Morbid - Listener Tales 14

Episode Date: June 15, 2020

Tonight it is a Listener Tales episode full to the brim with actual murderers, growling daymons, spooky ghost stories and a seriously clutch shaman. Come on in, the water is weird. Thanks to our sponsors! Embark Right now, Embark has an exclusive offer just for our listeners! Go to Embarkvet.com now! and use Promo code MORBID to save 15% off your Dog Breed and Health kit. Care/of For 50% off your first Care/of order, go to TakeCareOf.com/morbid50 and enter code morbid50 Grubhub Just for our listeners, if you download the Grubhub app you’ll get $10 off your order of $30 or more every day from participating restaurants. So download the Grubhub app today and get $10 off your order of $30 or more. See Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.

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That's ANGI, or download the app today. Hey weirdos, I'm Ash, and I'm Elena. And this is a morbid listener tails episode. It's all about you! Brought to you by you for you from you and all about you. Yeah, it's you, centric episode, who's it for? Why, oh you. And you know what, I think we all need it this week, 100%. I think that this has been a heavy week, it's been a heavy few weeks, it's gonna be a

heavy few more weeks. Well you're gonna be a heavy few months I would say. Maybe years so you know let's just maybe eternity. We're all on this together right now so we figured that you know you could use a little just a little fluffy. Well pick me up. We all love a listener to I mean we all don't so me hate them but you probably don't listen to hate them. So get the most of us. Most of us love a listener tale. I'm into them. Because they're fun. You guys write hilarious. Like the amount of people that write so phenomenally I'm like go get a book deal book deal. Because you need to wait for me. The I need to read. You know what I mean?

Like, just how I'm excited. I enjoy reading. Yeah. So you guys are funny. You're well spoken. You have us. You have crazy host tales. You're silly.

Yeah. You're so silly. You're so silly, guys. And I think we need that silliness right now. So we figured, let's throw a lesson at a tale episode in there. And this listener tale's edition, Alina picked these, so I have not yet read them. I did. I think it's fun when we switch off to you, right? I love doing that. I like Donora. So I think I will start off.

Start off off. And my first listener tale is entitled My Encounter with a Drainged Psychotic Killer. Oh, okay. Just laying it all out there. I mean, that's very to the point. Yeah, don't bury the lead, you know? Just let us go. So it says, hey, weirdos, okay. Let the gushing commence. Oh, girl.

Oh, I love that. Except this is a man. So we said, oh, girl, but you know, we literally say that to John. I was just going to say, I say it to my husband all the time. So that's not a comment on anything. Your podcast has literally been the highlight of my day throughout lockdown. I'm so thankful that my friend Alex introduced me to it

in your ability for WhittyBanter whilst remaining respectful to the victims mentioned is a rare talent indeed. Thank you. Thank you. If I use the phrase you rock, I now would be the time, but I don't, as I am British. So I shant.

So I shant. I love it so I shant. I'm gonna start saying that. Then he said, but you do. Thank you. FYI, I hear there is to be a sequel made of La Brinth. Have you heard this? I have.

I don't know how I feel about it though. I'm not, I'm not into it. Day-day-bow is not here to let it rock. If D-bow isn't here for it though. I'm not, I'm not into it. Dayday Bow is not here to let it roll. If D-bow isn't here for it, then I'm not here for it. No. Really, is how I feel. And I think I actually like tweeted about it the other day and I was like, no, unless I'm the goblin king

in the sequel, we can't do this. You want to be the goblin king? I'm throwing my hat in the ring as the goblin. I think I make a great goblin king. I'm not just agreeing. I'm just, that's, that's news's news to me I'm just saying if they're looking for a goblin king I'm here with a labyrinth still scares me so I love the lab I just don't know how to feel after it passing me by completely though I cannot

think why I recently saw Requiem for a Dream for the first time whoo that's that's a trip I refuse to watch that movie I don't recommend you watch it it's very intense. All I could think at the end was Dear Christ, Jennifer Connolly, even the Goblin Kigman out of Made You Do That. That's true. Oh no. That's very true. I'm sure you know the scene to which I refer and then you did a smiley face and you spoiler alert it for me. Yeah, I think you just, oh okay, it's kind of trigger warning me. Oh, so on to my own sorted tale. As counterbalance to the mind numbing and seemingly endless Facebook posts,

10 albums that have influenced my life and 10 photographs over 10 days that make broccoli the best best vegetable ever, etc. blah blah blah. I decided to create my own and posted 10 killers over 10 days complete with photographs and statistics. That's awesome. Okay, I'm here for that. You're officially one of us. You'll be thrilled to hear that many of your favorites were included. Oh, that's nice.

Thank you. My post was on the 10th day. My post on the 10th day was a little different, however, and it is this that I share with you today. It's difficult to deduce just how long the other listener tales look on the written page, but should you need to edit, you will not offend me in any way. All that I ask is that you do not share my surname,

which I did not so yay me. To go, Alive. This is the true story of my own far too close for comfort and counter with a killer. A murderer with twisted pathology who took the life of an innocent and disposed of his body in the most horrific way. Oh, and then he wrote,

You're welcome, smiley face. Spring, summer, 2002. 18 years ago, I was working in the performing arts. Just home from a contract abroad, I decided to take a quote-unquote real job for a change whilst once again and during the audition process. As I was home in Northwest London, the obvious choice was to apply locally. And even better, I successfully gained a position at a drag cabaret bar in nightclub club that my friends and I frequented ourselves, the black cap in Camden.

I want to go. Apart from friends or family, I had never actually had a bar job as such and remember feeling somewhat apprehensive. However, those feelings soon dispersed as it was so much fun and it was just as much fun as being a customer, if not more so. I could see that. The black cap now closed, sadly. Ma-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a- known for its drag performers. Yes. Into it. Legendary queens such as Regina Fong,

Dave Lynn, and Lily Savage to name But A Few. I think I've heard of Lily Savage. It sounds familiar. Yeah. Upstairs it had a bar, which was more of a pub rather than something one might find in the West End. While downstairs, the main area had a bar, dance floor, and a small stage where the drag

queens and cabaret artists would perform. But we got pervert. It had a loyal following multiple, multiple regulars in a friendly atmosphere which deferred from its more polished competitors in London's West End. The nighting questions started off like any other. Don't tell. I was literally just going to say that. Don't tell. Initially I was working behind the bar upstairs. I remember being busy, possibly a Friday or Saturday night But I can't be sure from recollection if you guys hear a big bang

It was just my husband walking out the door Every time the whole house shakes I think it's just where we are. It makes it seem worse. Yeah He's not angry. I promise from Let's see from like recoll, the club downstairs didn't open till later, and the bar would fill up with customers having pre-club drinks. Seated on the stool in the middle of the bar, I noticed a young chap who appeared to be alone and who had, for just a moment, placed his head on the counter. Nothing particularly unusual there. I made a mental note to keep an eye on him in case he'd had too much to drink. In fact,

I said something like, are you all right there? To which he replied, I've just been dumped. What? Whatever. He's like, I'll give a fuck. And then he says, I vaguely noted three things. He had a strong accent. It was loud in the bar, and I mistook it for Scottish, which became the subject of debate later on. It turned out he was Irish.

Uh-huh. He looked extremely young, possibly underage, but not so young that he needed to be thrown out immediately. And lastly, he had piercing blue eyes. Okay. In fact, he was only three years younger than I was, and I was 27 at the time. Okay.

It was a fleeting exchange, the kind of interaction you have on dozens of occasions on any given night. I passed some comments and continued by busying myself with other customers, thinking nothing more of it. Indeed, when I looked to see if he was still there later on, he appeared to have left, and that was that. I only wish that he had. Oh, don't don't don't. He had not left. The bar downstairs was much bigger.

It ran from just inside the entrance all the way to the edge of the dance floor, where four or five of us could be working behind it at any given time. Oh damn. By now, I had moved to this bar, and the cabaret and nightclub were in full swing. It was extremely busy, much more so than it had been upstairs, and the atmosphere was loud with everyone in general high spirits, a typical night at the black cap, if you like. Seated at the end of the bar, but with his back to the stage was a face that I vaguely recognized. He had stuck

in my head as somebody who, though polite, was not particularly friendly, and who I had served a couple of times in the two or three weeks I had been there. Later I would discover that his name was Andreas, and he to his friends. A 37-year-old German man who was training to be a rabbi, and who was very much loved by both friends and family. That makes me worry for him. Yeah, I feel like he doesn't survive this, listen to him. I hadn't noticed immediately, but there was another man sitting on the bar

but facing the stage with his back to us. Old blue eyes. At some point, it was Frank Sinatra. So I hadn't noticed immediately, but there was another man sitting on the bar but facing the stage with his back to us. At some point, he had struck up a conversation with Andy and it was at this point that I recognized

the quote unquote young chap from the upstairs bar earlier. I also noted that Andy appeared to be buying him beer and that the lad appeared more animated and together than he had previously seemed. Fleetingly, across my mind that perhaps he was an escort, I had placed Andy much older than he actually was, remember I'm young myself, and the other guy looked very young for his age. At some point I served them. For whatever reason I was wearing a New

York traffic cop hat that night, and he wrote, as you do, as one does. And the men, still seated on the bar, took it off my head and wore it himself. There was no aggression, and it didn't bother me. Again, it was just a typical night there. I had no way of knowing just how important these seemingly inconseignificant occurrences would become. I'm so stressed. I know the way he's hyping this all. I know.

I know. If I'm honest, though it pains me now to say it now, mentally I was rather scathing of Andy, chiefly due to the perceived age difference. His guarded demeanor when being served, and the fact that he was buying this chap multiple pipes of beer. All this pales into insignificance now, but it was this perception that made my telling of the story a little easier to recall later on. The evening was coming to an end. To my recollection, I hadn't served them again and had been busy myself with the night in general. At one point, I noted that the lad had been demonstrating martial arts moves to a small group of people, but again, it was only a fleeting glance. I'd note it as well that my hat had been returned behind the bar. The club was emptying, and we had all started to close the bar down.

I glanced up for literally a second or two and turned my head towards the exit when I noticed Andy and the same lad leaving together. Each to their own, then thought no more of it. Uh-oh. That was until four days later, when I arrived at work to find flyers with the word missing on the front of them. Oh no.

Below the text was a picture of Andreas and D. Heins. Last scene on the night he'd been at the club, but at Edgeware Road Station, hours before I'd served him. My heart was hammering inside my chest. With minutes of discovering the flyer, I had called the police. As you can imagine, my mind was racing. I was already racking my brain to recall every detail of the night in question. Frustratingly, no one at work could remember seeing them.

At least no one on duty with me at the time. You don't know that a part of everyday life that feels so insignificant will be called into evidence with precise detail. How could you? Right. The officer at the end of the line took down the information which at this stage was just the bare essentials that Andy had been at the club to one or two in the morning and that I'd seen him leave with the unidentified gentleman. In the weeks to come, my life shifted and I found myself in a differently and altogether.

Officers were sent to the club without warning to interview me the next day, not the best timing. It was a crazy evening as it was gay pride. And I remember being dressed in a sarong pink shirt, eye shadow, and pink flip flops. Hell, yeah. Girl, not a look I would pull off now, let me tell you. Ha, ha, ha.

Why they had come unannounced, I would never know. And seeing these two suited detectives amongst the drag queens Well, they had come unannounced, I would never know. And seeing these two suited detectives amongst the drag queens and colorful clientele was frankly absurd. Needless to say, I arranged to be interviewed away from work and found myself at Hampstead Police Station the very next day. The first of several interviews conducted both there, and rather oddly, I thought, a restaurant I frequented in Bell-sized park.

You got to love Scotland Yard. both there, and rather oddly, I thought, a restaurant I frequented in Bell size park. You got to love Scotland Yard. At this stage Andy was still missing. No further evidence had been produced to any member of the public, and I had become the key witness. I think it was my second interview where I was asked to sit with an artist in order to produce a photo fit of the man he had left with. The police had surveyed the CCTV footage of the evening,

both in the bar and at the entrance and exit itself, but the footage was such poor quality that it was difficult to identify anything at all. I hate that that's always the case. I know, it's like, can we just like op our security game then? Like we are now going to like try to send like a thing to Mars to like pick up samples and then like send those samples and test tubes back to Earth. But we can't get good like bottom funnage. We can't get good surveillance footage.

Like it's just so absurd to me. It doesn't make sense. So I didn't know how on Earth I was going to do this. The interaction I had with them felt so insignificant at the time. It was like asking somebody to describe the checkout lady who served you a week earlier at the supermarket. Oh god. I could never do that. No. It felt like an impossible task. However, lo and behold, after hours of clever questioning and an elimination technique of facial features, were his eyebrows like this? No, like this?

No, more like this? Possibly, et cetera. The picture of the person they produced bore significant resemblance to the person Andrea has had left with. I was as surprised as anyone. I always find that so cool. It's crazy to me. I was also anxious, sorry if you heard papers, everybody.

I was also anxious, though I would have liked to switch off from the investigation my mind was working over time, both at work and at home, and I found it difficult to concentrate on anything at all. There was no new evidence, but for Andy I was already fearing the worst. That's something I'd gone terribly wrong that evening. Oh no. My timeline of those couple of weeks is slightly scrambled, but at some point, one of the staff informed me that there was a telephone call. This was odd as I had never received a call at work before.

Right. I picked up the phone and bizarrely, a journalist introduced himself to me and asked, and I will never forget this. Are you aware that the body parts found in a dustbin in Camden? We're missing Trini, Rabbi, Andreas Heinz. Oh my god. We'd like to get a statement. What the actual fuck?

No, no. I was not. I told him that I wasn't even aware that he was dead and that I probably shouldn't say any more than this at this stage. To this day, I have no idea how that journalist knew I was involved in the case and how he knew where to get ahold of me. In retrospect, I wish I'd asked, but I was in total shock. My main contact was a detective named Laura, who I have to say had been brilliant throughout the investigation. Needless to say, it was her I called after the journalist had rung me. Although she didn't confirm that it was definitely Andy, it was looking

pretty likely and she apologized that I'd been told by quote, an unofficial source. Right. My heart sank. Then a dozen emotions and questions hit me at once. I felt sick. How could this happen? What exactly had happened that night?

Was that person he left with involved in any way? A million thoughts were hurtling around my mind. I feel so bad for him. I know. I will fill you in on one on the discovery of the body. It was a particularly hot summer that year. Neighbors had complained of flies around some industrial bins in Camden. Unbeknownst to the killer who had placed the body parts inside, the refridged collectors in Camden were currently on strike and in exterminate our head and sent to deal with the unusually large swarms of flies.

Oh, no. It was like an exorcist. It was then that the body was discovered. What a crazy coincidence that they dispose of them in the hot summer thinking they're just going to be taken away and it happens to be when they're on strike. Let's see. So a torso, head, arms, and legs had been wrapped in individual dustbin bags and dumped inside like garbage waiting to be collected. Jesus Christ. A day or two later I received two further pieces of information from the police. Through DNA testing, the body had been confirmed as Andreas. Oh.

And that armed with the image I had produced for the police, they had made hundreds of door-to-door inquiries. The man Andy had left with had been found and taken in for questioning. Hell yeah. On my next visit to the police station, I would be asked to pick this suspected maniac out of a lineup. I always think that must be so much fucking pressure. Oh my god, yeah.

I'm not, because you could get it wrong. Because you have to think, you always think, like, oh, I'm gonna remember this face. Like, why would this person remember this face? And it's like, I don't remember anything of a while. I saw it this morning. So it's like, oh, I'm gonna remember this face. Like, why wouldn't this person remember this face? And it's like, I don't remember anything of a while. I saw it this morning. So it's like, fuck. Let's see.

And with a job like that too, it's like, you see so many fucking people come and go. Exactly. Not for the first time or the last, I felt physically sick. The next day I found myself at the police station ready to pick out the suspect in the lineup. It was an intense situation. This man who, until recently, was a complete stranger to me, had taken over my life for the past two weeks. Not only that, but was suspected of committing the most

horrendous crime, the details of which, at this stage, I knew nothing about. Upon arrival, I was surprised to see one of the blackcaps door staff as well as customers who I vaguely recognize from the club that night. No one there was sure they would recognize him at all. It was different for me. I knew if he was there, I would know instantly, and indeed, I was the last one to be called in. I needed to see in person to be sure. It's an interest, it's an intense experience. Your briefed-on procedure and assured that the man standing behind the glass cannot see you. Well, that's good.

Because that must be the, like, even though they're telling you that, you're like, are you sure they can't see me? Are you fully positive? Like, yeah, I would just be nervous regardless. Whoops. Oops. Oops.

They say these situations are never like movies or television, but I can assure you that in this circumstance, that is exactly what it was like. I feel like that's what it would be. Yeah. I stepped into an episode of Prime Suspect and remember trying to hide the fact that I was physically shaking. And there he was.

It was his eyes that I'd remember more than anything, but a blurred recollection of his face suddenly springed into full technicolor and I picked him out immediately. It's standard procedure to have to walk up to have you walk up and down, but I'd already said to them that he was there. Number 3. What have you done you sick bastard? Thomas McDowell was arrested soon after that for the murder of Andreas Hines. And after interrogation, actually made a full confession.

Wow. But what actually happened on the night itself? Had it Andreas die and what drove this maniac to dispose of his body in such a revolting manner? I'll tell you what I know. Evidence produced later on speculated that Thomas had been posing as an escort, but that he had a Hatred for gay men. After leaving the black cap together that night, he had enticed Andreas to his house, which was close by and soon after had attacked Andy using martial arts that he had been trained in.

Oh my God. Because remember he was doing that shit in the club. Yup. He then proceeded to strangle him to death. The exact reason behind the attack was unknown. He had made a... He made a cock and bull story about Andy hitting him from behind before he swung around and attacked him.

Oh, for sure. But this was dismissed as false. Right. After he was certain that he had killed him, he lay with his body till morning. Oh, we're sure. This was dismissed as false. Right. After he was certain that he had killed him, he lay with his body till morning. OK, that's weird. You supposedly hate this game, and but you're going to lay with him till the morning.

These dudes that do this shit are always in a severe state of self-loathing. Yeah. And it's like, it's always that fucked up shit. Right. The next day, he visited a local group that he was a member of and asked to borrow an electric saw, stating that he needed it for DIY at his apartment.

Oh. He dragged Andreas to the bathroom and proceeded to dismember the body, removing his head, arms, and legs. After he had finished, he wrapped each part in bin liners and made several journeys to the industrial-sized dust bins attached to the block of flats he lived in. He literally left the body outside his own house, assuming the bin med would take it away without discovering. Are you kidding me? As I'd mentioned before,

the refuge collectors had happened to be on strike at the time, and it was a particularly hot summer. Residence complained of a repulsive smell as well as a swarm of flies. Apart from the killer, I had been the last person to see Andreas alive. Wow. That is so heavy.

That's heaviest fuck. If I recall correctly, the way it was discovered that Andy was missing is absolutely heartbreaking. His mother had flown from Germany to visit him for the first time since he had relocated to London. Shut the fuck up. He was training to be a rabbi and in his second year of a five-year course of study, standing at the airport to be collected, her precious son simply never arrived. No.

That just made my heart just drop into my toes. That's like in the Gianni Versace case. One of the victims, his wife was waiting at the airport for him to pick her up and he never showed up, obviously. That, it's so horrible. Fast forward to two years later, where I was summoned to court to attend the trial At the time I was on the European leg of a world tour of a show

I was in and had to fly in from Helsinki Yeah, no big deal until the trial I'd put the whole incident in the back of my mind But my appearance in court brought it all flooding back and I was less than thrilled to be there Oh FYI as a side note I nearly died on the flight coming over. My debit card was cloned. Joyous, but that's another story. Oh my God. For the third time, I was in the presence of a psychopath,

and there he sat, scowling at me, this time with his cold intensive stare. I hadn't imagined it. I had to point him out to the jury, and to me, he looked furious. Oh, that must be terrifying. Uh-huh. My time on the stand was surprisingly quick.

The trial had lasted for two weeks, and it took the jury just three hours of deliberation to find him guilty of the murder of Andreas. McDowell had denied murdering Andy on July 3, 2002, but admitted manslaughter on the grounds of diminished responsibility. Wow, wow, wow. The crown rejected his plea. Yeah. Hell yeah. Saying he was a controlled psychopath. He knew exactly what he was doing and sentenced him to life imprisonment, meaning his

whole life with no chance of burrow. Good. He had posed a quote, grave threat to the public and to members of the gay community in particular. He currently resigns in Rampton High Security prison where it is reported. He signs his letters, Tommy the Hacksaw. Oh my, get the fuck over yourself. That's so horrible and also like you really think you're cool. And then he ends it by saying there's a real person at the heart of this story. Andreus was described as an intelligent and complex person with a bright future ahead and who was loved by friends and family alike.

It is to Andy that I dedicate this listener's tale and all other victims of senseless murder. Oh, the end. Thank you for again for doing what you do. You really are beacon of light and what seems like a never-ending story. Wait, I loved that film too. Do you think they'll be a sequel? Stay safe. There is a sequel. This person is speaking to your soul. And this is Matthew. I feel like Matthew and I like, why are we not best friends? I think you should be. As soon as I saw this listener. So I feel like Matthew and I, like, why are we not your best friends? I think you should be. As soon as I saw this listener tail

and I started reading out, it was like, oh, Matthew. You like gotta read it. We're meant to be. Also Matthew, the way you write, like you need to be an author. I am amazed. That was written beautifully. It was, it was so engaging.

Yeah. Like I was riveted. I was thinking of that thing. Same. And he also did a quick PS. He said years later, I was riveted for the other thing. Yeah, same. And he also did a quick PS. He said years later, I found out that Dennis Nilsen, Britain's very own Jeffrey Dahmer, used the black cap to pick up his victims also. Oh, that's spooky.

And then he goes, did you cover him yet? I really think you ought to. And you know what? We are going to cover him. To the list. But Matthew, that was brilliant when he written for real. I'm so sorry you had to go through that. And when are we becoming best friends?

Let me know, okay, hit me up. We'll see you at the black app. XOXO Elena. All right. Mine is listener tails, the growling thing, the ghost cowboy, the penny, and how two mass murders occurred in the only two cities I've ever lived in.

Oh, that little thing. Again, given it away in the, I love it line. Never bury the lead, just let us know right up front or in four. So I just said in the line. In the line. In the opening line is what I meant. All right, so this says, hey yo.

So my name is Sarah, and I'm cool with you using my real name. As long as you tell everyone listening that it's spelled S-A-R-A, which is the appropriate way to spell it, and anyone who puts that extra H on the end is extra as fuck in unnecessary. I love you Sarah. No one to the business. I wonder how she feels about Ashley spelled A-S-H-H-L-E-I-G-H. Thanks a lot mom. She probably thinks you're extra as fuck. It was my mom. I mean I am extra as fuck too. Yeah, that's true. So onto the business. Holy shit. I love YouTube bitches. She said, bitches. I love you.

I love you. I started listening to your podcast a few months ago and it gets me through every damn day. I drive a booze cart on a private golf course. That's amazing. I have a friend that does that and that sounds like the best job ever. But you have to deal with a lot of assholes, I bet. 100%.

Yeah. I graduated from UNLV and became a science teacher, but hey, kids are fucking assholes, and I make more money in getting rich old guys drunk while they avoid their wives on the golf courts. In-sert, shoulder shrug emoji. I love serenzo. I'm obsessed with her. Anywho, I have your podcast on my Bluetooth ear buds every day, and I have never had to work, and I have never had work days go by so fast. Your bands are kills me,

and every time I drive past a remote area on the course, I always make sure and secretly hope that there will be a dead body one day. Girl, me too. Lately, whenever I drive on a highway, there's like black bags along the side and I'm always like, that's body. Always.

Always. Anytime I see a strangely lumpy bag on the side of the mose like that's body. Always. That's the body. Always. Anytime I see a strangely lumpy bag on the side of the road on the highway, I'm like that's 100% of that. I like wanna pull over but then I'm like what if it's just like yucky soft. What if it's just trash and like that. That's a part of it. And then you just like get yourself killed in the past.

Yeah, exactly. It's just not worth it. Well, she says none so far but a girl can dream. I'm fucked up, I know. You're not. You two. Yeah, no, you're not. you too remind me so much of my sister and I she's 12 years older than me So naturally when she was in high school I thought she was the baddest bitch ever and I followed her and her friends everywhere

Which every sister hates but every older sister hates but as I got older we became best friends and she is my inspiration Oh, I love that you never hated that no I really didn't. I didn't really follow your friends a lot because I also thought you were like the cutest thing ever. Oh my god. Thank you. Do you remember when you and your like you brought your friends as a teenager to go trick or treating with me? Yeah. And you were like, no, like we're going. Yeah. I was like, let's make Halloween. Awesome. And you did. Well, back to the thing. Anywho, I wanted to write in the list in her tale because we have experienced a weird shit in our childhood home, which she still lives in with her husband and kids. Well, that's cool. That's pretty rad I already know what you're thinking why in the actual fuck would she still in the

Spoobee piece of real estate spooky Don't worry that bitch has been sage more times than the Kardashians in generous. I've altered their physical appearance So it's all good now. I am obsessed with Sarah right Buckle up and hold onto your booty holes. I hold onto your booty hole. This listener tale is a four-parter LL. I love it. I'll start with my first experience.

I was an elementary school, maybe nine or ten years old, and I used to play alone in the basement because I was a young and live in my best life. And I didn't know that basements are for dead people and a favorite chill spot for scary shit. I'm gonna try to set the scene of this basement for you because this was not the nice cozy basement with a carpet, couches, and TV and a popcorn machine. It's probably like my basement.

Same. This basement was, uh, this basement was completely unfinished. I'm talking concrete floors, concrete walls, one little window, and no official ceiling, just wooden boards with all the electrical wiring going through. No official ceiling. That sounds like our house. Our childhood house. The basement was mostly used to store my mom's Christmas decorations, and since I was apparently

the only one who utilized this gem of the space, there was just a single light bulb in the main room, which meant the rest of the basement would be pitch black. No, thank you. No, thank you. Let me turn the paper. So one day, I'm down there playing with my suitcase full of hot wheels. Oh my god, you bad bitch.

My husband had a suitcase full of hot wheels. Everybody should. And shooting my shots on my mini Michael Jordan base basketball hoop because apparently I also thought I was a little boy and Barbie dolls were lame as fuck. Oh yeah. When suddenly I heard something. Uh-oh. Coming from behind me, behind storage boxes and in the dark, something straight up growled at me. Yeah, I know right out of that situation immediately. Yeah, no thank you. She goes which first of all, fucking rude. Who growls at a little tomboy,

minding her own business, playing with little toy cars, listening to umbop on repeat. Yes! I'm screaming. Working on my sick jump shot and not bothering her big sister. She's like a dune what I'm supposed to do.

I deserve to fucking popsicle or some shit, but no, I was getting growled at. Now, in a horror movie, your typical little child might have a puzzled look, turn around slowly, and ponder where this noise is coming from. Fuck that. I noped out of that situation faster than a two-pay in a hurricane.

Ha, ha, ha, right, books. The escape stairs from the basement up to the main floor were wood and creakiest fucks. So when my mom was in the kitchen, she heard me running up them. And then saw me filling up in the door out of breath because let's face it, cardio has never been my gym gym. Same. But this look on my face and she was like, ah, is everything okay?

Glad you fucking asked mom. No, shit is not okay. I tell her about what happened. I should mention my mom is a full believer in ghost spirits the paranormal all that shit So can you can imagine my preteen parents never understand straight-up bitchy attitude? I developed when she just stared at me at her hand over my over her mouth and attempted to hold back her laughter That's right. I'm standing there in terror probably peed on myself a little bit telling her That the her sweet innocent daughter was just growled at in her own house, and she

is laughing. Damn. Then my sister comes down from her, must be 16 or older to enter a bedroom. And ask my mom what she's laughing at, and why I have this look at my face. So my mom, in and out of laughter, proceeds to tell her, apparently, something growled at your sister in the basement. You guessed it, this bitch starts laughing too. Damn, that's a tough room. I know. To this day, I'm now 30, 31 at the end of the June.

At the end of the June. At the end of June. They ask me about the growling thing in the basement and still don't believe me, but fuck that. I know what happened and what I heard. And that I spent less and less time in the cement pit of despair and the event that I did have to go down and retrieve something. I ran up the escape stairs fast enough that I could probably qualify for the 100 meter dash at the Olympics at age 12. Damn. What makes a person a murderer? Are they born to kill? Or are they made to kill? I'm Candice DeLong and on my my podcast, Killer Psychie Daily,

which you can find exclusively on Amazon Music. I share a quick 10-minute rundown every weekday on the motivations and behaviors of the criminal masterminds you read about in the news. I have decades of experience as a psychiatric nurse, FBI agent, and a criminal profiler. On Killer Psychie Daily, I'll give you my expert perspective on cases like the mysterious New York City drugings, Breaking Down Lori Valow, aka Mommy Doomstays Motives, and what

drove Caitlin Armstrong to murder? I'll also bring on expert guests who add even more insight into these criminal minds. I promise you won't regret adding these 10 minutes to your morning routine. Hey, Prime members, listen to the Amazon Music exclusive podcast Killer Psychie Daily in the Amazon Music app. Download the app today.

Hi, I'm Lindsay Graham, the host of Wondery's podcast American scandal. We bring to life some of the biggest controversies in U.S. history, presidential lies, environmental disasters, corporate fraud. We bring to life some of the biggest controversies in US history, presidential lies, environmental disasters, corporate fraud. In our newest series, we look at the Kids for Cash Scandal, a story about corruption inside America's system of juvenile justice.

In Northeastern Pennsylvania, residents had begun noticing an alarming trend. Children were being sent away to jail in high numbers and often for committing only minor offenses. The FBI began looking at two local judges, and when the full picture emerged, it made national headlines. The judges were earning a fortune, carrying out a brazen criminal scheme, one that would shatter the lives of countless children, and force a heated debate about punishment, an America's criminal justice system.

Follow American scandal wherever you get your podcasts. You can listen ad-free on the Amazon Music or Wonder App. So the loose wind situation, I guess you could say. Regardless, fuck the growling thing. Separately, another time I went down there, I ran back up to find that the fucking basement door was locked. My sister was the only one home at the time with either her friend or boyfriend, so either way I was in a priority. But she was still all the way upstairs hanging out and blasting 90s hip-hop in club puberty. Hell yes. When she heard puberty. When she heard me screaming because I

couldn't get out of this damn basement. That's truly horrifying. No fuck that. She came running down and opened the door. I'm in full blown crying panic attack by this point yelling and asking her Why she locked me in the basement and she tells me she didn't oh? No, that's so scary see JP my brother used to do that shit I'll be lock me in the basement if I go down there and then the light for the basement is on the outside of the door Yep, so he'd flick the light off and I would have literally a panic attack. Because our basement is scary as shit. Territ, like dirt basement. Yeah.

Like straight up dirt. Like literally no concrete. And like just rock cobwebs. It's a straight up 1800s base. And it's also just like poppies tools everywhere. So it's scary. Yeah. It's textless chains up, that's scary.

Oh, it's just gonna stay still. It's just waiting to happen. And he would just flick the light off, click that little watch. I'd go running up there screaming and crying. And he wouldn't do the whole like, oh, I didn't do that. He was like, no, I did do that little watch. I'd go running up there screaming and crying, and he wouldn't do the whole like, oh, I didn't do that. He was like, no, I did do that. Yeah, I'm just gonna stand here and listen to you

for a second, then he'd open it and be like, what, it was open. Like, wait, wait, wait, wait. That was like, you son of a bitch. We're also talking about the same guy that used to like shoot BB gun pellets. Yeah, at us as we used to walk by his door, so. That's my big bro.

You guys also once electrical taped me to a chair and just left me in there for a few minutes. We did. Dooshbacks. That's what it's like to have. Simplings. Simplings. Alright, so she tells me she didn't. To this day she swears to me that she never locked me in the basement. Spook, mother fucking spook. Yeah, I'm saying. Now onto a couple weird things that happened after I moved out of this house. Parents were divorced, dad moved about 15 minutes away,

mom remarried and moved in with my stepdad. So my sister, her husband, and my niece and nephew were left with the house. Oh man. When my niece was little, around four or five, that's the creepiest fucking age. It is, I just said that. I just said that.

I have four-year-olds. Yeah, they say weird shit. They do. Playing outside, she would always come into the house and tell my sister about people that she'd see in the yard. And not like other kids, but grown-ass people. Ooooooooh. Every time this happened my sister would go outside, sorry paper, to check.

Because why the fuck are grown-ass people talking to a four-year-old girl and my sister was a bad bitch, like I said, and would straight up beat some child abductor ass if she had to. Hell yeah. That's like a Lena. Hell yeah. But every time she would go outside, there would be no one there. My niece would describe them in detail, as detailed as a four year old could be, I suppose. But the one she described the clearest

was an old man in a big hat and big shiny things on his belt. Oh, no. I don't want this to happen. So apparently there was also a ghost cowboy chilling in front of the front yard chatting it up with my niece. Hey, cool. You know, I mean, as long as he's just chatting, yeah.

Another thing that happened involving my niece was when my mom was over babysitting her. She said my niece had fallen asleep on the couch in the living room and all of a sudden she started making noises in her sleep. But not normal sleeping, drooling, smacking noises like whimpering. When this started happening, the street light outside the house started flickering

Oh, no, nope, nope and these metal leaf decorations that my sister had hung up in the house started vibrating That's a poltergeist my mom being the overly protecting mama bear She is with her own kids was not about this let to let the shit go down with her grandbaby I love all these like badass ass moms. I know. Fuck you, otherworldly creature. I don't care. That's my kid. It's incredible.

So I guess she said some shit in this crazy language she made up that sounds like Swahili, but is most definitely not. Her name is Lynn, and she calls it Lynn Healy. This is the greatest thing I've ever heard. This is the best family. She goes, You now see what I was dealing heard. This is the best family. Best way to react. You now see what I was dealing with.

Said some sort of little prayer. And everything stopped. Fuck that. What? Like what's happening? Just make up your own language. Linhealy. Yeah.

Lastly, one night my sister was home alone sitting in the living room, and she heard what sounded like a coin falling on the floor. When she got up and went toward the door, there was a penny spinning on the tile in front of the door. No idea where it came from. There are no shelves tables or anything like that that it could have fallen from. Pick a penny, find a penny, pick it up, hard pass.

I'm dead. Aside from the spoopy shit in this house, I've also had two mass murders occurring in old cities that I've lived in. Or the occurring old cities that I've lived in Or the only two cities I've ever lived in Aurora and Las Vegas the movie theater shooting Oh, you had really really bad ones. Mm-hmm. In 2012 in the October first shooting at In 2017 at the root 91 Harvest Music Festival. Oh Really really intense ones. Crazy circumstances for both to say the least.

First, my nephew and his friend had planned to attend that midnight premiere of The Dark Knight Rises. Oh, I just got goosebumps. At the Century 16th Theater, that my family and I had gone to my entire life. I was in college at the time and asleep when the shooting occurred. I woke up early the next morning to 27 miss calls

from an unknown number, four or five voice mails, and countless text messages between 12 15 and 3 AM. Also shout out to Ash. I also want to punch anyone who says, hey, um, in the morning. Yes. Thank you so much. I hate that. I'm with you guys on the one. Yeah. It was my nephew's girlfriend. She had been trying to get a hold of me because the last she heard, my nephew was going to be at that movie. Now, college Sarah at 6am was most likely a little hungover and trying to decipher the hysterical voice mills and text messages from a number I didn't know asking if I had talked to my nephew. Then I went on Facebook morning ritual to find out what had happened. A single short shooter and tactical gear had entered the

front of the theater and opened fire on people watching the movie. I immediately called my nephew, no answer. Texted him, no answer. Then I called my sister. She answered and I screamed, where is Ian? Is he okay? Tell me he's okay. She replies, he's okay, honey. He's okay. Turns out he hadn't gone to the premiere. Neither he or his friends had a car. And the other friends that they were planning on meeting up with already had a full car So they couldn't ride with them. Wow. My sister had told me she would be willing to drop them off at the theater But they would need to find a ride home because my sister was an R.M. at the time like I said bad bitch Seriously bad bitch and now she had to be up early for work and wasn't gonna pick them up at 2 a.m. Now

I'm not super religious, but thank whoever... sorry paper Whoever whatever is up there that they couldn't organize a ride home so they ended up not going. One of my nephew's good friends, Alexander AJ Boyk, was killed. Oh, that's all I'm sorry. Oh, that's too sad. And a few of his other friends were injured.

Somehow that movie theater is still open other than the actual room where the shooting happened, but you bet your ass, I'm never stepping foot in there again. Hell no. I can barely go to the movies anymore. I swear. It's like, honestly. It stresses me out.

After that happened, it like changed completely. Like I like going to the movies, but I'm always stressed out. And you and I, whenever we go together, I go to the nearest exit is there. We can get there. Like, this is our game plan. That's it. And you know me, I was already like that to begin with.

But it heightened. If I go into a place, I immediately look for the exits and I like can't, I need to just be in control of what's happening and know my exit strategy. And when that happened, I was like, whoa. So now when I go to the movies, which I never go to the movies, but I love the movies. But when I have gone after that, I'm so on edge.

It's like, it used to be one of my favorite things to do when it still is, but it's changed, for sure. All right, well next for the October 1st shooting, another divine intervention you might say. My fiance and I both had to work early that day, and we both worked in the golf industry. September, October is prime time in Vegas for golf, because summer's finally over, and it's not as hot as the devil's ball sack outside. We love that.

We do love that. So we both worked 10 or 11 hour day that day and we were exhausted. Now granted I was 28 at the time and he was 31 but we still like to rage but we still like to rage at any music festival we could be at we usually were. and for root 91 It turns out his friend who works in the music industry out there had two extra VIP tickets Which he offered to my fiance. Oh my god. That's crazy looking back I don't remember exactly how and how the conversation went But it was something like me saying my old ass is tired as fuck and I have to work again early in the morning

So we didn't go and we're asleep by 10 p.m. Wow, that's me. Yeah, right. Once again, I wake up around 4.30 a.m. to countless missed calls, text, Facebook messages, IGDMs, this time asking me if I'm okay. Then I found out what happened. What was so much worse about this shooting other than the fact that this psychotic fuck had shot military grade ammunition from the...is it the Mandalay Bay?

Yeah. And to a crowd of hundreds of people ultimately killing 58 and wounding 413. Oh, that was horrific. It really was. Was that this time I wasn't just worried about one person. I could think of at least 20 of my friends off the top of my head who I knew were there. Somehow out of the 30 to 40 people I personally knew who were there, None of them were injured. Wow, that's lucky. That's crazy. Their stories from that night however are haunting. One of the guys I used to work with was there

with his friends and girlfriend. A girl directly in front of them was one of the first people shot. She was shot in the neck. They saw her fall to the ground and unlike the majority of the people in attendance at the time who thought they were hearing fireworks, they knew exactly what was happening. Can you imagine? No. His girlfriend was in nursing school at the time, another bad bitch, and without even thinking applied pressure to the girl's gunshot wound, and together the two of them and their group of friends carried her behind a

barricade, all while bullets flew past their heads and ricocheted off the ground around their feet. Thank goodness people like that exist. Seriously, that's fucking terrifying. They eventually got her into the back of a random truck outside where she was taken to the hospital. I think she had something like 12 surgeries and survived. Jesus.

That's probably because of your friends. Yeah. I mean, it is. Absolutely. Back to the guy who offered us the VIP tickets. The VIP booth he was in that we would have been in was directly facing the Mandalay Bay. That's insane. Two of the girls, this is like too many things.

You have a girl in the jail or like 15. Yeah. Maybe it's the person that girl do you, they feel really bad. Yeah. Maybe they're just trying to make up for it. Two of the girls he had gone with were shot, one in the shoulder and I'm not sure about

where the other girl was shot, but he had to drag both of them out. Had we gone, we would have been right there next to him. I've always been so thankful that we never went that night, and that none of my friends were killed or even harmed physically at least. I mean, the mental part of surviving that, uh, surviving what was necessarily a war zone is unimaginable. I also was supposed to start my new bartending job at Twin Peaks, Classy I Know, on the Las Vegas strip the next morning. I have chronic anxiety, so naturally I never want to disappoint anyone, so even though I had been up panicking and trying to get a hold of my friend since 4.30am, I wasn't going to call out of work on my first day.

Wow. Bad bitch. I know. Another bad bitch. Another bad bitch. I was literally the only one who showed up to work at seven o'clock Other than the general manager. I'm pretty sure he was like why the fuck are you here? And don't you watch the news? The strip was empty completely shut down with ambulances commuting back and forth from the festival to the local hospitals for Hours, it must have been insanity. I can't imagine it was the strangest areas thing to see no one walking Las Vegas Boulevard and have the police and ambulance sirens thing to see no one walking the Las Vegas Boulevard

and have the police and ambulance sirens be the only sound to fill the air. I will never forget that day. Wow. That's so intense. Yeah, I never, it like didn't occur to me how crazy it must have been like cause Vegas is so alive and alive and crazy

that like it must have just been so weird and like a apocalypse. So eerily, like a set. Yeah. Well地预地预地预地预地预地预地预地预地预地预地预地预地预地预地预地预地预地预地预地预地预地预地预地预地预地预地预地预地预地预地预地预地预地预地预地预地预地预地预地预地预地预地预地预地预地预地预地预地预地预地预地预地预地预地预地预地预地预地预地预地预地预地预地预地预地预地预地预地预地预地预地预地预地预地预地预地预地预地预地预地预地预地预地预预地预地预地预地预预地预地预地预地预预地预地预地预预地预地预地预预地预预地预地预预地预预地预预预地预地预预预地预预地预预预预预预预预预预预预预预预预预预预预预预预预预预预预预预预预预预� subscribe and become a patron. Do which, I already am. Oh, thank you. Sarah. Sarah. Seriously, you guys are the very best. Thank you for bringing some normal seed in my true crime obsession while also being fucking hilarious. My new favorite saying is ashes. I'm busy that day.

Yeah. It's probably annoying everyone how often I say it. Same girl. Fuck, a bitch is busy. That's right. Keep being your amazing selves and keep it fucking weird. But not so weird that the root-ass douche can have a demon grouse that you and a crusty basement. Keep being your amazing selves and keep it fucking weird. But not so weird that the root-ass douche can have a demon growls that you in a crusty

basement. And then your mom doesn't believe you or even she believes in that shit. And then something locks you in the crusty basement with the said growling. Hold up with the growling fucking. And then your knee starts kicking it with dead cowboys in the front yard. And then the streetlights go all crazy for no reason. And your mom has to chant and to the made up language and make it stop. And then a cheap ass goes, there's a penny on the floor and that bitch is spinning like, dare you to pick it up. And, and double your life's savings like, fuck you, I have a job, okay, but bye bye.

All the weirdo love, Sarah. Sarah. It's really hard to read other people's. I was gonna say, you did a good job though. Ningo. I'm in breath, Ningo's there. Sarah's the best. So far, I mean, Matthew and Sarah are killing it.

I can't believe we've only read two. I know. I figured that we'd do like some long ones and then just a couple short ones. Yeah, I like the long ones. Those ones too. Those were too good to pass up. I was like, how can you not read those? We need to read those.

Sarah wrote to my soul. She did. And Matthew wrote to yours. Oh my god. So the next one I'm going to read in this one's much shorter, it's called, that one time I got hit on by a convicted ax murderer. There's like so many killers. Yeah, I've found a lot of psychotic killers.

Casual meetings with casual like occurrences. Hey, Weirdos, I've been listening to your podcast for a few months now, and I am obsessed. I have been a true crime fan for years and have an hour commute to work. So all I've been listening to for the past few years is crime podcasts. Same. Into it. Yours is definitely one of my all-time favorites. Thanks. Thank you. I have had other podcasts that I've thought about submitting my story to but ultimately decided on you find ladies. Hey, hey, hey. I won't be offended if you don't use this in your listener tale series but that would be cool.

I just wanted to share my story with someone who loves true crime as much as I do. Well, thank you. In early 2009, I was a sophomore in high school. My parents had gotten divorced a few years earlier and my mom dealt with it by drinking and partying a lot. I feel you. It was annoying, but by that point, I had gotten used to it.

That's sad. That is sad. I usually locked myself in the computer room during her shenanigans and created dope layouts for my MySpace page. And my god, I feel that's so hard. This is like speaking to your soul, right? And downloaded songs on lime wire. Yes, I was still using MySpace in 2009. It took me a while to switch over to the Facebook train. I'm pretty sure I still had MySpace in 2009. You took me a while to switch over to the Facebook train. I'm pretty sure I still had my space in 2009. You took you a while to go over to the Facebook train. Facebook was mostly old people. Facebook kind of sucks to be honest. I kind of wanted to leave my Facebook. I was at my mom's for the night in February or March. She had said some friends over and one of her friends brought her

28-year-old son over named Seth. I said hello downstairs to be polite then retreated to my room. An hour or so later, Seth came up to my room which I thought was a said hello downstairs to be polite, then retreated to my room. An hour or so later, Seth came up to my room, which I thought was a little odd. I mean, like, get the fuck away from him. He pulled out a bag of weed and asked me if I wanted to buy some. I did my fair share of partying in high school, and this weed was dirty shwag. You got to buy it, sis. So I was like, nah, dude, I'm good. I can't remember much more of the conversation, but he left me alone after that. A couple of weeks later, I got a friend request

from him on my space. I accepted his request to be polite. I was a dumb teenager, don't judge. He started sending me messages constantly. He liked you. He told me that he, and she's like a child. He told me that he was a tattoo artist and that I had very beautiful skin and

he couldn't wait to tattoo me one day. Ew, what the fuck? I of course didn't respond and blocked him, good for you. I was utterly creeped out because he was 13 years old in the country. Oh yeah, I didn't realize that part. I decided to tell my mom about it so she would know he to never have him back in the house. I could tell she was a little shook too, because unbeknownst to me, he had just been released from a three-year stint in prison for burglary charges and had an extremely troubled past.

I feel like, hey, Mom, why did you let your friend bring him to our house then? What the fuck? I feel like hindsight, 2020, I don't know. Jesus. Fast forward to a monthly or two later. My mom then informs me that Seth had murdered a random man with an axe in South

Austin after attacking his mom's ex-boyfriend. What? I was like, cool, cool, this man was in my room not too long ago. This has always stuck out to me and really creeped me out. He claimed it was because he had several mental health issues, specifically bipolar, according to his mother. I know plenty of people with bipolar who don't kill people. Yeah, same. This is what that's what she wrote, by the way. I hope you enjoyed my story. Here's a link to the article with information

about his arrest charges and victim. And she put the link to the article, which I'll put in the description if you want. I love you, weirder, so much, Christy. Christy. I'm real glad you survived that, girl. I bet his weed was like laced with like yuck. Yeah, you just don't.

You can't buy dirty shwag. When a creepy older dude walks into your room when you're like, essentially a child, like what do you want to buy weed? Always say no. I'd be like, why are you in my house? Always say no. Yeah. Just don't let him in your house.

Yeah. Good job, Christie. You did the right thing. You done did the right thing. Well, mine is listener tails. Is that a ghost? Nope, it's a diamond. It's a diamond. That was a diamond.

Hi, Ash, Hi, Alina. You two are both so wonderful and both have beautifully morbid souls. Thank you. Oh my goodness. Don't listen to any of the haters. They just don't understand being aware of it. I know.

Thank you so much for all the work you put into your podcast. It really shows and as a listener I appreciate it immensely. Okay here we go. Thanks. Thank you so much. I want to start by saying that all details in this story are true. No embellishments needed on this one. This happened a few years back. I was 19 just beginning to branch out socially. I went to a bonfire with my friend Amber at her boss's house out in the country, which is never a good start when it's night. No, but there were about five other people there, but I didn't know any of them. I give you so much credit for branching out socially because I hate meeting new people. Yeah, like I'm the worst. I never want to go to like fires where I don't know anybody. Yeah, I get the way too straggared socializing so they like don't invite me to them.

Oh yeah, same. like I get the worst social anxiety. Yup. I lost my place. We all hung out in the backyard of this house and it's only us because this wasn't her boss's main home not shocked so no one really stayed out there. I never went inside the house but it was a modest size on a very large pod of land. We spent the night around this bonfire laughing as we tossed in whatever we didn't need. Pizza boxes, soda cans, glass bottles, I wasn't drinking, I swear. I believe you. Yeah, you were. I'm just kidding. Yeah, you were. And all other debris we managed to pull out of the back of my friend's truck. Toward the end, we even threw three thick logs in, that's hard to say. As it got thick logs. Three thick logs. As it got later, the group got

smaller, but Amber insisted on staying even when it was just the two of us. I, and my infinite, need to need to please people, agreed to stay behind. However, this is where things get strange. Shocker, said sarcastically. Amber wanted to sit in her truck with it parked, so once we moved inside, I began to have an odd anxiety attack. It was sudden and I had no idea why, because despite the conditions, I was actually having a lighthearted time. I wasn't on edge at all. The panic attack began, but this is around when I started to lose time.

Okay? Uh-oh. I felt shrouded in an odd darkness, and when I was decently aware again, I was leaning up against the inside of the car door. I sat in the passenger seat where there was an odd weight on my chest. I couldn't move this body. I couldn't move my body. This is like suddenly this body.

I was like, what? Whoa. I couldn't move my body. This heavy feeling just kept me down. I felt strained to breathe and my body was sweltering in heat. Your body was halter sweltering. It was halter sweltering in there. There was even a moment where I meekly raised a hand to brush my fingers

against the cool glass of the window and an attempt to lower my body temperature. I'm stressed. It's making me hot. Yeah. This was a failed attempt because my arm was, my arm just slumped down to my side. I looked over at Amber and she was sitting beside me. I pushed through the, the odd grogginness and found my voice calling her attention to me. I'm like, what's Amber doing during this?

And I was like, Amber, you okay? Yeah, like what you doing, sis? What is happening? She faced me, eyes wide, like she couldn't believe I'd spoken. I asked her if she was okay, but she immediately countered the question back at me. I managed to pull myself upright in the seat and told her I was fine just feeling off.

And she informed me that I had just suddenly passed out for two hours. Okay. Whoa. Why didn't Amber call somebody? It's like Amber, have you just been sitting there staring at me hoping I can't move? Oh, no.

You're just not the fuck. Like, whoops, hope she isn't dead. You're like, what? I know what you're thinking. She fell asleep. No, this was not sleep. One minute, I was in a full-blown anxiety and the next minute, I'm pushing myself off the door like a poorly cut movie. Like what happened in the middle of these two poorly

chopped scenes? I couldn't fathom the passage of time. Words can't explain how disoriented this made me. I'm so stressed. I'm so stressed. What? On top of that, she told me I would randomly mumble things under my breath during those two hours, but they didn't sound like actual words to her. Why Amber sat around instead of just driving me all the sudden? I still don't get. Or are calling someone to help you. Oh God, she doesn't get it either. Yeah. Like there's no real explanation. Are you guys still friends? I hope not. I'm kind of hope you ditched Amber. I hope you got better friends. Yeah. But I seriously wish she had just then a glimmer of light caught my eye in the side mirror and I suddenly felt very alert. The fog completely cleared and I felt

released from the weight. I jumped up to point the light out to Amber. She panicked because she believed that her vehicle had maybe caught fire. She backed it up and opened the bed so we could sit close to the fire, a safe distance, but looking back it was not the best idea. No! Why are you guys doing? You guys are not making good decisions. No, no. Suddenly she drove her truck forward and we both jumped out.

The truck was fine, but then we looked back at the light. I would like to point out three very important facts to remember here. One a significant amount of time that had passed for this fire to die down. Amber and I had relaxed next to it without touching it for at least 15 minutes and the entire two hours I was blocked out in the truck. What the fuck? I'm still so confused from why you were blocked out for two hours. I didn't want nobody to know. Why did no one do any? What the fuck Amber? I'd be real mad at my friends. That's damn it. Two, we had spent several hours tossing large amounts of objects into this fire including cans and bottles and I mean a lot.

And three, Amber was alert and find the entire two hours. She had spent the time making sure I was okay, playing games on her phone and listening to the radio. What the fuck? Ditch Amber! I'm like so mad! Amber, if you're listening, you suck ass! Why were you playing best fiends while this was happening? Amber, you're the worst!

All listening to the radio while and looking out at the landscape from the driver's seat. Oh, was it calming? Like what? God damn it. When we saw something so unreal, I still can't believe it, but I have to. Uh-oh. Paper. Paper.

The area we had littered with trash and ashes was completely clear. Just smooth dirt. No cans, no bottles, no ashes or embers. Sitting in the now cleared area was a clean stack of papers burning in a flame. It was paper. Wait, what? We were just like paper. Oh, that's what it is paper. Burning in a flame that shouldn't know way be able to exist. I also point out that we never threw papers into the fire, nor would they have survived,

but they're at sat, neat, and burning so bright. At first I was majorly freaked out. I mean, it was a freaking ghost. But then I noticed one more crucial detail. The logs that we had thrown into the fire were just slightly scorched. Had up from 3 to 5 and had been strategically placed. How were they placed? Each of the five had been placed in a point similar to that of a pentagram. Nope. That's a fast-. This was a fucking demon.

I found it. I found it. Amber immediately had the same realization because the next thing I hear her saying is we should get the fuck out of here. Okay Amber. You're finally realizing that? Now you speak up Amber. Like what?

Now you formulate a plan and followed by my hasty agreement. We rushed back into the truck even though I was just needed the fire my veins were ice cold. Amber took off immediately, sleep-belts were hardly our main concern and she sped away. As we drove off I felt an odd sensation on my shoulders, like a change in the atmosphere behind me, similar to when someone stands directly behind you. Fuck this! As we distanced ourselves, the feeling faded but it took several days for it to completely disappear.

Amber claimed she never felt such a thing, just that she knew clear signs to run when she saw them. Other than her friend being passed out for two hours? You know what? I believe that Amber didn't feel such a thing. Because I don't think Amber was aware of her surroundings at all that day. If Amber's a listener, we'd lost her. You know what? It's fine. It's fine, because Amber, you didn't do your job, right? Although I have never had much of a sixth sense.

I told this story many times, and sometimes I see the disbelief, because it's such an insane story. But I don't mind. I know what I saw, and I have Amber to back me up on it. As I type this now, I'm trembling, and I can hear my, she's definitely still friends with Amber. And she's gonna be like, you guys are assholes. I mean, wow.

I mean, I'm just saying. I'm wow. I mean I'm just saying I'm traveling like a sea. I'm Juggling and I can hear my heartbeat jumping in my ears yet. I keep typing why you you guys are why again Thank you for your amazing podcast. Sorry. It's a long one, but I didn't dare leave anything out Anyway, this is Victoria of the signing off promising to keep it weird But not so weird that I ever go back to that house Stay friends with Amber. Me! Holy shit!

Be. This is something went terribly awry. Something happened, be. I'm just, you know, it's real weird that you passed out for two hours and nobody helped you. And like, Amber, if you're listening, like, whoa. Closest. Whoa, Amber. Whoa, whoa.

Whoa! listening like, whoa. Close it. Whoa, Amber. Whoa, whoa. Whoa. Uh. Uh. Uh. So I think we should end on this next one. Yes. So this one's called A Priest, a Rabbi, and a Shaman.

Oh my. Oh my. Hey, weirdos. I want to start off the same as the rest of the listener tales by telling you that I'm such a big fan of Y'all's podcast. Thank you. Seriously, I can always count on you all to make me laugh and turn my day around. Also, forgive me for the probably excessive use of

the word, y'all. I'm from North Carolina. It's inevitable people. Oh, I say y'all all the time. I do not. It's very weird when you say it. And I find it like very unnatural coming out of my mouth. Really? You should have given this one to me. Yeah, okay. I'm just gonna dive right in. So hold on to your butt, ladies and gents. It's going to be a wild ride. PS, feel free to use my name as well as the name, any name mentioned in my story.

We ain't shy. Okay. So this is from Kayla. Take Kayla. My name is Kayla. I'm originally from Charlotte, North Carolina, but about six years ago, my mom and stepdad moved to a tiny little town called Locust, or as I prefer to call it Bum Fuck To Know Where. Seriously, this is the kind of place where there are more cows than people. I'd also like to note that aside from being in the middle of apps of fucking lootly know where Locust is known for being extremely old mill and farmland.

This is the kind of place where the mill down the road, the only road to enter or exist, said hellhole. Or as you probably meant exit. The only road to enter exit said hellhole, puts a civil war reenactment each fall. Yeah, that's this kind. This place is bound to be crawling with ghosts of mills past. Oh yeah, that's just asking for it. Why somebody who'd voluntarily start a life out here is beyond me, but at the time, I was a college student just along for the ride. A year after moving into our house and BFN, my mom and stepdad have my youngest sister Nova.

If you're like most people and are trying to calculate our age difference right now, it's 20 years. Oh wow, wow, that's more than us. Yeah. Soon after Nova was born, my mom started experiencing what she referred to as paranormal experiences. Baby toys would play themselves, she'd get a f**k boogie feeling in certain

rooms, but we honestly just thought she was being cuckoo not lady. My mom has always been in touch with her spiritual side. So for several years, she we just attributed it to mom being mom. That's like our mom. That's exactly like our mom. After all, we lived in a good old fashioned North Carolina Christian home. No bed spirits could come in our house, right? Wrong. Wrong old. The older Nova got, the more we noticed she was displaying

some concerning behaviors. No kids are so creepy. No, she wouldn't go anywhere in the house without one of us. She refused to sleep in her own bed. And she started saying things like we were going to die from that little boy in the house. Ah, move out. And she says, I have all sisters, you can see the concerns.

Yup, I see it anyways. Definitely do. There were also multiple occasions when she would wake my parents up screaming bloody murder, telling them the black thing above the bed. Tell it to leave her alone. Oh my god. Because he was scaring her and he didn't belong there. Oh my God. After this, I pretty much noped all the way out of that bitch. Yes.

See you later. Goodbye. My Uber's here. Bye, Nova. As Nova grew up, it seemed this spirit was growing right alongside her. It went from something we weren't able to feel or recognize to something that made its presence known in every room of our house. Ooh.

As you can imagine, there were all sorts of bad juju floating around that bitch at this time. At this point, none of us really felt safe in our own home. Seriously, at 21 years old, I was making a pallet on my 16-year-old sister's floor because I was too spooked to sleep in my own bedroom alone. Oh! Finally, my mom had enough of whatever invisible house guess we were hosting and began calling around to see what she could do to get rid of this. We walked around the house with Sage more times than I can count. All the while, Nova was right behind us telling us that it was still wasn't strong enough to make them leave. Oh,

chicken you imagine she's just like directing them. She's like, mother fucker, you're gonna need some more sage. She's behind them. She's like, not working. Anke them do it. This is cute, but it's not gonna work. They were just hiding in different places to avoid the smoke. That's what you was saying, they're just hiding. What the fuck? My mom called, you guessed it, a priest in a rabbi, to come and clear a house, but all that seemed to do was make it worse.

Honestly, can you blame them? I'd be pissed too if someone was walking around my place of residence, dousing the walls with holy water and chanting Hail Mary's. We weren't even Catholic. In a last-stitch attempt to cleanse our house before packing the entire family up and moving right the fuck out of locust, my mom contacted a shaman who was finally able to offer some help. She came to our house and informed us that we did in fact have a spirit living in our home. But to our surprise, we had four of them. Oh shit. It was at this point

that we learned that Nova was gifted and was able to see and communicate with these spirits. That's so cool. There was a little boy who tormented Nova hiding and scaring her every chance he got. Oh, that's not so cool. I would fucking throw punch that little shit. I just went through it. I'm just in I just would. It would happen. Like, fuck that. A little shit. Yeah, I'm ass So yeah, he would try to scare every chance he got following her around and making rude comments to her What a dick? I know like what she also noted that this little boy slept in the bed with me each night because I looked like his mother Okay, no, she wrote no fucking wonder I couldn't sleep There was an older farmer who a particular particularly watching my mom, my sister and me, Bays.

Oh, I would move out of there even if it was like better again. Yeah, I'm out. Like, I just wouldn't stay there. I'd be out. He actually had recently started messing with my stepdad because he was jealous of the intimate moments he had with my mom. No, like, just, I don't even care if the shopman blessed it, get the fuck out of there. And each of you goes, maybe Lurkin. You can imagine the number of what the fucks that came out of our mouth

to put in learning this. Seriously, our life was just one big what the fuck, mama. Yeah. There was also twin girls who were attached to a dresser I bought at an antique market. What? No. That's my, I don't buy shit for antique markets.

That's not Alina. I know, I have a ton of shit for antique markets. That's how Alina. I know, I have a ton of shit for this market. So much shit. They were relatively unproblematic, but wanted their dresser back. Oh, that sucks. The shaman asked us to leave our home for a few hours. That she could... I'm really kind of forever.

Yeah, seriously. So that she could clear it and she did just that. However, the fuck shaman's clear houses with rogue ghosties. She informed us that rather than just clearing the four spirits, we thought we were in our home, she saw over a hundred spirits passed through our home that day and helped guide them to the lights. Oh my god. The four previously mentioned were just the ones causing the most ruckus. Holy shit. Wow. She also told us that because Nova was able to see and communicate with them, they saw her as a beacon of light, attracting more and more the older she got.

We now have protective seeds at each doorway and window in our home that are supposed to keep spirits away, and no bad mumbo jumbo has happened since. Nova, however, can still see spirits and tells us about it every day. There are times when it's freaky, like when she asks if we should stop to help the little girl on the side of the road, one in reality there's no one there. That's fucked up. But there are times when it's really cool.

Like when she tells us that our grandma who passed away last year is giving us hugs and kisses even when we can't see it. Oh my God, I just got like a little chill. So there you have it, my story with the paranormal and the only ghostly encounter I ever wish to have. Thank you for sharing my horrific ghostly encounter and remember to keep it weird. But not so weird that your five-year-old sister becomes a ghost-talking beacon of light that invites all kinds of ghosty things into your home.

But if you do skip the priest, the rabbi, and all the hellmarys go straight to the shaman because they're the shit. Love y'all, Kayla. Kayla, I think that you need to never have an experience again. Kayla, that's just a lot. And I'm gonna be honest, I would have gotten out of that house. No matter what. No shaman or no shaman. But fuck yeah, shaman.

That's almost a shaleven. I'm shaleven, like you shaman. I'm shapackin' and I'm shout. Oh, you guys killed it once again. Like you always do. I love your listener deals. This was a nice long one too. So I hope you guys found some enjoyment in these and a little bit of reprieve from reality.

I love reprieving. And thank you so much to everybody who sent in tales. Matthew will talk about, you know, becoming best friends. Both of you are all amazing. So thank you so much for sending them in. If you have your own listener tale, send it to morbidpodcast.gmail.com. Make sure you put listener tail in the subject line, and we will read yours on a future episode. And in the meantime, you can follow us on Instagram at morbidpodcast. Hit us up on Twitter.

A morbidpodcast. Holy no, just send our Gmail, but here it is one more time. morbidpodcast.gmail.com. We hope you keep listening and we hope you. Keep it weird. But not so weird that you keep listening and we hope you keep it weird. But not so weird that you have to identify them in and align it because that really sucks. And not so weird that you work at a bar where like a lot of really bad shit happens.

And not so weird that you got crowded on a basement and not so weird that your sister Nova is like telling you that things are all around your house because you really don't want things to be all around your house because that's really terrifying. And not so weird that at least you have some guardian angels around you and you're not going to scary, scary places where they've got things right now. I't keep that weirdo level so much fun. Thank you 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.

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