August 11, 2025 • 13 mins
Step into the shadows with us as we journey to a remote forward operating base in Afghanistan, where eerie whispers in the night and shadowy figures haunt Sergeant Williams and his unit. In this gripping episode, we unravel the mystery behind a cursed artifact that has unleashed fear and paranoia among the soldiers. As tensions rise, Corporal Davis mysteriously vanishes, leaving the unit on edge. Guided by a wise local elder, they uncover the dark history of ancient rituals tied to the artifact. Determined to end the curse's grip, the soldiers embark on a desperate mission to return the relic to its rightful place. Listen as they confront the malevolent forces at play, ultimately finding peace but bearing the haunting memories of their ordeal. Prepare for a tale of suspense, the supernatural, and the enduring spirit of those who dare to face the darkness within.
Become a supporter of this podcast: https://www.spreaker.com/podcast/nighttime-scary-tales--6704938/support.
Become a supporter of this podcast: https://www.spreaker.com/podcast/nighttime-scary-tales--6704938/support.
Mark as Played
Transcript
Episode Transcript
Available transcripts are automatically generated. Complete accuracy is not guaranteed.
Speaker 1 (00:04):
The sun had barely dipped below the horizon, casting a
dusky glow over our forward operating base in Afghanistan. As
the evening chill settled in, we gathered around the mess tent,
trying to shake off the day's fatigue. My name is
Sergeant Williams, and I was part of a small unit
stationed deep in the heart of enemy territory. Life in
(00:27):
the military is filled with routine and camaraderie, but tonight
felt different. There was an unspoken tension in the air,
a sense of unease that none of us could quite
put our finger on. We were a close knit group,
having faced countless dangers together, but something about tonight felt off.
(00:47):
It started with small, seemingly insignificant disturbances. Private Harris, a
normally composed soldier, seemed unusually jumpy. He kept glancing over
his shoulder, his eyes darting nervously. I approached him, trying
to figure out what was bothering him. Harris, you all right,
(01:09):
I asked, placing a hand on his shoulder. He flinched
at my touch, his eyes wide with fear. Sarch, I
don't know. I keep hearing whispers, like someone calling my name.
I frowned. You're just tired, Harris. Get some rest. We'll
(01:30):
talk about it in the morning. But sleep was a
luxury none of us could afford. That night, as darkness
enveloped the base, the whispers grew louder, more insistent. It
wasn't just Harris anymore. Other soldiers reported hearing their names
whispered in the wind, soft and sinister. The sounds seemed
(01:51):
to come from nowhere and everywhere, all at once. I
tried to dismiss it as collective paranoia, a byproduct of
stress and exhaustion, but deep down I felt it too,
a gnawing sense of dread that kept me on edge
that night. As I lay in my bunk, the whispers
came for me as well. They were faint at first,
(02:12):
barely audible, but they grew louder, more distinct. Williams, the
voice hissed, Williams. Come. I bolted upright, my heart pounding.
The barracks were dark and silent, save for the soft
snores of my comrades. I grabbed my flashlight and scanned
(02:33):
the room, but there was nothing there, just shadows and
the creeping feeling of being watched. The next day, our
commanding Officer, Captain Mitchell called an emergency meeting. He looked
as haggard as the rest of us. Dark circles under
his eyes, betraying his lack of sleep. Listen up, every one,
(02:54):
he began. His voice strained, I know some of you
have been hearing things, seeing things that aren't there. I
don't know what's causing it, but we need to stay focused.
We're in enemy territory and the last thing we need
is to lose our heads. We nodded, trying to push
the fear aside, but it wasn't long before things escalated.
(03:18):
That evening, while on patrol, Corporal Davis went missing. One
moment he was there, and the next he was gone,
vanished into thin air. We searched the area thoroughly, but
there was no trace of him. Panic set in. We
doubled our guard, but the whispers continued, growing more menacing
(03:39):
with each passing night. Soldiers who had once been strong
and unshakable, now looked over their shoulders constantly, eyes wide
with terror. One night, I was on watch duty with
Private Garcia, a quiet but reliable soldier. The night was
eerly still, the air thick with tension. As we stood
(04:00):
there scanning the perimeter, Garcia suddenly grabbed my arm. Do
you see that, he whispered, pointing towards the edge of
the camp. I squinted into the darkness, and there, just
beyond the reach of our lights was a figure. It
stood motionless, watching us. My blood ran cold. Who's there,
(04:23):
I called out, my voice wavering. The figure didn't move.
It was as if it were waiting for something. I
felt a chill run down my spine, and Miller and
I exchanged a nervous glance. Let's check it out, I said,
my voice, barely above a whisper. We approached cautiously, weapons
(04:45):
at the ready, but as we neared the figure, it
melted into the shadows, disappearing before our eyes. We searched
the area but found nothing, no footprints, no signs of
anyone having been there. Whispers grew louder that night, more insistent.
They seemed to echo through the very walls of the base,
(05:06):
a constant, maddening presence. Sleep was impossible as the voices
invaded our minds, filling us with dread. The following day,
Captain Mitchell called another meeting. His face was ashen, his
eyes haunted. We need to figure out. What's happening, he said,
his voice shaky. This isn't just stress or paranoia. Something
(05:31):
is here with us. We decided to conduct a thorough
sweep of the area, hoping to find some explanation for
the strange occurrences. As we moved through the base, I
couldn't shake the feeling of being watched. The shadows seemed
to dance around us, whispering our names, taunting us. Then
we found it, a small hidden room beneath the base,
(05:54):
something none of us had known existed. Inside were old
whether docs and a large, ominous looking chest. It was
covered in strange symbols. As we opened the chest, a
cold wind swept through the room, extinguishing our lights. The
whispers grew deafening, a cacophony of voices that seemed to
(06:16):
come from the very walls themselves. Inside the chest was
a journal, its pages filled with accounts of dark rituals
and forbidden practices. Captain Mitchell read aloud, his voice trembling.
This place was used for dark rituals during the war
soldiers who went mad with fear and paranoia. They believed
(06:39):
these rituals would protect them, but instead they cursed this place.
The realization hit us like a punch to the gut.
The whispers, the figures, the disappearances, they were all connected
to these ancient, malevolent practices. We knew what we had
to do. We gathered every document, every artifact, and burned them,
(07:02):
hoping to cleanse the base of its dark history. As
the flames consumed the cursed items, the air seemed to lighten,
the whispers faded, and for the first time in weeks,
we felt a sense of peace. I was stationed in
(07:22):
a remote desert outpost, far from any semblance of civilization.
The harsh landscape was our constant companion, with its relentless
heat during the day and bone chilling cold at night.
Our unit was tasked with patrolling a nearby abandoned village
or relic of ancient times that locals avoided like the plague.
(07:44):
One night, under the pale light of a waning moon,
we received orders to investigate the village. Rumors had been
circulating about insurgent activity in the area, and we couldn't
afford to leave any stone unturned. Our convoy roum wlod
through the desolate terrain, the only sounds being the growl
of engines and the whisper of the wind through the dunes.
(08:07):
Upon arrival, we split into smaller teams to sweep the village.
I was partnered with Sergeant Thompson, a seasoned soldier with
nerves of steel. As we moved through the narrow alleys,
I couldn't shake the feeling of being watched. The village
was zerily silent, the air thick with an unsettling stillness.
(08:28):
We entered what seemed to be an old mosque, its
walls adorned with faded carvings and inscriptions. In the center
of the room lay a large, ornate chest, partially buried
under centuries of dust and sand. Curiosity got the better
of us, and we decided to open it, hoping to
find something of value or significance. As soon as we
(08:50):
lifted the lid, a wave of cold air washed over us,
and a strange, musty odor filled the room. Inside the
chest was a small, intricately carved artifact. It was a
stone tablet, covered in symbols that none of us recognized. Thompson, ever,
the skeptic, dismissed it as an old piece of junk,
(09:12):
but I felt an inexplicable sense of dread. We reported
our findings and were ordered to bring the artifact back
to the base for further examination. That night, as we
settled into our bunks, the atmosphere seemed to shift. The
temperature dropped significantly, and an oppressive silence blanketed the camp.
(09:34):
Sleep came reluctantly filled with restless dreams and shadowy figures.
The following day, strange occurrences began. Equipment malfunctioned without explanation,
and several soldiers reported hearing whispers in the wind. The
artifact was stored in the base's makeshift lap, guarded by
(09:54):
Private Miller, a young recruit eater to prove himself. That evening,
I found Miller standing outside the lap, staring into the
distance with a vacant expression. Miller, you okay, I asked,
placing a hand on his shoulder. He didn't respond, just
kept staring into the night. I shook him gently, and
(10:17):
he finally blinked, looking at me with eyes full of fear.
I I heard them, he stammered voices. They were calling
my name. I tried to reassure him, chalking it up
to fatigue in the desert's eerie atmosphere, But deep down
I felt the same unease. That night, as I lay
(10:39):
in my bunk, the whispers came, faint at first, then
growing louder, echoing in my mind. I tossed and turned,
unable to escape the chilling voices. Over the next few days,
the situation worsened. Soldiers grew paranoid, reporting sightings of shadowy
figures lurking around me camp Thompson, who had been skeptical
(11:03):
from the start, began to show signs of distress. He
confided in me that he felt something was watching him,
following him wherever he went. One evening, while on patrol,
Thompson and I stumbled upon a figure standing in the
middle of the desert. It was a woman dressed in
tattered robes, her face obscured by a hood. We approached cautiously,
(11:28):
weapons at the ready. As we got closer, she lifted
her head, revealing hollow sunken eyes. Leave this place, she whispered,
her voice carrying another worldly echo. The artifact is cursed.
It brings death. Before we could react, she vanished into
(11:48):
thin air, leaving us stunned and shaken. We returned to
the base, our minds racing with questions. That night, the
whispers grew louder, more insistent. Sleep was impossible as the
voices invaded our thoughts. Desperation set in, and we decided
to consult a local elder, hoping for answers. He listened
(12:12):
to our story with a grave expression, then explained the
artifact's dark history. It was a relic from an ancient
civilization that had dabbled in forbidden rituals. The artifact was cursed,
meant to trap and torment any who disturbed it. Armed
with this knowledge, we decided to return the artifact to
(12:32):
the village and bury it where we found it. As
we approached the village, the air grew thick with anticipation.
We placed the artifact back in the chest and buried
it deep within the sands. The moment we finished, the
atmosphere changed, the oppressive weight lifted, and the whispers ceased.
(12:53):
We returned to the base exhausted but relieved. That night,
for the first time in weeks, slept peacefully. However, the
experience left its mark on us. We never spoke of
the cursed artifact again, but the memory lingered, a constant
reminder of the unseen horrors that lurk in the shadows.
(13:14):
As soldiers, we were trained to face tangible threats, but
nothing had prepared us for the supernatural terror we encountered
that fateful night in the desert.
The sun had barely dipped below the horizon, casting a
dusky glow over our forward operating base in Afghanistan. As
the evening chill settled in, we gathered around the mess tent,
trying to shake off the day's fatigue. My name is
Sergeant Williams, and I was part of a small unit
stationed deep in the heart of enemy territory. Life in
(00:27):
the military is filled with routine and camaraderie, but tonight
felt different. There was an unspoken tension in the air,
a sense of unease that none of us could quite
put our finger on. We were a close knit group,
having faced countless dangers together, but something about tonight felt off.
(00:47):
It started with small, seemingly insignificant disturbances. Private Harris, a
normally composed soldier, seemed unusually jumpy. He kept glancing over
his shoulder, his eyes darting nervously. I approached him, trying
to figure out what was bothering him. Harris, you all right,
(01:09):
I asked, placing a hand on his shoulder. He flinched
at my touch, his eyes wide with fear. Sarch, I
don't know. I keep hearing whispers, like someone calling my name.
I frowned. You're just tired, Harris. Get some rest. We'll
(01:30):
talk about it in the morning. But sleep was a
luxury none of us could afford. That night, as darkness
enveloped the base, the whispers grew louder, more insistent. It
wasn't just Harris anymore. Other soldiers reported hearing their names
whispered in the wind, soft and sinister. The sounds seemed
(01:51):
to come from nowhere and everywhere, all at once. I
tried to dismiss it as collective paranoia, a byproduct of
stress and exhaustion, but deep down I felt it too,
a gnawing sense of dread that kept me on edge
that night. As I lay in my bunk, the whispers
came for me as well. They were faint at first,
(02:12):
barely audible, but they grew louder, more distinct. Williams, the
voice hissed, Williams. Come. I bolted upright, my heart pounding.
The barracks were dark and silent, save for the soft
snores of my comrades. I grabbed my flashlight and scanned
(02:33):
the room, but there was nothing there, just shadows and
the creeping feeling of being watched. The next day, our
commanding Officer, Captain Mitchell called an emergency meeting. He looked
as haggard as the rest of us. Dark circles under
his eyes, betraying his lack of sleep. Listen up, every one,
(02:54):
he began. His voice strained, I know some of you
have been hearing things, seeing things that aren't there. I
don't know what's causing it, but we need to stay focused.
We're in enemy territory and the last thing we need
is to lose our heads. We nodded, trying to push
the fear aside, but it wasn't long before things escalated.
(03:18):
That evening, while on patrol, Corporal Davis went missing. One
moment he was there, and the next he was gone,
vanished into thin air. We searched the area thoroughly, but
there was no trace of him. Panic set in. We
doubled our guard, but the whispers continued, growing more menacing
(03:39):
with each passing night. Soldiers who had once been strong
and unshakable, now looked over their shoulders constantly, eyes wide
with terror. One night, I was on watch duty with
Private Garcia, a quiet but reliable soldier. The night was
eerly still, the air thick with tension. As we stood
(04:00):
there scanning the perimeter, Garcia suddenly grabbed my arm. Do
you see that, he whispered, pointing towards the edge of
the camp. I squinted into the darkness, and there, just
beyond the reach of our lights was a figure. It
stood motionless, watching us. My blood ran cold. Who's there,
(04:23):
I called out, my voice wavering. The figure didn't move.
It was as if it were waiting for something. I
felt a chill run down my spine, and Miller and
I exchanged a nervous glance. Let's check it out, I said,
my voice, barely above a whisper. We approached cautiously, weapons
(04:45):
at the ready, but as we neared the figure, it
melted into the shadows, disappearing before our eyes. We searched
the area but found nothing, no footprints, no signs of
anyone having been there. Whispers grew louder that night, more insistent.
They seemed to echo through the very walls of the base,
(05:06):
a constant, maddening presence. Sleep was impossible as the voices
invaded our minds, filling us with dread. The following day,
Captain Mitchell called another meeting. His face was ashen, his
eyes haunted. We need to figure out. What's happening, he said,
his voice shaky. This isn't just stress or paranoia. Something
(05:31):
is here with us. We decided to conduct a thorough
sweep of the area, hoping to find some explanation for
the strange occurrences. As we moved through the base, I
couldn't shake the feeling of being watched. The shadows seemed
to dance around us, whispering our names, taunting us. Then
we found it, a small hidden room beneath the base,
(05:54):
something none of us had known existed. Inside were old
whether docs and a large, ominous looking chest. It was
covered in strange symbols. As we opened the chest, a
cold wind swept through the room, extinguishing our lights. The
whispers grew deafening, a cacophony of voices that seemed to
(06:16):
come from the very walls themselves. Inside the chest was
a journal, its pages filled with accounts of dark rituals
and forbidden practices. Captain Mitchell read aloud, his voice trembling.
This place was used for dark rituals during the war
soldiers who went mad with fear and paranoia. They believed
(06:39):
these rituals would protect them, but instead they cursed this place.
The realization hit us like a punch to the gut.
The whispers, the figures, the disappearances, they were all connected
to these ancient, malevolent practices. We knew what we had
to do. We gathered every document, every artifact, and burned them,
(07:02):
hoping to cleanse the base of its dark history. As
the flames consumed the cursed items, the air seemed to lighten,
the whispers faded, and for the first time in weeks,
we felt a sense of peace. I was stationed in
(07:22):
a remote desert outpost, far from any semblance of civilization.
The harsh landscape was our constant companion, with its relentless
heat during the day and bone chilling cold at night.
Our unit was tasked with patrolling a nearby abandoned village
or relic of ancient times that locals avoided like the plague.
(07:44):
One night, under the pale light of a waning moon,
we received orders to investigate the village. Rumors had been
circulating about insurgent activity in the area, and we couldn't
afford to leave any stone unturned. Our convoy roum wlod
through the desolate terrain, the only sounds being the growl
of engines and the whisper of the wind through the dunes.
(08:07):
Upon arrival, we split into smaller teams to sweep the village.
I was partnered with Sergeant Thompson, a seasoned soldier with
nerves of steel. As we moved through the narrow alleys,
I couldn't shake the feeling of being watched. The village
was zerily silent, the air thick with an unsettling stillness.
(08:28):
We entered what seemed to be an old mosque, its
walls adorned with faded carvings and inscriptions. In the center
of the room lay a large, ornate chest, partially buried
under centuries of dust and sand. Curiosity got the better
of us, and we decided to open it, hoping to
find something of value or significance. As soon as we
(08:50):
lifted the lid, a wave of cold air washed over us,
and a strange, musty odor filled the room. Inside the
chest was a small, intricately carved artifact. It was a
stone tablet, covered in symbols that none of us recognized. Thompson, ever,
the skeptic, dismissed it as an old piece of junk,
(09:12):
but I felt an inexplicable sense of dread. We reported
our findings and were ordered to bring the artifact back
to the base for further examination. That night, as we
settled into our bunks, the atmosphere seemed to shift. The
temperature dropped significantly, and an oppressive silence blanketed the camp.
(09:34):
Sleep came reluctantly filled with restless dreams and shadowy figures.
The following day, strange occurrences began. Equipment malfunctioned without explanation,
and several soldiers reported hearing whispers in the wind. The
artifact was stored in the base's makeshift lap, guarded by
(09:54):
Private Miller, a young recruit eater to prove himself. That evening,
I found Miller standing outside the lap, staring into the
distance with a vacant expression. Miller, you okay, I asked,
placing a hand on his shoulder. He didn't respond, just
kept staring into the night. I shook him gently, and
(10:17):
he finally blinked, looking at me with eyes full of fear.
I I heard them, he stammered voices. They were calling
my name. I tried to reassure him, chalking it up
to fatigue in the desert's eerie atmosphere, But deep down
I felt the same unease. That night, as I lay
(10:39):
in my bunk, the whispers came, faint at first, then
growing louder, echoing in my mind. I tossed and turned,
unable to escape the chilling voices. Over the next few days,
the situation worsened. Soldiers grew paranoid, reporting sightings of shadowy
figures lurking around me camp Thompson, who had been skeptical
(11:03):
from the start, began to show signs of distress. He
confided in me that he felt something was watching him,
following him wherever he went. One evening, while on patrol,
Thompson and I stumbled upon a figure standing in the
middle of the desert. It was a woman dressed in
tattered robes, her face obscured by a hood. We approached cautiously,
(11:28):
weapons at the ready. As we got closer, she lifted
her head, revealing hollow sunken eyes. Leave this place, she whispered,
her voice carrying another worldly echo. The artifact is cursed.
It brings death. Before we could react, she vanished into
(11:48):
thin air, leaving us stunned and shaken. We returned to
the base, our minds racing with questions. That night, the
whispers grew louder, more insistent. Sleep was impossible as the
voices invaded our thoughts. Desperation set in, and we decided
to consult a local elder, hoping for answers. He listened
(12:12):
to our story with a grave expression, then explained the
artifact's dark history. It was a relic from an ancient
civilization that had dabbled in forbidden rituals. The artifact was cursed,
meant to trap and torment any who disturbed it. Armed
with this knowledge, we decided to return the artifact to
(12:32):
the village and bury it where we found it. As
we approached the village, the air grew thick with anticipation.
We placed the artifact back in the chest and buried
it deep within the sands. The moment we finished, the
atmosphere changed, the oppressive weight lifted, and the whispers ceased.
(12:53):
We returned to the base exhausted but relieved. That night,
for the first time in weeks, slept peacefully. However, the
experience left its mark on us. We never spoke of
the cursed artifact again, but the memory lingered, a constant
reminder of the unseen horrors that lurk in the shadows.
(13:14):
As soldiers, we were trained to face tangible threats, but
nothing had prepared us for the supernatural terror we encountered
that fateful night in the desert.
Popular Podcasts
New Heights with Jason & Travis Kelce
Football’s funniest family duo — Jason Kelce of the Philadelphia Eagles and Travis Kelce of the Kansas City Chiefs — team up to provide next-level access to life in the league as it unfolds. The two brothers and Super Bowl champions drop weekly insights about the weekly slate of games and share their INSIDE perspectives on trending NFL news and sports headlines. They also endlessly rag on each other as brothers do, chat the latest in pop culture and welcome some very popular and well-known friends to chat with them. Check out new episodes every Wednesday. Follow New Heights on the Wondery App, YouTube or wherever you get your podcasts. You can listen to new episodes early and ad-free, and get exclusive content on Wondery+. Join Wondery+ in the Wondery App, Apple Podcasts or Spotify. And join our new membership for a unique fan experience by going to the New Heights YouTube channel now!
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
On Purpose with Jay Shetty
I’m Jay Shetty host of On Purpose the worlds #1 Mental Health podcast and I’m so grateful you found us. I started this podcast 5 years ago to invite you into conversations and workshops that are designed to help make you happier, healthier and more healed. I believe that when you (yes you) feel seen, heard and understood you’re able to deal with relationship struggles, work challenges and life’s ups and downs with more ease and grace. I interview experts, celebrities, thought leaders and athletes so that we can grow our mindset, build better habits and uncover a side of them we’ve never seen before. New episodes every Monday and Friday. Your support means the world to me and I don’t take it for granted — click the follow button and leave a review to help us spread the love with On Purpose. I can’t wait for you to listen to your first or 500th episode!