Heavy Rain for Sleeping with True Horror Stories | Ep. 424

Summary

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Scary Stories and Rain – Episode 424

Heavy Rain for Sleeping with True Horror Stories
Host: Being Scared
Release Date: July 7, 2026

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Episode Overview

This night's episode weaves a series of chilling, allegedly true horror stories narrated in a calm tone, all set against a background of steady, soothing rain. The stories explore themes of psychological terror, supernatural encounters, urban legends, and the traumas that linger long after the horror itself. The episode is ideal for listeners seeking that eerie blend of comfort and unease—whether as bedtime background or for a sleepless night.

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Key Stories and Discussion Points

1. The Child and the Basement Clown

[01:13 – 06:05]
A child psychiatrist shares a disturbing memory of an early case with a girl named Annie, who struggled to separate reality from imagination. Annie continually speaks of a clown living in her basement, with journal entries fixated on this nocturnal terror. When the psychiatrist finally investigates, the encounter turns physically threatening, and it becomes clear that the child's father has a sinister, predatory role in the haunting.

• Notable Moment:
  "Just as I turned on the light, I saw a man sized clown standing in the corner of the room...I screamed as loudly as I could. When I opened my eyes, the clown had disappeared." (Story Narrator, 03:36)
• Theme: Predation masked as a child’s imagination; the blurred line between fantasy and real threat.

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2. Sleep Paralysis and the Shadow Figure

[06:07 – 08:07]
A woman recalls her only experience with sleep paralysis from her early teens. She wakes, unable to move, witnessing a featureless, shadowy figure drifting across her room and towards her bed during a period of heightened paranormal activity.

• Notable Moment:
  "Suddenly, as if from a horror film, the figure’s head begins to jerk and shake rapidly…The whole situation was too much for me and I forced myself to faint." (Story Narrator, 08:00)
• Insight:
  The story embodies the universal terror of sleep paralysis—the helpless observation of something deeply wrong and the human fight-or-flight response failing.

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3. The Smoky Mountains and the Little People

[08:11 – 22:31]
A group of college friends hiking in the Smoky Mountains has their trip upended by a vehicle breakdown. After a grisly discovery—what seemed to be a group of small, goblin-like beings (possibly Yunwi Tsunsdi, the ‘Little People’ of Cherokee legend) feasting on a deer—fear escalates. Through the night, the group defends themselves from these creatures, whose viciousness and otherworldly gibberish unsettle the boundaries of folk mythology and personal experience.

• Memorable Quotes:
  "Shane then says, get in the car. I just saw five midgets eating a deer’s carcass." (Shane, 13:21)
  "We see something that we will never unsee. A person that must have been less than 2ft tall... wielded what appeared to be a very large knife." (Story Narrator, 17:22)
• Notable Moment:
  The encounter at night, with the creatures climbing through trees, describing an overwhelming sense of vulnerable and primal fear.
• Closing Reflection:
  After surviving, the narrator consults his Cherokee grandfather:
  "He claims to have had a similar experience ... They are mostly a positive force but do major harm to those who disrespect them and their territory." (Story Narrator, 21:31)

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4. Dangerous Urban Exploration: The Factory Horror

[24:13 – 34:01]
Several young men regularly explore an abandoned factory near a forest. Their exploits escalate from uneasiness and an inexplicable scream to direct, terrifying contact—a strange, possibly mentally ill, one-legged man in a blood-soaked wheelchair and another wielding a broken bottle.

• Highlights:
  • Recurring tension about local gang activity and the dangers of urban decay.
  • An eerie escalation from pranks and bravado to a brush with actual violence.
  • Quote:
    "The guy kept repeating the same thing over and over…when his friend walked out of the darkness... It was obvious he was completely out of his mind." (Story Narrator, 32:54)
• Aftermath:
  The narrator and his friends vow never to return, underscoring the reality that human dangers often overshadow the supernatural.

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5. A Father’s Grief: Vengeance and a Supernatural Encounter

[34:01 – 64:28]
A deeply emotional, almost novella-length narrative unfolds as a grieving father contemplates murdering the youth acquitted of his daughter Mara's death. Amidst a rainstorm, “John” is visited by a mysterious, omniscient boy at a bus stop. What follows is a surreal, metaphysical journey—a bus ride with Death itself—showing John the catastrophic consequences of his actions: his family's devastation, his own demise, and the eternal pain left in the wake.

• Notable Quotes and Exchanges:
  • "Murder will not bring her back." (The Boy, 47:04)
  • "Your actions will be directly to blame for this. One moment of rage will destroy everyone you care about the most. What you seek is justice. What you offer is condemnation." (The Boy, 56:29)
  • On death and the supernatural:
    "I guess I am a traveler. Everyone will meet me at some point in their lives, whether it is in the beginning or the end, or somewhere in between." (The Boy, 50:30)
  • "Mara was exceptionally stubborn. When I met her, she refused to submit to her fate, as few have done before her... Her love was strong enough to challenge forces even I dare not resist." (The Boy, 61:25)
• Themes:
  The destructive nature of vengeance, the agony of grief, hope beyond despair, and the mysterious kindness of those who guide the dying.
• Resolution:
  John ultimately rejects vengeance, symbolically discarding his weapon and returning home, changed by his supernatural encounter.
  • "I took the weapon from my pocket and threw it into the river. I was ready to go home." (John, 64:28)

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6. An Intruder at the Back Door

[64:28 – 70:45]
A woman remembers a childhood brush with potential abduction. Home with her mother and brother on a warm night, she encounters a partially naked man—likely a predatory maintenance worker—on their back porch, attempting to enter through a screen door.

• Memorable Moment:
  "Not only was this man standing there looking down at me, he was only wearing a shirt... That's it. Nothing below, just the shirt." (Story Narrator, 68:56)
• Insight:
  The terror is primal but also mundane; it's the horror of realizing danger can stand on the other side of the glass in suburban comfort.

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Notable Quotes

• "Murder will not bring her back." (The Boy, 47:04)
• "Her love was strong enough to challenge forces even I dare not resist." (The Boy, 61:25)
• "The clown was asking about you last night. He said he wants to meet you. I felt a little scared when she said that." (Story Narrator, 03:15)
• "I have always been hated because I am a reminder of the inevitable. Never before has someone thanked me." (The Boy, 63:02)

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Significant Timestamps

• [01:13 – 06:05]: The child psychiatrist and the clown in the basement
• [06:07 – 08:07]: Sleep paralysis and the shadow figure
• [08:11 – 22:31]: The Smoky Mountains and Cherokee Little People encounter
• [24:13 – 34:01]: Abandoned factory terror and human threat
• [34:01 – 64:28]: A father’s grief and metaphysical journey with Death
• [64:28 – 70:45]: Childhood encounter with a predatory intruder

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Tone and Atmosphere

The narration is gentle but unyieldingly eerie—combining personal confessions, supernatural lore, and grounded, all-too-human threats. Occasional dialogue is intimate and thoughtful, lending emotional weight to the ghostly ambience of the rain.

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Conclusion

Episode 424 is a tapestry of terror both supernatural and real, designed as much for reflection as for fright—a poignant mix of ghost stories, grief, folk legends, urban explorations gone wrong, and everyday horrors that linger in memory. The soothing, steady rain renders the stories oddly comforting, making the listener a silent observer of each unsettling encounter.

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Transcript

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[Story Narrator]

Scary Stories in Rain. Do you want to listen Ad free? Just subscribe on Spotify for $2.99 a month. Now turn out the lights, enjoy the stories and enjoy the rain. I have worked as a child psychiatrist for more than 10 years but there one incident that I will never forget. At the start of my career I did not have a separate office so I used to go to my clients houses for counseling sessions. There was a child named Annie. Her parents told me that despite being 10 years old, she was unable to distinguish reality from her imagination. I used to have one hour sessions with her and it was exceedingly difficult to get her to open up to me. We played games and even watched movies to unveil her emotions, but she would not share what was going on inside her head. One day as I was asking about her friends, she blatantly told me about a clown that stays in her basement. I found it funny but kept myself quiet because Annie was finally opening up to me. I asked her how she knew about the clown. Then she told me there's a clown that comes to my bedroom every night. He tries to take me to the

[John (Grieving Father)]

basement where he lives.

[Story Narrator]

He is not a good man. I knew that children around that age are quite imaginative and sometimes they fail to understand the difference between reality and imagination. So I asked Annie to keep track of her dreams and gave her a small diary. After a few days, the topic of the clown subsided. Then the following week, Annie came back with the diary and said the clown was asking about you last night. He said he wants to meet you. I felt a little scared when she said that. Not going to lie. But I quickly brushed it off thinking

[John (Grieving Father)]

she was just a child.

[Story Narrator]

As I opened the diary, I found nothing but dreams about the clown written on every page. I felt quite frustrated and decided to explore the basement. Annie told me that the clown does not like to be visited during the day. He gets angry, Annie remarked. I assured her that nothing was going to happen and went to the basement with her. I reached my hand for the light switch, but I couldn't find it. Finally, I found it. Just as I turned on the light, I saw a man sized clown standing in the corner of the room. He stood there like a statue in his white pajamas, bright red bow tie and a long white hat. The distinctive clown paint was running from the clown's eyes making him look deformed with an evil grin on his face. Slowly he began to give a very wide smile and moved his eyeballs towards Annie and me consecutively. I shut my eyes and screamed as loudly as I could. When I opened my eyes, the clown had disappeared. As Annie and I began running upstairs, I could hear someone right behind me. Annie managed to get out, but the clown grabbed my leg. He came close to my face. I quickly realized it was Annie's dad. He looked furious and whispered if you tell this to anyone, I will not spare you. I have only experienced sleep paralysis once in my life, but it was a terrifying ordeal. I am a female and I have a female twin sister. And we were about 14 or 15 years old when this situation occurred in our childhood home. Our room was a converted garage, very spacious with built in bed frames across from one another, a large window placed between them. To the side of my bed was another window with a street light that would pour light into the room while we slept. We have always been open to paranormal activity and have had numerous experiences in the house before. But nothing like this encounter. Late one night I woke up to a a dark quiet room. I recognized that I was awake and fully conscious, but soon realized I could not move my legs or my arms at all.

[John (Grieving Father)]

Just my eyes.

[Story Narrator]

I have never experienced this sensation before, so I was taken aback but quickly decided to start small by trying to make my pinky finger move. I concentrated very hard for what seemed seemed like 10 to 15 minutes on simply moving one finger when finally I began wiggling it slightly. Caught up in the excitement of this small accomplishment, I suddenly became acutely aware of an intense feeling that someone else

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[Story Narrator]

Else was in the room watching this progress Because I share a room with my sister, the first thing I did was look over towards her bed to the south of my field of vision and was surprised to see a dark figure standing by the head of her bed. My sister has long, fluffy and curly hair and at first I thought the silhouette of this shadow had hair like hers, so I initially thought that it was her. That was until the figure started drifting towards my bed. Keep in mind, I am still completely unable to move anything other than my eyes. As the figure moves closer to me, I realize it's not my sister and has no defining features, just a dark shadow. Additionally, it isn't walking, but more like floating towards me. My heart begins to beat rapidly and I start pumping adrenaline into my system desperately trying to move as I see the figure floating closer and closer to me. The shadow never turns, but instead keeps what I assume to be its face pointed forward towards the window to the side of my bed. With the streetlight coming in, it's staying at just the edge of my field of vision to where I must strain my eyes to keep looking at it. As the figure begins to enter the light, I am still unable to distinguish any defining features despite it being illuminated by the light from the outside. This is when the figure begins to slowly turn its face upward towards the light and I am still unable to distinguish any discernible features. I am almost at my breaking point mentally as I am fighting to keep my eyes on this terrifying sight. I try shouting out to get my sister's attention, but I can't even get a whimper out. Suddenly, as if from a horror film, the figure's head begins to jerk and shake rapidly without an obvious cause or purpose. At this point, the whole situation was too much for me and I force myself to faint and I pass out again. When I woke up I could move just fine and was left with no evidence of this horrific encounter. Aside from the terrifying memory. I believe I, as well as others on the property encountered the shadow figure again, but nothing quite as intimate as this time. I am a middle aged adult now and I live in Knoxville, Tennessee. At the time of this story I was in my freshman year attending the University of Tennessee. The Smoky Mountains are about an hour from the campus. My friend group and I often traveled up there to hike and chill in general. One day we decided to skip school to go hiking because it was over 90 degrees in the valley. We did inform our parents of our plan and that we would be back no later than noon the next day. Of course, this is the days before mobile cell phones. We traveled nearly two hours in order to get to our spot, quote unquote. Of course, being young kids at the time, we got whatever alcoholic drinks that we could scrounge up and didn't want to get caught with them. There were four of us and we felt pretty comfortable on our own in this situation. My friend suggested that we go farther to escape the heat and avoid getting caught underage drinking. As we traveled another 30 minutes or so, the check engine light came on in my friend's car. He shot me a panicked look. My other two friends were too busy drinking to realize what was happening. We quickly turned around and headed back the way we came. Within 10 minutes the car was smoking and we had to pull over. The engine Was smoking and we had no service. We quickly sobered up and my friend, who I'll refer to as Shane, said that he had forgotten to get gas in his piece of crap Honda Civic that had a broken gas gauge. It was a nightmare scenario. Not a soul within sight, especially because it was a Tuesday morning in September. We figured in the worst case scenario our parents would send some police up

[John (Grieving Father)]

here to look for us the next day.

[Story Narrator]

Day when they hadn't heard from any of us. Luckily we had over packed food and drinks for a couple days. We decided to put the car in neutral as it was on a downward slope and have Shane sit in it to push the brake when needed. One of my other friends got in with him. So me and my friend, who I'll refer to as Jared, pushed the vehicle to get it out of the slight ditch that it was in. We figured that if we got closer to the way we came, it would be easier for us to be found. As they descended the slope, Shane could not see fully around the bend, so the farther he went, the more he could see. Me and my other friend are a bit behind Shane at this point and he is nearly to the bottom of the slope. All of a sudden we hear the sound of gravel flying about and breaks screeching to a halt. We hear the sound of his horn honking out of control. Then we hear some odd gibberish type sounds coming from their vicinity. We are super concerned and startled. Shane yells what is that thing man? And my other friend yells something of the same effect. We approached the vehicle and saw some movement in the tree line but couldn't make out anything. Shane then says get in the car. I just saw five midgets eating a deer's carcass. We both erupted in laughter and figured he was joking and just saw a deer. He remains stale in his expression and the two of us look at each other and then the other friend who was in the car with him. I'll refer to the friend in the car as Rob. Rob is usually a laid back guy, but when we looked at him he was white as a ghost and looked to a sweat dripping down his forehead. Jared then looks at me and says I think they're serious. I tried not to let the thought of something so insane scare me, but I looked over to where Shane was pointing and saw something out of a nightmare. There was blood all over the green foliage and what looked to be a deer's eyeball, among other disgusting body parts strewn about the leaves. The worst part was the eyeball was half Eaten. At this point we are all freaking out. So Shane hops back in and the three of us push his crappy car as far as we could muster along the fairly flat grade road. We are exhausted and must have gone over a mile pushing that car. We now approached an upward slope in the road and knew that we didn't have the might to push it up there without potential injury. We devised a game plan that we would stay for the night in hopes of someone helpful coming across the path of our broken down vehicle. The catch was we wanted to see sleep in the surrounding foliage area to avoid detection from potentially dangerous people or things that could also come across our dire situation and see us as prey. So there we sat, not wanting to make a fire or give away our location to the potential threats that we had seen earlier. The dark truth that none of us wanted to face was the fact that that we could have easily been followed that far considering how slow we were going. We sat there in the dark with flashlights in one hand and beef jerky in the other, not speaking much aside from the occasional what was that sound. Me and Shane were tasked with staying up the first shift until around 3am Then Rob and Jared would take over. Shane had brought a weapon with him for us to shoot for fun originally, but now it was our only form of defense. Around 1am we heard the dreaded sound of gibberish, eerily similar to what we had heard earlier. Me and Shane looked at each other, both scared out of our minds. Shane pulled out his weapon and awoke our other two friends. The gibberish woke them up very quickly. The odd thing about it was it sounded like it was coming from above us. We soon realized that it was approaching our direction and we had heard it directly above us, along with a snapping branch. That's when we realized that it was in the tree that we used as shelter. We all sat there stiff and as a board. Suddenly we heard three distinct loud thuds and subsequent sounds of gravel footprints. We watched the direction of the vehicle. Suddenly we hear the terrifying sound of a shattered window and Shane's car alarm going off. We see the lights come on in his car and that's when we see something that we will never unsee. We were originally confused because we could not see anyone, but then we saw it. A person that must have been less than 2ft tall. It was the most unsettling thing I have ever seen. It had a beard, big ears, long mangy hair, disproportionately large feet, and worst of all, it wielded what appeared to be a very large knife. Suddenly we hear the sound of gibberish again and spot more of them, about five in total. One had what looked like a deer horn in its hand. They all looked alike and of the same stature. We then heard what sounded like a horn being blown and some very loud inaudible gibberish. They scrambled back in our direction. At this point we were all lying in the prone position behind a hump in the ground, covered by the foliage. As much as possible, we heard them start to climb up into the tree and then suddenly stop. Shane peeked up and then dropped just as fast as he had stood. I heard a gibberish sound again, this time so loud my eardrums hurt. There we were, lying down, trying to remain hidden, and we saw one of these creatures standing there flaring its nostrils

[John (Grieving Father)]

as though smelling for us.

[Story Narrator]

It drops down on its knees and touches Rob.

[John (Grieving Father)]

Rob then says, please just leave us alone.

[Story Narrator]

It must have stood there forever staring at him before we heard the sound of gibberish coming from the tree above. It then proceeds to get up and climb the tree. We all sat there without moving or speaking until the early morning. Finally, we hear the sound of a diesel truck engine approaching and an elderly couple gets out to inspect our car. We run out of our hiding spot and tell them what must have been the most confusing story of all time. He didn't seem to believe us, but said that he would get us some gas and some help. Finally he comes back after what felt like an eternity with a full gas can and ensures that my friend's Honda Civic will start. He then says, make sure you know what mushrooms you're eating next time. When we finally got home, our parents were worried. Since it was nearly 5pm we didn't tell them of our overnight terrors and just said that we had lost track of time. I have always been very close to my grandfather, who is Cherokee Indian. He is the only person I have told this story to. He claims to have had a similar experience with these people before. He told me of the legend of the Yunhui sunzi, the Cherokee legend of the little people who roam the woods. They are apparently known to antagonize people throughout the years. He added that they are mostly a positive force but do major harm to those who disrespect them and their territory. He jokingly said, you can thank your heritage that you're still alive. But part of me thinks that there is some truth to that statement. This is a long story and it's kind of hard to understand. But these are hands down the scariest moments of my life. For some context, we live in the suburbs, surrounded by houses, malls and little shops. However, There is a 10 mile long trail that cuts through the deep woods near the downport entrance. About two miles into the trail, there is an abandoned factory. My friends.

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[Story Narrator]

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[Story Narrator]

Oh yeah.

[John (Grieving Father)]

Come join us.

[Story Narrator]

Sam's Club. I used to go down to the factory at night to explore it. We are all big guys as we play football together. I'm 6, 4 and 260 pounds. The biggest guy there and the smallest is probably Thomas, who is shorter but still ripped. So we were never really scared and would often go in a group of at least four about four times a week. We knew the layout of the area well and Nothing bad ever happened. When I went with them. We had to walk the two mile trail in complete darkness, which was honestly worse than the factory itself. Until strange things started happening. There is a heavy MS.13 gang presence in the downport area, so that was the only thing that we were really scared of. Alright, enough exposition. Let's get on with the story. The first time we went, it was me, Chuck, Thomas and Dylan. We were just exploring because it had been months since our last visit. The place was covered in debris and graffiti, looking really scary in the pitch black darkness. We were surrounded by miles of woods with no houses in sight. The woods emitted a constant ambient noise of bugs, deer branches and leaves rustling, so it was never truly quiet anyway. The first time we went, nothing really happened, but it was starting to feel uneasy. There are two main buildings and the one farther back is much bigger than the one in the front. Half of the walls are knocked down, making it even scarier as you can see the woods from every angle. We were on the right side of the bigger building and we never went to the left side because it looked kinda boring and barren. We were being reckless, throwing rocks on the roof and making loud noises. But we left because nothing happened. That was the first time. The second time, everyone except Dylan was there. Roman joined us this time it turned out to be the worst night for Roman and me. We started exploring the smaller building closer to the entrance, trying to find a way to get to the roof when we heard an absolutely gut wrenching scream coming from the back left building. We all froze and looked at each other like what was that? We didn't hear any other noises except for that scream which sounded like someone had just been killed. It was so horrifying. However, we did see other people with flashlights on the trail, so we thought it was just them being idiots. We kept looking around and eventually we made it to the bigger building. We entered the pitch black factory where the only sounds were coming from the forest and a trickling of water due to the rain the night before. The inside of the factory was covered in darkness. We went through one of the huge pride open metal garage doors and started exploring. Thomas and I were the ones with our phones out, using the flashlights to scan the area since we were still on alert because of the scream. As we walked toward the left side of the factory, we each scanned one side of the doorway like in Rainbow six Siege. I saw an old dirty wooden wheelchair and nothing else, while Thomas saw nothing but a big wall separating two sides of the huge room. We both shone Our lights in the middle where there was a shopping cart, brand new looking cans of Red Bull and a pallet with a bunch of blankets scrunched up into a small ball. Immediately we were like what the heck? And stopped. We were so loud and there was no way there could be a person right there. But we shone our lights at it. We were about 20 yards away and we all agreed that it could not be a person because it was way too small. So we inched towards it with Roman and me in the front. We were about 10 yards away when we stopped again. Everyone was silent and I swear every single noise in the area stopped. There was no more sound of trickling water or ambient noise from the woods. We all stared at the blankets and then they moved. The person underneath lifted his leg up and sat up and we were gone. We ran away so fast that I didn't even turn around to see what was chasing us. We made it back to the trail and jogged all the way back to the car without saying a word, just thinking what the heck? And oh my God. The next time we went, Bayer, Chuck, Roman and Mikey joined us. This is a short story, but still honestly bad. We were walking the trail to the factory again and reached the pitch black factory. As we entered the first building where nothing had ever happened before, we saw a truck parked inside the factory. We all ran away because we thought it was either security or cops or Ms. 13. We stayed by the fence for about 10 minutes to see if we hurt anyone, but we didn't. Mikey and I then walked into the factory to inspect the truck. The license plates were scratched out with duct tape covering them. The keys were in the ignition and there was a wheelbarrow, garbage bags and shovels in the bed of the truck. We heard more yelling coming from where we had seen the guy sleeping. So we got out of there thinking that this was definitely gang related. This is the last time we went and probably the last time we will ever go. We went in the evening so we still had some visibility and it wasn't as scary. However, we quickly realized that we had made a mistake because it became dark as soon as we reached the trail and it was pitch dark. When we got to the factory, we wanted to go see the car again, but it was gone. There was no tire marks or any evidence of it ever being there. It had simply vanished. We decided to keep looking around because we had never seen the factory in daylight, although the daylight was close to gone anyway. We were in the first building when we heard a full on argument, a screaming Match coming from the area where we had seen the guy sleeping. We walked over there slowly and we were about 30 yards away from the entrance to the left side of the factory when out of the complete darkness, a short skinny old man with long white hair and a long white beard rolled out on his wooden wheelchair. He was covered in blood and wearing a white T shirt with a bloody stump where his right leg should have been. This guy looked absolutely deranged and he started talking to us. Roman talked back to him. The guy noticed our phones and pleaded for us to help him, saying that his friend had fallen and needed our assistance. He wanted to use our phone. He started rolling towards us and Roman told him to back up. Roman and I were the only ones talking to him. While Chuck and Dylan were already inching away. The guy kept repeating the same thing over and over again. When his friend walked out of the darkness, it was a medium built guy holding a bottle of stone down by the neck like a weapon. It was obvious that he was completely out of his mind. He didn't even look at us and just stared at the floor. He was standing behind the wheelchair guy who was whispering to him. Roman and I started backing away, but the wheelchair guy who had been acting nice all this time, suddenly flipped a switch and started screaming at us.

[John (Grieving Father)]

Come here.

[Story Narrator]

I'm gonna kill you. He began rolling towards us and Roman and I started taunting him, telling him to walk over and do something while we ran away. Out of the corner of my eye. When I turned around, I saw the other guy running on all fours, screaming like a monster with the broken sharp bottle in his hand like a knife. We got out of there. I jumped over the fence like an Olympian. They kept screaming at us until we were out of sight. Keep in mind that it was already dark again by this time. We are never going there again. The cool graffiti just is not worth it.

[John (Grieving Father)]

The car's engine revved as I sped down the road. I was lost in thought and hardly took notice of the rain crashing against the my windshield. Nature seemed to sense my anger. The storm was rising. I poured more vodka down my throat, my eyes constantly darting to the shiny black handgun lying on the passenger seat. Brushing the cold metal with the tip of my fingers. My mind involuntarily flooded with images of my oldest daughter, Mara. Her entire life played through my mind in mere seconds. My last memory of Mara was from when I had to identify her body in the morgue. My hands began to shake. An uncontrollable tremor spread through my body.

[Story Narrator]

I pulled over the car, unable to

[John (Grieving Father)]

continue, and slammed my fist against the steering wheel. The images of the morgue would not leave me. I closed my eyes. There she was, lying on a metal table.

[Story Narrator]

A blanket had been carefully draped over

[John (Grieving Father)]

her body, only revealing her pale face. She had just turned 16. Death seemed to have aged her well beyond that. The pathologist placed his hand on my shoulder. I had not been able to comprehend any of his words. The man's actions had seemed so forced and well practiced.

[Story Narrator]

It only angered me more.

[John (Grieving Father)]

I had asked for a moment alone. After the doctor left, I hesitantly placed my hand on my daughter's cheek. Almost instantly, I pulled it back. She had felt so cold. I stared at her lower abdomen, where I knew the knife had peeled, pierced her. For a fraction of a second, I contemplated pulling away the blanket and exposing the wound. But I could not muster the strength. She looked peaceful now, as if she was sleeping. I feared exposing the wound which had killed her would somehow change that. That had been a little over a month ago.

[Story Narrator]

The police had quickly caught the youth

[John (Grieving Father)]

who committed the crime. Some bum who had attempted to rob her and wielded his knife a little too over enthusiastically.

[Story Narrator]

He had murdered her, although she had

[John (Grieving Father)]

given him her purse. I punched the wheel again. It wasn't fair. The youth's trial was yesterday.

[Story Narrator]

He'd been acquitted on account of procedural

[John (Grieving Father)]

mistakes by the police. The man had smiled at me as

[Story Narrator]

they let him out of the courtroom.

[John (Grieving Father)]

It wasn't fair. That bum had destroyed my life at an astounding rate. My wife could barely stand to look at me anymore.

[Story Narrator]

A week ago, she moved out of

[John (Grieving Father)]

the house and took our youngest daughter with her. She told me I needed help. She said she couldn't watch me ruin my life. I didn't blame her. This past month, I found solace in liquor. I could not let go of my pain. It festered into an uncontrollable rage.

[Story Narrator]

All I could think about was the

[John (Grieving Father)]

injustice of it all.

[Story Narrator]

All I could see was the pale

[John (Grieving Father)]

face of my dead daughter. All I wanted was to kill the man responsible. It became an obsession. I had been unable to console my wife. My youngest daughter had practically not spoken since the loss of her sister. I found her quietly curled up in Mara's bed most days. Unable to let go, unable to move on. It broke my heart. I had felt a strange sense of relief watching them both drive off. I did not need them to see what happened next. I did not want my youngest daughter to witness her dad being dragged away for murder. I preferred the solitude and the warm embrace of alcohol. My eyes darted back towards the gun and I sighed. I had to do this. Otherwise I would never know peace. Determined, I turned the ignition key. The car purred gently before reverting into stillness.

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[Ryan Reynolds]

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[Podcast Host]

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[John (Grieving Father)]

terms I turned the key again. Nothing happened. I cursed loudly and tried again. Nothing. I took out my frustration on the steering wheel until both my hands ached. I grabbed my phone, ready to call a tow truck, but it would not switch on. The wind howled outside. I checked my watch, but it had stopped working. Everything seemed to be in suspension. After a short internal debate, I decided the thought of remaining in the car suddenly seemed unbearable. Feeling restless, I kicked open the door and got out of the car, hastily stuffing my weapon in my jacket pocket. The storm was livid. The rain poured with such force it temporarily deafened all other thoughts coursing through my mind. I was drenched within seconds, but it didn't bother me. I started walking down the road, crossing a little bridge across a river. Mumbled curses escaped my mouth as I realized I was lost. A cold mist lazily enveloped me. Not knowing what else to do, I continued walking until a distant light pierced through the gray veil like a moth. I gravitated towards it, its source a small bus stop. Relieved to have found some cover, I fell back into one of the metal seats. My hands were numb. I rubbed them together for a couple moments before reaching into my pocket for my pack of cigarettes. After taking a long drag, I closed my eyes and leaned back against the bus stop.

[Story Narrator]

Slowly, I blew out a cloud of

[John (Grieving Father)]

smoke and the tremor subsided. Without instruction, my mind drifted back towards the youth who had killed my daughter. A familiar doubt fell over me. I had always valued human life as a family man. I had constantly tried to maximize everyone's happiness. Now here I was, committed to blowing a hole in the head of my daughter's murderer. I turned around and looked at my reflection in the glass. I could no longer recognize the pale, lined face staring back at me. Droplets of rain slowly slid down the glass. It gave my reflection even more of a somber appearance. I looked back out in front of me and took another drag from the clammy cigarette stuck between my fingers. Closing my eyes, I exhaled, expelling another cloud of smoke. Rough day? The voice startled me. The cigarette slipped from my grasp and fell down my shirt. I jumped up, swearing as ash scorched my chest. Jesus, I muttered at the young boy standing before me. The boy grinned. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to startle you. I shrugged and sat back down. The boy took a seat beside me. It holds a strange beauty, doesn't it? I glanced at him. What does? He nodded out at the storm. There was a silence. I broke it by standing and pacing up and down the little bus stop. When is the bus going to get here. The boy gave me an appraising look. I'm afraid no bus can take you to where you want to go, John. I absent mindedly shrugged off his words and lit another cigarette. After my first drag, it hit me. I stared at the boy. He stared back. A latent intensity burned in his eyes. How do you know my name? I know a great many things. I snorted. Sure. I know the pain you feel, John. I have seen it before. Many times. I crushed the pack of cigarettes in my hand, feeling a fresh wave of anger crash over me.

[Story Narrator]

You don't know me.

[John (Grieving Father)]

The boy gave me a sad smile. I have seen this before. Someone loses someone close to them. As a result, you feel rage build deep inside of you, fueled by guilt because you weren't able to prevent what happened. Unable to see that it was beyond your control to begin with. You could never have changed what happened. Yet you cannot forgive yourself either. The mind cruelly tortures the body until

[Story Narrator]

your heart is riddled with sorrow.

[John (Grieving Father)]

Now your existence is anguish. You wish you had been the one to die because the thought of living on just seems too difficult. Living in this world does not seem bearable. At the sight of such a loss, I remained speechless, unable to comprehend the little boy beside me. The boy sighed and scratched the back of his head. I've seen this before. After a while, it all begins to look the same. The faces may change, but emotion remains constant. Your face is lined as so many before you, a canvas of hate and anger. The boy sighed again and jumped to to his feet. Murder will not bring her back. I spun towards the boy. What did you say? Mara is gone. Murder will not bring her back.

[Story Narrator]

The boy spoke the words so casually

[John (Grieving Father)]

it took me a moment to register them. Then, before I could stop myself, I slammed the boy against the glass wall. The entire bus stop trembled. Don't you say that name. I shouted. Tears began streaming down my face. Don't say it. The boy stared at me with a blank expression. He put his hand around mine and slowly pulled loose from my grip, his fingers hard as iron. I feel for you. I really do. Your daughter deserved better. Shut up. I know you think revenge will dull the pain. That somehow using that thing in your pocket will make you feel better. I fished out the weapon. The boy stared at it. Something dark swept across his face. He briefly held out his hand before suddenly retracting it, as if the weapon had electrocuted him. That will not solve your problems. That guy deserves to die. I spat out the words with as much bile as I could muster. Then I fell back into the metal seat, suddenly exhausted. My heart felt like it was going to explode out of my chest. I took some deep breaths in an attempt to calm myself. The boy stood motionless, staring at the falling rain. You know, it never gets easier, he finally muttered. After all these years of helping people cross over, it still remains difficult to let go. Sometimes some deaths are so much more deserving than others. I should not judge anyone. Yet I cannot help but feel for some of them. Occasionally the ones I meet radiate such light it pains me to extinguish it. I don't always want to, but I have no choice. My existence is one of duty. The boy radiated an evil, eerie calmness as he spoke. I felt my heartbeat returning to normal. Who are you? How do you know these things? The boy gave me a sad smile. I guess I am a traveler. Everyone will meet me at some point in their lives, whether it is in the beginning or the end, or somewhere in between. I don't understand. The boy shrugged. I wouldn't expect you to. The boy looked at his watch. The bus should be here any minute. As soon as he had spoken the words, two lights cut through the inky darkness. The bus stopped before us and the doors slid open. The boy climbed up the little staircase. Once he got to the top, he spun around. I have never done this before, but will you take a short journey with me, John?

[Story Narrator]

Where are we going? The boy shrugged.

[John (Grieving Father)]

I'm not sure yet. All I know is that you should join me for this. I hesitantly looked at the boy. There was something about him. I felt compelled to join him. I took the boy's hand and climbed up the stairs behind him as the doors closed. The bus driver was old.

[Story Narrator]

Very old.

[John (Grieving Father)]

A shroud of matted white hair draped around his shoulders. Icy blue eyes stared at us. I instinctively pulled out my wallet and passed him some cash. The boy laughed and held back my hand. I'm afraid that won't work. I don't have anything else. The boy tapped my wristwatch. Show him that. I stuck out my arm towards the driver. He stared at it before also tapping the watch a couple of times and inspecting the unmoving dials. Seemingly satisfied, he waved us inside.

[Story Narrator]

The boy hurried towards the back of

[John (Grieving Father)]

the deserted bus and waved me over. I sat quietly beside him.

[Story Narrator]

Where are we going?

[John (Grieving Father)]

The boy grinned. This journey is not about destination, per se. Then what is it about? It's about everything. The boy exclaimed. And also about nothing. The boy must have recognized the exasperation on my face.

[Story Narrator]

He cleared his throat.

[John (Grieving Father)]

You should consider yourself lucky, John. I laughed humorlessly. I should consider myself lucky. Lucky that my daughter is dead. Lucky that my other child had barely spoken in weeks. The boy's eyes grew hard. Having someone you love ripped away before their time is difficult. I understand that. Do you really? I muttered sarcastically. More than you could possibly imagine, the boy replied coolly. I have guided many people before their time. I have comforted both young and old, held the hands of both murderers and the murdered. I have held newborn babies and taken children from their parents embrace. I have walked the fields of countless battles. I have waded through rivers of blood. Wherever I go, the dead follow like moths attracted to a flame. You could not comprehend the endless sorrow I must navigate. He wiped a single tear from his eye. Within them I only saw grief, as if his words had opened an old wound. I felt sorry for him. Sometimes I feel so far away from everything, the boy continued. I worry I have become too indifferent, that I will fulfill my duty without trying truly understanding what it is I should be doing. I felt like a spectator watching eternity unfold itself. I offer hope to those I meet whenever I can without knowing whether my words are true or not. I have no idea what comes after this, John. I wish I knew. I wish I understood my purpose. My life is a paradox. My existence is perennial and yet one of insufferable solitude. You must feel lonely. The boy nodded. After that we sat together in silence. The boy stared out the window. He seemed deep in thought. I felt my eyelids grow heavy, and before long I had fallen asleep.

[Ryan Reynolds]

Sleep?

[John (Grieving Father)]

I woke up disoriented. The bus was deserted, and for a moment I thought I had dreamed my encounter with the boy. Then the bus driver turned around. His blue eyes pierced through me, and he pointed towards the little hill that we were parked beside. He's waiting. With a quick nod, I jumped off the bus. I reached the top of the little hill, panting. The boy leaned against a tree and observed the spectacle unraveling itself. Below, a small crowd had fathered before a tiny grave. A priest stood reading from the Bible. His actions seemed almost mechanical in their repetition.

[Story Narrator]

Why are we here?

[John (Grieving Father)]

The boy remained silent. Whose funeral is this? The boy nodded at the crowd down below. You know whose funeral this is? I quickly scanned the crowd, only recognizing familiar faces. Is this my funeral?

[Story Narrator]

Is that what this is about?

[John (Grieving Father)]

Are you showing me what will happen if I murder Mara's killer? You know, the boy repeated, his voice a mere whisper. I looked at the people occupying the front row of chairs. My family was nowhere to be seen. My Youngest daughter's godparents sat before the pitiful hole in the ground. They held each other as they cried. My knees suddenly felt weak. Slowly I slid to the floor as tears soaked the earth around me.

[Story Narrator]

Where am I?

[John (Grieving Father)]

Jail. A simple yet sober reply. Where is my wife? The boy's eyes remained on the little crowd below as he scratched the back of his head. She is not here, John.

[Story Narrator]

Where is she? I sobbed so hard the words left

[John (Grieving Father)]

in a single slur. Your wife found her after you were taken away. The little girl could not cope anymore and hung herself in Mara's room. Your wife was unable to handle the strain and had a breakdown. She is currently forcibly restrained in an asylum two hours away. Next week she will suffer a stroke. The boy glanced at me, his eyes riddled with pity. She will never recover. Slowly her will to live will siphon away until only the smallest amount of lies dormant in her heart. She will be trapped. Trapped in her body, a mere husk of her former self, wanting to die, yet unable to do so. I would not wish such an existence upon anyone. My tears had subsided for something worse. A feeling I could hardly put to words. A feeling of loneliness so immense I could barely breathe. I felt like I was being crushed by. By infinite grief. The boy smiled sadly. You see how cruel destiny is, John? By all accounts, your actions will be directly to blame for this. One moment of rage will destroy everyone you care about the most. What you seek is justice. What you offer is condemnation. A searing anger took a hold of me. Why are you doing this to me? Why are you torturing me like this? The boy shook his head but offered no reply. I wanted to leave. I wanted to run away and never look back. But I couldn't find the strength to get to my feet. Instead, I dropped my head in my hands. I thought I had more time. The boy smirked. Everyone always thinks they have more time. I wish I could have told her how proud I was. The boy placed a gentle hand on my shoulder. She knew. I patted his hand, unable to respond. Together we stood on a little hill in silence. The minutes crept by. Why did you really come to me? The boy scratched the back of his head and looked at me. He seemed to be deliberating with himself. I have always believed myself to be bound by laws. I have no control over laws I don't quite understand. To my surprise, the boy suddenly chuckled. But lately I met someone so outrageous they dared to challenge my path. Can you imagine a speck of dust challenging the full might of the inevitable? The boy fell silent for A moment. Then he continued. She made me wonder whether I too can challenge what witch seems inevitable. Maybe the constraints which bind me are self imposed. Maybe I fear the freedom disobedience would grant me. The boy smirked. I live for those moments. Reminders of how exceptional life can be. She made me realize something, John. If she managed to find the strength to confront me, then maybe someone as lost as myself, self bound by eternity, might possess the power to break free. I don't understand. Sometimes when people die, their gaze manages to pierce through time and they get a glimpse of what is to come. Your daughter saw all of this? He pointed at the crowd below. Then the boy smiled. Mara was exceptionally stubborn. When I met her, she absolutely refused to come with me. She refused to submit to her fate as few have done before her.

[Story Narrator]

The thought brought a smile to my face.

[John (Grieving Father)]

Do you know why she refused to come with me, John? Out of anger. The boy shook his head. Out of love. Her love for you. For her mother. For her sister. Her love was strong enough to challenge forces even I dare not resist. I was in awe of her, John. That's why I promised her to show you this. She truly was a kind child.

[Story Narrator]

Silent tears rolled down my face, but

[John (Grieving Father)]

their sting was less painful than before.

[Story Narrator]

The boy grabbed my hands and gently pulled me back to my feet.

[John (Grieving Father)]

In time you will see her again. She will be waiting for you. For all of you. But she hoped she would see still

[Story Narrator]

be waiting a while longer.

[John (Grieving Father)]

Do you understand?

[Story Narrator]

I did not have the strength to answer.

[John (Grieving Father)]

All I could do was give the

[Story Narrator]

boy a weak nod.

[John (Grieving Father)]

Together we walked back to the bus and took our familiar seats in the back.

[Story Narrator]

Thank you, I said after a moment.

[John (Grieving Father)]

Thank you for taking care of Mara. Thank you for helping me.

[Story Narrator]

The boy looked taken aback.

[John (Grieving Father)]

Wherever I go, people usually fear me. They recoil at my touch, even if I only mean to help.

[Story Narrator]

I have always been hated because I am a reminder of the inevitable. Never before has someone thanked me. His words carried such emotion. I tentatively put my arm around the child's shoulder. The boy gazed up at me.

[John (Grieving Father)]

Tears slowly formed in his eyes.

[Story Narrator]

He leaned into me and cried. I let him. Before long, I fell into a deep sleep. When I awoke, we were back at the bus stop.

[Plan B Advertiser]

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[Story Narrator]

The boy accompanied me to the front,

[John (Grieving Father)]

where the doors slid open.

[Story Narrator]

I walked down the little stairs. The moment my feet hit the pavement, the dials on my watch began to move once more.

[John (Grieving Father)]

This is where we parked, the boy said from inside the bus. I looked at him sheepishly.

[Story Narrator]

My mouth opened, but no words came came out I did not know what to say. Where will you go from here? The boy shrugged. I never know.

[John (Grieving Father)]

Are you Death?

[Story Narrator]

I suddenly asked.

[John (Grieving Father)]

The boy grinned as the door slowly slid closed.

[Story Narrator]

I sat at the bus stop long after the bus had disappeared. Then I walked back towards my car on the bridge. I took the weapon from my pocket and threw it into the river. I was ready to go home. I am not very good at writing. In fact, I feel like sometimes I ramble off topic. But I will give it my best to keep this in order. This is one of my many terrifying stories that will forever haunt me for a little context, this happened when I was very young, around seven or eight years old. We lived in quite a big neighborhood. At the time it was just my parents, my brother, who was three years older, and myself. My mom later had two other children. It was probably late spring leading into summer. Nights got longer and warmer, so my mom likes to keep the windows open. That being said, the sliding back door was connected to our kitchen. Our living room is what you come into first when you open the front door. We were sitting in the living room one night with my mom watching one of her favorite shows. We were all enjoying spending time with each other. Our dad worked nights, so he was not here during this. I remember my mom sitting on the corner of our sectional couch, my brother on the armchair next to her and me right beside her. She always had to have ice cold Pepsi with her at all times, and as kids we always want what our parents have, so of course I asked her for a drink. She didn't want me to have too much before bed, so she told me to go get a small cup and she would give me just a little bit. I remember skipping into the kitchen, excited since she said I could have some, and reaching up to open the cabinet to grab a cup. In the moment, I realized I was

[John (Grieving Father)]

too short to reach.

[Story Narrator]

But at the same moment, something sent a chill down my spine as I heard glass shatter.

[John (Grieving Father)]

Confused, I wasn't quite sure where it

[Story Narrator]

came from, so I spun around to look. There, outside the back patio was a broken beer bottle. I went back into the living room to tell my mom what I had heard and seen. It was the 90s, so parents at the time, we all know, didn't really care or worry as much as they do now. She brushed it off as some fluke or you're just hearing things. Ordeal in the moment.

[John (Grieving Father)]

I believed her.

[Story Narrator]

Of course I did. She's my mom. So I went back the second time

[John (Grieving Father)]

to get the cup.

[Story Narrator]

I was on a mission. I can get that cup by myself. I didn't need help so I scurried over to the counter and hiked my knee up on top of to give me a boost as I'm kneeling on the counter ready to grab the cup there.

[John (Grieving Father)]

It was.

[Story Narrator]

A weird breathing sound coming from the back porch. I turned my head slowly to look as I jumped down off the counter.

[John (Grieving Father)]

I still couldn't see much as it was dark outside.

[Story Narrator]

I started walking closer to the back patio to get a better look due to our back porch light being on. And right when I got to the sliding screen a man stepped right in front of me. I remember feeling a deep burn in the pit of my stomach and static on my skin. Not only was this man standing there looking down at me, he was only wearing a shirt. A half cut gray shirt.

[John (Grieving Father)]

That's it.

[Story Narrator]

Nothing below, just the shirt which would appear to be wet. What was maybe not even a minute long felt like 20 minutes. He went to reach for the screen door latch. Thankfully I was able to unfreeze from the horror and run back to my mom screaming. By the time she got there, he was gone. Disappeared into the pitch dark of the night. The next morning I woke up and met up with my friends. We were on the backside of all the townhomes playing when it hit me. Looking at the majority of everyone's back porch. There was a broken beer bottle. This man seemingly was peeping into everyone's back door. I'm guessing to finally come across one that was open. Later it dawned on me who this man might have been. The maintenance man of the townhomes and his daughters went to my school. He always gave me the creeps and I just had this feeling that it was him. I don't know what would have happened if I never unfroze in that moment

[John (Grieving Father)]

as he reached for the latch.

[Story Narrator]

If he had opened the door, would he have grabbed me? Would he have hurt me? Would he have tried to come inside and hurt my mom? Would he have tried to come inside and hurt all of us? I'll never know. Thankfully no one knows.

[John (Grieving Father)]

Nothing was ever done. Nothing was ever reported.

[Story Narrator]

I'm not even sure if my mom believes me that maybe I was just ex exaggerating him being naked.

[John (Grieving Father)]

But I know what I saw.

[Story Narrator]

It will forever be burned into my memory. It's.