When No One's Watching

Every year millions of people head into the wilderness searching for peace, beauty, and adventure. But hidden in those same scenic landscapes are stories of violence, survival, and lives cut short. I'm Dilya DeAmbra and on my podcast, Park Predators, I uncover the true crimes that happened in the most amazing places on Earth. Listen to Park Predators wherever you get your podcasts. I'm sorry I didn't listen to you. Hi, listeners. I have a story I want to tell you. There was this doctor over at St. Agri's who would kill his patients. Oh, yes. It was, Mattius. Aren't you afraid the light take away getting? I'm sorry I didn't listen to you. That adrenaline, I'm a moron. I said that totally lost it. He had no idea what was on those tapes. It was like a song. All he had the outcast. So gather around, gather around, and listen to this. Close. It was just a game Chrissy had made. Looking back, I wish I never went into her basement. Wish I never saw that painting on the wall. Looking back, I wish I never played her game at all. But mom and dad had a work party to go to. So last Friday night, they walked me next door to Chrissy's house. I remember it being pulled outside. So cold I ran back into my house to grab a warmer coat. It was dark too, and only the street lamps starting the sidewalk offered any kind of light. I'd never been to Chrissy's house, even though she lived just four streets down. Our personalities were worlds apart. She was awkward, flip-fopping between shy and too in her face. The only reason we were friends was because we shared the same recess. Every time she invited me to play after school, I made up an excuse to say no. But this time, I asked her. My mom and dad were going to a work conference and they needed someone to watch me. And since not of my other friends were free, I had to ask Chrissy to check with her mom. To my regret, she said it was okay. As we neared Chrissy's house, I had this awful feeling in my stomach. I turned a mom, telling her I didn't feel well and she laughed. She ran her hand through my hair and told me it would pass, and that she and dad would be back in just two hours. Just two hours. What mom didn't know is evil, awful things can take place in just two hours. We stood in front of Chrissy's house and dad rang the doorbell. We waited. No answer. Dad knocked on the front door. We waited. No answer. I was beginning to think I'd run into a bit of luck. That may be Chrissy's mother had forgotten about me, and I wouldn't have to stay here with this strange girl. Then the porch light flickered on, and the front door creaked open just a jar. A pair of dark brown eyes peered through and a small timid voice accompanied them. Yes. Dad leaned forward. Hi, Helen. It's Greg, Nicole's father. We're here to drop her off. I just want to thank you for watching her and we should be back around 730. The door opened just a bit more. The small timid voice continued. Hi, Mr. Keller. My mother is asleep right now. She had a long shift. But I can go wake her if you want. Dad shook his head. No, that won't be necessary. Nick calls if he needs anything and we'll be back soon. Dad was already bounding down the front porch steps, but mom turned to me, knelt down, and gave me a hug. Just two hours, pumpkin. Hang in there. And then she turned to, leaving me alone at the mouth of a house I did not want to enter. Once my parents were out of sight, Chrissy opened the door all the way. Chrissy was a tall, thin, pale girl with long, stringy black hair that nearly hit her eyes. As usual, Chrissy wore long sleeves and torn jeans. Without saying a word, she stepped aside, motioning for me to come in. The inside of her house was like a closet, dark and suffocating. All the curtains were pulled and not a single light was on. I thought it was odd, but then again, Chrissy did say her mother was asleep. I followed Chrissy deeper into the house, where the darkness seemed only slightly thinner. Just ahead, a thin line of light shown beneath the door. We reached it, and Chrissy turned to me, pressed a finger to her lips. I held my breath as she slowly turned the handle. Before me lay a long wooden staircase with a rickety railing that dips straight down. This must be her basement. Chrissy started away two steps at a time, but I froze, not going any further. This didn't feel right. Chrissy turned back to me. Come on, we have to be down here. My mother's sleeping on the couch. I didn't question her. I didn't think quick enough to ask why we couldn't be in her bedroom. I just followed her, not wanting any trouble, and descended the wooden staircase. With each step, I gained a deeper and wider view of the basement. It was huge. Though, for how much space there was, it was mostly packed. Cloaked in sheets, faceless figures of all shapes and sizes lined the walls. Nicknacks and brickabrax were thrown about littering the floor. Dust hung heavy in the air, and ice stifled as sneeze. The only thing that stood out amongst the blanket white clutter was a rather large painting. It was drawn on the wall with some kind of crann or chalk. Scrauled as though by a child's hand, it was a picture of the sun with a large round face, rosy cheeks, and a long toothy grin. The sun was painted a vibrant red, but its eyes were dark blue, almost black. Even halfway up the stairs, those eyes seemed right in front of me. Set on me. Or at least that's what it seemed like. When I reached the bottom of the staircase, I noticed a single light bulb hanging above my head, with a knotted pole string next to it. This light, this lonely source of light, was barely enough to light up the stairs, let alone the entire room. Chrissy took my hand and led me to the center of the room, right in front of the sun painting. Well, what do you think? I swallowed, not sure what to say, so I smiled instead. Chrissy grinned. I come down here a lot, almost every day. It's my favorite place. I'm glad I can share it with you. Chrissy giggled, and I eyed Mr. Sun, still glaring at me. I wanted very badly to be anywhere but here. How about a game? I have one I think you like. I nodded, murmured, sure, and asked what kind of game it was. Chrissy's grin grew even wider. It's called, when no one's watching. I made it up myself, here, I'll show you how to play. Chrissy left me standing in the middle of the basement, and walked back to the foot of the stairs. She reached up her hand, holding the pole string. On the count of three, I'm going to turn off the light, and you have to move into a different spot by the time I turn it on. You should try to scare me, or make me laugh, but you can only move in the dark. You can only move when no one is watching. Got it? I shook my head, staring at Chrissy. She wanted to turn the lights off, down here. But before I could object, she whispered. One, two, three. The room went dark. I stood there, frozen, too scared to even move. After a few seconds, the light flicked on, and Chrissy was standing there, frowning. She didn't speak for quite some time, just stood there, glaring at me. Her gaze made me so uncomfortable. I hunched my shoulders and crossed my arms. Finally, she broke the silence. Nicole, you have to move, or at least make a face or something. Look, I'll show you. It's my turn now. Chrissy motioned for me to take her place. I did. Glad to. I held onto the pole string with two hands, and watched as Chrissy moved to the far side of the room. When she got to the wall, the one beneath the sun, she said, Oh, and Nicole, you can turn the light on and off a few times. It's more fun that way. I nodded, thinking this couldn't be fun any which way. I looked over her head at the glaring red sun. It smiled, stretched wide. It's eyes on me. I swallowed, then said in a shaky voice. Ready? Chrissy nodded. I spoke. One, two, three. And then I pulled down. I didn't like being in the dark for long. So after a second, I switched it back on. Chrissy was closer now, and standing by the left wall. One hand held in a frozen wave. She was smiling at me, a wide smile, and her head was cocked to the side, her hair falling into her face. I pulled the light switch again. I could hear nothing in the darkness. No footsteps, no shuffling. I counted to four in my head, then pulled. This time, Chrissy was only a few feet away and standing on the right side of the room. She was down in a low crouch, almost like a cat ready to pounce. Unmoving, she was still eyeing me. I pulled the string for one final round. Waited only a second, then pulled again. I jumped back. Chrissy's face was right on mine. No smile, no sound. She just stared down at me, unflinching. Then, her face broke, and she giggled. Got you good. I let out a sigh, sitting down on the last staircase. You sure did. Chrissy, I don't really like this game. Can we go upstairs? Chrissy smiled, drained from her face. She didn't answer. Then, a few seconds later, she said. Nicole, I think it's rude of you to not give this game a real try. You asked to come over. You asked to be my guest. So, playing this game is the right thing to do. Chrissy was right. I wasn't being very polite. And so, even though I didn't want to keep playing, I stood up and moved to the far side of the room. Now, that's more like it. Okay, get ready. I leaned against the far wall, taking in the distance between me and her. Or rather, me and the staircase that led out of here. I would just move forward, each time she switched the light, and get closer to that door. All right, Nicole. On the count of three. One. Two. Three. Chrissy pulled the string and everything went dark. I took one cautious step forward. My hand stretched out. Ready to steady myself in case I bumped into something. I was about to take another step forward when I heard something. A footsteps move right next to me. I spun towards the sound that the light switched on. Blinking eyes adjusting. I turned towards Chrissy. This couldn't be right. I was standing on the other side of the room. Closer to Chrissy. But how? I only took one step forward. Maybe, too. How did I? But before I could say anything, Chrissy switched the light off again. And I was consumed by darkness. I held my hands out, taking one step forward, then another, and another. Suddenly, a rush of cold air ran across my face. I froze, shaking, to afraid to move. Chrissy? Then I felt it. At first, just a brush, a graze. And then, the tip of cold fingers interlocking with mine. I screamed and tried yanking my hand back, but they were holding on too tight, squeezing my hand. Hard. Pain shot up my arm and I screamed again. Let go! Let go! Suddenly, the light flickered on. And I was now standing on the opposite side of the room. Right below the sun painting. Those eyes. Those dark, blue eyes bore down on mine. I looked at both my hands, turning them over. I had red burn marks on both my palms. Just then, Chrissy said, you weren't supposed to touch it. Touch it. Touch what? Then, the light went out again. I couldn't stay in this room any longer, so I turned and made a beeline for the staircase. I was running now, toppling anything that got in my way. When I felt like I was close, I reached up, waiting for my fingers to find the string. And once they did, I pulled hard. But the light wouldn't work. I pulled again. Nothing. I was yanking the string with all my might again and again and again. Still, it wouldn't turn on. Chrissy, the light. It won't work. Chrissy? Chrissy! Panicking, I gave up and made a blind dash towards what I hoped was the stairs. I was done with the basement and done with Chrissy's game. I climbed crawling up the stairs and made it to the top when... I heard a click behind me. The light came on. I turned around. Chrissy was standing at the bottom of the staircase, one hand on the pole string. Works fine. See? She switched it off and on again. The light obeying like it should. I shook my head. Chrissy, I don't want to play this game anymore. Something... something is down there. Chrissy nodded. Okay, we don't have to play anymore. We can go back up. But first, let me get the light. Chrissy smiled and winked. Then, she pulled the string. One last time. And everything went black again. I didn't hear her footsteps on the staircase and I wasn't going to wait for her. So, I turned back towards the door and twisted the handle. It wouldn't budge. I twisted again, talking and lifting as much as I could do. Nothing. The door was locked. From behind me, I heard someone giggle. And I heard a loud creek, a footsteps on the bottom of the stairs. Chrissy, the door, it won't open. The giggling worked and it fits a laughter, but it wasn't just Chrissy laughing. That voice that came below me, behind me. It was heavy and gutterable and it was coming up the stairs. Help! Help! Please stop it! I started beating at the door with my fists. I wanted out. I wanted to wake up Chrissy's mom. I wanted my mom and dad to save me. I shook the door knob again and wrenched it as I could. The creaking cracking of the stairs had cooled closer and louder until... The air went cold and a cool breath tickled my neck. I froze, shaking and silent as icy fingers wrapped around mine. They held my hand between the door knob and gently. They twisted to the right. The door creaked open. And I ran. When I got home, I ran to my room. I wrapped myself in every blanket and pillow, but I wasn't going to sleep. Closing my eyes felt like a risk. I kept the lights on. Eventually, I heard the front door. Mom and dad were home. I remember I cut straight to mom, hugged her like I was drowning and wouldn't let go. But it was weird. The memory is wired with so much fear that I swear I was screaming. Screaming about Chrissy's game, about a monster in the shadows and burning cold hands. But according to my parents, I was catatonic. I was silent and in shock. They called Chrissy's mother. But any hope for answers were flipped with more concerns. Her mother picked up on the second call. She was just as confused as they were. She knew nothing of the play date. In fact, she was at work. She hadn't been home all day. They rushed to the house, searched it up and down. Then they called the police. Chrissy was missing. Eventually, I told them the whole story about the game we played in the dark, about the hand that grabbed me. I told them about that terrible voice. The one I heard on the stairs. The one that couldn't belong to any child. They suspect some sort of predator, a kidnapping. They turned the basement inside out. They scoured the house, dusted for prints. Collected anything they thought showed foul play. But they never found Chrissy or anything to support their theory. And they couldn't find the sun painting. To this day, the police think I suffered a traumatic episode. They think I'm wrong. That I'm only imagining what I remember because my mind was too young to process the truth. At least they don't think I lied. Chrissy's mother blames me. She thinks I'm guilty, or at the very least hiding what really happened. Unfortunately, the media has turned on her. They picked up on her drinking after Chrissy disappeared and have since profiled her as a negligent alcoholic mother. But she says I was the last one to see her daughter, so I must know where she is. And she's right. I think I do know. While I'm too afraid to check, I think Chrissy's still down there. Still in that basement. I think Chrissy's hiding between the shadows and waiting in the dark. And I think she's only moving when no one's watching. Full Body Chills is an audio-truck production. This episode was written by Amanda Wisdom and read by Leanne Gatto. This story was modified slightly for audio retelling, but you can find the original in full on our website. I think Chuck would approve. Please stand here with a gap. Another morning, another reminder there's a gap to be careful of. But maybe it's time to bridge the one between your 9-5 and your dream of living life on your own terms. At HSBC, we know ambition looks different to everyone. Whether it's retiring early or leaving more for your family, we can help. Because when it comes to unlocking your money's potential, we know wealth. Search HSBC wealth today. HSBC UK, opening up a world of opportunity. HSBC UK current account holders only. Everyone's told a lie. But what happens when one lie becomes a life, a movement, a conspiracy. I'm Josh Dean, host of Camillean, and I uncover true stories of deception scams so intimate and convincing they fooled the people closest to them. These are strangers, they're lovers, friends, and trusted allies. Because the most dangerous cons don't feel like crimes. They feel personal. Listen to Camillean wherever you get your podcasts.