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Hey, this is Dane and this is Scary Stories in Rain. Please join my family and follow this podcast on Spotify or Apple. And if you want the ultimate experience, you can get rid of all of the ads and be entered to win all of my giveaways every month by subscribing for just 299amonth. All of the ads gone. Every single giveaway automatically entered. And starting now today, every Sunday, I'm going to release the ultimate episode. 6 to 12 hours long ultimate Scary Stories for a Rainy Night. Subscriber Exclusive and as a reminder, we are now four months away from my first movie release in theaters. Gale Yellow Brick Road A dark and terrifying reimagining of the wizard of Oz. If you want to check out the first trailer, click the link in the description to this episode and if you're not following my other two podcasts, please go check them out. Scary Stories and Fire and Scary Stories After Dark. The links are in the description thank you so much for being here and I really hope you enjoy this episode. As a raider scavenging a derelict world, you settle into an underground settlement. But now you must return to the surface where arc machines roam. If you're brave enough, who knows what you might find. Arc Raiders Multiplayer Extraction Adventure video Game buy now for PlayStation 5, Xbox Series X and S and PC rated T for Teen.
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Every holiday shopper's got a list. But Ross shoppers? You've got a mission like a gift run that turns into a disco snow globe, throw pillows and PJs for the whole family, dog included. At Ross, Holiday magic isn't about spending more, it's about giving more for less. Ross, work your magic. This episode is brought to you by Nespresso Gift Magical Mornings with Nespresso Virtuopup Compact and stylish virtual pop is made to meet every morning coffee craving. From espresso to coffee hot or iced at the click of a button. And celebrate the season with Nespresso's limited edition coffee flavors. Sweet almond and hibiscus, cinnamon and candied tamarind and festive double espresso. Magic in the Making Shop the Holiday Gift collection exclusively@nespresso.com.
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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 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. 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 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 closer to the town. A small sign, weathered and covered in mud, read, welcome to Ingleswood. 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 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 turnoff 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 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, 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 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 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 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 as 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 all 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 to get it into a 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.
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This episode is brought to you by State Farm Listening to this podcast Smart move being financially savvy Smart move Another smart move Having State Farm help you create a competitive price when you choose to bundle home and auto bundling just another way to save with a personal price plan like a good neighbor, State Farm is there. Prices are based on rating plans that vary by state. Coverage options are selected by the customer. Availability, amount of discounts and savings, and eligibility vary by state. Experience A membership that backs what you're building with American Express Business Platinum get 2 times Membership Rewards points per dollar on eligible purchases in key business categories, as well as on each eligible purchase of $5,000 or more on up to $2 million in eligible purchases per calendar year. American Express Business Platinum there's nothing like it. Terms apply. Learn more@americanexpress.com Business Platinum Eczema is unpredictable, but you can flare less with ebglis, a once monthly treatment for moderate to severe eczema after an initial four month or longer dosing phase. About four in ten people taking mglis achieved itch relief and clear or almost clear skin at 16 weeks, and most of those people maintain skin that's still more clear at one year with monthly dosing.
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MGLIS Lebricizumab LBKZ a 250mg per 2ml injection, is a prescription medicine used to treat adults and children 12 years of age and older who weigh at least 88 pounds or 40 kilograms with moderate to severe eczema, also called atopic dermatitis, that is not well controlled with prescription therapies used on the skin or topicals, or who cannot use topical therapies. EGLIS can be used with or without topical corticosteroids. Don't use if you're allergic to ebglis. Allergic reactions can occur that can be severe. Eye problems can occur. Tell your doctor if you have new or worsening eye problems. You should not receive a live vaccine when treated with ebglis. Before starting ebglis, tell your doctor if you have a parasitic infection.
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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 a 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'd 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 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. Mate. 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. 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 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 rot, 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 flesh fingers around my arm. There is no escape. You must accept your fate or wither away, just like the owner before you.
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- [29:41]
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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 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 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 feeling that we definitely should not have stuck around there to find out. 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 in 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. 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 and 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 park in my hometown. We just 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 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. I need to see you. If you don't come back to me, I will kill a dog and leave its body in your car. If you still don't come back to me, I'll kill a puppy and spread its blood all around your car and leave the puppy there for you to find. And if you still don't come 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 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, Nora. 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 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 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. Over the last 20 years, L' Oreal Paris has honoured 200 women of worth, uplifting their communities.
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Women who see the worth in every.
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Person overlooked or underserved, who see an.
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Opportunity for change, who see a chance for better. They may be one of 200, but.
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Their journeys are always uniquely one of one. Here's to 200 more women of worth.
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We're worth it. We're worth it. We're worth it. We're Worth it.
- [41:02]
A
Every story you love, Every invention that moves you. Every idea you wished was yours. All began as nothing. Just a blank page with a blinking cursor asking a simple question. What do you see? Great ideas. Start on Mac. Find out more on apple.com Mac hi.
- [41:32]
B
I'm here to pick up my son, Milo.
- [41:34]
A
There's no Milo here. Who picked up my son from school. Streaming only on Peacock.
- [41:41]
B
I'm gonna need the name of everyone.
- [41:43]
A
That could have a connection.
- [41:44]
B
You don't understand.
- [41:45]
A
It was just the five of us.
- [41:47]
B
So this was all planned? What are you gonna do?
- [41:49]
A
I will do whatever it takes to get my son back. I honestly didn't see this coming. These nice people killing each other. All her fault. A new series. Streaming now only on Peacock. You're tuned into Auto Intelligence live from Autotrader where data, tools and your preferences sync to make your car shopping smooth.
- [42:09]
B
They're searching inventory.
- [42:11]
A
Oh yeah.
- [42:12]
B
They find what you need, they gonna find it. You can make a budget for your.
- [42:15]
A
Wallet to help you see succeed. Pricing is precise and true, so true. Just for you. Oh, it's just for you. Find your next ride@autotrader.com powered by Auto Intelligence In Walmart's Huluville everyone ready their cart.
- [42:36]
B
The early Black Friday deals are about to start online.
- [42:39]
A
And in the app such great deals to explore everything you love from tech, toys and more.
- [42:46]
B
The days to save and the ones.
- [42:47]
A
To remember are the 14th to the 16th of November. The who's are all ready. But are you? Walmart Black Friday deals await. Who knew 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. 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 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 streetlights 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 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 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 skinwalkers. 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've 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 neighbor 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. 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 happen 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 the 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 scratch 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. 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 creak. 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 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 the 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 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 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 the same thing literally every single time he leaves the house. I went back to sleep. When I woke up, I found the 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 call our complex to make sure no one can 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.
- [57:48]
B
The family that vacations together stays together. At least that was the plan. Except now the dastardly desk clerk is saying he can't confirm your connecting rooms. Wait, what?
- [57:58]
A
That's right, ma'.
- [57:59]
B
Am. You have rooms 201 and 709. No, we cannot be five floors away from our kids. Eh, the doors have double locks.
- [58:05]
A
They'll be fine.
- [58:06]
B
When you want connecting rooms confirmed before you arrive, it matters where you stay. Welcome to Hilton. I see your connecting rooms are already confirmed. Hilton for the Stay this episode is brought to you by Netflix from the creator of Homeland. Claire Danes and Matthew Rhys star in the new Netflix series the Beast and Me as ruthless rivals whose shared darkness will set them on a collision course with fatal consequences. The Beast in Me is a riveting psychological cat and mouse story about guilt, justice, and doubt. You will not want to miss this. The Beast in Me is now playing only on Netflix. This episode is brought to you by indeed. Stop waiting around for the perfect candidate. Instead, use Indeed sponsored Jobs to find the right people with the right skills fast. It's a simple way to make sure your listing is the first candidate. C According to Indeed data, sponsored jobs have four times more applicants than non sponsored jobs. So go build your dream team today with Indeed. Get a $75 sponsored job credit at Indeed.com podcast. Terms and conditions apply. Wayfair's big sale is returning. Get ready for way day. For four days only, score up to 80% off all things home with free shipping on everything from October 26th through 29th. Score Wayfair's best deals like up to 80% off area rugs, up to 60% off mattresses, up to 60% off bedroom furniture, and more exclusive doorbuster deals. So mark your calendar and shop Wayday starting October 26th at Wayfair.com Wayfair Every style, every home, Extra value.
- [59:45]
A
Meals are back. That means 10 tender, juicy McNuggets and medium fries and a drink are just $8 only at McDonald's for a limited time only. Prices and participation may vary. Prices may be higher. Hawaii, Alaska and California. And for delivery, it's it, it's it. It's.