Scary Photos of a Theme Park From Hell

That was my first excursion to the Ten Courts of Hell, a tunnel of chilling dioramas found in Singapore’s Haw Par Villa featuring Taoist and Buddhist interpretations of netherworldly punishments.

Topless sinners bludgeoned by demons, chopped up body parts, and people sizzling in oil woks terrorized a whole generation of Singaporean kids in the 70s and 80s. When these kids grew up to be parents (like mine), they unleashed the same horror upon their children with well-intentioned family trips to catch a glimpse of hell and impart some moral lessons along the way.

A couple of weeks ago, I decided it was finally time to revisit the scenes from my childhood nightmares, about 20 years after my first trip. How bad could it be? I thought upon my arrival.

I was nonchalant until I saw creepy pandas near the entrance, peeking from a cave. The more I stared into their soul-piercing eyes, the more I understood why Haw Par Villa has kept its stronghold in urban legends—an especially popular one claims that the sculptures come to life at night.

Opened in 1937 by Burmese Chinese tycoon Aw Boon Haw, Haw Par Villa was meant to be a dream house for his brother Aw Boon Par. For several years the villa served as the residence of the Aw family (also known for producing the iconic medicinal ointment Tiger Balm), until World War II saw them fleeing Singapore. The land, including statues and gardens that were later donated by the Aws, now belongs to the state.

In its 84-year history, the land served as a family villa, a vantage point for Japanese troops during the war, and a hotspot for public vandals. In the ‘90s, it was even repurposed into a largely unsuccessful theme park with rides that were ultimately shuttered in 2001. 

But the trippy sculptures and dioramas (now over 1,000) remain icons of the bizarre attraction. The park continues to host a small but steady stream of nostalgia-seeking seniors, daredevils intrigued by the urban legends, and artsy types embarking on folklore-themed photoshoots. Today, the park is home to the newly opened Hell's Museum, which introduces traditions surrounding death and beliefs about the afterlife with a focus on local Chinese rituals.

The Ten Courts of Hell, the infamous tunnel of hellish torture, is now part of the Hell’s Museum exhibition.

According to Chinese mythology, which takes influence from Buddhism, people attend afterlife courts when they die. In these courts, each overseen by a king, the dead are sentenced to extremely brutal punishments for their mortal sins.

These sinners are then tortured repeatedly in the 18 Levels of Hell (another well-known concept in Chinese folklore) until they are sent for reincarnation. The amount of time one spends in hell depends on the gravity of their sins. 

For example, those who neglected the old and the young would be crushed by a boulder. Meanwhile, the punishment for sins like robbery, murder, and rape is having one’s head and arms chopped off. 

The sins also get strangely specific: Plotting the death of someone to steal his money, or charging an unreasonably high interest rate for loans, will get you thrown onto a hill of knives.

As it turns out, the fascination with theme parks of uncensored moral teachings is a common thread among Asian cultures. From a hell garden in Thailand to a Buddhist hell water park in South Korea, sculptures depicting what awaits sinners in the afterlife are presumably meant to scare parkgoers into a life of virtue.

Even with the most intense sculptures out of the way, walking around the rest of the park was still not exactly a walk in the park. Every corner of the sprawling villa features surreal sculptures that gave me the creeps even in broad daylight.

The living residents of Haw Par Villa are just as hair-raising. I came across several algae-clogged ponds where terrapins languished in the sweltering sunlight—a rather pitiful sight. Though I have to admit, the mossy green waters really intensified the forsaken glamor of the place. 

Exploring Haw Par Villa is seldom the top choice of recreation in Singapore, where plenty of glitzy activities compete for the attention of both locals and tourists. Plus, for many like me who were traumatized there as a kid, the sculptures harken back to early childhood nightmares that we have since tried to repress and forget.

But as we grapple with rapid changes to our cultural heritage, it’s nice to see Singaporeans still appreciating the theme park as an important piece of local history. 

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