The Lullaby
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Whether thou art a ghost that hath come from the earth, or a phantom of night that hath no hollow, 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, Creeps, Peepers, Roberts and Annabelles. I'm Dan. Hello, Daniel. I'm Lindsay. You are Lindsay. I am. I'm very formal. And before we jump into our story today, Lindsay and I just want to take a second to say that our hearts are with those suffering in New Orleans from the New Year's Day terror attack. In the French Quarter, one of our favorite places in the entire country, and with those in Los Angeles suffering from the devastating wildfires.

People live in just a few blocks from where we used to live, including some good friends of ours who were evacuated earlier today as we record this. Yeah, between that and totaling our truck...

In an accident on the freeway with the kids in the backseat on the first, 2025 has been wild, interesting, but not necessarily cool. Not fucking cool at all. Regarding the accident, though, luckily only the truck was badly damaged. We were not hurt and we feel so grateful. Just grateful to survive the accident unscathed. Grateful to have our home. I almost feel guilty for how grateful I feel right now just with everything going on.

Yeah, I mean, it's definitely a really challenging thing to speak on. This is not the place, like, I don't want to have a breakdown, but it's just been so hard, you know, just we're all human, we're all connected. And I think that that's the thing to remember is it's like, you just don't know what somebody else is going through. Yeah, we have a lot of friends in LA. A lot. And we're just getting video after video, after picture, after picture. So-and-so was evacuated. So-and-so lost their house. I mean, I just, I can't,

what that must feel like. And then when I think about the car accident that we were in on the first and I just constantly replaying it, I'm like, okay, be grateful, be here, be in the moment. Mm-hmm.

I'm so thankful that I get to lie down in my own bed, put my head on my pillow and go to sleep safely in this space that I have known for so many years. Yeah. I can't imagine the fear and the terror that people feel in both New Orleans, like the PTSD of being part of that, of no longer feeling safe going out in your own city or wherever you happen to be visiting from. Now you take that terrible tragedy with you. And then for people in LA, I mean...

Yeah. You've lost your most sacred sanctuary, possibly. Yep. So a lot of you come here for an escape. We're going to give you that today. And we like the escape as well. Yeah. Actually really happy to sit down and record and be distracted for a little while. So speaking of that, what fan-submitted paranormal horror stories, supposedly true horror stories, do you have for us today? Okay. Well, my very first story this week is...

A very strange and creepy tale coming from a college dorm room. Are you serious? Yeah. My first story is also set in a college dorm room. No way! That's so random. That is so random. Because you guys, we... Yeah, we don't compare before. No. We intended two years ago, like, oh, we should talk. I was just going to say that. We never do. No, we never do. And so, because it actually, what we found was like in talking about the show before the show, it kind of gives away too much. Uh-huh. Yeah. Yeah.

Well, that's interesting. All right. What's your second tale about? My second story is set in Georgia. Is yours? No. It's all about Georgia's St. Simon's Island. I'll share a bit of history, haunted lore, and another alleged modern encounter with the island's most infamous ghost. Okay. Well, my story's about a swimming pool. Okay. Okay. Yep. Nope. Whew!

Okay, things are about to get very strange. I might have pulled the plug on this recording. Well, all right, off we go. Yeah, I don't need to give away any more about the first story. And so once you have put on this week's spoopy socks, transitioned into horror podcaster mode, I will try and creep you out. Yeah, so I have these awesome socks. They have the number 88, the Buffalo Bills, and these like little handprints on it. And when we sat down, I was like, oh, I have these cool like autism socks because I thought that's what they were about.

It's not. These socks come from fan Joe Trentley. And Joe says that he's a big Buffalo Bills fan. And this is for a charity called Punt Pediatrics that was started by tight end Dawson Noh.

Oh, yeah. He teamed up with- With Austin Knox? Oh, it must have been a typo. Yeah. It must have auto-corrected. Yep. I know. I thought that was a strange last name. Yeah. I mean, just, you know, unordinary. But he, it's called Punt Pediatric Foundation, and it's to help with kids, to raise money for kids with pediatric cancer. Man, okay. But it was really sweet. He goes, for Scare to Death, think of this, of the hands, of the handprints on the windows from Black Eyed Children. Oh.

He was trying to make it spoopy. So thanks for sending in these socks. And last week when I was wearing my chicken zombie socks, I didn't have this note in front of me. So thank you to Stacey Tiemann for sending in the not only her chicken rooster creepy story, but from years ago, but also sending in those fun custom socks. Okay. All right. Let's get into it, Dan.

No major setup for my first story. All you need to know is that it was posted anonymously, but curiously not posted in one of the many paranormal experiences forums like so many of the stories I've shared here, but instead on a forum for college freshmen. Specifically, it was shared in a discussion thread called Roommate Nightmares.

We have removed some details from early in the story that would have been spoilers and massage the whole story to make it a bit more compelling as far as a narrative. But all the basic details, the same as in the original post. So time now for the tale of the lullaby.

Okay, so I've been reading everyone's horror stories about their weird roommates, and I want to add mine. I know this is long. I'm sorry about that. But please, please read it if you have the time. And please reach out to me if you've had something similar happen or have any ideas on how to help and do it quickly. I truly do not know what to do right now. Although I'm not sure if what happened to me is as fucked up as having a roommate who pisses in your bed when they're drunk.

or gets caught masturbating in the living room more than once, I would trade it in a heartbeat for one of those situations.

My name is Antonia. Antonia. I'm 18 years old and a freshman mechanical engineering major. Because I'm in the honors program and because my scholarship covers the cost of accommodation, I have been lucky enough to live in a suite instead of a dorm. Basically, me and my roommate live in this mini pseudo apartment with a tiny shared living room, tiny shared bathroom, tiny shared kitchen, and then each of us have our own tiny individual bedrooms. And the rooms truly are all tiny.

The bedrooms are only about 10 feet by 7 feet, just big enough for a twin bed and a mini closet, and they automatically lock from the inside. The only way to get into our apartment, unless you're a security guard or a housing administrator, I guess, is with our key cards, which we tap against this little black screen by the front door. Our key cards also work to unlock our bedrooms, but mine doesn't open hers, and hers doesn't open mine.

Because I'm also in a program for first-generation college students, back in August, I actually got to move into my apartment two weeks early so I could attend the first-gen orientation week, which was surprisingly pretty fun. It was also nice to have some extra time to get comfortable in the apartment before my roommate Ethel moved in.

Ethel and I were randomly assigned to live together based on that dumb personality quiz they make everyone take during registration, so I'd never actually met her in person. I had, however, talked to her online, and based on that single exchange over Facebook Messenger, I was pretty sure we were not going to get along. This is terrible to say, but she seemed weird. Just off. The first thing that gave me the ick was the punctuation she used in her texts.

She ended every sentence with a period, which I feel like is aggressive or creepy if you're a teenager. I know, I know that's stupid and shitty, but I'm just trying to give you the full picture of the situation and my honest thoughts. The other thing that threw me off was Ethel's Instagram. Her profile was very fem-cell coded, if you know what I mean. For example, the pinned post on her page was that one de-bimbo, de-bimbification meme.

You know the one. It's a cartoon of a tan blonde with massive knockers wearing a short miniskirt. Then she picks up a book and transforms into a brunette wearing jeans and a gray sweatshirt.

Yeah, it's super lame and kind of sexist, and I thought people only used it ironically. But based on her caption, Ethel was not being ironic whatsoever. Under the photo, she had written, It had three likes.

The other photos on her page were equally as weird. They were a bunch of poorly cropped screenshots of motivational quotes and comic sans slapped against a sepia-tone background of a mountain landscape or a rainy city street or something like that. Again, I am fully aware of how pathetic it was for me to judge her for having an Instagram that resembles my own mother's. But I couldn't help it. Based on her social media, I was pretty apprehensive about Ethel to begin with, and when I finally did meet her in person and she pissed me off, it sealed the deal.

How did she piss me off? Let me tell you. She moved in on the last Saturday before school began. First-gen orientation was over, and I was exhausted from socializing all week. So I decided to spend the day making tamales in our kitchen. That morning, I took the bus to this Mexican grocer downtown called El Mercado Autentico, and with the help of FaceTime calls with my mom, got all the supplies I needed.

I was pretty excited to cook my first meal, real meal, in my new apartment, and decided to make a few extra tamales to share with Ethel when she got there. I thought maybe the gesture would start us off on the right foot. However, when she finally arrived later that afternoon with a severe-looking woman who I assumed to be her mom, she never actually introduced herself, I immediately knew I was wrong. Without saying a word, the older woman hauled a suitcase and a massive Target shopping bag into Ethel's room and shut the door behind her, leaving me alone with my new roommate.

I turned to face Ethel. She was standing in the entryway with this blank look of detached scrutiny plastered on her face, slowly scanning the small living room. When her gaze finally landed on where I was standing in the kitchen, she made a tight line with her lips in a way that sort of resembled a smile or maybe it was a frown or maybe a look of disgust. It was the kind of expression you give the person who is standing too close to you in line at the grocery store. That look of irritation thinly veiled with politeness.

Hi, I'm Antonia. I said as enthusiastically as I could, wiping my dirty palms on my jeans and walking over to her. She tentatively shook my hand while keeping her gigantic blue eyes fixed on my face. I think she was trying to read me like I'd already read her. She was trying to figure out if we would be friends. Evidently, I think by the time she dropped her hand out of mine, she'd reached a conclusion. We were never going to be friends. After a very awkward few minutes of us exchanging rudimentary information about ourselves, basically where we're from, what we're studying...

A shrill voice came from bedroom. Ethel, I can't do this alone. Can you help me already? Yes, she exclaimed briskly. She was responding to her mom, but she said it to me. She didn't even glance behind her. She just kept on with this really intense eye contact until I finally flinched and said I should go finish the tamales. She nodded and turned around. Before going into her bedroom, she looked back over at me and said in the flattest, most monotone voice I'd ever heard,

Can you make sure to clean all your dishes and put them away when you're done? I really don't like the smell of Mexican food. It wasn't a question. It was a demand. I didn't even respond. I just kept kneading the masa with my hands, pretending the pile of dough was Ethel's face. As you could probably guess, the first month of living with Ethel was hell, but neither of us ever acknowledged it. I avoid confrontation at all costs, and she prefers to seethe in silence. So we just persisted in ignoring each other rather than try and talk it out.

However, even though we never actually fought because we barely even spoke there was always this palpable sense of tension in the apartment It's like when you walk into the room where your parents had a possibly marriage ending argument And even though they're not in there anymore You can still feel the rage and hate they spat inside as if they painted the walls with it our apartment felt like that But that wasn't the worst part. The worst part was what ethel did at night. I remember the first time it happened

It was our second week of living together. It must have been around 1 in the morning. I was still asleep, but I could hear her. I remember I had been dreaming that something resembling the shape of a human was crawling across the floor of my room. Well, I don't know if crawling is the right word. Dragging or slithering is more like it. I remember the way its narrow body was stretched out on the ground, like it had splattered there. It looked like a dead, dried-up bug on a windshield. I remember thinking in my dream that I would have to get something to scrape the thing off in the morning.

I remember how its gaunt legs protruded grotesquely from its body, the way it gripped the carpet with its wet, long toes. Its arms were contorted in this horrible way, with its sharp elbows jutting towards the ceiling and its gnarled hands pressed flat against the floor, kind of like it was doing a push-up. It was straining its neck to look at me so hard, and with so much force, I thought its tendons might snap. Its face was crooked to the side, and it was smiling at me.

Goddamn nightmares.

Just as I was beginning to fade back into sleep, I was struck with a strange realization. I could still hear the thing's voice. It had kept on singing. It had followed me out of my nightmare. And now it was here. Frantically, I peered over the side of my bed to see if it was still crawling on the floor. It wasn't. I rubbed my eyes and told myself to get a grip. There were no monsters under my bed, but someone really was singing. I could still hear them. I sat back up and concentrated on the sound. It was coming from outside my door. Oh my fucking God, I thought. It's Ethel.

It's the middle of the night and she's singing in our living room. What the fuck furious? I got out of bed and flicked on a light prepared to go tell ethel to please shut up But as soon as the light came on the singing stopped She must have heard me moving around in my room or seeing the light peeking out from under my door and realized how dumb she was Being I slumped back into bed. Although I was still angry I was pretty relieved that I wouldn't have to confront her face to face and I fell back to sleep in silence But the next night It happened again

I woke up to the sound of Ethel shuffling around in the kitchen singing that incomprehensible tune. This time I didn't hesitate. I swung out of bed, marched towards the door, but then right as I was about to yank it open, something stopped me in my tracks. I was suddenly overcome with an unsettling sensation of a warm body lurking on the other side of the door. But Ethel's voice sounded like it was coming from all the way in the kitchen. I was so tired, my head felt so groggy that I blamed the feeling I was having on being confused.

Slowly, I opened my door just a crack, just enough to peer outside. The entire apartment was dark. The only light came from a pale green exit sign above our door in the muted glow of a street lamp that trickled in through the blinds. I couldn't see Ethel, but I could still hear her. My heart was pounding in my chest. I felt like I was dreaming. Her song sounded familiar, but out of reach, like a word that gets caught on the tip of your tongue. It sounded like a lullaby.

I don't know how long it took for my eyes to adjust to the darkness, but when they finally did, I was able to just make out Ethel's silhouette sitting at our kitchen table. Her back was to me, but by the hunch of her shoulders, it looked like she was crying. As I stared, her voice suddenly cut off. Her back straightened, and her shoulders stiffened. Her head slowly began to twist around to peer over her shoulder, and panic surged through me. I quickly shut my door and locked the deadbolt. My heart was pounding. I felt embarrassed for spying on her, and well...

Scared of? I'm not sure what of, but I was scared. I backed up a few paces, keeping my eyes fixed straight ahead. After a few moments, Ethel began to sing again. For two months, I endured Ethel's bizarre nightly routine. I know how absurd that sounds. Putting up with it for that long, but I just couldn't bring myself to say anything. Part of the reason I never brought it up was because I pitied her.

I mean, I would be so fucking embarrassed if someone caught me singing to myself in the dark in the middle of the night. And even though I didn't like her, I didn't want to shame Ethel for extremely weird behavior. But if I'm being completely honest with myself, more than trying to preserve Ethel from embarrassment, the real reason I never said anything was because I was still scared. That night I saw her alone in the kitchen terrified me in ways I can't really explain. The more I thought about it, the more creeped out I got.

I didn't want to get near that again. I didn't want to feel that again. So I got used to wearing headphones to bed, and I never said a word. That was until last night. When I was woken up by the sound of my door handle rattling, someone was trying to get into my room. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't move. I could hear the person on the other side grow frustrated. I could hear it in the way the deadbolt shuddered against the doorframe, the way their feet shuffled on the hallway floor, the way their shrill voice quivered while they sang. Wait, Ethel?

Why the fuck was Ethel trying to get into my room? She's sleepwalking, I told myself, and I pulled the sheets over my head like I was a toddler. I even started to cry. I was so scared and so confused and so exhausted. I wanted to scream, go away! But fear paralyzed me. I just waited for Ethel to give up or sing herself to sleep or drop dead or literally anything that would just make her stop. And after a while, I don't know how long, she finally did. But I haven't slept since.

I stayed up all night doing bullshit on my phone, anxiously glancing at the door every few seconds, waiting for her to return. I was terrified to turn on the light. I thought if she saw it, it might draw her back to my bedroom. I waited until I'd heard Ethel leave the apartment for her 8 a.m. class to finally venture into the living room. It was empty, of course, but I didn't feel alone. I felt like I had to get out of the apartment. I decided to spend the rest of the day meandering between the library and the cafeteria. Much to my surprise, when I went to the living room, I found Ethel was already there.

She was sitting on the couch, wrapped in a thick blanket, staring blankly at the wall in front of her. She looked like she'd been crying, and she looked terrified. Hi, Ethel, I muttered. She jumped. Oh my god! Oh, hi, Antonia. Sorry, you scared me. We sat in awkward silence for a moment before she spoke again. Um, Antonia, we need to talk. I haven't said anything because I didn't want to embarrass you, but it's gotten to a point that's really making me uncomfortable.

She spoke quickly and without looking me in the eye, like she was desperate to spit the words out of her mouth, but scared of what I might do when they reached my ears. I sat down in the armchair across from her dumbfounded. I don't know if you're sleepwalking or what, she continued, but you're keeping me up every night with your singing, and I'm not judging, but it's just the last night you scared me. Wait, what? I interrupted? I scared you? You're the one that's singing every night. She looked indignant, offended almost, and said, I am not, you are.

I shook my head. Wait, what do you mean? I asked. I mean that every single night since I've moved in here, I've heard you in the kitchen singing, I don't know, a lullaby or something. And I haven't just heard you, I've seen you twice. Last Wednesday, I looked at my door and you were standing at the window. And one time in September, I saw you sitting at the kitchen table singing to yourself. My hands were shaking. I felt sick. I rose to my feet and began pacing back and forth. My mind was racing. Ethel, that wasn't me. I stated nervously. What do you mean? She asked cautiously.

"'I mean that that wasn't me. I thought it was you!' I cried out, slumping down next to her on the couch. "'Ethel,' I continued, "'the last two months I've seen and heard all the same shit. I've seen the woman in the kitchen, and every single night I hear her singing. I just thought it was you, and last night—' The words caught on my throat. They seemed horrible to say. "'Last night someone tried to get into my bedroom, and I thought it was you. Was it?' I turned to look at her, desperate to see if I could tell if she was telling the truth or not.

Oh my god, Antonia. Who is she? What does she want?

I was about to reply when Ethel abruptly stiffened as if on high alert. Ethel, what is... Shh! She stopped me, slowly licking her fingers to her lips while scanning the room, searching for something. Do you hear that? She whispered. I listened. It was the faint sound of someone singing a lullaby, and it was coming from my bedroom. It really wasn't her, and now she knew it really wasn't me. We both screamed and ran out of the apartment.

Ethel's having her mom come pick her up. I don't have any family close by and wrote all this out at the school library. I don't want to go back to my apartment alone. What if she's still there? What even is she? Is she that crawling thing from my dreams? I think I'm going to talk to someone at Campus Life and have them search our place, but what if they can't find this woman? What if she's hiding? I hate to even write this, but what if she isn't a woman? What do you do if you think a real-life monster is actually in your room?

My God. Also, Ethel, take Antonia with you. Oh, yeah. I guess they really weren't friends then. Who cares? This is an emergency situation. Yeah, true. True. This is like...

Yeah, we don't discriminate in this situation. True. Even though Ethel sounds like she might be a little bit of a racist bitch, but that's fine. I think she's just, I... I don't like the smell of Mexican food. When you're looking at somebody who makes them from scratch, I'm guessing Antonia, based on her name, FaceTiming with her mom, going to an authentic Mexican grocery store, it's like, maybe there's a different way to say that. Maybe just tone deaf.

Yeah. Yeah. Or racist. No, I just was like, oh my God. I really didn't like Ethel in the beginning. And I really don't like her. She didn't even try to offer to help Antonia.

Yeah. It made me sad. I'm sensitive today. That's wild. I was just thinking about Kyler. You know, he's away at college and his current living situation is in a house with 13 people. So could you just imagine him being like, okay, I know I'm in this house with all these people, but my roommate, you know, like the person I actually share a bedroom with,

Oh, my God. And then, like, coming to this conclusion? Mm-hmm. I mean, we're his parents, so we'd be like, you need to cleanse the house. But, my God, that'd be so awful. Yeah, it's an interesting situation that we have touched on before but never explored in depth where two different people are hearing the same thing and both think or assume that it's coming from the other person. Mm-hmm. But I don't think it's ever gone, like, this far before. Yeah. But I can see something like this happening where...

Yeah, that would be – yeah, it's an interesting situation. I'm actually surprised it hasn't come up before because if you just moved in with somebody, like new roommate, apartment, dorm, whatever, and then you started hearing some weird stuff like a voice or something and you –

As long as it wasn't like blatantly different from the person, I could see how both people would think it was the other person. Like rather than come to the – jump to the conclusion of ghosts, you're going to be like, well, that's my new roommate. Well, yes, especially because both of these girls said they saw the other girl at the kitchen table. Yeah, it's almost like a double doppelganger. That's why I literally wrote down double doppelganger. Yeah. Verbatim. I wrote it down twice just for emphasis. Emphasis. Wrong emphasis on the wrong syllable. Yeah.

But yeah, it was like shape-shifty. Uh-huh. Yeah. Some kind of creepy mimic. I don't care for it, yes. But then also that weird nightmare she had, which I guess could be somewhat unrelated, but it's like, oh, was that the thing? Okay, no pics attached to this story. Obvi. Yeah, but I have two images. The first is that de-bimbophication meme.

Via the website Know Your Meme. Know Your Meme. Oh, okay. I don't know this meme. I did not either. But I'm not a big meme guy. Well, I'm also... We're old. So, yep. That's okay. Okay. So, what is this supposed to represent? So, I don't know exactly, but like... Is it supposed to... Sorry. Bimbo transitions to non-bimbo. Is it supposed to be like the...

evolution thing yeah kind of like the evolution of man you know like we're going from the monkey to the person and this is like yep she's all dolled up uh she's okay what I don't like about this and then and then she's a studious like she can't be both exactly I was just gonna say that really just as uh

a woman who enjoys how I look and is confident in fair. I mean, on a good day, fairly confident with how I look and how I feel. I, I can dress like all five of these women. Yeah. I can pull off all of these looks and I'm smart and assertive in all five of these looks. And I, I simply don't care for this because actually as like a,

fucking feminist person. I'm like, fuck you. This actually really makes me angry. Yeah. It's a very, very binary thinking, which, you know, like so many of us do where it's like we want to do either or with everything. And it's like, oh, you could either be super sexual and hot for lack of a better term. Sure. Or you can be super studious and confident. And it's like, oh, you can't be both. I know. So you can be neither. Right. I mean, like I look at you and it's like you're a jacked up dude. And it's like you're also a giant fucking nerd. Yeah.

Yeah. But, but if we're going to stereotype, if we're going to say this about women, right? Like then it's like, it would be, you know, it would go from the bodybuilder guy to like the scrawny guy. It's like, this is fucking ridiculous. It's amazing how many people think those ways though. It's like, I was just talking, actually had that interview with Gonzaga the other day. Oh yeah. And, uh, Oh shoot. It doesn't matter. I can't remember if it was that conversation or another. I think it was that conversation, but just talking about how like, uh,

one problem I would have talking to certain other comics and just like this vibe I get is because I like to lift weights. Yeah. And most comics don't. And I look very different than the average comic in like a green room setting. Yeah. They would be standoffish. And I think because it's almost this thing of like, oh, you can't do kind of nerdy comedy

and be someone who likes to go to the gym and lift weights it's like why do you do that why do people put these limitations on themselves who assigns these limits yeah this next one uh this is an AI creation no thank you the monster lady from Antonia's dream I'm gonna not look at that nope I'm not looking that is terrifying nope I'm good it gets you in the mood it gets you in the mood for horror not sexually um okay

What if that was my turn on, specifically that image? Oh, my God. You just have that, like, plastered to our ceiling? Yeah, don't kink shame me. I want you to look like a demon. That's all I have for that story. Okay. Are you ready to leave wherever that story happened to be set and head to the coast of Georgia? Yeah, that was stressful. Okay. Before we move on to more scares, we need to take a quick in-between story sponsor break.

If you don't want to hear these ads, please sign up to be a Robert or Annabelle on Patreon. Get all these episodes ad free, additional bonus episodes and more.

The post-holiday food burnout is real. We ate our way through every single family get-together with no regard for our health. And while it was fun while it lasted, our entire household is ready to get back on track. We are still just as busy as ever, running to Monroe's basketball games, creating content, and showing up in our lives as reliable friends and community members. All of that activity can make it hard to make good food choices. When you're chasing your tail, you want to be able to grab a quick, healthy snack.

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free shipping at meundies.com slash scared. That's meundies.com slash scared for 20% off plus free shipping. MeUndies, comfort from the outside in. Thanks for listening to our sponsor deals, creeps and peepers. St. Simons is a barrier island and a census designated place in Glynn County, Georgia. The names of the community and the island are used interchangeably.

St. Simons is located on the southeast Georgia coast, halfway between Savannah and Jacksonville, both a resort and residential community, and is the largest of Georgia's incredibly scenic Golden Isles, a group of beautiful barrier islands along Georgia's roughly 110-mile-long coast. The area between the Atlantic and the Gulf of Mexico was once known as the Debatable Land due to numerous colonial powers claiming it simultaneously. It was colonized by the Spaniards, the British, and the French wanted it too.

The Spanish arrived on the island sometime between 1597 and 1609 and established the mission of San Buenaventura de Guadalquini. Then in 1684, Spanish missions along the Georgia coast were attacked by indigenous allies of the English. Fort Frederica was built in Glynn County in 1736 as the military headquarters of the province of Georgia during the early English colonial period, meant to act as a buffer against Spanish incursion.

By the late 1730s, St. Simons was the home of John Wesley, a minister from the colony of Savannah. Wesley later returned to England and founded the Methodist movement. During the plantation era, St. Simons was a major center of cotton production. In 1803, Savannah slave merchants John Cooper and Thomas Spalding purchased 75 Eboo people, planning to sell them to plantation owners on St. Simons Island. During the voyage, the enslaved people took control of the ship, drowned the crew,

And then upon getting stuck near the mouth of Dunbar Creek, just off of St. Simon's Island, at least 10 Igbo chose to end their lives by walking into the sea, drowning themselves rather than be hanged or beaten and enslaved. The area where they so tragically and dramatically died is now known as Igbo Landing. And a local legend claims that during a full moon, sometimes you can hear a faint chanting, a ghostly echo of the last words of the people who died after they entered the water.

St. Simons was also the site of an infamous murder that led to ghost sightings. In 1880, lighthouse keeper Frederick Osborne was fatally shot by his assistant John Stevens. Osborne and Stevens both lived in the keeper's house with their respective families, and one day Stevens accused Osborne of flirting with his wife, and that led to an argument, and that argument led to Osborne's murder.

But not necessarily to the end of Osborne's duties as a lighthouse keeper. Nearly three decades later, in 1908, the new lighthouse keeper's wife was taking care of things while her husband was away and became frustrated when the light wasn't working. She claimed to have called out to the spirit of Frederick Osborne in a mixture of frustration and desperation and said his ghostly figure appeared in the lighthouse and began working on the machinery. She was so shocked she lost consciousness. And when she woke up, the light was fixed.

As sensational as her claim was, she's not alone in reporting to witness Frederick Osborne's spirit. Many have claimed to either witness his ghostly visage in the lighthouse or to have heard Osborne's footsteps throughout the structure. Christ Church is another source of paranormal sightings on the island. The church was founded in 1820, but the cemetery connected to it is many years older, with the oldest surviving tombstone dating back to 1803.

A young woman is buried in the cemetery who was apparently terrified of the dark, so much so that after she died, her devoted husband would visit her grave each and every night to light a candle for her. And now for over a century, some late night visitors to the cemetery have claimed to have seen flickering lights believed to be the spirit of the woman's husband still visiting her grave in the afterlife, still lighting a candle for her. One of the most famous ghosts on the island has been dubbed Mary Dewanda or Mary the Wanderer.

According to local legend, Mary was a woman once betrothed to a sailor who died at sea during a hurricane that hit the area in 1824. She was so distraught she ended her life by walking out into the ocean and drowning. And for decades, if not for centuries, there have been reports of a female or hasn't been centuries. Well, it has been centuries, two centuries. There have been reports of a female apparition seen wandering along the shore, holding up a lantern and seemingly searching for what is believed to be her lost love.

The following story comes from someone who believes they witnessed the spirit of Mary during a family trip to St. Simon's. Time now for the tale of The Wanderer. My family goes on a beach vacation every year. Back when I was a teenager, I dreaded spending a long weekend with my parents and extended family and away from all my friends.

The summer when I was 16, we all rented a big house on St. Simon's Island. I didn't appreciate it at the time like I would now, but the house was beautiful and had a pool, a hot tub, and beach access. It actually ended up being a great vacation. I didn't even mind having to share a room with my cousin. And the last night, something happened that changed me forever. I woke up in the middle of the night feeling groggy and disoriented. I actually forgot where I was for a second and almost panicked. I was sleeping on the bed closest to the window and I could feel a breeze. I was

My cousin and I had both fallen asleep without fully closing the curtains. I looked out through the open window as I sat up to get a drink of water. My eyes adjusted to the dark beach, slightly illuminated by a light at the end of a path leading to the water. Almost immediately, I noticed another smaller light further out on the beach, so I set my glass down and moved closer to the window. The light was bobbing up and down, and an orange-yellow color. It looked a lot like a candle flame.

My eyes were drawn to the hypnotizing motion of it, and I have no idea how long I stood there in an almost trance-like state, watching that light moving, bobbing up and down the beach, getting closer and closer to our house. She was difficult to make out at first, but as the light got close, I saw the outline of a woman behind it. I say outline because she wasn't really fully there. She was just a dark silhouette blending in with the night sky, her shape marked by faint lines. But I could definitely tell she was a woman, or that she used to be.

Seeing all this made me think I must have been dreaming. I had to be. If I was seeing a ghostly woman wandering the beach in the middle of the night, I think because I thought I was dreaming, I wasn't scared. I continued staring at her as she continued towards the house. To my surprise, instead of continuing in a straight line down the beach, she suddenly turned and moved towards the water. Her light got smaller and smaller the closer she got to the water's edge. And then I watched her walk straight into the water, the waves snuffing out the candle flame and what I could now tell was a lantern of some kind.

I shook my head trying to clear my tired eyes and wake up, but I couldn't. Still fully thinking I was dreaming, I closed the curtain, laid back down, and promptly fell back asleep. I remembered everything when I woke up, which I thought was unusual, since usually I have a hard time recalling my dreams. I almost never remember anything other than a few random images, but I remembered everything I just told you. I was thinking about how weird it all was and wondering why I would dream about the ghost of some lady I didn't recognize when we all ate our final breakfast of the vacation together.

And then as we were eating, my great aunt, Pauline, announced to the table, I saw a light on the beach last night. I got the chills. It wasn't a dream. My parents, aunts, uncles, they didn't think much of it, giving each other sideways glances and a few smirks. Aunt Pauline was in the beginning stages of dementia and prone to make odd and unusual statements.

It pissed me off when my family completely ignored Aunt Pauline and changed the subject, acting like she hadn't said anything at all. I happened to be sitting right next to her, so I leaned over and whispered, I saw the light too. But then my mother squeezed my arm. And when I turned to look at her, she shook her head and stared disapprovingly at me, thinking I was shining her on for a laugh or something. I rolled my eyes and let it drop for the moment. But later, as we were saying our goodbyes, Aunt Pauline pulled me aside, away from my mother's prying eyes, and told me she hadn't just seen a light.

she'd seen a flickering lantern moving along the beach, and she said a woman was holding it. I felt like what she really wanted to say was a woman's ghost, but probably didn't because she was worried that if she said that, the family would think her mind was slipping even more than it already was. But her mind was sharp that day. She informed me that the island was haunted, and that some people claimed to see ghosts, and that one of the ghosts was supposed to be the ghost of a woman named Mary, called Mary the Wanderer, a woman who carries a lantern down by the beach and walks out into the ocean.

The way she looked at me when she said that I knew that's exactly who she had seen, who we had both seen. That was our last vacation with Aunt Pauline. She passed away later that year. My family never brought up what she said about the light again, and I never told any of them what I'd seen. They probably wouldn't believe me anyway. But Aunt Pauline, she would have believed me. Seeing Mary felt like our secret, a special memory that I'll always be glad to have shared with her. And I'll always be grateful for her confirmation that there really is something on the other side.

I like that one had a sweet ending. Yeah, it was sweet. And it sounds like the person telling the story...

As she got older, was like more inclined to believe these things. And yeah, just like, you know, because when you're younger, I think you're like, oh, ghost story, you know? Yeah, yeah, totally. And then, you know, maybe kind of grow out of it and then come back to it. Yeah, yeah. Can we just go back to the first story for one second? Sure, sure, sure, sure. Do you remember? Okay, you were talking about her dream and she like saw this like slithering human thing. Do you remember what it was called? The thing, click.

Click clack slide. Oh, yeah. God. A long time ago. Okay. It was driving you crazy? Yes, it was. And as soon as I started to talk about it, I was like making notes. I was like, the leaf behind? No, that's not it. And I know that the thing in her dream had legs and the click clack slide did not. But that is what I was thinking of the whole, like, I thought it was the click clack slider. Yeah, yeah. Okay. One of my favorite stories. Okay, now I can move forward on this one. Sorry about that, guys. Okay.

I do have some pictures. Cool. The first one, this is so pretty. This is the lighthouse. Oh, my God. Yeah, look at it. I mean, I didn't throw all the pictures in here because it's not like a tourist brochure, but looking around at this island, it is gorgeous. Also, I see giant ass house. So I'm going to say a real swanky ass part of Georgia. Oh, yeah, yeah, yeah. Actually, when I was looking up pronunciation, just to make sure it was Simon and not like Simone or something. Sure. Real estate videos came up first. Did you buy us a house? I didn't.

not. That's not our new house. It's probably like a $10 million house we can't afford. No, but it's, yeah, it's real swanky. And I think about 25% of the homes there are like vacation homes. Wow.

Well then, good for them. So this next one, a commemorative plaque preserving the memory of those African slaves who chose death over further enslavement at Igbo Landing. That is so brave. No kidding. I mean, I think I believe, my opinion, the right choice. I know because... Better than a life of indentured turd.

indentured servitude. Yeah. And, you know, who knows? I mean, just so many awful things, but like, God, that's brave. And I love that they killed some of the enslavers. I was over here air punching. Yeah. Excited for them. This next one, cool black and white photo of the Christ Church Cemetery and St. Simon's. We got to go to Savannah. Yes, we do. That'd be fun. I've only been there one time briefly for a college show years ago. And it was like, you know, I do those college runs and

And you barely get into town, check into your hotel, rest, look over your set, do the show, and then just leave the next morning. So it was just enough, like walking from my hotel to the campus, I remember, being like, oh, this place is cool. Aunt Judy went there like not that long ago. Really? In the last like 10 years, I want to say, just like a random. Anyways, she loved it. I'd love to go. I feel like Monroe would love it. Yeah. Spring break next year, maybe. I'm all about it. Let's go. And then this last one, it's just a cute little kid's illustration, Age Unknown. Yeah.

of Mary Dewanda, a.k.a. Mary the Wanderer. They drew this during a field trip to St. Simon's Island in late October of 2015. That is really sweet, actually. Uh-huh. I mean, that's about as—I can't even draw that well. I was going to say that's about as good as I could do, but— That's better than I think, yeah, that I could do. I like the tree. You're a good drawer. Get out of here. Yeah, I can do it. I never—I don't do it very often. Try—stop trying to pretend like you're not good at everything. So obnoxious.

Yeah, no, that was fun. I always love a little history. Yeah. Still thinking about that first story. It's really bothering me. It's creepy. It is creepy. And you were talking about like roommates or like weird things that people do. And I mean, obviously now I know where the story goes. But I was thinking about this, don't get upset, about this ex-boyfriend that I had. And when we would get too drunk to drive back to his place, we would stay at my mom's. And he

I just have this like, yeah, I have this weird memory of waking up in the middle of the night, hearing dresser drawers opening and closing. That motherfucker peed in dressers when he got drunk. Oh my God. And this is how I found out. I just heard the drawers opening, closing, opening, closing, opening, closing. Then I heard like the sound of like a stream, but I was blitzed. So like I would ever rolled over, went back to sleep next morning. He left.

And then I was like, wait a second. Did that happen? Oh my God. Sure did. Dresser drawer full of piss. Clothes covered in piss. Oh, yuck. And then I was so young and so afraid to like upset the person I was with. Never said a word to him about it. Oh my God. I know. I know. Fucking Kevin Layden. You better not be pissing in dresser drawers anymore. Disgusting. I hope he is. I hope he's spreading that misery. I hope he's alone and doing that to himself.

You talked about him. I don't care for him. I don't think anybody cares for him. Good. But yeah. Anyways. All right. So who are you going to snuggle with today? I have, you know what? I'll go with Black and White Layla. Black and White Layla? A little Tuxedo Layla here. Tuxedo Layla matches your Black and White Idols t-shirt. Yeah. Love them. You're obsessed.

Great punk band. Great. Them and you've been listening to a lot of Sam Fender. It's a weird combo. Sam Fender, yeah. I mean, they're both British. Fender, more like bluesy rock. Very, very different vibes. Very different vibes. Yeah, vibes. Yeah, he's soulful. Well, this is Idols. It's soulful in a different kind of way. Yeah, just more aggressive. Oh, yeah, they're very fun. Okay, well, let's get into it. Okay.

Hey, Dan and Lindsay. Hello. I've been a big fan of Time Suck for years now and have been an avid listener of Scared to Death since day one. Thank you. This story takes place during my first and only year living at college in my home state of Minnesota.

Yeah, good for you. Seriously. Yeah, I know. When we're at home talking about...

Different lessons for kids. Yep. This is a fabulous one. Such a fan of that. Such a fan. Because of this, I haven't been able to, and let's be honest, haven't been interested in doing all the usual college experiences of partying and whatnot. I have my friends and a girlfriend, and that's good enough for me. At the start of my third year of college, I transferred to a small private Christian university in St. Paul, Minnesota, and decided to live on campus in the dorms.

Being that I didn't know anyone, I opted to get a single room for myself, which was a financial butt-fucking, to say the least. But the upperclassmen dorms were apartment-style, fully furnished with a kitchen, bathroom, and however many bedrooms, or in my case, a studio apartment. My room was on the top floor of the building, right next to the elevators and the stairs. I was no stranger to hearing people coming and going at all hours of the night.

Being that I didn't have much to do on the weekends, I would usually go home and then come back on Sunday night. This anti-social behavior also meant that I didn't really know my neighbors all that well. Until one Sunday night when shit really hit the fan. I had gotten back to my dorm and settled in after a weekend at home. I was making dinner, unpacking my clothes, and finishing up any additional homework I had.

I crawled up into my bunk bed somewhere around, I don't know, 11 p.m., turned off the lights, closed my eyes. Just as I was falling asleep, I heard a faint screaming coming from the hallway that jolted me awake.

The sound of a door slamming open released the sounds of screaming into the hallway. It was a woman screaming. Her screams were blood curdling, the kinds of screams usually that came from someone in deep, deep trouble. One after the other, she just kept screaming at the top of her lungs. I could hear her running down the hallway as she threw herself against everyone's doors as she made her way.

Initially, I thought, oh, maybe she's being followed by someone who's trying to get everyone's attention. But then she started to not only scream, but to yell out messages. Get out! The devil is coming for you all! She yelled, you better repent! Cackling as she screamed these words. I jumped out of bed and proceeded to call campus security, though by that time, everyone else had already done so.

Everyone was peeking out.

My neighbors to the left of me asked if I had any idea what was going on. I said I didn't, and then we joked that maybe she'd gotten her hands on some weird drugs. We sat there, listening, as she went down the hallway further. I heard some guy yell back at her, shut the fuck up! To which she responded in a deep, guttural voice, you tell me to shut up?!

And then she slapped him. A noise so loud that it could be heard all the way back at the end of the hall. We heard her coming back, so we went into our rooms, waiting for her to pass by. Once she did, she went downstairs to the floor below us, gradually making her way through the entire building, floor by floor by floor.

I popped my head out once more and talked a little with my neighbors. Eventually, they went back to their room. That's when I heard a shaky voice come from the door directly across from mine. Can you help me? There was a girl standing in the doorway, visibly shaken. She continued, I know, I don't know you, but that's my roommate freaking out and I really need to go to campus security. Could you walk with me?

Being the good-natured dumbass I am, I told her I would go with her and not to worry. We walked to the campus security office, which was clear across campus, listening to her roommates' screams echoing in the distance, never wavering, still as loud as they were when they began about an hour prior, still being delivered one after another.

Of course, I had my fair share of questions as to what happened, so I let my neighbor tell me everything she knew. The two were not friends before being assigned to the room together. She did not know her well at all, but she knew enough to know that her roommate was not the type to be doing drugs or anything else that would elicit a crazy response like this.

She was a quiet girl. Honestly, she mostly kept to herself, the girl said. Earlier that night, her roommate and her had had a conversation as normal before they both went to bed. And then only a few minutes after the two had separated into their own rooms did the screaming start.

So we walked back to our building.

By now, the other girl had made her way down into the lobby where the whole building had congregated to watch as she continued to walk down the hall towards the front doors with a security officer standing between her and the rest of the people in the lobby. She proceeded to scream and scream and scream. She even threw a table at the officer, breaking it against the wall after yelling, GET THE FUCK BACK!

We all ran up the stairs into our rooms before she could make it to the rest of us. I'd been talking with a couple of other people in my hall after getting up there, and no one had a clue what was going on. I then suggested, well, do you think she might be possessed? Being a private Christian school, I would have thought more people would have agreed with me, but I only received shrugs. I guess no one wanted to believe in that possibility.

A couple of us stood in my room as it overlooked the parking lot. We watched the paramedics wheel her out into an ambulance, strapped to a gurney, as she continued to scream at the top of her lungs, one scream after another. How could her voice never break? I don't know. We never got any answers from anyone after that night. That was my last year living on campus because I got smart and got the fuck out of there.

Fast forward to the following fall semester. I was in my poli-sci class. I turned around and guess who's sitting right behind me? She still went to the school there and was quiet the whole semester, never spoke a word. I never found out what happened that night, but I strongly believe it was a demonic possession. Your loyal peeper, Noah. Thank you, Noah.

Yeah, that's a tough one where it's like, is it a psychotic break? Is it like, you know, it's tough. We don't have more like stress induced. Yeah. Like a just like a manic episode. And then maybe she got medicated, you know, afterwards. Or if I mean, we've talked about possession here before. Yeah. I mean, I have to entertain it as a paranormal possibility. Well, yeah. I mean, if I didn't think it was a possibility, I would have never included it as a story. Sure. Yeah. So, yeah, it's one of those like coin toss things.

Which one? Yeah. Or both. I guess they don't have to be mutually exclusive. True. Mental health, possession, combination. Yeah. I think for me, I... What's going on there? You okay? Yeah, my arm's fine. I think for me, I just was thinking about like, well, this like small Christian campus, like...

the intense focus probably around religion, it would be potentially in my mind, a breeding ground, a good, a good place for a demonic possession to take place. Like a very probable place. I mean, if, if you're the devil and you really want to fuck some shit up and really scare as many people as you can all at once, this might be it. Yeah. I mean, that's what they say is that, you know, they, they go for the faithful. Yeah. Rather than, yeah, somebody with a, you know, uh,

No interest in religion. That they, yeah, they go for people who are typically, like, the most devoted. Yeah. As, like, some sort of, you know, uh...

It's almost like they think like what the more faithfully devoted you are, the more likely this is to scare you. But I'm like, no demonic possession will just scare everyone. Yeah. Yeah. I mean, to follow like the belief system, the ideology, if there is a contest between God and the devil, you know, going with that premise of like Christian God's real devil's real. They're competing for souls. Right.

It would make sense that the devil would want to take souls from God rather than, and I've had people like, you know, write in about this to me and stuff rather than go for the soul of someone who,

technically has already forfeited their salvation. So I'm clear of ever being demonically possessed is what you're saying. Under that premise. Yes. But under that premise only because you would be damned to hell already. I'm already damned to hell. Definitely. Definitely. Well, I might be. I mean, that is... Man, I wish...

Wish I knew more about that. It's like, I don't have so many questions. I don't know. You can't ask him. I understand why Noah can't be like, hey, remember that time last year or, you know, last semester when you lost your shit in the dorms? Yeah, you want to tell us what happened there? Oh, man, that'd be so humiliating. So humiliating. Either way, possession, mental health, anything. Yeah. Who would want to talk about that later? But I would have so many questions. It'd be so hard. I am surprised that she came back to that school. Yeah, me too, actually. Because one way or the other, I don't think I'm going back there. Yeah.

Maybe she had a scholarship, you know? Yeah, totally. There can be such different circumstances. All right. Well, Daniel Boone, can we do one more? Let's do it. All right. Let's go. Hello, Lord of the Suck and Queen of the Scare. I have named this story Whispering Depths. Whispering Depths.

When I was about five, I lived with my mom and my grandparents. We lived in a big house, which had a pool in the backyard, and I could almost always be found there, no matter the season or the weather. I'm a huge creeper. I believe in all the spooky stuff. I can hear you laughing at me, but I believe it adds a little fun to life. Anyway, let's get down to it. Enough of my stalling.

My bedroom was connected to the attic by an old brown door. I hated the attic with every fiber of my being. It scared me. It might have just been the house because I was young and the attic was old, but it always seemed a bit off to me. It wasn't until I was about four or five, though, that I realized there was something more scary to it. I began hearing whispers and knocks and all odd hours, despite knowing no one was on the other side of that door.

The voices would tell me to open the door and let them in. Being five, this shook me to my core. I began having trouble sleeping and I saw myself changing. I was a happy, sporty kid back then. And so such a sudden change was scary.

I began having urges to tie up and or hang up my dolls from the attic door. I mean, I was more mean and more shy than I'd ever been before. It wasn't like me to do these things. Not much later, my little brother was born and we moved out of my grandparents' house. The urges eased up, but I'd still find myself slipping bands around my dolls while I zoned out.

But then, all was well for like five years. We visited my grandparents often, and I regularly helped in the attic. I was 10 at this point and was back to being a happy, relatively normal kid. But that all changed on a rather hot summer day. We were visiting my grandparents that day to use the pool, my favorite place to be. We were about to leave, but I managed to convince my mom to let me jump in just one more time.

I'm a really good swimmer and have been my entire life. So what happened next was completely abnormal. As soon as my body hit the water, my legs went numb. Not the normal tingling numbness you might think, but that horrifying kind of numb where it felt as if I didn't have any legs at all.

After taking a moment for that to register, that my legs weren't moving, my hand shot into the air above the water. I could hear my mom screaming as she started swimming towards the deep end to get me. That's when I heard it. The whispering was back.

Slowly, full of fear, I looked to the bottom of the pool and I shit you not, standing there was a girl. She looked to be in her early teens, long, black hair, blue-gray rotting skin. She wore a white nightgown with holes in it and mold on it. I was terrified. She held out her hand to me and asked me to stay with her, to play with her for forever.

Just as I was about to take her hand, I was yanked to the surface and she was gone. We noticed soon thereafter that there was a moss in the shape of a hand on the side of the pool that no one could ever make go away. A few years passed and I actually started to forget about the girl. My grandparents moved and thus I stopped using the pool. Then around 2018, I was thrown back into my past.

My sister had come up for my cousin's graduation. I was riding home in the car with her, and I don't remember how we got on the topic, but somehow we started talking about the old house. She began telling me about a nightmare she used to have about the house. Now, mind you, I had never told her about what I saw in the pool. I was afraid my sister would have thought I was crazy. But what she said next scared me.

In her dream, a girl in her teens would climb out of the deep end of the pool and chase her around the house before running back into the deep end of the pool. And this cycle would repeat until my sister woke up.

As she began to describe the girl, by instinct, I cut her off and finished the description for her. I had never seen my sister look so scared in her life. Neither of us told anyone about seeing this girl, so how could we both know what she looked like? We agreed that she must have been real and we were lucky to have escaped her.

But that leaves us to wonder, why did she appear to us? What did she want? And is she still in that pool waiting for us? A modest fan, A.

I like that sign-off. I know, me too. Yeah, yeah. Man, thanks. That is... I've always been so afraid of just a fear over the water. It's the closest thing to a phobia I have. Uh-huh. And, God, just that thing as a kid. And also, not only for myself, but especially when the kids were younger, but still now, like in the lake or if they're around me, one of them starting to slip under the water is just one of the worst things I can think of. Yep. I was just at yoga tonight. I was just at yoga tonight.

I was talking to Darcy and I was saying like, oh yeah, Liz and I want to start swimming together. Yeah. You know, and she's like, oh, where are you going to go? It was like, oh, you know, the croc. Oh, okay. And I was like, oh yeah. I was like, well, Liz has a fear of swimming in open water as does Dan. And then we started talking and then I was like, yeah, I'm like, I've had this nightmare where like we're swimming in the lake and then I get tangled up in something and then Dan's not a strong swimmer and he doesn't know what to do and he comes in after me and then I wake up. Yeah. Yeah.

That's an actual, it's a nightmare because it's an actual thing that could happen. Right. I mean, I would go down for you, but I would probably just drown. Well, yeah. And the thing about, okay, everybody listening, in case you don't already know this, if someone is drowning, you do not jump in after them. You throw them something because they will fucking drown you. Yeah. Because it's just fear. It takes over. Yeah. Even if you're the bigger, stronger person in our scenario. Yeah. God.

Yeah. Water is really, really, really dangerous. I know. It is just so scary where it's like it's this crazy thing where like a pool, especially a pool where it's like a six feet deep pool. I'm like six feet tall. I could I could bounce, you know, and get my air and stuff, you know, like. Yeah, sure. But it's like it's so fun. Like pools are so fun. You know, like as a kid, so many good memories in a pool, jumping in, doing flips and stuff, going into the water. It's like and even at the lake, I love being there.

But it's this crazy thing where, yeah, you can have a heart attack or whatever and die anywhere. Yeah, yeah, yeah. But you're not just going to be like walking across your lawn and then all of a sudden the ground just opens up and swallows you. I mean, there are sinkholes, Dan. I know, but it's like in general. I know. The ground is safe. And it's just crazy that the water is so much fun. But if you just like slip and hit your head and you're unconscious in like a foot of water, you're dead. I know. You do have to be careful.

So, so, so, so, so, so, so careful. Respect the water. And then seeing a ghost or like a monster in a pool. If that happened to me, if that experience happened to me, literally never getting in a fucking pool, lake, creek, nothing. I'm out forever. And I'm even scared like the kids have a pool at their mom's house. I know, it makes me nervous. I know. And like their mom and stepdad are responsible people. It's not like we're co-parenting with, you know, two hooligans. No, no. You know, it's like,

But I am always scared. It's a funny term, by the way. It makes me think of like soccer, like soccer hooligans. Uh-huh. But yeah, yeah. Okay, that was, yeah, that was, that's a very creepy element to that story. And I was thinking about that room at the grandparents' house at the beginning.

I'm like, what kind of bedroom has a big door that leads directly to the attic? So it's like clearly the room was up like a part of the attic that they converted into a room. Yeah. And I'm picturing you walk through a door into the rest. That is a fucking terrible room for a kid. I was thinking of my godmother. I'd lose my mind as a kid if I had that room. Okay. But also it could be like such a cool, fun... Like when I was... If you're little enough and it's all you know and they've like...

If you go through that door and you have like a playroom. I mean, that's not what you have in this situation. You see the wrong horror movie one time as a kid and it's just ruined. Well, I know, but. Yeah.

My godmother, they had a really cool house, or at least I thought it was really cool. I don't know what I would think of it now. But I remember one of the rooms like attaching to the storage. It wasn't even an attic because it was like, it was an upstairs and then there was a small bedroom. And then in the bedroom, there was a door that went to like a storage closet. Yeah. But I was so fucking scared of that. I thought the house was so cool. I wanted to like, oh my God, this is so cool. No, it's not. I'm so scared. Too scary.

Okay. Before we thank Annabelle's, you wanted to remind people about our special camp. Yes. Okay, you guys. Listen, 2025 is off to like a very bumpy start. Okay.

Well, we need something positive to look forward to. We need something exciting. We need something to focus on. And what we here at Bad Magic would like you to focus on is summer camp. Now, you probably heard us talk about it last year because the tickets went on sale, but tickets are still on sale. So, you know, listen.

We're all starting to make our plans. Like it's January 2025. We're starting to talk concerts. We're starting to talk friends and family, going to the lake, going for hikes, enjoying those bright, long summer days. And you can get all of that at summer camp. You can get concerts.

There will be some semblance of some stand-up or some other podcast coming. We're not quite sure what that's going to look like. Yeah. You can swim in the lake. You can do rock climbing. You can go hiking. We've got it all for you. So if you've done your taxes. Open bar. Hell yeah. If you've done your taxes and you know...

that you have this income tax refund coming and you haven't spent it yet, why not spend it on Wet Hot Bad Magic Summer Camp? Summer of love. Equinunk, Pennsylvania, September 4th through the 7th. Whoop, whoop. So you can hop on over to badmagicproductions.com and if you scroll about halfway down, you'll see the giant camp banner and all the info is there. And if you're curious, you have questions, concerns, I love it when you guys email and are like, hey, I'm thinking about going by myself. Listen, join the...

the Wet Hot Bad Magic Summer Camp Facebook group, you would not believe the number of people who are coming there by themselves, coming for the first time. The podcasts somehow create this very easy connection with people where it's like,

You already know you're going to have some of the same interests and same sense of humor. And it's just, it's so welcoming. It's such a non-judgment zone. And we've had so many amazing, beautiful things come from camp. People who are like, I met my lifelong best friend that I didn't know I was missing. People have gotten married. Yeah, just a marriage recently. Yeah, babies. I mean, there are so, so, so many things. So if you're looking for a best friend, if you're looking for your forever love, I mean, that's...

You can't put a price on that. Okay? All right, guys. I mean, we did, but you can't. So, and listen, like camp is not too, too culty. Like it's a little bit of a cult, but it's like our fun, sweet cult. So. Cult light. No, no one's getting fucked by the cult leader other than Lindsay.

And even then, I'm too tired at camp. Yeah, true. True. I'm exhausted. Not even you. Not even you are getting it. Yeah. And there's meet and greets. There's tattoos. The tattoos are the cultiest thing I think that happened. And you don't even have to do it if you don't want to. So, yeah, we just want to remind you guys that that's happening. We'll be talking about it more throughout the year. But we really, really, really would love to see you there. Yes. And that is that. That's that. That's that.

And now let's thank some of the people who allow us to do cool things like camp. Let's thank our Annabelles. Can I start? Yeah, go first. I would like to thank the following Annabelles for supporting us on Patreon. And by the way, if you're thinking about signing up on Patreon, they do now charge in the Apple Store only. Oh, shit. That's right. Yep. So it's like easy workaround. So Apple, if you get the sign up to be a Robert or Annabelle through the app, through the

They'll do like a 30% surcharge, I think. And we don't get that, just to be clear. That has nothing to do with us. Go straight to Apple. But what you can do, just go to a web browser. Like you just go to like, you know, use your Chrome web browser, Safari, doesn't even matter. And you just sign up on patreon.com. You find us there. That's right.

And then go use the Apple app if you're an iPhone user and don't have to pay that 30%. It's the easiest workaround ever. So sign up on the web, then download the app and use your login information that you created on the web browser and off you go. Boom. Bada bing, bada boom, bada bang. So I'd like to thank the following Annabelle's Elizabeth Spaeth.

Ryan Probst, Cassie Oggs, Marijuana. I see what you did there. Marijuana, but they spelled it a funky way where I didn't even realize what I was saying. Very nice. Trenton Bouchard, Clayton Jones. Oh, I like this one. All caps. Death himself. Nice. Angeline Rose. And then a long one. Okay. What you got here? Sir Walter Harris, Ignatius, Sally, Percival, Eduardo, Ramon Jr., the third of Modesto, a.k.a. Whisper. Okay.

They specifically asked that you do that one. Oh, really? Fun. I love it. Apparently there's no character limit on your handle there. And Ariana Sesser. Very nice. Okay, I would also like to thank the following Annabelles for their continued love and support on Patreon. Allie Waz, King Armador of Himbaton.

You guys, I love it. The crazier, the better. Gotta get King, what is it? King what? King Amador. Gotta get King Amador with Sir Walter Harris, Ignatius, Sally Purcell, Eduardo Ramon, whatever, the third Modesto. Of Himpatin. I mean, they're going to have to figure this out. Jessica Saniac, Seth Wanner, Jocelyn- It's pronounced Wiener. It's not. There's no E. It's pronounced Wiener, though. It's not. Okay. W-A-N-N-E-R. All right.

Wanner. Wanner. Wiener. Winer. Seth, you've heard it all. Jocelyn Littlemoon, Helen Lyons, Hazel Krause, Bob Loblaw, Skylar Stryker, and Jenny. Skylar Stryker? I know. Sounds like a professional soccer player. Ooh, you're just a striker. I guess, yeah. I went to bowling.

Oh, yeah. Okay. Okay. Even cooler. And now you got some spoops? Yeah. I just have two spoops. To Sweet Tits Eric from Allie. Happy anniversary. I love that. Hell yeah, Sweet Tits. And to April...

Joette or Jolette. I don't know if I didn't copy and paste that correctly. Chris, Emily, my mom, Laura, my dad, Rich, my sister, Rachel, my son, Lucas, and my beautiful fiance, Crystal from Timothy. You guys don't know how much it meant to me to have someone to go to and always have someone willing to pick up

the phone. You literally saved my life and I'll be entirely grateful forever. If anyone else is out there struggling, hang in there, lean on your family, friends, and get lost in a podcast. If I can do it, you can too. Timothy sent this like really beautiful message about how he's just had, yeah, like a rough couple of years. I won't get into the specifics of it.

And he just really leaned into this podcast, which we're so honored to be a space that he and all of you can escape to whenever you want. And he just is a huge advocate for mental health and was really just...

just so grateful that we talked about it because we never shut up about it yeah uh he went and got himself some help and like really shitty couple years things out of his control and just turned it around and was like not gonna let it tear him down that's awesome and i want to put this out there for anybody who needs like a little pick me up musically so random yes jacob collier it

It's C-O-L-L-I-E-R and it's J-A-C-O-B, Jacob Collier. Just look him up on YouTube. Find some of the most viewed videos. And it is crazy how many people in the comments talk about like I needed to be healed by this. Okay. I can't believe it's the first music I've ever cried to in my life.

I can't remember the last time I cried listening to a song. You sound like you're going to cry. It's crazy. I don't understand. It's like he's a wizard. I just found him and I'll be not emotional at all. And I'll listen to one of his songs and I'm like, what is happening to me? That's awesome. But it's like he, and it's not even the type of music I generally even like.

but there is something very special about him. It's very like healing. Okay. Jacob Collier. I don't know. There's some kind of magic in his music. Well, hopefully all of you have had a good start to your 2025. And if you haven't,

We hope that you can turn it around here and hopefully this, this healing Jacob Collier, whatever you're going through can, can help you navigate whatever you're going through. And again, like our heart, our hearts are just so broken for LA, for New Orleans. Um,

I mean, there's always a tragedy somewhere. There's always something going on. All around the world. The Middle East, Ukraine, yeah. These two just really, really specifically touch our lives in a variety of ways. And we just want you guys to know that, you know, we're thinking about you no matter what you're experiencing and that...

ScareDeath is always here for you. Yeah. We love you guys. Yeah, truly. Truly. We're very grateful for all of you. And that's our show. Thank you for continuing to send in your personal tales of terror to my story. You know what? It feels, I'm just going to skip ahead. Yeah. And I just want to thank the Creeps and Peepers, the moderators to the Facebook group,

The All Seen Eyes, the moderators, thank you. And Molly Jean Box found the first story told this week. Olivia Lee found the second. Wear your seatbelts. Fucking wear your seatbelts. Enjoy your nightmares, creeps, and peepers. Hope you were scared to death. Bye, guys. Love you.

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. Scare to death. Bad Magic Productions. Stop trying to pretend like you're not good at everything. So obnoxious.