The Ghostly Girl and the Footprints

When a woman moves into a quiet home with a cave behind it, she begins noticing a faint light deep inside at night. Curiosity drives her to investigate—only to find small, barefoot prints in the mud that appear from nowhere. What she discovers inside the cave will cost her more than her sanity... and something she can never get back.

Thank you for enjoying my podcast! Take a listen to the other podcast at Candlelight Storyworks

Midnight Scares - Fall Asleep to Spooky Storiesl
Candlight Classics - Classic Short Stories to Help You Sleep
Candlelight Romance - Fall Asleep While Falling In Love
True Crime by Candlelight - Drift Off to Dark Mysteries

Find them all on your favorite podcast right here:
https://linktr.ee/candlelightstoryworks

If you are tired of commercials, you can always follow me on Patreon at https://www.patreon.com/candlelightstoryworks

I am also writing a few horror and gothic romance books. If you're intrested, please follow me on my other Patreon at
http://www.patreon.com/sarahmarshalking

**While this is my voice, sometimes I use an AI cloned version of my voice because it helps with my dyslexia.

Episode Transcript

Speaker 1 (00:03):
When I moved here, I didn't even notice the cave
at first, even when I did a thorough inspection of
the place. I had walked the back yard in the
field with the real estate agent, talking about where I'd
put a garden and keep the dog. I even laughed
about putting a fence up myself for a horse if
I ever got around to it. I was sure I
wouldn't have time for any of that with my riding schedule.

(00:24):
It was October and the trees were dropping their final
leaves to the ground. The beauty of the red and
yellow foliage was over now, and most of it was
all on the ground. I put it off until the
last minute before the rain and snow came. I found
the cave my third week here. While raking the leaves,

(00:46):
I felt a cold draft from the north. I thought
it might be a storm coming in or that icy
wind from Canada, but the day was brighter than most,
the sun was out, and it was a balmy seventy
five that day. I looked to the north to where
the icy breeze blew from and noticed the cave nestled

(01:07):
between some bushes. The cold draft was definitely coming from
the opening. I put my nose in the air and
knew the smell of wet stone and earth had to
be from that cave. I should have ignored it, but
that night I saw a dim light flicker inside. It
looked like a candle. It sits behind the property line,

(01:30):
hidden by brush and a few leaning trees. From the porch,
you can just see the edge of the rocks. It
looks small, like something a fox would use for shelter.
The real estate agent never mentioned it. She probably didn't know.
I told myself it was kids, or maybe someone camping

(01:50):
near by. The next night I saw it again. I
waited until the third night to check. It was just
after midnight. I grabbed a flashlight and walked through the
tall grass behind the shed. The air was thick with fog.
My boots sank into mud near the mouth of the cave.

(02:12):
I almost turned back, but then the beam of my
flashlight caught something on the ground. Footprints, small barefoot footprints
from a small child. They didn't start anywhere, just appeared
in the mud a few steps before the cave entrance.
Some went in, some came out, but they faded after
ten or twelve feet, like the ground had swallowed them.

(02:34):
I thought maybe the light I'd seen belonged to whoever
made those prints. Inside the cave was quiet except for
dripping water somewhere deeper in the walls were close slick
with moss. I wanted to stop and turn back. My
lungs tightened and I grew light headed, a claustrophobia I

(02:55):
had developed as a small girl. I didn't know why,
I just knew it was there had been for years.
My flashlight picked up more of the footprints ahead. Hello,
I called out. My voice bounced off the rock and
came back smaller. The silence echoed back at me from
the depths of the cave, with a small drip of

(03:17):
water coming from somewhere within the floor dipped down into
a narrow tunnel. I followed it a few yards, careful
not to slip, but the mud was soft and uneven.
I crouched to look at a cluster of prints, some
of them fresher, like they'd been made just hours ago.
Then my foot hit a rock. I went down hard.

(03:39):
The light spun across the walls and went out. I
slid down an incline I hadn't seen, maybe ten or
twelve feet before landing in freezing mud. Pain shot up
my leg like a live wire. My flashlight flickered back on,
and I saw why. My foot was wedged under a
rock the size of a car. I tried to pull free,

(04:02):
but I couldn't. The more I moved, the tighter it
felt the rock held me captive. That's when I heard it,
a small voice in the darkness. Mammy. It came from
the dark part of the tunnel, behind the drip of water. Hello,
I said, breath shaking, Mommy, the voice said again, seeming

(04:27):
even closer. I knew you'd come. I froze. The sound
of something walking through mud echoed toward me. Then softly,
we can be here together forever. My stomach dropped. I
screamed until my throat hurt, but the cave swallowed the sound.

(04:50):
I tried digging at the rock, clawing at it with
my hands, but it wouldn't move. After a while, I
couldn't tell if it was night or morning. My flashlight
battery dyed at some point. I must have passed out.
When I woke, it was colder. My leg was numb
and swollen. Something warm was pressed against me. I opened

(05:14):
my eyes and saw a little girl kneeling beside me.
Her hair hung wet and dark, her face pale, eyes
too large for her head, Mud streaked her arms in dress.
She was smiling. Mammy. She whispered, you're hurt. I felt
her arms around me, cold and sticky. My skin crawled.

(05:39):
When I screamed, she vanished like smoke. No one came.
Maybe that is why she was here. No one came
for her either. I don't know how many days passed
after that. The water dripping near by was all I
had to drink. My leg had turned black around the ankle.

(06:01):
I knew i'd die if I didn't move. I found
a broken bottle, half buried in the mud, and used
a rock to chip the neck sharp. The rest is
a blur. I remember the sound more than the pain,
bone and mud, and the echo of my own voice
breaking apart. When it was done, I dragged myself up
the incline, out of the tunnel, across the yard and

(06:25):
to my back steps. I don't remember the door opening,
just waking up in the hospital. I noticed the check
marks on the papers hanging on the frame of the bed. Hypothermia, dehydration,
blood loss, amputation. They said I was lucky, But was I?

(06:46):
I got home two weeks later. Everything looked normal. The
grass had grown over the path to the cave. I
told myself it was just a hallucination, shock, the mind
trying to fill empty space with meaning. That night, I
couldn't sleep. Around three, I heard the front door open, slow, careful,

(07:11):
then soft footsteps down the hall, bare feet, wet ones.
I held my breath as I listened to the pitter
patter of the feet. No one else lived here but me.
I didn't want to think, I didn't want to move.
I pulled the covers over my head until I heard
my bedroom door creak open. There was silence for a moment,

(07:33):
night killing silence, and then I peeked. I silently told
myself not to, but I did. I pulled the covers
down a little from my eyes. She stood there in
the dark, the little girl, pale as chalk, Her hair
hung down over her face. She was holding something. It

(07:54):
dangled from her hand, dripping on the floor. Mommy, she said,
Her voice was calm. Now you forgot this. She held
it out my foot, the one I left behind in
the cave. It dripped a mixture of blood and dampness
from the cave on to the floor. In front of me.

(08:17):
She smiled, and I finally understood what she meant. We
could be together forever.