March 3, 2025 • 25 mins
Thank you for tuning in to A Truly Haunted Podcast. Feel free to check out our sister podcasts, Bone Chilling Tales to Keep You Awake 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
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Transcript
Episode Transcript
Available transcripts are automatically generated. Complete accuracy is not guaranteed.
Speaker 1 (00:03):
Welcome to a truly haunted podcast.
Speaker 2 (00:08):
Southy Nows is here with us.
Speaker 1 (00:11):
The podcast that brings you weekly true ghostly stories. In
this podcast, you'll delve into the depths of some of
the darkest paranormal experiences that cannot be defined by anything
(00:31):
less than truly haunting. Haunting. Now, sit back, relax, and
let's begin our journey into the mysterious and unknown.
Speaker 3 (00:57):
Welcome to a truly haunted podcast. I'm your host, Eve
s Evans. Today we have another haunting story for you,
So sit back and relax, because ghost stories are.
Speaker 4 (01:10):
Next playful secrets. A shiver runs down my spine as
I sit on the creaky rocking chair, the cold air
from the window biting against my skin. My grandmother's voice
is a soothing melody, a ghostly whisper that fills the
(01:34):
room with an eerie sense of anticipation. Here, my dear,
she says, handing me the old, intricately craftied doll. Its
porcelain face is painted with soft blush, and its gown
is a faded pastel adorned with delicate lace. The eyes
(01:54):
seem to follow me, as if they hold a secret
I have yet to uncover. A mix of excitement and
unease creeps up within me as I tuck it gently
into my arms. Where did you find this, Grandma, I ask,
my fingers, tracing the elaborate embroidery on its dress. Ah,
(02:17):
that's a story for another time, she replies, her smile,
both warm and knowing. Just take care of her. The
scent of lavender and mothballs hangs in the air, a
constant reminder of the passage of time. Shadows cast by
flickering candlelight dance across the walls, creating a haunting atmosphere.
(02:42):
The taste of earlier's camomile tea lingers on my tongue,
a futile attempt to calm my nerves. Good Night, dear Grandma, whispers,
leaning in to plant a soft kiss on my forehead.
Good Night, Grandma, I reply, the doll closer, feeling its
(03:02):
cool porcelain against my chest. As night falls, I place
the doll on my bedside table, its glassy eyes seemingly
watching me. The room is dim, painted in shadows, and
I curl up in bed, trying to shake off an
inexplicable chill. Outside. The wind howls, adding to the unsettling ambiance.
(03:26):
Sleep tight, I murmur to the doll, hoping to dispel
my mounting fear with a bit of levity. As I
drift into slumber, I'm jolted awake by a soft giggle.
My heart rases as I glance at the doll, now
tilted slightly to the left, its gaze fixed on me.
(03:48):
I swallow hard, the sound echoing in my ears like
a drum beat. Must be my imagination, I muttered to myself,
trying to ignore the cold sweat on my brow. But
the giggle comes again, louder this time, and I can't
help but feel that it's the doll that's laughing at me.
(04:10):
Who's there, I demand, my voice trembling. The only response
that's creaking of the floorboards and the rustling of the
curtains as the wind continues to howl outside. Maybe, just maybe,
I think I need to find out more about this doll.
(04:30):
With a shudder, I pull the covers up to my chin,
desperately hoping for sleep to climb me and offer some
respite from the creeping terror that grips my heart. I
sit up in bed, rubbing my eyes, certain that I'm
just trapped in some strange dream. But when I look
back at the doll. It's unmistakable. The porcelain figure has
(04:54):
shifted again, now facing me directly with an unnerving intensity.
Heart races as an inexplicable urge to investigate further takes
hold of me. Okay, whispered under my breath, swallowing hard.
This can't be real. I slip out of bed, tiptoeing
(05:16):
closer to the bedside table where the doll sits. The
air around me seems to thicken, charge with an almost
electric energy. My heart pounds in my chest as if
trying to escape the cool sweat forming on the nape
of my necks, and shivers down my spine. Hey there,
(05:36):
I say hesitantly to the doll. Are you Are you
doing this? There's no response. I didn't really expect one.
With a deep breath, I reach for the doll, my
fingers brushing against the cold porcelain surface. The chill seeps
into my skin, heightening my unaise. Maybe there's something a
(06:03):
trail off. Unsure of what exactly I'm looking for. In
the quiet of the night, I notice a small corner
of yellowed paper peeking out from beneath the doll's lace gown.
Curiosity peaked, I gently pull the paper free, a folded,
fragile sheet that looks like it's been hidden away for ages.
(06:25):
My hands tremble as I unfold it, revealing a message
scrawled in elegant handwriting, keep her safe from the lurking
dark shadow, the note reads, sending a new wave of
fear coursing through me. Okay, this is officially creepy, I
muttered to myself, glancing back at the doll. What did
(06:49):
I get myself into? My thoughts race with questions who
wrote this? What is this shadow they're talking about? And
most important, how on earth did my grandmother come into
possession of such a mysterious doll? Hey, Grandma, I say softly,
(07:10):
clutching the paper tightly in my hands. You really could
have given me a heads up about this. The room
remains silent, save for the distant howling of the wind
outside and the sound of my own ragged breaths. My
chest tightens as the realization sinks in. I'm not alone
(07:31):
with just an old toy. There's something else here, something
lurking in the shadows. I need to figure out what
it is before it consumes me completely. The words on
the paper dance before my eyes, taunting me with their
ominous warning. The shadow comes when the moon is high,
it reads. I glance out the window at the full moon,
(07:55):
casting eerie, elongated shadows across my room. Chill creeps up
my spine as a sinister giggle replays in my mind,
making me shudder involuntarily. What kind of presence have I
invited into my life? Whispered to myself, hugging my arms
for comfort. The room feels colder than it did before,
(08:19):
and the air smells musty and stale, like it's been
trapped for years. My tongue runs dry, and I can
taste the lingering fear that envelops me. I pace back
and forth in my room, my footsteps muffled by the
thick carpet underfoot. A soft creaking noise echoes through the night,
sending tingles down my spine. As I move closer to
(08:42):
the doll, I notice how the moonlight reflects off its
glassy eyes, making them appear even more ominous than before. Okay,
I need some answers, I muttered to myself, taking a
deep breath. But sleep refuses to come, and I spend
the rest of the night tossing and turning, haunted by
(09:03):
the cryptic message and the chilling laughter. Morning finally arrives,
dragging me from the clutches of my unsettling dreams. The
sun spills through the curtains, washing away some of the
dread that gripped me throughout the night. With the warning
still lingering in my mind, I decide to seek out
(09:23):
my grandmother when she knows something about the doll's past. Grandma,
I call out as I enter her cozy living room.
She sits in her favorite armchair, knitting needles clicking softly
as she works on a sweater. The smell of fresh
coffee wafts through the air, and the warmth of the
(09:44):
room provides a stark contrast to the chill of last night.
Ah dear, she says, her eyes flickering with recognition. When
I mention the doll. It belonged to a little girl
long ago. Voice softens and becomes distant, as if she's
recalling a memory from another lifetime. She loved it dearly,
(10:08):
but something dark followed her. Something dark, I ask, My
curiosity peaked. I sit down on the floor beside her,
my gaze fixed on her face as I try to
read any hidden emotions, Yes, she says, her hands pausing
in their knitting. No one knows exactly what it was,
(10:30):
but it seemed to be drawn to the doll. The
girl's family tried everything to protect her, but the shadow
always found a way back. Grandma, I say, hesitantly, showing
her the note I found inside the doll's gown. I've
found this warning last night. It said there's a lurking,
dark shadow and I need to keep the doll safe.
(10:53):
Do you know anything about it? She takes the note
from me, her eyes scanning the words carefully. A sigh
escapes her lips as she hands it back to me. Ah,
I had hoped that the shadow was just an old
wive's tale, but it seems there's more truth to it
than I realized, she admits, her eyes filled with concern.
(11:15):
You must be careful, my dear. Whatever this shadow is,
it's not something to be trifled with. Thanks, Grandma, I reply,
my heart heavy with apprehension. As I leave the room
and return to my own I can't shake the feeling
that I'm now entangled in a dark and mysterious tale,
(11:36):
one that has somehow chosen me to unravel its secrets.
The fire crackles in the hearth, casting flickering shadows across
Grandma's face. She weaves a tale that scents shivers down
my spine. I clutch a warm mug of tea, the
steam tickling my nose, and the scent of camomile intermingling
(11:56):
with the earthy smell of burning wood. Laughter filled their
home like music. Grandma begins, her voice, soft yet laced
with an undercurrent of unnase. The little girl loved the
doll dearly, treating it as if it were alive. But
then one day the shadow emerged. Shadow, I ask, my
(12:20):
heart pounding as though it seeks to escape my chest.
Grandma nods solemnly, her brow furrowing in concern. Yes, the
shadow was said to steal joy from those it touched.
It targeted the innocent, thriving on their fear. Her eyes
beat mine, and she lowers her voice to a whisper.
(12:43):
Be cautious, dear, this is not just an old toy.
It's part of a darker story. As cold dread creeps
up my spine, I resolved to be careful, but remained
determined to uncover the truth behind the doll and its
mysterious past, days past, and the doll seems to take
on a life of its own. I find myself drawn
(13:06):
to it, compelled to talk to it like an old friend.
At times when the house is quiet and still, I
swear I hear whispers in the silence. My pulse quickens,
and I notice the doll's position shift ever so slightly,
as if responding to my innermost thoughts. I begin to
question my sanity, wondering if this is all just a
(13:27):
trick of my imagination or something far more sinister. One evening,
as twilight deepens in tonight, I sit in my dimly
lit room, battling a mixture of fascination and fear. The
doll gazes up at me from its place on the bookshelf,
its glassy eyes seeming to pierce my very soul. I decide,
(13:49):
with a shaky breath, to confront it. Are you, I demand,
my voice trembling, What do you want from me? The
room feels charged, the air heavy with anticipation. For a moment,
only silence answers. Then, ever so faintly, I hear the
(14:13):
haunting giggle once more. The sound sends goose bumps racing
across my skin as I realize that I'm no longer
alone in this tale. The shadow has found me, and
together we must navigate a twisting path of mystery, darkness,
and fear. Long shadows stretch across the walls, creeping closer
(14:35):
like tendrils of darkness. As the nights grow longer, my
fear intensifies. The one's comforting presence of my room now
feels suffocating, leaving me with a feeling of unease. I
try to focus on anything but the doll, but it's
always there, watching, waiting stop it. I whisper, but the
(15:00):
words only sound pitiful and weak. My breath dances in
front of me, visible in the cold air that has
invaded the room. The scent of damp earth fills my nostrils,
as if I'm buried alive. A shiver runs down my spine,
the taste of iron lingering on my tongue and biting
(15:21):
my lip too hard. The giggle echoes through my dreams,
haunting me even when I'm awake. It's as though it's
become part of the very fabric of my existence. Shadows
dance along the walls. I imagine dark figures lurking just
out of sight. I can't help, but feel that something
(15:42):
is toying with me, drawing me deeper into this twisted tail.
Leave me alone, cry out, my voice breaking. I don't
want any part of this, but the silence that follows
feels more menacing than the laughter ever did. And still
the doll sits on my bedside table, its porcelain face
(16:04):
a testament to some long forgotten innocence. One night, I
muster the courage to confront the doll. Clutching the edge
of my bed, I demand to know what it wants
from me, my voice trembling. The room feels charged, the
air thick with tension. Tell me what do you want?
(16:27):
I shout, a sense of desperation taking hold. Suddenly, the
giggle rings out, clearer than before, and I feel a
cold breeze sweep through, as if the shadow is closing in.
In the dim light, I swear I see the doll's
eyes flicker with a sinister gleam. My heart raises, and
my palms grow slick with sweat. Fine, I snap, my
(16:52):
voice shaking. If you won't tell me, then I'll find
the answers myself. As I stand my ground, staring into
the doll's unblinking eyes, I can't help but feel a
small sense of triumph. For the first time since this
nightmare began. I've taken control. But in the back of
my mind, nagging thought lingers. I might have won this battle,
(17:17):
but the war is far from over. The laughter of
my friends fades as I push open the creaking door
to the local library, leaving me with a bitter taste
in my mouth. They'd listened to my story, eyes wide
with disbelief, but their laughter only deepened my dread. As
I step into the dimly lit building, the musty scent
(17:39):
of old books fills my nostrils, and I shiver against
the sudden chill that embraces me. Excuse me, I call out, hesitantly,
my voice echoing through the empty aisles. I'm looking for
someone who specializes in folklore. Ah, you must be seeking,
(18:00):
miss Hawthorn, says a soft voice from behind a towering bookshelf.
A stooped, elderly librarian appears, her kind eyes peering at
me from behind horn rimmed glasses. She's in the back,
re searching as usual. Thank you, I manage, trying to
(18:20):
sound confident despite the pounding in my chest. The thought
of finding answers sends a thrill down my spine. Steadying myself,
I make my way through the dusty stacks, each creaking
floorboard beneath my feet, heightening my anticipation. Miss Hawthorne sits
at a long wooden table, her silver hair piled atop
(18:43):
her head and her thin fingers tracing ancient text on
aged parchment. She looks up as I approach her, piercing
blue eyes studying me intently. Can I help you, she asks,
her voice low and measured, Yes, I stammer, feeling my
cheek's flush with embarrassment. I've been experiencing strange occurrences, a doll,
(19:13):
a shadow, and laughter that chills me to the bone.
I need to understand what's happening and how to protect myself. Sit,
she orders, gesturing to the chair across from her. As
I do, she leans forward, her eyes never leaving mine.
Shadows thrive on fear, she explains, her voice barely above
(19:37):
a whisper. You must confront it with light, with courage. Courage.
How do I find the strength to face something so terrifying?
I ask, my hands trembling in my lap. Let me
show you, she says, pulling a tattered book from the
pile beside her. She flips through the pages, revealing ancient
(19:59):
symbols and incantations. These are protective charms and rituals that
have been passed down through generations. She explains, her eyes
alight with passion. Choose one that resonates with you and
will begin. As I study the pages, a flicker of
hope at nights within me. Maybe, just maybe I can
(20:22):
reclaim my peace. With Miss Hawthorne's guidance, I'm determined to
banish the darkness and face my fear's head on, and
perhaps in doing so, I'll discover a strength I never
knew I possessed. The flickering candlelight casts eerie shadows across
my bedroom walls as I prepare to perform the ritual
(20:43):
Miss Hawthorne taught me earlier. My hands are steady, but
my heart raises with anticipation and fear. I take a
deep breath, inhaling the scent of burning sage that fills
the air, hoping it will cam my nerves. Remember, I
tell myself, shadows thrive on fear. I can't afford to
(21:05):
falter now, not when this might be my only chance
to banish the darkness. That's haunted me for days. I
gently place the doll in the center of the protective
circle I've drawn on the floor. Its glassy eyes seem
to stare back at me, as if urging me to
go through with the ritual. The room is silent save
for the soft crackle of the candles. I know that
(21:28):
won't last long. Here goes nothing, I murmur under my breath,
beginning to chant the words Miss Hawthorne taught me. The
air around me seems to hum with energy, growing stronger
with each syllable that leaves my lips. I can feel
the shadows lurking in the corners of the room, staring
(21:48):
restlessly as they sense the power building within the circle. Suddenly,
the giggle echoes through the room, chilling me to the bone.
But this time I refuse to I stand tall, continuing
the chant, my voice growing stronger with new found determination.
(22:08):
Leave this place, I demand, letting the final word of
the incantation ring out. You have no power here. As
the last words leave my lips, a brilliant light envelops
the room, pushing back the darkness that had encroached upon
every corner. The giggle fades into silence, replaced by an
(22:30):
overwhelming sense of calm that washes over me like a
warm embrace. I sink to my knees, tears pricking at
the corners of my eyes. I've done it. I've confronted
the shadow and embraced the spirit of the doll. The
knowledge that I've faced my fears and emerged victorious fills
me with a sense of pride I've never felt before.
(22:54):
From that night on, the doll becomes more than just
an old toy. It's a symbol of curag resilience and
the light that can always outshine the dark. I keep
it close, cherishing the bond we share and the strength
that has given me to face whatever challenges come my way.
(23:15):
Thank you, I whispered to the doll as a cradlet
in my arms, knowing that our fates are now forever
entwined together. We'll face whatever comes next.
Speaker 2 (23:30):
Thank you for tuning in to a truly haunted podcast.
Don't forget to check out our Patreon page for bonus content,
exclusive episodes, and much more. Stay tuned to next week
for a whole new haunting episode.
Speaker 1 (23:55):
From the twisted mind of co hosts paranormal author Eve
s Evans and James Curo comes a delightfully haunting podcast,
Forever Haunted. Forever Haunted. Every Saturday, James and Eve delve
into haunted places, artifacts, urban legends, paranormal happenings, and much more.
(24:23):
Every Thursday, join James and Eve for True Crime Thursday,
where they delve into a deviously sinister true crime story
to chill your bones. Chill your bones, stay tuned to
Forever Haunted podcast, available on all podcasting networks,
Welcome to a truly haunted podcast.
Speaker 2 (00:08):
Southy Nows is here with us.
Speaker 1 (00:11):
The podcast that brings you weekly true ghostly stories. In
this podcast, you'll delve into the depths of some of
the darkest paranormal experiences that cannot be defined by anything
(00:31):
less than truly haunting. Haunting. Now, sit back, relax, and
let's begin our journey into the mysterious and unknown.
Speaker 3 (00:57):
Welcome to a truly haunted podcast. I'm your host, Eve
s Evans. Today we have another haunting story for you,
So sit back and relax, because ghost stories are.
Speaker 4 (01:10):
Next playful secrets. A shiver runs down my spine as
I sit on the creaky rocking chair, the cold air
from the window biting against my skin. My grandmother's voice
is a soothing melody, a ghostly whisper that fills the
(01:34):
room with an eerie sense of anticipation. Here, my dear,
she says, handing me the old, intricately craftied doll. Its
porcelain face is painted with soft blush, and its gown
is a faded pastel adorned with delicate lace. The eyes
(01:54):
seem to follow me, as if they hold a secret
I have yet to uncover. A mix of excitement and
unease creeps up within me as I tuck it gently
into my arms. Where did you find this, Grandma, I ask,
my fingers, tracing the elaborate embroidery on its dress. Ah,
(02:17):
that's a story for another time, she replies, her smile,
both warm and knowing. Just take care of her. The
scent of lavender and mothballs hangs in the air, a
constant reminder of the passage of time. Shadows cast by
flickering candlelight dance across the walls, creating a haunting atmosphere.
(02:42):
The taste of earlier's camomile tea lingers on my tongue,
a futile attempt to calm my nerves. Good Night, dear Grandma, whispers,
leaning in to plant a soft kiss on my forehead.
Good Night, Grandma, I reply, the doll closer, feeling its
(03:02):
cool porcelain against my chest. As night falls, I place
the doll on my bedside table, its glassy eyes seemingly
watching me. The room is dim, painted in shadows, and
I curl up in bed, trying to shake off an
inexplicable chill. Outside. The wind howls, adding to the unsettling ambiance.
(03:26):
Sleep tight, I murmur to the doll, hoping to dispel
my mounting fear with a bit of levity. As I
drift into slumber, I'm jolted awake by a soft giggle.
My heart rases as I glance at the doll, now
tilted slightly to the left, its gaze fixed on me.
(03:48):
I swallow hard, the sound echoing in my ears like
a drum beat. Must be my imagination, I muttered to myself,
trying to ignore the cold sweat on my brow. But
the giggle comes again, louder this time, and I can't
help but feel that it's the doll that's laughing at me.
(04:10):
Who's there, I demand, my voice trembling. The only response
that's creaking of the floorboards and the rustling of the
curtains as the wind continues to howl outside. Maybe, just maybe,
I think I need to find out more about this doll.
(04:30):
With a shudder, I pull the covers up to my chin,
desperately hoping for sleep to climb me and offer some
respite from the creeping terror that grips my heart. I
sit up in bed, rubbing my eyes, certain that I'm
just trapped in some strange dream. But when I look
back at the doll. It's unmistakable. The porcelain figure has
(04:54):
shifted again, now facing me directly with an unnerving intensity.
Heart races as an inexplicable urge to investigate further takes
hold of me. Okay, whispered under my breath, swallowing hard.
This can't be real. I slip out of bed, tiptoeing
(05:16):
closer to the bedside table where the doll sits. The
air around me seems to thicken, charge with an almost
electric energy. My heart pounds in my chest as if
trying to escape the cool sweat forming on the nape
of my necks, and shivers down my spine. Hey there,
(05:36):
I say hesitantly to the doll. Are you Are you
doing this? There's no response. I didn't really expect one.
With a deep breath, I reach for the doll, my
fingers brushing against the cold porcelain surface. The chill seeps
into my skin, heightening my unaise. Maybe there's something a
(06:03):
trail off. Unsure of what exactly I'm looking for. In
the quiet of the night, I notice a small corner
of yellowed paper peeking out from beneath the doll's lace gown.
Curiosity peaked, I gently pull the paper free, a folded,
fragile sheet that looks like it's been hidden away for ages.
(06:25):
My hands tremble as I unfold it, revealing a message
scrawled in elegant handwriting, keep her safe from the lurking
dark shadow, the note reads, sending a new wave of
fear coursing through me. Okay, this is officially creepy, I
muttered to myself, glancing back at the doll. What did
(06:49):
I get myself into? My thoughts race with questions who
wrote this? What is this shadow they're talking about? And
most important, how on earth did my grandmother come into
possession of such a mysterious doll? Hey, Grandma, I say softly,
(07:10):
clutching the paper tightly in my hands. You really could
have given me a heads up about this. The room
remains silent, save for the distant howling of the wind
outside and the sound of my own ragged breaths. My
chest tightens as the realization sinks in. I'm not alone
(07:31):
with just an old toy. There's something else here, something
lurking in the shadows. I need to figure out what
it is before it consumes me completely. The words on
the paper dance before my eyes, taunting me with their
ominous warning. The shadow comes when the moon is high,
it reads. I glance out the window at the full moon,
(07:55):
casting eerie, elongated shadows across my room. Chill creeps up
my spine as a sinister giggle replays in my mind,
making me shudder involuntarily. What kind of presence have I
invited into my life? Whispered to myself, hugging my arms
for comfort. The room feels colder than it did before,
(08:19):
and the air smells musty and stale, like it's been
trapped for years. My tongue runs dry, and I can
taste the lingering fear that envelops me. I pace back
and forth in my room, my footsteps muffled by the
thick carpet underfoot. A soft creaking noise echoes through the night,
sending tingles down my spine. As I move closer to
(08:42):
the doll, I notice how the moonlight reflects off its
glassy eyes, making them appear even more ominous than before. Okay,
I need some answers, I muttered to myself, taking a
deep breath. But sleep refuses to come, and I spend
the rest of the night tossing and turning, haunted by
(09:03):
the cryptic message and the chilling laughter. Morning finally arrives,
dragging me from the clutches of my unsettling dreams. The
sun spills through the curtains, washing away some of the
dread that gripped me throughout the night. With the warning
still lingering in my mind, I decide to seek out
(09:23):
my grandmother when she knows something about the doll's past. Grandma,
I call out as I enter her cozy living room.
She sits in her favorite armchair, knitting needles clicking softly
as she works on a sweater. The smell of fresh
coffee wafts through the air, and the warmth of the
(09:44):
room provides a stark contrast to the chill of last night.
Ah dear, she says, her eyes flickering with recognition. When
I mention the doll. It belonged to a little girl
long ago. Voice softens and becomes distant, as if she's
recalling a memory from another lifetime. She loved it dearly,
(10:08):
but something dark followed her. Something dark, I ask, My
curiosity peaked. I sit down on the floor beside her,
my gaze fixed on her face as I try to
read any hidden emotions, Yes, she says, her hands pausing
in their knitting. No one knows exactly what it was,
(10:30):
but it seemed to be drawn to the doll. The
girl's family tried everything to protect her, but the shadow
always found a way back. Grandma, I say, hesitantly, showing
her the note I found inside the doll's gown. I've
found this warning last night. It said there's a lurking,
dark shadow and I need to keep the doll safe.
(10:53):
Do you know anything about it? She takes the note
from me, her eyes scanning the words carefully. A sigh
escapes her lips as she hands it back to me. Ah,
I had hoped that the shadow was just an old
wive's tale, but it seems there's more truth to it
than I realized, she admits, her eyes filled with concern.
(11:15):
You must be careful, my dear. Whatever this shadow is,
it's not something to be trifled with. Thanks, Grandma, I reply,
my heart heavy with apprehension. As I leave the room
and return to my own I can't shake the feeling
that I'm now entangled in a dark and mysterious tale,
(11:36):
one that has somehow chosen me to unravel its secrets.
The fire crackles in the hearth, casting flickering shadows across
Grandma's face. She weaves a tale that scents shivers down
my spine. I clutch a warm mug of tea, the
steam tickling my nose, and the scent of camomile intermingling
(11:56):
with the earthy smell of burning wood. Laughter filled their
home like music. Grandma begins, her voice, soft yet laced
with an undercurrent of unnase. The little girl loved the
doll dearly, treating it as if it were alive. But
then one day the shadow emerged. Shadow, I ask, my
(12:20):
heart pounding as though it seeks to escape my chest.
Grandma nods solemnly, her brow furrowing in concern. Yes, the
shadow was said to steal joy from those it touched.
It targeted the innocent, thriving on their fear. Her eyes
beat mine, and she lowers her voice to a whisper.
(12:43):
Be cautious, dear, this is not just an old toy.
It's part of a darker story. As cold dread creeps
up my spine, I resolved to be careful, but remained
determined to uncover the truth behind the doll and its
mysterious past, days past, and the doll seems to take
on a life of its own. I find myself drawn
(13:06):
to it, compelled to talk to it like an old friend.
At times when the house is quiet and still, I
swear I hear whispers in the silence. My pulse quickens,
and I notice the doll's position shift ever so slightly,
as if responding to my innermost thoughts. I begin to
question my sanity, wondering if this is all just a
(13:27):
trick of my imagination or something far more sinister. One evening,
as twilight deepens in tonight, I sit in my dimly
lit room, battling a mixture of fascination and fear. The
doll gazes up at me from its place on the bookshelf,
its glassy eyes seeming to pierce my very soul. I decide,
(13:49):
with a shaky breath, to confront it. Are you, I demand,
my voice trembling, What do you want from me? The
room feels charged, the air heavy with anticipation. For a moment,
only silence answers. Then, ever so faintly, I hear the
(14:13):
haunting giggle once more. The sound sends goose bumps racing
across my skin as I realize that I'm no longer
alone in this tale. The shadow has found me, and
together we must navigate a twisting path of mystery, darkness,
and fear. Long shadows stretch across the walls, creeping closer
(14:35):
like tendrils of darkness. As the nights grow longer, my
fear intensifies. The one's comforting presence of my room now
feels suffocating, leaving me with a feeling of unease. I
try to focus on anything but the doll, but it's
always there, watching, waiting stop it. I whisper, but the
(15:00):
words only sound pitiful and weak. My breath dances in
front of me, visible in the cold air that has
invaded the room. The scent of damp earth fills my nostrils,
as if I'm buried alive. A shiver runs down my spine,
the taste of iron lingering on my tongue and biting
(15:21):
my lip too hard. The giggle echoes through my dreams,
haunting me even when I'm awake. It's as though it's
become part of the very fabric of my existence. Shadows
dance along the walls. I imagine dark figures lurking just
out of sight. I can't help, but feel that something
(15:42):
is toying with me, drawing me deeper into this twisted tail.
Leave me alone, cry out, my voice breaking. I don't
want any part of this, but the silence that follows
feels more menacing than the laughter ever did. And still
the doll sits on my bedside table, its porcelain face
(16:04):
a testament to some long forgotten innocence. One night, I
muster the courage to confront the doll. Clutching the edge
of my bed, I demand to know what it wants
from me, my voice trembling. The room feels charged, the
air thick with tension. Tell me what do you want?
(16:27):
I shout, a sense of desperation taking hold. Suddenly, the
giggle rings out, clearer than before, and I feel a
cold breeze sweep through, as if the shadow is closing in.
In the dim light, I swear I see the doll's
eyes flicker with a sinister gleam. My heart raises, and
my palms grow slick with sweat. Fine, I snap, my
(16:52):
voice shaking. If you won't tell me, then I'll find
the answers myself. As I stand my ground, staring into
the doll's unblinking eyes, I can't help but feel a
small sense of triumph. For the first time since this
nightmare began. I've taken control. But in the back of
my mind, nagging thought lingers. I might have won this battle,
(17:17):
but the war is far from over. The laughter of
my friends fades as I push open the creaking door
to the local library, leaving me with a bitter taste
in my mouth. They'd listened to my story, eyes wide
with disbelief, but their laughter only deepened my dread. As
I step into the dimly lit building, the musty scent
(17:39):
of old books fills my nostrils, and I shiver against
the sudden chill that embraces me. Excuse me, I call out, hesitantly,
my voice echoing through the empty aisles. I'm looking for
someone who specializes in folklore. Ah, you must be seeking,
(18:00):
miss Hawthorn, says a soft voice from behind a towering bookshelf.
A stooped, elderly librarian appears, her kind eyes peering at
me from behind horn rimmed glasses. She's in the back,
re searching as usual. Thank you, I manage, trying to
(18:20):
sound confident despite the pounding in my chest. The thought
of finding answers sends a thrill down my spine. Steadying myself,
I make my way through the dusty stacks, each creaking
floorboard beneath my feet, heightening my anticipation. Miss Hawthorne sits
at a long wooden table, her silver hair piled atop
(18:43):
her head and her thin fingers tracing ancient text on
aged parchment. She looks up as I approach her, piercing
blue eyes studying me intently. Can I help you, she asks,
her voice low and measured, Yes, I stammer, feeling my
cheek's flush with embarrassment. I've been experiencing strange occurrences, a doll,
(19:13):
a shadow, and laughter that chills me to the bone.
I need to understand what's happening and how to protect myself. Sit,
she orders, gesturing to the chair across from her. As
I do, she leans forward, her eyes never leaving mine.
Shadows thrive on fear, she explains, her voice barely above
(19:37):
a whisper. You must confront it with light, with courage. Courage.
How do I find the strength to face something so terrifying?
I ask, my hands trembling in my lap. Let me
show you, she says, pulling a tattered book from the
pile beside her. She flips through the pages, revealing ancient
(19:59):
symbols and incantations. These are protective charms and rituals that
have been passed down through generations. She explains, her eyes
alight with passion. Choose one that resonates with you and
will begin. As I study the pages, a flicker of
hope at nights within me. Maybe, just maybe I can
(20:22):
reclaim my peace. With Miss Hawthorne's guidance, I'm determined to
banish the darkness and face my fear's head on, and
perhaps in doing so, I'll discover a strength I never
knew I possessed. The flickering candlelight casts eerie shadows across
my bedroom walls as I prepare to perform the ritual
(20:43):
Miss Hawthorne taught me earlier. My hands are steady, but
my heart raises with anticipation and fear. I take a
deep breath, inhaling the scent of burning sage that fills
the air, hoping it will cam my nerves. Remember, I
tell myself, shadows thrive on fear. I can't afford to
(21:05):
falter now, not when this might be my only chance
to banish the darkness. That's haunted me for days. I
gently place the doll in the center of the protective
circle I've drawn on the floor. Its glassy eyes seem
to stare back at me, as if urging me to
go through with the ritual. The room is silent save
for the soft crackle of the candles. I know that
(21:28):
won't last long. Here goes nothing, I murmur under my breath,
beginning to chant the words Miss Hawthorne taught me. The
air around me seems to hum with energy, growing stronger
with each syllable that leaves my lips. I can feel
the shadows lurking in the corners of the room, staring
(21:48):
restlessly as they sense the power building within the circle. Suddenly,
the giggle echoes through the room, chilling me to the bone.
But this time I refuse to I stand tall, continuing
the chant, my voice growing stronger with new found determination.
(22:08):
Leave this place, I demand, letting the final word of
the incantation ring out. You have no power here. As
the last words leave my lips, a brilliant light envelops
the room, pushing back the darkness that had encroached upon
every corner. The giggle fades into silence, replaced by an
(22:30):
overwhelming sense of calm that washes over me like a
warm embrace. I sink to my knees, tears pricking at
the corners of my eyes. I've done it. I've confronted
the shadow and embraced the spirit of the doll. The
knowledge that I've faced my fears and emerged victorious fills
me with a sense of pride I've never felt before.
(22:54):
From that night on, the doll becomes more than just
an old toy. It's a symbol of curag resilience and
the light that can always outshine the dark. I keep
it close, cherishing the bond we share and the strength
that has given me to face whatever challenges come my way.
(23:15):
Thank you, I whispered to the doll as a cradlet
in my arms, knowing that our fates are now forever
entwined together. We'll face whatever comes next.
Speaker 2 (23:30):
Thank you for tuning in to a truly haunted podcast.
Don't forget to check out our Patreon page for bonus content,
exclusive episodes, and much more. Stay tuned to next week
for a whole new haunting episode.
Speaker 1 (23:55):
From the twisted mind of co hosts paranormal author Eve
s Evans and James Curo comes a delightfully haunting podcast,
Forever Haunted. Forever Haunted. Every Saturday, James and Eve delve
into haunted places, artifacts, urban legends, paranormal happenings, and much more.
(24:23):
Every Thursday, join James and Eve for True Crime Thursday,
where they delve into a deviously sinister true crime story
to chill your bones. Chill your bones, stay tuned to
Forever Haunted podcast, available on all podcasting networks,
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