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- [00:00]
Host
Hey, welcome to Scary Stories and Rain. I really hope you enjoyed this episode. And don't forget you can subscribe to this podcast for just $2.99 a month. You can get rid of all of the irritating ads and be automatically entered to win a Nintendo Switch 2 Mario Kart bundle. Only $2.99 a month. No more ads. I have all the info you need in the description to this episode. And one last thing, thank you so much for being here. I really hope you enjoy.
- [00:31]
Advertiser
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- [01:04]
Host
Show, you can Venmo that.
- [01:05]
Advertiser
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- [01:46]
Host
I was lucky. When I was a kid, I lived in the country and had open minded parents that didn't really care where I went, what I did, or how late I stayed out. Call it bad parenting if you want, but they trusted me to not get into too much trouble. I of course did still get into trouble, but not of my own making usually. Khalid was my best friend. He lived right next door and during the summer it wasn't a question whether or not we were gonna hang out, it was understood that we were every single day. He was one year older than me and he kind of acted like my big brother when crossing a small stream or walking through thorns, I would hop onto his back and he would hoof it with no complaints. Even though many times afterward blood would trickle down his leg. I never really saw him get scared. Not of anything really, except the last day that I ever saw him. One day in early July, we decided to pack a backpack with snacks, Capri, Suns and waters, hike through the wilderness to a big, beautiful oak tree that we favored among so many around the area. This tree was perfect for climbing. It had plenty of shade. It was the ideal place for two kids to chill on a summer afternoon while discussing video games and naked ladies. We walked over two miles without any problems. But as we neared the tree, I swear I could just feel this looming sense of. Of something different. Not necessarily something wrong, just different from the norm. We had done this same walk and climbed this same tree dozens of times, and I never had this feeling before today. We reached the tree, both of us sweating. It was really hot that day, and I was anxiously waiting to gulp down 80% of my water that I brought. As we climbed the tree, I heard something. It sounded like someone or something was below us, but when I looked down, nothing was there. We settled onto the fattest branch that was great for sitting with maximum shade. Khalid unzipped the pack and tossed a turkey and cheese sandwich at me, laughing as I almost dropped it. I said, dude. He laughed and responded, relax, I knew you wouldn't drop it. We began eating and talking. He was going on about a substitute teacher that he had earlier that year who he swears had a crush on him. Meanwhile, I was carving Goku into a tree right next to the faded cloud strife. Suddenly, a man spoke from right below us. Hi. Khalid stopped mid sentence and we both stared down at this man like a couple of deer about to get plowed on the highway. Honestly, this man scared the crap out of me. We were in the middle of nowhere and had never seen another person around here. I was frozen, but Khalid replied, hi. The man looked as if he was intentionally trying to look creepy. He wore a dirty plain white T shirt and what looked to be old brown slacks that were missing the button and were only held up by the zipper. He had long brown hair that was slicked back into a ponytail. He stood there with an exaggerated upwards glare at us. Imagine standing right up against a tall skyscraper, putting your chin up to it and looking straight up. That's what he was doing, all the while smiling from ear to earth. Can you come down here please, so I can show you this cool thing I just got? I looked at Khalid, shocked at this question. Khalid, without missing a beat, replied, no thanks. The man's smile vanished and was replaced by utter devastation as if you just told him his house burned down. The way his expression changed in an instant was nothing short of terrifying. That will break my heart, baby. Look, it's so sharp now. I'm honestly not sure what was more alarming, him calling my friend baby or the giant butcher's knife that he revealed from behind him. He held it up so we could see it clearly. It looked brand new and shined as if it were covered in some kind of oil. Khalid usually didn't show fear or hesitation when it came to adults. But at that moment, when I looked over at him, expecting him to shut this guy down, his eyes were wide and I saw them fill with water. In that moment, Khalid's reaction made this real. We were in a very serious situation. Khalid looked at me for the first time saying since this stranger appeared. I could read his mind in that moment. He was scared. He had no idea what to say or do somehow. Don't ask me how. I summoned courage that I didn't know I had and said to the man, it's really cool. The man shifted his gaze from Khalid to me. Get down here. His smile returned. The courage I just spoke of was gone in an instant. My eyes welled up. Khalid forced words out and I could hear the innate protective instinct he had for me. He's not getting down. We just got here and we're just hanging out. We're not being bad. Those last words haunt me. To this day, they haunt me. When college spoke those last four words, I could tell they were spoken while holding back full on tears. I had never heard him sound and act like a little kid. But in his pure fear, in that moment, he sounded like a six year old. It was heartbreaking. He was scared. I looked down at the man, tears streaming down my cheeks. At this point, you're not in trouble. I just want to show you this and I'll leave. Promise. The man could definitely see that I was crying and it didn't seem to bother him, which was absolute confirmation to me that he was in fact there to do us harm of some kind. What happened next is the reason I have therapy three times a week for over 20 years now. Khalid looked at me and shut his eyes, touching height, preparing to unveil every ounce of courage that he had at his young age. Okay, I'll come down and see it. But just for a second and then we have to go. The man smiled wider. Somehow at this. I thought you said you just got here. What's the hurry now? Khalid hesitated and responded. After four or five seconds, I know, but his mom said we couldn't play anymore if I got him home too late. I looked back and forth at Khalid and the man, having zero clue what was happening now or what would happen next. Good idea. Better get home before it gets dark. That's when the monsters come out. The man's smile abruptly vanished again. Come on now. Get down. Hurry. Hurry up. Khalid looked at me and I shook my head as tears erupted from my eyes. As if to urgently say, no, Khalid whispered, I'll be right back. I started shaking my head and was mortified to see the man smiling and staring at me as I looked down at Khalid as he descended. When Khalid was within reach, the man put the the knife away and with both arms grabbed Khalid's arms gently. Here, careful. I gotcha. I gotcha. Here, come over here and I'll show you. The man started walking Khalid away. And Khalid looked up at me one more time with pure fear on his face. That strong, protective big brother was gone. They disappeared from my view, and there was nothing. It was as if nothing had happened. I was sitting in this tree alone, listening to the wind make its way through the branches. And for a moment, I imagined that I had made this trip solo. None of this just happened. Khalid was safe somewhere else and everything was fine. But it wasn't. I heard nothing. As I focused on hearing anything, anything at all. Minutes passed like hours. And I eventually came to the horrifying conclusion they were not coming back. Adrenaline started to kick in now, and I needed to get down to see where they were, to leave. To just not be in this tree by myself anymore. When I reached the bottom with the backpack tightly strapped, I looked around. Everywhere. Silence. And nothing. They were gone. I realized I had to get to adults now. I had to let them know what happened. And so I ran. Faster than I ever have before or since. And when I reached my house, I threw up on my front lawn from exhaustion and pure desperation. My mom was on the phone, sitting on the porch. She promptly ended her call and came over to me. The details from that point are typical. Calls were made. Searches were done. They never found Khalid. They didn't find any trace of him at all. It's been many years, and I think about my friend who was taken almost every day. I would rather know what happened to him than win the lottery. I would rather know that he was killed than not know. Not knowing has made my life black and gray. Sadness and without faith in goodness. The only thing that helps is telling myself I was wrong. Wrong. The strong and protective big brother never left him that day. It was never gone. It's the only reason I'm telling this story now. He was my brother and he protected me. I think he knew what would happen, but he made sure it wasn't going to happen to me. 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- [13:30]
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- [13:55]
Host
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- [14:29]
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- [14:37]
Host
Put us in a box. Go ahead. That just gives us something to break out of because the next generation 2025 GMC terrain elevation is raising the standard of what comes standard as far as expectations go, why Meet them when you can shatter them. What we choose to challenge, we challenge completely. We are professional grade. Visit gmc.com to learn more. Before I get into this story, I want to say that I am an extreme skeptic of anything having to do with ghosts. I have a hard time believing the things in this story really happened to me, so I totally understand if you can't believe them. However, I just have to say it. Everything that I'm telling here is true. This all started when I moved into the townhouse I currently live in, so about four years ago. It is a two bedroom, two floor home. Living alone Sometimes you imagine things are happening in your home that aren't. That's what I thought for the first few months anyway. At first all it was is what sounded like footsteps upstairs. These aren't new homes, so at first I figured it was just a house creaking, but I could swear it sounded like distinct footsteps. I never heard them when I was upstairs, only when I was downstairs, so I thought it was the upper level just creaking. About six months later my husband and I got married and he moved in with me. Shortly after that we got a kitten. All this time I still hear these footsteps, but I don't say anything to anyone because I honestly just don't think it's that weird until our cat starts staring upstairs while she's downstairs. If any of you have cats, you know this isn't really that weird. Cats often do stare at places with this look like they can see something that you don't. So again I try to just justify that this is normal cat stuff until she starts backing away like she's scared. That was the first time I even considered the possibility of a ghost. But again, I am an extreme skeptic so I tried to just ignore it. Except it happens again and this time my husband sees her do it. That's when I told him about the footsteps. He looked at me and said I hear them too. From then on, we kind of joke about them. Every time we hear them, we say it's just the shadow person. This goes on for about a year. One night when my sister is over, she heard us joking about it. She looked at us and told me that she's been hearing it since she stayed with me that first summer. She says that they scare her. She thought she was the only one who noticed them. So now I've confirmed that two other people and a cat also hear these footsteps. It's far from confirmation of the existence of ghosts, but I'm not telling this story simply because of footsteps we all heard? No, it gets weirder. After about two months of living here, we had our son. That's when all the activity in the house picked up up. We would hear the footsteps almost every night. They started only sounding like they were coming from my son's room specifically. There is one stop directly next to his crib that makes a very loud creek. And that's what I would hear. The creek would be so loud and sound so much like someone was upstairs. My husband and I would actually run up to check on our son because it legitimately said sounded like someone could be up there. Months of this went by and I still was not convinced of any paranormal activity. This next instance though would be what changed my mind. My son had just learned how to point. He would point at things to show me things, to comment or to ask what they were. We were downstairs and my sister's cat was visiting. My son is pointing around the room and suddenly he points to the top of the stairs. The same spots that my cat occasionally looks at in fear. He looks concerned and then scared and then starts almost crying. This was the first time he has ever acted like this. I then notice that my sister's cat is looking in these same exact spot, doing the same exact thing that my cat does. I got really freaked out by this. I'm actually getting chills just telling it now, remembering how scared my son was. It was after this that I started telling people about it. Some people looked at me like I'm crazy, but my sister and husband completely believed me. It was hard to do know if I was exaggerating or if this was really happening until the week I think it picked up my son. I have a WI fi operated baby monitor. If anyone knows what the nanit is, they'll know exactly what I'm talking about. Basically, this monitor records any activity that goes on in the night. It will notify you for any motion or sound and you can re watch any activity later. So I wake up one morning and look through the notifications from the night to see how well my son slept. When I see a notification that he was taken out of bed asleep at 4am I played back the footage and could not see any reason for it to give me this notification. My son did not move, nothing was blocking the camera and no one was awake at that time. You can say it was an error and maybe it was. But I have not gotten that notification before or since this incident. That night I went to sleep with my window open. I woke up to my Husband kissing me goodbye. I hear him go downstairs, get ready and walk out the front door. Because my window was open, I very closed clearly could hear him lock the door and pull it not once, not twice, but three times to confirm that it was locked. I say this with certainty. Firstly because I heard it, but secondly because my husband has mild OCD and he does this same thing literally every single time he leaves the house. I went back to sleep. When I woke up, I found the same same notification that my son was taken out of bed while he was asleep. I went in to check on him and he was fine. I went downstairs to get some coffee and on my way I look at the front door. I noticed it was unlocked. I opened it to confirm that it was indeed unlocked. I'm now on edge. I. I call our complex to make sure no one came in while we were asleep. No one did. When my son wakes up, I go to get him ready and he starts looking in the hallway the same way he did the first time. This time we are upstairs with it. Usually we are downstairs, but now my son is looking directly behind me and starts crying. I'm not going to lie and say that I feel some evil presence there. But I did feel something. Like something was watching me. I quickly closed the door so that my son could not see anything anymore. And I said very loudly and firmly, please go away. You are not welcome here. You're scaring him. It was something my sister told me to say. I felt a little ridiculous saying it, but at that point I didn't know what else to do. I did instantly feel like I was not being watched anymore and my son stopped crying. So we went about our day like normal. That day turned into a year. I never mentioned this to anyone because I thought they may not believe it, because I didn't. But I don't hear those footsteps anymore. In fact, I haven't heard them once since that morning. Last night, my husband and I were talking and I asked him if he had heard the shadow person recently. He said, actually, no, I haven't heard it in a long time. So I told him what happened. He was shocked because we realized not a single thing has happened since I asked them to leave. I guess that's why I'm telling this. Him not hearing anything was kind of the confirmation I needed to realize that it was real. I don't think it was an evil ghost or intended any harm to my son. I think whoever it was just maybe liked him and wanted to watch him sleep or something. Maybe they were lonely. Whatever the reason? I hope they are free now and no longer stuck to my home. It was a hot and sticky August in 1999. I was 19 years old, young, looking forward to spending the afternoon with my little brothers and family, just relaxing. I remember I was walking out of the kitchen where our telephone hung on the wall. Remember the days when the phone was attached to the wall and the receiver attached to a cord? I miss those days, but I digress. As I was walking into the dining room through the swinging kitchen door, my parents old Cape Cod. The phone rang. I thought nothing of it as I picked up the phone and cradled it to my ear. Six months earlier, my good friend had gone on a weekend retreat and met someone she was convinced I needed to get to know. No. I eventually caved and said she could give him my phone number. Egan was a couple years older than me and as we began chatting on the phone, you know, the one connected to the wall in the cord. It seemed we had a lot in common. We both enjoyed spending time with friends and family, the outdoors, being involved in our communities. The first time we met was in a park in my hometown. We just sat sat in the grass watching the ducks and talking. At the end of the afternoon he asked if he could take me on a real date soon. I said okay, because that seems to be the natural progression of things. I don't recall which restaurant we went to or what I ate, but I do remember what I wore. A knee length red bouncy dress and he showed up to pick me up with a dozen red roses in hand. It was an almost fairy tale like evening roses, a pretty dress, a gentleman dressed in slacks, dress shoes and a button down shirt. Dinner at a nice restaurant with a movie. Afterwards, he dropped me off at home. We chatted for a while and he promised he would see me again. Soon after that first real date, I began receiving cards and letters in the mail. See several times a week as a hopeless romantic. It was very endearing in the beginning. If I recall correctly, we did go on one or two more casual dates. The letters and cards kept coming and we chatted often on the phone. Then one afternoon I received a collect call from Egan, who was in jail. I accepted the call and he began speaking frantically as if to try and justify or explain why he was calling collect from jail. By the end of our telephone conversation, I knew that he had gotten in trouble as a minor on a few separate occasions and was on probation. This was the first time I became aware of that and I was shaken. Egan called a few times after he got out of jail, but things just didn't feel right after the previous conversation, I explained that I didn't think pursuing a relationship was a good idea and declined any offers to come visit. The letters and cards continued to arrive several times a week, and the longer I refused to respond, the more threatening they became. I vividly remember one of the last letters I received from him, which Dear Nora, I love you. I want you back. It will be your blood they find. At the end of reading that letter, I was shaking, terrified and unsure of what to do next. With some advice from my mom and a few phone calls, I was able to get in touch with Egan's probation officer and report the letter to him. The probation officer stated that he would talk to Egan and that I shouldn't have any problems going going forward and to let him know if he continued to send letters. The next few months were quiet. The letter writing stopped, and I slowly went back to a normal routine of not fearing what the mailman would bring next. Until that sticky August afternoon in 1999, the phone rang. I picked it up and held it against my ear. Hi Norman, Laura, this is Steve Egan's probation officer. Are you with one of your parents? Can you get your mom and can I speak with both of you? Before I tell you what's happening, I need to know that you are sitting down and that you have someone close by. My heart started racing. I started shaking. I can feel the sweat that was already just under the surface start to run down my back and I think I'm gonna throw grow up. Egan's probation officer goes on to tell me that he was recently caught mutilating things. His behavior was escalating and he was on the run. My name had also come up in conversations that Steve had with Egan due to the combination of his behaviors and verbalizing my name. I should leave town with my family as quickly as possible and stay somewhere else that that Egan didn't know about. Stay there until we receive a call that Egan was in custody and things would settle down. I also was not to go anywhere alone if I was in my car, even with someone else. I needed to make sure my windows and doors were locked at all times, and I absolutely should not venture out of the house after dark. In just a matter of a few hours, my family and I were packed up and headed to a cabin that my grandparents owned. I didn't know if it would be a few days, a few weeks or longer before he was caught and when I could even go back home. Three Days later I received a call that he had been picked up and that my family and I could return home. Three days. That felt like three years. Those letters haunt me. I still get a knot in my stomach at times when I go to get the mail.
- [31:05]
Advertiser
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- [32:02]
Host
The McDonald's snack wrap is back. You brought it back. Ranch snack wrap. Spicy snack wrap. You broke the Internet for a snack? Snack wrap is back. The town of Ingleswood was in the middle of nowhere, according to the map. I had never heard of it before, and neither had any of my friends when I had asked them before leaving. Even more strange was receiving corporations correspondence from a relative I hadn't spoken to since I was a young child. It had come out of nowhere, a letter proclaiming my great uncle to be dead and informing me that I had inherited a slaughterhouse in a town I had never even heard of. A slaughterhouse, of all things. I might have thought it was a prank had there not been a rusted metal key included in the letter. But somehow, part of me knew the key was real and that it belonged to the slaughterhouse my great uncle had once owned. The ownership had been passed on to me for reasons as of yet unknown, and I would have to drive up there in order to settle the inheritance. Which is why I was currently driving down a long, serpentine road through a dense cluster of trees. It was still early afternoon, but the sky was gray and heavy, casting a dismal pall over the forest. Shadows crept out of the trees and onto the road, making it difficult to see without my headlamps. I shuffled forward in my seat, hands gripping the wheel tighter as the trees grew around me. I had been driving for just over three hours now, and it had been at least 30 minutes since I had last seen another car. According to my map, I should be almost there, yet I hadn't seen any sign of civilization. Nothing but empty fields and abandoned, ramshackle buildings in the middle of nowhere. And now this forest that seemed endless and labyrinthine. The tires hit something in the road and the car jerked, throwing me forward in my seat. I slammed my foot on the brakes and the car skidded to a a stop, gravel hissing beneath the tires. I glanced into my rear view and spied a shadow on the road, but I couldn't tell what it was. Had I hit an animal or something? I hadn't seen anything. I debated ignoring it and driving off, but in the end I cut the engine and climbed out of the car. The air beneath the trees was cold, and goosebumps prickled the back of my neck as I walked over to the misshapen lump on the road. The smell hit me first, the smell of old, rotten blood. It was an animal carcass, a rabbit, perhaps, or something else. It was too mangled and bloodied for me to tell. Flies buzzed around the torn flesh, the gray glint of bone poking beneath the fur. Whatever it was, it had been dead for a while. I stood up and shook my head, lip curling against the stench. I had moved it off the road, but I didn't have anything with me that would do the trick, and I would rather not touch it without proper protection. I would have to leave it. Maybe carrion birds would come and pick it clean later. I returned to my car, feeling a little bit nauseated, and drove off, watching the dead animal disappear behind me. Fifteen minutes later, I finally broke free from the forest. Muted gray sunlight parted the clouds, dappling the windscreen. On the other side of the trees were more fields, still empty. I found it odd that there was no cattle around. No sheep or pigs either. What was the use of a slaughterhouse if there was nothing to slaughter? In the distance, I glimpsed a small cluster of buildings. It was more like a settlement than a town, stone and brick and straw. Not the kind of place I had expected to find myself inheriting a building. Had my great uncle really lived out here in the middle of nowhere? Was that why I have never heard of him? The road turned loose and rutted, and the car jerked and bumped as I drove close, closer to the town. A small sign, weathered and covered in mud, read welcome to Ingalls Wood. At least it had a sign the place wasn't a made up town after all. I pulled the car to a stop at the side of the road and pulled out my map again. The letter had contained specific coordinates to the slaughterhouse, which according to the map, was a little distance away, away from the town itself, on the very borders. If I followed the road for a couple more miles and then took a left, I should arrive at the house. A flutter of nervous energy tightened my stomach. I didn't really know what to expect when I got there, or what I was going to do about the situation. The only reason I had driven down here was to get a better understanding of things, assess the area, and try and figure out what to do. Should I sell the slaughterhouse or move here? The latter option didn't sound particularly appealing after getting a glimpse of the area, but I wouldn't know until I had a proper look around. I followed the loose gravel road for a little while longer before spotting a turn off to the left. The remains of a broken stone wall lined the path, and I spotted another sign that was too rusted to read signaling to turn, even though there were no other cars in the area. I followed the path through the sheltered, wooded area until I reached a small house. It was more of a cottage, really, with white bricks and a thatched roof. The place had an air of dilapidation about it, as though nobody had lived here in a while. Considering my great uncle had only recently been passed away, I knew that wasn't true. Beside the house was a large freestanding shed. A rusted padlock was chained around the doors, and I knew without a doubt that the key I had been given was the key to the shed. Did that mean the shed was the slaughterhouse? I parked the car in the grass and climbed out. The air out here was fresh and pleasant. Pleasant. A nice change from the city. Though beneath the fragrance of nature I could smell something else. Something darker. Richer. Old blood and rust and butchered meat. I threw a brief glance at my surroundings. My gaze skimmed past the trees and the fields and the faint curl of smoke blotting the distant sky. I couldn't hear anything beyond the wind. No bird song, no chittering bugs. I couldn't hear cars or people or anything that would suggest there was a town nearby. I let out a sigh. Maybe it would feel lonely living out here. I was used to the city, after all. I grabbed my rucksack from the trunk and fished out the letter and the key. I had been given no key to the house, which was odd. I had phoned my great uncle's executor before driving out here, but apparently all material belongings were still inside the house, and the shed key was the only thing that had been passed on to me directly. I walked up to the cottage's door and tried the handle. Locked. Unsurprisingly, if I couldn't figure out a way to get inside, I would have to call a locksmith out here, which could take hours. Muttering in frustration, I began rooting around the rocks and broken plant pots sitting outside the cottage. Whatever plants had once resided there were now withered and shriveled, their roots black and gnarled as they poked through the soil. I turned one of the empty pots over and grinned when my eyes caught a glint of silver. I I hadn't had my hopes up, so finding the key immediately lifted my spirits. At least now I could get inside the house. Leaving the slaughterhouse locked for now, I headed inside the cottage. The air was stale and heavy with dust, and my eyes immediately started to water. How long had it been since anyone had opened that door? I wasn't familiar with the circumstances circumstances of my great uncle's death, so I wasn't sure if he had spent his last moments in the house or not. That thought made me shudder as my nose picked up on the smell of damp and mold. Apart from some minimal furnishings, the house was mostly bare. I didn't know what kind of man my great uncle was, but apparently he didn't like clutter, and he very rarely dusted. I ran a finger over to the sideboard in the hallway and grimaced at the thick layer of dust clinging to my skin. If I did decide to stay here, it was going to take a lot of work to get this place up to standard. The longer I stayed here, the more I wanted to leave without looking around, but I couldn't ignore it forever. At some point I would have to assess the state of the slaughterhouse and make a decision about what to do with it. I went through each room, casting a cursory look over the furniture and testing the electricity and water supply. Everything still seemed to be running, which was a bonus. I had already planned to stay the night here, so having hot water and lighting would make things easier. Upstairs, I paused on the landing to peer out the window. At the back of the house was a field of brown, uncut grass and some stilted shrubs. I could just see the edge of the shed beside the cottage, the old wood stained and weathered. In the distance I could see the cluster of houses that formed the village as I was about to turn away, I glimpsed movement at the edge of the property, amongst the treeline. Someone stood between me, the trees watching me. I couldn't get a good view of their face, but in the brief glance it seemed gray and hollow, like wax. The figure darted away through the trees and disappeared. I frowned, that unease from earlier returning. Was it a villager? Shaking it off, I searched the upstairs room, a large master bedroom and a bathroom. A linen cupboard and a smaller guest bedroom was all that was up here. Like downstairs, everything up here was old and run down, covered in a thick layer of dust and mildew. I closed the bedroom door behind me and went back down into the kitchen where I had left my rucksack. The rusted key to the slaughterhouse sat on the table where I had left it. I figured it was about time I went to see what I was dealing with next door. Grabbing the key, I left the house and went across to the shed. The metal of the padlock was ice cold against my fingertips as I inserted the key and twisted it. The lock fell away and the door edged open with a creak. Shadows spilled out across my feet. I peered into the darkness as I gripped the edge of the door and pulled it open further. The air inside smelled stale and old. That same undercurrent of old blood ran beneath the surface. Drawing in a deep breath, I pushed the door the rest of the way and stepped inside, letting the dull afternoon light filter inside. The slaughterhouse was nothing like I had been expecting. Inside was nothing but an empty shed. The wood was damp and starting to rot, the ground full of old hay. There was no equipment that you would expect of a slaughterhouse, no cold room to store the meat. It was just an empty shed. Perhaps it wasn't a functioning slaughterhouse after all. But then why had it been called a slaughter such in the inheritance? Something glinted in the sunlight and I looked up. Several large metal hooks hung from the ceiling, the kind that you hung meat onto. But what was the point when there was nowhere to prepare it? Unless I was missing something, this was a plain old shed with some leftover meat hooks still stuck to the ceiling. I raked a hand through my hair and sighed. Was it a waste coming all the way out here? I shook my head. Not a waste. I still had to figure out what to do with this place now that it was legally mine. Leaving the slaughterhouse, I relocked it and pocketed the key before heading back into the house. It was getting on in the afternoon and I was tired from driving almost morning, so I decided to grab a bite to eat while I considered my options. By the time evening had rolled around, I still hadn't made up my mind about this place. There wasn't much merit to staying here if the slaughterhouse couldn't actually be used and I didn't particularly fancy being stuck in the middle of nowhere. I could sell it, but not as it was. It would take a bit of work to get it into a deep, decent state and make it appealing to a potential buyer. The final option was to just leave it here, gathering dust, but that seemed a waste. I had debated heading to the village to see who lived around here, but after spying that strange figure watching me from the trees, part of me had been reluctant to venture too far from the house. Maybe I would walk down there in the morning. As dusk grew outside, shadows encroached further into the cottage and a chill crept into my bones. I turned on most of the lights and went around drawing the curtains to block out the night. I wasn't fond of sleeping in unfamiliar places, so I spread my sleeping bag on the floor of the downstairs sitting room instead of upstairs. Using hot water from the kitchen, I I made myself some instant noodles and ate them from the packet, listening to the radiator clank and groan as it rattled to life. Being on my own in a strange house was starting to make me feel a little unsettled, so I turned on the television to fill the silence. Nothing but static burst from the screen, so I switched it off just as quickly. With nothing else to do, I headed to bed early. I nestled into the sleeping bag and spread another blanket over me to ward off the chill and fell asleep the second my head hit the pillow. I woke up early the next morning to the sound of someone tapping at the window. Blinking away the grogginess in my eyes, I sat up. The room was still dark, shadows lingering around the edges. I reached over to his switch on the lamp and stretched the cricks out of my neck from camping out on the floor all night. What was making that noise? The curtains were still drawn, but I could see movement in the gaps around the edges. Climbing swiftly to my feet, I walked over to the window and tentatively pulled the curtain aside. Peering out. A beady black eye stared back. It was a crow, ruffling its ink black feathers. It tapped its beak three more times against the glass before flying away. I watched it go, frowning. Dawn had yet to break and the sky was still in the clutches of night. According to my watch, it wasn't even 5am yet. I was awake now though, so I dragged myself into the kitchen to get some instant coffee on the go. I had slept right through the night, but I remembered having strange dreams in the midst of it. Dreams about meat and flesh and bloodied metal hooks, no doubt because of the circumstances I had found myself in. When I returned to the living room, I found the key to the slaughterhouse sitting on top of my rucksack. I thought I had left it on the kitchen table, and seeing it elsewhere left me momentarily disconcerted. Had I moved it there, I must have. There was nobody else here but me. Maybe I'd slept less well than I had thought. I didn't trust the pipes enough to have a hot shower, so I changed into a fresh pair of clothes and drank my coffee until it grew light. Outside it was another damp, gray day, and the forest was as silent as it had been last night. Wherever that crow had flown off to, it wasn't anywhere close by. Once it was light enough to see by, I grabbed the key to the shed and went outside to investigate. I didn't expect it to look any different, but maybe having had a full night's rest would give me a different kind of insight into what to do with the place. I unlocked the door, letting the padlock and chain fall to the ground with a heavy thump, and pulled it open. Inside was dim, and it took a second for my eyes to adjust. As soon as I glanced inside, I froze, my heart lurching into my throat. The slaughterhouse was no longer empty. Thick slabs of dark meat now hung from the rusted hooks, the air filled thick with the smell of flesh and blood. Where had it come from? Last night there had been nothing in here. The shed had been locked, and as far as I was aware, the only key to open it was in my possession. How had this meat gotten in here? And who was responsible? I took a step inside, feeling perturbed and perplexed by the discovery. There was just under a dozen chunks of flesh, all lean and expertly cut, glistening red in the morning light. I wasn't familiar with meat in this form, so I couldn't tell which animal it belonged to, but I could tell it had been prepared recently. All of a sudden, I felt unnerved and unsafe. What was going on here? This was supposed to be my property. Yet someone had clearly been creeping around here last night, hauling slabs of meat into my shed. I didn't like the thought of it at all. As I tried to sift through my thoughts, I heard approaching footsteps from behind. My heart pulsed faster as I turned around not sure what to expect, a group of about 20 people were approaching the property from the trees. The first thing I noticed about them was their gauntness, like that mysterious figure I had seen in the forest. Their skin was pallid and their flesh sunken, their clothes hanging like rags off bony shoulders. They looked starved. Meat. One of the strangers cried, their voice hoarse and brittle. We have meat again. Someone echoed. We are saved. What? I muttered, stumbling back in surprise as the group of people, presumably from the village, drew closer. What's going on? You brought us meat. You saved us, the older villager at the front of the mob said, reaching out his hands in a thankful gesture. Before I could do or say anything, the villagers piled into the shed and began removing the meat from the hooks, slinging it over their shoulders with joyful cries. Wait. What are you doing? I blurted, aghast at their actions. The man from before tottered up to me, his eyes sunken and his cheeks hollow. Thank you. We are so happy the slaughterhouse has a new owner. He seemed about to turn away, so I quickly grabbed his arm, my fingers digging into his flesh. Wait. What's going on here? Where did this meat come from? A slow smile spread across the man's face, revealing pink, toothless gums. You don't know. This place is cursed. See? He pointed into the shed, and I followed his gaze. Fresh meat was starting to grow from the hook, materializing from thin air. The flesh grew and expanded until it was the same size as the others, and one of the villagers quickly removed it from the hook. I stared in bewildered silence, struggling to piece together what I was seeing. What was happening here? Where was the meat coming from? How could it just appear like that? I still don't understand, I finally uttered in a hoarse whisper. It felt like I was in the middle of a dream or a nightmare. The hooks give us flesh, the man said. I shook my head. But where does it come from? This flesh that never stops growing on these hooks is the flesh of the slaughterhouse's owner. It's your flesh, the man explained, his dark eyes glistening in the dimness behind me. Meat continued to grow from the hooks, and the villagers continued to harvest it. My flesh, I whispered, the words sticking in my throat. What do you mean? I looked down at myself. I was still intact. How could it be my flesh? It's a reproduction of your flesh. This flesh never rots, never goes bad. It is as alive as you are, the man said. Still wasn't making sense. How could it be my flesh? How was any of this possible? The villagers. This place were crazy. The longer I stayed, the more danger I would be in. I had to leave as soon as possible. As if reading the thoughts on my face, the man placed a hand on my arm, a warning look in his eye. There are conditions you must follow. However, he said, his voice a low rasp. If you ever leave this town, your bond to this place will be broken and the flesh will start to rot. My mouth went bone dry, the ground feeling unsteady beneath my feet. You mean. The man nodded. When the meat begins to rotate, so do you. Your body will decay and eventually perish, and we, the ones who rely on your flesh, will starve. You have no choice but to stay here for the rest of your life and feed us with the flesh from your body. That is your duty, he said, tightening his old crooked fingers around my arm. There is no escape. You must accept your fate or wither away just like the owner before you.
- [56:37]
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- [57:08]
Host
This podcast and the following message comes from America's Navy the Navy offers new graduates hands on training and experience in careers like computer science, aviation and medicine, plus education and sign on bonuses. Parents help your grads start their career today@navy.com youm say you'll never join the Navy, never climb Mount Fuji on a port visit or break this down barrier. Joining the Navy sounds crazy. Saying never actually is. Learn why@navy.com America's Navy forged by the sea bundle and safe with Expedia, you were made to follow your favorite band and from the front row we were made to quietly save you. More Expedia made to Travel savings vary and subject to availability. Flight inclusive packages are atoll protected@blinds.com it's not just about window treatments. It's about you. Your style, your space, your way. Whether you DIY or want the pros to handle it all, you'll have the confidence of knowing it's done right. From free expert design help to our 100% satisfaction guarantee, everything we do is made to fit your life and your windows. Because@blinds.com the only thing we treat better than windows is you. Visit blinds.com now for up to 45% off site wide plus a professional measure at no cost. Rules and restrictions apply. I was standing with my older brother, both of us smoking outside my parents porch. My family and I grew up in a very superstitious part of the American southwest, I guess you could say, in a part of America where all there is is a very strong fear of skinwalkers. I know, I know. Another skinwalker story. But what I witnessed alongside my brother felt chillingly real. A few years before this incident, my older brother and I encountered something in our parents backyard. So we have always been a bit on edge at night around our neighborhood. I still am to this day. That and we grew up in a culture that discourages people from wandering around at night night without some sort of cultural blessing. But we were a few years older, smoking our cigarettes, catching up because my brother was attending college in the city and I was finishing up my junior year in high school. I was rambling on about something when I saw my brother's startled look out at the neighbor's yard. I looked over at what he was staring at and found myself looking at a shadowy figure standing outside of our neighbor's house. And it's hard to describe this shadow as its figure was basically blacker than the night outside. The dim glow of the street lights having an almost shadow radiance, if that makes any sense. It was standing on the side of our neighbor's house. And while I couldn't see its face, I knew that it was staring at our neighbor's draped windows. My brother and I looked at each other with with disbelief. We had both heard the stories about skinwalkers roaming around at night. I mean, we both witnessed that sort of thing years ago. But it was only a glimpse, followed by hearing the most otherworldly horrifying howl that sounded both human and animal. But this was different. It was like seeing something that we were never meant to see. Something even, even more sinister. We said nothing to each other, turning our gaze back towards the figure which was still staring at the neighbor's window. After what seemed like a long moment, the figure started to slowly turn and walk to our neighbor's backyard. But the way it moved was a surreal sight. It looked to be moving both slow and fast at the same time. Like jogging in place, except it was gliding along. Then it moved towards a group of neighborhood dogs. And I knew these were neighborhood dogs because I recognized almost every one of them under the dim tangerine backyard light. But they weren't scared by the shadow figure. In fact, they looked to be welcoming it. The dogs formed a crowd outside the figure, which stopped and I swear to this day, it morphed down onto all fours, sprang a black tail, and disappeared into the night. With the group of neighborhood dogs following, I looked at my brother and asked, dude, what did you put into these cigarettes? We both nervously chuckled, but we knew what we saw and hurried back inside, making sure we took our cigarette butts with us. Inside. Our dad and younger brother were asleep, but our mom was still up. We told our mom what happened and she instructed us to go outside to get some wood to burn. She smeared ash onto our foreheads and we ventured outside to gather some firewood. While walking towards the wood pile, we noticed that our street light, which was on when we were heading back inside after stamping out our cigarettes, was now out, the only street light out in the entire neighborhood. We saw it as a sign of something being around and hurried to gather the wood. Right when we were about to head inside, we could smell it. The strong, putrid scent of a dead animal. We knew right there and then that we were in the middle of all those stories that we had heard about skinwalker walkers. We didn't stop to take a look around. Instead, we made haste back into our house and built a fire. We told our mom what we smelled outside, and she marched outside with a fresh tin of ash to confront whatever was out there. She yelled in English and her native language to leave us alone. We have not done anything to you and command it for it to leave by the traditional ways. She sprinkled ash outside our front porch and back porch and anchored a bow and arrow above the door leading out towards the back porch. We slept that night without any more incidents. Months later, when I move to the city to live with my older brother and work for the summer, I get a call from our mom. She told me that the neighborhood who lived in the house that the shadow figure was outside of died of cancer. Whatever we saw that night still chills me to this day. I should start my story by letting everyone know that I decidedly do not believe in ghosts. I was raised in a religious home and I still hold those beliefs now as an adult. The Bible is fairly clear about ghosts. It's okay if you believe something different, but I think it's important to the context of this story for you to understand mine. However, I do believe in spirits, both good and evil. I'm not sure which of those was involved in this experience, but I do believe that is what I encountered when I was a senior in high school. My teenage angst reached a fever pitch. I was convinced that I was more knowledgeable about the real world and what I considered fairness than my dad and stepmother. As such, I moved out of my home about six months before graduation. I knew a group of guys that lived in a house about 30 minutes away. This house belonged to one of the guys parents until they had let the bank foreclose. I'm not sure of the details exactly, but the bank hadn't completed the foreclose and we all lived there with only the utilities as expenses. It was a large house, two stories, four bedrooms, two and a half baths. There were only three guys living there at the time, so they had an open room. I somehow got them to agree to my living there for only 100 bucks a month, which was a big steal, especially considering I only had a part time job at that time. One of the guys was, was never there at all, living with his girlfriend. I think one guy, we'll call him Jimmy, was going to college and working full time. He would crash in town sometimes. So he was only there for about two nights a week. The other roommate who will call Brad, was only there two or three nights a week. I don't remember why though. Obviously I spent a majority of the week at the house alone. One of these nights I was alone, I turned the light out and got on my mattress on the floor. I had nothing to my name but a mattress and a weapon at this stage of life. I was just starting to drift off to sleep and could hear someone walking around downstairs. I thought Jimmy was home as he was the only one who would get home at this hour. One other thing you should understand about the house was that all of the bedrooms were are upstairs. Mine being right at the end of the stairs. The stairs went up halfway, turned 90 degrees and continued up to the second floor to a hallway. So anyone who went up the stairs went to my bedroom door. I hear who I think is Jimmy walking around downstairs. Then all at once I hear them come up the stairs at a full run, violently stomping on every stair and they go. It was very fast, like sprinting up the stairs while trying to make as much noise as possible. I thought Jimmy was trying to be funny and scare me. So to be funny back. I took my weapon, a pump action, and was going to jump into the hall and rack it really loud while I did. I didn't have anything in it. It was empty, totally safe. Well, imagine my surprise when I flew, flung the door open and nobody was there, no lights on, nobody home. I went room by room and carefully checked the entire house. All the doors were locked, no cars outside. I was totally alone with no explanation for what I had heard. Fast forward a month or so. Brad and Jimmy are at home with me. We are talking about the house and how it looked like the bank was finally going to take possession and we would all have to move. I mentioned that I wasn't terribly disappointed by this because the house kinda gave me the creeps. Brad and Jimmy exchange a look at that comment. Brad then asks why I say that I tell them the story about the stair stomping. Again, they exchanged a look without saying anything. When I asked what was going on, Brad said that he had a similar experience just a week or so before. Brad's room was the master bedroom. His floor had a spot that we called the squeak. You can probably guess that we called it this because if you stepped there, the floor would squeak loudly. Not uncommon for a two story home. We all just avoided that spot when walking around anyway. Brad went on to say that he was at home alone, drifting off to sleep when he had heard someone walk up the stairs to the second floor. He assumed it was me getting home. Then his door slowly swung open and then back shut. Brad said that he sat there in the dark thinking I was sneaking in his room to scare him or something. Then he hears the squeak make its usual noise and finally he feels his bed do that lean that beds do when someone sits on it. Thinking that he would get me first, he reached out to slap what he thought was me sitting on the side of his bed. Only when he slapped, there was nothing there. Brad got up, turned the light on, searched his room and eventually the entire house. Nobody was there. In fact, I was 40 minutes away at the time, staying with a friend. At hearing each other's stories, we all didn't really know what to make of it. In fact, we didn't really discuss it much further because I didn't want to acknowledge what we could not explain. Finally the time came for us to move out. The power had been turned off, there was no water and we had all found new places to to live. I had been staying at my new apartment for over a month when Brad calls me to tell me that if I had anything left at the house that I needed to get it within the next couple of days. So I asked a friend, we'll call her Mary, to ride over there with me to grab a couple things. We get there and I tell Mary that I'll be right back and to just wait in the car. I go in, go right up the stairs, go to my room, grab my things and then leave. I didn't want to be there more than I had to. When I get in the car, Mary asks me, I thought you only had stuff in your room. I did, I told her. Then why were you in that room? She asks, pointing to the office on the opposite end of the house. I wasn't, I said. I went straight to my room and and then right back out. Mary has this really confused look on her face now. I never told her about the stories about what we had experienced there, so I know she wouldn't try to tease me. Well, right after you went in, those curtains moved to the side, stayed pulled back a minute, and then went back to normal just before you came out. Must have been from the AC or something. Or maybe a ceiling fan. All I told her was, yeah, must have been the wind. But inside I knew there was no power to the house. No ac, no ceiling fans, and no person at the end of that house. No logical reason for those curtains to move. I quickly put the car in drive and left. My roommates and I had great times in that house. We played a lot of pranks, we had some great laughs and made some lifelong memories together. However, I'm glad I didn't live there longer than I did because obviously we had a roommate of some kind that we were completely unaware of. She's made up her mind to live pretty smart. Learn to budget responsibly right from the start. She spends a little less and puts more into savings. Keeps her blood pressure low and credit score raises. She's cutting debt right out of her life. She tracks her cash for all her boring money moves. Make kind of lame songs but they sound pretty sweet to your wallet. BNC Bank Brilliantly boring since 1865 this episode is brought to you by Liquid IV. In heart pumping moments, you need hydration that can keep up. That's where Liquid IV comes in. Scientifically formulated to quickly replenish electrolytes and fluids lost from your well earned sweat session. Hydrate your favorite mode of movement with Liquid iv. 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- [73:24]
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- [74:03]
Host
It was nearing the end of the summer of senior year and my best friend who I'll call Will was leaving to go to college about an hour away so he wouldn't be able to hang out with our friend group for the rest of the summer. He wanted to have one last hurrah so we decided we would go walking along the train tracks behind our school, our favorite hangout spot. Only one friend who I'll call Miles was able to join us from the get go, but a friend named Chris texted us saying that he would be able to meet up with us in just a little bit. The train tracks were separated from the school parking lot with stretches of woods with it probably being an eight minute walk to actually reach the train tracks. The woods to get to the tracks were a cross country track route so there was usually a path carved out for us. However, since it was the summer and there was no practice, a lot of the surrounding bushes and plant leaves had grown over the paths obscuring a lot of what we had to walk through. It wasn't that bad though, just a noticeable difference and we were able to get to the tracks fine. We walked a bit further along the tracks before we decided to go off across another trodden path that led to a clearing just to explore a bit more. Along the way we passed a completely pristine bike which we were surprised by, wondering why someone would just leave it out there. They probably just assumed no one was going to be there so that it was a safe place for it. We got to the clearing and Will and Miles wanted to climb some trees. I stayed down because I'm quite vertically challenged and a lot of the climbing required holding onto branches that I could not quite reach. Only one tree around was suitable for climbing though, so Miles climbed it first, keeping his phone down near me with Will going up afterwards. He stayed hanging on the tree for a little bit with me and Miles talking up to him. When I noticed a person come into my peripheral, it was a middle aged white man in a windbreaker. I couldn't tell much else though. I was a bit uneasy as it was an overcast, even drizzly day and I didn't expect anyone else to be out, let alone a grown man. I kept my peripheral on him and expected him to just keep going along the path, but he stopped walking about 20ft away from us. Miles noticed him too. He greeted us saying hey or how are you doing? Or something, and I instinctively kind of muttered something back with a wave of the hand. But then he just. Just continued standing there, not even keeping up conversation or anything, just looking. I could tell Miles was kind of freaked out too, but Will wasn't exactly getting the memo. I went to pick up Will's phone that was now on the ground and said we should go back to meet with Chris and Miles agreed with me saying that he should be there soon. Will began to climb down and we left the clearing from the path we came on, pretending to not acknowledge the man who was still just standing there and making different uneasy small talk. We didn't turn back to look though, and once we were far enough away, assumedly me and Miles commented on how we thought that guy was gonna do something and Will jokingly said that we were too paranoid. We ended up meeting up with Chris and the rest of them. The day was fine, but still, I wonder what the man wanted. Was he just mentally ill or something? Or just awkward? Maybe he was homeless as tents in that area of the forest were kind of common. Was he maybe the owner of the bike that we saw and wanted to make sure we weren't trying to steal it? Of course, there's no way to be sure, but both me and Miles had a gut feel feeling that we definitely should not have stuck around there to find out.
- [78:10]
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- [78:52]
Host
It'S it's.