The Haunted Farmstay

What began as a peaceful retreat from the city quickly turned into a waking nightmare, with unexplained footsteps, eerie knocking, and unsettling encounters that will leave you questioning the silence of the night.

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Episode Transcript

Speaker 1 (00:05):
At pod Shape Production. Welcome back to the Chills, the
Spooky Story podcast. That's hard to believe, unless, of course,
it happened to you. If you've got a story you
want to share that might give us the chills, then
send it in the Chills at podshape dot com. This

(00:26):
story is from Ben. He emailed it in. He lives
in Perth and it seems it happened to him a
few years ago. Ben says he needed to leave the
hustle and bustle of Perth, Western Australia and get out
of the city. He wanted a country break time to
clear his head. It was late October. We've used an

(00:47):
AI voice actor for Ben's email.

Speaker 2 (00:50):
I found this old weatherboard cottage on a farm stay website,
a quiet little place out in the bush. The photos
made it look rustic but cozy, and the idea of
being surrounded by nothing but gum trees and kangaroos sounded perfect.
The cottage was ancient, probably built in the early nineteen hundreds.
It had thick wooden beams, a tin roof and one

(01:14):
of those verandahs that wrapped around the entire house. The
owner mentioned it had been part of a sheep station
for generations, but these days it was mostly left vacant,
rented out to people like me who wanted to get
away from it all. It was a good couple of
hours from Perth, with the nearest neighbor about five k's away.
As soon as I got there, I knew it was
the quiet I'd been craving. The first few days were uneventful,

(01:40):
just what I needed. I'd wake up early to the
sound of magpies warbling and spend the day reading, wandering
around the property, and soaking up the peacefulness. At night,
the stars were incredible, the kind of sky you only
see in the outback, far away from any light pollution.
But on the fourth night, something changed. I woke up

(02:01):
in the middle of the night for no reason at all.
The room was pitch black save for a bit of
moonlight sneaking in through the old, threadbare curtains. As I
lay there trying to get back to sleep, I heard
something outside. At first I thought it was an animal,
a kangaroo maybe, or a possum, But then I heard
it again, footsteps, slow and heavy, moving across the verandah

(02:25):
my heart started to race. I wasn't expecting anyone, and
the place was so isolated it didn't make sense for
anyone to just show up. I listened harder, straining to
hear anything else, but the only sound was the footsteps
getting closer to the front door. They stopped for a moment,
then moved down the side of the house, just outside
my bedroom window. I couldn't see anything through the curtains,

(02:48):
but I felt a cold draft slipping in, like the
air had changed. I tried to brush it off as
an overactive imagination. Maybe I was just hearing things. I
told myself. The house was old, and the the bush
plays tricks on your mind when you're alone. But the
next night it happened again. This time I was wide

(03:09):
awake when I heard the footsteps. They started at the
front door, slow and deliberate, making their way down the verandah,
but this time they didn't stop. I heard the faintest
scraping sound, like fingernails dragging across the wooden boards outside
the window. It wasn't just footsteps now, there was something
or someone outside, and they weren't just passing by. My

(03:32):
stomach twisted into knots, but I stayed frozen in bed,
too scared to move. I didn't want to turn on
the light or make a sound. Whatever was out there,
I didn't want it to know I was awake. The
scraping stopped after a few minutes, and the house fell
silent again, But I didn't sleep for the rest of
the night.

Speaker 1 (03:50):
Okay, So I have a few questions that I'd love
to know from Ben. He can't answer them, so I'll
ask you. The first is, who actually does that? Who
decides to take a break from the city to go
to a deserted farmer's cottage in the middle of nowhere?
I mean, Ben, I don't mean to be rude, but
have you seen shows like Wolf Creek?

Speaker 2 (04:09):
What the bloody lu buck is doing out here? This
is a national park. You can't can't be here, mate.

Speaker 1 (04:14):
Judgment aside, what does Ben do? If you're thinking like
I am, He packs the car, doesn't clean the place,
and drives very fast to the nearest motel that has
other people in it and was built after the early
nineteen hundreds, Then you're wrong, Ben stays.

Speaker 2 (04:34):
I woke up in the middle of the night, disoriented.
The room was dark save for a sliver of moonlight.
As I lay there, I noticed an odd noise, A
faint tapping rhythmic coming from the kitchen. At first, I
thought it was just something loose in the wind, maybe
a branch knocking against the window. But as I listened,
it became clear the sound wasn't outside, it was coming

(04:57):
from within the house. I grabbed my phone for light
and cautiously crept down the hall. The tapping continued, steady
and deliberate. When I reached the kitchen, I shone the
light towards the sauce. There on the wooden table was
an old, rusty teapot that I hadn't noticed before. It
rocked slightly, it spout, tapping the edge of the table.

(05:17):
I stared at it for a long moment, waiting for
the movement to stop. Finally, after what felt like ages,
it did. I couldn't explain it, but I convinced myself
it was just the wind or some quirk of the
old house. I went back to bed, but sleep didn't
come easily.

Speaker 1 (05:34):
Okay, so maybe that's the cue. Maybe now then just
jumps in the car and leaves right Ben.

Speaker 2 (05:41):
On the third night, things got worse.

Speaker 1 (05:43):
Come on, Ben, what are you doing?

Speaker 2 (05:45):
I was drifting off when I heard something again, but
this time it was louder, the sound of footsteps, heavy
and unmistakable, moving across the verandah, just outside the front door.
My heart started racing, but I told myself it was
probably a kangaroo or an emun. They sometimes wander onto
properties curious and club. But then the footsteps stopped and

(06:07):
I heard something else, low guttural breathing, like someone or
something was standing right outside the door. I froze listening.
The breathing became more labored, as though it was right
against the door, straining to get in. I didn't dare move.
After a few minutes, the sound stopped and there was

(06:28):
a heavy silence. I thought it was over, but then
came the most unsettling part, a soft but distinct knock
on the door, like someone was gently testing to see
if i'd answer. I didn't move. I couldn't. The knocking
came again, this time louder, more insistent, but I still
didn't respond. I stayed perfectly, still, holding my breath until

(06:50):
the noise finally stopped and the house was silent again.
It took a long time for me to fall asleep
that night. The next morning, I packed up and left.
I didn't bother cleaning the place up or leaving a
note for the owner. I just wanted to get out
of there. I didn't even look back as I drove
down the long dirt road that led away from the property.
I couldn't shake the feeling that someone or something had

(07:13):
been watching me that night.

Speaker 1 (07:21):
If you've got a story that can give us the chills,
then email us the Chills at podshape dot com. See
you next time.