He's In My Phone
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Whether thou art a ghost that hath come from the earth, or a phantom of night that hath come, or one that lieth dead in the desert, or a ghost unburied, or a demon, or a ghoul, whatever thou be until thou art removed, thou shalt find here no water to drink. Thou shalt not stretch forth thy hand to our own. Into our house enter thou not. Through our fence break through thou not.

We are protected, though we may be frightened. Our life you may not steal, though we may be scared to death. Welcome to Scared to Death, creepspeepers, Robertson Annabels. I'm Dan. Hello, Dan. I'm Lindsay. Hello, Lindsay. Hello, good sir. Lindsay has one quick cruise announcement, and then we are off to the races today. Very nice. Very nice. Well, by the time you hear this...

We're hoping that you already saw all the social media posts, all the emails, all the information. But in case you didn't, and in case there are by some slim chance still some tickets available, you can join us this November on Crime Wave at Sea, a super awesome, super fun, true crime and horror themed event.

Uh, cruise, uh, Dan and I are going to be joining last podcast on the left sinister sinister hood and a few more others and hopefully more to be added to the list. Um, we're super excited to be performing live and participating in the cruise, hanging out with all of you fans and, you know, all the good stuff that goes along with the cruise.

We leave from Fort Lauderdale and we head out to the Bahamas. And if you're interested in cruising with us, and again, if there are still tickets available, you can find out by going to crimewaveatsea.com slash

slash scared. Crimewaveatsea.com slash scared. And all the info is there. Great. Great, great, great. And I mean, it is the weekend before my birthday, so I feel like as a birthday gift to me, you guys have to come. Oh yeah, totally. Yeah, definitely. Yeah, easy little gift. You know. No, but we're very excited. Very excited to do this. It's the first time we've done something like this. Yeah, where it's like not just...

like our fans on the scared to death side. Yeah. I've done time suck things in the past or stand up things in the past, but I'm really excited to like bring our show to some people who might not be familiar with us. Yeah. I mean, it's the first time really that we're doing a live scared to death, not in front of our own audience. Exactly. Yep. I am fucking scared. That's fine. We'll talk about that later.

What supposedly true paranormal tales have some cool fans been nice enough to send us this week? Well, Daniel, my first set of stories come. It's two stories, not connected, but both sent by the same fan. And to me, it just shows sometimes if you're open to the paranormal, then maybe more things happen to you. It's a question worth asking. So we'll follow one fan on a story in a jail where they work.

And then a funny slash sweeter little ghost story. I just, I really enjoyed it. And then my second tale, not from the same fan, is it's just so weird. It's so weird. I don't really have the words to explain it. The fan thinks it might be a UFO story, but I don't know that I agree. Okay.

My first of two tales today revolves around a young man thinking he is being haunted by something in his phone. I won't give away any more than that. I like this story a lot. My second story covers some of the lore that surrounds California's Lost Lake, which is about 20 miles from Fresno. Oh, okay. What spirits and also creatures may be hiding in and around its water.

So what spoopy socks are you wearing this week? This week, I have some Exorcist socks. Oh, nice. Dun, dun, dun. So creepy. Exorcist is so creepy. Yeah, it's a good classic horror movie. Exactly. I saw it too late, so it didn't hit me the same way. I was a little older. And, you know, because of the CGI, well, not CGI, the practical effects and stuff are a little bit dated.

It didn't get me like it's gotten a lot of people, but I respect it as an important horror movie. Okay. Very well. Very well. Stigmata still gets me. That's like the, like, to me, that's like my classic, like, I don't care how dated or whatever, it messes me up. All right. Y'all cozied up and ready to hear a story? Oh, I sure am, baby doll. When you think of a haunted object, what comes to mind? For me, I think of dolls with porcelain faces that smile a bit too widely or maybe way too widely.

Or ancient grimoires that once supposedly belonged to some demonologist or the village necromancer. I also think of those creepy portraits of the long dead. With facial expressions that seem to change every time you look at them just ever so slightly. Those knowing eyes that appear to follow you around the room. I think of things like mirrors, old family heirlooms, old timey toys, broken crucifixes, the list goes on and on.

What almost never comes to mind when I think of haunted objects is anything remotely modern. It's almost like we all have this collective preconceived notion that the dead only haunt analog or antique or innately occult items, relics of yore and whatnot. It's often hard to even picture a modern object having some sort of paranormal element to it, like a haunted Fitbit or a possessed pair of wireless noise cancellation headphones, maybe a Stanley Tumbler that contains the soul of some malevolent wraith.

For some reason, that all seems ridiculous, cartoonish. The dead just don't do that, right? Like it's against some unspoken set of rules. Today's allegedly true story is the rare one that challenges the idea that the dead steer clear of products of our modern age. We've altered some specific details in this story, like the names and places, in order to maintain the privacy of the families involved. Time now for the tale of He's In My Phone. Three months ago, my best friend Kyle died, and I was there.

Kyle and I have known each other, had known each other, since we were babies. We grew up as next-door neighbors in the same shitty neighborhood, went to all the same shitty schools, and both have dads that work for the same shitty company. He is, he was, like a brother to me, and I let him die. Three months ago, Kyle, Phillip, and I went to this old used car dealership that was condemned or whatever by the city to smoke some weed and fuck around.

It was just supposed to be a chill night, a sort of mini party to celebrate the fact that we were graduating high school in a few short weeks. We were just supposed to get there, hang out for a bit, get a little high, then walk back to my house to play Halo. But that's not what happened. I remember exactly what he said before he did it. "'Philip! Liam! Watch this!' Philip brought the pipe to his mouth and inhaled quickly. "'What? Watch what, shithead?' he asked in a pinched voice, trying to keep the smoke from escaping his lungs."

Kyle didn't answer. He was already halfway up the rusty scaffolding that ran along the side of the condemned building. I was so high I didn't really process what was happening. I felt like I was seeing the world unfold around me in fragments. Everything looked like stop motion, or like those little books that you flip through really fast and the pictures on each page blend together to make it look like Snoopy is really running, or dancing or whatever. I remember watching Kyle climb and thinking he looked like he was made of clay. I was like, what?

I pictured the giant animator that sculpted him hunched over the building, delicately moving Kyle's hands and feet and head ever so slightly to make it look like the clay boy was really climbing. For a second, or maybe it was longer, I turned my head to look at the former used car dealership's dilapidated sign. It was planted next to what used to be the entrance to the parking lot.

I remember thinking that it's no wonder the place failed. It was located off a remote back road in an already remote town that's populated by people that can barely afford to buy groceries, let alone afford to buy a car, even if it is a used one. I aimed my flashlight at the sign. The paint was peeling and the color was faded by the sun and stained with bird shit. But I could still make out the words. Friendly Chucks Use Cars. Authorized automobile buyer and seller. Certified stand-up guy.

I wondered where Friendly Chuck was that night. Or if Friendly Chuck had ever even existed. Maybe he was just a mascot. Just some character the owners invented to make customers feel at ease. Because Friendly Chuck would never scam them into buying a real piece of shit for a stupid high price. Because after all, Friendly Chuck is not only friendly, he's a certified stand-up guy. That's what I was thinking about when my phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out and stared at the screen. Incoming call from Kyle.

Without looking up, I yelled to Kyle, who was still ascending the scaffolding. Kyle, why are you calling me, man? Phillip spoke to me out of the corner of his mouth while taking another rip off the pipe. Kyle can't be calling you, buddy. His phone's right here. Using his free hand, Phillip gestured to the ground between us. He was right. Kyle's phone was right there under his keys and a pack of zins. I grabbed it and turned it on. In the right-hand corner, the words, no signal, blinked at me. I looked back at my phone. It was still ringing. Incoming call from Kyle. Kyle.

Tentatively, I swiped to answer and brought the phone to my ear. Hello? I asked. Whoever was calling was breathing so hard. It sounded like they were being suffocated, or maybe they were crying. Hello? I repeated. Suddenly, from the other end of the line came a sharp, guttural sob. So loud and so heavy with agony and pain that it struck me like a brick to the back of the skull. Then in a raspy, weak voice, they whispered. Coward. What the fuck? I asked. Beep.

I looked at my phone, call ended. I was still staring at the screen when it happened. I don't know if this is the exact order it happened in, but this is the order I experienced it in. First, Philip shouted something. Then he dropped the pipe on the ground. Then he started running. I looked to see what he was running towards. It was Kyle. He was falling. He was in midair. He was flailing. He was screaming at the top of his lungs. Then there was a thud. Then there was silence.

I think I stood up after that. I think I started walking towards them. Philip crouched on the ground. Kyle splattered onto it. I think I started to say something, something about calling 911. Philip didn't seem to hear. He just ran back to me, tears pouring out of his red eyes and snot dripping out of his nose and spit spewing out of his mouth. He said something to me. I don't know what.

I think I blacked out after that or I blocked it out somehow, some kind of PTSD or something, because the next thing I remember is being in my parents' kitchen, staring at the wooden sign above the sink that says, Bless This Mess. I thought about how my parents were on vacation in Florida. I thought about how they told us to be good before they left. I thought about Kyle's mom next door, probably asleep, maybe in her own bed, or maybe in Kyle's little sister Tiffany's bed, because Tiffany's only four, and she gets nightmares, so her mama sleeps with her a lot to make sure the monster under the bed doesn't get her.

I thought about Kyle. I think I said something again about calling 911, and I remember Phillip saying something about how they would just find him in the morning. How it would be better for us that way. I remember looking at my phone waiting for Kyle to call and let us know he was headed back to my house. I remember knowing he never would. They did find Kyle in the morning, and the cops did eventually find out it was us he was with that night. Phillip and I had to talk to the cops a lot about what we saw, what we were doing, and why we left.

The only trouble we got in was for trespassing on city property. Police ruled Kyle's death suicide. I didn't fight them on it. Neither did Philip. We both knew Kyle didn't kill himself. But suicide sounded better than the truth. That Kyle made a really dumb fucking decision to climb that rusty scaffolding of a condemned building in the middle of nowhere when he was high and he fell. He fucking fell. And we ran. The guilt has followed me everywhere since. I feel it in everything I do. I feel Kyle in everything I do. And recently I've started to see him too.

The first time it happened was last week, I think. I was scrolling on Instagram. I wasn't high, even though I wanted to be. My parents, who flew back from Florida the morning after Kyle died, made it very clear that they blamed weed for his death. They told me that if I wanted to continue living in their house, eating their food, driving their car, and using their money to pay for tuition when I went to community college in the fall, then I was never to smoke weed ever again. I don't blame them. Not really. But it does suck.

Anyway, I was scrolling, not really reading any captions or seeing any photos. I was just going through the motions mindlessly, trying not to think about my dead best friend. But then I saw him. I scrolled past the photo at first, but then I did a double take, and my stomach turned to cement. It was a new post from Phillip's account about the basement show he and his shitty band had put on the night before in memory of Kyle. I didn't go. How fucking hated Phillip's band?

The caption said,

The accompanying photo was taken at the concert the night before. The photo honestly looked like it could have been at any one of Philip's shitty basement concerts. Because they're all the same. Same assholes playing the same instruments to the same god-awful songs. Same crowd drinking the same cheap beer, talking about all the same shit, same dickwads pushing and punching each other in the mosh pit. So stupid.

The only thing that made this photo different was the fact that the whole band was wearing white t-shirts with the words, only the good die young sharpied onto them. And Philip was angrily gripping a framed photograph of him and Kyle as toddlers. The photo had been taken from the side of the makeshift stage so you could see both Philip and a measly little audience gathered before him. But in the back of the photo, lingering behind the small crowd, I saw him. He was pixelated and a little blurry, but it was him, Kyle. He was in the photo.

He was wearing the same sweatshirt he died in, and he was staring directly into the camera. He was staring at me, and he was angry. My lungs felt all of a sudden like they were being shoved up my throat. With sweaty hands, I fumbled with my phone, trying to take a screenshot, but I accidentally just turned the screen off instead. When I turned it back on, Instagram was still open to Philip's new post. I zoomed in. Kyle was gone. It was all in my head. But was it? The next day, or maybe the day after that, something even stranger happened.

I was totally disassociating, just scrolling through my For You page on Instagram when I came across a picture from an account called At Friendly Chuck Used Cars. It was a picture of their sign, the one by the entrance to the parking lot. It must have been taken in the summer. In the picture, the paint on the sign looked pretty fresh. And behind it, the parking lot was full of rows and rows of cars. In the sky above, it was a perfect cloudless blue.

I read the caption. "@FriendlyChucks you'll find your dream car. Open 5 days a week 10am to 5pm." The post was from 7 years ago. Intrigued or scared or I don't know just bored, I decided to check out the account. The profile picture was a cheesy stock photo of an old bright red Ferrari. The bio was the company motto typed out in all caps. "FriendlyChucks use cars. Authorized automobile buyer and seller. Certified stand up guy."

FriendlyChucks was following 266 other accounts with just 37 followers of their own. There was only one post on the page, the one of the sign in the summer, but it looked different. I clicked on it and got that same terrible cement feeling in my gut. At first, I couldn't figure out why, but then I zoomed in. Kyle was in the photo again.

He was standing in one of the windows on the third floor of the building, nearly the same place from where he'd fallen from. His face was blank with what I can only describe as rage. Seething, blistering, white-hot rage. As I stared at him, my chest started to feel heavy, like it was hard to breathe. My hands went limp. My phone tumbled off the couch. It landed with the screen facing upwards. I felt like I was going to pass out, like I was having a panic attack or something.

Almost paralyzed, I stared at the fluorescent light through a blur of tears for I don't know how long until I finally had the courage to grab my phone. The Instagram post was still on the screen. With shaky fingers, I zoomed in on the building in the background. Kyle was gone. I literally sighed with relief and swiped off the post. I was about to close out Instagram entirely when I noticed that at friendly Chuck's used car's number of followers had changed a lot. From 37 to 1.

I refreshed the page a few times, thinking that maybe Instagram was glitching, but the numbers stayed the same, just one follower. I clicked to see who the person was, but somehow deep down I already knew, even before I saw the username. At Kyle Allen, 100987.

I threw my phone at the wall and burst into tears. My mom must have heard the sound because a moment later she came running down the stairs to console me. Shortly after that, my dad came down too. He handed me a big cup of ice water with lemon and some salt, his weird cure for everything. Then he stood a little awkwardly in the corner while I sobbed into my mom's shoulder. At some point, my full body sob subsided into a regular old cry and I was able to pull myself together somewhat.

After wiping my snotty nose and chugging some lemon salt water in my emotional state, I started telling my parents how much I love them. How sorry I was for being a shitty son sometimes. Well, I tried to tell him, but it was hard to talk over the sound of my phone loudly buzzing and buzzing and buzzing on the coffee table. I ignored it, but my mom didn't. Gently, she put a hand on my shoulder and said, Liam, we love you too. You're not a shitty son, darling.

But before we go on telling you just how not shitty you are, why don't you see who's trying to get a hold of you so bad? Before I could stop her, she grabbed my phone and held it out for me. I didn't look at it. I couldn't look at it. I just stared at her face, silently begging for her to stop. It wasn't her fault. It was no one's fault, but I just wanted it to stop. My phone would not stop vibrating in her hand. A concern washing over her face, hesitantly she looked down at the screen and read the name.

"'Honey?' she asked, her voice shaking with fear and confusion. "'Why... why is Kyle calling you?' Before I knew what was happening, my dad was saying something about a goddamn prank caller, grabbing the phone out of my mom's hand and clicking answer. "'Listen here, you little low-life son of a bitch!' he started yelling. "'How you got that poor boy's phone? I don't know, but you don't need to be calling around here when people are grieving—' His voice cut off abruptly. It was like he'd been struck by something none of us could see. Slowly, he pulled the phone away from his ear and put it on speaker."

"Hello? Tim? You still there? Is Liam there? I gotta ask him a question about graduation. I didn't know we were supposed to buy a gown. Can you believe that, Tim? A goddamn gown. Haha. Anyway, hoping Liam can help. Hello? Tim? You still there?" It was Kyle. It was definitely Kyle. We all recognized his voice. I think my mother was praying the rosary next to me, and I think my dad might have actually started crying. I'm not sure, but when I held out my hand for my phone, he gave it to me willingly. "Kyle?" I asked.

He was still on speakerphone. "'Liam, thank God! Did you know we're supposed to have a goddamn gown for graduation? Ain't that some shit? Do you know where to get one? Or do you know somebody I could bum one off of?' "'Kyle?' I stammered, tears welling up my eyes in a lump the size of Georgia lodging itself in my throat. "'You're not... you're not going to graduation?' "'Why's that, Liam?' he responded cheerfully. "'Cause I failed math, ain't it? Fuck, man. Mr. Andrews, he always had it out for me. That son of a bitch. Ha ha!'

"'No, Kyle!' I began to break down. My voice sounded like I was being suffocated here. "'Jesus, you're dead, Kyle. You're not going to graduate because you're dead. I'm sorry, Kyle. I'm so sorry.' "'Oh!' Kyle exclaimed. "'That's right, Liam. I'm fucking dead. I slipped off that building, splattered right under the concrete. Ain't that right, buddy? Blood, guts, bones, pus, hair, spilling out into the concrete, staining the ground, making a big old mess for the cops to find in the morning.'

If the raccoons don't get there first. But you know what, buddy? You know what the real fucking kicker is? What? I whimpered. Mushed up in that big fucking pile of broken and crunched up body parts? My heart was still beating.

My head was still spinning. I was still alive. Praise Jesus, it was a miracle. No! I screamed involuntarily. Yeah, buddy, I wasn't dead, not yet anyway, so I'm laying there thinking everything's gonna be just fine, because my best friend, the fellow who's looked out for me my whole fucking life, he's right there with me. He would never leave me to fucking die, right? He would never abandon me to save his own ass. Brothers don't do that, do they, Liam?

"'I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!' I wailed, begging him to stop. But Kyle or whatever or whoever this really was just continued talking. So there I am, full of faith that the good Lord's gonna make damn sure I live another day, and if he doesn't, my best friend will. But strange enough, my best friend's nowhere to be found. I wait and I wait and I wait, but he just doesn't come. That's the end of the story.

That's when I tried to start to scream, but I can't scream, can I? Because my lungs are closing in and my mouth is full of blood. But I try, Liam. Believe me, I try. I try with all my might. I try screaming out for you, for God, for Mama, but no one comes. Do you know why no one comes, Liam? Mama's too far away to hear me. God's doing whatever God does and my best friend, well, my best friend's already gone because he fucking left. He ran. Do you know why he ran, Liam? Do you know what he is?

I couldn't speak. I couldn't breathe. Grief, rage, guilt, shame. It was all boiling up in my throat like stomach acid, burning me from the inside. Do you know what you are, Liam? Kyle asked again, his voice full of hate. I opened my mouth to reply, but all that came out was a sharp, guttural sob. And then in a raspy, weak voice, I just whispered, coward. And then he hung up. Whatever that was, Kyle's spirit or something else, it hasn't called back. Not yet. But I still see him.

He shows up in the background of new photos in my phone's library, photos I didn't take until after he died, but he never stays in them for long. He shows up in TikTok and YouTube videos, Instagram reels. I keep getting recommended the same photo from friendly Chuck's used cars, always on my phone. And I got a text from him yesterday, a text of a video that no one took of his body after we left him there. You could hear him gurgling. You could hear him dying. And then it went away. Was he really alive after he fell? Is he haunting me? I think he's in my phone somehow.

What do I do? What the fuck? Yikes. It's not possible. No, I've never, I mean, I admit, I mean, a story like this, we have no way of verifying this. This could be obviously like a creepypasta thing, but this story creeped me out. Well, yeah. The concept of it.

And just like putting yourself in that situation where something happens. I mean, you're a teenager. You're afraid like, oh, my God, are we going to get in trouble? I think we killed him. He's already you think he's already dead. You flee not saying that I would do this, but I'm not saying that I definitely wouldn't. Right. And when your brain isn't fully developed, you're just a kid. You're high. You're high. Yeah. 17, 18 years old.

And then and then like the guilt of this could just start to like work on your mind and make you see things. But then also, if this story is real, it's like, why would the parents also witness? And I would be getting a new phone. I would be starting there. Right. I know they're I get the vibe that they're poor or like that money is very tight. But maybe we just start there. I mean, they could the parents could write it off as a crank call.

I mean, it's like, you know, if like teenagers talk. Sure. And, you know, Liam's the other buddy that was there. I think I had to go back and look. I think Philip, you know, maybe he told some people and then word got around that they actually left him there. Sure. And then somebody's like, ooh, we could fuck with him. But then but then like, how would they?

Have that happen from Kyle's phone? Exactly, exactly. I don't know. I mean, I guess if you want to get really sick and twisted, maybe Kyle's mom has Kyle's phone and she puts somebody else up to it because she's so angry at family.

Philip and Liam for leaving her son there to die. I mean, maybe. I mean, I think she'd go to the police. But again, but actually, even if she went to the police, they didn't do anything. No, they didn't. They should have checked him. They should have made sure he was. Yeah, they should have called 911. Yes. Yes, exactly. But it's not like they pushed him off the building. Right. Yeah.

But I just like that story. It got me good. So uncomfortable. There was no pictures associated with it. Well, obviously. Right. But I did find a... I was trying to think, should I have any pictures? And I found a few signs associated with just cars or car dealerships that cracked me up. Oh, my God. Do you remember the car dealership that used to be down the street from our house? Oh, yes. Oh, my God. It was awesome. Awesome trucks. Yeah.

Cool cars and trucks. Cool cars and trucks. No, we joked about how we were going to set up another place called Awesome Cars and Trucks to put them out of business. And I think it was with like a K. It was with a K. Cool cars and trucks. Cool cars and trucks. And it felt like a money front because I never noticed anybody looking for cars there. There would just be people watching a big screen TV in the office. That building was always like whatever went in there just never lasted. It never worked. Yeah, it felt like a money laundering thing. Uh-huh.

So here is this first, this is the Mazda dealership somewhere up in Canada. Okay. And their design says, end of the world, clear out. If the world ends, you don't have to pay ever. And they're not wrong. Right. So something silly.

I like this one from Dale's Auto Care. I don't know where it is, but they're sick of people not driving correctly. They wrote on their sign, forget world peace, visualize using a blinker. Honestly, I fucking hate when people don't use a blinker. I know. I hate it when I am waiting. Like, if they were, if they did have their blinker on, then I wouldn't go. Like, if they're making a left across from me and I'm making a left...

But then they're just sitting there and I'm like, what are you doing? And then eventually they do go ahead and turn. Or they don't, then I'm very angry. Well, yeah, if they have the blinker on and then they don't turn. But I'm just saying they don't signal that they're going to turn and then they eventually do turn. Yeah, or they turn without a blinker. And that also, that is what makes it crazy. We're saying the same thing. Yeah. This next one, this is, I just like that he went ahead and put his name on it. Dick Beard Chevrolet out of Massachusetts. Oh, boy.

He passed away in 1994, but before then he was Dick Beard. He's not going to hide his name. Oh, Richard. And then I'm not sure this next sign comes from, but I just, I love it. This is my favorite by far. The inventor of autocorrect died. The funnel will be held tomato. Just how stupid. I love it. Like a great kind of dad joke. There's that one sign in the valley. It's like at the storage center.

Yep, I know exactly what you're talking about. And they always do, like some of them are better than others, but they do some pretty silly ones. For years, for at least over a decade. Yeah, for as long as I've been here. Just, you know, freely entertaining the people driving by the freeway. Yeah, what was the one recently that I thought it was cute? It was something about like, you don't get to tell me what to do. You're not my dog.

Yeah, we are all suckers for our dogs. Uh-huh. True. Especially if you have a little bossy dog like Penny. Oh, Penny poops. Ginger, I will say, for as weird as Ginger is, she's very trainable, directable. She doesn't push back. Like when you tell her to stop doing something, for the most part, she's like, okay. Well, no, she doesn't stop barking. Oh, that's true. It's with barking she doesn't stop making noises. She really wants to keep us safe.

And she can be really insistent. Like if I'm sitting there working and she wants either to go out or to be snuggled or to be petted. Yeah. I mean, it's just like she's just clawing at you, clawing at you, clawing at you, clawing at you. To me, when she does that, it's very gentle, though. It's like a tap.

It's like a little tap. And if I'm like, not now, then she just looks at me like, okay. And she does leave you alone. I have to tell her several times, like, Ginger, not now. Penny just stares daggers. I get annoyed at Penny just staring at me because it's so intense and relentless. And I'll try and ignore it. And then I'm like, geez, she has been staring at me for five minutes straight. You can just feel it. Uh-huh. Yeah, that's pretty funny. Oh, Penny. Any more questions about that last story? No, sir.

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Lindsay Lou does the majority of the grocery shopping in our house. It's not that I don't like going to the market, but rather I come back with all of the classic junk food and not much of the healthy stuff. And even when I try to pick out a better, cleaner, healthier version, I struggle. There are so many things hidden in our foods that I can't

that I just kind of give up. I understand entirely. It can be really hard and really exhausting to find fun, yummy snacks that satisfy your cravings while also not doing harm to your body. I love a sweet treat, and I also love a salty snack. I mean, I just love food. But between the hidden sugars and the confusing labels, well, it's just overwhelming. When we made the choice to eat better as a family, we started to shop for all of our snacks at Thrive Market.

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Upfront payment of $45 for three months, five gigabyte plan required equivalent to $15 a month. New customer offer for first three months only, then full price plans options available. Taxes and fees extra. See Mint Mobile for details. Thanks for listening to our sponsor deals, Creeps and Peepers. The Lost Lake Recreation Area is located 19 miles northeast of Fresno, California, along the San Joaquin River.

It is one of the most popular parks in the county because of its 38-acre lake and accompanying nature study area. Those who visit the park can enjoy a picnic, play some softball, volleyball, do a bit of hiking or bird watching, even go fishing or camp overnight. And if they come at the right or wrong night, they might see a ghost or something stranger. Lost Lake has become a bit infamous due to some unusual sightings out on its deceptively peaceful-looking water. Time now for the tale of What's Beneath the Water.

The most common paranormal story about Lost Lake you'll find online claims that one night, two people were out fishing when they saw a movement in some bushes along the shore. They pointed their flashlight towards it to get a better look and saw a young boy in swim trunks emerge from the bushes and then stand at the water's edge. The pair looked at each other in shock and when they turned back, the boy, as so often is the case with these types of sightings, was gone.

This pair were far from the first or last people to see what appears to be the same apparition. Many believe it is the spirit of a little boy who drowned in the lake many years ago. And this boy, according to the lore that surrounds Lost Lake, is one of several people to have died in the gentle-looking water. There have allegedly been multiple drownings in the lake over the years, which some blame for the entire park being weighed down by a supposed feeling of negative energy and a sense of sorrow after the sun has set.

Others have claimed to have heard childlike laughter on the water after dark, even when they know they're alone in the area. The same couple who saw the little boy said they had another terrifying experience that same night. At a different spot in the lake, they said they saw a massive figure swimming near the shore, watching in horror as it slithered around along the surface of the water before sinking down into the lake. Other reported sightings at Lost Lake over the years have included a tall, mysterious figure in a white cloak.

and a group of several shadowy figures huddled together along the shoreline. And one group of campers reportedly heard steady drumbeats throughout the night. And then the sound quickly stopped when they walked over to investigate. The following story comes from someone who believes they encountered that odd, mysterious lake cryptid while fishing late one night. This was probably the most terrifying experience of my life, and I didn't even really see much. I was still fishing on Lost Lake around 9 p.m., when the whole area was getting good and dark.

I could hear some campers playing music way off in the distance, but I was alone in my section of the lake, or maybe even alone in the entire lake. I was preparing to head back to my vehicle after an unsuccessful evening of fishing. I reeled in my line, closed up my tackle box. I turned on the spotlight that I kept on my small boat and started driving back to the shore, which was only about 200 yards away. And as I cruised along, I heard a splash, a splash that sounded like it came from something a lot bigger than a fish. And then a wake hit the starboard side of my boat.

Strange, I thought to myself. The lake had been perfectly calm just a few seconds before, and there definitely weren't any other boats nearby that would have made a wake like that. I kept slowly moving towards the boat launch. When I was about 100 or 125 yards away from it, I heard another big splash. Spooked me pretty good, and I got hit by a wake from the other side now, this time strong enough to make the boat bob up and down in the water. If I would have been standing up, I would have fallen in. Now I was feeling nervous.

I looked around, and even though it was dark, I was sure there were no other boats nearby. So I wondered what the hell was going on. I just kept going. What else was I supposed to do? And then I heard that same splashing again, close to the boat on the starboard side. Just a few seconds later, I heard the same kind of splashing on the port side. In another wake, a smaller one smacked the side of my boat. That was when I realized something must be circling me, something under the surface that kept popping out of the water just enough to make that splashing sound and create those wakes. I killed the engine.

I was worried about hitting whatever this thing was and getting dumped. I also wanted to not have to try to listen over the sound of the motor. Now the water was calm. I didn't want to be out in the lake any longer than I needed to be, so after maybe 30 seconds, I took a deep breath, tried to steady my nerves, started up the motor again and headed towards the boat ramp, which was so close I could easily swim there if I needed to, not that I wanted to. I didn't want to be in the water at all now. I followed my little spotlight straight ahead, the beam of light guiding me to safety. I just needed to make it another 50 feet or so.

I refused to look down at the dark water below me. I thought I was in the clear, and I heard a deep and heavy thump on the starboard side, towards the back of the boat near where I was sitting, and my boat tilted hard to the right. I wasn't pointed at the ramp anymore. Now I was genuinely scared. Only something big and strong could shift the boat like that. Even a lightweight 16-footer like mine, something easily capable of flipping it over, something that shouldn't be in a small freshwater lake.

My hands gripped aside in my seat, trying to keep myself from falling out. The boat was now bobbing from side to side, and I heard a splash again behind me, followed by a large wake coming from that direction. My heart was pounding. Then just maybe 10 feet in front of the boat, where the beam of my spotlight hit the water, I saw an elongated black shape rise up from the water and glide past. It reminded me of a giant eel. Then a thought hit me. The light. I wonder if it's attracted to my light.

I hated the thought of being alone with this thing in the dark, but I flipped the light off and just sat there for about a minute, listening and hoping it wouldn't slam into me again, knock me out of the boat and into the dark water. And well, I don't even want to think of what might've happened if I ended up in the water with it. I heard the water ripple a few times, but no splashes, no wakes. And then by the time about a minute was up, I didn't hear anything. So I just headed towards the dock. I tied off. I've never been so happy to step foot on a dock less than a minute later.

I ran and grabbed my truck, and before I turned it around to back the trailer down towards my boat, before I had to get back in the boat and drive it up onto the trailer, I flipped on my high beams and pointed them at the lake. And just for a moment, maybe 100 yards out from shore, I saw that big eel-like thing rippling just barely out of the water again, and then it was gone. I wanted to just leave my boat, but I don't have 30 grand it would take to buy another one. I was out of there in less than five minutes, and I haven't been back since. ♪

How'd you do with that? You hate dark water. Yeah, I mean, for starters, fishing-wise, I don't know. I mean, maybe if I started to go fishing a lot more, like actually started to go fishing on the boat...

Uh-huh. Maybe in, I bet in time, I'd probably get just more and more comfortable like you do. You get acclimated to things with like, if I was fishing like, you know, out there still when it was dark. I love you, but I don't think so. I know. I really don't like the water at night. Yeah. I mean, and I'm being, I'm not being snarky or anything. It stresses you out and freaks you out so much.

Yeah. I mean, if I had this experience, if I mean, I can just actually picture that being out on the water because we have been on the water at night. Yeah. And if all of a sudden I heard like the distinct. Well, I mean, you can hear a fish jump. Yeah. If it was like that, but much, much bigger. Just hearing that once. Oh, I would immediately feel sick. Yeah. I would be freaking out. And then if I heard like little wakes, I can just picture that hitting the boat from different sides. Yeah.

I would not. I would have taken a different approach. I mean, well, it depends on the size of the boat. If I was in a little boat, I guess I can understand his approach. You're just kind of trying to wait it out. Yeah, wait it out. But if I had a bigger boat, if the boat I thought was quite a bit bigger than this thing, I am just gunning it for the shore. Yeah, yeah. Like getting out of there as soon as possible. But that would be tricky because like if you're in a smaller boat—

And you're thinking like, well, if I gun it and then I hit this thing when I'm going fast. Yeah. Now I'm done. Yeah. I'm catapulted out. Oh my God. And then you might as well. I would just hope it would be best if that happened to me. Just please let me have a heart attack and die immediately. Oh, buddy. Like the amount of panic I would feel that would not, I'd probably drown honestly, because I would just completely panic. Oh, sweetness. Or I guess I would, I don't know, in a lake in that situation, I guess I would just swim.

I picture like kind of like when you're starting to run or like you're at night getting up in the middle of night and you start walking back from the kitchen or whatever, go to the bedroom and then you feel like something's behind you and you don't want to like turn around. So I just walk faster and faster. And then you're almost just kind of running, just bolting down there. I think it would be that, but in the water where hopefully I wouldn't wear myself out and drown, but I wouldn't have the wherewithal to like just, you know, pace myself and like have a steady swim stroke. I would just be swimming all out as fast as I could go towards the shore and

and I'm either going to drown or I'm going to make it to shore. God, that would be terrifying. This is not good for you. No, no, I do not. I would so much rather be on land than be on water if something went sideways. Well, I think that's fair. What about you? I mean, it doesn't bother me the way it bothers you. I have to try and not let your fear become my fear. But yeah, I mean, we've been out on the lake late at night, and I think I giggle with how freaked out you get.

Yeah, yeah, yeah. It's just so – of all the things that I ever thought you would tell me, like, I'm afraid of or whatever, because we lived in L.A. for so long and then we lived here and, like, you know, initially we didn't spend a lot of – well, we weren't even both here at the same time. It was many years of living here before we even got to spend a significant amount of time out on the lake. Yeah. So this was kind of new to me in the last, like, three or four years where I'm like, wait, what? You're afraid – what? Yeah.

I understand a fear of drowning, 100%. Yeah. I absolutely... I have had my ass kicked by the ocean enough times that I also don't want to go swimming into... Just far out into the ocean. Yeah, yeah, yeah. You know? And I...

maybe just as much as other people maybe more than others i don't know but i am so fucking scared of of sharks i have been headbutted by uh you know giant sea turtles and i've been stung by rays it's like i i've had enough where i'm like i'm fucking i'm good yeah you know i don't need any more jellyfish stings like i don't need to be peed on to make the sting go away like i'm good i'm fucking good so

All that aside, I don't have a deep fear the way you do. I just don't like it. Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah. Yeah, for me, I think what it is is I don't like –

that you can't see very far away from you and it's like you're even if you can i'm thinking of like being in an area where there's clear water not that i have like done much snorkeling i don't because i'm scared of it yeah but a few times i've gone into that kind of water and even when i can see like in crystal clear water things are still a little bit blurry just the nature of the water yeah and shadowy and it freaks me out because i'll look around i'm like okay these are all little fish around me but what's around behind that rock

What's further out there. And I really hate it. Like when we went to Hawaii on our honeymoon and, or wait a minute, maybe it was not the honeymoon. Maybe it was the next time, like that trip we took there with the kids, but it was some, we went snorkeling. No, I think it wasn't that, uh, honeymoon one. We went snorkeling and there was this like shelf and it like went off steep to the right as we're swimming in the water. And so you could see the bottom of the ocean where we were. But then if you looked over to the right, it just went down into the darkness. Yeah.

And I was like, I, my mind, what is it's relentless in those situations. It just keeps imagining some kind of monster or shark, giant squid, something, something, anything horrible coming out from that shelf and coming for me. And once I started thinking that, then I'm done.

Well, also, I mean, I completely understand that. Just fear of the unknown. Yeah. And I'm not saying I'm not afraid of that. I'm just saying I don't... My brain doesn't immediately jump there. Yeah. But, like, as far as the ocean goes, I see the ocean and the lake very differently. I'm not afraid of the lake. My biggest fear in the lake, honestly, is just getting tangled up in something. Oof, yeah. You know? Because, right, because people litter, because...

uh, boats do capsize in there, even in lakes, you know, shit goes wrong, whatever things happen, uh, stuff grows from the bottom up. Like that's my biggest water fear is my foot getting tangled in something that grows from the lake or ocean floor. Yeah.

And I drown. As we're talking about this, I'm already thinking, I'm like, I don't even know if I'm going to swim in the lake ever again. Oh my God, stop it. You love to swim in this lake. I do, but I have to get over my nerves the first time every summer. Well, you know, daytime, nighttime, two different things. Do you have pictures of the Lost Lake? I have a couple pictures. Yeah, so this is, I couldn't find a good aerial view of the entire lake.

Because it's like this river feeding into it and stuff. So it's like a lot of the pictures were like where the river kind of comes in. Sure. But you can see it's kind of like desert-y, you know, like little hills and stuff around it, some brush around the sides, little lily pads and things. And then here's that boat launch. Not a great high-resolution photo. No, but I get it. Yeah, but you get it.

you know, pretty basic little lake there. Not especially scenic in my mind. Yeah. I mean, there's nothing really like, okay, whatever. I mean, parts of California, that desert, it reminds me of like that, that lake. It wasn't Castaic, but we, um, like Cuyamaca. It's like just kind of sagebrush around the sides. It's not real pretty actually. And then finally, um, I thought this was cool. It just popped up when I was looking for other stuff. This is a 1904 illustration called the monster of the lake done by Norwegian artists. And it really like,

artist of what is it very very well known artist over Norway Theodore Kittleson Kittleson esteemed what was the word you were looking for esteemed I can't think of it prolific yeah of note something like that an artist of renown but yeah I just thought that was cool and related can you zoom in I want to see his little eyes okay yeah that is cool mm-hmm yeah he doesn't really or he did I mean he died a long time ago what he's dead really cool illustrations and paintings is that him

That's him. Yeah, that's his self-portrait. He's a monster in the lake. That's unbelievable. No, but actually he did like early in the 20th century, like a lot of Norwegian folklore, like little trolls and things. Oh, sure. Yeah, just kind of like funky type art from that time period.

And that's all I got. You're kind of like a funky piece of art from that time period. Oh, okay. Yeah, like a relic or... Yeah, totally. I've been saying relic as much as possible because it's just... Silo? Yes, it's at the forefront of my brain. I don't even mean to and then it comes out of my mouth. I'm like, okay, I guess you're just really obsessed with Silo. You guys, Silo, just FYI, we watched the first season and we were like...

It's good. It's fine. It was a good filler in between shows. And then we were... I think that there was something else we watched similarly to Silo. We were like, okay, it's kind of like this. Sort of reminded us of the 100, which we watched with our kids when they were younger. Season 2 is off the hook. It is so good. It gets better, I think, with every episode. And they've been renewed for seasons 3 and 4. And they've already said that in season 3...

They're going to reveal more of the backstory and then they're going to wrap it all up and put a bow on it for season four, which I happen to love. Me too. Yeah. Yep. Yep. And I guess it's, I don't know where the books were written, what country they come from, who wrote them, but I guess it's based on a book, book series. Yeah. I thought last night you told me and now I can't remember. I'm just going to look. No, I thought it was, I thought it was some Slavic author. Oh, that's right. Not correct. I don't think. Author Hugh Howey.

That doesn't mean anything to me. He writes science fiction, dystopian. Oh, he's an American writer. Well, well done, Huey. Howie. Hugh Howie. Hugh Howie. He's been called Huey before. Someone else has made that mistake, I assure you. Never. You're the first. Let's hear your stories. Okay, let's get into it. Do you have a Layla over there? I do. I got a pink one. Aw, for love month. That's so cute. All right, let's go.

The occupied cell. Back in 2012, after a five-year hiatus, I had returned to working as a detention officer in Tulsa, Oklahoma. I was assigned to work in a segregation unit, which is a unit for incarcerated individuals who could not or would not follow general unit rules. It was mostly where individuals who committed murder were housed at the time. They

There are two tiers of cells that the inmates are assigned to. These cells are locked, except for one hour a day when the inmates are removed for recreational time. Since they are in segregation, they are taken out to the recreation yard one at a time.

I was working the booth. In this area, I would have control of opening the cell doors as needed. I was responsible for visually checking the cells from the booth area and reporting any problems or issues to the floor officer.

I noted that there was a black male in cell XX that looked distraught. He was pacing back and forth. I pushed the speaker button and asked the inmate if he was okay or if he needed something. He replied that he was just fine. He just likes to pace. Nothing else to do. It was a little bit of an odd behavior to me. Most inmates in the SEG unit, as we call it, would sleep or lie on their beds and read.

I kept an eye on him just in case his behavior changed significantly. About 30 minutes later, the floor officer did a security check. This is where an officer goes from cell to cell, checking for living, breathing people in each cell and making sure they're doing okay. He arrived at cell XX and then quickly walked away. I watched the entire thing from the booth. He finished his rounds and reported to me his findings on the security check while I made a log of said check.

I asked if the gentleman in cell XX was okay. The floor officer asked, what man in XX? I replied, the young black man in cell XX. He said, that cell is empty. I looked again at the security camera. I could see the inmate pacing back and forth, looking agitated. Then I went over to the speaker and told the officer to listen closely. I pushed the button down and asked the inmate if he was okay.

The man replied that he was, but he was thirsty and asked for water. The floor officer said that there was not anyone in there when he checked it. I suggested that perhaps the inmate had been behind the door when he was doing his checks. I had the floor officer take the inmate a cup of water. He arrived at the cell and found no one there. The floor officer dropped the cup of water and then ran back down the stairs. He told me, I must be seeing and hearing things.

Now it was finally my turn to work the floor after four hours in the booth. It wasn't but 10 minutes after I started my floor rotation that the once floor officer, now booth officer, said that yes, the young man in cell XX was there and he was asking to speak to me.

The now booth officer said that I must have been right, that sure enough, there really was someone in that cell. I walked to cell XX to check on the inmate. Upon arrival, I looked at the booth officer with a confused expression because just like him, I too did not see anyone in the cell. I was called to that cell over 12 times during our eight-hour shift.

It did not occur to either one of us ever to check the board to see who was listed to be in that cell until the end of our shift. It was marked in red, all caps, cell broken, do not use. No one was assigned to that cell.

As I was doing my last security check, the inmate, two cell doors down, told me that the last man that was in that cell was a young black man who was convicted of first and second degree murder, sent to the yard, aka prison, and then hung himself while in the yard. He could not remember the man's name though. I actually could not find anything remotely close to that information in our records.

I had known that the jail was haunted. I had worked there a number of years and had had many experiences. I'm glad that I enjoy scary things because many people I have shared this story with said they would have quit. I, on the other hand, requested to work that unit in hopes of seeing and speaking to the young man one more time. Yee. Yee. That's, um... I love that response from you. Yee. I was just trying, I was thinking, um...

About like how shouldn't like how they how they would know or not know that an inmate is in a cell. I would think they would have a very regulated system. Right. So when the when the guy with the first guy, when the narrator is in the booth. Yeah. And the other guy is down there.

I would think that would be very alarming if he's like, okay, I'm seeing somebody or either version of that. Yeah. There should be some kind of security protocol where it's like, we have to check the cell thoroughly. I know. It seemed relaxed. I know. I'm like, you guys don't seem very nervous. There might be a murderer on the loose.

And I know that there is what is supposed to be protocol and then what really happens. Of course. And, you know, and I've gone over like enough like prison stories where there will be things that happen and then, you know, there's an investigation later. And a lot of times they find like, well, they weren't doing the checks exactly by the book and stuff. So it's like I can see that happening, but it just cracked me up. And then –

That's crazy that he is still the narrator is still like fine with the shift after having this discussion with this thing that the other guy cannot see in the cell. I know two different conversations. And then when he gets flipped and now he's hearing the booth, the guy in the booth say that now he's seeing this guy and he's down there.

Man, I might be like, okay, all right, I got to have somebody relieve me. I need like somebody to replace me now if possible, which I guess, you know, probably isn't possible. No. You just have to push through, but that would suck. And also just as an FYI, the narrator is a woman.

Oh, did I say he? Yeah. They don't give any indication. I just know because. Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah. Which actually I think like makes it even more disturbing on a certain level because I'm like, I don't care how fucking tough and strong you are as a woman. There is just male strength and female strength. There is just a difference in what we are each capable of. And I'm just imagining what I imagine in my head is like,

Somebody who is sentenced to prison in life, who gets one hour, well, I'm assuming for life, who gets one hour a day to go outside. So they're probably angry, frustrated. We know they've committed murder. And what else do you have to do but a lot of like crunches and pushups and crunches and pushups? So I'm just imagining this like very built situation.

Yeah. Prisoner. And very horny. Oh, yeah. I didn't even think about very horny. Very, yeah, sexually charged. Uh-huh. And then this woman, and she's just like, whatevs. Like, her name is Anna. I'm like, Anna. I know. We need to talk. When I think of a female corrections officer working around this kind of population, where like they call it like the segregated unit, I think, not like murderers and things.

I flash on Silence of the Lambs, Jodie Foster's character going to meet Hannibal Lecter for the first time and walking past these death row inmates. And like, you just have to have the thickest skin. Yep. Nerves of fucking steel. And you are hearing everything. You are hearing the most vile threats and insults. I would imagine. I mean, I'm sure they get punished for that. They lose privileges, but.

But also if you think they really fucking care, I know that's the thing. And I, again, I used to be obsessed actually randomly. This is so many years ago when I was on the road working a standup at night when I'd go to bed in these hotel rooms. I don't remember if it was like MSNBC with some random channel, one of those news channels and they would always have prison documentaries on late at night. And I would just have that on in the background just like when I didn't want to like get too invested in something. And, and it's just fascinating to me. And for the longest time I was watching so many prison documentaries and

And yeah, I mean, you get in that situation because you're violent and you have very poor impulse control. Yeah. And so if you have that, you know, type of makeup, um,

Even if you, yeah, like you said, even if you are going to lose privileges, what do you really care? Like, if you get worked up in a moment, you're not going to be like, I shouldn't say that because I'm not going to get to watch TV next week. Right. You're just going to fucking say it. Ugh. When I think about things like that, I just think about our daughter and she is so bold and she's at that age where, you know, cocky is maybe the term. Yes. You know, but also like quick to correct her behavior. I mean, good kid, you know, like a good moral compass. But,

I imagine like her as Jodie Foster. Yeah. And I'm like, because Monroe, she really does have nerves of steel. She's, do not fuck with her. You do not want to cross her. But I'm like, oh, but Monroe, you also don't understand the consequences. I know her and Kyler both. I think about them. And I don't know what this is, if it's like a Cummins family trait.

And I was the same way when I was younger. Yeah. We have like a preposterous buildup just in the family tree of writing checks with our mouths that our asses can't cash and just getting away with it. I look back at a so many times where I like yell, just went off on somebody, whatever. And I'm like looking back, I'm like, oh, they could have probably easily beaten my ass. And for whatever reason, they didn't.

Even in high school, kids that were way bigger than me and definitely got into fights, looking back, I'm like, I can't believe I would say those things to them and provoke them, but somehow they wouldn't do it. And I see that now with Kyler and Monroe. Kyler's calmed down now, but Kyler went for a couple years where I'm like, I was just waiting to get the phone call that he was in the hospital, that he pushed somebody too far, and they beat the shit out of him. And now Monroe just entered that phase, and when she shares some of the things she says to other kids, I'm like, what? And I will tell her, I'm like, what are you doing? Yeah. Why are you saying that?

Uh-huh. That's wild that you said that to that person. That's a bad fucking idea. Right. Yeah, careful. Uh-huh. Uh-huh. Okay, you ready for a second story from Anna? I am. The Workshop. When I was about 13, I pulled a prank on my sister and her snobby little friend. Both girls had been picking on our baby brother all day, making him cry. I told him not to worry and that I would get them back for him.

Mm-hmm.

I waited until they were deep in conversation, laughing at what they had done to our brother all day. And then I grabbed their hands and yanked them hard. The girls screamed, peed their pants a little, and then ran inside. I quickly crawled out of the van, secretly securing the back hatch door and made a beeline for our grandfather's workshop, which was close by on the property.

The lights were on, and not thinking anything of it, I just assumed that my uncle was inside working on something. I sat on one of the old tractor seats that was made into a chair and waited for him. My plan was to act like I'd been down in the shop the entire time to avoid being blamed for scaring the girls. While waiting, I continually heard the banging of a hammer hitting a board.

One of the rules was that if the door to the area that the workbench's nails and most hammers were in was shut, do not enter until you were told it was okay. While waiting, I noticed the light turned off, but nobody came out. There was only one entrance and one exit to this area, which was located where I was sitting. I thought it was odd. I asked myself why my uncle was working in the dark.

I waited a few minutes before I hopped off the chair to open the door to the work area. I wanted to make sure he was okay. Just then, the light turned on and the door flung open. Once it opened, I heard a laugh. Then a hammer hanging on the wall behind me dropped onto the work table below despite no one coming out of the work area. I was too confused to even move. Like a dummy, I stood there, waiting.

My uncle then entered the workshop. He looked at me, the opened door, the light being on, and then began to lecture me about how he'd already told us kids not to play in that room. I tried to explain to him what happened, but he didn't buy it. He said that I needed to not play in the work area. He turned off the light and shut the door, and we both left the shop. I glanced back over my shoulder.

The light had turned on again. I watched as the door to the work area opened and shut. And then, and only then, did I see my grandfather, standing at the workshop window, smiling and waving at me. My grandfather had been deceased for ten years at this point. I knew then that it was him telling me that he was there and to just be careful when hanging out in the workshop.

Every time we visited my grandmother after that day, I made it a point to go into the workshop and at least say hello to my grandfather, Anna.

Anna sees all kinds of stuff. I know. Well, that's why I loved both of her stories because they're entirely different, not related in any way, shape, or form other than her being the common denominator. And says, like, I love spooky stuff. You know, I'm very open to this. I'm very willing to be an active participant. And so I love sharing those two stories of hers. Yeah.

I like Anna's personality, too. I feel like I would like Anna. I know. Where it's just like the little girl who's going to stand up for baby bro then becomes a correction officer. Oh, yeah. She clearly is like somebody who isn't afraid of confrontation, isn't afraid to stand up for the underdog, the smaller people. Uh-huh. Yeah. And it feels like a good egg. Aw, Anna, you're loved.

Okay. Do you have any questions or comments about that? I don't. I just like those stories. Yeah, I really love that second story. I thought it was really sweet. The grandpa. Yeah, it made me think about Papa Ward's workshops. All his little...

doodads. I know the grandpa, the scene, the grandpa apparition softened it because before I was going to say something, if it wasn't going to be the grandpa about like we had just talked about how scary it would be to watch a door open and close where there's definitely nobody there. Yeah. And then, but then I was like, okay, that actually would make it sweet if you saw the apparition of a loved one. Yeah. Yeah. That's true. That is true. Okay. I have one more for us. Let's hear it.

Hey, Dan and Lindsay. Hello. I'm a pretty rational guy. I tend to be heavily skeptical of paranormal and UFO stories. However, during my early teen years, my dad was married to a woman that was very into the occult. Very big on ritual summonings, calling on spirits, and all sorts of weird shit. I remember once her telling me how she believed there's no such thing as evil. It's just misunderstood energy. I remember thinking she was an idiot.

During the year she was in my life, my friends and I had a whole lot of small but weird experiences. Nothing major, just shadows out of the corner of my eyes, whispers in the house when I was definitely the only one there, strange presences or feelings. All the usual things we feel ahead of a larger experience.

I had this TV where the power button was broken. The only way to turn it off and on was to unplug it. My parents would constantly accuse me of falling asleep without unplugging it. They'd hear voices and conversation, assume it was coming from the TV, and then come to my room to shut it off only to find out it wasn't plugged in at all.

Doesn't seem like a big deal, right? Well, it all culminated one terrifying night. If someone had told me this story, I'd never have believed it. If my friend hadn't been there to corroborate it to this day, I'd probably think it somehow was my own imagination. It was the weekend during the summer. My dad was acting weird the entire day.

One of my friends was over and there was a huge thunderstorm going on. Like I struggle to think of one bigger than this today. The power would go out for five minutes like every hour or so until eventually it went out for an extended period of time. During this long power outage, we decided to walk over to another friend's house because he lived in the rich neighborhood and we knew he'd have power. Being the dumbasses that we were, we walked to our friend's house without an umbrella and we got soaked.

When we got there, sure enough, he still had power. Their power hadn't gone out even once. His mom was pissed that we walked in the house soaking wet. She took our clothes and put them in the dryer while we borrowed some of my friend's clothes. We watched The Last Samurai on video, and towards the end, his mom's like, okay, your clothes are dry. It's time to go. It's not raining. Get the fuck out of my house. My friend and I began to walk back to my house.

It wasn't raining anymore, but the lightning and thunder hadn't ceased. When we got to my house, every light in the house was on. Literally every single light. We both thought it was odd, but I figured that while my parents were home, the power must have gone out and then they must have left to go see a movie or do something else. And then the power came back on while they were gone.

I went up to my room, turned on the stereo, and started screwing around on the computer. My friend was in the living room calling his mom for a ride home. My friend eventually came into my room looking very grim and pale. Naturally, I asked him what was wrong. He shared that there was a small child standing in my living room staring at him.

We were all kind of pranksters, so I was like, okay, yeah, sure. I asked what this kid supposedly looked like, and my friend told me that he's got on old-timey pants, a long-sleeved button-down white shirt, and suspenders.

I still wasn't believing him, though. I laughed it off and went back to my video game. Suddenly, my friend started freaking out, yelling at me, look, look, look, look, look, look, look, and pointing at the doorway. I looked, and even though I couldn't see anything, I could feel something standing there. I felt a large, looming presence blocking my doorway. My friend was actively flipping out, but I just sat there, stunned.

I felt it moving into my room, making its way to stand between us. I asked my friend, Is it right here between us? He gave me a nervous nod, and then...

Bang, bang, bang, bang, bang. A thunderous knock on the bedroom window. It's my friend's mom. She's there to pick him up and she's pissed that we're not answering the doorbell, which we had never heard ringing. The presence was gone. My friend practically jumped out of the car and into his mom's car. And there I was, trapped, alone with my fear, just sitting in my room until my parents came home.

It was at this time that I noticed three distinct scratch marks on the inside of my right wrist. When my parents finally arrived home, I sprinted out the front door to tell them what had happened. My dad looked very grim and didn't say anything. My stepmom didn't believe any of it, ironically. She said I was full of crap. In retrospect, I think she was mad or maybe even jealous that it hadn't happened to her.

I led them into my room to walk them through the scenario, hoping they'd believe me. And then that's when I noticed something strange in the bedroom doorway. Right inside the threshold were hoof prints. They were small, like a deer or a goat would make. There were two of them, side by side, as if they were made while standing still. Then there were two lighter prints, as if walking towards my room. My stepmom was not on board. She thought it was all an elaborate pretense.

However, she gets some carpet cleaner and tries to clean up the hoof prints and she fails. The prints were burnt into my carpet and they were there until the day we moved out.

I did not sleep that night. And then the next day, my dad told me something he said he was afraid to tell me the day before. He told me that he had had a strange dream in which everything was pitch black while he heard a voice saying to him, "'Before the day is done, your child will be touched by the hand of darkness.'"

My dad thought it was his wife that had opened up some portal and invited something into this world and that it had attached to her. They divorced that autumn, and my dad and I moved into a new house less than two blocks away. I was afraid that whatever was in the old house had followed us because weird things happened from time to time, even in the new house. But once his wife was completely out of the picture, all of the paranormal activity was gone too. And I have not experienced any weird paranormal experiences since.

since then. It's been about 20 years since it all happened. I've lost the picture of the carpet and honestly, I'd forgotten all about this until your show brought it back with a flood of memory. Before I wrote this story out for you, I spoke with my friend about that day. He said he remembers it exactly as I have told it to you.

The only thing he wanted me to add was that his mom was a former hippie slash spiritualist. She was very into the occult as well, but she was all about the positive energy and fancies herself some sort of shaman. Anyways, he believes his mom's arrival and banging on the window is what scared it away.

Yee. I changed my yee. I tried to inflect it differently there. Yee. Yee. I like that the narrator. You just need that on a, like a shirt. Yee. I like that the narrator referred to his, at least once, to his stepmom one time as his father's wife. Which.

Which just is like a clear indicator. I mean, there was other tells as well. Yeah. Other comments he made. But that's just such a clear indicator of like, I did not care for her. Yeah, totally. My dad's wife. That's such a funny way to refer to your stepmom. Uh-huh. My father's wife. Yeah. I know because even with your dad, you know, he's several marriages in and we still refer to her as like your stepmom just for like ease of conversation or like,

Or even just like, well, my dad got married recently. Yeah, yeah, yeah. So his new wife. Uh-huh. It's a different thing. No. Yeah. I had a stepmom like that where I'd be like, yeah, my dad's wife. Uh-huh. Yeah. He had two, actually. Yeah, yeah. True. And then the burnt hoof prints. I know. Isn't that wild? Burnt. What the hell? Yeah. Literally from hell. Right. Demon from hell burning hoof prints into your carpet. I wonder how that would... Okay, just...

Myself, if I experienced that, if I experienced seeing some creepy-ass entity in the house and then I see where they walked, burnt hoof prints, would that make me reconsider some religious teachings? Oh. Because I'm a spiritualist. I believe in a spiritual world. I believe, I believe, I believe. I believe, I believe. But I'm not religious.

But I'm open to elements of all of that being true. Sure. Like, for me personally, it's just like the entire stories of whatever religion don't, like, you know, speak to me. Yeah. But I think, just in my own opinion, I think that there's, like, elements of truth in them. But I'm like, man, if I saw that, that would make me reevaluate just about everything. Mm-hmm. Mm-hmm. Yeah. Yeah, there is something about burnt, a burnt image of anything. But hoof print specific, there's been so much lore around, like, goat hoof. I mean, it's like,

Yeah. Cloven hooves. Cloven hooves, yeah. For whatever reason, that got associated with Satan at some point. Yeah. Where it's like goat horns and goat hooves and all that. And then if I actually saw that, I'd be like, wait a minute. I thought that was just like somebody's imagination. Holy shit. I'm having a hard time not laughing right now because we are watching Severance. Oh, I know what you're thinking of. And there's a very – I don't want to say anything. Don't spoil it. But there's like a weird goat situation. Yep. God, I love that show. So strange.

Yes, it is very strange. I know it's strange because every time we watch it... I say that a million times. About 15 times. This show is so weird. Everyone looks weird. This is weird. This show is so weird. I know. I was trying to be quiet. I think I yelled at you last night. Like, shut up. Stop talking during TV shows. I know. You make me miss things. I know. It's a bad habit. You're not a great companion.

After watching stuff at home, I know. Yeah, well, you do it in movie theaters too. I try to be quiet. I know. I know it's terrible. Which is hysterical because you hate when people talk in movies. I know. And then I catch myself and I'm like, okay, I got to shut up. I will catch myself and be like, I have to stop. And if someone were to shush, I wouldn't be combative. I'd be like, I know. Sorry about that. I think that you're like me. And in that moment, what I really want to do is I want to pause it because I have an idea and I want to flush out this concept. I'm so invested. I'm so into it. I know.

And with Severance, I know, I just love good movies and good TV shows. I just love good stories. Yes. I just love, love, love stories. You love a good story? Oh, yeah. No way. You should get into storytelling. I should get into storytelling. But with Severance, and I don't know if it's like the way that they put like the, it's the costume, the costumer, gosh dang it. Costume designer? Costume designer. Thank you. You're welcome. Is this like their choice to have their outfits always be a little off? But they look like claymation people to me all the time.

And I think in some of the title sequences, they actually make them as little claymation people. But Adam Scott specifically, he doesn't look like quite human to me. He looks like an animated version of a human being.

Yeah, so what... There's something different about him. Yeah, so that would be like a collective decision between all the departments, right? Because it's also his hair and his makeup. So now you're with hair and makeup, and then it's also with lighting. So now you're working with other departments like, you know, the gaffers and the art department. And it's the way that the...

the set is lit. You know, it's a whole thing. You're just, now you're working with the DP, but all that is him. Yeah. It all, it all comes down from, you know, the directors and the producers, their visions. It's very interesting because I'll, I'll, I'll look at pictures of him on the internet and I'm like, Oh, okay. He does look a little weird in the show. Yeah.

Yeah, he does. Everybody does. But everybody does where I'm like, and it just adds to the surrealness of the show where sometimes I almost want to pause that show. And I'm like, I just need five minutes to go walk around and not be looking at it. Oh, yeah, yeah, yeah. I get that. And I can't watch it when I'm high. No. Because it feels like I'm high when I'm sober watching it. It's just so off.

Do you want to hear something funny? Huh? Now, I didn't investigate this, so I don't actually know if it's true. Yeah. But on Jim Harreld's Instagram today, he posted a picture of a book, and he said, I can't wait to start reading it. And it's fucking Rickon's book from the show. And I'm like, wait a second. Is there a real book?

That's crazy. Yeah, so we can look it up afterwards. Okay. Do you want to thank some Annabelles? I do. I do. I want to say thanks to the following Annabelles for supporting what we do on Patreon, making all of our donations possible, and trusting us to pick charities that we vet and that we believe are really out there doing good work. Batty, Big Trilling, Claire Babcock,

Maddie Amorelli, Melissa Tusik, Samantha Miller, Aaron Ives, Joe, Kale Hoffman, and David Galland. Nice. Galland. Galland. Galland. I would like to thank the following Annabelles. John Shaw, Chelsea Chaput, Skylar Yazzie, Kim Elrick.

Katie, but spelled interesting. K-E-I-D-Y. Thank you, Katie, for also including the phonetic because I'm sure a million times people have been like, Katie, Katie. Oh, sure. I'd probably be one of those people. Diane Whittam, Sakina Harris, Alexa Hallman. I wanted to add an R there for a second. This is pretty messed up, but okay. Lieutenant Dan's Legs.

Listen, if that's what they put down, that's what you got to say. It's me, Jessica, always. Or also, yeah, it's me, Jessica. Hey, Jess. Okay, then I have a handful of spoopy shout-outs. To Rory from your mom, Becca, happy 13th birthday to my spoopy girl.

God, I love kid lingo. It's so great. I just learned about Big Back. I was like, oh my God. Get out of here.

To Lauren from Lauren, congrats to me for pushing through the countless all-nighters, the stress, and all the challenges that came with arriving here, submitting my final dissertation for my master's. Why am I crying? Oh, that's awesome. Okay, Lauren, I'm really invested in you getting your master's apparently. I'm so, God. Ah!

To Parker from Parker, happy birthday to me. And lastly, to Pat from Kay, happy birthday to the best friend anyone could ever have. You make getting through this crazy life easier. 16 years of friendship. Sorry, not sorry. You're stuck with me for life. Hope your birthday is awesome. And then I have a special request from you for this birthday. Can you do a hi-ho away, yip-yip-yaw situation? Oh, yeah, yeah. For a second there, I paused. I was like, what? Oh, yeah. Yeah.

What's their name again? It's going to Pat. Happy birthday, Pat! That is a time suck thing, so if you don't understand, don't worry. Those are so sweet. I love the spoopy shoutouts. I know, they're so cute. Lauren, can you let us know when you get your masters? Go, Lauren!

And that is our show. Thank you for continuing to send in your personal tales of terror to mystoryatscaredtodeathpodcast.com. You can email us for everything else at info at scaredtodeathpodcast.com. Thank you to Logan Keith scoring today's show. Thank you to Heather Rylander organizing the My Story emails. To book editor Drew Atana polishing preparing listener stories for book number six. Thank you to Molly Jean Box for finding the first story I shared this week. And to Olivia Lee for finding the second.

We are on Facebook and Instagram where we post pics that accompany episodes and more at scared to death podcast. We also have a private Facebook group, creeps and peepers full of fellow horror lovers for you to go meet a big thank you to the all seen eyes, the creeps and peepers moderators, keeping that group fun. Enjoy your nightmares, creeps and peepers. Hope you were scared to death. Bye.

If spirits threaten me in this place, fight water by water and fire by fire. Banish their souls into nothingness and remove their powers until the last trace. Let these evil beings bleed through time and space. Evil may pass through but have no home here within. Scared to death. As we're talking about this, I'm already thinking, I'm like, I don't even know if I'm going to swim in the lake ever again. Oh my God, stop it.

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