August 14, 2025 • 22 mins
At 16, I found myself ensnared in a chilling mystery that still haunts my thoughts—a voice from the dark woods, pleading for help, luring me into a night filled with spine-tingling suspense. What began as a typical evening of solitude and homework turned into a gripping ordeal, where the shadows played tricks on my mind, and the rustle of leaves felt like unseen eyes watching my every move. This is the beginning of a journey that tested my courage and blurred the line between reality and the supernatural, prompting an internal battle between terror and compassion.Journey further with me as the eerie whispers grow louder, leading to an unsettling encounter with a stranger in the most terrifying place—my own home. Imagine the storm raging outside, trying to drown out the pounding fear inside as a drifter lurked in the basement shadows. Feel the desperate struggle for survival, with the police arriving just in time to stop what could have been the end of my story. These experiences have left an indelible mark, a haunting reminder of resilience against fear, and a mystery that remains unresolved. Join me as I recount these harrowing tales, exploring the chilling depths of human endurance and the shadows that linger just out of sight.
Become a supporter of this podcast: https://www.spreaker.com/podcast/nighttime-scary-tales--6704938/support.
Welcome to another episode of the Nighttime Scary Tales Podcast, where we explore the dark side of storytelling. Tonight, prepare for spine-chilling tales featuring original horror stories, eerie supernatural encounters, and real-life crime that reveals the darker aspects of human nature. Each story is designed to keep you on the edge of your seat long after it ends. We’d love to hear your thoughts! Share your most chilling moments by leaving a review on your favorite podcast platform. More haunting stories are coming, so keep your lights on and your doors locked. Sweet dreams… if you can find them!
Become a supporter of this podcast: https://www.spreaker.com/podcast/nighttime-scary-tales--6704938/support.
Welcome to another episode of the Nighttime Scary Tales Podcast, where we explore the dark side of storytelling. Tonight, prepare for spine-chilling tales featuring original horror stories, eerie supernatural encounters, and real-life crime that reveals the darker aspects of human nature. Each story is designed to keep you on the edge of your seat long after it ends. We’d love to hear your thoughts! Share your most chilling moments by leaving a review on your favorite podcast platform. More haunting stories are coming, so keep your lights on and your doors locked. Sweet dreams… if you can find them!
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Transcript
Episode Transcript
Available transcripts are automatically generated. Complete accuracy is not guaranteed.
Speaker 1 (00:07):
There's something about being alone in a house that makes
you notice every little sound. When you're surrounded by people,
those creaks and groans of an old house blend into
the background, barely registering in your mind. But when it's
just you, those sounds become louder, more insistent, like the
house itself is trying to get your attention. That's what
I was thinking about the night it happened. I was sixteen,
(00:29):
and my parents were out for the evening, leaving me
home alone in our house at the.
Speaker 2 (00:33):
Edge of the woods.
Speaker 1 (00:35):
It wasn't the first time I'd been left by myself,
but there was something different about that night, something I
couldn't quite put my finger on. The house was quiet,
the kind of quiet that makes you feel like you're
the only person in the world. I had my homework
spread out on the kitchen table, but I wasn't really
paying attention to it. The TV was on in the
(00:57):
living room, casting a soft glow across the room, and
I could hear the muffled sounds of a sitcom playing
in the background.
Speaker 2 (01:04):
Outside.
Speaker 1 (01:05):
The sun had long since set, and the world beyond
the windows was shrouded in darkness. Our house backed onto
a dense forest, the trees pressing in close like silent sentinels.
During the day, it was beautiful, a place where I
could lose myself in nature, surrounded by the scent of pine.
Speaker 2 (01:23):
And the rustle of leaves.
Speaker 1 (01:25):
But at night, those same trees took on a different character.
They became a wall of blackness, a place where anything
could be hiding, just out of sight. I wasn't scared,
not really. I was used to the woods, used to
the way they seemed to close in around the house
at night. But as I sat there, my pen tapping
idly against my notebook, I couldn't shake the feeling that
(01:46):
something was off. It started with a sound, a faint,
distant noise that barely registered at first. I paused my pen,
hovering over the paper and listened.
Speaker 2 (01:57):
Nothing.
Speaker 1 (01:59):
Just the usual creeks of the house, the low hum
of the refrigerator, the laugh track from the TV in
the other room. I shrugged it off and went back
to my homework. But a few minutes later I heard
it again. This time it was louder, more distinct, a voice,
faint but unmistakable, and it was coming from the woods.
I put down my pen, my heart skipping a beat
(02:19):
as I strained to listen. The voice was distant, almost
like a whisper carried on the wind, but I could
hear the urgency in it, the way it seemed to
reach out, begging for someone to listen. Help, Please, help.
I frowned, trying to make sense of what I was hearing.
It didn't sound like anything out of the ordinary, just
someone in trouble. But the woods were dense, thick with
(02:42):
underbrush and uneven terrain. It wasn't a place you'd wander
into by accident, especially not at night. I stood up,
moving to the window that overlooked the backyard. The moon
was high, casting a pale light over the trees, but
I couldn't see anything out of the ordinary, just the
same dark shapes of the forest, the same stillness that
had always been there.
Speaker 2 (03:03):
But the voice didn't stop. Help.
Speaker 1 (03:07):
It was a woman's voice, soft and pleading, growing a
little louder with each repetition. My first instinct was to
run outside to see if someone needed help, but something
held me back.
Speaker 2 (03:19):
There was something.
Speaker 1 (03:20):
Off about that voice, something that made the hairs on
the back of my neck stand on end. It was
too faint, too distant, like it wasn't really coming from
the woods at all, but from somewhere else entirely help.
I swallowed, my mouth suddenly dry. I couldn't just ignore it,
what if someone was really in trouble. But the more
I listened, the more I felt that gnawing sense of unease,
(03:42):
like something wasn't right. Finally I made up my mind.
I grabbed a flashlight from the kitchen drawer, my hand
trembling slightly as I flicked it on. The beam cut
through the darkness, illuminating the backyard. As I stepped outside.
The night was cold, the air crisp with the sound
of pine and damp earth. The trees loomed overhead, their
(04:03):
branches swaying gently in the breeze. But the voice had stopped.
I stood there for a moment, my heart pounding in
my chest, waiting to hear it again.
Speaker 2 (04:13):
But the woods were.
Speaker 1 (04:14):
Silent, the only sound the rustle of leaves in the wind.
I should have gone back inside. I should have locked
the door and forgotten about it, but something compelled me
to move forward, to take a few tentative steps toward
the edge of the woods.
Speaker 2 (04:28):
Help.
Speaker 1 (04:29):
The voice was louder, now, closer, like it was coming
from just beyond the tree line. I felt a chill
run down my spine, but I kept moving, my flashlight,
casting long shadows across the ground. Who's there, I called out,
my voice, trembling slightly. For a moment, there was no response,
and then the voice came again, clear and sharp. Help me, please.
(04:53):
It was so close, now, so real, that I almost
believed it. Almost, But there was something wrong with the
w the voice echoed through the trees, something unnatural about
the way it seemed to bounce off the trunks and
come from every direction at once. I stopped the beam
of my flashlight, trembling as I.
Speaker 2 (05:10):
Pointed it into the woods.
Speaker 1 (05:12):
My instincts screamed at me to turn back, to go
inside and lock the door, but I couldn't shake the
feeling that I was being watched. And then, just as
suddenly as it had started, the voice stopped. I stood there,
frozen in place, the flashlight casting a jittery beam of
light across the trees. The silence was deafening, pressing in
on me from all sides, and I couldn't shake the
(05:34):
feeling that something was very, very wrong. I was about
to turn back, to retreat to the safety of the house.
When I heard a new sound rustling in the bushes
just ahead. I pointed the flashlight toward the sound, the
beam illuminating the darkness. For a moment, I saw nothing,
just the same dark shapes of the trees. It's the
(05:54):
same tangle of underbrush. But then I caught a glimpse
of movement, a figure standing just beyond the reach of
the light, barely visible in the shadows. My heart lurched
in my chest and I took a step back, my
breath catching in my throat. The figure didn't move, didn't
make a sound, It just stood there, watching me. I
(06:15):
felt a wave of fear wash over me, so intense
that I almost dropped the flashlight. My mind raised with possibilities.
Who was it, What did they want? Why were they
just standing there, hiding in the darkness. And then I
realized something that made my blood run cold. The figure
was standing where the voice had come from. But it
hadn't moved. It had been there the whole time, which
(06:38):
meant the voice hadn't.
Speaker 2 (06:40):
Been moving through the woods, it had been.
Speaker 1 (06:41):
Coming from that exact spot, as if the figure had
been calling out to me. I swallowed hard, my hands
shaking as I tried to make sense of what I
was seeing. The figure was barely more than a silhouette,
but there was something wrong with the way it was standing,
the way its body seemed to blend into the shadows,
like it wasn't entirely there.
Speaker 2 (07:02):
I knew I had to get out of there. I
knew I had to.
Speaker 1 (07:05):
Turn around and run back to the house, but my
legs felt like lead. My feet rooted to the ground
as I stared at the figure, unable to look away.
And then slowly, the figure began to move. It stepped
forward just enough to come into the light. My breath
caught in my throat as I saw it clearly for
the first time. It was a woman, or at least
(07:25):
it had been at some point. Her skin was pale,
almost translucent, and her eyes were dark, hollow pits. Her
hair hung in matted strands around her face, and her
clothes were tattered, clinging to her thin frame like rags.
But it was her expression that terrified me the most.
She was smiling, a wide, unnatural grin that stretched across
(07:46):
her face, revealing teeth that were too sharp, too white.
It was the kind of smile that didn't belong on
a human face, the kind of smile that sent a
jolt of pure terror through my entire body, And then,
in a voice that was both familiar and completely alien,
she spoke, help me.
Speaker 2 (08:02):
I didn't think. I didn't hesitate. I just turned and ran.
Speaker 1 (08:06):
The flashlight bounced wildly in my hand as I sprinted
back toward the house, my heart pounding in my chest,
my breath coming in ragged gasps.
Speaker 2 (08:16):
I could hear the.
Speaker 1 (08:16):
Rustling behind me, the sound of something moving through the bushes,
but I didn't dare look back. I reached the back door,
fumbling with the handle as I threw it open, and
practically hurled myself inside. I slammed the door shut, locking
it with trembling hands, and backed away, my eyes fixed
on the darkness outside. For a moment, I stood there,
(08:37):
my chest heaving as I tried to catch my breath.
The house was silent, the only sound the rapid thudding
of my heart and my ears. But then I heard
it again, the voice right outside the door, Help me please.
I backed away, my mind racing. This wasn't possible. I
had just seen her in the woods, just heard her
calling out from the trees. How could she be here
(08:58):
so close so fast. I grabbed the phone from the counter,
my fingers shaking as I.
Speaker 2 (09:04):
Dialed nine one one.
Speaker 1 (09:06):
The operator's voice was a lifeline, a connection to the
real world that I clung to desperately. There's someone outside
my house, I stammered, my voice barely steady. I don't
know who it is, but they're trying to get in.
Please send someone. The operator assured me that help was
on the way, but it felt like an eternity. As
I waited, every second stretching out like hours, I could
(09:29):
hear the voice still calling out from just outside the door,
but I refused to go near it, refuse to look
out the window.
Speaker 2 (09:36):
Help me.
Speaker 1 (09:37):
The words were like a broken record, repeating over and over,
each one sending a fresh wave of terror through me. Finally,
after what felt like an eternity, I heard the sound
of sirens in the distance. The voice stopped abruptly, and
I felt a momentary sense of relief. But when I
looked out the window, the backyard was empty. The police
arrived minutes later, their flats shlights cutting through the darkness.
Speaker 2 (10:01):
As they searched the area.
Speaker 1 (10:03):
I told them everything about the voice, the figure in
the woods, the way she had appeared so suddenly, so
impossibly close to the house.
Speaker 2 (10:12):
They searched the woods, combing through every.
Speaker 1 (10:14):
Inch of the area, but they didn't find anything, no footprints,
no sign that anyone had been there. It was like
she had never existed at all. The police stayed for
a while, trying to reassure me, but I could see
the doubt in their eyes. They didn't believe me, not really.
They thought I had imagined it, that I had let
my mind play tricks on me.
Speaker 2 (10:35):
But I knew what.
Speaker 1 (10:36):
I had seen, I knew what I had heard. After
they left, I locked every door and window in the house,
my hands still trembling. The fear hadn't left me. It
was still there, gnawing at the edges of my mind,
making me jump at every little sound. I kept expecting
to hear the voice again, to hear it calling out
from the darkness, but the night was silent. In the
(10:59):
days that fall, I tried to put the experience behind me.
I told myself it was just a bad dream, a
trick of the light, anything to make it seem less real.
Speaker 2 (11:08):
But deep down I knew the truth.
Speaker 1 (11:11):
I knew that something had been in those woods that night,
something that wasn't supposed to be there, and I knew
that it had been calling out to me. I've moved
away from that house, away from those woods, but the
fear never truly left me.
Speaker 2 (11:24):
It's a part of me now.
Speaker 1 (11:26):
I know that whatever was out there in those woods
is still waiting, waiting for someone else to hear its call.
It was one of those nights that makes you want
to curl up with a good book and a cup
of tea, the kind of night where the rain falls
steadily against the windows, the thunder rumbles low in the distance,
(11:48):
and the world outside feels far away. I'd always loved
stormy weather, the way it made everything feel cozier, more intimate,
But that night there.
Speaker 2 (11:59):
Was something different in the air.
Speaker 1 (12:01):
I was home alone, my parents having gone out for
the evening to celebrate their anniversary. It was just me
and the old house that had been in our family
for generations. I'd grown up there, so the sounds of
the house were familiar to me, comforting even but as
the rain intensified and the wind picked up, the usual
(12:22):
creaks and groans seemed louder, more insistent. I'd spent the
earlier part of the evening in the living room, wrapped
in a blanket and watching TV. But as the storm
grew stronger, I decided to head upstairs to my room.
The house was quiet, kind of deep. I climbed the
stairs slowly, my hand trailing along the wooden banister. The
(12:42):
hallway was dark, the shadows cast by the flickering light
bulbs dancing across the walls. I hesitated at the top
of the stairs, listening to the wind howl outside, before
turning and heading toward my room. But just as I
reached for the doorknob, I heard it. A faint noise,
barely audible over the sound of the store, A soft,
muffled thump, like something heavy being dropped onto the floor.
(13:07):
I froze, my hand hovering over the doorknob, my heart
skipping a beat. The noise had come from the basement.
For a moment, I told myself i'd imagined it. The
wind was playing tricks on me, rattling the windows and
making the old house grown. But then I heard it again,
another soft thump, followed by a low scraping sound, like
something being dragged across the floor. My stomach tightened with unease.
(13:30):
I didn't want to go down there. Didn't want to
face whatever was making those sounds, but I knew I
couldn't just ignore it either. I had to check it out,
if only to convince myself that it was nothing. I
turned away from my bedroom door and slowly made my
way back down down the stairs, the old wood creaking
under my weight. The noise continued growing louder as I
(13:53):
approached the basement door, a rhythmic, almost deliberate sound that
set my nerves on edge. I reached the door, my
hand trembling slightly as I wrapped my fingers around the
cold brass knob. The basement was always cold, even in
the summer, and the air that seeped through the crack
under the door sent a shiver down my spine. Taking
(14:13):
a deep breath, I turned the knob and pulled the
door open. The basement stairs were steep and narrow, the
kind that made you feel like you were descending into
another world. The light switch was at the top of
the stairs, and I hesitated for a moment before flicking
it on. The single bare bulb that hung from the
ceiling buzz to life, casting a dim yellowish glow over
(14:36):
the steps. I stood there for a moment staring down
into the darkness below, my heart pounding in my chest.
The sound had stopped as soon as I opened the door,
leaving only the low hum of the light bulb and
the distant rumble of thunder outside. I told myself it
was nothing. Maybe a box had fallen over, or the
wind had somehow made its way into the basement and
(14:58):
knocked something loose, But the unease in my gut wouldn't
go away. Slowly, I started down the stairs, the old
wood creaking with each step. The basement smelled damp, a
mix of mildew and dust that clung to the air.
It was a large space, with stone walls and a
low ceiling that made it feel even more confined. The
(15:18):
floor was cluttered with old furniture, storage boxes, and other
forgotten relics from the past, all covered in a fine.
Speaker 2 (15:25):
Layer of dust.
Speaker 1 (15:27):
As I reached the bottom of the stairs, I swept
the beam of my flashlight across the room, my eyes
straining to see through the dim light. Everything seemed to
be in its place, nothing out of the ordinary, nothing
that could have made those noises. But just as I
was about to turn back, I noticed something that made
my blood run cold in the far corner of the basement,
(15:49):
partially hidden behind an old wardrobe, was a pile of blankets.
At first, I thought nothing of it, just some old
linens that had been thrown down there and forgotten. But
then as I stared at them, I realized something was wrong.
The blankets were moving. It was subtle, almost imperceptible, but
they were definitely shifting, like something underneath them was trying
(16:11):
to get out. My breath caught in my throat, my
mind racing with possibilities, a rat, a raccoon that had
somehow gotten inside. But as I stood there, frozen in place,
the blankets suddenly shifted more violently, and I heard a soft,
raspy breath.
Speaker 2 (16:27):
This wasn't an animal.
Speaker 1 (16:29):
I felt a cold wave of fear wash over me,
my heart pounding in my chest as I stared at
the moving blankets. This wasn't just some small animal. It
was something much bigger, something that didn't belong in my basement.
My mind raced with what to do. Should I call
the police, my parents? But what would I tell them
that there was something under a pile of blankets in
(16:49):
the basement. No, I had to know what it was first.
I had to see it for myself. I took a
tentative step forward, the beam of my flashlight trembling. As
I moved closer to the pile of life blankets. The
breathing grew louder, more labored, like whoever or whatever was
under there was struggling to catch their breath. My hand
(17:10):
shook as I reached out, my fingers, brushing against the
edge of the blanket. It was damp, cold to the touch,
and I had to fight the urge to pull my
hand back. Taking a deep breath, I grabbed the blanket
and yanked it away. What I saw beneath it made
my blood run cold. A man was lying on the floor,
curled up in a fetal position, his face hidden by
his tangled hair. His clothes were filthy, torn and stained
(17:34):
with something dark, and his skin was pale, almost gray,
like he hadn't seen sunlight in weeks. But it was
his eyes that terrified me the most. They were wide open,
blood shot, and staring straight ahead, unblinking. There was a
wildness in them, a look of pure, unbridled madness that
made my stomach twist with fear. His chest rose and
(17:56):
fell with shallow, ragged breaths. His eyes locked onto mine
with an intensity that made me want to scream, and.
Speaker 2 (18:03):
Then, without warning, he lunged at me.
Speaker 1 (18:05):
I stumbled back, barely managing to dodge his outstretched hands.
As he clawed at the air, his mouth twisted into
a snarl. He was fast, faster than I expected, and
I barely had time to react before he was on
his feet, staggering towards me with a crazed look in
his eyes. I turned and ran, my heart pounding.
Speaker 2 (18:23):
In my chest as I bolted up the stairs.
Speaker 1 (18:26):
I could hear him behind me, his footsteps heavy and uneven,
like he was struggling to keep up.
Speaker 2 (18:31):
But I didn't dare look back.
Speaker 1 (18:33):
I reached the top of the stairs and slammed the
basement door shut, locking it with trembling hands. My breath
came in ragged gasps, my mind racing with what to
do next. I had to get out of the house.
I had to call the police. But just as I
turned to grab the phone, I heard a loud bang
from the other side of the door.
Speaker 2 (18:51):
He was trying to break through.
Speaker 1 (18:54):
The banging grew louder, more frantic as the man threw
himself against the door. The wood under the strain, and
I knew it wouldn't hold for long.
Speaker 2 (19:04):
I had to act fast.
Speaker 1 (19:06):
I grabbed the phone, my hands shaking so badly that
I could barely dial.
Speaker 2 (19:11):
There's a man in my.
Speaker 1 (19:12):
Basement, I stammered, my voice trembling with fear. He's trying
to break through the door. Please send someone quickly. The
operator assured me that help was on the way, but
it felt like an eternity as I waited, the banging
on the door growing more violent with each passing second.
I backed away from the door, my eyes fixed on
(19:32):
the wood as it began to splinter under the man's assault.
My mind raced with worst case scenarios. What if the
door gave way, What if he got through before the
police arrived. But just as I was about to lose hope,
the banging suddenly stopped.
Speaker 2 (19:48):
For a moment.
Speaker 1 (19:48):
There was silence, the kind of heavy, oppressive silence that
made my skin crawl. I didn't dare move, didn't dare
breathe as I listened for any sign of movement on
the other side of the door, but there was nothing. Slowly,
I crept forward, my heart pounding in my chest as
I pressed my ear.
Speaker 2 (20:05):
Against the door.
Speaker 1 (20:06):
I couldn't hear anything, no footsteps, no breathing, nothing. Had
he given up, had he gone back down to the basement.
I wanted to believe that, but the fear in my
gut told me otherwise. Something wasn't right. And then, without warning,
the door burst open. The man lunged at me, his
eyes wild with rage. I screamed, stumbling back as he
(20:26):
grabbed at me, his fingers digging into my arms with
a strength that belied his emaciated frame. We struggled, his
breath hot against my face, his grip like iron. I
tried to fight him off, tried to push him away,
but he was relentless, his eyes locked onto mine with
a madness that terrified.
Speaker 2 (20:44):
Me to my core.
Speaker 1 (20:46):
I could feel my strength waning, my vision blurring as
he pinned me to the floor. His hands were around
my throat, squeezing the life out of me, and I
knew I didn't have much time left. But just as
my vision started to fade, I heard it, the sound
of sirens, growing louder with each passing second. The man hesitated,
his grip, loosening just enough for me to break free.
(21:09):
I scrambled to my feet, gasping for air. As I
staggered away from him, and then the front door burst
open and the police were there, pulling him off me,
dragging him away. I collapsed to the floor, my body
trembling with relief as I watched them haul him out
of the house, his wild eyes still locked onto mine,
that twisted smile still on his lips. The police stayed
(21:31):
with me for hours, asking me questions, trying to piece
together what had happened. I told them everything, the noises
in the basement, the man under the blankets, the way
he had attacked me. They searched the basement, combing through
every inch of the space, but they didn't find anything
out of the ordinary, no signs of how the man
(21:51):
had gotten.
Speaker 2 (21:51):
In, no evidence that he had been living there.
Speaker 1 (21:54):
The man was taken to a psychiatric facility, but I
never learned who he was or where he had come from.
The police told me he was a drifter, someone who
had been living off the grid for years, moving from
place to place, but that didn't explain why he had
chosen my basement, why he had been hiding there. And
I can only write this story after many years of therapy.
(22:17):
If the police hadn't arrived in time, I wouldn't be
here any more.
There's something about being alone in a house that makes
you notice every little sound. When you're surrounded by people,
those creaks and groans of an old house blend into
the background, barely registering in your mind. But when it's
just you, those sounds become louder, more insistent, like the
house itself is trying to get your attention. That's what
I was thinking about the night it happened. I was sixteen,
(00:29):
and my parents were out for the evening, leaving me
home alone in our house at the.
Speaker 2 (00:33):
Edge of the woods.
Speaker 1 (00:35):
It wasn't the first time I'd been left by myself,
but there was something different about that night, something I
couldn't quite put my finger on. The house was quiet,
the kind of quiet that makes you feel like you're
the only person in the world. I had my homework
spread out on the kitchen table, but I wasn't really
paying attention to it. The TV was on in the
(00:57):
living room, casting a soft glow across the room, and
I could hear the muffled sounds of a sitcom playing
in the background.
Speaker 2 (01:04):
Outside.
Speaker 1 (01:05):
The sun had long since set, and the world beyond
the windows was shrouded in darkness. Our house backed onto
a dense forest, the trees pressing in close like silent sentinels.
During the day, it was beautiful, a place where I
could lose myself in nature, surrounded by the scent of pine.
Speaker 2 (01:23):
And the rustle of leaves.
Speaker 1 (01:25):
But at night, those same trees took on a different character.
They became a wall of blackness, a place where anything
could be hiding, just out of sight. I wasn't scared,
not really. I was used to the woods, used to
the way they seemed to close in around the house
at night. But as I sat there, my pen tapping
idly against my notebook, I couldn't shake the feeling that
(01:46):
something was off. It started with a sound, a faint,
distant noise that barely registered at first. I paused my pen,
hovering over the paper and listened.
Speaker 2 (01:57):
Nothing.
Speaker 1 (01:59):
Just the usual creeks of the house, the low hum
of the refrigerator, the laugh track from the TV in
the other room. I shrugged it off and went back
to my homework. But a few minutes later I heard
it again. This time it was louder, more distinct, a voice,
faint but unmistakable, and it was coming from the woods.
I put down my pen, my heart skipping a beat
(02:19):
as I strained to listen. The voice was distant, almost
like a whisper carried on the wind, but I could
hear the urgency in it, the way it seemed to
reach out, begging for someone to listen. Help, Please, help.
I frowned, trying to make sense of what I was hearing.
It didn't sound like anything out of the ordinary, just
someone in trouble. But the woods were dense, thick with
(02:42):
underbrush and uneven terrain. It wasn't a place you'd wander
into by accident, especially not at night. I stood up,
moving to the window that overlooked the backyard. The moon
was high, casting a pale light over the trees, but
I couldn't see anything out of the ordinary, just the
same dark shapes of the forest, the same stillness that
had always been there.
Speaker 2 (03:03):
But the voice didn't stop. Help.
Speaker 1 (03:07):
It was a woman's voice, soft and pleading, growing a
little louder with each repetition. My first instinct was to
run outside to see if someone needed help, but something
held me back.
Speaker 2 (03:19):
There was something.
Speaker 1 (03:20):
Off about that voice, something that made the hairs on
the back of my neck stand on end. It was
too faint, too distant, like it wasn't really coming from
the woods at all, but from somewhere else entirely help.
I swallowed, my mouth suddenly dry. I couldn't just ignore it,
what if someone was really in trouble. But the more
I listened, the more I felt that gnawing sense of unease,
(03:42):
like something wasn't right. Finally I made up my mind.
I grabbed a flashlight from the kitchen drawer, my hand
trembling slightly as I flicked it on. The beam cut
through the darkness, illuminating the backyard. As I stepped outside.
The night was cold, the air crisp with the sound
of pine and damp earth. The trees loomed overhead, their
(04:03):
branches swaying gently in the breeze. But the voice had stopped.
I stood there for a moment, my heart pounding in
my chest, waiting to hear it again.
Speaker 2 (04:13):
But the woods were.
Speaker 1 (04:14):
Silent, the only sound the rustle of leaves in the wind.
I should have gone back inside. I should have locked
the door and forgotten about it, but something compelled me
to move forward, to take a few tentative steps toward
the edge of the woods.
Speaker 2 (04:28):
Help.
Speaker 1 (04:29):
The voice was louder, now, closer, like it was coming
from just beyond the tree line. I felt a chill
run down my spine, but I kept moving, my flashlight,
casting long shadows across the ground. Who's there, I called out,
my voice, trembling slightly. For a moment, there was no response,
and then the voice came again, clear and sharp. Help me, please.
(04:53):
It was so close, now, so real, that I almost
believed it. Almost, But there was something wrong with the
w the voice echoed through the trees, something unnatural about
the way it seemed to bounce off the trunks and
come from every direction at once. I stopped the beam
of my flashlight, trembling as I.
Speaker 2 (05:10):
Pointed it into the woods.
Speaker 1 (05:12):
My instincts screamed at me to turn back, to go
inside and lock the door, but I couldn't shake the
feeling that I was being watched. And then, just as
suddenly as it had started, the voice stopped. I stood there,
frozen in place, the flashlight casting a jittery beam of
light across the trees. The silence was deafening, pressing in
on me from all sides, and I couldn't shake the
(05:34):
feeling that something was very, very wrong. I was about
to turn back, to retreat to the safety of the house.
When I heard a new sound rustling in the bushes
just ahead. I pointed the flashlight toward the sound, the
beam illuminating the darkness. For a moment, I saw nothing,
just the same dark shapes of the trees. It's the
(05:54):
same tangle of underbrush. But then I caught a glimpse
of movement, a figure standing just beyond the reach of
the light, barely visible in the shadows. My heart lurched
in my chest and I took a step back, my
breath catching in my throat. The figure didn't move, didn't
make a sound, It just stood there, watching me. I
(06:15):
felt a wave of fear wash over me, so intense
that I almost dropped the flashlight. My mind raised with possibilities.
Who was it, What did they want? Why were they
just standing there, hiding in the darkness. And then I
realized something that made my blood run cold. The figure
was standing where the voice had come from. But it
hadn't moved. It had been there the whole time, which
(06:38):
meant the voice hadn't.
Speaker 2 (06:40):
Been moving through the woods, it had been.
Speaker 1 (06:41):
Coming from that exact spot, as if the figure had
been calling out to me. I swallowed hard, my hands
shaking as I tried to make sense of what I
was seeing. The figure was barely more than a silhouette,
but there was something wrong with the way it was standing,
the way its body seemed to blend into the shadows,
like it wasn't entirely there.
Speaker 2 (07:02):
I knew I had to get out of there. I
knew I had to.
Speaker 1 (07:05):
Turn around and run back to the house, but my
legs felt like lead. My feet rooted to the ground
as I stared at the figure, unable to look away.
And then slowly, the figure began to move. It stepped
forward just enough to come into the light. My breath
caught in my throat as I saw it clearly for
the first time. It was a woman, or at least
(07:25):
it had been at some point. Her skin was pale,
almost translucent, and her eyes were dark, hollow pits. Her
hair hung in matted strands around her face, and her
clothes were tattered, clinging to her thin frame like rags.
But it was her expression that terrified me the most.
She was smiling, a wide, unnatural grin that stretched across
(07:46):
her face, revealing teeth that were too sharp, too white.
It was the kind of smile that didn't belong on
a human face, the kind of smile that sent a
jolt of pure terror through my entire body, And then,
in a voice that was both familiar and completely alien,
she spoke, help me.
Speaker 2 (08:02):
I didn't think. I didn't hesitate. I just turned and ran.
Speaker 1 (08:06):
The flashlight bounced wildly in my hand as I sprinted
back toward the house, my heart pounding in my chest,
my breath coming in ragged gasps.
Speaker 2 (08:16):
I could hear the.
Speaker 1 (08:16):
Rustling behind me, the sound of something moving through the bushes,
but I didn't dare look back. I reached the back door,
fumbling with the handle as I threw it open, and
practically hurled myself inside. I slammed the door shut, locking
it with trembling hands, and backed away, my eyes fixed
on the darkness outside. For a moment, I stood there,
(08:37):
my chest heaving as I tried to catch my breath.
The house was silent, the only sound the rapid thudding
of my heart and my ears. But then I heard
it again, the voice right outside the door, Help me please.
I backed away, my mind racing. This wasn't possible. I
had just seen her in the woods, just heard her
calling out from the trees. How could she be here
(08:58):
so close so fast. I grabbed the phone from the counter,
my fingers shaking as I.
Speaker 2 (09:04):
Dialed nine one one.
Speaker 1 (09:06):
The operator's voice was a lifeline, a connection to the
real world that I clung to desperately. There's someone outside
my house, I stammered, my voice barely steady. I don't
know who it is, but they're trying to get in.
Please send someone. The operator assured me that help was
on the way, but it felt like an eternity. As
I waited, every second stretching out like hours, I could
(09:29):
hear the voice still calling out from just outside the door,
but I refused to go near it, refuse to look
out the window.
Speaker 2 (09:36):
Help me.
Speaker 1 (09:37):
The words were like a broken record, repeating over and over,
each one sending a fresh wave of terror through me. Finally,
after what felt like an eternity, I heard the sound
of sirens in the distance. The voice stopped abruptly, and
I felt a momentary sense of relief. But when I
looked out the window, the backyard was empty. The police
arrived minutes later, their flats shlights cutting through the darkness.
Speaker 2 (10:01):
As they searched the area.
Speaker 1 (10:03):
I told them everything about the voice, the figure in
the woods, the way she had appeared so suddenly, so
impossibly close to the house.
Speaker 2 (10:12):
They searched the woods, combing through every.
Speaker 1 (10:14):
Inch of the area, but they didn't find anything, no footprints,
no sign that anyone had been there. It was like
she had never existed at all. The police stayed for
a while, trying to reassure me, but I could see
the doubt in their eyes. They didn't believe me, not really.
They thought I had imagined it, that I had let
my mind play tricks on me.
Speaker 2 (10:35):
But I knew what.
Speaker 1 (10:36):
I had seen, I knew what I had heard. After
they left, I locked every door and window in the house,
my hands still trembling. The fear hadn't left me. It
was still there, gnawing at the edges of my mind,
making me jump at every little sound. I kept expecting
to hear the voice again, to hear it calling out
from the darkness, but the night was silent. In the
(10:59):
days that fall, I tried to put the experience behind me.
I told myself it was just a bad dream, a
trick of the light, anything to make it seem less real.
Speaker 2 (11:08):
But deep down I knew the truth.
Speaker 1 (11:11):
I knew that something had been in those woods that night,
something that wasn't supposed to be there, and I knew
that it had been calling out to me. I've moved
away from that house, away from those woods, but the
fear never truly left me.
Speaker 2 (11:24):
It's a part of me now.
Speaker 1 (11:26):
I know that whatever was out there in those woods
is still waiting, waiting for someone else to hear its call.
It was one of those nights that makes you want
to curl up with a good book and a cup
of tea, the kind of night where the rain falls
steadily against the windows, the thunder rumbles low in the distance,
(11:48):
and the world outside feels far away. I'd always loved
stormy weather, the way it made everything feel cozier, more intimate,
But that night there.
Speaker 2 (11:59):
Was something different in the air.
Speaker 1 (12:01):
I was home alone, my parents having gone out for
the evening to celebrate their anniversary. It was just me
and the old house that had been in our family
for generations. I'd grown up there, so the sounds of
the house were familiar to me, comforting even but as
the rain intensified and the wind picked up, the usual
(12:22):
creaks and groans seemed louder, more insistent. I'd spent the
earlier part of the evening in the living room, wrapped
in a blanket and watching TV. But as the storm
grew stronger, I decided to head upstairs to my room.
The house was quiet, kind of deep. I climbed the
stairs slowly, my hand trailing along the wooden banister. The
(12:42):
hallway was dark, the shadows cast by the flickering light
bulbs dancing across the walls. I hesitated at the top
of the stairs, listening to the wind howl outside, before
turning and heading toward my room. But just as I
reached for the doorknob, I heard it. A faint noise,
barely audible over the sound of the store, A soft,
muffled thump, like something heavy being dropped onto the floor.
(13:07):
I froze, my hand hovering over the doorknob, my heart
skipping a beat. The noise had come from the basement.
For a moment, I told myself i'd imagined it. The
wind was playing tricks on me, rattling the windows and
making the old house grown. But then I heard it again,
another soft thump, followed by a low scraping sound, like
something being dragged across the floor. My stomach tightened with unease.
(13:30):
I didn't want to go down there. Didn't want to
face whatever was making those sounds, but I knew I
couldn't just ignore it either. I had to check it out,
if only to convince myself that it was nothing. I
turned away from my bedroom door and slowly made my
way back down down the stairs, the old wood creaking
under my weight. The noise continued growing louder as I
(13:53):
approached the basement door, a rhythmic, almost deliberate sound that
set my nerves on edge. I reached the door, my
hand trembling slightly as I wrapped my fingers around the
cold brass knob. The basement was always cold, even in
the summer, and the air that seeped through the crack
under the door sent a shiver down my spine. Taking
(14:13):
a deep breath, I turned the knob and pulled the
door open. The basement stairs were steep and narrow, the
kind that made you feel like you were descending into
another world. The light switch was at the top of
the stairs, and I hesitated for a moment before flicking
it on. The single bare bulb that hung from the
ceiling buzz to life, casting a dim yellowish glow over
(14:36):
the steps. I stood there for a moment staring down
into the darkness below, my heart pounding in my chest.
The sound had stopped as soon as I opened the door,
leaving only the low hum of the light bulb and
the distant rumble of thunder outside. I told myself it
was nothing. Maybe a box had fallen over, or the
wind had somehow made its way into the basement and
(14:58):
knocked something loose, But the unease in my gut wouldn't
go away. Slowly, I started down the stairs, the old
wood creaking with each step. The basement smelled damp, a
mix of mildew and dust that clung to the air.
It was a large space, with stone walls and a
low ceiling that made it feel even more confined. The
(15:18):
floor was cluttered with old furniture, storage boxes, and other
forgotten relics from the past, all covered in a fine.
Speaker 2 (15:25):
Layer of dust.
Speaker 1 (15:27):
As I reached the bottom of the stairs, I swept
the beam of my flashlight across the room, my eyes
straining to see through the dim light. Everything seemed to
be in its place, nothing out of the ordinary, nothing
that could have made those noises. But just as I
was about to turn back, I noticed something that made
my blood run cold in the far corner of the basement,
(15:49):
partially hidden behind an old wardrobe, was a pile of blankets.
At first, I thought nothing of it, just some old
linens that had been thrown down there and forgotten. But
then as I stared at them, I realized something was wrong.
The blankets were moving. It was subtle, almost imperceptible, but
they were definitely shifting, like something underneath them was trying
(16:11):
to get out. My breath caught in my throat, my
mind racing with possibilities, a rat, a raccoon that had
somehow gotten inside. But as I stood there, frozen in place,
the blankets suddenly shifted more violently, and I heard a soft,
raspy breath.
Speaker 2 (16:27):
This wasn't an animal.
Speaker 1 (16:29):
I felt a cold wave of fear wash over me,
my heart pounding in my chest as I stared at
the moving blankets. This wasn't just some small animal. It
was something much bigger, something that didn't belong in my basement.
My mind raced with what to do. Should I call
the police, my parents? But what would I tell them
that there was something under a pile of blankets in
(16:49):
the basement. No, I had to know what it was first.
I had to see it for myself. I took a
tentative step forward, the beam of my flashlight trembling. As
I moved closer to the pile of life blankets. The
breathing grew louder, more labored, like whoever or whatever was
under there was struggling to catch their breath. My hand
(17:10):
shook as I reached out, my fingers, brushing against the
edge of the blanket. It was damp, cold to the touch,
and I had to fight the urge to pull my
hand back. Taking a deep breath, I grabbed the blanket
and yanked it away. What I saw beneath it made
my blood run cold. A man was lying on the floor,
curled up in a fetal position, his face hidden by
his tangled hair. His clothes were filthy, torn and stained
(17:34):
with something dark, and his skin was pale, almost gray,
like he hadn't seen sunlight in weeks. But it was
his eyes that terrified me the most. They were wide open,
blood shot, and staring straight ahead, unblinking. There was a
wildness in them, a look of pure, unbridled madness that
made my stomach twist with fear. His chest rose and
(17:56):
fell with shallow, ragged breaths. His eyes locked onto mine
with an intensity that made me want to scream, and.
Speaker 2 (18:03):
Then, without warning, he lunged at me.
Speaker 1 (18:05):
I stumbled back, barely managing to dodge his outstretched hands.
As he clawed at the air, his mouth twisted into
a snarl. He was fast, faster than I expected, and
I barely had time to react before he was on
his feet, staggering towards me with a crazed look in
his eyes. I turned and ran, my heart pounding.
Speaker 2 (18:23):
In my chest as I bolted up the stairs.
Speaker 1 (18:26):
I could hear him behind me, his footsteps heavy and uneven,
like he was struggling to keep up.
Speaker 2 (18:31):
But I didn't dare look back.
Speaker 1 (18:33):
I reached the top of the stairs and slammed the
basement door shut, locking it with trembling hands. My breath
came in ragged gasps, my mind racing with what to
do next. I had to get out of the house.
I had to call the police. But just as I
turned to grab the phone, I heard a loud bang
from the other side of the door.
Speaker 2 (18:51):
He was trying to break through.
Speaker 1 (18:54):
The banging grew louder, more frantic as the man threw
himself against the door. The wood under the strain, and
I knew it wouldn't hold for long.
Speaker 2 (19:04):
I had to act fast.
Speaker 1 (19:06):
I grabbed the phone, my hands shaking so badly that
I could barely dial.
Speaker 2 (19:11):
There's a man in my.
Speaker 1 (19:12):
Basement, I stammered, my voice trembling with fear. He's trying
to break through the door. Please send someone quickly. The
operator assured me that help was on the way, but
it felt like an eternity as I waited, the banging
on the door growing more violent with each passing second.
I backed away from the door, my eyes fixed on
(19:32):
the wood as it began to splinter under the man's assault.
My mind raced with worst case scenarios. What if the
door gave way, What if he got through before the
police arrived. But just as I was about to lose hope,
the banging suddenly stopped.
Speaker 2 (19:48):
For a moment.
Speaker 1 (19:48):
There was silence, the kind of heavy, oppressive silence that
made my skin crawl. I didn't dare move, didn't dare
breathe as I listened for any sign of movement on
the other side of the door, but there was nothing. Slowly,
I crept forward, my heart pounding in my chest as
I pressed my ear.
Speaker 2 (20:05):
Against the door.
Speaker 1 (20:06):
I couldn't hear anything, no footsteps, no breathing, nothing. Had
he given up, had he gone back down to the basement.
I wanted to believe that, but the fear in my
gut told me otherwise. Something wasn't right. And then, without warning,
the door burst open. The man lunged at me, his
eyes wild with rage. I screamed, stumbling back as he
(20:26):
grabbed at me, his fingers digging into my arms with
a strength that belied his emaciated frame. We struggled, his
breath hot against my face, his grip like iron. I
tried to fight him off, tried to push him away,
but he was relentless, his eyes locked onto mine with
a madness that terrified.
Speaker 2 (20:44):
Me to my core.
Speaker 1 (20:46):
I could feel my strength waning, my vision blurring as
he pinned me to the floor. His hands were around
my throat, squeezing the life out of me, and I
knew I didn't have much time left. But just as
my vision started to fade, I heard it, the sound
of sirens, growing louder with each passing second. The man hesitated,
his grip, loosening just enough for me to break free.
(21:09):
I scrambled to my feet, gasping for air. As I
staggered away from him, and then the front door burst
open and the police were there, pulling him off me,
dragging him away. I collapsed to the floor, my body
trembling with relief as I watched them haul him out
of the house, his wild eyes still locked onto mine,
that twisted smile still on his lips. The police stayed
(21:31):
with me for hours, asking me questions, trying to piece
together what had happened. I told them everything, the noises
in the basement, the man under the blankets, the way
he had attacked me. They searched the basement, combing through
every inch of the space, but they didn't find anything
out of the ordinary, no signs of how the man
(21:51):
had gotten.
Speaker 2 (21:51):
In, no evidence that he had been living there.
Speaker 1 (21:54):
The man was taken to a psychiatric facility, but I
never learned who he was or where he had come from.
The police told me he was a drifter, someone who
had been living off the grid for years, moving from
place to place, but that didn't explain why he had
chosen my basement, why he had been hiding there. And
I can only write this story after many years of therapy.
(22:17):
If the police hadn't arrived in time, I wouldn't be
here any more.
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