Morbid - Episode 480: Listener Tales 76

Episode Date: July 27, 2023

It’s Listener tales 76 and guess what!?! It’s brought to you by you, for you, from you, and ALL ABOUT YOU! This installment is all about your spooky haunted demon homes. We’ve got ghosts on ghosts up in here. We don’t know which is the scariest but we do know we would like to never live in these homes. Like…. Ever. If you’ve got a listener tale please send it on over to [e-mail] with “Listener Tales” somewhere in the subject line :)See Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.

You're listening to a Movid Network podcast. Guys, July 25th, the paperback of the Butcher in the Ren is Kamanacha and this is a huge deal because paperbacks rule first of all and second of all. Paperbacks are awesome. You can really shove them. They're easy to really shove them around. You can shove them in your bag and you can bring them everywhere. She's motioning back up. I am.

I don't know why, but that, you know, I think it's pretty small. So like, you put it in your bag and I think, you know, you got a big back pocket, shove it right in there. You put it wherever you want. I don't care. Just read it.

But read it first, preferably. But do what you want because I don't care. Just read it. But read it first, preferably. But do what you want because I support all of you. But the cool thing about this one, besides being able to put it wherever you want is there's a sneak peek of this sequel. The second book, the second butcher in the rend book, there is a sneak peak chapter in the paperback edition, which comes out July 25th, so go get it. And then you can read a sneak peak chapter of the second one, and you can be like, I read that chapter, not a view did.

And then everybody who else who got the paperback can be like, I did too. And then you guys can talk about it, but everyone else will be like, I don't know what that chapter is. And you'll be cooler. So right now, I'm one of the only people that can say I read that chapter and nobody else did. And you'll be cooler. So right now, I'm one of the only people that can say,

I read that chapter and nobody else did. And now you can too. Get on my level. Get on Ashes level, July 25th, the paperback, book edition of The Butcher and the Rantgoof, get it everywhere! I love you guys. Books and literacy. Ha ha ha.

Hey, Weirdo's I'm Ash and I'm Olena. And this is Morbid. Special more than that. It's listener tails, which means it's brought to you by you for you from you and all about you, baby. We love listener tails. I could go on forever. And you know what, this is a nice little break. We've had some pretty brutal cases lately. So we decided that we were going to do a listener tails episode that is completely based on haunted houses.

Haunted shit. Haunted shit. We love it. And we've got some good ones coming out,. We're gonna start this right off with a bang with one entitled Listener Tales, A Sentient Meat Product. No, thank you. A mythological creature from Ireland.

Sure. And a very tired English human. Yeah, anytime. I'll take it. The only thing I don't want in that lot is a sentient meat product. And that lot. And that lot, I know, I felt that lot is a sentient meat product. And that lot. And that lot, I know, I felt the English.

I felt the English there. So it says, hello ladies, all four go, the Gushi stuff, except to say you deserve all the praise you get more. Wow. It's really nice. I've loved being on the journey with you and listening to you grow and become even more skilled as both host hosts, but wow, both hosts and researchers. Alina, congrats on the book.

You're amazing. Oh, thank you. Ash, you're amazing and deserve all the kudos there is to give. Wow, thank you. Congrats to you and Drew. Thank you again. Sorry, you don't get a PDF, but you do get a nice double space word document.

You can mark up and edit and shit. Read this on the show or not. Either way is cool. Hope you enjoy it regardless. And this is from Alan. Also, in my mind, a PDF and a word document, excuse me, I put a photo, wow, horrible. Who are you? And a word document or just the same thing. Same thing. This one's called a chicken wing named Frank. Oh, it has dual titles. I like it. A chicken wing named Frank. So it says, I have one lengthy tale for you with one or two meandering but relevant detours. My favorite kind.

I have known from an early stage in life that I have been, shall we say, sensitive to things around me that most people spend their entire lives in blissful unawareness of. My first paranormal experiences came in a way it often does for board kids growing up in shitty neighborhoods with no money for the real thing and almost ever a no most ever present concern

for me and my friends we often took to improvising and making do as we could. For my then best friend that often meant setting fires and using a magnifying glass to torture ants and the like. Seriously, I'm more than a little maze that he is in a serial killer by this point. In truth, I don't know that he isn't, as we haven't spoken in a couple of decades,

and now live in different continents. As I moved from my hometown of Sunderland in the northeast of England, you know it, you're from mass, and you have one of your very own, and now live in Los Angeles. I love that he's like, he might be a serial killer. Who knows? I don't know.

Anyway, as I was saying, when we went kicking around, causing trouble or running from that fires that had gotten out of control with the sound of sirens closing in, we used to cobble things together to keep ourselves entertained. One such misguided example of this was a phase we went through of homemade Ouija boards. Oh, no.

We would cobble them together from letters drawn on scrap paper and then rip down to size and arranged in a circle. That was a 10-time scarier. So chilling, yeah. A shot glass for a planche at thrown into the mix and we would yell at ghosts for attention. Wow. One typically damp English summer,

we got to doing this almost on the daily and contacted what claimed to be the same spirit repeatedly. I cannot for the life of me bring its name to mind. So I'm just gonna call the little fucker Casper, even though he was anything but friendly. So as subsecrets, super quets, I like that word. Go, it is quite frankly, shite. What is it?

I don't know, look it up. Man, about to. You just taught me a new word. I know. Do you want to hear it? I want to hear go it is quite frankly shite. What is it? I don't know look it up man about you. You just taught me a new word Alan do you want to hear it? I want to hear what it is. How do you say it? Subberquette. Subberquette. Oh, we should have known that that was a person's nickname. Subberquette. Subberquette. Alan you just taught me a new word and I appreciate that about you. My subberquette is Oh shit. Oh shit. Oh shit. Oh shit. Oh shit. Oh shit. Oh shit.

Oh shit. Oh shit. Oh shit. Oh shit. Oh shit. Oh shit. Oh shit. Oh shit.

Oh shit. Oh shit. Oh shit. Oh shit. Oh shit. Oh shit. Oh shit. Oh shit.

Oh shit. Oh shit. Oh Okay. You can't at me. I was just gonna say, can't you even at you? You can at me on Instagram, but don't. Yeah. I mean, don't about that. Don't do that. Don't do that. Don't about that. You can at me about it.

I might see it. Oh, so anyway, literally during one of these idiocy-fueled communions with a denison of hell, shits started to get wild. My mother, I love that denison of hell. I know, you're really good at writing. You are, Alan. That's English.

My mother, bless her innocent heart, like to collect porcelain dolls for what I can only presume is reasons of closeted sadism as those fuckers are terrifying. One of the little shits lived on top of the well-stress dresser in an alcove in the corner of the living room. And I swear to God, this thing's head started rotating.

Ella Reagan from the exorcist. No, thank you. My friend's booked it, leaving me to dismantle the board and close the unexpected portal to hell that had just yond open its mall in the middle of the living room. When I joined the moat side, what was to me to me at most two or three minutes, they swore blind. I had been gone something closer to 20.

Yay for lost time. Oh, and as a side note, from then on, every time it was thunder and lightning from then on, a baby could be heard screaming from my parents bedroom. What? The fuck? Oh my god. Also sorry if you hear crackling, I'm readjusting. Either I have some kind of dubious gift

or I opened a door, I have been unable to close on that day, as ever since I've been a fucking magnet for spectral bullshit. Uh oh. Anyway, now I have rambled enough time to get to the grist. When I was 21, I moved to the United States and via four years working on cruise ships

and a wander around various states, I ended up in California, which is where I am now. California. There you go. Meandering to the point, I was living in a house in Temecula. Sorry, I almost said Temecula. Honestly, did the inside voice in my head?

Temecula, yeah. Temecula. There it is. It was living in a house in Temecula, Honestly, did the inside voice in my head? To make it a lie. To make it a lie. There it is. It was living in a house in Temecula, which the landlord sold without warning, forcing me to move in with a friend, one town over in Marietta at short notice. The house was something of a miniaturie,

sprawling in the ward. I love that word, dude, it's a good one. sprawling in home to assorted weirdos. I need to pay you a picture of the layout of this rather large cookie cutter deposit at the end of a cul-de-sac. Downstairs had a full guest suite attached to the main house, but fully equipped as a functioning studio apartment.

Upstairs, my bedroom was directly above that and located halfway down an open hallway that overlooked an entrance hall. Before coming to my room at the top of the stairs, you passed my friend's seas bedroom and then her daughter, Ellsroom. Then after passing my room, separated by a shared bathroom

was my friend's younger sister, D's room. Keep this layout in your mind as it becomes important soon. Another important thing to note is that all the adults in the house bar my friend's husband, M, who was a combat veteran with severe complex PTSD, and D, who was trying hard to be a model and succeeding only at being a problem.

We're casino dealers or supervisors at the same time, at the same casino and as such, all worked nights. Okay. Now back to the downstairs studio. Living there was a lady named T, her teenage son and her toddler son. T, T, and T. There you go. All in a studio mind you with one bed.

Oh my God. Weird setup. I am something of a magnet for an neglected strays, which I don't mind as I love kids. And every afternoon when I would sit on the couch in the entry hall reading before work, the toddler would come and hang out with me. Oh. Being a mini person and being at a maze, so trying to learn two languages at the same time, on the couch in the entry hall reading before work, the toddler would come and hang out with me.

Being a mini person and being at a maze, so trying to learn two languages at the same time, he wouldn't say much that I understood. However, occasionally he would point at the empty air and say, the lady, the lady. But that in your noggin, and let's ratchet this up to 11. No. Lying on my bed one night on my day off,

and with the window open for air, cause fuck the desert, I heard tea's voice directly yelling below me yelling, if you don't shut up and behave, you're going back in the closet. Yep, toddler in the closet. No. Of course, I told C the next day as it was her house.

I also went driving to work with another friend R told her what had happened the night before. Immediately she tells me her mom, who is a medium, and lives with her, woke up last night from a dream screaming about how she had to help the boy in the closet. What? OK, shit had just gotten very real.

Apparently, an old lady had come to her in her dream and led her to the house, where she was told a boy was locked in a closet inside and was in danger. Oh my god. R's mom agreed to come to the house and try and told a boy was locked in a closet inside and was in danger. Oh my god. Our mom agreed to come to the house and try and help that night after work. Fast forward eight or nine hours and the three of us, me, are and her mom, are standing at the front door. Opening said front door, and at this point,

naively still not taking this as seriously as I should be, I take off my suit jacket and walk straight upstairs to dump it on my bedroom floor. Half way up, I suddenly hit a cold spot, like beyond colds. I take off my suit jacket and walk straight upstairs to dump it on my bedroom floor. Halfway up, I suddenly hit a cold spot, like beyond colds. The kind of cold that makes your chicken skin handbag pull your bull, bullocks up into your abdomen for safekeeping. He's talking about a scrotum.

I was really, really trying to figure that out. I saw it on your face. I was like, I am chicken skinned. Chicken skinned handbag pull your bullocks up into your abdomen for safekeeping. So he's trying to say phenomenal way of saying that. Apparently, at least according to mom, I had just walked right through her.

Mom starts having a chat with this discount Lollarona and finds out that it is Toddler's grand on the dad's side and the boy needs to be helped as he is being abused. Oh, sweetie. Apparently this teta teta didn't go over very well as when mom asked her to trot off into the light she grew angry and hurled mom who is a tiny old cancer surviving Filipino lady who is clinging to life out of stubbornness more than bigger into the wall. Oh my God!

At this point, all hell breaks loose. R is crying, mom is moaning, I'm swearing. Lost as to anything else to do, and after checking on mom, I paced around and happened to pass the door to this clearly cursed guest studio. Now, it was my turn to be roughed up a little bit as I felt a force on my shoulders

pushing me to the ground. Anyway, after much praying by mom and puckering of bunghole by me, the rath left and it was all over, or so we thought. Soon after child services became involved and C-made T-move out, God only knows what happened to that poor toddler. I still carry no small amount of guilt and regret over the whole situation.

It was a mess all around and I can only hope he isn't a better place. Oh my God. For a brief period, there was relative calm and regret over the whole situation. It was a mess all around, and I can only hope he is in a better place. Oh, my God. For a brief period, there was relative calm and harmony in the house, at least as much as they could be, given the circumstances of the misfits clustered there together. Slowly but steadily, a heaviness settled over the house,

a brooding presence, one that was a fleeting glimpse out of the corner of the eye when walking through a door, or the burning of eyes, boring into the back of your neck when sat alone in the evening. Tensions ratcheted up, M and C split with M moving downstairs. D was a near constant shitster.

L, a young teen, never left her room, and I did much the same. Things continued to escalate exponentially. The hallway upstairs became heavy with a feeling of dread that clung to it in a thick miasma. Myasma is one of my favorite words. Oh, my house is also a good ghost song. Now, every time that one comes on, I just go,

my asthma, she does, can confirm. Now, I said we all work nights. This, of course, meant that whenever I got home, it was already dark and CNM's sloppy housekeeping meant a lack of bulbs. Kim confirmed. Now, I said we all work nights. This, of course, meant that whenever I got home, it was already dark and C&M's sloppy housekeeping meant a lack of bulbs. Okay, quick a side. For real, that house was both cavernous and unkempt.

There was once a half-eaten chicken wing left by the front door that was there so long I gave the little fella a name. Frank and I were tight, right up until my desire to not have rotten food on the floor overrode my reluctance to clean up after a grown-ass woman. Frank, you're out of here. You're out of here, Frank.

Anyway, the results of this was me walking the green mile to my bedroom with only the company of the light on my phone. At least I wish that had been my only company. Every single time I walked that corridor, I did so with someone walking right at my back, inside my bubble of personal space, and close enough to feel hot breath on the nape of my neck. That made me have to do like a little like, when I put off the back of my mind. When one night, and almost at my bedroom door, with phone in hand, trying to pierce the black, a text came through, and I stopped looking at it. This caused the thing at my back to stop too.

And by this point, a custom, I was to the lack of boundaries, I thought whatever let me reply to this. It was at this point that it touched me. It's hand. I'm a Cobb spider clamoring its way over my shoulder, up my neck and onto my cheek. Now I admit this is fucking horrific and I was suitably terrified. It's just that writing this now, I know what is next, so it feels somewhat insignificant by comparison.

Oh God. Anyway, after that night, I decided it was time to speak up. D was, like I said, an instigator. But for some reason, her and I had an understanding and a weird connection. Not gonna lie. A good 40% of that was, boom, for me was the booty.

Nothing was dummy thing. Thank you, per se. Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, It turned out she had been having an even more torrent time as she was seeing smoky apparitions coming out of the walls and wandering the house all the fucking time. Yikes. I was just going to say as soon as we could, as soon as we could, we tracked down C and I told her we needed to fix this shit. Now remember, we were shift workers with different days off and although we all lived in the same house, we could go days without seeing each other.

Which we'll hopefully explain why we hadn't told each other what had been going on sooner. She said she wanted to get a priest involved. She was raised Catholic and well, she owned the house. Think back if you will, think back if you will to Frank. Then think about how utterly lazy this cow was. So guess who went to the church? If you guessed me, ding-ding, you went

a prize. Yeah. Mugans here take a, takes a trip to the local Catholic church. Now you have to understand I don't like those places. Always feel like I'm going to catch fire. Also say. I really only have one thing to say about that priest. Complete cunt. He told me, and I quote, because you are baptized to Methodist, you don't have a sophisticated enough relationship with God, and that is why this is happening. Suck it up. Suck it up. And he said,

fucking Wank Splat. Wank Splat. Wank Splat. I like that. I'll spare you my retort and just say, I left without looking back. Why did you spare us your retort? You honestly tell me it.

Tell me. Fuming. I told C, we were to do this my way and being the spooky fucker I am, we went to the witchcraft store in motion size. Hell yeah. We need to be friends. Yep. I'm extremely anti-religion, but not anti-diety. And I do have a spiritual side. Relatable. I'm familiar with the tarot. Having found an ancient rider weight deck behind a brick in an empty house, a friend moved into when I was 16, that's cool. That's really fucking cool.

That deck is older than me, and has history seeped into it. It has now found its way to Los Angeles, where I take care of it. I'm saying this because I'm familiar with the whole reading paliver, and thought I knew what to expect wrong. As soon as we walked into that store,

we were screeched at by what I can still only assume was a banshee who had given up on the whole death my larkey and found gainful employment. After scaring the cats, she extended a claw right at me and at D stood next to me and said, you, you cannot live together, too much emotion. One of you needs to move out. Okay, lady, drama, but you have my attention.

We did the whole, here's what's going on thing and sat down for a reading. If the Howling Woman was to be believed, DNI both had a sensitivity, no shit. And because of feelings between us, it was just being amplified in a feedback loop and we were pulling every spirit in the area towards us. Look at you too, and you're lusty lust,

cause all kinds of fucking shenanigans. You guys kind of like caused a hell mouth. You did. Good for you. Yeah. Look at you guys. Are you meant to be though? Maybe. If you create a hell of a fix. So I think so. And you created a hell of a secret. And you're referred to my booty as dummy. I would think, you know, I think we're meant to be. So he said, make of this what you will. It's what she said, who the hell knows? She was right about one thing at least.

There was for sure unresolved tension there. Oh, oh, Ellen. Oh, no. Is this going to turn into a fanfic? Or what's going to happen? Long story slightly less long. They agreed to send a team to the house to do a ghost busting after the upcoming weekend, which happened to be Thanksgiving.

Being English, Thanksgiving is always a little lost on me, and as much as I enjoy it when I get together with friends for it, I never feel the lack, if I spend it alone. The rest of the house, being all family, went home to El Centro, leaving me, having to climb their invitation to join them, and having to work anyway, alone for four days. Thanksgiving night, the first fucking night, I get home from work around two in the morning, walk up the driveway, put my hand on the doorknob, and this wave of absolute terror washes over me.

I'd be like, well, hotel it is. Yep, I don't have adequate words to describe how strong it was. I was trembling, crouched down to the ground, trying to curl up fetal without getting on my side. Oh, my God. I have never felt anything like it, and I knew if I went in that house, something terrible was gonna happen.

Not being a complete idiot and having seen enough horror movies, I knew well enough to back the fuck off and retreat to my car, smart. I was already calling a friend for a place to stay before I got off the driveway. When I got to my car, I turned around to lean on it while I waited for him to answer and looked up at the window

at the end of that fucking hallway to see. I'm still not sure how to describe it. It was like I saw negative space where the shape of a man should be. I knew something was there watching me. Ooh. That's a really good way of describing that. Yeah.

Unfortunately, I had to go back the next day for clean clothes, et cetera. When I got back making sure to do it in broad daylight, I parked on the driveway, which I never did, and ran inside and straight up to my room, slamming the door behind me. As I hurriedly changed into a clean shirt and tie, the entire house was shaking and crashing.

I could hear banging and slamming against the wall facing that bloody hallway. I nooped to the fuck out of there as fast as I could and didn't go back until the following Monday, the day goes bussers were coming. It's giving Cassita, right? The house is mad at you guys. But like, angry Cassita. I mean, the end of Cassita was pretty good. The end of Elkonte. Yes, spoiler alert. When they came, they rang the bell because that's what people do when they come to your house. I answered and I shit you not. The five of them stepped into the entry hall, looked at each other and immediately left.

That's right. They took one look and scuttle the r. Are you kidding? No explanation. And now or later, the door knocks again and they are back, apologizing for running off. They explain that they had not been ready for how bad it was and needed to prepare more. I'm going to told you that. I would let.

Yeah, you could have been like, hey, we'll be back. Shoot a text, I don't know. Or maybe their believers. Yeah. Yeah. Oh, great. For some reason known to no one, C wanders off leaving me to do all the talking.

Seriously, this bitch. They do their thing, which takes about three hours and involved a lot of sage and candles with added chanting. When they had finished and came to report, it turned out we had a total of six spirits in the house. I honestly thought they were gonna say more. Yeah.

Ooh. The one following me was a child killer in life who had been executed. Fuck that. He had attached to me because he had sensed vulnerability. Here's where I tell you that I was abused as a child by an overly friendly teacher. I'm so sorry about that.

That's so messed up. And that's really fucked up of that ghost. Yeah, of course it is. At the end of the hallway was a mischievous, but harmless male ghost who missed being alive and made all the noise trying to get our attention. Oh my God. He had been who I saw at the window

and he never left that spot as to do so when what have meant he had to pass by the killer who he was afraid of. Oh, sweet. He's got chills. I did too. Downstairs, there was an old lady and an unrelated old man who were just lost.

Oh. Outside my bedroom was the ghost of my dad who had sensed I was in danger and came back to protect me. My body is warming so hard right now. It's going, warm water. He regularly fought with the killer and kept him out of my room.

Holy shit. That's a dad. That isn a dad. That is a dad. In Ellsroom, her grandfather was doing much the same thing for her. There had been not one, but two vortexes in the entry hall downstairs, and that coupled with untrained abilities, on the part of me and D, had been a huge pillar of light pulling everything in anything in.

They said they had closed them, but if neither myself or D or preferably both of us left, they would not stay close for long. I took their advice and moved the fuck out as soon as I could into a place where the food didn't hang around long enough to gain sentience. Oh, and you never got to hook up with D. Damn it. Darn. This is my story. I'm going to include a couple of short things as a follow-up just to

show how often this shit happens to me. However, feel free to leave the spardot in the rare event you want to read this behemoth out loud. We did. I just did. So let's see. Oh, there's not much on this, so I'll read the rest. The place I live in right now is next to Sony Pictures in LA, on the same street in fact. I started life as a comm- it started life as accommodation for cast members way back in

the day. When I moved in, I felt the familiar presence of not being alone and always being watched. One night in the early weeks, I was woken up by a voice screaming leave in my ear. I said, I worked in casinos. Well, I left that and I'm now working on a PhD in clinical psychology, bad ass.

Casual. My focus is adult behavior and survivors of childhood sexual abuse. You are a bad ass. You are. Due to that in COVID limiting my lab time, I was conducting interviews in my apartment with people I know. So I could pitch an idea for more formal research later. When I was editing footage of one of my interviews, pausing in the recounting of their

abuse to cry, there was a distinct female voice that said, go ahead, I'm listening in the background. What? Ooh, chills. I had a psychic out again for this, and it being LA, it was of course one of those TV ones. That's just how the ludicrous place works. She showed up on my doorstep, beating a drum and dancing while chanting.

Great impressions for new neighbors. Lastly, I took a trip to Nashville recently as a friend's kid was about to give birth. And as I've known her kids since they were young, she had asked for me to be there. Oh my God. Somewhere in New Mexico, I had dosed off in the passenger seat and woke up to a dude

sat between me and the driver where the middle seat would be in a truck with a bench seat. He had a camera and was taking pictures, turned to look at me and faded out. What? My stomach even just went, whoa, that was a wild one. Was I wanting that or the stomach?

It was. Wow. Just, it was like, whoa, my, whoa. And Nashville, I had taken a nap one afternoon and upon waking, wandered through the living room and joined my friend outside for a smoke. Walking through the pregnant daughter was snoozing on the couch and an old man was standing looking down at her smiling.

I said hello, and he turned to look at me and said hello back. When I asked my friend who he was, no old man was over visiting. Another ghost. Oh my God. Just smiling down at a pregnant lady. Oh, that's sweet. My most recent experience, as recently as last month, I woke up in the middle of the night to someone stepping on my bed as if they were going to climb

up between my legs. Not scary. I just said, stop that. And dose back up. Stop that. Just dose back off. I think it was just an entity not used to being perceived. My gift, if you can call it that,

seems to be getting stronger as I age. I've now progressed to being able to see what before I could only feel and I'm not sure how I feel about it. Thanks for taking the time to read what is way longer than I had planned. Feel free to use my name. Alan. Thanks, Alan. Alan, good fucking luck. Your fucking stories are astonishing. When that's a good thing. I think that's a good thing. I think that's a good thing. I think that's a good thing. I think that's a good thing. I think that's a good thing.

I think that's a good thing. I think that's a good thing. I think that's a good thing. I think that's a good thing. I think that's a good thing. I think that's a good thing. I think that's a good thing. I think that's a good thing.

I think that's a good thing. I think that's a good thing. I think that's a good thing. I think that's a good thing. I think that's a good thing. I think that's a good thing. I think that's a good thing. I think that's a good thing. I think that's a good thing. I think that's a good thing. I think that It would be cool to write something about like a gaggle of ghosts in a place.

A gaggle of ghosts. You know, I would love that. That's really cool. I know. I'm nervous for you, Alan. I'm nervous for you, but I feel like you've got to handle on it because you were like, stop that. Yeah.

And you're afraid somebody is booty as dummy thing. I think you're fine. I think you're okay. I'm not worried about you at all, actually. I think you're in the all right. And that was with two seas, y'all. I love Alan. Alan for life. Alan for it. All right, I claim this one and you might be disappointed. Listener tale, how do I break it to my family that me shitting my pants at first grade led to a red-eyed demon guy haunting us? How do you? For all my family that means shitting my pants? First grade lead to a red-eyed demon guy haunting us.

And for all you folks that can't read this along with me, it's shitting, SHIDDI. Shitting. Shitting. It says, hello. Attached as a size 14 font, double space, potapha, hope y'all enjoy and much love. Much love.

Hello my lovely, my name is Natalie. Natalie. There you go. You can use my name and I'm from Mass. Hey, Massachusetts gal. Hey, unfortunately from Western Mass where it's all farms. Hey I'm going there tonight.

Oh, I'm going there tonight though. But who doesn't love the smell of fresh cow shit at 7 a.m. on the way to work? Doesn't. No hate to cows because they're cute, but man they're stinky. Truth. You know shit at 7 a.m. on the way to work. No, hate to cows because they're cute, but man, they're stinky. Truth. You know, I kind of want cows.

Yeah, I like really want like baby cows. And like, I know they'll grow up. I was just gonna say they will not stay baby cows. No, I'm not sure. I'm not sure, but that I could continue to have baby cows. Baby cows. But I need a bowl for that, I guess. You sure do.

Yeah, and a much bigger yard. And a experience with that kind of shit. Yeah, but I do want baby cows. So I know every listener tells starts I do want baby cows though. I do want baby cows at the end of the day. I'm just gonna start getting like weird contacts on Instagram. Sure are. Anyways, I know every listener tale starts out with gushing over our love for y'all, but I'm still gonna do it, so suck it. Absolutely. I was first introduced to you guys by my sister, and I fell so deeply in love with the podcast.

I love the way you guys write and talk about these cases. Please don't ever stop. Oh, thank you. I got my mom hooked on the pod, and the first episodes I had her listen to was the John Wayne Gacy series. He probably ruined her lovely flight to Tennessee, but sorry not sorry. Yeah, that probably that was an interesting flight for Mama. I even got my boyfriend to listen to some episodes with me.

Side note, he usually doesn't like podcasts and doesn't believe in paranormal spoopie ghosties. Like what? My dating. And he loves the pod too. Oh, I love it. Thanks everybody. Every time there's a new episode, I get so excited to listen to Y'all's banter.

It makes my heart so happy. Thank you, thank you, thank you. You make my heart so happy. Agreed. Anyways, here's the time that me shitting my pants in the first grade led to the big scary red eye demon dude haunting my family, Smiley Face. Smiley Face.

My sister was also drafting a story about this, but that was a while ago, and I don't know if she sent it in, so sorry, sis, I love you. I love it. So it all started on that day in first grade. The one where you sit in a circle on the hard floor, sharing your name and your favorite color. Now, it is important to say that I have had GI issues ever since I was born and also had terrible acid reflux. Oh, relatable on the GI issues. So whatever little Natalie had eaten that morning, boom, straight to my asshole,

ready to come out like a rocket. Needless to say, really had to shit. I remember sitting on my knees bouncing up and down, anxiously waiting for the right moment to ask my teacher to go to the bathroom. Isn't it so fucked up that we have to ask another human being for permission to go to the bathroom? To go to the fucking facilities? You wouldn't have never had to shit on the floor if that was the case. No, you should never have to ask. You just be like, I'm going to the bathroom.

I'll tell you about it. If somebody needs to take a little kid, you know? Or anything. Like even if you're an adult, go to the bathroom. Just go to the bathroom. Little me was experiencing social anxiety very young and was gaining consciousness at the time and realized I could talk whenever I wanted to and it wasn't just automatic and that made me nervous. So I had a question of, Miss, can I please go to the bathroom? Was lodged in the back of my throat fighting to come out? Oh, that's so sad. I had waited until I really could not hold it any longer

and finally asked my teacher. She said no. Oh, fuck that teacher. No. I hate that's bullshit. Don't tell a little first grader they can't go to the bathroom. Honestly, one of the first things I'm gonna teach my kids

when they go to school is that if anybody ever tells you you can't go to the bathroom, laugh at them and make your way to the bathroom. Yeah, one thing you shouldn't say no to is a little kid saying, I have to go to the bathroom. Seriously, one thing you shouldn't say no to is a little kid saying I have to go to the bathroom. Seriously, like, what the fuck do you think you are? That's bullshit. Like, excuse me, Miss Teacher, but what?

You're gonna deny that I have to ship right now this second in my pants? Yeah. Yeah. Okay. The lady easily could, you know what though, I bet after this, she never said no to anyone going to have a break. Which is not, remember, you taught her a lesson. This lady would have easily been the beginning

of my villain story. So not being able to go to the bathroom, I had no other option than to shid in my pants. There probably was another option, but oh well, I was dramatic. I love you. So after it happened, my teacher then told me I could go to the bathroom.

That is like cruel. Yeah, she's a bit. Like, so she gave you a nice traumatic embarrassing moment that was like, now you can go. Fuck you, teacher. What the fuck am I supposed to do? If this specific teacher is listening right now, fuck you.

Fuck you. Your booty is not dumb enough. No, it is not. Man, I wanted to slap her, but off I went waddling to the bathroom. Oh. I did in fact flush my underwear down the toilet because I really just wanted to hide that I just did that.

Oh, I want to hug you. They probably did find out after having massed and like plumbing issues, but I digress. Good, I hope they did. Yeah, they deserved them. I had my mom pick me up and we drove to visit my uncle at the house he was working on. At least, I think that's what was happening.

I don't know, I was young. I don't know how we got there, but we somehow ended up at this three-story house that my uncle was renting out as apartments. I remember playing outside and barely remember anything about inside this house, but I remember it being spooky. Fast forward to a few years ago,

I found out that this house was hella haunted. The third floor, specifically. So my uncle, he was very much in tune with the paranormal. I used to babysit for him and before he left to work in the mornings, he would tell me stories about that house. It all started when he first began working there. He always felt a presence and it quote-unquote lived on the third floor. He told me it had red eyes and that's the only feature of this entity that he could make out besides a dark shadow. I did some research in demons with red eyes were once a legend known as the legend of the weed.

Weed, rood, ogan, maybe. Which began in the Flanders region of Belgium in the late 17th century after reports of children who went missing and were believed to be victims of a cannibalistic shape shifter. Damn. It's said that he seeks his skin to become whole again as the demonic figure he once was.

Jesus. That's giving Buffy. Yeah, it is. Serving watch the rewatcher. If you're not watching it yet, yeah. It's funny as fuck. It's like, listen to our tales, you'll like that. You will love the rewatcher.

Yeah, go listen wherever you listen to podcasts. I don't know. Wow, that's really great to me. And my fucking psyche, those just in there, every day I was like, I think I say that in my sleep during the 20th century, the ghostly being became known as the necker. The necker.

As part of a story told to children who stayed up past their bedtime, that they would be eaten alive if they didn't go to sleep. They all let out, I don't get you, they all have to dream sleep. They all mad that'll get you off to Dreamland. Kind of scary, but this information plays a huge role later on. He knew not to mess with it, and he would try to ignore it,

but Mr. Demon Man had other plans. My uncle would be working on something and would look up and find himself walking across the room. Whatever this entity was was taking the form of my uncle. Like imagine seeing yourself, but not yourself, standing right in front of you. Now I would appease the fuck out. This is when my uncle knew that this was more serious than he thought. We never went back to that house after that one day.

My dad, however, would go occasionally over to help my uncle with the work. My dad was also very religious and also very in tune with the paranormal. There was one day they were working on whatever project, and my dad remembers having this one intrusive thought just completely overtake his head. It was almost screaming at him. It was telling him that someone had hung themselves in the attic and to go help them. Whoa, he couldn't take it anymore, and he told my uncle, knowing he would get it. They ventured to the attic, and there was a rope hanging from a crossbar on the ceiling. My uncle said he had never been up there since he started fixing the place up, and he didn't know it was there.

Below the rope, there was a box of old handwritten papers, but they never figured out what they were. That's so spooky. And so tragic. Oh. This aspect of the house was never fully figured out, and we have no idea how it plays into the rest of what happened. So spooky.

After the house was completely renovated and ready to be rented out, shit started to go downhill. I think my uncle had made the tenants aware of the entity, but I can't quite remember. It was mainly the women that would be affected. It started with sheets being tugged in the middle of the night, that's, I don't like it. And then it progressed to grabbing the ankles

of the wrists, I hate that, leaving bruises on their arms. One story my uncle told me really gave me the chills. This only happened to one of the women. She woke up in the middle of the night feeling really cold and off, like something was watching her. She was suddenly pinned down to the bed by her wrists and ankles and couldn't move. Her chest felt heavy, like something was pressing down on her.

She tried thrashing around to get out of the grip of this entity. It let go in the uneasy feeling she felt before was gone. She called my uncle the same night to tell him what happened. He went the next morning to swear the entity out of the house. There are so many other stories he told me about this house, but those are the few that really stood out. More of the story is this entity was no fucking joke. Now let's go back to my stanky younger self. I was wondering. I was like I was like, where does the poop correlate? The visit was short lived and we went home and red eyes happily came home with us. Oh, what a dick. What a dick indeed.

Things quickly started to progress. My sister's hair would be pulled. I would be pushed on the stairs. Oh my god I would remember being in the shower and feeling something grab at my shoulders. Sounds pervy to me. Me too. Shit was whack, truly. No one really knows this because it still scares me to this day. But this was also the time where I started experiencing sleep paralysis. I'm sorry. I know. Or so I thought. But now I know it was this entity tormenting me. I would wake up not being able to move, and when I looked around I saw the dark shadow and red eyes staring at me from the corner. This dream would happen at least once a week. I always had weird dreams, so I didn't really think anything of it at the time. But this tormenting behavior continued for a few weeks, until my dad faced it, eye-to-eye.

It was around five or six in the evening, and he was making dinner. He started to feel uneasy, like something was watching him. He looked over at the doorway that led to the porch, and there it was, standing in the porch directly in line with the doorway, watching. What?

It had never showed itself the whole time it had been at our house, and we didn't know it was the thing tormenting my sister and I. My dad had put the pieces together, and he was pissed. I mean, for obvious reasons, like if something was tormenting my young children,

I'd go full mom of errands, square up with any demon. Hell yeah, let's go. Let's go. Cage match. My dad swore the entity out of our house, and it left as simple as that. Damn, you're dead. It's powerful. He is. Whatever this thing was, only wanted to mess with people, and I'm happy it was nothing more than that. Where it left to, we know no, but it was probably mad that my stangie asked walked into his home and stuck up the place and wanted to get back at me. So, sorry fam. I'm obsessed with you. Although, this isn't the whole, all the, this isn't the reason demon guy followed us back home. What a coincidence it was that the same, that it was the very same day, I shitted my pants. For a few years this happened.

My sister and I, and sometimes my dad would feel uneasy whenever we drove by the house. I don't get the feeling anymore, which makes me wonder what our demon friend is up to now. Hope he's live in the life, not being perverted or fucking with people's lives. Be too. But that's my story.

If you wanna hear the other tales of the house or my uncle's other paranormal stories, let me know and I'll send them in. We do, send them in. Send them in. Best wishes, send them in. Send them in. Best wishes, and I hope you all keep it weird, but not so weird that take it away, Ash. Not so weird that you're a teacher that tells a little kid

that they can't go to the bathroom, so then they end up shitting their pants in your classroom, and then you're like, oh, actually, now you can go to the bathroom. Definitely keep it so weird that if that happens to you, you flush your underwear down the toilet because fuck that school and that whole entire system. But don't keep it so weird that you bring a red-eyed demon home with you because you really don't want to experience that,

and it sounds kind of messy by. Yeah. You know, you know what I mean? Don't do any of that. I hadn't done like a good one in a while. Wow. That was really good. And Natalie, damn.

It's all I have to say. And Jail. Just damn. Jail, Natalie. No, no. Natalie. So should I read? Because you'll read the other one.

Should I read about the time I bought a demon house? Yeah. Or living in a notoriously haunted house. You read whatever your little black heart desires. I'm gonna go with notoriously. You know what? It just like spoke to me. I thought you were going to.

Yeah. And it made me wanna say, notorious. That's what I was thinking. I was like, I know, d'Ran d'Ran. It's called, it's called, we, like, we, right, you know? I'm making an emotion between our two heads. I'm like, it's called something I can't-

Telepathy, there it is. There it is. Telepathy. Yes, PN. C-S-P-N or something. It's like, I can. Telepathy, there it is. Telepathy. Yes, PN. CSPN or something. It's like, I have ESPN or something. So living in a notoriously haunted house, I hope you guys enjoy this listener tale

about the five years my family spent in the most well-known haunted house in our county. Oh my god, I thought that said country, and I was like in our country, like what the fuck? All right, let's see. You can probably tell from the title that this story is a doozy. I can. Let me tell you, my the title that this story is a doozy. I can.

Let me tell you, my life has been one hell of a wild ride. The five years my family spent in this house is just the icing on the cake, but first allow me to introduce myself. Hey y'all, my name is Mary Grace and I'm from a small town in South Carolina. That's such a pretty name. Mary Grace.

Mary Grace. Feel free to say all that out loud. I found morbid about a year ago when my commute to work was an hour and I desperately needed to kill time. You guys were exactly what I was looking for. I've been hooked since day one and now I listen to every of one of your episodes

while I'm going to bed at night. Side note, not the best time to listen to stories of people being brutally murdered. Yeah, I think they just did a study about that, you guys are all fucked. Yeah, apparently you're all fucked, yeah. But like, so are we, so do I. But I like it.

I cannot tell y'all how many times I've considered writing about my haunted experiences, but even thinking about some of the things that happened, put an uneasy feeling in my stomach. Ooh. Today, however, I am determined to get it all out and writing. So here's to trying.

It all started in August 2011, about three months before my 12th birthday, November 6. My family had grown tired of the violence that had surrounded us in our Charlotte, North Carolina neighborhood. The last straw was drawn. The day my mother was held at gunpoint in our front yard after bravely confronting the man she saw running away

with my brand new bicycle. The one they had spent months saving to buy me. Oh my god, I love that she was like, listen up here. Like I will fuck you up. We moved in with my grandparents that night and then to a different state entirely within weeks. I was just about to enter middle school. My sister was the tenth,

my sister entering the tenth grade at the time. So we were not thrilled about the move to say a least. Oh, shitty timing. However, my parents needed to heal from the violence and fear they had endured and somehow mostly shielded my sister and me from good parents. I know, right? A Victorian home in the heart of a small town seemed like the place to do it. Hell yeah, it does. So in we moved, box after box, we made the nearly 200 year old house a home. This is like the

beginning of the scariest movie. I absolutely love it. I remember feeling like I was in a castle. We went from a thousand square foot home to a nearly 4,000 square foot one seemingly overnight. Damn, I was in awe of it. From the grand entryway to my massive bedroom with six windows, I couldn't believe it was all ours. I remember wondering how my parents

got a four to place like that, but I didn't want to question it. I wouldn't find out until much later that the rent was extremely low due to the inability to keep tenants occupying the space. AKA, keep them from running out the door muttering about ghosts. That's right, we had moved into a haunted house. Let's go.

Strange events began occurring almost immediately after our move. It started small. One day, my uncle noticed candlesticks on the ground in the dining room. He figured they had fallen from the candle holders on the mantle, so he simply picked them back up and put them back in the dining room. He figured they had fallen from the candle holders on the mantle, so he simply picked them back up and put them back in the candle holders.

As he walked out of the room, he heard something smack the window. He turned to look and the candlesticks were on the ground again, but this time, on the other side of the room. Things like this continued. The candlesticks were moved or thrown so frequently that my mother eventually put them in a drawer in the butler's pantry. Chairs would often slide across the room. Glasses mysteriously fell from the cabinets and shattered.

Lights turned themselves on and off at will, and playing cards would often be found spread neatly across the living room floor. One day I arrived home from school and went up to my room to feed my, I was like feel my gerbil. Feel my gerbil. To feel my gerbil. To feed my gerbil as I did every day. I was shocked to find, and honestly, I never had a gerbil. I don't know, they soft. They're really soft, right?

I think our gerbil is like the big hamsters. Yeah, like the big hamsters. Probably soft. So what's the other road that I'm thinking of? Guinea pig? Yeah. I think. What are gerbos?

I don't know. Remember when I asked where hamsters came from? Yep, I remember that. Oh, but you know what? Oh, yeah, they're the same. Yeah. Mary Grace was shocked to find that the gerbil had passed away during the school day.

Oh my God, I'm sorry. Heartbroken by the loss of my first pet, I found a shoebox and buried him in the backyard. Toil. Then I went downstairs to what we called a sitting room. This house had so many random rooms to feed my turtle. You wouldn't believe my shock to find that my turtle had passed the very same day you poor little baby.

Oh my god. I chocked it up to bad luck for my very well cared for pets and buried him next to the gerbil. Oh my god, I can't imagine how you felt. Oh my God. I chalked it up to bad luck for my very well cared for pets and buried him next to the journal. Oh my God, I can't imagine how you felt. That's awful. A few weeks later, I woke up in the middle of the night to a hand pressing the side of my face down into my pillow. I bet that also felt pretty awful.

That probably wasn't great. I remember being paralyzed and fear until the next morning came. I was still shaken when I came down for breakfast. And my mom said, do you remember sleepwalking last night? I was confused as I'd never done that before. She continued, yeah, you came to my bedside and told me there was a man in your room. I told you it was a bad dream to go back to bed. You turned around and left the room. My dad then added, it's the weirdest thing. Mom told me about the sleepwalking and it happened

at about the same time that your dog came flying downstairs and curled up in a shaking ball in my lap. I feel it is important to note that dog hated my dad and never ever sat with him. Yeah, that's a very important note. That is an important note. Soon after I ate this, I stopped sleeping much. I bet. It seemed that every time I closed my eyes,

I would have an overwhelming feeling that someone was running towards me. Oh. Night after night, I would sit in my room awake with the lights on until eventually exhaustion would take over and I would crash until time to get up for school. One night, I sat awake in my bed,

rereading to Kilomockingbird, when something outside caught my eye. I looked out the window next to my bed to see a woman at a red dress standing on the sidewalk across the street. She had her hair fastened in a neat bun and her dress seemed old-timey, I guess, to Victorian style.

She had stood there as if she was waiting for a ride. I watched her for a minute or two and then her eyes shifted up to my bedroom window. I ducked down as quickly as I could, hoping she hadn't seen me spying. When I sat back up, she was gone. Oh, I don't like that. I had all but forgotten about her, oh, excuse me, I had all but forgotten her about a

year later. I signed up to be a storyteller at the town's Halloween cemetery, Terry Tore. That's fucking awesome. That's really fucking awesome. I went in a week before Halloween to find out which person buried in the Confederate cemetery I would be impersonating. Her name was Mary. Her name was Marie Wallace, the older of the Wallace

sisters. During the war, her dad left home to fight with the Confederacy. One day she received correspondence from him that he would be returning home very soon. So she put on her favorite red dress, did her hair nicely, and walked to the town so that she may meet him when he arrived and accompany him home. He didn't show. Day after day, she put on the red dress and went to town. And day after day, she waited for her father who never returned. Marie became known as the woman in red. That was the lady outside your window.

That's so scary and so sad. Yeah, legend of the town says that on some nights, past her eyes, we'll see her standing in town waiting for her father who never returned. When I read this information about her, my jaw dropped. I know with my whole heart that I saw her that night. Before I even heard a whisper of this story, I saw Marie Wallace clear as day, stuck in a loop of hopeful anticipation.

As I grew older, I became more and more accustomed to our living situation. I never did sleep with the lights off in my room, but many nights I would fall asleep with the lights on and wake up with them off, and the doors of my wardrobe and my room standing wide open. Oh, I thought. The wardrobe was there when we moved in because I had no closet. I decided to keep it. It had a hook lock on the front that I always kept hooked into place, but somehow it never

failed that I would wake up to wardrobe door, standing wide open. Many nights, as I laid awake, I would hear the laughter of a little girl and would sound like a ball bouncing outside of my door. We believe the little girl to be Marie Scott, very popular name at the time. Marie was a five-year-old who died in the house. She was cooking over an open flame with her mother

when suddenly her dress caught fire, and she burned to death. Jesus Christ. There are accounts from the town's doctor in our historical library that read, no amount of morphine could stop the screams of little Marie. The heat of the flames melted the fabric to her skin. She perished after a mere three hours.

Jesus. My whole body is chilling right now. Oh, that's horrific. In total, we know about 20 deaths in the home. Damn. After Marie's death, you better believe I'm looking up this home. Yeah, are we about to cover it? After Marie's death, the family turned it into a boarding house

and then eventually it became a birthing center after returning to a single family home. So it's like the murder house for me, just. Yes. Many of the dead, you're right. Many of the deaths were of course, mothers and babies. However, one death in particular happened in my bedroom. A woman was struck by a car in 1930 and was put in my room

to rest. It is said that she died before the doctor could arrive. Oh, that's freaky. Eventually due to matters out of our own hands, we were told to move and given very little notice to do so. The sweet landlord that we had fostered a friendship with passed at 94 years old,

and her strange son got the house we were living in. So once again, we packed up our lives to move. When we started packing the activity in the house, got insane. I was shoved down the stairs by something that I could clearly feel but not see and I fractured my wrist. Oh wow.

My sister came home from college to help with the move and complained that she could not sleep because she was being woken up at night by women crack cackling at this on the screen porch connected to her bedroom. Just women cackling out on the bed. Just vibing out there. Just vibing. Just having a fucking time. They're probably playing cards or some. Hell yeah, just cackling. I'm talking about the lady down the street and she's cheating on her husband. You know they were just sitting there gossiping. Yeah, drinking sweet tea, you know. Oh, living.

The crawl space into the attic was constantly coming open. Furniture from downstairs was being found in the hallway upstairs. What? Furniture that was no more than 60 pounds became far too heavy for two people to pick up. It goes on and on. I've never heard of that.

That's wild. You have also never heard of that. That's wild. You have also never heard of that. That's insane. On moving day, I loaded all of my things to the four-year downstairs and did a quick sweep of the upstairs. After all the boxes from the four-year on a trailer, my mom told me to do another sweep upstairs. In perfect teenager, I rolled my eyes and stomped back up the stairs.

You would never believe the way my heart started racing when I found a pile of moving boxes neatly stacked in the center of my 1-septi home, a room. I quickly loaded them onto the trailer and then told my mom that I was going to walk to the new house, two blocks away, still in the historic district. After I left, my mom began waxing the floors upstairs or downstairs.

She loved that house and wanted to leave it as close to perfect condition as she could. Oh, midway through waxing, my granddad, a hardcore non-believer and all things spooky, yelled my mom's name in an alarmed tone. It wasn't until then that my mom realized all the hair on her head was standing up straight as if someone was above standing above her and pulling it. Oh my God! She quickly reached up and started smoothing it down. At this time, the front door swung open and then slammed shut and the old-timey manual bell started ringing like crazy. They both made a beeline for the front door.

My granddad said the last thing he saw before slamming its shut was a snake sliding down from the banister of the stairs. What? Okay, craft. I'm screaming. Holy connolly. So that's my story. There's so, so much more that happened while living there, but I just picked out the things that still stand out in my mind. I hope you enjoyed, and that it didn't freak you out too much. It did.

Nowadays, I get to sleep soundly in the dark, snuggled up to my soon-to-be husband, June 4th, 2022, baby. Oh, it's a husband! Congratulations! I love it. And actually, it's like a little over a year. Happy, it's a husband. Oh, it's a husband. Congratulations. I love it. And actually, it's like a little over a year. Happy year anniversary. Oh, yeah. Yeah, I was like, no, it's not.

Yeah, it's like a month. No, it was last year. Yeah. I love this man with my whole heart and honestly wish I could introduce the whole world to him just so they could know how amazing he is. Oh, my God. Your love is beautiful.

I love your love. Thank you all for enduring my lengthy tale. Keep it weird. I Like Mary Mary Grace That was compelling. It was amazing incredible. I can't believe you endured that I seriously. I'm amazed by you That that was such a cool story. Holy shit. That's a lot, man. Holy shit. We have time for one more. We have time for one more.

Let's do one fucking more. Let's do one fucking more. I'm excited about these hauntings. I love haunts, but I know the ones. This one is called Listener Tale about the time I bought a demon house. Yay, demon houses. Hello, oh, I see a dog. Sorry, hello.

A doge. I'm busy. I see a dog, sorry, I'm busy. It was a dog that this person said. Hello, ladies. I've attached up Parafa and a couple of pictures to go along with the tale. About the time my husband and I bought a demon house with a ghost infested dresser. It's a wild ride. Hello, ladies.

My name is Desiree. Yes, you may use my name. And I have been obsessed with the podcast for at least a year now. And it has been the highlight of many road trips for me. Thank you. Thank you. I'm going to be a little bit more careful Miss Desiree, yes, you may use my name, and I have been obsessed with the podcast for at least a year now, and it has been the highlight of many road trips for me. Thank you.

Thanks. You guys are the absolute best at what you do, and it's honestly the best part of my day to get to listen to you. Oh, thank you. Thank you. Okay, okay, enough of me being gushy about how amazing you are. I recently listened to the listener tale from Brad and his crazy house, and I just knew that I finally had to submit mine.

I remember Brad's tale, those wild. That was wild. Actually, it's in this folder. Hearing his story made me feel so validated for what I went through. So Brad, if you're listening to this, you're not alone in living in a crazy ass house. We are in this together, bud. I want to apologize in advance because the story is a little long, but I can assure you every bit of it serves a purpose

I'm also not a writer, so if there's any errors in this, sorry y'all, I never claim to be a writer. Never apologize. Don't apologize. As far as trigger warnings go, I might, I mentioned night terrors, thoughts of suicide and blood, but only mildly. Anyway, here we go. I met my husband Drew. Ah! Drew, sever! Drew, sever! Drew, Drew. When I was 15, we got dating right away. I met my soulmate and I'm so thankful that I had him to go through this experience with. Because all of your loves are beautiful. I know. Like, even Alan and C and her like, what is it? Or DX and her stupid thick.

No, no, dummy thick. Dummy thick. Booty. I'm like here for all of your loves. I love love. Yeah. Even when it's about dummy thick booties. Well, we got married. We got married in 2013 when I turned 20 and bought his grandparents home where his father and his siblings had grown up. We couldn't have been any more excited. However, that was short lived because we barely had signed the papers for the house.

When one of his aunts asked me if I was sure I wanted to move into a haunted house. Oh, come on. Cue me looking into the camera like I'm on the upper, on an episode of the office. Like, is she fucking serious? Like she waited till we signed the papers. Like Stanley is the fucking serious guy. Come on. Oh wow, you just looked like him.

I was like, Stanley. You did the mouth thing that Stanley did like, yes, exactly. Me being me. I just thought she was joking. That was until nearly every sibling had chipped it, sibling had chipped in at some point about their experiences as well.

They ranged from hearing voices to being held down in bed. I feel like this should have been said before we agreed to buy the house, but whatever. I told myself I'd just be Zach Baggins for a bit. After all, how bad could it be? Me saying that line was the worst thing I ever could have said. We've all been there. Nope. Now my husband and I did what every good horror movie tells you not to do.

And we decided to renovate the entire house. Oh no. Not just a few cans of paint and new appliances kind of renovation, but we completely got it out of the house. Oh no. Not just a few cans of paint and new appliances kind of renovation, but we completely got it out of the house. Oh you're waking them all up. I'm worried. That was probably our first mistake, but sue me for wanting to have those in my dreams. Never. Never. If I was going to be living in a haunted house, then I was damn sure going to make it worth it. Hell yeah. We decided we were going to get the downstairs where our master bedroom and main living space was, use the upstairs for storage and update it as

we could. And one of the bedrooms upstairs, there was a very beautiful, very old dresser that had plate-sla-stating. And it was, I can read, it was a very old dresser that had a plate-stating, it was made in 1912. It was strange to me, because the mirror wasn't even hazy, like most old pieces tend to be, and it was huge. It was so to me because the mirror wasn't even hazy like most old pieces tend to be and it was huge It was so big that they actually had the upstairs built around it because it wouldn't fit down the stairwell That's awesome. That's wild Something about that seemed weird to me too, but whatever it was just a dresser. Yeah It's important to note that during this time my husband worked out of state in Pennsylvania

So he was only home on one or two weekends a month, which meant that I was alone in that house quite a bit. During the day, I would go into one of the bedrooms upstairs to try to unpack our things, but I would always avoid being up there at night. I can't describe it, but there was just a bad feeling up there, so much so that I couldn't even walk by the bottom of the stairs after dark either. We had a small Yorkie, yes, I will attach a photo just for you. Oh, thank you. I was literally so excited. Who wouldn't walk past the stairs after dark either. We had a small Yorkie, yes I will attach a photo just for you. Oh thank you. I was literally so excited. Who wouldn't walk past the stairs either? He would walk up to them then back his way into the next room without taking his eyes off the top of the stairs. He had never even tried to

step so much as a paw onto the steps, but one day he got brave. He made it to the very top of the stairs before something startled him, and he jumped from the top and fell all the way down the wooden steps with such force that he slammed into the wall at the bottom. He was completely fine, thank God. But he never went over there again, Mike, you just almost shot him. Mike almost shitted his pants.

Shitted, shitted. Shitted. The whole time, I almost shedded also. Shedded. Shedded. But the whole time we worked on the house, we experienced small things, but we didn't draw attention to it. Footsteps, flickering lights, those kinds of things.

I told myself that that was as bad as a, sorry, that if that was as bad as it got, then I was fine. It was weird, but I could deal with it. One night, not too long after moving in, I was asleep in our bed when I could hear what sounded like footsteps above my head From the upstairs bedroom, but I wrote it off saying it was probably just the house crackin and popping. I made it in instead of The house was built in the forties, so it was older and not unheard of to make some noise I went back to sleep not giving it another thought until the next day when I went upstairs

to unpack more things, and there was a tote sitting in the hallway that I most definitely did not leave there. Again, I was determined not to draw attention to the happenings, so I just moved the tote back in the room. That night, the same thing happened, only I could hear heavy things being moved across the floor. I got out of bed and locked my bedroom door

because yeah, ghosts totally can't get through locked door, right? And so you're an eyeroel here. Honestly, I feel that way too, though. And stayed up the rest of the night listening to the movement upstairs. The next day, sure enough, all the boxes and totes had been moved to one side of the room

away from the dresser. If that wasn't scary enough, there were thousands of dead flies on the opposite side of the world. That's when you know. And that probably smelled so yuckers. That's a diamond. Oh, I hate it. If there's one thing I've learned from spending my free time watching ghost hunting shows

on television, it's that dead flies are commonly associated with demonic activity or evil. See you now. Because I'm nasty. I never grabbed a vacuum so fast in my entire life. If I could make it to fly like the witch on Hocus Pocus, I would have flown around that room with it. That's how fast I was. It's a hell no on the demon flies for me.

I wish I could say that was the last of dead flies in that room, but no. Every day there were more and more. No matter how many exterminators I called or how much I vacuumed, it was only in that room, which made that room feel just as creepy. To save time on this story, we're gonna fast forward about a month or so. Just because I'm fast forwarding, trust me, crazy shit happened daily, and it was really taking its toll on me mentally.

My friends were being absolutely amazing throughout the whole or deal. I'll change their names only because I didn't get their permission, but if they listen, they'll know who they are. Without them, I truly wouldn't have made it. On nights I was completely alone, I would come home from work, eat dinner, and lock myself in my bedroom, and pray that the activity would just stay minimal. I wouldn't come back out until morning. One night, my husband's cousin Bailey came down to visit us, while Drew was home from work.

We were playing cards late into the night, and just as things were dying down, we heard a sound I will never forget for the rest of my life. The most inhuman growl came from the top of the stairs, echoing throughout the entire house. It was so guttural and loud that I was almost certain that somehow a fucking grizzly bear had found its way into my home. I'm scared. I don't like it. We all locked eyes with each other and didn't move an inch. The growl lasted for several moments. And then dead silence came back over the house, which almost felt scary or yupp. It's sometimes silence is like so loud.

So loud. Something like that. The three of us went upstairs to make sure there really wasn't an animal, but we couldn't find a thing. That sounds still haunts me. Oh, I hate it. Me too. Needless to say, I wasn't staying animal, but we couldn't find a thing. That sounds still haunts me. Oh, I hate it. Me too.

Needless to say, I wasn't staying alone in the house very often after that. My friend, Shayna and Hailey stayed quite often, so I wouldn't be alone. One night, Hailey and I had fallen asleep on the couch after binge-watching quite a few episodes of Outlander. I was in a deep sleep when Hailey woke me up in pure terror. Her face was so pale and she was shaking like a leaf.

She hadn't really experienced anything for herself until this moment, so she was completely scared. She told me frantically that she had heard a lady whistling and it was coming from toward the stairs. That was new. I was like, oh, shit. You're like, oh, you do? I hadn't heard that.

So even I tried to convince her that she was dreaming until the whistling started again. It began in one of the rooms upstairs and was moving closer to the stairs and getting louder. Can I just also say that I fucking hate whistling? I hate this kind of whistling, I hate any whistling. Anytime Drew whistles, I'm like, stop that. I grabbed Halley's hands and we ran out onto the front porch where we stayed until the sun came up.

She didn't stay at night anymore, and I can't say I blame her. No. God bless Shayna, though, because she stayed nearly every night she could just so I wasn't experiencing what I did alone. She was worried about me, knowing that I wasn't my usual peppy, extroverted self. I was becoming really drained mentally

and was beginning to take a toll on my psyche. Oh, no. I was having night terrors about being chained up and not being able to escape. I was sick to my stomach almost constantly. I honestly felt like I was losing my mind. It was like I didn't have control over my body anymore and I felt so isolated.

I was beginning to feel depressed and suicidal. I was so desperate for an escape. Even typing this out, I have tears rolling down my cheeks because the thought of ever having to experience any of this again, truly shakes me. My God, I want to hug you. I do too. It's okay. You're never going to have to do this again. You're good, you're safe. You're so safe.

Again, to shorten this story, I'll tell you about the worst night, Shayna and I had. Grouse, things being moved, flickering lights, etc. We were exhausted. The activity had been constant that night. She had woken up and come into my room after the growling started, and where we were sitting on the edge of my bed debating on getting a hotel to be quite honest. From this viewpoint, we could see the main bathroom downstairs across the house. Suddenly, the main bathroom door slammed shut with such a force that it shook the walls and rattled photos on the walls. We barely had time to look at each other before my bedroom door was being slammed just as

loud. Ooh, I hate it. I really hate this. This is such an angry entity. Yeah. Our screams erupted throughout the house, yet not a single neighbor came to check. Thanks neighbors, way to go. For real.

When I went to open my door, it wouldn't budge. It was like something was holding it from the other side. I was frantic trying to get it to go. For real. When I went to open my door, it wouldn't budge. It was like something was holding it from the other side. I was frantic trying to get it to move. Shayna and I were both crying and desperately trying to get out. When it finally let go, I ran outside and collapsed in the yard. I'm not a highly religious person,

but I was praying harder than ever, just trying to make it all stop. Which led to Drew and I having the house blessed. That didn't work either. Holy shit. Now, I could sit here and tell you about every single detail that ever happened, but I want to wrap this up so you don't have an hour-long tail just on my account, even if we did it be fine.

You could be the next Brad. Hell yeah. Just know there's so much more to this story that I can bear to write. I'll leave you with the two final instances that ultimately led to Drew and I, high-tailing it out of there. Damn, you're Dream House.

I know, I'm so sorry that that happened. there. You're a dream house. I know. I'm so sorry that that happened. Yeah. Haley came over and told me she'd help me move things into the less creepy bedroom upstairs. So we could just close off the room that had held such bad feelings.

And maybe if we could close it off, then the activity would cease for a bit or at least be less active. As we were moving things, she placed her hand on the creepy dresser I previously mentioned, and she instantly gasped. She told me she saw a woman in old time clothing holding a knife hiding from a man. What? She was completely convinced that the woman, that that was the woman we had heard whistling. I don't know how much I believed in clairvoyance before then, but personally,

that definitely made me think twice about it. Oh shit. That's wild. That same evening, I went to dinner with Bailey, and when we got back to the house, there was a dinner knife stabbed into my back door. Shut up. Oh my god. No. I didn't go inside that night. Thank goodness. I would yell at you if you did and stayed with her. Drew was coming home the next day, and I was going to tell him that I could no longer stay in the house. The next morning, I went back to the house just a short time before a Drew was due to be there. I was cleaning up around the house and found a few items of clothes I needed to take upstairs.

I told myself I would just run up there, toss the clothes, and run back down. Halfway up the stairs, I felt what I thought was a cobweb across my cheek. So I swiped it away. When I noticed, there was a little droplet of blood on my hand. I go to the creepy dresser to inspect where it could have come from.

That's when I see in the mirror. There was a small, but deep gash on my cheek. I'll attach a picture, but it doesn't do it justice how deep it was. It was like somebody had taken their fingernail and stabbed it deep into my face. Oh yeah. Holy shit. I couldn't believe what I was seeing. I backed away from the dresser and I could feel such a dark presence. I raced to the bottom of the stairs where I could see Drew pulling in the driveway. To sum it up, we sold that house in less than a month

and moved even sooner than that. I was done being haunted. Yeah. Drew felt so horrible for not being able to be there for me, but he never once hesitated to be my support or to answer any phone calls or face times at all hours of the night. If it weren't for his love and support and that of my friends, I never would have survived it. Oh, I'm so glad you have those people around you.

Be too. You deserve it. And that is the end of that Demon House tale. To end on a lighter note, I did get the home of my dreams this time. Yeah. No Demon Ghost Poltergeist and Fested Dresser did get the home of my dreams this time. Yeah. No demon ghost poltergeist and festive dresser included. Keep it weird, y'all. Yeah.

Oh, that makes me so happy. And that makes me happy. That scratch is so scary. That's a gash, really. Desiree, that's your name. I was like, I want to make sure I can say it. Oh, my goodness. Desiree.

Desiree. I'm so sorry that you guys all had to deal with like, crazy ass hauntings in your house. You guys handled it like champion. So well. But it's like supposed to be the one place that you can get away from all the crazy ass shit and all that. But then if it's the one place where all the crazy ass shit in the world is, where do you

go? It kind of looks like everybody ended up in the right place though. Yeah. It's like we're supposed to be anywhere. Yeah. I love it. I love that. I love you guys I want to read a ghost story now. I know I love a good ghost story Feeling so mounted oh

You have everything good job Well, we love yeah, and we hope you keep less than and we hope you keep it weird It's a weird that you live in a haunted house because oh my gosh it sounds so scary and I would be pooping my pants all the time or excuse me, shitting them. But make sure that your booty is dummy thick. Yeah, that is a B- Make sure your booty is dummy thick. C-c-c-c-c-c-c-c-c-c-c-c-c-c-c-c-c-c-c-c-c-c-c-c-c-c-c-c-c-c-c-c-c-c-c-c-c-c-c-c-c-c-c-c-c-c-c-c-c-c-c-c-c-c-c-c-c-c-c-c-c-c-c-c-c-c-c-c-c-c-c-c-c-c-c-c-c-c-c-c-c-c-c-c-c-c-c-c-c-c-c-c-c-c-c-c-c-c-c-c-c-c-c-c-c-c-c-c-c-c-c-c-c-c-c-c-c-c-c-c-c-c-c-c-c-c-c-c-c-c-c-c-c-c-c-c-c-c-c-c-c-c-c-c-c-c-c-c-c-c-c-c-c-c-c-c-c-c-c-c-c-c-c-c-c-c-c-c-c-c-c-c-c-c-c-c-c-c-c-c- I think, cuck cuck, cuck, cuck, cuck, cuck, cuck, cuck, cuck, cuck, cuck, cuck, cuck, cuck, cuck, cuck, cuck, cuck, cuck, cuck, cuck, cuck, cuck, cuck, cuck, cuck, cuck, cuck, cuck, cuck, cuck, cuck, cuck, cuck, cuck, cuck, cuck, cuck, cuck, cuck, cuck, cuck, cuck, cuck, cuck, cuck, cuck, cuck, cuck, cuck, cuck, cuck, cuck, cuck, cuck, cuck, cuck, cuck, cuck, cuck, cuck, cuck, cuck, cuck, cuck, cuck, cuck, cuck, cuck, cuck, cuck, cuck, cuck, cuck, cuck, cuck, cuck, cuck, cuck, cuck, cuck, cuck, cuck, cuck, cuck, cuck, cuck, cuck, cuck, cuck, cuck, cuck, cuck, cuck, cuck, cuck, cuck, cuck, cuck, cuck, cuck, cuck, cuck, cuck, cuck, cuck, cuck, cuck, cuck, cuck, cuck, cuck, cuck, cuck, cuck, cuck, cuck, cuck, cuck, cuck, cuck, cuck, cuck, cuck, cuck, cuck, cuck, cuck, cuck, cuck, cuck, cuck, cuck, cuck, cuck, cuck, cuck, cuck, cuck, cuck, cuck, cuck, cuck, cuck, cuck, cuck, cuck, c I'm going to go to the beach. Hey, Prime Members! You can listen to Morvid, Early, and Add Free on Amazon Music.

Download the Amazon Music app today, or you can listen Add Free with Wondery Plus and Apple Podcasts. Before you go, tell us about yourself by completing a short survey at Wondery.com slash survey. at Wondery.com slash survey.