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- [00:02]
Narrator/Advertiser
There's a world where legends race across city skylines, romance blossoms in glittering ballrooms, and there's magic around every corner. It's a world known to many as Great Britain. You've seen the action on screen. Now visit the real star of the show. Visit Great Britain. To discover more, go to tripadvisor.com Great
- [00:30]
Podcast Host
Britain hey, welcome back to the podcast. I really hope you enjoy this episode. And if you'd like to hear more stories like these with a different background sound, please check the description to check out my other two podcasts. And if you want to get rid of all of the ads, you can subscribe for just 299amonth. Last thing I really appreciate you being here and I'd really love if you would follow the podcast and come back again soon. Thank you so much.
- [00:55]
Storyteller/Guest
I hope you enjoy. My body was cold to the touch. Distant sounds of rain patter onto the tent as I slowly awaken from my sleep. I realized that I rested a little longer than usual. So I sit myself up and check the time on my phone. It was 3am this was my third day of camping and even though I was excited to go, things felt a little redundant. After a while I noticed that my friend Jessica was not in the tent with me. Maybe she went to the bathroom. There are 15 other campers on the reserve for our field trip. Each tent is relatively close to one another. Our chaperones are in cabins located about 800ft away. Out of curiosity, I text Jessica, where are you? Brace face. By this time, almost 20 minutes had passed. Something seemed off. I knew she couldn't have been in someone else's tent because she's very particular about the people she's around. Plus, we weren't allowed to do that. Just as I begin to leave the tent, a flash of thunder shocks me in fear. As I settle back down, rain begins to pour down heavily. Jessica's going to be mad that her hair is wet. Assuming that she had went to the bathroom, I fell back to sleep while listening to the rain. After about an hour, I jolt up from my pillow with a noise outside. It was the most disturbing thing I had ever heard. It was blood curdling and sounded like a banshee. Now, at this point, I was concerned once again, Jessica still hadn't came back to the tent. I checked my phone and also noticed that she never texted me back. This was strange. It was time to stop being a wuss and get out of the tent. I found it impossible that anyone could have slept there through that loud noise but surprisingly, everyone was sound asleep. I flipped the hood of my jacket onto my head and begin walking towards the cabins. I can't explain it exactly, but there was this odd feeling I felt as I continued to walk. Almost as if someone was behind me. I'm overreacting. No one else is out here, is what I say to myself in reassurance. The full moon casted a glare onto the reserve so I could fairly see where I was going. The rain continued to drench my hoodie and my shoes as I carefully stepped between mud puddles. As I get to the cabin, I notice something jammed on the side of the entrance. Keep in mind that these cabins are made out of log. I used the force in my foot to knock the object loose and after a few pushes, the body of a
- [04:01]
Podcast Host
gray cat rolls out.
- [04:04]
Storyteller/Guest
It was dead. I was completely terrified. The only question I had in my head was who or what would do something like that? It was too much going on at once. I still had to find Jessica and the turbulence of this weather wasn't making it easy. I try the handle on the door and notice that it's locked, which is alarming because our chaperone usually left it open for campers to use the restroom in the hull. This just confused me even more as to where Jessica could be. Then all of a sudden I take note that the moonlight had completely disappeared. I hear this silent hither of some sort of animal or creature behind me.
- [04:50]
Podcast Host
Whatever it was, I could tell it
- [04:52]
Storyteller/Guest
was a few feet away. My entire body felt ice cold as I faced the cabin door. There was no way I was turning around to see what the thing was.
- [05:03]
Podcast Host
I start to hear footsteps move very
- [05:05]
Storyteller/Guest
slowly in the mud. It grunted in a low tone as it made its way towards me. I could tell this was not the presence of something small. It's time for me to make a move. I bang as loud as I can on the cabin, shouting for help in between knocks. A few moments later, my chaperone opens the door, yawning and squinting in confusion. I quickly move past her and close the door behind me. You're getting mud all over the floor, says Ms. Kelly in agitation. After I catch my breath, I explained to her what was going on, or
- [05:41]
Podcast Host
at least what I thought.
- [05:43]
Storyteller/Guest
Even after going into detail about everything. She responded in a laugh and groggily asked me did I need to use the bathroom? Well, that was clearly pointless. I take a few moments, score more
- [05:57]
Advertiser 1
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- [06:25]
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- [07:08]
Podcast Host
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- [07:10]
Advertiser 1
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- [07:12]
Podcast Host
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- [07:13]
Advertiser 3
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- [07:27]
Storyteller/Guest
and ask miss Kelly to walk me back to my tent. She was irritated that I asked, but she agreed to do it anyway. She grabs an umbrella from a closet and we head back. As I get to my tent and climb inside, I notice that Jessica is laying down. I tap her shoulder and ask her where she was. Apparently she was in another tent the entire time with a classmate she had a crush on. Midway between us talking, I hear that same blood curdling scream from earlier. We both sit up and stare at each other in astonishment. Jessica says, so you've heard it too. My heart drops to my stomach. Look, I know we joke a lot, but please just listen to what I'm
- [08:15]
Podcast Host
about to tell you.
- [08:17]
Storyteller/Guest
I have a feeling that's not an animal out there, I explained Jessica's face had skepticism written all over it. She whispers, you're not seriously suggesting that there's a ghost or something out there, are you? It's probably one of the girls playing around. You didn't feel what I felt out there, I say in conviction. When I was heading to the cabin. There was something behind me and it didn't sound like a bear, a wolf or a snake. That was something different. Shortly after we continue to discuss what's going on, we decide to just head back to sleep until morning. Even with her hearing the noise herself, she refused to believe me. It made me question my own reality. Am I crazy? I woke up the next morning to the sound of distant voices talking in a frenzy. Jessica and I climb out of the tent and head to the bonfire a few feet up ahead. Mostly everyone, including our chaperone, was outside in a circle around the burning ember. Have a seat guys, says Ms. Kelly as she takes a deep sigh. I'm assuming you two have no clue where Michael and Kenny are, do you? Jessica and I look at each other in confusion. No, I haven't seen them. What exactly is going on? I respond in curiosity. Just an hour ago I went to check on everybody before I began roll call. They weren't in their tents and I have no idea what's going on. Listen, if this is a joke, guys, you gotta stop this.
- [10:03]
Podcast Host
I have to.
- [10:04]
Storyteller/Guest
Suddenly, out of nowhere, Michael and Kenny stumble out of the woods and onto the ground in exhaustion. Their eyes were bloodshot red. We all rush over to console them both and ask what happened. They would say a few words, but it was mostly gibberish. Michael had no shirt on and Kenny's white shirt was covered in dirt. They looked completely terrified. Alright, this camping adventure is officially over. I don't get paid enough for this. Ms. Kelly shouts in agitation. Please don't say I told you so, says Jessica as we walk back to our tent. When I wished for a memorable trip, this wasn't what I had in mind. There really is no better way to describe Monroe County, West Virginia than the middle of nowhere. One of the state's most southernly counties, Monroe is perhaps the most overwhelmingly rural place in the entire eastern United States. There is not a single stoplight or fast food outlet anywhere in the whole county, and it has one of the lowest population densities of any county in the whole nation. Much like any rural area of the eastern U.S. monroe has its fair share of problems with opiate addiction and the crimes associated with it. But a disappearance or a murder is a rare event indeed, and when one actually occurs, it stirs up rather a lot of attention from citizens and law enforcement alike. So In April of 2007, when a dark red Chevy pickup truck was found abandoned behind a derelict building in Peterstown, it sent ripples of fear through the small community in which it was discovered. And it's because the truck belonged to a man named Timothy Wayne Dalton. And by that point, Timothy had been missing for almost three weeks. According to his missing person's profile, Timothy was just over 200 pounds and had dark brown hair and pale blue eyes. He was last seen wearing a dark blue button up shirt, light gray shorts and black Nike sneakers. There's a good chance he was also wearing a dog tag necklace, a relic of a relative's military service, and was also carrying a pocket knife. Close friends stated that he sometimes went unshaven for maybe a week at a time, but was never known to sport any kind of lengthy facial hair and was known to talk with a subtle stutter. In the brief period before the truck was found, local sheriff's deputies had managed to build up a picture of the events that had preceded Timothy's disappearance. He had paid a visit to his mother on March 26 and had apparently behaved perfectly regularly. For the most part, they made small talk about his firewood cutting job, which, as lowly as it seems scene, made Timothy's mother very proud that her son was gainfully employed, especially when the economy was tanking in such a dreadful way. But at certain points, Timothy's mother noticed that he was acting rather skittishly, peering out of her trailer window every so often as if watching for something or someone. It's not entirely unusual for a boy to act in a protective manner over his beloved mother, so she didn't think too much of his watchful behavior. Yet this was the last time her son was ever seen alive, with the only clue to his potential whereabouts being the abandoned truck that was found a fortnight and a half later. Despite his mother's concerns, local law enforcement insisted that there was no foul play involved in his disappearance. Yet there are solid reports from reputable sources that when the truck was discovered, the window on the driver's side of the vehicle was found to be broken, with glass lying on the interior indicating it had been smashed from the outside. Despite this, police declared that there was no clear indication that there had been any kind of struggle, speculating that the window might have well been broken before or after he had disappeared. Speaking to Timothy's family members, police heard how it would be very out of character for Timothy to just vanish without at least informing them that he was going somewhere. And while it was a well known fact that Timothy had dabbled in some non violent crime in the past, he had no outstanding warrants and was not a suspect in any recent burglary. Case, he had been described by many as a timid fellow with a heart of gold. And as far as his friends know, he was not involved in the narcotics trade, either as a dealer or a user. This essentially eliminated the possibility that he had skipped town out of fear of being arrested for something. A theory that was compounded by the fact that pretty much all of his meager belongings could still be found at his place of residence. As it stands, there are two prevailing theories that attempt to explain Timothy's disappearance. The first is that for whatever reason, he owed money to a 1 percenter motorcycle gang that sometimes passed through the area. This theory came about due to the fact that at the time he vanished, Timothy's sister was dating a Hell's angel who was patched to a Princeton chapter of the gang, a town just a half hour away from Peterstown. As a frequent drug user, she was careless with her finances, and it's very possible that the Angels passed along whatever debt she owed to her blood relatives. Then, when Timothy couldn't pay up, the Angels decided to make an example out of him. The second theory revolves around a rumor that Timothy had bad blood with a local deputy who was supposedly violent, unsteady, stable, and corrupt. It was common knowledge among members of the Peterstown community that one particular area police officer believed he was above the law. This same officer happened to give Timothy a ticket during a traffic stop one day, One that Timothy insisted was unfairly cited. He swore he'd see the cop in court. Then, to the surprise of the local townsfolk, he did and ended up actually winning the case. He was awarded sizable compensation, and the cop in question was disciplined for his apparent misconduct. It was a humiliation, one the officer couldn't ever get over. And as much as this particular cop was an embarrassment to the force, there's every chance that a bunch of good old boy deputies would close ranks around him should he have decided to take a little revenge. This would most definitely explain how the reports of a broken window suddenly morphed into a conclusion of no signs of a struggle. Yet these two theories, as elaborate as they may seem, are still little more than conjecture. So the question remains, what could have happened to Timothy Dalton? It certainly wouldn't have been easy for him to leave Monroe county without his truck. As it truly is in the middle of nowhere, with no local taxi companies in the area or bus routes running through it. The only explanation is that someone picked him up, conscious or unconscious, dead or alive, and took him out of Monroe. Peterstown has a population of just less than 700 people talk, people see things. But apparently nobody saw hide nor hair of Timothy after he had visited his mother's place. The woods around the town might be dark and deep, but they're actually commonly frequented by local hunters who often scour the backwoods for fresh meat to put on the table to save a few dollars on the grocery bill. Surely if Timothy was murdered and dumped in the woods, a hunter or perhaps a hunting dog would have come across his remains at some point. As far as I can tell, it really is as if the guy just disappeared, dropped off the face of the earth one day for some unknown reason. But maybe it's the case that whoever did disappear, Timothy knew a little too much about the process of searching and finding someone. Maybe it was a person who had experience in finding bodies, who, for professional reasons, would know the most effective method of making someone just up and vanish without leaving so much as a trace of them behind. But whoever that might be is still completely up for debate. Yet perhaps it might be better if we avoid any kind of heavy speculation. Least we offend the wrong person. A person who might just be violent, unstable and corrupt. For many years, 53 year old Robert Wilson was employed at pharmaceutical manufacturer Thornton Ross in Huddersfield. Over in the uk, he worked the night shift in charge of site security. And he was good at his job too. During his tenure at Thornton Ross, there hadn't been a single break in or incident of vandalism and he was well on his way to a promotion of Head of Security. Robert had suffered some serious misfortune in his time and was forced to change careers several times during his life. But for the first time in a long time, everything was going well for him and it seemed his luck was finally beginning to turn. Yet a chance encounter with two teenage boys early last year was all it took to bring his whole world crashing down. At approximately 11:00pm on January 16, 2020, Robert was watching the CCTV monitors in the site's security office when he noticed two shadowy figures wandering around the facility's parking lot. Robert gathered up a colleague by the name of John Badejo, along with another security officer and the trio went to investigate. There they found that the two shadowy figures were nothing more than young boys in the form of 16 year old Luke Gawkroker and 19 year old Kieran Earnshaw, and that the two boys seemed to be very drunk. When confronted as to why they were roaming around the parking lot so late at night, the boys appeared apologetic at first, explaining that they had merely attempted to navigate a shortcut through the facility, but that one of them had managed to drop their phone in the process. Being the compassionate soul that he was, Robert agreed to help the boys find the missing cell phone. He also knew that the quicker he could help them find the phone, the quicker they would be out of his hair. Robert took out his own phone, turning on the flashlight to help Illum Zootopia
- [21:49]
Narrator/Advertiser
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- [21:51]
Advertiser 2
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- [21:53]
Podcast Host
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- [22:03]
Podcast Host
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Narrator/Advertiser
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- [22:10]
Podcast Host
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- [22:17]
Storyteller/Guest
$12.99 a month terms apply the dark parking lot so the group would be able to find the missing phone. In doing so, he happens to accidentally shine the flashlight in one of the teenager's directions. Kieran Earnshaw, in his dream drunken state, assumed this was because Robert was making a video recording of him and demanded he turn the phone off. Confused, Robert assured Kieran that he was simply using the flashlight feature, but Kieran didn't believe him and angrily demanded that he stop. At this point, harsh words were exchanged between the two and a confrontation arose, but Robert could have never expected what would follow. Ciaran reached into his tracksuit pants and produced an actual sword from them. Apparently it was intended to be nothing more than a decorative ornament, but Ciaran had taken the time to sharpen it and apply grip tape to the handle, turning what should have been a charming adornment into a deadly weapon. He began to attack Robert Wilson with the sword, slashing and striking him with it over and over again. Robert raised his right hand to defend himself, and the strike that followed was said to sever four of his fingers at once. John Badejo watched in horror as his colleague's bloody fingers tumbled to the tarmac below and rushed to his defense. But Ciaran was quick and saw Jon's approach out of the corner of his eye. He turned, swinged the sword hard in his direction, slicing through the thick fabric of his jacket and sending sharpened steel plunging into his flesh. John Badejo backed off, clenching at the fresh wound, while Ciaran turned his attentions back to Robert Wilson, who by that point was attempting to crawl away mortally wounded. Ciaran began hacking away at him again as Robert's colleagues fled the scene, the blood curdling scream of their wounded friend echoing around the parking lot as they ran. Kieran's friend Luke then joined the attack, pulling out a knife from his jacket, and began to stab the fallen Robert over and over again until he screamed no more. CCTV footage had managed to capture every second of the attack from start to finish, and the two teenagers were quickly tracked down and arrested by the West Yorkshire police. Under advice from their defense attorneys, both pled guilty to Robert's murder. Kieran Earnshaw was sentenced to life with a minimum term of 21 years and 140 days. Luke Gauckroger was sentenced to a minimum term of 16 years and 17 days. Kieran also pleaded guilty to inflicting serious bodily harm on the second victim, John Badejo. And Luke pleaded guilty to the possession of an offensive weapon. James Goddard of Britain's Crown Prosecution Service said that this was a ferocious and frenzied attack on an innocent man who was simply carrying out his duties. The two teenagers inflicted a horrific level of violence on Mr. Wilson, as well as seriously injuring Mr. Badejo. The two defendants are now facing significant jail sentences. Our thoughts remain with Mr. Wilson's family and friends, as they have been throughout. When questioned by investigating police, Kieran Earnshaw was apparently unable to provide any legitimate reason as to why he was carrying a sword. He claimed it was for self defense, but when pressed on who he was seeking to defend himself from, he had no response except to shrug. The only conclusion that we can draw is that Kieran was carrying that sword because he wished to use it on another human being, and he was not particularly fussy on who that might be. There is every chance that Ciaran knew that Robert Wilson wasn't recording him that night and that he simply chose to feign outrage so that he had an excuse to take out that sword and end a man's life. Ciaran had been out drinking that day for hours on end and was apparently carrying that sword with him the whole time. But he opted to use it at night, possibly because it was the only time he was drunk enough to do so. Yet is there not such a something about the dark of the night that brings out the most predatory and violent side of a man? So the point remains. If Robert Wilson had been working the day shift, if he had been safely inside his own home when the sun had gone down, he might still be alive today.
- [27:26]
Podcast Host
This happened when I was about 20, 28. I am almost 40 now. This occurrence comes into my brain from time to time. I try to pass it off like it wasn't a big deal or nothing substantial happened, but it's rarely been successful. There's a reason I still think about it over 10 years later. It started when my future wife and I were getting ready to have a nice night out. It was Christmas time. For some reason I remember that because our town always changed the street lights on our little subdivisions to red and green. To be clear, it was only the rustic looking ones that dotted the entrance and exits to the sub. They didn't really provide real streetlights. We had actual taller street lights that of course had to be outfitted with the city approved LED or whatever. It was pretty and a nice touch by the city and rhoa. I was fondly looking at one of the red and green streetlights from our two bedroom apartment. My fiance at the time and I had gotten this little place at a great time. Great recession, great prices. Fortunately we were both working and not doing poorly financially. Since we didn't have children yet, we didn't need much room. This kind of leads into the story. I don't remember the square footage, but it was on the second floor of
- [28:50]
Storyteller/Guest
a three floor walk up.
- [28:51]
Podcast Host
It was probably in the range of 7 to 800 square feet. Nothing big. We had more than enough room for two of us. That being said, we did not have a great amount of storage. To be truthful, we decided to use the smaller second bedroom as a storage room. We enjoyed a very generous master bedroom for both of us and put all of our extra stuff into the second bedroom. As mentioned earlier, we were getting ready to go out. I got home from work first. It was just getting into the evening. In this part of the world that means it's already dark outside. As I entered the threshold to my home, I hung my coat up, tossed my keys into a dish that was striped black and white like a referee shirt and walked toward the kitchen. Being that this place was so small, I passed by both bedrooms as I took a couple steps from the front door to the kitchen. The second bedroom, though the one we did not use, was open. I might not have noticed it, but the light was on. We never kept the light on in that room. Overcome with a sudden feeling of panic, I froze shamefully, but thankfully that didn't last more than a couple of seconds. I cautiously opened the door. Nothing. One nice exhale later and I shut the light off and closed the door. Either she was putting storage items in the room and forgot to turn the light off. Or the last time I was there I forgot to turn the light off. Simple as that. Anyway, shut the light off, closed the door. Done. We went on to have a great fun night together. After having a few drinks, I brought up the light being left on in the extra bedroom. I think you're busted. I said. She looked at me with a buzzed look of inquiry. When I came home today, the extra bedroom door was open and the light was on. I think I finally confirmed where you keep the presents, I said with a little playfulness in my voice. I haven't been in that room for weeks, she said with a smile on her face. And I keep the presents somewhere you'll never find them. She laughed. I had a brief moment of worry but quickly put it away from my mind when our next round of shots came from our server. It should have bothered me more now that she confirmed she had not left the door open. As I said, it is possible I went in that room and forgot to close it, but I really doubted that. Several hours later we stumbled back home singing, looking at the holiday lights and the decorations on our walk home. Thankfully, our favorite place to get some late night drinks was only a block away. As she opened the door for us, she threw her keys in the tray, kicked her shoes off, and skipped to the living room to throw herself on the couch. I laughed to myself, enjoying the moment and honestly liking where the night was going until I walked by the extra bedroom. Obviously she didn't notice. The door was open maybe 2 to 3 inches and the light was on. Being in an inebriated state, the gravity of this situation did not fully hit me. From what I can remember, I stood by the door for longer than I probably should have. I heard my fiance call my name from the living room and it snapped me out of my haze. I quickly reached into the room, slapped the light off, and quietly closed the door. No reason to alert her to some kind of paranormal activity going on. Not tonight. After she went to work the next morning, I sat in the small kitchen trying to decide what was going on. Demons Option 2 There was a very real possibility that someone was in our apartment. Maybe on several occasions. I decided to take a look around the bedroom.
- [33:09]
Storyteller/Guest
The door was still closed from last
- [33:11]
Podcast Host
night, so that's a good sign. The room looked normal. Full of our extra junk, but normal until I made my way into the closet. Inside, beside more junk, was a handwritten note. Have fun. Last night. My fiance and I reported all of this and stayed with a friend until we could get all of our stuff out. I can't tell you how scary seeing that note was. More than a few years ago. I'd say a good 10 years ago. My mother in law, we'll call her Bea for anonymity's sake, but Bea was living with me and my husband, her son, a short period due to her ongoing medical issues. At the time we just felt it would be better for her to be with us for a while. Now let me inform you that Bea was not your typical mother in law. She was a serious addict and had been in and out of prison my husband's entire life. But in her older age and health issues she had been in recovery for eight years strong. When she was using her document she would get so geeked up and she would stay awake for four, five days at a time non stop. When she would get like that she would want to go and rouge old houses or abandoned houses, go through them and taking what she thought was anything of value. Well, one day I had just walked in my front door to find a note on my kitchen table with what looked like a printout of a Google Earth image search. The note was from B. It stated that she was just playing around on Google Earth, looking around in
- [35:00]
Storyteller/Guest
the area we were currently living, and
- [35:03]
Podcast Host
said she had found an abandoned house deep in the woods fairly close to our house. The house had no mailbox, no driveway, not even the remnants of a driveway, at least not that the printout showed. So I got on Google Earth app myself, located the abandoned house and nope, no driveway, no mailbox, not even a listed address. And the strangest part was the distance from the main road to the house would have been a good mile hike. There was no dirt road leading to the house, not even a foot trail. I'm not sure what possessed me, but I looked over at V and asked her, you want to go find this house? Needless to say, there was no hesitation on her part and my genuine curiosity had gotten the best of me. So fast forward a few days and the following weekend we set out to locate this abandoned house. The road that we had to be on in order to come semi close to accessing the house was at the end of a residential suburban neighborhood. So we parked the car and started our hike through briars and poison oak and everything in between. It was a rough little hike, but about a good almost mile in we both look up and lo and behold, right there in the middle of this dense forest was a clearing a little less than half a football field with a small, simple little house with a small stone Wall off to the side. I was shocked to say the least. I looked over at B and she had the expression of pure excitement all over her face. It didn't take her long to find a way into the house. And to start oohs and ahs, I decided to remain outside. I don't know, something just told me I didn't need to go in that house. So as I'm standing outside this abandoned house in the middle of nowhere, I walk over towards the old stone well just off the left of the house. I reached the opening to the well and peered down. Not being able to see much, I stepped back and sat down on one of the big rocks right next to the well. I then, out of boredom I guess, picked up a big stone and tossed it into the well, hearing the kerplunk as the stone tumbled down and hit the water at the bottom. So I stand up and I lean toward the well with the most horrific, rotting, putrid smell. Hits me like a ton of bricks. The smell was so bad it felt like it burned the inside of my nose. And let me tell you, it's that smell that once you've smelled it, you will never forget it. I dug my little flashlight out of my pocket and pointed it down the dark well. When I was able to focus on what I was actually looking at, I fell backwards as if I was pushed by an unseen force, falling flat on my butt. I'll never forget what I saw at the bottom of that well. Two elbows and the back of a head with long hair. That smell was the smell of a decaying human body. I don't think I've ever ran that fast in my life. I just took off, not even telling B I was leaving. I just started running and didn't stop until I reached the car. I sat in my car for about an hour just trying to process what I had just found and waited on Bea to figure out that I had already left. She finally made it back to the car with all the valuables she had found in hand. When she finally got in the passenger seat, I was as white as a ghost and was in shock. She asked me what was wrong and I told her exactly what I found. Her jaw hit the floor and she too turned as white as I was. I wasn't sure what to do to be honest, so I simply drove to the closest door and called the non emergency 911 line and explained what I had just found and how I stumbled onto it. Needless to say, the investigator thought me and B were basically full of cruelty crap. But he got in his car and followed us to the end of the neighborhood and explained that he would have to hike a good mile to find the abandoned house and the well where the body was. No more than 20 minutes later we see police cars and the coroner van pull up at the end of the neighborhood. Eventually they started to tape off the entire wooded area. As I'm just sitting in my car asking one of the many officers there if B and I could leave, I looked past the officer to see two people carrying out a black, completely zipped up body bag and placing it into the back of the coroner's van. I shuddered at the thought of who that person was or what could have happened to them. A few months later I get a phone call from one of the detectives working on the body in the well case. She wanted to inform me that they were able to identify who the person in the well was. She was a 24 year old female who had been reported missing out of a small town called Between Georgia seven to eight months ago. Between Georgia was only an hour and a half drive without traffic from where her body was found. The craziest part is the multiple detectives on this case live and grew up in the area where the body was found. Their entire lives, most of them being in their mid to late 50s. And not one of them have ever known about or heard about the abandoned house in the middle of the woods. When I was five years old, my stepdad took a job in a town an hour away from the home we were living in. After a few months of a long drive to and from work, my parents decided to start looking for a home closer to his new place of work. Unfortunately, this didn't pan out too well for them. The market at the time made it difficult to find anything, including rentals at a price they could afford. Around the same time, my stepdad's parents decided to sell their home. This was the house my stepdad grew up in, and in addition to being a well kept, decent sized home, there was a lot of sentimental value from my stepdad. When my parents expressed interest in working out a deal with my grandparents to purchase the home, my grandparents simply gave it to them at a price they could afford. And so began the creepiest king chapter of my life. I had visited the home many times before, and while I never felt uneasy, there was certainly an energy to the home that I had not felt anywhere else in my short five years. Almost immediately after we moved in, whatever energy was in the house began forming its attachment. Most of the energy in the home seemed to emanate from one room. One of the upstairs bedrooms had a small door in the wall of the closet leading to an attic. And even as a small child, I was terrified of that room and that attic in particular. My first bedroom was across the hall from that room. It was one of the few peaceful places in the house that seemed as if no kind of negativity could touch it. Nearly every other space in the house carried with it of feeling of heaviness. The closer we were to the attic or basement, the heavier the air felt and the more our anxiety grew. Around two years after moving into the home, my younger sister was born, and once she was old enough to have her own room, she moved into the room I once shared with my brother. I took the downstairs bedroom. I was around six or seven years old and excited to have my own space. I got to choose my own decorations and make it very homey prior to moving into the room. It was a dream come true for my childhood self. But the first night I stayed there alone, the heaviness that plagued the majority of the house was more present than I had ever felt it. I have struggled with anxiety since a very young age, so I simply dismissed it as anxiety, as I would for many of the events that would take place later on. Thankfully, nothing truly scary ever happened in this room, aside from the feeling of heaviness and strange dreams. Eventually, my siblings took over the room with the attic in the closet. At first they were scared, and being the older sister, I offered to have a sleepover for the first time few nights to help make them feel more comfortable. I had become accustomed to the strange energy in the house, and although it was certainly stronger in the room with the attic, I continued to chalk it up to my anxiety disorder. That was the first night that I saw the Shadow Man. The Shadow man would stand just outside the doorway. He was only visible from this room and did not appear every night. Still, I continued to believe it was anxiety. A few years later, my siblings and I were older and braver and decided the attic would make a great clubhouse. We brought toys and decorations in and set up a cool space near the entrance. But even then, we were terrified of the rear of the attic, where the light didn't reach and deemed the space off limits. None of us wanted to admit we were afraid, and each of us claimed
- [45:01]
Storyteller/Guest
it was just too dark to see.
- [45:04]
Podcast Host
But in reality, each of us had seen the Shadow man lurking. Not just standing still anymore, but moving, always watching darker than the surrounding darkness, seemingly trying to find a Way to get closer to us. Over the years, every single one of us would hear our names called from different parts of the house, including my stepdad, who had never had any paranormal experiences in this home growing up and was an absolute skeptic when it came to anything paranormal. When we would come to where we thought our names were being called from, we would either be greeted with an empty room or those present were totally confused as to why we thought we were being culled. Looking back, one of the creepiest things that sticks with me is the last couple of years in the home during which my sister and I decided to explore the basement. We had what is called a Michigan basement, which in our case was more or less a pit that had been dug beneath the house with walls of dirt surrounding the space and a three foot crawl space space on top of each wall. Since early childhood, we always had a notion that something interesting was buried within those walls. As kids, we always thought of secret treasure. But as we got older, the running joke became that maybe there was a body buried within the walls. Shortly before moving out, my sister and I decided to explore a bit and crawled around on top of the walls. We found nothing but a few antiques left behind, perhaps by my grandparents or previous owners. The scariest part of the whole story comes years later. My family grew again and we moved to a newer home on the opposite side of town. We had been there for over two years when the creepy old house came up in conversation. We were watching a show about ghost stories when they started talking about the Hat Man. I started laughing and said, man, if we were still in that old house, I would be terrified. I always used to think I saw something like that in the hallway upstairs. I laughed, but my demeanor quickly changed when I saw my mother's and siblings expressions. We started talking about weird things we experienced in that old house. And as it turns out, every single one of us saw the exact same figure in the hallway down to every detail. Even worse, he could only be seen from the room that was attached to the attic. While we all routinely heard our names being called in that house and thought nothing of it, not a single single one of us has ever experienced that since moving out. My mom even confessed that when she and my stepdad shared the attic room, she awoke very early one morning to a sailor sitting on the edge of the bed who quickly disappeared after her initial fright. She never told anyone about the experience until that day. Later that night, we started digging into the history of the house and discovered that a neighbor whose backyard met with ours was doing some landscaping and discovered the grave of a sailor just steps away from their back door. Needless to say, we were pretty freaked out and didn't talk about it again for some time. Fast forward a few more years. I had gotten married, was expecting my first child and my husband and I began looking for a home to buy. I hadn't thought much about the old house or its haunts in years. We toured a few homes. We hadn't yet found anything that really fit our needs. This was shortly before the housing market exploded so there was no sense of urgency or desperation. We were only interested in finding the right space to grow a family.
- [49:14]
Ryan Reynolds
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- [49:32]
Advertiser 3
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- [49:46]
Podcast Host
I began having a repetitive dream about my old home. In my dream we purchased the home and a voice kept telling me to tear out the bathtub. We obliged and found an old doll hidden in a box in the wall. This doll talked to us and told us there was something buried in the land. This dream happened multiple times a week until I began to become obsessed with owning the house. Anytime I was in the area I would drive by. The more I drove by the house, the more obsessed I became. The home wasn't even for sale yet. I was thinking of ways I could entice the current owners to sell it to us. I needed that house. It freaked me out because I am the opposite of materialistic and while I had many good memories at that house, I hadn't even thought about it for years. Why was I so obsessed with it? Why was I constantly dreaming about it? I immediately began to remind myself of how terrified I was there as a child and forbade myself from going near it. I stopped thinking about it for a while. My daughter is now four years old. She recently found out that my parents current home is not the house I spent most of my life in. A few weeks ago she asked if she could see where I grew up. I hadn't thought about the house for some time so I agreed. We drove by and it looked more beautiful and appealing than I remembered, despite there being no significant changes to the home. Now every time we visit my parents, she asks to see it, almost as if it's calling to her too. I have started having the dreams again, and to this day, if that home went up for sale, I can't promise I wouldn't buy.
- [53:14]
Storyteller/Guest
It's.