March 7, 2025 • 13 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 up.
Speaker 4 (01:10):
Next Nightmare Box. The sterile scent of antiseptic fills my
nostrils as I walk down the dimly lit hospital hallway.
It's a smell that has become all too familiar since
starting this job a few months ago. My footsteps echo
against the linoleum floor, creating a melancholy rhythm in the silence.
(01:34):
I can't shake the heaviness always on my chest. It
says if I'm carrying the burden of the man who
had finally succumbed to cancer two days ago. Hey, a
fellow nurse, Nancy greets me with a sympathetic smile. I
heard about your patient. Thanks, I managed to say, for
see a weak smile. He was a fighter, but I
(01:57):
guess it was just his time. Remember, he's no longer suffering.
That's what matters, she says, her voice soft and empathetic. Right,
I murmur, nodding. I appreciate her kindness, but it does
little to ease the pain. As soon as she walks away,
my thoughts become consumed by the man whose life had
been defined by his battle with cancer for the past
(02:19):
four years. The memories of our conversations, smiles, and shared
moments of vulnerability fled my mind as I make my
way to the morgue, determined to pay my last respects.
The cold air of the morgue bites at my skin
as I step inside, sending chills down my spine. The
room is eerily silent, save from the faint him of
(02:39):
the cooling system. I still myself walking over the drawer
that holds the remains of the man I'd grown close to.
With a deep breath, I pull the drawer open and
slowly peel back the sheet covering his face. What creates
me is a sight that sends shivers through my body.
Her face almost unrecognizable from the man I knew when
he was alive. The spark that once stands behind his
(03:02):
eyes is gone, replaced with a lifeless stair that seems
to bore into my very soul. I can't help but
feel as if I'm looking out a stranger. Thank you,
I whispered to him, my voice quivering with emotion. I
know your time here wasn't easy, but I'm grateful I
got to know you. The words feel inadequate, but it's
(03:26):
all I can muster. I close my eyes and say
a prayer for him, hoping he's found peace in the afterlife.
After a moment, I carefully cover his face again and
gently pushed the door closed. As I step out of
the morgue, the burden on my chest feels heavier than before.
It's part of this job, I tell myself. But that
(03:46):
doesn't make it an easier to bear. The Darkness of
my bedroom weighs heavily on me as I toss and
turn and able to shake the image of his lifeless
face from my mind. Exhaustion tugs at my eyelids, but
sleep feels like in a poll possible dream. When it
finally comes, it's filled with terror. I find myself trapped
inside a small metal box, every inch of my body
(04:08):
pressed against its cold, unforgiving walls. Panic grips me, clawing
at my throat and squeezing the air from my lungs.
Claustrophobia was never an issue for me before, but now
it threatens to swallow me whole. How Ice, scream my voice,
echoing within the confines of the bog.
Speaker 3 (04:24):
Please somebody, hummy, But.
Speaker 4 (04:26):
No one comes. The oppressive darkness and silence stretch on,
smothering me in their merciless grip. My heart races, and
each gasping breath becomes more labored than the last.
Speaker 3 (04:36):
Get me out of here.
Speaker 4 (04:37):
I sobb, tears streaming down my cheeks as I pound
futilely against the metal walls. Suddenly I dolt, awake, drenched
and sweat and gasping for air really floods through me
as I realize the nightmare is over, but the terror
still lingers, clinging to me like a second skin. I
can't stand this room a moment longer. I need fresh air.
Throwing off the covers, I stumble outside the chill night,
(05:00):
air filling my lungs and clearing away the remnants of
my panic. As I lean against the cool brick wall
of my apartment building. I can't help but shiver. God,
what's happening to me? I whisper into the night, hugging
myself tight. The next day is just as bad, if
not worse. Despite my exhaustion, the thought of going to
bed fills me with dread. When sleep finally claims me,
(05:23):
the same nightmare plays on loop. The small metal box,
the crushing fear, the desperate cries for help that go unanswered.
Please I beg my tormentor the darkness that surrounds me.
Speaker 1 (05:36):
I know why this is happening, Just let me go.
Speaker 4 (05:42):
But it doesn't. Night after night I find myself trapped
in that hellish metal box, the feelings of confinement growing
more unbearable with each passing moment. I can feel my
sanity fraying at the edges, slowly being consumed by the
terror that haunts my dreams. Can't take it anymore, I
muttered to myself as I pace my apartment, exhaustion etched
(06:05):
deep into the lines on my face. Just want it
to stop. The fear starts to seep into my waking hours,
an ever present shadow lurking at the edge of my vision.
As I shuffle through my daily routine, I can't help
but glance nervously at every tight space, every closed door.
It's like the nightmare is bleeding into my reality and
(06:26):
I can't escape it. Something needs to change. I whisper
the words, a solemn vow. I can't live like this,
determined and this torment. I steel myself for another restless night,
praying that somehow OFF find the strength to break free
from the clutches of the nightmare that holds me captive.
(06:48):
The psychiatrist's office is dimly lit, casting eerie shadows on
the wall. My heart races as I sit before him,
wringing my hands together nervously. It's been two weeks, I confess,
my voice barely above a whisper. These nightmares. They're consuming me.
Doctor Thompson leans forward, his piercing eyes, studying me with concern.
(07:12):
Tell me more about these dreams, He urges, his pen
poised over his notepad. Every night, I begin struggling to
find the words to convey the terror that grips me.
I'm trapped in this small metal box, unable to escape.
It's suffocating, and no matter how hard I try, I
(07:35):
can't wake up. He listens intently, jotting down notes as
I recount the horrifying details of my recurring nightmare. The
taste of panic lingers in my mouth, like bile rising
in my throat. I can almost hear the echoing screams
that haunt my dreams, and it's in shivers down my spine.
Try these for now, he says, handing me a prescription
(07:56):
for sleeping pills. Let me know if the dreams persist
that night. I swallow one of the pills, desperately, clinging
to the hope that they'll grant me the rest. My
body craves, but instead of sweet relief, the nightmare only intensifies.
I'm not just stuck in the metal box anymore. I'm
(08:17):
also trapped in my own terrified mind with no means
of escape. When I finally jolt awake hours later, drenched
in sweat and gasping for air, my chest aches so
intensely that I'm convinced I'm on the verge of a
heart attack. What's happening to me? I cry out, tears
streaming down my face. In my desperation, I turn through
(08:39):
the internet, searching for answers to my recurring nightmares. My
fingers fly across the keyboard as I scroll through articles
discussing trauma, repressed memories, and other explanations that don't quite fit.
When I come across an article on supernatural attachment, I'm
skeptical ghosts really, but desperation forces me to click on it,
(09:01):
and as I read, a chilling realization dawns on me.
The trapped spirit the article describes. Could it be the
man I visited in the morgue weeks ago? Is this
even possible? I wonder aloud, shuddering at the thought of
his spirit reaching out to me from beyond the grave.
It seems like a stretch, but at this point I'll
(09:23):
try anything to end this torment. As I continue to research,
the cold air in my apartment seems to grow heavier,
as if something unseen is lurking just out of sight.
My mind raises with questions, fear gnawing out my sanity.
If there's even a chance that that man's spirit is trapped,
how can I free him and myself from this nightmare?
(09:44):
Stepping back into the hospital, a shiver creeps up my spine.
As I make my way toward the morgue. The sterile
scent of disinfectant fills my nostrils, and the echoing footsteps
on the linoleum floor only add to the eerie atmosphere.
I clenched my fist, trying to steady my nerve. When
I finally reached the morgue, I nervously explained my plan
to Jack, the attending on duty smudging. He raises an eyebrow,
(10:09):
but instead of dismissing me, he nods thoughtfully. You know
I've done several rights myself from time to time. Go ahead, Really,
I'm taken aback by the understanding, but grateful for it. Together,
we light the sage, and its earthly aroma soon fills
the cold, dimly lit room. The smoke crawls through the
(10:30):
air as if it's alive, reaching into every corner, seeping
into the drawers containing the deceased. Is this really going
to work? I ask, watching the smoke drift over the
doors of the compartments containing remains. Sometimes it's not about
what we believe will work, but what the spear believes,
Jack replies cryptically. As we finish smudging, I can't help
(10:53):
but feel a sense of relief washing over me, as
if a heavy burden has been lifted. The air now
feels lighter, almost purified. Thank you, I say, my voice
barely above a whisper. Jack merely nods, offering a small,
knowing smile. That night, when I crawl into bed, I'm
still filled with doubt. Can a bit of smoke really
(11:15):
be the answer? I think, tossing and turning. Eventually, my
eyelids grow heavy and I drift off to sleep. To
my amazement, my sleep is deep and dreamless. For the
first time in weeks, I rest undisturbed for nearly twelve hours.
When I wake up, I feel like a new person.
The nightmares are gone. As I lie in bed, still
(11:38):
drowsy for my unexpected slumber, I can't help but wonder
why the man's spirit attached itself to me After our farewell,
my skepticism about ghosts and spirits has been shattered, and
I'm left with a newfound belief in their existence and
their power over the living.
Speaker 2 (12:09):
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 (12:33):
From the twisted mind of co hosts paranormal author Eve
s Seven's 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
(12:59):
more more. 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 up.
Speaker 4 (01:10):
Next Nightmare Box. The sterile scent of antiseptic fills my
nostrils as I walk down the dimly lit hospital hallway.
It's a smell that has become all too familiar since
starting this job a few months ago. My footsteps echo
against the linoleum floor, creating a melancholy rhythm in the silence.
(01:34):
I can't shake the heaviness always on my chest. It
says if I'm carrying the burden of the man who
had finally succumbed to cancer two days ago. Hey, a
fellow nurse, Nancy greets me with a sympathetic smile. I
heard about your patient. Thanks, I managed to say, for
see a weak smile. He was a fighter, but I
(01:57):
guess it was just his time. Remember, he's no longer suffering.
That's what matters, she says, her voice soft and empathetic. Right,
I murmur, nodding. I appreciate her kindness, but it does
little to ease the pain. As soon as she walks away,
my thoughts become consumed by the man whose life had
been defined by his battle with cancer for the past
(02:19):
four years. The memories of our conversations, smiles, and shared
moments of vulnerability fled my mind as I make my
way to the morgue, determined to pay my last respects.
The cold air of the morgue bites at my skin
as I step inside, sending chills down my spine. The
room is eerily silent, save from the faint him of
(02:39):
the cooling system. I still myself walking over the drawer
that holds the remains of the man I'd grown close to.
With a deep breath, I pull the drawer open and
slowly peel back the sheet covering his face. What creates
me is a sight that sends shivers through my body.
Her face almost unrecognizable from the man I knew when
he was alive. The spark that once stands behind his
(03:02):
eyes is gone, replaced with a lifeless stair that seems
to bore into my very soul. I can't help but
feel as if I'm looking out a stranger. Thank you,
I whispered to him, my voice quivering with emotion. I
know your time here wasn't easy, but I'm grateful I
got to know you. The words feel inadequate, but it's
(03:26):
all I can muster. I close my eyes and say
a prayer for him, hoping he's found peace in the afterlife.
After a moment, I carefully cover his face again and
gently pushed the door closed. As I step out of
the morgue, the burden on my chest feels heavier than before.
It's part of this job, I tell myself. But that
(03:46):
doesn't make it an easier to bear. The Darkness of
my bedroom weighs heavily on me as I toss and
turn and able to shake the image of his lifeless
face from my mind. Exhaustion tugs at my eyelids, but
sleep feels like in a poll possible dream. When it
finally comes, it's filled with terror. I find myself trapped
inside a small metal box, every inch of my body
(04:08):
pressed against its cold, unforgiving walls. Panic grips me, clawing
at my throat and squeezing the air from my lungs.
Claustrophobia was never an issue for me before, but now
it threatens to swallow me whole. How Ice, scream my voice,
echoing within the confines of the bog.
Speaker 3 (04:24):
Please somebody, hummy, But.
Speaker 4 (04:26):
No one comes. The oppressive darkness and silence stretch on,
smothering me in their merciless grip. My heart races, and
each gasping breath becomes more labored than the last.
Speaker 3 (04:36):
Get me out of here.
Speaker 4 (04:37):
I sobb, tears streaming down my cheeks as I pound
futilely against the metal walls. Suddenly I dolt, awake, drenched
and sweat and gasping for air really floods through me
as I realize the nightmare is over, but the terror
still lingers, clinging to me like a second skin. I
can't stand this room a moment longer. I need fresh air.
Throwing off the covers, I stumble outside the chill night,
(05:00):
air filling my lungs and clearing away the remnants of
my panic. As I lean against the cool brick wall
of my apartment building. I can't help but shiver. God,
what's happening to me? I whisper into the night, hugging
myself tight. The next day is just as bad, if
not worse. Despite my exhaustion, the thought of going to
bed fills me with dread. When sleep finally claims me,
(05:23):
the same nightmare plays on loop. The small metal box,
the crushing fear, the desperate cries for help that go unanswered.
Please I beg my tormentor the darkness that surrounds me.
Speaker 1 (05:36):
I know why this is happening, Just let me go.
Speaker 4 (05:42):
But it doesn't. Night after night I find myself trapped
in that hellish metal box, the feelings of confinement growing
more unbearable with each passing moment. I can feel my
sanity fraying at the edges, slowly being consumed by the
terror that haunts my dreams. Can't take it anymore, I
muttered to myself as I pace my apartment, exhaustion etched
(06:05):
deep into the lines on my face. Just want it
to stop. The fear starts to seep into my waking hours,
an ever present shadow lurking at the edge of my vision.
As I shuffle through my daily routine, I can't help
but glance nervously at every tight space, every closed door.
It's like the nightmare is bleeding into my reality and
(06:26):
I can't escape it. Something needs to change. I whisper
the words, a solemn vow. I can't live like this,
determined and this torment. I steel myself for another restless night,
praying that somehow OFF find the strength to break free
from the clutches of the nightmare that holds me captive.
(06:48):
The psychiatrist's office is dimly lit, casting eerie shadows on
the wall. My heart races as I sit before him,
wringing my hands together nervously. It's been two weeks, I confess,
my voice barely above a whisper. These nightmares. They're consuming me.
Doctor Thompson leans forward, his piercing eyes, studying me with concern.
(07:12):
Tell me more about these dreams, He urges, his pen
poised over his notepad. Every night, I begin struggling to
find the words to convey the terror that grips me.
I'm trapped in this small metal box, unable to escape.
It's suffocating, and no matter how hard I try, I
(07:35):
can't wake up. He listens intently, jotting down notes as
I recount the horrifying details of my recurring nightmare. The
taste of panic lingers in my mouth, like bile rising
in my throat. I can almost hear the echoing screams
that haunt my dreams, and it's in shivers down my spine.
Try these for now, he says, handing me a prescription
(07:56):
for sleeping pills. Let me know if the dreams persist
that night. I swallow one of the pills, desperately, clinging
to the hope that they'll grant me the rest. My
body craves, but instead of sweet relief, the nightmare only intensifies.
I'm not just stuck in the metal box anymore. I'm
(08:17):
also trapped in my own terrified mind with no means
of escape. When I finally jolt awake hours later, drenched
in sweat and gasping for air, my chest aches so
intensely that I'm convinced I'm on the verge of a
heart attack. What's happening to me? I cry out, tears
streaming down my face. In my desperation, I turn through
(08:39):
the internet, searching for answers to my recurring nightmares. My
fingers fly across the keyboard as I scroll through articles
discussing trauma, repressed memories, and other explanations that don't quite fit.
When I come across an article on supernatural attachment, I'm
skeptical ghosts really, but desperation forces me to click on it,
(09:01):
and as I read, a chilling realization dawns on me.
The trapped spirit the article describes. Could it be the
man I visited in the morgue weeks ago? Is this
even possible? I wonder aloud, shuddering at the thought of
his spirit reaching out to me from beyond the grave.
It seems like a stretch, but at this point I'll
(09:23):
try anything to end this torment. As I continue to research,
the cold air in my apartment seems to grow heavier,
as if something unseen is lurking just out of sight.
My mind raises with questions, fear gnawing out my sanity.
If there's even a chance that that man's spirit is trapped,
how can I free him and myself from this nightmare?
(09:44):
Stepping back into the hospital, a shiver creeps up my spine.
As I make my way toward the morgue. The sterile
scent of disinfectant fills my nostrils, and the echoing footsteps
on the linoleum floor only add to the eerie atmosphere.
I clenched my fist, trying to steady my nerve. When
I finally reached the morgue, I nervously explained my plan
to Jack, the attending on duty smudging. He raises an eyebrow,
(10:09):
but instead of dismissing me, he nods thoughtfully. You know
I've done several rights myself from time to time. Go ahead, Really,
I'm taken aback by the understanding, but grateful for it. Together,
we light the sage, and its earthly aroma soon fills
the cold, dimly lit room. The smoke crawls through the
(10:30):
air as if it's alive, reaching into every corner, seeping
into the drawers containing the deceased. Is this really going
to work? I ask, watching the smoke drift over the
doors of the compartments containing remains. Sometimes it's not about
what we believe will work, but what the spear believes,
Jack replies cryptically. As we finish smudging, I can't help
(10:53):
but feel a sense of relief washing over me, as
if a heavy burden has been lifted. The air now
feels lighter, almost purified. Thank you, I say, my voice
barely above a whisper. Jack merely nods, offering a small,
knowing smile. That night, when I crawl into bed, I'm
still filled with doubt. Can a bit of smoke really
(11:15):
be the answer? I think, tossing and turning. Eventually, my
eyelids grow heavy and I drift off to sleep. To
my amazement, my sleep is deep and dreamless. For the
first time in weeks, I rest undisturbed for nearly twelve hours.
When I wake up, I feel like a new person.
The nightmares are gone. As I lie in bed, still
(11:38):
drowsy for my unexpected slumber, I can't help but wonder
why the man's spirit attached itself to me After our farewell,
my skepticism about ghosts and spirits has been shattered, and
I'm left with a newfound belief in their existence and
their power over the living.
Speaker 2 (12:09):
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 (12:33):
From the twisted mind of co hosts paranormal author Eve
s Seven's 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
(12:59):
more more. 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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