December 15, 2025 • 26 mins
Two centuries ago, a desperate young servant girl buried a piece of amber in the frozen Nova Scotia earth and summoned something with rows of gleaming teeth and an ungodly stench. Every Christmas Eve since, it returns to collect its payment — in flesh.
STORY AND MUSIC CREDITS/SOURCES…
“Mary Culhane and the Dead Man”: http://bit.ly/2PbAYPa
“The Stench of Christmas” by Lea Story: https://amzn.to/3487uWM
All music used with permission of the artists. Spooky Santa theme by Midnight Syndicate (http://amzn.to/2BYCoXZ). All other music by Nicolas Gasparini (http://bit.ly/2LykK0g).
I always make sure to give authors credit for the material I use. If I somehow overlooked doing that for a story, or if a credit is incorrect, please let me know and I’ll rectify it the show notes as quickly as possible.***Spooky Santa™ and Weird Darkness® are creations and trademarks of Marlar House Productions and Weird Darkness, LLC. Copyright © Weird Darkness, 2025.
"I have come into the world as a light, so that no one who believes in me should stay in darkness." — John 12:46
https://weirddarkness.com/spookysanta1214
Originally aired: December, 2019
EPISODE PAGE (includes sources): https://weirddarkness.com/SpookySanta1214
Weird Darkness and Spooky Santa can be disturbing for some listeners and intended for mature audiences only. Parental discretion is strongly advised.
#SpookySanta #WeirdDarkness #ChristmasHorror #ScaryStories #HolidayHorror #CreepyChristmas #FamilyCurse #TrueScaryStories #CreatureFeature #DarkChristmas #HorrorStories
STORY AND MUSIC CREDITS/SOURCES…
“Mary Culhane and the Dead Man”: http://bit.ly/2PbAYPa
“The Stench of Christmas” by Lea Story: https://amzn.to/3487uWM
All music used with permission of the artists. Spooky Santa theme by Midnight Syndicate (http://amzn.to/2BYCoXZ). All other music by Nicolas Gasparini (http://bit.ly/2LykK0g).
I always make sure to give authors credit for the material I use. If I somehow overlooked doing that for a story, or if a credit is incorrect, please let me know and I’ll rectify it the show notes as quickly as possible.***Spooky Santa™ and Weird Darkness® are creations and trademarks of Marlar House Productions and Weird Darkness, LLC. Copyright © Weird Darkness, 2025.
"I have come into the world as a light, so that no one who believes in me should stay in darkness." — John 12:46
https://weirddarkness.com/spookysanta1214
Originally aired: December, 2019
EPISODE PAGE (includes sources): https://weirddarkness.com/SpookySanta1214
Weird Darkness and Spooky Santa can be disturbing for some listeners and intended for mature audiences only. Parental discretion is strongly advised.
#SpookySanta #WeirdDarkness #ChristmasHorror #ScaryStories #HolidayHorror #CreepyChristmas #FamilyCurse #TrueScaryStories #CreatureFeature #DarkChristmas #HorrorStories
Mark as Played
Transcript
Episode Transcript
Available transcripts are automatically generated. Complete accuracy is not guaranteed.
Speaker 1 (00:04):
Spook scary time. Well, hello there, you'd better watch out,
you'd better not try, you'd better not pout, because I'm
(00:26):
here with some spooky stories. Hello children, it's Santa and
welcome to another episode of the Spooky Santa Podcast. I
have new scary stories to share with you, so be
sure you have your parents' permission before you begin to listen.
And I'll know if you ask them or not, because
(00:48):
I can see you when you're sleeping and I know
when you're awake. Coming up in this episode the Stench
of Christmas by Lee's story. It's one of my personal favorites.
I'll also share a scary story from Ireland. It's called
Mary Colehane and the Dead Man. Plus, I am an
(01:09):
extra special story that was emailed to me from one
of my children on the good List Atnaicus in Wisconsin.
He's six years old and he sent us a very
scary story. Now, bult your doors, lock your windows, turn
off your lights, and come with Spooky Santa for another
holiday chiller. They say it's the smell that hits you first.
(02:00):
A stench that crawls into your nostrils, slithers down your
throat and tries to cut off your air, but you fight,
fight to breathe, struggle for a nanogram of oxygen, to
drag it into your lungs and live. When the air
catches you in your belly and your lungs swell again.
What's coming next will make you vomit with revulsion, make
(02:24):
you wish you hadn't taken another breath. What's coming next
is always expected in my family on Christmas Eve. While
other smiling families gather around the Christmas tree enjoying gifts
and sumptuous meals, my loved ones quake and wait in
the shadows, not touched by happiness. While other families talk
(02:46):
about the miracles of Christmas, I'm wishing for a miracle
ione for years, for decades, for two centuries. In fact,
my family has lived here, beside the and near the forest.
The ocean water here isn't brilliant blue, but brown and muddy.
(03:07):
We live at the edge of the Minas basin and
a three story house with rooms upon rooms upon rooms,
too many rooms, too much money. That's what got us
into trouble in the first place. It was my foremother
who landed on these wild shores. She was only fourteen
(03:28):
years old. And she had been sent here from Scotland
by her poor parents, who hoped she would find work.
My grandmother arrived with nothing except for a single piece
of amber, a piece of orange hardened sap that fit
into the palm of her soft young hands. Her hands
(03:49):
didn't stay smooth for long, though hard work chafed them,
chapped them, cracked them, and marked them for a life
forever of labor. She toiled day in and day out
for over a year as a servant for an old woman,
an old woman who demanded everything out of my several
(04:09):
times great grandmother. According to her mistress, my ancestor, couldn't
do anything right and did everything wrong. That's why she
turned to the amber, a tool only to be used
when nothing else worked. The amber was a piece of
magic from the old world, used in the New world.
(04:30):
It had been pressed into my great great great grandmother's
palm before she'd boarded the ship for Nova Scotia. It
was the only reminder of the family she'd left behind.
There had been tales about the amber, whispers about its powers,
stories that had been passed from generation to generation. It
(04:51):
was said the amber could do wonderful things and undo
terrible things. It could make things good, make things easier,
make you rich, and your enemies pour. But the use
of the amber came with a price, an overwhelming stink
that tightened around the neck like a hangman's noose. The
(05:13):
feeble of the stench was all that was left clinging
to the amber just before my grandmother planted it in
the damp, dark ground one wintry day, when the snow
fell in wet clumps on the bare trees and the
tide was on its long journey out to sea. She
put the amber in the earth near the old woman's
(05:33):
house and waited. Then the pine needles covering the earth
shriveled as a burnt orange mist quivered up from the
dirt where the amber was hidden. A hole yawned open,
and out of it came a stench that slid languidly
into her mouth and nose. Her bony fingers went to
her throat, and she threw her head back, gagging for oxygen.
(05:57):
Almost too late, she caught her breath, dropping to her knees.
In relief, she bowed her head, her red hair fanning
out over her faded blue skirt like flames. And then
it happened, hideous in form. It rushed out of the
smelly fog and stood several steps away from her. It
(06:17):
was tall as any of the birches surrounding my grandmother.
The form had green eyes squished into a mustard colored face.
The creature didn't have a nose, not that my grandmother
could see anyway, but it did have a mouth of
bright red, pouty lips. Behind the squishy, plump, cherry lips
(06:40):
were rows upon rows of teeth, big teeth, teeth that
were as white as new snow and as pointed as
the tip of a knife. She saw them even though
she sat several meters away. This is my first time
to this side of the world, the creature said, pushing
(07:00):
the words through his teeth. Grandma knew by the male
voice that the it was a he. She was surprised
by the softness of his voice, the voice of a preacher.
It didn't fit with the terrible viciousness of his body
or the odor that pushed itself against her senses. Why
am I here, it asked, I, I stammered, my grandma.
(07:24):
I heard you could help me. Yes, the stanch answered,
tell me what you need me to do. I'm tired
of being cold and hungry. She said, I'm tired of
being poor and lonely. I'm tired of living in this
desperate situation. I want to be rich. I want to
have silks the color of the sky instead of mossy,
(07:46):
dull green woolens. I want to be able to eat
a marbled steak instead of mushy peas for my supper.
I want a servant to gather wood from my fire.
I don't want to play the servant any longer. Ah,
the creature said. You want all that without having to
work for it, without having the money work brings you.
(08:10):
You want the best without the worst. I want the
best money can buy, she said. There are many things
money can't buy. Per the stench, money would give me
everything and anything, said my grandmother, emboldened by the thought
of never having to stand churning butter for hours or
(08:30):
chopping wood for days. If that's how you see it,
then here are my terms, said the creature. Every year
at this time I'll come collect my fee. How much
do I owe, she asked, don't worry, it's not money
I seek, it's something you have already. My grandmother, thinking
(08:53):
the stench must be referring to the semi precious talisman
that brought him there. Nodded her head before sp oh, yes, yes,
she agreed, you could have the amber. That's when the
stench stepped closer, much closer to my grandmother. That's when
she saw him closer, much closer. There were bits and
(09:15):
pieces of moldy meat hanging off of him, fleshy things
that shivered in the wind, rotten flakes that clung to
his hands and neck, and swatches of muscle blistering on
his putrid face. His form was so ransid it vibrated
with stink. A squeak escaped my grandmother's lips, and she
turned her face toward the water, toward the brine that
(09:39):
was fleeing the basin. She wondered if the creature smelled
her fear. The stench laughed, and my grandmother knew he did.
I'm hungry, he said, with a merry lilt to his voice.
You will feed me with your skin. Skin is a
never ending meal for me. Humans have many layers of skin,
(10:02):
and it always grows back from you. I need a
strip fifteen centimeters a year, enough to keep me satiated,
but not enough to kill you. When your first child
turns fourteen, he or she will make your payment until
they have a child to take their place. The cycle
(10:23):
will continue for their descendants too, every year for two
hundred years. Your children and their children will pay for
your comforts. Now, my grandmother looked down at her lap
and smoothed her coarse, gray linen apron with her hands.
Her nails were chipped and ragged, her knuckles were swollen
(10:45):
to the size of a man's. These were hands that
would be enslaved to work every day, every hour, and
every minute she lived. I agree to your terms, she
said so softly. It was almost lost over the rush
of the tidal boar waves that force all the water
(11:05):
back into the bay, that her screams could be heard
from the beach, through the woods and down to the
wharf where mister Schofield was bringing in his nets. That
was Christmas Eve, almost two centuries ago. I turned fourteen
in March of this year. It was a day I dreaded.
(11:26):
But today, December twenty fourth, is the day that terrifies me.
I know what's coming, I know what happens. I've heard
the stories, I've seen the scars, I've heard the screams.
My ancestors have been keeping score. Every Christmas Eve, the
stanch arrives to harvest our flesh. Tonight marks two hundred years.
(11:54):
Will the stench make an appearance among the ringing of
the church bells? Have we settled? My foolish grandma? There's debt.
The best present ever would be if I'm the first
one in generations to be spared. I hold a little
fleck of hope born out of Christmas cheer that the
stench has had enough. But I don't know. I walk
(12:17):
down the path and through the woods to a clearing
near the water. That's where the amber is still buried.
That's where a promise was made. That is where I
wait for the stench to find me. They're right, you know,
it's the smell that hits you. First. Email Email, We
(12:44):
get email every day. Here's your ny This next story
is from one of the boys and girls on my
good list, Atticus. He's six years old and he lives
in wiscons in the United States, and he emailed me
his scary story at letters at Spookysanta dot com. Here's
(13:08):
his scary story. I was swimming at night to see
if I could find a sea creature, and I did
find one that night. I saw it like a squid
thing while snorkeling, but when I looked closer, it wasn't
(13:29):
just a squid. It had the head of a hammerhead shark,
eyes like a spider, and arms like an octopus. The
legs were eels, and when I first saw its legs
up close, one eel was holding a brain and the
other was holding a heart. There was blood all over
in the water. When I looked down there again, I
(13:50):
saw the body of an unlucky diver. I tried to
see what it would do if I got closer to it,
but it tried to kill me. I was terrible, and
I swam away. I got to my house, where luckily
I had a harpoon, and I tried to use it,
but it wasn't very useful. It kept chasing me, and
now it was more dangerous because it had my harpoon
(14:14):
and it was trying to kill me with it. Then
I got away finally, and I didn't see it again
except for one last time. And it turns out it
has night vision because it saw me very clearly in
the dark. It bit me on the leg, and as
the venom entered me, I felt my leg turning into
an eel and soon I became the same creature. Ooh,
(14:42):
that is a scary one, Atticus. Ooh, you have a
very dark mind. You do what you are on my
good list. Hey, if you would like to write a
scary story for me to read, you can email it
to me at letters at spookysanta dot com. I'll read
your story in an upcoming up episode. That's letters at
spookysanta dot com. Your parents can help you with that
(15:05):
if you need them to. This one is called Mary
Colhane and the Dead Man. It's a scary story about
a young girl in Ireland who is haunted by a corpse.
(15:27):
It's based on an old Irish folk tale called the
Blood Drawing Ghost. This story is also known as Mary
Colhane and the Dead Man. Here's the story. Years ago
in Ireland, there was a young girl named Mary Colhane.
Her family was very poor and they lived in a
(15:47):
whitewashed cottage down a country lane. She had six younger
brothers and sisters and spent a lot of her time
taking care of them. Her father worked as a grave
digger in the local cemetery next to the Catholic church.
It was the only job he could get because he
had been born with a bad leg. One day, when
her father came home, he sat down and sighed. He
(16:10):
was extremely tired after working all day. I can't believe it,
he said, I left my blackthorn walking stick back at
the graveyard. If I don't go back for it, someone
will steal it. It was the last thing my poor
departed father gave me before he died. I could barely
walk without it. Mary Colhayne was always a helpful girl,
(16:33):
always on my good list, and she knew how tired
her father was, so she fetched her shawl and said,
I'll go get it for you, daddy, and she ran
out the door before anyone could stop her. At the time,
many people in Ireland were superstitious, and nobody dared to
go into a cemetery after dark. By the time Mary
(16:54):
reached the gates of the graveyard, the moon was out
and the wind was whistling through the trees. She carefully
walked around the graves, making sure she didn't step on
any of them, because that would mean bad luck for her.
She spotted the black horn walking stick lying against an
old oak tree and ran over to pick it up. Unfortunately,
(17:16):
she was not looking where she was going, and she
fell into a freshly dug grave. She got up on
her hands and knees and tried to climb out of
the grave, but it was so deep, too deep. Suddenly
she felt something crawling up her back. A shilling voice
whispered in her ear. Little girl, I have been waiting
(17:37):
a long time for someone to drop by. Now that
you're here, you must take me into town to get
something to eat. I have a terrible hunger and an
awful thirst on me. Mary's heart skipped a beat. She
knew that the thing that was whispering in her ear
couldn't possibly be alive. She could feel its rotting fingers
(17:58):
stroking her hair and its fetid breath blowing against her neck.
The dead thing's arms wrapped around her body as she
could feel its rib cage digging into her back. She
was helpless and alone. There was no doubt that the
dead man would surely kill her if she didn't do
his bidding. She reached up to the grave's edge and
(18:19):
took hold of two clumps of grass. Then she pulled
with all of her might. She felt the weight of
the dead man dragging on her shoulders, Somehow, she managed
to lift herself out of the grave, with the corpse
clinging to her back. As she lay in the mucky
grass trying to regain her breath, the corpse screamed in
(18:40):
her ear. Get up, young girl, Get up and carry
me into town. I'll ride you like a horse. Mary
slowly got to her feet, and with the dead man
straddling her back, she trudged toward the village. When they
came to the mean road and saw a house, the
dead man hissed, take me into this here, how so
that I may feed. Mary climbed up the steps with
(19:04):
great difficulty. When they reached the front door, the corpse
cried out, not here, not here, for I do smell
the stanch of holy water. The frightened girl walked back
down the steps and went to the next house again.
As they reached the front door, the corpse cried out, Oh, no,
away with us, for I do get the stink of
(19:25):
holy water here as well. Mary walked on down the
road until they came to a third house. This is
a house that has no holy water, hissed the dead man.
Take me into the kitchen and I'll find myself a
bit to eat. Mary walked down the darkened hallway to
the kitchen. There she let the corpse slide off of
(19:47):
her back and onto a chair. All that was in
the cupboard was some porridge and some dirty water. I'll
teach these vagabonds and blackguards not leave me anything. Let
me on your back again. Mary did as the dead
man commanded her to do. Now, he said, take me
up those stairs. Mary was reluctant to go upstairs because
(20:10):
she knew the family who lived in this house. She
went to school with the three boys who slept upstairs.
But the evil corpse dug its bony fingers into her
neck and threatened to choke her to death. She slowly
made her way to the top of the stairs. There,
in the pale moonlight, she could make out the figures
(20:31):
of three young boys lying fast asleep in their beds.
The corpse took out a sharp knife and slit each
boy's throat. Mary turned her head and looked away. She
couldn't bear to watch. The dead man collected their blood
in a jug. With the first drop of blood, their
breathing stopped. With the second drop, their hearts stopped beating.
(20:53):
With the third drop of blood, all life left their bodies.
He took the jug full of blood and said, take
me back down to the kitchen so that I may feast.
Mary sadly walked down the stairs and into the kitchen.
The dead man took the bowl of porridge and poured
the jug of blood over it, and when he finished eating,
(21:15):
he took a spoonful of the bloody mess and gave
it to Mary Colhane. Eat this, he said, No, she cried,
you'll do it, and you'll do it now, he said,
and he wrapped his arm around her throat. She took
the spoon from his grasp and brought it to her lips.
The dead corpse picked up the bowl and began slurping
and licking up the bloody porridge. While he wasn't watching.
(21:38):
Mary quickly threw her spoonful on the ground. The corpse
put down his ball. We must hurry, he hissed, I
must be back in my grave before the morning comes.
As they left the house, the corpse began laughing insanely.
You know, there was a way that those boys could
have lived, he cackled. You see, if they were to
drink their own blood, they could come back to life.
(22:02):
But all the blood is gone. And now there is
no way. On and on into the night they went.
The creature whispered in her ear, telling her evil stories
and disgusting things that no one wants to hear, and
no one would ever dare repeat. The moon was going
down and the sun began to rise. They were close
(22:24):
to the cemetery now when Mary heard a rooster growing.
What is that horrible noise, screamed the dead man. Mary
knew full well it was a rooster, and that morning
was fast approaching. But she said, it sounds like the
bleating of a sheep, or maybe it's the move of
a cow. Quickly shouted the corpse, get me to the cemetery,
(22:45):
for I feel myself weakened. Mary saw the oak tree,
She saw the open grave. She walked slowly towards it.
Just then the sky broke open, and the first beam
of morning drew across the sky and to the graveyard.
The rooster crowed three times. The corpse let go of
Mary's shoulders and slid down into the grave. Mary Cohane
(23:09):
was now free of the deathly grip of the corpse.
She grabbed her father's walking stick and hurried home. When
she got to her house, everyone was asleep. She threw
herself into bed and fell into a deep sleep. A
few hours later, her mother ran into her room and cried, Mary, Mary,
wake up. Something terrible has happened in this town. Three
(23:32):
boys were murdered last night. Mary stirred, and her mother
could see that her hair was matted and tangled. There
were dark circles beneath her eyes. Her dress was dirty
and it looked like there were bloodstains on it. Mary
Cohane headed into town. When she got to the house
where the dead boys lived, she could see that the
(23:53):
entire village was trying to console the devastated parents. She
went up to the father and said, please please let
me inside. No, Mary, I can't do that, he replied,
What lies upstairs and that bedroom is not fit for
the eyes of a young girl to behold. But you
don't understand, insisted Mary. I think I can save the
(24:13):
lives of your three sons. Mary, if you could save
my three sons from the clutches of death, I would
be forever grateful, he cried. I ask nothing, said Mary,
but that you let me go in there alone. The
father cleared the house and Mary entered. She walked down
the darkened hallway to the kitchen. She grabbed the spoonful
(24:35):
of blood and porridge from the floor and went upstairs.
She saw the lifeless forms of the three boys lying
in bed. She gently went over and put the spoon
to their lips. With the first drop of blood, the
boys began to breathe, and with the second drop of blood,
their hearts started to beat. And with the third drop
(24:55):
of blood, all life came back into their bodies. What
rejoicing there was when Mary walked outside. The three boys
were alive and well. The jubilant father came over to Mary,
call Hayn and said, you have made me the happiest
man ever to live. You gave me my boys back
from the dead, safe and sound. What can I do
(25:17):
to repay you? Well, said Mary, There's only one thing
I ask of you. Always be sure to keep some
holy water at your front door. Did you like the
(25:48):
stories I told? If so, tell your friends about Spooky
Santa so that they can listen to and remember. You
can write your own scary story and email it to
me and letters a Spookysanta dot com. If you want
to learn more about the stories I've told or the
authors who have written them, You can find links in
this episode's show notes. Spooky Santa is a registered trademark
(26:12):
of Marlar House Productions copyright Marler House Productions, twenty nineteen.
Now be a good little girl or boy and join
me next time for more creepy tales from Spooky Santa.
Spook scary time. Well, hello there, you'd better watch out,
you'd better not try, you'd better not pout, because I'm
(00:26):
here with some spooky stories. Hello children, it's Santa and
welcome to another episode of the Spooky Santa Podcast. I
have new scary stories to share with you, so be
sure you have your parents' permission before you begin to listen.
And I'll know if you ask them or not, because
(00:48):
I can see you when you're sleeping and I know
when you're awake. Coming up in this episode the Stench
of Christmas by Lee's story. It's one of my personal favorites.
I'll also share a scary story from Ireland. It's called
Mary Colehane and the Dead Man. Plus, I am an
(01:09):
extra special story that was emailed to me from one
of my children on the good List Atnaicus in Wisconsin.
He's six years old and he sent us a very
scary story. Now, bult your doors, lock your windows, turn
off your lights, and come with Spooky Santa for another
holiday chiller. They say it's the smell that hits you first.
(02:00):
A stench that crawls into your nostrils, slithers down your
throat and tries to cut off your air, but you fight,
fight to breathe, struggle for a nanogram of oxygen, to
drag it into your lungs and live. When the air
catches you in your belly and your lungs swell again.
What's coming next will make you vomit with revulsion, make
(02:24):
you wish you hadn't taken another breath. What's coming next
is always expected in my family on Christmas Eve. While
other smiling families gather around the Christmas tree enjoying gifts
and sumptuous meals, my loved ones quake and wait in
the shadows, not touched by happiness. While other families talk
(02:46):
about the miracles of Christmas, I'm wishing for a miracle
ione for years, for decades, for two centuries. In fact,
my family has lived here, beside the and near the forest.
The ocean water here isn't brilliant blue, but brown and muddy.
(03:07):
We live at the edge of the Minas basin and
a three story house with rooms upon rooms upon rooms,
too many rooms, too much money. That's what got us
into trouble in the first place. It was my foremother
who landed on these wild shores. She was only fourteen
(03:28):
years old. And she had been sent here from Scotland
by her poor parents, who hoped she would find work.
My grandmother arrived with nothing except for a single piece
of amber, a piece of orange hardened sap that fit
into the palm of her soft young hands. Her hands
(03:49):
didn't stay smooth for long, though hard work chafed them,
chapped them, cracked them, and marked them for a life
forever of labor. She toiled day in and day out
for over a year as a servant for an old woman,
an old woman who demanded everything out of my several
(04:09):
times great grandmother. According to her mistress, my ancestor, couldn't
do anything right and did everything wrong. That's why she
turned to the amber, a tool only to be used
when nothing else worked. The amber was a piece of
magic from the old world, used in the New world.
(04:30):
It had been pressed into my great great great grandmother's
palm before she'd boarded the ship for Nova Scotia. It
was the only reminder of the family she'd left behind.
There had been tales about the amber, whispers about its powers,
stories that had been passed from generation to generation. It
(04:51):
was said the amber could do wonderful things and undo
terrible things. It could make things good, make things easier,
make you rich, and your enemies pour. But the use
of the amber came with a price, an overwhelming stink
that tightened around the neck like a hangman's noose. The
(05:13):
feeble of the stench was all that was left clinging
to the amber just before my grandmother planted it in
the damp, dark ground one wintry day, when the snow
fell in wet clumps on the bare trees and the
tide was on its long journey out to sea. She
put the amber in the earth near the old woman's
(05:33):
house and waited. Then the pine needles covering the earth
shriveled as a burnt orange mist quivered up from the
dirt where the amber was hidden. A hole yawned open,
and out of it came a stench that slid languidly
into her mouth and nose. Her bony fingers went to
her throat, and she threw her head back, gagging for oxygen.
(05:57):
Almost too late, she caught her breath, dropping to her knees.
In relief, she bowed her head, her red hair fanning
out over her faded blue skirt like flames. And then
it happened, hideous in form. It rushed out of the
smelly fog and stood several steps away from her. It
(06:17):
was tall as any of the birches surrounding my grandmother.
The form had green eyes squished into a mustard colored face.
The creature didn't have a nose, not that my grandmother
could see anyway, but it did have a mouth of
bright red, pouty lips. Behind the squishy, plump, cherry lips
(06:40):
were rows upon rows of teeth, big teeth, teeth that
were as white as new snow and as pointed as
the tip of a knife. She saw them even though
she sat several meters away. This is my first time
to this side of the world, the creature said, pushing
(07:00):
the words through his teeth. Grandma knew by the male
voice that the it was a he. She was surprised
by the softness of his voice, the voice of a preacher.
It didn't fit with the terrible viciousness of his body
or the odor that pushed itself against her senses. Why
am I here, it asked, I, I stammered, my grandma.
(07:24):
I heard you could help me. Yes, the stanch answered,
tell me what you need me to do. I'm tired
of being cold and hungry. She said, I'm tired of
being poor and lonely. I'm tired of living in this
desperate situation. I want to be rich. I want to
have silks the color of the sky instead of mossy,
(07:46):
dull green woolens. I want to be able to eat
a marbled steak instead of mushy peas for my supper.
I want a servant to gather wood from my fire.
I don't want to play the servant any longer. Ah,
the creature said. You want all that without having to
work for it, without having the money work brings you.
(08:10):
You want the best without the worst. I want the
best money can buy, she said. There are many things
money can't buy. Per the stench, money would give me
everything and anything, said my grandmother, emboldened by the thought
of never having to stand churning butter for hours or
(08:30):
chopping wood for days. If that's how you see it,
then here are my terms, said the creature. Every year
at this time I'll come collect my fee. How much
do I owe, she asked, don't worry, it's not money
I seek, it's something you have already. My grandmother, thinking
(08:53):
the stench must be referring to the semi precious talisman
that brought him there. Nodded her head before sp oh, yes, yes,
she agreed, you could have the amber. That's when the
stench stepped closer, much closer to my grandmother. That's when
she saw him closer, much closer. There were bits and
(09:15):
pieces of moldy meat hanging off of him, fleshy things
that shivered in the wind, rotten flakes that clung to
his hands and neck, and swatches of muscle blistering on
his putrid face. His form was so ransid it vibrated
with stink. A squeak escaped my grandmother's lips, and she
turned her face toward the water, toward the brine that
(09:39):
was fleeing the basin. She wondered if the creature smelled
her fear. The stench laughed, and my grandmother knew he did.
I'm hungry, he said, with a merry lilt to his voice.
You will feed me with your skin. Skin is a
never ending meal for me. Humans have many layers of skin,
(10:02):
and it always grows back from you. I need a
strip fifteen centimeters a year, enough to keep me satiated,
but not enough to kill you. When your first child
turns fourteen, he or she will make your payment until
they have a child to take their place. The cycle
(10:23):
will continue for their descendants too, every year for two
hundred years. Your children and their children will pay for
your comforts. Now, my grandmother looked down at her lap
and smoothed her coarse, gray linen apron with her hands.
Her nails were chipped and ragged, her knuckles were swollen
(10:45):
to the size of a man's. These were hands that
would be enslaved to work every day, every hour, and
every minute she lived. I agree to your terms, she
said so softly. It was almost lost over the rush
of the tidal boar waves that force all the water
(11:05):
back into the bay, that her screams could be heard
from the beach, through the woods and down to the
wharf where mister Schofield was bringing in his nets. That
was Christmas Eve, almost two centuries ago. I turned fourteen
in March of this year. It was a day I dreaded.
(11:26):
But today, December twenty fourth, is the day that terrifies me.
I know what's coming, I know what happens. I've heard
the stories, I've seen the scars, I've heard the screams.
My ancestors have been keeping score. Every Christmas Eve, the
stanch arrives to harvest our flesh. Tonight marks two hundred years.
(11:54):
Will the stench make an appearance among the ringing of
the church bells? Have we settled? My foolish grandma? There's debt.
The best present ever would be if I'm the first
one in generations to be spared. I hold a little
fleck of hope born out of Christmas cheer that the
stench has had enough. But I don't know. I walk
(12:17):
down the path and through the woods to a clearing
near the water. That's where the amber is still buried.
That's where a promise was made. That is where I
wait for the stench to find me. They're right, you know,
it's the smell that hits you. First. Email Email, We
(12:44):
get email every day. Here's your ny This next story
is from one of the boys and girls on my
good list, Atticus. He's six years old and he lives
in wiscons in the United States, and he emailed me
his scary story at letters at Spookysanta dot com. Here's
(13:08):
his scary story. I was swimming at night to see
if I could find a sea creature, and I did
find one that night. I saw it like a squid
thing while snorkeling, but when I looked closer, it wasn't
(13:29):
just a squid. It had the head of a hammerhead shark,
eyes like a spider, and arms like an octopus. The
legs were eels, and when I first saw its legs
up close, one eel was holding a brain and the
other was holding a heart. There was blood all over
in the water. When I looked down there again, I
(13:50):
saw the body of an unlucky diver. I tried to
see what it would do if I got closer to it,
but it tried to kill me. I was terrible, and
I swam away. I got to my house, where luckily
I had a harpoon, and I tried to use it,
but it wasn't very useful. It kept chasing me, and
now it was more dangerous because it had my harpoon
(14:14):
and it was trying to kill me with it. Then
I got away finally, and I didn't see it again
except for one last time. And it turns out it
has night vision because it saw me very clearly in
the dark. It bit me on the leg, and as
the venom entered me, I felt my leg turning into
an eel and soon I became the same creature. Ooh,
(14:42):
that is a scary one, Atticus. Ooh, you have a
very dark mind. You do what you are on my
good list. Hey, if you would like to write a
scary story for me to read, you can email it
to me at letters at spookysanta dot com. I'll read
your story in an upcoming up episode. That's letters at
spookysanta dot com. Your parents can help you with that
(15:05):
if you need them to. This one is called Mary
Colhane and the Dead Man. It's a scary story about
a young girl in Ireland who is haunted by a corpse.
(15:27):
It's based on an old Irish folk tale called the
Blood Drawing Ghost. This story is also known as Mary
Colhane and the Dead Man. Here's the story. Years ago
in Ireland, there was a young girl named Mary Colhane.
Her family was very poor and they lived in a
(15:47):
whitewashed cottage down a country lane. She had six younger
brothers and sisters and spent a lot of her time
taking care of them. Her father worked as a grave
digger in the local cemetery next to the Catholic church.
It was the only job he could get because he
had been born with a bad leg. One day, when
her father came home, he sat down and sighed. He
(16:10):
was extremely tired after working all day. I can't believe it,
he said, I left my blackthorn walking stick back at
the graveyard. If I don't go back for it, someone
will steal it. It was the last thing my poor
departed father gave me before he died. I could barely
walk without it. Mary Colhayne was always a helpful girl,
(16:33):
always on my good list, and she knew how tired
her father was, so she fetched her shawl and said,
I'll go get it for you, daddy, and she ran
out the door before anyone could stop her. At the time,
many people in Ireland were superstitious, and nobody dared to
go into a cemetery after dark. By the time Mary
(16:54):
reached the gates of the graveyard, the moon was out
and the wind was whistling through the trees. She carefully
walked around the graves, making sure she didn't step on
any of them, because that would mean bad luck for her.
She spotted the black horn walking stick lying against an
old oak tree and ran over to pick it up. Unfortunately,
(17:16):
she was not looking where she was going, and she
fell into a freshly dug grave. She got up on
her hands and knees and tried to climb out of
the grave, but it was so deep, too deep. Suddenly
she felt something crawling up her back. A shilling voice
whispered in her ear. Little girl, I have been waiting
(17:37):
a long time for someone to drop by. Now that
you're here, you must take me into town to get
something to eat. I have a terrible hunger and an
awful thirst on me. Mary's heart skipped a beat. She
knew that the thing that was whispering in her ear
couldn't possibly be alive. She could feel its rotting fingers
(17:58):
stroking her hair and its fetid breath blowing against her neck.
The dead thing's arms wrapped around her body as she
could feel its rib cage digging into her back. She
was helpless and alone. There was no doubt that the
dead man would surely kill her if she didn't do
his bidding. She reached up to the grave's edge and
(18:19):
took hold of two clumps of grass. Then she pulled
with all of her might. She felt the weight of
the dead man dragging on her shoulders, Somehow, she managed
to lift herself out of the grave, with the corpse
clinging to her back. As she lay in the mucky
grass trying to regain her breath, the corpse screamed in
(18:40):
her ear. Get up, young girl, Get up and carry
me into town. I'll ride you like a horse. Mary
slowly got to her feet, and with the dead man
straddling her back, she trudged toward the village. When they
came to the mean road and saw a house, the
dead man hissed, take me into this here, how so
that I may feed. Mary climbed up the steps with
(19:04):
great difficulty. When they reached the front door, the corpse
cried out, not here, not here, for I do smell
the stanch of holy water. The frightened girl walked back
down the steps and went to the next house again.
As they reached the front door, the corpse cried out, Oh, no,
away with us, for I do get the stink of
(19:25):
holy water here as well. Mary walked on down the
road until they came to a third house. This is
a house that has no holy water, hissed the dead man.
Take me into the kitchen and I'll find myself a
bit to eat. Mary walked down the darkened hallway to
the kitchen. There she let the corpse slide off of
(19:47):
her back and onto a chair. All that was in
the cupboard was some porridge and some dirty water. I'll
teach these vagabonds and blackguards not leave me anything. Let
me on your back again. Mary did as the dead
man commanded her to do. Now, he said, take me
up those stairs. Mary was reluctant to go upstairs because
(20:10):
she knew the family who lived in this house. She
went to school with the three boys who slept upstairs.
But the evil corpse dug its bony fingers into her
neck and threatened to choke her to death. She slowly
made her way to the top of the stairs. There,
in the pale moonlight, she could make out the figures
(20:31):
of three young boys lying fast asleep in their beds.
The corpse took out a sharp knife and slit each
boy's throat. Mary turned her head and looked away. She
couldn't bear to watch. The dead man collected their blood
in a jug. With the first drop of blood, their
breathing stopped. With the second drop, their hearts stopped beating.
(20:53):
With the third drop of blood, all life left their bodies.
He took the jug full of blood and said, take
me back down to the kitchen so that I may feast.
Mary sadly walked down the stairs and into the kitchen.
The dead man took the bowl of porridge and poured
the jug of blood over it, and when he finished eating,
(21:15):
he took a spoonful of the bloody mess and gave
it to Mary Colhane. Eat this, he said, No, she cried,
you'll do it, and you'll do it now, he said,
and he wrapped his arm around her throat. She took
the spoon from his grasp and brought it to her lips.
The dead corpse picked up the bowl and began slurping
and licking up the bloody porridge. While he wasn't watching.
(21:38):
Mary quickly threw her spoonful on the ground. The corpse
put down his ball. We must hurry, he hissed, I
must be back in my grave before the morning comes.
As they left the house, the corpse began laughing insanely.
You know, there was a way that those boys could
have lived, he cackled. You see, if they were to
drink their own blood, they could come back to life.
(22:02):
But all the blood is gone. And now there is
no way. On and on into the night they went.
The creature whispered in her ear, telling her evil stories
and disgusting things that no one wants to hear, and
no one would ever dare repeat. The moon was going
down and the sun began to rise. They were close
(22:24):
to the cemetery now when Mary heard a rooster growing.
What is that horrible noise, screamed the dead man. Mary
knew full well it was a rooster, and that morning
was fast approaching. But she said, it sounds like the
bleating of a sheep, or maybe it's the move of
a cow. Quickly shouted the corpse, get me to the cemetery,
(22:45):
for I feel myself weakened. Mary saw the oak tree,
She saw the open grave. She walked slowly towards it.
Just then the sky broke open, and the first beam
of morning drew across the sky and to the graveyard.
The rooster crowed three times. The corpse let go of
Mary's shoulders and slid down into the grave. Mary Cohane
(23:09):
was now free of the deathly grip of the corpse.
She grabbed her father's walking stick and hurried home. When
she got to her house, everyone was asleep. She threw
herself into bed and fell into a deep sleep. A
few hours later, her mother ran into her room and cried, Mary, Mary,
wake up. Something terrible has happened in this town. Three
(23:32):
boys were murdered last night. Mary stirred, and her mother
could see that her hair was matted and tangled. There
were dark circles beneath her eyes. Her dress was dirty
and it looked like there were bloodstains on it. Mary
Cohane headed into town. When she got to the house
where the dead boys lived, she could see that the
(23:53):
entire village was trying to console the devastated parents. She
went up to the father and said, please please let
me inside. No, Mary, I can't do that, he replied,
What lies upstairs and that bedroom is not fit for
the eyes of a young girl to behold. But you
don't understand, insisted Mary. I think I can save the
(24:13):
lives of your three sons. Mary, if you could save
my three sons from the clutches of death, I would
be forever grateful, he cried. I ask nothing, said Mary,
but that you let me go in there alone. The
father cleared the house and Mary entered. She walked down
the darkened hallway to the kitchen. She grabbed the spoonful
(24:35):
of blood and porridge from the floor and went upstairs.
She saw the lifeless forms of the three boys lying
in bed. She gently went over and put the spoon
to their lips. With the first drop of blood, the
boys began to breathe, and with the second drop of blood,
their hearts started to beat. And with the third drop
(24:55):
of blood, all life came back into their bodies. What
rejoicing there was when Mary walked outside. The three boys
were alive and well. The jubilant father came over to Mary,
call Hayn and said, you have made me the happiest
man ever to live. You gave me my boys back
from the dead, safe and sound. What can I do
(25:17):
to repay you? Well, said Mary, There's only one thing
I ask of you. Always be sure to keep some
holy water at your front door. Did you like the
(25:48):
stories I told? If so, tell your friends about Spooky
Santa so that they can listen to and remember. You
can write your own scary story and email it to
me and letters a Spookysanta dot com. If you want
to learn more about the stories I've told or the
authors who have written them, You can find links in
this episode's show notes. Spooky Santa is a registered trademark
(26:12):
of Marlar House Productions copyright Marler House Productions, twenty nineteen.
Now be a good little girl or boy and join
me next time for more creepy tales from Spooky Santa.
Popular Podcasts
Stuff You Should Know
If you've ever wanted to know about champagne, satanism, the Stonewall Uprising, chaos theory, LSD, El Nino, true crime and Rosa Parks, then look no further. Josh and Chuck have you covered.
Dateline NBC
Current and classic episodes, featuring compelling true-crime mysteries, powerful documentaries and in-depth investigations. Follow now to get the latest episodes of Dateline NBC completely free, or subscribe to Dateline Premium for ad-free listening and exclusive bonus content: DatelinePremium.com
Betrayal: Weekly
Betrayal Weekly is back for a brand new season. Every Thursday, Betrayal Weekly shares first-hand accounts of broken trust, shocking deceptions, and the trail of destruction they leave behind. Hosted by Andrea Gunning, this weekly ongoing series digs into real-life stories of betrayal and the aftermath. From stories of double lives to dark discoveries, these are cautionary tales and accounts of resilience against all odds. From the producers of the critically acclaimed Betrayal series, Betrayal Weekly drops new episodes every Thursday. Please join our Substack for additional exclusive content, curated book recommendations and community discussions. Sign up FREE by clicking this link Beyond Betrayal Substack. Join our community dedicated to truth, resilience and healing. Your voice matters! Be a part of our Betrayal journey on Substack. And make sure to check out Seasons 1-4 of Betrayal, along with Betrayal Weekly Season 1.