Scary Stories For A Rainy Night - Ep. 416 - Every Day Is Halloween

Summary

Scary Stories For A Rainy Night – Ep. 416 – "Every Day Is Halloween"

Podcast: Scary Stories and Rain
Host: Being Scared
Date: June 29, 2026

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Episode Overview

This episode of "Scary Stories and Rain" delivers a chilling collection of true, unsettling tales, all narrated against a backdrop of gentle rain—perfect for late-night listening or those who find comfort in haunting stories. The theme "Every Day Is Halloween" weaves through stories of ghostly encounters, unexplained mysteries, brushes with evil, and unsettling real-life experiences, reminding listeners that true horror can arrive any night of the year.

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Key Discussion Points & Story Summaries

1. The Haunted Photograph ([00:31-04:47])

• The narrator recounts their first powerful experience in photography while exploring an abandoned farmhouse.
• While reviewing images later, they discover a photo showing a noose hanging on the porch—a detail not present during their actual visit.
• Efforts to verify or explain the anomaly (returning with friends, checking the property again) yield no answers.
• Notable reflection: "It's been over a decade and I still have no answers as to the image I captured."
• Memorable, unresolved: The only evidence of the noose remains somewhere in old hard drives.

2. Bayou Ritual: The Jawbone Knife ([04:48-13:32])

• A long-haul truck driver, comfortable with solitude, describes a disturbing stop in rural Louisiana.
• After a friendly but unnerving encounter with a "skin and bones" local, he is drawn into a strange ritual involving carving his name into wood using a knife with a handle made from what he realizes is a human jawbone.
• "There was something horribly familiar about the shape and the size of the teeth... it was human." ([11:19])
• The ritual is said to ensure safe travels—and though the trucker arrives on time, he's shaken by the incident and implication of dark rural secrets.

3. Hallway Footsteps and Uninvited Throaty Laughter ([13:32-19:01])

• A young woman alone in an old mobile home experiences classic haunting activity—footsteps, throat-clearing sounds, and unexplainable pacing in the hallway.
• The encounter escalates with scratching at her bedroom door and deep, inhuman laughter.
• Final evidence: deep, non-human scratches along the hallway and a broken closet mirror.
• "This was the scariest thing that has ever happened to me and I have no idea who or what was in my house that night." ([18:57])

4. The Unsolved Case of David Glenn Lewis ([19:01-44:55])

• A deeply narrated true mystery about an accomplished Texas lawyer whose sudden disappearance in 1993 never finds closure.
• His empty car, mysterious flight tickets, and an eventual body discovered 1,500 miles away in Washington raise more questions than answers.
• Investigation reveals Lewis had confided fears for his life connected to a legal case; his ultimate fate—hit and run, suicide, or murder—is never clarified.
• Chilling analysis: "His death ended a sticky situation that could have ended tens of millions of dollars in damages... The murder of a man would be a small price to pay." ([27:45])
• The case ends unresolved, haunting both his family and listeners.

5. Step-Grandmother, the Witch, and the Dying Moan ([33:45-44:55])

• A childhood memory of a Sicilian step-grandmother in New Mexico who is suspected of casting a fatal curse on a local mentally disturbed woman.
• Magic rituals, whispered curses, and a series of eerie deaths (the woman, then the step-grandmother herself) leave the narrator questioning what is real.
• "Many years have passed since then, and still I wonder, did my step grandmother have something to do with that? Did she lay down some curse?" ([43:51])

6. The Tuesday Party That Never Ends ([44:55-59:49])

• An RN describes bizarre, deafening parties every Tuesday at 4pm in the empty apartment next door.
• Despite police intervention, the mystery intensifies—sometimes the apartment is full of revelers no one else can see, other times it’s dust and silence.
• The protagonist is eventually "absorbed" into the strange party, realizing the missing nurse they replaced is among the partygoers—possibly trapped forever.
• "Are you stuck?" ([58:11]) and "As a smile forces its way onto my face... I should have knocked. I should have knocked." ([59:46])

7. The Tragedy at Disney’s Skyway ([59:49-70:31])

• Former Disney World custodian relives the accident in 1999 where beloved colleague Ray Barlow died tragically after being knocked from the skyway gondola platform.
• The detailed, harrowing account explores guilt, horror, and the family-like relationships among cast members.
• "Watching him fall was like slow motion or something... I'll never, ever forget the look of absolute terror on his face." ([66:32])
• A real human tragedy in the "happiest place on earth."

8. Confession in the Corridor ([70:31-end])

• A city couple faces disturbing, escalating noises and arguments echoing from a neighboring apartment.
• The situation climaxes with an encounter with a mentally ill woman who confesses, apparently repeatedly, to killing her mother.
• "Well, I just killed my mother upstairs. I think you should go up there and get her body before it stinks." ([75:21])
• Though the confession is dismissed as delusion by building staff, both narrator and listeners are left with lingering unease about truth and mental illness.

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Notable Quotes & Moments

• On the haunted photograph:
  "I zoomed in only to find a blurry photo of a noose on the front porch of the farmhouse. I was extremely confused and utterly astounded. It definitely was not there." ([02:15])
• On meeting the man with the human jawbone knife:
  "But when a guy has handed you a knife that you strongly suspect is made from a human jawbone, you ain't nothing but polite to this guy." ([11:51])
• After the ghostly incident:
  "The scratching sound finally stopped and I heard a low, deep laughter right outside the door." ([17:50])
• On the enduring mystery of David Glenn Lewis:
  "There are many unanswered questions regarding what exactly happened to David Glenn Lewis that weekend and just how he ended all the way up in Washington state." ([30:19])
• Regarding the party that won’t end:
  "It's like a weird costume party—some people are dressed like construction workers; one looks like the guitarist in a punk rock band..." ([56:34])
• On the Disney accident:
  "I just had to watch him struggle to hold onto that gondola as it moved along the skyway, knowing that it was only a matter of time before he lost his grip and fell." ([65:17])
• About the confession in the lobby:
  "Well, I just killed my mother upstairs. I think you should go up there and get her body before it stinks. I can't have any more flies and cats in the apartment." ([75:21])

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Timestamps & Segments

• Haunted Photograph: 00:31–04:47
• Bayou Jawbone Knife: 04:48–13:32
• Paranormal Hallway Encounter: 13:32–19:01
• The David Glenn Lewis Mystery: 19:01–44:55
• Grandmother's Curse & The Arroyo Death: 33:45–44:55
• Tuesday Apartment Party: 44:55–59:49
• Disney Skyway Incident: 59:49–70:31
• The Corridor Confession: 70:31–79:53

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Tone & Style

The host’s signature calm, deliberate narration enhances the sense of creeping dread, mixing everyday situations with the uncanny. Personal anecdotes, unresolved mysteries, and reflections on truth versus superstition are all delivered with a gentle, storytelling cadence—making the horror linger, even after the rain fades.

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For First-Time Listeners

This episode offers a wide variety of scare: from unexplainable photographs to true crime mysteries; haunted houses to terrifyingly realistic encounters with disturbed individuals. Each story is both personal and quietly unnerving, delivering psychological chills grounded in the real world. Expect atmosphere, ambiguity, and questions left unanswered—making every day (and night) feel a little bit like Halloween.

Transcript

[Narrator]

Hey, before this episode begins, I just want to let everyone know that my film that I've been producing for the

[Interviewer]

last two years, Gale Yellow Brick Road,

[Narrator]

is now streaming on Chilling.

[Interviewer]

So if you weren't able to go

[Narrator]

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.

[Interviewer]

Hey welcome back to the podcast.

[Narrator]

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. I started getting interested in Photography in 2011. As a form of therapy, photography helped me focus on the details and stay in the moment. I did my first photo shoot at a cemetery in the spring of that year and I was hooked. I began exploring back roads in my community, searching for interesting sites to photograph. On one of my drives, I came across a beautiful abandoned farmhouse with several outbuildings.

[Interviewer]

It was a difficult process as the

[Narrator]

grass was chest high in some places, but the home was beautiful and I felt I needed to take pictures while it was still around.

[Interviewer]

As I fought through the brush, there

[Narrator]

was absolutely nothing sinister, alarming, or even remotely creepy about the property. I was intently focused on the beauty of the slowly decaying property and the surrounding foliage. It was one of the most beautiful photography experiences I have ever had. That night I got home and uploaded all the photos from my camera. One by one, I began to evaluate whether or not each image was worth editing. As I was new to the hobby, I often ended up with blurry or unfocused photos, so I learned to take multiple shots from each angle. There were a few hundred images to sort through and most of them ended up in the trash. And then I found the photo. I almost deleted it, but as my cursor hovered over the trash button, I noticed something out of the ordinary. I zoomed in only to find a blurry photo of a noose on the front porch of the farmhouse. I was extremely confused and utterly astounded. It definitely was not there. While I photographed the home in person, I had been just yards from the porch and absolutely would have noticed it. There were hundreds of images and that was the only one in which it could be seen. I thought I was losing my mind. I promised, promptly closed the lid of my laptop and went to sleep. The next morning I woke questioning what I thought I had seen. I opened my laptop only to be greeted by the same image I remembered from the night before. I showed friends and family members telling them my story. I even took a couple of friends back to the site to confirm that there was nothing of the sort on the property. We got closer than I did when I visited the first time and only found junk left behind by the previous owners. It's been over a decade and I still have no answers as to the image I captured. The house has since been torn down and a new home has been built on the same property. The laptop the image was stored on had since died, but all images were backed up on an external hard drive. I have taken thousands more images in the years since then and never had a similar experience. I am not sure exactly where the image is stored, but I know I still have it somewhere. Hopefully I'll get some time to sort through my files soon and I'll be able to share the image that still evades an answer to this. I have been a long haul truck driver for a good few years now. I find it pretty enjoyable. To be honest, it just suits my lifestyle. I have never been the most sociable

[Interviewer]

person, so I actually really like the

[Narrator]

whole thing of it just being me with nothing but my stereo system and the open road for company. My job has taken me to some incredible places too. Things that regular nine to five office workers just never get to see from their dusty, dimly lit office spaces. Even those with views from skyscrapers and stuff. They never see the landscape change, how the sun frames mountain ranges, or how the moon shimmers off boundless lakes. Even with all the built up areas, this country really is beautiful in parts. Wyoming and Montana are some of my favorites, the mountain ranges and prairies being like picture postcards in places. But and I mean no offense here, but the Iowa cornfields get so tedious in places because there's literally nothing but cornfields as far as the eye can see.

[Interviewer]

However, my least favorite place to drive

[Narrator]

in the entire country had to be Louisiana. Again, I mean absolutely no offense to any native sons of the Bayou State. I have had some of the best fried catfish I have ever tasted in little roadside diners while rolling through that place, but there is something inherently creepy about Louisiana too. Maybe it's just the humidity, the gators, or the way the Cajuns can just switch from English to French on a dime and shut you right out of a conversation. The whole Southern hospitality is as real as I am surely breathing, and I really have met some of the nicest, most generous people in the entire country. Down in Louisiana. I'm talking the kind of people that

[Interviewer]

would give you their last dollar or

[Narrator]

the shirt right off their backs. But I guess it's just a place of extremes, because I also met some of the least welcoming and quite frankly, most terrifying people I have ever met in my whole life down there. And this here is the story of one of those encounters, one that still keeps me up at night sometimes, and that takes a few glasses of vodka just to shut the memories out. So this one time I am rolling along this highway late in the evening, way behind schedule, on a shipment due in Dallas, Texas. The tight timing meant it looked like I was going to have to pull another brutal all nighter to get my load to the depot on time. But if that was going to be the case, I'd have to stop at some roadside crawfish shack to fill up on greasy food and coffee so that I had the energy to keep going. So I turned my truck off the road at the first place I saw, this place with a glowing luminous sign that flashed with half the letters missing, but it was all I needed to see. Rustin Crawfish Shack the place was called, and it was little more than a collection of sheet metal shacks at the side of the road, but I can tell you those are the kind of places where some Cajun mama bear has been making the same delicious po boys for the last 30 years. And man, I just love what those people can do with a few shrimp and a slice of lemon. So I order up my food, get it to order, and then sit outside to wolf it down before I get back on the road when some older guy comes up and asks me where I'm from. He was pretty friendly, and I don't mean to be judgmental here, but he had a very, very unusual appearance. He dressed normally, had close cropped hair, but he was very, very skinny. Like unnaturally skinny. Like he was just skin and bones with no muscle keeping his body upright whatsoever. I tell him up north originally, but that I'm based in Arkansas for my job and we start just casually talking about the area and its history. He was a nice enough guy, but I had to excuse myself telling him that if I didn't get this load to the Dallas depot on time that I would be in a whole world of trouble. It's the kind of thing that guys lose their jobs over, so I could not afford to play fast and loose with my timing. And in my case the risk was extra high since I had a high value load of electronics, new TVs and such, and every day a delivery is late, the depot can fine a trucking company and dramatically lower their bottom line. He puzzles the thought over for a moment, then told me he thought he could help me out and to wait there for a moment while he fetched something from a back room of the shack. At first I thought it was going to be some pills that would keep me extra wired all night.

[Interviewer]

But what he brought out of that

[Narrator]

cross crawfish shack was something that sends chills through me even thinking about it. Today the guy returned with a piece of cypress wood in his hand, like a bare piece, looking like it had been freshly cut from a tree. He had me follow him over to my truck, out of sight of the rest of the crowd that was gathering outside of the shack. Once we were alone, he pulls out this huge knife and tells me to carve my name into the wood, my full name, or it won't work. I was just about to ask him what it was when he shushed me, hands me the knife and tells me to obey. The blade looked jagged and slightly bent, like it was home forged or something. That was creepy enough on its own, but it was only when I take the knife from his hand do I see what the handle is made of. Have you all ever heard of a jawbone knife? It's literally what it sounds like. The blade is obviously metal, but the handle is made of an animal's jawbone. Some places it can be made of a bear or cougar's jaw with the teeth kind of blunted so they don't rip your fingers up. Sounds weird, but they actually do make for a great grand grip, and they were actually really popular back in the old frontier days. But this jawbone knife that he passed me was different. There was something horribly familiar about the

[Interviewer]

shape and the size of the teeth,

[Narrator]

the way only one of them was pointed while the others were flat or jaggedly cupped. I thought it might have been a

[Interviewer]

pig's jaw at first, but the actual

[Narrator]

jawline was way too thin for that. And it was with terror in my heart that I finally realized what I was looking at. It was human. That jaw had once belonged to a human being. I thought to say something, to ask

[Interviewer]

him where he got it.

[Narrator]

I mean, I wanted to shove him away and throw this wooden board right back at him. But I'm telling you, when a guy has handed you a knife that you strongly suspect is made from a human jawbone, you ain't nothing but polite to this guy. So I did as I was asked. I carved my name into the wood, then handed him back the knife. All while he seemed to take an immense amount of pleasure in knowing how afraid I was. He then tells me that he's going to bury the piece of wood out in the bayou somewhere and that once he had done that, I would get to Dallas with my load on time and that I wouldn't have to worry about a thing. So, long story short, I did get to Dallas on time.

[Interviewer]

I was wide awake for the entire journey.

[Narrator]

Made every exit and turn just like I was supposed to. But I was only so focused on the journey ahead because I wanted to keep the thoughts of where that knife had come from out of my mind. So I suppose in a matter of

[Interviewer]

speaking, the little ritual did work.

[Narrator]

Maybe not in the way he had intended it to where some weird bayou spirits had taken care of me for the remainder of my journey. But it was the thing that spurred me on to get away from that crawfish shack and to my destination on time.

[Interviewer]

Let me start this story with a little context. I am a 28 year old female. I have had what I suppose some would call paranormal instances. Nothing big, just a noise, a voice, something out of the corner of my eye. But I have always chalked it up to my mind playing tricks on me since I am very paranoid and nothing has ever been there when I looked. This happened about a year ago. Let me start by explaining the layout of the home. I lived in an old mobile home with my fiance, one of the ones that look like an actual house.

[Narrator]

The inside was old with plywood walls

[Interviewer]

and an eerie feel to it. Since it's old, it makes a lot of noise, which I'm used to. You enter the home in the laundry room. There is a door frame in front of the entrance with no door attached. When you walk through that frame to the right is a guest room which has a glass door closet and in front is the master bedroom. If you walk to the left, the there's a kitchen on your right and a dining room to the left. Straight ahead is an open California living room. There is a small wall that covers the view of the kitchen from the living room. We had our TV against that wall and on the couch right in front against the back wall. One night I was laying on the couch around 2am as I used to work until 1am watching TV. All of the lights were off except one lamp that illuminated only the corner of the living room by the couch. I started hearing a noise that sounded like someone was clearing their throat. I knew it wasn't my fiance as he was out of town for a bachelor party. I turned down the tv, looked into the dark hallway and didn't hear or see anything. Then I started to hear what sounded like footsteps. I once again turned the TV down and I couldn't see the hallway from where I was laying. So I sat up and looked into the hallway. Nothing. As I started watching TV again, I heard louder footsteps and quickly turned the TV down. The footsteps continued. It sounded like someone was aggressively pacing from the guest room to the kitchen entrance. Back and forth, back and forth. I jumped upright on the couch and stood, stared down the hallway, but again didn't see anyone and the footsteps stopped. I then heard a sound from the kitchen. It was the sound I heard earlier. The sound of someone clearing their throat. It was a deep sound, like a man. Because of the wall, I couldn't see into the kitchen at all. Even when sitting up. I was paralyzed with fear, sitting upright, looking into the hall and waiting for someone to come out of the kitchen. I kept listening and heard it again. Followed by the sound of liquid with ice in a glass swishing around. Then a loud sipping sound. I jumped up and ran into the bedroom, closed the door and jumped on my bed. I was still listening. My dog got up out of her bed and walked to the the door. She was staring at it intently. I called her name, but she didn't move. She didn't flinch. All of a sudden, I heard loud footsteps coming out of the kitchen and down the hall. There was a scratching sound on the door and then it began going along the plywood walls back down the hallway to the guest room toward my room. I can't tell you how many times it went up and down the hallway. The scratching sound finally stopped and I heard a low, deep laughter right outside the door. The scratching got more intense and my dog started barking. I told her to stop so I could hear, but she wouldn't. Then I heard loud running from my door, down the hallway to the guest room and then a loud crash. I jumped up, grabbed my dog and ran out of the house. I stayed at my mom's house for the night. When I returned in the morning, of course there was no one there. I looked at the wall in the hallway and saw that there were deep scratches on my door leading all the way down the hall. It didn't look like scratches a human would make. They were extremely deep and thick, like they were made from some kind of claws. I went into the guest room and saw that the closet mirror was cracked on the bottom as if someone or something had deliberately broken it. I never sat out in the living room at night again and never had an experience like this again. We have since moved out of the house into a place in the same community, but it is a much more updated home. This was the scariest thing that has ever happened to me and I have no idea who or what was in my house that night.

[Narrator]

David Glenn Lewis was born in Texas in 1953, the second of two children to Herschel and Esther Lewis. In 1972, he graduated high school and went on to attend Texas Tech University, where he excelled academically, graduating as an honor student in political science. David stayed in academia following this, gaining a place in the Texas Tech Law school, studying until 1979, when he earned himself a jurisprudence doctorate. He chose Amarillo, Texas to begin practicing as an attorney at law and was a distinguished member of the American Bar association. Then, just three years later, in 1981, he met and married his wife Karen, who gave birth to their daughter a short time after. David was a steadfast family man and became a pillar of his local community. He was a member of his local church, regularly contributing a portion of his disposable income to its upkeep. He was also a district chairman of the Boy Scouts of America and sat on the director's board for the Dumas Community Education Advisory Council. He had a happy, successful life, full of love and community spirit. But something dark was looming on the horizon, something that would baffle both professional and amateur sleuths for years to come. On January 31, 1993, David's wife and his nine year old daughter arrived back home from a shopping trip to Dallas to find the house empty. It was super bowl weekend and there was a blank tape in the VCR that had been set to record the game, but it had never been turned off. There were some sandwiches sitting covered in the refrigerator and they appeared they had been made that day. Everything in the house seemed to be in order. There were no signs of any kind of foul play that might explain her husband's absence. It simply appeared that David had gone out for a while, maybe been caught up somewhere. It was super bowl weekend after all. There was every chance that he had simply gone over To a friend's to watch the game. However, the later it got into the evening, the more Karen started to worry. David hadn't called, nor had he left any message telling her where he had gone. By the time she went to bed that night, she was worried sick. The next morning, when he still hadn't arrived home, Karen drove over to the Amarillo police department to report him missing. Meanwhile, around 12 hours after David's wife was having police file a missing persons report, over 1,000 miles away in Yakima, Washington, there were several sightings of a strange man walking down the center of a Route 24. The individual's behavior was so alarming that a handful of drivers actually turned around in order to warn people coming the other way that there was an unhinged person Simply walking down the center of the dark highway. Many of the motorists went as far as reporting the person to police, who dispatched highway patrol officers to search for him. But by the time they found the individual, they had been tragically killed in what appeared to be an accidental hit and run. The dead man in question was middle aged and was wearing military style clothing along with heavy work boots. The subsequent autopsy showed no sign of blood or alcohol in his system, and it was something of a mystery as to who he was and why he was acting so strangely. Since there was no form of ID on his body whatsoever, he was simply listed as a John Doe. And a point was made to discover the man's identity, Although due to the nature of the death, Washington state police were in no huge rush to do so. Back in Texas, on the day following the filing of the missing persons report, Police found David's red Ford Explorer abandoned outside of the park Potter county courts building in downtown Amarillo. Beneath the mat under the driver's seat, Police found the keys to the truck along with the keys to David's house. The truck's glove box also contained his credit cards, Driver's license, and checkbook, all apparently in the usual places where David was known to keep them. But despite such a find, it gave police no real clues as to his crime. Current whereabouts, where he could have gone from there Was simply a mystery. There was one incredibly pertinent piece of information to consider, though. The fact that before he had disappeared, David had confided in his wife that he believed his life to be in danger. She pressed him on the issue, but David refused to reveal any more information, not about the nature or the urgency of the threats, since he believed sharing such knowledge would put her life in danger, too. When talking to the Police Karen told them that she suspected this threat to be related to his work as an attorney. That some kind of angry or dissatisfied client of his had blamed him for a failure on his part, possibly resulting in a prison sentence and wished to seek revenge. Karen had dug through David's case files and discovered that an appointment dated for a week after his disappearance. It was a deposition in a conflict of interest case between his former law firm and a wealthy client. She had also spoken to David's father who confessed that his son had also spoken to him regarding the appointment.

[Interviewer]

He had told his father that he

[Narrator]

had absolutely no intention of covering up any of his former firm's misdeeds and that he was going to reveal the truth of the matter to all involved. Despite the police considering this a worthy lead, there was simply not enough information on specifics and individuals to produce any serious new evidence. Yet a short time later, police did make a noteworthy discovery. The receipts for two plane tickets purchased in David's name that were bought around the time that he vanished. The first ticket was from Amarillo to Dallas. Probably the means that he used to escape whoever was threatening him in the first place. The second ticket was from Los Angeles International back to Dallas. A flight scheduled for the very same day the John Doe body was found in Washington State. But just exactly how David intended to use them is unclear. Who was he looking to fly out from LA to Texas? Someone who could protect him from those who wanted blood? Perhaps these were frighteningly important questions, but none could be answered. So with no more leads to follow, the investigation into David Glenn Lewis disappearance was closed after just under a year's worth of work put into it. Then 10 years later in 2003, a Washington homicide detective by the name of Pat Didter read a series of newspaper articles called Without a Trace which pertained to missing persons cases around the country. One of the details which piqued his interest were the repeated mentions of the flaws in the National Crime Information Center's computer system which was believed to be responsible for many missing persons. Slipping through the investigatory cracks, Pat actually started googling various characteristics of some of the missing people including David Glenn Lewis. And before long he found something very interesting coming out of Washington State. It was a picture of the John Doe's body from the hit and run in 1993. And it looked shockingly similar to a picture of a still living David. The only difference was that David wore glasses and there was no mention of the John Doe being found with any. But it only took a little more searching before Pat didder was able to find a list of personal effects found on the John Doe's body. And bingo. A pair of spectacles was included on the list. This had to be more than just a coincidence. So Ditter got in touch with Amarillo police and arranged for them to be sent a series of items that were kept as evidence from the hit and run, including a boot and a tissue sample. Amarillo police contacted David's mother, arranging for a DNA sample from her to be taken so it could be compared to the John Does. And so it came to be that In October of 2004, almost 12 years after he first went missing, the hit and run victim from Route 24, a highway that was over 1500 miles from his hometown of Amarillo, was identified as none other than David Glenn Lewis. But just why exactly was he so far from home? There are many unanswered questions regarding what exactly happened to David Glenn Lewis that weekend and just how he ended all the way up in Washington state. Texas police have asserted many times that David left his home of his own volition and that there is absolutely no evidence of any dodgy dealing or threats against his life. But David's wife and father insist this is not the case, telling journalists and private investigators alike that they had never seen their beloved David so utterly terrified in his life. They theorized that David had intended to hide out on the west coast for a while, as far away from civilization as was physically possible. Hence the military style gear intended for survival. When it was safe to do so. It is thought he would travel down to California before flying back to Texas. Some believe that the hit and run on Route 24 was simply a tragic accident. Some even suspect it was suicide, that he had deliberately ran into traffic to end his own life. But there are some who even darkly suspect effect that he was somehow tracked down by a network of powerful individuals and murdered to keep him silent. And the scary thing is that conclusion is not entirely out of the question. In the aftermath of his death, all the conflict of interest cases surrounding his firm simply faded into nothingness. All the trouble he seemed to have been causing went away. His death ended a sticky situation that could have ended tens of millions of dollars in damages and fines being paid out. The murder of a man would be a small price to pay to avoid such penalties. The one huge thing that leads us to believe that David was being followed as far as Washington is the fact that he seemed to be unwilling to rent a car once he was there. He was on foot when he died and had no rental documentation on him. That may indicate he rented and then ditched a vehicle. If he was scot free and untraceable all the way up in Washington, it would have been no big deal to rent a truck to get around easier. But that wasn't the case. In the end, he was walking up and down the middle of a highway in the dead of night, in all likelihood trying to stop a vehicle so he could hitch a ride out of the area. There is not much doubt that anyone with their headlights on traveling down an open highway would not have seen David walking towards them unless they were either extremely tired or extremely drunk. This raises the who exactly hit David that night on Route 24 and why haven't they ever been found? From what I can tell, every investigation into the driver's identity came up short, and this is very possibly due to the fact that the driver then escaped Washington State having completed the contract hit they were assigned to. But regardless, we may never find out what really happened to David Glenn Lewis, why he was killed, or the true motivations for doing so. If he even was murdered at all. Many questions need answering, some that David's family have spent thousands of dollars trying to get the conclusions to, but we are only left to wonder if there is some tragically innocent explanation or something much more darkly sinister at work. When she died, I had to come to realize I didn't know her at all. My step grandmother, that is. The time that I had known her was brief, visiting my dysfunctional family only once and that one week was fleeting due to fear. It was traumatizing, spiced with mental, emotional and physical repression. It should be said I didn't know her at all. That is to say, it would be 1996. I was in fourth grade living in northern New Mexico. Being around 10 years old, it was common to become braggadocio when discussing scary things to talk about and often brujas would be the subject. Witches. The way that we discussed witches on the schoolyard was as if they took on very many different forms, looks, embodiments and had very many different practices and that there were so many different beings of them that there's a lot to take into consideration. It would be from them being green skinned, green tongued, old, bald, pale, one eyed, or anything under the sun that you could ever imagine. I suppose it took me very little time to realize after the fact that they look like ordinary people. My step grandmother looked like an ordinary person to me, with the exception that she was old and frail, but mostly she just looked like an old Italian lady, yada Yada.

[Interviewer]

I was raised Irish Catholic.

[Narrator]

That is to say, Roman Catholic. So when an old Sicilian lady moved into our house and she proclaimed herself to be as a devout Catholic, I didn't think much about it. She did not approve of my Irish shenaniganery, though. And she chased me around with a wooden spoon even though her knobbly legs could not keep up. One dark night, she invited me into her bedroom. This was on the third floor. I know what that is like. No electricity. All candle lit. Spooky stuff, really. The shadows breathed in and out with every breath of the candle flame. And the brujah she wore all black. And she said these weird things in an Italian dialect that I do not understand. Still to this day, strewn about were pictures of a bloody, dying Jesus. Italian sentiments were plastered on the walls. This is neither here nor there. It's much more about what comes afterward. Just go along with me on this, please. The reservation I lived in was rather unpopulated. And the houses were few and far between. Literally, there were acres and acres between each house, sometimes miles. It was quiet. It was unencumbered. However, there'd be nights when we walked my dog. Just my father, my stepmom and I. And after my stepmom's mother moved in, she'd insist on hobbling along. So then it became the four of us. Every now and then we would come across this old lady from another side of the pueblo. A poor little lonely old lady with a tiny, ugly dog. She was the kind of old lady a person could only meet out in the middle of a reservation. Out in the middle of nowhere where people living by themselves are so lonely that every desperate word out of their mouth is just blowing smoke out of their butt. As soon as she would cross paths with us, she would just start talking. And, oh, talk she could. And on and on and on she would go. Sometimes we would just have to pretend she wasn't talking and we'd walk away. Or she'd never let you go. All this would be fine and good. A minor inconvenience. People get lonely. But it is what this old lady actually said. There were definite red flags. My dog wants to die, she would say. Or my dog wants me to kill him, she would say. Or my dead husband thought that I killed him, but I didn't. He killed himself. We would just smile and nod and try to walk away. But no, not my step grandmother. She didn't take it that well. That woman is from hell, she would say. And I think at the time that my stepmom and My father and I all just kind of laughed it off in a condescending way and just thought to ourselves, sure, grandma, sure thing. But the more that we ran into this lady whenever we took the dog on a walk, the worse it would get. She would start talking crazier and crazier about her dog and her life and her dead husband. And it became very apparent that this woman was mentally ill and needed some help. The worst part about it is when I have the memories of my step grandmother saying that she had an answer, that she could make it all go away. The difference is I don't believe that this was made out of any sympathy. Because the way that my step grandmother addressed this person was that she was a spawn of Satan and that she was a demon meeting us in the desert, and that she is using her dog as a tool to gain sympathy from us, to tempt us down into a darker path. Later, one of those nights, I was invited back into her bedroom in the dark, breathing candlelight, to witness her story about how she kept the darkness at bay for her and her children and her loved ones. And on this particular night, she was going to cast a spell upon the crazy lady, was going to take away all of the pain and all of the suffering for her and her dog. At that moment in time, I just figured I had a crazy old step grandmother. Please don't blame me. I was maybe like, like nine years old. Anyway, a few days go by, my step grandmother starts to get really sick. And she tells everybody around the house that her energy has exhausted her. And she said that she did something that needs recuperation, so she's not coming on the dog walk. So it was back to normal formation. It was just walking with my dad, my stepmother and me. We are walking the dog. We are out in the middle of nowhere. From my bedroom, I could see this particular dirt road that curves and bends and there's an arroyo running alongside it. A steep, thick, brushy arroyo infested with cacti and yucca. On this road we walked with our cute, tiny little terrier dog. And there were no stars nor moon out in the sky, even though it was cloudless. Then there comes the biggest surprise ever. As we walk along the dirt road, there's the most disturbing, earth shattering, pain inducing, dying, wailing moan like the sound of just death escaping from the last little oxygen of lungs that life could provide. My stepmother jumped out of her boots. I physically reeled back. My dad, frozen, stood there soft and silent and bewildered. The dog shuffled off.

[Interviewer]

What was that?

[Narrator]

My Stepmother. And I asked, holy smokes. I said solo. Only I didn't say smokes. Cause I said a much worse word. I don't know what that was. My father said we need to be careful. That could have been a bear, a bear cub, a bobcat cub, mountain lions, jabalinas. That could have been a coyote. For all we know. That could have been a human. We went back to the house. My father loaded up on flashlights, his revolver and his boots. Back he went and he went and explored and he traversed and he sought after the sound. Nothing. False alarm, Nada, zero, zilch. But I ask you this. How often do three people hear the same sort of thing? And was out in the middle of the woods in the middle of the night. Dad came back and he said that he didn't find a. A single thing. He said the woods looked unbothered, undisturbed and void of molestation. He figured whatever had made that sound had moved on from the spot where

[Interviewer]

we all heard it.

[Narrator]

So we all went to rest. Afterward, I noticed my step grandmother was just never the same. She had that weird blank eyed stare. Always staring off very vacantly to the other corner of the room where nobody else was looking or standing. Enthusiasm was gone and life was gone. It was almost as if she had just given up somehow. Now, two days later, a body was found in the arroyo by a hiker. It was an old lady. The same old lady, the crazy lady that spoke to us about her dog wanting to die. Or a dog wanting to kill her, or her husband that had killed himself. The same woman that according to my step grandmother was a demon. Soon after, the tribal police were swarming up and down the arroyo. Then soon after the state police, then after that, a medical examiner. It was a big scene. Pulling the body out of the arroyo seemed to be an ordeal. I watched the whole scenario play itself out from the window by my bedroom. Looking out that dirt road that bent where the dying moan came from. But nothing was found. The cadaver was carried away with much difficulty and numerous attempts to cart it out of the arroyo. And the morning after that it was all the talk. The poor woman was found naked, laying underneath a bush. Apparently she died of natural causes. Or so the story goes. The word on the street, my street,

[Interviewer]

she just sort of died out there

[Narrator]

in the middle of the woods. An old lady, naked. Yeah, she died in the middle of the woods. What else can there be said? My Sicilian step grandmother died a day or two after that. Her body just gave up and she just sort of died in that bedroom with the candles and the shadows breathing heavily in and out. Many years have passed since then, and still I wonder, did my step grandmother have something to do with that? Did she lay down some curse? Is she responsible for somebody else's death? Am I holding a secret? Do I know something? And what if I do? What does this mean for me? Can I carry on knowing what may have happened? I found out many years later that Italians have their own sort of witches, the ones that will make blessings for the mafia and whatnot. They are called stragaria. I don't know how to pronounce it and I don't know if it's true. Still, I wonder, was she a stragaria, a brujah, a witch? Or is my mind getting the better of me?

[Interviewer]

It started a month ago, a Tuesday at 4:00pm I would have understood a wall trembling fast, booming party to take place on a Saturday or a Friday. But it had to be a Tuesday, my only day off from working as an rn, a fulfilling but demanding job. I had just taken the position after the previous RN up and left without a word. A pay raise and relocation to an apartment that was half the price of my old one.

[Narrator]

Yes, please.

[Interviewer]

But I had wondered why the rent was so cheap, and I was just finding out. The noise started so abruptly I was sure it was some teenager playing a movie or something. I waited a full hour before deciding to take the initiative and confront whoever was making the noise. I have learned when to be confrontational due to my job, but I had moved into my apartment just a few weeks before and wasn't about to spend the next year or so being forced to listen to someone else's entertainment. My door creaked loudly into the hallway and I marched up to the neighboring door. I could see shadows passing under the neighbor's entry door, so I knocked. The noise stopped as quickly as it had started. I expected that I had startled the partygoers into being quiet. No one came to the door. Not a peep trickled its way to my ear. I stepped back and the shadows under the door were gone. Maybe everyone had gone quiet in hopes

[Narrator]

that I would just leave.

[Interviewer]

I imagined them all hunched into corners, shushing each other like children at a sleepover playing a trick on a friend. It was then that I noticed the small piece of paper taped next to the door. It had several layers of tape peeling up around the edges. It had clearly been there for a while, under construction. Great. They were trespassers. Or someone who lived in the complex thought it would be a great idea to have a party in the construction zone. Less furniture to get in the way of dancing, I guess, although construction equipment seemed like even more of a hazard. I stood there for a few minutes, waiting to see a single shadow reveal themselves or for a giggle to escape someone's mouth. Nothing. I sighed and went back to my apartment, anticipating that the noise would start up again. But then the strangest thing of all happened.

[Narrator]

It was silent.

[Interviewer]

I didn't hear a single person leave or enter the apartment for the rest of the night. Clearly, the guests were remarkably good at staying quiet. The they had proven that, but the creaky old door should have given them away. My 14 hour shifts for the next 6 days took over my thoughts and I all but forgot about the incident. The following Tuesday, it happened again. 4:00pm on the dot. Once again, it started so suddenly that the book I was reading nearly fumbled out of my hands. This time I called the front office of the complex to let them know. I didn't want to make myself known as the grumpy mid-30s guy who ruined everyone's fun. But surely the other neighbors were also frustrated by the noise. Ten pages in my book later, while I endured the sound of the blasting music, there was loud knocking before someone yelled, police. The man didn't even get the full word out before the music and chatter cut out. Curiosity got the better of me and I peeked my head into the hallway to see two police officers. My squeaky door got their attention. Did you call in the disturbance? The woman asked. I did. I didn't expect the complex to call the police, though. No one is supposed to be in this room, so they are all trespassing, right? That makes sense. I shook my head. If you could go back into your apartment, sir. Of course.

[Narrator]

Sorry.

[Interviewer]

They nodded at me before I stole away into my apartment again. I remained just on the other side of the door. Say what you will about eavesdropping, but I was all too curious to hear how this played out. Police. Open up. You're all trespassing on private property. The male police officer shouted before knocking on the door again. Alrighty then. Suit yourself.

[Narrator]

He huffed.

[Interviewer]

The door creaked horribly as it swung into the entry. What? But there's no one. The woman started. Everyone listen up. The man yelled. You have two minutes to leave. Hensley. There's no one. You turn that music off. The man continued. Put your drinks down. Music. Who are you talking to?

[Narrator]

Asked his partner.

[Interviewer]

She started shouting his name as if he couldn't hear her. I thought about sneaking into the hallway again, but figured I didn't want to get caught up in the mess. I heard her cursing before someone ran from the room calling for backup. The door slammed, but it went silent. What the heck just happened? Who was the man Hensley yelling at? Why did the other officer run? I finally braved a peek outside and the party door was closed. Hello? Is everything okay? I asked, feeling stupid for asking and hoping I wasn't about to get run over by a mob of people trying to escape. I took a deep breath and decided to knock before opening the door. It was empty. There wasn't any sign that a person had entered that space in months. Not an empty bottle or discarded cigarette in sight. There weren't even footprints in the dust from the cops. I stumbled backwards out of the room, had everyone run out without making a sound. That didn't make sense. I chalked it up to being overworked and delusional from the lack of sleep. Then the door slammed shut, causing me to fall right onto the floor. I ran back to my apartment, knowing that whatever was happening had nothing to do with me anymore if I didn't let it take control. A few days passed and I went into the office to get a package. I noticed a flyer for a summer party the apartment complex was hosting and the strange incident slammed into the front of my mind. Hey, did you hear anything about the trespassers that were partying in the empty room in Building 6? Some cops were up there and I wanted to know what happened, I said, making it sound like I wasn't the person who called it in and that I was just concerned about my own safety. Honey, I know that it was you that called, she said. Oh yeah, I mean, it was shaking my walls, so it's fine. She waved her hand. I would have called too, but you know the woman who lived in your apartment before you also complained about a party. No one else has ever called it in but you two, but I never heard if people were kicked out or anything like that. She tilted her head at me, but she up and left real quick. Took care of that problem herself. She was actually very sweet, a nurse like you. She gestured to my scrubs and badge and I smiled. We are pretty common around here since

[Narrator]

the hospital is so close, I said,

[Interviewer]

wondering if I had replaced her position at the hospital. But what were the chances of that? Sure are. I didn't get any real answers, but didn't want to drag it on as more people walked in to claim their packages or deal with other business with this new information. The incident barely left my brain over the Next week. I soon noticed a new handle on the door and expected that that was the end of it. Thank goodness. I tried to forget, but as Tuesday approached, uneasiness crept up my spine and made a home there, making me ache. I wasn't expecting anything to happen, but at 4pm Music blared, shaking the walls so much I wondered how the old building was still standing. My fist hit the dining table in frustration, making my soup spoon clank against the bowl. If the police and the new lock on the door couldn't keep these people out, then what would? I let it continue for a while, hoping it could become someone else's problem. But it just kept going. I waited for hours. No cops showed up, no yelling or complaints from other residents. It was up to me, after all. I stormed over to the door and banged so hard the new handle jiggled again. Silence. That infuriating silence. I tried the handle and it opened. Empty. Nothing but old paint buckets, undisturbed dust and abandoned tools. My breath hitched before I slammed it shut and went to hide inside my apartment again. The music never started up again. Why would it, when it never had before? Maybe it was some kind of wild trick with speakers, but there was no power to the apartment and everything was undisturbed. That also wouldn't explain Officer Hensley's reaction when he walked in. My head thudded against the door. This was taking over my life. At least my Tuesdays. Now it's 3:45pm on Tuesday again. One month since this whole thing started. I don't know if I'm dreading or anticipating the event this time. Time. The only thing I can think to do is to not give them the opportunity to hide. 4pm comes around and I don't jump this time as the music starts, but I do jump into action. I walk over and wrench open the door. How strange. It's actually surprising to see the room full of people. Hey, you made it. Someone shouts over the music that's still blaring. A man I have never seen before comes over and greets me like an old friend. Another stranger places a cold bottle of soda in my hand that I nearly drop. My eyes trace the scene quickly.

[Narrator]

It's like a weird costume party.

[Interviewer]

Some people are dressed like construction workers. One looks like the guitarist in a punk rock band. Another looks like a mailman. There are people of all ages, too. I'm startled as a child runs through the kitchen. What? Who the hell are you?

[Narrator]

I ask with a yell.

[Interviewer]

Why aren't you hiding? I'm so Confused, I'm fumbling over my words. Then I notice him in the far corner, still wearing his pole police uniform. Officer Hensley. He turns towards me and seems to recognize me. A smile never leaves his face as he saunters over. He's also sweating profusely. Everyone is. Hey, some party, huh? He says, out of breath. What? Why aren't you doing anything about this? I ask, irate. About what? He asks as he stares at me, his eyes bugging a little like people do when they're trying to say something without actually saying it. I look around more carefully this time. Everyone's eyes are a little wider than normal, manic, just like Hensley's. Are you stuck? I ask, feeling ridiculous at my own hunch that these people are somehow trapped here. Who would want to leave a party like this? Asks a woman who pushes herself into the circle that has formed around me.

[Narrator]

She's a nurse.

[Interviewer]

Her badge indicates not only the same hospital I work at, which isn't a surprise, but the same wing, same floor. No way I had replaced her. Why wasn't she reported as missing? Are you okay?

[Narrator]

I ask her.

[Interviewer]

Why wouldn't I be? She asks, her smile pulling painfully tight at the corner of her lips. Her hair was stringy and stuck to her face in the hot room. I am done asking questions that won't get real answers. I stumble for the open door and it slams in my face. I try for the handle, locked from the inside. Eerie smiles surround me and I feel myself being swallowed too, by whatever force is keeping these people here. As a smile forces its way onto my face and I start to dance with the forgotten, one sentence repeats in my head like it's my own form of song. I should have knocked. I should have knocked.

[Narrator]

Back in 1999, I used to work at Disney World down in Orlando, Florida. I was a custodian, which is really just Disney World's fancy way of saying janitor. We mostly worked when the park was closed to clean the place up, empty the trash, and treat all the water features around the park with cleaning chemicals to keep them from getting stagnant and smelly.

[Interviewer]

But there was also a little guest

[Narrator]

interaction involved too, including things like giving directions, helping guests plan their day, and answering the millions of questions they'd have about the park. So I suppose My job was 70% janitor and 30% walking. Information point. There were major perks, but there were huge downsides, too. I'd get disgruntled guests come up to me and complain about the stormy weather, as it meant that some of the rides were closed, closed for a few hours.

[Interviewer]

So I'd have to deal with that

[Narrator]

just smiling and nodding and sympathizing. But sometimes I swear it was like they wanted me to clap my hands and just magically disappear the clouds above

[Interviewer]

our heads, as if I had the power to do it.

[Narrator]

Like, it's not my fault that you chose to visit Disney World during a hurricane season. Make better choices.

[Interviewer]

I had to deal with lost children

[Narrator]

a few times, too. And I also had to take valuable items to Lost and Found in Main street, which was kind of fun as it meant you could wander through the Magic Kingdom on your way to Lost and Found. That was one of the good things about being a custodian.

[Interviewer]

You're allowed to walk all over the park within reason.

[Narrator]

For instance, if a guest wanted directions to Space Mountain, I could walk them over to Tomorrowland instead of just telling them how to get there. This worked well when trying to communicate with guests who didn't speak any English. I had a lot of good times during that job. The whole team was like one big family. But I suppose that's why what I'm about to tell you happens to be probably the worst thing that's ever happened in my life and why it still kind of messes me up 21 years later. So this happened on the second, second weekend in February of 99. The actual park opened at 11am so we used to spend the first two or three hours of our shifts basically doing cosmetic cleans, testing rides, and generally making sure the park was ready to go for the day. The morning section of my shift involved helping out with cleaning and prepping Fantasyland and Tomorrowland. So at one point, I'm walking through the park and I see this guy Ray up on the platform for the skyway in Fantasyland. He is sweeping away, whistling to himself. Generally being the cheerful guy that he was, Ray was in his 60s at the time and had already been with us for like a year.

[Interviewer]

Everyone liked him.

[Narrator]

He was older than most, but he was super chilled out and friendly and always willing to help out his fellow castmen numbers. Like I said, we were one big family like that. We worked together, partied together, and some

[Interviewer]

of us even lived together.

[Narrator]

I called up to him like, hey, morning, Ray.

[Interviewer]

Ray.

[Narrator]

He just smiles down at me, returns the greeting, and waves a little before going back to his sweeping. It was a beautiful morning. Everyone was in a good mood. It was another day in literal paradise. So I'm walking towards Tomorrowland for a few more minutes when I hear this, like, slow Electric whirring sound above my head, the sound of the skyway starting up as the four person gondolas started moving along the track. I still feel terrible that it took me as long as it did to realize what was so wrong about the situation. It was a Sunday morning and I was pretty tired and slightly hungover from going out drinking the night before with a few of the other cast members. Honestly, it took me a little while to stop blaming myself for not having prevented what happened, because I figured that if I had been a little sharper, I'd have been able to really help. But then it hits me. The gondolas are moving pretty fast too, on their first test loop, and Ray is still up on the platform. Someone had switched on the skyway and they hadn't checked if the thing was clear or not. So I just start running back the way I had walked, following the platform of the skyway and hoping that I would catch up to Ray before the gondolas reached him. I was running as fast as I could, trying to catch up with the lead gondola, but I just couldn't seem to close the distance in time. I look up and see Ray whistling away to himself with his back to the gondolas, just not seeing them at

[Interviewer]

all as they are approaching.

[Narrator]

So I started shouting up to him and trying to warn him before the gondolas knocked him off the skyway, which are like 60ft up in the air. He hears me, turns around and is obviously horrified to see that someone has turned on the ride before checking that it was clear. He has this mix of anger and fear in his voice as he turns back around and starts moving as quickly as he can away from the gondola, but he just couldn't move fast enough. The thing caught up with him pretty quickly, but it didn't knock him off, like right away. Ray grabbed onto the gondola and tried to pull himself inside of it to stop himself from falling, but he just wasn't strong enough. And all of a sudden, I'm watching him dangling from the thing, in danger of falling the whole 60ft onto the concrete below. I'm just shouting up to him, hang on, Ray, just hang on. But there was nothing I could do. I just had to watch him struggle to hold onto that gondola as it moved along the skyway, knowing that it was only a matter of time before he lost his grip and fell. I can see Ray looking over his shoulder and down at the ground below him every so often, and I will never, ever forget the look of Absolute terror on his face, or that feeling of pure helplessness I felt as I watched the whole thing unfolding. Then the gondola starts passing over these flower beds instead of just pure concrete. I figured the soil and the plants would have to be a better option to fall onto. It had to be. So I just started shouting, jump, Ray, jump.

[Interviewer]

The flower beds go.

[Narrator]

Then I don't know if he deliberately let go or lost his grip, but he fell 60 whole feet down and landed with an audible thump in the flower beds below. Watching him fall was like slow motion or something. He seemed to fall so slowly, but I guess that's just because he had such a long way to fall. He was in a bad, bad way. When I reached him, he wasn't moving at all. He just lay there among the flowers, all glassy eyed, and he wheezed and groaned in agony. And in the moments before I ran off to get help, I saw him spit up blood, blood onto his bottom lip and chin. I was in tears by the time I found another cast member to help out, begging them to call 911 so we could get an ambulance out there as fast as possible. Emergency services got there less than 20 minutes later, and they carried Ray out of the park on a stretcher before driving him over to Orlando Regional Medical Center. We all prayed that he would be okay, and it brought us all a

[Interviewer]

great deal of hope that he had

[Narrator]

actually landed in the flower beds and not onto straight concrete, which definitely would have killed anyone who had fallen that far. But a few hours later, we got word that he did not make it, that his injuries were so bad that he had passed away. Despite what the hospital staff had done for him. The fall just caused too much trauma, too much internal bleeding, and he had slipped away after they had operated on him to drain the blood from his lungs. We were all absolutely devastated to have lost such a cheerful, charming, dedicated cast member. Ray made all of our days just that little bit brighter, and it would be impossible to really replace him. I felt for his family, I felt for his friends, but I really felt for the cast member who had turned on the gondolas before making sure the skyway was clear. Technically, Ray should have been done with his sweeping by that time in the morning, but like I said, he was dedicated, the kind of guy who didn't finish a job until it was properly done. The person who had turned on the skyway, who I won't name, was totally inconsolable. So much so that they had to be put on leave before they eventually quit. They blamed themselves for Ray's death, saying they should have checked the cameras, done a walk around to make sure the platform was clear. It was no one's fault. I've come to terms with that. It was a simple breakdown of communication and it could have happened to anyone. It wasn't my fault, it wasn't Ray's fault, it wasn't the skyway operator's fault. It was just a horrible twist of fate. Everyone that could get time off attended Ray's funeral. We all wanted to be there for his family as best as we could to assure them that their husband and father was one of the sweetest guys we had ever known. Ray was the first cast member to die in the park in over 10 years, and a little memorial was put up backstage for him so that we could all remember him at his best with a smile on his face instead of scared and broken. Rest in peace, Raymond Barlow. We love you and we miss you every single day.

[Interviewer]

This happened to me and my boyfriend a few months ago, but it still creeps us out to this day. We live in a normal building right at the center of a big city for a few years now. Our building has a doorman 247 and we live on the 10th floor. Everything was fine until six or seven months ago when we started hearing some weird sounds coming from the 10th floor corridor. That would be absolutely normal since there's three more doors on our corridor and four for over the other side of the wall. All on our floor neighbors are noisy, right? These sounds, however, were very creepy and ominous. It sounded like an older woman moaning with pain, always early in the morning and late in the afternoon. We don't really know our neighbors, but we had never seen an older woman around. These moans then shifted to violent arguing between two females, not so old it seemed. We used to hear them discussing something indistinct, but the aggressiveness of the voices caught our attention. I even went out into the corridor to see if I could hear specifics, but the voices were more like angry whispering and I couldn't. It was creepy, but nothing to be

[Narrator]

worried about, I guess.

[Interviewer]

But then the absolute weirdest thing happened. I'm a very panicky person and I hate conflict, so if I feel attacked or something, I'll go into flight mode and literally run away. My boyfriend, on the other hand, is a much more confrontational person and is prepared to deal with most people's crap. This day we were going out and it was around 2pm when we reached the ground floor of our building. We had just left the back elevator, which didn't face the main entrance of the building, but the garage door instead. We had to turn a corner and head to the main hall if we wanted to leave. As soon as I stepped out of the elevator, I saw my boyfriend turning said corner. And then I heard a woman's voice coming from the main entrance. It wasn't a normal voice. She was talking angrily, incoherently and apparently to herself. Since there wasn't any reply. It was very similar to the voices I had heard through the walls on our floor. Everything happened so fast that I couldn't hold my boyfriend's arm and ask him to wait for this angry lady to go away before she saw us because of my non confrontational nature. So my boyfriend turned the corner and faced the entrance as well as the woman. I didn't because I sensed something was very wrong and this person was probably going to try to talk to us or worse. Unfortunately, I was right. Hidden by the back elevator, I heard the woman immediately noticing my boyfriend and shuffling her feet towards him, all the while raving about my mother. My mother is hurt. I told her she fell out the window and stuff like that. I went straight out through the garage's door, literally to hide because I knew there was going to be trouble. Not to sound insensitive, but the lady truly sounded crazy and hostile. I waited by the garage a few moments, nervous about my boyfriend's safety but also knowing he could defend himself. After a while my boyfriend came out towards me with a terrified look on his face. He sat down trembling and told me what happened in those few moments. I was hidden in the garage, he said. He turned the corner and went into the main hall and there he saw the most disheveled looking woman he had ever seen and he has seen plenty since. He comes from a rough neighborhood himself. She was really tall, wearing a dirty mini skirt and top with only one shoe on. She was talking loud about her mother and came directly at him as if she was gonna hit him or something. My boyfriend quickly stopped walking and put his hands in front of him, trying to calm her down. She then stopped right by his face face and said something truly chilling. She asked him, still sounding deranged, if

[Narrator]

he was the doctor that came to see her.

[Interviewer]

Calmly, my boyfriend said no. She asked if he was a policeman, to which he replied no as well. Then she said in a much more normal tone of voice, well, I just killed my mother upstairs. I think you should go up there and get her body before it stinks. I can't have any More flies and cats in the apartment. My boyfriend said he didn't have the time to actually take this as fact since the situation was so bizarre. So we kept appeasing her and saying okay and alright. She mumbled some other things and then left through the main entrance. That's when he ran back to find me. We took a few minutes to calm down because this encounter had left us both extremely unsettled, then made sure she was gone before stepping into the main hall of the building. There we found the doorman and told him exactly what happened. He then explained to us that this lady was unfortunately very mentally unstable and lived with her elderly mother on our floor. He said she went willingly off her meds a few months ago and her mother, who needs special care for some reason, couldn't control her or send her away. He told us that the crazy lady often yelled at people on our street and had once been briefly detained for walking around naked and screaming. We were surprised and kinda scared because this woman was actually very tall and intimidating and apparently unhinged. We told the doorman about what she said and he told us that she had confessed to the same thing over the last few months to everyone she encountered. That put our minds at ease because

[Narrator]

I was ready to call the police

[Interviewer]

and tell them about her confession. In the end, we didn't call the police because the doorman assured us she

[Narrator]

hadn't killed anybody yet.

[Interviewer]

Fortunately, we haven't seen this woman again, but we occasionally hear her over the walls shuffling about and arguing with herself. We haven't heard any more moans though. I wonder if there's some truth to what she said about killing her mother. If I ever smell something slightly rotten, I'll make sure to call the police right away.

[Narrator]

It's.