It's Toyota Truck Month. Time for a truck that works as hard as you. Tacoma, Tundra, built for the job and ready for the trail. Available with four-wheel drive and connected tech. All backed by legendary Toyota reliability. Visit your local Toyota dealer for great financing and lease options available to qualified customers. Or visit buyatoyota.com to find your Truck Month deal today. That's buyatoyota.com. Toyota, let's go places. Steamer here. Give me the dirt. Hey Steamer, my kids want a dog. What do you think? In a way, your kids already have pets. And by pets, I mean the billions of bacteria living in your carpets couched in the rugs right now. And they're not that cute. So call Stanley Steamer and we'll take care of it. Then maybe start with a goldfish. They won't pee in your carpet. Book your deep clean now at StanleySteamer.com. We gather here tonight to bring women back to their rightful place. The Testaments, a new Hulu original series from the executive producers of The Handmaid's Tale. It's easier to accept a story than believe that the people around you are monsters. The battle isn't over. There comes a time when you have to take action. When you have to choose your own destiny. Never quite as it seems. Watch the new Hulu original series, The Testaments. Streaming on Hulu and Hulu on Disney Plus for bundle subscribers. Terms apply. When the internet began, Bulletin Board Services or BBS became the first online communities of the so-called information superhighway. Using their phone lines, people logged in from all over America to talk about sports, games, movies, and on one BBS in particular. Share their ghost stories. Over time, those communities all went dark. Except for one, lone server that continues to operate somewhere in an unknown part of Pennsylvania's Rust Belt. A relic of the 1990s, veiled in mystery, it is a digital archive of humanity's strangest encounters with the unknown. As told by the people who experience them. My name is Brandon Schecksneider, and you are listening to Fear Daily. Subject the choice. User, Pilex. Posted April 9th, 1998. You ever wonder who you are? I mean, who you really are if you strip away all those stories you tell yourself about yourself? You know, the composite image you've drawn from all the things others have reflected back at you and the way your insights made you feel, or the personality you claim to have that might actually be built less on reality and more on avoiding discomfort. Do you? Do you really know? Well, if you're curious, I've got an offer you can't refuse. 100% money back guarantee. It's simple. You sit in this chair, close your eyes, and when you open them, you'll see yourself as you could have been. Not just one version, but all of them. Every turn you didn't take, every door you let shut, every risk you dodged, every love you walked away from. All standing there in front of you. Talking. Moving. Breathing. Friend, this is the real deal, and don't bother asking how. I've had customers laugh, weep, scream, and beg. Some try to fight. One guy even threw up. I won't lie, it's a lot to take in. Seeing yourself as the person who chased the dream, as the one who played it safe, the one who never left, or the one who left everything behind, it can be emotional. But the most unsettling to most is seeing how small choices ripple into entire lives. It rattles people to their core. But friend, here's the kicker. You don't just see these versions of yourself like a movie passing before your eyes, you feel what they feel. That rush of adrenaline from the version of you who took the big risks, the contentment of the you who found peace in the ordinary, the aching regret of the you who let someone special slip away. I'll be honest, this is not for the weak-hearted. It's not for the ones who want to sleep easy at night. Once you know, you know. But if you really want to know, if you can handle the weight of truth, I'll set up the chair. No strings attached, 100% money back guarantee. Although I can promise, you won't leave the same person you arrived as. Now, over the years, people come to me for many, many reasons. Some want validation that the life they have is the best one they could have lived. Others want answers to see if the one that pretty lady who got away was truly meant to be, or some just want to scratch the itch of what if, thinking they can handle it like a fun house mirror at a carnival. They're always wrong. I had a guy once, a doctor mid-40s, married three kids. He walked in cool as ice, told me he had no regrets that he was just curious. I strapped him in, told him to close his eyes and let the journey begin. When he opened him, he saw himself a different self, standing tall in a lecture hall. Unmarried, childless, but a world-renowned researcher on the cusp of curing something big. The weight of discovery in his eyes, the fire of a life, spent chasing knowledge untethered by domestic obligations. He stared for what to him must have felt like ours. Barely breathing. Then he reached out, tried to touch the version of himself standing before him. I told him not to, but he either wouldn't or couldn't listen. The vision shattered like glass and he started sobbing, not just crying. Sobbing like a man who had just lost everything except he never had it to begin with. They all think they can handle it, most can. A woman once came to me, she was in her mid-60s, a widow. She told me she just wanted to see if her late husband was in fact the love of her life, or if there had been another path she should have taken. She sat in the chair, closed her eyes and when she opened them, she saw herself at 24, standing at a crossroads. One path led to the life she lived, a warm, stable marriage with children, grandchildren, comfort. The other, a life of adventure, of running away with someone else, a man who made her pulse quicken, who made her feel alive in a way her husband never quite did. She saw herself boarding a train with him, her hand in his, laughing, weightless. She saw what would have been a world-win romance, spanning continents. A life lived on passion and spontaneity, but then she saw how it ended. A life of loneliness when he left her for someone younger. She was penniless and beaten down. That day, she saw a love that burned too bright and too fast. When the session ended, she just sat there, staring at the wall. I asked her if she wanted to talk about it. She shook her head, laughed and never came back. I wonder sometimes if she regretted it. But look, obviously this isn't just about seeing a better life. I'm not here to pick at your choices. No, it's about seeing different lives. And once you know what else was possible, the life you return to never feels quite the same. For some, that is the type of empowering knowledge that leads them to create a future so beautiful even the chair couldn't have expected it, but most, well, money back guarantee. As for me, I don't sit in the chair. I won't. I know better. Unlike my customers, I made my choice a long time ago. The new We Go V Pill is now available through Weight Watchers. Powerful GLP-1 results in a simple pill at the lowest price available. And with Weight Watchers, you can get doctor support and personalized nutrition programs. See if you qualify at WeightWatchers.com. Add not review to our approved by Novo Nordisk. Supernatural Japan dives into Japan's darkest folklore, real history, and mysteries that still disturb the present. From ghosts of ancient warriors to modern legends whispered online, every episode blends culture, crime, and the unexplained. If you love spooky history, Japanese folklore and stories that stay with you long after the episode ends, search for supernatural Japan, because in Japan, the past is never really gone. The Dream It started three weeks ago. The dream. Always the same sequence, the same events happening over and over and over again. I'm in a gas station, the Valero on 5th, the one near my place. It smells like burnt coffee, motor oil, and the cigarette the attendant was smoking as I was walking in. The fluorescent lights flicker. I don't remember how I got there, but I'm holding a cup of coffee, and it's too hot in my hand, so I almost drop it before finding a flat surface to put it on. The cashier, some kid with acne scars is staring past me, his mouth moving, but no sound coming out. Then, car horn blares outside, long, angry. I turn, it's a blue sedan at the pump, the driver, white knuckling the wheel, screaming at the smoking attendant outside, but I can't see why. Then, the radio overhead cuts out. Static floods the speakers, followed by a woman's voice, distant, garbled. I can never quite hear what she's saying, but I can feel tension as the air shifts. It's a heavy pressure, like a storm rolling in, and then the windows start to rattle, and a low rumbling starts deep, subterranean, like something enormous turning over beneath the ground. The cashier finally makes a sound, a strangled breathless gasp, then the floor cracks beneath us. Through the windows, I watch as the gas pumps explode, a wave of fire swallowing the sedan, but that's only in Iota of the mayhem as the street splits open and a chasm yawns wide start swallowing cars, streetlights, and people, chaos ensues, but right before the fire reaches me, I wake up. The first time, I wrote it off as a nightmare. The second, I thought, weird coincidence, maybe I was stressed at work, and this was my subconscious way of dealing with it. By the third, I started paying attention, because then the first piece of the dream happened while I was awake. I was walking out of the grocery store when I heard it, the exact same car horn from my dream, long, furious. I turned, and yes, I saw a blue sedan stuck at a four-way stop. The driver was screaming at someone. I couldn't tell who, but I could see the smoke of a cigarette weafed in around them. I ain't gonna lie, this was mildly unnerving at the time, but obviously, I hadn't been sleeping all that well, so I just chalked it up to that and went about my way. If only that was the end of it. Last night, my radio switched on in the middle of the night, static popping out of the speaker, scaring me to death. I instinctually tried to hit the snooze, thinking it was an alarm at first, but then in the middle of that interference, I swear I heard that woman's voice. My heart sunk. I couldn't go back to sleep, so I started making a mental list of all the things that were going on and had happened, the car horn, the angry blue sedan driver, the smoking person, the radio static, that woman's voice. Shit. If this is really happening, what comes next is not good. Today, I've walked around in a haze of fatigue and fear. Something feels wrong, but I still had to go to work because, let's face it, my boss is not going to believe me. Well, it was then as I was walking up to my office building, then I saw a crack in the pavement. It was small, but long, about 100 yards, passing through most of the parking lot, and it seemed to be vibrating. It isn't real, I told myself, and went about my day, but right as I got to the front door of my building, I heard a car honk at a couple of teens, a sedan. What the fuck? I don't go straight inside. I stand there, staring at the sedan as it speeds off. The driver's still yelling, his voice lost in the den of the city, but the pavement crack in front of me seems deeper than before, like a wound in the earth, its edges still trembling ever so slightly. Again, I tell myself it's nothing, a trick of the mind, but my gut tells me something else. The rest of the day is a blur, meetings, emails, phone calls, white noise against the growing unease, gnawing at the back of my skull. Every time I close my eyes, I see it. The dream, the fire, the split in the earth, and when I finally get home, I am exhausted, but also wired. So I flick on the TV for background noise, but it does not help. That's when I remembered what tomorrow is, the Founders Festival. Hundreds of people are going to be headed to our little downtown square to celebrate, and not a single one has any idea about what might happen. There is a crack in the earth, and explosion is on its way. Hell, even as I type, I can feel that tremor growing underneath the ground, as if something is churning in weight. At least, I think I can feel it. What in God's name should I do? No one is going to believe me. Fear Daily is an independent podcast hosted by Brandon Schecksneider and written by Brennan Stor, with Joanna Smith serving as the consulting editor, audio production by Rachel Boyd and sound design by Southern Gothic Media. This podcast is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or to real events or locations, is entirely coincidental. Ad-free versions of Fear Daily are available now on your favorite podcast apps. For more information, visit feardaily.com. But move fast, before the server goes offline. And we're back in a miller's yard, despite the heat, their True Green lawn is thriving. They got a lawn like a golf course here in Maryland, without wasting a weekend. And PJ, a two-a-golf, has started showing up. Like this, bro, amazed this grass looks this good and this heat. Has to dodge the bike's anti-recycling bins. Ah, perfectly struck. Something's coming. Do you hear it? Can you see it? Trundling across the common, following the old hollow ways, sauntering down the lane, rocking up into the market square, laying out its wares. It reels you in with mysteries, trades with you fantastic tales, spins for you fascinating stories. Stories like the Haunted Pound Stretcher, flying saucers, poisoners and body snatchers, Haunted Woodland, and the secret tunnels beneath our feet. Weird in the Wade is on its way. A podcast that explores everything that is weird, wonderful, and a little off kilter in the town of Biggleswade in Bedfordshire. If you like your spooky stories told with a dash of historical context, or you like your history with a pinch of the paranormal, then this is the podcast for you.
