Morbid - Listener Tales 27

Episode Date: May 2, 2021

It’s the most wonderful time of the...month: listener tales!!!! For our 27th listener tales episode we will read you some tales about the importance of buying a hitchhiker a hamburger, trusting your gut and most importantly insulting murderers! Have a great time listening, and keep it weird til’ the next one! As always, thank you to our sponsors: Daily Harvest: Go to DAILYHARVEST.com and enter promo code morbid to get twenty-five dollars off your first box! Modern Fertility: Get $20 off your fertility test when you go to ModernFertility.com/morbid Chili Technology: Head over to chilisleep.com/morbid for ChiliSleep’s best deal, available to Morbid listeners for a limited time! BetterHelp: This podcast is sponsored by BetterHelp and Morbid: A True Crime Podcast listeners get 10% off their first month at betterhelp.com/Morbid 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 W-O-N-D-E-R-Y-P-O-D. Audible.com slash wandery pod or text wandery pod to 500-500 to try audible for free for 30 days. Angie has made it easier than ever to connect with skilled professionals to get all your home projects done well. Just bring them your project online, or with the Angie app, and answer a few questions. With Angie, you can book instantly at an upfront price, or request and compare quotes from multiple pros, so you can find the best price for your project.

So the next time you have a home project, just Angie that and start getting the most out of your home. Download the free Angie mobile app today or visit Angie dot com. That's a N G I dot com. Hey weirdos. I am ash. And I'm Elena and this is more like increasing me weird. It got real real fast. I can't do it. We are slap happy. Yes, we are. It's been a very long day. We are recording after an unsuccessful attempt

at getting my kids to go to sleep. And that's a lot. I think we're secure now. So I think we're able to actually record. Okay, let's hope if you hear anybody going, t-t, one more high. That's a lean as kids. Every time we try to leave leave them, it's like, I have to tell you something. My love you. That's not pretty enough. I have to move this stuff animal over here and I was like, well, I need to go record it up a so. That's exactly how she does it.

Yeah, me mom. I was like, I love you. What kind of cake pop do you want tomorrow? Hey. One more hug. One more kiss. Well, luckily today is a May listener tails. Yay.

It's that time again. It feels like it's been a hundred thousand years. I don't know why. I know it really does. It always does. It does. It does. It do.

I'm dealing with my headphones right now, which just continue to cut in and out and in and out. So you just hear like, I hear like, it's like when you're sick and your voice is like outside of yourself. Oh, you know? Yeah, that's weird. Well, because we have like,

we got the headphones going. We got the headphones going. Go to the headphones growing up near. So. Oh boy, you're here with us and we love you for that. Better be. So let's dive into these listener channels because we found some good ones, I think.

Lots of murder. Lots of murder, lots of... Lots of LL Cool J. Lots of LL Cool J, yes. Which is interesting. Lots of super creeps. Let's do this. You want to go first?

Yeah, I'll go first. All right, can we just go down the line? Can we just go down the line? Sometimes you go out of order and then I'm like, wait, which one to be on the line? Sometimes I go out of order and then I'm like, wait, which one to be on? Sometimes I feel like I want to go out of order, okay? If you, okay, you know what? You go out of order.

You, you, do, you. You go ahead. No, I'll start with the first one. It's great. All right, so this one is called Spreekilling Axe Murderer Friendly Ghost. What's the difference? I don't know, let's see. So it says,

hey weirdos, I ask that you don't use my name, so we won't. So instead you can refer to me as cat. My cat. The family's name and the following story has also been changed. Thank you, I appreciate that. But the names of the victims and aforementioned Axe murder have stayed because they deserved to have their story told. And he probably deserves whatever is said about him. 100. I will attach some links of this story as well. But the following is the probably still

too long abridged version. John Morgan was a man that lived near my small hometown in West Virginia. In November 1897, John visited the... Shit, I don't know how to say that in home. I'm gonna look it up. Hold on. Fold please everybody. It's probably the P.S. silent.

I think it is, but I'm gonna make sure. Because respect. Oh, yes, P.S. Fost. Toldjohn. Fost, it's fost. We looked it up. We listened to somebody say it several times.

It's fost. So, John up, we listened to somebody say it several times, it's foes. So John visited the foes green home where Mrs. Foes green and her three children lived. John had lived with the family at one point. It was said that Mrs. Foes green treated him like a son. Well, at the time of his visit John had learned that the family was due to received money from the sale of a horse. Oh, no, I say. Hey, we were just talking about horses. Not good. Not good. Na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na Oh, I was someone to feed the hogs. I always feel like it ends poorly. Never, ever. Don't do it. At which point, he attacked and killed him with an axe. Wow, that's a lot. He then returned to the home where he killed Matilda

foaced, then turned on Alice foaced. No, not Patent Mont, Matilda and Alice. No, like what? Come on, striking her in the head with the axe. Thinking she was dead, he then went after Mrs. Foast Green. Meanwhile, Alice fled from the home bleeding profusely from her head wound and managed to get help at a neighbor's

house. Oh, imagine flooding. Flooding. Imagine flooding. Imagine fleeing a home with an axe wound. With an axe wound in your skull? Literally. What a bad bitch.

Oh, Alice. John Morgan was quickly arrested, good, and confessed to the murders. Little school? Little school? Little school. Little school. Little school. Little school. Little school. Little school. Little school. Little school. Little school. Little school. Little school. Little school. Little school. Little school. Little school. Little school. Little school. Little school. Little school. Little school. Little school. Little school. Little school. Little school. Little school. Little school. Little school. Little school. Little school. Little school. Little school. Little school. Little school. Little school. Little school. Little school. Little school. Little school. Little school. Little school. Little school. Little school. Little school. Little school. Little school. Little school. Little school. Little school. Little school. Little school. Little school. Little school. Little school. Little school. Little school. Little school. Little school. Little school. Little school. Little school. Little school. Little school. Little school. Little school. Little school. Little school. Little school. Little school. Little school. Little school. Little school. Little school. Little school. Little school. Little school. Little school. Little school. Little school. Little school. Little school. Little school. Little school. Little school. Little school. Little school. Little school. Little school. Little school. Little school. Little school. Little school. Little school. Little school. Little school. Little school. Little school. Little school. Little school. Little school. Little school. Little school. Little school. Little school. Little school. Little school. Little school. Little school. Little school. Little school. Little school. Little school. Little school. Little school. Little school. Little school. Little school. Little school. Little school. Little school. Little school. Little school. Little school. Little school. Little school. Little school. Little school. Little school. Little school. Little school. Little school. Little school. Little school. Little school. Little school. Little school. Little school. Little school. Little school. Little school. Little school. Little school. Little school. Little school. Little school. Little school. Little school. That's ridiculous. The location of the gallows has been confirmed to now be the site of the local high school football field. Seems problematic. Very same field where I graduated high school. Wow, what a set-down. This is serious. Wild-ish. Shortly after Morgan's execution, public hangings were outlawed in West Virginia,

making John Morgan even more infamous in my area. What a distinguished title to have. Yeah, great. The last public hanging. Now comes my connection to this ax murder. I'm waiting for it. When I was growing up, my family was very close with another family that I will call the Smiths.

That was very creative. To the point. To the point where Mr. and Mrs. Smith were basically bonus grandparents to me. OK, I love that. I'm obsessed. I love that. And it makes sense because like it does. It does. It's a mystery. Mr. and Mrs. Smith, a grandparent. It was Brad Pitt and Angelina, where your surrogate grandparents, I love that. I think that was my history teacher's name in like sophomore year. Probably. I was always told that the Smiths house was haunted,

but didn't know the backstory until I was much older. This is when I learned that the property where the Smiths lived was formerly the home of John Morgan, and he was the ghost which so many people had encounters with in that home. Uh oh. One such encounter occurred when Mr. Smith's son brought his, the same Mr. Ann, Mrs. Smiths, but I corrected it. I love that you corrected yourself. I was like, no, it's Mr. Smith. Mr. Smith's, but I corrected it. I can't believe that you corrected yourself. I was like, no, it's Mr. Smith.

Mr. Smith's son brought his girlfriend over. They were sitting in the kitchen when she suddenly became very cold, despite the fact that she was sitting directly over the heating vent. You know what that means. When she told Mr. Smith's son this, he firmly said, John, stop it.

As soon as he said this, the girlfriend was suddenly warm again. I love that in Axe murderer, just listens to Mr. Smith being like, Johnny, cut that out. And I just love that. That's what I say to John on John. Stop it.

Yeah, I've heard it. And he stops making it cold. So when I was a, when I was still a toddler, my family visited the Smith home one night. At some point during the night, my mother realized that I was missing and what, looking for me. All ready then. Well, shit.

Why were you missing? That's a happy ending, but she realized you were missing. So that's good. She found me standing in the laundry room, staring and waving at someone. Who's kidding. Awesome, we're in the laundry room,

but I was completely alone in the room. I would hope that after that, he would have hoped, noped right the, right the hell out of there, but I'm pretty sure we stayed the night at the home. Cool. Although the Smiths have always been very important people in my life, I've never felt comfortable in their home. Part of that may just be that they're an older couple who apparently don't believe in

turning on lights in the home, so the rooms are constantly filled with shadows that play tricks on your eyes. It sounds like my house. The house also stays eerily quiet. And any sounds you might hear are constantly praying tricks on your praying tricks. Phrang tricks. What's happening? Phrang tricks. It's been a long time.

That was really funny. My mouth is just like not me. Your mouth is playing tricks. And it's playing tricks. Phrang tricks. Because it's not meeting what my brain is doing. It's just like a little, it's a step behind. That sounded how your youngest would have said it.

It's in a potent. And I'm tapping my brain while I do it. I'm like, my brain up here. This one's playing you. Like I'm looking at Ash being like, you know, my brain can confirm. I'm like, oh, it's not in your butt. No, it's not.

So yeah, so the sounds you hear are constantly playing tricks on your brain. Did the house just settle or was that an unknown someone on the stairs? Oh hate that game Anyway, anytime that I visit now I politely try to stay outside as much as possible Despite the gruesome nature of the murders and how uncomfortable the house makes me none of the encounters with Johns Ghosts have been negative in fact by all accounts by the Smith family, John is very friendly and even protective of them. Not sure how one goes from spree killing to Casper the friendly ghost, but to each their own, I guess.

Maybe it's not John. Maybe it's not. I don't think it is, but I don't think it is. But if they believe it is and they want to believe that, go for it. Maybe, well, maybe he was reformed in the afterlife. Maybe. There you go. Maybe he took a class. I don't know. Yeah.

Maybe he just like did community service. Wow. That would make a really great TV show. It would. Community service on the other, the good place. Oh, yeah. It was just exactly. All right.

Well, at least we were there. Yeah. We have the same thought as Michael Scher. So I apologize for the length of this story. You don't need to. But I thought you ladies length of this story. You don't need to. But I thought you ladies might find it interesting. We did. Keep it weird, but not so weird that you murder a family

with an axe over horse money, and then become a friendly ghost that scared off girlfriends and plays with children in the laundry room. All my love, cat. Yeah. I'm so glad that you also did that. I'm also so glad that this next one is up. Motherfucking PDF.

Oh, we love a PDF. This one is called Listener Tale. The time I bought a hitchhiker, a burger, and he saved me from being murdered. OK, that sounds like an adventure. OK. OK. What makes a person a murderer?

Are they born to kill or are they made to kill? I'm Candace DeLong and on 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, a.k.a. Mommy Doom stays 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! Lucky Daily in the Amazon Music app. Download the app today. BELL RINGS Hi, ladies, my name is Jennifer, and I love your podcast and the story that you girls have. The banter that brings us all into the story with you.

Just wanted to say I found your podcast about six months ago, and I've honestly already finished every episode. Yeah. I work from home full-time, and it's a great distraction from, well, my husband, my kids, my dogs, and then of course all the work that I should be doing around my house, but I don't want to do. So thank you.

Wow, we feel that. I feel that so hard and I'm happy that I can be your escape. I can you to be my escape. That's literally, I like stopped myself from singing that. Every now and then I'll just stop myself from singing. You don't need to. I know, every time. Never stop yourself. Also, reliant, we're lying. Okay. Yeah.

TBT to when one of them responded to Twitter and I lost my absolute fucking mind. Anyways, I have been thinking about sending this story for a while, but I wasn't sure it fit as it's not nearly as terrifying as some of the stories you read, but it has permanently been embedded in my brain and gives me nightmares to this day. You know those moments where nothing bad happened, but for some reason, you know it's only sheer luck that it didn't. Yeah, pew. So here is my moment that still sits with me eight years later.

To give some background, I'm a veteran. Oh, thank you. We spent a lot of time on the road driving from my duty station in Florida back to Texas where my family was. I joined at 17 and road trips have always given me a sense of freedom and independence. I feel that way too.

Yeah. I love driving. However, I was not always the smartest road trooper. Why is this word hard? I love that you wrote road trooper. And I love that my brain didn't see that at all. I literally wrote road trooper, where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where where Road Trip or River, River, River, River, River. It is hard. I love that my brain was just like, it's not hard. You know that at all.

I had a tendency to pick up hitchhikers on my way, always thinking I was smart, like a dumbass 17 year old one. Wow. By telling the hitchhikers to put their bags in my trunk, they couldn't be wearing any jackets or heavy hoodies to hide murder gear. Yeah, I was clearly a brave. I love it.

I love that you were trying though. You tried to make it as safe as possible. Hey, give it a good effort. And you know what? I feel like you're like an empath, so you're like, I got to help this person, but I got to help myself. Exactly. You tried your best.

You're working with what you got. My parents and sister would lecture me constantly, mine would have to. But my head was denser than an oak tree, so I kept doing my thing. How nothing happened to me? Don't ask me. No clue. By all accounts, I should be dead or someone's stuffed animal or new skin or something that's foul. How dare you? No, that's awesome. I love you. Fast forward to many years later. A marriage destroyed by booze and domestic

violence that at one point led to my husband ripping the phone cord from the wall so my five-year-old son couldn't call 911 and me being drugged down the stairs by my hair and running to a neighbor to get help. My, I am. God. So sorry that you went through that. Geez. For you and your son, oh my goodness.

After a long divorce, court proceedings and feelings of hopelessness, I was divorced single mother of four boys working as a medical coater. I don't know. Working as a medical coater in a small town I don't know. Working as a medical co- in a small town in Nebraska. My family was still back in Texas

and I was intent on reestablishing visits and vacations and my sense of freedom and independence with four little heathens in tow. While I didn't pick up his chikers anymore because of my boys, the road always made me feel free and cleared my brain of any worries.

I was always filled with excitement for my trip. The drive from my house to my parents was roughly 16 hours, and the boys and I would hook up DVD players and drive straight through for a long weekend every chance we could. I love that. I know. My young mom brain clearly had more patients than my old mom brain, because you couldn't pay me enough wine to do that now. Okay, I'm glad they said that, because I was like, that's really fun. Love that. Yeah, that sounds like a fucking nightmare. Don't want to do that now. Okay, I'm glad they said that because I was like, that's really fun.

Love that. Yeah, that sounds like a fucking nightmare. Don't wanna do that at all. No, literally never. You drove to Florida with your girls once. Yeah, when they were two. Yeah, two-year-old twins fucked that. Yeah, I remember doing that again.

Not fuck having two-year-old twins, but fuck driving the trip. No, no, no, no old friend. On one of our first trips down, we stopped in a small town in Kansas at a truck stop, and Sonneau gentleman outside who was looking for food in a ride south. For a moment, the instinct to give this guy a ride as far as south as I was going was strong, but looking at my sweet boy's faces

that was a risk I was not going to take. I did, however, by him a McDonald's meal and offered to book him a room at the holiday and express across the way. Why are you a five-ageel? Seriously. While he took the food, he declined the room, stating he was going to try and make itself.

I slept to my 20 and hit the road, not thinking another thing about it. Again, an angel. I know. Yes, I know there are a lot of thoughts about giving people money, but it's my firm belief I would rather help someone who doesn't need it than not help someone who does.

I agree with you. What a wonderful person you are. People always are like, don't give people that much money and I'm like, shut up. Shut up. So on our way we went. That's a great argument.

It is. Shut up. So on our way we had a great, we went. We had a great visit with my parents and headed home three days later. Now to the moment. Driving north from Texas up to our home in Nebraska takes us up through Oklahoma and Kansas. Just north of Oklahoma, we stop at for, I messed up. We stop for a late lunch and some fuel. At

the time my boys are 12, 10, 9 and 6. God fucking bless you. Wow, I'm not a mother at all. And God fucking bless you. Oh, man. I normally pay for you. I salute you. I normally pay for gas at the pump, but for some reason my card wasn't working, so I had to run in. I found out later it was because the bank had stopped it

as potential fraud since I never traveled. Side note, DV isolation is real, so real that your bank gets confused when you leave the town, you live in. Oh, man. That's wild. Any who, now don't hate me, but I left my boys in the car at the pump when I ran into pay, telling them to keep

all the doors locked and not open them. Also, I'm not gonna hate you because that takes like five seconds. Yeah. So, like a 12 year old in there. Yeah, exactly. And then we'll watch them. So they chilled in the mom mobile dying.

And I ran and said they weren't dying, I'm dying. I feel like I slipped up in a little bit. I don't know what you actually, no, I'm dying. Dying, you called it a mom mobile, mobile. Anyways, and I ran inside thinking I would grab them some snackies while I was in there because clearly caffeine and sugar was something that wasn't going to make my life suck with 10 hours more to go. What was I thinking? In the store, there are maybe four people plus the young lady working the counter. With my hands full, I wait in line, keeping an eye on my van and the parking lot and not really thinking of anything other than the fact that I didn't like that I left the

kids in the car. While standing there, I get the feeling that someone was staring at you. You know that kind of feeling where the eyes of someone are boring into your soul, and if it's your significant other, you look up and grin, but if it's not, you kind of roll your shoulders and wonder why you have a booger on your face. Or if you have a booger on your face. Yeah, that was me. I look over my shoulder and see the older man standing too close for my personal space and look at him and give him a tight smile. Kind of annoyed, but also just kind of like, jeez, dude, I can't push the lady in front of me out of the way. The guy doesn't smile back.

He just keeps staring at me. I hate that. I turn around and kind of shift back and forth, getting kind of nervous, but blowing it off. The man was over six feet, muscular, but not bulky. Clean shaven and kind of rough and tumble look, but less scary, but less scary, biker, more cowboy. I don't know how to explain it, but think John Wayne, but creepy, not hot-y. I love this description.

I think I've got it., not hotty. I love this description. I think I've got it. I definitely do. As I stand there, I can still feel his eyes on me. So when it's my turn, I hopped at the counter and pay, anxious to get my kids back on the road. When I leave, I turn to give creepy, too close guy. One last to know it as fuck look with my eye holes. And realized he wasn't at the counter or behind me.

Shrugging it off but disappointed he couldn't see my evil eyes. I had outside. I walked to my van, unlocked the doors and see that my kids haven't even looked up from their cartoon. Tossing snacks into the passenger seat, I feel someone tap my shoulder and lose my shit. I'm not kidding. This man startled me to the point where I dropped my iced tea and yelped like someone had stepped on my dog's paw. When I finished peeing my pants, I realized it's the man who was standing behind me looks familiar But was not the guy from the store. He apologizes for scaring me and tells me that I should get in my car And not stop until I had gotten all the way home or got to a police station. What the fuck?

Excuse me. I feel like who are you? At this point all that is running through my head is how the fuck did I find two creepers at the same gas station and BFE Oklahoma? What is BFE We talking like Bum fuck East Oklahoma, sir. I'm fuck anywhere. Oh, no everywhere. fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck at the pumps, I politely say, okay, thanks. I am sure the question was in my voice, but I had enough of this gas station. It was planning. I don't know, but she's fucking dying over here. She just said, okay, thanks. Hello, you need to get in your car. You need to drive. It's funny. I had not stopped to get home right at police station. And she just looks around and is like, okay, thanks. Okay, thanks.

I have more questions. I have eight questions. This is so funny. Oh, shit. No, no, no, no, no. I am sure the question was in my voice, but if, but I had had enough of this gas station, it was planning on doing exactly what he suggested anyway.

It wasn't until the guy smiled that I realized where I knew him from. He was the gentleman that I had given food to a few days earlier who was trying to get further south. I smiled and said something along the lines of, that I realized where I knew him from. He was the gentleman that I had given food to a few days earlier who was trying to get further south. I smiled and said something along the lines of, oh, looks like you made it south. I kid you not.

This man looked at me deadpan and said, there is a guy in a rig, yes, there is a guy in a rig who was in the store with you and is now sitting in his truck. He pulled in after you, watched you get gas, followed you in, and then he left before checking out and has been sitting in his truck just staring at you through the window. Oh!

His truck is fired up, but he isn't going anywhere. I don't know what he's doing, but I know he is staring at us right now, and I wasn't sure if you knew him or not, but just in case you needed to know. Sure enough, I looked over my shoulder, and there he sits, just staring, the same guy from in the store.

Clearly, I do not know this guy, I'm freaked out and I have a mini bus of many humans, so I thank him and hit the road with the soul intent of not stopping until we get home. As we drive this truck, it's on the road behind me and follows me onto the highway. I have no idea how fast I drove, 90, 150, no clue. I was overwhelmed with the feeling of losing that truck, of getting away from it as quickly as possible and putting as much space between my babies and that man as. Oh my God, I feel stressed for her.

It says like joyride, but with children. But with babies. Yeah, as quickly as possible. With no option to call the police in service, even with Verizon, on a large section of the Northern Oklahoma and Southern Kansas is not existent. And what would I say, a hitchhiker I picked up three days ago,

just found me at the gas station and told me I was basically being stalked by a trucker through Oklahoma, yeah, probably not. You know that movie joyride officer? It's kind of like happening to me right now, except I have kids. So I just drove as fast as I could down that highway, mile by mile, putting that creepy truck

as far behind us as we could, looking back every mile to see if I was making the distance spread. Eventually, he was gone for my rearview mirror, but I don't think I dropped speed until we got home. Clearly nothing happened. My boys and I are all fine, safe, happy, healthy, I don't know why I just said, happy, we're so happy. We are, happy, healthy, but road trips are different now. A piece of that freedom was taken that day

And I now travel with protection and a wary eye of every vehicle around me for months I had nightmares of getting home from an errand and seeing that truck parked in front of my house. Oh that is terrifying Empty with all my kids in our home when driving through Oklahoma and Kansas I always keep my eyes on the trucks looking for the big yellow rig with the black stripes, and thankful for that one time I bought a hitchhiker or a burger, and he paid me back with what could have been the life of myself and my boys. Anyhow, thanks for listening to my moment. Feel free to use my name, and I can't wait until live shows are a real thing again. I can't wait to meet you.

You sound fucking awesome. Jennifer. Jennifer come to a live show. Jennifer. That was, and that was so well told. Also, I feel like that guy was like, I feel like we all have like a little guardian angel. And I think that he might have been

one of your guardian angels. Well, you did something like selfless for him. Marma. And it came back for you. Jennifer. I'm so glad that he made itself. Thank you so much for that. I know, that was great.

I'm gonna read a really short one, and then I'll read a regular sized one, just because this one's really short. That's fine. So this one's called, I insulted the murderer. Don't do that. Don't do it But this is actually do that. This is why did I say don't do that? I look as don't do it to like their face if like they're not in chains or something. Yeah Yeah, yeah, yeah, don't do it when you're in danger. Yeah, no, no Sup you beautiful beaches. Just doing some listener tails. How about you?

I didn't think that was gonna get you But everything's got me right now. Very punchy. This is a short one. So jump right Just doing some listener tales, how about you? I didn't think that was gonna get you. This is what everything's got to be right now. Very punchy. This is a short one, so jump right in. I work in the ER in a small, but popular tourist town in California. And a few summers ago, a middle-aged white dude of fucking course lost his marbs and murdered his roommate.

In the afternoon, on the front lawn of their residence, on a fucking Sunday, get a grip of my dude. Yeah, that's too far too much. Anyway, he was brought in to be medically cleared for incarceration. And as I bent down to put a name bracelet on him, he said my name, and then said, pretty. I'll remember that. I'd be like, go fuck yourself. She wrote, fucking gross.

Cut to about a year later, I'm again working when that same murderer is brought in from the jail with some vague complaints that didn't require an ER. And I again go to give him a name bracelet. Now I had recently gotten into the habit of saying, spank you or shanks in place of thank you or thanks, because I'm obnoxious that way. But when I walked into the room, he lifted his arm without me asking to make it easier for me to apply his bracelet. And without thinking, I loudly looked him in the face and said, oh, thank you! To a fucking convicted murderer. And he responded with, well, I haven't been yet, but when I get back

to look up, look up, maybe. I turned bright red and exchanged an embarrassing look with the CO on the bedside and left the room. I don't feel that bad considering he creeped me all the way out when I met him a year prior but what a poor time for me to be so fucking quirky. Anyway, love you ladies. That's really fun. I love that. Oh, show, shake you. Oh, shake you. Awesome. And I love not yet, but maybe when I get back to lock up, right? Oh, that was a good one. I love that. Thank you, K for that. What if you were trafficked into a cult over shot nine times, or fell in love with a vampire, or went into a minor surgery and woke up one week later, paralyzed.

What would you do? I'm Whit Missildine, the creator of this is actually happening, a podcast from Wondry that brings you extraordinary true stories of life-changing events, told by the people who lived them. From a young man that dooms his entire future with one choice, to a woman who survived a notorious serial killer. You'll hear their first-person account of how they overcame remarkable circumstances.

Each episode is an exploration of the human spirit and personal discovery. These haunting accounts sound like Hollywood movies, but I assure you, this is actually happening. Followed this is actually happening wherever you get your podcasts, you can listen to ad free on the Amazon Music or Wonder app. So this one that I'm going to read is called that one time we escaped a kidnapping attempt and nobody believed us because we're apparently drama queens. I feel like that would have happened to me at some point like that.

I would definitely want everybody to think I'm a drama queen. No. I'm not really that dramatic. We don't think that. Hi. I'm writing with this, but I'm writing with this blissfully ignoring my melodramatic kids and their mind craft drama. Honestly, I don't know where they get it from. I've been bingeing on your podcast for the last six weeks and I'm making great, anyway. Wait, wait, wait. What? I thought that said the last six years and I was like well you're a liar because that's not the truth

I'm ready to be in your podcast for the last six years. I was like no Ashes of like call about 2021 mode right now. She's like liar Lie wait, by the way, we turned three today. We did. Merry Christmas. Merry Christmas. What an episode to put out. We're really, we're really evolved.

In this one, you can say. Yes, really. Oh boy. All right, so I've been binging on your podcast for the last six weeks and I'm making great headway. Who knew murder could be so much fun. Yay. Oh man. She put a period between love. That's why I broke. and I'm making great headway. Who knew murder could be so much fun? Yay! Oh man.

She put a period between love, that's why I broke. I'm not great on small talk, me either. Let's be friends. I love small talk. So I'll just dive right in. I grew up in North Wales, the UK one, not the one in the US. Not the one in the US one, that's what you're talking about. The official name for the remoteness of where I lived to

is referred to as the arsehole of nowhere and Welsh. You know, the kind of place that reeks of the famous five-style adventures, Rowlingfield's forests and rivers, the kind of place we're seeing a person in the next village driving their new car was considered a hot topic for the whole fucking family. This of course led to a bunch of kids with overactive imaginations. You know, shit like an old radio we found in the forest was of course from a Nazi spy that hit in the forest.

Like, fuck it was, but hey, whatever gets you through the day. Shit. Shit like this would occupy us for a good couple of weeks, digging up in the forest and search for bodily remains. Iconic. Apart from the neighbors, Pat Dog and a couple of cat slash rabbit skeletons. We never found fuck all of much interest. I love you.

I love how people talk. Every now and then, we do some mortal combat training and create a labyrinth of secret paths and behind edges, et cetera, just in case. After all preparation is key. Just in case of what? Well let me fucking tell you. Tell me.

It was the summer holidays. We would have rather been at the beach or a theme park, or even just the shitty park in town with a broken roundabout and the boiling hot metal slide that would literally brand the back of your skin a little kid legs. Oh yeah. Instead I was out with the only other girl on the street. Let's call her Daisy.

Daisy was a couple of years younger than me, making her about eight and myself about ten at the time. Give her take a year. This was fucking yonks, yonks ago to be fair. We'd been sent to collect flowers. You know that conversation. We're bored. We'll go and collect flowers or something. So we did. Of course being the little shits we were, but also just in case. I sneaked mom's, mams, mams, big sewing scissors out with me. Now I so, I can totally see how that would have pissed my mom off. And of course, and off we went down the winding country road down from our street. If you watch British dramas, you know the type I do, I'm seeing it in my head. Just about wide

enough for a tractor, yep. With huge edges on either side. That's literally what I just picked. If two cars were to meet, then there would usually be a standoff between the drivers over who would reverse first. There we were picking flowers using mems scissors to cut the wild roses with mems precious sewing scissors and whatnot. We were approximately 500 meters away

from the first house of our street when a silver Volvo drove past with a man and a woman in it. The man had a shitty moustache and the woman had a perm that should have been illegal and huge square glasses. Look up Deirdre Barlow, Coronation Street, mid-80s to get an idea of what we're talking about. PRB heading to good news. Now I already had a keen interest in murder stories. What can I say? Kid growing up in the arse hell? All of nowhere you get your kicks wherever you can oh Jesus Christ this woman looks awful oh No, thank you. No, thank you say no to that. Sorry if you're a good person dear

I commented to Daisy that the man was so serial killer and we left Ha ha ha like we were so fucking cool. Well, what do you know the car only fucking turned round and came back down the road and Stopped about two car distance away from us. Well shit a brick that took a turn We weren't expecting and the woman got out of the fucking car I just remember muttering for fuck sake. Oh my god For fuck sake. I love that. Like this was something I was fed up of happening. And Daisy said it's happening.

Like some mini zombie killer. Deirdre Barlow started edging towards us. I muttered to Daisy, run the hedge. She sprinted off. I did that 22th bearing face that kids do when trying to be tough and Flashed my mom's scissors before turning on. Pictureing that in my brain just gave me everything. I just washed the scissors. She's like fuck you, man. I got scissors. I just made out, uh, hold on, I just made out Daisy's foot disappearing under one of our hedge holes.

I knew I didn't have time to scuffle through, so I ran a bit further down to the spot where the hedge was a bit decrepit and scrambled over. My arms and legs shredded from the blackberry bush that just had to fucking be there. As I fell to the ground on the other side, the car sped past, we ended up having to scramble down a little rocky cliff, not a cliff, but not really a hill, our hearts racing,

adrenaline absolutely fucking pumping. It took us a while until we got to the field gate that was facing our street. We got behind the hedge until we saw our neighbor coming outside, petrified to go any sooner in case they were waiting for us around the corner. As soon as we saw her, we screamed her name and scaled the fence. We didn't stop and ran straight to my house while she stared at us with bewildered. Stumbling through the door, I screamed for ma'am, who saw the state of me and asked what the hell I had done to my new shorts and t-shirt priorities. We relayed the story and she sighed, and I doesn't said bullshit. She genuinely believed that we were lying, so we wouldn't get in trouble for

rooting our clothes. I was livid insisting it was all true. I got accused of being a drama queen and sent to bed. Oh my God. Next day my aunt and uncle happened to be visiting. He was a copper. Mum brought up the tall tail and made me show the state of my arms and legs. Anyway, my uncle asked me to give him details.

I told him about the silver Volvo, Deirdre Barlow, and Her cereal killer partner. I had a gentle chat about wasting police time, blah to blah. I stormed off in a huff again, got accused again of being a drama queen and refused to speak about it again until a few weeks later. I was in the field behind our house with Daisy.

We'd actually found a dead mouse and we're trying to revive it with CPR and some VIX. It didn't work. When my mom and her mom started telling us to get back in the house quickly, we walked as slow as possible back to the house while disgusting what they could have possibly caught us out on. There were quite a few options, but let's skip that.

Oh, I feel that so. We worked up an excuse for a couple of more serious possibilities and decided to wing the rest, but generally, the plan was to blame our brothers. I can just picture them, like, walking up to the house, like, talking out of the side of the house. And they're literally like, okay, so what do you want to say? That was a sad, the cat, the...

So you're gonna say that Thomas told us to. For fuck's sake. Arriving at the fence to our garden, I love how they're from Wales and I went full Boston with that. I was like, fuck's sake. That's what they said. Like, you're like, at that fast, motherfucker. Motherfuckers, kid. Got it Duncan.

Arriving at the fence to our garden, I instantly said, we didn't do anything. But man, an Auntie Daisy's man looked shaken. And we could see my uncle policeman sat in the kitchen in his uniform. My mind was racing. What the fuck had we done with that would warn a police visit? They all showed us into the kitchen. My uncle asked me to describe the car we'd seen that day. I told him. Then he asked us if we recognized the people. I kind of shrugged. He then showed

me some pictures about five different men and women and asked me if I recognized any of them. Well, I only fucking picked them out, didn't I? At that point, both mothers started crying and hugging us and apologizing profusely for not believing us. Daisy and I were still confused as fuck. Hell, they even said that they'd never doubt us again. Lest it a day, that one. Turned out this was... Turned out this was a known pedophile and his wife. Oh my God. They'd attempted kidnapping.

Another two girls similar and aged to us about 30 minutes away. But we're caught in the act by a passerby. Wow. So yeah, was nice to be believed. PS, I'd rather you didn't use my name. You can use any name you want, but not Karen. I may be 40, but I'm not a Karen. And not Denise.

That sounds a bit too denicy, doesn't it? Lots of love, peace out. I love you so much. I'm gonna call you Harriet Gladys. Oh, I wasn't expecting that. So thank you, Gladys. Oh my god, I love you. That was amazing.

That was a really good story. Also, do we know if Deirdre Barlow, or whoever it was is a bad person or a good person? Please hold, pause, please. What pause? Yeah, not a bad person. Turns out she's a fictional character.

Yeah, so that's cool. Yeah. That tail was awesome. That really was. My next one is, listen to her tails, maybe kind of sort her eye reckon, oh, and eat, whatever that means. I have the olds, I'm 44, and I don't know eat whatever that means I have the olds. I'm 44 and I don't know what eat us

I have the olds honestly I have the olds at this point in my life I love you so much already all right it starts by saying Lord knows I love me some of y'all and that's saying a lot because I'm one scary Motherfucker in your all some spooky ass bitches because I'm one scary motherfucker in your all this is spooky as bitches. I'm one scary motherfucker. She's like, I love you guys, but I'm scary as shit. I love you so much. My name is Rondica.

The eye is a short eye sounds as in... The eye is a short eye sound as in dick, not a long e-sound as in fleek. So it's Veronica. I love you so much. Yeah, okay. It's an unusual name, but I love it. I love it too.

My mom. I love you so much. My mom's name was, I really hope I- Roger Neda. I think so. I really didn't want to fuck it up. And she said that she wanted to name me after her. We love a Gilmar Girls moment

Okay, my story isn't really spooky and I'm not sure that it will make the episode but here goes I was inspired to share after the story of a listener shared her about her mom coming back as an owl I will never forget that story. I love that story. Get some tissues. You may need them. Oh no My mom gained her wings may have 2014 after a courageous battle with oral cancer. Oh my god, I can't even imagine that. I'm sorry for your loss. Veronica. My husband and I were blessed to have her live out her final days in our home,

and she went on for her eternal rest with my brother and I, on either side of her holding her hands and telling her it was okay for her to go. Oh, sorry for the run-on sentence. My emotions are all over the place, so grammar can suck it for now. Absolutely, Cam. I love her on sentence, personally. I knew too. That was the biggest lie I ever told my mom.

I did not want her to go, and I definitely was not okay, but I didn't want her to hurt anymore. I knew she was hanging on for us, and she wasn't going to go until we had told her it'd be okay. Mom's hospice nurse told us right before people passed. Usually they see people or other things, such as angels before they die, that we can't see. My mom was full on faith in God, and I rest easy, knowing that she is home with him, and finally free of the pain that plagued her during her last days.

The night before she died, I crawled into bed with her and spent what I didn't know would be the last oh, would be the last night with my mommy. Oh! She woke me several times during the night to point at the foot of the bed, and with a look on her face that said, do you see that? She was unable to talk clearly then because of the cancer, or excuse me, because of the cancer had, woo, this is hard. It basically hardened her tongue. She couldn't move it much so she couldn't speak clearly. She usually communicated by writing things down toward the end if we couldn't understand what she was saying. She continued to point and got exasperated and rolled to her eyes at me when I said I couldn't see what she saw.

My mom was a character and that eye roll meant girl what the hell is wrong with you? I know you can see what I'm pointing at. It's right at the foot of the damn bed, child. I love it. She loved God, but she still cussed. Oh my God, I love her. I do too. To this day, I regret not getting her a notebook, so she could at least write down what she saw. I was exhausted with work, family, and just plain life. She was finally able to rest towards morning and slept until she passed the next day

around 10 in the morning. I miss my mama every day, and some days are harder than others. During those times, it seems as if mama sends me a sign to call my heart and soothe my soul. One afternoon, I was taking a nap on the love seat. I'm short, excuse me. I'm a short stack like Alaina, soothe my soul. One afternoon, I was taking a nap on the love seat. I'm short, excuse me. I'm a short stack like a Lena, so I fit comfortably, hell yeah.

Anyways, I was sleeping and missing my mama when I felt her hand brush my cheek and I felt more than heard her say, I'm okay and I love you. Oh, daddy died in February of 2016 and there are no words to express the emptiness I feel with both parents gone. I can't imagine. I cannot. They still come to visit though. They come as the little bright dancing orbs outside the windows on our deck. One day I saw a dark orb floating outside and I heard Mama clear his day say,

don't let them in baby, that's not us. Oh. I just got full chills. Yeah, holy shit. That is wild. Oh my God, can't you look at this? Yeah, no, no, literally look at my arms. I wish you guys could see this.

Full on goosebumps. And you know what's wild? I read this a couple weeks ago and put it in the folder. And I'm still getting chills. Ooh. Ooh, okay. I promptly told whatever it was that they weren't welcome in our home and they had to leave in the name of Jesus. I'm a believer chills. Ooh. Oh, okay. I promptly told whatever it was that they weren't welcome in our home and they had to leave

in the name of Jesus. I'm a believer, but I promise I'm no hateful Christian. How anyone can be hateful and claim to love Christ is beyond me because he was nothing but love, but I digress. Oh my God, I really love you. I love you a lot. You're wonderful.

There was another time when I was grocery shopping when Casanova by, how do you say it? Lever? Lever? Lever. I came on over the store. I'm not sure if I'm right with that one. You tried. I did.

Over the store radio while I was in the dairy section, and I broke down while trying to find a gallon of milk with the furthest expiration date. My mom loved music and loved to dance, and this was one of her favorite songs. That and Head to Toe by Lisa Lisa. Yes. Oh my god, I love it.

And the cult jam by anything, excuse me, and the cult jam and anything by Prince. Where am I? Oh yeah. The dairy section and crying to, what did you say? Lover. Yeah. A lady saw me crying in K-Bover to comfort me.

This was in the time, this was in the before times when you could actually touch people. Social distancing wasn't a thing. Remember those days? Not really. No. Well, I told her I was crying because I was missing my mommy, something fierce, you could actually touch people. Social distancing wasn't a thing. Remember those days? Not really. Well, I told her I was crying because I was missing my mommy, something fierce,

and she loved dancing to this song. She smiled and said, her mom loved the song and loved dancing too. I wish you guys just broke out and fucking danced in the day reception. That would have been amazing. By the time we finished talking, I felt better and we both said

our moms are probably jamming and heaven together at this moment and brought us together. Who knows? I know I rambled and I had to take a bit of a break and came back to this several times before I could finish. I hope you can make sense of my garbled mess. Keep it weird, but also weird enough that you can feel your mom's brush your cheek and tell you she loves you when you're taking a nap and miss her like crazy and she and your daddy dance like fireflies but the daytime on your deck, and you have a crying dance party jamming to Casanova by Lever. The supermarket while looking for milk with a stranger,

and you both leave saying, your mommy's a dancing and heaven heaven, how have a good time? Ooh, dance on mama. I love you forever and ever, poo. Oh, that was like not true, crimey at all, but it was like paranormal, and we needed to read it because I fucking loved it.

That I read this email like weeks ago, I think I was with you, wasn't I? Oh, you were, yeah. Yeah, because I was like, oh my god. It just like made me feel some type of way and I was like, we have to read that on the show. Oh, and they attached a picture of her with her mom. And can we just say that your mom is beautiful?

Seriously, you're both such beautiful. Oh, so you guys are twins. Angels, you really are. And also you have like a very familiar face. You do. Maybe it's just because you're lovely such beautiful. I'm so excited. You guys are twins. You really are. And also, you have like a very familiar face. You do. Maybe it's just because you're lovely. You're gorgeous. You're gorgeous.

Oh my goodness. That was like that right. I can't believe the amount of goosebumps that I got during that was outrageous. The don't let us in. That's not us. That outrageous. Yeah. That just blew my mind.

This next one is what we need to lighten things up a little. Oh, all right, so this one's called LL Cool J beat up my grandma's murderer. All right, all right, all right, all right, all right, dealing it. He did. Hey ladies, I'm Samantha. So my grandma Delma had my dad when she was 13. Wow. I believe it was 1987 when she was 26 and went missing.

She was found murdered in an abandoned warehouse. Oh my god. The man guilty of the crime is named Jonathan Kirby, a member of the Kirby vacuum family, by the way. He was, oh wow, that's crazy. He was convicted of a voluntary manslaughter in 1988, sentenced to six years, released after only one. Unfortunately, there's not much available to research pertaining my grandma's case. I have a quote, morbid curiosity, if you will. A year or so ago, my dad's sister, also named Samantha, sent us an article from 2012 that blew our minds.

I'll attach the specific one, but there's multiple articles available online. In the middle of the night, in August of 2012, LL Cool J's security alarm was set off as his family was sleeping, soon he was faced to face with Jonathan Kirby, the man who killed my grandma in Texas 25 years before. Wow. L.L. Cool J was interviewed about the home intrusion and said he was afraid of Kirby, receiving a Charles Manson type of vibe from him due to his looks and demeanor. I'm also going to include a link to an interview he did with Oprah where he discussed his fear

in the situation. Despite this, the wrath that is the L.L. Cool J Left Kirby with a broken nose, broken jaw, and broken ribs. The wrath that is the LL Cool J. However, I'm not sure what the legal aftermath was for Kirby with all of that. What it said at the time was he was facing 38 years in prison since he was a, quote, third striker. It's unnerving to know his children and wife were present when you're aware that Kirby is capable of. It's a good thing his mama said, knock you out. Oh my God, I'm fucking dead.

Oh my God, his mama said knock you out. Oh, you know what, Jonathan Kirby needed love. Oh God, this is amazing. That was so funny. You know what Jonathan Kirby needed love God That was so funny. Oh, I'm glad his mama said knock him out. You better. We'll love that. Wow. That was a great one That was really good. That was a nice one. I'm like, boop. Yeah, we needed that to bring us out I really did because this one's fucking terrifying. Oh, Lord. This one is called the tale of Mr. X or how my daughter is primed to be an even bigger Weirdo than I am. Cool, cool. Hi guys, you're the best and so is your podcast and I'm just going to jump right into it

here. Love that. Thank you. This story is about my four-year-old daughter and her absolute creep fest behavior a few years ago. When she was around two, we finally got her sleep train to stay in her own bed so I could get more than three hours of sleep at a time and function like a normal human being without seven cups of coffee every day, sweet relief.

Wow, you're speaking directly to my tired, tired, tired soul. Literally the opening few lines were like part of the reason I picked this to read. Oh my God! I just was like, wow, wow, we're one. We set up a monitor so I could keep an eye on her because as much as I cherish, I'm broken sleep,

I also have an insane anxiety when it comes to my kids and basically think they're about 10 seconds away from being abducted all times. Is this me? Yes. Did I write this listener tale? I might have. My husband insists it's because I listen

to true crime and paranormal podcasts on a routine basis. I say, push-posh. Pish-posh. I've always been a big believer in the paranormal and a true crime junkie. I blame it on my grandma. He used to tell me that her house, which was in the fucking suburbs, was built on Native American burial ground and was haunted. Stupid eight-year-old me had seen Poltergeist and wow did I believe her, especially when she would play tricks on me to convince me that a ghost she sounds awesome That's awesome. I would have read grandma

Like telling me how the ghost turned the lights on so if I woke up and a light was on a ghost I've been watching that's fun and then she turned on the light while I was asleep That's saddest she said that not me anyways I've had other spooky supernatural things happen to me So I'm a big believer even if it scares the shit out of me sometimes So So we set up the monitor, got my daughter a moana blanket, and called it a day, loved that. Things were going well, I could actually watch Netflix wrapped up in my big, fluffy bed, and she was sleeping well. That is until Mr. X arrived. I hate this already. Yeah, not into it. Some backstory on my house. It's from 1940. Not as old as some of the shit you have in Boston.

I know, but to us Floridians, that's like ancient. I mean, that's pretty fucking old. That's pretty old. PS Boston rocks and old buildings are the best. I lived in Salem for a year, and wow, was it spooktacular, and also real fucking scary, but that's another story for another day. Oh, I want that story. Has to I. Anyways, my house is old as fuck according to Florida standards, and is basically one central room with a bunch of other oddly shaped rooms added on to it I feel that. Yep, and as a ton of owners over the years and but apparently started out

Yep started out as one of the first houses on our street and was a goat farm not gonna lie wish it was still a goat farm Okay, so I know I watched a like farmhouse fixer or upper I don't really know what it's called, but it's the guy from New Kids on the block. Oh yeah. He hosted me like fix farmhouses on HGTV. I love that. Any bot somebody goats and now I want goats. Oh I know. The end. The end. It's that way back from the street and has a lot of old trees that hang over it, so it's always dark inside the house. I love that. Me too. When we bought it, I was legit concerned that it would be haunted, but my husband basically told me to stop listening to the paranormal shit and calm down.

I didn't, but also didn't notice anything out of the ordinary. So at around two, my daughter starts waking up at night again, but we're not talking waking up, calling mama, mama through the monitor until I come in. We're talking screaming bloody murder in the middle of the night. Oh no. Sound familiar, Elena? I'm still thinking I might have written this in like a haze of tiredness, because this is sound a lot more familiar.

Yeah. The first time it happened, I think I fucking operated a turkish. Did I say that right? Yeah, operated a turkish. I, this is too real, because I literally did that a couple of weeks ago. Literally.

I think I just materialized in her room. Because the baby lately is screaming, waking up in the middle of the night and screaming no. Yeah, which is so freaky. Yeah, that's not happy. I ran as fast as I could to check on her. She was screaming and crying in her bed until we got there,

pointing in the very, very dark corner at what looked like nothing, at least to me. Understand that at two, her vocab was still limited, so she couldn't really tell me what was wrong. I calmed her down, got her back to sleep, and then went straight to Google to ask it what the fuck my God, I did the same. The Goog said, night terrors, although she was very little

for it. So I said, okay, and I went on my merry way with my revived seven cups of coffee routine. The waking up happened the next night and the next night and the next night, the same shit screaming at the top of her lungs pointing into the dark corner and crying. It got to the point where I would just lay awake

waiting for it. She was so hysterical that it freaked me out enough to call her pediatrician, who then referred us to an E&T doctor to check for sleep apnea. They basically put her on allergy medicine and said, sorry, Succa. Oh my God, that's literally it. Oh, that's awful.

Yeah. My husband didn't want her to revert to sleeping on our room again, though, thought it was a face. There are no ghosts, blah, blah, blah. So I start dragging a twin mattress into her room and sleeping with her, but not sleeping, you know, just laying there with my eyes wide open, staring into that fucking corner and saying the Lord's prayer in my head.

She would literally crawl out of her bed and onto the mattress and sleep next to me, clutching my shirt. A poor thing was so freaked out. That like, that kills me. I would be so fucking mad if I ghosted this to my kids. It all came to a head one night when she woke up screaming like a banshee. She pointed in the corner and said,

Mr. X, Mr. X. I would light the house on fire and take my family and leave. I had on the head out. I whipped around like, I gotta get out. Yeah, like what? I whipped around like Ted Bundy was behind me and looked again, but nothing but darkness.

I was trying to calm her down, but she started screaming again. He's here! He's here! Oh my god. Leave. Light the place on fire, I'm not kidding. Literally, almost shit my pants. She definitely went to bed with me that night, fucks sleep training.

And the next day I had a talk with her about ghosts. That'd in her up to be a weirdo, early. High five. And how if something's scaring you, you in her up to be a weirdo early. High five. Oh, yes. And how if something's scaring you, you should tell it to go away. It's not welcome here. My very cool aunt who was also into the paranormal stuff

has always given me this advice to use if I think a ghost or goole is in my house. Didn't know if it worked or not. Apparently it worked for her once, but I figured at this point, anything was worth trying. I also didn't, I also hadn't had time to buy any sage. That night the screaming started up and did I mention it was always around 3 a.m. which holy mother of God freaked me out. Oh, same. Is it? You didn't fucking tell me that. I'm dipping in a second. Bye. I'm dipping.

I'm dipping. My daughter started screaming that, oh, fuck, now I'm even freaked out because like we're not. That I'm not into. Yeah, my daughter started screaming that, oh fuck, now I'm even freaked out because like we're not. I'm not into. Yeah, my daughter started screaming that Mr. X was here. I almost peed myself and then pointed into the corner and threw her tears, yelled, go away! Go away! I was shocked that she remembered, but then she calmed down and went to bed with me. And it stopped.

Like, what? That should not have worked. Not. But she never woke up again screaming like that and she never brought up Mr. X again Mr. X I know it's fucking terrifying So then fast forward to 2020 the year of bullshit and we're quarantined at home at home Mind you so I can't fucking leave my daughter is now three and sitting at the table where you can see into the dark guest bathroom Oh fuck this.

She's staring and looking kind of weird. So I ask her, hey, what are you looking at? She casually answers me, oh, Mr. X. I about kneeled over and fucking died right there. I hate this so much. I asked her in a high-pitched voice, well, what does he look like? She pressed, I like, I like, I like, I like, I like, I like, I like, I like, I like, I like, I like, I like, I like, I like, I like, I like, I like, I like, I like, I like, I like, I like, I like, I like, I like, I like, I like, I like, I like, I like, I like, I like, I like, I like, I like, I like, I like, I like, I like, I like, I like, I like, I like, I like, I like, I like, I like, I like, I like, I like, I like, I like, I like, I like, I like, I like, I like, I like, I like, I like, I like, I like, I like, I like, I like, I like, I like, I like, I like, I like, I like, I like, I like, I like, I like, I like, I like, I like, I like, I like, I like, I like, I like, I like, I like, I like, I like, I like, I like, I like, I like, I like, I like, I like, I like, I like, I like, I like, I like, I like, I like, I like, I like, I like, I like, I like, I like, I like, I like, I like, I like, I like, I like, I like, I like, I like, I like, I like, I like, I like, I like, I like, I like, I like, I like, I like, I like, I like, I like, I like, I like, I like, I like, I like, I like, I like, I like, I like, I like, I like, I like, I staring into the bathroom and she goes, he's all black like a skeleton. But red eyes. That's a diamond. That's a diamond. That's a diamond. I shit you not.

I almost ran out of the house right fucking there and then leaving her and her brother to share their veggie straws with Mr. X and all his demon friends that might also be living in my house. I screamed laughed to cover my panic, but she didn't think it was funny. She, oh my god, she just screamed, mom. She goes, mama, he's in the bathroom. Why don't you go say hi to him? Oh, I'd be like, you know what?

That's when you look at your child and it's okay to say fuck you. You look at that three-year-old and you go, you know what? Fuck you. That's what you do year olds and you go, you know what? Fuck you. That's what you do. Clearly I'm not very good. I would literally be like, why don't you go fucking say hi? Like if your kids every tell them that I said fuck you to them, it's because they ask me to say hi to someone that's not there. That they casually described as a skeleton. And that seems like such like a... Why don't you go say hi to my mom? Yeah, like... That they casually described as a skeleton. That seems like such like a... Why don't you go say, I don't want mom?

Yeah, like you want to go ahead. Like I had to say, go away. Go say, I don't want you to go check them out. Fucking poser. Wow. Hard fucking pass on that one, but thanks. I literally was afraid to pee for days, especially when my daughter would literally walk by the bathroom saying,

Oh my god. I'm Mr. X. Very casually, like, they're fucking best friends forever now. Finally, I went to the bathroom with a stick of incense and said, Bitch, go away. It all stopped, but I don't think it's gone. We're moving in a month or two, thank god. Peace out, goat farm, go steam, and Mr. X. Hopefully he doesn't follow us or I will die

Bitch go anyways, that's it. Thanks for having the best spooky podcast out there And also for being the weirdos that you are here's some of my faith people and it always makes me pumped to see a new episode Waiting for me also please Schedule a live show in Florida, like in Orlando, ASAP. Keep it weird, Chris. Chris, I can't wait to eat you. Yeah, Chris, please buy.

I'm eating green because I gotta eat you. I gotta eat you. We gotta find you. So scary. Bitch. Go away. Bitch, go away. Oh, thank you for that.

I'm crying. So the last one that we'll do is thank God I said no to that fucking scavenger hunt. And it's a word document. All of you sending word documents just like the M.E.P.s. Hello you beautiful bad asses. First, I need to apologize because I'm not a great writer. You don't need to apologize. Shrurt hashtag business student. However, my story is chilling in the realest way possible and I had to share it with you all. I also want to say I fucking love you too. We fucking love you. I love you.

I found your podcast right before this past spooky season started and now cannot do my makeup without listening to your podcast. Specifically the listener tales. I love that word too. You have my shit hooked, all my shit. Oh, also, I should apologize because this may be long, and I promised some other bitches out there need to hear this. My roommates all call me a witch because apparently, I have spooky eukie abilities to predict events and also have an insane sense of being in tune with my feelings and surroundings.

My name is Erica, which you are totally fine to use, however, I'm changing the other names in this story. Just to set the tone, I go to a small college out west, and it gets fucking freezing in the winter. It was my second semester of my first year of college, no car, and of course I had a class that was from 5.30 to 7 at night. Well, shick gets dark at 5 here. So I was walking to class in the dark always. Luckily, this class was only once a week. I remember the

first couple of weeks I was analyzing the type of people in my class like I would like I normally do just to try to catch the vibe. Everyone seemed pretty chill and chowdy except for this one guy. He was short, scrawny and pasty with pitch black hair. We call him, we will call him Seth. Seth would just stare. Like, stare to the point where I thought he was going to take my soul. Which is ironic since I'm a gender and don't have one. Yes. Anyways, I just dismissed it as him being that one weird kid and just tried to ignore him. But oh no, he had other

plans for me. I was sitting at my apartment one day and I had to ignore him, but oh no, he had other plans for me. I was sitting at my apartment one day and I had gotten a DM request from some guy named Seth. His account was private and so I did not recognize who it was at first. I requested a follow and accepted his request. Big mistake. I was accepted and realized it was Seth the weird kid.

He had DM me stating how I was the most beautiful girl at this school and how he wanted to take me on a date. I politely declined because the remainder of his dark and desolate scare had given me in class, that he had given me in class, screamed to me inside, say, no, you dumb bitch, do not trust him. I found my feeling super abrupt, but told him that is very kind, but I have to politely decline as I'm not looking to go on dates right now That's a very nice way to say no. That really is. Clearly that was not the response he was looking for and he messaged me for weeks

He yet again asked me on a date and I said no Then told me that it didn't have to be a date and we could just hang out and go for a drive Yet again, no. It was getting annoying at this point. And it started to become, yeah, it started to become rude and hopes you would just get the hint and get the vibe. This is also making me think of, uh, we just did a Patreon episode about Christine Rothschild. I know. And to be nice and say no and they don't let it go.

Nope. That's why you guys start getting rude. Get rude. I was uncomfortable, but nope, he had to take this all to a whole fucking new level. I got a DM from him one day stating, I have a surprise for you. Fuck that. I told him I didn't like surprises. Yet again trying to be blunt and rude. He then told me that it was a gift and I would love it. I told him I didn't need a gift from him. Seth said my mom told me the best way to get a girl to like you is to buy her a gift and do Something special. No like no offense, but what the fuck to his mom?

I'm sure you I'm sure you're thinking I'm a bitch and he's just trying to be sweet but bear with me. We're not thinking I don't think you're a bad bitch. I think you're a bad bitch. I told him I just didn't like surprises or gifts and would feel bad accepting because I was not looking to go on dates. He then said, have you heard the rumors about me? Girls on campus have been telling people that I'm weird and have been spreading lies. I just want a chance. I told him I hadn't heard these rumors, which was true, but I can't say I was surprised. He didn't respond and then I got a DM later that night from him. He said, are you home? I said no. He said I really want to set a scavenger hunt up for you around your apartment so you can get your gift. What is the code to your apartment?

What the fuck? She won't go on a date with you, but you think that she's going to give you the code to her apartment? Come on Seth. Get it together. Let me just say I was freaked out about how he knew that. At my college, we only have apartment complexes. Some people get keys, some get fobs, and my place at the time had doors with a set of buttons to push your code in and the door would unlock. I don't know how hit how the hell he knew I had a door code, however, it spooked me.

Yeah, that's terrifying. I told him I wasn't home and did not feel comfortable giving out my apartment code. He told me he wouldn't take too long, and again, I said, I am did not feel comfortable giving out my apartment code. He told me he wouldn't take too long and again I said, I am not giving you the code to my apartment. I also have roommates and respect their privacy. They deserve to feel safe and we don't give our code out. He told me over and over how it would be okay and it would be worth the surprise. At this point I was fucking pissed.

First I'm not a dumbass and second all I could think of was he's going to take my panties, set up a camera, or some other weird shit. Based off of what I know now, I wouldn't be, it wouldn't be dramatic, I guess. Or wait, it wouldn't be a dramatic guess, sorry. I decided to block him because he clearly hadn't figured out, he had clearly had figured out where I lived. He would try and follow me home or drive me home after class, and it got to the point where I had to have my friends meet me on to walk me home or it had to call someone just to make me feel safe. I randomly got a text from my neighbor back in my home state of Indiana who just happened to go to the same school out west as me. We will call him Blake. Blake said, Hey, Erica, my roommate has been asking

for your number. He really wants to take you on a date. I asked him who it was and can you fucking guess? He said his name is Seth. How the fuck did Seth know that Blake knew me and just happened to be roommates? I told Blake everything and begged him not to give my number to Seth. Blake is a good guy and kept that promise. What a good guy too. I mean, like not like, what a good guy to ask you before he gave out your number, but like

some people wouldn't Yeah, like that's nice. Somebody did that a couple more weeks went by and Seth was not coming to class anymore I was relieved, but it also wondered why hold on to your fucking titties I'm sitting in an early running class one day and Blake sends me a text. I read I thought you should know and there was a news article attached I read, I thought you should know, and there was a news article attached. Uh-oh. I opened the article to read that Seth has been arrested for raping a 14-year-old girl. I'm sitting in class fucking shaking with tears in my eyes. I guess this girl had made a Tinder account in which her and Seth had matched.

He found out about her true age of 14, not 18, but decided that love didn't need an age. He had fucking raped this poor girl and claimed he, quote, found love in the wrong place. Let me say it again. He fucking knew her age still pursued her, then took that poor baby's virginity. He told this girl he wanted a fucking family with her and wanted to settle. What's even worse is all news outlets stated that this was not his first time having sexual relations with a child. But this was his first conviction. That is so f**k.

Seth as far as I know has only been sentenced to four years with the potential of ten. Some f**king bullshit if you ask me. Yes. I walked home from class that day counting my blessings that I had said no and did not give in. That is where the story ends, but I wanted to share this story because I need all my fellow-podcasts, listener friends, to know that it is okay to trust your gut, even if you don't know why.

It's okay to be rude and you have every damn right for your personal safety. To you get those feelings for a reason, who knows who could have happened to me, but thank God I trusted myself enough to say no. I love you all so much. Keep it spooky and keep it weird. The end of that gave me goosebumps. Wow. That's terrifying. That is horrifying. Imagine if she said yes and like, or I mean, like, I don't imagine if she gave him her apartment. Yes. I don't know anybody that would do that. I don't. Imagine, but like, you never know. You don't know anybody that would do that. I don't know how she did it. But like, you never know. You don't, yeah. Some people are just smooth-talkers.

And he's very manipulative. Because he's doing the gift thing. He's like bringing his mom into the whole thing. He's trying to, it's very strange. It's far too much. He should also get a lot more than 10 years. That was very stressful. Hate it.

Unreal. Seth. Gross. Ew. And you know what? She's right. It's fine to be rude. was very stressful, hate it, unreal, Seth, gross, ew. And you know what, she's right. It's fine to be rude. Don't feel bad being rude if somebody keeps pursuing it. Yeah, do you got to do what you gotta do?

And there's this really great button on Instagram, actually, that I will tell you all about. Instead of blocking somebody, you can restrict somebody so that they cannot message you if they're bothering you. I don't know what it tells them, but at least they don't think that they're blocked. Yeah, because that's really, that's a good one. Because that is the thing. Like, one, those people take blocking as like a rejection and get angry. Get real mad. And then some people also take blocking as like a trophy or like a thing that they can like hold up.

So that's good for both of those things. Yeah. You know what I mean? Restrict them, bitches. Restrict them. You restricted. You're restricted. All right, my doubts.

That was like a super fun, terrifying spooky, eukie time. Emotional, beautiful, horrifying. Yeah. All of it. Yeah, every last thing that you just said. I felt essentially all the emotions that one could possibly feel in an hour. It's a smattering of things.

A smattering. So guys, thank you so much for sending these in. Keep sending them in. I swear we would do these every single week if we could, because they're so much fun to do. Seriously. You guys rock. You guys do. You rock my sauce. You guys rock. You guys do. You rock my sauce.

You rock, you roll. You rule. To win the rock Johnson. I really like that. Did he say that? No. Oh, I just said the rock. You made it sound like he said that quote.

I did. Maybe he did. Perhaps. Would we be surprised? No. Nay. No, we won. A bunch of nays.

Just nays. OK. We hope you keep listening. Just nays. Okay. We hope you keep listening. We really hope you keep listening. Please, too. We hope you keep it. We're, but that's aware that you live in a house, well, you don't live there. Not so aware that like, so the Mr. Smith and Mrs. Smith live in a house where you feel

really unsafe because a murderer goes to live there, but apparently he's reformed a nice now. Not so aware that you buy a hitch or garberger, but like maybe you should because like you might save you a last later, not so aware that you insult a murderer goes to there, but apparently he's reformed a nice now. Not to worry that you buy a hit-charker or a burger, but maybe you should, because you might save you a last later, not to wear the UNSULTA murderer, even though I think that story was absolutely fucking hilarious. Not so sp- weird that you escape a kidnapping attempt, but like definitely escape a kidnapping attempt, like keep it that weird. Not so weird that you don't know what yeet means.

Come on, Rhondika, just kidding, I love you. Not so weird that LL Cool Jbeats up your grandma's murderer, but like I think you should keep it that weird. Honestly, this whole thing is just turn into how you should keep it that weird until we got to this part where you shouldn't keep it that weird, because Mr. X should not be living in your bathroom, and your child should not be telling you that you should go say hi to him, because that seems like a challenge, like Lina said.

Definitely keep it, so fucking weird that you say no to a fucking scavenger hunt. I love you, bye. Bye. Bye. Bye. 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.