In earlier stories, we’ve touched on a question that’s puzzled even me: Why do psychics always say their path is so grueling, even dangerous? If you’re just channeling spirits, what’s the big deal?
Today’s story features another protagonist—a psychic friend of mine. After my last few posts, despite my best efforts to keep things discreet, some petty trolls still called it an “ad.” It’s infuriating, and I’m not about to play the saint and pretend it doesn’t bother me.
So, in this piece, no names. Names don’t matter anyway—they don’t change the point of the story. I’ll just call this person my “psychic friend.” All you need to know is they’re a psychic and one of my pals. That’s enough for disclosure.
The Psychic Friend and Their Divine Backup
My psychic friend, as the title suggests, is a pro with a knack for connecting to the spirit world. Years ago, through some twist of fate, they were tapped by a spiritual force—or forces—and since then, they’ve been helping people with questions, blessings, and dispelling negative energies. Their “services” include the usual: answering queries, lighting prosperity lamps, offering prayers, and clearing bad vibes.
What sets them apart, though, is the power behind them—a deity (or deities) of exceptional strength. I say “exceptional” because this divine presence can handle cases other psychics can’t even touch. It’s a bit darkly funny, but it’s like a spiritual “referral system.” Smaller “clinics” pass tough patients to the big hospital—and my friend’s deity is that top-tier facility. For whatever reason, they take on the cases others can’t crack and resolve them, sometimes (as my friend puts it) by “forcing” the other side to comply.
At their temple, you’ll occasionally see these near-impossible cases—situations where other experts have thrown up their hands in defeat. Most of the time, my friend’s deity sorts it out, often with overwhelming authority.
But even a deity this powerful has limits—entities it won’t dare tangle with. My friend’s had a few such encounters, and one stands out: the tale of the “Kidney Ghost.” It’s stories like this that highlight why psychics call their work perilous. One wrong move, and you might not walk away alive.
The Case of the Greedy Landlady
The story starts innocently enough. The client was a familiar face—a regular who’d been coming to the temple for years to sort out her messes. She was a wealthy landlady from a northern county, loaded with businesses and property. But she wasn’t exactly a saint. Rolling in the cutthroat world of commerce, she’d racked up a laundry list of shady deeds—disputes, swindles, and moral lapses that tanked her luck.
She’d show up whenever her karma caught up, begging for help. Each time, my friend and their deity would tell her to clean up her act and do some good. In her worst moments, she’d sob and promise to change, only to waltz out the door and dive right back into her petty schemes. It was a never-ending cycle—like buying indulgences to wipe her slate clean.
This time, though, something was different. She walked in, and my friend didn’t even need to summon the deity to know she was in deep trouble.
As soon as she appeared, my friend saw it: a massive, murky black cloud trailing behind her, like a bottomless void. It was unsettling, infinite, and dark.
When asked what was wrong, she dodged the question, brushing it off before finally spilling her reason for coming. Her health had taken a nosedive. Doctors told her her kidneys were failing—near total shutdown. She’d started dialysis, but her body couldn’t handle it; every session brought complications and misery.
Her other option? A kidney transplant. But Taiwan’s organ laws made that a long shot—she couldn’t get one fast enough. Then someone tipped her off: she could buy a kidney in mainland China. That’s what she wanted to ask about—would the trip go smoothly?
My friend called on the deity to weigh in. The answer came fast and firm:
No. Absolutely do not go to China for a kidney.
The landlady wouldn’t take it. She pestered my friend, demanding a different answer—the one she wanted.
No. The deity doubled down. Do not go.
Predictably, she stormed off in a huff, unsatisfied. After she left, my friend quietly asked the deity what was really going on. Would the surgery fail? Would she get scammed? The deity’s response was cryptic: she wouldn’t die in China, and she’d make it back to Taiwan alive. But the details? Off-limits. No matter how my friend pressed, the deity just said, “Don’t meddle. You’ll see soon enough.”
The Landlady Returns—And a Haunting Dream
About six months later, the landlady called. Her voice boomed through the phone, brimming with energy. She’d gone to China, had the surgery, and it was a roaring success. After recovering there, she was back in Taiwan, feeling great. She even taunted my friend, half-joking that their deity had “blown it” this time—clearly not as all-knowing as advertised. But she was “big-hearted” enough not to hold it against them. She promised to swing by soon to gloat in person and see what the deity had to say now.
My friend, ever gracious, just chuckled and let it slide. She hadn’t set a date, so the call faded from memory within days.
Then came the dream.
A quick note on my friend’s abilities: they don’t see spirits like some psychics do. Their gift is more about intuition—flashes of insight—and they rely heavily on the deity for guidance. But their dreams? That’s a direct line to the spirit world. At night, while they sleep, entities that can’t reach them during the day come knocking. It’s like a second shift: solving human problems by day, handling spirit business by night. Major events often reveal themselves in these dreams, complete with instructions.
That night, my friend dreamt of a frantic pounding on their door—loud, urgent, rattling the iron gate with a force that echoed into the distance. In these “message dreams,” my friend always knows they’re significant, not just random sleep nonsense. This was one of those.
In the dream, they walked to the door—and froze. The familiar entrance was transformed, cloaked in an arctic chill. Ice coated the ground and walls, the air dim and oppressive, punctuated by that relentless banging. It was terrifying.
Then they saw who—or what—was knocking. A male spirit, unmistakably so from its wretched state. He was stocky, medium-built, but a third of his head was gone—a gaping hole where half his skull and one eye should’ve been. Dark, reddish blood oozed down his face as he moved. Behind him loomed a black mist, deeper and vaster than the one trailing the landlady months ago, its edges wriggling like maggots in a vortex.
Oddly, once my friend got a good look, the fear eased. They’d handled dream encounters before. Instinctively, they summoned the deity—and it arrived, right on cue.
Writer : Su Yiping
Time Stamp : 2012, Dec 06
From PTT Marvel Board
True TAIWAN Horror story 
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