March 14, 2025 • 23 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 next.
Speaker 4 (01:13):
Grave Messages. The attic is a haunting maze of forgotten memories,
shrouded in the musty aroma of time stained boxes and
moth eaten fabrics. Dust motes dance through the slanting rays
of sunlight that filter through the cracked window panes, casting
(01:36):
eerie shadows on the floor. I can almost taste the
stale air, thick with secrets long buried.
Speaker 3 (01:45):
Ugh.
Speaker 4 (01:45):
I never should have volunteered for this, I muttered to myself,
my voice shaking slightly as I dig deeper into the
cluttered corners. As I push aside a stack of yellow newspapers,
my fingers graze something cold and meta. Intrigued, I snatch
the object from its resting place, revealing a tarnished pen,
(02:06):
its surface waving an intricate web of cobwebs. A shiver
runs down my spine as a sudden chill sweeps through
the room, making the hairs on the back of my
neck stand on end. Hello, I call out, swallowing hard.
Is someone there? My words echo through the attic, unanswered,
but for the distant creak of a floorboard behind me.
(02:28):
When I turn, nothing is there. I brush off the
uneasy feeling and focus on the pen, its history hidden
beneath layers of dust and grime. That night, curiosity gnaws
at me until I finally sit at my desk, the
mysterious pen poised above a blank sheet of paper. To
my astonishment, it begins to move on its own, writing
(02:50):
elegant script that flows like a whisper through the air.
The words former letter from a boy named Thomas, a
spectral presence who once roamed these help me. The words played,
forming a chilling request before my eyes. As I read
his desperate play, the lights flicker, casting sinister shadows around
(03:11):
the room. I can almost feel a cold breath against
my neck, causing a shudder to ripple through my body. Thomas,
I whisper, my heart racing as I glance around the room,
half expecting to see his ghostly figure peering at me
from the shadows. Are you here? Silence answers me. I
can't help the goosebumps that break out across my skin.
(03:34):
The atmosphere feels thick, with a sense of foreboding down
torn between terror and fascination. Okay, I say, trying to
sound braver than I feel. I'll help you, Thomas, Just
don't do anything too spooky, all right? As if in response,
the pen quivers in my hand, urging me onward. Breath
(03:56):
catches in my throat as I begin to unravel a
mystery very deep in the shadows of my home. Little
do I know this journey will lead me into a
world of spectral secrets, with a line between reality and
imagination blurs beyond recognition. Night after night, I find myself
drawn to the pen as if it holds the key
(04:17):
to a world shrouded in mystery. Each evening, with the
moon casting ghostly shadows on my walls, a pen glides
across the paper, feeling more of Thomas's life. Father was
always so stern. The pen writes one Night, its elegant script,
weaving a tale of heartache and longing. His disappointment in
(04:40):
me was palpable, and yet I craved his approval. I
can't help but feel a pang of sympathy for Thomas.
The weight of his sorrow heavy in the air. The
scent of dust and old parchment fills my nostrils as
I trace the words with my fingers, feeling the bumps
of ink on the page. A soft rustle echoes through
(05:00):
the room, like whispers carried on the wind. Thomas, I murmur,
my voice barely audible. I hear you. I want to
help you. As if in response, a sudden gust of
cold air brushes against my cheek, sending a shiver down
my spine. It feels both thrilling and terrifying, as if
(05:22):
I'm dancing on the edge of a precipice that separates
the living from the dead. Find my treasure, Pen scrawls
across the paper one faithful night, the letters appearing almost frantic.
It is hidden in the house. You must uncover it.
My heart pounds at the thought of venturing into the unknown.
(05:42):
Searching for something lost to time. That night, as I
lie in bed, the sound of scratching fills the silence,
like nails dragging across wood, almost as if urging me
to act. All right, Thomas, I whisper into the darkness
my breath, which I'll find your treasure. The house seems
(06:03):
to hold its breath and anticipation, the shadows deepening around me.
With every creaking floorboard and flicker of moonlight. I feel
the weight of Thomas's story pressing down upon me, urging
me to uncover a secret hidden within the very walls
that surround me. Show me the way, I murmur that
I clutch the pen tightly, my heart racing with equal
(06:25):
parts fear and excitement. Show me the path to your treasure,
and so, guided by the whispers of the past and
the pool of a connection unlike any other, I prepare
to delve into the shadows, determined to help a lost
soul find peace and unlock the mysteries buried deep within
the heart of my home. I hold my breath as
(06:48):
I carefully trace the strange symbols etched into the woodwork,
their meaning unknown to me. The air is thick with
tension and I can feel the walls pulsing around me,
whispering seeks. It's that only I can hear. A sudden
cold draft sweeps through the hallway, extinguishing the flame of
my flashlight. My heart races as I stumble backward, teeth
(07:11):
chattering from the chill, Thomas call out nervously, hoping for
a response. The only answer is the creaking of floorboards
above me, like someone or something is pacing the room. Okay,
I say, mostly to myself. Time to find that hidden room.
(07:32):
Armed with nothing but my dead flashlight and the letters
as my guid, I creep through the house, feeling my
way along the walls. In the darkness. The shadows seem
to dance just out of sight, taunting me as I
search for clues. Every sound takes on a sinister tone,
making me jump at each creak and groan. I can't
(07:53):
shake the feeling that the house is watching me, urging
me to uncover it's hidden history. Are you trying to
help me, Thomas? I murmur into the darkness, praying that
the spectral boy is indeed guiding me, or is this
some kind of test? As if responding to my question,
I feel a gentle tug in my shirt like a
(08:16):
child trying to get my attention. I whip around, only
darkness greets me. My heart hammers in my chest. I
struggle to steady my breathing. Show me the way, Thomas,
I whisper more urgently. Now, please, slowly, cautiously, I continue
my search. Flickering lights and cold drafts suddenly become my
(08:39):
new reality, and I can't help but wonder how much
of it is my imagination and how much is Thomas's
presence is both comforting and unsettling, like opening a door
to a realm that I can't fully understand, Thomas, I
played as I reach another dead end, my voice barely audible.
(08:59):
I need your help. In that moment, the scratching sound
from before fills the silence once more, and I follow
it with bety breath. It leads me to a hidden corner,
where more symbols are etched into the wall. I press
my hand against them, feeling the cold wood beneath my fingers.
Is this what you wanted me to find? I ask,
(09:22):
hoping for an answer. Instead, the air grows colder and
I shudder involuntarily. All right, Thomas, let's do this together.
As I delve deeper into the darkness. Guided by the
whispers of the past and the chilling presence of a
lost soul, I steel myself for whatever lies ahead. The
(09:44):
house may be watching me. I'm no longer afraid, for
in this haunted realm I found an ally, and together
we will uncover the truth. The night air is still
heavy with anticipation as I sit at my desk in hand.
Thomas's letters have become a lifeline, connecting me to a
(10:04):
world that exists just beyond the veil. Tonight, the pen
seems more eager than ever, its silver surface gleaming beneath
the dim light of my lamp. All Right, Thomas, I murmur,
holding the pen above a fresh sheet of paper, What
do you want to tell me? As if? In response,
the pen comes to life, tracing elegant script across the page.
(10:28):
The words form a riddle, one that hints at the
location of the hidden room. My heart races as I read,
the thrill of discovery propelling me forward. The house seems
to sense my excitement, and the shadows deepen around me.
Listen closely and hear the sound where water drips and
(10:49):
darkness is found in the depths where fear takes hold
lies a secret waiting to be told. A shiver runs
down my spine, but I can't help but smile. Water
the basement, I whisper, my voice tinged with awe in trepidation.
(11:10):
As I write down my answer, A loud crash echoes
from the kitchen, like something heavy has fallen. I freeze,
staring at the door, my heart pounding in my chest. Thomas,
I call out, hesitantly, wondering if I'm truly alone, what
if I find something I'm not prepared for. The house
feels more alive than ever. I can't shake the feeling
(11:31):
that it's urging me to continue to inge closer to
the truth. Okay, I breathe, stealing myself. Let's go. I
grab my flashlight and head toward the basement, each step
echoing through the silent house. The door creaks open, revealing
a dark abyss that seems to swallow all light. I
(11:52):
flick on my flashlight, It's beam flickering ominously. As I
descend the stairs, Thomas whisper into the darkness. I'm doing
this for you. The air is thick with dampness and despair,
scent of mildew and decay, overwhelming my senses. The distant
sound of dripping water echoes through the space, and the
(12:14):
temperature drops sharply. My breath fogs in front of me,
and the hairs on the back of my neck stand
on end. As I step onto the cold, wet floor,
A sudden gust of wind slams the basement doors shut
behind me. I jump, art, racing flashlight casting easy shadows
on the wall. I can't shake the feeling that I'm
(12:36):
being watched. Thomas, Are you here? I ask, my voice
trembling silence is my only answer, but it's enough. Each
step is a battle against my own fear. The thought
of helping Thomas drives me onward. As I navigate the
maze of dusty furniture and forgotten memories, I feel an
(12:57):
unshakable sense of purpose, a connection to something greater than myself.
Keep going, I urge myself, my voice barely audible above
the sound of my pounding heart. You're almost there. With
each step, the darkness seems to close in around me,
as if it too is eager to uncover the truth.
(13:17):
As I inch closer to the heart of the mystery,
I can't help but wonder what will I find when
I finally reach the hidden room, what secrets lie buried
beneath the shadows of my home? Almost there, I whisper,
my words swallowed by the darkness. Almost there. My heart
hammers in my chest as I tug the edge of
(13:38):
an old, tattered rug, revealing a wooden trapdoor beneath its
rusty hinges grown in protest. When I pull it open,
exposing a steep staircase that descends into darkness, the air
here is colder, and I feel Thomas's urgency pulsing around
me like a second heart beat. Thomas Thomas, I whisper,
(14:00):
as if saying his name will give me strength. I'm
going to find your treasure. As I take the first
step down, the lights above me flicker violently, casting shadows
that seem to dance with sinister glee. Laughter echoes around me,
barely audible, but enough to send a shiver down my spine.
I try to convince myself it's just my imagination, but
(14:23):
deep down, I know the house is alive, reacting to
my every move. Who's there, I call out, nervously, gripping
the flashlight tighter. Silence answers me, and I continue my descent,
feeling the weight of the darkness press against me like
invisible hands. With each step, the air grows chillier, my
breath fogging in front of me, and the scent of
(14:45):
damp earth fills my nostrils. My skin prickles with goose bumps.
I can't help but wonder what awaits me at the bottom.
Come on, you can do this, and mutter to myself,
forcing my legs to carry me further into the abyss.
When I finally reach the bottom, the sight before me
sends a shudder through my entire body. I stand in
(15:07):
a dimly lit room filled with dust and forgotten relics,
shadows from a time long past. The air is thick
with palpable tension. Every creak of the floorboards feels like
a scream in the silence. In the center of the
room lies a small chest, its surface covered in intricate
carvings that seem to shift under my gaze. My heart races,
(15:30):
Could this be the treasure Thomas is searching for? The
air crackles with energy, and I feel his presence enveloping me,
urging me to act quickly. Thomas, is this it? I ask,
my voice barely a whisper. A gust of cold wind
wraps around me like an icy embrace, and I take
that as confirmation. Carefully, I approach the chest, feeling the
(15:54):
anticipation build inside me with each step. As I reach
out to touch the car, they seem to tremble beneath
my fingertips, and I can't shake the feeling that time
is running out. Okay, Thomas, I say, taking a deep breath,
let's see what's inside. As I lift the lid, the
room seems to hold its breath, waiting for the secrets
(16:17):
within to be revealed. The moment the chest creaks open,
a gust of icy winds sweeps through the room, extinguishing
my flashlight and plunging us into darkness. Panic rises within
me and I fumble blindly, feeling the contents of the chest,
a collection of trinkets that seem to hold memories of
a life long past. Thomas, I whisper, my voice catching
(16:42):
in the cold air, Are you here? No answer comes.
I can feel his presence lingering nearby, like an invisible
guardian watching over me. As my fingers roam the objects
inside the chest, they finally brush against something smooth and
warm to the touch. A locket. The sensation sends shivers
(17:03):
down my spine, and I quickly snatch it up, clutching
it to my chest, just as suddenly the sound of
faint sobbing fills the room, like a distant memory echoing
through time. In the darkness, I imagine Thomas's face etched
with sorrow and longing. I can't help but feel in
deep sympathy for this lost soul who has found solace
(17:24):
in our connection. Gripping the locket tightly, and make my
way back to my room, guided by the dim light
filtering in from the hallway. Once there, I set the
locket on my desk, beside the pen, which immediately begins
to scratch at the paper once more. Thank you, Thomas writes,
expressing his gratitude and relief. YOU have no idea this
(17:48):
means to me. As I read his words, a warm
spreads through the room, as if a long held sorrow
is finally lifting. He reveals that the locket belonged to
his mother, a piece of his heart that had been
lost for too long. I wish I could repay your kindness,
he continues, but I hope my eternal gratitude will suffice
the shadows in my room seem to retreat, and for
(18:10):
the first time, I feel a sense of peace washing
over me. Thomas, it's enough, I replied, quietly, touched by
his sincerity, thank you for letting me be a part
of your story. Pen scratches out one last message. Perhaps
one day our paths will cross again. Until then, farewell,
(18:31):
my friend. As the pen falls silent, I can't help
but feel a bittersweet ache in my chest. Thomas's story
has become an unforgettable part of my life, and though
I know our time together must come to an end,
I can't help but wish for just a little more time. Goodbye, Thomas,
I whisper into the stillness, feeling the weight of his
(18:52):
absence settle over the room like a blanket. Even as
the shadows close in once more, I know that I
will can the memory of our haunted friendship with me forever,
a reminder that sometimes the most unlikely connections can forge
bonds that transcend time, space and even the barrier between
life and death. The locket gleams in the soft light
(19:15):
of my room, a symbol of newfound peace. As I
place it gently on my desk, the atmosphere shifts like
a sigh of relief. The house that once held oppressive
shadows now feels lighter, as if the darkness has been lifted.
Thank you, whispers a voice on the edge of perception.
It's ethereal tone, sending shivers down my spine. My heart
(19:38):
swells with an odd sense of accomplishment. I've helped a
lost soul find the peace he's so desperately sought. I
stand still, absorbing the hum of warmth that now reverberates
through the walls. It's as if the house itself is
breathing easier, its sorrowful echoes replaced by a gentle, lullaby.
(19:59):
Stre journey has forged an unbreakable bond between Thomas and me,
a connection transcending time space and the boundaries of life
and death. Goodbye, Thomas, I murmur, feeling both fulfilled and
heavy hearted, With his spirit finally at rest, I look
around my room, forever changed by this otherworldly adventure. The pen,
(20:24):
once a conduit for spectral words, now rests quietly on
my desk. It serves as a reminder of the mysteries
that unfolded in the shadows of my home and the
friend I made along the way my gaze drifts to
the attic door, a portal to a realm of magic
in secrets. Despite the resolution of Thomas's story, I can't
(20:45):
help but feel the lingering curiosity. What other enigmas lie
hidden within these walls, waiting for someone brave enough to
uncover them. A soft breeze caresses my face as I
ponder over the unknown. The air fel charged with the
memory of Thomas, and I can't help but smile. His
story will always be a part of me, an eerie
(21:08):
recollection turned into a cherished friendship. Maybe one day we'll
meet again, I say softly, my eyes lingering on the
attic door. For now, though I return to my life,
carrying the memory of Thomas and her haunted bond with me,
the house may still hold secrets. I know that I'm
(21:30):
never truly alone in a world where ghosts can find
solace in the living. Who knows what other mysteries lie
in wait, But whatever they are, I'll be ready to
face them, armed with courage, curiosity, and the knowledge that
even the most unlikely connections can change us forever.
Speaker 2 (22:04):
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 (22:29):
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 more.
(22:57):
Every Thursday, join James and e 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 next.
Speaker 4 (01:13):
Grave Messages. The attic is a haunting maze of forgotten memories,
shrouded in the musty aroma of time stained boxes and
moth eaten fabrics. Dust motes dance through the slanting rays
of sunlight that filter through the cracked window panes, casting
(01:36):
eerie shadows on the floor. I can almost taste the
stale air, thick with secrets long buried.
Speaker 3 (01:45):
Ugh.
Speaker 4 (01:45):
I never should have volunteered for this, I muttered to myself,
my voice shaking slightly as I dig deeper into the
cluttered corners. As I push aside a stack of yellow newspapers,
my fingers graze something cold and meta. Intrigued, I snatch
the object from its resting place, revealing a tarnished pen,
(02:06):
its surface waving an intricate web of cobwebs. A shiver
runs down my spine as a sudden chill sweeps through
the room, making the hairs on the back of my
neck stand on end. Hello, I call out, swallowing hard.
Is someone there? My words echo through the attic, unanswered,
but for the distant creak of a floorboard behind me.
(02:28):
When I turn, nothing is there. I brush off the
uneasy feeling and focus on the pen, its history hidden
beneath layers of dust and grime. That night, curiosity gnaws
at me until I finally sit at my desk, the
mysterious pen poised above a blank sheet of paper. To
my astonishment, it begins to move on its own, writing
(02:50):
elegant script that flows like a whisper through the air.
The words former letter from a boy named Thomas, a
spectral presence who once roamed these help me. The words played,
forming a chilling request before my eyes. As I read
his desperate play, the lights flicker, casting sinister shadows around
(03:11):
the room. I can almost feel a cold breath against
my neck, causing a shudder to ripple through my body. Thomas,
I whisper, my heart racing as I glance around the room,
half expecting to see his ghostly figure peering at me
from the shadows. Are you here? Silence answers me. I
can't help the goosebumps that break out across my skin.
(03:34):
The atmosphere feels thick, with a sense of foreboding down
torn between terror and fascination. Okay, I say, trying to
sound braver than I feel. I'll help you, Thomas, Just
don't do anything too spooky, all right? As if in response,
the pen quivers in my hand, urging me onward. Breath
(03:56):
catches in my throat as I begin to unravel a
mystery very deep in the shadows of my home. Little
do I know this journey will lead me into a
world of spectral secrets, with a line between reality and
imagination blurs beyond recognition. Night after night, I find myself
drawn to the pen as if it holds the key
(04:17):
to a world shrouded in mystery. Each evening, with the
moon casting ghostly shadows on my walls, a pen glides
across the paper, feeling more of Thomas's life. Father was
always so stern. The pen writes one Night, its elegant script,
weaving a tale of heartache and longing. His disappointment in
(04:40):
me was palpable, and yet I craved his approval. I
can't help but feel a pang of sympathy for Thomas.
The weight of his sorrow heavy in the air. The
scent of dust and old parchment fills my nostrils as
I trace the words with my fingers, feeling the bumps
of ink on the page. A soft rustle echoes through
(05:00):
the room, like whispers carried on the wind. Thomas, I murmur,
my voice barely audible. I hear you. I want to
help you. As if in response, a sudden gust of
cold air brushes against my cheek, sending a shiver down
my spine. It feels both thrilling and terrifying, as if
(05:22):
I'm dancing on the edge of a precipice that separates
the living from the dead. Find my treasure, Pen scrawls
across the paper one faithful night, the letters appearing almost frantic.
It is hidden in the house. You must uncover it.
My heart pounds at the thought of venturing into the unknown.
(05:42):
Searching for something lost to time. That night, as I
lie in bed, the sound of scratching fills the silence,
like nails dragging across wood, almost as if urging me
to act. All right, Thomas, I whisper into the darkness
my breath, which I'll find your treasure. The house seems
(06:03):
to hold its breath and anticipation, the shadows deepening around me.
With every creaking floorboard and flicker of moonlight. I feel
the weight of Thomas's story pressing down upon me, urging
me to uncover a secret hidden within the very walls
that surround me. Show me the way, I murmur that
I clutch the pen tightly, my heart racing with equal
(06:25):
parts fear and excitement. Show me the path to your treasure,
and so, guided by the whispers of the past and
the pool of a connection unlike any other, I prepare
to delve into the shadows, determined to help a lost
soul find peace and unlock the mysteries buried deep within
the heart of my home. I hold my breath as
(06:48):
I carefully trace the strange symbols etched into the woodwork,
their meaning unknown to me. The air is thick with
tension and I can feel the walls pulsing around me,
whispering seeks. It's that only I can hear. A sudden
cold draft sweeps through the hallway, extinguishing the flame of
my flashlight. My heart races as I stumble backward, teeth
(07:11):
chattering from the chill, Thomas call out nervously, hoping for
a response. The only answer is the creaking of floorboards
above me, like someone or something is pacing the room. Okay,
I say, mostly to myself. Time to find that hidden room.
(07:32):
Armed with nothing but my dead flashlight and the letters
as my guid, I creep through the house, feeling my
way along the walls. In the darkness. The shadows seem
to dance just out of sight, taunting me as I
search for clues. Every sound takes on a sinister tone,
making me jump at each creak and groan. I can't
(07:53):
shake the feeling that the house is watching me, urging
me to uncover it's hidden history. Are you trying to
help me, Thomas? I murmur into the darkness, praying that
the spectral boy is indeed guiding me, or is this
some kind of test? As if responding to my question,
I feel a gentle tug in my shirt like a
(08:16):
child trying to get my attention. I whip around, only
darkness greets me. My heart hammers in my chest. I
struggle to steady my breathing. Show me the way, Thomas,
I whisper more urgently. Now, please, slowly, cautiously, I continue
my search. Flickering lights and cold drafts suddenly become my
(08:39):
new reality, and I can't help but wonder how much
of it is my imagination and how much is Thomas's
presence is both comforting and unsettling, like opening a door
to a realm that I can't fully understand, Thomas, I
played as I reach another dead end, my voice barely audible.
(08:59):
I need your help. In that moment, the scratching sound
from before fills the silence once more, and I follow
it with bety breath. It leads me to a hidden corner,
where more symbols are etched into the wall. I press
my hand against them, feeling the cold wood beneath my fingers.
Is this what you wanted me to find? I ask,
(09:22):
hoping for an answer. Instead, the air grows colder and
I shudder involuntarily. All right, Thomas, let's do this together.
As I delve deeper into the darkness. Guided by the
whispers of the past and the chilling presence of a
lost soul, I steel myself for whatever lies ahead. The
(09:44):
house may be watching me. I'm no longer afraid, for
in this haunted realm I found an ally, and together
we will uncover the truth. The night air is still
heavy with anticipation as I sit at my desk in hand.
Thomas's letters have become a lifeline, connecting me to a
(10:04):
world that exists just beyond the veil. Tonight, the pen
seems more eager than ever, its silver surface gleaming beneath
the dim light of my lamp. All Right, Thomas, I murmur,
holding the pen above a fresh sheet of paper, What
do you want to tell me? As if? In response,
the pen comes to life, tracing elegant script across the page.
(10:28):
The words form a riddle, one that hints at the
location of the hidden room. My heart races as I read,
the thrill of discovery propelling me forward. The house seems
to sense my excitement, and the shadows deepen around me.
Listen closely and hear the sound where water drips and
(10:49):
darkness is found in the depths where fear takes hold
lies a secret waiting to be told. A shiver runs
down my spine, but I can't help but smile. Water
the basement, I whisper, my voice tinged with awe in trepidation.
(11:10):
As I write down my answer, A loud crash echoes
from the kitchen, like something heavy has fallen. I freeze,
staring at the door, my heart pounding in my chest. Thomas,
I call out, hesitantly, wondering if I'm truly alone, what
if I find something I'm not prepared for. The house
feels more alive than ever. I can't shake the feeling
(11:31):
that it's urging me to continue to inge closer to
the truth. Okay, I breathe, stealing myself. Let's go. I
grab my flashlight and head toward the basement, each step
echoing through the silent house. The door creaks open, revealing
a dark abyss that seems to swallow all light. I
(11:52):
flick on my flashlight, It's beam flickering ominously. As I
descend the stairs, Thomas whisper into the darkness. I'm doing
this for you. The air is thick with dampness and despair,
scent of mildew and decay, overwhelming my senses. The distant
sound of dripping water echoes through the space, and the
(12:14):
temperature drops sharply. My breath fogs in front of me,
and the hairs on the back of my neck stand
on end. As I step onto the cold, wet floor,
A sudden gust of wind slams the basement doors shut
behind me. I jump, art, racing flashlight casting easy shadows
on the wall. I can't shake the feeling that I'm
(12:36):
being watched. Thomas, Are you here? I ask, my voice
trembling silence is my only answer, but it's enough. Each
step is a battle against my own fear. The thought
of helping Thomas drives me onward. As I navigate the
maze of dusty furniture and forgotten memories, I feel an
(12:57):
unshakable sense of purpose, a connection to something greater than myself.
Keep going, I urge myself, my voice barely audible above
the sound of my pounding heart. You're almost there. With
each step, the darkness seems to close in around me,
as if it too is eager to uncover the truth.
(13:17):
As I inch closer to the heart of the mystery,
I can't help but wonder what will I find when
I finally reach the hidden room, what secrets lie buried
beneath the shadows of my home? Almost there, I whisper,
my words swallowed by the darkness. Almost there. My heart
hammers in my chest as I tug the edge of
(13:38):
an old, tattered rug, revealing a wooden trapdoor beneath its
rusty hinges grown in protest. When I pull it open,
exposing a steep staircase that descends into darkness, the air
here is colder, and I feel Thomas's urgency pulsing around
me like a second heart beat. Thomas Thomas, I whisper,
(14:00):
as if saying his name will give me strength. I'm
going to find your treasure. As I take the first
step down, the lights above me flicker violently, casting shadows
that seem to dance with sinister glee. Laughter echoes around me,
barely audible, but enough to send a shiver down my spine.
I try to convince myself it's just my imagination, but
(14:23):
deep down, I know the house is alive, reacting to
my every move. Who's there, I call out, nervously, gripping
the flashlight tighter. Silence answers me, and I continue my descent,
feeling the weight of the darkness press against me like
invisible hands. With each step, the air grows chillier, my
breath fogging in front of me, and the scent of
(14:45):
damp earth fills my nostrils. My skin prickles with goose bumps.
I can't help but wonder what awaits me at the bottom.
Come on, you can do this, and mutter to myself,
forcing my legs to carry me further into the abyss.
When I finally reach the bottom, the sight before me
sends a shudder through my entire body. I stand in
(15:07):
a dimly lit room filled with dust and forgotten relics,
shadows from a time long past. The air is thick
with palpable tension. Every creak of the floorboards feels like
a scream in the silence. In the center of the
room lies a small chest, its surface covered in intricate
carvings that seem to shift under my gaze. My heart races,
(15:30):
Could this be the treasure Thomas is searching for? The
air crackles with energy, and I feel his presence enveloping me,
urging me to act quickly. Thomas, is this it? I ask,
my voice barely a whisper. A gust of cold wind
wraps around me like an icy embrace, and I take
that as confirmation. Carefully, I approach the chest, feeling the
(15:54):
anticipation build inside me with each step. As I reach
out to touch the car, they seem to tremble beneath
my fingertips, and I can't shake the feeling that time
is running out. Okay, Thomas, I say, taking a deep breath,
let's see what's inside. As I lift the lid, the
room seems to hold its breath, waiting for the secrets
(16:17):
within to be revealed. The moment the chest creaks open,
a gust of icy winds sweeps through the room, extinguishing
my flashlight and plunging us into darkness. Panic rises within
me and I fumble blindly, feeling the contents of the chest,
a collection of trinkets that seem to hold memories of
a life long past. Thomas, I whisper, my voice catching
(16:42):
in the cold air, Are you here? No answer comes.
I can feel his presence lingering nearby, like an invisible
guardian watching over me. As my fingers roam the objects
inside the chest, they finally brush against something smooth and
warm to the touch. A locket. The sensation sends shivers
(17:03):
down my spine, and I quickly snatch it up, clutching
it to my chest, just as suddenly the sound of
faint sobbing fills the room, like a distant memory echoing
through time. In the darkness, I imagine Thomas's face etched
with sorrow and longing. I can't help but feel in
deep sympathy for this lost soul who has found solace
(17:24):
in our connection. Gripping the locket tightly, and make my
way back to my room, guided by the dim light
filtering in from the hallway. Once there, I set the
locket on my desk, beside the pen, which immediately begins
to scratch at the paper once more. Thank you, Thomas writes,
expressing his gratitude and relief. YOU have no idea this
(17:48):
means to me. As I read his words, a warm
spreads through the room, as if a long held sorrow
is finally lifting. He reveals that the locket belonged to
his mother, a piece of his heart that had been
lost for too long. I wish I could repay your kindness,
he continues, but I hope my eternal gratitude will suffice
the shadows in my room seem to retreat, and for
(18:10):
the first time, I feel a sense of peace washing
over me. Thomas, it's enough, I replied, quietly, touched by
his sincerity, thank you for letting me be a part
of your story. Pen scratches out one last message. Perhaps
one day our paths will cross again. Until then, farewell,
(18:31):
my friend. As the pen falls silent, I can't help
but feel a bittersweet ache in my chest. Thomas's story
has become an unforgettable part of my life, and though
I know our time together must come to an end,
I can't help but wish for just a little more time. Goodbye, Thomas,
I whisper into the stillness, feeling the weight of his
(18:52):
absence settle over the room like a blanket. Even as
the shadows close in once more, I know that I
will can the memory of our haunted friendship with me forever,
a reminder that sometimes the most unlikely connections can forge
bonds that transcend time, space and even the barrier between
life and death. The locket gleams in the soft light
(19:15):
of my room, a symbol of newfound peace. As I
place it gently on my desk, the atmosphere shifts like
a sigh of relief. The house that once held oppressive
shadows now feels lighter, as if the darkness has been lifted.
Thank you, whispers a voice on the edge of perception.
It's ethereal tone, sending shivers down my spine. My heart
(19:38):
swells with an odd sense of accomplishment. I've helped a
lost soul find the peace he's so desperately sought. I
stand still, absorbing the hum of warmth that now reverberates
through the walls. It's as if the house itself is
breathing easier, its sorrowful echoes replaced by a gentle, lullaby.
(19:59):
Stre journey has forged an unbreakable bond between Thomas and me,
a connection transcending time space and the boundaries of life
and death. Goodbye, Thomas, I murmur, feeling both fulfilled and
heavy hearted, With his spirit finally at rest, I look
around my room, forever changed by this otherworldly adventure. The pen,
(20:24):
once a conduit for spectral words, now rests quietly on
my desk. It serves as a reminder of the mysteries
that unfolded in the shadows of my home and the
friend I made along the way my gaze drifts to
the attic door, a portal to a realm of magic
in secrets. Despite the resolution of Thomas's story, I can't
(20:45):
help but feel the lingering curiosity. What other enigmas lie
hidden within these walls, waiting for someone brave enough to
uncover them. A soft breeze caresses my face as I
ponder over the unknown. The air fel charged with the
memory of Thomas, and I can't help but smile. His
story will always be a part of me, an eerie
(21:08):
recollection turned into a cherished friendship. Maybe one day we'll
meet again, I say softly, my eyes lingering on the
attic door. For now, though I return to my life,
carrying the memory of Thomas and her haunted bond with me,
the house may still hold secrets. I know that I'm
(21:30):
never truly alone in a world where ghosts can find
solace in the living. Who knows what other mysteries lie
in wait, But whatever they are, I'll be ready to
face them, armed with courage, curiosity, and the knowledge that
even the most unlikely connections can change us forever.
Speaker 2 (22:04):
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 (22:29):
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 more.
(22:57):
Every Thursday, join James and e 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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