September 12, 2025 • 14 mins
'Ghost Story,' the podcast that unearths the spectral secrets from beyond the grave. In each episode, we bring you firsthand accounts of ghostly encounters, as told by those who have experienced the unexplained firsthand. Brace yourself for tales of restless spirits, haunted locations, and inexplicable phenomena. Whether you're a skeptic or a believer, prepare to be captivated by the tales that will send shivers down your spine. Feel free to check out our sister podcasts, Bone Chilling Tales to Keep You Awake Podcast, A Truly Haunted Podcast, Forever Haunted Podcast and True Whispers a True Crime Podcast. See you on the next dreadful episode. #scarystories #realstories #horrorpodcasts are #horrorpodcasts #horrorpodcast #horror #horrormovies #podcast #horrorfilms #horrorfilm #podcasts #horrormovie #film #films #movies #movie #horrorcommunity #horrorfamily #damnedmovies #moviesofthedamned #horrorobsessed #horrorfans #halloween #horrornerd #horrorfanatic #horrorpod #horrorfan #slasher #paranormal #horrorjunkie #horrorpodcaster #horrorgram #horrorcomedy #scarystories #scary #creepy #horrorstories #horror #scaryfacts #creepypasta #creepyfacts #creepystories #creepyfact #scaryfact #horrormovies #halloween #conspiracytheory #conspiracy #horrorstory #scarymovie #scaryposts #conspiracytheories #scarythreads #spooky #scaryvideo #horrorfacts #paranormal #horrorfan #horrors #scarymemes #haunted #horrorfact #ghost Warning: This podcast may be: frightening · scaring · hair-raising · terrifying · petrifying · spine-chilling · bloodcurdling · chilling · horrifying · alarming · appalling · daunting · formidable · fearsome · nerve-racking · unnerving · eerie · sinister #murdermystery #bookstagram #death #buzzfeedunsolved #crimescene #truecrimepodcasts #missingperson #missing #halloween #crimejunkie #news #myfavoritemurder #spooky #supernatural
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Transcript
Episode Transcript
Available transcripts are automatically generated. Complete accuracy is not guaranteed.
Speaker 1 (00:13):
This is a story about the car that came out
of nowhere and changed my life forever. It was mid
afternoon on a weekend, and I remember the sky was
particularly gray and drizzly. My son and I were in
the car talking about baseball as we drove home from
(00:34):
the grocery store. One minute, everything was fine. My son
was smiling as he chatted away, and I was listening
to him while keeping my eyes on the road. The
next something red flashed in front of us, and I
slammed down on the brakes, but I wasn't fast enough.
(00:56):
Everything after that happened so fast. There was a resounding crash,
and the impact threw my son and I back in
our seats. Glass cascaded all around us, and I heard
the sound of metal tearing and crunching. Every part of
my body hurt, even as the air bag attempted to
(01:19):
cushion the blow. All I could do was grip the
steering wheel until my knuckles turned white, waiting for it
all to be over. And right beside me was my son,
screaming at the top of his lungs in pure pain
and terror. I don't think I'll ever forget that sound
(01:42):
as long as I live. At some point the car
flipped over, but I was already unconscious by then. I
woke up when the paramedics were removing me from the
wreckage of our car. I couldn't move my left arm,
(02:02):
and I was pretty positive it was broken. There was
pain everywhere as the paramedics loaded me onto a stretcher,
but I didn't care as I screamed for my son.
I just wanted to know that my son was okay.
(02:23):
Calm down. He's on his way to the hospital already,
I was told by one of the paramedics. As they
folded the legs of the stretcher beneath me and lifted
me into the ambulance, I saw him, the monster responsible
for this. He was sitting next to his car, crying.
(02:46):
As far as I could see, apart from a scratch
on his forehead, he was uninjured. Hot, painful tears began
to stream down my cheeks, and I turned my head away,
too disgusted to even look at him any more. The
whole ride to the hospital, I only had one thing
(03:09):
on my mind. It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair that
he was the one who went through the red light
and he only walked away with a scratch. My son
and I had done nothing to deserve this. It was
five hours before I saw my son again. It was
(03:32):
supposed to be his birthday next week. He was supposed
to be turning nine. I kept thinking, what terrible timing
this all was. He was supposed to be excited, getting
ready for his party, trying to guess his presence. He
(03:52):
should be living like a normal nine year old, not
in the hospital because of someone else's carelessness. They wheeled
me into his room and my heart just sank. His
head was bandaged, and he had a ventilator breathing for him.
(04:13):
He wouldn't open his eyes or respond to me. It
was like I'd already lost him. The next day, I
got the news I had been dreading a parent's worst nightmare.
My son would never see his ninth birthday. He was
(04:38):
brain dead. There was no coming back from that, no
chance of recovery. I had to make the call to
take him off of life support. The news broke me.
I remember staggering around his room, too numb to walk,
(05:00):
grasping at the bed handle to prevent my knees from
buckling underneath me. I was hysterical. My son, my baby,
was gone. I'm going to skip forward to a week
after the funeral. I had taken leave from work to
(05:23):
deal with my grief. At first, I was thankful for
the bereavement leave, but after a few days I started
to curse it. I thought what I needed was some
time alone to process everything. But I was wrong. Being
(05:45):
alone meant I was stuck in my head all the time.
The same thoughts overwhelmed me, the same feelings of guilt
and grief. In my head, all I saw was the
craw USh my son lying in the hospital bed on
the ventilator, and the last breath he ever took. The
(06:11):
middle of the night at some point during that week
was the first time something happened. I woke up to
one of my son's toys going off. It was one
of his cars that made a siren noise when you
pushed it. Startled and confused, I simply laid there in bed,
(06:34):
listening with my eyes wide open, until the siren eventually stopped.
After a few minutes, I finally managed to control my
trembling hands and take a few deep breaths and mustered
up the courage to go and investigate. I slipped out
of the covers and tiptoed barefoot to his room. Instead
(06:59):
of going inde, I paused outside of his door and
just listened, holding my breath. Inside it sounded like someone
was playing with his cars. I could hear them clinking together,
as if someone was banging them into each other. I
(07:20):
didn't understand at first what I was hearing. Was I
imagining it? But it sounded clear as day, as though
someone was inside my son's bedroom playing with his toys.
Sucking in another deep breath, I opened the door as
(07:42):
fast as I could and switched the light on. There
was nobody inside, but on the floor, about two feet
in front of me was a red car, a fire truck,
and a black car. A few days before this, I
had gone into his room and made his bed, and
(08:04):
picked up all of his toys and placed them into
the bins in the closet. I was certain I hadn't
missed any and i'd shut the door after me. I
couldn't bear walking past his room and seeing how empty
it was. But if I had put his toys away,
(08:25):
and I was certain I had gotten them all, then
why were they on his floor right now? Who had
put them there? Toys didn't just jump out of closets
all on their own. I held back tears as I
picked the toys up and placed them back inside his closet,
(08:47):
making sure the door was shut tight. Then I scanned
the room carefully to make sure nothing else was out
of place. His clothes and shoes were all put away,
and his bed was still made. Even his iPad sat
untouched on the headboard shelf. I shook away my confusion,
(09:11):
trying to convince myself that I must have simply forgotten
to put them away. My head wasn't exactly at a
great place, and it wasn't completely impossible I had missed them.
I gave the room one last glance, then turned the
light back off and carefully shut the door behind me.
(09:34):
A few more weeks went by without anything unusual happening.
I had finally reopened my son's door, and I would
sometimes go inside his room and sit on his bed,
talking out loud as though he was still there with me.
It brought me a sense of comfort in a way.
(09:55):
One night, I'd just come home from work and was
putting some laundry your way. The towel closet is right
outside my Sun's room, on the other side of the hallway.
As I was loading the shelves with the towels, I
heard something fall to the floor behind me, coming from
inside my son's room. I shut the towel closet, turned
(10:21):
around slowly, and walked into his room. On the floor
at the side of his bed was his iPad. It
had been sitting on the middle shelf of his head board,
far away from the edge, far enough that some one
would have had to smack it very hard to get
it to land where it did. It definitely couldn't have
(10:45):
fallen there on its own. I picked it up and
placed it back where it had been, cautiously inspecting the room.
I was starting to feel as though I was being watched,
like I wasn't alone there, and I began to consider
the possibility that some one had broken into the house
(11:06):
while I had been at work. Trying not to appear
too panicked, I went to the kitchen and grabbed a
knife from the drawer, just in case. Then I went
through every room, checking any hiding places and making sure
all of the windows and doors were locked. There was
(11:27):
no sign of a break in and no other evidence
that some one could be inside the house. I was
starting to think I was going crazy. Although I tried
to tell myself there were probably perfectly rational reasons for
the things that had happened, I still couldn't shake away
(11:48):
the feeling that something was definitely going on. This was
finally confirmed a few months later when another incident occurred.
This one is what finally got me wondering if my
son was still around somehow. I had just gotten home
(12:08):
from work again and was making dinner. I wanted something
easy and quick, so I settled for mac and cheese.
I set my plate on the table at the spot
I normally sat, then grabbed my cup and went to
the fridge to fill it with some ice. After I
had gotten my ice and some soda, I went back
(12:29):
to the table to sit down. But something made me pause.
My plate was no longer sitting at my usual spot. Instead,
it was further down the table, at my son's usual place.
I looked between the spot I had put the plate
to where it was now in disbelief. I knew I
(12:54):
wasn't going crazy, the plate had definitely moved. Trying to
stay calm, I moved the plate back to my spot
and sat down. But I couldn't just ignore what had happened,
so After a few bites, I decided to do a test.
(13:15):
I got up from the table, leaving my plate where
it was, and went down the hallway to the bathroom.
I shut the door and waited for a couple of
minutes before returning to the table. As expected, the plate
had moved again. It was now sitting right in front
(13:36):
of the seat my son always chose. Tears formed in
my eyes again as I sat down, staring at the
empty chair my plate was now sitting in front of.
I smiled and said, hullo, Tucker. I sat there in
(13:57):
silence for at least twenty minutes, unable to move or
even eat any more of my dinner. I just stared
at the chair and wondered if my son really was
still here with me. This is the story of the
worst day of my life and the strange incidents that followed.
(14:22):
I still notice that things move around the house from
time to time. I'm not scared of it any more, though,
and I've learned to accept it as the way things
are now. I normally just shrug it off as that's
just Tucker being Tucker.
This is a story about the car that came out
of nowhere and changed my life forever. It was mid
afternoon on a weekend, and I remember the sky was
particularly gray and drizzly. My son and I were in
the car talking about baseball as we drove home from
(00:34):
the grocery store. One minute, everything was fine. My son
was smiling as he chatted away, and I was listening
to him while keeping my eyes on the road. The
next something red flashed in front of us, and I
slammed down on the brakes, but I wasn't fast enough.
(00:56):
Everything after that happened so fast. There was a resounding crash,
and the impact threw my son and I back in
our seats. Glass cascaded all around us, and I heard
the sound of metal tearing and crunching. Every part of
my body hurt, even as the air bag attempted to
(01:19):
cushion the blow. All I could do was grip the
steering wheel until my knuckles turned white, waiting for it
all to be over. And right beside me was my son,
screaming at the top of his lungs in pure pain
and terror. I don't think I'll ever forget that sound
(01:42):
as long as I live. At some point the car
flipped over, but I was already unconscious by then. I
woke up when the paramedics were removing me from the
wreckage of our car. I couldn't move my left arm,
(02:02):
and I was pretty positive it was broken. There was
pain everywhere as the paramedics loaded me onto a stretcher,
but I didn't care as I screamed for my son.
I just wanted to know that my son was okay.
(02:23):
Calm down. He's on his way to the hospital already,
I was told by one of the paramedics. As they
folded the legs of the stretcher beneath me and lifted
me into the ambulance, I saw him, the monster responsible
for this. He was sitting next to his car, crying.
(02:46):
As far as I could see, apart from a scratch
on his forehead, he was uninjured. Hot, painful tears began
to stream down my cheeks, and I turned my head away,
too disgusted to even look at him any more. The
whole ride to the hospital, I only had one thing
(03:09):
on my mind. It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair that
he was the one who went through the red light
and he only walked away with a scratch. My son
and I had done nothing to deserve this. It was
five hours before I saw my son again. It was
(03:32):
supposed to be his birthday next week. He was supposed
to be turning nine. I kept thinking, what terrible timing
this all was. He was supposed to be excited, getting
ready for his party, trying to guess his presence. He
(03:52):
should be living like a normal nine year old, not
in the hospital because of someone else's carelessness. They wheeled
me into his room and my heart just sank. His
head was bandaged, and he had a ventilator breathing for him.
(04:13):
He wouldn't open his eyes or respond to me. It
was like I'd already lost him. The next day, I
got the news I had been dreading a parent's worst nightmare.
My son would never see his ninth birthday. He was
(04:38):
brain dead. There was no coming back from that, no
chance of recovery. I had to make the call to
take him off of life support. The news broke me.
I remember staggering around his room, too numb to walk,
(05:00):
grasping at the bed handle to prevent my knees from
buckling underneath me. I was hysterical. My son, my baby,
was gone. I'm going to skip forward to a week
after the funeral. I had taken leave from work to
(05:23):
deal with my grief. At first, I was thankful for
the bereavement leave, but after a few days I started
to curse it. I thought what I needed was some
time alone to process everything. But I was wrong. Being
(05:45):
alone meant I was stuck in my head all the time.
The same thoughts overwhelmed me, the same feelings of guilt
and grief. In my head, all I saw was the
craw USh my son lying in the hospital bed on
the ventilator, and the last breath he ever took. The
(06:11):
middle of the night at some point during that week
was the first time something happened. I woke up to
one of my son's toys going off. It was one
of his cars that made a siren noise when you
pushed it. Startled and confused, I simply laid there in bed,
(06:34):
listening with my eyes wide open, until the siren eventually stopped.
After a few minutes, I finally managed to control my
trembling hands and take a few deep breaths and mustered
up the courage to go and investigate. I slipped out
of the covers and tiptoed barefoot to his room. Instead
(06:59):
of going inde, I paused outside of his door and
just listened, holding my breath. Inside it sounded like someone
was playing with his cars. I could hear them clinking together,
as if someone was banging them into each other. I
(07:20):
didn't understand at first what I was hearing. Was I
imagining it? But it sounded clear as day, as though
someone was inside my son's bedroom playing with his toys.
Sucking in another deep breath, I opened the door as
(07:42):
fast as I could and switched the light on. There
was nobody inside, but on the floor, about two feet
in front of me was a red car, a fire truck,
and a black car. A few days before this, I
had gone into his room and made his bed, and
(08:04):
picked up all of his toys and placed them into
the bins in the closet. I was certain I hadn't
missed any and i'd shut the door after me. I
couldn't bear walking past his room and seeing how empty
it was. But if I had put his toys away,
(08:25):
and I was certain I had gotten them all, then
why were they on his floor right now? Who had
put them there? Toys didn't just jump out of closets
all on their own. I held back tears as I
picked the toys up and placed them back inside his closet,
(08:47):
making sure the door was shut tight. Then I scanned
the room carefully to make sure nothing else was out
of place. His clothes and shoes were all put away,
and his bed was still made. Even his iPad sat
untouched on the headboard shelf. I shook away my confusion,
(09:11):
trying to convince myself that I must have simply forgotten
to put them away. My head wasn't exactly at a
great place, and it wasn't completely impossible I had missed them.
I gave the room one last glance, then turned the
light back off and carefully shut the door behind me.
(09:34):
A few more weeks went by without anything unusual happening.
I had finally reopened my son's door, and I would
sometimes go inside his room and sit on his bed,
talking out loud as though he was still there with me.
It brought me a sense of comfort in a way.
(09:55):
One night, I'd just come home from work and was
putting some laundry your way. The towel closet is right
outside my Sun's room, on the other side of the hallway.
As I was loading the shelves with the towels, I
heard something fall to the floor behind me, coming from
inside my son's room. I shut the towel closet, turned
(10:21):
around slowly, and walked into his room. On the floor
at the side of his bed was his iPad. It
had been sitting on the middle shelf of his head board,
far away from the edge, far enough that some one
would have had to smack it very hard to get
it to land where it did. It definitely couldn't have
(10:45):
fallen there on its own. I picked it up and
placed it back where it had been, cautiously inspecting the room.
I was starting to feel as though I was being watched,
like I wasn't alone there, and I began to consider
the possibility that some one had broken into the house
(11:06):
while I had been at work. Trying not to appear
too panicked, I went to the kitchen and grabbed a
knife from the drawer, just in case. Then I went
through every room, checking any hiding places and making sure
all of the windows and doors were locked. There was
(11:27):
no sign of a break in and no other evidence
that some one could be inside the house. I was
starting to think I was going crazy. Although I tried
to tell myself there were probably perfectly rational reasons for
the things that had happened, I still couldn't shake away
(11:48):
the feeling that something was definitely going on. This was
finally confirmed a few months later when another incident occurred.
This one is what finally got me wondering if my
son was still around somehow. I had just gotten home
(12:08):
from work again and was making dinner. I wanted something
easy and quick, so I settled for mac and cheese.
I set my plate on the table at the spot
I normally sat, then grabbed my cup and went to
the fridge to fill it with some ice. After I
had gotten my ice and some soda, I went back
(12:29):
to the table to sit down. But something made me pause.
My plate was no longer sitting at my usual spot. Instead,
it was further down the table, at my son's usual place.
I looked between the spot I had put the plate
to where it was now in disbelief. I knew I
(12:54):
wasn't going crazy, the plate had definitely moved. Trying to
stay calm, I moved the plate back to my spot
and sat down. But I couldn't just ignore what had happened,
so After a few bites, I decided to do a test.
(13:15):
I got up from the table, leaving my plate where
it was, and went down the hallway to the bathroom.
I shut the door and waited for a couple of
minutes before returning to the table. As expected, the plate
had moved again. It was now sitting right in front
(13:36):
of the seat my son always chose. Tears formed in
my eyes again as I sat down, staring at the
empty chair my plate was now sitting in front of.
I smiled and said, hullo, Tucker. I sat there in
(13:57):
silence for at least twenty minutes, unable to move or
even eat any more of my dinner. I just stared
at the chair and wondered if my son really was
still here with me. This is the story of the
worst day of my life and the strange incidents that followed.
(14:22):
I still notice that things move around the house from
time to time. I'm not scared of it any more, though,
and I've learned to accept it as the way things
are now. I normally just shrug it off as that's
just Tucker being Tucker.
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