Scary Stories For A Rainy Night - Ep. 316 - Infected

Summary

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Scary Stories For A Rainy Night – Ep. 316 – Infected

Host: Being Scared
Date: February 4, 2026

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Episode Overview

In this evocatively atmospheric episode, “Infected,” Being Scared presents a collection of chilling, true accounts as told by listeners—a lonely night in rural Maine interrupted by a mysterious presence, the disturbing side of internet chatrooms, a childhood brush with Irish folklore, the horror of discovering a lifeless party guest, a babysitting job gone terrifyingly wrong, and a bear encounter in the Appalachians. The episode weaves real-world anxieties—of isolation, unpredictability, and the unknown—through stories delicately delivered in the podcast’s trademark calm, rain-soaked narration.

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Key Discussion Points & Story Summaries

1. A Power Outage in Rural Maine

Story begins at [02:05]

• Setting: Beddington, Maine, an extremely rural, isolated town (“the very definition of a one stoplight kind of town”).
• The narrator shares a memory of an all-night power outage, noting the unsettling quiet and deep darkness (neighbors are a mile or more away).
• His usually calm, unbothered dog, Teddy, reacts uncharacteristically—growling, barking, even urinating on the floor out of intense fear.
• The narrator arms himself with a hunting bow and becomes convinced something more than a bear—a massive, unknown creature—is stalking outside.
• He describes hearing “two distinct crunches on the gravel” and states, “whatever was outside my house that night was way, way bigger than a person” ([12:20]).
• The story ends with the narrator shaken, thankful that whatever the beast was, it eventually left his property.

Notable Quote:

“I don’t scare easy, and what happened during that blackout scared me to death.” (Narrator, [16:30])

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2. Disturbing Omegle Encounter

Story begins at [16:40]

• The storyteller reminisces about the randomness of Omegle and Chatroulette during 2012, detailing both the fun and the deeply unsettling.
• A specific encounter: the narrator is connected to a strange man who stares directly at the camera, not interacting, not responding verbally.
• The stranger eventually grips his own front tooth and, to the narrator's horror, painfully pulls it out live on camera, blood streaming down his chin, holding the tooth up “like he’s all proud of himself.”
• The storyteller is left in shock, haunted by the experience and the questions it raises about the stranger’s state of mind.

Notable Quote:

“As crazy as it sounds, he seemed to just know what he was doing...the sense of pride at the end. It all just gave me this distinct feeling that he had done that kind of thing before.” (Storyteller, [18:20])

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3. The Irish Banshee in the Garden

Story begins at [20:53]

• Set in rural Ireland, with three young sisters having a sleepover in their beloved “Wendy house” (a child’s playhouse) at the edge of their huge garden.
• The eldest, Kathleen, shares a banshee legend, terrifying her little sisters with tales of ghostly screams presaging death.
• That night, they are woken multiple times by terrifying, blood-chilling shrieks (later revealed to be mating foxes), convinced it’s the banshee.
• When Kathleen runs to get help, she runs into a tree in the dark, returning to the playhouse bleeding from the face—further convincing her sisters that the banshee has attacked her.
• The situation is only resolved after their father arrives and the truth eventually emerges years later.

Notable Quote:

“If you put a weapon to my head and asked me for the scariest moment of my life, I would say the banshee when I was seven years old. I am deadly serious. Scarier than childbirth, scarier than finding the lump in my breast, scarier than confronting my first husband about his drinking.” (Narrator, [35:28])

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4. Party with Death on the Couch

Story begins at [36:27]

• The narrator describes an out-of-control teenage house party: drunkenness, destruction, and a mysterious, unmoving partygoer on the couch.
• The next morning, amidst hangovers, the storyteller tries to rouse the person, only to find them cold and dead.
• Paramedics are called, but the chilling realization is that a corpse was at the center of their revelry for hours.
• The traumatic experience serves as a grim lesson the narrator passes on to their own children, hoping to spare them the feeling of encountering death so abruptly.

Notable Quote:

“Have you ever touched someone only to realize they’re dead? ... It’s one of the most mind breakingly awful things you will ever experience in your life.” (Narrator, [36:55])

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5. Babysitter Versus Stalker

Story begins at [38:13]

• Set in the early '90s, a teenage babysitter is watching two boys for a well-off family on Valentine’s Day.
• At the video store, the youngest boy innocently tells a strange man they’re home alone; the sitter feels uneasy.
• That night, back at the house, the family becomes the target of a frightening stalker—the strange man bangs on the windows, disables the phone line, and eventually breaks in.
• The babysitter heroically barricades in the children, enduring a harrowing period as the man searches the house, whistling “here, boy,” and dragging a leash.
• The intruder flees just as the parents arrive; police never catch him. The experience leaves a deep mark on the storyteller, who swore off high-end babysitting afterward.

Notable Quote:

“The only thing about this whole experience I will never forget is that the stranger started to whistle for us like he was looking for a dog. ... I swear I have never been more scared in my life.” (Babysitter/Narrator, [42:25])

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6. Bear Encounter in Appalachia

Story begins at [44:59]

• Lena, a Malay student, shares a summer hiking memory in the Appalachian Mountains with classmates and a guide.
• During a snack break, a black bear wanders into camp, approaching the frozen group. The guide's voice, filled with fear, causes Lena’s “blood to turn to ice.”
• The bear sniffs around, stands over her, then moves on to the others before losing interest and wandering away.
• Lena describes being left with profound awe and respect for the wildness of nature, deeply moved but thankful there was no attack.

Notable Quote:

“When it stood up like that, I swear my heart nearly stopped beating altogether... Never in all my years have I ever had such an up close and personal encounter with such a powerful wild beast.” (Lena, [45:45])

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Notable Quotes & Memorable Moments

• On Isolation (Maine Power Outage):
  “That kind of isolation is made all the more obvious whenever there’s a power cut... out here, you really are alone in most senses of the word.” ([02:20])

• On the Unknown (Omegle):
  “Nothing has ever topped that for me in terms of pure creepiness. I have so many unanswered questions about that guy, and each time I think I get close to figuring it out, it just opens me up to a hundred other questions.” ([18:28])

• Childhood Terror (Irish Banshee):
  “We tell that story every Christmas now, especially when there’s a new boyfriend or husband making an appearance. … I think if you put a weapon to my head and asked me for the scariest moment of my life, I would say the banshee when I was seven years old.” ([35:25])

• Confronting Death (Party Story):
  "I just never want any of my kids to have to know what it feels like touching flesh that’s gone cold. Looking at someone’s face and knowing they’re no longer with us. I don’t want them to know what death feels like.” ([37:35])

• Real Life Horror Movie (Babysitter):
  “It happened just like a horror movie, too. He was standing outside the door because I could see the silhouette of his shadow peeking under the master bedroom door.” ([41:45])

• Raw Fear of Nature (Bear Encounter):
  "I am just so thankful that it wasn’t a grizzly or something out in the Pacific Northwest, because if it was, I probably wouldn’t be telling this story." (Lena, [46:37])

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Segment Start Timestamps

• [02:05] – Maine Blackout & The Beast
• [16:40] – The Tooth-Pulling Omegle Encounter
• [20:53] – The Night of the Banshee
• [36:27] – Death on the Couch
• [38:13] – Babysitter and the Stalker
• [44:59] – Bear in the Appalachians

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Tone & Style

The episode maintains a gentle, conversational, sometimes humorous tone amid deeply unsettling events—with authentic self-reflection, regional color, and a palpable sense of dread. Being Scared’s narration remains calm and measured, turning the ordinary into the uncanny and making fear feel as real and close as the listener’s own darkened room.

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For those seeking quiet, rain-drenched horror for sleepless nights, this episode stands out for its chilling authenticity and the memorable imagery conjured by the storytellers’ own fears and close encounters with the unknown.

Transcript

[Podcast Host]

Hey, welcome back to the podcast. I am so crazy, unbelievably excited to tell you that tickets for Gale Yellow Brick Road are now on sale. Click the link in the description or you can go to fathomentertainment.com or fandango.

[Storyteller]

Just type Gale.

[Podcast Host]

The movie will come up. You'll be able to find a theater near you. It's in over 800 theaters across America, so you should be able to find one close to you. So I just want to say, if you really, really want to support this podcast, if you want to support me, if you want to say thank you for all of the podcast episodes, if you're familiar with my YouTube channel, if I have over 300 videos on there, if you want to say thank you, please go to fandango, go to fathomentertainment.com, type in GAIL or click the link in the description and buy a movie ticket. Buy one for your friend. If you really like horror films, dark fantasy, thriller, it's not a slasher, it's not a gimmick. It's not like some other public domain popular IP movies that have come out recently. It actually has heart. It has a really good story. We put passion in everything that we had into making this film. And your support would mean absolutely the world to me.

[Storyteller]

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[Podcast Host]

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[Storyteller]

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[Podcast Host]

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[Storyteller]

It's over.

[Podcast Host]

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[Storyteller]

I live in a place called Beddington here in Maine, its least populated part of the state, which probably makes it one of the least populated areas in the country. And with a population of just over 50 people, we're the very definition of a one stoplight kind of town. We all live pretty spaced out, too. Nearest neighbor on my right side is about a mile away. Nearest neighbor on my left side is more like three miles away. The sense of community is real strong, but out here, you really are alone in most senses of the Word. And that kind of isolation is made all the more obvious whenever there's a power cut. It's only happened like twice the entire time I've been living out here. And one time it was only for about an hour. But the second time it must have been a serious fault down at whatever power station feeds us juice because the power was out all night. And I don't just remember that night because I couldn't watch the pats play ball. It's burned into my memory for other reasons too. So like I said, second ever power cut. But thanks to the experience I gained the first time around, I fare a little better that time. I have candles stored away, I have dynamo flashlights, I even got a battery powered hot plate that would be good for a few uses, even if it did burn through the batteries. So instead of panicking and bumping into stuff in the dark that time, I just make myself comfortable, pick up a good book and sit down to write it out on the couch. Now it's at this point that I should bring up my dog Teddy. Teddy got his name because my grown up daughter thought he looks like a teddy bear. Which he kinda does. And given his considerably superior senses, the power cuts never seemed to bother Teddy none. Teddy never bumped into furniture or got spooked at every little noise or shadow. Teddy just stayed curled up by the log fire and warmed his bones. As I curl up myself, Teddy gives me this look at one point as if to say, see? Now you get it old man. Just relax and take a load off. The power will come back on when it's good and ready to. But Teddy didn't stay relaxed for long and neither did I. A couple of hours go by and I am so engrossed by the book I was reading that I when Teddy started to bark, it almost scared me out of my wits. See, Teddy never barked at anything. Even when he saw squirrels or raccoons. He would just sort of look at me like what are you gonna do about them three critters there, old man? Nothing phased him ever. So to even hear him yapping like that in the first place was pretty unusual. Then that got me wondering what could possibly freakin out enough to make him bark. I'm like what is it boy? What are you smelling? But Teddy just gets up, walks over towards the door to the hallway and starts growling all low and between barks. And as I'm sitting there watching him, I get this real bad feeling in the pit of my stomach. That was the first time I had ever seen him acting like that downright aggressive and territorial. Now, as much as I respect this second amendment, I don't really believe in keeping a weapon in the House. I hate them. Always have. Long story short, I lost a relative in an accident when I was a kid. Now just being around them makes me sweat. But what I do have on hand for home defense is an old recurve bow that I used for hunting. Not exactly ideal to stop a burglar, but it was better than nothing. I must have looked like an old, worn out Comanche warrior creeping through my living room with a bow, an arrow with only firelight to see where I was going. But I sure didn't feel like one. I had just turned 55. I was a grown man. But something about all that darkness and being so isolated made me feel like a scared kid. Best case scenario, Teddy had picked up the smell of a bear or a lynx on the wind. One that was still way off in the distance. Worst case would be something considerably worse. When I take a peek out front of the house through the window of my office, Teddy follows, jumping up on the windowsill and barking a few times. After sniffing the air, whatever he was smelling, I sure wasn't seeing it. So after peering into the darkness for a minute or two, I just take Teddy back into the TV room where he stopped his barking. All was quiet again, so I carried on with my reading. About an hour later, the same thing happens all over again. Teddy jumps up from the rug, barking up a storm. Only this time he seems considerably more aggressive. He bounds over to the door of the TV room, scratching at the handle and growling in a way that actually kind of frightened me. Like I said before, I had never seen Teddy act like that. And he was a completely different dog. When I let him out of the TV room, Teddy ran through the open door of the kitchen and started barking and scratching at the back door. I mean, he was going back there and there was no way I was going to let him outside the mood he was in. He would probably run off as fast as he could and getting himself lost. And besides that, I felt strangely safer with Teddy around. He stopped barking for a second, sniffed the air, and then bolted back into the TV room where he started barking each even louder at the glass patio doors that led to the backyard. I follow him. I'm all like, get him, boy, tear him up. But when I catch a glimpse of the sliding glass doors, I'd swear I saw something moving in the shadows outside. I couldn't even tell you what I saw. It was nothing more than A flash of movement, but it was obvious enough for me to grab that recurve bow that I had propped up against the couch. I was so scared that I could barely line the arrow up with the drawstring. Teddy was going crazy at this point, acting like he was fixing to smash through the glass windows and chase down whatever he could smell. And like I said, it might have even just been the way the firelight reflected on the glass. But I wasn't willing to roll the dice on something being out there. Then suddenly, Teddy stops barking again. I figure it's because he lost the scent or something, because he shuts up entirely and stops pawing at the glass in the back door. But then he went and did the weirdest thing. He backs off from the doors, stands in front of me, shaking on all fours, and takes a piss right there on the carpet. He hadn't done anything like that since he was a puppy. Teddy was hardcore house trained. It's definitely not out of fear of some black bear either. Teddy's been in the same area as those ever since he was a puppy. And unless he actually saw one, I can't imagine he would freak out the way that he did. But the fact remains that animals like dogs have been known to just go to the bathroom on themselves whenever a much larger predator is in the area. Only I can't imagine how much larger it must have been to make Teddy forget his house training. After that, he was almost completely silent. Just the occasional whimper while I stood there in the firelight, just waiting for the mother of all black bears to come smashing through the back windows. At least I hoped it was nothing but a black bear. I understand those animals, but I didn't understand what was going on during that power out at all. And it just about scared the crap out of me. But by far the worst part of the experience was when I actually heard something on the little side walkway to my my house. See, there's a little gravel path where my wife used to grow vegetables right around the side of my house. And I swear to the Almighty that I heard two distinct crunches on the gravel right as I'm staring out into the darkness for like the hundredth time. That's when I started to call out, I know you're there. I'm armed now, you better get out of here. I listened again. And for the next few minutes, there was nothing but silence. Just then, when I started to think I had imagined the whole thing, I heard it again, clear as day. Footfalls on the gravel. That time I was closer And I had heard people walk up and down the gravel path a hundred times over the years. So I'm telling you right now, whatever was outside my house that night was way, way bigger than a person. If it was a black bear, it must have been the biggest one on the entire east coast. Now, I'm not saying it wasn't a bear or something. Maybe it was just a big old dog that got lost and took to wandering into my yard. But like I said, it was big. Really big. And you can bet I was shaking like a dog as I heard its footfalls getting quieter and quieter as it made its way off my property. I didn't hear anything for the rest of the night. Teddy didn't bark again, but he seemed like he had thrown in the towel with that line of defense anyway, but I didn't hear anything outside and evidently nothing broke into the house. Otherwise I'd be rambling on about it. It's just kind of surreal to me that one of the scariest experiences of my life comes across like a second rate campfire tale. I don't scare easy, and what happened during that blackout scared me to death. I just hope whatever the thing was, whether it was a bear or the Turner beast or something else entirely, stays well away from my property in the future. Because it would take far more than just a few arrows to take down a beast as big as that. For a few years there, Omegle and Chatroulette were like the best things ever. I know it sounds dumb, but the idea of coming face to face with random Internet people absolutely terrified me at first. I wasn't the most confident of people when I was younger and believe it or not, using stuff like Omegle actually helped me come out of my shell a little and learn how to talk to people. And naturally, like any anyone who has spent a lot of time on Omegle, I have a lot of stories detailing some of the weirder encounters I have had on there. I mean, I have had some pretty amazing ones. I met one of my longtime gaming buddies on Omegle and you would be surprised at the number of girls. But I've also had my share of gross, sad, irritating and downright scary encounters. And what I'm about to tell you is by far the most disturbing. And it's not some creepypasta either. Every word of it is the truth. So I had just gotten home from this crappy part time job I was working in 2012 and at the time my routine was like get home, sneak one of my stepdad's beers from the garage and see how palpable the mental illness was on Omegle that afternoon. I was actually having a good run. At one point I I had a guy singing that Call Me maybe song, another dude who did a magic trick, a handful of pretty girls, and I think one guy was on something. So all in all, I was in a pretty good mood by the time I hit end and knew for what turned out to be the final time that night. Because when I do, I just see this guy sitting at a desk staring blankly into the webcam. Immediately this hit hits me as unusual because most people are looking at their screens to see who you are and not straight up staring into the camera. I said something like hey, what's up? Or something, but the dude didn't reply, so I figured there was just something wrong with his audio. Now I should add that it was usually around that time that I would just end a chat and start a new one. If the person on the other end seemed too weird or like they wouldn't be much fun, I would just skip them entirely. So as you can imagine, coupled with all the other weird stuff you're likely to see during an Omegle session, I ended up doing a lot of skipping. But something about this guy really got my attention. Like at first when I saw him, he looked like he might be in his early to mid teens. Dark hair and eyes, kind of a baby face with scrawny shoulders. But the more I looked, the older he seemed to be. The guy had crow's feet, deep bags under his eyes. Pretty sure he had flecks of gray at his temples too. Like if he was as young as I thought he was, then he must have had the most brutal paper route in history. So for some reason at a time I would normally just ghost. I said something like, are you okay? Can you hear me? He nods. He could hear me. And it hit me that this might be another case of someone browsing Omegle when they're high. It must sound a little mean or whatever, but I figured I would mess with him just a little, maybe see if I could guess what he was on. I start talking real slow to him, trying to make him think that time is slowing down or something, but he barely reacts. And it's then that I realize he hasn't once looked at his phone screen or monitor. The whole time he was literally just staring at the little lens on his webcam. I break from the play acting and just ask him straight up, what are you on, man? He shakes his head so I ask him if he means he isn't on anything at all, and to that he nods. Now I'm torn between laughing because of what could have been a blatant lie and kind of freaking out because if he wasn't lying and that was him sober, that made for one really creepy guy. Then out of nowhere, this guy reaches up towards his mouth like he's about to take out some gum or something. At first I think he's going to show me some weird root he's been chewing on that made him look all sleepy. I mean, if there is such a thing. I know people can get some pretty weird South American plants and stuff from shady websites, but then it becomes obvious that he has a hold of his tooth. His front tooth, I think, like in the grip of his thumb and forefinger. And then he starts to pull. I'm like, dude, what are you doing? All calm at first. And then he starts, like, really getting a grip on his tooth, pulling and twisting, and I'm like, dude, stop. What are you doing? This all escalates until I hear a deep cracking sound coming from the guy's mic. He twists the tooth free from his gum as blood starts pouring out of his mouth, then holds it up to the camera like he's all proud of himself. I am full on squealing at the computer at this point, stuck between wanting to cover my eyes and turn it off at the stack and not being able to look away because what is this guy even doing? I asked this guy in like a hundred different ways, why did you do that? Was it rotten? Can't you go to the dentist? What are you doing? He doesn't say a word. He just spends a few more seconds smiling this gape tooth grin, mopping at the blood on his chin and holding up the tooth in front of the webcam. Then he disappears and I'm left on the new chat screen just shell shocked. Nothing has ever topped that for me in terms of pure creepiness. I have so many unanswered questions about that guy, and each time I think I get close to figuring it out, it just opens me up to a hundred other questions. I mean, he would have been on something to be able to pull his own tooth out like that. I don't think anyone could stand the sheer agony of it sober. And it's also the whole idea that it wasn't his first time doing it. Like, as crazy as it sounds, he seemed to just know what he was doing, that he had to twist it and wrench it. He knew exactly how to grip it and then the sense of pride at the end. It all just gave me this distinct feeling that he had done that kind of thing before. I didn't see anything else that ever made me react so strongly. And after that, all the random stuff you would see didn't phase me at all. Like as long as there was no tooth pulling, it was just water off a duck's back. So I guess I have something to thank Mr. Toothpuller for. Although saying that it's not something I want to see ever again.

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[Storyteller]

Oh, now he's into Cooper's food.

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[Storyteller]

Looks like we're switching to blue.

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[Storyteller]

I grew up on a farm just outside of Limerick in Ireland, which as you can imagine, made for quite an eventful upbringing. It also meant my back garden was bloody massive, so I had plenty of space to run around outside playing make believe with my two sisters. And without a shadow of a doubt, our favorite toy was the little Wendy house that dad had built for us at the end of the garden. I don't know if they have those in the rest of the world, but basically a Wendy house is like a little miniature playhouse for kids. And I say little, but dad had built us a massive one with like a little hallway in a kitchen and a little ladder going upstairs to a little loft. It was absolutely adorable. Me and my sisters just loved it. So much so that one summer's night when it was warm enough, we asked mom and dad if we could sleep out in the Wendy house one night. They were understandably reluctant to give us permission at first, but we pestered them and pestered them until they finally reluctant. We could have a sleepover in the Wendy house, but we have to be on our best behavior, not fight and promise not to go walking around in the dark. It was a deal. You can understand our parents reservations too, because the end of the garden I mentioned was probably about a hundred meters away from the actual house, near this old shuck that backed out onto some woodland. Not the ideal place to leave your kids alone alone overnight. So that's how three girls under 10 years old ended up in a dimly lit wooden playhouse in the middle of nowhere, in the middle of the night. And for some reason my older sister Kathleen decides it would be a good idea to tell ghost stories. Kathleen has always been a bit strange. She has always had a fascination with ghosts and ghoulies and witches and whatnot ever since she was young young and since she had gotten her hands on a book of Irish ghost stories, she thought she might regurgitate one of the stories she had read to us. She started telling us about a ghost that actually originated in Ireland, that unlike a Dracula or Frankenstein which come from the other countries as 9 year old her put it, we actually had banshees in Ireland since that's where they originated from. Our minds are absolutely blown. Ghosts lived in graveyards, old houses and other haunted places that you had to go to to see one. But here's Kathleen telling us about a ghost that actually comes to you to tell you that someone's going to die in your family. And the way it lets you know this is by screaming in the middle of the night like a ghostly ear piercing whale. Kathleen goes on to tell us that these banshee are women who have died in terrible painful ways, hence the screaming, and that they look like shriveled old women with red eyes who carry bowls of blood. We were just about trembling in our pajamas by the time Kathleen finished describing the nightmarish appearance of the banshee by torchlight. But somehow, when dad came out to interrupt and tell us it was bedtime, we managed to get comfy and drift off to an uneasy sleep. The next thing I know, I am wide awake in total darkness and everything is deathly quiet. Then I hear something that was so frightening that at first I think I just froze up in complete terror. It was a shrill, ear piercing shriek, almost gravely too, as if it had come from the throat of an old lady. When I finally found the courage to move, I shot up from my makeshift bed, shaking my sisters awake and telling them to listen. We just sat there in the darkness for a moment, all three of us terrified, until we heard the screech again. Hearing it for a second time had me just about out of my mind with fear. But my little sister took it even worse. It's a banshee. I remember her crying. We have to tell mom and dad. Then my big sister, bless her, decided that even though she's terrified, she's going to run to mom and dad so they can rescue us from the banshee. Say what you like about Kathleen, but she believed her own hype. She thought there was a banshee out there just as much as us. I mean, what else could have been making those ungodly noises out there? We are frantically looking for our torches, but in our panic we can't find them. And when the banshee screams for a third time, Kathleen decides she can't afford to wait any longer. She gets up and in complete darkness climbs down the little ladder, opens the Wendy house door and runs off to fetch us rescue. While Kathleen was gone, me and my little sister managed to find one of the torches. So we flick it on and point it down at the Wendy house door from the loft. I don't know what logic of that was, but that's what we did. And we cuddled together, cried, and waited for the banshee to get us. After a minute or so, we hear rustling outside the Wendy house. Something was Moving outside. We are so scared of the thing hearing us that we've got our hands over over our mouths. But we still can't stop crying and we still don't turn the torch off. Suddenly the door opens. And what stepped inside made me and my little sister scream in pure horror. Blood was pouring down the mouth and chin of my big sister. And now she's back in the light. Now she too can see that she's bleeding. She smears a bit of blood on her fingers, looks at it, then promptly collapses. We are absolutely inconsolable at this point. Me and my little sister are begging, screaming, crying for our parents to come and save us. To us. Kathleen just ran out to get help and the banshee had got her before she could make it. We are trapped. The banshee's getting closer. We're doomed. Then there's more footsteps outside the way Wendy house. Heavier footsteps now banshee footsteps. The door swings open again, only this time the face that appears is our dad wanting to know what is going on in here. We're screaming, dad, there's a banshee. Be careful. It got Kathleen. Behind you, dad. He's obviously skeptical at first, but when he sees Kathleen's face, he it's his turn to be terrified. He turns ashen, grabs Kathleen's little body up in his arms and then rushes back to the house with her. So keep in mind that even at this, the point of parental intervention, dad has not taken the time to tell us that there definitely isn't a banshee. And if anything, his reaction to Kathleen's face confirmed that not only is there definitely a banshee outside, but he's completely abandoned us. Seriously, just try and imagine being seven years old and that being your truth, we didn't calm down for hours. Mom and dad say we were still up crying at one o' clock in the morning with the whole incident going on at about 10. Even when we knew everything was okay, we just cried because it had been so traumatic. Obviously there was no banshee and we didn't find this out until years later for obvious reasons. But what we had heard was the sound of two foxes mating, as me and my sisters now know all too well when they do that the lady fox screeches at the top of her lungs, producing what is a rather unsettling and otherworldly sound. Kathleen, being the brave big sister she was, had run out to protect us. But maybe if she was as nimble as she was courageous, she wouldn't have run directly into that tree in her blind panic, almost knocking herself out in the process. The best she could do then was retrace her poor befuzzled steps back to the Wendy house and pass out at the sight of her own blood. It's a story we tell every Christmas now, especially when there's a new boyfriend or husband making an appearance. And it always gets a giggle from those that hear it. But I think if you put a weapon to my head and asked me for the scariest moment of my life, I would say the banshee when I was seven years old. I am deadly serious. Scarier than childbirth, scarier than finding the lump in my breast, Scarier than confronting my first husband about his drinking. Because I believed something I didn't understand was coming to get me. Something mythical, something supernatural, something that even dad was scared of. Needless to say, there were no more sleepovers in the Wendy house that summer, and the whole thing collapsed a few years later. But me and my sisters will always have that story to make us laugh, even though at the time we were scared for our lives. I ended up getting invited to this pretty wild house party back when I was a teenager. Definitely the craziest party I had ever been to. It was good while it lasted, but the reason it sticks out in my memory is far from a good one, as I'll get to explaining. So like I said, this house party was off the wall. There were kegs in all the downstairs rooms. People were taking off their clothes and dancing in the backyard. Some dudes upstairs tore down a bedroom wall with a sledgehammer. It was insane. Now, with a party that intense, it's not entirely unusual for the bathroom to be full of puke with random people like passed out all around the party. And the dude I really noticed was laying on the couch in the TV room downstairs. I figure he must have really overdone it because the whole time I'm there, he's completely passed out. Like to the point where he just sort of became part of the furniture in there. Like he has claimed the couch to himself. In the end, people just let him be and the party continued. People dancing around him, walked around him, drank around him all night too. At the end of the night, I was way too drunk to call an Uber, so I figure I'll just put pass out in an upstairs bedroom and make my way home in the morning. So I have a crappy hungover sleep, wake up, gather my stuff and head downstairs. On the way out, I have to pass the dude who was wiped out on the couch. The Previous night, it didn't look like he had moved all night. And that just didn't sit right with me. So on the way out, I try to wake him. Have you ever touched someone only to realize they're dead? They really do go cold and they really do go stiff. And I promise you, it's one of the most mind breakingly awful things you will ever experience in your life. I immediately yelp when I feel how cold the dude's skin was, which then has a few other sleepy people filling into the TV room to see what the deal is. Which was basically me begging people to call 911 because there's a dead guy on the couch. It really messed people up. Mainly because, like I said, we were dancing and drinking and partying around this dude's possibly dead body all night, and there he was, lying in the exact same position he had passed out in. There was no telling at what point he had actually slipped away. No telling just how long we had been partying around an actual corpse. I heard it was an overdose, but never really got that confirmed by anyone. Like, I barely knew anyone at the party, just that they were good people and it was a real shame how one of them went out. I am extra careful around drugs and alcohol now, too. And I tell my kids that if they want to get into drinking or smoking or whatever they want to do that they do it safely. I know I can't stop them from misbehaving, especially what age they're at. And it's not even the substances I'm worried about them touching. I just never want any of my kids to have to know what it feels like touching flesh that's gone cold. Looking at someone's face and knowing they're no longer with us. I don't want them to know what death feels like. I hate telling this story, not only because of how traumatic it was for me, but because it does show my age. My therapist tells me I should learn to look for the positives in things. So the only way I really know how is by making light humor. This was the early 90s, and I was about 16, going on set 17, working as a regular babysitter in my neighborhood. My parents had decided that the only way I was going to actually get a car would be if I was the one that saved up for the down payment. So every afternoon after school, I would tutor kids or watch babies, whatever I could do to earn a few extra bucks. There was one couple, the Moores, that always paid exceptionally well. And on Valentine's Day, they had a special request from me to watch both their 6 year old and their 10 year old so that they could go enjoy a romantic evening together. We'll be back by eight, they said and gave me about $50 just for ordering pizza, renting movies, whatever the kids wanted to do. I asked them both what they wanted and they both chimed in with a request to go to the local video rental store. I knew that the Blockbuster wasn't very far, but I insisted that I didn't want to do that until I got confirmation from their mom. This being the age before cell phones that required I had to look up the phone number in an actual phone book and call the restaurant where they were dining. Those two boys were so eager to hear a yes from their mom, I thought they might explode from excitement. It took about 15 minutes for me to finally get in touch with their mom, who seemed a little frazzled that the only reason I was calling was so we could go to Blockbuster. Yeah, that's fine, just don't spend all their money and nothing. Rated R, she responded when I told them, Both of the boys squealed and ran to get their jackets. We left the house before it got dark and made it to the rental store in less than 10 minutes. Not surprisingly, it was pretty empty, save for the cashier and maybe one or two other customers. Go and pick out whatever you want, I told them as I grabbed some candy bars and popcorn. The oldest came back first with a VHS of some Disney sequel and asked if this was okay. I told him yes and then asked where his brother was, only for him to be surprised that I did not know. Both of us went down the aisles looking for him and for a split second I got scared, thinking he had disappeared, decided to play some terrible prank and run off. Finally, though, I saw him standing near the edge of an aisle talking to a tall, lanky man wearing a trench coat. As soon as I saw this guy, I got a weird vibe and grabbed the younger boy's hand. Sorry, I hope he wasn't bothering you, I nervously told the stranger. He smelled funny, as if he hadn't taken a bath in a while, and he had this weird, creepy, crazy look in his eyes that told me he was troubled. I just had a feeling and I desperately wanted to be wrong about it, so I yanked the kid away and berated him as we made toward the cashier. What were you telling him anyway? I asked. Just that we was renting some movies and that we was home alone, the kid said innocently. I don't know why that didn't make alarm bells go off in my brain right away, but I guess I was too busy paying for the movies and dragging them out of the store. When we were walking back toward their house, it finally registered what he had told me. Did that man ask you if you were alone? I asked. My heart was starting to beat a little faster, but I didn't want the kids to think I was worried. Out of the corner of my eye, I thought I saw someone following us. Yeah, he seemed friendly. Asked a lot of questions about me, the younger boy responded. I picked up the pace and told them we needed to hurry back to their house. I was positive now that we were being followed. I remember I looked back several times to see where the man was, but every time it felt like he was just barely out of sight. He was a master of stealth, it seemed. Once inside their house, I slammed the door shut and was upset at the kid for being so ignorant. Don't you ever talk to strangers? That man could have done you some serious harm. I remember thinking I should punish them both by having them go to bed early. But I had no idea how right I would be about my warning of this stranger. I glanced out the windows to see if I could spot him, and after calming down, I went ahead and let them pick a movie. I was also trying to convince myself that my paranoia had just been my imagination. Less than 10 minutes later, as we were watching the Angels in the Outfield movie, I heard a knock at the door that made me realize maybe I hadn't been cautious enough. I went to the front and peeked through the blinds, curious to see that no one was outside. My heart was pounding now as I thought I saw the man in the trench coat standing over near the bushes. I immediately told the boys to pull the blinds closed and then turn off the lights. Next, I started to hear this stranger banging on the windows with what sounded like a stick. Was he trying to frighten us? I remember wondering if so, he was doing a stellar job because I was terrified. Terrified. Turn off the TV for now. Let's get to the bedroom, I said. I remember that the Moores had a house phone up in their master suite, so I was calmly trying to herd the kids there as this wacko kept rattling against the outside of the house. The kids were getting scared now, especially the youngest, and he was crying. Be quiet. Don't be scared, I told him as we ran up to the bedroom. I told them both to be quiet as I reached for the phone, only to find that the line was disconnected. This is the moment When a real sense of panic and dread was starting to overwhelm me. It was just past 6:30, meaning that their parents would not be home for at least another 45 minutes. And now, with the phone lines down, I was positive that this stranger was going to try to break in and do us harm. Still, I insisted that they needed to remain quiet and calm. I got the older one to assist me in moving furniture to the front of the door as a blockade, just in case this guy broke in. It's a good thing I did, because about 20 minutes later, I heard the shattering of glass and realized that was precisely what he had decided to do. I told them both not to make a sound as I tried to lift listen to where the stranger was. The only thing about this whole experience I will never forget is that the stranger started to whistle for us like he was looking for a dog. It was a loud, sharp, insistent whistle. And he kept saying, here, boy. Here, boy. Come here, boy. I swear I have never been more scared in my life. And I ordered the boys to hide under the bed. As footsteps came up the street stairs. I was pretty sure we were about to die. It happened just like a horror movie, too. He was standing outside the door because I could see the silhouette of his shadow peeking under the master bedroom door. Then the blockade of furniture started to rattle as I heard him fiddle with it. He shook it violently for a while, but to no success. And then for another long, indescribably quiet, quiet moment, I thought maybe he had given up. The kids were trying their best to not squeal or scream or even cry, but it was so hard to be perfectly still. At any second, I knew he was going to be back. Then he slammed his body against the door and it came slightly ajar. I remember jumping and holding the boys closer as he did it again and then again, until at last he could squeeze in past the wedge furniture. All I could see was his shoes. Leather boots that looked coated in mud. He walked slowly over to the bed and sat down, perhaps puzzling over where we were. He started whistling again, and I had to cover the younger boy's mouth as he let a leash fall over the edge of the bed. Did he know we were here? What sort of weird fellow fetish was this supposed to be? He walked around the room, moving to the closet first and checking for us there. Then we heard the sound of the garage door downstairs. I had never been so happy. Immediately the stranger ran down and I heard shouts of alarm as Mr. Moore likely saw him escape. A few seconds later, Mrs. Moore was in the bedroom, frantically searching for us and calling out her children's names. I crawled out first and helped her youngest get out as she grabbed him and hugged him as tight as possible. Downstairs, Mr. Moore was trying the landline again to contact the police, but it didn't work. Honestly, I thought the crazy guy was going to come back and do us more harm, so I didn't even want to step outside the house until my own parents came to pick me up. Mr. Moore told me that I was very brave and paid me extra for helping keep his kids safe. My parents also told me I had acted swiftly and decisively and it could have turned out a lot worse, but I didn't feel very proud. I had trouble sleeping for a week after. Any sound of a dog bark or a whistle would trigger the memory and make me want to curl up into a ball and hide. I can honestly only share it now after all these these years thanks to a bit of therapy. Sometimes I do think about what could have happened still though, had the parents not shown up early, would he have harmed us or killed us? The cops never did catch whoever the guy was, so I guess we will never know. Except I know that I at least stopped babysitting for the upper class after that.

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[Storyteller]

Hi everyone. So my name is Lena, I am Malay and I spent a summer in the United States as a part of a summer school program at Virginia Tech University. There were lots of extracurricular activities too. I mean, what else were we going to do with our spare time? So I got to know a lot of my classmates rather well while doing all sorts of cool things with them. One of the most amazing things I got to do while I was there was go hiking up in the Appalachian Mountains. I managed to get some pictures of the most stunning views I have ever seen in my life. And walking those hills will remain one of the most memorable times of my entire life. But I'll never forget my time in the Appalachians for another reason too. Because it included one of the most hair raisingly terrifying experiences of my life. One which left me shaking from the amount of adrenaline running through me. So at one point we were taking a break from hiking, eating some snacks and taking sips from bottles of winter water that didn't manage to stay very cold for very long. I am chatting with my best friend on the trip, Sol and Gabby, when we hear some rustling in the foliage next to us. The next thing I hear is our guide whispering, don't move. No one move a muscle. They had been confident to the point of cockiness on the trail up until that point. A real outdoorsy, manly man type. But hearing the fear in their voice made my blood turn to ice, which was no small feat on such a hot day. I did as I was told. I didn't move. I just sort of shifted my eyes in the direction of the rustling and when I saw what came out of the bushes, I couldn't even scream. I was so scared it was like I had been turned into a stone statue, albeit one that trembled uncontrollably with fear. It was a bear, a black bear, and it was walking right towards me. I suppose it had been attracted to the smell of our snacks. From what I understand, black bears don't have the best eyesight, but they do have an incredible sense of smell. And even though we weren't cooking any food, it must have been close enough in the area to be able to pick up this scent. I stayed as still as I could as it walked up to me, but when it stood up on its hind legs, I swear my heart nearly stopped beating altogether. I had no idea they could do that. Like, I kind of knew black bears were smaller than grizzlies or polar bears and that they were considerably less aggressive too. But oh my gosh, that thing wasn't small. When it stood up like that, I swear it was so tall. I was trembling and holding back whimpers of fear as it started to sniff me, knowing that if I made one wrong move, if I didn't keep my cool and stay perfectly still, it might just maul me to death right there and then. It was the most terrifying moment of my life so far. It sort of lost interest in me after a few moments, moving on to my friend's soul who just dropped the sandwich he was eating. Immediately the bear sniffed at it but ignored it. Ben did the same thing to her, standing on its hind legs and sniffing at her face and neck. Then suddenly, out of nowhere, it just lost interest in us and wandered off into the woods again. We all breathed a heavy sigh of relief as it left us thankful that it wasn't hungry or ballsy enough to have attacked us. Never in all my years have I ever had such an up close and personal encounter with such a powerful wild beast. It left an indelible mark on me, giving me profound respect for nature, even more so than I had beforehand. I am just so thankful that it wasn't a grizzly or something out in the Pacific Northwest, because if it was, I probably wouldn't be telling this story.