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- [00:00]
Host
Hey, welcome to Scary Stories and Rain. Before we begin, be sure to check out my brand new podcast, Scary Stories and Fire. If you would prefer the same great stories but with a super relaxing campfire background, the link is in the description. Also, if you haven't yet, I highly recommend you subscribe to this podcast. If you enjoy listening to Relax or fall Asleep, hundreds of hours of stories and rain for $2.99 a month that will get you access to all episodes with zero ads. Consider subscribing and I hope you enjoy this episode.
- [00:38]
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- [01:08]
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- [01:39]
Host
With one of six collectibles and your.
- [01:41]
Ryan Reynolds
Choice of a Big Mac or 10.
- [01:43]
Host
Piece McNuggets with spicy nether Flame sauce. Now available with a Minecraft Movie Meal.
- [01:49]
Ryan Reynolds
I participate in McDonald's for a limited.
- [01:50]
Host
Time, a Minecraft movie only in theaters. I was a typical teenager, always up for an adventure and eager to make awesome memories with my friends. One weekend, my friend Lucas invited me to spend the night at his house. Little did I know that this seemingly innocent sleepover would turn into an absolute nightmare that would haunt me for years. Up to this very day, Lucas lived with his grandmother in an old, creaky house that was right out of the steep stuff of nightmares. The house was located on the edge of town. This place had an eerie aura, with an overgrown garden, cracked windows, the works, but I brushed it off. Because he was a good friend. I was excited for a night of video games and junk food. As the evening came, Lucas and I settled into his room surrounded by video game Posters and gaming consoles. Laughter filled the air as we embarked on virtual adventures and fights, and I was blissfully unaware of the darkness that awaited me. A few hours passed, and exhaustion eventually caught up with us. We decided to call it a night, and Lucas turned over in his bed as I settled into my sleeping bag on the floor, eager to drift off into dreamland. The house grew quiet and still. The night cast its shadow over the old walls through the window. As I lay there, my eyelids growing heavier, a strange tapping sound broke the silence completely. At first I thought it was just my imagination playing tricks on me. But then the tapping continued, growing more insistent with each pain passing second. Confused and a little unnerved at this point, I peered out into the darkness, trying to locate the source of the sound. To my absolute terror, I saw a figure standing right outside the window. They were illuminated by the moonlight. It was Lucas's grandmother, her frail form hunched over, her eyes locked directly onto me. In that moment, icy blood ran through my veins as she continued to tap on the glass, her gnarled fingers creating an eerie rhythm. I could not tear my gaze away, drawn to the intensity of her gaze and the unsettling smile that slowly crept across her wrinkled face. Please go to sleep. She started, repeating her voice in a haunting whisper. Her words echoed in the stillness of the night, Dripping with a strange mix of urgency and desperation. I stumbled backward. My heart was now pounding in my chest. What exactly was happening? Why was Lucas's grandmother outside, tapping on the window in the middle of the night? And why was she asking me to go to sleep? Honestly, you cannot imagine the fear that I felt in this moment. With trembling hands, I mustered every ounce of courage I had to approach the window one more time, my curiosity overpowering my fear somehow. I peered outside, my breath catching in my throat. Lucas? Grandmother still there? The smile widened, revealing her yellowed teeth, her eyes gleaming with an unsettling intensity. Please go to sleep, she repeated, her voice now laced with a hint of malice. Her words no longer seemed like a simple pleasure plea. They held an unspoken threat of which I was not sure. Frantic thoughts raced through my mind. Should I wake up my friend? Should I call the cops? I was so uncertain of what to do, unable to comprehend this bizarre situation that I found myself in. I stood there, frozen in fear. Lucas. Grandmother. Tapping louder and louder. It got to a point that it seemed like she was trying to break the glass in an effort to break the barrier between us, to climb inside the window with me. Desperate, I turned away, my heart now pounding in my ears. I finally decided to wake up Lucas. Shaking him violently, I tried to explain what was happening. But as I turned around, ready to show him his twisted grandmother standing in the window, she was gone. Confusion landed on Lucas face as he scanned the empty yard. He assured me that his grandmother was bedridden and could not possibly be outside. As far as he knew, she couldn't even walk. I could see the doubt in his eyes, the disbelief that shadowed his expression. Together, we searched the house, every creak of the floorboards echoing through the silence. We slowly crept down the hall to his grandmother's room. When Lucas pushed the door open, we saw her lying in bed, snoring, as if she had not moved in hours or even days. That night, sleep completely eluded me. The memory of the tapping, the haunting smile of Lucas grandmother, it just played on a loop in my mind. I almost decided to just leave right then and there. I wondered if it had all been a nightmare. But the fear that gripped me, it was just too real. I knew that it really happened. Over the years, that night stayed with me, a mark etched into my memory that I can never forget. And honestly, I still have nightmares about it. To this day, I never found an explanation for what happened. It remained an enigma, a terrifying encounter that left me questioning dreams versus reality. To this day, of course, I can't help but wonder what would have happened if I had fallen asleep. I really don't want to think about it. What did she have planned, if anything? What was she doing outside? Was she up to something sinister? Or was she just trying to terrify me? Of course, I'll never know. I'll be thinking about it for the rest of my life. The sun was going down. I was at my favorite fishing spot. I maneuvered my boat through the lake, looking for the perfect spot for a nice evening of fishing. The water beneath me seemed darker than usual. It was gloomy outside, with thick clouds casting a somber tone across the sky. I casted my line into the depths. I felt a surge of excitement and anticipation, as I always did as I settled into a comfortable position on my boat. The stillness of the lake was embracing. The air was heavy and a sense of solitude surrounded me. But I welcomed this. Finding solace in the quiet embrace of nature was my absolute favorite. Time seemed to always slip away and I lost myself in the rhythm of casting and reeling. The light slowly faded from the sky, followed by an eerie ambiance that settled upon the landscape around me. My focus shifted from my fishing rod to to my surroundings, my senses heightening as the tension in the air grew palpable. The wind whispered through the trees, creating an unsettling melody that reverberated through the silence. Suddenly, a ripple disrupted the tranquil surface of the lake, jolting me up from the focus of what I was doing. My eyes widened and I still scanned the water, searching for the source of the disturbance. A huge fish. Something else. Wait. There. In the distance, I caught a glimpse of a figure, Someone standing waist deep in the water. My heart stopped for a second and a chill crawled across my back. I strained my eyes to see more clearly, trying to make out the details of this mysterious person. The man was wearing faded blue jeans and a worn out cowboy hat. He was casting a dark silhouette against the darkening sky. A sense of unease washed over me as I contemplated his presence here at the lake. I started to move my boat closer to the man, and I could see that his face was partially obscured by his hat. His features seemed weathered from far away, etched with lines that told stories of a difficult life. A mix of intrigue and apprehension flooded my mind as I wondered who he was and why he was here. He was just standing there, staring at me. I cautiously called out, my voice echoing, uh, hello? Can I help you? Silence hung in the air, and the man remained motionless, his gaze fixed on me. Shivers ran across my body as a sense of foreboding intensified. I began to question whether it was wise to approach this guy, but curiosity got the better of me. I went closer, the water lapping against the sides of my boat As I drew near, a gust of wind swept over my boat, traveled across the lake, and was rustling the trees. The man's eyes locked with mine, and then a chilling smile crept across his face. Fear hit me like a ton of bricks, urging me to turn around, but a voice inside told me to stay put. Something was off about this, and I couldn't shake the feeling that I had stumbled upon something beyond my understanding. Summoning all my courage, I called out once again. My voice was trembling this time. Can I help you? Why are you staring at me? The man's voice was low, raspy. He whispered a single word. Beware. His haunting eyes never left mine as the wind carried this word across the lake at me, leaving me with more questions than answers. This was all I needed to hear. I needed to leave right now. With a trembling hand, I turned my boat around, rowing back to the safety of the shore. On the other side, the stranger's presence lingered in my mind, a specter that would not leave me. As I drove away and left the lake behind I couldn't help but think about the true nature of this guy, what he was doing there, why he was staring at me, and what that one word Mint. Honestly, this encounter left me forever changed. And I know that some secrets are better left undisturbed, and some are most definitely hidden in the depths of that lake.
- [14:33]
Ryan Reynolds
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- [14:55]
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- [15:05]
Host
Race the sails. Raise the sails. Captain, an unidentified ship is approaching. Over. Roger, wait, is that an enterprise sales solution?
- [15:15]
Ryan Reynolds
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- [15:33]
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- [16:11]
Host
As a man visiting Las Vegas for a business trip, I had experienced the glitz and glamour of the city. But little did I know that my time there would take a very dark turn. It all began when I found myself trapped in an elevator in a seemingly abandoned parking garage, plunging me into a nightmare from which escape was not possible, at least for a time. My car was parked in a parking structure that was semi nearby the Strip, but seemed somehow with everything going on in the city, to be abandoned. There was nobody around walking through the dark parking garage. I stepped into the elevator, grateful for a moment of solitude before heading back to my hotel. But as the doors closed, closed, a very creepy and eerie silence enveloped me. The elevator descended smoothly, but as it reached the lower levels of the parking garage, a sudden jolt shook the elevator. Everything came to a crashing halt. Panic overwhelmed me as I realized what had happened the elevator just stopped. I had done nothing. I had not pressed any buttons. It just stopped on its own. I pressed every single button, hoping for some kind of response. But the elevator remained still and dark. Unmoving sweat trickled down my forehead and my neck as my heart pounded. The air was stifling. The confined space I found myself in instantly became a prison. I reached for my cell phone, desperate to call someone, to let them know my situation, only to discover, of course, there was no signal at all. The realization hit me like a ton of bricks. I was completely cut off and trapped. There was nothing I could do. Fear rose within me, squeezing tight tighter at my innards with every passing second. If you think that you're claustrophobic, you have no idea what that truly means. The silence and the helplessness was absolutely overwhelming to a point that you cannot believe. The silence was only broken by the sound of my breath. I banged on the walls and screamed for help, but there was no. No one. No one at all. It was as if the world had abandoned me. My mind spiraled into very dark places as one or two hours crawled by, the slowest hours of my life. Shadows danced on the ceiling, morphing into grotesque figures that taunted my imagination. Panic started to reach upon peak when I started to think about my family, my little girls, my parents and my wife. Time lost all meaning, each second stretching into an eternity. But then, in the midst of this darkness, a glimmer of hope emerged. The elevator jolted to life on its own, its doors slowly opening. Relief washed over me like you would never be able to understand. The darkness beyond the elevator beckoned. Make no mistake, this parking garage was terrifying. Dark, abandoned. But I could not wait to enter the darkness if it meant getting out of this elevator. Cautiously, I stepped out into the very dimly lit space. After walking through the garage, I found an exit. Finally, I burst through the doors and emerged in the glow of street lights, gasping for breath. All the colors around me seemed more vibrant than they ever had before. As I made my way slowly back to my hotel. I couldn't shake the feeling that something or someone had done this to me on purpose. Paranoia. Of course, it was just an old elevator. To this day, the memory of those agonizing couple hours trapped in the elevator haunts me almost to where I need to see someone for it. I take the stairs from now on, everywhere I go. In the small town of Clinton, Missouri, a chilling mystery unfolded on the evening of April 4, 1991. Angela Hammond, a 20 year old woman full of life and promise, vanished without A trace leaving the community bewildered and haunted by unanswered questions. At approximately 11:45, Angela Hammond found herself at the intersection of Jefferson street and Main street near a local grocery store. She was talking to her boyfriend Rob on a payphone, sharing her concern about a suspicious pickup truck that had been circling the area. In a heart stopping turn of events, a stocky, bearded man approached Angela's car, violently yanking her from the safety of the payphone, Talking to her boyfriend, Angela's instinct for survival kicked in as she screamed for assistance, pleading for Rob to come help her. Panic filled her voice as she described the unfolding nightmare to Rob. Rob was completely helpless to do anything. Witnesses reported hearing Angela's desperate cries for help reverberating through the night, leaving an indelible mark on their memory. Rob, stricken with fear and an overwhelming desire to rescue his girlfriend, raced to the scene in a matter of minutes. Upon arrival, he witnessed a scene of chaos and confusion. In a valiant attempt to save Angela, he spotted a vehicle matching her description passing him going the opposite direction. He swears he saw her in that vehicle, screaming for help. Without hesitation, Rob chased the vehicle, his adrenaline pumping and his heart pounding. In the midst of his relentless pursuit, his vehicle failed. His engine died. The truck vanished into the night, leaving Rob heartbroken and filled with a profound sense of helplessness. The ensuing investigation into Angela Hammond's abduction left investigators grasping at straws as they diligently pursued any lead that might unveil the truth. Law enforcement agencies meticulously analyzed evidence, interviewed witnesses and and conducted extensive searches in hopes of finding Angela or unearthing vital clues. However, despite their relentless efforts, the case took on an eerie air of perplexity as no substantial breakthroughs materialized. As Angela's case garnered attention, several theories emerged, each adding a layer of complexity to the already bewildering circumstances surrounding her abduction. One prevailing theory suggests that Angela fell victim to a random act of violence perpetrated by an opportunistic predator lurking in the community. The swift nature of the attack and the absence of an apparent motive lend credence to this theory. Another line of inquiry focused on the possibility of Angela being targeted by someone she knew. The motive behind behind such an act could range from unresolved grudges to personal vendettas, raising unsettling questions about the dark side of her relationships. A more sinister theory suggests Angela's abduction may have been connected to a larger network involved in human trafficking or organized crime. The location of the incident, near a busy intersection fuels speculations of a well coordinated operation where Angela's disappearance serves as a tragic piece in a larger criminal puzzle. The tight knit community of Clinton rallied around Angela's family, offering support, prayers and comfort during their darkest hours. Vigils, fundraisers and awareness campaigns served as a testament to the community's unwavering commitment to finding Angela and seeking justice on her behalf. The bonds forged in the wake of this tragedy continue to endure as the community refuses to let Angela's memory fade into oblivion. Despite the passage of time, Angela Hammond's case remains an open investigation. Law enforcement agencies, in collaboration with seasoned cold case investigators, periodically revisit the evidence, re interview witnesses and explore new leads. As technology and forensic techniques advance, the hope for a breakthrough remains steadfast. Fueled by an enduring belief that answers will eventually surface, the abduction of Angela Hammond has etched itself into the annals of true crime, leaving a lasting impact on the community of Clinton and all those touched by this enigmatic case. As we grapple with the unanswered questions and search for justice, let us remember Angela's bright spirit and the indomitable resolve of those committed to unearthing the truth. The disappearance of Angela Hammond stands as a haunting reminder that evil can strike when least expected. The quest for answers and justice persists as we honor Angela's memory and stand united in the pursuit of truth.
- [26:43]
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- [27:19]
Host
I am an urban explorer from Scotland over in the UK and I have been involved in the Urbex community for coming up on 15 years. I have probably explored more than 500 abandoned places over the years and at least 99% of them are exactly what you would expect run down houses, factories and hospitals creepy enough to make for amazing photography, but nothing remotely sinister about them. Honestly, the number one feeling you get from Urbex is kind of sadness. Especially when the site in question is an old gothic building that's more deserving of investment, not demolition. I have been to pretty much every stereotypically creepy place you can imagine. Old Victorian hospitals, haunted stately homes in the middle of nowhere, several morgues and operating theaters, abandoned graveyards, creepy basements and tunnels, you name it and I've explored it. But one place was different from all the others. Out of all the other places I've explored, only one genuinely scared me. A bit of Background Information we absolutely adore finding new places, but it's not exactly easy. It takes a lot of research and we get most of our locations from Google Maps, news articles, land registries, and the obvious shares from other members of the Urbex set. So often, unless someone has left a kind of Urbex review, we don't know what a place will be like before we turn up. Sometimes they're seals, empty or demolished, and sometimes I wish this place had been like any of those. We would have turned up, found the place inaccessible and simply gone home or found a little place to drink our disappointment away. A lot of the time my Urbex pals and I will organize a kind of day trip, something to look forward to and bring relief from the stresses and of our boring and stressful jobs. We'll go about visiting a certain town or city that has a few potential Urbex sites and then explore them all throughout the course of a day. We get a hotel, find a few nice places to eat, but it also helps to socialize with the locals a little bit. After a few pints, even the most hard hearted of people will spill the beans on derelict buildings in the the area. This one place was the last abandoned building of the trip. It was getting dark and rainy as it often does in rural Scotland, but we decided to push on and get a few photos before sundown. We had kind of a long drive to get to the hotel, so we couldn't just put it off until the following day. At first it didn't even seem abandoned, just a church in the middle of a very well kept cemetery. My friend assured me that from his research it definitely was not in use and I was pretty keen to get inside because abandoned churches can make beautiful photos only by this point we were losing daylight at a rapid rate. We would have to get in there if we wanted to make use of the last of Natural light iPhone Camera flashes just do not make for good photos. Only natural light produces the kind of results that get noticed on photography forums. The rotten back door of the church was wide open. Old paint was peeling in patches from the splintering wood. It was hardly the most inviting entrance, but it was the only visible way of getting into the building. One by one, making sure there was no one around to report us for trespassing, we made our way inside a lot of Urbex enthusiasts talk a good game about climbing into places through open or broken windows, onto roofs to find service hatches and all that. I can categorically say that climbing an abandoned site is definitely not a good idea. Idea from experience. The fastest way to the emergency room is to try climbing something that is literally falling apart inside. We came to what appeared to be a small kitchen. I am not remotely religious, so it did kind of surprise me that whoever the priest was actually used to live in the church too. That kind of dedication to something so intangible is just beyond me, but I suppose that's why they call it faith. The kitchen naturally led onto a small corridor before opening up into the main church hall. That was the last time we spoke for a long, long time. There were beautifully colorful stained glass windows, albeit a little grimy from the abandonment. But that's not what drew our eyes. A distinctly uneasy feeling overtook us as we saw just what was laid out in the hall before us. I for one was completely at a loss for words, while one of my friends went deathly pale as if he had seen an actual ghost in that old church. Instead of the standard empty picture hues and religious iconography, the interior of the church was filled with children's toys. They were stuffed neatly and uniformly into every pew, all facing the same way, forever listening to some silent sermon. All of the children's toys and dolls were worn and filthy in a creepy kind of style that kids toys haven't been made since like the 70s or 80s. There were little ornate strollers and matchbox cars, all facing the same way towards the empty priest's podium. It dawned on me that since there were no toys there, whoever had arranged them this way had stood at the podium and admired their handiwork. There was also a kind of bedroom area, one bed having been clearly made up for a child and surrounded by children's books. No adult sized beds, not a single one, so I don't think it was anything like a homeless family squatting there. How long they had been there was anyone's guess, but one thing was clear. Whatever the reason these toys were arranged like this, it was not a good or pure one. 1. We left the place still in silence, too creeped out to discuss the scene. As we drove back to the hotel we were staying at, the mood of the whole day had changed in mere moments. It was still too raw to try to make sense of the things that we had just seen. Despite outward appearances, the place was collapsing inside. A huge horse hole in the floor had formed and dampness was setting in. So much evidence of the toys. The bed in the sinister atmosphere may well be lost or buried soon. I don't know if anyone else has discovered this place or knows what happened, but it's not somewhere I'll ever return to. I refuse to share the location even with my closest explorer friends for fear if they visit, they'll run into whoever had arranged those toys into a ghostly congregation. This story is true about what my husband experienced one summer in the mid-90s while working as a groundskeeper at a camp for kids. It was the early 90s and at the time my husband Eddie, he had just passed his 19th birthday. He hadn't yet decided whether or not he wanted to go to college. He had recently lost touch with most of his high school friends and as such didn't have much planned for the summer. So when the offer to be a live in grounds keeper at a children's day camp came his way, Eddie was happy to take the opportunity. He lived in a rural area of Ontario, so the camp, surrounded by trees and having its own small lake, was both secluded enough to have peace and quiet, but not so far away that he couldn't manage a trip home on the off days. While the seclusion wasn't geographically extreme, once everyone left, left on Friday afternoons, all the children gone, the day staff back home to their families, the place was actually really eerie. This was magnified by the fact that at the time Eddie didn't have a car and the only phone was about a 20 minute walk from his tiny cabin at the back of the property along a dark dirt path. This meant that most evenings and weekends were spent next to a campfire fire or inside the cabin with the door locked, listening to loud music and having a few drinks. Usually the property was really quiet and it would actually get boring out there with no one to talk to and nothing to do. Eddie once told me that he would pass the time by canoeing around the tiny lake, which was more like a large pond, and catching every turtle he could find. He would place them in the bottom of the canoe canoe with some water and lily pads so they were comfortable. Then once he caught everyone he could find, he would canoe to different parts of the lake and put them back one by one. So obviously there wasn't much going on in the area. It was one quiet night where, despite how peaceful it seemed, there was definitely something happening in those trees and fields. The night started like any other. It was a warm Saturday in Ontario, which meant that the bugs were biting and you could Drown in the humidity. It was getting toward the end of the summer, and Eddy had gotten into the weekly routine. Cleaning and fixing things around the camp during the weekdays, then wandering around the property on the weekends. This Saturday had started off no different than the others. Eddie had done a quick security sweep of the area in the morning to make sure nothing was amiss, then spent the afternoon paddling around the lake, catching turtles. A few hours before sundown, Eddie was back at his cabin and had built a nice campfire. He always made sure to start the fire before dark. On this Saturday, Eddy had spent the evening cooking a meal over the fire and reading his favorite Stephen King novel, the Stand. He had listened to the weather forecast on the little cabin radio earlier that morning and was aware there was a chance of some nasty thunderstorms that night. He was keeping a close eye on the wind and the clouds as night rolled in, knowing that even this far north, the heat and humidity was known to give rise to fearsome tornadoes every few years. Not long after he finished his meal, the sky turned dark and the wind began to pick up. Eddie doused his fire and was starting to pack up his book and his dishes when he heard something moving through the brush. He stopped and listened for a moment. The rustling continued, but figuring it was a raccoon or a deer, Eddie went about his business, more concerned with the approaching storm. Once in the cabin, Eddie locked the door and felt a little more secure. He turned on the single unshaded light bulb that hung above the sink. The rickety cabin wasn't much. It had no bathroom and no stove. Just a mini fridge, a sink, a hot plate, and a musty old bed. As rickety as it was, it still had a lock on the door. Door and the only window was too small for a person to fit through without a struggle. Soon, Eddie was getting settled back in with his book. It wasn't long before the rustling sound he had heard outside returned. But this time it sounded like something was brushing up against the outside wall of the cabin. Still thinking it was just an animal, Eddy tried to keep his attention on his book. The curtains on the window were closed, so he could not see outside, but he knew it was dark and thought that he heard the distant rumbling of thunder. The rustling and brushing sound was right outside his door. Now. He wasn't sure, but he thought he had heard the handle jiggle a little bit. Suddenly, the rustling turned to a crashing, and it sounded like two or three people were running away from the cabin. This startled Eddie, causing him to drop his book. Oh, Maybe that wasn't a deer, Eddie thought out loud. He stood up and hesitated. What was he going to do? Part of his job was to watch out for trespassers and notify them that they had to leave if he found any. Usually this was an easy job. He had only run into this a couple times, and both occasions it was a group of local kids taking a nighttime swim in the pond. Usually he scared them more than they scared him. Thinking this was probably the case once again, the local kids having found his cabin and deciding to play a bit of a prank on him, Eddie grabbed his keys and his flashlight and headed for the door. He could hear the wind howling and the rain starting to tap on the roof. Not quite a downpour yet. He took a deep breath and was about to open the door when he heard a gentle tapping on the window. This was obviously not rain. The hairs on his arms stood at attention. His blood ran cold, even in the stuffy and sweltering heavy heat of late July. He was frozen with his hand on the doorknob, not even breathing. Something in his stomach was telling him to remain completely still, and whatever he did, do not open the door. After a few minutes, the tapping had not returned. The rain was coming down harder now, and Eddy began to breathe again. He let go of the door knob and immediately turned off the light. He quietly got under the covers, not even bothering to take his shoes off or put back the large metal flashlight in case whatever it was came back. Eventually, he fell asleep. The next morning, Eddy awoke and felt no sign of the eerie presence from the night before. He got up and immediately noticed that the storm had passed and the morning sun was shining through the curtains. Groggy and a bit shaken, Eddy splashed some water on his face and began to rummage through the fridge for something to eat. He was just debating whether he wanted to cook his eggs and bacon over the fire or if the firewood was too damp when there was a loud knock at the door. Eddie jumped and almost soiled himself. No one has ever shown up unannounced way out here on a Saturday. Eddie, it's Jim, your mom's friend from work. Are you in there? Eddie recognized the voice. His mom worked in dispatch for the local police department. Eddie, being a bit of a troublemaker in a small town, knew the members of the force both from family barbecues and from his own personal run ins. Eddie let out a breath and relaxed a bit. But then it hit him. Why was Jim out here so early on a Saturday, thinking something might be wrong at home Eddie rushed to the door and unlocked it. Hey, Jim, Is everything okay? Why are you out here? Morning, Eddie. Everything's fine, but your mom sent me to pick you up and bring you home this morning. Jim looked around the cabin. He was in his uniform and Eddie could make out his cruiser a few yards away. Eddie noticed Jim was subconsciously fingering his weapon. I think you're mistaken, man. I'm not supposed to be going home until next weekend, and mom said that she was gonna come out here to pick me up. Eddie took a step back and watched Jim's face as he surveyed the tiny cabin. I know that was the original plan, man, but we all think it's best that you get your things and come with me. Jim stood in the door with the face of a man who was not to be questioned. The hairs on Eddie's arms stood up and he had no choice but to agree and begin to pack up his belongings. As they packed the car, Eddie could have sworn he saw a set of shoe prints that made a trail around his cabin. After driving in silence for a few minutes, Jim casually began asking Eddie what he had been up to last night. Did you go out at all or just stay by the fire? Jim asked, his eyes watching Eddie through the rearview mirror. I was by the fire, but then I went inside when it started to rain. That storm was starting, so I didn't want to be caught out in it. You know, it must get a bit creepy out there all alone during a storm, Jim said. That's when Eddie remembered the tapping at the window and the strange rustling sounds. Actually, it's usually fine, but last night I got a bit of a scare, actually, just as the storm was starting. I think an animal or something was walking around my sight. Probably a coyote or a fox that smelled my supper. Eddie's eyes locked with Jim's. Did you see anything? Jim asked. No. At first I thought it was some of the local kids that I had kicked out of the lake a couple weeks ago. I thought maybe they were playing a bit of a prank on me in return. But the rain was starting to pick up, so I decided to stay in the cabin and just pretend I didn't notice, not wanting to sound like a wimp in front of one of his mom's co workers in the force. Eddie lied about the chills that he had experienced. That's probably for the better, jim said. They usually go away if you ignore them. The rest of the ride was silent. Eddie drifted to sleep for a little while, and when he awoke, they were pulling into the driveway of his parents house. His mom was standing on the front steps when they got there. Eddie. His mom called as he was getting out of the car. Come and see inside. I have coffee and breakfast ready. Thanks, Mom. Just let me get my things from the trunk. Just leave them for now. Jim's gonna join us for breakfast. You can get your things after we talk. His mom turned and disappeared into the house, a little confused but hungry from having missed the morning meal. Eddie shrugged and walked toward the house. Jim locked the car and followed close behind. Eddie sat at the kitchen table and was greeted with a plate of hot pancakes with bacon and a fresh cup of coffee. Eddie began to eat but noticed that Jim and his mom were only drinking coffee. After a couple minutes of pleasantries, Eddie was starting to get annoyed. Why did you pick me up early, Mom? And if you're home, why did you send Jim out to get me? What's going on, Eddie? His mother said, nice and calm yet firm in the way only a mother can. As she rested her hand on his arm, he stopped and looked at her. What she said next still gives my husband a pit in his stomach to this day. Three people were found dead within a mile of that camp early this morning just as the storm was clearing. The words sounded distant in Eddie's ears. What do you mean, like a car accident? Eddie was confused but starting to get nervous. A man was found dead at the bottom of a radio tower a half a mile up the road. We don't know how he got in there, but it looks like he tried to climb it and fell off. Eddie's eyes widened. About a half a mile in the other direction, a young man and woman about your age, Eddie, were also found dead. The woman was in the house and the man was found in the backyard. They were both stabbed to death. We found no evidence of a break in Jim told this part of the story. He watched Eddie to gauge his reaction. Suddenly Eddie's pancakes didn't taste so good and he felt a knot build in his stomach. So you came to get me because you were afraid I might be dead too? Eddie said this slowly and looked at both his mother and Officer Jim. Did you hear or see anything strange last night? His mother tightened the grip on his arm and looked into his eyes. He glanced at Officer Jim, who gave an emotionless stare back. Yeah, I was telling Jim that I heard what I thought was like an animal rummaging around the fire. After I went to bed, it didn't go away and I thought it might have been some local kids or something. I was gonna go check it out, but the rain was so heavy and I thought they would just go away if I stayed inside and just ignored them. Thank God you did. Eddie's mom hugged him and tried her best to hold back too tears. Eddie hugged his mom back, his breath shallow from the shock. Had he almost been one of the victims of this murder? Had the murderer tried to hide out at the camp after brutally slaying the young couple up the road? If Eddie had not gone inside when he did, would he have been murdered while he sat by his fire? Eddie's thoughts were spinning so fast that he didn't even notice Jim get up and leave. It was a half an hour later when his mother calmed down enough for Eddie to realize that Jim had driven off with his things. Oh, mom, you need to call Jim. My things are in his car. I'll call the station and let them know. Eddie's mom didn't seem surprised that Jim had left without saying goodbye. She just went to the phone and called. Called the station. Hi, Gail, it's Penny. Eddie was wondering when Jim will be back with his bags. At the time, Eddie didn't notice that his mother did not have to explain the situation to her co workers and dispatch. Wouldn't they be wondering why Jim had Eddie's bags in the car? Jim eventually came back on his way home after his shift. He dropped Eddie's stuff off, gave him a squeeze on the shoulder and said, take care of yourself, kid. It was smart of you not to open that door last night. It wasn't until looking back on the incident five years later that Eddie realized Jim had come to pick him up for two reasons. Either after receiving the call about the three deaths, they were all afraid that Eddie, out there alone with no way to call for help, met the same fate as the poor souls who lost their lives during that storm. Or Eddie himself had been the one who had stabbed a young man and his wife to death in their home before murdering a third victim near a radio tower in the field adjacent to the camp. Eddie is not certain, but when he thinks about the story he seems to remember when he got his bags back, they were not packed in the same way he had left them. He is convinced that his mother and the officers thought that he had been the perpetrator of the terrible crimes committed that stormy July night in southwestern Ontario. They never did end up finding the killer. My heart pounded in my chest as I stood before the rusted gates of the amusement park. The moon was casting an ethereal glow over the decaying structures and rides heightening the sense of mystery and excitement that lingered. Glancing at my friends Jackson, Paul and Joey, I could see the same mixture of excitement on their faces. Are you sure about this, Barry? Jackson asked, his voice tinged with uncertainty. I've heard stories about this place, man, I replied, my voice filled with determination. People say it's haunted. I don't really believe in that stuff, but look how awesome this looks. We have to go check it out. Paul chimed in, his voice wavering since. Yeah, but what if those stories are true, man? What if there really is something lurking in there? Joey, always the optimist of the group, interjected, come on guys, where's your sense of adventure? We'll be fine. Stop being such weenies. It's just an amusement park. With flashlights in hand, we pushed open the gates and stepped onto the forgotten paths of the amusement park. This place was long since abandoned on the edge of town. Overgrown weeds everywhere, rats, puddles of murky, disgusting water, the works. The sound of our footsteps echoed, mingling with the faint whispers of the wind. It was as if the very essence of this place clung to the air, filling us with an awesome sense of adventure and at the same time, unease. As we made our way past dilapidated rides, I couldn't help but feel a chill run down my spine. But of course I didn't say anything to my friends. I didn't want them to think that I was the biggest weenie of the group. It was as if unseen eyes were watching us. That's what it felt like. It felt like someone or more multiple people were watching us as we walked through slowly rusted metal and weathered wood exuding the haunting presence. Whoa. Did you guys feel that? I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. Paul nodded, his eyes darting around. Despite the eerie atmosphere, we pressed on, our curiosity getting the better of us. This was a forgotten playground to a group of teenagers, an absolute fright night. Each step brought us closer to the heart of the park, where memories of laughter and joy once thrived. It was extremely eerie. Amidst the decaying remnants, we stumbled upon a forgotten booth with a sign that said Fortune Teller. Of course, our culture collective curiosity piqued and we could not resist exploring this place. We stepped into the booth. A rush of icy cold air brushed against my face, sending shivers down my arms. Dust covered tapestries adorned the walls, and a crystal ball rested atop a worn table covered in mud. Joey's eyes widened. Guys, see what the fortune teller has to say about our adventure? Jackson hesitated and then said, you guys, I really want to go. I don't like this. Let's just. Let's just go. Paul and Joey were already picking up the deck of tarot cards. Reluctantly, Jackson joined us around the table and we began to shuffle the deck. The air felt heavy with anticipation as we approached the table. The worn edges and faded illustrations spoke of countless readings from the past. With a mixture of fascination and apprehension, we shuffled, our hands trembling as we drew some cards. Their meaning seemed to take on a life of its own. We all were taking this very seriously. When I feel like normally we would laugh at this kind of thing. The room grew still. A hushed silence settled. The cards revealed fragments of the past, prophecies and warnings. Joey's eyes widened upon flipping one card. Guys, it says that we're in danger. Jackson scoffed. My gosh. We need to leave. You don't believe that, do you? Paul looked at me. Me, his expression very serious. Maybe we should leave, man. Before we could say another word, we heard a loud crash outside. As we rushed out, the beams of our flashlights could be seen frantically searching for whatever made the noise. A ride had somehow toppled over, its skeletal structure collapsing as we left the booth. The feeling of being watched was now more intense. It was no longer just a product of our imagination. We were sure somebody else was here with us. We quickened our pace, our footsteps echoing urgently as we navigated the decaying rides and crumbling attractions. I will admit this was exciting and fun, but at the same time terrifying. And I was getting close to the point where I was ready to leave. The park seemed to have a life of its own now, a malevolent force that reveled in our fear. I glanced at my friends, their faces etched with a mixture of fear and excitement just like mine. We shared a silent understanding that we needed to stick together and see this out. The sound of our breath, ragged and unsteady, mingled with the distant howls of the wind. We turned a corner, and suddenly a chilling scream pierced through the night. It was Joey, his voice filled with pure terror. We sprinted towards the sound, adrenaline coursing through our veins. As we reached Joey's location, we found himself standing frozen in front of an old carousel, his eyes fixated on something beyond our sight. We followed his gaze, our hearts absolutely throbbing in our chests. There, illuminated by the moonlight, stood two figures, barely visible in the darkness. Their silhouettes seemed distorted, like their forms were shifting and contorting. I think it's time to go, jackson stammered, his voice barely audible. I felt a knot tighten in my stomach as we realized they were probably not here to play. A cold breeze whispered through the air, carrying with it a message. A very chilling message. Our presence in this place was no longer acceptable. Without warning, the figures ran off into the darkness, blending into the night like phantoms, we dashed through the park, our footsteps pounding against the cracked pavement. Fear fueled our every step, propelling us forward as we desperately sought the exit from this nightmarish place. But no matter how fast we ran, it seemed like the pursuers behind us were right on our tails. Split up. I shouted, my voice filled with a mix of urgency and desperation. We need to find a place to hide. We scattered in different directions, disappearing into the maze of broken rides. Adrenaline coursed through my veins as I found myself ducking behind a decaying concession stand. My breath shallow and rapid. I felt like my lungs were going to burst. The air was thick with tension in the darkness. My ears strained. I was listening for any sign of my friends. It was deafening, broken only by the distant creaks and groans of the park. I wondered what fate had befallen my friends, Jackson, Joey and Paul. Suddenly, a noise caught my attention, a rustling of the leaves behind me. My heart raced as I peeked around the corner, my eyes widening. Just a few feet away stood one of the people. His eyes gleamed malevolently, a sinister smile on his face. In that moment, it became clear these two people were here to hurt us or scare the daylights out of us. I cannot be sure which. But panic surged through me as I realized I had been found. Without a moment's hesitation, I sprinted through the darkness, desperately trying to outrun the person behind me. His footsteps echoing, growing closer with each second. Adrenaline bursting through my veins, I pushed my body to its limits. The fear I felt gave me strength that I have never had in my life. I ran faster than I ever had before up until this very day. Finally, I saw the rusted gate at the edge of the park. I reached it. I threw myself over it, praying the person would not catch my ankle as I did so. To my relief, I turned around and there was no one behind me. My friends were were nowhere to be seen. The pursuer was nowhere to be seen. I could only wonder what was happening to my friends. I stood there for a moment, trying to figure out what I should do. Should I go back for them? Or should I play it safe and just leave, hoping that I would meet them at Jackson's house later? In the chaos and darkness of this, we had been separated, and it was my fault. I told us to split up, each of us forced to Confront the lurking terrors of the park alone. I made it back to Jackson's house and he was not there. I had no choice but to go home. I spent the night tossing and turning, trying to get a hold of my friends. But I failed. I was terrified to tell my parents what happened. In the morning, I tried again and failed to reach any of my friends. I finally realized I had to tell my parents what happened. They of course, were extremely upset and called the police. It turns out none of my friends made it home that night. The authorities conducted an investigation with the mystery of their disappearance is still unsolved to this day. It was as if they had been swallowed by the malevolent presence that haunted that place. Rumors spread among the locals, whispering tales of the cursed amusement park and the souls that were claimed. I should have listened. Some said that the shadowy figures that we saw were vengeful spirits. But I saw one of their faces is up close. It was just a person. I have no idea what they were doing there. I have no idea what happened to my friends. I carry their memory with me, A constant reminder every day, and I do mean every single day, of the horrors we faced there. As for the abandoned park, it still stands as a haunted, haunting reminder of the unknown and the terrors that lie hidden beneath the surface of our world. Its gates remained closed, a warning to all. Do not attempt what we did that night. The echoes of our screams and the whispers of the unseen still reverberate through the air. A couple years ago, I drove there. Sat in the parking lot overlooked overlooking the abandoned park, Wondering if any of my friends were still in there. But none of them were ever found. Sometimes I think about returning by myself with a flashlight, Entering the park in an attempt to take back the order that I shouted at them to split up, to find them all. To escape this place, all four of us together, the way that we should have that night. What you are about to read is both a confession and an apology. I don't know how much time I have, so I will keep it as short as I can. I was coming back home from work a few nights ago. It was dark and I was tired from my shift when suddenly a deer ran out in front of my truck. I locked my brakes but couldn't stop in time. Feeling my heart pounding, I just sat in my truck, staring at the motionless deer laying in the middle of the road. I had never killed anything before, intentionally or on accidentally. As much as I wanted to get home, take a shower and go to bed, I couldn't Just let it lay there. Someone could run it over, causing real damage to their undercarriage. Or even worse, they swerve to avoid it and end up falling over a hundred feet into the river below, hitting dozens of trees on the way down. I put on my emergency lights and got out of the truck to pull the carcass off the road. However, as I was doing this, I saw something move in the deer's lower gut. Seeing this made my heart sink, because at the time, I thought maybe the dead deer was about to give birth. While holding in a gag and pulling the body to get off the road, whatever was in the deer crawled out of its backside, ran up the leg I was holding onto, and then bit my hand. It was too fast and the night was too dark, so I have no idea what it was. Instinctively, I flung the creature off of me and I heard it scamper away through the grass, wondering what just attacked me. I inspected the wound. It produced very little blood and looked no worse than what a cat would would do when it plays a little too roughly. Since my heart was pounding out of my chest at this point and I had most of the deer carcass off the road, I figured I had done my duty and it was time to go home. As soon as I arrived home, I barely had the energy to take off my clothes. So all hopes I had of taking a shower were lost. And as soon as my head hit the pillow, I was out like a light. The next morning, I felt sluggish and cold. My teeth were chattering violently. It reminded me of a flu. However, my nose wasn't stuffed up and I wasn't congested. The wound on my hand was red but not swollen. Still, I was worried and made a call to set up a doctor's appointment. Appointment? Thankfully, I was able to get seen right away. However, after the exam, the doctor said he could find nothing wrong with me, but the blood tests would take a few days before the results would come in. I am not the kind of person to tell someone how to do their job, especially if their job meant years of education and twice that many having their own practice. However, I made it clear that I strongly disagreed with what the doctor said. When I got home, my stomach was complaining. I ate shortly before getting off work the day before, so there was no reason for my stomach to complain as much as it was. I tried eating soup, but it tasted like fermenting compost. No joke, that's exactly what it tasted like. When I checked the expiration date, I was surprised that it still had Eight months before it was considered bad. At the time, I figured that whatever was wrong with me was affecting my senses. My Grandma said that 7Up and ginger ale was as close to magic as it gets when it comes to being sick. But since I didn't have any of that in the house, I made a few calls and had it delivered. However, that too tasted really bad. My stomach kept complaining, so in an attempt to silence it, I decided to make something that I could never resist. My mom's specialty meatloaf. If nothing else, it was my comfort food and my favorite as a kid. Low and behold, it tasted amazing. However, when I tried adding ketchup like I always did, I nearly gagged from the smell of it. I ended up eating all of it in a single sitting, and afterwards I felt really good. So good, in fact, that I decided to head into town to pick up a few groceries. As I walked around with the shopping cart, going down the same aisles as I always did, the items I usually got held no appeal to me. I love bananas, but they smelled like they had been soaking in gasoline for a few days. The vegetables stank of curdled milk, and the cheese might as well have been. Well, I'll let you imagine what that smelled like. The only thing that smelled good was meat. No, it didn't smell good. It smelt divine. The way I imagine heaven smells like. I filled up my cart with hamburger, chicken breast, pork chops, whole turkeys, chicken legs, ribs, spiral hams, bacon, hot dogs, and so much more. More people looked at me funny as I went to pay for the items and some even asked if I was planning on having a cookout. I am ashamed to admit it, but I snapped at those people and told them it wasn't any of their business. When I got home, I felt sick again and decided that some pork chops were in order. As I started to get everything ready, I opened the cream of mushroom and the smell that emerged from the can made me throw up in the sink. Later, I checked the expiration date and saw that it still had a few months to go. The can was not dented or punctured, so there was no reason for it to smell rancid. I cooked the pork chops plain, only adding a little olive oil on the bottom of the glassware so that it wouldn't stick. The wait seemed to take forever. At some point before the pork chops were done, I found myself mindlessly eating away at the raw hamburger, taking grape sized pinches here and there. I knew it was disgusting, but I couldn't stop myself. Each bite hit the spot and scratched an itch that I did not know I had. By this time it was after office hours, but I called the general practitioner to see if there were any updates. All the while I kept eating the raw meat. I was too embarrassed to tell them about my new eating habits and instead sounded like an idiot when I had nothing to say other than to ask about the blood test, which I knew the results would be in sometime next week. Because of this, I could tell tell the person on the other line was annoyed. I spent the rest of the day eating and worrying. I must have paced for a few miles before I decided to go to bed. At the time, I figured that I might be able to sleep off whatever was happening to me and if this was not to be, it would make the day that the blood test comes in arrive faster. However, I couldn't go a few hours without food before the cravings made me wake up and rummage through the fridge. I blacked out at some point during the night and found myself outside at the wooden fence trying to bait the neighbor's cat with a raw chicken leg that I already ate half of. I was scared, paranoid that whatever bit my hand it might have given me something really nasty, but I knew that worrying about it wasn't going to do me any favors. So I decided to do what I normally do to clear my head and I went for a drive. Usually this would have worked, but my stomach kept complaining. I'd been eating for nearly a day straight so I knew I was not hungry. What else could I do other than wait for the blood test to come back? Trying to distract myself, I decided to turn on the radio and listen to one of the three radio stations that worked in this town. As I was fumbling with the knobs in my old beat up truck, I turned the corner and saw a man walking across the street to get his mail. I hit the brakes as hard as I could, but it was too little, too little late and he bounced off the grill of my truck and went flying through the air. Terrified, I ran out to see if there was anything I could do to help him, but when I drew close I could see that he was all sorts of messed up. He was conscious and asked me to give him a ride to the hospital because he would not be able to afford the bill for an ambulance. However, that was when I noticed that the femur was sticking out of his leg. I licked my lips and before I knew it I started biting and eating around the bone as the man screamed, and in his condition, he was unable to get away or fight me off. I don't know how much time passed, but at some point I became aware that people were starting to gather. All of them were too shocked to do anything but stare. Embarrassed and terrified, I ran to the truck and drove away. It wasn't like I could go anywhere. Since Grey Hill is a small town, most of the onlookers knew who I was. So I did the only thing I could think of and went home. There is so much more I want to do say, but I don't have much time. The sirens are getting louder. I am sorry.