June 17, 2025 • 22 mins
A scary story about a haunting past that presents itself during a stay at an infamous motel on the side of the road. It shows us the struggles of a rough past, and what it means to carry on.
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Email at edwin@scarystory.com
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You can get these ad-free through ScaryPlus.com free for 14 days, then 4.99 per month. Cancel anytime.
Find out more about Scary Story Podcast on ScaryStoryPodcast.com
Edwin is on TikTok, Instagram, and Facebook as @edwincov
Email at edwin@scarystory.com
Join our community:
Facebook.com/scarypod
Instagram.com/scarypod
tiktok.com/@scarystorypod
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Transcript
Episode Transcript
Available transcripts are automatically generated. Complete accuracy is not guaranteed.
Speaker 1 (00:00):
Welcome to Scary Story Podcast. An old place and old
memories combine for a haunted night at a place that
shouldn't exist any more. My name is Edwin, and here's
a scary story. It has been sometimes since I last
(00:20):
shared my wand and only experience with something I couldn't explain.
As reluctant as I was to talk about it, I
think it's time I share it with someone. I'm old,
I'm tired, and even if this serves to just pass
the time for some of you, well, I'm okay with that.
I just don't want it to die with me. I
(00:42):
had a rough upbringing and it haunted me for a while,
but I didn't know how much until much later. It
was some time in the seventies and life was good,
at least as good as it was going to get.
I was growing up in the Midwest, learning about pain
and love and everything in between. Sometimes at the same time,
(01:02):
if you know what I mean, everything was possible, and
unfortunately that meant even things that I didn't know existed.
You don't know what you don't know, as they say,
my aunt was building a bed and breakfast slash energetic
retreat thing something about zones and energies that concentrate in
(01:22):
certain parts of the desert. I knew nothing about that
back then, and honestly, I still don't care too much
for that stuff. But she went crazy for it. So
she called me one day and she said, hey, Stephen,
I got some work for you. She was always associating,
to put it that way, with rich guys who wanted
to discover things about mind control and the energies of
(01:45):
the universe. They wore white and necklaces. They had beards
and long hair. They would sit around the fire or
by a lake, sometimes even taking their clothes off to
let the sun hit spots that don't get it. Or
so I heard. That woman my aunt was a trip.
She would make everyone laugh with the way she was,
(02:06):
but she was always standing up for little things like
the bees, or larger things like the government. In short,
these guys she was around had money, and they had
given her a certain amount to build this stay in
the desert where they could make a garden and some
other stuff to go all sustainable, which meant I had
a job. I took a bus and called her the
(02:29):
first chance I got from a gas station. She had
given me the number for a motel a runway in.
I had to give her two days because she had
to go take care of a few things. Might have
been something important, though it was likely just a concert.
I remember thinking it was close according to the lovely
(02:49):
young lady behind the cash register, but she asked why
nobody stays there because of what happened. Apparently a girl
had gone missing and they arrested the man that took
her at that motel. The joke around the settlement was
that the motel should have been renamed the Runaway In
because so many runaways ended up there. I might be
(03:10):
at the perfect place, then, I said, trying to sound smooth,
but I realized what I had just said just a
little too late. She looked at me and smiled, well, hey,
whatever place you find, there's no food around there, you'll
have to make the walk back here take some stuff.
I thought about maybe telling her that I'd be happy
to come back to see her. I don't know, something
(03:31):
like that, but I was already creeping her out, so
I turned around, grabbed some gurriedos, some pop, a few twinkies,
and a pack of gum from the counter. Breakfast of champions.
She said, ringing everything up. I kicked myself a little
bit for not saying something else right then I simply
let the moment get away. The walk was easy. Got
(03:56):
there around sunset. A big sign advertising long distance air
conditioning and television was the first thing I saw. The
billboard blocked the runway insign, and I understood why. Once
I got close to the building. The carpet smelled like dust,
and the cushion of the couch apparently vanished when I
put my bag on it, because all I heard was
(04:16):
it knocking on the wooden seat. An older woman came
up the front door behind me, kind lady, she seemed like,
and asked for fifteen dollars seven fifty for each night,
and she handed me a key with a room number
attached to it in a wooden keychain. Back then, they
wouldn't ask you for ID or none of that, just
cash a name on a roster, and that was that.
(04:40):
The room was better than the lobby. Probably didn't get
used much. The roach floating on the toilet water was
a sign of it. I blopped on the bed and
reached for the TV control when I heard a scream
from the room next to mine. I sat up and
looked over the door for an instant I was at home.
(05:00):
I imagined Mom in the red side of her face that
would eventually turn purple or a pale blue, my father
telling me to bring the bag of eyes from the
freezer in that cold, deep voice the man had. I
would rush to the kitchen and watch my mom hide
until the car spit away. I knew we wouldn't see
(05:21):
him for the rest of that night. Before I knew it,
I was outside, standing by the door, listening for the
scream again. The parking lot was empty. Might have gotten
there by bus or a cab like I did. So
I walked around the building, startled by the sound of
a cat hissing from the trash bin by the entrance.
I walked toward the lobby and then rushed up to
(05:42):
the door. This lady would have been dead had I
been a killer. She didn't notice me until I was
at the front counter. Everything okay, honey, she asked, smiling,
any one else staying here? I asked, my voice cold too,
Not yet? What is it Friday? Nope? Maybe later? Why
(06:03):
do you ask now? Most people would keep their mouth shut,
and moments like these we don't like to cause trouble.
But I couldn't, man, I couldn't not if someone was
in trouble, someone was screaming, I said bluntly, Uh, maybe
a TV's on somewhere. Hunh, that's probably it. But no
(06:24):
one else is here, right, I didn't want to push
it at this point. Sometimes these people in the middle
of nowhere let others stay without putting them in the books.
You know how it is, rent it out, never put
them in a roster, and then just keep the money
instead of handing it over to the owner. She looked
at me a stern expression. Now you're the only one here.
(06:49):
A fake smile started growing on the side of her
face until it got so wide it was about to
reach her glasses. I stared at her for a few seconds,
and she didn't move. I mean, not a single tiny
muscle of her face moved. Her gaze got lost somewhere
behind me. I took a couple of steps back, bumping
(07:10):
into the chimes by the door that finally decided to
make a noise. And still she didn't move at all.
It was as if time stopped for an instant. But
what am I saying? For More than that, it was
like she was frozen, some type of fear. I opened
the door, stepped out and looked inside. I needed to
(07:33):
make sure of what I had seen. It was dark
out by this point, and the blue light from above
her desk illuminated her skull above her eyes, just enough
to cover them, but it also lit up the way
back to the room, just enough for me to not
trip over the cracks on the asphalt of the parking lot.
I reached from my pocket and tapped for the key,
(07:54):
but I couldn't feel it. I looked back at the
blue light blowing that was coming from the lobby, dreading
having to go back there and finding that woman sitting
completely frozen again. I must have grazed the door with
my elbow, because as I was looking out toward the
darkness beyond the parking lot, I heard my door squeak open.
(08:15):
For the life of me, I couldn't remember if I
had locked the door or not. I peeked inside. The
lamps were off, and all I could see were the
silhouettes of the chair and my bag, and the shape
of a person squatting on the bed. I felt around
for the light switch next to the door, and for
just a split second, I sensed the leathery cold joints
(08:37):
of a hand squirming against mine. I pulled it back,
and just as I did, the light turned on with
a soft buzz. Everything was still. I looked at the
wall and noticed nothing unusual. Two switches next to each other.
Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted something
going past me, through the room and into the bathroom
(08:59):
fast and I'm saying, lightning quick. I thought I was
going crazy. I'd tell you I had slept just fine
the night before. It wasn't even that late. So I
stood there in front of that empty room for a
couple of minutes, scanning around for the key to the room.
The phone rang. I walked over to it slowly and
(09:21):
afraid to turn my back on the room. I picked
it up, but stayed quiet silence. I could hear rustling
on the other end. Hello, I said, in a near whisper.
You made it, Stephen. Everything good. It was my aunt.
(09:42):
I figured the cable reached far enough for me to
sit on the edge of the bed, but when I sat,
I felt something and got startled, so I jumped straight
back up. I turned around and the enormous key chain
and key were now on the floor. What happened she
shouted over the phone. This place is weird, I told her,
(10:02):
but stayed quiet, afraid to give out too much information
or let whatever was in the room know that. I
was afraid. Yeah, not many people stay around there. Just
another night after this, I shut back. Yeah, after to night,
just one more night. I guess I should have given
her some credit. She figured out what room I was
(10:24):
in by going down the list of the room extensions,
the direct lines. I was a second phone she dialed.
She always tried to keep things positive. We talked about
the job a little bit, and then about my mom.
Turns out she was at a warehouse a few hours
away up north, pricing a few things, calling me from
her friend's apartment. But soon she had to go, and
(10:46):
I was once again in silence. After to night, just
one more night to think. I didn't even make it
through that first one. I turned on the TV. Two channels.
(11:10):
The Pirates were on their way to the World series.
Nothing nothing, nothing, and then Atom twelve nothing nothing, nothing, again,
more about the Pirates, nothing nothing, A light tapping on
the window. I heard it clear as day. He was
(11:30):
so dark outside I didn't even notice the curtains were
wide open. I went straight for the light switch quick
and turned them off. Outside from where I was standing
was the flickering sign of the runway in. Not even flickering,
that poor thing. It was staying alive from the bottom
right corner. I said, still for a while. It must
(11:52):
have been two minutes, just standing lit up by the
white lights of the static on TV. When suddenly again,
tapping on the window, can you let me in a
child's voice coming from outside. I reached for the doorknob,
bestopped myself just in case I heard it one more time.
(12:15):
There was nothing. I stood there for another minute or so,
and then walked over the window to look outside. From
what I could see, there was no one out there.
Can you let me? I held my breath as I
reached for the doorknob, and I took a deep one
before I turned it, and the door opened. Outside was empty,
(12:43):
not a single soul, not a set of head lights, nothing.
Even the lights from the lobby were off. I thought
to myself that this whole thing was getting to me.
Maybe there was something I ate, maybe the old twinkies
from the gas station. I shut off the TV, close
the curtains, and stayed on top of the covers even
(13:04):
back then, I knew not to trust those bedsheets. But
it was sometime around midnight when I heard it again.
Can you let me in? My eyes snapped wide open.
My heart was beating so loudly. I could feel it
in my ears, and I try to hold my breath,
as if somehow that was gonna make me hear better.
(13:27):
The sound had been coming from outside before, but not now.
This time it was coming from the other side of
the room, from the wall by the bathroom. Can you
let me in? It sounded like it was a child,
a little girl, and I don't know how to describe it,
(13:47):
but it was in some type of pain. I knew
what pain sounded like. I used to hear it often.
If I had to put my money on it, I
would say that this wasn't a little girl either. I
sat up on the bed. I had only taken off
my shoes to lay down, so all my clothes were
still on. I listened for the voice again. There was nothing. Now.
(14:13):
About half an hour later, wondering what it could have been,
I got up, put on my shoes and made my
way to the lobby again. I figured a guard or
some person would be there, but it was empty. I
pushed the door open, turned on the lights, which myself,
and waited for that lady to come around again, but nothing.
(14:33):
I shouted hello down that little hallway that led to
what I assumed was a back door, and was met
with silence. The smell of that old carpet now reminded
me of my living room when STAT left. Mom never
bothered to clean it, didn't know how to fix the machine,
and scrubbing shampoo with a broom only seemed to make
it worse for a couple of days, until it dried
(14:56):
up and went back to regular old carpet smell. I
walked back to the room, key in hand, this time
had made sure to lock it. I put the key
in but didn't turn it. The door squeaked open. I
reached for the light switch, flicked on the first one,
but no light came on. For some reason. The light
(15:18):
from the window was brighter here and I could see
the silhouette of my bag on the bed. But in
that instant I realized I had put the back down
before laying down to sleep. Can you let me in?
I heard it, loud and clear, this time bright in
front of me. My left hand bent upwards to reach
(15:41):
for the second light switch, and it flicked on. On
the bed was a girl crouching her knees, popping out
of those ripped jeans, her pink shirt stained from all
sides with a dark, dark color like the dirt from
back home and clumps. She looked right at me, mouth
(16:05):
open and in pain, she screamed. I didn't wait a
second longer. I don't know how my legs worked, but
they took me a few steps back. When I realized
that I had opened the wrong room, I ran back
through the parking lot and then looped around to the
(16:27):
room mine. I understood those movies right then and there.
Her hands just don't work the same way to put
the key into the doorknob when you're like that much
less into the ignition of a dark car. But I
opened the door, I flicked on both switches, grabbed my bag,
and stepped right out. I started making my way to
(16:48):
the only other place I knew in that area. I
walked a mile back to the gas station and sat
out in front until the sun came out. I hung
around there for a well, the whole day. I got
to see the young lady come back. Elizabeth was her name.
The first thing she asked, was so, where did you
(17:09):
end up staying? I told her about the runway in,
But I should have stayed quiet. Nobody stayed at the
runway in anymore, she said. I was a bit disappointed
that she was repeating herself. Honestly meant that she forgot
her conversation, though I guess that should have been a
good thing. My aunt used to work there. Everyone around
(17:31):
here knew her. What happened, I asked, She passed away
heart attack, didn't wake up one morning. I was shocked,
but stayed quiet. What I had really wanted to know
was what happened to the runway in. I think she noticed, so,
she continued, utter staffed, and then it closed. That's why
(17:53):
no one stays there. I stayed there, I reminded her.
Her expression changed, and then she repeated herself once more,
nobody stays at the runway in anymore. I said, quiet,
you can't. She continued, its shut down. I didn't say anything.
(18:19):
One of us was confused there, and it was not me.
She yelled for a guy named Ben who came walking
up to us. Runway in shut down, right, she said,
the plays down the road. He asked, Jill's running it
now no. They looked at each other, and then Elizabeth
spoke up. It's opened. Ben shrugged and walked back toward
(18:44):
the fridges. I hung out with Elizabeth until she clocked out,
and then spent some time by the cars until two
in the morning, before her parents called for her to
go back home. You're gonna be around here, right, she asked,
a little hopeful in her tone, maybe a little shy, yep,
(19:05):
I said, smiling, couldn't help it. I made the walk
back to the Runway Inn that morning. My aunts would
be there at any moment to get me for her project.
As expected, no one was in the lobby. The key
and its keychain were hanging from the door of where
my room was, Room three, by the broken soda machine.
(19:27):
I got to the door, opened it and was shocked
by what I found. The sheets were dirty and on
the floor. The entire place was covered in dust. There
was no TV, no phone, and the walls were yellowed.
I walked around and noticed the broken windows, the missing curtains,
(19:50):
the cracks on the parking lot that had tall weeds
growing out of it. I heard a car rolling up
on the dirt on the entrance of the lot. My
aunt her big bright yellow van. WHOA, what happened here?
Where'd you stay? She got out of the car, gave
me a hug and waited for my answer. Well, here,
(20:13):
get out of here. How she walked up to the
room windows and looked inside one of them, and she
came back and waited for me to answer. I don't know.
Well you had me worried. I used to call this place.
There are one of the few with direct lines. You know,
I know you called me. She stayed quiet, with that
(20:36):
kind of silence that tells you what you need to know.
Get in, Come on, she said, walking quickly to the
van and holding up the door to the back of it.
Who had I spoken to? Who was the woman from
the front desk or the little girl? I would never know.
(20:57):
All I knew was that my aunt had given me
the number to I shut down motel by mistake, and
I went with it. I trusted her blindly, like I
did on those nights when she saved us for my father.
Somewhere deep in there, these places stay, They haunt us
in strange ways. The voice says that lived in my mind.
(21:19):
When he would lock my mom out the way, she
would cry to be let back in the way we
knew not to move when things got scary, when we
stopped ourselves from turning on the light, the way we
would play pretend even though I was too old for it,
(21:39):
making homes out of broken places. Scary Story podcast is
written and produced by me Edwin Kovarubias. Let me know
what you thought of my story. I'm Edwin cove ed
(22:02):
wi n CoV on Facebook, TikTok and Instagram, or you
can leave a comment or a review. I go through
all of them. You can also support these stories and
the other shows that I make by signing up for
Scary Plus, and all details are over on scaryplus dot com.
Also check on the description of this episode. If you
know of someone who likes scary stories, send them this one.
(22:25):
But anyway, thank you very much for listening. Keep it
scary everyone, See you soon.
Welcome to Scary Story Podcast. An old place and old
memories combine for a haunted night at a place that
shouldn't exist any more. My name is Edwin, and here's
a scary story. It has been sometimes since I last
(00:20):
shared my wand and only experience with something I couldn't explain.
As reluctant as I was to talk about it, I
think it's time I share it with someone. I'm old,
I'm tired, and even if this serves to just pass
the time for some of you, well, I'm okay with that.
I just don't want it to die with me. I
(00:42):
had a rough upbringing and it haunted me for a while,
but I didn't know how much until much later. It
was some time in the seventies and life was good,
at least as good as it was going to get.
I was growing up in the Midwest, learning about pain
and love and everything in between. Sometimes at the same time,
(01:02):
if you know what I mean, everything was possible, and
unfortunately that meant even things that I didn't know existed.
You don't know what you don't know, as they say,
my aunt was building a bed and breakfast slash energetic
retreat thing something about zones and energies that concentrate in
(01:22):
certain parts of the desert. I knew nothing about that
back then, and honestly, I still don't care too much
for that stuff. But she went crazy for it. So
she called me one day and she said, hey, Stephen,
I got some work for you. She was always associating,
to put it that way, with rich guys who wanted
to discover things about mind control and the energies of
(01:45):
the universe. They wore white and necklaces. They had beards
and long hair. They would sit around the fire or
by a lake, sometimes even taking their clothes off to
let the sun hit spots that don't get it. Or
so I heard. That woman my aunt was a trip.
She would make everyone laugh with the way she was,
(02:06):
but she was always standing up for little things like
the bees, or larger things like the government. In short,
these guys she was around had money, and they had
given her a certain amount to build this stay in
the desert where they could make a garden and some
other stuff to go all sustainable, which meant I had
a job. I took a bus and called her the
(02:29):
first chance I got from a gas station. She had
given me the number for a motel a runway in.
I had to give her two days because she had
to go take care of a few things. Might have
been something important, though it was likely just a concert.
I remember thinking it was close according to the lovely
(02:49):
young lady behind the cash register, but she asked why
nobody stays there because of what happened. Apparently a girl
had gone missing and they arrested the man that took
her at that motel. The joke around the settlement was
that the motel should have been renamed the Runaway In
because so many runaways ended up there. I might be
(03:10):
at the perfect place, then, I said, trying to sound smooth,
but I realized what I had just said just a
little too late. She looked at me and smiled, well, hey,
whatever place you find, there's no food around there, you'll
have to make the walk back here take some stuff.
I thought about maybe telling her that I'd be happy
to come back to see her. I don't know, something
(03:31):
like that, but I was already creeping her out, so
I turned around, grabbed some gurriedos, some pop, a few twinkies,
and a pack of gum from the counter. Breakfast of champions.
She said, ringing everything up. I kicked myself a little
bit for not saying something else right then I simply
let the moment get away. The walk was easy. Got
(03:56):
there around sunset. A big sign advertising long distance air
conditioning and television was the first thing I saw. The
billboard blocked the runway insign, and I understood why. Once
I got close to the building. The carpet smelled like dust,
and the cushion of the couch apparently vanished when I
put my bag on it, because all I heard was
(04:16):
it knocking on the wooden seat. An older woman came
up the front door behind me, kind lady, she seemed like,
and asked for fifteen dollars seven fifty for each night,
and she handed me a key with a room number
attached to it in a wooden keychain. Back then, they
wouldn't ask you for ID or none of that, just
cash a name on a roster, and that was that.
(04:40):
The room was better than the lobby. Probably didn't get
used much. The roach floating on the toilet water was
a sign of it. I blopped on the bed and
reached for the TV control when I heard a scream
from the room next to mine. I sat up and
looked over the door for an instant I was at home.
(05:00):
I imagined Mom in the red side of her face that
would eventually turn purple or a pale blue, my father
telling me to bring the bag of eyes from the
freezer in that cold, deep voice the man had. I
would rush to the kitchen and watch my mom hide
until the car spit away. I knew we wouldn't see
(05:21):
him for the rest of that night. Before I knew it,
I was outside, standing by the door, listening for the
scream again. The parking lot was empty. Might have gotten
there by bus or a cab like I did. So
I walked around the building, startled by the sound of
a cat hissing from the trash bin by the entrance.
I walked toward the lobby and then rushed up to
(05:42):
the door. This lady would have been dead had I
been a killer. She didn't notice me until I was
at the front counter. Everything okay, honey, she asked, smiling,
any one else staying here? I asked, my voice cold too,
Not yet? What is it Friday? Nope? Maybe later? Why
(06:03):
do you ask now? Most people would keep their mouth shut,
and moments like these we don't like to cause trouble.
But I couldn't, man, I couldn't not if someone was
in trouble, someone was screaming, I said bluntly, Uh, maybe
a TV's on somewhere. Hunh, that's probably it. But no
(06:24):
one else is here, right, I didn't want to push
it at this point. Sometimes these people in the middle
of nowhere let others stay without putting them in the books.
You know how it is, rent it out, never put
them in a roster, and then just keep the money
instead of handing it over to the owner. She looked
at me a stern expression. Now you're the only one here.
(06:49):
A fake smile started growing on the side of her
face until it got so wide it was about to
reach her glasses. I stared at her for a few seconds,
and she didn't move. I mean, not a single tiny
muscle of her face moved. Her gaze got lost somewhere
behind me. I took a couple of steps back, bumping
(07:10):
into the chimes by the door that finally decided to
make a noise. And still she didn't move at all.
It was as if time stopped for an instant. But
what am I saying? For More than that, it was
like she was frozen, some type of fear. I opened
the door, stepped out and looked inside. I needed to
(07:33):
make sure of what I had seen. It was dark
out by this point, and the blue light from above
her desk illuminated her skull above her eyes, just enough
to cover them, but it also lit up the way
back to the room, just enough for me to not
trip over the cracks on the asphalt of the parking lot.
I reached from my pocket and tapped for the key,
(07:54):
but I couldn't feel it. I looked back at the
blue light blowing that was coming from the lobby, dreading
having to go back there and finding that woman sitting
completely frozen again. I must have grazed the door with
my elbow, because as I was looking out toward the
darkness beyond the parking lot, I heard my door squeak open.
(08:15):
For the life of me, I couldn't remember if I
had locked the door or not. I peeked inside. The
lamps were off, and all I could see were the
silhouettes of the chair and my bag, and the shape
of a person squatting on the bed. I felt around
for the light switch next to the door, and for
just a split second, I sensed the leathery cold joints
(08:37):
of a hand squirming against mine. I pulled it back,
and just as I did, the light turned on with
a soft buzz. Everything was still. I looked at the
wall and noticed nothing unusual. Two switches next to each other.
Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted something
going past me, through the room and into the bathroom
(08:59):
fast and I'm saying, lightning quick. I thought I was
going crazy. I'd tell you I had slept just fine
the night before. It wasn't even that late. So I
stood there in front of that empty room for a
couple of minutes, scanning around for the key to the room.
The phone rang. I walked over to it slowly and
(09:21):
afraid to turn my back on the room. I picked
it up, but stayed quiet silence. I could hear rustling
on the other end. Hello, I said, in a near whisper.
You made it, Stephen. Everything good. It was my aunt.
(09:42):
I figured the cable reached far enough for me to
sit on the edge of the bed, but when I sat,
I felt something and got startled, so I jumped straight
back up. I turned around and the enormous key chain
and key were now on the floor. What happened she
shouted over the phone. This place is weird, I told her,
(10:02):
but stayed quiet, afraid to give out too much information
or let whatever was in the room know that. I
was afraid. Yeah, not many people stay around there. Just
another night after this, I shut back. Yeah, after to night,
just one more night. I guess I should have given
her some credit. She figured out what room I was
(10:24):
in by going down the list of the room extensions,
the direct lines. I was a second phone she dialed.
She always tried to keep things positive. We talked about
the job a little bit, and then about my mom.
Turns out she was at a warehouse a few hours
away up north, pricing a few things, calling me from
her friend's apartment. But soon she had to go, and
(10:46):
I was once again in silence. After to night, just
one more night to think. I didn't even make it
through that first one. I turned on the TV. Two channels.
(11:10):
The Pirates were on their way to the World series.
Nothing nothing, nothing, and then Atom twelve nothing nothing, nothing, again,
more about the Pirates, nothing nothing, A light tapping on
the window. I heard it clear as day. He was
(11:30):
so dark outside I didn't even notice the curtains were
wide open. I went straight for the light switch quick
and turned them off. Outside from where I was standing
was the flickering sign of the runway in. Not even flickering,
that poor thing. It was staying alive from the bottom
right corner. I said, still for a while. It must
(11:52):
have been two minutes, just standing lit up by the
white lights of the static on TV. When suddenly again,
tapping on the window, can you let me in a
child's voice coming from outside. I reached for the doorknob,
bestopped myself just in case I heard it one more time.
(12:15):
There was nothing. I stood there for another minute or so,
and then walked over the window to look outside. From
what I could see, there was no one out there.
Can you let me? I held my breath as I
reached for the doorknob, and I took a deep one
before I turned it, and the door opened. Outside was empty,
(12:43):
not a single soul, not a set of head lights, nothing.
Even the lights from the lobby were off. I thought
to myself that this whole thing was getting to me.
Maybe there was something I ate, maybe the old twinkies
from the gas station. I shut off the TV, close
the curtains, and stayed on top of the covers even
(13:04):
back then, I knew not to trust those bedsheets. But
it was sometime around midnight when I heard it again.
Can you let me in? My eyes snapped wide open.
My heart was beating so loudly. I could feel it
in my ears, and I try to hold my breath,
as if somehow that was gonna make me hear better.
(13:27):
The sound had been coming from outside before, but not now.
This time it was coming from the other side of
the room, from the wall by the bathroom. Can you
let me in? It sounded like it was a child,
a little girl, and I don't know how to describe it,
(13:47):
but it was in some type of pain. I knew
what pain sounded like. I used to hear it often.
If I had to put my money on it, I
would say that this wasn't a little girl either. I
sat up on the bed. I had only taken off
my shoes to lay down, so all my clothes were
still on. I listened for the voice again. There was nothing. Now.
(14:13):
About half an hour later, wondering what it could have been,
I got up, put on my shoes and made my
way to the lobby again. I figured a guard or
some person would be there, but it was empty. I
pushed the door open, turned on the lights, which myself,
and waited for that lady to come around again, but nothing.
(14:33):
I shouted hello down that little hallway that led to
what I assumed was a back door, and was met
with silence. The smell of that old carpet now reminded
me of my living room when STAT left. Mom never
bothered to clean it, didn't know how to fix the machine,
and scrubbing shampoo with a broom only seemed to make
it worse for a couple of days, until it dried
(14:56):
up and went back to regular old carpet smell. I
walked back to the room, key in hand, this time
had made sure to lock it. I put the key
in but didn't turn it. The door squeaked open. I
reached for the light switch, flicked on the first one,
but no light came on. For some reason. The light
(15:18):
from the window was brighter here and I could see
the silhouette of my bag on the bed. But in
that instant I realized I had put the back down
before laying down to sleep. Can you let me in?
I heard it, loud and clear, this time bright in
front of me. My left hand bent upwards to reach
(15:41):
for the second light switch, and it flicked on. On
the bed was a girl crouching her knees, popping out
of those ripped jeans, her pink shirt stained from all
sides with a dark, dark color like the dirt from
back home and clumps. She looked right at me, mouth
(16:05):
open and in pain, she screamed. I didn't wait a
second longer. I don't know how my legs worked, but
they took me a few steps back. When I realized
that I had opened the wrong room, I ran back
through the parking lot and then looped around to the
(16:27):
room mine. I understood those movies right then and there.
Her hands just don't work the same way to put
the key into the doorknob when you're like that much
less into the ignition of a dark car. But I
opened the door, I flicked on both switches, grabbed my bag,
and stepped right out. I started making my way to
(16:48):
the only other place I knew in that area. I
walked a mile back to the gas station and sat
out in front until the sun came out. I hung
around there for a well, the whole day. I got
to see the young lady come back. Elizabeth was her name.
The first thing she asked, was so, where did you
(17:09):
end up staying? I told her about the runway in,
But I should have stayed quiet. Nobody stayed at the
runway in anymore, she said. I was a bit disappointed
that she was repeating herself. Honestly meant that she forgot
her conversation, though I guess that should have been a
good thing. My aunt used to work there. Everyone around
(17:31):
here knew her. What happened, I asked, She passed away
heart attack, didn't wake up one morning. I was shocked,
but stayed quiet. What I had really wanted to know
was what happened to the runway in. I think she noticed, so,
she continued, utter staffed, and then it closed. That's why
(17:53):
no one stays there. I stayed there, I reminded her.
Her expression changed, and then she repeated herself once more,
nobody stays at the runway in anymore. I said, quiet,
you can't. She continued, its shut down. I didn't say anything.
(18:19):
One of us was confused there, and it was not me.
She yelled for a guy named Ben who came walking
up to us. Runway in shut down, right, she said,
the plays down the road. He asked, Jill's running it
now no. They looked at each other, and then Elizabeth
spoke up. It's opened. Ben shrugged and walked back toward
(18:44):
the fridges. I hung out with Elizabeth until she clocked out,
and then spent some time by the cars until two
in the morning, before her parents called for her to
go back home. You're gonna be around here, right, she asked,
a little hopeful in her tone, maybe a little shy, yep,
(19:05):
I said, smiling, couldn't help it. I made the walk
back to the Runway Inn that morning. My aunts would
be there at any moment to get me for her project.
As expected, no one was in the lobby. The key
and its keychain were hanging from the door of where
my room was, Room three, by the broken soda machine.
(19:27):
I got to the door, opened it and was shocked
by what I found. The sheets were dirty and on
the floor. The entire place was covered in dust. There
was no TV, no phone, and the walls were yellowed.
I walked around and noticed the broken windows, the missing curtains,
(19:50):
the cracks on the parking lot that had tall weeds
growing out of it. I heard a car rolling up
on the dirt on the entrance of the lot. My
aunt her big bright yellow van. WHOA, what happened here?
Where'd you stay? She got out of the car, gave
me a hug and waited for my answer. Well, here,
(20:13):
get out of here. How she walked up to the
room windows and looked inside one of them, and she
came back and waited for me to answer. I don't know.
Well you had me worried. I used to call this place.
There are one of the few with direct lines. You know,
I know you called me. She stayed quiet, with that
(20:36):
kind of silence that tells you what you need to know.
Get in, Come on, she said, walking quickly to the
van and holding up the door to the back of it.
Who had I spoken to? Who was the woman from
the front desk or the little girl? I would never know.
(20:57):
All I knew was that my aunt had given me
the number to I shut down motel by mistake, and
I went with it. I trusted her blindly, like I
did on those nights when she saved us for my father.
Somewhere deep in there, these places stay, They haunt us
in strange ways. The voice says that lived in my mind.
(21:19):
When he would lock my mom out the way, she
would cry to be let back in the way we
knew not to move when things got scary, when we
stopped ourselves from turning on the light, the way we
would play pretend even though I was too old for it,
(21:39):
making homes out of broken places. Scary Story podcast is
written and produced by me Edwin Kovarubias. Let me know
what you thought of my story. I'm Edwin cove ed
(22:02):
wi n CoV on Facebook, TikTok and Instagram, or you
can leave a comment or a review. I go through
all of them. You can also support these stories and
the other shows that I make by signing up for
Scary Plus, and all details are over on scaryplus dot com.
Also check on the description of this episode. If you
know of someone who likes scary stories, send them this one.
(22:25):
But anyway, thank you very much for listening. Keep it
scary everyone, See you soon.
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