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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.
- [00:32]
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- [01:11]
Host
Fast. Fast.
- [01:13]
Advertiser
Free delivery. It's on Prime.
- [01:15]
Host
She's made up her mind to live pretty smart. Learn to budget responsibly right from the start. She spends a little and puts more into savings. Keeps the blood pressure low and credit score raises boring money moves. Make kinda lame songs but they sound pretty sweet to your wallet. BNC bank brilliantly boring since 1865 when I was in my early twenties. My grandparents lived in this beautiful house on a lake in Michigan. The house was surrounded by tall trees and I don't remember any neighbors nearby. It was in the middle of nowhere and I loved it. The water on that lake was so calm and it looked like glass. It was the kind of place where you could hear the breeze rustling through the trees and the faint hum of insects in the distance. It felt so peaceful. My favorite place in the world by far. A perfect escape from the chaos of this city life that my parents put me in. One of my favorite things to do while visiting my grandparents there was to take their little boat out onto the lake. I would bring a book, sometimes some food, but more often than not I would want to smoke out on that boat. Since they didn't approve, I would go out into the middle of the lake where no one could see me and I would smoke and usually pass out. Sometimes I would lie there for hours. A few times I woke up and it was dark doesn't that sound incredibly relaxing? I mean, it was heaven. Well, it was. Until one weird afternoon. It was a warm day, one of those perfect Michigan summer afternoons. The sky is bright blue. The clouds look like marshmallows. I'd rode out to my usual spot. I started smoking and just let myself drift away. The gentle rocking of the boat was my favorite. The soft lapping of the water against its sides. It always put me to sleep quick. I had just closed my eyes and drifted off into a nap. I'm not really sure how long I was out, but I woke up suddenly. I don't think I heard anything. I could just feel that something was different. When I opened my eyes, I sat up and there was another boat with an old woman sitting inside it, looking at me. I'm not sure what was scarier, that I hadn't heard her approach or the fact that she came out of nowhere and her boat was so close to mine she could reach out and touch me. She looked like she had stepped straight out of a vintage photo. Her dress was faded and worn. It looked like it had been through way too many laundry cycles. And her hair seemed like it was falling out. Her face was very gaunt, with sharp angles and wrinkles. But it was her eyes and teeth that really got me. She smiled, but it didn't seem friendly. It was the kind of smile that you would give someone that you're about to sell a cursed object to or something. I can't explain it. Then she said something.
- [04:40]
Advertiser
Hello, girl. Such a beautiful day, isn't it?
- [04:45]
Host
Her voice was soft, but it had this weird quality that gave me goosebumps.
- [04:51]
Advertiser
May I tell you a story?
- [04:54]
Host
I'm not proud of this, but instead of saying something brave, I just nodded. I was so nervous and taken aback that I didn't know what else to do. And so if I started rowing away, it would be extremely obvious that I was uncomfortable. And I wanted to just play it cool as best as I could. I nodded. Okay. She leaned forward, her boat creaking like it hadn't been oiled since the Great Depression. She began, her eyes locked on mine.
- [05:24]
Advertiser
A pretty girl falls asleep on a boat.
- [05:28]
Host
She paused dramatically, which felt unnecessary but effective because my pulse was already going crazy. She continued, when she wakes up, she's.
- [05:40]
Advertiser
Stabbed in the face over and over again.
- [05:45]
Host
She raised a bony finger and dragged it slowly down her cheek, tracing a line from her temple to her jaw. Now, I'm not saying that I'm tough or anything. I thought I was, but I'm pretty sure my soul Left my body For a second. I wanted to laugh or scream or do something, but nothing came out. All I did was stare at her. Her smile widened, which was so weird it didn't look like it could get any wider.
- [06:16]
Advertiser
She is stabbed in the face over and over and over again.
- [06:23]
Host
And that's when I decided I had had enough Fight or Flight kicked in. I had no idea if she was about to pull out a knife. Let me tell you, Flight won by a landslide. I grabbed the oars and started rowing like my life depended on it. My whole body was trembling. I was so scared.
- [06:43]
Advertiser
Do you like it? Do you like my story? Where are you going?
- [06:48]
Host
She never left my sight as I rode away, smiling the whole time.
- [06:54]
Advertiser
Don't you like it?
- [06:57]
Host
Eventually, when I got close to shore, I looked to make sure that my boat wouldn't crash into the dock. When I looked back, her boat was still there, but she was gone. Either she jumped into the water or she very quickly ducked down so I couldn't see her. Whatever she did, it was terrifying. And I had no idea where she was. Now I tied the rowboat to the dock and bolted back to the house, trying to understand what just happened. I told my grandparents and both of them believed me. They were mortified, of course. They went outside to go try to find her, but there was no sign of her or her boat. I wish I could say I never went on that lake again, but I did. It was my favorite thing, after all. And I never saw that woman again. God only knows where she came from or what she would have done if I hadn't rowed away. I'll never forget that after telling my grandparents, my grandpa joked that I must have smoked something stronger than usual. My grandma thinks maybe I fell asleep and just had a nightmare on that boat. But I can promise you it was real. It really happened. Years later, now, I still see her face and I can still hear that voice.
- [08:16]
Advertiser
Hello, girl.
- [08:31]
Host
I just turned 21 a few weeks ago. Exciting, I know. But I still lived at home with my parents, unfortunately. Anyway, I was about to get off work this one night. I was about 15 minutes away from finishing my night shift when there was a sudden knock on the door. It was so unexpected, I almost fell out of my chair. I work in the industrial district and it was 9 o' clock at night. No one is supposed to be around here. Reluctantly, I got up and went to check who it was. Standing on the other side of the glass door was this girl, maybe around my age, with long tangled hair and clothes that looked like they belonged to a little girl. Her eyes were hollow and unsettling, like she hadn't slept in days. She waved awkwardly and motioned for me to open the door. Hey, she said when I cracked it open just a bit. Can you give me a ride home, please? My car broke down a few streets over. Something about her voice just didn't sit right with me. It was flat, like she was going through the motions of talking, like she wasn't used to it. My instinct screamed at me to say hell no and I listened. Sorry, I can't, I said quickly. I'm just about to clock out. I need to head home. She stared at me for a moment, her eyes digging into mine. Then she shrugged and turned away, walking off into the darkness. I locked the door and watched her disappear before I headed back to my desk. The encounter left me a bit rattled because it was so random. I did call security just to let them know that I saw a suspicious character and then I decided to pack up a little bit early and leave. As I left the building, the eerie quiet outside made me feel like I was in a horror movie about to be ripped apart by some beast or some person. Every little noise was louder than it should be. I hurried to my car. I unlocked it and jumped inside. It was freezing. I locked the doors. I didn't even care about turning the heater on right now. I just wanted to start moving and head home. It was about a 10 minute drive. @ first I thought I would be fine once I was on the road. But as I drove, my mind kept going back to that girl. What was she doing there? For some reason I knew she was lying. She didn't have a car that broke down. The way she stared at me too, like she was sizing me up. I told myself it was over. I was driving now. She was gone and I was safe. When I got home I pulled into the driveway, killed the engine and went inside.
- [11:33]
Advertiser
Warmth.
- [11:35]
Host
Sweet, sweet warmth. I locked the door behind me and for a while I didn't know what to do. I decided to call my friend J. He was out drinking at some bar close by and told me to come join him. I figured going to have a few drinks might make me feel a little better about tonight. So I walked into the garage, opened the door, grabbed my bike and I was off. The night was beautiful, honestly, just cold, the moon lighting up the road like a spotlight. It was nice and peaceful. At first the rhythm of my bike tires on the pavement put me at ease. But then I heard it. The were the sound of Another bike behind me. I tried to play it cool. Maybe it was just someone else out for a late night ride. But as the sound got closer, I started to feel uneasy. I moved to the side of the road, hoping that they would pass me. And they did, but not like I expected them to. The person slowed down as they came alongside me, and that's when I saw her face. It was her. The girl from the door. My stomach dropped and panic shot through me like electricity. I tried to process how she could be here, riding my mom's bike, no less, but my brain would not cooperate. She turned her head and gave me this smile. I lost control. In that instant. My hand slipped on the handlebars and the bike wobbled violently before tipping over. I hit the pavement hard, scraping my hands and knees up. Pain shot through my hands as I scrambled to get up, but then I froze in place when I saw her again. She had stopped just a few feet away from me and was just looking back at me with that same smile. She didn't say anything, her eyes unblinking. Then, as if she hadn't just caused me to nearly break my neck, she turned her bike around and pedaled away. I sat there for what felt like forever, my chest heaving as I tried to catch my breath. I didn't even want to think about going to meet Jay anymore. I just wanted to get back home and take care of my hands. When I finally reached my house again, I threw the bike down in the driveway and went inside, locking the door behind me. My heart was still racing as I couldn't believe this just happened. How the hell did this girl get to where I was? After a few minutes, I forced myself to go back outside to check my car. Something about it felt wrong. And when I went outside, I saw it. The back left door was open. I hadn't opened it. My knees almost gave out as I approached inside. On the back seat was a piece of paper. I picked it up slowly. Scrawled in messy handwriting were the words, you should have said yes.
- [14:58]
Advertiser
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- [15:24]
Host
Cindy's tweeney has very Keynes.
- [15:26]
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- [15:59]
Host
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- [16:35]
Host
Back in 2004, I drove back to college after Christmas, but before the winter break was over, I was the first of my roommates to return to the house that we were renting. The place was on the outskirts of a small town in upstate New York, surrounded by dense woods and miles away from any neighbors. It was isolated, quiet, the kind of quiet that made every creak of the old house sound like a gunshot. I pulled into the snow covered driveway behind the house. The snow was pristine, untouched except for a few faint animal tracks. My car's tires crunched loudly as I parked by the back door. The cold air hit me like a train when I stepped out, the kind of cold that stung your face and froze your breath. I grabbed one of my bags from the trunk and hurried inside. I had been on the road for over five hours and was dying to use the bathroom. The house felt strange when I stepped in. The air was heavy and the silence felt a bit unnatural, but I chalked it up to just being alone in an old house. I rushed to the bathroom, took care of my business, and splashed some warm water on my face to wake myself up. I was inside for maybe five minutes. When I went back outside to grab the rest of my stuff, I stopped dead in my tracks. There were footprints in the snow around my car. At first I thought I was seeing things, but no, they were definitely there. The only footprints that should have been there were mine from where I had gotten out, walked to the trunk and then walked to the back door. But now there was another set. These footprints were larger, circling my car several times before leading back into the woods. My heart started pounding as I followed the tracks with my eyes. They came from the woods, looped around my car, and then disappeared back into the trees. The trunk of my car was still open. I had left it like that because I thought I was alone. Nothing was missing. But the idea that someone had been out here watching me brought me dread. They had to have seen me pull in. They had come out of the woods, circled my car, and then retreated, for whatever reason, back into the trees. I grabbed the rest of my bags as fast as I could, my hands trembling so bad I could barely lock the trunk. Every sound, the crunch of my boots in the snow, the rustling of the trees in the wind, it was amplified, like someone was just out of sight, sight, waiting for the right moment. I bolted into the house and locked the door behind me. My heart was racing, and I couldn't stop glancing out the window, expecting to see someone standing at the edge of the woods. I couldn't sleep that night. Every little noise made me jump. The creek of the house settling, the wind rattling the windows. Even the hum of the refrigerator. Around midnight, I thought I heard faint footsteps outside, crunching in the snow. I forced myself to look out the window, but I didn't see anything. Just the empty yard and the dark line of trees. The next morning, I went outside to check. The footprints were still there, frozen in the snow, like some eerie reminder they had not melted or blown away. It was like they were taunting me. I stood there, staring at them and noticed something else that made my blood run cold. The prints were not normal. They were deep and uneven, like whoever made them was dragging one foot. And they didn't look like they were made by boots or shoes. The edges were rough, almost like claws, as if something with bare feet had been walking around through the snow. I tried to convince myself that it had to have been a prank or something, maybe some weird neighbor messing with me. But the nearest house was over a mile from here, and I hadn't seen another car or a person the entire drive back. Besides, who would be out here barefoot in the snow in the middle of nowhere, just to play a joke on me? None of it made sense. That night it got worse. I stayed up late watching tv. Around midnight, I heard footsteps again. This time louder, deliberate crunching, right outside the living room window. I turned off the TV and sat there in the dark, terrified, holding my breath. The footsteps stopped right outside the window. I could feel whoever it was standing there just on the other side of the glass. I couldn't bring myself to look. My hands were clenched so tightly my nails dug into my palms. I just sat there, unable to move, waiting for something to happen. After what felt like an eternity. I know people say that all the time, but that's what it felt like. The footsteps started up again, moving away this time. I listened as they crunched through the snow and then faded away. When the sound was finally gone, I let out a shaky breath that I hadn't realized I was holding. The next morning I checked outside again. The new footprints were there, right outside the living room window. They had matched the ones from before, uneven and claw like. I have never felt fear like that. I don't know who or what was out there, but I will never forget that feeling of knowing something or someone was so close to close and they didn't belong. I stayed in that house for the rest of the break, but I never felt safe again there. Every night I would hear some kind of noise. Sometimes soft at first. Sometimes it would grow louder as the week went on. By the time my roommates got back, I was a wreck. I tried to tell them, but they just laughed at me. Said that I was imagining things. One of my friends did believe me, but it didn't matter. Maybe it was real, maybe it wasn't. But every time I'm alone now, especially at night, I'll hear that sound in my head. That slow, deliberate crunch of the snow outside. I lived in one of the oldest apartments in my town. It wasn't really fancy, just this old creaky building that made weird noises at night. The walls were thin, the floors were uneven. The whole place had this nasty smell like damp wood, ancient dust, the like. My friends would joke that it was probably haunted, but I always shrugged it off because I didn't believe in that kind of thing. At least until this one night. It must have been about 2am and I just couldn't sleep. I tried everything. I was listening to music. I scrolled on my phone. Nothing was working. Finally I dozed off eventually without realizing it, because the next thing I knew, I was dreaming. Except it wasn't a normal dream. It felt like I was awake. Even though it was a dream. I couldn't move. I was just lying in my bed. My bedroom looked exactly the same. My desk with the messy piles of crap and homework, the worn out rug that I had for years. Even the little faint glow of the street lamp outside my window. It was all There. Every detail. But something was different. My bedroom door slowly started to creak open. And then I saw her. She was old. Like really old. Her skin was pale, wrinkled. Her hair, long and gray. It hung in stringy clumps, lumps around her face. She was wearing this old black dress that looked like something out of a horror movie. Her eyes. Oh my gosh. I'll never forget them. They just weren't right. They were milky white, like she was blind. But they still felt like they were staring straight into me. She didn't say anything. She didn't even make a sound. Her steps were completely quiet as she started to walk toward me. I couldn't move. Totally frozen. I wanted to scream, but nothing came out. I could do nothing. Very slowly, she inched closer to me. When she was right next to my bed, she leaned down. Her face was so close I could feel her breath, which smelled like rotten meat. Her lips moved, like she was about to whisper something. But before she could, I woke up. I shot up, my heart pounding. It took me a second to realize that I was actually awake now. The first thing I did was look at the bedroom door. And it was closed. I always lock my door before I go to bed. Always. But something about that dream really freaked me out. So I got up to check if it was locked. When I tried the handle, my stomach dropped. It was unlocked. That alone was enough to send chills down my spine. But I tried to convince myself that it was just a dream. Maybe I dreamt the door was locked when it really wasn't. I didn't want to think too hard about this. I locked the door again, double checked it, and climbed back into bed. But I didn't sleep well for the rest of the night. The next day, I couldn't shake the feeling that something was off. I kept replaying that dream in my head, trying to make sense of it. Why did I have a dream like that when I never had before? It was so real feeling, too. My friends just laughed when I told them about it. They never really took anything seriously. You're just paranoid, man, one of them said. I wanted to believe them, but I couldn't. Something about that old lady haunted me for a few nights. I was terrified to go to sleep. But nothing happened again. I would lock my door. I would check it. I would double check it and leave the light on in the hallway. But I still felt uneasy, like she would appear at any moment. About a week later, it happened again. I was in bed, half asleep, when I heard a noise. When? Before, everything was silent. It was soft, like someone shuffling their feet outside my door. My heart started racing. I told myself it was pretty. Probably my upstairs neighbor or something. Maybe a cat. Then came the knock. It was quiet at first, just a soft tapping, but then it got louder. Knock, knock, knock. My throat went dry. I didn't move. And then it stopped. And for a second I thought maybe whoever it was had left. But then the handle started to jiggle, like someone was trying to open the door. I knew it was locked. I had checked it twice, maybe even three times. But what if? What if it wasn't? Somehow I didn't know what to do. Should I get up? Should I yell? Should I call the police? My body was frozen. Then, as suddenly as it started, the noise stopped. I sat there for what felt like hours, listening, waiting. But everything was quiet. The next morning, I checked the peephole before opening the door. The hallway was empty, but there was something on the floor. A single dirty footprint, like someone had been standing there barefoot. I stared at it for a long time before finally shutting the door and locking it once again. I didn't leave my apartment for the rest of the day. Then, a week later, it was Friday night and I was trying to relax, watching TV in the living room. That's when I saw her. Through the curtains, I could see the shadow of someone standing on the porch. I didn't really want to go see who it was, but something compelled me. I walked over to the window and pulled the curtain back just a little. It was her. The old lady from my dream. She was standing there, just staring at the door. Her milky eyes looked dead, but there was something about the way she stood that made it clear she wasn't some just random person. She didn't move. She didn't knock, and she didn't say anything. She just stood there. I backed away from the window, my hands shaking. I thought about opening the door, asking her what she wanted. But something deep inside me told me that that was a very bad idea. Instead, I turned off all the lights and sat in the dark, holding my breath. I waited for hours, too scared to move. Until finally I worked up the courage to look out again and she was gone. I never saw her again after that. In my dreams, in real life. But I still think about her sometimes. About her pale, lifeless eyes and the way she seemed to know things she shouldn't. I don't know who it was or what she wanted. Honestly, I don't want to know. All I know is I'll never forget that feeling of terror. Like I was trapped in some kind of nightmare that I couldn't wake up from. It must have been sleep paralysis from what I read. Now every time I go to bed, I check the door multiple times, sometimes three or four times. I have moved out of that apartment since. Since then, but the fear stayed with me. And sometimes late at night, I think I hear a faint knock in my dreams and I'll wake up, my heart pounding, wondering if she has come back. Jack Daniels has proudly served in fine establishments, questionable joints, and everywhere in between. So no matter where you go in every bar, you'll always know someone by name.
- [32:30]
Advertiser
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- [32:34]
Host
Right away. That's what makes Jack Jack. Please drink responsibly. Responsibility.org Jack Daniels and old number seven are registered trademarks. Copyright 2025 Jack Daniels Tennessee Whiskey 40.
- [32:45]
Advertiser
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- [33:12]
Host
Smart.
- [33:12]
Advertiser
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- [33:13]
Host
Wayfair.
- [33:14]
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- [33:16]
Host
Oh, could I go to the migration if you're thirsting for no, we aren't there yet. Kids won't stop crying. We brought snacks but they wanted other snacks. Stop pulling each other's hair and we made it 14 minutes with no screams. Level refreshment. We definitely have that. Swing by Circle K and get a polar pop for just 79 cents only for inner Circle members. When you're feeling the heat, Circle K makes your day. 20 year old Kelly Berg Dove lived with her 4 year old daughter in Bridgewater, Virginia. She was a popular young woman. Not a single soul in all of Bridgewater seemed to have a bad word to say about her. Least of all her loving husband, who she'd been romantically involved with since they were both high school sophomores. She also made a point of keeping in touch with her mother and sisters almost every single day. All in all, Kelly was about as wholesome a person as you're ever likely to find, and even found the time to work night shifts at a local gas station to help support her family. They weren't exactly strapped for cash, but Kelly valued the idea of making a contribution that would allow them a taste of the finer things in life as well as squirreling a little of her paycheck away each month for her daughter's college fund. But sometimes terrible things happened to the most wonderful of people. And on the night of June 18, 1982, something was about to happen in the sleepy town of Bridgewater that would send shockwaves through the close knit community. On the night in question, Kelly was working her usual night shift at Harrisonburg's Imperial gas station on South Main Street, Route 11. Kelly had gotten the job because her three sisters had either worked there in the past or were still currently employed by Imperial. The employer thought it would make the girls more accountable for their work, and he was right. Whenever one was sick or couldn't come into work, another would always take her place. And on this night in particular, Kelly was covering for one of her sisters for a little extra college money for her young daughter. Kelly's mom, Rachel, was also a very loving and attentive person and would often call the gas station whenever one of her daughters was working to check if they needed any food, food or hot coffee brought over to help them through their shift. When Rachel spoke to Kelly that night, nothing seemed to be amiss to her. It was just another average night at a mostly quiet gas station in rural Virginia. But little did she know this would be the last time she would ever talk to her daughter. As the evening's events were about to take a rather dark and terrifying turn at around 2:30 in the morning, long after Kelly's mom had retired to bed, Kelly apparently called the Harrisonburg police. The call was to inform them that she had been aggressively harassed by a guy she had described as improperly dressed. It seems Kelly was far too polite to describe what this male customer actually did in any kind of detail, but it's safe to assume that the implied meaning was that he had exposed himself to her. Just a few minutes after this first call, Kelly called again, this time pleading with the dispatcher for a patrol unit to be sent to the gas station. The same man that had apparently exposed himself was calling the station to make obscene threats, and it seems that Kelly was growing anxious as she believed he was willing to follow through with them. The dispatcher promised to get a unit out to her as soon as possible and that she should hang tight. However, just moments after the second call ended, Kelly called 911 yet again. Only this time she was in a complete panic. With a voice that was dripping with fear, she demanded to know how far away the responding police officers were, as the same deranged customer had apparently returned and was sitting in a silver or gray Ford that was parked in the gas station's forecourt. The last thing the 911 dispatcher heard was Kelly screaming that the man had just gotten out of the vehicle and was heading towards the gas station's main building. She then slammed the phone down, apparently preparing to defend herself. The cops rushed over to the Imperial gas station expecting to arrive to a violent assault in progress. But to their bemusement, when they arrived at the gas station, the place was as quiet as the grave. They searched the entire site, but Kelly was nowhere to be found. All that remained was her purse. There were no signs of any kind of violent struggle, no indications the store had been robbed. But there were also no clues as to where Kelly was. It was as if she simply vanished into thin air. What's clear is that if the suspect was armed, he could have forced Kelly into his vehicle in just a matter of seconds. Kelly's family believed this to be be the case as they insist that any attempt by an unarmed man to grab her and shove her into their vehicle would have resulted in Kelly fighting back vigorously. The police investigation that followed led officers to a nearby convenience store where a clerk informed them that he had been visited by a man driving a gray vehicle about a half an hour before Kelly's disappearance. The clerk told them that the man man was aged between 20 to 25 years old and had blonde shoulder length hair. This might seem like an obvious lead, but the cops were unable to track down this man, so no connection between him and Kelly's apparent abduction could ever be made. The police then interviewed Kelly's three sisters who were also employed by the gas station. They were shocked to hear that the obscene seen kind of phone calls that Kelly had received that night were commonplace, but that no one had ever acted on them, believing them to be from some harmless old pervert whose bark was louder than his bite. They also didn't entirely believe that the man that had harassed Kelly that night was the same person making the phone calls as there didn't seem to be anything overly threatening about the lewd calls, While the driver of the silver or gray Ford was obviously aggressive enough to show up to the gas station in person. Yet after news hit that one of the gas station girls had apparently been abducted, the phone call seemed to stop entirely for a while, Only resuming around six weeks later when this apparently harmless old perv called and made lewd comments to one of the gas station's new hires. This could well be because whoever was making the calls simply wasn't involved in the abduction and didn't want to implicate themselves as a suspect in such a violent and disturbing crime. But it could also be because the same person who made the calls was satisfied with abducting Kelly and didn't feel the need to make another call. Not until the same hunger resurfaced in them around a month and a half after the fact. When local media outlets contacted Kelly's parents regarding their daughter's disappearance, they gave a rather shocking answer to some very probing questions. When asked if they had any idea who might have kidnapped or harmed their daughter and if this person might be a member of the local community, Kelly's parents unequivocally answered in the affirmative. Although the police had asked them not to publicly speak the man's name, they believed her abductor had been someone Kelly had gone to high school with. Someone who had a long history of indecent exposure and making obscene telephone calls. And, according to Kelly's sister, also drove a silvery gray Ford. But surely, if Kelly had known the man personally, even just by association, she would have named him in one of the three 911 calls she made leading up to her abduction. But it's also very possible that this person had either obscured their face somehow, or Kelly had simply not recognized him. Given that they had both graduated some time ago, there's also the possibility that Kelly was so terrified that she just failed to mention the man by name during one of those calls. Either way, the police obviously found the possibility possibility of this man being the culprit so plausible that they asked Kelly's parents not to use his name publicly. Yet despite this, he was never charged with any crime, as there was simply not enough evidence to attempt any kind of conviction. There were several other suspects in the case, and authorities were sure to question all of them. But at a time when CCTV came, cameras and DNA evidence were still just technological pipe dreams. Actually, placing a suspect at the scene that night was all but impossible. For all intents and purposes, the person who showed up at the Imperial gas station that night is a ghost. Someone who showed up, bundled, Kelly Berg, dove into a vehicle, and then seemingly vanished themselves. Barely a trace of either of them was left behind. Merely a purse and a vehicle description. Far too little for the cops to go on to secure a suspect, Kelly or her body. Almost 40 years later, what happened that night remains almost a total mystery, with Kelly being declared legally deceased by local authorities. Despite her family pouring money into private investigators to try and find out exactly what happened, they are no closer to getting any solid answers as they were almost four decades ago. The only truth we have of that night is the terrifying reality that Kelly went to work that night not suspecting a thing, and ended up encountering someone that caused her to vanish from the face of the earth. And that, horrifyingly enough, is something that could happen to each and every one of us.
- [44:17]
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- [44:45]
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- [45:51]
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I have lived in this town all my life. I know all the weird traditions that come with living in a place as remote as mine, but nothing explains what happens at our deer park. I used to come out here most evenings during the pandemic park, up by the base of the hill overlooking the sanctuary, and just immerse myself in nature. I was always mindful of the distance I had to keep from the deer, particularly during mating season, and it wasn't like the deer didn't know what a car was. These were in their own reserve, sure, but the trail cut right through their vast fields, and they had grown accustomed to seeing cars all manner of times in the day and evening, which is what makes the situation more unsettling. Starting last week, a sign was put up on the entrance gate to the park and Paul impossible to miss. As the car slowed and the tires rolled over the metal grates. With it being the late hours and very few cars on the road, I decided to stop and read it in full, a polite notice to our valued visitors entering the Oboro Nature Reserve. Our deer are exhibiting unusual behaviors and we are politely requesting you to observe the following guidelines in place as to best protect yourself and the well being of our deer. 1. While the park is open 24 hours a day, we are recommending visitors to not stop their cars during observable grazing periods and on midsummer nights. You are welcome to drive through and observe from a distance, but please do not slow down or stop. Number two. Should you be slowed or stopped at any other time and the deer be curious by your vehicle, act calmly and do not speed up. Let them inspect you and judge you as a safe passerby. If they begin snorting, that is your cue to leave. Number three. There have been reports of deer standing on their hind legs and remaining idle in the fields. These rumors are a fallacy. Please do not pay any attention to them. Number four. There is a black stag that holds dominion over the western herd. His antlers are sharp and his stride is impressive, but do not attempt to approach him. Please pay him the respect you would normally. And do not stare at any of the females in his harem. He will charge you bucks are not friendly. Number five. Deer. Deer remember faces. They can recognize you from a distance and will verify your smell as you get closer, listening intently the entire time. There are many of them and only one of you. You would do well to mind that. Number six. Lastly, no matter what salacious rumors have been propagating amongst the community, the deer are not congregating in the dead of night. Deer are social animals that sleep and graze together in a herd. This is normal. The deer are acting normally. Drive safely, keep your doors locked and have a lovely drive in the Oboro Nature Reserve. Strange, right? The notice wasn't your usual steel sign with the carefully embossed wording. Rather, it had been hand hastily marked up and nailed to the wall adjacent to the welcome sign, as if in a hurry. I had not heard any sorts of rumors around town and nobody had complained about the deer park. We're a population of maybe 2,000, so it's not hard for words to get about. Still, I had my routine and intended to stick to it. Some of the info was valuable for newcomers. There was indeed a large black buck who paraded the western herd. His name was Jojo, and I fully believe he would gore anyone who outstayed their welcome or got too close. A beautiful specimen of muscle and authority, he ensured his harem never strayed too far and seemed to be borderline obsessive about making sure that they never went across to the eastern side where the large swamp swaths of trees sat. In fact, I had observed him on a couple of occasions actively nudging or ramming younger males away from the split in the road and back to safety. On the rare occasion that a member of the herd crossed the line, he would refuse to acknowledge them and actively keep them away from entering as if they were banished. As I drove through the archway, I realized I had not seen seen many deer in the eastern section of the park. Looking out my window and staring at the makeshift forest to my right and a burning question coming to the forefront of my mind that didn't leave as I reached the hill overlooking both sides of the hill, where are the rest of the deer? It was unnerving to sit there and try to enact my ritual of riding under the clear night when there was a strict absence of the herd where they should be. I tried to focus, but something was pulling my eyes back to looking at that spot time and time again. Eventually I decided that I needed to get some fresh air and take a better look, satiate my curiosity, and then, with my mind at ease, I could get back to finishing my blog. The air was humid when I stepped outside. No breeze and the stars were out on full display. Thank goodness for no light pollution in the countryside. I left the engine running and walked to the barrier. My car was parked in front of leaning over and taking a pair of binoculars I bring for slower days when I want to see the deer in better detail. As I directed my vision to the eastern herd, I saw something darting in the tree line. It's quick, hairy and seemed to move the second my binoculars motioned towards it. Even a deer shouldn't be that spooked, especially from this distance. My joints seized up and I damn near dropped the binoculars when I heard a familiar snorting from behind me. I turned and saw JoJo standing 15ft from me, just by the rear of my car, and his eyes were gleaming in the rear lights. His head was low and his antlers were thick, sharp and aimed at me. At that moment I didn't know if he was going to charge and whether I should be fighting for my damn life. Instead, I did as I was instructed and stayed still, not making sudden movements as he snorted again, closing the gap between us. Slowly, as he got within five feet of me, he reared his head up. I saw the most baffling expression on his face for a fleeting moment. Fear. Something rippled through the eastern forest and birds began flying away in droves. Some of the deer herd in the western area were circling something, and Jojo immediately bound down and out of sight to control the chaos. I wasted no time getting in my car and driving down after them, keeping the doors locked, the window opened a crack, and my speed at a decent crawl. As I came along the embankment that connects to the road, I saw Jojo running full sprint towards another deer. He knocked the rival over and contorted the body as it skidded across the grass and fell into the trail just ahead of my car. I knew I'm not supposed to, but I stopped the car and waited In a choice between breaking the rules and breaking my car, I'll choose the former any day. The western herd deer under Jojo's command were gathering behind him, making horrific shrieks of terror. Jojo strode up and bowed his head again in front of the still contorted deer, antlers on full disfellow display and dripping with black blood. It was a clear threat. Do not come back here if you value your life. I started wondering how I had safely got this deer out of the way, or if I could mount the grass on the other side and went around it when I saw something horrific unfold in front of me. The body twisted itself around and the limbs snapped to reset, set themselves. The head still cracked at an ugly angle, bones sticking out of the sides as it got onto shaking legs. When it screamed, it sounded as if its lungs were filled with blood, a horrible, muted cry of anguish that backed up every other deer but Jojo. I don't know what was keeping this thing standing, but it let its head flop lazily around as it carefully backed away onto the eastern side of the reserve before bounding into the treeline as if nothing were wrong. My rational mind chalked it up to adrenaline and the instinct to survive, but it was impossible to shake the feeling that something was wrong. I carried on driving as soon as the deer was out of sight, not looking at Jojo or the others as I carried on down the trail. For the remaining few minutes, I felt unseen eyes staring intently at me until I crossed the threshold and back into civilization. I had never been more grateful to see other humans or my bed. Something about the whole incident just took it out of me as I slept. That night I had dreamed I was a deer alongside Jojo, frolicking in the herd and grazing peacefully. But as I cast my my eyes upwards to the sky, a bitter chill on the wind, I saw the moon bathed in an almost purple plume. A strange light cast onto the land and noises rustling from the woods opposite. I don't know how I knew this, but something in me instinctively knew we weren't supposed to go there. I saw shapes begin to emerge from the trees and that same horrible shadow shriek rang out as I woke up in a sweat. I leaned forward to catch my breath and grab a glass of water. As I changed positions to reach for my nightstand, I swear I heard the sound of something running up the trail to my house. I was probably still half asleep, but that didn't make it any more damn unnerving. I decided it would be best to drive out the next night and confront my concern concerns head on. If I'm not going to sleep soundly, then I should use my time wisely and document what I'm seeing. Maybe pass it to the rangers in the morning, right? When I drove back out there last night, the atmosphere was vastly different. A mist was enshrouding the trail, and the majority of the deer on the western side huddled together, shaking and staring intently at the other side of the nature reserve. I couldn't see Jojo anywhere. Strange, I thought. Alpha males patrol their herds dutifully. Why wasn't he there? I parked up at my usual spot and making sure he wasn't around, I pulled out my binoculars again and stared at the eastern area, the clouds beginning to part as the moon shone through. There was movement all along the tree line as shapes began emerging one by one. I think it took my mind a moment to process what I was seeing. I had finally seen the deer on the eastern side, but they were wrong. Very, very wrong. Standing on their hind legs and taking confident, awkward steps, they marched out of the trees with their heads craned to the sky, all of them emitting that horrible sound like their heads were being held underwater. As they screamed, it reverberated in my ears and made my skin break out in goosebumps. There were dozens of them, maybe a couple of hundred. Some were dragging a structure out with them, others hauling a writhing shape I couldn't quite see. They congregated in a small huddle, the center of which was obscured from my vision. I looked over to Jojo's herd and saw the fear in their eyes, so many of them shaking and their teeth bared, A primal fear we humans have largely lost in the safety of being the dominant species. But this night showed me that we are not as powerful as we think we are. As the huddle broke away and began walking again towards the edge of their field, I saw what they had been huddled around. Jojo. He was still alive, but barely moving and breathing heavily. His eyes glazed over. When he began to come, he started shrieking like a fawn. It was unnerving. They dragged him to the structure, a primitive set of steps with with a hollowed out hole in its center coated in a thick substance on the sides, just large enough for Jojo to be thrown into. I watched these things, these not deer, use their front hooves to hoist him up and into the hole. His screaming was incessant the entire time they stood around it. Their necks cracked as they stared at the moon and shrieked. I looked up with them, wondering if what they sought was up there in the skies. A kind of primitive God for these creatures. I should have known better. Of course, whatever God these not deer prayed to, it didn't reside up above. No, it lurked deep below. A low groan called out in response. It possessed the same blood filled lungs these monstrosities had, and Jojo's deer huddled closer together at its roar. Jojo had stopped moving, his crying completely gone, as the not deer too fell silent and formed a circle around their altar, snorting in unison. It grew to a fever pitch before something began dragging Jojo from beneath, ripping at his limbs and pulling until a horrific squelch indicated the top had separated from the bottom. The hole spurted out blood and chunks of deer as the not deer celebrated, danced in the rain and feasted on the pieces. One final roar rang out from the unseen creature. It shook the ground and I felt my balance waver for just a moment, steadying myself on the car. I know I should have booked it out of there, but I was desperate to understand what I was seeing, rationalizing that perhaps this was a bizarre art piece, maybe a protest from an animal rights group or even a bunch of edgy satanic teens. But that rational voice in my head grew very, very quiet. When I grabbed my binoculars to look. Look again. Every single one of them was staring up at me, emotionless black eyes fixated on my position. I didn't wait any longer. I drove out of there at a breakneck pace, not looking at either side of the park on my exit and damn near coming off the road with the lack of traction. As I got to the archway, my tires smashing against the grateful I had inadvertently attracted the forest ranger on duty. He pulled me over and walked up to my window, a friendly smile on his face. You know there's a speed limit there for a reason, right, son? Yeah, yeah, I'm sorry. I got a little spooked. I smiled back. Nerves shot to hell he raised an eyebrow. You didn't break one of our rules, now did, did you? Oh, no, I. I kept to them. It's just. Well, JoJo got attacked by the eastern deer, and I don't think he's doing well. It was just a shock to take in. I figured telling a half truth would be best. Couldn't exactly say what I thought I had really seen, now could I? That so? Well, they make their choices carefully. We don't know much, but we do know not to interfere. This is how it's always been. Animals have strange practices. You get how it is, but so long as they didn't look at you, you're fine. Deer remember faces after all. Thanks for visiting. Drive safely. He smiled again and tipped his hat before walking on to his station. My blood ran cold and I couldn't get those words out of my head on the entire drive home. But so long as they didn't look at you, you're fine. I have not stepped outside my house since last night. I live in a remote part of the village, and while I enjoy the privacy, it's been a hotbed for strange noises and unsettling emotions. Everywhere I go in my home, I feel like I'm being watched by those same vacant eyes. What happens now? What happens to those they look at? I can't get their eyes out of my head. And I can't sleep worth a damn either. This isn't going to end until I figure out what they want. I wish I had more for you. I wish I could tell you what the not dear were, what they prayed to, why they sacrificed, what the ranger knew. But there are so many unknowables that it makes my head spin. It's just like being deep in the woods. So many twists and turns. You never know which is the right path to take and what danger lurks behind every tree. I don't know what the deer are doing. I don't know what is going on at that park. But if you value your life, you'll stay far, far away from it and whatever monster they are praying to.
- [64:30]
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- [65:03]
Host
This collection features 23 live tracks from the acclaimed Luck and Strange Tour, plus relive the concert at the Circus Maximus in Rome, complete with behind the scenes documentaries, tour rehearsal footage and exclusive music videos. Pre order now@vinylsonymusic.com the highly publicized kidnapping of J. Paul Getty III, grandson, son of the wealthy tycoon John Paul Getty, occurred on July 10, 1973. The 16 year old was snatched off the streets of Rome by a group of unknown men who demanded a ransom of $17 million for his safe return. When the boy's father asked his own father, the patriarch of the Getty family, for the money, the miserly John refused, arguing that his other 13 grandchildren would be targeted if he were to pay. By November 1973, the kidnapper sent an envelope containing a lock of hair and a human ear to a daily newspaper. The group threatened further mutilations to the young man if their demand of $3.2 million was not met, and when this was not forthcoming, they eventually reduced the ransom further. Getty's grandfather father agreed to pay no more than 2.2 million, lending his son the other 800,000 on the condition that he pay 4% interest. His grandson was later found alive in the province of Potenza and eventually nine people were arrested. The kidnappers were members of a notorious Mafia organized crime group from Calabria and only two would face prison over the crime, while the young Getty would struggle over the trauma of his ordeal, eventually turning to drink and drugs which would forever ruin his life. The Getty family are one of the wealthiest in America who made their fortune from investing in the petroleum industry in the early 20th century. George Franklin Getty was a lawyer who became an independent oil man in the early 1900s along with his son John Paul Getty. Together they incorporated the Getty Oil Company. Upon the death of his father in 1930, John Paul Getty became patriarch of the Getty dynasty and continued in his father's footsteps and became a wealthy industrialist and the founder of getty oil. In 1957, Fortune magazine named him the richest living American, while in 1950, in 1866, he was named the world's richest private citizen by the Guinness Book of World Records with an estimated fortune of $1.2 billion. It was into this affluent family that John Paul Getty III was born on November 4, 1956 and spent his formative years in Rome while his father oversaw the Italian interests of the Getty family oil business Business with the death of his stepmother in July 1971 due to a heroin overdose and his father's move to the United Kingdom to escape drug possession charges in Italy, the young Getty was left to his own devices in Rome, where he lived a bohemian lifestyle while frequenting nightclubs and taking part in left wing demonstrations. He lived with his then girlfriend Martine Schmidt, who would later claimed the couple was struggling to make ends meet and said that Getty had previously toyed with the idea of getting himself kidnapped by petty criminals to extort money from his miserly grandfather. However, he had changed his mind. Towards the middle of 1973, with Martine telling the press Paul didn't want to be kidnapped anymore, but the kidnappers were following him. The young couple began to securing modeling work and Paul had been paid $1,000 to appear naked in a spread on the COVID of the August 1973 issue of Italian adult magazine Playmen, which would be released the month after his kidnapping. 16 year old Getty was abducted at 3am in the Piazza Farnese in Rome on July 10, 1973. The young man was approached by several men and was blindfolded, then transported and imprisoned in a cave in the southern Italian region of Calabria. A ransom demand was issued for $17 million in exchange for his safe return. However, the Getty family believed that the plot had been orchestrated by the rebellious teenager to gain money from his grandfather, who refused to accept the ransom note as genuine. The kidnapped teenager's father, John Paul Getty Jr asked his father for the money to secure his son's release, but the elder Getty refused because he believed his other 13 grandchildren would be in danger if he agreed to pay. Due to an Italian postal strike, the arrival of the kidnapper's second demand was delayed and they came to believe his family would never pay the ransom. His captors began to treat Paul worse and they took away a radio they provided him. One of the men killed a bird he had taken as a pet. He was threatened with death on numerous occasions and the men guarding him began playing Russian roulette with a pistol pointed at his head. In November 1973, an envelope was sent to a daily newspaper that contained a lock of hair and a human ear, along with a threat from the kidnappers that failure to pay the $3.2 million ransom would result in further mutilations of their captive. The accompanying note read, this is Paul's first ear. If within 10 days the family still believes that this is a joke planned by him, then the other ear will arrive. In other words, he will arrive in little bits. Because of the increasingly harsh treatment suffered from his captors, Paul's health began to decline and his wound became infected. He developed pneumonia due to the cold winter temperatures, and the kidnappers soon became concerned about his rapid decline and gave him large doses of penicillin to treat his infection. As time went on, he developed an allergy to the antibiotics, which affected his health, making it worse. In an attempt to keep him from getting worse, he was plied with large amounts of brandy to keep him warm and numb his pain. With Paul's life threatened, his grandfather reluctantly agreed to pay, but acquiesced to no more than $2.2 million, which was the maximum amount that was tax deductible, and lent the rest to his son, who would repay him the remainder at 4% interest. Shortly after the ransom was paid, the young Getty was released on December 15, 1973, at a Loria patrol station in the province of Potenza. Once reunited with his mother, she suggested he contact his grandfather to thank him for paying the kidnapper's ransom. But the Getty patriarch refused to come to the phone and speak with his grandson. During the subsequent police investigation, it was highly suspected that the kidnappers were members of an organized criminal group known as Nidranchita, which operated in the Calabria region of southern Italy. Detectives focused their investigation on the Piramali Nadrina, a powerful clan of the Nadrengida headed by Girolamo Piramalli. Known as Momo, Piramalli was the Capo Bastion and head of his own suborganization within the NIDA. On March 23, 1974, Italian police raided the Goia Toro area on the Tyrrhenian coast of Calabria and made several arrests, including Piramali and Sario Mamalidi. Mamalidi, who was nicknamed Saro and Playboy of Castilis for his good looks and taste in women, was from Opido, Mamertina and Castellus in Calabria and was the capobistone of the Mamoliti Nadrina. In September 1974, Ndrangheta boss Pyramoli absented from a clinic in Rome where he had been transferred to receive treatment for an ulcer. He was apprehended again in October 1975 in Rome during a lunch meeting with Pasquale Candelo and Paolo di Stefano, two high ranking members of the Ndrangheta. It was discovered during his arrest that Piramalli was in possession of banknotes that could be traced to the Getty Kidnapping. On January 19, 1976, a fifth Italian member of Ndrangheta was charged with involvement in the Getty kidnap plot. A warrant was issued for 49 year old Giuseppe Giuseppe Lamanna, who was charged with abduction, inflicting serious wounds and Criminal Association. Nine members of the Ndrangheta went to trial in May 1976 before a three judge court in southern Italy, charged with abducting J. Paul Getty iii, known at the time as the Golden Hippie, grandson of the American oil billionaire who died during the course of the trial from heart failure at the age of 83 on June 6, 1976. The then 20 year old Getty also testified at the 10 week trial which culminated in July 1976 when seven of the defendants were acquitted for lack of evidence, including the Nadrina bosses Savario Mamaliti and Girolamo Piramali, who the prosecution contended was the mastermind behind the kidnapping. While two other men were convicted and sent to prison. Antonio Mancuso received an eight year sentence and Giuseppe Lamanna, who was accused of cutting off Mr. Getty's right ear to be sent to his family to encourage them to pay the ransom demand, was sentenced to 16 years in prison. It was alleged during the trial that the defendants wanted the money to finance a dream drug running operation. Although five of the men were absolved of kidnapping and mutilation charges, they received jail sentences on drug and weapons charges. With the mounting legal troubles and facing many years behind bars, Mamaliti decided in May 2003 to collaborate with Italian justice officials and became apentido former members of criminal organizations who turned on their former association associates. Mamaliti confessed his involvement in the Getty kidnapping and explained that the ransom money was used to invest in trucks with which the Nidrangheta won a monopoly on all the transportation and construction contracts for the container port of Goyatoro. Before the start of his kidnapping trial, J. Paul Getty III married German Gisela Martin Zacher, who is five months pregnant with their son Balthazar. After the trial, he acted in several European films, playing supporting roles in the 1981 Portuguese philosophical horror film the Territory, directed by Chilean filmmaker Raoul Ruiz and Wim Wender's 1982 German language film the State of Things. Getty and his wife lived in New York city during the 1980s where they became acquainted with Andy Warhol's art crowd. J. Paul Getty III was deeply affected by the ordeal of his kidnapping and as a result he suffered from both alcohol and drug addiction during the years that followed. In 1981 he drank a cocktail consisting of Valium, methadone and alcohol, which caused liver failure and a stroke, leaving Getty quadruple partially blind and unable to speak. His mother, Abigail Harris, cared for him for the rest of his life and sued his father for $28,000 a month to cover his medical bills. Getty never fully recovered and remained severely handicapped for the rest of his life. By 1987 he was able to regain some measure of autonomy and was even capable of skiing when strapped to a metal frame. He and zacher divorced in 1993 and several years later he and member of his family became citizens of the Republic of Ireland in return for significant financial investments. Owing to his poor health since his 1981 overdose and after a long illness, Getty died at his father's estate at Wormsley park, Buckinghamshire on February 5, 2011. Severo Saro Mamaliti was arrested numerous times for his involvement in organized crime activities and was sentenced to 22 years for extortion and other mafia related charges in 1992 at the Mafia of Three Provinces trial. In 1995 he received a life sentence and another 20 year sentence in charge. 2003 despite his collusion with Italian authorities, Girolamo Momo Piramali continued to be the center of Ndrangheta criminal enterprises in Calabria and became involved in the second Ndrangheta war against his rival Giorgio Di Stefano, a cousin of the powerful Di Stefano brothers who was killed by a hit squad headed by Piramalli's brother Pepe. Arrested on charges stemming from his criminal involvement, Momo Piramali died of cirrhosis of the liver on February 11, 1979 in a prison hospital in Goyatoro. I am sure you have all all heard of the Wilhelm Scream. You may not have heard of it, but you almost definitely would have heard the Scream itself. It often rears its head in some of our most popular movies. It makes an appearance in the Star wars films and even appears in the Lord of the Rings. The now famous Scream is now deeply ingrained in our movies and our culture that a lot of people know this sound, but they probably don't know how, how or when it originated. Its first use was in the 1951 movie titled Distant Drums. But what if it didn't actually originate from that film? What if the Scream actually had a lot darker origin? Quite a number of years ago now I was a young actor and I actually managed to appear in a few feature films. I was only around the age of nine when my acting career was in its prime. I had been the supporting actor in Three quite well known movies and was on track to becoming a household name. It was on the set of my fourth film that everything changed. I lost my career because of what I discovered. And worse, I lost my innocence. I won't say the name of the film that I was working on when I discovered this secret, but I will say that it was one of those generic family comedies that was filled with a couple of big name actors. I was cast in the role of the youngest son in the quirky family and this was the movie that was supposed to launch me into stardom. I was already being recognized and most people would probably know who I was if they saw me. But no one really knew my name. And this was the movie that was supposed to change that and had only shot one complete scene scene when it happened. The day that I found the tape. I can't remember exactly what Stan's job was on set, but I had seen him running around the set each day that I was there. He always had his hands full and would be doing a quick little half jog to deliver whatever he was holding to the right person. I don't think I ever saw him without a script or a prop in his hands. And I didn't ever see him when he was wasn't out of breath from the endurance run he would have to do around the set. The other thing I remember about Stan was that he was notoriously forgetful. You would often see him run across the set, stop midway to his destination, turn around, and then when he would reappear he would be holding something extra that he had forgotten about. I later found out that Stan had actually been fired from a previous spot film for forgetting to take a movie script with him and he left it sitting on a table in a busy coffee shop. That's the sort of man he was. Forgetful, but also hard working. I liked Stan and one thing I do recall is his warm smile and his kind words that he would say to me whenever he would see me on set. On the third day I was on set just after filming had wrapped. I saw Stan jog through the set down a small corridor that was in the studio and enter a small room that joined onto the corridor. My parents were always on set with me, but I saw they were busy with a producer so I decided to follow Stan to this small room. I don't really know why I followed him. I didn't know him that well, but something about him made me feel comfortable and so I decided that I would go and stick say goodbye to him before I left the studio that day. I walked down the small corridor and entered the room that I had seen him enter. He was no longer inside. My immediate thought was that he had forgotten something and so had left to retrieve it and that he would be back here soon. I decided to wait in the room until his return. I looked around the room and saw a large number of television screens. The screens were stacked four high and were also four across, 16 screens in total. There also appeared to be some sort of control desk located just underneath a large collection of monitors. Me being only nine years old at the time, became interested in the amount of expensive equipment in front of me and so walked over to the desk and sat down in the single chair that was living in front of the desk. On the desk was a number of video players and would appear to be some sort of editing equipment. In front of them was the video players. There was just one black tape. I guess I assumed that maybe it was a tape from that day's shooting or maybe a tape from a previous day. I remember picking it up, looking at the front of it and seeing a small piece of masking tape stuck to the front. Written on the white piece of masking tape in thin black marker was the word Wilhelm. I didn't know what this meant and it didn't seem to relate to the movie that we were filming. Curious, I decided to insert the tape into the video player and once I did, static appeared on the screen for a moment before the video began to play. The video that started to play play was shot in black and white and the footage was quite grainy. It looked like it had been filmed a number of years ago. The video depicted a shirtless man that was tied to a chair, his face filled with terror and pain. It started by focusing on this bound man, but then a voice came from the camera. Okay Wilhelm, we are going to try this one more time. The faceless voice said. It was a higher pitched nasally voice that seemed excited about something as he was speaking quite enthusiastically. And action. The voice said, still from off camera. Just as he said the word action, there was a loud crack and the man tied to the chair let out a loud howl of pain. I don't think my 9 year old self knew exactly what had happened. But now when I think back to the tape, I realize the man bound in the chair had been whipped. The man's screams will forever be ingrained into my mind. It was a scream of intense pain and suffering. It didn't last long, but the intensity of the scream is something that I Wish I never heard. Obviously though, the scream wasn't intense enough for the faceless voice, as once the man finished screaming, he said, no, no, no, that's not good enough, Wilhelm. I know it, you know it and the audience is going to know it. I want a scream of someone in real pain, in real terror. A scream that will live on in infamy. And you are going to give it to me. Again another crack could be heard and once again the man in the chair, who it seemed was called Wilhelm, let out another scream of pain, this time louder than the previous one. It was still not good enough though, as the man off camera soon explained. That was better, Wilhelm, it really was, but still it is just not quite good enough. You need to dig deep and give me a proper scream. Imagine you are in pain, you are suffering, which in your case should be quite easy to do. You need to turn your animalistic instincts and give me a ferocious primal scream. I know you can do it, you just need to dig deep. Again, the voice said, this time sounding slightly agitated but still excited. This time, after the word again was spoken, there wasn't another loud crack sound sound. Instead, I saw something swiftly cross the screen and then suddenly a large slash appeared across Wilhelm's chest. Blood began to form along the large gash and then started to run down his chest and towards his lap. Wilhelm let out his loudest scream yet, a scream of pure pain which could curdle the blood of anyone that heard it. I know that it certainly sent shivers down my spine. When Wilhelm finished his scream, he began to sob, but still didn't say anything. Again the only one speaking was the enthusiastic voice from behind the camera. You're almost there, Wilhelm, almost. You are so close. But there is something not quite right. This scream is the conclusion to my masterpiece, so it needs to be haunting, confronting and memorable. I can guarantee that if you manage to produce the scream that I want, then you will be known, you will be famous, and that's what you want, isn't it Wilhelm? I heard the voice say. Wilhelm didn't answer the question that had been asked of him, but instead he continued to sob, possibly out of fear, but mainly in pain. He sat in the chair, ropes tied around his wrists and ankles, his head facing down towards his lap where his blood was beginning to pool. The voice spoke again, this time only saying one word. Action. As soon as the word left his mouth, I saw something blur across the screen. The blur turned out to be an arrow that flew across the screen and found itself wedged into Wilhelm's Chest right near his heart. Wilhelm let out one final scream. Before his lifeless body slumped forward in a chair, he let out the familiar scream. The sound of the now famous Wilhelm scream. Once Wilhelm had finished his dying scream, the faceless voice had just one more word to say. After the final word had been said, static once again returned to the screen. The tape had finished and the younger me was left staring at the screen, unsure of how to process exactly what I had just seen. You weren't supposed to see that kid, a voice from behind me said. I quickly spun myself around, unsure of who was behind me, unsure of what what they would do to me because of what I had just discovered. I turned around and saw the familiar sweaty face of Stan. He was looking down at me. A look of worry spread across his face. I am really sorry that you had to see that. I knew that I shouldn't have just left the tape lying around. Stan said apologetically. He seemed sincere and it seemed that he wasn't going to cause me any harm. Harm? From what I had just witnessed, I didn't know what to say back to him and so I opted to remain silent. Stan spoke again. I guess another person now knows the true origin of the scream. Not many know it and they are trying their best to keep it that way. I didn't exactly know who they was, but it seemed that some people were aware of the true origin of the scream and they definitely didn't want the secret getting out. Somehow, though, a nine year old had stumbled across this dark secret. I stayed silent for a moment longer before I managed to ask one question. If that was real, then why would they keep using the sound in movies? I asked Stan. Well, that's the funny thing about the Wilhelm Scream. No one actually includes it in their movies. It just appears no one knows that their movie is going to include that horrible sound until the premiere of the film. It's just there in the middle of the film. Some think that someone in the editing department inserted it into the film, but not me. I have my own theory. I think it is Wilhelm's final call for help. His final plea to be heard. He devoted his life life to a film and so he wants to be recognized for it. He is making himself heard and is making himself a star. Of course, that's just my theory. I don't think anyone really knows exactly why it appears in so many movies, but that's just what I like to think. After that, I was promptly fired from the movie. I guess the word must have gotten out that I now knew the truth behind the screen, and I guess they thought I knew too much. I never recovered from that firing, and my career as an actor was now a thing of the past. I have lived with the truth for many years, but I believe that it is now time to share what I know. I want others to know. I want Wilhelm to receive the acknowledgment he deserves. He did, after all, give his life for this sound it's support for 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 you say you'll never join the Navy, that you'd never track storms brewing in the Atlantic and skydiving could never be part of your commute. You'd never climb Mount Fuji on a port visit or fly so fast you break the sound barrier. Joining the Navy sounds crazy. Saying never actually is. Start your your journey@navy.com, america's Navy forged by the sea. You say you'll never join the Navy, never climb Mount Fuji on a port visit, or break the sound barrier. Joining the Navy sounds crazy. Saying never actually is. Learn why@navy.com, america's Navy forged by the.
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