Morbid - Episode 490: Listener Tales 77

Episode Date: August 31, 2023

It's Listener Tales 77 AND it's August so you know what that means.... It is obviously time for Halloween tales! This week we have a spook-a-dook installment filled with tales of bullet wounds that go undetected, sleep paralysis demons, deaths by elevators, and spooky nanny's. If you have a listener tale you’d like to send in please send it to [e-mail] 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 morbid network podcast. Hey, weirdo, Zamas! I'm a lame. I didn't expect that. And this is a morbid! It's listed our tails in case you could tell. That's why it's so silly goofy. We just had some little white teeth up in here. We had Reese's. Some of you are already yelling at me for saying Reese's. Oh, yeah.

You say Reese's? No, I say Reese's. Oh, hell yeah. That's not a good idea. That's not a good idea. Yeah, Mikey is giving a face. Do you say Reese's or Reese's? Reese's.

Yeah. See? What do you mean? Yeah, there's a big old argument that it's actually Reese's. Because of that apostrophe, it makes it like which is longing to Reese. Which like old argument that it's actually Reese's because of that apostrophe It makes it like which longing to Reese which like Grammatically, oh give it to you, but in reality no Reese's yeah, it's like it's I don't know It's a thing because they are not Reese's pieces even though yes that makes more sense as well. It's Reese's pieces

Oh, yeah, fuck yeah, you will not change my mind don't try. It's Reese's Pieces. Oh, yeah. Fuck yeah. You will not change my mind. Don't try. They are Reese's Pieces. That's the way it is, you know? It's just the way it is. Things are always going to be the same.

It will always be Reese's Pieces. We're never going to get away from that. Well, this is Listener Tales. And guess what? We handpicked a bunch of good ass Listener Tales for your little buttbots with the hell yeah. One, depth up. Debt up, depth, depth, depth, depth. And today we decided since it's August, which basically means it's fall.

That is Halloween. Halloween. I'm ready for Halloween. Halloween's here, and I decided that this year, I think I decorate mostly pretty early in September, but this year, September first. Oh, yeah. Let's fucking go. Halloween's already started to creep into my house.

I'm also going to your worst nightmare about like my most beautiful, mayor, Mickey's not so scary Halloween party. Yeah, I'm going. You're gonna have a lot of fun. I mean, I'm the party. Yeah, I'm going. You're going to have a lot of fun. I mean, I'm the most fun. And I'm going to wish that for you. I'm going to manifest that for you. Your girl ordered a lot of years. I love that. Thank you. That makes me happy. I'm glad. Yeah. It does. Thanks. And I mean, it's just anything Halloween makes me happy. All this stuff is out at like bath and bath everywhere.

And like we need to go to home goods together. Yeah, we gotta go to so many places. Let's go get Halloween decorations after this. We're gonna take Shina and Trid. Trid to haunted houses this year. Oh baby. You know, Shina Melwani, that beautiful Lune Moth. That's a Lune Moth and that's my Shishi.

So we're gonna take her to some haunted houses. Hell yeah, it scares her? It's fun. It's so fun. She has like a genuine terror. Yeah, it's wonderful. It's great. She's a very fun person to take to a haunted house. We're sick twisted people, okay?

We are, but you know, here we are. We're gonna do some Halloween tales. Some of these are loosely Halloween. Some of these just mention Halloween very briefly, but some of them are straight up Halloween. So, let's go. I think that's basically the theme is like it says Halloween in the tail somewhere.

Perfect. So I have to start this off with a literal bang. Oh, okay. Because this one's called listener tails, the time I got shot in the head and had no idea. Okay. So, all right idea. Okay. So, Alrighty. Whoa.

So the way that this listener did attach Pufa question mark, font size, 14 double spaced, read time, six minutes, 57 seconds, pictures included. That was just in the header. Yeah. That's a college student, right? They went for it. That's somebody with a degree, right there.

And you know what? Your name is Allison, because right there. They went for it. That's somebody with a degree right there. And you know what? Your name is Allison, because you told me I'd better use it. Allison! Allison, huh? Yeah. Max likes your yabos, Allison. In fact, he loves them.

So, hello, my favorite way it is. To start, my name is Allison. And yeah, better use it. Allison. Allison. Allison. This starry, I almost went very far. So far, boss. And this story is far too ridiculous

that anyone I know who hears it will absolutely know who I am anyway, to follow and suit with all the other listeners who write in. I cannot thank you both enough for being such a positive light. Even when telling some of the darkest tales, I'm a teacher, hero. And the last few years have been extremely difficult and debilitating. However, during this extremely tough time, you and your podcast have given me something to consistently look forward to, as both an escape and a place I can count on for acceptance and support. Hell yeah. Oh my and a place I can count on for acceptance and support. Hell yeah. Oh my, Alison, come to us for that.

I love you. We accept you. We support you. Hell yeah. You're a teacher. You're a badass. We love you. I've been working on submitting this story for almost a year because, well, life sometimes gets in the way. But I've been going through a lot in my personal life and you have both helped me realize that sometimes

you just need to put your happiness in yourself first. Fuck yeah. So here it is, bitches. Let's go. Yeah, Alison. I wasn't sure which story I should write to you. There was the time a kid hopped up on drugs, re-rended my car off the highway and left me trapped in a swamp in the dark while he tried to drive off so I sat in darkness alone

until a creepy white van of men climbed down into the dark ravine I was stuck in and saved me through wind out. So creepy after all. Send that one in. Please send that one in. The time I was one of the students accused of bringing bullets to my high school

and was called out of class to be locked in the cafeteria and have all of my belonging searched by teachers, police and administrators. No, it was not me. I am just the unl unluckyest human. And it just so happens that I was one of the few students out of the class when they found them because I have the bladder of a two-month-old and was on one of my casual trips to the bathroom from class. Jesus. Or the time I was at work after school and I was trying to give directions to Vietnamese speaking parents via map quests to find their daughter's sports game.

No, this was not going well and no, it was not successful. I'm so bad at directions. When suddenly a parent ran in the building, yelling that the buildings all over the city were blowing up and we needed to evacuate immediately without any further context. So in complete chaos, confusion and fear myself and another teacher that was still at work

had to try and rescue all the kids that were staying after school that day from the gas explosions in Lawrence, Massachusetts. I remember that, I feel like shit. I definitely remember that, holy shit. Damn. Finally, I decided to go with the time I was shot in the head and had no idea it happened for months.

Months, Salazar? You got stories. What a girl. A life sister. Share these stories. Sister Allison, what's going on over there? You got stories like her life sister. Sure. Sister. Sister Allison. What's going on over there?

So here we go. It was Halloween. See this one? It actually was. Halloween a few years ago. And I was at a party in Austin, Massachusetts. Hey. To set the scene this year and every other year in college, I had picked an extremely original and modest costume, a sexy cat.

We've all been there multiple times. I had also been just a wee bit intoxicated on Rubinoff, which let's be honest, is a mere name change from drinking rubbing alcohol. Yeah, Rubie's not where it's at. At the end of the night, I love that you just used a cute little nickname for Rubinoff. You're like, yeah, Rubie? Rubie. Ruby. I know, I know, I know, I know, I know, I know, I know, I know, I know, I know, I know, I know, I know, I know, I know, I know, I know, I know, I know, I know, I know, I know, I know, I know, I know, I know, I know,

I know, I know, I know, I know, I know, I know, I know, I know, I know, I know, I know, I know, I know, I know, I know, I know, I know, I know, I know, I know, I know, I know, I know, I know, I know, I know, I know, I know, I know, I know, I know, I know, I know, I know, I know, I know, I know, I know, I know, I know, I know, I know, I know, I know, I know, I know, I know, I know, I know, I know, I know, I know, I know, I know, I know, I know, I know, I know, I know, I know, I know, I know, I know, I know, I know, I know, I know, I know, I know, I know, I know, I know, I know, I know, I know, I know, I know, I know, I know, I know, I know, I know, I know, I know, I know, I know, I know, I know, I know, I know, I know, I know, know, I know, I know, I know, I know, I know, I know, I know, I know, two of my friends on a street corner trying to hail a taxi back to the house I shared with five other girls to have some type of after party.

Fun fact, I recently learned from your podcast that apparently, and in all shock to me, I guess I lived in a brothel then. Well, shit. Not so fun fact, listen or tell connection from terrifying home invasions, listen or tell. When my story took place, I lived on the same street in Boston like Emily did. What? And I was only about two houses down from where she lived. The exact same time her house was broken into and I had no idea it happened.

That is not a fun fact. That is wild. Also, that is the story we just looked it up because we're like, why does that sound familiar? It's the one where her and her boyfriend like chased. It would be like rapist. Yeah. Out of their house. And then they were featured on like the front of the, what was it the, I think it was the herald.

I love the herald. And she was like, I like literally looked like shit, you looked great. You were like, what the fuck, I was not. She was not prepared for a photo op. I was not ready for my close-up here. So that was, I fully, so that's wild that you were in the same two doors

down from her at the same time that listener till happened. This is wild. Connection. I have to say, it was extremely haunting to find out that we had been living right next to her, also in a brown stone with a fire escape up to our house. Holy shit. Additionally, two of my roommates had actually turned where that back door opened and to a shared bedroom

with their beds on the opposite side of the door, which in hindsight would have made us a perfect target for that creed. Yep, because that's pretty much exactly how we got into Emily's house. Oh, look, but back to the story. While waiting for the taxi, some people were getting a little too rowdy with their spooky spirit and alcohol consumption. And a car drove down the street past us, actually throwing beer bottles out of their car window,

you know, like normal people do. Why did people do things like that? Then all of a sudden, and in one quick moment, I heard a mind numbing, piercing sound, blaring in both my ears. Just imagine a dog's worst nightmare, or when you get ringing in your ears, but amplify that by a thousand.

My ears hurt. This oriented. I innocently looked at my friends and said, hey, am I bleeding? Oh, my God. My friend then proceeds to immediately rip off his shirt and wrap it around my head. Why did he do this, you might ask? Well, because blood was pouring out of my skull. That's a good reason.

That's a good reason. That's a great reason. In my fine college-daged drunken mind, my first thought was that someone hit me with one of those beer bottles causing the pain in blood. I also did not even consider the idea that maybe I should receive some medical attention. I was incorrect about both of these things. So what exactly was my medical plan?

Go back to our brothel, put a bag of frozen peas on the wound, and play some candy crush. Because for some reason, I thought I was invincible, especially when crushing those candies. That's forward. About a month or so later, I was shopping with some of my friends, and one of them looked at my head and goes, oh my god, Allison, there's a huge bug coming out of your skull,

you know, as friends, do you? The way I would have shot myself if I my God, Allison, there's a huge bug coming out of your skull, you know, as friends. The way I would have shot myself if I was you, Allison. Contrary to popular belief, I personally would never like to imagine the mere possibility of having a bug resonant in my skull. No. So naturally, I freaked out and looked at my head in a mirror. And what did I see? Something animalistic looking protruding out of my head.

Oh my God. And this is like a month later. Also, Allison sent a picture. She has pics. It's terrifying. Picks. It happened. Not knowing what it was and just deciding to believe my completely medically unqualified friend

that there was something disgusting in a live, turning me into a mutant conjoined twin. I brought this case to my mom who works in the medical field. After speaking with my mom, we did not know what it could be, but we assumed that it was definitely linked back to that Halloween night because, well, on that night, my head was bleeding profusely,

and it was in the same location of this, quote, unquote, bug. We cracked the case. Oh my God. Unbeknownst to me, my mom later told me that when I showed up at her house to inquire about the fact I was turning into a two-headed insect woman, she left out the fact that she had actually thought there was a 9-inch nail stuck in my skull and thought it looked like someone had shot me with a nail gun. Um, but what if it was, mom?

Mom! So we then proceeded to see a specialist to figure out what in the fuck was going on. Come to find out this entire time, I had been shot in the head with a BB gun and there was a bullet still lodged in my skull. What the fuck? I had to have surgery to have it removed. All the while, I just thought someone had hit me

in the head with a bottle and or Charlotte from Shar's web was chilling in my dome piece. Just imagine if I had been called down as a bullet suspect now instead of during high school. Or real. They're like, well, I think she's got them in her face on you. The doctor was able to safely remove the remaining piece of the bullet, which had compacted itself into my magically hard skull, Braggler.

And luckily, no, it was not nine inches. Thanks again, mom. Although I have now left with just a little skull where I was struck slash shot, it has been a great story shared by many of my friends to peers and co-workers Has been used in countless games of two truths and a lot is gonna say that and now serves as a cautionary tale to not drink Rubenoff Especially while dressed like a slutty cat why because sometimes people might just decide to shoot you in the head I never found out who decided to shoot me that night or why. Did their catches die and my outfit triggered them? Did I take the last pair of cat ears at the store? Honestly, the possibilities are endless.

Oh my gosh. But what I did find was a silver lining. I'm an extremely short individual. Hashtag represent a lady. And I realized that based on the location where the bullet hit me, if I had just been a little bit taller, the bullet most likely would have hit me directly in my temple.

And I would have died on a street corner in Cat Longeray. Sorry, mom and dad. That would have been really fucking traumatic. I have included a photo of the bug bullet still lodged in my skull, as well as pictures of me and my pup, because, well, I just love him so freaking much and know you would too. I love him.

So there you have it. Stay weird, but not so weird that. Take it away, yes. You go out with your friends and you're shitin' on Rubin' off in somebody's shoes who in the face and you have literally no idea and then you find out months later because oh my God, there's a bug man

crawling out of your head. I am beyond words. Also, you're beautiful. You are. And your dog is beautiful. Your pup is you are a beautiful pair. The two of you. That there's a legit picture of her with a baby gun in her head. Holy shit. Right there. It's there. Wild. Alison, that was unbelievable. Alison has like a really nice shade of blonde. Like I like that shade of blonde. You do have a great shade of blonde. Look at you. Look at you with your blonde.

Look at you. You and your puppy match and I love that. You look great. You survived getting shot in the head. You got tails that I would like to hear. You even sprayed in all those other ones. Because damn. That if you look at the picture, which we are,

the, if that, that is so close to your attention, that it's speechless. Yeah, that if she was a little taller, that would have hit her in the temple. 100%. Oh God, that made my hair hurt. Oh, and just, oh my God. Like, the like, picturing the sound.

Yeah, no. Horrible. I will not. I'm so glad you're okay, Allison. Seriously, Allison. Allison. Allison. Alicin, Alicin, Alicin. All right, I'm going to read this one called, My Sleep paralysis demons remind me to engage in self-care because it's me.

I'm a sore sleep paralysis demon. I literally picked that for you. I'm obsessed. Thank you. It says, hello, ladies. My name is Veronica. And yes, you can absolutely use my name. Veronica. Veronica.

I am a 32-year-old living in Las Vegas. Oh, you want me to say it a certain way. Nevada. Nevada? How do you say it? I never know how to say it correctly. It says Nevada. Nevada? How do you say it? I never know how to say it correctly. It says Nevada, not Nevada. Nevada.

Nevada, okay. Not Nevada. It's Nevada. Trust me, after living here for over six years, I've learned that Nevadians get a little bit testy about the pronunciation. Everybody does. They do. We all get pissed that everyone doesn't talk

the exact same way. I don't know why, but we all, I mean, I don't. But like, wait, but everybody does it. Everybody's pissed that we don't all say the same words, the same way across the fucking board. Dialect, dialect. I said, I said Nevada, my whole life. Me too, I've never said Nevada.

And you know what? Whatever. But you know what Veronica for you will Nevada. For you. For you. Nevada. Nevada losing all meaning. It truly is.

Well, it says, I just want to clarify that despite what the media tells you, Vegas locals do not live in hotels. We absolutely avoid the strip at all costs. And we know it's hotter than Satan's asshole after eating Taco Bell late at night. We don't like it either. Yeah, I'm not gonna lie, I kind of sucked there and I hated it. I unfortunately moved here from San Diego, California

to fortunately begin my wonderful life with my now husband. I love that. Congrats. Since moving, I have graduated with my masters and human and social services. And I'm like, I'm gonna say Nevada for you. You earned it.

You get three whos. And I am currently working on my fucking doctorate and human services focusing on prevention, intervention and advocacy. Oh, yeah, Veronica. The baddest bitch. I have come a long way in such a short amount of time. So I can't say I completely hate Vegas,

but I definitely don't plan on being here for the rest of my life. I have attached a puttafo with a listener tail attached for your reading pleasure. It's a long one, but I'm hoping it's worth it. It's gonna be worth it. And it's gonna be worth it. It says, so this is the part where I tell you guys how absolutely amazing you both are.

Ah, I got you. You are Veronica. Look at everything you've done. I'm sure you are Veronica. Look at every spot. I was gonna say, look at everything you've done. You're amazing. You're amazing. I stumbled upon morbid about, excuse me, around the pandemic, and I immediately knew

that I'd found my people. As the token spooky bitch in my family, Alina. I have turned everyone onto morbid, including my own mother. My husband will often ask me if I want to put the girls on. Oh my God! And do a puzzle or just sit and talk about the episode. I love that so much. Amazing.

Amazing. We even turned our daughters nine and twelve into morbid listeners. Oh my god. And they love you guys. We love them. We love them. We once took a road trip from Las Vegas to Southern Oregon or Oregon. Yeah. To Indian As nasty. The trachea nasty. Then down the California coast to San Diego and then back up to Vegas. And they asked if we could listen to morbid the entire 20 plus hours of that drive obsessed with them. I promise I bet the episodes were

before exposing them to certain ones. I trust you. I trust you. We usually just go for the spooky ones when the girls are around just to be safe. We'll do more of those for you. We will. We love the spooky ones when the girls are around just to be safe. We'll do more of those for you. We will. We love the spooky ones. Now, onto the reason as to why I am writing this listener tale.

You see, I've always been a bit sensitive to energy, whether it's people's energy or the unexplained. I wouldn't say I see dead people. I'm not as cool as the kid in the sixth sense, but I definitely sent shifts in energy or see shadows move from the corner of my eye. Now, I should note that I have always bit of spooky bitch. I have always loved the paranormal, horror, true crime, etc. And you honestly will probably find me with that type of book in my hand.

Look at it, you will ain't no. Hell yeah, the butcher in the rent at the tiny URL.com, slash the butcher in the rent, except don't go to that link, because I think it's not- I think it's done that service now. So just go to Barnes & Noble or Target or store near you. Anyway, so it was pretty clear to me early on that not everyone is as sensitive to these things as I am. I need to take a breath because I just said so many words. You said a lot of, I'll vamp

for you. Well, you say those words. Just the second book will be coming out at some point. So you're ready for that. I'm ready. You're great. And you're really smart. Me? Thanks. Yeah, you too. Okay. When I was around 12 years old, I began experiencing sleep paralysis. Me too. That's horrible.

Were you that young when it started? Yeah, I was, I think, I was around that age, I think. Ooh. Yeah. That's terrifying. It started out as small episodes here and there, so I dismissed it as nothing serious. While I knew what it was, I never thought it was a big deal. With my episodes only happening occasionally,

I didn't think it could get any worse. Boy was I wrong. As I got older, I began to surround myself with the wrong people. At 17, I went through a fairly abusive relationship. I'm sorry. That I kept secret for years. During that time, the sleep paralysis increased to the point

where I would jolt away, screaming, or crying almost every night. About a year later, I found myself in another relationship that lasted for almost seven years, which also turned out to be emotionally abusive. I'm sorry. Did not deserve that and I'm so sorry. Again, my sleep paralysis became worse and there would be times that I would wake up completely paralyzed and feeling like I was being suffocated.

Then in 2016, I reconnected with an old friend from high school. That friend is now my husband. Oh stop. I love that obsessed My husband and I have known each other for most of our lives. That's beautiful We dated shortly in high school before you go Nevada Nevada you deserve it you deserve it We still can't agree on who broke up with who back then, but he a thousand percent broke with me Nevertheless, we stayed in touch occasionally throughout the years as friends.

In July 2016, I came out to Vegas after a breakup and asked if you wanted to catch up. Look at you, bitch. If I can see you. I'm not a shit. You're just making things happen. Killing it. Today, we've been together for seven amazing years.

I love that. And I now have the pleasure of being a bonus mom to two beautifully brilliant girls that I love with all my soul. I'm gonna cry. I love this so much. Side note, we got married at the courthouse on December 13th, 2019.

It was a Friday, the 13th. Oh, yeah. And had a big wedding on Halloween, 2020. Hell yeah. In Crayob. It was amazing. And our wedding photographer dressed up as a banana. That's amazing.

I'm not sure how it gets any better than that. It doesn't, to be honest. No, it does not. Since being with my husband, I have only had sleep paralysis once. It was at the beginning of our relationship and we were dating long distance at the time. I was in Las Vegas visiting in job hunting so I could move. His room at the time was set up where the bed was directly next to the door. This detail is important later.

It was about 4.30 in the morning and I heard him call my name. This is weird because he typically leaves for work at 4 a.m. and it was just us in the house. I remember thinking to myself that maybe he forgot something, so I opened my eyes. The second I did, I quickly realized that I couldn't move. I immediately knew what was going on and began to panic,

but I still heard him calling my name. I began trying to wiggle my toes, fingers, anything that would break the paralysis, but nothing worked. Oh, that sounds like the most horrific. It's awful. I can't imagine. This time went on, excuse me, this went on for about a minute, and then I began to feel a warm sensation all over my body. I attempted to move again. I still couldn't move my body, but I was able to move my head. I slowly turned my head toward the door to see if I could turn on the light, and when I did, I saw a solid black shadow standing in the doorway looking at me. The door was cracked about an inch, and it was still pitch black, but the figure shadow was unmistakable. Listen, I know I'm absolutely blind without my glasses, but even my blind ass knew that this figure

was not my boyfriend. Whatever it was, it looked like it was waiting for me to acknowledge it, so it could enter the room and it was calling me. I kept thinking in my head, go away, you're not welcome over here, over and over in my mind. It felt like forever, but eventually the paralysis broke and I was able to move again.

The second it broke, I looked at the door and the shadowy figure was gone. Oh. While I don't have sleep paralysis anymore, I'm still fairly sensitive to surrounding energy, and I often experience lucid dreams when I'm stressed. Me too. Interesting. Being a doctoral student, I think it goes without saying that it happens fairly often. Yeah.

I occasionally have a recurring dream of an old woman looking into the kitchen window of our home. Sounds creepy, right? Well, that's what I thought, too. But when I see her, she has an awfully calming presence. That makes me feel like she isn't here to cause any harm. She never speaks, never tries to enter my home. She just looks at me and sometimes will gesture if she's trying to tell me something.

Ooh. I feel like she's one of your real spirit, guys. I don't love her. I do too. I told my husband about her and at first, he didn't like experiences. I don't love her. I told my husband about her and at first he didn't like it. I don't believe him. Me either. Drew would be like, fuck off. That's what he's told me that way. For a

period when he was younger, he lived in Italy where he says he experienced a lot of unexplained things. Since then, he's very hesitant about these types of interactions. So when I told him about the old woman in my dreams, he was quick to tell me not to let her in the house or even to speak to her.

Then the day occurred that forced me to come to terms with my sensitivity. I had the dream like always. The dream typically starts with me waking up in the middle of the night and going down, and excuse me, walking downstairs to get water. When I walk into the kitchen, I see the old woman looking into our window.

Oh, that'd be so creepy. I don't like that. However, this time something felt different. I immediately knew something was wrong. Oh, that'd be so creepy. I don't like that. However, this time something felt different. I immediately knew something was wrong. Oh, fuck that. I just, I read the next up. My whole body just went, whoo. Oh, you're just like, whoop.

Yeah, this wasn't even a womp. It was like, whoop, my mind. My mind. I'm stressed. The old woman began pointing at the front door as if she were telling me to open it. I must have gave her, or I'm so stressed. I don't like it. I must have given her I'm like, I must have given her a weird look because she pointed again with more urgency.

I shook my head and began to walk away when she began pounding on the window and yelling at me to let her in. I had chills over my entire body. Yeah, my whole body's chilling. The pounding then moved to my front door and grew louder and louder. I ran into our living room, which is right next to our kitchen,

and huddled up on the corner of the couch to get away from her, quote unquote. I instinctively knew that this was not the old woman, but some entity pretending to be her and trying to enter my home. Suddenly, the pounding stopped and everything went dead silent. I stood up and began to start towards the stairs to go back to bed. I know what you're thinking. How the hell do you just go after bed after that stairs to go back to bed. I know what you're thinking. How do you just go after bed after that?

To go back to bed after that? But I don't make the rules in my dream world. When I reached the first step, I heard from the other side of the door an old woman's frail voice. Why won't you let me in? Oh, God. I called for my husband, and the second I called his name, I woke up and there he was,

gnawing away right next to me on his side of the bed with our beagle in between us Oh a beagle I immediately felt a sense of peace and looked over at my bedroom door They're standing in the doorway was my cat. Oh, he was standing facing away from us as if he was guarding the door I still see the old woman on occasion, but she's just back to her normal self Just standing there and never speaking. Her presence is still calming, and I'm not afraid of her, despite the terrifying dream.

She even came the nights I found out two of my uncles had passed away, and she just smiled at me and nodded as if to tell me that they're okay now. Oh, I got chills. That's beautiful. I'm happy that you could separate that scary astrum from her, because like you said, it wasn't her. My husband and I have discussed these events at length, and I think a lot of my experiences

had to do with being constantly surrounded by negative energy, trauma, and stress. Now when they happen, if they're particularly bad, I just take it as a reminder to engage in self-care and be mindful of what's going on in my life. I love that. Well, ladies, there it is. My long-winded story about how my sleep paralysis demon reminds me to engage in self-care and kick out the negative energy in my life. The people pleasing side of me says to apologize

for the long story. No. But I already hear what you're going to say, so I won't. In typical fashion, I have included pictures of our fur babies. Hell yeah. For your viewing pleasure. Our beagle's name is Luna.

The black cat is nox. Nox, I have a little bodyguard. Although my daughter says he's likely my Nox. Nox, I'm saying that. My little bodyguard. Although my daughter says he's likely my familiar. Oh my God, I love your daughter. And our sweet little angel, Rabbit, is Severus. Severus. Oh, I'm sorry. We sadly lost Severus in January 2020,

but he still makes his presence known. And yes, all our animals have Harry Potter themed, have a Harry Potter theme to eat. I was gonna ask. Anywho, thank you both for all that you do and for taking the time to read my story with all the love and spooky vibes for Veronica. Veronica!

Oh my God, your cat looks like my loxie. All your animals are beautiful muffins. Oh my God, I love them. And you are also a beautiful muffin. You're a beautiful muffin. I love the one of the beagle and the cats sitting next to each other. Right.

That's so cute. That's so cute. They're so cute. Wow. Oh, and Severus is adorable. Thanks for that Veronica. That was terrifying. That was a terrifying, interesting one though. Yeah.

Well, my next one is going to be called Daddy Issues, Death by Elevator, and a message from Beyond the Grave. Let's fucking go, girl. Let's go. Hello, my wonderfully weird spooky sassy soul sisters. My name is Roxy. Even you can use my name and any other names used in the story. I'm just the biggest fan of the pod in the two of you.

You guys are my besties and we hang out in laughs three times a week and we've never even met. But it feels like chilling with my homies, so that's what I'm going to call it. Chilling with my hilarious spooky homies while talking about murder. So thank you for your delightfully morbid banter and your compassionate storytelling. You guys are the freaking best, never ever changed. And change, and Alina, congratulations on the book, thanks. I saw it in Target the other day, and loudly exclaimed, hey, I know her.

And you know, I bought me a copy and can't wait to read it, thanks. I've attached a double space putt of a of my listener tale, and if you read it on the pod, I just might explode into a million pieces. But after I put myself back together, I will share it with everyone I know because girlies this story as well. Oh hell yeah.

This is a very long, deeply personal story that twists and turns for over 20 years of my life and involves a science, an elevator shaft, and a possible murder. Well shit. Writing it all out was elevator shaft, and a possible murder. Well shit. Writing it all out was strangely therapeutic, oh I'm glad. And I still can't believe that it all actually happened, but it did.

This reads out of round 15 minutes long, but it'll be worth it. So strap in weirdos and hold onto your butts. I feel like we haven't said hold onto your butts in so long. We really haven't, hold onto your butts. Hold onto your booty. So to begin this story, let's jump into our time machines and travel way, way back to

a time before the internet and social media. And disinformation had polluted the human landscape. A pure and magical era of grunge and gangster rap. Jelly shoes and pencil thin eyebrows, baby doll dresses and an MTV that actually played music. A time when a sweet innocent 12-year-old me played with pogs and tomogaches, collected everything Lisa Frank watched us and creak and plastered my walls with posters of Jonathan Taylor Thomas and Hanson.

A golden age of humanity. The 90s. I knew you were going to sing it. I just felt every part of that, the pugs. Oh, okay. What is pugs? Oh, it's really hard to explain. There's these little, I honestly, I don't know how to describe.

If you look them up, they're like little discs and you would collect them. They had all different kind of things on them and then you would use a slammer to slam the pugs. It was a game, but you would create them. You would create caps? No, to slam the pugs. It was a game, but you would create them. You know, they're called pugs. But they're, like, you would trade them back and forth.

So you get like slammers, which were medley and kind of heavy. And the pugs were like, slammers and slammers. See, well, you can get them on Amazon if you want some. I might buy some pugs and slammers and just show the girls and they'll be like, that's weird. Make them play with pugs and slammers. Let's put it on. I don't even remember how to play. I just remember trading.

How many get you some? I can get them to play with them. Get me some pogs and slammers. I just bought you some pogs and slammers, okay? You go, like, okay. You go, like, you just, like, dover was like, what the fuck are you two talking about? Are you guys okay?

All right. I'm not a bad boy. I'm not a bad boy. I'm not a bad boy. I'm not a bad boy. I'm not a bad boy. I'm not a bad boy. I'm not a bad boy. I'm not a bad boy.

I'm not a bad boy. I'm not a bad boy. I'm not a bad boy. I'm not a bad boy. I'm not a bad boy. I'm not a bad boy. I'm not a bad boy. I'm not a bad boy. I always believed to be my dad, dad. My mom married him when I was too young to remember, and they had my brothers and we were a family. And I just always thought he was my dad. Well, then he could be your dad. Yeah, my mom never had the heart to tell me

about my real father and how he abandoned us when my mom was just 16 years old and very pregnant with me. Oh, that's awful. He was a much older man, and my mom was an infatuated young girl. She was completely in love with him. She had believed that he loved her

and would be there for her to be a father, but her teenage dreams were shattered. He wasn't capable of being a husband or a father. He was a self-selfish womanizer and he just couldn't be tied down. So he flew the coop. That's an old timey way of saying that bitch ghosted his pregnant teenage girlfriend

for drugs, women, and freedom. This absolutely devastated my mom. She was 16 and pregnant alone and completely heartbroken. But instead of drowning in her pain in sorrow, she did what she had to do. She grew the F up and took care of her daughter because she's a badass queen mama bear. And even at 16 and with a broken heart,

she could not be stopped. What a fucking strong ass girly. She gave me the best life she could, and I freaking love my mommy. Oh my god. I love that. That is really sweet. That's just like touched my soul. That's adorable.

I'm so glad. Oh, I love that. Eventually, she moved on. She married my stepfather when I was three, and she hid her pain away and focused on her family. And she never told me about the man who crushed her and left her alone while she was pregnant. I mean, I can't imagine there's ever a right time

to tell your young child that their daddy isn't their daddy and that there is some strange man out there that shares your DNA and looks just like you and you have the same weird walk even though you've never even met. Oh, that's weird. Which brings us back to 1995. When I was 12 years old and completely out of the blue. My, really almost the same age girl.

I was 12 years old and completely out of the blue, my real dad called. He wanted to meet me. Oh, that was shocking. I was shocked. That's fun, yeah. That's a bad time. I was shocked and confused,

and it took a lot of very uncomfortable conversations with my mother, but she told me the truth about everything and told me that it was up to me to decide if I wanted any type of relationship with this stranger. She is such a good mama. She sounds like one. And that she would support whatever I chose. She was a good mom and she wanted me to be happy.

Oh my God, I love your mom. At the end of it all, I decided that I just had to know. I don't blame you. So I decided to meet him. And this began a strange and dysfunctional relationship with a father who would later make me regret ever meeting him and leave me with a lifetime of trauma and daddy issues. Once a deadbeat, always a deadbeat, I suppose, it has taken decades of therapy, but eventually I've learned to forgive and heal. He also was damaged and abandoned by his father,

and as we all know, hurt people, hurt people. But this story isn't about him. The story is about his mother, my guardian angel. The grandmother that I never got to meet, but that has loved me for my entire life. May. Oh, I love that name. As I got to know my new dad, I learned of a long-lost family that I had never met. My dad had two younger sisters, Kathy and Sandra, or Sam, as everyone called her. They lived in Tacoma, Washington, and so did their mother, May. We lived in Southern California, so we began writing letters. So for Ash and any other young ones that may be listening, letters are how people used to communicate in the before times. It's basically an email that you write up paper and put in the mailbox and then literal pigeons deliver it to you. LOL, the 90s were wild.

Contrary to popular belief, I have written the letters before. Anyways, I began to get to know my new family. We talked on the phone and wrote letters for a few months, and I learned that my grandmother, May, had been desperately wanting to meet me. She had been furious with my father for abandoning me and had begged him to do the right thing so that she could be part of her only granddaughter's life.

Oh, that's like heartbreaking. Right? My father's terrible life choices had taken its toll on their relationship. And over the years, they had barely spoken. May cried on the phone when she told me how badly this had hurt her and how much she wanted to be my grandma and make up for all the time she had lost.

Oh, I love men. So we made a plan to meet and my mother agreed. I would fly out to Washington from my 13th birthday and a few weeks and meet my new family. Back then, you had to actually buy paper tickets to fly. That is really wild. How much that's changed. I was gonna say that.

Like that, I've never experienced it. So she bought them and she mailed them to me and I anxiously awaited my new adventure with my sweet loving new grandma and my new aunties. I was so excited and I imagined all the fun things we would do together and the memories we would make. Everything was gonna be great, except that it wasn't. Fate had something else in mind. Oh no. A couple of weeks later I'm sitting in science class and my name comes over the loudspeaker.

I'm getting called to the principal's office. As I open the door to enter, I see my mother there. Her eyes wet with tears. She can't look at me or speak. The principal or counselor, whoever the fuck to out was come, who comes over and sits down in front of me, you know, the cool adult way, or excuse me, the cool adult way, backwards in a chair. They always think that's like going to let them love a thing.

That's going to make it chill. Yeah. Like you just like, yeah. He takes a, you just look dumb. Sit in the chair the right way, asshole, he takes a, you just look dumb. Sit in the chair the right way, asshole. He takes a moment and then he says something. I'll never forget sweetheart. There's no easy way to say this.

So I'm just gonna tell you straight, your grandma fell down an elevator shaft. She's dead. I feel like you could have cut that a little differently. I feel like that, yeah, there's no easy way to tell her that, but I don't know. Most of like, I don't really use that in. You needed to know in that moment that she fell down an elevator. Your grandmother passed away. Correct. Yeah.

Seriously? That's what he said. Cold as ice and without blinking. It was chilling. How this man was hired to work with children? I'll never know. I looked at my mother. She just starts sobbing. Now this next part still confuses me to this day. I suppose being a child and having my first experience with death, all these grownups looking at me waiting for a response and the cold away in which I was just told the most horrific thing I had ever heard in my life, something snapcrackle popped in my brain and I started laughing.

Yes, laughing, like a complete fucking psychopath. Upon hearing the news of my grandmother's tragic death, I began laughing maniacally. I would bet that counselor guy changed his methods on delivering tragic news to children after that fucking day. I'm fairly sure I scared the absolute fuck out of him. And he probably thinks I grew up to be serial killer by a digress.

I totally understand that, though. I'm the same way. I don't handle news. Well, like that. No.. I don't handle news. Well, like that. And I don't handle emotions. Well, like that. So yeah, my mom saw her daughter's brain break into pieces, and she snatched me up, and yeeted me the fuck out of there while I laughed and cried and screamed through the hallways of my middle school. Oh.

May was dead, and I never got to meet her. Oh, that hurts my heart for you. The next few days were a blur. I talked to my dad and my aunts, and everyone was completely destroyed. My aunts, and everyone was completely destroyed. My aunts Sam was extremely close to me. She had been with her moments before this happened.

My dad never got to make amends with his mother. Everyone was just in complete shock and sick with grief. She fell down an elevator shaft. What the actual fuck? How can this happen? Just fucking how? No one wanted to talk to me about the details of her death. Understandably, I mean, I was so young

and this was just so fucked up. All I knew that there was a faulty elevator in her apartment building and she stepped in and it wasn't there. My God. She fell five stories to her death and that was it. But there was so much more. I never got the real story until many years later when

I was a grown woman, but that comes later. Oh. The next part will forever just trip me the fuck out. So remember when I said my grandma bought me tickets to come meet her for my 13th birthday? Well, I got on my first plane ever with the paper tickets that may have bought me and me and I use those tickets to go to her funeral. That's so fucking. So I fly to Washington. My dad picks me up at the airport and takes me to meet with my aunts and their husbands. It's also strange and sad.

I don't know any of these people. They hug me and they cry a lot. I don't really know how to act. I want to cry with them, but I'm mostly just confused. I mean, I just met all of you, and now we're all crying together. And also, she fell down an elevator shaft. What the fucking fuck?

That's way too much to process. Anyway, after the initial awkwardness, the trip actually ended up being pretty awesome and quite memorable. I slept at May's apartment with my dad. I got May's room. It smelled like rose water with a touch of cigarette smoke. She had a cute little,

she had cute little shit all over her apartment, you know, like Chachkees, but mostly funny gag shit, like a dick clock and a tiny statue of Jesus smoking out of a bottle. Oh yeah, me. She was definitely my type of lady. I love me. My new cool. I love me.

Oh my God. My new cool ons took me out in Seattle for my birthday. We all got our belly buttons pierced together. Remember, this is 1995. So piercings were super new, and I must say, belly buttons pierced together. Remember, this is 1995. So piercings were super new, and I must say, I was the coolest girl at my middle school after that trip. We go to the funeral, and of course, super fucking sad.

I meet all my great aunts and uncles and maize friends, and it's also surreal and strange. I forever bonded with my new super cool hip-funny and soon-to-be best friend, Aunt Sam. She has a star character in this tale. Sam is like 12 years older than me, similar to you two. After May died, she moved back to California, and we've been very close ever since. I love that. Oh. And as I've gotten older, she's legit my best friend slash soul sister now.

Hell yeah, brother. It's weird, because we both see May and each other. She lost her mom. I lost a grandma. I always needed, but could never have, and we gained each other. May and each other. She lost her mom, I lost a grandma, I always needed, but could never have and we gained each other. May brought us together. So can I get a mother fucking shout out to Sam.

Fucking love you girl. Shout out to the stars. Yeah, Sam. Sam for the fucking win. Sam, Sam, Sam, Sam, Sam, Sam, Sam. So before I jump years ahead, there's one more very strange and dark thing. I must add to the already very strange and dark and very life-changing story about the trip I took to celebrate my birthday.

Meet my family and put my grandmother to rest. May was cremated. She also left her 1994 Bronco to my dad, and he needed to drive it back to Southern California along with her ashes. So this trip, this crazy trip wraps up with an now 13-year-old me in the passenger seat of Maze Bronco, my brand-ass new dad driving me from Tacoma, Washington to San Diego with my cremated grandmother in a box in my fucking lap. You seriously can't make the shit up my dudes. If that isn't morbid, I don't know what is. That is morbid TM. And so the years passed, as they do, I stayed close with my new family. I would go to family dinners and holidays. And sometimes I would hear things about May's deaths,

but it was also mysterious. And no one wanted to talk about it. I can't blame them. This story is all kinds of fucked up. But from what I could piece together, the official story was this. May lived on the fifth story of an apartment building, so she had to take an elevator to go to and from her place. Apparently, the elevator the tenants used was out of

service, so they all had to use the service elevator until it was repaired. The service elevator had to be opened manually. Never heard of such a thing, but okay, super sketch, am I right? Yes. So apparently, after having dinner with her daughter Sam, may went home to her apartment where her boyfriend was waiting for her, we'll call him Dave. So apparently after having dinner with her daughter Sam, May went home to her apartment where her boyfriend was waiting for her. We'll call him Dave. So apparently this guy Dave was living with May. Which is kind of weird because I stayed in May's apartment and I remember no sign of this Dave.

Anyway, Sam said goodbye to May and she went into the apartment building. Within one hour May was dead after apparently opening the faulty service elevator to leave her apartment. The elevator was not there andulty service elevator to leave her apartment. The elevator was not there and she fell five stories to her death. This entire story is completely full of holes and makes literally no sense. Right, because if she was going into the apartment building, why would she open the door and go, open the elevator door and go back down? Yeah, and she knew that the elevator was broken.

There was a lawsuit filed against the owners of the building and the elevator company for gross negligence and a small settlement was given to me as three children. After legal fees, it amounted to around 50 grand a piece. If you ask me, that's a pretty shitty settlement after losing your mom to that kind of negligence. But what do I know? When I got a little older in Sam and I grew closer,

I started asking her questions about what she thought about everything and what really happened to me. She told me that she had always had her suspicions about Dave. He was super possessive and controlling. He was a free loader who refused to work or pay for anything. And Sam just always had a bad feeling about him. And also, why was she leaving her apartment that night

right after getting home? Was there some kind of argument? Was she so frantic and stressed had a bad feeling about him. And also, why was she leaving her apartment that night right after getting home? Right. Was there some kind of argument? Was she so frantic and stressed that she opened the elevator door and just jumped in without checking? Was she afraid?

Or was she pushed? And how come I never met Dave? Oh, right. Could it be because he skipped town only days after May's death? That's right, folks. Days after his live-in girlfriend died under very suspicious circumstances,

Bucking Dave here packed up and left, taking everything he could with him, including draining May's bank accounts. And the police never investigated this. Dave was never heard from again, except when he tried to sue my dad for May's 1994 Bronco that he felt entitled to for some reason. Sketchy is fuck, Dave.

Sketchy is fuck. There was an investigation, both by local police and a private investigator hired by the family. There's no evidence to prove that Dave had anything to do with May's death, meaning there's no proof, but things still don't quite add up. We definitely have our suspicions about what really happened that night. No, same. Now, let's jump forward a few years to 2018 or so.

I know this story is taking forever, but trust me, it's worth it in the end. I love it. It's been a ride. May has been gone for over two decades. I'm doing hair at a really cool spot in San Diego, shadow tall, my hairdresser's out there. So I'm at this team building exercise thing at the salon I work at. The boss lady got a medium to come to the shop and do a group reading for us.

Super fun, right? So she gets started and kind of bounces around the room a bit before getting to me. She looks at me and says, there's a woman coming through that wants to talk to you, paternal, or maternal, maybe a grandmother. Her name sounds like spring. Do you know who I'm talking about?

Chills, taken aback. I said, may. Her name sounds like spring. Oh my God. The medium goes on. She says she's never, she never knew you in life, but that she's always been with you, looking after you. She says she was there when your son was born,

and she watches over him too. Ruined me. As you can imagine, I was overwhelmed with all the feels and the tears just started flowing like a faucet I couldn't turn off. I was ugly crying all up in that bitch. I finally got up the strength to ask, can you tell me how she died? There's just some really weird stuff surrounding her death and her family has always wanted to know the truth.

Oh, God. The medium just kind of stared at me for a moment. She grabbed the top of my head and shuttered. Then she started to speak. Are you sure? Yes, please just tell me. I said trying to bet my best to keep from snottying all over my own face. She was hit on the head and pushed. Killed. I'm sorry. The room fell silent. I thanked her for telling me and I ran out. It was intense, my dudes. I immediately called Sam and we cried together for a bit before deciding that we were going to do something totally crazy. We were going to find out the truth one way or another.

Sam and I would consider ourselves a bit witchy. We dabble with tarot and spells and all things spiritual and mysterious, I fucking love you too. Loves it. We're woo, yeah. Halloween, we win was right around the corner. There it is, Cayman. Yep.

Or is the pagans call it? Sowing. Sowing is a time of year when the veil between our worlds and the spirit world is the thinnest. I know you both know what I'm talking about and probably could guess where I'm going with this. Hell yeah, brother. So yeah, we're doing a fucking sayonce, yo.

Screegee board, candle, circle, assault, the works. We were gonna conjure up May's spirit and ask her what in the actual fuck had happened. So we began making plans for a saun say ounce and finally getting the truth. It was fucking on. The say ounce started off slow. We fucked with the board for a while

before getting anything without before getting anything beside a few words and a lot of goodbyes. No one wanted to talk to us. But we're persistent little bitches, so we kept trying and eventually started chanting May's name. What can I say? I guess the moment got away with us.

We called for May to come through. We closed our eyes and put all our collective energy and focus on her and then it happened. The air got thick in the smell of rose water with a touch of cigarette smoke filled the room. Oh my gosh. Sam looked up at me, she's here. Holy shit.

I have full chills on my body. I'm getting like, you know how this body will warm? I'm getting like, I'm literally my whole body is chilled right now. This is a fucking tale. This is a listener tale. This is the listener tale. We started asking questions,

more just to confirm her identity than anything else. It was male, right? She knew my son's name, she knew when she died, she knew Sam's birthday, it was her. We could smell her and feel her presence. It was warm and comforting. The plan chat moved pretty slowly at first,

like it was taking a lot of energy to come through, as if we were disturbing her slumber. After a while, Sam finally blurtes out, mom, were you murdered? The million dollar question. The plan chat moves swiftly up the board. Yes. Sam dissolves into sobs. I put her shaking hands back onto the plan chat as she cried. Grandma, I ask, do you want us to find him? Do you need justice? The plan chat moves again, no. And then it slowly spells out the word, happy. Oh my God.

And then she was gone. We can almost feel her leave. The smell of roses and tobacco just vanishes. We hug each other and we cry. We cry a lot. After that night, Sam and I decided to let Mae rest. We both felt that her spirit is at peace and that she's okay. She's happy and she doesn't need justice or vengeance or whatever or whatever.

Fuck Dave. He has to live with what he did and let me say that both Sam and myself believe wholeheartedly that that garbage human That is Dave murdered May and got away with it But he will get his in life or the next Karma doesn't forget and it will find you Sam made all of us all of us these cute little lockets with a bit of May's ashes in them, and I keep mine around my rearview mirror and I give her love every day.

And I believe she looks after me always. I never knew her in life, but she's had such a profound effect on me and the woman I've become. Rest in peace, Mae. Oh. Okay, I know, I'm crying too. I had no idea this would be such an emotional rollercoaster.

Wow, I literally broke down multiple times while riding this. I just think it's the craziest, most fucked up story ever, and I sometimes can't even believe it's real and that it happened to me. Well, thank you for reading my tale. I hope you guys enjoyed it, and that it didn't traumatize you too much. Love both you spooky bitches to itty bitty pieces. Stay safe, stay cool, and always remember to keep it weird.

But not so weird that you abandoned your child, only to come back 12 years later to traumatize her more with her grandma's funeral and meeting an entire family she never knew. And by taking her on a 40-hour road trip with her grandma's ashes on her lap and then being a complete ass hat to her for the rest of her life, for leaving her dead inside and wondering why? Fuck you, dad. But do keep it so weird that you become best friends with your long-loss aunt and solve your grandma's murder

by reaching into the veil into the grapey aunt. Peace out, weirdos, Roxy. Roxy, you're the fucking coolest. Roxy, fucking Roxy. Roxy. Holy shit, Roxy. That fucked me up. That, I mean, may forever.

May forever. You and Sam forever. I love your relationship. Holy cow. I love that you got to have that relationship. I know. I love that May told you she's happy where she is and that makes me happy that she's happy.

And gave you some kind of peace. Yeah, that just told you know what? Don't worry about it. I'm happy where I am. Right. Everything's okay. And that I would've been with you always. Right.

I was there when your son was born. Like that's beautiful. Like that hurts me. And like I watch over him too. Like that's gonna make me cry. I know. And then me feel things. You didn't get a dad out of it,

but you got a best fucking friend sister out. Oh yeah! And that is fucking cooler than a dad in my opinion. And you have the best fucking friend sister. Oh yeah! And that is fucking cooler than a dad, in my opinion. And you have the best fucking mom. Nope. And it sounds like your stepdad was pretty great too, because he was just your dad dad. He was your dad dad.

He could just be your dad. He's great. He's great. He kept him, he was like, I'm your dad. Just because your dad contributed to making you, doesn't mean he's your dad. Exactly, so you know what, you're killing it. And I love you, and I love that you're a 90s bitch,

and I love, you're awesome, Roxy, so thank you for that. Roxy also brought you back, fuckin', what are these? Pogs and slammers. Now you get Pogs, you get Pog retro caps and a neon purple storage too. Hell yeah. Roxy forever. Oh yes.

You're welcome. I'm so excited. I'm happy for you. You can get me a Neopet because those just came back. You actually don't purchase them at all, but like make me an account or something. Okay, I'll make you an account. They're in cool. I feel as though we have time for one more. I feel like we do. Do you feel as though? I feel as though. All right, I'm gonna keep with the trend here and do spooky nanny saves lives. I love that. Poor one out for nanny's and Grammys love that.

It says, hey Mierdo's and depthb. Hope you lovely people are doing well. My name is Mickey, you can use it. It's a nickname for my great grandfather, excuse me. Yes, like the mouse. I've been listening to your podcast since May of 2022. It was introduced to me by my ex. Think shithead, affectionately, be part of them good terms. I started from the beginning and have slowly

been making my way through all the episodes. I have a bad habit of bringing multiple episodes, or bingeing multiple episodes, and then forgetting all about the pod for a few weeks. Please forgive me. It's okay, I forgive you. That's okay. Y'all are a great company on the super long drives. I go on to visit my parents, keeping me company, and from going insane by myself with no one else to talk to, but my Squishmallow, Roadtrip Companion. But seriously, you guys are so awesome and put so much effort into your work on the podcast. It's all inspiring. Aw, thanks, mate.

Thank you. Alana, congrats on the success of your book. Thank you. I have not read it yet. Forgive me, I am a ball of anxiety TM. That's okay. On a good day and struggle with suspenseful books and shows. But I've heard a lot of wonderful things about it and I have added it to my ever-growing to-read to-be-read list. Thank you. Ash, congrats on the engagement.

Thank you. And if it has happened before you read this tale, the wedding, it hasn't, but thank you. I've been meaning to send this tale in for a while now. It's been sitting half finished for like three months, but I finished it, and I'm very excited to share it with you. It's a bit of a lighter, more wholesome tale compared to some others that you've read

and might be a good palette cleanser after a heavy tail. There you go. And it was like you knew. Attached as a 14 point font double space potha-fa for your viewing pleasure. Woo! I apologize for how absurdly long it is. If you can't tell by now, I'm a rambler through and through. I hope you enjoy this spooky little tale about a spooky nanny much love, Mickey, like the

most. I added like the most part. Mickey likeanny much love Mickey like the mouse. I added like the most part. Mickey like the mouse. Mickey like the mouse. Hey weirdos, this is a pretty long tale with stories with in the story. That's fine. All about my grandma's experience with a ghost simply known as maim. Maim. I think my family specifically on my mom's side is sensitive to ghosts or something. Mainly due to the members of the family having some sort of experience or interaction that was not easily explained. For example, my mom smelling my long dead grandfather's cologne in a place he never visited since he died before it was built. Whoa, that's wild. I've even had an experience that maybe could have been a ghost.

In college, I lived in an old frat house turned into a sh- into shared housing that was definitely haunted. But this is not about me. So maybe I'll send in that one on a different day. Please do. Today, however, I wanted to offer up a more happy and comforting spooky story that my grandma told me when I was young, probably like third or fourth grade, and that I remembered recently after listening to your podcast. I was able to catch up with her over Thanksgiving and get the full story, including the history of the house. I'm sure you get this all the time, but apologies for any rambling and confusion. My writing skills are mediocre at best. Never upon true.

Also, this will probably be pretty long, so feel free to skip over one or two of the encounters, or any of the added history or commentary and parentheses, though I have a good feeling you won't. Hell no. And I won't. Anyways, on with the story. My mother grew up in a smaller city, north of San Francisco in California, with her parents and sister and a cute old, little old house on a busy street in the seventies. Hell yeah.

I've added pictures at the end of the front of the house. Thank you, Vintagey House, with a decent front yard, a huge wraparound porch, ghouls, and a pool in the backyard. Total, a cube. Oh, I haven't looked at it, but I'm excited to. Total American Dream Home. The house had a couple different owners before my grandparents. My mom and her sister moved in.

And I believe at one point, it was a government or office building at one point, not really relevant, but still kind of cool. True. My aunt was either a very new baby or just not born yet when they moved in and shared one of the bedrooms with my mom while my grandparents used the other. There was an attic, which was later converted into my grandparents' new bedroom and gave my mom an aunt separate rooms.

The bedrooms were in the front of the house facing the road, with the living room in the middle and the kitchen slash dining room and the back of the house, facing the yard and an unattached garage. I really hope this makes sense. It does. It does, I can picture it. Right off the bat, things started happening in the house

that couldn't really just be explained away. And I mean, like, right away, the first night they spent in the house after buying it, my grandma recalled waking up to hearing all the plates and other dishes that were not quite fully unpacked, rattling away in the dining room.

Ooh. My grandpa was either sound asleep or woke up to it as well, and my three-year-old mom and maybe born, maybe not tiny baby aunt were fast asleep in their room. Nobody else on the house. My grandma swears it only happened that first night as well. She likes to think that it was ma'am making herself known as a resident in the house.

I'm obsessed with ma'am already. I love that. She's like think that it was ma'am making herself known as a resident in the house. I'm obsessed with ma'am already. I love that. She's like, just so you know I'm down here. Ma'am in the house. What? What? Not in a get out of my house kind of way,

but more in a, hey, I'm still here. You're cool to be here too. We gotta be roomies for a bit, okay? Okay. Way super chill. After that. Super chill. Super chill.

After that, my grandma always felt a somewhat comforting presence in the house. Never threatening, at least not towards my family. Never hostile, just there and watching over them. As time went on, however, it became very clear that while man was watching the whole house, she very clearly had a favorite, my aunt. Oh, man.

Remember, my aunt was basically a newborn when this all started. Brand new baby in the world, man probably thought my grandparents needed an extra hand to keep herself safe and healthy. My grandma thinks Mams' love of my aunt is due to the fact that she was the first baby, maybe, to be born and raised in that house.

And that Mams saw my aunt as her baby too. And since my aunt was also her baby, she was Mams to protect. Oh, I love that a lot. One instance of mams protective instincts came out when my aunt was still pretty young, meaning likely under a year old. My grandma was in the front yard doing some cleaning,

tending to the plants and palm trees while my mom played nearby. My aunt at the time was sleeping in a stroller, parked in a sunny spot near the palm trees. While my grandma's tending to the plants in the yard, she suddenly got an overwhelming feeling of something telling her she needed to move my aunt's stroller. She took a second to look at my mom and aunt. Mom was still playing, having a good time, and my aunt was still happily sleeping in the

warm sun. My grandma brushed off the feeling as, you know, just a weird passing thought. A few seconds later, however, the feeling came back even stronger. Something was telling her, hey, you need to move that stroller right now, move it. Ooh, ooh, that gave me chills again. This time she listened to the feeling, moving my aunt and her stroller away from the sunny spot

to a more shaded area. This made her a little fussy, but in the end, was really, really fortunate. As but a few moments later, a big ol' palm found from from from from from one of the trees came crashing to the ground landing exactly where the stroller was sitting. Now I don't know how much you know about palm fronds but those suckers can get really freaking heavy. I didn't know that. Like way up to a hundred pounds. I shit you know. And the palm trees at the house were not short trees either. So this big palm front comes crashing down from probably,

I don't know, 20 to 40 feet in the air, weighing 50 to 100 pounds and lands in the spot. My aunt was just taking a little nap in her stroller. Literally minutes before my grandma moved her. Damn. Can you fucking imagine that? Your poor grandma must have lost her shit. Yeah, I'd be ruined for days. I'd be like, well, we're a gorgor football. before my grandma moved her. Damn. Can you fucking imagine? I'm not terrifying. Your poor grandma must have lost her shit.

Yeah, I'd be ruined for days. I'd be like, well, we're a gorgor football, but yeah, I'd be like, well, my heart stopped three times, so I'm gonna have to rest. Yeah, we're never leaving this again, thanks. My grandma believes it was ma'am telling her to move the baby as if she knew the palm frond was about to fall and wanted to protect my aunt.

Another instance happened when my aunt was about two a years old, able to walk, but still pretty young and not super aware. My grandma was out running errands with my mom and my grandpa was watching my aunt at the house while also doing some workout back as my aunt took a nap. That baby loves to nap. She loves to nap. After getting some good work done, my grandpa decided to lay face down on a lounge chair. The reclinable type, you know, with the bar in the back that can just adjust the height of the the backrest. Oh, those are the best

He ended up dosing off for a while. I assume it was one of the sunny or summer days, but I'm not a hundred percent sure Suddenly he was startled awake by the feeling of an ice cold hand on his shoulder He looked up and saw no one near him. He did however see my two-year-old aunt Tautaling her way down the driveway toward the very busy street that they lived on. My aunt must have woken up from her nap and decided to go exploring, following the clear path from the back porch door to the driveway.

He ran and grabbed her, but had no idea where the cold tailed eyes back came from. Ma'am was like, wake up! Ma'am was like, sir. Oh, wake up! She was like, your toddler's waddling for the streets. You fell asleep. The final incident I'll bring up

happened when my mom and aunt were a bit older. One night, probably when my aunt was about three or five years old, my grandma woke up in the middle of the night. Nothing crazy woke her up, but when she awake, she realized the lights in the living room were on. That was weird seeing as she definitely turned them off before going to bed, distinctly remembering going to each light and turning them off.

They didn't have a switch. She had to manually turn each one on and off. Not wanting to waste electricity. My grandma got up and went to turn off the lights. Since she was awakened up, she decided to also check on my aunt and mom, who were asleep in their room. My mom was fine peacefully sleeping the night away. My aunt, on the other hand, was not resting well. Instead, she was fighting a very high fever soaked with sweat and super clammy. My grandma doesn't remember how high it was, and I don't think it required a hospital visit, but it definitely could have escalated if it hadn't been caught when it was. In the morning, my grandma asked my grandpa if he had gotten up before her and turned

on the lights, then accidentally forgetting to turn them back off before heading to bed, but he's where he hadn't. My grandma believes ma'am saw my aunt was sick and turned on the lights to wake up my grandparents so they could help her. Wow. Fucking ma'am. Poor what I'm talking about.

Ma'am. Seriously. There were a couple other instances, such as a run-in with a babysitter who ma'am decided was not worthy of taking care of her kids, as well as little things like footsteps being heard on the porch when nobody was there. But over time, as my uncle got older, Mamm's presence slowly faded. My grandma believes that Mamm was tied to the attic, and when they renovated it to put her, to put in her and my grandpa's new bedroom, her presence had all but disappeared. Now for the history section, again, feel free to skip this if the story's too long.

No, no, no, no. I'm interested. I promise I won't be offended. The house was originally built for a woman in the early 20th century who moved out west after contracting a lovely little disease known as tuberculosis. The climate in the Bay Area was thought to be the best for surviving TB, and the house was built with a large wrap-around porch that was large enough for this woman's bed to be left on it for her to sleep outside, which was believed to help cure those sick with TB, kind of wild when you think of it. She lived in this house for a while, but unfortunately lost it due to being unable to keep it when the Great Depression hit. Following the foreclosure, she went to live up in one of the settlement slash camps on Mount

Tamalpase? Malpase? Tamalpase? And the house was vacant until someone else bought it. After the house changed hands a couple times, the couple who sold it to my grandparents had an interesting encounter. They saw an older woman still alive in this case, on the sidewalk, oh my, I'm gonna cry. Staring longingly at the house.

The couple told my grandma about this after the house was purchased, believing it to be the original woman who owned and lost the house. She must have either been a curative TB or somehow kept the symptoms at bay to live a long life. My grandma believes that ma'am is the original owner of the house, who returned to her home,

whether due to love for the home or unfinished business. I'm literally gonna cry. Seriously. She thinks MAM never got to have a family or kids, so when she saw my aunt, she felt motherly love towards her and decided to care for the family. I firmly believe MAM existed, and I like to think she's still checking in every so often on the house. Even with my mom and aunt, I'll grown up and not living there anymore.

Who knows, maybe man stuck with my aunt to help her watch over my two cousins while my aunt recovered from back surgery. Wherever she is, I hope she knows how grateful my family is for her care and protection. I hope you enjoyed this story. Remember to keep it weird, Ash, feel free to make your own, but I thought of this one and I kind of liked it. We're going with yours, girl. Hell yeah. So weird, in fact, that a super spooky own, but I thought of this one and I kind of liked it. We're going with yours, girl. Hell yeah. So weird, in fact, that is super spooky, but super awesome ghost nanny lives in your house to help you keep your kids safe and healthy. Love you guys, picture time.

Oh my goodness. Oh my gosh, this house is beautiful. It's so pretty. I love it. I love ma'am. Oh my god, those palm trees are fucking massive. Oh my god, and your mom and aunt are adorable. Oh, look at them.

Adorable. And look at that pumpkin, I love that pumpkin. Oh, oh my god, and your grandparents are adorable. I, Mickey, that was an amazing story. That was a great one to end on. It really was. What a feel good tale. We love ma'am, we love may.

Oh, we love Nana's all across the world. Oh my goodness. Go ahead, Nana. Okay. Oh, we love nannas all across the world. Oh my goodness. Go ahead, Nana. Okay. Oh, this was a great one. It was. It was real good at one at the end. It was. We love you guys, and we love when you send your listener tails in.

Keep sending them. If you have a listener tail that you want to send in, you can send it to morbidpodcast at gmail.com with listener tails somewhere in the subject line. Y'all! I just looked crazy while I did that. You did! But we hope you keep listening.

And we hope you keep it weird! And that's where you don't send in to your listener tail because I really want to hear it! Woo! Yihah! Just a Yihah, don't you know? I'm gonna go home. Hey, Prime Members! You can listen to Morvid, Early, and Add Free on Amazon Music. Download the Amazon Music app today.

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