Morbid - Listener Tales 38

Episode Date: April 5, 2022

Listener Tales 38 brings us multiple doozy’s. We read a tale about an axe-wielding murderer, the ghost of a little girl covered in barbed wire, and a backwoods gas station that led to two of our listeners being involved in a time slip. If you have a listener tale that you’d like to share with us you can send it to [e-mail] and just make sure that you add “Listener Tale” somewhere in the subject line :) As always thank you to our sponsors: Shopify:Go to shopify.com/morbid, for a FREE fourteen-day trial and get full access to Shopify’s entire suite of features! Curology: You can start your Curology journey just like I did with a free 30-day trial at Curology.com/MORBID  If prescribed, just pay $5 for shipping and handling. Everlane: Go to everlane.com/MORBID and sign up for 10% off your first order. Page 1 Books: Visit Page1Books.com and tell them what you love, first-time subscribers get 15% off with the code MORBID Voices For Justice Podcast: Listen to voices for justice anywhere you listen to podcasts! Follow on instagram @voicesforjusticepodcast and on twitter @VFJPod See Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.

Hey, Prime members, you can listen to morbid, early, and ad-free on Amazon music. Download the app today. You're listening to a morbid network podcast. Whether you're running errands on your daily commute, or even at home, you can enjoy all your audio entertainment in one app, the Audible app. As an Audible member, you can choose one title a month to keep from the entire catalog. This includes the latest bestsellers and new releases. Plus get full access to a growing selection of included audiobooks, audible originals,

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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.com. That's ANGi.com. Hey weirdos, I'm Ash and I'm Alina. And this is Mordred. This is only center tales episode. Yay! It's for you guys. And we know that it's a little late, but here's your explanation. Oh, I'm not a tickler. So, sorry, this episode came out a little late.

The week was kind of crazy with the live show and all that, but in all the craziness, but also, I happened to get the cold debt ash hat a couple weeks ago. It's like, I think it came from kindergarten. It's been like a germ fest in here. I got that cold at kindergarten. Sure did. But with me, it went straight into a bronchitis kind of thing. And so I literally couldn't talk.

I sounded horrific, Ashkin vouch. She did. It was rough. She sent me an audio message the other day, and I was like, I don't think anybody should have to listen to you speak right now. Yeah, I didn't want you guys to, like I know me. I know if somebody is sick on a podcast, and I can like hear the sickness very intensely, it kind of makes me feel sick. Like, I don't, it's not enjoyable to listen to, and I didn't want to do that to you guys. Um, especially the listener tales episode because they're fun.

Yeah. But also, I mean, we had to push scream a little bit because of it. I just could not, I could not speak. So I apologize, but I'd rather give you some good content that you want to hear rather than just pumping you out some content, just to pump you out content. And luckily you had content anyway because you got to see the live show. The virtual live show. Which by the way, is still available for purchase

at momenthouse.com slash morbid until Thursday if you'd like to watch. And salesman mode. Plus plug plug. You know what, that live show was a lot of fun. I was, that was actually when I was like on my last leg before I got six. So I was really lot of fun. I was, that was actually when I was like on my last leg before I got six. So I was really, really happy that I was able

to get the live show in, because I was downing lemon tea to try to make sure that I sounded at least a little okay during that. Can a test. But again, so sorry that this is late, it's just, you know, again, I'd rather give you content that you want to listen to

and not just pump it out to you, just to be like, here you go, whatever. Quality versus quantity. Yeah, I just, I that you want to listen to and not just pump it out to you Just to be like here you go whatever quality versus Quantity yeah, I just I don't want to make anyone gag with my voice sounding horrific But I'm okay now. I'm still we're still not feeling great, but like you know, we're here. We're working I hit down some tea. I have a humidifier in my room Like do it. All the way, I took some robotusin. Did you do my trick?

No, I didn't do your trick yet. I did my trick. Because it freaks me out. I can't. Because I don't like socks with like, goobiness inside of them. Well, Ashley, Ashley, let's not explain the trick. Let's leave them to ponder.

Let's just leave that context completely untold. I don't even know like where I heard this, but you rub uh vicks on your feet and then you put socks on and you sleep and you wake up and your chest is like a little bit more cleared than it would have been. And see there's like several problems for me like one I don't understand how it works and that freaks me out too. You could Google it. I don't wear I can't wear socks to bed so that's a thing. I don't like to. I don't wear, I can't wear socks to bed, so that's a thing. I don't wear to. Wearing goopiness on my feet and then the socks on top of it sounds like a torture worse than death to me. So it's like I'm just robotessin and a humidifier it is.

It's a lot to get past, but once you get past it, I swear it helps. I can't do it. I can't do it, man. You should. You'll feel better. I feel better right now. Okay.

But I just wanted to tell you guys why. This was a little late this week, so we apologize. But now you're going to get like three episodes this week. So there you go. We're just cram and maloney and cram and maloney. Before we get to the listener tails, because I'm excited for them, I'm also excited to mention again,

if you follow us on social or follow me on social, you may have seen that the UK is now going to be distributing the butcher in the ren, and your bookstore over there, Waterstones, the good people there are actually going to be selling a bunch of signed copies of the butcher in the ren, which I am excited to sign all of those copies for you, but you have to go pre-ord of them.

So please do that. I'm gonna get a clean link for you that I tell you on air, but if you go to Waterstones.com, it's a bookstore. I'm sure you know that if you're over there, you're like, yeah, I know, Elena, thank you. If you go to Waterstones and you just search the butcher and the rent and my name, it'll come up, you can pre, yeah, I know, Elena, thank you. If you go to Waterstones and you just search the butcher

in the ren and my name, it'll come up. You can pre-order your signed copy. Please do so because I'm going to sign a bunch of them. And I want you all to have them instead of me just signing a bunch that are just going to sit in front of me and make me sad. So please do that. I'm so excited.

I'm going to be working with Penguin over there to get this out to you guys. And they have been freaking amazing. I have the best people working with Penguin over there to get this out to you guys and they have been freaking amazing. I have like the best people working around this book everywhere, so that's very exciting. And if you are over here in the Americas, and Gus say like that, if you're in the Americas, remember you can go to tinyurl.com, slash butcher and the rent to preorder your preordered copy and keep doing it because I want you all to read it and I'm excited about it. So please do it.

Preorder, preorder, preorder. You know what? So far Billy Jensen and Aaron Manky like it, they said so. I like it so. So there's my like, you know, experience that you can take from. Cool, cool, cool. But yeah, I think that's all I have to plug to you. I'm just gonna keep plugging that book. I'm sorry, everybody, but it took a long time and I'm excited about it. Is your computer gonna die? My computer's gonna die, so I'll pause to plug in my computer

and then we will continue. And it's plugged in. We are no longer dying, folks. I plugged mine into just to be sofe. You always gotta be sofe. Better sofe than sofe. There you go. Better just to be sofe. Yeah, he's got to be sofe better sofe than so far I Go better sofe than so right you can tell it's a listener tails day because we're plunchy

All right, so the first one we're gonna start with is called crazy ass axe murder made my childhood awesome a conundrum I don't know what to say about that, but I'm excited about it All right, biatches. let's start with the gush. Absolutely love you both and been binging on your constantly for longer than I can remember. I have one earphone in all day and feel like you two are just chilling with me, telling me spoopiest stories and making me belly laugh on the daily. We are. I absolutely love listener stories and always wished I had one.

I remembered this story and thought it might be slightly worthy as a listener tale. It's long and has many tangents, but I do hope you enjoy. That's what listener tales are for, Tannis. That's what they're all about. So my name is Natasha. Yes, you can use it so I can have a little booty jiggle and titty shake if you read this out. My car's name is Natasha. I love you so much.

And I hail from Scotland! Yes. In CERP Braveheart meme, and if I had a penny for every time someone not from Scotland shouted, freedom! At me, I'd be mother fucking ballin'. That must be really annoying. Yeah. Specifically, I was born and spent my youngest few years in a town called Peter Head, if you want to say it with the right dialect, which I do, thank you for that. Where it was once home to one of the most scary-ass high-profile prisons in Scotland, referred to as the HATE factory.

Oh, whoa. It also happens to be the only place in mainland UK where the SAS had to be deployed against the domestic siege. The sneaky beaky men in black elite section of the army, who are probably trained to kill motherfuckers just by staring them down through the fucking haunting mass they wear. Their BDIs being all you can see if you're face-to-face with one of these real-life Chuck Norris beating crazy ass ninjas. Wow.

Anywho, let me set a more cherry scene. When I was a child, I had so many cuddly toys, it was definitely an unhealthy obsession with all things. Fluffy! It's so fluffy I'm gonna die. So fluffy I'm gonna die! I don't remember how old I was when I owned this amazing four-foot-long cuddly toy whale.

It was possibly a dolphin, a common heated debate in my house, but I always thought it was a whale and it's my fucking story, so it's a whale. It's a fucking whale. It's a whale. This whale became my favorite for a long time, and during the period, it was during this period, it was the only method of traveling down the stairs. Yes, I used to mount the back of that poor whale, who probably just wanted to be with a family with who would lovingly place it at the bottom of the bed for the rest of its peaceful days. And I would ride down the 20-something stairs from top to bottom. You're an icon. Everything. My jaw clattering and butt bouncing off each step as I went down.

God forbid I fell off the fucker. The stairs had carpet and you bet I had some mean fucking carpet burn on my cute little soft skin six-year-old ass sometimes. My grandfather was the one who had purchased the whale for me, and we both laugh and shout at me for free-willing down the staircase. I love it. Another wee tangent for you. Just months after my mother was born, this crazy ass axe murder I briefly mentioned in the title, escaped from a psychiatric hospital for criminal and seen folk, and went on a murder rampage, killing three people and injuring many more. Thomas McCollock was

originally sentenced to life in this hospital because he attempted to murder two hotel staff because there wasn't enough butter on his bread roll. What the actual fucking fucking fucking fuck. I don't even like butter on my bread roll. He can have my butter before shit gets out of hand next time. After McCollock was recaptured, he was sentenced to life again, but to serve at the hate factory. See, I'm starting to join the pieces together now. You got this. McCollock was eventually moved from Peter-Head prison to spend the rest of his sentence in some other place in Dundee. During his time in Peterhede though, he spent

22 years in solitude. Holy shit! Not only having his own cell, but his own entire corridor with cell kitchen facilities and bathroom, and a guard room that housed three guards 24 hours a day for this fucking axe-wielding monster. He often tees the guards saying things like, do you know why there's three of you? Because you know if there was two, I'd kill you. He was reported that once an electrician was installing a panic alarm in the corridor for the guards. And McCollock's noted by the time anyone reaches that, they'll be dead. Thanks!

McCollock was so fucking dangerous he was not allowed to be housed with other prisoners. Hence the 22 years of solitude. That's a lot of solitude. That's almost my whole life of solitude. 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 Vallow, 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. Peter Heat Prison is now a museum where you can get a tour and learn about some of the history and the wonderful people it held.

My partner and I decided to visit in 2019. At the very end of the tour, you are directed into McCollock's corridor. That must be so crazy. So cool. The audio guide tells you about him, but never names him, just admitting that it was once home to the most dangerous man in Scotland at the time. Upon looking into one of the rooms, my eyes started to widen. My body filled with that warm fuzzy feeling of excitement. What the fuck, Natasha? You're in a fucking prison. That's what she said, I didn't.

I had a good reason to feel this way though. The room was filled with super soft looking, looking no touchy at some museum after all, cuddly toys that I was dying to smush into my face. The audio guide that explains that although this dangerous man had a severe hatred and psychotic tendencies towards adults, he seemed to approve of children. I don't really love that.

The room with the soft toys had a desk and a sewing machine. That's right, McCulloch's second weapon of choice was a sewing machine, and he made soft toys. Who allowed that man a sewing machine? I'm stressed right now because I know where this is going. In case you haven't tied my ramblings together yet, let me explain the sickness and fear that overcame me when on this tour. The rarely lit light bulb in my brain flickered on. My grandfather had never purchased the whale. He was a prison guard at Peterheed Prison for many years, and it was given to him by this butter loving, axe-wielding

crazy-ass motherfucker. Suddenly my childhood memories of my ginormous, soft, safe-steed that efficiently took me down the stairs was ruined. I'll be it very small. That's my connection to the most dangerous man in Scotland. But there's one last scary thing to tell you. Just two weeks after our museum visit, McCollock himself visited. Uh-huh, you read that right. McCollock was released in 2013 and walks among the population of Scotland. And he has visited the museum

at least three times in an eerie way of reliving his past life. Fuck me. Stay weird, but not so weird that your favorite cuddly toy not only becomes your method of transportation, but it was also made by the most dangerous man in Scotland who just wanted more fucking butter. Wow. I did not see where that was going. Natasha. Holy shit.

That was nuts. Your favorite toy as a child was made by the most dangerous man in Scotland. Who else can say that? And I love you wrote albeit a small connection? That's a huge connection. I would use that. I would be screaming that to everybody I knew. That man's hands stuffed your whale. That sounds horrible. That's crazy. But it is. It's like whoa I mean, at least he was trying to put something good into society. Oh, that's a lot. That was a lot.

Natasha, that was insane. That's crazy. All right, my next one is called Yeet This Man on a Boston. That's for you, a Yeet. Yeah, that is. Hey, Ash and Alina, attached as my listener tail titled, Yeet This Man on a Boston,

and for good reason. Double space to put a foe with 14 point font to make your life easier. Look at you guys. I love that. 14 point font. Hello, you beautiful humans. I love you and your podcast.

I've been listening since the early days. Shush, you were still great back then, even though you've grown so much. I love you. Thank you. I was not that great back then. I especially love the listener tales. Is there a nice palette concert between the harrowing to death? Harrowing. We had this discussion the other day. Sorry to already break a new your tale.

Sometimes I randomly just have an accent. Yeah. That's like like somewhat European. I was going to say it's not a Boston accent. No, like you don't have a Boston accent. No, really. I randomly go into like a British accent or like some kind of European. And I explain to Elena and our friend Mikey the other day that I think it's because old souls live inside of me. And she, let me just tell you, she said that with such casual, like she was like, well, I just think it's like all the old souls

that live inside of me. Like, that was a very normal thing to say. That old souls are living inside of her. They always come out sometimes. That was Patricia. Yeah, I'm kidding. A harrowing, harrowing tale. I especially love the listener tales as they are a nice palette cleanser between the harrowing tales. You two are brave enough to research and tell. I wish you could do listener tales every week. Maybe we could. Maybe we could. But having them sporadically cl as reference everyone, love it.

Makes them all the sweeter. I never thought I had something to submit for these episodes. Probably a good thing until recently. This is an unconventional story, because although nothing happened directly to me or anyone I know, it's a reminder that something can happen at any moment. My name is Melissa. Yes, you can use it. Melissa!

I will absolutely shit my pants if you read this on your podcast. You get a new pair of pants. Oh my god, I was gonna say that. Although that isn't much different from any other day, you shit your pants. Honestly, I have it, so I get it. Side note, that's unrelated and you don't have to read, but I know you will anyway. You gave me permission. On my third or fourth day with my boyfriend, I shit my pants in front of him because I was having a panic attack about how much I liked him. Oh my God.

He canceled it like a champ and we've been together almost a year. I love that. I want shit my pants in front of Drew because I literally have IBS and there was not a bathroom and a close proximity and I actually shout myself, but we were about four years into the relationship.

Ash is just, she's gonna let you know. Yeah, you know, it's good to meet Trace with you. She's with you. She's with you. She's with you. She's with you. She's with you. She's with you.

She's with you. She's with you. She's with you. She's with you. She's with you. She's with you. She's with you. She's with you.

She's with you. She's with you. She's with you. She's with you. She's with you. She's with you. She's with you. She's with you. She's with you. She's with you. She's with you. She's with you. She's with you. She's with you. She's with you. She's with you. She's with you. She's with you. She's with you. She's with you. She's with you. She's with you. She's with you. She's with you. She's with you. She's with you. She's with you. She's with you. She's with you. She's with you. She's with you. She's with you. She's with you. She's with you. She's with you. She's with you. She's with you. She's with you to think. I know I'm like, where? Try to track you down, Melissa. I love it because it's quiet and I can see trees out my window, but I'm also a short

tea ride away from the hustle and bustle. For all you non-massels, the tea is public transportation and train form here in the bean. The bean, the bean. Because it's mostly young people around and rich families and the burbs. I just like shortened that for you. It doesn't bother anyone in my building that our front door doesn't lock. Oh, that bothers me. That bothers me, man. We all have locks on our apartment doors, but the main door into the front is always open. No. No. My roommates and I occasionally will leave our

apartment door. No. Since we're in and out all day and someone is usually home, that's why you should lock the door so many times at home. We always lock it at night though. We also don't bother with locking our windows. Oh, Alyssa, have you listened to the podcast? Since we're on the second floor and it would be difficult,

but probably not impossible to get into our apartment through an open window. Have you listened to any of these stories? I need to remind you that the Lindbergh baby was taken from like a not first story window and they used to not like a shitty old ladder to get up there and just snatch that baby out of bed. My goodness. So somebody will do it if they want to get to you.

Lock your windows. It's so easy too. Just lock your window. Lock them. I'm worried for you. Me too. Another side note, attached as a photo of our cats because they're cute. They are cute. They like to sit on the window cells of open windows

and look over their kingdom. I'd like to think they'd guard us from the disgusting human mentioned below. I don't know. They probably won't. Here's the thing, I'm a dog person, but I love Ashes cats. I have cats on the back. They're my boys.

But I can say with 100% certainty they are not going to protect you or guard you from anybody. If a man walks into my house, locks darts under the couch faster than I've seen track stars run. Yeah, they won't protect you, but like they're really cute. Yeah, and I get it.

But like even some dogs won't. So it's like, you really just gotta, you gotta lock those windows, you gotta lock those doors, man. Please. I'm very worried for you, Melissa. We're asking you. As your friends, we are telling you, lock your windows. Yeah.

And all of the above. Oh, I just ran ahead and it seems we could have saved you a scold. Recent news had us checking all our doors and windows and locking the door all the time now. You know what, Melissa? I knew it right from the beginning that you were like a very smart person.

And I knew you were gonna do this. So I had faith in you. I really did. I have been there. There's another old soul coming through. Oh, hey, girl, Sally, just kidding. People are going to be like, are you all right? Like, is that I should have no sleep? No. The answer is no. No. There have been reports of a peeping Tom in my neighborhood entering apartments and watching people sleep. I hate this. Is

this what? Listener, yes. I saw that actually on the news. I was gonna say I'm pretty sure this was on the news So that makes me nervous. Yeah, it's like really creepy. I'm in several Facebook groups for my neighborhood And women have posted that they've woken up in the middle of the night and this man was watching them sleep in their Oh, yeah, no creepy upon hearing this and reading as much as I could about the events as of this writing, this man has not been caught, but they do have a sketch out. They do. My illusion of safety has disappeared.

The first night I heard about it, I almost emailed my landlord demanding for a lock on the front door. I probably still should. Do it, I'll do it for you. You want me to do it for you? Honestly, that's like probably required. Yeah, and honestly, like I'll be your like angry, like pseudo required. Yeah, and honestly, like, I'll be your, like, angry, um, like, pseudo mom.

Yeah. Because trust me, I don't have a problem yelling at people and making them do things. So it's true. If you want, by all means, ask me to do it. It can be the information I'll call your landlord. Yeah, someone was blocking. And that should done. Someone was blocking our way, like, out of our street today.

And I mean, it was like, excruzeman. Yeah, you gotta get, you gotta, like, just get shit done. You gotta move shit along. I'll help you. Don't worry about it. She will. She's helped me many of time. I'm pretty sure each of us has gone around the house and checked each window to make sure they're still locked and we always lock the apartment door now. My bedroom is directly over the building's front door and next to our front door so I can hear every time someone comes or goes. It's truly terrifying to

think that someone could just walk in the door and violate our privacy in such a disgusting way And I can't imagine the overwhelming feeling of helplessness the victims feel when they see him. Oh my god That'd be so scary. I know I listened to enough true crime to wonder if this guy might escalate. Yeah, that was my first thought when I saw this Which adds an extra layer to my fear. It's a chilling reminder that anyone can be a victim at any time And it's important to watch your backs because evil can lurk anywhere. This is a good PSA it is and that's so funny that are like so ironic that you said that because I watched that on the news the other day and the girl said like she woke up and screamed at him and he just like ran

out of the apartment and I was like how many more times is he gonna do this and then escalate to something different. That's the thing not like I was like, how many more times is he gonna do this, and then escalate to something different? That's the thing, like I think it was, I read something where Paul holds what's talking about it, actually, and he was saying that they rarely stop at that. That's always the beginning of something way worse, and that's why these guys need to be caught in that stage. I mean, the Golden State Killer, Joseph DiAngelo, he was doing that.

So it's like, we really gotta be careful here. We're not trying to scare the shit out of you, but we are too, but it's scary. And I'm sorry that you're so close to, we're far enough out that it's even scary out here. But it's like, when you're really near the city, that's the scary thing. It is, very scary.

So I feel bad that you guys are having to go through that and that you're living in an apartment where you don't have a ton of control over what is happening to the building as a whole. I know, because that can be frustrating, because that's scary. So I feel you make sure you're locking all those windows and doors if I'm trying to think of different things

that I could tell you that work for the audience. If you are able to get door guardians and you can talk to your landlord about it because you have to screw them into the door frame. Yep. But they might let you, especially when this is going on and they don't cause a bunch of damage or anything,

but door guardians, you can get them on Amazon. They're just like an extra latch on the door and they are so secure. I have them on every door in the house. They're secure against kicking in a door and stuff. Like they won't be able to kick the door and they are so secure. I have them on every door in the house. They're secure against like kicking in a door and stuff. Like they won't be able to kick the door and easily at all. And you have the right to add an extra lock

onto your door in most places. Yeah, so at least check it out. I mean, I'm not telling you to do it without asking, but like define that. And just like they, you know, on Amazon, you can get these little like motion alarms and shit. Just if it makes you feel better, We used to do that in our old apartments when we couldn't get like a full-ass alarm system like it's simply safe, which is awesome. You can get it simply safe if you're able to because

Everything that you put up is just with like little like sticky sticky So it will cause any damage and that would actually be pretty good because they have those door sensors that you just stick up with Sticky so you can take them right off when you need to and they give you a little boop boop when if somebody opens the door or Opens a window and you can also get a panic button Which also you just hang it up with the sticky so if you do wake up in somebody's there You hit that motherfucking panic and let me just quickly say this is not an ad What we are this is not an ad in here. We're literally just telling you, like, I just want you to know that there's things you can do to maybe feel safer.

And there's like glass break sensors that just sit on your window sill and everything. So, and you can use code more. I swear to you, this was not an ad. I just want you to feel safe, you know? It's just good to feel safe and everybody deserves to, I know. But yeah, Melissa, thank you for that,

like telling everybody like you might feel safe but like you still got to be on your on your toes. Yeah. And stay safe and just think about all that stuff. No. The next one I'm going to do is called Listener Tale Massachusetts girl with a Alabama murder tale. Oh, you're doing a Massachusetts one and we didn't even mean to. I know, right? All right. Hey, weirdos, my name's Deja. Pronounced like Deja Wu without the fancy accents. I love that name.

Deja Sky. Fun fact, my mom actually got my name from the back of a tire flap that you often see behind tires of a truck, but if you ask her, tell you, but if you ask her, tell you it's from a movie in the 90s. I don't believe her. Insert I-roll emoji.

I've been a listener for a while now, and can honestly say you guys got me through some of my training while being in the military. Bad ass. Seriously. So thanks a bunch. Thank you. I was born and raised in Massachusetts. I see.

I'd spent most of my life inside the Bridgewater Triangle and minutes away from the tonne, state hospital. Holy shit. What's up, girlfriend? While I wish this listener tale was a bit more light-hearted and filled with laughs and giggles, there may be a couple. It is, unfortunately, what you guys would call a doozy. I feel like I've used the word doozy so many times today, so this is just fitting.

It's a doozy. It is. When I was younger, I spent a few of my years in the grand state of Alabama. Not really super grand, but still very pretty in some parts. While in Alabama, I met someone who I considered one of my best friends for life. To the point where even when I did move back to Massachusetts, we still occasionally messaged each other just checking in. Thanks, Facebook. Her name was Haley Danielle Green.

The most wonderful, amazing human who saved me from countless school bullies, and accepted me as the book nerd that I was. As we grew into our later tiniest years, our messages unfortunately became less frequent and kind of just dwindled the simple Facebook likes and comments on each other's life accomplishments and pictures until it all changed. Oh, I like felt that in this stomach. It was our senior year of high school in 2015, and we both just graduated and we're super excited to start our lives. From what I could tell through simple posts and pictures, she was extremely excited to continue her super talented volleyball career at one of the local colleges we grew up around.

I was extremely proud to say the least. Anywho. It was July 6, 2015, and I was working at my local ice cream shop as I had every summer since I was 14. This day, however, would be one I wouldn't forget. I just couldn't shake this feeling of dread and like something awful had happened. Little did I know, back home in our small town of Shelby, Alabama, something truly had. A little

background on Shelby. Everyone knew everyone. We all went to the same elementary school before transitioning to the neighboring town of Columbiana, sorry. Columbiana from both middle and high school, where everyone else knew everyone. In Shelby, we were often referred to as Shelby's babies by the older generation. You. Just shows how pure and tight knit this town really was. That truly is like so pure, so it does. Okay, back to the case. My dad texted me at work that day, which he really did, and asked a simple question, have you heard from Haley? Which was weird, because it had been a few years since we consistently talked to each other. I told him, no, why?

To which you replied, tell your boss you need to come home immediately. Oh, man. My heart instantly dropped, and I frantically ran to find my boss and went home immediately. When I got home, he informed me that she had been reported missing, and that I needed to at least try and get in touch with her. Haley was the type of girl who also made sure to let someone know where she was going and checking in with her mom, cousins, and other friends consistently. For my understanding, Haley was on her way to one of her preseason workouts at the college she would be attending, when she just vanished. No one had heard from her seen her since that

morning. The missing posters were posted all over social media, and even I was reaching out to friends and family and surrounding states, for them to be on the lookout for her and her red Mustang that she adored. Reports stated that she had stopped at a gas station in Columbiana, and that was the last time anyone saw her alive. Hey there, fellow podcast listener, it's Elena. And Ash! And we're taking you back to the days before streaming services. Whoa!

You know when you would come home from high school and it was only a few hours until that TV show everyone was watching was about to come on. Well, in 1999, that show was Buffy the Vampire Slayer. In our podcast with Wondery, the re-watcher Buffy the Vampire Slayer, we take it back to 1999. So, get out your knee-high boots and paste that poster of Angel on the wall. It's time to enter the Buffyverse. Some of you avid morbid listeners already know what we've gotten store.

Hey, your nose. Join us as we sway our way through Buffy's drama, action, and romance. Episode by episode. Slacy, follow the rewatcher Buffy the Vampire Slayer, wherever you get your podcasts. You can listen early and ad-free on the Amazon Music or Wondery app. Darn, un-un-un-un-un-un-un-un-un-un-un-un-un-un-un-un-un-un-un-un-un-un-un-un-un-un-un-un-un-un-un-un-un-un-un-un-un-un-un-un-un-un-un-un-un-un-un-un-un-un-un-un-un-un-un-un-un-un-un-un-un-un-un-un-un-un-un-un-un-un-un-un-un-un-un-un-un-un-un-un-un-un-un-un-un-un-un-un-un-un-un-un-un-un-un-un-un-un-un-un-un-un-un-un-un-un-un-un-un-un-un-un-un-un-un-un-un-un-un-un-un-un-un-un-un-un-un-un-un-un-un-un-un-un-un-un-un-un-un-un-un-un-un-un-un-un-un-un-un-un-un-un-un-un-un-un-un-un-un-un-un-un-un-un-un-un-un-un-un-un-un-un-un-un-un-un-un-un-un-un-un-un-un-un-un-un-un-un-un-un-un-un- time Haley had recently broken up with her boyfriend. This piece of shit's name was DeMarcus Means. He had reportedly been an abusive prick towards her, and she had finally had enough, but that's when he began stalking her.

Somehow, someway, it is still unsure, he managed to kidnap her in her own car and brutally murdered her. I wish I could say my tail ends here, and it probably could, but it wouldn't be right if everyone didn't know the trauma he added onto the dear friends, family, and family for weeks. Until the truth about what he did came out, after he murdered Haley, he placed her body in an unclaimed part of the county we lived in. He reportedly then continued to drive her car around the state until finally returning it to where he had left her body.

He then participated in the multiple searches that her family and the state until finally returning it to where he had left her body. He then participated in the multiple searches that her family and the community had organized. I'll let that sink in. Yes, that meant that while my dear friend's body was being overcome by nature and its animals, he knew exactly where she was the whole time and even had completed a search with her, for her, with Haley's father. Imagine the pain you must feel knowing that your daughter's literal murderer was faking his concern alongside you while it's helping you desperately search for your daughter. That's so fucked.

Haley's body was found on July 11th almost a week after he had killed her, and he was named a person of interest in her death. To mark his immediately fled with the help of his mother, who is also a piece of shit. Apparently he was on his way to Mexico as they con him in Los Angeles at a bus station. Obviously no one told them that bus stations have cameras. Thank goodness.

Tamarcus was arrested and charged with capital murder, which carries the death penalty in the state of Alabama. While I am very much in the gray area surrounding the topic of the death penalty, I truly believe that in this instance it was very much deserved. DeMarcus attempted to apply for useful offender status, which he could by law in the state, however it was denied, ha ha, you fucking loser, so he was charged as an adult. He also tried to have the trial move to another county due to extensive publicity, and fears he wouldn't get a fair trial as everyone knew our darling girl Haley. This was also denied.

Again, fuck you, haha, you fucking loser. He then entered a plea of not guilty and reserved another special plea, which could have allowed him time to plea not guilty by mental defect. Word on the streets was that he would use an old head injury, insert eye roll and mojee. Fortunately, once he realized he was facing the death penalty, he came to his senses and pled guilty accepting a plea deal. Haley's mother, Miss Chavelle, had also agreed to a life in prison without the possibility of parole. Rotten jail, you fucking loser.

I am with you on that, seriously. Anyways, back to my wonderful amazing friend. Haley was the most kindhearted human to ever grace this earth with the most radiant smile that could lift you up on even your worst days. She adored her mom, dad, and siblings with everything she had in her heart. She was always willing to stick up for who she loved

and even almost fought a bus driver for almost leaving me at a bus stop for being a minute too late. Oh, yeah. She enjoyed everything a kid in the south enjoyed doing. We spent countless days in the summer just riding go-karts and four-lit-wheelers and swinging on my infamous tire swing for countless hours. She always made the mile-long walk to her house well worth it, and I will forever cherish those memories. Every time I go back home, I always make it a point to visit her mom, and we're constantly in contact through Facebook. I love her mom dearly, and to this day, I know I can always call on Miss Shevelle. If I'm ever having a bad day, she often calls me, and all of her Elise other friends, her bonus daughters.

Oh my God. She's truly one of the strongest humans I've ever met in my life. Some words from Michelle Vel will forever resonate with me. Although you're not physically here with me, you're with me daily spiritually. Your light shines so bright through each and every memory I have of you. There was never a dull moment. I can't say that I don't hurt, but our God knows best. I know you're in a better place. A year ago today I spoke with you and laid eyes on you for the last time. I can't say that I don't hurt, but our God knows best. I know you're in a better place.

A year ago today I spoke with you and laid eyes on you for the last time. Our God knows best. I'm guided by the force of God that's bigger than anything, which is where my strength comes from. Rest well, my beautiful poo. Ooh, okay.

Haley's memory forever lives on in all of our hearts, and I always make it a point to tell my son about his angel Auntie in the sky. Sorry, I honestly didn't think this would come out to being almost four pages long, and also tend to ramble when I type. I would have added shortened if need be, but let's be real, you guys wouldn't have. No way. Anyways, I've attached a few articles regarding her disappearance in the subsequent trial, along with a few pictures of my wonderful friend.

As always, keep it weird and take it away, Ash. Oh, man, but not so weird that you're a terrible piece of shit who takes away somebody's best friend, daughter, and loved one. And can I just say right now, Haley has that kind of smile. Yep. Just that smile that you're like, that is a genuine fucking person right there. Absolutely. Like what a beautiful person.

And it's like, I love that her mom is still like a mom to everybody. I know, me too. Like Miss Shevelle, you're fucking awesome. Oh my god, I know. I feel so good. And the fact that she called her poo, I'm like, oh, that's so sweet. That like hurts my heart. Oh, you guys were so cute. That picture of the two of you. I was just looking at that. Oh, man, that just like really, really got my heart.

So, Desha, I'm so sorry about your friend. And Rest in Peace, please. Mission Val, you're an amazing lady. Rest in Peace, Haley. I'm like feeling for her dad with like searching alongside that piece of shit. Oh, I'm so glad. I'mley. And I'm like feeling for her dad with like searching alongside that piece of shit. I'm so glad he's rotting in jail. Thank goodness.

Oh, thank you for sharing that, Desha. That was a beautiful story. That really was. You did your girl justice. You did. Okay. My next one is called a listener tale. One little ghost girl and one machete wielding maniac coming right up.

Alright. Alright. My name's Tay. Just like Tay. Some people get real confused when they see that e. And my husband's name is Gray. I'm obsessed. Tay and Gray.

I'm obsessed. I love. You can use our names. All cool with us and all the other names are going to be changed. You're the best. Before I start, I gotta do the whole spiel. I binge the podcast hard, and once I caught up, I was constantly checking for the newest episode. I'm also super excited for the butcher in the run.

Oh, thank you. It's so cool to see it coming out after hearing so many updates over the whole length of the podcast. I love you guys and the dynamic you'll have. Okay, let's get to the goodies within this double spaced put-of-up. Oh, yeah. I love you guys and the dynamic you'll have. Okay, let's get to the goodies within this double spaced put-a-fum. Oh yeah, I love you guys. I got a cop. I got a cop, hold on. Okay, I'm back. I did. I'll call you. Also the way I said, do you got a cop? Do you got a cop? You sound like my youngest. I know right. I lost my boys.

I have one story about a creepy little ghost girl and one story about how my relationship with my husband started with a machete wielding maniac. Let's go. What a meet cute. So to start, my dad used to be in the military and was stationed in Germany when I was about a year old. My mom two cousins and I moved after him and we stayed in various spaces over the next eight years.

As the years went on, only one of my older cousins stayed. Her name was Big Sissy. She definitely was more of a sister figure at this point in my life, being she lived with me all my life, and the fact that my other cousin, excuse me, yeah, and the fact that my other cousin staying with us, G-boy, called her Sissy. Because he actually was her sibling, and I idolized him so. His word was gospel to tiny me. Anyway, the last place we lived in Germany was brand new housing, so obviously no ghosts in the houses, right? No! Wrong. This is still Europe, and the land obviously had seen its share of history. Each house basically has its own

ghost, and we would share our spooky stories with others living around us. In our house we came to know that there was a little girl. One night I woke up and was really thirsty, so I went downstairs to get some water. With the sleep still in my eight-year-old eyes, I didn't catch what was waiting for me at the base of the stairs right away. I hate this already. When it did, I stopped dead in my tracks. There she was. A little girl who looked about my age wore a long white night down, carried a teddy bear with a red ribbon around its neck. And, oh yeah, almost slipped my mind.

Her torso was wrapped in barbed wire. I'm leaving. Why? I'm out. Is this wrong, Tor? What? I stood about halfway up the stairs and she looked at me, then turned to the living room, and began walking toward our balcony door, which she promptly disappeared. Oh, what? Is she hell-racer? What is this? I'm scared. Tiny me thought about how she was suddenly not thirsty anymore, and quickly high-tailed it back to the safety of my Hannah Montana bedspread.

I see that right there. I was like, I see you, I see you, I am you. I didn't see her any other time, but she had made herself known, so I sometimes thought about leaving my brats dolls out for her, you know, just in case she wanted to be a baddie. Okay, but was Chloe your favorite? I'm obsessed. My older cousin, Big Sissy, did see her though. Well, in a sense. Since I was still very little, I was known to pop by her or my parents' bedside and ask if I could sleep with them.

So this one night she felt a push against her arm to stir her awake, a Classic move of mine when I wanted to know if I could get into her bed. She responded with a sleepy, huh? To which she heard, could I sleep with you as a reply? She scooched over and made room for me. She felt the bed sink with the pressure of a tiny body getting cozy next to her. After which she went back to sleep. The next morning we were eating breakfast when she turned to me and said, you must to woke up pretty early.

You weren't there when I got up. To which I looked at her confused. What are you talking about? And she said, when you came into my room to sleep, you had to have got up really early. I looked even more confused and looked back at her and said, I wasn't even there. I stayed at Nicole's last night. I just got back home a few minutes ago. She looked capital S-spooked. She was pretty spiritual and immediately cleansed her from that day. Oh, that little girl. I know. She just nice sleep with you. She just wanted to cuddle. That was the last time we saw her.

I'm not sure if my parents had any stories about her or if she had only made herself known to us. Now- Can we know what happened to her? I don't know, it's like who I think. It's not like she. Now onto the other side of my story. Fast forward to senior year. I had my friend group over for a night of scary movies.

Yeah. The house we stayed in at the time was on a main street and my room had a bay window that faced the front yard and obviously the busy road. At the time, my relationship with Grey was just getting going. We had been talking for some time, but we hadn't kissed or made anything official yet. And it's just like the most exciting point in a relationship when you're like, oh, we're gonna kiss. So cute. Throughout the movies, we kept seeing lights from cop cars and the blaring of sirens. They just kept going.

Every five minutes it seemed and it stopped our night early because my friends got really unsettled. Gray stayed behind and ended up being the last one he'd there until he said, well, it's getting late, I should leave, and I offered to walk him out. When we went out there, there were more cop cars racing by and also a police helicopter over it with the big spotlight looking around the street next to us. I told him to keep me updated on his way home.

He took this moment and underneath the thump, thump, thump of the helicopter blades as the perfect time for a kiss. Oh my God, I love it. Wow, what a story. What, that is like, what a move. I love that. What a move. He's like, all this harrowing shit happening around you and he's just like, this is it.

It's like an action movie. It is. He's like, your Mrs. Smith. Literally 10 minutes later, oh wait, sorry. She says, giddy, I ran back inside and he left to go home. I love that. I can like feel the feeling.

Literally 10 minutes later, my mom came into my room and goes, get away from the windows and was rushed out of the living room out of the room into the living room. It had a much smaller window and our couches pull out bed was set up. I asked her what was going on and she just goes the cops are out looking for a man who was caught looking into a teenage girl's room. When he was confronted by her dad the man started swinging the machete at her dad. What the fuck? Needless to say, my mom made me stay in the living room with her that night until the next day

when we learned more about the situation. Thankfully, the father was not injured because he scared the guy away, and I'm pretty sure the cops were able to find the guy and his machete. But yeah, those are my most worthy tales that I could think of. My first ghost and my first kiss with my husband.

Thanks for reading, and I hope it was enjoyable. I'm, that was so much. That ghost girl with the barbed wire around her torso will forever live in my brain. I need to know more. I need to know what that was about. I need to know her story. I need history. I need all of it. And then I'm obsessed with you and your husband. Crayon Tay. I'm obsessed with you. That's so cute. That is the cutest beginning to your relationship I've ever heard and also the most terrifying. Yeah, but like, what a great story. Yeah, but I'm glad that that guy was caught

because what the fuck? A machete-wielding man. A machete-wielding man. Ma'an. All right, on to. On to the next next. Listener-tales. Backwoods-ass gas station portal to hell. All right. Let's go. Listener Tales. Backwoods, ask, gas station, portal to hell. All right.

Let's go. Let's go. L.A.T.S.G.O. Hello, my beloved weirdos. My name is Mari. It's okay to use my name. Thank you. Yay.

And I absolutely adore your podcast. I absolutely adore you. I also absolutely adore you. It has become one of my favorite go-to true crime spooky podcast and I get so excited when a new episode drops that I literally stop whatever I'm doing so I can listen to it. I love you.

Thank you. That's amazing. I stumbled across you guys by chance about a year ago when I was driving back home from a weekend out of town and it was love it first listen. My very first episode with you guys was the Velisca Axe murders, that's some of my favorite ones, which just so happens to be one of my favorite unsolved mysteries of all time, which feels odd to say considering it involves

a whole family including children getting brutally hacked to death, but I digress. We get it. I was about to say that to myself like when I said it, I was like, I know, it's weird, so you and I are one. Anyway, I've been an avid listener ever since and thought I might share one of my own creepy tales with you guys.

Feel free to use it for a listener tales episode if you would like. I just really feel the need to share this story because it was so fucking weird and I still have no explanation for it to this day. We love those. I'm so excited. My favorite kind. This happened about seven years ago and like so many great horror stories it started with a table.

To a lot of horror stories started with a with the table, my favorite opening through a listener tale. It's like the real housewives of New Jersey. It all started with the table. There you go. My best friend had bought her first home and found a dining room table on a resale website that she immediately fell in love with. The seller lived in Waco, which is about a 2.5 to 3 hour drive from where we live. But he was selling the table for such an incredible price. The kind of price that makes you think someone was definitely sacrificed on top of that gorgeously polished oak tabletop, and their ghost is now attached to it, that she felt

she had to act on it. I get it. Her dad told her he would drive up there with her pick up, with her to pick it up, but that he wouldn't be able to get a U-Haul to bring it back until later in the month. Worried she would miss out on the table, she asked me if I would like to take a mini road trip with her up to Waco so she could see the table for herself and go ahead and pay for it so no one else would snatch it up in the meantime. Not willing to let my best friend traips away to a stranger's house to look at a possibly

cursed, slash haunted table all alone, I agreed to go with her and even offered to drive us there that weekend. You're a great friend. You are. That Saturday we loaded up into my little green key of soul and hit the road. Like two-hole hamsters. I love that. From where we live, Waco is almost a straight shot down the highway with only a little bit of weekend traffic. We figured we'd make it there in no time.

About three hours later, we reached the seller's address, and the table was just as beautiful in person as it was in photos. My best friend loved it even more, and paid cash for it right there. But as the seller, he could hold on to it for another two-ish weeks, so she could come back with her dad to pick it up in the U-Haul. The seller seemed fine with it, and with the table purchase accomplished, we decided to spend the rest of the afternoon wandering around Waco and spending some quality time together.

Later that evening, we found a place to have dinner and decided we would start the drive back after we finished. It was a little before 8 o'clock when we started back, so that would have put us home at around 10, 30, 11 o'clock. A fact which I even texted my mom to give her an ETA of when we should get back. You're a good daughter too. The drive started off routine enough, and we spent the first few miles alternating between talking and listening to the radio.

While heavily invested in whatever conversation we were having, I ended up missing the exit I needed, and found myself driving in a direction I didn't recognize. It happens to the best of us. It happens to me daily. My best friend pulled out her phone and plugged in our address so we could be redirected, but according to Google Maps the route would bring us the right back home, just in a little bit more of a roundabout way. This route also only added about half an hour to our time, so we didn't think much of it at the time and just kept driving. In retrospect I should have found it

unnerving that we hadn't seen too many cars on the road since we started our journey, and those we did see were driving in the opposite direction away from us. It seemed like we were the only car headed in that direction. But in true horror movie fashion, my white girl senses were dulled to whatever fucked up potential Texas chainsaw massacre scenario we might have found ourselves in and we kept driving. It's like, um, cabin in the woods. It truly is.

After about an hour or so on this road, I happened to glance down to see that we were almost out of gas. I remember finding this pretty strange as I distinctly remember checking how much gas I had before we left Waco, in case I needed fill up to get us home. Thinking there was either something wrong with the gauge or that I was simply misjudged the amount of gas I had, I figured we should stop at the next gas station we came across

so I could top off the tank just to be sure. That's just responsible. That is. You're doing great, I love ink. We drove for about another 10 to 15 miles before we came across a gas station, and despite the fact that it looked like the front for a backroom meth lab, I had no choice but to stop because my gauge was sitting right on empty. Think of the most run- grungy gas station you've ever seen and then multiply it by like 10. That's what this place looked like. And again, thinking of wrong turn in the

high dose. I am too. Oh, there were only two pumps in the middle of the cracked weed-covered parking lot and the store itself looked like they easily could have been the backdrop for an episode of Breaking Bad. The windows were really hazy and looked like they were covered in either dust or grease, but I couldn't be sure. Oh, no. I really am thinking about seeing that Pepto-Bizmo swinging dude from Wrong Turn. There's like one tooth right in the middle. Or that one tooth.

Or the guy from Urban Legend, the guy that she thinks is the killer. Oh, I know, and he's just trying to help her out. I managed to limp my poor, sputtering car up to the pump and stepped up and stepped out to run my car. I can't speak. I can't speak. I managed to limp my poor, sputtering car up to the pump and stepped out to run my car. And was immediately hit with this

heavy, undeniable feeling of dread. I can tell you right now whenever you feel that, it is real listen to it. There's no other way to explain it. It felt like if fear and anxiety had a bastard love child and then baptized it with a healthy dose of absolute panic, You're a poet. I've never heard that described better in my entire life. Yeah. It felt like a fear and anxiety had a bastard love child and then baptized it with a healthy dose of absolute panic. You've just given up the gift. That's an order.

I really thank you for that. I'm gonna write that one down and keep it in my pocket. I wanted to get out of there as soon as possible, but my best friend said she needed to use the restroom. and since we were still about an hour away from home, she hopped out of the car and wandered inside before I could stop her. Oh no. Against every instinct I had telling me to run like hell, I followed her to make sure she would be okay, because you're a good fucking friend. I would have been like, listen girl, we're gonna pull over on the side of the highway and you're gonna pee next to the guardrail.

Yeah, you're gonna pee in a soda can and everything's gonna be fine. It's all gonna be great. The inside of the store was not much better. I didn't think it would be. The shelves were lined with snacks and there was a big cooler in the back but there was something about the way everything was set up

that made me feel like it was just there first, like they were stage props, rather than actual products. Is this house of wax? Oh yeah. I remember looking at the shelf closest to me and I swear I saw cobwebs on the boxes of candy bars and beef jerky laid out on the shelf.

And all the candy bar wrappers had that dull, bleached look they get when they've been sitting out for very long time. Disgusting. This is house of wax. Get out of there now. There's an angry set of twins that's good that are gonna come get you. Gotta get ya. This is House of Wax. Get out of there now. There's an angry set of twins. That's good that are gonna come get you. Gotta get ya. It's not good. This place had seriously bad vibes

and I didn't want to spend a second longer than we had to. My friend wandered to the back to find the bathroom. Well, I stayed at the front near the door in case we needed to book it out of there in a hurry. You might. Now, when I tell you the cashier behind the counter has haunted my dreams ever since that night, I mean it in every sense of the word. I hesitate to call him a man because I'm honestly not sure what he was. He didn't look like a man so much as something wearing

a man's face and body. His hair was either white or very light-blonde, and his skin was very wetty and shiny, and looked like it had been stretched way too tight across his body and someplace as well hanging so loose and sagged on others. I think this is House of Wax, guys. The best way I can describe it is the Edgar suit from Men in Black. Oh! When we first walked in, he didn't really acknowledge us, but the second my friend slipped into the back to find the restroom,

he looked up at me and smiled. No. I can't tell you what it was about his smile, but it immediately activated my fight or flight response, and I could feel my adrenaline spike. Oh, my God, the next paragraph opening, I cannot... Oh no. You teeth for me are just... I...

His teeth were a dark, disgusting yellow, and he smiled in a way that I can only describe as predatory. Like when a great white shark sees a nice plump seal to have for lunch. Gross. I think I smiled back out of reflex while internally running through the mental roll-adex of all the things, all the ways to bug out before this man turned us into human furniture. Yes, I... You're thinking the right things. Human furniture.

This is Edgine for sure. He greeted me with something along the lines of evening, lady. No, no. But that was almost old Greg, I'm sorry, old Greg. But there was something weird about the way his mouth moved when he spoke. Almost like he was putting a lot of concentration into how each letter sounded as it came out. It't do it. Not in real life, man. I saw one other person in the store standing towards the back near the coolers. I guess it was another employee because he had a mop and was studiously mopping one section

of the floor over and over again. He was a stage prop as well. Guys, this is House of Wax. I have no idea what he was trying to mop up, but in the short time remain in that store. He never moved. What did you say? Remains. Remains. Remains.

That's exactly it. He just kept mopping the same square of tile covered and remained. The man behind the counter kept watching me with the most horrifically intense stare. I've ever felt my life and yes, you could feel it when he was staring at you. It seemed like the more I tried to ignore him, the more he grinned and stared and made this radally weasin sound that was somewhere between a laugh and a smoker's cough. That's honestly where I'm at right now. It's so close. It's like, that's so close. He said something else. Again with the words and mouth movement not matching up like a badly dumped movie and all I got out of it was his light. I'm

feeling it's not. I'm like it's too late. It's too late for all of us. I'm feeling like it's... I gotta go back. I feel like it is late. I mean, I just like shit my actual... I don't want to play this anymore. All right, cue me nearly shitting out my heart and pre-er-terr and now absolutely convinced this man wants to wear my face as a hat. He does. Can I sure you? He does. This guy 100% wants to wear your face as a hat. I'm sorry to be the one to tell you. He wore a fit, a sparray. There you go. Can you find it in a creepy gas station? Is this Mari? He wore a Mari perray. It was her face, but it's not anymore. A few seconds later, my best friend came back from the restroom, and I could tell immediately she was

spooked. Her eyes were wider than I'd ever seen them, and she was pale and shaky like she was about to be sick. I grabbed her by the arm and hauled ass out to head to the car, jumping in behind the wheel and walking the doors. Almost immediately both of our phones started blowing up with calls and text messages. We were confused because we both had missed, had dozens of missed calls and text messages, but we'd only been in the store for a few minutes. My phone started ringing then and when I answered my mom was nearly sobbing and was frantically asking where we were and if everything was okay. I told her everything was fine, leaving

out the part about the weird-esque ass station. And she told me she had been calling for the past two hours and getting nothing but a busy signal. Two hours. I swear to you where you were not in that store for more than five minutes and I had my phone with me the entire time. No, I need you to shut up because this is my worst fear. Like a time slip. It's my worst fucking fear because then everybody's gonna think you're a cuckoo nut man and they're not gonna believe you. It's true and you're not a cuckoo nut man. You're not. I believe you. I looked back at the gas station one more time and the cashier was now standing at the door with his face pressed against the glass. He was just grinning at us.

That's a way for me. It was a wide unhinged grin that absolutely did not fit on a human face and it scared the ever-loving shit out of me. Behind him, still backed by the coolers, the employee with the mop had cranked his head around to peer at us over his shoulder, grinning the same wide horrific grin his co-worker was. I don't know how else to describe it, but it honestly looked like he had hyper extended, or possibly even snapped his neck in an attempt to turn back to look at us without turning

his body. Oh, no. I burst into tears. I burst into tears. I burst into tears. I burst into tears. I burst into tears. And floored the gas speeding out of there without a second thought.

Good. It wasn't until we had put about 20 miles between us in that gas station that my best friend finally told me what happened in the bathroom. Oh God. It's getting worse. She said she gone in and had immediately been overcome with this sickly sweet smell of wet rotting food and bleach. That was not food. She said the bathroom was small, only a toilet and a sink, so she had no idea where the smell was coming from. She said she could hear whispers and occasionally a quiet moan coming from somewhere, but again she didn't know where. She told

me she was convinced it was coming from behind the mirror and was really creeped out that the glass might be the two way, and that there was people watching her on the other side of the glass. She said she went to the sink to wash her hands and saw something out of the corner of her eye in the trash can. It was an orange pill bottle and it still looked like it was full. So being the curious person she is

and falling right into the stupid white girl heart rope, she picked it up. Oh, no. Yeah, no, no, no, no, no, no. That's where it ends. See you next week. I love you. Bye.

The pill bottle was full air to all right. It was full, I'm sorry, I can't even read. The pill bottle was full, all right. Full of teeth. No. She said she wasn't sure if they were human or not, but that based on the size and shape, she was certain that they were teeth.

No. No, no, no, no, no, No. No. No. No. No. The rest of the drive home was quiet and tense as we simultaneously cried and panicked about what just happened. We talked about calling the police to report the teeth if nothing else, but we had no idea how to explain where the gas station was, and we were sure as how we're going to back to figure out the address. When we finally made it back to town and I dropped her off at her dad's house mind you, there was no way we were going home solo that night.

I drove straight over to my parents' house and made my mom stay up with me for the rest of the night. My mom believed me when I told her what happened, but I think she still thought it was a late night hallucination of some kind. A few weeks later, my best friend's dad drove back up to Wake-O to pick up the table. And on the way back, decided to travel down the same route we'd in that night after we both told them all the creepy shit that happened. He did find the convenience store again, but he told us it had very clearly been closed or abandoned for a long time. He saw flyers and newspapers on the windows that were dated back to

several years earlier, and the gas pumps were rusted and locked. What? He said the weird thing though was that there was a mop propped up against the door like someone had said it there just before he arrived. What? Both my best friend and I have rattled our brains ever since trying to make sense of what happened that night. But we still don't know.

I can tell you what happened. That was a time slip. Those were some dead dudes. That was some backwoods, scary. Hills have I shit. Uh-huh. They were about to take you home and turn you into a Shay's lounge. And I am so glad it didn't happen to you.

You ever heard of a little movie called Deliverance? Ever heard about One Tooth? You ever heard about Saltooth? Saltooth? That's a name. One eye. One eye and Saltooth. One eye and Saltooth One eye and Salto. Go watch Wrong Turn and you will know what was about to happen, my friend. Oh, man.

All I can figure is that we stumbled upon some backwoods, hell portal, and entered a time slip in the process. Yes, you did. Correct. We are on the same page here. I don't have any answers, and I'm still a bit punchy about stopping at gas stations in the middle of the night now. I do have other stories I can share with you, lovely lovely ladies like the time I called the cops on a peacock

when I was a kid because I thought a woman was being murdered. Or the time a creepy shower goes trying to sneak a peek at me when I was in college. But none of those were quite as creepy slash traumatizing as the story, please send those. Either way, I do hope you both have a wonderful evening and stay weird my darlings, but not so weird that you wander into a gas station help portal in the middle of bumpfuck nowhere, with a grinning meat soup behind the counter watching your every move. PS, I just pre-ordered the butcher in the rent and can't wait for it to come out. Thanks, friend!

Yay! PPS, that stupid ass table that got us into this whole mess broke after about six months after bringing it home. I've never been so pissed at a piece of furniture in my entire life, and would have happily turned it into firewood given the opportunity. I don't blame you. Pictures for mental reference. Oh my gosh.

Me crying as I write this, and it's just a crying emoji. And then pictures of the Edgar suit. And that's exactly how I pictured that. Well, I hate it. Catchier is the Edgar suit from Men in Black. Heated so much. Oh man, Mari. That was very intense.

You definitely entered a backwards hell portal. Congratulations on coming out of it. Yeah, honestly congrats. I'm so sorry that you have to live with those memories because I'm frightened for you. I'm sad that I have to live with those memories now too. But you know what, you made it out. And with that, I think we have time for one more.

Just making an extra long one. Let's do it. Can we pause a second moment? Yeah, I'll I Can't wait let's you know, it's a like a TV warden here. It really is I've been blowing my nose with paper towel also because it's just like in the pod lab and I'm a lazy piece of shit So my nose hurts now, but anyways Paper towel I did his real life. It is real life.

Maybe supposedly. Or a time slip from a backwards help portal. I don't know. Don't you dare. Side times. I'm genuinely so scared to fall into time slip. Yeah. Alex isn't.

I don't know if I can use the name. So let's hope that I can. Let's hope and I guess we'll go back if we can't. Yeah, we will. We'll just put a beep. It says put a foot attached because Ash really likes that. Oh, man I love you. Let me open this put a foot. What is it called? I love the name of this. It follows until it doesn't a tale of mental illness and paranormal Some things were setting boundaries keeps the demons away by Alex black my soon-in-imm for writing blog, feel free to use it. Alex! And it's, if you want to find their writings,

it's A-L-I-X-X-Black. Ooh, that just feels nice. It's sexy. It is sexy. And I love the PDF attached because I actually like that. I know, thank you. You guys are, you're just great. I also really like the greeting because it says

greetings, morbid mamas. Oh hell yeah. As I am writing this, I don't really know if I'll ever send this. You did. Spoiler alert. But if you're really know if I'll ever send this you did spoiler alert But if you're sending if you're reading it I did that's wild I wonder if you'll read this in the same way I would speak it if I were reading it aloud. Okay, so don't put pressure on me Alex black I hope so I have two jobs a madcs service manager and a mental health facility and A content coordinator for a local magazine that distributes to over 1500 homes in the area.

Look at you! Okay, really that second one is just a fancy way to say that I write and edit a non-fiction content every month and have been for three years now. Someday, if I'm ever so lucky, I might actually convert that job into a full-time career, but that's not why I'm writing to that. You can do it. You absolutely can. I'm facing you. I started listening in October 2021 when I started working with the world's best coworker, Jess. She'll know it's her because we listen together and talk about how far along I've gotten in the collection.

Shout out to Jess. Jess. When I started writing this email, I just finished episode 209 and listened her tales 24. I have a listener tales of my own and I finally think probably, maybe, possibly, perhaps. It might be worth telling. I guess you'll be the judge of that if I ever did hit send, because let's start at the

beginning, but not like the way beginning, just when I started experiencing things I couldn't explain and didn't have the words for, and that's how I'm telling it, too. Hopefully it helps you, and anyone listening if you read this for an episode, understand how it felt. Me, 7 years old. Mom and dad were divorcing, and I knew what that meant. My mom always said I was too smart like my dad, and every bit is logical as him too. That's what made it so weird when I started having nightmares about nutmeg street. This was a road we had to travel down to get to my grandparents'

home to visit my dad. Unfortunately in addict, we only got to see him when he was with my grandparents. I didn't mind. They lived on a lake with half a dozen neighbors and trees for half a mile or so around them. Nutt Meg was my favorite road to drive down because it was literally a tunnel of trees. At least, it was my favorite until it wasn't. I can't say where it began or if anything triggered it, but I started having suffocating nightmares that made me scared to drive down the road at night. Every time I would close my eyes, they wouldn't close, and there would be eyes lining the side of the road. Yellow, red, gold, orange. There would be hissing and whispers to get out of the car and come into the trees. Eventually, it wouldn't happen just when I was bouncing around in the backseat to my mother's maniac and dangerous driving underneath the stars.

It would happen when I went to bed at home, or when I took a nap at my in-town grandparents, or when I spent the night with my friends. Every time I blinked too long, eyes hissing whispers. It seemed to stop when I finally asked to start taking a different road to visit dad. Ooh, okay. Sorry, that sounded like I was judging you, but I'm not. You're okay. I'm okay. Me, nine years old. We moved three times since my parents divorced. My mom remarried someone closer to my age than hers, and he was pretty good at first, I think. My mom would take kids in randomly, but I always cared about them. But I also had violent nightmares about them, and everyone. One nightmare was about my younger brother being

stripped naked and thrown into an overgrown field by my parents. Oh God! Another nightmare was about my mom trying to kill me in a greenhouse. Another, a little girl that was in our care, sinking to the bottom of a lake. Oh, I could go on alas. The trend is clear enough. The kicker, though, was all these places were familiar, and overgrown field near Nutmeg Street. At the end of the road, before turning down one of the numbered roads, were cities stopped caring about what to call the streets. A greenhouse that shared a suspiciously similar floor plan to the apartment building across the street from ours. The lake, like the one my grandparents lived on, oh, and there were always hissing and whispers. Two years later, whatever fear was born in me was still there.

It was following me. // // // // // // //

// // // // // // // // years old. My cousin died. She was my best friend. I left the hospital the night she died, promising I would come back in a day or two so I could sleep and shower at home three hours away. But then we had moved, oh, excuse me, by then we'd moved four, five, maybe six times. I wasn't keeping count. I was being sexually harassed and assaulted daily by many of my neighbors. So it wasn't the top priority in my mind. I was in survival mode, anxious, scared, depressed, and now alone. I had friends in the way that sad kids had friends. These were people I was sat around and complained with, but my cousin was truly my other half. I'll never know if she felt the same way, but I hear that we were inseparable. I'm sure she felt the same way.

I know she did. She died while celebrating her birthday. I didn't sleep for a few days and her body would be buried across the street from our apartment a week later. I could see her plop for my window. If I sprinted, I could be there in less than a minute, and my room was the one facing the graveyard. My mom sent me to my grandmother's, not knowing what to do with a kid that wouldn't sleep or stop crying. When I came back, though, I would fall asleep with my eyes open. I would see and feel hands touching my pale, bony, touching my face, pale, bony, and so cold it burned.

I could hear myself asking them to stop in my head, but I couldn't feel my mouth moving. Sometimes there would be whispering when I would start crying. Even when my mom eventually moved me to the bigger room, on the other side of the unit facing the pond and parking lot, I would wake up to those hands shaking my closet door and taking my stuffed animals while I slept. Oh, for these years I never really knew when I was awake or when I was asleep. Everything was a nightmare and the garbled whispers were always trying to tell me something.

But like, are you Nancy from Nightmare on Elm Street? What is going on? I literally think you might be. I'm so stressed out for you right now. Me, 13 years old. We were living in our first house and the dozen times we'd moved. I was excited because it was actually a pretty, a pretty big place. Two bedrooms upstairs, a shared walk and closet and an attic for storage, all original hardwood floors. Oh, chef's kiss. There were two bedrooms downstairs, a bathroom with lots of storage,

a huge living room and dining room space, long ranch-style kitchen, and then there was the basement. And then there was a basement. It smelled rotten, no matter how many times we cleaned the floors, how many loads of laundry we did, or how many incense my hippie mama lit down there. I see you, hippie mama. I was old enough to do laundry, so I had to help with my clothes and towels. My mom was undiagnosed and unmedicated, so when she wasn't high from chain smoking blunt after blunt from stress and trauma, she was usually yelling at me about just existing. I'm so sorry. I was mad at her a lot, but I also just wanted to make it through the day.

That makes me so. That makes my stomach criss-cross. I just want to give you a hug. I know. It was harder when I had to go downstairs, which was a lot because I was always sent downstairs for everything. When you walked down the seven green gray stone steps, there was a rectangular space where piles of ignored laundry and seasonal clothes were stored.

The floor was usually cold and damp despite there being a bone-dry dream, but there was an open doorway that led to an unlit square room that had a box-shaped hole in the wall There was a sort of dry salty residue on the ledge and I always said it was big enough for a small child to lay it in it in the Fetal position. Oh, it was weird and it made me scared for my life whenever I had to go near it. At one point I had so much anxiety about the basement that I would cry just going into the kitchen because there was no door separating the kitchen from the basement that I would cry just going into the kitchen because there was no door separating the kitchen from the basement. Scareer than the basement though was the attic.

Just like before, I would have violent nightmares, but there was no knowing what nightmare it would be and how many times I would have it. I fell into nightmare loops where I would get so scared in my sleep that I would wake up crying and thrashing, but I would pass out from physical exertion only to fall back into the exact same nightmare.

I just want to go back to these years. Take two of you. Just give you a hug and lay down next to you. I want to like, mama you. I just want to be like, it's okay. Nightmares are such a scary thing for a kid, and it's especially a so real. And the ones that you were having are just like, I'm like feeling it for you. I used to have night terrors when I was younger,

and luckily I had a mom that was like, immediately in the room and would just lay there with me, and like, yeah, me and make me feel safe. And it's like, I just, I'm like, I just want to do that for you. I know, let me just turn back time real quick. I'm back at turn, back time. I would make you feel better about your nightmares! The most prominent one was about my attic.

It was so frequent that I wasn't convinced I wasn't experiencing everything for real. Monster claws would slide under my door and stretch and stretch and stretch until they were touching the edge of my mattress or my blanket. I could feel the touch or the tug. I started wrapping myself up like a burrito and never letting anything hang off the side of my blanket. I could feel the touch or the tug. I started wrapping myself up like a burrito and never letting anything hang off the side of my bed. There were maggots crawling in the cracks around my windows, a child's laugh coming from the hallway, and I could hear the attic door opening and shutting. Oh my god, I am terrified right now. Me too. I'm gonna have nightmares

tonight very much. So, I know also just like a quick little thing for you, you're a phenomenal writer. Because I can seal this. I was just gonna say I am experiencing this with every sense I have. Like I can smell it, I can hear it, I can taste it, I can, it's everything. Like. And that's coming from an awesome. I'm just like that is I'm keep writing, please. Because this is like truly horrifying and I'm sorry that you actually lived it and it's not fiction. I know. Like because if this was fiction, I'd be like, holy shit.

I know. I still am like holy shit. There were whispers too pleading for me to open the door and let them in. The voice was different every time, but there was always this fear that immobilized me from complying no matter how badly I wanted everything to stop. I couldn't trust my own mind, let alone the voices without faces. Sometimes I would talk back and refuse. When things escalated to my door knob turning and my door opening in the middle of the night,

I started locking my door and putting my desk chair in front of it. I used thumbtacks to cover my windows with blankets and sheets and I positioned my bed in such a way that I could always see the doors in windows. If I was going to die, I was not going to die by surprise. Trigger warning for the next sentence. It was during these years that I attempted suicide and began self-harming so badly that multiple friends asked my mom to get me into an inpatient hospital, and I started begging to live literally anywhere else. My mom told me no.

And the inpatient hospital thought that I was mentally unstable. With that in mind, I could do nothing but believe what was happening to me was normal and real. Oh my goodness. I'm so sorry. I know. Me 16 years old. Me 16 years old. Me 16 years old. I've had a

child now and the man who helped me out of the abusive relationship that made me a teen mother was helping me move out of my mother's house too. We didn't have very much and we only had what we did because my grandparents had a car that they didn't need and my stepdad's job was desperate for third-shifters. I had no idea what being a full-time student working on an honors diploma in high school, part-time in Pauille, and mother to a special needs child was going to entail. But when I moved out there, but when I moved out there were no more nightmares. No more whispers in the night. No more light, no more nightmare loops

and nightmares that would come to me night after night. The nightmares I did have were less intense, and for the first time that I could recall, I didn't feel burdened by absolute terror. Wow. Me 28 years old. Before the pandemic hit, my friend was driving through my hometown with my family, and I told my husband to drive us by the house that I lived in when I was 13. I started calling at the demon house at some point in my life because of how truly haunted and miserable I was living there.

Since then, I had learned that it was common practice to build these demon boxes into homes some time ago, just like the one in that house. Salt lines were put on the edge of the quote unquote box too. Which I had the source, but a Google search about demon boxes and homes only turns up pages with sponsored ads about movies and news articles about gimmick boxes. Throughout my adult life, I've come to understand more about my own trauma and mental illnesses,

or mental illness. I have severe anxiety that presents as nightmare anxiety, which is paired with severe insomnia that has plagued me since puberty. I also have severe depression, which accounts for the constant battle with suicidal ideation and overwhelming feeling of hopelessness I feel anytime something goes even just slightly wrong.

Considering those diagnoses, sleep paralysis could be on the table of troubles for me too. All of those things can explain so much of my experiences, the ones that followed me, at least the ones that followed me. At least the ones that followed me until they didn't. We drove past that demon house. It was up the street from the graveyard I lived across from when my cousin died. In fact, most homes I lived in growing up were within minutes

of a graveyard. That's interesting. Of the graveyard, excuse me. My first cat was, sorry, my first cat was from that graveyard. Maybe mental health can explain all of those things I experienced, hallucinations, nightmares, panic attacks, delusions, and so on. Sure enough, that writes it all off in a totally logical way. So why did I start having all those nightmares again just by passing the house? Wow. I'm a master at handling my triggers, and my mental illness was well-managed without medication.

I didn't think of the house as a trigger, and I often joked about the house having bad juju, because I thought it was kind of hilarious that I was unstable living there. What I couldn't explain was why all those scary things started happening again for several months after just driving bad. For months, I chalked it up to bad health, letting myself get in my head, and breathing life into something that wasn't real. That made sense. I felt good about it and started making some peace with it until our lamps started acting up. We have three standing lamps in our home, which have three studio style lights on them. The bottom of all three lights, all in different rooms and all on different circuits mind you,

would all flicker on and off randomly. It would only happen when I was in the room too. My husband and child never had the flickering issues when I wasn't home or when I wasn't in the room. Those lights would never turn on when I tried. I'm 30 now, two years after driving the Has that damn house, and those lights still won't turn on for me, but I'm not a shaken about it anymore. Wow.

Truthfully, I don't know if I believe in demons, ghosts, poltergeist, cryptids, angels, or anything that can't be proven to me without concrete evidence. I have a very fluid sense of what could and could not be, probably because I've always had to be open in that way. The trauma of this paranormal something, or nothing, who knows really, made me feel like I could only ever believe what I could prove to myself But I do know one thing to be true boundaries are fucking magic hell yeah Yeah, when the nightmares and the sleep paralysis and the blurred lines between reality and fiction were too hard to find

I stood in my living room with the flickering bottom lights on those standing lamps and a cold spot following me throughout the house I was done and I said exactly as much with the flickering bottom lights on those standing lamps and a cold spot following me throughout the house. I was done and I said exactly as much. Quote, if there's a demon following me because it thinks I'm weak and wearing down, I failed to end my life three times and have beaten all odds of becoming a successful teen mom. So if that demon thinks it has more patience than me,

it can kindly fuck off. Yeah. It may hold how do you started tangling when I left that. I'll explain. Obsessed. My scent thought it was funny, of course, because who has a mom that is wild enough to be saying

that kind of crazy thing in the living room? The one truly public space home at home. It worked, though. The lights don't flicker two years later. They never turn on for me when I try, but I don't much care to see them flicker on either. The only person in charge in this house is me and my family knows it. This trick doesn't work, uh, excuse me, this trick doesn't work just on paranormal some things that follow you until

they don't. It works on friends and family and co-workers, literally everyone. Yes. If there's no other lesson to learn from this long-ass tale, please learn this. You are in charge of your life, and you deserve to live it safely the way that you want. I'm obsessed with you. The end of this abridged, but still wicked long version of my really possibly haunted life. If you read this, I can't thank you enough for thinking it was a story worth cheering. Of course it was. It was so worth it.

I hope everyone enjoyed it. You better have. Thanks to the folks who listen and keep the podcast on air because it gets me through the days where things get too quiet. And it gave me a great friend and my coworker too. I love that. I hope that you guys get to keep it weird for as long as you have. But please don't keep it so weird that you're followed by a maybe something that wants to

make you so miserable that you end your life and you have to get you have to tell it to get the fuck out in front of your kid because this is your goddamn life. Don't keep it that weird. I think you should keep it that weird. Keep it that weird. Like at least the end of it. More badly and magically yours, Alex. Alex, that was harrowing, terrifying,

and beautiful all at once. I have to say, I think that was one of the best list in our tales that we've ever seen. That was just like, so I just was glued. It was like beautifully written. And I was like, I felt like I was there with you feeling like so scared. That broke my heart.

It gave me full body chills. It made me laugh in parts and you're amazing and you're strong. And I'm so glad that your son has like amazing parents. Yeah. And you deserved all the love that you should have gotten your whole life. And you deserved all the love that you should have gotten your whole life. And you still do.

And we love you, Alex. And clearly you know that you deserve that now. And keep writing. Please keep writing. Keep writing because you're fucking amazing. And send more tales in if you have this. Please do. I want to read them.

I just want to read your words. So please just keep setting them in forever. Alex, black. Guys, killed it. Oh my god, we say this every time, So please just keep setting them in forever Alex black guys Killed it. Oh my god. We say this every time but like they they get better and better I don't know how like you constantly are just on a wave of greatness all of you really are But we appreciated so much and it gives us a little boost in between like the really hard tails So it really is like a shot in the arm. Yeah, so these are just so much fun.

And we keep teasing it to you that maybe we'll be getting more of them soon. So maybe in like a couple months. Yeah, maybe it's like hang tight there. We keep saying more content is coming. News is coming. And I promise it really is a thing. Sometimes I tell you anything yet.

So soon. Something's coming so soon. And in the meantime, we hope that you keep listening. And we hope you keep it weird. But not so weird that you have a crazy axe murderer bringing together your childhood and make it awesome, although I think you kind of should have that because that was a beautiful story.

Definitely do keep it so weird that you lock all your windows in your door and that you tell your apartment complex to get a lock on their front door because it's absolutely ridiculous that they don't. And you don't want to awake to a man looking at you and your sleep because that's just he's gonna ask a late. I finally keep it so weird that you honor your best friend's memory by writing us in a listener tales about her absolutely beautiful smile and charm in life.

And I'm so sorry about what happened to her because I just I hate that story of like actually what happened. Do keep it so weird that you tell us about the little ghost girl that lived in your house covered in barbed wire but maybe they tell us a little bit more about that, you know, I just need a little bit more. Keep it so weird, no, no, no, don't keep it so weird that you just go into the middle of nowhere for like a table and then this happens to you and you see like these scary people who aren't real and but like maybe are and then you fall into a time lapse because like, well, that's a lot and definitely keep it so weird

that you're out of the black because need I say more, bye. Well definitely keep it so weird that your Alex Black because need I say more by Well Keep it weird Hey prime members you can listen to morbvid, 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.