Gun Smoke and Copper - A Haunted Halloween Ghost Story

Every Halloween, residents of Brookhaven hear three knocks at their doors — long after the trick-or-treaters are gone. They smell gun smoke and copper but never see anyone outside. The legend says it all started with three teens who went too far one Halloween night — and who still come back, year after year, to finish their game.

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Episode Transcript

Speaker 1 (00:02):
It always starts with a knock. Three of them, slow, steady,
spaced too far apart to be friendly. Every Halloween in
Brookhaven people say they hear it someone knocking at their doors,
long after the tricker treaters have gone home. The porch
lights flicker, the motion cameras click on, and no one's there,

(00:25):
just fog and the faint smell of gun smoke and copper,
that sharp metallic scent. Some folks laugh it off, Others
move away before the next October. But if you ask
anyone who's lived here long enough, they'll tell you the
same thing. The knocks belong to the door bell ditchers.

(00:45):
That Halloween started like any other. A group of kids,
eight of them, sat around a camp fire in the
clearing behind the old high school. They'd finish their candy runs,
ditched their younger siblings, and gathered in the chill to
tell ghost stories. The flames made everyone look a little older,

(01:05):
their faces hollow and orange. One of the boys, Cody,
leaned forward with a flashlight under his chin. You guys,
ever hear about the three that got shot? He asked.
The others groaned, Oh, come on, said Megan. Every town's
got that story. Yeah, but this one's real. Cody said.

(01:29):
It happened right here. The wind shifted, blowing smoke through
the circle. Cody waited until they quieted down before he
started back. In two thousand eight, he said three kids
went out on Halloween, two guys and a girl, fifteen
maybe sixteen. They weren't trick or treating. They were out

(01:53):
to mess with people. One of them had their parents car.
They drove around with masks on, stopping at random houses.
Not just to ring and run. They wanted to scare people.
He poked the fire with a stick and sparks jumped
up like little ghosts. They wore creepy costumes. One was

(02:13):
a scarecrow with real hay hanging out, one was a
skull faced clown, and the girl wore a long black veil.
When people answered the door, they'd already stepped back so
you couldn't see them on camera. Then they'd whisper things
into the doorbell mics, stuff like we're watching you, or
we're coming inside, death threats. A few of the kids

(02:37):
laughed nervously. Anyway, Cody went on. Most people called the cops,
but by the time anyone showed up, the car was gone.
Then they hit the wrong house. Some guy out on
Maple Drive ex gangster paranoid kept a shotgun by the door.

(02:57):
He'd been getting those threats all we and that night
when he heard someone whisper through the camera, he didn't
think twice, opened the door, saw three shapes in the fog,
and fired. The woods went quiet except for the crackle
of the fire. He hit the first one right in

(03:18):
the chest, but when he looked there was no body,
just a pile of fabric and a mask. The other
two ran into the road, he said. He tried to
chase them down to make sure they were okay, but
they were already gone. Megan frowned, You said they died,
Cody nodded. They got hit by two different cars coming

(03:41):
from opposite directions. The drivers swerved too late, they say.
The road still has marks where the cars slammed their brakes.
The wind picked up again, colder now. One of the
kids zipped up their hoodie. Cody smirked, that's not even
the worst part. The next year, he said, people started

(04:04):
hearing knocks at their doors again, always three. Sometimes they'd
get a motion alert from their camera, but when they
checked the footage there'd be nothing there, just fog and
a faint blur like something halfway in frame. And every
one who listened close swore they could hear laughing, faint

(04:25):
but real, like somebody just outside holding their breath. Really, now,
you're trying way too hard, said Megan. Tell that to
the police. Cody said. They found one of the drivers
who hit the kids. He was found in his garage
two years later, door open, car running. He'd written one

(04:47):
word on the wall and soot. Someone swallowed loudly. What word,
Cody smiled, Knock. The group groaned again, but no one laughed.
This time. The woods had gone dead quiet. That's when
the first sound came, Not a branch snapping, not someone

(05:08):
bumping a chair, a clear, solid knock, like a knuckle
on wood. Everyone froze. Who did that, Megan asked. Cody
held up his hands, not me, knock. The sound came again, closer,
this time from the direction of the path leading back

(05:28):
to town. The flashlight flickered, the fire hissed. Someone whispered,
that's not funny. Then came the third knock, loud enough
to rattle the cans of soda sitting by their chairs.
One of the kids turned toward the trees and saw
three shapes standing just beyond the firelight, tall still, each

(05:54):
one with a faint glow around them, like fog caught
in head lights. The first wore a scarecrow mask that
seemed to sag, its burlap edges, curling inward. The second
had a skull face cracked straight down the middle. The third, smaller, slender,
wore a black veil that fluttered even though there was

(06:15):
no wind. Nobody moved, nobody breathed. Then one of the
figures tilted its head slowly, the way an animal does
when it's trying to decide if you're prey. The smell
hit next, gun smoke and copper, strong enough to make
their eyes water. That broke the spell. Someone screamed. The

(06:39):
kids scattered into the woods, dropping their flashlights, their candy bags,
their phones. The fire collapsed behind them, sending sparks into
the dark like fleeing souls. By morning, the clearing was empty.
Police found the burned out fire pit, a few backpacks,
and a phone still recording on the screen. Just before

(06:59):
the battered, The camera caught the flames and the faint
sound of laughter. Three voices overlapping, distorted, fading into static.
The kids from that camp fire never came home. Their
parents reported knocks at their doors that night, three knocks
each time, exactly at midnight. When they opened the door,

(07:20):
there was no one there, only that same smell in
the air, gun smoke and copper. Now every Halloween people
still hear the knocking, always three times, always after midnight.
Sometimes it's at the front door, sometimes on the back porch,
sometimes even against a window. No matter how many cameras

(07:43):
people install, nothing ever shows, just a flicker, a blur,
and the air after it always tastes like metal. They
say it's the three teens still out there, replaying that
night on an endless loop. They knock, they laugh, and
they wait for someone new to open the door. And

(08:04):
if you ever hear it, three slow knocks, one after another,
whatever you do, don't answer, because the next thing you'll
smell is gun smoke and copper.