December 5, 2025 • 50 mins
On this episode of Uncle Josh's Friday Night Frights, settle in and kill the lights as we bring you a chilling lineup of true encounters that blur the line between the living and the dead. From homes plagued by relentless hauntings to eerie sightings of spectral animals that seem to watch from just beyond the veil, each story digs its claws into the unknown. Whether it’s a shadow that moves on its own, a creature that shouldn’t exist, or something far more sinister lurking in the silence, these tales will leave you questioning every creak in the dark.
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Episode Transcript
Available transcripts are automatically generated. Complete accuracy is not guaranteed.
Speaker 1 (00:02):
Hey, campfire crew, let's get it on. A family affair,
(00:22):
submitted by Ann F. I never wanted my grandmother's house,
let me say that right away. When she passed, the
rest of the family practically shoved the keys into my hand,
and I knew why. Everyone had their own excuses. It
was too far away, it was too old, there was
too much work. But the truth was simpler. No one
(00:46):
wanted to stay in Grandma's house. Truth be told. Growing up,
I never really slept well there when I visited. There
was always a heaviness in the air, like breathing through
damp cloth. Ruth never seemed bothered by it. She'd sit
in her high back chair beside the fireplace, knitting and
(01:06):
staring into corners like she was listening to someone I
couldn't see. When I asked what she was looking at,
she'd put a finger to her lips and whisper, don't
pay them anymine, sweetheart. They get riled up when they're acknowledged.
At first, I thought she was joking, and as she
got older, I thought maybe it was dementia setting in.
(01:26):
But I really did think she was joking at first.
When she died, I did move in my lease was
not being renewed at my apartment, and I really couldn't
afford rent anywhere else. At that point, I was going
to school full time and working part time, so this
seemed like an ideal situation. What I could pay would
go to the mortgage and the bills, and it really
(01:48):
wasn't that much. The utility bills and stuff were higher
than what I was actually paying to live there. The
house itself sat on a half acre of woods, and
it seemed to like slightly sagged forward, like it was
tired of holding itself up. I remember the first day
I got there to stay. The porch creaked under my
(02:09):
feet the moment I stepped onto it, and it felt
like this one long, low groan that sounded kind of
like a warning now that I look at it that way.
Inside it smelled like lavender and maybe some mockballs and
something metallic that seemed to stick to the back of
my throat. Her stuff was still everywhere, knitting baskets, stacks
(02:32):
of old photo albums, jars of preserve beaches from years
and years ago, and in her bedroom, still nailed to
the wall above her headboard was a small wooden cross,
but it was tilted just barely, like someone had tried
to tear it free. That should have been my second clue.
I didn't really realize it, but much later on, after
(02:53):
countless times of straightening it out and having it tilt
back the other way. Oh, maybe I should have paid
it attention. But something that very first night did capture
my attention. I was asleep and something tapped my forehead.
It wasn't in my dream, it was in real life,
(03:14):
and it didn't brush my hair or brush my forehead,
and it didn't graze anything. I mean, it tapped like
a knuckle. Checking to see if I was awake. I
opened my eyes to pitch blackness, but as they got
used to the dark, my eyes caught a shape at
the foot of my bed. It was of human height
and had a human outline, and I thought, for a minute,
(03:36):
Oh my god, someone broke into this place. Then I
noticed it was completely still. As my eyes continued to adjust,
the shape leaned forward with a shocking speed, and suddenly
I could feel a breath like ice cold breath against
my cheek. I scrambled up and knocked the lamp over
(03:57):
before I could get it turned on. There was nothing,
No one was in the room, and there was a
heavy silence, but there was a smell of pennies filling
the air. That metallic smell was still there and worse.
Eventually I fell back asleep, and the next day I
(04:18):
thought must have just been a dream. Over the next
few days, things got worse. Cabinet doors slammed hard enough
to rattle the light fixtures, and I would leave a
room and then come back minutes later to find every
drawer of every cabinet in that room was pulled open.
(04:38):
I frequently lost my phone, and every time I found it,
it turned up inside the oven, sitting neatly on the
middle rack. I would never put my phone in the oven,
but every time I couldn't find it, I would inevitably
go to the oven, and there it was. The thing
that creeped me out the most, though, was my grandmother's
old rocking chair that often seemed to creak back and
(05:01):
forth no matter where I put it or moved it again.
Trying to think rationally, I thought, oh, maybe there's a
draft in here, or maybe I'd brush the arm as
I walked by, and that set it to rocking. One afternoon,
my cousin Daniel stopped by to drop off some of
my grandmother's paperwork. He stepped inside and took a breath
(05:22):
of the air and then frowned. You smell that. He asked,
what did I burn dinner? He said, no, that coppery smell.
I remember smelling that when I was a kid. When
I was here. Before I could even respond to him,
every picture frame on the living room wall slowly tilted
(05:44):
in unison, each one stopping at the exact same angle.
Daniel backed up so fast he knocked over the hall
table and said, what the hell is that? I didn't
have an answer. He left ten minutes minutes later and
refused to set foot in the house again. The upstairs
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hallway that was the worst. Walking through it made my
ears pop, like climbing too fast in an airplane. And
I would hold my breath every time I passed through
there because breathing there just tasted wrong, like metal shavings
or something. And I swear the temperature dropped twenty degrees
in that stretch of hallway. The rooms were always fine,
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but that hallway was ice cold. One time I started
to hear soft footsteps behind me, and again I rationalized
things and said, it's the house settling but shortly after that,
I heard breathing that wasn't mine, and I remembered that
ice cold breath in my cheek from a few weeks before.
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I finished what I was doing and started to walk
back down the hallway, and I was carrying a box
of my grandmother's blankets. I was going to put them
into storage. That's when I felt fingers wrap around my ankle.
I started to fall forward like someone was physically tripping me,
and I dropped the box and stumbled. When I turned around,
(07:08):
the hallway was empty, but the blanket that I had
had on top of the pile had been twisted tightly,
like someone had just grabbed it really hard and wringed
it up. Stuff continued to happen, and I kept brushing
it off as nothing was that big of a deal
to me. It wasn't that bad of a living arrangement,
and I did put up with a couple of strange things,
but so what. I started digging through my grandmother's old papers,
(07:32):
trying to go through things and figure out what to
save and what to get rid of. I was trying
to distract myself from the nights that felt like surveillance,
waiting for the next strange thing to happen, I came
across an envelope labeled in her shaky handwriting for the
next owner of this house. I opened it up and
inside the envelope was a faded newspaper clipping from nineteen
(07:55):
sixty three. The headline read local man found dead an attic,
Foul plays suspected on forrest Rode home. My grandmother had
bought this house three years after the man who originally
lived there died. According to the article, the previous family
claimed the man had been fixing the insulation in the attic,
(08:18):
but the coroner noted that his skull was cracked in
three places when they found him dead, and his fingernails
were torn out, consistent with clawing. The article also mentioned
something else. The family had sold the house and moved
out within a week. On the back of the clipping,
my grandmother had written, they don't like changes, don't provoke them, them,
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not him them. And then I remembered those conversations I
had had so long ago with my grandma talking about them.
She saw and talked to that no one else could see. Well,
things progressed sometimes it was a little worse than other times,
but again it wasn't the worst living situation I could
(09:03):
think of. I put up with a lot. But one
night everything boiled over. As I was walking down that
ice cold hallway, the light overhead flickered and the walls
seemed to let out this long, guttural moan that kind
of vibrated through the floorboards, like the whole structure was exhaling.
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I couldn't take that. That was a strange sound, and
I knew there was no way I was going to
rationalize it being the house adjusting or settling. I grabbed
a bag, stuffed a bunch of things into it, and
made for the door. I was going to call a
friend and stay at her place for the night. For
some reason, I was really creeped out. As I was
packing my bag in the bedroom, the temperature plummeted. I
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looked across the room at the windows, and it looked
like there was frost crawling across them, and my breath
turned white in front of me. I mean, it was freezing.
Then the house erupted. Every door began slamming open and
closed one after the other. I mean really rapid, really violent,
like something was either trying to come in or out,
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or someone was just standing at every door, pulling it
shut and then open and shut again. I ran down
the stairs, and I saw my grandmother's rocking chair launch
itself across the living room. I could hear in the
kitchen all of the drawers opening up and shutting on
their own. And then something hit me, I mean really hard.
A shove between my shoulder blades sent me flying into
(10:34):
the downstairs hallway, and I cracked my chin on a step.
I tasted blood for some strange reason, even though all
this other stuff was going on in the house, I
had that metallicy taste in my mouth, kind of like
that smell of coins I'd been having since I was
a kid. In this place, dazed and full of fear,
I crawled blindly toward the only place I could think of.
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There was a little space as a child I loved
under the stairs, kind of like a little closet where
I kept a vacuum and stuff. I got inside, shut
the door behind me, and then pressed my back against it,
putting all my weight onto it. I sat there for
about twenty minutes, and I heard something now walking through
(11:18):
the house, pacing right outside this door of this closet,
up and down the hallway, slow and deliberate, and loud
enough for me to hear them. Every so often, the
footsteps would stop right outside the door. My back was
against and I could feel something pushing on it. It
(11:38):
would bow inward a little bit, as if some huge
body was pressing against it on the outside, maybe even
testing my strength. I didn't move. I don't think I blinked.
I didn't think I was breathing. I mean, of course
I was, but it felt like I was holding my
breath for an eternity. But hour after hour, I sat
in that closet, not moving a muscle, and all night long,
(12:03):
those footsteps paced up and down the hallway. Just before sunrise,
the footsteps stopped. The air warmed up. I could feel
it in the closet. There was silence out there, heavy
and sudden, and it seemed to settle over the entire house.
(12:23):
I gingerly opened the closet door and looked up and
down the hall, and obviously no one was there. I
started checking out the entire house. All the cabinet doors
had been closed, all the doors that should have been
closed were closed, and all the doors I had left
open were open. But there was nothing in the house.
To prove that any of the things I had gone
(12:45):
through the night before had actually happened. I grabbed my
bag and I left. I went to my friend's house
and started to tell her all about my crazy night.
She had been blowing up my phone asking where the
heck I was because she'd expected me shortly after I
made arrangements to stay with her. But when I was pushed,
(13:05):
my phone fell out of my pocket and I realized
that when I was in the closet, but there was
no way I was opening that door to get my phone.
After a very long discussion in staying with her for
a few days, I started to reach out to my family.
The house was left in my name, no one contested that.
No one wanted any of the proceeds of anything that
(13:26):
I could do with the place. If I wanted to
sell it, I could sell it. No one wanted anything
to do with it. So after a long debate, I decided,
you know what, I don't want to live here anymore.
My friend offered to let me live with her. She
had a three bedroom plates and was only using two,
so it made sense, and after all, it was closer
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to my school and my job. Again, talking it over
with my family. I agreed to put the house up
for sale, and that's what I did. Obviously, I had
to go back and get a lot of things, and
I did invite my family over to come and get
nick knacks and other things that they might have wanted
from my grandmother. Not many of them took me up
on it, but those who did wanted to do it
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in the early morning and were gone way before afternoon
came around. No one ever was there with me after
the sun went down. One afternoon, when I was packing
up to get ready to go back home after a
long day of going through my grandmother's stuff, a neighbor
came by. She was a sweet lady that lived not
(14:29):
too far up the street. There weren't a lot of
houses directly next to or across from my grandma's house,
but she was close enough that she could see it.
I always saw her walking her dogs in the morning
and in the evening, and we always gave each other
a greeting and waved. I hailed her and said, hey,
missus Keating, how are you She said selling the place? Huh?
(14:51):
And I said, yeah, it's just not for me. She
shook her head and looked at me. Long and hard. Yeah,
not too many people people really liked this place other
than your grandmother. For whatever reason, she loved it here.
But I have to tell you. Were you here last night?
I told her, No, I haven't been staying here for
(15:12):
quite some time. I'm living in the city now with
a friend. She kind of looked off into the distance
before looking back at me and said, oh, well, last night,
while I was walking the dogs, I could have swore
I saw someone in your grandmother's bedroom window, tall and still,
and their head was tilted kind of strange. What do
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you mean strange, I asked, and for a terrified second
I thought, oh great, now I've got a squatter living here.
But she took a minute before she whispered exactly the
way the cross in her room on the wall always
tilted that same angle. She looked at me long and
hard again. I looked back at the house and wondered
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just what was going on in there. But at this
point it wasn't going to be my problem anymore. But
I stood there watching, looking up at that window. For
a moment. Long after missus Keating went home, part of
me was waiting for someone to show up in that
window like it was waiting for me to come home,
and I had bad news for it. This was not
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my home, would never be my home. And two months
later it was sold to another family. Part of me
thought about warning them about what actually could happen in
that house, but I prayed that nothing would. It's been
many years I've never heard from that family, and I'm
hoping to goodness that whatever was in there was a
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family affair. The Phantom car submitted by Mike S. I'm
a retired state trooper. Over twenty four years of service.
During that time, I responded to every domestic calls, fires,
(17:02):
armed robberies, dwy's, murders, violent accidents, you name it. Nothing
rattles me easily, that's for sure. Nothing except what happened
to me about twelve years into my service, way out
on a county road I had patrolled a million times.
We've been getting calls about a dangerous driver on the
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old back roads for quite some time. This month of
October was no different, but every witness described the same thing.
It was a rusty looking black sedan. They never had
their headlights on. They seemed to be going ninety to
one hundred miles an hour, veering into oncoming lanes in
some instances. But the thing that always drove us crazy
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was no one could ever describe the driver. In fact,
no one ever saw a driver, according to the complaints
that we'd received. When our vehicles tried to pursue it,
the sedan would seem to disappear around corner, just vanishing
into thin air. During a chase. There was nothing we
could do. We were hoping it wasn't drunk drivers, but
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the majority of us thought it was somebody pulling a
prank or just misidentification by civilians. That is until one
night I saw it for myself. It was two fourteen am.
I'll remember the time because I just radioed in clearing
a false burglary claim at a farmhouse out on that
country road. Happy that there hadn't been a break in
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at the old couple's home, I got back onto the road,
which was completely empty, and I remembered distinctly there being
no moon in the sky. Then my cruiser shook like
a blast of wind had hit it. It felt like
something had just driven right past me at high speed,
but I hadn't seen anything then in my rear view mirror,
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far back, maybe two or three hundred yards, two headlights
seemed to just flick on. No one had just passed me,
so obviously it had to be someone going my way.
There it was creeping up into my view. In what
seemed like a second, the lights were now almost directly
behind me. I instinctively sped up and grabbed my radio
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dispatch I've got a vehicle approaching it high And before
I could say anything, the car behind me accelerated even faster,
so much that I couldn't see their headlights in my
rear view mirror anymore. Again, instinctively, I hit the gas,
but this car just stayed right behind me, and I
was incredulous. I mean, here, I was a state trooper
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and someone's fucking with me. When I started to slow down,
the car slowed down too. Finally, I came to a
complete stop, and the car also stopped and idled there.
Then suddenly it took off right around me, and I
couldn't help but notice it was a rusty black sedan,
And when I looked to see who was behind the wheel,
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I didn't see anybody. That couldn't be so I called
dispatch and told them I was in pursuit of the
same high speed driver. I followed them around countless sharp
turns on that county road, turns that should have slowed
that car down, but whoever was driving that car took
everything without losing one lick of speed. My dispatcher was
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asking for all kinds of descriptions about the car, and
I gave them everything that I had, no license plate,
rusty black Sedan that I couldn't figure out the maker
model of as it was a little bit too far
down the road for me in my pursuit. They asked
what the driver looked like, and that's where I stopped.
I realized to myself, Do I tell the truth? Do
I tell them I didn't see a driver. I just
(20:42):
pretended that I didn't hear that, and repeated that I
was in pursuit. Then suddenly, a burst of static seemed
to swallow the entire transmission. I didn't hear anything back
from dispatch, and every time that I called out to them,
they didn't seem to be receiving me. The lights had
disappeared up around a bend, and when I made the
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curve there was no car. It was gone. We were
at the top of a hill and I would have
been able to see anything else on that road for
a couple of miles, stretching out in front of me,
but it was nothing. I was the only one on
that road. I kept driving and trying to get dispatch
on the radio, but they didn't seem to be hearing me.
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And then suddenly there were lights from behind once again.
This time I swear I heard the other car accelerating.
But here's the strangest thing. And if I'm lying, I'm dying.
This car came so close up behind me, I honestly
think it passed through me. I'm not kidding through me.
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I felt like this unbelievable cold wave come over me.
And suddenly the tail lights were now ahead of me.
There's no way that that car went anywhere else around me.
It seemingly went through me. Determined to figure out exactly
what the hell was going on, I continued to follow
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it until the car actually stopped. It came to a slow,
slow stop, and I did likewise, and it pulled off
to a little spot on the shoulder of the road,
and the front door creaked open. As my door creaked open,
and I was ready to get out to yell, driver,
show me your hands, which turned into driver remain in
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the vehicle. I kept yelling, trying to set up my
command presence driver stay in the vehicle. But a figure
got out, but only one leg came out, and it
looked like a woman's leg and part of a dress.
But I still couldn't see anyone behind the wheel. It
was surreal, like only half a body was coming out.
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And then, and this is part of the story that
I never told anyone in the state police, a woman
stepped out of the car. She looked at me, and
I looked at her. She had an older style red
dress on blonde hair in the most piercing blue eyes
I could literally see through the dark with my flashlight
(23:14):
pointed right at her. She shook her finger back and
forth at me and then shook her head. Before I
could even tell her to get down on the ground,
she suddenly disappeared. It felt like ashes in the wind.
It wasn't like blink and they were gone. It felt
like they slowly just faded away. I stood there for
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a few minutes, looking at a car that was no
longer there, and trying to figure out just what the
hell was happening. That's when I heard my radio going off,
and I got back in my car dispatch had finally
gotten back to me and asked what was going on.
I sat for a minute before responding that I lost
view of the vehicle and it was no longer in
(24:00):
my eyesight. I had no idea where it went. They
chalked it up to all the other calls they had
gotten about this phantom car. I'm not gonna lie. I
was very shook up and didn't tell anyone what I
had seen. Later that week, and older trooper approached me
and asked to talk to me privately. He'd heard the
(24:22):
entire conversation with me in dispatch and then me suddenly
going silent as he looked over his shoulder and back
at me. He said, you saw her, didn't you? And
I said, who, what are you talking about? He smiled
and said, don't play dumb. You saw her the morel kid.
She was killed in nineteen seventy eight. Someone smashed into
(24:45):
her car and drove it off the road. They never
caught the other driver. I had no idea what to say.
He didn't ask me again if i'd seen her. He
just kind of pounded me on the shoulder and walked away.
Over the next ten plus years of my duty, we
continue to get reports of a dark, rusty sedan driving
(25:08):
up and down crazily on those back roads, sometimes stailing
school buses, sometimes pacing cars home late at night. Witnesses
all said the same thing, driving in excess of ninety
or one hundred miles an hour, dark rusty car and
never having a description of a person driving the vehicle.
(25:28):
You can sit back and call me crazy, but as
God is my witness, that's what I saw. A creepy
moment at the cemetery by new astronomer. My dad died
(25:49):
a couple of years ago after a long and painful
battle with cancer. I haven't had a single day since
his passing where I haven't missed him or thought about
the anguish he went through. I developed a habit of
visiting his grave quite often, be it day or night,
rain or shine. The cemetery he's buried in is quite
old and run down. It has four generations of my
(26:11):
forefathers resting there and lies a few miles from my
dad's farm. It's not the most scenic place once you're inside,
but it's surrounded by farmland on all sides except for
the road leading up to it. This one time, while
I was sitting by his grave, I heard what sounded
like a little girl softly humming a tune just a
(26:31):
few feet behind me. The melody was strangely beautiful, almost
like something a trained vocalist would sing. I ignored it
at first, but then realized that I had been completely
alone when I entered the cemetery, which again was surrounded
by nothing but open fields. Yet the voice sounded close,
as if someone was right behind me. The moment I
(26:53):
turned around, the hummings stopped instantly, Thinking nothing of it,
I faced my dad's grave again, feeling all the love
I always do for him, But within a few seconds,
the same gentle tunes started up again. This time I
turned around immediately, only to see no one there, and
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again the sound cut off the exact second I began
to move my head to look behind me. I turned
back towards his headstone, only for the melody to return
a third time just moments later and then stop, almost
like someone had hit a pause button. As soon as
I tried to look for the source. That third time
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unsettled me a little and gave me the chills. I
kissed my dad's headstone, said my goodbye, and decided to
head back to my car. As I walked out, I
noticed a small cluster of tiny graves under a tree.
Their size suggested that they belonged to children. These graves,
or three or four of them, would have been directly
(27:56):
behind me while I faced my dad's grave, completely hidden
from view because of the tree's branches. I do believe
in the afterlife, but I'm not sure whether I believe
in ghosts. I'm also not someone who scares easily from
supposedly supernatural encounters. I've always taken paranormal stories as harmless entertainment.
(28:18):
They usually have a logical explanation once't you think about it.
But in this instance, I honestly couldn't come up with
any explanation at all. The soul that was stuck Submitted
(28:40):
by Bartholomew B. Jones. I want to be clear before
I share this story. For the longest time, I wasn't superstitious.
I didn't believe in mediums, crystals, energy, any of that shit,
and at least I didn't that is until we bought
a house, and I would be changed forever. We purchased
(29:02):
a beautiful little Tudor house in the middle of suburbia
outside of Chicago, my son Evan, was the first to
notice something was wrong and was the first to notice her.
The place was built in the mid sixties, but some
of the rooms had creaky floors. It did have these
really interesting tall windows, and it was the kind of
(29:23):
house that you could feel it just had some history
in it. My wife Anna loved it. She was into
fixer rubbers, and while this was not a true fixer rubber,
there was plenty of wallpaper to be torn down and painting, etc.
To be done. She was all over it. Around the
second night or so, we were continuing to unpack and
(29:44):
my wife and I were in the kitchen unpacking dishes. Evan,
who was five at the time, wandered in and tugged
at my shirt sleeve. Hey, Dad, he whispered, there's a
sad lady in my room. I laughed and said, buddy,
you don't have to whisper, and you don't have a
sad lady. It's just your reflection in the window. He
(30:05):
shook his head quickly and this time didn't whisper. No, Dad,
she's standing in the corner. That didn't freak me out.
I mean, kids say weird shit all the time, and
a lot of nonsensical stuff too, But this would not
be the last time that he would mention the sad lady.
I should mention that my wife was pregnant. We were
(30:26):
expecting soon. A couple of weeks later, Anna called out
from upstairs, sharply, Evan, stop fooling around in your sister's room.
Evan was our only child at the time, but we
did have a new nursery all decked out. When I
got upstairs, Anna was pale, and I told her, Honey,
who are you talking to. Evan's out in the backyard.
(30:49):
She looked at me and said, there was someone in
the nursery. I mean I heard breathing, I heard talking.
I looked at her and said, are you sure, honey,
I mean sounds duc to bounce around in this house.
But she was adamant something was in the nursery. So
what did I do? I went all over the house
looking for an intruder. I didn't find anything. There was
(31:12):
no one else there but us man Again, Evan was
in the backyard. That night, I woke up to the
faint sound of someone humming in the hallway, and for
a second I thought maybe it was my son. But
I realized after listening for a minute that it was
a woman's hum It was low and kind of sad like,
(31:33):
almost lullaby like. I gently got out of bed and
woke in the hallway and the humming stopped. I waited
and waited, but the humming didn't come back. Then I
heard a whisper from down the hallway in the dark,
something about where's my baby, but I couldn't really make
(31:55):
it out exactly. I spun around heart in my throat,
but there was nothing in the hallway, And at that
point I was convinced my mind was playing tricks on me,
but I was sure about the humming part. Over the
next few weeks, we continued to settle in the house
and strange things happened here and there, but nothing really crazy.
My wife insisted that she kept hearing whispering in the nursery,
(32:19):
but we didn't have any proof of that, and I'd
also chalk that up to her just being nervous about
having our second baby. People always say the first one's tough,
the second ones are easier, but I'm not really sure
that that's true. Anyway, we pushed on and were enjoying
the house for everything that it was. It was our
first house together. We'd made friends with some of the neighbors,
(32:41):
and one night in the summer, we were having everyone
over for a cookout. It's a great way to get
to know your neighbors. Offer food and beer and they'll
all come running. I was talking with my new found
friend Don, who lived next door, and he said he
was glad that we lived in this neighborhood. He'd lived
there for a number of years and thought it was
just great. A lot of neighborhood pride in that guy.
(33:01):
He asked if the realtor had told us about the
tragedy that happened, and I said, what tragedy? And he said, oh, well,
maybe I'm not the right person to tell you this,
but right after the house was built, the original owners
had lost their newborn daughter to pneumonia, and the wife, well,
she kind of didn't get over it and she ended
up taking her own life. In your house, I took
(33:23):
a step back and said, are you serious. The realtor
never said anything about that, And in the back of
my mind I thought about the whispering my wife had
heard coming from the nursery. But again I didn't believe
in any of this bullshit. There was nothing going on
in my house other than some strange noises, including the
things that I thought were strange, like the humming noise,
(33:44):
which by this time I had decided was the HVAC system.
But nonetheless, a spark did ignite in the back of
my brain. The summer went on, and things started to
get a little stranger. One night, I tucked Evan into
bed and kissed him good night, and as I was
standing in his doorway turning off the light, he said, Dad,
(34:09):
the sad lady is right next to you. We hadn't
talked about the sad lady in quite some time, and
I froze. Looking directly at Evan, I said where, and
he pointed slowly to the corner off to my left.
I turned the light back on and looked over into
the corner, and there was nothing there. Evan was shaking,
(34:32):
his teeth were clicking. He was shaking so hard. She
looks like she's crying. Dad. I asked him if he
was okay, and he said, no, Can I sleep with
you and Mom to night? And I'd been trying to
wean him from doing this, but I said, come on
with me, kid. I closed the door to his room
and got him tucked into my bed as I went
to the bathroom to get ready for sleeping myself. There
(34:54):
we were, all three of us snuggled into our king's
size bed. Around three a m. I woke up to pounding,
then my wife did, and of course my son woke
up right after. These weren't little knocks. This was a
loud pounding, like someone was banging on the walls of
every room of our house. I told my wife and
(35:15):
Evan to stay in bed and went out into the
hallway and looked down the hall to the nursery door.
The door handle was shaking violently. Anna came up behind me,
scaring the shit out of me, and I said, what
are you doing? Get back in bed. She just looked
at the nursery door shaking and said, what is this.
(35:36):
We watched as the door rattled on its hinges and
then burst open, as if someone inside had just kicked
the door open. I ran down to see who was
in there, convinced that we had a burglar, but there
was nothing in the nursery. All of the pounding stopped,
and by now Evan had joined my wife in the hallway.
She was holding on to him. I turned around and said,
(35:59):
nobody here. Maybe we've got a serious draft that's causing
all these noises. My wife and son looked at me
like I was an asshole. I flicked the lights off
in the nursery and then heard a soft cough from
behind me. I turned around without turning the light back on,
and saw a woman shaped shadow at the far wall.
(36:22):
It looked like her head was down, and I thought,
for a second I heard someone crying. That's when I
heard the same whisper that I had thought I made
up in my head a long time ago. Where is
my baby? I flicked the lights on and everything disappeared.
There were no more sounds. I walked back to my
(36:45):
family and told my wife pack a bag real quick.
She said, what did you see down there? And I said,
I'm not talking about it here. We quickly packed up,
went out into the night and found a hotel. We
stayed there for the next three days. I told my
wife everything that I had experienced and what I had
seen in that room. We didn't belong to any church,
(37:06):
so we couldn't call a priest or anyone pious to
come in and help us with this house. But by
now even I was convinced something was wrong. Eventually, my
wife had a friend who knew someone else that dealt
with this sort of thing. She considered herself a medium,
and when we reached out to her, she said she'd
be happy to come to our house again. Being the
(37:29):
skeptic that I was, but now starting to see something
else going on, I felt like an asshole as she
sat talking to us around our dining room table and
having coffee. The medium's name was Suzanne, and we had
given her a few minutes to walk through our house
and experiencing everything that was the experience, if anything. After
(37:50):
about an hour or so, she came down to sit
with us at the dining room table, and here we were.
She looked at both of us and said, the woman
here is not trying to her you. She's looking for
something that she's not going to get back, and as
long as you are here, she's going to attach herself
to you. I looked at her and said, is she
(38:11):
looking for her baby? Suzanne didn't say anything, but looked
me dead in the eye and knotted up and down. Yeah,
she's looking for her baby. Well, we didn't know what
to do after that. We asked Suzanne if there was
a way to get rid of this, and she said
that we could all pray together and that she would
smudge the house with sage, and that we might consider
(38:33):
getting a clergy involved, maybe even joining a church. We
never really had to do it, and that's the strangest thing.
Suzanne had all that stuff we see on TV, all
the wacky shit, the crystals and all the things I'd
never believed in, but we did those prayers, we went
room to room with sage, and you know what, it worked.
(38:56):
We've lived in this house for fourteen years and not
once have we heard one more sound. Not once have
we heard banging, Not once have we heard whispering or humming.
And we're hoping that whatever that thing was, if it
indeed was a woman, she did find her baby. That
I can't say, but now, yeah, I'm a believer. I
(39:18):
went from being a skeptic who thought the paranormal was
a bunch of shit to someone who lived with something
I can't explain. I'm very thankful for Suzanne for the
help she gave us, but I'm more thankful for Suzanne
for helping whatever was living in our house to move
on to wherever it needed to go. I hope she
found her baby, and I hope they're happy wherever they
(39:40):
may be. Me, my girlfriend and her aunt were terrorized
last night by garleak. My girlfriend and I go outside
about twice a night to smoke, and we live in
a heavily wooded area in North Carolina with her aunt
(40:02):
and her two grandparents. Last night, we went outside for
our usual and I bumped into her aunt, who was
coming inside from having just sat in the car like
she usually does to smoke, so she passed the keys
to me and my girlfriend and I headed to the
side of the house where the woodline is. We went
and got into the car and everything was fine. I
(40:24):
need to mention that the driver's side window on her
aunt's car doesn't have one, so there's a tarp covering it.
The tarp is pretty tightly packed into the window, so
the only opening was a tight hole on the inside
of the tarp. We were sitting there for about twenty
five minutes when the tarp started moving, and at first
we chalked it up to the wind blowing due to
(40:45):
it being fall but not even five seconds later we
realized it was not the wind. It was something outside
the car messing with the tarb My girlfriend grabbed my
shoulder and started squeezing me because she was on the
driver's side, and I decided to try and scare whatever
it was off, so I made the loudest, scariest noise
(41:07):
I could, and then whatever it was started ripping at
the tarp harder. By that point, we were freaking the
hell out. We hadn't seen anything sneak up on the car,
and whatever this thing was had to have been big
enough to not only reach the window, but also strong
enough to be hitting the tarp like that. So, like
(41:28):
any sane person, I sat there frozen, and then I
started texting her aunt to come outside to see what
it was, getting no response. I finally gave up. I
opened the door, and whatever it was stopped, so I
thought it was coming to my side of the car.
I shut the door and it started just raking at
(41:51):
the tarp. I counted to three, opened the door, and
then booked it with my girlfriend. Ironically, the porch light
was off, and it was never off when we were
out there at night when we ran in and her
aunt was going into her room and we were breathing
heavy from all the running, and I called my aunt
by name, and she looked at me and said, y'all
(42:14):
heard it too, And then she explained to us the
same thing that happened to us happened to her. I
just want someone to tell me what the hell happened
out there. Later, when we went and looked, there was nothing,
no animal tracks or anything. The scratching at midnight submitted
(42:43):
by Terry A. For a short period a few years ago,
I found myself on disability. I was normally a night
shift nurse and had been for most of my career
and still am, but because I had been injured at work,
I was actually home. The place that employed me was
really great and allowed me to work from home. It
(43:06):
was some easy data entry stuff just to keep me
busy and to keep me paid. I'm extremely grateful for that.
During that time, my daughter and I moved house, and
I'm a single mom. I found a tiny rental house
out in the woods, not too far from our city,
but without the big city prices. We moved in and
(43:26):
everything was great. It was a little idyllic. My daughter
could still get a bus to school, and I would
be able to work in the pleasantness of the wilderness.
But after about a week or so, at twelve thirty seven.
Every night I would hear scratching at my back door.
It wasn't random, and it wasn't frantic, but it was steady.
(43:50):
At first, I thought it was a stray dog or
maybe a raccoon, and every time I looked out I
couldn't really see anything, but night after night at twelve
three thirty seven, the scratching came. Around about the fourth
or fifth night, I finally went to the door and
opened it, and there I saw it on my back
(44:11):
porch at the bottom of the stairs in the yard.
A dog, but things were just wrong. It was really thin,
like too thin. I could basically see its ribs in
the darkness. I could see patches of fur were missing,
and one of its eyes looked like it had been
torn out. Yet there it was, standing staring at me.
(44:34):
I couldn't tell if it was breathing at all. I mean,
there was no movement, it just stared. I slammed the door,
thought about calling someone, but eventually checked on my daughter
and went back to bed. I figured it would just
wander off, but it didn't leave. Every night the scratching
(44:55):
got louder, and sometimes I would hear growling I'm thankful
my daughter's slept through all of this. One night, I
finally yelled through the door go away. There was silence,
followed by a half hearted scratch at the door, and
then more silence. This got to be pretty tedious. Every
(45:17):
night at twelve thirty seven am, the scratching would start,
but now something changed. The scratching would start at the door,
and then I would hear sounds outside my bedroom window.
One night, I turned my head slowly when I heard
the scratching noises outside my window, and I saw two
mangled paws pressed against the glass, with that ruined dog's
(45:41):
face looking in. I freaked out at this point and
called nine one one. Eventually some officers came out, but
the dog was gone. They didn't find any tracks on
the ground, but an officer pointed to the window frame.
There on it were two mangled paws. He was convinced
(46:02):
it wasn't a dog and said it was just some
other woodland animal and I shouldn't worry about it. It
wasn't much else they could do, so they left. The
Next day was a Saturday, I remember, and it was
very pleasant out, so my daughter and I went to
do some exploring on this trail that led from the
small yard of my rented place. We entered here and there,
(46:23):
just enjoying the morning, when my daughter noticed something in
a small clearing off to the side of the trail,
about one hundred yards in or so. She looked and said, oh, mommy,
I think it's a grave. And we noticed a small
crude headstone had been knocked over. I tried to read
what was on it, but could only make out the
(46:44):
word Guss and there was a crude picture of what
looked like a bone, like a dog's bone, under the name.
My daughter asked me what it was, and I said,
I think the owners before had a dog, and maybe
he passed away and they buried him here. She made
a comment that it was such a shame that the
grave marker had been knocked over, and she set about
(47:07):
trying to write it, and I got an idea in
the back of my head. I helped her straighten it,
and then she said she wanted to clean up the
area around the grave marker. She went and picked some
wild flowers and laid them down on the ground in
front of the gravestone. My daughter prompted me to say
a little prayer and we prayed for a guss, which
(47:29):
we believed to be a dog buried there. Now here's
the freaky part. At night, twelve thirty seven came and
no sounds of that dog. He never came back. We
lived there for about a year and a half, and
every week my daughter and I would go out to
that little gravesite and put wildflowers. In the winter, my
(47:53):
daughter would find other flowers from inside, sometimes plastic ones.
But by doing so, the scratching noises at our house
never came back. Was it truly the ghost of a
dog that I was seeing outside my little house? I
don't know. I mean, I did see a dog, but
it's an odd coincidence that the moment we recognized its
(48:14):
grave cleaned it up, it never came back. I don't
know anything about what happens to us when we die,
but I do believe in being reverent, and I do
believe in respecting the dead. I'd like to think that
my daughter's small gesture gave whatever dog that was out
there some peace. Hey, gang, thanks for listening to this episode.
(48:52):
If you have a true scary story of any nature
that you'd like me to narrate, send it to Uncle
Josh True Scary Stories at gmail dot com. I read
them all, and if you have any winter holiday stories, Christmas,
New Year's, that sort of thing, send it my way
as soon as you can. I will be working on
a special episode for that coming up. If you're checking
(49:14):
this out on YouTube and you like what you heard
and saw, why not give the video a thumbs up,
maybe become a subscriber, maybe tell somebody else about the channel.
I'd appreciate it. It all helps out with the algorithms. Follow
me on social media, and if you'd like to take
your support of what I'm doing a step further, find
a link in the description to my Patreon page or
purchase some Uncle Josh and Campfire Crew merchandise. A link
(49:36):
to my tea public storefront is in that description as well.
Everybody happy Thanksgiving, Be excellent to each other, and until
next time, be wary of things that go bump in
the night. It could be anything a ghost, a monster,
or the guy next door Boo boo bo
Hey, campfire crew, let's get it on. A family affair,
(00:22):
submitted by Ann F. I never wanted my grandmother's house,
let me say that right away. When she passed, the
rest of the family practically shoved the keys into my hand,
and I knew why. Everyone had their own excuses. It
was too far away, it was too old, there was
too much work. But the truth was simpler. No one
(00:46):
wanted to stay in Grandma's house. Truth be told. Growing up,
I never really slept well there when I visited. There
was always a heaviness in the air, like breathing through
damp cloth. Ruth never seemed bothered by it. She'd sit
in her high back chair beside the fireplace, knitting and
(01:06):
staring into corners like she was listening to someone I
couldn't see. When I asked what she was looking at,
she'd put a finger to her lips and whisper, don't
pay them anymine, sweetheart. They get riled up when they're acknowledged.
At first, I thought she was joking, and as she
got older, I thought maybe it was dementia setting in.
(01:26):
But I really did think she was joking at first.
When she died, I did move in my lease was
not being renewed at my apartment, and I really couldn't
afford rent anywhere else. At that point, I was going
to school full time and working part time, so this
seemed like an ideal situation. What I could pay would
go to the mortgage and the bills, and it really
(01:48):
wasn't that much. The utility bills and stuff were higher
than what I was actually paying to live there. The
house itself sat on a half acre of woods, and
it seemed to like slightly sagged forward, like it was
tired of holding itself up. I remember the first day
I got there to stay. The porch creaked under my
(02:09):
feet the moment I stepped onto it, and it felt
like this one long, low groan that sounded kind of
like a warning now that I look at it that way.
Inside it smelled like lavender and maybe some mockballs and
something metallic that seemed to stick to the back of
my throat. Her stuff was still everywhere, knitting baskets, stacks
(02:32):
of old photo albums, jars of preserve beaches from years
and years ago, and in her bedroom, still nailed to
the wall above her headboard was a small wooden cross,
but it was tilted just barely, like someone had tried
to tear it free. That should have been my second clue.
I didn't really realize it, but much later on, after
(02:53):
countless times of straightening it out and having it tilt
back the other way. Oh, maybe I should have paid
it attention. But something that very first night did capture
my attention. I was asleep and something tapped my forehead.
It wasn't in my dream, it was in real life,
(03:14):
and it didn't brush my hair or brush my forehead,
and it didn't graze anything. I mean, it tapped like
a knuckle. Checking to see if I was awake. I
opened my eyes to pitch blackness, but as they got
used to the dark, my eyes caught a shape at
the foot of my bed. It was of human height
and had a human outline, and I thought, for a minute,
(03:36):
Oh my god, someone broke into this place. Then I
noticed it was completely still. As my eyes continued to adjust,
the shape leaned forward with a shocking speed, and suddenly
I could feel a breath like ice cold breath against
my cheek. I scrambled up and knocked the lamp over
(03:57):
before I could get it turned on. There was nothing,
No one was in the room, and there was a
heavy silence, but there was a smell of pennies filling
the air. That metallic smell was still there and worse.
Eventually I fell back asleep, and the next day I
(04:18):
thought must have just been a dream. Over the next
few days, things got worse. Cabinet doors slammed hard enough
to rattle the light fixtures, and I would leave a
room and then come back minutes later to find every
drawer of every cabinet in that room was pulled open.
(04:38):
I frequently lost my phone, and every time I found it,
it turned up inside the oven, sitting neatly on the
middle rack. I would never put my phone in the oven,
but every time I couldn't find it, I would inevitably
go to the oven, and there it was. The thing
that creeped me out the most, though, was my grandmother's
old rocking chair that often seemed to creak back and
(05:01):
forth no matter where I put it or moved it again.
Trying to think rationally, I thought, oh, maybe there's a
draft in here, or maybe I'd brush the arm as
I walked by, and that set it to rocking. One afternoon,
my cousin Daniel stopped by to drop off some of
my grandmother's paperwork. He stepped inside and took a breath
(05:22):
of the air and then frowned. You smell that. He asked,
what did I burn dinner? He said, no, that coppery smell.
I remember smelling that when I was a kid. When
I was here. Before I could even respond to him,
every picture frame on the living room wall slowly tilted
(05:44):
in unison, each one stopping at the exact same angle.
Daniel backed up so fast he knocked over the hall
table and said, what the hell is that? I didn't
have an answer. He left ten minutes minutes later and
refused to set foot in the house again. The upstairs
(06:05):
hallway that was the worst. Walking through it made my
ears pop, like climbing too fast in an airplane. And
I would hold my breath every time I passed through
there because breathing there just tasted wrong, like metal shavings
or something. And I swear the temperature dropped twenty degrees
in that stretch of hallway. The rooms were always fine,
(06:26):
but that hallway was ice cold. One time I started
to hear soft footsteps behind me, and again I rationalized
things and said, it's the house settling but shortly after that,
I heard breathing that wasn't mine, and I remembered that
ice cold breath in my cheek from a few weeks before.
(06:47):
I finished what I was doing and started to walk
back down the hallway, and I was carrying a box
of my grandmother's blankets. I was going to put them
into storage. That's when I felt fingers wrap around my ankle.
I started to fall forward like someone was physically tripping me,
and I dropped the box and stumbled. When I turned around,
(07:08):
the hallway was empty, but the blanket that I had
had on top of the pile had been twisted tightly,
like someone had just grabbed it really hard and wringed
it up. Stuff continued to happen, and I kept brushing
it off as nothing was that big of a deal
to me. It wasn't that bad of a living arrangement,
and I did put up with a couple of strange things,
but so what. I started digging through my grandmother's old papers,
(07:32):
trying to go through things and figure out what to
save and what to get rid of. I was trying
to distract myself from the nights that felt like surveillance,
waiting for the next strange thing to happen, I came
across an envelope labeled in her shaky handwriting for the
next owner of this house. I opened it up and
inside the envelope was a faded newspaper clipping from nineteen
(07:55):
sixty three. The headline read local man found dead an attic,
Foul plays suspected on forrest Rode home. My grandmother had
bought this house three years after the man who originally
lived there died. According to the article, the previous family
claimed the man had been fixing the insulation in the attic,
(08:18):
but the coroner noted that his skull was cracked in
three places when they found him dead, and his fingernails
were torn out, consistent with clawing. The article also mentioned
something else. The family had sold the house and moved
out within a week. On the back of the clipping,
my grandmother had written, they don't like changes, don't provoke them, them,
(08:43):
not him them. And then I remembered those conversations I
had had so long ago with my grandma talking about them.
She saw and talked to that no one else could see. Well,
things progressed sometimes it was a little worse than other times,
but again it wasn't the worst living situation I could
(09:03):
think of. I put up with a lot. But one
night everything boiled over. As I was walking down that
ice cold hallway, the light overhead flickered and the walls
seemed to let out this long, guttural moan that kind
of vibrated through the floorboards, like the whole structure was exhaling.
(09:24):
I couldn't take that. That was a strange sound, and
I knew there was no way I was going to
rationalize it being the house adjusting or settling. I grabbed
a bag, stuffed a bunch of things into it, and
made for the door. I was going to call a
friend and stay at her place for the night. For
some reason, I was really creeped out. As I was
packing my bag in the bedroom, the temperature plummeted. I
(09:50):
looked across the room at the windows, and it looked
like there was frost crawling across them, and my breath
turned white in front of me. I mean, it was freezing.
Then the house erupted. Every door began slamming open and
closed one after the other. I mean really rapid, really violent,
like something was either trying to come in or out,
(10:11):
or someone was just standing at every door, pulling it
shut and then open and shut again. I ran down
the stairs, and I saw my grandmother's rocking chair launch
itself across the living room. I could hear in the
kitchen all of the drawers opening up and shutting on
their own. And then something hit me, I mean really hard.
A shove between my shoulder blades sent me flying into
(10:34):
the downstairs hallway, and I cracked my chin on a step.
I tasted blood for some strange reason, even though all
this other stuff was going on in the house, I
had that metallicy taste in my mouth, kind of like
that smell of coins I'd been having since I was
a kid. In this place, dazed and full of fear,
I crawled blindly toward the only place I could think of.
(10:57):
There was a little space as a child I loved
under the stairs, kind of like a little closet where
I kept a vacuum and stuff. I got inside, shut
the door behind me, and then pressed my back against it,
putting all my weight onto it. I sat there for
about twenty minutes, and I heard something now walking through
(11:18):
the house, pacing right outside this door of this closet,
up and down the hallway, slow and deliberate, and loud
enough for me to hear them. Every so often, the
footsteps would stop right outside the door. My back was
against and I could feel something pushing on it. It
(11:38):
would bow inward a little bit, as if some huge
body was pressing against it on the outside, maybe even
testing my strength. I didn't move. I don't think I blinked.
I didn't think I was breathing. I mean, of course
I was, but it felt like I was holding my
breath for an eternity. But hour after hour, I sat
in that closet, not moving a muscle, and all night long,
(12:03):
those footsteps paced up and down the hallway. Just before sunrise,
the footsteps stopped. The air warmed up. I could feel
it in the closet. There was silence out there, heavy
and sudden, and it seemed to settle over the entire house.
(12:23):
I gingerly opened the closet door and looked up and
down the hall, and obviously no one was there. I
started checking out the entire house. All the cabinet doors
had been closed, all the doors that should have been
closed were closed, and all the doors I had left
open were open. But there was nothing in the house.
To prove that any of the things I had gone
(12:45):
through the night before had actually happened. I grabbed my
bag and I left. I went to my friend's house
and started to tell her all about my crazy night.
She had been blowing up my phone asking where the
heck I was because she'd expected me shortly after I
made arrangements to stay with her. But when I was pushed,
(13:05):
my phone fell out of my pocket and I realized
that when I was in the closet, but there was
no way I was opening that door to get my phone.
After a very long discussion in staying with her for
a few days, I started to reach out to my family.
The house was left in my name, no one contested that.
No one wanted any of the proceeds of anything that
(13:26):
I could do with the place. If I wanted to
sell it, I could sell it. No one wanted anything
to do with it. So after a long debate, I decided,
you know what, I don't want to live here anymore.
My friend offered to let me live with her. She
had a three bedroom plates and was only using two,
so it made sense, and after all, it was closer
(13:49):
to my school and my job. Again, talking it over
with my family. I agreed to put the house up
for sale, and that's what I did. Obviously, I had
to go back and get a lot of things, and
I did invite my family over to come and get
nick knacks and other things that they might have wanted
from my grandmother. Not many of them took me up
on it, but those who did wanted to do it
(14:09):
in the early morning and were gone way before afternoon
came around. No one ever was there with me after
the sun went down. One afternoon, when I was packing
up to get ready to go back home after a
long day of going through my grandmother's stuff, a neighbor
came by. She was a sweet lady that lived not
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too far up the street. There weren't a lot of
houses directly next to or across from my grandma's house,
but she was close enough that she could see it.
I always saw her walking her dogs in the morning
and in the evening, and we always gave each other
a greeting and waved. I hailed her and said, hey,
missus Keating, how are you She said selling the place? Huh?
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And I said, yeah, it's just not for me. She
shook her head and looked at me. Long and hard. Yeah,
not too many people people really liked this place other
than your grandmother. For whatever reason, she loved it here.
But I have to tell you. Were you here last night?
I told her, No, I haven't been staying here for
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quite some time. I'm living in the city now with
a friend. She kind of looked off into the distance
before looking back at me and said, oh, well, last night,
while I was walking the dogs, I could have swore
I saw someone in your grandmother's bedroom window, tall and still,
and their head was tilted kind of strange. What do
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you mean strange, I asked, and for a terrified second
I thought, oh great, now I've got a squatter living here.
But she took a minute before she whispered exactly the
way the cross in her room on the wall always
tilted that same angle. She looked at me long and
hard again. I looked back at the house and wondered
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just what was going on in there. But at this
point it wasn't going to be my problem anymore. But
I stood there watching, looking up at that window. For
a moment. Long after missus Keating went home, part of
me was waiting for someone to show up in that
window like it was waiting for me to come home,
and I had bad news for it. This was not
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my home, would never be my home. And two months
later it was sold to another family. Part of me
thought about warning them about what actually could happen in
that house, but I prayed that nothing would. It's been
many years I've never heard from that family, and I'm
hoping to goodness that whatever was in there was a
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family affair. The Phantom car submitted by Mike S. I'm
a retired state trooper. Over twenty four years of service.
During that time, I responded to every domestic calls, fires,
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armed robberies, dwy's, murders, violent accidents, you name it. Nothing
rattles me easily, that's for sure. Nothing except what happened
to me about twelve years into my service, way out
on a county road I had patrolled a million times.
We've been getting calls about a dangerous driver on the
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old back roads for quite some time. This month of
October was no different, but every witness described the same thing.
It was a rusty looking black sedan. They never had
their headlights on. They seemed to be going ninety to
one hundred miles an hour, veering into oncoming lanes in
some instances. But the thing that always drove us crazy
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was no one could ever describe the driver. In fact,
no one ever saw a driver, according to the complaints
that we'd received. When our vehicles tried to pursue it,
the sedan would seem to disappear around corner, just vanishing
into thin air. During a chase. There was nothing we
could do. We were hoping it wasn't drunk drivers, but
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the majority of us thought it was somebody pulling a
prank or just misidentification by civilians. That is until one
night I saw it for myself. It was two fourteen am.
I'll remember the time because I just radioed in clearing
a false burglary claim at a farmhouse out on that
country road. Happy that there hadn't been a break in
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at the old couple's home, I got back onto the road,
which was completely empty, and I remembered distinctly there being
no moon in the sky. Then my cruiser shook like
a blast of wind had hit it. It felt like
something had just driven right past me at high speed,
but I hadn't seen anything then in my rear view mirror,
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far back, maybe two or three hundred yards, two headlights
seemed to just flick on. No one had just passed me,
so obviously it had to be someone going my way.
There it was creeping up into my view. In what
seemed like a second, the lights were now almost directly
behind me. I instinctively sped up and grabbed my radio
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dispatch I've got a vehicle approaching it high And before
I could say anything, the car behind me accelerated even faster,
so much that I couldn't see their headlights in my
rear view mirror anymore. Again, instinctively, I hit the gas,
but this car just stayed right behind me, and I
was incredulous. I mean, here, I was a state trooper
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and someone's fucking with me. When I started to slow down,
the car slowed down too. Finally, I came to a
complete stop, and the car also stopped and idled there.
Then suddenly it took off right around me, and I
couldn't help but notice it was a rusty black sedan,
And when I looked to see who was behind the wheel,
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I didn't see anybody. That couldn't be so I called
dispatch and told them I was in pursuit of the
same high speed driver. I followed them around countless sharp
turns on that county road, turns that should have slowed
that car down, but whoever was driving that car took
everything without losing one lick of speed. My dispatcher was
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asking for all kinds of descriptions about the car, and
I gave them everything that I had, no license plate,
rusty black Sedan that I couldn't figure out the maker
model of as it was a little bit too far
down the road for me in my pursuit. They asked
what the driver looked like, and that's where I stopped.
I realized to myself, Do I tell the truth? Do
I tell them I didn't see a driver. I just
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pretended that I didn't hear that, and repeated that I
was in pursuit. Then suddenly, a burst of static seemed
to swallow the entire transmission. I didn't hear anything back
from dispatch, and every time that I called out to them,
they didn't seem to be receiving me. The lights had
disappeared up around a bend, and when I made the
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curve there was no car. It was gone. We were
at the top of a hill and I would have
been able to see anything else on that road for
a couple of miles, stretching out in front of me,
but it was nothing. I was the only one on
that road. I kept driving and trying to get dispatch
on the radio, but they didn't seem to be hearing me.
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And then suddenly there were lights from behind once again.
This time I swear I heard the other car accelerating.
But here's the strangest thing. And if I'm lying, I'm dying.
This car came so close up behind me, I honestly
think it passed through me. I'm not kidding through me.
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I felt like this unbelievable cold wave come over me.
And suddenly the tail lights were now ahead of me.
There's no way that that car went anywhere else around me.
It seemingly went through me. Determined to figure out exactly
what the hell was going on, I continued to follow
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it until the car actually stopped. It came to a slow,
slow stop, and I did likewise, and it pulled off
to a little spot on the shoulder of the road,
and the front door creaked open. As my door creaked open,
and I was ready to get out to yell, driver,
show me your hands, which turned into driver remain in
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the vehicle. I kept yelling, trying to set up my
command presence driver stay in the vehicle. But a figure
got out, but only one leg came out, and it
looked like a woman's leg and part of a dress.
But I still couldn't see anyone behind the wheel. It
was surreal, like only half a body was coming out.
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And then, and this is part of the story that
I never told anyone in the state police, a woman
stepped out of the car. She looked at me, and
I looked at her. She had an older style red
dress on blonde hair in the most piercing blue eyes
I could literally see through the dark with my flashlight
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pointed right at her. She shook her finger back and
forth at me and then shook her head. Before I
could even tell her to get down on the ground,
she suddenly disappeared. It felt like ashes in the wind.
It wasn't like blink and they were gone. It felt
like they slowly just faded away. I stood there for
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a few minutes, looking at a car that was no
longer there, and trying to figure out just what the
hell was happening. That's when I heard my radio going off,
and I got back in my car dispatch had finally
gotten back to me and asked what was going on.
I sat for a minute before responding that I lost
view of the vehicle and it was no longer in
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my eyesight. I had no idea where it went. They
chalked it up to all the other calls they had
gotten about this phantom car. I'm not gonna lie. I
was very shook up and didn't tell anyone what I
had seen. Later that week, and older trooper approached me
and asked to talk to me privately. He'd heard the
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entire conversation with me in dispatch and then me suddenly
going silent as he looked over his shoulder and back
at me. He said, you saw her, didn't you? And
I said, who, what are you talking about? He smiled
and said, don't play dumb. You saw her the morel kid.
She was killed in nineteen seventy eight. Someone smashed into
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her car and drove it off the road. They never
caught the other driver. I had no idea what to say.
He didn't ask me again if i'd seen her. He
just kind of pounded me on the shoulder and walked away.
Over the next ten plus years of my duty, we
continue to get reports of a dark, rusty sedan driving
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up and down crazily on those back roads, sometimes stailing
school buses, sometimes pacing cars home late at night. Witnesses
all said the same thing, driving in excess of ninety
or one hundred miles an hour, dark rusty car and
never having a description of a person driving the vehicle.
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You can sit back and call me crazy, but as
God is my witness, that's what I saw. A creepy
moment at the cemetery by new astronomer. My dad died
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a couple of years ago after a long and painful
battle with cancer. I haven't had a single day since
his passing where I haven't missed him or thought about
the anguish he went through. I developed a habit of
visiting his grave quite often, be it day or night,
rain or shine. The cemetery he's buried in is quite
old and run down. It has four generations of my
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forefathers resting there and lies a few miles from my
dad's farm. It's not the most scenic place once you're inside,
but it's surrounded by farmland on all sides except for
the road leading up to it. This one time, while
I was sitting by his grave, I heard what sounded
like a little girl softly humming a tune just a
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few feet behind me. The melody was strangely beautiful, almost
like something a trained vocalist would sing. I ignored it
at first, but then realized that I had been completely
alone when I entered the cemetery, which again was surrounded
by nothing but open fields. Yet the voice sounded close,
as if someone was right behind me. The moment I
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turned around, the hummings stopped instantly, Thinking nothing of it,
I faced my dad's grave again, feeling all the love
I always do for him, But within a few seconds,
the same gentle tunes started up again. This time I
turned around immediately, only to see no one there, and
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again the sound cut off the exact second I began
to move my head to look behind me. I turned
back towards his headstone, only for the melody to return
a third time just moments later and then stop, almost
like someone had hit a pause button. As soon as
I tried to look for the source. That third time
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unsettled me a little and gave me the chills. I
kissed my dad's headstone, said my goodbye, and decided to
head back to my car. As I walked out, I
noticed a small cluster of tiny graves under a tree.
Their size suggested that they belonged to children. These graves,
or three or four of them, would have been directly
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behind me while I faced my dad's grave, completely hidden
from view because of the tree's branches. I do believe
in the afterlife, but I'm not sure whether I believe
in ghosts. I'm also not someone who scares easily from
supposedly supernatural encounters. I've always taken paranormal stories as harmless entertainment.
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They usually have a logical explanation once't you think about it.
But in this instance, I honestly couldn't come up with
any explanation at all. The soul that was stuck Submitted
(28:40):
by Bartholomew B. Jones. I want to be clear before
I share this story. For the longest time, I wasn't superstitious.
I didn't believe in mediums, crystals, energy, any of that shit,
and at least I didn't that is until we bought
a house, and I would be changed forever. We purchased
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a beautiful little Tudor house in the middle of suburbia
outside of Chicago, my son Evan, was the first to
notice something was wrong and was the first to notice her.
The place was built in the mid sixties, but some
of the rooms had creaky floors. It did have these
really interesting tall windows, and it was the kind of
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house that you could feel it just had some history
in it. My wife Anna loved it. She was into
fixer rubbers, and while this was not a true fixer rubber,
there was plenty of wallpaper to be torn down and painting, etc.
To be done. She was all over it. Around the
second night or so, we were continuing to unpack and
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my wife and I were in the kitchen unpacking dishes. Evan,
who was five at the time, wandered in and tugged
at my shirt sleeve. Hey, Dad, he whispered, there's a
sad lady in my room. I laughed and said, buddy,
you don't have to whisper, and you don't have a
sad lady. It's just your reflection in the window. He
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shook his head quickly and this time didn't whisper. No, Dad,
she's standing in the corner. That didn't freak me out.
I mean, kids say weird shit all the time, and
a lot of nonsensical stuff too, But this would not
be the last time that he would mention the sad lady.
I should mention that my wife was pregnant. We were
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expecting soon. A couple of weeks later, Anna called out
from upstairs, sharply, Evan, stop fooling around in your sister's room.
Evan was our only child at the time, but we
did have a new nursery all decked out. When I
got upstairs, Anna was pale, and I told her, Honey,
who are you talking to. Evan's out in the backyard.
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She looked at me and said, there was someone in
the nursery. I mean I heard breathing, I heard talking.
I looked at her and said, are you sure, honey,
I mean sounds duc to bounce around in this house.
But she was adamant something was in the nursery. So
what did I do? I went all over the house
looking for an intruder. I didn't find anything. There was
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no one else there but us man Again, Evan was
in the backyard. That night, I woke up to the
faint sound of someone humming in the hallway, and for
a second I thought maybe it was my son. But
I realized after listening for a minute that it was
a woman's hum It was low and kind of sad like,
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almost lullaby like. I gently got out of bed and
woke in the hallway and the humming stopped. I waited
and waited, but the humming didn't come back. Then I
heard a whisper from down the hallway in the dark,
something about where's my baby, but I couldn't really make
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it out exactly. I spun around heart in my throat,
but there was nothing in the hallway, And at that
point I was convinced my mind was playing tricks on me,
but I was sure about the humming part. Over the
next few weeks, we continued to settle in the house
and strange things happened here and there, but nothing really crazy.
My wife insisted that she kept hearing whispering in the nursery,
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but we didn't have any proof of that, and I'd
also chalk that up to her just being nervous about
having our second baby. People always say the first one's tough,
the second ones are easier, but I'm not really sure
that that's true. Anyway, we pushed on and were enjoying
the house for everything that it was. It was our
first house together. We'd made friends with some of the neighbors,
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and one night in the summer, we were having everyone
over for a cookout. It's a great way to get
to know your neighbors. Offer food and beer and they'll
all come running. I was talking with my new found
friend Don, who lived next door, and he said he
was glad that we lived in this neighborhood. He'd lived
there for a number of years and thought it was
just great. A lot of neighborhood pride in that guy.
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He asked if the realtor had told us about the
tragedy that happened, and I said, what tragedy? And he said, oh, well,
maybe I'm not the right person to tell you this,
but right after the house was built, the original owners
had lost their newborn daughter to pneumonia, and the wife, well,
she kind of didn't get over it and she ended
up taking her own life. In your house, I took
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a step back and said, are you serious. The realtor
never said anything about that, And in the back of
my mind I thought about the whispering my wife had
heard coming from the nursery. But again I didn't believe
in any of this bullshit. There was nothing going on
in my house other than some strange noises, including the
things that I thought were strange, like the humming noise,
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which by this time I had decided was the HVAC system.
But nonetheless, a spark did ignite in the back of
my brain. The summer went on, and things started to
get a little stranger. One night, I tucked Evan into
bed and kissed him good night, and as I was
standing in his doorway turning off the light, he said, Dad,
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the sad lady is right next to you. We hadn't
talked about the sad lady in quite some time, and
I froze. Looking directly at Evan, I said where, and
he pointed slowly to the corner off to my left.
I turned the light back on and looked over into
the corner, and there was nothing there. Evan was shaking,
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his teeth were clicking. He was shaking so hard. She
looks like she's crying. Dad. I asked him if he
was okay, and he said, no, Can I sleep with
you and Mom to night? And I'd been trying to
wean him from doing this, but I said, come on
with me, kid. I closed the door to his room
and got him tucked into my bed as I went
to the bathroom to get ready for sleeping myself. There
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we were, all three of us snuggled into our king's
size bed. Around three a m. I woke up to pounding,
then my wife did, and of course my son woke
up right after. These weren't little knocks. This was a
loud pounding, like someone was banging on the walls of
every room of our house. I told my wife and
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Evan to stay in bed and went out into the
hallway and looked down the hall to the nursery door.
The door handle was shaking violently. Anna came up behind me,
scaring the shit out of me, and I said, what
are you doing? Get back in bed. She just looked
at the nursery door shaking and said, what is this.
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We watched as the door rattled on its hinges and
then burst open, as if someone inside had just kicked
the door open. I ran down to see who was
in there, convinced that we had a burglar, but there
was nothing in the nursery. All of the pounding stopped,
and by now Evan had joined my wife in the hallway.
She was holding on to him. I turned around and said,
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nobody here. Maybe we've got a serious draft that's causing
all these noises. My wife and son looked at me
like I was an asshole. I flicked the lights off
in the nursery and then heard a soft cough from
behind me. I turned around without turning the light back on,
and saw a woman shaped shadow at the far wall.
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It looked like her head was down, and I thought,
for a second I heard someone crying. That's when I
heard the same whisper that I had thought I made
up in my head a long time ago. Where is
my baby? I flicked the lights on and everything disappeared.
There were no more sounds. I walked back to my
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family and told my wife pack a bag real quick.
She said, what did you see down there? And I said,
I'm not talking about it here. We quickly packed up,
went out into the night and found a hotel. We
stayed there for the next three days. I told my
wife everything that I had experienced and what I had
seen in that room. We didn't belong to any church,
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so we couldn't call a priest or anyone pious to
come in and help us with this house. But by
now even I was convinced something was wrong. Eventually, my
wife had a friend who knew someone else that dealt
with this sort of thing. She considered herself a medium,
and when we reached out to her, she said she'd
be happy to come to our house again. Being the
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skeptic that I was, but now starting to see something
else going on, I felt like an asshole as she
sat talking to us around our dining room table and
having coffee. The medium's name was Suzanne, and we had
given her a few minutes to walk through our house
and experiencing everything that was the experience, if anything. After
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about an hour or so, she came down to sit
with us at the dining room table, and here we were.
She looked at both of us and said, the woman
here is not trying to her you. She's looking for
something that she's not going to get back, and as
long as you are here, she's going to attach herself
to you. I looked at her and said, is she
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looking for her baby? Suzanne didn't say anything, but looked
me dead in the eye and knotted up and down. Yeah,
she's looking for her baby. Well, we didn't know what
to do after that. We asked Suzanne if there was
a way to get rid of this, and she said
that we could all pray together and that she would
smudge the house with sage, and that we might consider
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getting a clergy involved, maybe even joining a church. We
never really had to do it, and that's the strangest thing.
Suzanne had all that stuff we see on TV, all
the wacky shit, the crystals and all the things I'd
never believed in, but we did those prayers, we went
room to room with sage, and you know what, it worked.
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We've lived in this house for fourteen years and not
once have we heard one more sound. Not once have
we heard banging, Not once have we heard whispering or humming.
And we're hoping that whatever that thing was, if it
indeed was a woman, she did find her baby. That
I can't say, but now, yeah, I'm a believer. I
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went from being a skeptic who thought the paranormal was
a bunch of shit to someone who lived with something
I can't explain. I'm very thankful for Suzanne for the
help she gave us, but I'm more thankful for Suzanne
for helping whatever was living in our house to move
on to wherever it needed to go. I hope she
found her baby, and I hope they're happy wherever they
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may be. Me, my girlfriend and her aunt were terrorized
last night by garleak. My girlfriend and I go outside
about twice a night to smoke, and we live in
a heavily wooded area in North Carolina with her aunt
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and her two grandparents. Last night, we went outside for
our usual and I bumped into her aunt, who was
coming inside from having just sat in the car like
she usually does to smoke, so she passed the keys
to me and my girlfriend and I headed to the
side of the house where the woodline is. We went
and got into the car and everything was fine. I
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need to mention that the driver's side window on her
aunt's car doesn't have one, so there's a tarp covering it.
The tarp is pretty tightly packed into the window, so
the only opening was a tight hole on the inside
of the tarp. We were sitting there for about twenty
five minutes when the tarp started moving, and at first
we chalked it up to the wind blowing due to
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it being fall but not even five seconds later we
realized it was not the wind. It was something outside
the car messing with the tarb My girlfriend grabbed my
shoulder and started squeezing me because she was on the
driver's side, and I decided to try and scare whatever
it was off, so I made the loudest, scariest noise
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I could, and then whatever it was started ripping at
the tarp harder. By that point, we were freaking the
hell out. We hadn't seen anything sneak up on the car,
and whatever this thing was had to have been big
enough to not only reach the window, but also strong
enough to be hitting the tarp like that. So, like
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any sane person, I sat there frozen, and then I
started texting her aunt to come outside to see what
it was, getting no response. I finally gave up. I
opened the door, and whatever it was stopped, so I
thought it was coming to my side of the car.
I shut the door and it started just raking at
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the tarp. I counted to three, opened the door, and
then booked it with my girlfriend. Ironically, the porch light
was off, and it was never off when we were
out there at night when we ran in and her
aunt was going into her room and we were breathing
heavy from all the running, and I called my aunt
by name, and she looked at me and said, y'all
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heard it too, And then she explained to us the
same thing that happened to us happened to her. I
just want someone to tell me what the hell happened
out there. Later, when we went and looked, there was nothing,
no animal tracks or anything. The scratching at midnight submitted
(42:43):
by Terry A. For a short period a few years ago,
I found myself on disability. I was normally a night
shift nurse and had been for most of my career
and still am, but because I had been injured at work,
I was actually home. The place that employed me was
really great and allowed me to work from home. It
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was some easy data entry stuff just to keep me
busy and to keep me paid. I'm extremely grateful for that.
During that time, my daughter and I moved house, and
I'm a single mom. I found a tiny rental house
out in the woods, not too far from our city,
but without the big city prices. We moved in and
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everything was great. It was a little idyllic. My daughter
could still get a bus to school, and I would
be able to work in the pleasantness of the wilderness.
But after about a week or so, at twelve thirty seven.
Every night I would hear scratching at my back door.
It wasn't random, and it wasn't frantic, but it was steady.
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At first, I thought it was a stray dog or
maybe a raccoon, and every time I looked out I
couldn't really see anything, but night after night at twelve
three thirty seven, the scratching came. Around about the fourth
or fifth night, I finally went to the door and
opened it, and there I saw it on my back
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porch at the bottom of the stairs in the yard.
A dog, but things were just wrong. It was really thin,
like too thin. I could basically see its ribs in
the darkness. I could see patches of fur were missing,
and one of its eyes looked like it had been
torn out. Yet there it was, standing staring at me.
(44:34):
I couldn't tell if it was breathing at all. I mean,
there was no movement, it just stared. I slammed the door,
thought about calling someone, but eventually checked on my daughter
and went back to bed. I figured it would just
wander off, but it didn't leave. Every night the scratching
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got louder, and sometimes I would hear growling I'm thankful
my daughter's slept through all of this. One night, I
finally yelled through the door go away. There was silence,
followed by a half hearted scratch at the door, and
then more silence. This got to be pretty tedious. Every
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night at twelve thirty seven am, the scratching would start,
but now something changed. The scratching would start at the door,
and then I would hear sounds outside my bedroom window.
One night, I turned my head slowly when I heard
the scratching noises outside my window, and I saw two
mangled paws pressed against the glass, with that ruined dog's
(45:41):
face looking in. I freaked out at this point and
called nine one one. Eventually some officers came out, but
the dog was gone. They didn't find any tracks on
the ground, but an officer pointed to the window frame.
There on it were two mangled paws. He was convinced
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it wasn't a dog and said it was just some
other woodland animal and I shouldn't worry about it. It
wasn't much else they could do, so they left. The
Next day was a Saturday, I remember, and it was
very pleasant out, so my daughter and I went to
do some exploring on this trail that led from the
small yard of my rented place. We entered here and there,
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just enjoying the morning, when my daughter noticed something in
a small clearing off to the side of the trail,
about one hundred yards in or so. She looked and said, oh, mommy,
I think it's a grave. And we noticed a small
crude headstone had been knocked over. I tried to read
what was on it, but could only make out the
(46:44):
word Guss and there was a crude picture of what
looked like a bone, like a dog's bone, under the name.
My daughter asked me what it was, and I said,
I think the owners before had a dog, and maybe
he passed away and they buried him here. She made
a comment that it was such a shame that the
grave marker had been knocked over, and she set about
(47:07):
trying to write it, and I got an idea in
the back of my head. I helped her straighten it,
and then she said she wanted to clean up the
area around the grave marker. She went and picked some
wild flowers and laid them down on the ground in
front of the gravestone. My daughter prompted me to say
a little prayer and we prayed for a guss, which
(47:29):
we believed to be a dog buried there. Now here's
the freaky part. At night, twelve thirty seven came and
no sounds of that dog. He never came back. We
lived there for about a year and a half, and
every week my daughter and I would go out to
that little gravesite and put wildflowers. In the winter, my
(47:53):
daughter would find other flowers from inside, sometimes plastic ones.
But by doing so, the scratching noises at our house
never came back. Was it truly the ghost of a
dog that I was seeing outside my little house? I
don't know. I mean, I did see a dog, but
it's an odd coincidence that the moment we recognized its
(48:14):
grave cleaned it up, it never came back. I don't
know anything about what happens to us when we die,
but I do believe in being reverent, and I do
believe in respecting the dead. I'd like to think that
my daughter's small gesture gave whatever dog that was out
there some peace. Hey, gang, thanks for listening to this episode.
(48:52):
If you have a true scary story of any nature
that you'd like me to narrate, send it to Uncle
Josh True Scary Stories at gmail dot com. I read
them all, and if you have any winter holiday stories, Christmas,
New Year's, that sort of thing, send it my way
as soon as you can. I will be working on
a special episode for that coming up. If you're checking
(49:14):
this out on YouTube and you like what you heard
and saw, why not give the video a thumbs up,
maybe become a subscriber, maybe tell somebody else about the channel.
I'd appreciate it. It all helps out with the algorithms. Follow
me on social media, and if you'd like to take
your support of what I'm doing a step further, find
a link in the description to my Patreon page or
purchase some Uncle Josh and Campfire Crew merchandise. A link
(49:36):
to my tea public storefront is in that description as well.
Everybody happy Thanksgiving, Be excellent to each other, and until
next time, be wary of things that go bump in
the night. It could be anything a ghost, a monster,
or the guy next door Boo boo bo
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