← Scary Stories and Rain
Scary Stories and Rain
Scary Stories For A Rainy Night - Ep. 410 - Someone Knocked At Midnight
01:05:47
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So good, so good, so good.
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Send Help is now streaming on Hulu and Hulu on Disney plus.
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We're somewhere in the Gulf of Thailand.
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Getting us out of here should be your focus.
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I'm your boss. You work for me.
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Not in the office anymore. It's bold, relentless and endlessly rewatchable. Discover why critics give it 93% on rotten tomatoes. You're so fired.
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Oh, am I?
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No help is coming.
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Send help. Rated R Now streaming on Hulu and Hulu on Disney Plus.
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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 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 $2.99 a month. 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. 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 through 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 of my foot to knock the object loose and after a few pushes, the body of a gray cat rolls out. 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 noticed that it's locked, which is alarming because our chaperone usually left it open for campers to use the restroom in the hall. 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. Whatever it was, I could tell it 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. I start to hear footsteps move very 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.
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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 at least what I thought. 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 to get myself together 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 about to tell you. 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. I have to. 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 southerly 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 first 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 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 seemed, 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 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 trademark 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 one 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, unstable 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. I was 27 and working at a boy Scout camp far up in the woods of very northerly Northern California where I worked had a large population of black bears, which for the most part, were rather harmless and easy enough to scare away with a shot from a rifle. However, we had a large number of Boy Scout at this camp weekly, sometimes as many as 500 heads. And with a lot of vastly spread out campsites, there's going to be a few campers who sleep with candy bars in their pockets and basically make themselves a prepackaged dinner snack for a bear. I tell you this, Black bears love Reese's Peanut Butter Cups. As part of staff, oftentimes I was scheduled for bear watch and basically strolled the entirety of the camp with a weapon, going from site to site, making my presence known so as to ensure the bearers wouldn't come anywhere near. On one of these routine nights, everything was more still and more quiet than usual, and I remember finding it rather odd and unsettling. I had just checked in on the camp the furthest away from all the other campsites. It was a good half mile away from base proper. As I'm strolling along the trail that runs beside the lake, I stop to take a number one and light a joint that I'd stashed away for such an occasion for being out by the lake at 2 in the morning.
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as human beings, we have natural gut feelings that we must always adhere to for our survival. There was definitely A gut feeling I had that things were amiss. Not only was it unusually still and quiet, but I couldn't shake the feeling that I was being watched and that I was most certainly not alone. I nervously took a few puffs from my J and then put it out, now being more aware of the unnerving sense in the air. I have been face to face with a bear. I have been stalked by a mountain lion. I have slept a little too close to a den of coyotes late in the night. But this was different. Different. I didn't have the sense that I was in the presence of any of these animals. The smell was overwhelming. It didn't smell like any bear I've experienced. It was almost sour, but still musky. I'll never forget the smell, but I can never find the words to properly describe it. As I reached for my flashlight before considering readying my weapon, a massive boom hit the ground, falling from the trees above and nearly knocking me on my butt from the sheer force of it. I reached for my flashlight that had fallen to the ground as I heard something large, something massive running away from me into the treeline up into the hill above. Immediately, I considered it was probably the biggest bear I'd ever come across, and black bears can be spooked easily, so at first I considered myself lucky. But as I lay there hyperventilating, shaking and quaking in my boots, I started to consider the sound of the beast running away. It didn't sound like the stride of a black bear in flight. It sounded bipedal. It sounded human. I braced myself, stood up, readied my weapon, released the safety, and shot upward into the air toward the lake. It woke many campers and the scoutmasters alike. I stood out there for a good 10 minutes alone before Camp Leader and some other staff came to me. During that time, I had my flashlight out and was inspecting the scene. Whatever had dropped from the branches above fell from possibly 20ft and in its wake of running away, had torn off branches off into the hill line that stood 13ft from the ground. And some smaller trees were bent almost all the way down into the ground. I have never seen a bear do that, that's for sure. By the time some of the staff and some concerned campers arrived, everybody was stumped. Most campers, to comfort themselves, insisted it was just a bear. I do know this. No bear running on all fours stands 13ft tall, and no bear can run on two feet for 12 yards uphill on two legs. They just don't do that. We are all thinking it so I'll just say it. I think I encountered a Sasquatch that night. If not, I don't know what it was, but I'm glad it was running away from me and not at me. Because whatever that thing was, beast or man, it was gargantuan. And I would not have stood a chance if it had decided to confront me. I remember it was unusual for there to be fog in that time of year out along the beaches of la. I will not divulge where or when precisely as to avoid as much condescension for sounding like a madman. It was Bonfire Night, where all folks in the neighborhood and all others considered to be cool enough were all invited out to the beach. And so thus all of us went, friends and strangers alike, out to the beach, out to smoke and drink and witness the younger crazy kids spin fire and poi and all of that other stuff they're so into. The reason that I was there at all was because I had a friend named Ben who absolutely insisted I come along to this cool bonfire party out along the beach. Ben's always been a great guy. I've known him for 25 years. He was on Broadway, cast predominantly as a singer. I was proud. And also I was the best man at his wedding. I know this man. But things can change. There was this girl, and she seemed really cool. Long blonde hair, curves, magnetic blue eyes. A dream come true. For me, that is. I sat out there, away from the bonfire upon a log, contemplating other things. And also contemplating this girl, this beautiful girl who comes up to me and introduces herself. Me of all people. She asks, what are you doing sitting here all by your lonesome? You want to rip this? I would have been a fool not to partake. So, of course, yours truly, your humble narrator. Well, I'll just say it was partaken. So, yeah, I got stoned. She was hot. Don't judge me. Like I had mentioned prior, I found it strange that it was such an unusually foggy, misty night at this locale at this time of year. It was almost as if a cloud had decided to drop onto the beach line, which is strange. Next thing I know, Ben approaches me and the cute girl I was talking to at that moment. And he asks me, wanna take a walk? That seemed like a strange question to me because I had supposed it was readily apparent that I was totally satisfied where I was and where I sat, being interviewed by a bombshell buxom blonde. Her and I, inexplicably, both said yes. And onward and onward into the night we went further into the fog and into the mist, with absolutely no regard to our questions or our instincts. Yet I do vaguely remember feeling like I was being called to do something from somewhere I knew not. It was such an odd feeling looking back upon it now. So, Ben, this girl and I, we walked off past the bonfire, past the organic light source and into the inexplicable fog and mystery. One of the last things I remember from that evening is seeing a big bright light enraptured protectively by the mist and fog. And so of course I thought to myself, yeah man, why not? And so on I walked, trying to walk into the light, obscured by the smoke and fog and mist and cloud and whatnot. I woke up with my alarm clock off like madness at three in the afternoon. A setting I have never set it upon. I was late for work. Upon my thigh rested a nasty BB sized bump that rested in a sort of obsessive trance. I could not leave it alone. All I wanted to do was pick and scratch at it. The workplace was already amiss from the moment I set my foot through the door. The owner of the establishment already says to me, rick, I need to speak with you in my office. Walking into the office of this piece of crap I worked with for so long, I was ever so curious what he had to say. Say this time, why didn't you come into work yesterday? I'm sorry, I was late. I usually make it by my 2 o' clock shift and. And then the interruption happened in which he said, yeah, you were supposed to be at work at 2 yesterday and now here you are a day late and a dollar short. So I left. I left because I was confused. I sort of remembered being with Ben the night prior, so I figured he'd be able to fill in the details. He's always been an awesome friend like that. So, yeah, I drove to Huntington beach to visit him and his wife at his apartment complex. Now, I have always known that Cleo was a shy woman, but I had earned my stripes with her and I was best man at her wedding. It was so strange to see her with the chains and the bolts attached to the door as she opened it. Yeah? She asked me. Hey Cleo, I said. I was hoping to speak with Ben. E can't speak is what she replied with. Onward and onward. Into the light we walked. Into the mist, into the fog. But the strange beacon of light that dwelled inside of it, that is the one that kept us all going. Into the white light I walked. What? I asked her. He doesn't want to Speak to me. No, she said, it's not that he doesn't want to speak with you, he just keeps cannot speak. This was an immediate thing and or occurrence that perturbed me. I mean like what? Decidingly I barged in through the door to check it upon my best friend where in which I found him lying upon the floor struggling to scream with the most clog stopped guttural sound protruding from his throat.
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It's.
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But it's in my voice. It's in my throat. He wriggled and riled on the floor and Cleo and I witnessed him convulse upon the floor before he just fell asleep again. This was a man who performed on Broadway and he had the voice of an angel for someone to scream at me in a night terror daydream walk. Yeah, it's scary when one says it's in my voice, it's in my throat. I figured my best friend had a thing going on and alone is where I left him. When I returned home however is where I began with the picking and scratching and the BB sized bump. I had been picking at it more and more so then it just popped out of my leg just like a BB sized bullet would when not being pursued. It rolled underneath the refrigerator. So yeah, in a bit of bewilderment there I sat just witnessing. I sat in the kitchen with the tension in the silence and being a part of a foreign alien BB rolled outside of my thigh and under the refrigerator. And yes, I asked myself what just popped out of my body? Ben. And I never got to speak much after that. I never got to explain how there was a hole taken out of my thigh. I never got to ask him how it could ever be possible that he and I lost an entire day. Why did he scream if it was in his throat, in his voice? Oftentimes I am asked by others if I speak to Ben. These days I do, but not much anymore and not in the same way. Unfortunately when we do speak to each other he absolutely refuses to discuss what happened that evening. It's frustrating for me because I have so many questions. Oftentimes I am asked to reveal the hole punch taken out of my thigh and it looks insane. Insane. And I'm tired of the crosstalk. I can't explain it. Most folks tell me I was just high or something within that caliber. But when you've done every drug underneath the sun it's rather easy to tell them when you might have experienced something that did not happen within this world, within this universe. And I ask myself almost Every day. What exactly happened? Where did I go? What happened to my best friend? Why did that blonde beauty disappear? And how exactly did I lose an entire day out of my life? And why is there a hole in my thigh? I like to think I'd certainly remember that sort of pain being inflicted upon me. Seriously, dude, why is there a hole in my thigh? 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 Gaukroger 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 illuminate the dark parking lot so the group would be able to find the missing phone. In doing so, he happened to accidentally shine the flashlight in one of the teenager's directions. Kieran Earnshaw, in his 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 between the two, and a confrontation arose, but Robert could have never expected what would follow. Kieran 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 crush, crawl away. Mortally wounded, Ciaran began hacking away at him again as Robert's colleagues fled the scene, the bloodcurdling 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, 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. Luke Gauckroeger was sentenced to 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 planning 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's every chance that Kieran 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. Kieran 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 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. Around the time that I was about 22 or 23, I was a paid, professional stage actor. It was one of the most wonderful gigs I have ever had in my life, with the exception of of one experience. The theater building itself was supposedly haunted. I myself by now can sort of confirm that it is, unless what happened to me was something else that I just straight up cannot ever explain for the rest of my days. To give the backstory, the theater building I worked at was a library prior around the 1920s through the 30s. However, when a young girl was assaulted and murdered and left in the middle of an aisle upstairs without anybody noticing or hearing, the library was immediately shut down. It was a thing. A few decades went on, and then around the 1960s, they turned the old library into a round stage theater with a catwalk up by the ceiling. Even before I was cast in the production, I had already been aware that the theater was supposedly haunted. Of course, I was intrigued, but I knew better than to tempt spirits by taunting them or making fun of them. That's just bad juju. So I just sort of ignored the stories and the tall tales of the ghost. The stories were all the same from the other actors who had worked in the theater building. It's a little girl. They'd all say she doesn't like women. They'd all say, she has crushes on certain boys. They'd all say, that was the word on the street and in the building. Okay, okay. Now, while being in this production, I had a Fellow cast member who was just a bombshell of a woman. Gorgeous, intelligent, a dancer. Everything that makes a woman wonderful. A wonder woman, if you will. She was almost technically a dwarf. She stood at a whopping 4 foot 9. I don't like using words like tiny or small, But, I mean, Jules stands at a whopping 4 foot 9. She's short, you know. Never underestimate that, though. That girl can still kick your butt. Always be weary of tiny dancers. Cause they have the strength and discipline. Jules and I still talk to this day as friends. She told me once that she was in the woman's dressing room about 20 minutes before curtain. She was sitting down on a chair, combing her hair, looking at herself in the mirror after applying her makeup. And then there was a tug from her long hair that pulled her all the way down from out of her chair onto the floor. To this day, she swears she was the only person in the woman's changing room. There was just no explanation for it. No explanation she can come up with. And she's smart and doesn't lie. Jules is not a liar, and she does not tolerate fancy stories. So, of course, everybody, myself included, believed her. It was strange. Kodai was this really handsome man who was almost losing his mind because his props and costumes would just disappear out of thin air and were never anywhere to be found. He would scream and yell before curtain. I had my bench right here. I had my shoes over there. Why are they gone? I promise you, I did not move them. Yeah, he would say that every night before curtain. There was a kid. I forget his name, but he played the young boy in the show. And always, always, he would say, every night during intermission, I am standing backstage, waiting for my cue to walk on stage for the beginning of Act 2. There is a breathing thrust upon the back of my neck. And every single time I turn my head, there is nothing there. And I am scared. This poor kid was probably about 12 or 13 at best. And to me, when I was about 23, well, to me, it sounded terrifying. Savannah was my scene partner, and she and I had gone to high school together, so the camaraderie was already there. So when she told me that she felt terrified to be alone in the theater, I believed her. She had a part of Act 2 where she was required to be on the catwalk to drop a long canvas. That was a sort of the backdrop visually for a scene. Savannah would get tired, though, and while she would lay there on the catwalk, hoping not to be seen, she would accidentally start to fall Asleep. If she fell asleep, the production would have consequences if the scene change could not happen. Every night she said to me, every night I fall asleep. And then moments before my cue, I hear a little girl's voice say, coo, coo, coo, loo, loo, loo. And then I wake up and drop the canvas sheet and get back downstairs to make sure I get on stage on time. Every single night this happens. So onward onto my part of the story and or experience. There was this matinee on a Saturday. After the matinee we got our dinner break and the entire cast would go take dinner and converse and enjoy ourselves. We had our 8 o' clock show and another at midnight. I decided to head back to the theater building early so I might pass out on the couch and sleep for a few hours before I had to get back into costume, yada yada, saying that it must be made clear that I had had the keys to the building and I could open up the theater doors. Once I approached approached the theater doors, I was actually trusted enough for that. Perhaps that was a curse within its very own self. Logically, the first task I always presented myself with was to turn on all the lights around the building, which I did this evening. There was a bathroom downstairs and there was a bathroom upstairs. For an inexplicable reason to me, some thought in my head that I had that I still cannot explain even to this day, I decided to use the upstairs bathroom, which was located by the costume storage. I had never really used it before and it does not seem sensical to me, but that was the choice that I had made. I marched up the curling, winding, spiraling stairs built way back in the day. I turned on the lights upstairs and proceeded down the hallway and into the bathroom and turned on the bathroom lights. It felt off to me. The air, the energy, the spirit of it all. It was very strange to me. It was very unsettling, unnerving and awkward. I figured it was due to me being completely alone in the theater building, especially at nighttime. Only then did thoughts enter my mind. It's a little girl. They'd all say she doesn't like women. They'd all say, she has crushes on certain boys. They'd all say reasonably. The thoughts put me on edge and I got super nervous, like shivering at a cold chill that was absent from the room. When I had finished with my business, consistently looking back behind me, I opened the bathroom door to find that all of the lights had been shut off. The entirety of the theater was pitch black. With the exception of the bathroom, whereupon I had just turned on the lights. Through that little light protruding from the bathroom, it traced along the hallway and looking down it, I saw the silhouette of Jules. Ah, I said to myself playfully. She turned off the lights and wants to fool around. I had been feeling tired and sort of wanted to nap. But no young man in his right mind turns down the opportunity to get in on some frisky action. Especially when such an attractive lady is insisting. I marked where she was standing in the hallway. And as the door closed behind me and the hallway became breached with complete darkness, I had already calculated where she was standing. Hey, you. As I approached where she stood, I put my arms out for an embrace. There was no response, though. There was nothing there. Oh, I see. I said excitedly. You want to play games with me. So I walked further and further down the hallway. Putting my hands out in front of me, I realized I had made it to the costume storage racks and racks of old clothes and wardrobe and costumes, aisles and aisles of them. In the complete darkness, I put my hands here and there, feeling my way around, touching the fabrics that hung on their hangers, on the racks, expecting to find Jules. It ended up just resulting in more searching. Where are you? I asked. Come on, where are you? That was when it started to sink in. That's when it hit me. This feeling of being watched, being witnessed, being warned. There was this insatiable amount of dread percolating through my blood vessels. Immediately I was very, very uncomfortable and scared. That's when the giggle came. Not a laugh, a soft, silly, child sounding giggle. Who's there? Who is that? I asked. A jacket of some sort or something fell off of its hanger and landed on my shoulders, draped around me. I cannot remember if I screamed, I just may have, but I knew I ran in the dark into a hundred of other clothing racks that shook and fell. It took me some time to readjust where I was and to get my bearings and figure out what of the room I was in. Finally finding the spiral stairway, I ended up completely bombing it, completely failing and just falling down the stairs like a rag doll. After a loud moan from feeling like I had just busted my ribs, I found my footing and ran into a few walls before I finally found the front doors. I burst them open so quickly and I just ran. I didn't care if I left them unlocked. Running down into the parking lot, the whole cast and crew were approaching. There was Jules along with all of them. There was just no way she was ever even in the theater. Hey, I shouted at her. Did you just mess with me? What? She looked at me inquisitively. No. What are you talking about? I thought I saw you in there, I told her, panicking. You turned off the lights. The stage manager for the show just looked at me calmly, plain as day. Oh, that's just the ghost. If she turns off the lights, it just means she likes you. The entirety of the production prior had led me to no experiences with said ghost. And nothing ever happened after that either. So I grow curious from time to time whenever I ponder upon it. What happened? Was it in my head? A trick of the light? And when I grow more curious, I wonder, why then, when so many others were having these strange experiences and I wasn't. Why did it happen then, when I was all alone? It's a little girl. She doesn't like women. She has crushes on certain boys. As flattered as I should have been, to this day I still am terrified whenever I think about it. I haven't worked for that theater ever since. It's.