August 4, 2025 • 7 mins
Journey into the uncanny with this week’s Scary Midnight Horror Stories. We unveil chilling ghost encounters and inexplicable phenomena, weaving tales from the edges of reality. For those fascinated by the otherworldly, settle in and brace for a voyage into the unknown.
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Transcript
Episode Transcript
Available transcripts are automatically generated. Complete accuracy is not guaranteed.
Speaker 1 (00:04):
Hi. If you're a lover of all things spooky and eerie,
then Untold True Crime Horror is the perfect storytelling podcast
for a spine tingling experience. As you tune into this
petrifying horror experience, do not forget to subscribe, as your
nightmares are about to get a whole lot scarier.
Speaker 2 (00:33):
Harrowing nights low on food left my men at the
end of their rope. Earnest in all my intentions, but
I know rationing the food is what made my men
succumb to the depths. Levithan, holdstrong. I prayed, Hold until
I can get them back home. Hold until these torrential
rains stop, Hold until I can buy them another pint.
(00:54):
Prayers mean nothing to the sea. Minutes felt like hours,
and my eyes burned from the waters. Everything still felt
like it would be fine. It wasn't our first storm,
and I'd like to hope that some men slept through it.
Panic didn't set in until I saw the cliff side
locked on her trajectory. My champion, Levithan was doomed to
(01:16):
be dashed upon those stones. Even though I shouted at
the top of my lungs, I can't say that everyone
heard my warning, abandoned ship for Leatskuda four lat seconds later,
the impact threw me forward, and more pungent brine filled
my mouth. Even after this, ever present was my foolishness,
(01:37):
the shoals embraced me like the loving arms of a
companion I left at home. Heed my warning when I say,
you will never be prepared for the sinking of a ship.
Even if you hold your breath, it'll flee from your lungs.
After hitting the frigid and bitter water. You'll be nothing
more than a hapless babe floating in the current. Luckily,
(01:57):
God must have taken pity on me, for I don't
remember much of my time under the water, nor do
I remember washing up ashore. The thunderous storm was a
distant rumbling in my ears now as I stared up
at a flat, gray sky. It wasn't much to look
at the island itself. I couldn't see it during the storm.
But atop the cliff side that shattered my vessel there
(02:19):
was a lighthouse. Grimacing from the pain of my aching
body and burning lungs, I began my haphazard stumble up
to the lighthouse, hafting my weight across the island proved
to be tedious. With my injured leg. The door was
ajar when I reached the top, and when I called,
nobody answered how such a building had been left so unkempt.
(02:41):
Made the pit of my stomach boil. The fate of
the Leviathan and my men could have been kinder had
there been someone here. Our vessel could not have been
the first to wander precariously close to the island, and
I wonder how many other men were left in my
position due to this discarded responsibility. The furniture or behind
(03:01):
picture frames were the only places not caked in thick
layers of dust and emerald rust flowered over anything metal.
Something wasn't right. Even if the lighthouse was decommissioned, they
wouldn't leave personal effects scattered around, and there wouldn't still
be cans of food in the pantry. Knots formed in
(03:21):
my stomach when I heard a moan, not caring who
lay in the room, just wanting there to be someone else,
I hobbled as fast as my broken leg would allow,
overjoyed as I was at first to see Tomas, the
youngest member of my crew. He was splayed over a
moldy couch and looked unwell, weak and with labored breathing.
(03:42):
I knew the boy wouldn't have lasted long here. Stairs
presented another challenge for me, and I hauled myself up
to the next floor, hoping for a better bearing of
the situation at hand. My nose was assaulted with a
putrid and sour scent. There lay on the second floor
a man, who I assumed to be the former keeper,
Swathed in the light of the window. He lay entirely still.
(04:06):
Yanking myself back down the stairs in horror, I dared
not tell Thomas what I saw. I stayed by his side,
and when he awoke, he yammered all night, but didn't
make it to the morn. Suitable grave sites were in
short supply on the island, and I did my best
with what I could to give Tomas a dignified resting place.
I didn't venture upstairs again until I could no longer
(04:29):
bear to see the keeper's still visage through the floorboards.
I didn't know the man, but I had hoped his
family could forgive me for the way I cast away
his remains. Never once did I consider myself blessed to
be alive, and especially not now that I was left
alone with few supplies. A long time ago, when I
was a little boy, my mormer told me a tale
(04:51):
of a fisherman who overestimated his craft and lost most
of his family to the sea. Never did I think
myself to be like foolish Eliah's by the drog drogs
and stories of the undead men scared me under the
covers as a child. But sitting alone all day in
a damp and rusty lighthouse had brought the nightmares back
(05:11):
to me. Where there was a slight creak or the
knocking of the door, I could picture him, the old keeper,
banging on it with what was left of his hands.
But he was the least of my concerns. Ocean water
nasty stuff, but it was my only other option. When
there was no rain water Thomas disappeared. I would often
(05:32):
find myself visiting his grave and talking to him. But
one evening I found that the soil was perturbed and
Thoma's gone. Later that night I awoke and I could
hear his haggard breathing over me. I dare not look
upon his face lest I provoke. Echoes came from the
main tower stairway up to the light. Perhaps it was
(05:53):
the Keeper, not knowing his service was done long ago.
When mist blanketed the island, I could see faces in
the fog, and I could hear my men's gargled calls
for me. Then leaving the lighthouse became blasphemy, and the
only instigator for my wretched husk's movement was the rain.
Mustering any kind of strength now felt absurd, as I
(06:14):
found myself looking more and more like the Keeper. As
the days grew on, existence was miserable in this new
home of mine, and I found myself spending a good
amount of time questioning what really killed the old keeper.
Loathe is a kind word compared to how I felt
about this place. Escaping had occurred to me, but there
(06:34):
were too many dangers lying out on the sea. I
could have tried lighting the lamp at the top, but
there was no whale oil to be found, and I
knew the drog was guarding the tower. As I went
to sleep, I could hear them all laughing at me.
The captain who killed his men, the captain who crashed
his ship, the captain who would not let Thomas suffer
(06:54):
another day on this cursed island. Then lest I begged
the island, please please let me leave every night, it
does not answer me. And as the days stretch with
not a single ship sighting, I know I do not
wait for rescue. I wait for my judgment. Here, my
BARNI barn, my mourmur would say, comforting me in her lap.
(07:16):
Every tale has beginning and a choice, right or wrong.
Even though you are a very smart boy, remember to
always look back at the beginning and try your best
to make the right choice.
Hi. If you're a lover of all things spooky and eerie,
then Untold True Crime Horror is the perfect storytelling podcast
for a spine tingling experience. As you tune into this
petrifying horror experience, do not forget to subscribe, as your
nightmares are about to get a whole lot scarier.
Speaker 2 (00:33):
Harrowing nights low on food left my men at the
end of their rope. Earnest in all my intentions, but
I know rationing the food is what made my men
succumb to the depths. Levithan, holdstrong. I prayed, Hold until
I can get them back home. Hold until these torrential
rains stop, Hold until I can buy them another pint.
(00:54):
Prayers mean nothing to the sea. Minutes felt like hours,
and my eyes burned from the waters. Everything still felt
like it would be fine. It wasn't our first storm,
and I'd like to hope that some men slept through it.
Panic didn't set in until I saw the cliff side
locked on her trajectory. My champion, Levithan was doomed to
(01:16):
be dashed upon those stones. Even though I shouted at
the top of my lungs, I can't say that everyone
heard my warning, abandoned ship for Leatskuda four lat seconds later,
the impact threw me forward, and more pungent brine filled
my mouth. Even after this, ever present was my foolishness,
(01:37):
the shoals embraced me like the loving arms of a
companion I left at home. Heed my warning when I say,
you will never be prepared for the sinking of a ship.
Even if you hold your breath, it'll flee from your lungs.
After hitting the frigid and bitter water. You'll be nothing
more than a hapless babe floating in the current. Luckily,
(01:57):
God must have taken pity on me, for I don't
remember much of my time under the water, nor do
I remember washing up ashore. The thunderous storm was a
distant rumbling in my ears now as I stared up
at a flat, gray sky. It wasn't much to look
at the island itself. I couldn't see it during the storm.
But atop the cliff side that shattered my vessel there
(02:19):
was a lighthouse. Grimacing from the pain of my aching
body and burning lungs, I began my haphazard stumble up
to the lighthouse, hafting my weight across the island proved
to be tedious. With my injured leg. The door was
ajar when I reached the top, and when I called,
nobody answered how such a building had been left so unkempt.
(02:41):
Made the pit of my stomach boil. The fate of
the Leviathan and my men could have been kinder had
there been someone here. Our vessel could not have been
the first to wander precariously close to the island, and
I wonder how many other men were left in my
position due to this discarded responsibility. The furniture or behind
(03:01):
picture frames were the only places not caked in thick
layers of dust and emerald rust flowered over anything metal.
Something wasn't right. Even if the lighthouse was decommissioned, they
wouldn't leave personal effects scattered around, and there wouldn't still
be cans of food in the pantry. Knots formed in
(03:21):
my stomach when I heard a moan, not caring who
lay in the room, just wanting there to be someone else,
I hobbled as fast as my broken leg would allow,
overjoyed as I was at first to see Tomas, the
youngest member of my crew. He was splayed over a
moldy couch and looked unwell, weak and with labored breathing.
(03:42):
I knew the boy wouldn't have lasted long here. Stairs
presented another challenge for me, and I hauled myself up
to the next floor, hoping for a better bearing of
the situation at hand. My nose was assaulted with a
putrid and sour scent. There lay on the second floor
a man, who I assumed to be the former keeper,
Swathed in the light of the window. He lay entirely still.
(04:06):
Yanking myself back down the stairs in horror, I dared
not tell Thomas what I saw. I stayed by his side,
and when he awoke, he yammered all night, but didn't
make it to the morn. Suitable grave sites were in
short supply on the island, and I did my best
with what I could to give Tomas a dignified resting place.
I didn't venture upstairs again until I could no longer
(04:29):
bear to see the keeper's still visage through the floorboards.
I didn't know the man, but I had hoped his
family could forgive me for the way I cast away
his remains. Never once did I consider myself blessed to
be alive, and especially not now that I was left
alone with few supplies. A long time ago, when I
was a little boy, my mormer told me a tale
(04:51):
of a fisherman who overestimated his craft and lost most
of his family to the sea. Never did I think
myself to be like foolish Eliah's by the drog drogs
and stories of the undead men scared me under the
covers as a child. But sitting alone all day in
a damp and rusty lighthouse had brought the nightmares back
(05:11):
to me. Where there was a slight creak or the
knocking of the door, I could picture him, the old keeper,
banging on it with what was left of his hands.
But he was the least of my concerns. Ocean water
nasty stuff, but it was my only other option. When
there was no rain water Thomas disappeared. I would often
(05:32):
find myself visiting his grave and talking to him. But
one evening I found that the soil was perturbed and
Thoma's gone. Later that night I awoke and I could
hear his haggard breathing over me. I dare not look
upon his face lest I provoke. Echoes came from the
main tower stairway up to the light. Perhaps it was
(05:53):
the Keeper, not knowing his service was done long ago.
When mist blanketed the island, I could see faces in
the fog, and I could hear my men's gargled calls
for me. Then leaving the lighthouse became blasphemy, and the
only instigator for my wretched husk's movement was the rain.
Mustering any kind of strength now felt absurd, as I
(06:14):
found myself looking more and more like the Keeper. As
the days grew on, existence was miserable in this new
home of mine, and I found myself spending a good
amount of time questioning what really killed the old keeper.
Loathe is a kind word compared to how I felt
about this place. Escaping had occurred to me, but there
(06:34):
were too many dangers lying out on the sea. I
could have tried lighting the lamp at the top, but
there was no whale oil to be found, and I
knew the drog was guarding the tower. As I went
to sleep, I could hear them all laughing at me.
The captain who killed his men, the captain who crashed
his ship, the captain who would not let Thomas suffer
(06:54):
another day on this cursed island. Then lest I begged
the island, please please let me leave every night, it
does not answer me. And as the days stretch with
not a single ship sighting, I know I do not
wait for rescue. I wait for my judgment. Here, my
BARNI barn, my mourmur would say, comforting me in her lap.
(07:16):
Every tale has beginning and a choice, right or wrong.
Even though you are a very smart boy, remember to
always look back at the beginning and try your best
to make the right choice.
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