FAMILY SECRETS: A Ghost Story
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Visit MyFICO.com/free and discover the score lenders use most. There alone with the strange apparition, she was terrified. Suppose the ghost was angry? Suppose it didn't wish to be disturbed? In the end, however, Isabeth collected her wits and spoke. "Why do you sit there?" she began in a voice that was barely audible. The ghostly child sat perfectly still, its posture unmoved for several moments.

Then, as if roused suddenly, the little head came up and the face of a young girl was clearly visible in its evanescence, and then a voice like wind in dry grass. I sit because I cannot stand. I stay because I cannot leave. Welcome, Weirdos! I'm Darren Marlar and this is Weird Darkness!

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Now bolt your doors, lock your windows, turn off your lights, and come with me into the Weird Darkness. The clock stood in the hall.

One of the truly magnificent pieces of the Walter family's estate, the clock was made of heavy mahogany and showcased a large, mother-of-pearl face with hands of sculptured bronze. Each hour, the tall clock rumbled in the hall, resolutely calling the hour, the passage of time. No one knew who originally designed the clock. Some in the family claimed it was made by an Austrian watchmaker by special commission.

Others said it was given to the family many generations back as payment for some debt. No one knew for sure, but it mattered little. The general consensus was the same. Although the clock was magnificent, there was something oddly sinister about it. It was a hard thing to explain, really. It wasn't that the clock was ugly. Indeed, quite the opposite was true. It was heavily decorated with carved cherubs, shined glossy.

The face radiated pink, blue, and ivory in the sun, while the heavy bronze hands moved about elegantly, their pieces intricately carved. Even the deep groan of its chiming bells resonated with a kind of stately grandeur. Guests to the house often stopped to comment on its beauty, but only at a distance. Even the most ardent admirers of its artistry rarely approached it directly.

Indeed, most people walked by it quickly, suppressing a shudder. Even Nadia, one of the old Lady Rose's many descendants and the current owner of the estate, rushed past it when outright avoidance was impossible. In fact, the only person who seemed able to maintain her nerve in the face of the clock's strange atmosphere was Nadia's youngest daughter, Isabeth. At 13 years old, Isabeth was the quintessential misfit.

She preferred books to play, spiders to dolls, and twilight to midday. Although she was both pale and blonde in appearance, she was a dark spirit, drawn to all things macabre. However, even she was not totally immune to the influence of the clock. She'd never mentioned it to anyone, but she'd always felt oddly drawn to the elegant timepiece,

Sometimes, as she made her way down the mahogany-paneled hallway, she felt as though it were actually calling to her. She found this somewhat unsettling but also intriguing. She'd approach the wooden monolith with an odd mixture of curiosity and trepidation. Then she'd stare it down, as though she were challenging it to a duel. Sometimes Nadia would catch her daughter in the act.

her back rigid, her violent eyes peering into the clock's iridescent face, the way one might stare down an adversary, Nadia was never quite sure what to make of it. "'What on earth are you doing, dear?' her mother would ask. "'The clock. It watches me,' is all Elizabeth would say. Nadia was always left standing awkwardly in the shadowy hall."

After her daughter had gone, she would approach the clock, gingerly, trying to feel what Isabel had felt. But she never could feel anything but the vague uneasiness. Things took an odd turn when suddenly the nightmares began. Each night at 3 a.m., Isabel would awaken screaming. It was a blood-curdling scream, the kind that caused one to freeze upright in bed, unable to move.

servants inevitably rushed to assist her. They always found her in the same posture, in a tight ball under the covers, face on knees. When she was extricated from her sheets, she always seemed oddly surprised, as though she'd been set free from a terrible trap. Then she'd roll over and go right back to sleep, as though nothing at all had happened. This went on for a fortnight,

Various attempts were made to explain the sudden appearance of the nightmares, but no solution could be found. When queried, Isabeth could never really recall what had happened to cause her to scream, but she felt vaguely that it was somehow connected with the front hall and the clock. After two weeks of disturbed sleep, Nadia became desperate. The staff looked half-dead and she was at her wits' end.

Determined to find a solution, Nadia decided that since Isabeth seemed bothered by the clock, perhaps she should try having it removed for a while. She called some friends at the local antiques dealership and asked them if they would be willing to keep the clock for a spell. They reluctantly agreed. After all, who would want to take on the protection of such an expensive heirloom?

Removing the clock was a massive undertaking, but in the end, Nadia was glad she'd gone through with the operation. Almost immediately, the screaming stopped. Indeed, Isabeth slept soundly for another fortnight. After two weeks of peace, Nadia was on the verge of declaring the whole experiment a rousing success. However, she soon discovered that she need not have been so bold.

on the fourteenth night. Instead of screaming, Isabel rose at precisely three a.m. In a dreamlike state, she walked out of her room, down the upper hallway, down two sets of stairs, paused at the landing, through the gallery, all the way to the front hall where the clock had once stood. There she stood absolutely still for about ten minutes,

And then, as if someone had snapped his fingers, she'd awakened, startled and confused. This was all discovered through pure chance. The servant had risen to get a glass of water because she couldn't sleep. When she entered the front hall, she saw Isabeth standing there in her nightdress. Then, while she watched, Isabeth seemed to stir and look around. It was clear the girl had no idea why she was in the front hall.

The same set of events transpired on the following evening. This went on for another two weeks. That's when Isabeth began to see the girl. At first, she was a small, clear light, strangely fog-like and murky. However, as time passed, she became more and more distinct. The first time it happened, Isabeth didn't know whether she should stay and observe the strange apparition or run screaming from the hall in terror.

She chose the former, much to the relief of the rest of the household. This went on for some time, the walking, the waking, and the seeing of the bizarre glowing girl in the hall. However, it was tolerated because Isabeth didn't seem to mind, and neither did anyone else. No one was being awakened at 3 a.m., no one's sleep was being disturbed, and Isabeth rarely spoke of it. Indeed, a kind of routine developed.

The only thing that seemed to change was Isabeth's location. Sometimes she was directly across from the clock. Other times she was kitty-corner from it. Sometimes she was down the hall farther. It became a game among the servants to bet on where she would turn up from one night to the next. Indeed, the serving staff drew lots each evening to determine whose sleep would be disturbed.

In most cases, the servant who won would have to rise at 3 a.m. and take a peek over the banister to see where she was. The following morning, the staff member would report Isobeth's location on the previous night and payouts would be made. One December night, Susan, the pantry maid, drew the shortest straw. However, her room was in a different part of the house than much of the serving staff because her room was located right next to the kitchen.

This is why when Susan came to the front hall, she was able to see not only Isabel, but also the little ghost. Isabel had awakened several minutes before Susan's arrival and, therefore, had heard her approaching. Isabel turned to look at Susan, but the maid seemed not to see Isabel at all.

She was completely mesmerized by the shimmering light glowing softly at the base of the wall where the clock once stood. Isabel was completely unmoved by the sight of the ghost in the hall. She'd seen it for weeks. Instead, she looked at Susan and asked, "'What are you doing up? Who is that?' pointed Susan, ignoring the question. "'The girl,' Isabel answered, quite naturally. "'She comes every night. Does she always look like that?'

Susan moved closer, calmed by Izabeth's seemed indifference. She studied the strange apparition, unable to take her eyes from the figure of the ghostly little girl who sat with her face down and her knees drawn up. "Yes, she's always in that position. I don't know why." Izabeth shrugged. "She seems sad. Does she move?" Susan took another step forward. "Does she speak? I've never tried to speak to her," Izabeth replied.

"'All I know is she doesn't move and she never looks at me. I wonder if she'd speak to you if you addressed her. She must be here for some reason, mustn't she? I mean, you don't just camp out each night in a drafty hallway for no reason, do you?' Susan reasoned. "'I don't know.' Isameth shrugged again. "'It's not as though she can feel the chill.' "'For shame,' Susan said quickly, chastising her in a harsh whisper. "'You know not what she feels.' "'True. But neither do you.'

Elizabeth challenged. "'Aye, I suppose that's true enough,' Susan admitted. A brief silence followed before she spoke again. "'It is odd, though, her sitting there like that. I feel like she's here for a reason, but I don't know what it is. Like she has something important to say, but she doesn't speak.' "'Maybe you should try speaking to her,' Susan suggested. "'I don't think she'd speak with someone else here. I'm not sure why.'

"'Well, maybe I should go back to bed then,' Susan whispered before attempting to tiptoe away. Just then the glowing figure faded in brightness and disappeared. "'She's gone!' Susan breathed, walking forward suddenly. "'Aye, she does that. She's only here a short while,' Isameth answered nonchalantly. "'I wonder where she goes,' Susan said, not really expecting an answer. "'I've often wondered why she suddenly started appearing.'

"'The clock was always there before, wasn't it? It's odd. I used to walk down this hallway after dark all the time, but I never saw her until recently,' Isabeth replied. Susan grew brave and moved closer to the wall. On a whim, she began running her hand through the air near the place where the spectral girl once sat. She glanced absently at Isabeth and noted the girl's confused expression.'

Slightly ashamed, Susan began tapping on the wainscoting instead. She wasn't even sure what she was looking for, really, except some clue as to where the ghost might have come from or where she might have gone. At one point, as she patted an area of the wall, she was startled by the strangely hollow sound that emanated from it. "'I wonder what that is?' Susan murmured. "'What do you mean?'

"'Is there something there?' "'I'm not sure,' Susan answered. Before kneeling down to knock more aggressively, she started near the place where the spectral girl had just been seen and then moved down the hallway, rapping on the wall as she moved along. There was no mistaking it. The area behind the clock sounded different than the rest of the wall. "'It is hollow there,' remarked Susan. Walking back toward Isabeth,

I wonder what it means. Isabeth wondered aloud. There must be an empty space behind the wall, Susan suggested. Maybe the little ghost is guarding something. Maybe there's a treasure. Or maybe a grave, Isabeth countered. Why must you be so morbid? Susan sighed. It's just as likely as a treasure. Who'd bury someone in a wall? Susan challenged skeptically. Someone who didn't wish to be found out, I suspect. Ugh!

Susan shivered, looking up and down the long, dark hallway. ''Let's talk of something else.'' Isabeth merely sighed and began to walk back to her room. ''Will she come tomorrow, do you think?'' Susan pursued. ''Most likely,'' Isabeth remarked, not turning around. ''If she does, I think you should try speaking to her, try to find out what she wants. Perhaps,'' was all the answer she received.

The following night, Isabeth awakened at 3 a.m. and walked down to the hall as usual. Again, she encountered the young girl who sat with her back to the wall and her knees drawn up. Isabeth said nothing for several minutes, gathering courage. She pretended her bravery in Susan's presence, but there alone, with the strange apparition, she was terrified. Suppose the ghost was angry? Suppose it didn't wish to be disturbed?

In the end, however, Isabeth collected her wits and spoke. "'Why do you sit there?' she began in a voice that was barely audible. The ghostly child sat perfectly still, its posture unmoved, for several moments. Then, as if roused suddenly, the little head came up, and the face of a young girl was clearly visible in its evanescence, and then a voice like wind in dry grass. "'I sit because I cannot stand,'

"'I stay, because I cannot leave,' Isabeth did not answer at first. Taken off guard by the sound of the voice, how often had she shared silence with the little ghost? Now they spoke, two girls in the same hallway, separated by time and life. "'Why can't you stand?' Isabeth asked finally. "'And why can you not leave?' "'I stay, because I cannot leave. I sit, because I cannot stand,' the girl repeated.'

Never one to be sentimental, Isabeth dove into her questioning, determined to get to the bottom of the child's sudden appearance. "Well, how long have you been sitting there?" "I cannot tell how long I've been here behind this clock. He counts away the hours. Day and night and night and day. I hear the hours fly away." "I imagine that's quite true," Isabeth began, noting the girl's antiquated clothing.

"'But you can't have heard the clock much lately. I know because we've had it removed. It unsettled me so.' "'And what now?' asked the ghost. "'What do you mean? Are you settled?' pursued the ghost. "'Isabeth paused at this. "'No, I suppose not. Here I am, after all, mulling about in the middle of the night, but I don't scream anymore, at least. So much the better for the rest of them, I should think.'

replied the ghost with a hint of sarcasm. ''Well, what of you? We're both here at this hour, aren't we?'' spat Isabel. ''I can't help it,'' snapped the ghost. ''Who can blame you for what you see?'' And then, in a huff, she vanished. Isabel was equally miffed. She crossed her arms impatiently and marched up the stairs to her room. The next day she told Susan everything that the girl had said.

As she spoke, Elizabeth noticed that one of the older maids in her mother's employ was watching them closely, listening to every word. "'How now?' Elizabeth said rather loudly, staring at the woman. "'What do you find so interesting?' "'I mean no harm,' Bertha answered, rising from her chair and coming closer. "'I just couldn't help overhearing. You're talking about the little ghost, aren't you?' "'Aye,' Susan began. "'Isabeth Caesar.'

the little girl bertha murmured yes began isabeth i think i made her quite cross with me last night she speaks to you bertha seemed surprised at this yes isabeth answered matter-of-factly

"'I've never spoken to her, but I, too, have seen her,' Bertha began. "'Years ago, when I was a girl like you, I think she only appears to young girls, girls about her age who come into the hall when the clock's gone. When did you see her?' asked Susan.'

"'Oh,' Bertha chuckled, "'many years ago now. My mother worked in the laundry back then. I was maybe twelve or thirteen at the time. I remember that the clock was being repaired and had to be taken out. It was a rare thing, I recall. A clock that heavy isn't easy to move, you know.' Bertha paused, recalling events. "'I remember I woke one night, came downstairs, and I saw her sitting there.'

When I asked my mother about her, she hushed me and told me to never speak of it. She was very superstitious. But I was a curious girl. When I could get no answers from her, I asked one of the other servants. It was Miss Watkins, the scullery maid, who finally told me who she was. "'Well, what did she say?' asked Susan.'

She told me a dismal story, Bertha began, and I'm not even sure I have the right of it. Miss Watkins heard it second-hand. It's a very old story. She paused, gaining momentum, and then began to tell the story.

She was the daughter of a poor woman in town who came to work in the house. This was in the time of old Lady Rose's mother, Julia, mind you. She was at her prime then, not yet thirty, I believe. It was many years ago. Queen Victoria had not been on the throne very long, as I recall.

This poor girl was ordinary in every way except that she suffered from a sleep disorder which caused her to walk about when she was sound asleep. Virtually every night she rose from her bed and walked the halls. After several years it came to seem normal and no one even remarked on it anymore.

Indeed, the situation became so routine that the girl actually began sleeping in her slippers so she wouldn't catch a chill from walking on the cold floors after nightfall. What time did she rise? Isabel asked curiously. I don't know, Bertha shrugged, but very late at night, I think, just a few hours before dawn. Why? It's at that time that she wakes each night, Susan answered, motioning toward Isabel.

"'Three o'clock,' Isabeth remarked. Bertha looked at her for several moments, a kind of sad interest spreading across her features. "'Aye, so it was with her. She rose and no one paid much mind. It became routine, the way a thing will, given enough time. The situation was never cause for alarm because everyone in the house knew about her condition. However, things turned tragic one winter's night.'

It was right before Christmas. At that time, Christmas trees were novelty items enjoyed by the wealthy. They were, therefore, displayed in places of great prominence. That is why the front hall was chosen. The location offered not only a wide open space for lights and decorations, but was also in close proximity to the marble fireplace where the stockings were hung.

Well, on Christmas Eve of that year, some thieves broke in, most likely drawn by the prospect of holiday gifts waiting there. You can imagine their surprise when, in the midst of their crime, they noticed a young girl standing in the front hall. She couldn't see anything, of course. She was just standing there, asleep. But these thieves would have had no knowledge of her strange condition. They would have assumed that she'd caught them in the act.

No one is sure what happened next, but it was widely suspected that foul play occurred. One of her slippers was actually found in the snow several miles from here. Some assumed she was kidnapped, while others were sure she'd been killed and the body disposed of somehow. I'm not sure when the ghost first appeared, but it must have been several years later, when the clock was removed from the front hall again.

She's only visible when the clock is removed, you understand. It's said that she always appears in the place where the tragedy occurred. Terrible, murmured Susan. Why do you suppose she always sitting with her head down? Asked Elizabeth. No one knows, remarked Bertha. She said that she could neither stand nor leave, asked Elizabeth. Is that what she told you? Bertha inquired.

"'Aye,' Susan interjected. "'She repeats it, according to Elizabeth. "'It is odd. True, tis strange,' Susan stated. "'Clearly there's a mystery in all of this. "'Well, there's nothing else for it. "'You will just have to speak to her again, Elizabeth,' Bertha remarked. "'There's no other way.' That night, as before, Elizabeth rose at 3 a.m. and walked down into the hall."

The phantom girl sat back against the wall just as before. A soft white light emanated from her in the darkness. It was both comforting and eerie. Bravely, Isabella addressed the girl again. "'Why do you sit there?' she asked. "'I sit because I cannot stand. I stay because I cannot leave,' replied the ghost. "'Why are you not visible when the clock is in its proper place? The clock is more than just a clock.'

"'It hides the spot. It hides the spot.' "'What spot?' asked Isabel. "'A stain?' "'The clock. The clock you cannot see. It hides the place that hideth me. You make no sense at all.' Isabel fumed with impatience. "'You speak in riddles. Speak plainly. The clock. The clock you cannot see. It hides the place that hideth me.' The ghost repeated.'

Elizabeth merely shook her head, confused. She paced the floor for several moments, trying to make sense of the ghost's riddles. In time, the apparition disappeared completely, and Elizabeth found herself alone in the hall once more. The next morning, she told Susan all that she'd heard. Susan considered the ghost's riddles, shaking her head frequently. Suddenly, her face went white. She sat forward in her chair, her hand covering her mouth,

"'Have mercy, it can't be,' she began. "'What?' Isabeth peered into the woman's face curiously. "'She said that the clock hides the place that hides her. Old Bertha said the girl's slipper was found miles from here, but that was just her slipper. The girl isn't gone, don't you see? She's still here. You mean—' Isabeth released the breath she'd been holding. "'I mean the clock. It hides where she is.'

Susan looked Isabel in the eyes meaningfully. ''She's still there, in the wall. Who would do such a thing?'' Isabel exploded. ''Aye, indeed, who would hide a little girl in a wall? And how would they get away with it?'' Isabel paused, realizing the rudeness of her next question. ''I mean, wouldn't it smell? How was it not discovered?'' ''I don't know.'' Susan's head moved side to side very slowly.

They sat quite still for several moments before Susan seemed to come to life. She took Isabel's hand and looked into her face almost imploringly. "'You know what we must do, aye? Tonight you must ask her, you must confirm it. If she says it's so, what we think, then we must open the wall,' Isabel answered flatly, as though there could be no argument. "'Aye,' Susan nodded, "'she's been in there long enough.'

At 3 a.m., Isabeth opened her eyes and found herself once again in the front hall across from the wall where the clock once stood. Within moments, she saw the little ghost appear opposite her. Isabeth began in the usual way. "'Why do you sit there?' she asked. "'I sit because I cannot stand. I stay because I cannot leave,' answered the ghost. "'Where is your resting place?' "'Far from here,' asked Isabeth. "'I think you know.'

"'You do, you do. Behind the wall I am in tune,' the ghost replied. "'Isabeth tried to keep her voice steady as she asked her next question. "'And who put you there, pray tell? Robbers?' "'The workmen came to fix the clock. They came, took it all away. "'They saw the wealth and began to plot. They planned to rob the house some way.'

Elizabeth almost snapped her fingers. It made perfect sense. She paced, speaking as she walked. Of course they did. They'd seen the house. They knew its layout. They planned to do it right before the clock came back. Great-grandma Julia would have insisted it be back in time for Christmas. They decided to break in on Christmas Eve. Then they could reinstall the clock on the morning of Christmas Day.

''Of course! They'd be eliminated as suspects. Who robs a house and then returns to it the next day?'' ''But what about the girl?'' ''They didn't expect you, though, did they?'' ''That part wasn't planned. They didn't know about your sleepwalking.'' The girl's face was turned downward once more. ''But how did they...?'' She paused. ''How did they hide you?'' ''Where? In the wall?'' She asked, finally almost fearful of the answer. ''How?''

The ghost looked up at this. They shared a long, even look. Their faces were so similar, their ages so close. They might have been friends, cousins, sisters even. Finally, the ghost answered her. "'This house is old. It's not like new. This is no wall but another room. You see me here, but not inside. Within you'll find the place I hide.' A second later, she vanished."

"'Another room!' murmured Isabel. "'It isn't a wall at all. It's another room!' There was a long pause as she considered this. How would they have known that there was a room behind the clock? They were workmen, not the architects of the house. From the darkness of the hall she heard the little ghost again. "'I tell you true. There were not two that came for me that evil night, but three. But three came in to thieve and bury me without warmth or light.'

"'A third man?' Isabeth stepped forward. "'Another workman? Another man who'd come to fix the clock?' "'One who knew the wall was deep. No workman knows this house so well. Only heirs are privy thus. It was by his hand I fell.' "'Whose hand?' Isabeth demanded. "'If it were a relative of mine, I have a right to know. The heir, the heir. Old Walter's blood, the only male, the only son.'

And then, it was like a dam breaking inside of her. The old story. It all made sense. All of it. All of it going back to when she'd first heard about her grandmother's Uncle Colin.

All of it coming back to her in the oddly vivid way that children recall the stories of long-dead relatives. She remembered Grandma Rose's references to Colin's quirks, his nervous twitches, his inability to relax, the number of brandies he'd drink in one sitting, his obsession with the clock remaining in its rightful place in the front hall, the way he'd become angry if anyone started snooping around the house.

It all made sense now. She recalled the hushed talk about him, his gambling debts, his troubles with alcohol and women, the way he'd gone to ask for an advance on his inheritance all those years ago, and his parents' refusal. She imagined him planning it all out, him deciding to call in the workmen, men he'd probably promised a cut if all went according to plan, the room behind the clock chosen to hide the loot,

But one question remained. How would they retrieve the stolen items if the clock was back in its place? There's another way in, Isabel said it out loud. Of course, they'd have to be another way in so that he could go in, get what he needed and get out without raising suspicions. And people never look right under their noses, never. That's why they've never found the body.

She had walked some distance from the wall in her thoughts, but she stopped and turned back suddenly, walking quickly toward it. She put her hand on the wainscoting. ''Where are you?'' she asked in a shaky whisper. ''I can't help you get out if I don't know the way in.'' ''The way, the way is here, just there.'' A light appeared, glowing softly on the wall just a few feet from where she stood. ''Just pull the latch and the way is clear.''

She moved toward the light, allowing her fingers to roam along the grooves in the woodwork. Suddenly, she felt it. There was a small latch invisible to the eye. Her first instinct was to pull it, to open the door, but being practical, she knew she must wait until sunrise. Otherwise, she wouldn't be able to see anything, even with the spirit's glow.

"'Wake me, will you?' she asked the ghost. "'At daybreak. I can't see much now.' In response, the light glowed more warmly for a moment, and then went out. She noted the place on the wall. Then, moving on to the front hall, she lay down on one of several sofas, just as the sun peeked over the horizon. She woke with a start. It was just light. No one was stirring. She rubbed her eyes, rose, and walked toward the wall,

She moved her hand along the wainscoting, searching for the lever that she'd found before. She fitted her fingers into the grooves of the wood, where the light had shone softly a few hours earlier. Then, suddenly, her fingers caught on what felt like a bent metal nail. She wiggled this, curiously, her thumb finally knocking it loose. There was a sigh of stale air and a creak of ancient hinges as the hidden door made itself known.

She pulled forward on the wooden door, suddenly timid. It was very dark inside. She knew she must enter to see what she must see, but she hesitated, fearfully, at the edge of the dark mouth that yawned before her. Do not fear, the little ghost whispered reassuringly. I am with you. A soft light radiated in the darkness, growing brighter by degrees. Slowly, Isabeth entered the room.

The air was sour, dank, stale, heavy. She felt sick in her stomach, but she moved forward. She had to. She felt that. This girl, this ghost, was depending on her in some way. She moved further into the casement. This had once been a private parlor of some sort. There were no windows, except in a small adjoining closet. There were plaster walls covered in fabric with wainscoting underneath.

There were several small couches, a mahogany table, and a trunk pressed against one wall. Trunk. Normally, an item like a trunk would have gone completely unnoticed. She would have scanned the room and made no note of such a thing. But there, in the room, the trunk took on a dark, oddly sinister quality. The words of a little ghost echoed in her consciousness suddenly. "'I sit because I cannot stand.'"

I stay because I cannot leave. A key lay on top of the trunk. Isabeth moved forward and took the key between her fingers. She contemplated its significance, what it could mean. A heavy, hitching emotion rose in her chest, and she found that she could hardly breathe. A tear stung her eye as she leaned down to put the key into the lock. She turned it roughly, pulling the rusted arm out of the sleeve.

She was torn between two impulses, throw open the chest in one swift motion or run away. She found that she could do neither. She was afraid to flee, afraid to look inside the trunk. She sat there on her knees for nearly a quarter of an hour. Then, turning sideways, she allowed herself to fall limply against the wall. She ran her hand over the lid of the chest, trying to will herself into action. She must do this thing.

The servants would be downstairs soon. What would they say to her if they saw her in there? She took a deep breath, gaining resolve. Then she took hold of the corner of the chest and pulled upward. She did not turn her head at first. She rose to her feet and took a step away from the chest before turning. Inside, the girl's head was down, her face pressed against her knees. Her hair, once brown, had gone an ashy gray.

Skeletal shoulders arched downward over bony legs covered in what remained of a dress. Isabeth scanned the small body and noted that her feet were bare. Why they removed her slippers? Isabeth looked at one of the feet pressed flat against the wall of the chest, and then she understood. The slippers might have allowed her to make noise.

She could have kicked her slipper feet against the inside of the trunk and made just enough noise to alert someone outside of her presence there. Which could only mean she was still alive, Isabeth whispered, horror slowly spreading across her features. She looked at the horrid visage again. There were tethers inside the chest for securing items before travel. The men had used these tools to keep her largely immobile.

Her mouth, all skeletal, was still gagged with the remains of a lump of cloth. She suffocated, or starved, Isabeth murmured, and all the while she could hear the passage of time, seated here, behind the clock that counts the hours. That's what she said. How long did she wait here for the rescue that never came? She looked around the room, seeking the little ghost absently. How long did you wait? A week?

Ten days? A fortnight? Just then, a click sounded behind her. An adjacent hallway was revealed, illuminated by the rosy glow of dawn's first light. It was lined with several old burlap sacks. Stepping forward, Isabeth gingerly opened a sack a few inches. Inside the first bag, there were several boxes wrapped in brown paper. The Christmas gifts, she murmured.

"'They must have hidden them in this hallway when they disposed of her.' She looked over at the girl again, sadly, before speaking again. "'They must have planned to hide them in here all along, but you changed things, didn't you?' She spoke to the skeletal girl. "'They couldn't risk coming in here to get the gifts with you tied up in here. And later, later they wouldn't come in because they were too disturbed by the thought of what they'd done.'

but there still had to have been another doorway. If the clock was put back, they'd have no way to access what they'd taken, dead girl or not. She began moving the burlap bags. She was sure the answer lay in the short hallway. She found her answer in the far corner. There, she found a small doorknob hidden by some loose wall fabric. She walked closer and turned the handle slowly.

The creaking door hinges grinded as the door opened by degrees. She couldn't believe her eyes. She recognized the table barring her exit almost immediately. She was in the parlor adjacent to the front hall. The table's location and height masked the outer door handle. How often had she walked through that parlor unaware that there was a doorway into another room right under her nose?

She had no idea the door existed, and she doubted anyone else did either. She closed the door resolutely, putting her back against it, sealing it once more. "'Well, I'd say you fouled that up, Uncle Colin,' she began. "'Oh, you killed a child and got away with it, that's true. But you did it for nothing. You never got your hands on any of this treasure either. Poetic justice, I'd say.' She would tell Susan everything when she woke up,

It would be soon, she was sure. Isabeth walked through the short hallway into the main part of the hidden room again. Out of habit, she scanned it, finding a small clock lying face up on the table. She walked toward it, noting its cracked face. It must have been knocked down in a struggle, she mused. The time on the cracked face read three o'clock. A great heaving thing rose in Isabeth's chest as she gazed at the clock's face.

"'so many years, so many years, trapped inside. "'But you're free now,' she announced through her tears. "'Isabeth made her way toward the door "'and stepped out into the front hall again. "'She paused briefly, turning one last time. "'You need not sit, for you can stand. "'You need not stay, for you can leave.' "'Then, smiling, she turned on her heel "'and went to wake Susan.'

Isabeth couldn't be sure, but she thought she heard the jingle of laughter as she made her way up the stairs. The morning sun made its way through the curtains as winter dawn came on fully. It was time to get up. Valspar Ultra starts at just $29.98 a gallon. So we've got you covered when your daughter wants to paint her room again after last year's masterpiece of a unicorn mural. Dad, please.

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Do you like my horror-able humor episodes called Mind of Marler? If so, and you'd like more, it now has its very own podcast. Comedic creeps, sarcastic scares, frivolous frights, macabre madness. Every week I dive into strange history, twisted true crime, and paranormal weirdness. All the stuff you'd expect from me on Weird Darkness, but delivered with dark comedy, satire, and just the right amount of absurdity.

Monsters, myths, mysteries, mirth, and more every Monday with Mind of Marlar. I like alliteration, can you tell? You can find a list of where you can subscribe to the podcast at WeirdDarkness.com under the menu tab for podcasts.

Here goes. We go back to 1999.

I and my husband had six children at the time, the youngest and last child born that following year. My husband, being a long-distance truck driver, was working away most of the time, so that left me on my own to look after our children. In the summer of 1999, five of my children were playing outside in the afternoon, leaving my second oldest son, Anthony, aged then 10 years old, indoors with me, but he was upstairs.

Anthony came downstairs and was visibly shaken and his eyes filled with tears. I asked him, what's wrong, love? He said while he was sat upstairs, he had heard a woman say something to him very close to his ear, but he couldn't make out what the female voice said.

A few months later, my friend Janet came around one night. She had a few glasses of wine while I had a soft drink. We had a good laugh and caught up. She went home at about 11:30 pm so I retired to bed. At 4:45 am I was woken up abruptly by what sounded like breaking glass from downstairs. My heart hammering my chest and heavily pregnant, I thought someone had broken into my house, so I strummed up the courage to go downstairs.

When I walked into the kitchen, I saw the two stems of the wine glasses stood perfectly upright while the smashed-off tops of the wine glasses were rolling about on the sink drainer. I'm baffled as to what has just happened. I didn't have a cat or any other pet and my children were all still asleep in their beds upstairs. I just couldn't find a rational reason to explain what had just happened and why would the wine glass stems remain upright.

I always felt uneasy in this particular house. I felt like I was being watched. We had lived in this house for three years and decided to move to a larger house.

So I and my husband bought a hairdresser shop and renovated it into a seven-bedroom house, while one evening I and my husband were stood in the kitchen deciding a plan for a new kitchen. It was about 10:00 p.m., all our children were asleep in bed, when all of a sudden about a handful of Skittlesweets Smarties and about fifty pence in small change in money was thrown at I and my husband from the twenty-foot galley hallway

My husband ran quickly down the galley hallway and then upstairs. He thought it was our children messing about, although we didn't hear any laughing or the patter of footsteps running away. It was a three-story house and my hubby ran up to the two flights only to find all of our children fast asleep.

So over time, lots of paranormal stuff was happening in this house, such as knockings on my daughter's window in the early hours of the morning, usually around 4 a.m. She bravely on each occasion looked out of her window and saw no one in sight.

On another occasion, my husband stayed up to watch a movie alone when he saw what he could only describe as a black mass formation about 7 feet in height and 4 feet wide moving down the 30-foot living room towards him. He panicked and it just faded away at about 6 feet away from him. Lots of things were happening in this house, but it would go quiet for weeks or months and start up again.

As years pass by, we're becoming complacent to the paranormal goings-on. We moved again and in this next house we realize we have an attachment. We hear knockings on the windows and again I and my husband have Skittlesweets, Smarties, and small change thrown at us when our children are upstairs in bed. When again we're both planning to decorate the hallway in this new house.

Our children were in bed, and their bedroom doors visible to us were shut. We've also heard whispering close to our ears in this house, both female and male voices. My daughter, who was 14 years old at the time, started to hear what sounded like a child running along the roof of our garage conversion which we had made into a bedroom for her.

Christmas time was nearing and I and my husband decided to buy our children chopper bikes. My daughter insisted her bike stay in her downstairs bedroom. She was chuffed to bits with her new bike. One night she was awoken by something being thrown at her bike. On her investigation, what was thrown was something that had no place in our home and didn't belong to our children.

a pair of tiny little black boots, about 2 inches by 3 inches. They were wooden inside with a rubber outer coating. I reckoned they were off something like a Pinocchio kind of toy. We threw them away in the bin, and the bin men took them with the weekly rubbish collection the same day. I and my husband decided to move away from Lancashire in England to North Devon, England, about 250 miles away.

We stayed there for eight months and couldn't settle. So we decided to move back to Lancashire, England, a place called Lytham St. Anne's. Stayed there for three years. We seemed to move every three years. Not planned that way, just coincidence. One morning, my daughter said, "'You won't believe what I found on my bedroom windowsill, Mom.' My daughter produced the little black boots we had thrown away years previously."

We're all still seeing black formations and hearing what I can only describe as a death groan from a male entity. The knockings on the window also continue. On many occasions, something strange that has happened is when we put an unused bar of soap in the bathroom. Something during the night has destructed the soap, leaving what can only be described as a male's finger indentations wrapped around the soap.

But this only happens to new, unused bars of soap. On another occasion, the soap looked like it was attacked all around the edges with a dinner fork. In total, over three years, this has happened six times. Also, my dog, who has now passed away, was frightened whenever the living room door was opened. She would run and hide in the kitchen. So, I'm guessing she had seen something. This was really strange behavior my little Yorkie was displaying.

Thank you so much for taking the time to share me and my family's paranormal experiences. I wonder if others have been through anything the same? Santa Fe's Haunted La Posada Hotel from GhostsandGhouls.com Built in 1882, Santa Fe's La Posada Hotel is a historic landmark with a haunted reputation. Legend has it a heartbroken woman haunts the property that was once her home, grieving for the baby she lost.

Curiously, the tales began decades after the woman's death. Are the stories true, or are they merely the stuff of legends? Though now a high-end resort and spa, La Posada was originally home to the wealthy Staub family. Rags-to-riches immigrant Abraham Staub built the three-story home for his wife Julia and the couple's several children.

The home, which included a third-story ballroom, was the site of several elegant social gatherings and the family lived there for many years. Julia and Abraham had seven living children, but after an eighth died in infancy, Julia reportedly fell into a deep depression. She withdrew from society and rarely left her room. Legend has it Julia's hair turned completely white overnight.

Legend also has it that Abraham abused Julia and once chained her to a radiator. However, there is no evidence to support such tales. After an extended illness, Julia died in her home in 1896. After Abraham's death in 1913, the mansion was eventually sold out of the family. In the 1930s, new owners purchased the home and surrounding property, transforming it into a Pueblo Revival-style resort.

Today, La Posada is corporately owned. Over 80 years after Julia's death, people began seeing her ghost. The first recorded tale came in 1979 when a maid spotted a transparent woman standing near a fireplace. The mysterious woman was wearing a black Victorian dress and soon faded away. Shortly after that, a security guard spotted the eerie figure wandering down a hallway.

The hotel manager also encountered the apparition. Odd events followed the sightings and reportedly continue to this day. One night at the bar, a series of glasses inexplicably crashed to the floor. Gas fireplaces turned on and off. Keys moved. Bathtub faucets flowed in the middle of the night. A woman's voice called from empty rooms, "I'm in here."

Julia's old room, now called Suite 100, is said to be particularly active with dancing orbs, disembodied reflections, and a toilet with a mind of its own. In American Ghost: A Family's Haunted Past in the Desert Southwest, Julia's great-great-granddaughter, Hannah Nordhaus, chronicles her quest to learn the truth about Julia's life and death.

Hannah stayed in Julia's old room and awoke to a strange cluster of blinking lights. Another guest allegedly saw similar lights that evening, though in a different room. Julia's spirit is also the subject of many ghost tours, and her story has appeared on TV shows such as Unsolved Mysteries and Weird Travels. Do you think Julia Staub truly haunts her old home, or are the stories nothing more than local legends?

"Liko" - Puzzling and persistent demon of mischief in Slavic mythology. Written by Ace Sutherland for AncientPages.com Among many fascinating supernatural beings known to the Slavic people is the puzzling Liko, a demonic, one-eyed evil woman. Was it a demon or evil deity?

No one knows today, but it is important that Liko's evil deeds have always been feared and never ignored because her mischief could affect anyone. Based on stories of those who met this mysterious walking disaster, Liko was an ugly, skinny woman with one eye in the middle of her forehead, which could destroy everything it was looking at.

Other witnesses describe Liko as a little devil, shaggy, burdensome, malicious creature living in the forests and fields, often responsible only for small mischief such as loosening the blade axe, breaking plates, or hiding household items, which were much less harmful than those of the one-eyed woman. The one-eyed female demon, Liko, was particularly fond of ruining human happiness.

Ligo rarely appeared to people, but the demon continuously searched for places with people feeling and doing well. This demonic old woman, with pleasure and pure malice, used to send down diseases, cattle plagues, fires, and frighten small animals. Despite her nomadic nature, the one-eyed demon could stay weeks or years in the selected place, spreading misery and disaster.

In this case, the creature observed noble and good persons in order to bring them astray, making their minds totally confused or deprive them of luck. Liko is known as the master of temptation. It has the ability to successfully whisper to people lies day and night, which makes them believe they talk with their own thoughts. Thus, they make bad choices and poor decisions that ruin their lives.

How can people protect themselves against evil deeds of the demonic female Liko? In fact, we can only bravely and patiently deal with misery and wait until the evil demon will go somewhere else and leave us in peace. They've been here for thousands of years, making their presence known in the shadows. They might be seen by a lonely motorist on a deserted road late at night, or by a frightened and confused husband in the bedroom he's sharing with his wife,

Perhaps the most disconcerting part of this phenomenon boils down to this question: has the government been aware of their presence all along and is covertly working with them towards some secret end? In the audiobook, Runs of Disclosure, what once was fringe is now reality. While listening, you'll meet regular people just like you who have encountered something beyond their ability to explain.

You'll also hear from people of great faith and deep religious belief who continue to have these strange and deeply unsettling encounters. Author L.A. Marzulli explores these ongoing incidents to discover the answers to these questions: Who are they? What do they want? And why are they here? Can you handle the truth? Listen to this audiobook if you dare!

Rungs of Disclosure, Following the Trail of Extraterrestrials and the End Times, by L.A. Marzulli. Narrated by Darren Marlar. Hear a free sample on the audiobooks page at WeirdDarkness.com.

Many folktales, stories, and myths around the world begin with folk straying from the path and meeting beautiful females, only to discover that they are treacherous vampires. Since Bram Stoker's 1897 Gothic horror Dracula, the silver screen has seen many versions of the vampire.

In 1922, actor Max Schreck played Losferatu, Count Orlok or Dracula, in a silent classic about the demise of Dracula. And in 1931, Bela Lugosi became the infamous vampire in what is regarded as the first legitimate adaptation of Stoker's novel.

In the film Daybreakers, Hollywood reimagines the world of the infamous nocturnal bloodsuckers, and the Count has been a dominant character on Sesame Street from 1969 to the present. But where did vampires first appear in history, and what do they really represent? In the Highlands of Scotland,

Ba'avan-shi were blood-sucking fairies who haunted mountain paths and the low roads which networked across the highlands, where they preyed on unsuspecting travelers, pilgrims, and hunters.

Sometimes known as the White Woman of the Highlands, according to Scottish folklorist Donald Alexander Mackenzie, the Baavanxi usually appeared as a beautiful young woman wearing a long green dress that concealed the deer hooves that she had instead of feet. These otherworldly seductresses were particularly attracted to the smell of animal blood on male hunters' clothes.

While they hold many similarities to the archetypal vampire featured in Stoker's Dracula, there were differences in their approaches toward their victims. Both the Ba'a Van Shieh and Dracula hunted in the darkness and rested in coffins during the day, but where the Transylvanian count had to feed every evening, Ba'a Van Shieh only fed once a year.

Dracula seduced, then sank two fangs into the necks of his prey. But Ba'alvanshi danced with their victims, charming the young men until they were under their spell. Then out came their long, sharp fingernails, which pierced the victims so that they could drink blood from the open wounds. Where Bram Stoker's vampire shapeshifted into a bat, Ba'alvanshi take the form of wolves, hooded crows and ravens.

They were often said to lose much of their power while in animal form because they couldn't use their beauty to seduce victims. Both Dracula and Ba'avan-shi were able to speak any language using forms of telepathy. And where killing Dracula required a wooden stake through the heart, the only way to repel or kill a Ba'avan-shi was with iron or by trapping them in their coffin with a stone cairn.

Most stories about Baobanshi involve hunters being attacked at night. In one particular tale, recorded by Donald McKenzie, four hunters sheltering for the night were partying. One was singing and the other three danced. The hunters wished for four partners to dance with them and soon after that, four women arrived at the hut.

Three danced while the fourth sat with the vocalist, who noticed his companions were bleeding and fled from the hut and hid among the trees where he remained safe. The next morning, the man went back inside and found all his friends dead and drained of blood.

In a variation of this tale, one of the men noticed the women had deer hooves instead of feet and fled from the supernatural creatures, and the next morning he found the three hunters with their throats cut and chests laid open. Folklorist Catherine Briggs suggested that the Baavan-shi was unable to catch the vocalist among the horses because of the iron with which the horses were shod.

One recurring motif in these stories is that of the baavanshi appearing after men express their desire for female companionship. Then the men stray off the path and meet terrible fates.

Blood is the archetypal Christian symbol of the soul, life energy, and vampires sucking blood has been studied in analytical psychology where it is thought of as a fatal symbiosis and a nourishing of oneself with another's vitality, two central points of vampire legends. This is also said to be an inexplicable component of many human relationships.

The study of blood drinking and associating with vampires is something psychologists have studied in depth. In Freud's world, vampires are projections of repressed sexual longings and fears. To him, the vampire corresponds to incestuous feelings of guilt and to infantile oral fixations.

Jungian psychologists, on the other hand, believe vampirism and drinking blood is a symbolic expression of our primal instincts. The trickster, Jung said, is from the shadow archetype and deceives sometimes playfully but more often painfully. Described as a very sexual archetype, the trickster has the ability to change genders and play havoc with the hyper-rational personality and community.

The archetypal was played by Satan of Christianity, Loki in Norse myths, and in Native American mythology it was the Wendigo trickster. These are relatively modern interpretations, and they begin only 2,000 years ago. But vampires actually appeared in the animalistic beliefs of the earliest Sumerians, long before the hoofed feet were worn by Satan in the Bible.

The first Sumerians, between 4500 and 2000 BC, believed spirits inhabited all created forms of the akimu , ghostly spirits that sucked the life force out of people's bodies. The akimu was the departed soul of a dead person that had been cursed or denied eternal rest because of some unredeemed sin. It held a psychic control over its victims.

The akimu could walk through doors and walls and would drain the life from the household, including the blood from the owner of the home and his relatives and servants. Similar in nature to the Prita of the Hindu religions or the Jiangshi of Chinese mythology, akimu were all thought of as spirits of deceased who had not been buried properly, therefore they were vengeful toward the living.

They caused diseases and inspired criminal activity in the living, and the Akimu were also thought to be wind spirits that sucked the life out of the susceptible and the sleeping, most commonly the young.

In Babylonia, China, Greece and Egypt, and also in Christianity, the person likely to become a vampire was one who neglected religious rituals or someone who defied community moral standards, i.e. strayed off the path. In ancient Babylonia, as in later Christianity, vampires were archetypes for a collective darkness, heretics working against mankind and ceaselessly devouring the lifeblood.

The vampire was not a manifestation of one personal darkness from the Freudian unconscious, but a society-wide archetype from Jung's collective unconscious. It is much older than the Christian devil, who later played out the trickster archetype. From its Sumerian origins, through Christian theology, as well as the vampire resurrected as the Ba'avan Shi, all hold the same moral.

Men who stray off the path and have affairs with beautiful women will, in the long run, have their lifeblood sucked out of them, and their whole worlds will collapse, beginning with their families. Up next… It is said that some hundred years ago, people in Jamaica believed the powers of so-called shadow killers. But who were they?

Police had stopped the investigation of Nicole Vandenherck's murder, so her stepbrother falsely confessed in order to get her body re-examined for DNA testing. And although most scientists say that traveling in time is still not possible, a Washington lawyer says he's done it dozens of times as part of a secret project during the Cold War.

These stories and more when Weird Darkness returns. Hold the kaleidoscope to your eye. Peer inside. One twist changes everything. A woman awakens in a grotesque, human-sized arcade game. A mysterious cigar box purchased at a farmer's market releases an ancient djinn who demands a replacement prisoner.

An elderly woman possesses the terrifying power to inflict pain through handmade dolls. An exclusive restaurant's sinister secret menu includes murder-for-hire and harvested organs. With each turn through these 20 tales, Reddit NoSleep favorite AP Royal reshapes reality, creating dazzling patterns of horror that entrance as they terrify.

After Nicole Vandenherck's 1995 murder case went largely ignored for more than 20 years, stepbrother Andy Vandenherck did the only thing he could think of to get the police to re-examine the matter with a DNA test.

he falsely confessed to her murder. In 1995, Nicole Vanden Herk was a 15-year-old student who was staying with her grandmother in Eindhoven, Netherlands. On October 6, she left her grandmother's home in the early morning to bike to her job at a nearby shopping center. But she never arrived. Police then began to search for her and later that evening discovered her bicycle by a nearby river. The search continued over the next several weeks

But the next clue never appeared. Not until October 19, when her backpack was found at the Eindhoven Canal. Police continued to search the river, canal and nearby forests multiple times over the next three weeks, but to no avail.

On November 22, seven weeks after Vanden Herk first disappeared, a passerby stumbled on her body in the woods between the two towns of Meerlo and Lerop, not far from her grandmother's home. She had been raped and murdered. Police determined the cause of death was most likely internal bleeding due to a stab wound.

The police had few suspects. A local woman named Celine Hartogs initially claimed to know the men involved in Vandenherck's murder. She had been detained in Miami for drug trafficking and alleged that the men she had been working for had been involved in the murder. Vandenherck's stepfather first supported Hartogs' story, but upon further investigation, the police determined that her claims were flawed and unrelated.

In the summer of 1966, the authorities briefly arrested the victims' stepfather and stepbrother, Add and Andy Vandenherk, but there was no evidence that linked them to the crime. Both were released and ultimately cleared of all involvement. A reward was offered for any information related to the murder, but that produced no helpful leads. To make matters worse, the number of detectives on the investigation team was cut.

Over the next few years, all the leads dried up and the case went cold. In 2004, a cold case team briefly reopened the case, but once again, failed. By 2011, with no resolution and the investigation stalled, Andy Vandenherk had had enough. As stated in a Facebook post from March 8th of that year, Andy Vandenherk confessed to killing his stepsister.

"I will be arrested today at the murder of my sister, I confessed. We'll get in contact soon." Police promptly arrested him but found again that there was no evidence other than his own confession that linked him to his stepsister's murder. He was subsequently released after only five days in custody. Shortly afterward, he retracted his confession and said that he only confessed in order to draw attention back to his stepsister's case.

"I wanted to get her exhumed and get DNA off her. I kind of set myself up and it could have gone horribly wrong. To get her exhumed, I had to put steps in place to get her exhumed. I went to the police and said I did it. She is my sister. Absolutely. I miss her every day." Andy's plan worked, however. In September 2011, police did dig up Nicole VanDerHerk's body for DNA testing.

After they exhumed the body, police found traces of DNA relating to three different men, which were all believed to belong to her stepbrother, her boyfriend at the time of her disappearance, and a 46-year-old former psychiatric patient and convicted rapist named Joss DeGee. Charges were officially brought against DeGee for the rape and murder of Nicole Vandenherk in April 2014.

However, the defense immediately called into question the DNA evidence and pointed out there were two other men's DNA on the body as well. They also suggested that it was possible that DeGee and VandenHeerk had engaged in consensual sex prior to her murder. All of this ultimately led to a lessening of the charges against DeGee from homicide to manslaughter. The trial dragged on for more than two years.

Scientists reanalyzed the results to confirm that DNA from the body belonged to DeGee beyond a reasonable doubt, but there was no way to prove for sure from this DNA alone that DeGee had been involved in the murder. After 21 years of on-and-off investigation and almost two years in court, DeGee was acquitted for the murder charge on November 21, 2016. Instead, DeGee was found guilty of rape.

and sentenced to five years in prison. Portals that connect to other points in time and space have appeared in many books, movies, and video games. Some of them connect to distant places, others travel backward or forward in time, and the most powerful to different dimensions. Most people assume that these entries only exist in the realm of mysticism or science fiction.

But there are many people, including scientists, who firmly believe that portals have been opened in ancient times and quite possibly even today. According to two informants, the Department of Defense developed time-travel technology more than 40 years ago, as early as 1967. The government of the United States would have been using an installation dedicated to this and built on the basis of Tesla Quantum Access.

This technology has been used to keep the construction of military installations secret, as well as to offer political and economic advantages by knowing what the future holds. Some say the CIA confiscated Tesla documents on teleportation shortly after his death. One of these two informants is Michael Ralph, a former member of the U.S. Armed Forces who he claimed was a member of a U.S. operation of high secret.

He says he was recruited in 1976 and spent the next 20 years helping to maintain and expand one of the two or more U.S. colonies on Mars. Those bases served as strategic research points and defense objectives, and in order to preserve their secrecy, they were built in the future.

Dr. Andrew D. Basiaga was a participant in the DARPA/PEGASUS project from 1968 to 1972 that focused on the time travel in the hologram of time and space. He claimed that the CIA was actively training groups of gifted American schoolchildren to become the first generation of explorers. The children were more suited to this mission for several disturbing reasons.

First, they were considered ideal candidates because of their clear minds and lack of impressions or experience. The government of the United States was interested in the effects of time travel in young bodies and minds. Adult volunteers usually fell into madness after several trips. Fortunately, naive children had little previous experience and beliefs that could drive them badly. Another use of quantum technology was found in political control.

According to Dr. Basiago, people of interest in the future would be notified at an early stage about the functions they were supposed to perform years later. He said that in the 1970s in Albuquerque, New Mexico, he was present during a luncheon in which George H. W. Bush and George W. Bush were informed of their future presidencies.

Basiago says that in 1971 he saw images of the attack on the Twin Towers, which occurred on September 11, 2001. They had been obtained by observing the future and brought back for analysis. This implies that the US government knew about 9/11 three decades before it happened. According to the informants and those who support them, this technology is kept secret despite being financed by the population.

It's not the first time that these missions have been declassified due to their immense potential. They say that people have the right to know what's really happening, the truth about space exploration and the presence of human beings on other planets. However, the opposite happens. Teleportation could solve transportation problems around the world by allowing people and goods to move instantly. It would also help immediately to destroy the pyramid of current tyrannical power

and that's precisely why the information is not revealed. It is said that some hundred years ago, people in Jamaica believed the powers of so-called "shadow killers." These were witches, wizards who spread terror by practicing black magic. Is there any truth behind these stories, or are we simply dealing with superstition? Do some modern people really still believe in the power of spells and black magic?

Are there any interesting historical accounts and ancient history facts that can help us shed more light on the mysterious shadow killers? Why is the practice of Obia forbidden? The so-called "shadow killers" were men and women who became known as Obia. The term "Obia" is first encountered in documents from the early 18th century, and the history of Obia is similar to that of Voodoo in Haiti and Santeria in Latin America.

African slaves brought spiritual practices to the Caribbean that included folk healing and belief in magic. It is from these arrivals and their spiritualisms that Obeah originates. Obeah is perhaps the oldest of all Afro-Creole religions in the Caribbean. Its name is derived from the Ashanti words "Obey-epho" or "Obeyee" meaning "wizard" or "witch."

According to Marguerite Fernandez-Omos and Lisbeth Peravisini-Gerbert, authors of the book Creole Religions of the Caribbean: An Introduction from Voodoo and Santeria to Obia and Espiritismo, Obia is not a religion so much as a system of beliefs rooted in Creole notions of spirituality, which acknowledges the existence and power of the supernatural world. Jamaica is a highly religious country.

Christianity dominates nearly every aspect of life, and according to the Church, the practice of obeah is associated with evil. Until recently, the practice of obeah was punishable by flogging or imprisonment, among other penalties. But how did the obeah become known as "shadow killers"? Stories tell that obeah men and women used to practice black magic in secret. They undertook assignments on behalf of others to deliberately hurt another person.

What made many people especially afraid of the Obia were the rumors that they could kill people by capturing their shadow. These rumors are most likely the result of a conflict between Mayol and Obia. Mayol is a variation of Obia that is practiced in Jamaica. The Mayol men positioned themselves as the good opponents to evil Obia.

They claimed that Obeah men stole people's shadows and set themselves up as the helpers of those who wished to have their shadows restored. After 1760, it became punishable by death for slaves to practice Obeah in Jamaica, and the rest of the British colonies followed suit. The story can be traced to the Tacky Rebellions in 1760, when a man named Tacky led a revolt by Coromantine slaves.

It was said that he gave the slaves a "magical preparation" that was supposed to render them invulnerable to the weapons of the authorities. The passage of the law was meant to safeguard against the practice of oboea, which the colonizers thought could possibly lead to further results.

In court documents from 1760, it is written that Obeah practitioners "use blood, feathers, teeth from dogs and alligators, broken bottles, snakes, roosters, soil, eggs, and eggshells for evil magical purposes." In 1824, there were about 150 Obeah men and women throughout Jamaica, but the numbers have not been officially confirmed.

Obia men and women were feared but also popular, at least to some extent, and they played an important role in the lives of slaves that had no human rights. Slaves who had been mistreated turned to an obia to seek justice and revenge. Obia was considered bad magic, but for many people it seemed to empower them to shape their own existence by manipulating the spirits, both benevolent and malevolent.

It should be added that most people in Jamaica, both free as well as slaves, distanced themselves from the Obeah people. Practicing Obeah resulted in expulsion from the social community. The situation was different on other islands, such as, for example, Barbados and Leeward Islands, where Obeah were admired and held a high status. Practice of Obeah is forbidden in Jamaica, but there are still those who refuse to give up their beliefs in the power of magic.

Although few people do believe in Obia in the cities, there are some modern Obia men and women who say they can help with all manner of things, from curing illness to removing curses. Over the years, the popularity of Obia has waned, and finding Obia men and women to reveal what they do is rare. People who use Obia's services rarely want to talk openly about it, and it looks as if the old Obia traditions are slowly fading away.

When weird darkness returns, students move into a relative's home near where they will be training on the job. And not even the owner of the home knew what frights were waiting for them upstairs. A ghostly sentinel, a dark witch's revenge, a haunted church, and other unexplained happenings – they all seem to take place in and around a certain cemetery in Salem, Ohio. These stories are up next.

I was 20 years old at the time and was about to start my on-the-job training at a steel company in Ortigas. It was a two-month long training designed to help me and four other people from my class familiarize ourselves about the actual activities or work done in our field of study.

We tried applying to other construction companies, but weekly allowance and payment reimbursements offered by the steel company convinced us to sign a contract with them. They really needed OJTs at the time. Me and my groupmates decided to rent a place that was near the company. Luckily, a cousin of one of the members of our group offered the second floor of a residence for us to stay, since it's only her and her disabled brother who were staying there.

We agreed with the arrangements made, since her house is just a good 20 minutes walk from the company's gate, and moved in with her. The second floor of her house is just a huge space with a separate bedroom. They managed to provide bunk beds for us to sleep on. We felt lucky at that time for having the whole second floor to ourselves, but then we were naive at the time. After settling in, things would go missing and be found in another place.

"Our bags opened with our clothes scattered everywhere, as if someone purposely went through our things. At first we thought a robber broke in, so the owner installed a deadbolt and a chain lock at the front doors. Even when the security was already tightened, our things would still go missing. The owner suspected that maybe it was her brother who was stealing our stuff, but that it would probably be impossible since he can't walk."

We can't even climb the stairs up to the second floor. We had these lamps with motion sensors that were loaned to us by the owner, and they'd light up if we waved our hand or walked past it. But every night they would go on blinking at the exact time that we were all laying in bed. Sometimes we would spend the rest of the night sleeping huddled together because we were so scared. One time I was awakened by this intense heat so I quickly got up and plugged in the electric fan.

when I noticed a woman standing at the edge of the stairs. I waved my hand at the lamp, but it didn't turn on. I adjusted my vision in the darkness and formed an outline of the woman standing at the edge of the stairs. As soon as the image registered in my mind, I quickly went to bed, pulled the blanket up to my head and forced myself to sleep again. It wasn't a woman. That's what I told myself.

because it had these fiendish characteristics with its messed up hair and long fingernails placed at its sides. I told my groupmates about what I saw the following morning. Some of them even said that they too witnessed the same entity on the same exact spot. The nights that followed that event were not peaceful. We would not sleep very well.

Some of my groupmates even planned to move out, but we ended up bearing with the activities inside the house since we'd already paid the full payment for the two-month stay, plus our share on the electric, gas and water consumption. After our two-month training ended, we bid our farewell to the owner and thanked her for welcoming us to her home, even though there's something in there that doesn't want us to be there in the first place. Though Ohio has a plethora of notoriously haunted places,

Some of the most spiritually active are known only to locals. Salem Church Cemetery in Jackson County, Ohio is one of these places. Established in the early 1800s, the old Salem Church and surrounding cemetery is the final resting place for many Civil War soldiers who died in the infamous Morgan Raid that happened nearby. It was the greatest Confederate invasion in Ohio and resulted in many casualties.

Although the church building is in decent shape and the grounds are well-maintained, locals shy away from Salem and warn out-of-town thrill-seekers to stay away as well. Since the 1870s, visitors have reported seeing a ghostly sentinel in a Civil War uniform. He's often spotted close to the Veterans area, keeping an eternal guard over his fallen comrades. The soldier's spirit has never shown aggression and usually disappears before anyone can speak to him.

Other visitors have seen orbs floating around the trees on the grounds and have seen shadowy figures lurking behind the silent church. Some sightings in the Salem Church Cemetery are more menacing. According to local legend, a high priestess from an evil coven was secretly executed and buried on the land years before it became a church cemetery. Over the years, hundreds of visitors have experienced uneasiness and the cold touch of icy hands.

Unexplained scratches have also appeared on visitors' arms and legs, and spectral shadows loomed threateningly around them. Has the Dark Witch returned to get her revenge on Jackson residents for eternity? Locals say that if visitors knock three times on the church's vaulted doors, they'll hear three eerie knocks coming from within. Area paranormal investigators and psychics have studied Salem Cemetery with mixed results.

EVP recordings and infrared cameras have captured disturbing sounds, shadows, and orbs that cannot be explained. The township has lost scores of caretakers over the years because of the eerie experiences. Many people tending the lawn have been scared out of their wits by phantom hands grabbing their feet and disembodied voices whispering in their ears.

Ancient tombstones have changed positions and statues have disappeared, only to show up again days later. Those who dare may explore Salem Church Cemetery on Route 24 and Salem Road, Wellston, Ohio, during daylight hours only. You might see the sentinel guarding the graves or feel the icy nails of the begrudged dark witch. Perhaps you'll hear an ominous knocking in the lonely church.

Since it is a cemetery, please be respectful of the dead and their living family members. Night visits require special permission from the Township Trustee Board. Thanks for listening! If you like what you heard, be sure to subscribe so you don't miss future episodes!

All stories used in Weird Darkness are purported to be true unless stated otherwise, and you can find links to the authors, stories, and sources I used in the episode description as well as on the website at WeirdDarkness.com. If you like the show, please, share it with someone you know who loves the paranormal or strange stories, true crime, monsters, or unsolved mysteries like you do! You can email me and follow me on social media through the Weird Darkness website.

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