though I never saw the door open. This morning, there was a stone beside my bed. It had my name carved into it.
If you ever hear someone talk about Bukit Tulis, do not go looking for it. It finds you only when it wants to. And once it does, there is no way out.