How Could I Help Her?

Whether thou art a ghost that hath come from the earth, or a phantom of night that hath no hollow, or one that lieth dead in the desert, or a ghost unburied, or a demon, or a ghoul, whatever thou be until thou art removed, thou shalt find here no water to drink. Thou shalt not stretch forth thy hand to our own Into our house enter thou not Through our fence break through thou not We are protected though we may be frightened Our life you may not steal Though we may be scared to death Welcome to Scared to Death, Creeps, Peepers, Roberts and Annabelles. I'm Dan. Hello Dan, I'm Lindsay. Hello Lindsay. Hello sir. Lindsay and I have a quick cruise announcement. and then we'll jump into our show. Yes, very exciting Creeps and Peepers. Once again, in 2027, Dan and I will be joining all of the amazing creators at Crime Wave at Sea Cruise 2.0. We are super pumped. Not only will you have the chance to go on vacation with us, which is, you know, fun in its own right, but also there will be many other creators there that you love. Again, returning with us is Last Podcast on the Left Side Stories, True Crime Campfire, A Paranormal Chicks. And then some new shows are joining us. The No Sleep Podcast. Our friend David Cummings there. Our friend Richard from Unexplained is flying across from the other side. And also a few TikTokers are joining us this year. Crime with Court and Crime Time Tea Time. And the anonymous host of Case File will also be there. So it's just shaping up to be this incredible lineup. Yeah. And we're really pumped. and in case you weren't there in case you didn't get to witness it i was a wild woman on that cruise like i don't know what came over me but i've become this totally different person on this cruise and we were playing this game where it was like uh the hosts from shows competing against each other and i was like a possessed person i was out there oh my god afterwards dan was like i've literally never seen you behave that way i'm like i literally don't know what happened other than being like super pumped up and competitive. It was Lulu Marie to the max. Yeah, I got competitive enough. I literally tore my calf muscle. So hopefully I'll be in better shape this year. But yeah, we have so much fun. Like, you know, like Richard from the Unexplained podcast. He was such a nice guy. He wasn't doing shows last cruise, but he was there hanging out with us. The co-host of True Crime Campfire. They were so nice, so fun. Sinisterhood, paranormal chicks, Very excited to spend time with the No Sleep podcast crew after virtually meeting David Cummings. I mean, we have almost the exact same name. The last podcast on the left, guys, Henry and Ed. I mean, truly hilarious. Just good, fun dudes. Yeah, so we were just on a call with them and just in tears laughing. He's just being himself. Yep, he's a goofball. So yeah, you get $100 off your stateroom and a private meet and greet with us only if you go to crimewaveatc.com. You only get our meet and greet if you use our code. So each show has their own code and that way their most iHeart fans get to spend time with them in a special event that the other fans don't get to attend. Yeah, and the people that put this cruise on, IRL events like Ryan and also Ryan, there's two Ryans, and Brett, like they're a well-oiled machine prior to the first crime wave at sea and now they've taken feedback from the fans and from the creators and they're working to make it even better and we're going to be on an even bigger ship this year So there's going to be more fans there than there were available last year. So just the whole thing. The whole thing is going to be amazing. So when are we cruising? You might be asking. Yeah. February 8th through 12th, 2027. So in about a year from now, which gives you plenty of time, there's payment plans. There's so many options. You won't miss the Superbowl. Or Valentine's day if you care. So we'll be back for that. Yeah. And the, the website. So we know that many of our patrons are listening right now and they're going to say like, Oh my God, the website's not up. You're right. The website, crimewaveatsea.com slash scared, will be up on January 30th. And then tickets will go on sale on Friday the 13th. So, you know. Noon Eastern time. Noon Eastern time. So 9 a.m. Pacific time for those of you doing the math. But feel free to email us, info at scareddeathpodcast.com. We've got lots of info. And now that we've done this, we can be more helpful on questions you might have. So, yeah. So, summer camp 2026. Cruise 2027. and bada bing bada boom time for stories yeah uh that was great what paranormal listener claims do you have uh to share with us this week from those sent into my story at scared of the podcast.com well i have three tales this week and i'm just gonna tell you one two three the like recaps slash like what people called their stories number one creepy ass kids okay number two the whistler all right number three the hill where the children cried Ooh. I know. It's like a great, and it builds as we go. Yeah. Like, creepy, creepier, creepiest. Amazing. I'm pumped. For my one and only story today, it's a much more in-depth one than I've told recently. We meet a young woman who moved into an old San Francisco house with some roommates she did not know. She starts to hear things upstairs that don't make any sense. The more she hears them, the more she looks into what she is hearing, the creepier and more disturbing things get. and I don't want to give away any more than that. I've been really wanting to dig into a more immersive story than I've told lately here on the normal scared to death feed. No lore on this one. No historical info. Just a very disturbing, supposedly true, first-hand account and I really like it. Okay. I was just thinking about how funny it would be one week if you're like, yeah, I've got this like, eh, story. It's kind of shitty. I don't really care for it. It's pretty lame, but... I know. I almost feel bad when I say it's like, like that I'm saying that the other stories aren't as good, but you know, like, and I know I say it a lot, but I always mean it. And you know, and there's, there's, there's never a week where I'm like, I hate these stories. Exactly. But it just be a funny setup. Like, all right guys, I'm gonna tell you two really fucking stupid stories. Here we go. Okay. So once you've completed your scared to death sock pre-story ritual, I'll start. I think that these are the perfect socks for today because it was foggy and, and kind of overcast and we wanted to stay in bed. So namaste in bed, little unicorns adorable adorbs okay time now for the tale of how could i help her i know this is a very long post i hope it's worth the time it takes to read it i think it is i don't really believe in ghost stories at least not all of them not most of them at least not in the way people mean when they say it uh like it's like it's a personality trait like i'm a taurus i drink oat milk. I believe in ghosts. That wasn't me. But I'm not saying I thought people were lying either. I just figured most ghost stories are life being weird. Old pipes in the walls making strange groans that sound almost human. Or hearing your neighbor's TV just faintly through a cracked open window and thinking it's coming from the walls. That most spirits are our brain doing some pattern matching in the dark because it's bored and, I don't know, hungry for some drama. I moved to San Francisco in my early 20s. And if you want to lose your faith in the supernatural real fast, try paying San Francisco rent. It's demoralizing. It'll make you think that God is not real because if he was, he would not allow this level of legal blatant robbery. That's amazing. And if God's not real, why would ghosts be? It can make you kind of spiritual in a totally different way. You start praying to Craigslist. You start worshiping at the altar of no bedbugs, please. You start believing in things like quiet roommates and a landlord who actually fixes things, which are probably honestly rarer than ghosts. All joking aside now, this happened in 2023 and I still get a bit nauseous thinking about it. Like it actually upsets me in a very real physical way. I moved into a big old house in the city. One of those places that looks like it's been dampened by fog for about a hundred years. Painted some tired color that used to be cheerful. Big bay windows and lots of ornamental trim, and a staircase that creaks in a way that feels personal, like it's reacting to you specifically. I was in a roommate situation. Of course I was. I didn't have tech money. I had I can pay rent if nothing bad happens money. There were four of us. Me, I'll call myself Nora because there is no way in hell I am attaching my real name to this. I've got family, especially a couple of gossipy cousins, who I know go to Reddit threads just like this one, and I don't want them talking about me being some kind of attention grabber if they don't believe this, and I don't want them asking me all kinds of questions if they do believe it. There was also Chloe, who had lived there the longest and sort of acted like the house manager, even though no one asked her to or even wanted her to. Evan, who worked some kind of job where he was always on calls and always saying words like stakeholders. And Jessa, who was nice but had the chaotic sleep schedule of an insane raccoon. The house had three levels, but San Francisco house levels can be weird. The bottom floor was technically a garage level, except the garage was basically a haunted cave where a bunch of bikes went to die. It was street level, but it felt more like a basement because it was dim and cold and smelled like wet wood and old paint. Above that was what everybody called the main floor, even though it was technically the second level if you're accounting like a normal human being. Then above that was the top floor, which had two bedrooms and a bathroom. My room was on the main floor. Chloe and Evan were on the top floor. Jessa had a weird little room on the main floor that used to be a small dining room, I think. There was a narrow hallway that ran past the kitchen, and at the end of it was a staircase up to the top floor. That staircase. I hated that staircase. Not because it was creepy right away. It wasn't like I walked in and felt some kind of cold presence. It was just steep and narrow, and the railing was a little loose. and the steps were that old polished wood that looks pretty, but also looks like it's waiting for you to slip and die. The upstairs bathroom was the top of the stairs to the right. It was one of those bathrooms, looks like it's been remodeled a hundred times by people with different tastes and different budgets. Tiles that didn't match. A vanity that looked like it came from a thrift store. A shower with one of those curtains that just never seems to close quite right. And a frosted window that always looks damp. The first week I lived there, everything was fine. Normal roommate stuff. The kitchen was always vaguely sticky, which was annoying because no one wanted to take their shoes off in the house except for me. Somebody's hair was always in the drain. And I learned very quickly that Chloe liked to set the thermostat to mildly punitive. And then after about a week, I started hearing the shower. It began so small, it didn't even register as weird. I'd be sitting on the main floor, usually in the living room, and I'd hear very faintly the sound of water running upstairs. Not like a sink and not like someone filling a tub, but this very specific steady white noise rush of a shower. The first time I just assumed that Evan was home because Evan takes long showers and he would take them at random times. Could be the middle of the day or late at night. I didn't question it. People are weird. But then I'd glance at the entryway and see the little shoe shelf and his shoes would be gone. And Chloe's boots would be gone too. And I knew Jessa was at work. the house would be empty except for me and look san francisco houses are loud they move they creak pipes grown like they're literally complaining and i don't know if you've lived in an old house but it's kind of like sharing space with a tired animal you learn it sounds you learn what normal is but this didn't feel like normal old house it sounded like someone had turned the shower on upstairs and just left it the first time i noticed that inconsistency that the shoes were gone i I stood up and walked toward the staircase, more annoyed than scared, because water is expensive in San Francisco too. I swear, landlords in this city will literally try to charge you for breathing. Anyways, I got closer, the sound got clearer. It was definitely the upstairs shower. I stopped at the bottom of the stairs and listened. I even held my breath for a second because I was trying to hear if there were footsteps, if someone was moving around. Nothing. Just a shower. So I went up. and here's where things started to get really weird by the time i reached the second step it stopped not gradually not like someone turned it off and there was a few seconds of pipe noise fading out it stopped like a switch one moment full rushing water the next moment total silence i froze halfway up the stairs waiting for the normal follow-up sounds of the shower curtain being pushed aside or a towel being grabbed, a toilet flushing, anything. But I didn't hear any of that. I went the rest of the way up anyway, because I was already there and because I didn't want to be the kind of person who scares themselves over plumbing. The upstairs hallway was empty, two bedroom doors shut, and the bathroom door was shut too. I couldn't see any steam under the door, no light glow, nothing. I put my hand on the bathroom doorknob and it was cold. I know that sounds like a detail I'm adding to make it creepier, but it was noticeably cold. Like it was a door on the outside of the house, not inside it. Like it hadn't been touched in a while. I didn't open it. I told myself it was only the pipes. You're being dramatic. Go sit down. So I went back downstairs and I tried to forget about it. And I basically did. But a few days later, it happened again. Same scenario. I'm home alone, sitting on the couch, scrolling on my phone, not thinking about anything except stuff like how expensive avocados are and whether I could justify buying oat milk this week. And then I heard it, the shower upstairs. So I muted my phone and listened. It was steady, full blast, like, well, like a normal shower being turned on. This time I checked the shoe shelf first. It was definitely empty. All the shoes were gone. My stomach did that little drop thing and I felt not scared exactly, but anxious or nervous, I guess. I waited a minute thinking maybe I was wrong. Maybe one of them came home and I hadn't heard the front door open or shut. Hadn't heard them or seen them walking around the house either, but that didn't make any sense. Meanwhile, the sound kept going. So again, I walked to the base of the stairs. And again, the distinct sound of the shower being on got clear as I approached. And again, it stopped as soon as I started to climb. The same sudden cutoff. I stood there, hand on the railing, staring up into the dimness of the stairwell. And now I felt a little spooked. That was the first time that the house felt really attentive to me, like it was listening for what I would do next. I know exactly how insane that sounds, but it felt like that. I went up anyway because I'm stubborn and because I didn't want to be a person who lets their imagination boss them around. The top floor was empty. The bathroom door was shut. Again, there was no steam. This time I did open it and now things got even weirder. Not only was there no one in there, but the shower was completely dry. The mat was dry too. No smell of shampoo, no humidity, nothing at all that would indicate anyone had just taken a shower. The opposite, actually. I checked the faucet handles next because I was trying to be logical. I also really, really wanted to find something that would explain what I just heard because I didn't want to freak out. Sometimes old shower valves leak. Sometimes water runs inside the walls. Sometimes you hear pipes from another unit. But these were old school faucet handles. If the water was on, you would see it. You'd feel it. Nope. Everything was off and everything was dry. So I went back downstairs with that weird feeling you get when something's wrong, but your brain can't figure out what it is yet. I didn't tell my roommates. I didn't want to be the new roommate who moved in and immediately went, hey, quick question. Has anyone else noticed that the bathroom's haunted? Also, I didn't want to say it out loud because saying it out loud, it makes it more real, doesn't it? A week passed without anything happening and I relaxed. But then it happened again. Only it was a little different this time, a little worse. It was later afternoon on a Saturday. The weather was dreary. Shocking, right? Fog was pressing against the windows and whatever light made it through felt pretty gray. It was one of those kinds of days where the whole city looks like it's being erased. I was in the kitchen, boiling up some ramen noodles when I heard the shower upstairs turn on. But this time it didn't sound as far away, it sounded closer somehow. Like the sound was traveling down the stairwell differently, like the air was carrying it straight to me. I felt that anxious feeling return to my stomach, and I set the pot down and listened. It was definitely the shower, no doubt about it. I looked at the shoe shelf, expecting the worst, but was pleasantly surprised to see that Chloe's boots were there, Evan's shoes were there and Jess's sneakers were there. We were all home. I literally breathed a sigh of relief and thought, okay, fine. That's normal. Someone's showering. But then Chloe walked into the kitchen with her hair in a messy bun, wearing a hoodie. Definitely not a just showered vibe. She opened the fridge and stared at into it like it owed her money. I nodded toward the stairs and asked, who's upstairs showering? Chloe furrowed her brow and thought and said, not Evan. He's not even here he went to i don't know something i felt my face go tight jessa i asked chloe leaned out into the hall and yelled jessa are you in the shower from somewhere on the main floor i heard a muffled no now we both stood there listening as the sound of the shower that was still running Chloe gave me a look like, okay, what the hell? Walked toward the stairs. That was the first time I wasn't alone for it. And obviously that matters because up until then, I could still try and convince myself that somehow it was just in my head. But when someone else is standing there hearing it too, that possibility goes right out the window. The two of us went up the stairs together that time. And for the first time, the sound did not stop. It stayed on at full volume. And as we climbed the stairs, it got louder and louder. By the time we hit the top landing, it sounded like someone was in there, taking the most normal shower in the world. Chloe walked right up to the bathroom door like she owned the place. She put her hand on the doorknob, paused, and looked back at me. I could tell she was thinking the same thing I was. What if someone's in there? What if a stranger's in our house? San Francisco is definitely the kind of place where you don't automatically rule that possibility out. Chloe knocked, and the second her knuckles hit the wood, the shower stopped. Didn't fade. We didn't hear someone twisting the shower knob and turning it off. It was a hard, immediate stop. And now dead silence was coming from the bathroom. Chloe and I both just stared at the door. She then knocked again harder and called out, Hello? When no one said anything back, Chloe looked at me like she was trying not to show she was spooked. maybe evan came back she offered then why isn't he saying anything i asked she swallowed hard nodded and looked at me with the same thought clearly in her mind that was in mine then who the hell is in there she slowly opened the door and the bathroom was empty and not only was no one inside the light was off and there was no steam the air was room temperature normal and totally dry chloe flipped the light on and walked in pulling the shower curtain aside like she expected to find someone hiding behind it. But of course, no one was in there and the tub was bone dry. Not even the lingering dampness you get from a shower that ended a few minutes earlier. Chloe stood there and stared at the shower fixtures in disbelief. Then she reached out and touched the tile inside the shower. Dry, she said quietly. We looked at each other and after a bit more, what the hell was that questions and comments? We didn't talk about it for the rest of the day. We didn't avoid talking about it in some dramatic way, not in a we must never speak of this again. It was more like neither one of us wanted to give it more attention. Like we were both scared that acknowledging it would invite more of it to happen. I'm guessing she kept thinking about it, though. I certainly couldn't stop thinking about it. That night in my room, I laid awake listening to the house settle. And now every creak sounded like a phantom footstep. Every pipe groan sounded like a spirit crying out for help or telling me to get out. I kept thinking about how the shower noise had stopped exactly when Chloe knocked, which meant it hurt us. It reacted to something specific we did. And that reality wasn't a fun one for my mind to wander around in at all. After that, the shower thing started to happen a lot more often. Sometimes it was the turn on, turn off as I approach version. Sometimes it was the runs until someone checks version. And sometimes it happened when I was home alone and I would just freeze. There's these moments when you live with roommates where you realize how much you rely on the normal explanation of other humans. Someone left a cabinet open. Someone moved my mug. Someone was in the hallway. Humans make a house feel populated and safe. But when you start removing those humans from the explanation, the house becomes something else entirely, doesn't it? The worst incident, the one that led me to eventually moving out, happened on a Tuesday. I remember that because I had a shift that evening. And I remember checking the clock like 20 times because I was running late. I was alone. Everyone else was already out for the night. I was in my bedroom getting ready, putting on makeup, hair half done, feeling irritated at nothing. Like that anxious rushing feeling you get when you're desperately trying to make sure you're on time for something, but your body will not cooperate. Then I heard the upstairs shower turn on again and instantly my stomach dropped. I stood still and listened. It was louder than ever. I walked out of my room over to the shoe shelf to check like I always did. I expected it to be empty this time and it was. no one home just like I thought I remember whispering no without meaning to like I was talking to a dog that was about to pee on the carpet meanwhile the shower upstairs kept running I stood at the bottom of the stairs for a long time this time maybe a minute maybe five time does weird things when you're scared finally I went up because well I don't even know why actually because something in me needed to confirm it again I guess maybe the sound again didn't stop as I climbed this time. Not only did it stay on, it got louder and louder and louder until I could almost feel it in my bones. When I reached the top landing, the bathroom door was, of course, shut, with the shower still running behind it. I stood there staring at the door, my hand hovering. I didn't want to knock because knocking felt like, I don't know, participation, like I would be acknowledging something that wanted my attention. But I also didn't want to just turn around and go back downstairs like a scared child. So I said out loud in the smallest voice, is someone in there? No answer. I didn't think there would be, but I had to check. The shower kept running, and I took a deep breath and then knocked. And the moment I knocked, just like before with Chloe, it stopped. Dead silence. The hallway around me suddenly felt too quiet, like the house was holding its breath. I was spooked. The most spooked I'd been so far. But I didn't run back down the stairs. I wanted to know what the hell was really going on. I waited a few seconds and then knocked again. I called out again. Hello? Still nothing. So I reached for the doorknob, and it was cold again. I slowly opened the door, and this time, there was steam. And it wasn't subtle either. This wasn't maybe the air is humid. It was actual steam, thick enough that the mirror over the sink was fogged white and the window looked blurred. The air smelled damp like warm tile. I stepped inside and immediately felt the change in temperature on my skin, the humid heaviness. I turned slowly and looked at the shower The curtain was closed And I slid it open I gasped The shower itself was dry Again bone dry, dry like it hadn't been used in days The grout looked chalky and the little soap dish was dusty My heart started to hammer I backed away and looked at the mirror It was completely fogged over My own reflection was a vague shadow I don't really know what made me do what I did next Curiosity, stupidity The human thing where you just can't look Not look I lifted my hand and wiped a circle in the condensation so I could see my face And in that circle the face staring back at me was not mine It was a woman but it wasn't some distorted version of me It wasn't like my features had shifted around weirdly No it was a completely different woman Pale instead of olive skin Dark hair slicked back like it was wet Longer and straighter than mine And her eyes were wide in a way that made my skin prickle They weren't angry or evil They were terrified And she was looking directly at me I didn't scream right away there was at least a half second where my brain tried to process it like a glitch, like maybe it was just a steam messing with the light. But then the woman's mouth moved. She didn't speak out loud. I didn't hear anything in the room, but her lips formed a clear word. Help. I swear to God that's what it looked like. My throat closed up. My whole body went cold hot. I stumbled backward and my shoulder hit the doorframe, and then the steam on the mirror shifted. Not like it naturally drips or clears, it moved like someone had dragged a hand across it from the inside. A streak appeared long and vertical, and then slowly letters started to form in the fog. Not perfect handwriting, more like somebody struggling to write. H, E, L, and then my own reflection snapped back into place like a channel changing. Suddenly it was me again, wide-eyed and shaking with my lipstick only half done. I sure as hell screamed then, loud and uncontrolled, the kind of scream that's so raw you startle yourself with it. I ran downstairs, didn't even close the bathroom door. I grabbed my keys, my bag, and I left the house. Then I stood on the sidewalk, shaking like I had just been in a car crash. People walked past me with dogs like nothing was wrong. A bus hissed at the corner. San Francisco just kept being itself. It's not like I was the first person out on the street that anyone had ever seen acting strangely before. I called Chloe, the only person to my knowledge, who had also had an unexplainable encounter with that shower. I could barely breathe when she answered. The shower, I tried to say. The upstairs shower. Chloe went quiet. Nora, are you okay? No, I whispered. No, I'm not. I saw someone in the mirror. There was a long pause. And then Chloe said very carefully, come back when someone's home. Don't be alone there. She believed me. She clearly had not stopped thinking about what she had seen either. That night, we all sat in the living room. Chloe and I and our other two roommates and talked about it like we were trying to do a group project. Evan tried to be skeptical, but you could tell he was unnerved. He kept rubbing his hands together like he was cold. jessa kept saying nope nope nope like it was a mantra i asked if anyone had ever experienced the bathroom being steamy when no one was in there no i asked if anyone had ever seen anything in the mirror chloe's face tightened i don't look in that mirror for long she said evan laughed too high okay that that's not comforting the next day in the bright practical energy of the morning i did the thing that everybody does now i googled it i googled the address because san francisco has records for everything. Old listings, renovation permits, archived articles behind paywalls. Sometimes you can dig up a whole history of a house without ever leaving your bed. I didn't find anything dramatic right away. No news stories or obvious tragedies, but then I found an old rental listing from a year before. It was for the top floor room, Chloe's room now. The pictures showed the same bathroom. And in the description, there was a line that made my stomach flip. Newly renovated upstairs bathroom. It clearly wasn't renovated now, not really It was still that patchwork bathroom So why did the listing say that? I called the landlord Our landlord was this older guy who had that tone of voice landlords get When they've been in the city too long and everything feels like a hassle Like even being asked a question is just patently offensive He answered on the second ring Yeah? That's actually the first word he said Not hello, not how can I help you, just yeah? Cool Hi, I said, trying to sound casual like I wasn't about to sound insane. This is Nora from, and I said the address. I had a question about the upstairs bathroom. There was a pause. What about it? He asked. Was it renovated recently, like last year? Another pause, longer this time. You having issues with it? I swallowed. Not plumbing issues, more like, I just noticed an old listing that said it was renovated. He exhaled sharply like he was deciding whether to hang up or not. It was, he finally said. A little. We had to replace some things. Because of damage, I asked, and I could hear how weird I sounded. More silence. Then, why are you asking me this? Because I saw a dead woman in the mirror, I almost said. Instead, I said, I've been hearing the shower turn on when no one's upstairs. There was a shift. Sometimes you can tell when someone's posture changes, even over the phone. His voice got quieter, and for the first time, he sounded, Human. Who told you about that? He asked. No one, I said quickly. It's just, I've heard it. Multiple times. He didn't respond for a second. Then he said, Look, old houses, pipes, it's probably that. But, I pressed, the shower, it sounds like it's actually running. And then it stopped when I knock. Another long pause. And then very softly, like he didn't want the house to hear him, he said, There was an incident. My whole body went cold. What kind of incident? I asked. He cleared his throat. Last year, a tenant. She died in that shower. Holy shit. I was floored. I couldn't speak. He continued like he was reading something he'd rehearsed. Slip and fall. That's what I was told. That it was a freak accident. My mouth went dry. Was she alone? I asked. Yes, he said. Her roommate found her. I stared at the wall, phone pressed to my ear, feeling like I was outside of my body. Do you know her name? He hesitated. I'm not, I can't give out details like that. Okay, I whispered. Okay, I just, I'm just asking because something feels really wrong in that room. He sighed, but it wasn't an annoyed sigh, more like he was tired. There were some problems, he said, with her boyfriend. What kind of problems? He didn't answer right away. Then he said, I shouldn't be telling you any of this. And if anyone asked, I didn't tell you any of this. But he would come by. They would argue. Neighbors complained about yelling sometimes. Eventually, I told her that she could break the lease if she needed to. I told her I could get her help to get out of there. My stomach clenched. And then, and then she died, I asked. Yeah. He sounded defeated. He wasn't some jaded landlord asshole after all. There was still a sensitive guy in there. He'd cared about her. Did anyone ever think I started and my voice cracked? He cut me off. The police said it was an accident. But you don't think so, I said. Silence. And then quietly, I don't know what I think, but it never sat right with me. I wanted to ask a thousand more questions. Was there an investigation? Was the boyfriend ever questioned? Did anyone ever hear anything? Was she bruised? Was the floor slick? Did she scream? But the landlord's tone made it clear he wasn't going to give me any more. He said, if you have any more concerns about the shower, you can email me. I can send out a plumber. Okay, I whispered. Clearly, we were done talking about what might have happened to that poor woman. After that phone call, the shower thing kept happening. Sometimes I'd be downstairs and I'd hear it start, that same steady rush, and every time my skin would prickle like my body recognized the sound before my brain did. I stopped going upstairs alone. If I heard it, I would leave the house. I would go sit in a coffee shop and pretend I was just being productive, like I was writing emails or reading. But really, I was just waiting for someone else to come home so I wouldn't be alone with it. Once late at night, I heard the shower start, and I texted the roommate group chat. Anyone upstairs? Chloe replied, no, in my room. Door locked. Evan replied, in bed. Jessa replied, literally on the couch. The shower ran for five minutes, then 10 and 15. We all sat in our separate rooms, listening to the walls, not moving. Finally, Jessa texted, I'm not going up there. No one replied because none of us wanted to admit that we were all terrified that there was a ghost of a woman who had recently died, maybe even been murdered in there. I'd of course told them all about what the landlord had told me. Another time I heard it and I made myself speak out loud from the bottom of the stairs. I'm sorry I said voice shaking I'm sorry but I can't help you the shower stopped instantly and that that was maybe the worst part it actually makes me choke up when I think about it sometimes it heard me and understood I'd let it down I'd let her down I started having this dream around that time dreaming that I was standing in that bathroom wiping the mirror and every time I cleared it it wasn't my face it was hers and sometimes her lips moved forming words I couldn't hear Sometimes her hands pressed against the glass from the wrong side It freaked me out so bad that I started to avoid mirrors in general sounds dramatic. I know but it's true I'd wash my face looking at the sink I do my makeup using my phone camera because it felt less vulnerable or something The final incident happened about three weeks after the mirror thing I hadn't heard the shower for a few days and I started to convince myself that maybe it was over Maybe whatever had happened whatever she was she moved on I was home alone again and it was early in the evening. I was sitting on the couch when I heard the shower turn on upstairs and my whole body went rigid. I didn't move. I didn't breathe. I just sat there and listened. And then over the sound of the water I heard something new. A noise that wasn't plumbing. A soft, rhythmic thump. Like someone knocking. But not on the bathroom door. It came from somewhere else inside the bathroom. It sounded like knuckles hitting tile. Three knocks. And then a pause. then another three knocks and another pause i stood up so fast the couch cushion snapped back the shower kept running and the knocking continued three pause three i backed toward the front door without taking my eyes off the staircase like i expected to see something come running down it i fumbled with the lock and got outside and as soon as i stepped onto the porch the shower stopped the exact moment I crossed the threshold. Like it knew when I left. Like it had been doing that for me, calling out to me, still wanting me to help it, to help her maybe. I moved out two weeks later. I told my roommates it was for personal reasons and that I'd found a better situation, which was partially true. I'd found a place that cost more but didn't have a haunted bathroom. Chloe hugged me goodbye and whispered, I don't blame you. Evan barely touched me and avoided eye contact, like I was the reason for the haunting or something or maybe like I was abandoning them. Jessa said, if it follows you, I am never talking to you again and then laughed like it was a joke, but her laugh was forced. I still think about that woman sometimes not in a horror movie way like oh my God what if she watching me More like guilt Because if she was someone who died frightened and alone and maybe not by accident then what does it mean that she was there in that mirror mouthing help What was I supposed to do with that? In the movie version of all of this, you'd investigate. You'd find her name. You'd track down the boyfriend. You'd uncover some hidden bit of truth, find that magical piece of evidence that would nail him and bring him to justice. And you'd set her spirit free. but in real life I'm just some girl currently struggling to get by in life who is renting a room in a haunted house in a city that eats people alive I didn't have the money or the power or the time to fight a system that already decided it was an accident and I definitely don't have the emotional strength to keep opening a door that leads to steam where there is no water and knocks where there's no person so I left and that's the part I hate the most because it makes me feel like a coward but honestly if you ever hear a shower running upstairs in an empty house and it stops the second you knock and then the mirror shows you someone else's face looking back, are you going to be a hero? Are you going to try and solve the mystery? Or are you going to leave? Maybe I'm trying to soothe my guilty conscience, but I think sometimes, realistically, the only mercy you can offer is admitting that you can't help. In real life, we're not all heroes. Most of us, I think, are just witnesses. Would you leave? I mean, you know, that point she makes at the end, I was like, oof, that's, it's so true. It's like, yeah, in the movie version, it's like, I'd like to think I, you know, would do all that, but like, I'm not a fucking detective. I know. In the movie version, it's like the most recent season of You with like, you know, the friends and they are kind of setting it up. I don't want to give anything away for anyone who hasn't watched it, but it's like, you know, they solve the crime, so to speak. Yeah, you know, you want that satisfying conclusion. We all want that in life. But in that, I'm like, god where would you even begin you know it's like how would you even like solve okay well let's see you would have to begin with like finding the girl's name right and that would be a struggle that would be a struggle but you've got san francisco obituary you've got like oh true you've got the the um because i might not have made the papers probably didn't make the papers no not like yeah yeah yeah you can i think police reports you can request like public records you know so you know based on the advertisement for the apartment when it was renovated like you know kind of like okay go back a year from that or six months i mean yeah but but it's like a full-time job you know and then and then let's say you find her name right now and then what so now you're gonna go like track down her family right um excuse me mom and dad of dead girl whose boyfriend maybe killed her yeah um i think your daughter's haunting me uh-huh do you want to come spend a couple nights in my apartment and see if she comes to you in the mirror yeah there's gonna be a very Get the fuck out of here. Yeah, good chance they're going to be like, get away from us and don't ever come here and bring that up again. I know. But then there is the other side of it. Okay, let's put ourselves in like those parents' shoes. You know, something horrendous, unspeakable happens to our daughter. Totally. And somebody like a year-ish later is like, hey, I'm renting this apartment and we are of the bent that we are. Yeah. And or just parents desperate for real answers. True. I might actually be. It depends on the presentation of the person. If you come to my house all wild-eyed, looks like you haven't slept in a few weeks, I'm probably like, you have a problem. On the other hand, if you come to my house like, hey, I know this is crazy. Yeah. I mean, there is the potential. Yeah. But then also with all of this, like what she's saying, it's like if you're in a place in life, you're in your early 20s, you're just trying to figure out like your career, pay rent, like you're eating ramen. It's like, you know, there's that practical thing which doesn't get shown a lot in movies. Of course not. Where it's like, do you have the resources and the time to actually do all of this, you know, to follow up, to lead the charge? Well, in fact, at that age, the only resource you do have is time. And you need that time to launch your career, to launch yourself into adulthood, to make enough money to pay rent. It's like the goal is that, you know, you get older and you might have less time, but you have more income, more resources. You know, it's like what kind of resources you have available to shift as your life goes forward theoretically. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. So it's like, yeah, she might've had the time, but she needs that time to be, it sounds like maybe she was like a bartender or a waitress or something. So it's like, you know, she's got other priorities. Yep. I know. I feel like, I feel like, you know, with like, there's a lot of like, you know, cultural, obviously, uh, tumultuous, uh, tumult right now. And I'll see like comments online of like, you know, why aren't you doing something? Why aren't, what's going on? Why isn't something being done? And it's like, and that's such a human reaction of like, we all want what we consider a problem to be fixed, but very few people are able to fix certain problems. Like it's so much easier to be like, hey, there's a problem here than it is to take that next step of like, hey, there's a problem here and I'm going to solve it. Here's what I'm going to do. It's like the solve it, like I think that's partly why we like movies is because life doesn't usually give us those satisfying endings. Sure. And so when we go for an escapist film or into a book or whatever, it's like, ah, okay, justice. You know, this bad person got what they, deserve and it's so satisfying because it's rare i think and i like her i like her honesty at the end like look we're not very few of us are heroes i think that's why in movies like okay like you know we're watching welcome to dairy right now and there are things i get so annoyed by because i'm like that's not fucking real like that's not possible and it's because i bring this like i have a hard time separating you know it's like some in order for me to uh escape into a book or movie it has to be so engrossing yeah that realistic options don't matter to me yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah that's why i get frustrated like i don't know if anybody's watching it or has watched it i i immediately just let go of any like um episode one i was like get the fuck out of here i was so angry i i was not i was totally in i'm too critical yeah yeah you i know you have to like let go of certain things with horror movies i mean for for me it's all about like i don't care what the rules of the real world are. Yeah. I'm trying to figure out the rules of this world, some alternate world, and then I just buy in. And as long as they don't violate their own rules, whatever those may be, I'm good. Yeah. You're more forgiving that way. I can suspend disbelief. Yeah. Yeah, yeah, yeah. And I could work on entering into that space. I just want it to be... There are horror movies that I am completely... You like psychological horror more than like straight up paranormal horror. Yes, Asterix. Like I, like the Conjuring series, like fucked me up. And I think it's because it has these layers, you know, and it's like, you can very much see yourself in it. You can very much see that happening when you give me something so peculiar and outlandish, in my opinion. I'm like, you just took me completely out of it. Before I show photos, uh, I will say the first episode of Welcome to Dairy is the first thing I've watched in a long time that actually gave me nightmares. And I had fucked up nightmares that night. Yeah. Like really graphic horror. uh-huh uh-huh um like i don't even want to share like there's some things i haven't even told lindsey because it's so upsetting you told me we talked about about with the dogs i didn't tell you in detail though yeah well i got the gist of it that was good um i did see also that season four of from is coming soon nice i know and that that's like another thing where it's like i know it's it has you know weird elements and you're like but you there's enough elements of it that you're like okay i could see this happening and that's what starts to scare me it's the the possibility of that thing happening to me, to my family, to my inner circle that really brings the horror to life. So like in the first episode of Derry, there's something that happens and I'm like, that would literally never fucking happen. So I don't feel as invested. But it does with it. Okay, let's look at some photos. Okay, take me to San Francisco. Yeah, there's first, no photos that were attached with the story, but I just wanted to find Yeah, I tried to find some old pics of San Francisco houses wrapped up in fog since that was mentioned. Here's one I thought was cool from vonscottbear.wordpress.com. Immediately when I see photos like this, it doesn't matter if this is accurate or not. I'm just immediately like, cool, full house. It's full house. It's a full house house, which it is not, but because they all look, have that architectural style. Yep. I can't help. I'm like, woo, Uncle Jesse's going to come out the front door in a minute. Funny. Here's another photo that's cooler from the New York Times of just San Francisco houses shrouded in fog. Yeah, cool. And then this next photo I just thought was beautiful. It's a backdrop of some house downtown, you know, with those Victorian houses. Okay, that might be the full house house. I know, it might be. Like, they're gorgeous houses. Uh-huh. And then I wanted to find some creepy photo involving a steamy mirror with a ghostly face or message in it. But none of them looked very good that I could find or they were just, you know, like blatant AI. But searching led me to an article on demilked.com featuring the work of New Jersey-based artist Michael Lacosteo, who has an Etsy shop called Della Morte and Company. And amongst other things, he makes and sells these sculptures of Victorian era looking ghosts coming out of mirrors. Oh, fuck that. Oh, that's cool. They're cool. They're just cool looking. And so here's one. Here's another one. Oh, it's very Haunted Mansion. Yes. That's a great reference. Yeah, if you've been to Disney and done that ride, it's very much that. And they are surprisingly affordable. They're really cool. I wonder if he makes them out of resin. Yes, yes. They are made out of resin. I'm 99% sure. And this one, like eight and a half inches by five and a half inches. So not that big. 65 bucks. Oh, well, I'm guessing he's buying old frames of things at like Goodwill or what have you. Yeah. Punching out the art or the mirror and then replacing it. Yeah, that's really cool. To be clear, we're never having that because there's too many psychedelic adventures at our house. I know. That would destroy you. Yes. Or you would get scared of it. You rip it out of the wall. Like I can just see it being an interactive accident. Absolutely. And that's really cool. Really cool. And we don't know that person, but no, just thought it was cool. Yeah. Very excited to hear your stories now, Lindsay Liu. Woohoo. But first we need to take a quick in between story sponsor break. If you don't want to hear these ads anymore, please sign up to be a Robert or Annabelle support us on Patreon. You can get these episodes ad free a whole week early. You can get bonus episodes so much more. And 20% of your contribution goes directly to charity. Thanks for listening to our sponsor deals, Creeps and Peepers. I hope you heard some you liked. All right, I got my Layla, and I'm ready for some fan-submitted horror. Well, can you tell us what Layla you have? Purple. Purple, okay. I haven't seen purple in a while. Yeah. I wish they would come out with some new colors. You know, I would really like to re-up the Layla army. Okay. All right. Well, we're going to begin with creepy-ass kids. Mm-hmm. Hey, Dan, Lindsay, aka Lulu Marie, and all the bad magicians. I have a short and not so sweet story I thought you might be interested in. I was raised by a man who fought his brothers to stay home from church on Sundays because their grandfather also stayed home and played the bagpipes. My dad was a farmer and to this day hunts, fishes, and forages, a real lover of the natural world. My mom, on the other hand, was raised by two lapsed Catholics and is a big believer in the spiritual world. My mom loves punk rock music, graphic t-shirts, and giving me things like runes and tarot cards when she's, quote, done with them, which I secretly think is her way of saying she can't figure them out. But I laugh because these two people are the perfect couple to raise a witch, a title I have called myself since girlhood. I have always believed in something else, but never really had any intense experiences I've never seen a ufo or an apparition and bigfoot never ever came to my birthday parties I have had all of the experiences. I think people who want to believe wish for like a friend's spooky house going bump in the night or Doorknobs turning on their own things that can be explained away, but are still spooky until my wheel turned and I became a mother. It started about a year ago. My oldest was about 16 months old and I had my four-month-old strapped to me most of the day so I could run after this little toddler. One of the few times I had respite to sit down was to have lunch with them. There we are, sitting at our dining room table, which was a perfect view straight down the hallway. We live in a rancher, which are never exciting, when my toddler stopped eating, turned and stared down the hall. I could see my closed bedroom door at the end of the hall. Her bedroom door along one side of the hall was open and the bathroom door next to it is closed to keep the babies out. She's intensely staring towards my bedroom door. And then she waved, a cautious wave, like when strangers waved at her in public. And then she sort of just went back to eating. Okay, weird, but kids are freaking and weird, so I wrote it off. But it kept happening. She'd peek out a window and stop, then wave into our front yard. Our house is back from the road, our lot, and the yard are quite overgrown. It's not like she could see people walking on the street. When we'd put her into her crib, she'd wave into the corner. Lots of weird places to be waving at nothing. A couple of months later, now about 18 months old, she waved down the hallway again. Now, at this time, she knows a few more words. So I asked her, hey, baby, who are you waving at? The guy. That's it. That's what she told me. The guy. I was spooked, but thought, you know what? Kids play pretend. It's not a big deal. I had her and her sister in high chairs in the kitchen not long after that. I was cooking, doling out little snacks, and I had my back to them while I was stirring something on the stove. And you know when a room goes still or eerily quiet and you can feel it? Well, that's what happened next. The room suddenly felt stifled. I turned around and there were my two beautiful girls staring out the window of our back door. It's a one-third window at the top of the door and both of these babies are staring up and out the window. I expected to see one of my friends or a neighbor on our back step, but there was no one there. I lowered myself down to my girl's level. All I could see was the roof of our covered deck. Who you looking at, baby? The guy, she said and pointed out the back door. Um, nope. So I did what anyone who calls themselves a witch would do. I cleansed the ever-loving fuck out of my house. Things sort of went away. I'd actually almost forgotten about it. My second child, who is now 17 months old, last night when I laid with her at bedtime, she turned and waved at the ceiling. And she's never done that before. I think the guy is back. Stay safe out there. Becca. Thank you, Becca. I love those little ones. Just like, you know, you jump into a world and then you hear a couple of spooky things and then you're out. Yeah. Yeah. And yeah, because little kids are weird. Yes, they are. And sometimes they might just be like, you know with a little waving motion they're just like almost like they're practicing or playing with an imaginary friend but if uh if they kept doing it and looking in a certain direction like somebody's there and then other things felt weird around it yeah that would freak me out too totally you know and like you're home alone all day with these kids yeah and you're justifying it you're like i'm so tired kids are exhausting i'm a busy mom or dad you know whatever it's just like it is kind of explainable but it's i think it's the fact that both of her girls are now doing it But then you wonder, like, is the younger one mimicking the older one? Yeah, yeah, yeah. You know? But the fact that she, like, cleansed the house and all the things, and now it's like, oh, shit. Think the guy is back. Mm-hmm. Okay. Well, that was our first tale of creepy-ass kids. And now we're going to move into our second tale, The Whistler. Okay, The Whistler. Hello, my beautiful, spooky humans. When I earned my driver's license, I exclusively listened to Dan's comedy station on Pandora instead of the radio. Hell yeah. I heard an ad for Time Suck, and when I eventually downloaded Spotify, I listened to every episode. I've been hooked on Scared to Death since day one. You could say I'm a longtime fan. I recently experienced an event that made me rethink my stance on the paranormal. Now, I love listening to these stories. I was convinced for sure that nothing could happen to me or perhaps people gave too much space to the tricks of their minds. But then something happened that has left me questioning my own mind. I have lived with my boyfriend in a small one-bedroom apartment for about a year. We both keep very strict schedules. I'm a teacher while he has a second job coaching a soccer team at night. I wake up at 5 a.m. every day. I'm usually falling asleep as he gets home from practice at 10.30 p.m. He always comes in, locks the door, pulls the chain across the latch. Then he sets his metal water bottle on the counter and walks into our room to give me a quick squeeze and a kiss before he settles into the living room for a late dinner and decompression time, playing video games for a bit. He always, always comes in to say goodnight. I cannot emphasize this enough I cannot sleep without knowing he home safe You should know he whistles It a specific tune from the intro to one of his video games and it drives me crazy So there I am in bed doom scrolling on TikTok bedroom door open, box fan on for low white noise. I set my phone down because over the white noise, I hear the front door clicking open. I hear the chain rattle and the clink of a metal water bottle on the granite countertop. Then I hear whistling, that same annoying tune. The whistling stops, followed by socks brushing on carpet, but they're not coming any closer to the bedroom. My first thought is, how dare he not come in here and give me a hug? Then the whistling starts up again, then stops again, and starts again. Only this time, it's a different tune. My boyfriend's whistling habit is not creative, not ever. Each tune I hear now is different. I hear socks brushing on the carpet again, like someone is walking around, then sitting on the couch, getting up, so on and so forth. I check the clock. It's too early for him to be home from practice. And now I'm scared. This is not my boyfriend. I text him, are you home? In response, he calls me. Shit, he's not home. I answer, too scared to speak or give myself away. he asks, why did you ask if I was home? I'm 10 minutes away. I didn't respond because if I could hear whomever was in this tiny apartment, they could surely hear me. It's silent for a minute. And then he asks, did you hear something? I respond in a hushed tone, whistling. He says, stay there. I'll be home soon. Don't hang up. I slowly moved out of our bed and slipped behind the bedroom door. I stood there until I heard him come home. No one else was in our apartment. Everything in my body had alerted me that someone was there. Every noise I heard sounded human. I have thought of every possible explanation, but absolutely nothing makes sense. I don't know what or who was in our apartment. I'm open to ideas if you have them. Thanks for reading, Kenny. thank you Kenny um man uh that's like a yeah like a crazy like doppelganger or mimic or something hysterically that's exactly what I wrote I made a note afterwards of prepping this that like mimic or doppelganger I think mimic because I feel like doppelganger is visual yeah usually but I guess it could be like one in the same yeah yeah you know a doppelganger could be or a mimic could be a doppelganger that you don't see but it's like but what is a doppelganger like nobody knows what is a mimic nobody knows it's just like these terms we've thrown to this specific kind of phenomena it's so weird something like that where I feel like I've been saying this more the last few years but it almost feels like some kind of matrix glitch that's where my brain goes where it's like the little computer simulation we're living in is like Kenny's boyfriend comes home and whistles this exact opening theme from a video game goes in gives Kenny a kiss and a hug you know whatever goodnight but does that like like very I think Kenny said like very regularly like clockwork this is the routine it sounds like it's a very standard routine yeah like what I heard was you know Monday through Friday like we have these strict schedules like I have to be you know she has to be up at 5.30 in the morning for school and he's coming home late it sounds like you know they sound like a young couple trying to like save up he's picked up this extra job right I'm getting like this this image of this couple right and so she's like okay I can't or he no she oh gotcha gotcha gotcha And, you know, I think it's like short for like Kenzie or Kennedy or something. Gotcha, gotcha, gotcha. And so she's like unable to go to sleep until he is home. Like it's just, it's so, it's so specific, right? And I love that she says that her boyfriend is not creative with the whistling, you know? It's like, like, no, he is, I mean, not that she's saying he's boring, but in this specific way, A, she hates the whistling. And B, it's the same fucking song over and over. So for it to then suddenly be a different song, it's like the mimic got something wrong. You know? Yeah, I didn't even think about that part. That's like where I got hung up. Oh, yeah. I forgot about the whistling being a different tune. And I was thinking like it was – sorry, my brain was going with the same tune. And then it was like the Matrix is like, well, this is what we do. This person hears this thing this time. but no that definitely skews it more in like a non-simulation theory matrixy way where it's like no there's something in the house or in the apartment that's been listening to them and knows that this person makes this uh whistling tune and is fucking with kenny that that's what i think i think it's like a scary mistake sorry kenny i was going with a weird just kind of glitch thing initially but this sounds more terrifying than actually when i first suspected yeah so i'm gonna say uh since you're asking for like you know i i'm sure that you've come to these conclusions yourself. Cleanse your place. Yeah. I'm sure you came to like doppelganger mimic type thoughts. You know, open all the windows. You can do a smoke cleansing. You just get some Palo Santo, let it go. And then also, you know, you're probably going to want to salt your doorways, you know, just, you know, and make sure when you're cleansing, you're going up and over all the doorways. Make sure there's a window open to let the spirit out and, you know, try and give it like a gentle shove. It's probably just lost or alternate option. You have to break up with your boyfriend because it's attached to your boyfriend mimicking your boyfriend. So if you're looking for a reason to get out of this relationship, I've just given it to you. But is it, is it messing with Kenny though? Like it feels like malevolent possibly. Could be. Where it's like taunting them with the different, like the different kind of tune or whatever. Yeah. But it could just be confused. It could just be like, you know, okay, this is what the boyfriend does. Now this is what I'm going to do. But yeah, it could be trying to gain her trust, trying to lure her out of bed. Like, Hey, why aren't you coming to say, you know, like a frustrated partner would be like, Hey, Get over here and say goodnight to me. Hopefully it's a one-off. Hopefully you don't hear this again. Yeah. Keep us posted. Yeah. Okay. And now our third and final tale, The Hill Where the Children Cried. I don't tell this story much. Not because I'm afraid no one will believe me, though. Yeah, that's part of it. But mostly because I don't like thinking about it. Even now, more than 30 years later, I can still smell the damp earth and the candle wax. I still remember how fucking wrong everything felt that night. This was back in the early 90s. I was a teenager growing up in Latrobe, Pennsylvania. Small town, lots of old hills and older cemeteries. The kind of place where it always feels like something's watching. My two best friends were Brad and Alicia. We were the kind of kids that wore too much black, smoked weed, and listened to ministry and skinny puppy on cassette. You know the type. We liked to hang out in weird places. Graveyards, abandoned buildings, the woods behind the old train depot. Mostly because we wanted to be left alone. One night, we were at Alicia's house, listening to music and talking shit. Her parents were home, so we couldn't light up there. I mean, they were cool, but they weren't that cool. Alicia offered, let's go to the cemetery. Now, Latrobe has a lot of cemeteries, but this one sat high on a hill, tucked behind some overgrown trees and a crumbling stone wall. It was ancient. Most of the graves dated back to the 1800s. Nobody had been buried there in nearly 100 years. The grass was mostly moss. The stones, brittle and worn. No lights, no fences, just silence and decay. We climbed the hill around midnight, the only light coming from Alicia's stubby white candle. She always carried one, said it made her feel grounded. She used to go to that cemetery alone sometimes, just to write in her journal by candlelight. I never got it. The air was thick that night. We found this big stone monument near the center of the graveyard. It had a tall cross on top, cracked but standing. Plenty of room for the three of us to sit. Alicia put the candle down so Brad could see enough to roll a joint, and I tried to shake the feeling that we were being watched. I always got paranoid when I was high, and being surrounded by tombstones and pitch black did not help. Brad, though? Brad could have smoked a bowl in a war zone and been fine. Alicia, she was different. She thrived in places like this, smiling like she belonged there. but not everyone felt that way. We were laughing and loudly talking about whatever stupid shit we talked about back then. Probably the jocks we hated at school or who we wanted to see play live. Alicia's expression changed so fast, I almost didn't register it. One second, she was laughing along with us, and the next, she was off. Eyes darting, shoulders tight, like a deer right before it bolts. Something's wrong, she said. I immediately looked around, expecting cops or maybe some creeper with a flashlight. But the hill was silent. Still. Alicia's voice dropped. The children are upset. I blinked. What children? She didn't answer. Her gaze was fixed on something behind Brad and me. Something we couldn't see. They're crying, she said. Something's scaring them. And it's not happy we're here. Brad just laughed. You're too high. But I was already clenched tight, every nerve on edge. I wanted to be back in my room, wrapped in blankets with Echo and the Bunnymen, on low and locked door between me and the world. Alicia blew out the candle, shoved it in her bag. I'm serious. Let's go. Now. I was on my feet before she finished her sentence. No argument. But Brad, he didn't move. He sat there with that smug look he got sometimes, leaning back on his hands like nothing could touch him. It was your idea to come here, he said. Now you want to bail? Alicia stepped towards him, angry now. They don't want us here. Her voice was tight, like she was trying not to scream. That's when Brad's tone changed. What the fuck? He jerked his head around, stood up halfway, staggered. Which one of you did that? He snapped. Did what? I asked, dreading the answer. Someone pushed me. Hard. Alicia's face went pale. Do you believe me now? Brad muttered something, but barely stood up, brushing dirt off his jeans. He started to walk, but before he could take a full stub, something hit him, knocked him down like he'd been tackled. His head cracked against the stone cross with a sick thunk. He wasn't laughing anymore. Get up, Alicia shouted. Let's fucking go. Brad looked up at us, dazed, terrified. I can't. I can't. He wasn't faking. He couldn't move. I froze but Alicia rushed to him grabbed his arms tried to pull him up Alicia Alicia's voice cracked help me I slipped my arm under Brad I lifted weights and Brad was a string bean but that night he felt like he weighed a thousand pounds like something was pinning him down for what felt like far too long Alicia and I struggled to get Brad to his feet until finally it was like something let go he popped up loose almost like we broke a seal We didn't say a word after that. We just ran, tripped over roots and cracked stones, but we didn't care. We got back to the road and kept going until we saw streetlights. And we never went back. I lost touch with Alicia and Brad after graduation. Life pulled us in different directions. I've never been able to shake one thing about that night. What if Alicia and I had left without Brad? Would whatever was holding him down have ever let him go? Joel Thank you Joel Yeah that's a different one That's like usually you see like Oh unnatural weight Show up in cases of demonic possession Or sleep paralysis Sleep paralysis The person can't get up by themselves But they'll talk about like a heavy weight on their chest Right but as far as somebody else Being trying to pick somebody up Oh I see what you're saying yeah Like where like someone else is heavy That's something that I really only hear about in like demonic possession cases. Yeah, yeah. And so it's interesting in a thing like this where it's like, you know, it's not like this person was struggling with stuff or, you know, speaking in other voices and languages and a long buildup. It just happened pretty quick at the cemetery. Yeah. But I guess that, if we're looking at it through that, maybe like, I mean, can a demonic possession be wildly brief and we just don't know that? Like, could it have been some, you know, in a cemetery feels like a pretty good spot for something like that to happen, like strong spiritual holds. that's a funny thought for me just like a quick like a sudden onset demonic possession like you're totally fine just wandering through your life and all of a sudden you're like take me to the dark place you know like out of nowhere like oh my god what and then you start sharing people's secrets and speaking other languages and then like 60 seconds later you're like hey guys what's up yeah and you never go back to that yeah i i love this idea of like uh you know it just happens briefly and you don't even know that that's what's happening yeah but then you know let's say Joel somehow gets back in touch with Brad and it turns out that like after graduation, slowly but surely, these like weighted events happen more and more until Brad is fully demonically possessed. True, that could happen. Like a cool buildup. Yep, demonically. I mean, not cool for Brad. Yeah, like demonic affliction or oppression or something and then building towards a possession. Yeah. Yeah, absolutely. Yeah. And there's definitely a precedent for that in other stories where, you know, somebody there's like little signs early on that people don't realize is building until eventually it does. Uh-huh, yeah. Those were great. Yeah, I love that story because I also feel like, yeah, that is like what, you know, teenagers in the 90s absolutely did. Oh my gosh, the ministry reference, the dressing in black, going to the cemetery, that was great. All of it, yeah. And I like that it's like three friends and they all have different sort of perspectives or different ways that they carry themselves through life. And, you know, you can like imagine Brad being like this little punk, you know, and so I really enjoyed that. I felt very much there with them. And, you know, The cemetery is a sacred place. So maybe, you know, maybe they just didn't want Joel, Alicia, and Brad hanging out there. It's just like a message of like, get the fuck out. Go smoke weed somewhere else. Yeah. Just don't come here. Uh-huh. Yeah. Uh-huh. Uh-huh. Well, thanks for sending in those stories, everyone. Yeah. They were really great this week. Keep them coming. All right. And do you want to do some spoopy shout outs or do you want me to go first? I'll go first. Go for it. I would like to thank the following Annabelle's for supporting our show. We appreciate you so much. Breakfast for the dead. That's a great random username. Uh-huh. That's a great band name. Breakfast. Yeah, it is. Breakfast for the dead. That could be industrial metal. Yeah. Hannah. Ricky Ticky Scaredy Cat. Sure. Joshua H. Cristiano Russell. Jen N. And Marty. All righty. And I'd like to thank the following Annabelle's as well for making all of this possible. Tessa B. Logan Lane. Andrew Devane. Cassie Augs. Dustin the Breeze I love this Dustin the Breeze yeah his first name was Dustin okay so Dustin the Breeze awesome Kelly Mother Fing G and Megan Kosanke great you got some spoopy shout outs I do just two this week to Matthew from your favorite sister Megan I love you Matthew thank you for turning me on to scared to death I'm so glad I got you hooked on nightmare fuel of all the things we bond over I'm so glad it's scared to death and Dan Cummins can you hear me now motherfucker reference to an old bit of Dan's and this is so sweet and so heavy to Steph baby button eyes from Chris your Dumbo forever thank you for the best 11 years of my life it was short but in that time you gave me the whole world and I promise to protect it rest easy my love wow yeah really sad email exchange with Chris well yeah thanks for sharing that with us and letting us do that that's our show thanks for continuing to send in your personal tales of terror to my story at scared to death podcast dot com you can email us for everything else at info at scared to death podcast dot com thank you to Logan Keith scoring today's show thanks to Heather Rylander organizing the my story emails and to book editor Drew Atana polishing and preparing listener stories for book number seven I was able to find the story I shared this week we are on Facebook and Instagram where we post pics that accompany these episodes and more at scared to death podcast you can also get updates on things like the cruise, tickets go on sale, stuff like that at our socials. Also have a private Facebook group, Creeps and Peepers, full of fellow horror lovers, and I bet there'll be some cruise chatter there. Big thanks to the all-seeing eyes, the Creeps and Peepers moderators who keep our online community such a fun and welcoming place. Enjoy your nightmares, Creeps and Peepers. Hope you were scared to death. Bye! If spirits threat me in this place, fight water by water, and fire by fire. banish their souls into nothingness and remove their powers until the last place. Let these evil beings bleed through time and space. Evil may pass through but have no home here within and be scared to death. Bad Magic Productions Take me to the dark place. Oh my god, what?