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- [00:01]
A
Expedia and visit Scotland. Invite you to Come experience the beauty that awaits in Scotland. The sweep of wild coastlines, quiet lochs and untamed landscapes. Fresh cuisine that feels rooted in the land. Come experience the kind of stillness that stays with you long after you leave. Plan your Scottish escape today@expedia.com VisitScotland ready to soundtrack your summer with Red Bull Summer All Day Play? You choose a playlist that fits your summer vibe the best. Are you a festival fanatic, a deep end dj, a road dog, or a trail mixer? Just add a song to your chosen playlist and put your summer on track. Red Bull Summer All Day Play Red Bull gives you wings. Visit red bull.com brightsummer ahead to learn more. See you this summer. This episode is brought to you by Prime Obsession is in session and this summer, Prime Originals have everything you want. Steamy romances, irresistible love stories, and the book to screen favorites you've already read twice off campus Elle every year. After the Love Hypothesis, Sterling Point and more Slow Burns, second Chances chemistry you can feel through the screen. Your next obsession is waiting. Watch only on Prime.
- [01:27]
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Hey, before this episode begins, I just want to let everyone know that my film that I've been producing for the last two years, Gale Yellow Brick Road, is now streaming on Chilling. So if you weren't able to go see it in theaters a couple months ago, no worries. Click the link in the description to this video or just search Chilling in your app store and you can watch Gale Yellow Brick Road tonight at home. I really hope you enjoy. Please leave an honest rating and review on IMDb and and rotten Tomatoes. Thanks again. 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 2.99amonth. 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. I hope you enjoy. When I was in middle school, my family moved into my mom's childhood home in order to take care of my grandpa. This property is located in the woods near Lake Michigan and everyone refers to it as the Valley. I grew up hearing all of my aunts, uncles and cousins scary stories about growing up in the Valley. Once my family moved in, we quickly learned why the Valley truly is the most evil place we have ever been at the time my mom was working third shift while my dad ran his own business out of our garage. One night, I really needed to talk to my dad, but he wasn't in the house. Knowing he was probably working in the garage, I popped my head outside to check across the yard. I saw all of the lights were on in the garage as well as what sounded like the radio blaring. Totally convinced my dad was in the garage, I decided to leave the safety of the house. I focused on the welcoming light of the garage and began sprinting across the 100 or so feet of pitch darkness. As I entered the light of the garage, a sense of relief washed over me as I called out to my dad. This relief proved to be be short lived as I instantly realized something was very wrong. Now, standing in a deafening silence, I didn't see my dad anywhere. I know I heard something that sounded like the radio just moments ago, but now all I could hear was my panicked breathing. I would not have made the terrifying trip over if I had not heard that convincing sound. Before my heart had the chance to start beating again, I took off back towards the house. What previously took me maybe 30 seconds, I now covered in 10. I was so terrified, I decided it was best to solely focus on the door and getting my butt back inside. As I burst through the door, I found my dad in the living room looking as if he had been there for hours. Like so many horrifying experiences at that house, I just tried to not think too much about it and moved on. It wasn't until we moved out a few years later that I would be reminded of this experience. Like I have previously mentioned, my family often tells their scary stories of the valley. And this is what we found ourselves doing one night. As it became my brother's turn to tell a story. It didn't take long for it to sound very familiar. My brother described the same instance of needing to talk to our dad. He saw the lights on and heard the radio blaring in the garage and was convinced he would find our dad working out there. He ran through the darkness, only to discover exactly what I did. Nothing. No sounds of the radio and no dad. It was the next bit that had my blood turning to ice. While I tried not to scare myself any further and focused solely on the door, my brother did not. As he turned back towards the house, he made the mistake of scanning his surroundings. To his absolute terror, he saw a very distinct form on the roof. What appeared to be the silhouette of a man stood stock still right above the door. He needed to use to get back inside. This outline was so dark it was contrasted against the surrounding woods. I have no idea how he summoned the courage, but my brother ran like a creature back to the house and through the door. Once, hearing his version of events, I couldn't help but wonder if I had just looked up when approaching the door, would I have discovered that I was not alone either? So I've been having these sleep paralysis episodes way more often than usual. Last week I went to my parents house and fell asleep on the couch after getting off work. So I'm laying on the couch and I start to hear so good, so good, so good.
- [06:56]
A
Everything you want for summer is at Nordstrom Rack stores now and up to 60% off. Stock up and save on the brands you love like Vince, Sam, Edelman, Frame and Free people. Join the NordicLub to unlock exclusive discounts. Shop new arrivals first and more. Plus buy online and pick up at your favorite Rack store for free. Great brands, great prices. That's why you Rack girl. Winter is so last season and now spring's got you looking at pictures of tank tops with hungry eyes. Your algorithm is feeding you cutoffs. You're thirsty for the sun on your shoulders that perfect hang on the patio sundress. Those sandals you can wear all day and all night. And you've had enough of shopping from your couch. Done. Hoping it looks anything like the picture when you tear open that envelope. It's time for a little in person spring treat. It's time for a trip to Ross. Work your magic.
- [07:50]
B
Study and play. Come together on a Windows 11 PC and for a limited time, college students get the best of both worlds. Get the unreal college deal. Everything you need to study and play with select Windows 11 PCs. Eligible students get a year of Microsoft 365 Premium and and a year of Xbox Game Pass ultimate with a custom color Xbox wireless controller. Learn more@windows.com studentoffer while supplies last ends June 30th terms at aka mscollegepc footsteps. But I know it's the middle of the night and no one should be up. Besides, it's pitch black. No one has turned on a light, which is necessary as my mother is remodeling and there is still stuff everywhere you need to turn a light on. Also, I know what the footsteps of everyone in the house sound like, but these are none that I have ever heard. They are heavy. Like intentionally heavy, almost as if someone is wearing boots and very deliberately walking heel to toe. I call out, hoping it's my mother and maybe she can't sleep so she's heading to the basement to do some laundry. Maybe she's carrying a basket and couldn't balance it and turn the light on so that's why her steps sounded strange. When I call out to her but there's no response, but the footsteps pause and then continue from the hall towards the kitchen. I call out to her once more and in response there is the creepiest voice voice I have ever heard. Hello. Just as casually and creepy as he wanted to be. Also, aside from the fact that whoever it was, he isn't supposed to be here, his voice is almost in my ear even though his footsteps are on the other side of the wall in the hall. Obviously I instantly freak out and scream out to my mother who is upstairs to let her know that there is someone in the house. And then I hear him moving faster throughout the downstairs, his steps coming closer to me the more I yell out. As I'm screaming I try to get up but I can't move. Usually it takes me about a minute or two to realize that I'm having an episode and I can bring myself out of it, but this one was too real. All the signs of an episode were there, but this was way too real. He made his way around the corner to where I was on the couch, coming close to me and reached out to touch me in the center of my chest with his pointer finger and I finally awoke. I sat there heaving like I had just climbed 10 flights of stairs with chronic bronchitis as my body and brain attempted to catch up with reality, but I just couldn't shake the feeling that it wasn't a dream and I felt like I was being watched. After a minute or two of trying to catch my breath, my phone rings and it's my mother seeing if I'm okay because she heard me screaming. This isn't unusual as we both suffer from the same sleep disorders and talking and making noise in our sleep throughout the night. We are also too lazy to get up or yell, so we usually facetime each other even though we're in the house together. She tells me she she heard me scream her name but she couldn't tell if it was real or if she had dreamt it. My name is Danny and I live here in Liverpool in the UK. I am 33 this year, so obviously my trick or treating days are well behind me, but the times I got to throw on a scary costume and head out into the night with my best mates are some of the fondest memories I have from my youth. That's even aside from the free sweets. And we all know how stuff just tastes better when it's free. But maybe I am looking back through rose tinted glasses to a degree, because I do remember one Halloween that was most definitely not all fun and games. In fact, what happened that night was probably one of the most terrifying things that's ever happened to me, even if it did take me a little while to realize the significance of it. So me and my childhood friends are all either 15 or 16 during the Halloween of 2003, right on the verge of being too old to trick or treat anymore, saying that considering most of our voices had broken at the time, us turning up at people's houses was less cute kids begging for sweets and more like moody teenagers extorting people out of their Haribo minis under the threat of egging. People were generally pretty sound about it, and only once did we have to actually throw an egg in anger. But there were many, many occasions where a homeowner would take a peek through the living room curtains before just refusing to answer the door. And it's not like we could egg everyone. We only had a pack of six and had to use them sparingly. Fun fact, a lot of places around ours just refused to sell teenage boys eggs during the Halloween season. As one bloke said to me, you don't look like the type to take these home to make a Spanish omelet, do you lad? Point being, there came a point during the evening when we were pretty dismayed at the pathetically low amount of chocolate we had managed to get our hands on, which is what directly led two of us to make a huge error in judgment. So later on in the evening, maybe about 9ish, we are in this fancier neighborhood near the river, knocking on house after house and generally getting the knock back from the owners. Until we come to this one house where an older guy actually answers the door with a smile. We give it the old trick or treat greeting, to which he responds by laughing warmly and giving us a little clap, which was unusual but not entirely unwelcome. He starts telling us how not a single set of trick or treaters has knocked at his house all evening, and since he finds Halloween a great deal of fun, it had left him pretty dismayed. We get into a casual conversation with him about our costumes, who we were supposed to be and all that, and although I don't think he managed to pick up on a single reference, he was very complimentary. He then goes on to tell us that since it's getting late in the evening and he was unlikely to get anyone else calling at his house that we were welcome to as much chocolate and sweets as we wanted. He told us that he had stocked up on like a shed load of stuff, thinking that he was going to get many more visitors. Then he ended up getting and since he was off to bed soon we could just help ourselves, otherwise all the chocolate would just end up sitting in his cupboards for a year and he wasn't about to give kids year old sweets come next Halloween. We had basically hit the jackpot, thinking that we could just rinse the old fella of his sweets and make up for the paltry amount that we had collected over what had been an unusually fruitless trick or treating scene session. Only he said there was one small problem. Since he was getting on in his years and didn't get out much, his oldest grown up son had come by to drop off all the sweets along with his usual weekly shopping. Then, without having thought it through, his son had put all the sweets in a top cupboard in his back pantry, one that was way too high up for him to reach without doing his back in. If a couple of us were willing to help him reach the cupboards and take out a few tins of soup for him in the process, the sweets were ours. All of them. Now I know what you're thinking. Who is daft enough to just wander into a complete stranger's house in the middle of the night? Apparently we were, and I'll explain why. Firstly, we were in the middle of our teens and most of us were big lads, hardly in a position not to be able to defend ourselves. Secondly, this fella seemed pretty old and infirm, hardly a big threat to us, especially since the two lads who volunteered to go inside to help him outnumbered him two to one. And thirdly, the fact that one of us had managed to pilfer a bit of peach schnapps out of his parents booze stash, which was pretty promptly shared as soon as we were able, had seriously impaired our judgment. So pretty much as soon as the old bloke laid out the terms, two of us, Sam and Corky, volunteered to go inside and help the fella get his soup so we could get our sweets. They went inside, the old fella shuts the door behind him after saying something about keeping the cold out, and we wait outside in the street buzzing about having hit the chocolate jackpot. Like I mentioned, we were all pretty tipsy from having shared that bottle of booze, so we're Just sitting on the stone wall outside the bloke's house, chatting and waiting. A few minutes goes by. Sam and Corky haven't reappeared yet, but I think we were just in too high spirits to really notice. A few more minutes go by and we start getting a little bit impatient, wondering what is taking so long. It had gotten colder and colder as the night went on and by that point it was actually starting to drizzle and none of us fancied getting soaked on the walk back home. So one of us gets their phone out and starts trying to ring Sam and Corky on their mobiles, to which there was no response. We actually start cursing them out now, speculating that they're stashing some of the sweets away in their costumes or something so they don't have to share with the rest of us. The lad who had tried to ring them does so again, shaking his head and getting annoyed as the rain started to get a bit heavier. Then right at that moment, we hear a bang of something smashing against the wooden gate at the side of the old fella's house. It was loud enough to make us all jump, so we stand and turn around to see what could have made the noise. That's when I see Sam climbing over the wooden gate at the side of the house, like scrambling over it as fast as he could, like he had seen a ghost or something. We are all like, what is going on, mate watcher? And clambering over the wooden fence near the back gate before basically throwing himself over the other side and hitting the concrete driveway with a thud. The pure fear in his eyes when he started running down the driveway at us, shouting for us to run. We all started backing off, like getting ready to leave. Leg it. When Sam stops turning back towards the house and saying something like, oh, Corky's still in there. Crap, crap, crap, he's still in there. Everyone starts asking him what just went on for him to come running out like that, but he doesn't respond. He just looks up towards the second floor of the house with a gasp. I turn to try to see what he's looking at and watch as one of the top windows of the house opens up. It was one of those kinds that opens up by the rotating from the bottom. Like it doesn't open like a door, but like a hatch, if that makes any sense. We can't really see what's behind it thanks to the darkness inside the room, but out of nowhere we just see Corki emerging from the window, climbing out backwards while gripping onto the ledge he's trying to edge out Tomb Raider style so we can drop feedback beat first into a section of flower beds that were very fortunately placed underneath the window. I say very fortunately because I am not messing around. It must have been a 15 foot drop at least from the second floor window. At least 15ft. Then as we're watching him do this, there's like a flash of movement in the room above Corky who then screams this proper horrible blood curdling scream before crashing into the flower beds beneath him. He fell so awkwardly too. Like my first thought was that he had to have broken something having fallen that distance in such a way. So I start rushing towards him to help him up and get him moving. But to my surprise he just bounces back up out of the flower bed and starts legging it down the driveway towards us. That same horrible look of fear on his face that Sam had then, that was that. We just bailed, sprinting as fast as we could down this long dark road that led towards the river. Not stopping until we reached the promenade which was lit up in this ominous pumpkin orange street like glow. Pretty opt for Halloween, right? Not that it occurred to me until months afterward. Only when we were certain we were a safe distance from the blokes house did we stop to catch our breath. But it didn't take long for those of us that had waited outside to demand to know what had happened. Only then did we see the blood pouring out of Corky's hand from a cut so deep we could actually see this pale bit of tissue in the orange light which turned out to be one of his actual bones. The old fella had stabbed his hand as he had been hanging from the window frame and that's what caused him to scream and drop. I remember Sam just sitting down on the concrete near the railings, just with his head in his hands. Maybe he was trying to fight back tears, I couldn't quite tell. But it was Corky that spoke up first. He pulled a knife on us, got us into the back pantry thing and pulled a knife on us, he said, hands in his knees, still panting. He had something else too, like his phone or. It was a taser, lad, he had a taser. My auntie had one that looked exactly like it. I'd know it anywhere. Sam interrupted. We were all just in shock and listened as they went on to describe how the nice old fellow we thought we were dealing with turned out not to be so nice or so old at all. Corky told us as soon as he had gotten them into the back pantry. He had risen up from being all hunched over and started to move a bit more limberly, which is right when Corky said he started to get the creeps. Realizing that something wasn't right about the guy, the old bloke pointed at the cupboard where the sweets were, told Sam and Corky to help themselves, then just sort of did. Disappeared after telling them he'd be back in a minute. The cupboard was apparently so high up that Sam had to give Corky a boost up to actually open it. And when they did actually open it, there was nothing inside at all. No soup, no sweets, no nothing. Then the next thing they knew, the guy was blocking the exit to the pantry, holding a knife and what was, according to San Sam, definitely a taser and was ordering each of them to go upstairs. But that's not all. Apparently when the fella turned up again, he was completely naked with only his shoes and socks on. We didn't get all the grim details out of them for a few months, but apparently the guy wasn't suffering from any dysfunction, if you catch my drift. They said they had listened to him at first, heading towards the staircase before they attempted to escape, with Sam heading out the back doors, into the yard and over the fence. But Corky was sort of trapped on the stairs with the guy blocking his escape. So as I mentioned, he had to run upstairs, find a front facing window and just climb out of it. We considered calling the police right then and there. I mean, he had obviously just stabbed one of my friends in the hand. But Corky had other ideas. Even with his adrenaline pumping, he explained pretty coherently that there was no way he could complain to the police, that he could see the older fella putting on that innocent old man act again and just telling the police that we had forced our way inside and tried to rob him. Then he'd defend himself. And that's how Corky ended up with a wound on his hand. I remember the lad who was about to phone the police just stopping dead thinking about it for a second, then putting his phone away. Five lads, way too old to be trick or treating, Stinking of booze versus the word of one sweet old man who was apparently no threat to anyone at all. It'd be an open and shut case for the police. Or at least that's what he got into our heads. I'm sure there's people who, who might hear this and disagree, knowing there was some way of us having evidence in our favor or, I don't know, something to prove that we weren't lying, but I suppose we'll never really know since we didn't act on it. To find out, we stayed away from that neighborhood for years. We eventually managed to get it together to enact some kind of revenge, but when we went back to the place we found it was some evil young couple living there, the older fella apparently being long gone. We didn't get any closure at all. But closure is overrated. There's a lot to be said for the power of just forgetting, you know? But yeah. Anyway, this has gone on long enough, I reckon, so I'll wrap it up. The story of the scariest thing to ever happen to me or anyone I know during Halloween and honestly, it's probably the most disturbing thing to happen to me in my entire life. I am now 36 years old and I live in the Philippines in Baguio City, a city that was built built on top of the mountains. I remembered having a friend when I was around eight or nine years old. It was summer and all the kids were on vacation. As the youngest, my brothers and their friends rarely allowed me to join them whenever they were playing. I have my own set of friends around my age, but most of them are girls and I always wanted to be part of the big boy club. One time my brothers went out and I was the only one left at home with my parents. My mom allowed me to go outside and play. Unfortunately, all my playmates were out at the time with their parents, so I decided to play on my own. Since we live in a city that was built on the mountains, it is common to have bushy tall grass and mountains of dirt in the area. I decided to play with some dirt and do some digging, but before I do I have to walk and make my way to the thick bushes to reach that small circular patch of land that is free from any vegetation. As I was doing some digging, this little girl who was also around my age approached me and asked if she could join. I politely accepted as I have no one else to play with. A few hours passed and she hadn't told me her name, even though I introduced myself more than once. Whenever I asked her her name, she would always keep quiet and would change the subject. It was getting pretty late and I had to say goodbye. She asked me to meet her at the same spot the next day. Make every get together chill this Memorial Day. 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- [27:51]
A
Spring just slid into your DMs. Grab that boho. Look for that rooftop dinner, those sandals that can keep up with you, and hang some string lights to give your patio a glow up. Spring's calling Ross. Work your magic. Capture your favorite summer feeling with Pandora Jewelry. Discover a collection inspired by the sunshine, freedom and moments that make the season unforgettable. From sun kissed metals to personalized pieces ready to be engraved with your summer mantra, each design moves with you from beach days to golden nights and every memory in between. Shop Pandora Jewelry's new summer collection in store or online@pandora.net and let your summer unfold.
- [28:37]
B
The following day, all the kids in the neighborhood are out to play, including my brothers. I decided to play with my friends and totally forgot that I was supposed to meet my new friend, but as soon as I remembered I saw her from afar. Half of her body was hidden inside the bushes and is making a joke gesture that I should come with her. I waved back and made a hand gesture suggesting she should come and join us. Weirdly enough, she would not step out of the bushes and would just stand there waiting for me. I ignored her for a while thinking that she was probably shy and would come and join. Eventually after playing, I decided to join her. As I was about to approach her, she went ahead but nodded at me acknowledging that I am coming to join her. Upon arriving at the same circular patch of land surrounding by the bushes and tall grass, she asked me to come with her to her house. I asked where do you live? She responded just behind that big rock, pointing at the big rock that was covered in bushes and tall grass, but there's nothing there. I don't remember seeing any houses beyond that. I responded and her response was just come and I will show you. As soon as I was about to join her, I heard my brother scream my name asking me to come up for a snack. I grabbed my friend's hands and asked her to join us instead for a snack and as I was guiding her out of the bushes, she suddenly stopped just a few steps away back to the pavement and told me I cannot go beyond here. I would just meet you back at the same spot when you're done and she ran back to the bushes Until I could no longer see her as a kid. It did not occur to me the weirdness and the unusual behavior that she showed me. The next day, I decided that I would spend more time with my new friend. I went out and headed straight to the usual spot. And there she was digging as if she was continuing the hole I had dug a few days ago. I joined her. She held my hands and she asked me to be closer to her. Suddenly, my brothers and his friends decided to come to the same spot we were playing, not knowing that it was their hideout. Whenever they were trying to sneak for a quick smoke and drink some liquor. Surprisingly, they allowed me to be there. So we continued to dig as if nothing happened. When suddenly my brother asked me, why aren't you playing? Your friends, they came to the house looking for you. They're in there now waiting for you. It did not occur to me at the time that it was weird. They did not even acknowledge my friend's presence. But I told my brother that I would be there in a few minutes. After smoking, my brother and their friends left the area. So I was left alone with my new friend. Again, she held my hand and asked me to come to her house with her behind the big rock. This time she was forceful and a little aggressive, as if she was desperate for me to go with her. Like almost crying. I remember her hugging me three times while begging for me to join her. I still remember that moment when I was very uncomfortable with the situation. Because I know that there was nothing behind that rock. I have been there many times before and it just leads to another section of thick bush bushes. I insisted on not going and I held her hands and dragged her out of the bushes. But she shouted, stop. I told you I cannot go past this point. And I replied, why? What do you mean? She forcefully took my hands off hers and ran back to the bushes. I felt really bad, as if I should have joined her. But at the same time, I was scared for my own safety. The following day, I decided to spend more time again with her. I asked her to at least come with me and sit in between the pavement and the bushes. She agreed. We sat down. While watching the other kids play, we were approached by my friends. Joanna, one of my closest friends, told me, hey, let's go to Yvonne's house and watch tv. The there will be snacks. Come on. But when I was about to introduce my new friend, Joanna and Yvonne grabbed me by the hand in a hurry, dragging me away from my new friend. I could only look back at her and could not even say goodbye. A few months had passed. My family decided that we will be moving out and living in a different place. During those months, my friendship remained with that girl. Same spot, same time. The day we were about to leave, I saw her just peeking from the bushes, from inside the car. I was told not to go anywhere by my parents because everything was ready. I remember not removing my eyes off her until I could no longer see her. As the car drove away, she did the same. But she made a weird gesture. Just when we were about to lose sight of each other. She pointed to her head and pointed back at me. And it was the last time that I ever saw her as a kid. It did not occur to me that my situation was scary. I remembered her. Our unnatural friendship. The weird part is I cannot remember her face at all. It is as if it was wiped from my memory. And I am really really good with faces. I can still remember all the kids faces except for hers also. I just realized that she always seemed to wear the same clothes. A dirty white dress, almost yellowish. Black shoes with white socks. Hair always tied upwards. But the face. I cannot remember her face. Up until now I always wondered what if I had joined her to go to her house? What would have happened? It bothers me still today. What happened to her? Is she still alive? Or was she really alive in the first place? I know this was not an imaginary friend because of the emotions, the sensation whenever I was with her. It was all real. It was not an imaginary friend because I was never sad when I was a kid. Whatever or whoever she was, I am just hoping that she is doing well. I was always a very naive, innocent kind of person. I was the type of optimist who believed there was a touch of goodness in every heart. A dangerous mindset to be in. I realize now that seeing the world through my rose colored glasses put a big flashing red target on my back. Often when you think of scary stories involving creepy behavior and psychological abuse, you think of an occurrence from a stranger. In my case, it came from my mother in law. My husband's mother initially adored me. Not for any reason other than thinking I could easily be controlled. I was meek, with a passive personality. So it made sense that I would come across like someone who could be easily influenced. Looking back on it, I cringe at how creepy the situation really, really was. For the sake of this story, I'll call my mother in law by the name of Mrs. Psycho. At the beginning of my relationship with my husband, Mrs. Psycho and I were getting along great. Or so I thought she would take me shopping, give compliments about my hair, and girly stuff like that. As the relationship with my partner grew more serious this she would rant and rave to everyone in our neighborhood about how much she adored me and how I was like the daughter she never had. So naturally, I thought things were progressing positively. But certain things were just really off about Mrs. Psycho. I noticed little tidbits of her behavior at parties and neighborhood social gatherings. She would sulk in a corner and I would chalk it up to her being socially awkward or anxious. But looking back at it now, I noticed that she was always whimpering about something negative going on in her life. How she fell off her bike and hurt her elbow while riding through a construction zone, how one neighbor complained about her parking in front of his house, losing her job because she couldn't get along with a co worker. The list went on and on. In every story, she portrayed herself as the the victim of some unusual circumstances. One huge red flag that my simple mind didn't understand at the time was the story she was always telling about her other son, my partner's brother. She'd say some really disturbing things about he had held her, my partner, and his dad hostage in their own home and how he had physically punched their father in the face. The way she described the story made it sound like my partner's brother was a bully to the whole family. In all her wild stories and accusations about him, she always scolded her son in ways that I just can't imagine ever scolding my own child. What my husband and I didn't fully interpret at the time was the underlying problem, which wasn't necessarily his brother, but the woman who had been a driving force for the insanity behind the behavior. Psychological abuse can trigger emotional responses in very unpredictable and disturbing ways. Mrs. Psycho's behavior became evidently creepy after our engagement. She showed signs of unhealthy enmeshment. First, she was angry that we didn't tell her immediately when we had gotten engaged. Then she was angry when we changed the wedding date without first asking for her permission. She expressed a desire for my future husband and I to live in the upstairs of her house and pay her rent. We told her that we can afford our own home and we want to start a family, so that wouldn't work out. The infuriation in her eyes was frightening. She would look normal one moment. Then if you told her something she didn't want to hear, her eyes would turn black. The memory of her eyes still sends me with a frightening chill. Down my spine. From there, she became increasingly controlling. Mrs. Psycho and her husband, Mr. Psycho, would start showing up to our house every other day or so. I started counting how long they could go without having to see us, and that number came to three days. There was no privacy and I felt that I had to close close the curtains over our windows every night. I locked the bedroom door a few times before bed just to be on the safe side. Despite our relationship being pleasant in the beginning, I noticed that I was now feeling like I was treading on eggshells around Mrs. Psycho, or rather, landmines. I realized I couldn't talk to her like I used to be able to when me and her son were just dating. I remembered when we would be able to have nice, in depth conversations and I had allowed myself to be vulnerable with her. I confided in her about how I had a lot of social anxiety and that her son came into my life during a time that I was suffering from crippling depression. I talked about how he had brought a ray of sunshine into my life, thinking that speaking kindly about her son would please her. But she just had this unfeeling glazed look across her face. Hoping to mend my relationship with her, I decided to help her out one day with organizing her antiques. She had this hobby of going to auctions and buying and selling knickknacks, buttons and stuff like that. She would get very proud of her collections of things that I sort of thought were junk. But to be polite, I told her I saw beauty in these things, hoping to get back on her good side. There were some creepy dolls in the mix, including this horrifying looking vampire doll with piercing red eyes. She said she had had that doll for years and used to scare my husband with it when he was a kid. She laughed at this and the sound had an eerie satanical vibe to it. As if this wasn't enough to freak me out, she then told me this story about how a female coworker complained about her to the HR department at her company. Mrs. Psycho wrote a letter that was meant for the coworker's husband, telling him that she was cheating on him to remain as anonymous as possible. She told me how she slipped on a pair of black gloves and drove the letter to a faraway location so that her address couldn't be traced. I remember feeling very uneasy about her story, wondering how she could get angry enough to drive hours away just to cause emotional harm to another human being. There came a point after hearing this story when I didn't want to be left alone with my partner's mom anymore. He tried to talk to his parents about how I was feeling like I was on eggshells around them, but they flipped the narrative to say that they were the ones feeling like they were on eggshells around me. Me. During this time, I painstakingly realized that psychological torture exists in the form of extreme invalidation. Not having your feelings acknowledged can really drive a person crazy. It was then when I felt a little more clued into what may have happened to Mrs. Psycho's other son. I can't be sure because I never met the guy, but I think he was driven mad by his mother's severe, severe emotional neglect. Now she was pulling the same tricks on me and my partner, gaslighting us into believing that we were just too sensitive. When my husband and I started figuring out that something was off, things got even creepier. His parents started showing up to our house to corner us into submission. What I mean is, they would tell us stories to make them seem like victims so that we would give in to demands of what they wanted at the time. If we denied their requests, they would use psychological manipulation by telling us that we were uncaring or ungrateful. One example of this manipulation was when I became pregnant. I explained that the smell of pizza made me extremely sick, but this was ignored when Mrs. Psycho insisted that we go to a pizza restaurant for her birthday. I was confused with why I felt like I couldn't say no. My husband was in the same predicament. Somehow, I think we sensed that something bad would happen to us if we declined. This is also because Mrs. Psycho's husband and her sister had contacted us, telling us explicitly that they weren't allowed to say no to her dinner invitations anymore. They explained it like saying no hurts her feelings, but there was something else there that I can't quite explain, something hidden beneath the surface that sounded really threatening. I had no get business done with the new American Express Graphite Business Cash Unlimited card with unlimited 2% cash back on all eligible purchases, unlimited 5% cash back on flights and prepaid hotels booked through American Express Travel online and a flexible spending capacity that can grow with your business, you'll have the confidence to keep building. Apply today and earn a welcome offer of $1,500 cash back after you spend $50,000 in qualifying purchases on your new card within the first six months of card membership terms. Apply. Learn more@gomx graphite. No idea why, but I just did not feel safe then, only two weeks after giving birth to our daughter. I had the credit Creepiest interaction of my life Mrs. Psycho caught me alone while I was on my front porch. The weather was really nice, so I was rocking with my baby in one of our outdoor chairs. She came up to the doorstep and assumed a seat in a chair next to me. Then in a quiet, ominous voice, she said to me, you have to share her, you know. Her black eyes flicked to the infant in my arms. I know what you might be thinking, but this wasn't said in a cute, excited new grandma kind of way. Her voice sounded cold and possessive with certain passive aggressive intent behind the statement. I naturally clutched my arms around my daughter tighter, feeling a protective instinct take over me. Mrs. Psycho had expressed to be me before that she had always wanted to have a daughter but was only ever able to have sons. Maybe I was being influenced by the postpartum hormones or just overall feeling paranoid, but a disturbing thought occurred to me that she might want to get rid of me somehow to have my daughter to herself. I later told my husband about the bizarre interaction with his mom and how I couldn't keep up with the heavy psychological demands of his parents anymore. It was all taking a strange emotional toll on me as well as a strain on our marriage, and I still couldn't pinpoint exactly why. Nevertheless, they were causing us a lot of stress, which was impacted on me all the more. While I was trying to adapt to my role as a new mother, I felt like I was going crazy. They even restricted me in between bizarre ways, telling me that I was not allowed to refer to our daughter as my baby. The stress was enough to make me physically sick. At first my husband hesitated when I told him about my concerns, stating the usual spiel that was natural for him to say that they were his parents and he couldn't just drop contact with them. But something in his voice contained fear and it wouldn't take long before he would realize how screwed up the situation actually was. The incident that drove him to the point of cutting off his parents happened when they cornered us in our living room demanding that we watch their aggressive dog while they went on vacation for five days. My husband almost caved, but stayed firm when he told them, no, we can't. We have a two month old baby to look after. The murderous glare his mom then flashed at me was intense and enough to make me crawl out of my skin. I thought for sure she was about to lunge at me and wring her icy cold hands around my neck, causing me death by strangulation. I was terrified. Mr. And Mrs. Psycho eventually left our house. But they were clearly angry that they weren't able to control convince us to conform to their will. My husband and I had a dark, suspicious feeling that something bad was about to happen. First, we received lengthy emails from Mrs. Psycho, mostly insulting me. She said she thought I was brainwashing her son. And she went on to portray herself as a victim. She used the knowledge of my anxiety disorder to make an argument that I was mentally unstable. Unstable and dangerous. She threatened to post about me on Facebook and mess up our lives if we didn't apologize for deviating from what she wanted. At the same time, she told me that I was dead to her and listed all the mistakes I had made in the past as well as my faults. We remained silent, not wanting to engage with her any further. My husband and I were scared, spending most of our days cooped up in our bedroom, not knowing what to expect. But we stayed strong through the process of separating from the toxic relationship. Mrs. Psycho proceeded to make good on her threat, posting about me publicly on Facebook. She said that I was crazy. She even went a step further saying that I had borderline personality disorder, which was entirely fabricated. It didn't end there though. An active smear campaign against me ensued as Mr. And Mrs. Psycho actually went door to door to everyone's house in the community, posing as good citizens to warn everyone about their extremely dangerous, manipulative, 5 foot tall daughter in law. My neighbors didn't react the way that was expected though. They were more weary of her than of me. Me. Instead of ruining my reputation, which was the desired effect, most people in my neighborhood were majorly creeped out by Mrs. Psycho's efforts. They were equally creeped out by Mr. Psycho's willingness to go along with the whole thing. I guess after years of being beaten down with his wife's abuse, he was just an empty shell of a man. A flying monkey to his wife. There are a few doctors and therapists in my neighborhood who believed that Mrs. Psycho may have been projecting meaning that she is confessing that she is potentially dangerous and volatile while pinning it on me. This, along with some stories of Mrs. Psycho's interactions with other people in our neighborhood confirmed that something was disturbingly off with this lady. This information made the situation all the more unsettling. When Mr. And Mrs. Psycho showed up to our house for what we suspected would be a confrontation. My husband and I were watching Survivor in the living room with our baby when the doorbell rang. He crept to the front window to peer behind the curtain to see who it was. I could see the fear on his face. It's my parents, he said, and my blood ran cold. I immediately ran with the baby baby upstairs, pausing only to tell him that it was his choice whether to answer the door or not, since they are his parents, but that me and the baby would be hidden away. As I made my way up the stairs, my husband hovered by the front door, conflicted. He didn't know what to do. Meanwhile, I could hear jostling at the front door like his parents were trying to force their way inside our house with a spare key. I am thankful to this day that we had just changed the locks a few days before so they couldn't get in. I proceeded to run upstairs and closed the bedroom door behind me, locking me and the baby inside. I held my daughter close, my heart thudding wildly against my chest. When there was a knock on the bedroom door, I reacted with a jolt. My husband's voice voice on the other side calmed me down. He told me he didn't answer the door. He was trembling when I unlocked the door to let him in. His face was pale. He showed me a text message that said anyone home? Followed by another text that said, you're a coward hiding behind your keyboard. I don't know what would have happened if my husband had chosen to answer the door, but I shudder to think about it. My husband and I both blocked them after that. Phone numbers, social media accounts, everything. Thankfully, they moved away to another state. We have since had no contact with his parents for almost two years, and our daughter is growing in a happy, loving environment free of toxicity. I have since armed myself with knowledge so that I will be less naive about creepy behavior in the future. I have studied up on narcissism and the negative psychological impact that some people can have on others through gaslighting and invalidation. I hope everyone listening out there may be aware that not all abuse is physical. When I was a kid, my family moved from our home in upstate New York all the way down to North Carolina, all because of something to do with my dad's job. It was a pretty scary time in my life for someone so young to have to leave behind their school friends and stuff and settle in an entirely new place was deeply disconcerting and saddening. But none of that compared to what I would face one day during elementary school. To me, it was a morning a lot like any other. Nothing remarkable or ominous about it. I mean, the weather seemed pretty crappy, so there was no outside recess during the morning, but that's not entirely unusual during the fall on the east coast, but as the afternoon progressed, I remember looking out of the windows of our classroom and seeing the light drizzle of the morning progress steadily into some of the heaviest wind and rain I had ever seen. Like it was pounding against the window so hard at one point that our teacher had to actually raise their voice in order to make themselves heard. Not long after, another teacher walks in the classroom, quickly walks up to our teacher standing at the front of the class and whispers something in her ear. Our teacher immediately goes all wide eyed and although we didn't know exactly what had been said or what was going on, this super tense feeling just descended over the class like we instinctively knew something was wrong. Class continued for a little while, all while the weather outside continued to get worse. Only this time, instead of just ignoring it, our teacher kept looking out the windows. I remember turning to see what she was looking at and seeing just a bunch of stuff flying across the playing field outside. Nothing major, just a lot of paper and bits of plastic. But I had never seen anything like that before and it made me really, really nervous. Then the intercom in our classroom buzzed into life, saying something about how all teaching staff and pupils needed to take shelter in the hallways immediately. So we did, and with our teacher trying to keep us all calm and she struggled to keep a lid on her own fears, we filed out into the hallway and were told to sit down on the floor out there. By that point, we could all hear the sounds of the wind.
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howling outside of the building, even through some pretty thick cladding and stuff, which was terrifying all on its own. And the louder it got, the more and more afraid we all got as our teachers explained that it was just some nasty weather and it couldn't hurt us so long as we were in the hallways. Things were fine for a little while, but our classroom was right next to the library, and at one point, just as the mood seemed to be as tense as it could get, we all heard this big crashing sound coming from behind the closed double doors. It was so loud and frightening that all the kids immediately screamed when we heard it, and it was followed by these horribly loud howling wind noises that seemed to echo down the hallways we were sat in. It honestly sounded like a big monster had just come crashing its way through the glass and was tearing around the library, knocking things over as it went. Some of the other kids were inconsolable at that point, as the screams turned into sobs and wails that the teachers tried and failed to calm. It was like a rolling choir of fear and misery, with almost every second kid just either quietly sobbing or openly wailing. I admit to crying myself, but it was only upon hearing another kid saying to a teacher, I want to go home. I want my mom and dad. I need my mom and dad. That just made me think of my own parents and how this horrible and bizarre event might be affecting them too. That's when I couldn't find it in me to be brave anymore, and I broke down crying as well. We ended up staying in that corridor for hours, way past the time we all should have been filing out of the school for the end of the day. It was actually dark out by the time the howling noises stopped coming from the library, and you can't even imagine the sense of relief that came over us when we were told that our parents would be coming to collect us from school in the next hour or so. I cried again when I saw them near the main entrance, running up and giving them a huge hug. I was just so thankful that they were safe and that whatever was going on outside hadn't gotten them, as I was so terrified that it might. As it turns out, the school had been hit by a tornado. It definitely was. Wasn't the worst kind that could have hit, but as I mentioned, it was bad enough to blow out the windows in the library. Or maybe it was a tree that was felled that somehow managed to smash through the windows. I didn't actually see what exactly caused the damage, but at that age, I wasn't even really sure what a tornado even was like. Sure, I had heard the word before, but I had never been caught in anything as crazy as that, and neither had most of the other kids, by the way they reacted. It was without a doubt the single most pant wettingly scary thing that ever happened to me during my entire childhood, let alone during my time in elementary school. And since then, I have had a profound respect for how awesomely powerful the forces of nature can be and how they are not to be taken lightly. I know this isn't as gripping or terrifying a story as some of the school lockdown ones I read from time to time, but for all of us in school that day, it was like a nightmare come to life. Before you hear this story, I just want to say that it does not have a particularly satisfying climax or ending. It defies all logic and sense and will probably leave you feeling quite bewildered, as it did to me while it was occurring. Having said that, it's still the creepiest series of events that has ever happened to me. When I was a young teenager, my friend Nathan and I would often take my family's large sea kayak across a nearby river to a small creek that was around half a kilometer away and shot off adjacent to an abandoned golf course. This creek was very slow moving compared to the large Hawkesbury river, and as a result of this, a lot of garbage and debris would collect at the mouth of the creek before slowly being distributed throughout its length. Nathan and I spent a lot of time at this creek. We even built a small jetty to tie the kayak to, using long sticks and baling twine from the hay bales that we used to feed the horses back at home. We used this jetty to moor the kayak while we navigated the mess of prickly pear cacti that guarded the borders of the golf course. The golf course itself was incredibly eerie. No animals, birds, or even insects could be heard or seen on it. Every noise you made was echoed back at you from a nearby sandstorm. Stone cliff face the closest thing we saw to an animal was the skeleton of a kangaroo, which we found around the second time we went there. It was strange, as we had only been to the spot around a week or so prior and there was no corpse at that time. Yet there it was in the middle of the clearing, a full kangaroo skeleton. Sun bleached and scattered about. We picked up some of the bones and admired them, closely remarking on what part of the skeleton we thought each bone was before tossing them aside. I took the skull back with me in the kayak and placed it on the bookshelf in my room. When I got home that afternoon, I often took things back from outings. Nathan never did, but he was always on the lookout for things for me to collect. The next time we went out to that creek, we decided to try our luck at exploring the waterway as far down as we could. We armed ourselves with machetes and a small hatchet that we used when we built the jetty and set off. The journey was made extremely difficult by vines that spanned the creek from bank to bank, sunken logs and dense river weed that made paddling nearly impossible. The water was full of garbage too. Broken tubes, life jackets, boat propellers, you name it, it had made its way here. As we made it through to the relatively rubbish free area that had dark, ominous looking water, I looked down briefly and saw what I thought was a doll's head just below the surface of the water. I stopped paddling to crane my neck to see it more clearly. It was definitely a doll's head around a foot below the surface as if it was tethered there from the riverbed. It was looking up with a blank expression and light blue eyes. I instantly got a panicked feeling as I gazed at it. Before I could say anything, Nathan exclaimed ah. Cool. And plunged his hand into the water. I could tell that he was surprised at how deep he had to reach to wrap his fingers around the head, but Nathan was a determined dude. He lifted the head out of the water water and looked at me grinning, streams of water running from his closed fist as he held it out toward me triumphantly. I took it reluctantly from him. It was a small doll's head around 3 inches in diameter.
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the head was clearly sun damaged and as a result it had lost a lot of the paint features. There were no discernible pupils on the eyes, just the blue colored irises. This gave the thing a really disturbing look. I shook my head at Nathan and placed the head on the front of the kayak to look like the figurehead of an old wooden ship. Nathan laughed. Let's call him Bob, he said while still grinning. I gave him a deadpan look, trying not to laugh. You're so original. I scoffed at him before turning around to resume paddling. I stopped immediately when I saw Bob staring straight back at me. I had not placed him like that. I had placed him facing outward. I knew that I had because his face creeped me out and I did not want to look at it. Nathan was paddling while I had stopped and so we were moving at a good pace. As I was at the front of the boat, I was meant to keep an eye out for obstacles and call out if I saw anything ahead. I was entirely focused on Bob. However, as we struck a submerged tree and came to an abrupt stop, everything on the kayak jumped forward. As a result of this Nathan, me, our packed lunches and water bottles, nothing too major happened. Everything on the kayak had jumped forward. That is except for the doll's head. I had kept my eye on it the entire time and it did not move even half an inch. It was like it was super glued to the boat. Nathan began teasing me about being blind and I snapped at him to be quiet. He asked what was wrong and I leaned to the right for him to see the head. I pointed and snapped. Said it didn't move dude. While half chuckling, Nathan moved forward to look at it closer. What do you mean? He asked. Slowly, I picked up my paddle and took a slow stroke backward in the water to lightly hit the tree again. Once again everything on the kayak jumped forward slightly as we struck the tree. Except for Bob, he stayed perfectly still. Nathan laughed. That's weird, he said, his voice trailing off. I reached out to turn Bob around on his spot and he turned easily. Let's go home, I said loudly, trying to wash the area of the heavy feeling that was seeming to settle down upon us. Nathan agreed and we turned the kayak around to head home. I watched the head like a hawk. Bob never looked back at me on the trip home though. When we got home, we packed everything that we could into our backpacks and lifted the kayak out of the water. The head was stuffed into my pocket. I had not told Nathan how creeped out I was, out of the fear that he would give me crap or give him possible ammunition to play a dumb prank on me with it. Nathan was and said still is my best friend, and he would absolutely have done that if I had told him, just as I would to him had the roles been reversed. I decided to just keep my mouth shut about the stupid doll head and hope that Nathan would simply forget about it. We trudged over to my neighbor's backyard with the kayak, holding it by the handles at both ends. My pocket started to feel very warm. I stood. I stopped listening to Nathan's nonsense and began to focus more on the ever increasing temperature of the head inside my pocket. Each time I thought it can't get any hotter, it somehow would. It was not burning, more like the feeling of deep heat as it gets left on. I tried my best to ignore was getting dark now and I really wanted to get home. We dropped the kayak in the garage and put away the machetes and hatchet before making our way upstairs for dinner. I took a detour to my room to dump the head out of my pocket and onto my bed, leaving it there while I left my room to join Nathan and my family for dinner. When Nathan and I finished dinner and entered my bedroom to go to sleep later on that night, the head was absent from my bottom bunk bed. Granted, my room was a mess, but it should still have been in the cleared spot on my bare mattress. I took a little time to look for it, tossing the blankets and sheets aside and climbing on top to peer down through the gap between the bed and the wall. I could not see it anywhere. I was not concerned that I may not see it again. In fact, I was somewhat relieved that it was gone. However, I had a gnawing face, feeling that it was still around, not watching me exactly, but just a presence. Nathan seemed to have forgotten about it though he never brought Bob back up again that night, and he climbed up to the top bunk and promptly fell asleep. I lay down on my bed and pulled the bundle of blankets haphazardly over the top of me, falling asleep quickly as well. The next day I was awoken by the sounds of thumping noises coming from nearby outside. I got up out of bed to glance out the window into the front paddock of our property to see my stepfather using the hatchet to hack at a tree stump that was much too large for the minuscule axe. My stepfather was a very smart man, but his grasp on common sense sometimes bordered on the absurd. I yawned, rubbing my eyes and turning around before opening them. I froze in place. There, on the shelf in front of the kangaroo's skull was Bob, his eyes looking once again directly into mine. I turned to look at Nathan, still sleeping on the top bunk, and instantly jumped up on the railing to punch him hard in the upper arm. He awoke with a pained cry and looked at me with a scowl. What the heck man? He demanded, lifting his other arm to place his palms over the spot that I had struck with the punch. Oh, like you don't know, mofo. I said with a slight laugh, trying to mask the trembling tone in my voice. Nathan looked incredulously back at me. I stared at him to try to see if his stoic express expression would falter. It always would when he played pranks. It did not though. I shook my head and strafed across the railing so that the bookshelf was in his view. I pointed at the top shelf. You didn't put it there? I asked. Nathan sat up to get a better look and shook his head. Nah, man. I would have had him facing outward anyway. You know I would have. I spun my head around so fast that I'm surprised my neck did not break. Sure enough, the head was now facing toward the kangaroo skull and not outward like before. I began shaking, unable to hold myself up on the railing any longer. I dropped to the floor and stormed over to the bookshelf to pick Bob up and took him out into the kitchen. I stepped on the pedal to open the cross chrome bin in there and threw him in the garbage a lot harder than I needed to. I did not let the lid naturally close, instead choosing to slam it down as a good measure. Nathan sleepily trudged out of my room once I had finished doing this. He stared wide eyed at the bin. He took a moment before looking up at me and speaking. Yeah, that thing was creepy, man. I was glad that Nathan agreed with me and was not using this opportunity to make fun of me. I nodded at him. Something about it was just wrong. I uttered quietly. Nathan playfully kicked the bin, making it rock a little. Take that creepy doll head guy. He exclaimed while laughing. I laughed too, feeling glad that the situation was was over and dealt with. I asked Nathan again if he had actually put the head on the shelf, stating that if he had, it was okay. It was a good prank. I just needed to know for my own sanity. Nathan put his hand over his heart and sternly promised that he had not done it. I believed him then and I still do to this day, nearly 17 years later. Months went past. Nathan and I never had an opportunity to make our way back to the creek. With school holidays approaching, I was keen to get big chores out of the way on weekends so that I could enjoy the full extent of the holiday period. I did this by working on weekends with my stepfather on various projects on our rural property. We used the machetes and hatchet that Nathan and I had taken on our last trip to the creek in order to complete many of these tasks. Having no means to sharpen the tools, or even the knowledge for that matter, meant that cutting and hacking got more difficult and cumbersome as time went on. One day as I was fighting my way through a thicket of vines hanging from a large peppercorn tree, I observed my mother lean down to pick up an object out of the dirt in the front paddock. It was in a spot directly below the main house household wheelie bins that the council picked up weekly. I thought nothing of it. A few hours later I went inside to get a drink of water and to change my shirt as I had managed to create a large tear in the one that I was wearing. I entered my room and immediately felt strange, feeling a need to look over at my bookshelf. The feeling of deja vu was intense. Bob was back, staring at me again from the spot on the bookshelf that I had placed him on years earlier. This time, though, a small smirk was obvious on his features. I felt nausea sweep over me and I turned around to walk back into the kitchen. Mom? I asked sheepishly. My mother didn't look up from doing the dishes. Yes, honey, she replied. Did you put something on my shelf? Mom murmured in agreement with me. Yes. I found that doll's head in the front yard earlier. I saw it in your room a long time ago and figured you must have lost it somehow. This made no sense to me. Mom could not have seen it in my room. There was no time. Furthermore, what a bizarre thing to do to find a doll's head underneath the retaining wall that our bin sat atop of and to think to wash it off and put it on my bookshelf. I shook my head and turned to walk back to my room, determined to get rid of him for good this time. I marched straight up to the bookshelf and reached up to grab Bob and paused. He was not there. I let out an exasperated sigh and began to violently push things aside on my bookshelf, first on the top shelf, then the second shelf, all the way down until, starting to fling things around in my room, he was nowhere to be found. I stopped and placed my hands on either side of my face and took a minute to slow my breathing down. I walked briskly out of my room and grabbed the cordless phone off the wall. I called Nathan to tell him what had happened. After I finished rattling off a summary of what had happened, he was speechless about what I had told him. We both had no idea what to make of all this. My stepfather, growing impatient with how long I was taking to come back, had returned to the house also and was standing over me with his hands on his hips, looking very annoyed. I told Nathan that I had to go and hung up. My steps stepfather asked me where I had put the hatchet that I was using earlier. I looked confused. I had left it impaled into the impossibly large tree stump. As always, he had watched me do it. I told him as much and he said that he could not find it. We both went back down to the paddock together and sure enough, just like Bob, the hatchet had seemingly disappeared. I never saw Bob again, but the story does not end there. Years later, when Nathan and I were in our twenties, we decided to take the kayak and make our way back to the creek for old times sake. We took the kayak out of the garage and carried it up the road to a launch ramp. As the neighbor's property that we used to get to the river had changed owners some years back, it took us about an hour to get to the creek, as opposed to our usual 20 minutes back in the day. When we arrived, we were very surprised to see that our jetty was still there. Having survived two floods and over a decade of river tides, it honestly did not look like it was damaged in any way, almost like new. We stopped and moored the kayak to it as we always done, and stepped out onto the shore. My foot kicked something up in the dirt and I looked down to see the outline of a familiar shape. It couldn't be. I knelt down and grasped at the handle of the object, pulling it out of the crumbling earth to reveal the hatchet that I had misplaced so many years ago. The casing bearing my stepfather's monogram embodied embossed into the dark leather. I shook my head. This was impossible. This hatchet was the only one we had purchased, and it was one of a kind. Nathan and I were the only ones that visited this spot out of my family and anyone else that we knew. This made no sense whatsoever. Nathan looked at it quietly along with me, a heavy feeling seeming to settle around us once again. We both turned to look at the wide berth of still water at the mouth of the creek. In the center, the bloated and rotting corpse of a cow floated innocuously, drifting lazily in a clockwise direction. A storm was setting in rapidly. Nathan and I looked at each other at the same time time and knew that this was the last time we would ever be coming to Katai Creek. It's.