The Man in the Black Coat Watches at Midnight | Haunted Plantation Horror Story

Set in Sri Lanka’s misty hill country, this Asian ghost story follows Milroy’s frightening encounter inside a haunted house surrounded by  tea estates.

 Beautiful scenic tea estates, vegetable plantations, and patches of thick forest, it is a misty hill country where Milroy found his escape. Sometimes hunters and trappers roamed the mysterious woods. Almost seventy-five percent of the surrounding land was tea estates, another ten percent was cultivated with vegetables, and the rest was the woods.

Milroy was not a man who feared isolation and he is a loner by nature. Working with soil, growing vegetables, and cooking hearty meals were his passions, and he also earned his income. He eagerly accepted an offer from a local landowner to lease land and a house.

It was a paradise for him: fertile ground to grow beans, beets, and cabbage, and a charming home situated amid green hills.

 

However, a strange remark was made by the landowner.” This property was once owned by my brother and me. Unfortunately, my brother passed away under unusual circumstances,” He said.

“ I am so sorry to hear that,” said Milroy.  Then, after some time, he thought ‘ unusual……   how?’

At the beginning the life was blissful.  The vegetable garden flourished,  the house felt calm and peaceful, and the breathtaking scenery kept his mind and soul calm. The only sign of life was the occasionally blinking light from faraway houses and the rumble of a motorcycle or tractor on the narrow, unlit road at night. 

Sometimes trappers visited and offered him wild boar or porcupine meat as tokens of friendship. Everything was perfect. But one  night, the peace of the haunted house was shattered.

Suddenly, Milroy woke to the sound. Listening.  It was the sound of footsteps.  It was midnight around 12.30 am. The footsteps were circling the house, drawing closer to his bedroom window. One step… then another… the footsteps dragged like someone pulling dead weight. His heart was pounding.

“Who the hell are you? What do you want?” he shouted into the darkness.

There was no answer, only the steady crunch of footsteps on gravel.

He grabbed his flashlight, switched on the hall lights, and stormed outside.  Sweeping the torch beam around the house, he demanded, “Show yourself.”  Only the chorus of insects answered him. Shaken, he closed the door and returned to bed.

Milroy was watching his favourite wrestling show on TV the next evening.  Then he had a strong feeling that he noticed a shadow moving outside the hall window. His stomach knotted. Was someone trying to break into the house? Milroy tried to convince himself that this was not one of those real haunted places people whispered about.

“ I must log a complaint at the police station tomorrow,” he thought.  To his surprise, the footsteps returned that night. Closer, slower, and deliberate. And they stopped right by his window. Through the window glass, illuminated by the moonlight, Milroy saw it: A dark figure, dressed in a suit, standing motionless. A chill ran down his spine. The air grew icy, and Milroy could see his breath forming white clouds. The figure vanished before his eyes.

 

Disturbed and restless, Milroy sipped his cup of tea on the following morning. “ Who is that man roaming at midnight. If he is a thief, he will be careful of his footsteps. So…  can not be a thief. What about the hunters or trappers?”  Milroy was confused. He called his friend Steven. He described the past two nights in detail. Steven promised to come over that evening, bringing along their friend Allen if possible. 

Later that afternoon, as Milroy was busy in his vegetable garden, a trapper named Shawn appeared, carrying porcupine meat wrapped in a banana leaf.  “ Thank you, Shawn, great.. I am expecting a guest tonight. By the way… ah.. did you come near my house last night?” he asked.

The trapper shook his head. “Not at all. I was up by the tea estate. Maybe twice a week, I go for trapping, but I was nowhere near your place yesterday.”

The answer did little to calm Milroy’s nerves.

Milroy cooked his delicious food for dinner. Fried chicken, noodles, vegetable salad, and porcupine meat curry. By 6 p.m., Steven arrived with a bottle of whiskey. Unfortunately, Allen’s mother was in the hospital, so he couldn’t make it. The two men were watching the rugby match on TV and sipping the whiskey.  

Around 8 o’clock at night, the rugby match was still going on TV, and the food is on the table. Both were still sipping their whiskey and having fried chicken for a bite.  A  hand suddenly reached through the open window. The skin was pale, and it had a white shirt sleeve covered with a black blazer sleeve like a man in a formal suit. A husky voice rasped:

“Can I have a piece of chicken?”

The hand withdrew just as quickly as it had appeared.

“Allen?!” Milroy exclaimed, convinced it was their friend playing a prank. He rushed outside with his torchlight, calling out, “You fool, always trying to scare me!” But the night gave no reply.

When Milroy returned, Steven was pale and sweating. “Milroy, look at the distance between the window and the table. That hand stretched at least six feet! No human could reach that far.”

They sat in silence, unnerved, pretending to watch the rugby but unable to focus.  They felt a strange smell of tobacco.  Their meal was ruined by fear.

Near midnight, both fell asleep. The whiskey and the heavy food had lulled them into a drowsy state. And then a knocking on the front door woke Steven. He was listening.  Steven shook Milroy awake. “Someone’s at the door,” he whispered urgently

The knocking came again—louder, insistent.

Milroy grabbed his torch, but the batteries were dead. Furious, he snapped on the hall lights, flung the door open, and shouted:

“You fool! Who do you think you are? Show yourself! Tonight, this ends!”

His words echoed into the eerie stillness. No reply.

“Milroy…” Steven whispered, pointing toward the vegetable garden.

There, under the ancient mango tree, stood the dark figure. Moonlight outlined its form clearly: a man in a full suit, tall and rigid, staring straight at the house. His head slightly tilted. His eyes were glowing.

A cold sweat dripped down their spines. Their teeth chattered—not from the chill of the highland air, but from pure terror.

The next day, Milroy and Steven were seated in front of Inspector Raymond’s table. Inspector Raymond has been working in the region for the last seven years. He listened to them patiently before nodding gravely.

“So you’ve seen him,” he said. “The locals call this place the ‘Full Suit Man’s House.’”

He explained the grim story: “About five years ago... the house had belonged to two brothers, Daniel and Mason. Mason had fallen into a scandalous affair with a married woman from town. One night, after a violent argument, he killed her. Wanted by the police, he hid in the woods for weeks, but guilt consumed him.

ah..... Finally, he returned home. At midnight, he walked to the mango tree at the edge of the garden, climbed onto a stool, and hanged himself in his suit—the very outfit witnesses claimed to see.”  

You see .......  villagers whispered of paranormal activity around the house: footsteps at night, ghostly knocks, and the dark figure lingering under the mango tree. These things happen, you know...." 

“And... I’ll send an officer to take a look,” the inspector said. But his tone carried little hope. He knew this was no ordinary criminal case.

Milroy and Steven left the station shaken. That night, Milroy stared out of his window toward the mango tree, the figure’s presence etched into his mind. Though dawn came, the house no longer felt like home.

The garden was still beautiful, the tea estates still breathtaking, but the shadow of the “Full Suit Man” lingered. This was no longer just farmland;  it was a haunted house, cursed by tragedy, alive with paranormal activity.

Milroy had always loved living alone, but now, solitude felt suffocating. The footsteps might return any night, the knock at the door might sound again, and the suited figure might step closer.

The hill country, with its mist and silence, now carried a darker secret, one whispered by trappers, hunters, neighbors, and now Milroy himself.

The ghost story of the “Full Suit Man” was far from over.

Final Thoughts

If you ever visit the hill country and pass an old estate house standing lonely among tea fields and vegetable gardens, remember this tale. Some houses are more than just homes; they are graves for restless souls. The locals believed this was one of the scariest ghost stories, a tale of a restless spirit still wandering the night

And if you hear footsteps outside your window at midnight, don’t look out. You might just see him, the man in the full suit, still watching, waiting.

If this story gave you chills, leave a comment or share it.

(This story is inspired by a real experience shared by my cousin.)