The Nurse's Office
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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, Creeps, Peepers, Roberts, and Annabelles. I'm Dan. Hello, Daniel. I'm Lindsay. Hello, Lindsay. Hello, sir. Too bad your name doesn't have like the formal version because you're like Daniel and I wanted to extend your name, but there's no... You could say like Lindsay Marie. You could like really... Yeah, I had your middle name. Middle name. But there's no like Linzathaniel. Linzadiah. Linzadiah.

There is no formal. Intentionally so. My mom picked our names because she didn't like a shortened name. Oh, so she didn't name just to be what it is. Yep. She didn't want like a Jacob and then people to call him Jake. Yeah, yeah, yeah. Right. And that was part of the reason that I ended up not being an Ashley is that she didn't want me to be Ash. Oh, yeah. Jason and Lindsay, the two of you. Yeah, they're just they are what they are. Yep. Except a lot of people call me Linz or Lulu. And a lot of people call Jason Jay. I know. So she didn't get her way after all.

She tried her damnedest. Well, I have this month's merch announcement, and then we're off and running. Let's go. Introducing the Scared to Death Snakes Tee, featuring a prominent classic sigil icon surrounded by some serious spoopy snakes. We also have this illustration available for a tank top for the upcoming sunny season, and it made for a sweet mouse pad design, so you can check that out as well. Fun. Also available now, the official employee uniform tee for all non-civilian facing new employees.

And if you're unsure about who the authors of the Nirvana and emergent authors of the Nirvana and emergent and enlightened world are, check out the storm trilogy from nightmare fuel and more episodes in that world will come out later this year. I just got to write them. We also have some new hats. Oh my God. The hats are so cute. I know. I love them. I love them.

I love them. Check out the quick dry summer snapback featuring the STD sigil and badge text available in three very cool colors. Get the like minty gray green one. That's what I got. Ooh, nice. And there are Time Suck hats in the same style as well. Get out of here, Time Suck. If you listen to that show. That's all at badmagicproductions.com. Yay.

So now, what supposedly true paranormal horror stories did you pick this week from those who sent in their stories to mystoryatscaredtodeathpodcast.com? I have three stories this week, kicking off with a big one about a bunch of young teenagers on a late night drive encountering something creepy in the road. Okay.

Okay. I like that. Yes. Yes. Then my second tale takes us to someone's bedroom where someone else enters the room. Dun, dun, dun. Dun, dun, dun. And then my third story. Oh, three, right? Yeah. I did say that there were three. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah.

All of my sweet, sweet, sweet creeps and peepers, get your tissues. We have a tearjerker of a confirmation story for our third and final fan tale. All right. I'm looking forward to hearing all three of those. Good. My first of two stories is centered around a school nurse who claims- Is she hot?

I don't know. I don't know. You think school nurses are usually hot? I don't know. Maybe. I'll be your hot school nurse. I would love that. All right. I would love to see you in a nurse uniform. Guys, we'll be right back. Yeah, but it's around a school nurse who claims her encounter literally ended her career. It's very intense. Honestly, I hope that it's not true because it is not fun to think that what she claims to a witness could be real.

For my second story, I will share the haunted lore of South Carolina's Oakwood Cemetery and another modern encounter claim set there. So as soon as you're socked up and good to go, I will jump in. Well, buddy, get excited for these socks. All right. Get ready.

Sloth. Por la vida. Por la vida. We will talk about our Costa Rican vacation, the ups, the downs, the ins, the outs, the terrible roads and frogs in the bonus episode for February. Perfect. Okay, so here we go. This first story was posted by someone claiming to be a longtime nurse in the Chicago school system.

We change the structure of the post as we typically do with these modern encounter claims, reformatting what they have claimed to encounter into a story that we hope is a little more narratively pleasing and maybe even a little more narratively disturbing. Time now for the tale of the nurse's office. Celeste could tell when a kid was faking being sick.

She could clock it from the moment a student walked into her office, clutching their stomach or rubbing their temples and looking at her with big bug eyes, saying they didn't feel so good. She knew right away when the little kid in front of her was perfectly healthy and just putting on a show. But at the same time, she also knew when the little kid in front of her just needed a break for some reason, maybe a good reason. And she was usually happy to just let them rest on the blue examination table for a little while.

After being there for a little over three decades, Celeste was a beloved fixture of the Chicago elementary school where she worked. The kids adored her, and the staff did as well. She was, according to some co-workers, incredibly intelligent and had a skill set possibly unmatched by any other school nurse in the district. She was funny, compassionate, stern when she needed to be, and more than anything, she was kind. It was the first day of school, and Celeste was bustling around the small nurse's office making final preparations.

Above the window, with a view of the parking lot, she hung a homemade banner she had made with her daughter a few years back that said, All students are welcome here. In each of the cabinets, she counted and then counted again her entire stock of supplies, making sure she had exactly what she needed to make sure any kind or any kid, excuse me, that came in would be well taken care of.

She made sure that each of her many colorful posters, which were of things like how to wash your hands, how to cover your mouth when you sneeze, how to ask an adult for help, body diagrams for kids to point to what hurts, the food pyramid, the pain scale, etc., were all hung properly and straight. Along the edge of her desk and around some of the shelves, she displayed her expansive collection of rubber duckies. She never actually meant to start a rubber duck collection. It just sort of happened.

About seven years earlier, one of her favorite third graders inexplicably gifted her a yellow rubber ducky wearing a Santa hat for Christmas. And since then, a lot of other students had followed suit. And now she had somewhere between 30 and 40 ducks. And the collection just kept growing. She was admiring her rubber ducks when someone tentatively knocked on the office door. Celeste glanced at the clock on the wall. It was only 7.58. Still two more minutes until the school day officially started.

So she figured her visitor had to be an administrator or a colleague, not a student looking for a band-aid or an ice pack. Smoothing out her polka dot scrubs, she walked over and opened the door. To her surprise, on the other side stood a little boy, maybe first or second grade, staring at the ground. He was wearing a dull blue button-up shirt and cargo shorts. His shoes, Celeste noticed, were caked in dirt. "'Hey, buddy, come on in,' she said as she held the door open wide and waited. But the little boy didn't move."

"'Would you like to come in?' she asked again gently. Still, the boy wouldn't budge. Celeste looked down the hallway to see if there was a teacher nearby that had accompanied him to her office. Oftentimes, the kids needed to be guided to the nurse's room, since it was tucked into a rarely used corner of the school, behind the old administrator's office-turned-storage room, but the hallway was empty. Celeste let out a not-unkind sigh and propped the door open. Despite her bad knees, she kneeled down to meet the boy at eye level. "'Hey, buddy. Are you okay?'

Still staring at the ground, the boy whispered, "'I'm hungry.'" "'Oh, no. Did you not have breakfast this morning?' Celeste asked. He didn't respond. Poor little guy. She wondered if he was embarrassed. "'Well, we can't have you starting out the school year on an empty stomach,' she said with a warm smile. "'Let me grab you a snack. Does that sound all right?' Again, the boy remained silent. "'You stay right here,' she said. She was more than used to little kids who struggled to say what they wanted. "'I'll go grab you a snack.'"

Leaving the boy in the doorway, Celeste went to the fridge and pulled out an orange and a yogurt. When she turned back around, she let out the sound of being startled. The little boy was sitting on the examination table now, his feet stretched straight out before him, hands folded in his lap, head still hung low. He was sitting as if he had been sitting there for a minute or more. How could that be? Celeste looked at the door, then back at the little boy. How he was able to get from where he had been standing in the entrance to all the way across the room and up onto the table without her hearing him

She had no idea, but she didn't dwell on that for too long. It wasn't what was important in the moment. What was important was making sure the little boy was okay. And then he got some food in him. Celeste walked over and offered him the food she grabbed, but he didn't take it. He didn't even acknowledge it. With growing concern, what was going on with this kid? Was he being mistreated at home? Neglected? Worse? She delicately placed a snack beside him on the exam table and asked for his name. And the little boy whispered, Abel.

"'Okay, Abel. It's very nice to meet you. I'm Nurse Celeste. What grade are you in?' she asked. The little boy again said nothing. She was about to ask him again when the bell finally rang. The abrupt sound made Celeste cover her ears. She'd never noticed, strangely, how ear-piercing and loud it was before. When it was done shaking her eardrums, she returned her focus to the little boy before her, asking him, "'Do you know who your teacher is this year, Abel?' Still nothing. "'Okay, buddy,' she said with a worried look."

I'm going to get you some water and make a call to see if we can find out what class you're supposed to be in right now, okay? He remained quiet, and he kept his head down. Now Celeste was really starting to get worried. What was going on at home with this kid? While filling up a flimsy paper cup with a water cooler on the opposite side of the room, she kept talking to the boy over her shoulder, trying to get him to feel comfortable.

Once again, Celeste waited for the boy to respond, but heard nothing.

She kept her eyes fixed on the cup. She thought that maybe if he didn't have to make eye contact with her, it might make it easier for him to speak. And she was right. My insides hurt. Celeste heard him whisper from somewhere behind her back after a few moments. She nodded before turning off the tap and swirling back around to give it to him. And she gasped. The little boy was gone. And the snack she had given him was still sitting on the table untouched. Puzzled, Celeste disposed of the paper cup and looked out in the hall. He was nowhere to be found.

She sat down at her desk, feeling so confused she almost felt dizzy, and she dialed the school registrar to inquire if a student named Abel was on the school-provided lunch plan. The registrar was a good friend of Celeste's, was pretty sure that there was at least one Abel, and they were happy to look into the issue for her. A bit later that day, the registrar stopped by Celeste's office to let her know that there were actually three kids named Abel at the school, and that all of them were on the school lunch program. Celeste said she was glad to hear it, and thanked her for the info.

After that, Celeste mostly forgot about the little boy. Even though she didn't know which Abel had come into her office on the first day, having never seen the boy's face, she now knew that every little boy named Abel at the school had ready access to food. She also was beginning to think that the problem probably wasn't that the boy was hungry. It was probably that he was just nervous for the first day of school. He'd acted strangely sure, but what kid his age didn't? She felt like the situation was resolved, at least until two weeks later.

The next time something strange happened, school had already started, but it was still very early in the day. Celeste was sipping a cup of coffee she had snagged from the teacher's lounge and staring out the window into the parking lot. There were so many birds there that day, especially crows. A bunch of them. A murder? Were flitting all about between cars on the telephone pole in the grass. She was captivated by the way they moved. So amusing, yet so strange. Eerie, even. And there were so many of them.

Suddenly, her thoughts were interrupted by a small murmur coming from behind her, no louder than the rustle of the crow's wings. I'm hungry. Celeste spun around, so startled she nearly spilled her hot coffee all over her scrubs. Oh, she exclaimed. The same little boy from before, Abel, was sitting on the examination table, in the exact same position he had been in that first day, wearing the exact same clothes, including the exact same muddy shoes, staring at his hands in his lap.

Clutching her chest and feeling a bit afraid around a small child for the first time in her life, Celeste let out a nervous laugh. "'Oh, Abel, dear, it's you. My goodness, you gave me quite the scare. I didn't know you were there.' She glanced at the door. It was closed. Still closed. How did she not hear him open and shut it as he came in?' Celeste tried to shake concerning thoughts away and began to make her way across the room, but she stopped short of her examination table. Something deep inside kept her from getting any closer to the little boy.

You're hungry? Is that what you said? We can absolutely fix that. She said breathlessly, unable to fully hide the fear in her voice. She hurried over to the fridge, anxious to put more space between her and the little boy. The growing sense of apprehension and dread in her stomach made Celeste also feel incredibly guilty. Why did she feel like this? This little boy had come to her for help, and it was her job to help him. And she loved her job.

She steadied her nerves and tried to blame her shaky hands on the coffee. She collected the same snacks from the fridge she had tried to offer him last time. My insides hurt. Celeste swung back around when he said that and almost screamed. She'd never wanted to get away from a kid so bad in her life.

"'Abel was now standing directly behind her. "'Instead of his face, all she could see was his mat of coiled hair on the top of his head. "'He was still staring down, now at the ground. "'Celeste gripped the orange in her hand so tight her nails almost split the skin. "'My insides hurt,' he said again. "'As calmly as she could, Celeste told him, "'Okay, Abel, I need you to go back to where you were sitting so I can check you out, okay? "'We'll figure out what's hurting.' "'My insides hurt!'

He said again, quicker this time, his voice more high-pitched like he was getting angry. "'Abel, please go sit on the exam table,' Celeste said much more sternly than she usually spoke to kids at school. He didn't move. And now Celeste didn't know what to do next. She was literally backed into the corner of the room. She didn't feel comfortable physically moving the boy to the side so she could get by, but he wasn't listening.

And also, why did she feel so scared? He was just a little kid. He wasn't threatening her. He was telling her that he didn't feel good, that his insides hurt. Celeste mustered up all of her courage and compassion and common sense and knelt down before him, her knees cracking as she did. "'Abel, what do you mean by your insides hurt?' she asked gently. "'Is it your tummy? That could be because you're hungry again. How about you take this yogurt and this spoon and I'll peel the orange for you while you eat it. How does that sound?'

Celeste was trying her best to conceal her unease, fearing that she was doing a terrible job. Do your insides hurt, Celeste? Abel said, speaking so quickly his words almost slurred together. His voice sounded older, much older, like a man's voice or a woman's. Celeste's mind was racing. Why, what was that, honey? She asked, digging her nails into the orange. She was vaguely aware of the smell of citrus and the feeling of liquid dripping down her hand.

Slowly, the little boy now lifted his head to meet her face. What she saw, or rather what she didn't see, caused Celeste to stumble backwards, slamming against the wall behind her. Her orange fell out of her hand.

She pulled her knees up to her chest and she started to beg for her life. She was so scared she thought she might honestly die of fright. The little boy's face was no face at all. His blubbery, molten skin puckered and folded and furrowed and stretched in clusters of wrinkles around the places where his nose and eyebrows should be. He had pits of what looked like almost dirt for eyes, like graves. He had a mouth but no teeth that could be seen. It was smiling wider and wider and wider. It moved while he spoke, but out of time with his words like a marionette.

His voice was unfathomably vast and deep and dark, and it wasn't the voice of a child or a man or a woman. It wasn't human. They carved out my insides. They ate them. They were so hungry.

"'With each word, the thing that wasn't a boy "'inched closer and closer to Celeste, "'its smile growing bigger and bigger, "'dripping with saliva and blood. "'Suddenly, with his tiny child hands, "'the thing began clawing at its own stomach. "'His stomach, it looked just like any other child's, "'but its face, oh God, the face. "'The thing kept scratching and scratching and scratching "'until it finally broke skin. "'And then it kept going. "'It kept clawing and digging at its own flesh, "'excavating its insides, "'gouging them out of its tiny frame, "'boring deeper and deeper, smiling all the while.'

It's insides were black, rotten. They were quivering and they kept quivering even after they spilled out onto the floor. It's guts were like baby birds splattered onto the linoleum. Suddenly the thing froze its hands out wide on either side of its lacerated torso as if it were saying, Ta-da! I'm hungry! Celeste screamed and screamed and screamed until everything went black. She woke up hours later in the hospital.

Her husband Isaiah and the school's registrar were sitting by her side. The registrar and the nurse explained to Celeste that she had had some sort of episode. The janitor had heard her screaming in the nurse's office and came running. He found her inside, unconscious, laying flat on her examination table. That night, with the help of Isaiah, Celeste wrote and submitted her formal notification of retirement. On medical grounds, she was permitted to take the next three months off, and then at the end of the semester, she'd officially retire.

She only returned to school the week before winter break, with Isaiah and their daughter Angel by her side, to gather her rubber duck collection and take down her homemade banner. In the weeks following the incident, Celeste was different. She told no one of what she'd seen. She was agitated. She was scared. She was still kind and compassionate, but she was reluctant to get too close to any strangers, and she seemed to avoid looking at the faces of any children she came across.

Eventually, her daughter Angel couldn't take it anymore, and Celeste confessed. Angel had come to her mother and father one night and started sobbing so hard with worry over her mother that she was barely able to get the words out. But when she finally did, Celeste broke down into tears as well. Not tears of fear and guilt like her daughter's, but tears of relief. Angel ended up explaining that shortly before her mom saw what she saw,

When she had a sleepover in the basement with her friends, Tanya and Grace, the three of them had been messing around with a Ouija board. A Ouija board that Tanya's brother had given her. At first it was fun, it was all lighthearted and silly, but then there was this little boy, or rather something that said it was a little boy. It said its name was Abel. It said it was hungry. It said it needed help. It said it needed them to free him so he could go find his mommy and daddy.

Before Angel or Grace could say anything, Tanya agreed, jokingly announcing into the darkness surrounding them that Abel was free to come out, come out, wherever you are. For a while, nothing happened. The planchette stood still on the board, and the only sound was Tanya giggling at how lame the whole thing was. But then they heard it, a child's voice, whispering them from everywhere around them at once. They'd all heard it say, "'Do your insides hurt?'

Holy shit.

Isn't that a creepy ending? The ending makes it. It's like, okay, yeah, like you could definitely have a haunted school, you know, whatever schools tend to be around for a really long time and, you know, could be any number of things, but that ending. Oh man, how pissed are you at your kid if they do that? And terrified. Right. Terrified. It validates what you saw.

terrified angry annoyed frustrated time for a massive cleansing also let's get that friend over and get that Ouija board let's burn the board bury the board and we need to have a little chat with the friend's brother there's a lot of conversations that need to happen

Yeah, I really like that story. Yeah, it was great. And again, I hope it's not true. No pics were attached to it. But when I was trying to find a picture of some demonic looking little boy, I did come across, this is so random, but I came across this on the Ghosts subreddit. And Reddit user SouthernAd2683 posted this, titling it with, Demon in childhood Christmas pic, early 2000. Can someone please tell me what this is, lol. And then they wrote the following caption.

So basically, I was looking through old pictures from my memories box. I came across this picture taken by my mom or stepdad. It shows me on the right, my older sister on the left. At first glance, it just looks like a normal early 2000s Christmas pic, if you ignore the fact that I look like a seven-year-old crackhead. But if you shift your eyes to the far right, just behind where I'm standing, you can see what I'm talking about. Quite frankly, it's fucking terrifying.

It appears to be some sort of entity or demon. You can clearly see its face and body. It also looks like it has a thin black arm touching the back of my neck. Anyway, can someone please tell me what the fuck this is because I just can't fathom. And before I show it, another user suggests a strange reflection of some of the Christmas lights, but I don't know. Okay, let's see. Oh, shit. Yeah, how fucking creepy is that thing? Fuck. Fuck.

But also, I also understand what another user is saying because the reflection of the Christmas tree, just pretend like those two lights that are the eyes, just pretend they're not there. And then it's just like, oh, it's, you know, because Christmas trees, soft edges, fluffy, like I can absolutely see. Like if you kind of hold your hand up and just cover the eyeballs. Yeah.

You're like, oh, I see. Okay. Yep. Definitely Christmas tree. And it, I. Also, it looks like a face, the mouth, the nose, the eyes, the hair. I'm with the other user. I think it's a reflection of the Christmas tree and Christmas lights.

Even if it is... It's super creepy. That is uncanny. It is, but I don't actually see a mouth. I think if those two lights weren't there, you wouldn't see a mouth. I think the two lights suggest eyes, which then suggest mouth. Yeah, yeah. I genuinely believe that it... If anything, it looks like an ape. I think it looks like a creepy clown. A clown? How do you get clown? This is what I see. Okay. All right. Well...

Creeps and peepers. What did her sister get? What's she holding up? Oh, she got some kind of... Oh, Nintendo DS games. Yeah. Imagine Interior Designer and My Secret Something. Those are games that I was not playing. Obvi. Yeah, funny. Ignore the fact that I look like a crackhead. It's really funny. I know.

It's like, actually, yes. You look very thin and cracked out. Do you have anything else on that one? No. Well, I mean, nothing scary, but I loved going to the school nurse. Did you really? Yes. Yes.

I don't even remember her name. I don't remember what she looked like. I just loved the excuse of like going in there, lying down. My high school school nurses were great. They really would let you just come take a nap. Oh, yeah. Okay. I was just recently talking to some girlfriends about like the best thing about the school nurse. I don't know if you have this because you lived in such a small town. Yeah. But every quarter or every semester, they would do a lice check and they would do a scoliosis check. Oh, yeah.

Ooh, sorry. I just got hit with a massive wave of... Ooh, I just thought I was going to pass out. Weird, out of nowhere. That was really strange. That was really uncomfortable. Just like a big blood sugar... Oh, no. Ooh, sorry. Okay, that was very weird. But would you have a...

quarterly lice checks and scoliosis checks? I don't think so. Oh, man. The lice check was the best. So they came to the classroom and there was like a mom that would volunteer. It was usually Jackie Estep's mom and the school nurse and they would come and they would put plastic gloves on their hands and then they would take like a wooden popsicle stick, like a really big one and comb through your hair and it just felt so good. Yeah.

Oh, it was so great. And you got to keep the comb. And then scoliosis checks were the best. And they always said I had scoliosis. And my mom was always like, ah, she's fine. She's fine. She walks fine. She'll grow out it. Uh-huh. Yeah. I don't know. Still have a fucked up back. Maybe they would have found my hip dysplasia. Oh, maybe. If my mom would have been like, yeah. But we didn't have like, you know, listen, we couldn't afford that stuff. I don't think we had a dedicated school nurse.

There might have been like somebody in the office at the high school who also could be first, give you first aid. Yeah. But I don't, I don't think we actually had a nurse in Riggins. Well, I guess there were only what, like 25 kids. Well, I mean, yeah, per class. Yeah. Yeah. So it's like really on any given day, it's like, here's to Advil or if you have an upset stomach, like just walk home. Yeah, yeah, yeah. Totally. How different. Okay. You ready to move on to the next story? I'm ready.

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Thanks for listening to our sponsor deals, creeps and peepers. Oakwood Cemetery was founded in 1886 and is located in the quaint southern small city of Spartanburg, South Carolina. By day, the cemetery is a scenic, peaceful spot for local families to visit their loved ones. At night, Oakwood is said to transform into an eerie location known for a variety of supernatural happenings.

locally oakwood is known to many as hell's gate a place where souls can and supposedly do cross over from the other side where they interact with the living cemetery before it was known as oakwood was originally a small private cemetery the final resting place for the thompson family in the early and mid 19th century the oldest 13 graves of the cemetery all contain members of the thompson family

In 1886, when the town of Oakwood was chartered, the cemetery went public. And over the next few decades, in addition to local independently living locals, many of those buried at Oakwood were actually prisoners or wards of the state, including a great number of children. In 1914, 314 identified graves from Magnolia Cemetery were moved to Oakwood to make room for some local railroad expansion.

This disturbance to what was supposed to be the final resting place for 300 plus souls is believed to be what led to the cemetery gaining its current haunted reputation. Over two decades later, 1941, the cemetery went bankrupt, which led to the cemetery becoming unmanaged and hence leading to unmanageable growth.

There were certain roads that you could not drive down because there was so much growth spread out to the roads. It was like a jungle. Joey Ganey, president of the local Piedmont Historical Society, said, remembering the cemetery back in the 1970s. In 1983, the Oakwood Cemetery Perpetual Care Association was formed to establish a permanent fund for the maintenance and beautification of the cemetery in conjunction with the Spartanburg County Foundation, its executor.

They restored the cemetery, providing a proper resting place once again for the thousands of souls buried there. The cemetery is now beautiful and peaceful, at least during the day. It's definitely not always peaceful at night, according to those who have reported encountering the supernatural there. Time now for the tale of Hell's Gate. A great number of visitors over the years have claimed to have heard disembodied children's laughter or to have seen glowing orbs floating amongst the tombstones.

A children's graveyard found at the back left corner of the property is said to be especially haunted. Visitors often leave toys by many of the tombstones here, and some of those who have done so have claimed to have felt something tugging on their clothes or to have seen various objects, including the toys they've left, moving about on their own. A tree line and a small wooden bridge in the northwestern corner of Oakwood Cemetery separate the children's graveyard from a section of the cemetery known as Potter's Field.

supposedly the most active area of the cemetery. Those who explore this area often feel nauseous and overcome by a sense of dread. There are also a few tales of, quote, a woman in white wandering about to the cemetery at night. According to local legend, a mother once came to Oakwood long ago to visit her family's graves, and she brought her son with her. The boy snuck away from his mother to a hill near Potter's Field, where he died in an accidental fall. The mother was so overcome with grief over the loss of her boy that she then took her own life.

And now many believe her spirit is acting out her search for her son right before she learned he had died. A fruitless search she seems doomed to perform over and over again. Some have taken photos of a white mist floating hanging in the air, and they believe it to be spectral evidence of this woman in white. Paranormal investigators who have come to Oakwood have said they often experience equipment malfunctions and sudden battery loss. Paranormal investigator Lori Fowler told a reporter for SCETV, I've caught a lot of paranormal activity in there.

We've had all kinds of stuff happen. If they don't want you there, they'll let you know. We've had stuff thrown at us before. Some investigators have noticed intense cold spots in the middle of a hot, humid summer's day. Other visitors find they've lost cell service. A few people have claimed their phone started to ring when there was no incoming call. Many of those who have said that they were able to answer claim to have heard a busy signal on the other line, but a few have claimed to have heard what sounds to them like someone trying to speak to them from the other side. There are also rumors that the cemetery has been used for occult rituals.

The South Carolina Paranormal Investigations Group have taken these rumors so seriously they've posted a warning on their website that reads, Do not, and I repeat, do not go here alone or at dark. There have been several encounters with very hostile Satanists. On March 26, 2012, some vandals came to Oakwood and desecrated one of the graves. The grave marker and some cinder blocks were strewn around, a coffin was dug up, and the trespassers opened it up and stole a human skull.

The following month, on April 20th, a man found the skull in a field about 300 yards from the cemetery. Why didn't they keep it after they dug it up? Did something happen that left them too afraid to hold on to it? Are some of the spirits that haunt Oakwood particularly malevolent? The following story comes from someone who believes they had an encounter with one of the spirits, perhaps one of a malevolent nature, they're not sure, in Hell's Gate. They wrote, "'I lost my mom a year before this happened, and it was nearing the anniversary of her death,'

I'd had a particularly rough shift at work, and I wished more than anything that I could call her up and vent like I used to. Of course, I couldn't do that, so I settled for visiting her graveside instead. It was already dark by the time I showed up, thanks to daylight savings. I was a little creeped out at the thought of going to the cemetery at night, but my need to visit my mom won out over any fear I felt. I hadn't been to see her in months. The more time passed, the more I found it difficult to go.

I told myself it would be a quick visit. I would check on her gravestone, pick up any trash or debris in the area, maybe say a quick word, and then head home. I parked and entered the cemetery hoping I wouldn't get in trouble for trespassing and began walking towards my mother's grave. I needed to use my phone as a flashlight, which I thought wouldn't be a problem. Last I had checked, I still had about 75% battery left, but a minute into the short walk, the flashlight cut out completely and I realized my phone had shut down.

I clicked the power button, hoping it was just a fluke, but then saw the unfortunate empty battery symbol on the screen. No juice. I stood there perplexed as to how that could happen. The phone was a couple years old, but I had never experienced the battery draining completely in just a few minutes. I thought about turning around and going home, but suddenly the screen lit up with the Apple logo. My phone had somehow turned itself back on. It was now showing about 20% battery life. Low, but still more than enough for me to spend five minutes at my mother's plot.

When I illuminated my mother's headstone, I immediately felt a strong wave of sorrow as I read her name and death date. But then my sadness turned to annoyance a moment later when my light source disappeared again. For the second time in just a few minutes, my phone was dead. And this time, I could not get it to turn back on. I sighed and dropped my head in frustration. I wasn't far from my car, but I was far enough away that the parking lot lights didn't reach where I was. And now I'd have to walk back in complete darkness. Seriously? I laughed out of sheer disbelief.

Is this you, Mom? Are you playing some kind of trick on me? I asked the air around me. I'd heard the place was haunted, but I didn't believe it. And I definitely didn't believe my mother's recently deceased spirit would be residing in the cemetery of all places. If her ghost was around, why not haunt her house, where she had spent decades of her life, or even my apartment, where she could at least see her only child? As I thought about where my mom's ghost, if she even had a ghost, would most likely show up, I heard a phone ringing. My phone. My definitely completely dead phone.

When I looked at it, I got the chills. The screen was black, like it was still dead, but somehow it was vibrating, letting me know I had an incoming call. For reasons I cannot explain, I picked up the phone and put it to my ear, and the ringing stopped. I almost screamed when I thought I heard someone speaking in a whisper, but it was just some leaves rustling behind me. At least, I think that's all it was. I turned around so quickly, I almost fell into my mother's headstone. There was no one there.

My eyes scanned my surroundings and I could have sworn I saw a shadow moving off in the distance, moving like a person would move, but it happened so fast I couldn't be sure. And I wasn't about to stick around and look for it or analyze what I thought I saw. I was rightly spooked now. I was so sufficiently creeped out that I hightailed it back to my car and locked the doors as soon as I got in. I visited my mom's gravesite since, but that was the last time I went to that cemetery after the sun had gone down.

I'm still not sure if what happened was a sign for my mom or not. Maybe she was scaring me so I wouldn't come back at night, which wasn't exactly the safest thing to do. Maybe if I would have stuck around, maybe something bad would have happened to me. I don't know. Maybe it had nothing to do with my mom. Maybe someone or something else was trying to speak with me during my one late night visit. Maybe I wouldn't like what it had to say or what it did. I don't know.

I still try and tell myself that I don't believe in ghosts. But if that's true, how come I can't bring myself to go back there when it's dark out? Cemeteries are so creepy. Especially just totally dark cemeteries. How weird was that about the phone? Ringing when the light doesn't come on, when the battery's dead. That would freak me out. Vibrating at least, yeah. Yeah, that would freak me out under any circumstances. Oh, yeah. 10,000 times worse than a cemetery. Uh-huh. A dark cemetery.

It's a beautiful cemetery. I have some pictures. Okay, great. I would love to see it. Yeah, this first one, just a nice daytime photo of Oakwood Cemetery. Yeah, it is pretty. Here's another shot, excuse me, of the cemetery during the day. A lot of, you know, big fancy headstones. Mm-hmm. Some little statues, you know, on top of some of them. And then I thought this was a super cool shot of the cemetery at night. Oh, that's brilliant. Uh-huh, with a full moon in the background. Yeah.

That is a very, very cool photo. Yes. And also, if you were out there in that, it would be so creepy. Yeah. Oh, yeah. Yeah. I thought it was interesting when we were in Costa Rica to see some cemeteries. And it was the only place other than New Orleans that I have ever seen where they buried their dead above ground. Yep. Yep. Just because of the moisture in the ground. Uh-huh. And sure, like flooding and things. Yeah. Makes total sense. It's just like so out of the ordinary for us. Uh-huh. Yeah. Speaking of digging. I have one more picture. Oh, sorry. Go ahead. One more. This is a...

A picture somebody took in the cemetery and it captured that white mist that was mentioned that some people believe to be spectral evidence of the woman in white. I mean, it's not in the shape of any kind of like, you know, person. It's just I don't know. Just just mist. Just mist. Mm hmm.

And it might be some kind of like a situation where like you can't see the mist with the naked eye very well. Kind of like the Aurora Borealis when we took those photos where it's like we'd stand in the backyard, the Northern Lights. We couldn't see them with our naked eye, but you put your cell phone camera up there and then suddenly they would show up. Yeah. Yeah. You could see like very faint color, but that was about it. Yeah. With your naked eye. Yeah. And then big time you could see it with the phone. And so maybe this is a situation like that. I don't know. Yeah. Yeah. That's fair. That is fair. Uh,

What was I going to say? Oh, yeah. Digging up bodies. Yeah. Also, that's like a crazy thing to do. Uh-huh. So, like, what are you thinking? Where they took that skull? Took that skull. Uh-huh. What the fuck is wrong with you? But also, it made me think about a TV show we're watching, Bad Sisters. Oh, yeah. Uh-huh. I love the emails from people who are like, stop telling me what to watch. I'm deep in TV now. It's like, I know. I know. But Apple TV, season one, Bad Sisters. Bless you. Thank you. Bad Sisters. Not bad.

Not typically what we would lean into, but we have two different friends who have very wildly different tastes in entertainment. Like one friend of ours who was a, like a big wig at Netflix for a while, a reality TV producer and just like a wad

range of interests. He recommended it. And then a female friend of ours who was like a theater nerd, doesn't like anything super gory or graphic, like very politically active, like just could not be two different kinds of people. I would never invite them to the same dinner party. Both were like, you have to watch Bad Sisters. Yeah. It was good. Season one was great. It was good. Totally out of our realm, like a little bit

in a variety of ways. A dark, dark comedy, I guess. Lots of good twists and turns. Yeah, really kept us on our toes. So anyways, there's another TV recommendation. Sorry. Sorry, not sorry.

And then you have a summer camp announcement before you get into your stories. I do. I was just about to ask you about your Layla before I dove into that. Purple is what I'm going with today. Ooh, purple Layla. We haven't had a purple one in a while. We haven't. It's too bad we don't have green because this is the first episode of March. Oh, yeah. A little leprechaun Layla. Oh, okay. All right, guys. You've got a few weeks. If you want to send in a leprechaun Layla, we would love it. I'm also running low on fan socks. No pressure. I'm always happy to bring in my own fuzzy socks. But if anyone would like to send fan socks...

We're at the bottom of the barrel finally. Is the sock ritual coming to an end? Never. Okay. It's just a reason for me to go buy socks. And then in exciting news, you guys, we haven't talked about summer camp in a while. And we have been getting some messages of like, hey, is camp happening? Oh, yeah. It's definitely happening. And so sorry if it got lost in the shuffle. You know, summer camp tickets actually went on sale last March.

Yeah. And we were just very quickly, very briefly, it's a huge amount of money up front for us. So we were trying to give ourselves plenty of time in case we needed to figure out the finances of it. And then also we thought it was helpful based on feedback for people to have a huge runway about it because of asking time off work, kid arrangements, blah, blah, blah. But turns out maybe it was too...

Yeah.

The tickets and all the info can be found at badmagicproductions.com. But just like last year, live bands, karaoke, a live scared to death, daytime activities like a pool party with a DJ, archery, rock climbing, hikes, and more.

For our introverts, we have arts and crafts, painting and Prosecco. There's a gym on site. There's yoga. I mean, you name it, it exists. We're super excited. It's a magical place. It is magical. Magical. Wow.

A couple that has been coming to camp since the beginning recently got engaged. We've had a wedding now happen from people who met at summer camp. People have moved across the country to live nearer their new best friend. It is a life changing, can be a life changing experience for,

It can also just be a good excuse to get drunk for a few days and have a lot of fun. Exactly. Or a good excuse just to like be sober and get away from your life and have a lot of fun for a few days. Absolutely. It's just super fun, totally immersive. The theme this year is Wet Hot Bad Magic Summer Camp Summer of Love. And camp takes place just outside of Woodstock, so we feel like it's very appropriate. Yeah. If you have any questions, you can definitely email us and we can send you over to the camp team. You can join the Facebook group for camp.

And you can get lots of info on our website. Again, that's badmagicproductions.com. Summer camp this September. Okay. Well done. Thank you, sir. Should we get into the stories? Let's do it. Okay. Here we go. Greetings to the greatest creep and peeper. It's pretty funny to be called the greatest creep. Yeah.

I want to share a story from my insane, carefree teenage years of drinking, drugs, sex, and rock and roll. Hell yeah. Hell yeah. We're still in those years. I have thought of this incident many times over the last 30-ish years. It's so absurd when something terrifying happens to you that you cannot explain that you also audibly giggle in a dismissive manner when your memory revisits it. But then you bite your lower lip and you ponder, but did that happen?

Every single time I turn off any major road and head out to a more rural road where there are no streetlights to illuminate my way, this tingle comes over the top of my skull. My jaw clenches a little tighter and a tugging starts at the bottom of my stomach while my spine straightens. Living in Maine, we scan the roads like RoboCop. It's mandatory. But for some of us, it isn't just the local wildlife that we're scanning for.

There was a party spot all of us high schoolers went to, tucked away outside of town.

You would head out on a 10-mile road that followed along the Kennebec River. It's a winding road with many stomach-tossing hills if you're going fast enough. At night, the headlights of your car are constantly trying to play catch-up with the rate of speed you are driving. At the top of any given hill, it appears that there is no road ahead of you, a very unsettling sight if you aren't familiar with the road.

About eight miles in on the 10-mile road, there's a well-hidden ATV trail. The woods here are very dense on both sides of a narrow trail, and as such, it is pitch black out there. At the end of the trail, near the party spot, there is a dead drop straight down about 75 feet. When nature called, you never walked out there alone, and you didn't stray far in any one direction.

We would consolidate people into as few vehicles as possible so we could stay hidden from the road. The county sheriffs would frequently pass by, so we had to make sure we were tucked away. At the time, I had a small black hatchback Ford EXP that we successfully and uncomfortably fit seven people into. On this particular night, there were four girls hitching a ride home, but they had to lie down in the back for all of us to fit.

Up front was my friend Katie, who was sitting on my boyfriend's lap. It was a mobile sardine can. Just up the road from this party spot was a field that was infamous to all of us teens. Like every small town, there was lore about this field along the lines of satanic worship. As an adult, and with a little research, I found out that it had to do with paganism. There were mounds of earth scattered about with no exact distance between any of them.

One of these mounds was shaped like a stick figure with a round circle for a head. Another was identical to that but child-sized. Some were mounds in the shape of triangles. A dirt stairway was dug into the earth while another circular staircase was formed and headed upwards like a stairway to heaven.

It was all grown over with lush green grass. It looked as though someone was caring for the property because the grass was shorter in the field than anywhere else. However, there were no tire tracks for a tractor or lawnmower to reveal any recent maintenance. It was quite beautiful during the day, but unsettling with no explanation as to what those formations were.

Like I said, we were headed out of the woods from one of our parties. I veered off the dirt ATV trail onto the paved road. It was time for me to start dropping people off at their houses if I was going to make it home for my own curfew.

As we are approaching the field with the strange mounds, we're laughing about how crazy it would be to get out and look around in the dark. Kathy and my boyfriend were maniacally laughing and encouraging me to do it. I even slowed the car down a bit, acting like I was going to pull over. The girls in the back were screaming, don't you dare stop, get the fuck out of here.

Laughing heartily at the terror, I started to pick up speed as I yelled at them to just calm down. I didn't have a flashlight anyways. There was no way I would have walked around out there in the dark. Up the road, coming into the view of my headlights, was a person walking in the road in my lane headed towards us. I had been drinking and I had smoked a bunch earlier in the evening, so I was most definitely still buzzed.

I was, however, aware enough to know that I needed to slow down. I moved my car into the other lane as it seemed necessary. Luckily, no one was coming in our direction, so I felt safe to allow that room between us and this person. I didn't need to add to the long list of laws I was breaking by throwing a DUI and a murder into the mix. It was the middle of the night on a backcountry road that had no streetlights. I needed to be smart here.

Over the squeals, laughter, and chatter, I said, what the fuck is going on here? And everyone got real quiet, real quick. I guess the tone of my voice cut through the noise along with the look on my face. Everyone seemed to understand that this was potentially a serious matter. All of my passengers shuffled into position to gawk and verify what I was looking at.

The person appeared to be a tall, bald man. The headlights gave him an unnatural white glow that bounced off of him and his clothing. He was calmly walking, not an ounce of urgency in his stride, as he looked straight ahead. I slowed the car to a crawl and turned on my high beams. This guy didn't even bother to shield his eyes. He just kept walking forward. And he was holding something shiny out in front of his body.

As we closed in on him, we noticed that he was wearing what appeared to be a hospital gown. And he was barefoot. There was nearly no distance between him and the car now, but he still didn't adjust his stride or even try to step off the road and onto the shoulder. I wanted to sink further into my seat in an attempt to hide. But from what? I mean, he couldn't see me. I doubted he could see any of our faces through the headlights.

I suddenly realized what he was holding in his hands. A metal surgical tray like you would find in any operating room. Internally, I was screaming, why? Who the hell carries something like that out in front of them? There must be something on it. My stomach turned inside of itself at this thought. I felt my breath starting to quicken. My mouth hung open in fear.

Everyone in the car seemed to realize the gravity of the weirdness all at once as we rolled on by this man. The girls in the back were crawling over one another, staring out the window. The silence was quickly shattered by the girls screaming for me to go.

I threw the car into gear now and we lunged forward. The engine revved and I started to pick up speed just as he walked into frame of my rearview mirror. He now glowed red from my taillights bouncing off his gown and his bald head.

No one spoke for nearly a full minute. I could hear everyone's breathing as it mixed with my own heartbeat thudding in my head. My mind was frantic with disbelief. Where was there a hospital? There was no hospital around here for at least 20 miles. Just cornfields and pastures for cows. Okay, maybe he lives in that farmhouse we passed earlier? Like, there is no reason for him to be out here dressed like that, carrying a surgical tray. All these thoughts in my head.

And needless to say, this was the last time we ever partied out there in the woods.

Just this past weekend, I took a trip up to that area with my partner to see what was up there. It was overgrown in some areas and houses had been built in other areas. I wanted to knock on doors and ask questions, but I didn't want someone thinking I was completely insane. Sending much spooky love, Darielle. Darielle, thank you. Or maybe it's Darielle. Darielle. Darielle, thank you. Um...

Take any paranormal aspects out of that. If you're out like in the woods, like at a party spot, way out there on some little like logging road, county road, you know, dark, like late at night, just seeing, even take away like the surgical gown.

Just seeing like a guy. Just one singular dude. One dude just walking down the road calmly by himself. Barefoot. Barefoot. I'm already freaked out. I'm like, how the fuck did you get here? Exactly. What is the story that led to this situation? Right. Exactly. And then I'm scanning for like a broken down vehicle. Right. Like I'm looking for other people. I'm looking for like roadkill, like large roadkill. Move.

moose, deer, something. Yeah, if you find yourself, especially as like a full-grown man, walking around by yourself in the woods late at night and a car approaches, act as friendly as humanly possible. That's also somehow creepy though. I know, well, you can take it too far. You can like be weirdly like, big grin and stuff.

Yeah. I love when you make that sound. But just be like, like wave. I don't know. Try to look as non-threatening as possible. Laugh maybe a little bit. Throw your hands up like, I know it's weird. Also, maybe just stay in your car till sunrise. Yeah.

But that's also an option. Yeah, yeah, I guess. Yeah, maybe. I can see myself, though, just walking. I'm like, whatever. If it was like five, six miles to like the town, I'm just going to walk. Okay, but also you run the risk of somebody just not paying attention and you being distracted by their phone in the dark. Oh, yeah, you got to be vigilant. Yeah, they might accidentally run you over or run you off the road. And you might have to hide from cars, which makes it a little creepy still. It's like a weird, strange game of hide and seek.

I know. That's just a weird setup. Yeah. But now at the paranormal. Uh-huh. What is this? Where did this creepy ass dude. Where'd he go? In a hospital gown, barefoot with a metal. Metal surgical tray. And it's like, I love how Darielle like calls it out too. It's like. Yeah. He's not just like carrying it down at his side. He's holding it up like he's presenting something. You know? Yeah, yeah, yeah. I'm like, what is on that tray? What is on that tray? God, I was trying to think of the name of this. Like, um.

I watched... Oh, my God. It was like an old sci-fi channel show. Mm-hmm. It was... It's like...

it's an anthology horror series and each season is different. And I'm totally blanking on the name now, but season two or three. Yeah. Has some scenes kind of like this one where it's like, they've taken like, um, Oh, creepy pastas that have gone viral and like turned them into a show. But there is just like, like this weird family that's dead, but still terrorizing this town. And it will just be like in a wilderness kind of setting. And then just like this one dude will be seen walking around, uh,

Yeah, it's super creepy. And that whole thing about the mounds with the stairway, I'm like, what is that place? I would want to get a metal detector. I'd want to bring back like a team. Like, can we excavate this place? Like, what is this? Who made this? Yeah. Yeah. Fascinating that there were like some mounds in triangular shapes, some mounds in stick figure shape, which I can absolutely, that was a great descriptor.

And then a stair, a dirt stairway going down and then another stairway going up. I'm like, how? Like, was it a stairway going up to what? Right. Is this like an ancient, like Native American site? Or is this just like some, some people into the occult, some kind of occult. Yeah. Or some kind of paganism. Yeah. This was, you know, religiously or spiritually meaningful to them. And they like, they made it. Okay. You know, it would be so fun if you just had like endless amounts of time and money. Yeah. Like,

Like wherever you live. Or just make things like this? Yeah. But like in your front yard. That's funny. Like I was thinking about our front yard. I'm like, okay, adjust the fence line. Bring it really close to the house. Now our entire front yard is exposed. Yeah. And then just start putting very strange things out there. Nobody can stop us. It's our property. We own that. Yeah.

If you want to take it a little further, just feeding off of that idea, buy a vacant piece of land out in the woods that you also own and just set up a weird, very occult-y figure out there. And then if you wanted to mess with local kids, if you knew it was a party spot, you're not going to punish trespassers. Yeah, yeah.

Every once in a while during the day, just take like go to the butcher and just get like random parts of like a pig or something and a bunch of blood and just put it in certain spots around that. And just like so when they come at night, there's like rotting little pieces and they're like blood and maggots. Oh, my God. And then also photograph it and anonymously send it to your local paper of like what's going on. What's happening out here?

Oh, God. That would be great. You could freak a little town out with something like that. I think we should get going on that. Yeah. If we didn't have to work, if we had just loads of money, and we're just dedicated pranksters. Oh, this is great. This reminds me of your album, Chinese Affection. Oh, yeah. Just like that fake prank that you wanted. Laser rocket. Uh-huh. Uh-huh. Okay. Well, let's settle in for a second story. Okay. Hey, Dan and Lindsay. Hey.

Big fan of the show. I'm a creeper through and through. And this is my number one podcast to listen to when I'm getting stoned and in the mood to freak myself out. Hell yeah. Good for you.

Recently, very recently, I had a terrifying experience that I thought would be right up your alley. I live with my family, which is one younger brother, my mom, and my dad, and our five dogs. Yes, five dogs. We live in the countryside in southern Ontario. Our house is nearly 300 years old, and it used to be a gas station, used to be a convenience store, and allegedly, according to a neighbor, a morgue. But honestly, that rumor sounds too good to be true. I'm not sure if it's true,

You know what I mean. Mm-hmm.

Just as I started to slip into actual sleep, I heard the bedroom door, a sliding barn door in keeping with my mom's farmhouse aesthetic, start to slide open on its track. At first, my assumption was that it was one of the dogs nudging the door open to come climb into bed with me, which is not unusual at all in my home. But after a moment of utter stillness, I heard something else.

A gentle humming was coming from the doorway to which my back was facing. The very second I recognized what I was hearing, I felt pins and needles across my whole body. I didn't recognize the song being hummed, but I did know it was a woman based on the pitch alone. For what felt like hours but was probably only seconds, she just stood behind me in the doorway humming softly. And if it had ended there, I would be fine.

But then the bed creaked and then it sank and I felt whatever it was climbing onto the bed still humming. After a long, agonizing minute, I felt a hand, a cold, hard hand rest on my shoulder. I have never squeezed my eyes shut harder in my life. I knew if I opened them, I was not going to like what I saw.

The humming stopped, and a moment later, I felt her right up against my ear, and in a cheery voice, almost like it was, like, funny or exciting, she said,

God can't see you, but I can. I was so scared I couldn't even scream. I just moaned, pulled the blankets tight over my head, and I could still feel her hand on me through the blankets. And she had started humming again, some unrecognizable song like a lullaby. And then without warning, it all stopped. The touching, the humming, the feeling of dread, all gone.

I stayed frozen for a long time before I dared to roll over and open my eyes. The room was, of course, completely empty. No dogs, no people, no nothing. But one thing I know for sure was different. The only thing that tells me that this encounter was in fact real was that the bedroom door was pulled completely open.

Honestly, in the light of day, it was kind of sick. Like naturally, I told everyone I know about it. But in the moment, I thought I was going to go insane from the fear. So what do you think? I'm dying to know. Hope you enjoyed and hope it made someone as creeped out as me. Stay spoopy, Spencer. Thanks, Spencer. I think...

Well, one of two things. You either had a very vivid dream, like a nightmare, like a creepy nightmare, and just like forgot opening the door or something. I don't know if you sleepwalk or something perhaps, or maybe forgot that the door was open. I mean, probably not. I know that's kind of a stretch. Yeah. Or, yeah, you had a very intense paranormal encounter. Yeah.

I think it was a very intense paranormal encounter because as I was reading it, I thought, okay, this could very easily be sleep paralysis. Yeah. But Spencer also notes moving quite a bit, which goes against all the sleep paralysis that I'm aware of, which is that like you can not move. You can feel weight on your chest. You can see something, but you can't scream. You can't make noise and you can't move. And Spencer definitely made noises, rolled over, pulled a blanket up over his head, like various things.

And, like, okay, I was also picturing this barn door situation because I know exactly... On the tracks, sliding on the tracks, yeah. Yes, and that would be a specific sound, too. Yeah. Like, I don't think that you would forget sliding your door closed. Like, it just... Yeah, yeah, yeah. It's a different kind of motion, movement, action, whatever you want to say. So...

I don't know. The door like really freaked me out. That quote, God can't see you, but I can. That is so creepy. Okay. Especially, I don't know if Spencer, if you are a person of faith, but if you are, that is intensely creepy for someone like me. Like I'm not a believer. I would just be like, Hey, that's strange. But like my mom hears that, that's it. She just commit her right now. She can't handle it. Yeah.

I'm not religious, but that would still creep me out to the same. But I believe in a God. Yeah. Yeah. But I believe in some deity. But I, yeah, that would, yeah, that's just a very, very creepy thing to say. Yeah. Well, it doesn't creep me out in the middle of the afternoon on a Monday. Oh, yeah. Middle of the night. Yeah. I'll say about that at 3 a.m. Oh, my God. I'm losing my shit for sure. If you woke up next to me in bed and heard a female voice, male, whatever, any kind of voice humming some tune. Uh-huh. And I'm sleeping there. And then the door is open. We always close our door.

And then you hear that thing, God can't see you, but I can. God can't see you, but I can. Oh, you are screaming. I've shit the bed. Yeah. Yeah, you are. I wake up to you literally shaking, screaming, and crying. I know, like just a train wreck. I'm clearly feeling brave today. All right, friends, get your tissues. I have a really, really beautiful, really emotional, I'm going to cry confirmation story.

Hey, Lindsay. Hey, Dan. After listening to Lindsay tell an amazing and heartwarming story from another fan, I knew it was time I shared my own story. A quick note that I have always believed in life after death since I was a teenager and have had a few experiences that I simply could not explain. Growing up, I knew that I was different than most people, most kids, but I couldn't quite figure it out, at least not until my teenage years.

It wasn't long after my 14th birthday that I knew I was born in the wrong body, that I wasn't a girl, but a boy. I told my parents just before my 16th birthday. And it didn't go well, to say the least. My relationship with my parents became strained.

I thought they hated me for not being their little girl anymore. My mom tried to understand, tried to accept me and love me unconditionally. But at that time, I just don't think it was enough for me. I moved out when I turned 18 and I had the money to live on my own. My mom called me even when I didn't answer for weeks. However, my dad disowned me completely. The last time we spoke before he passed, he told me that his daughter died and he didn't have any other kids.

That was only a year after I'd moved out and started the medical process of my transition. I barely spoke to my mom, and I definitely didn't speak to my father for the next four years after that. I digress. I promise all of this will fit into the story. This backstory is needed to really comprehend the feelings of my experience. And now for what everyone has been waiting for. Time now for the tale of The White Rose. ♪

I was 23 when I moved back into my childhood home. I never thought I'd come back. Not after all the pain and the memories this place held, but life has a way of circling back when you least expect it. My mom had passed away the year before, leaving me the house, and despite the awkwardness and the bitterness that came from my estrangement from my dad, it felt like the right thing to do. Maybe this was my way to finally face my ghosts.

I know this is going to sound like one of those made-up stories you read online, the kind you roll your eyes at because it's just too neat and too eerie. But believe me, if someone told me what I'm about to tell you, I wouldn't believe them either. But I swear to you, every word of this is true.

The house hadn't changed much, not outwardly. The creak of the floorboards in the hall, the draft by the kitchen window, it all felt the same. However, there was something new here, something heavy.

The first time I noticed the white rose was a week after I'd moved in. It was sitting on the dining room table when I came downstairs one morning. Fresh, with dew on the petals like it had just been picked. I stared at it confused. I hadn't bought any flowers. I didn't even have a vase in this house. I know what you're thinking. Maybe someone left it there. Maybe I'd forgotten buying it. I thought the same thing. I threw it away, convinced I was being paranoid or was maybe sleep-deprived.

The next morning, there it was again. Same spot, same perfect do. I walked around the house, checking the doors and the windows, all locked. My heart started pounding. Was someone breaking in? Was this some kind of prank? The rational part of my brain kept trying to explain it, but nothing made sense. And then it happened again, and again. Every single morning. I'm not crazy, I promise you. This isn't some hallucination or trick of the mind.

I stopped throwing them away after a while. Instead, I started leaving them in a glass by the window. It wasn't threatening. If anything, it felt gentle, like a gesture, though I couldn't imagine from whom. It wasn't until I found my mom's old photo album tucked under the couch that I began to piece it together.

The album was filled with pictures of her garden, rows of flowers bright and full of life. And there, in the corner of one photo, was a bush of white roses. I couldn't breathe for a moment. I remembered those roses. She loved them, always cutting a few to bring inside. They'd been destroyed years ago when Dad tried to redo the landscaping.

This was the part where I should have laughed it off, chalked it up to coincidence, maybe even my own grief playing tricks on me. But deep down, I knew better. I did not want to admit it, but something about those roses felt deliberate. That night, I stayed up late. I sat at the table where the rose always appeared, clutching the photo in my hands. "'Is it you, Mom?' I whispered into the dark."

I know how ridiculous this sounds. Believe me, I felt foolish even saying it. But the air grew colder, and then the faintest scent of vanilla filled the room, and my breath hitched. It was her. It had to be her.

The tears came hard and they came fast. I spent so many years angry at her, at dad, at everything. I thought she didn't see me, didn't love me for who I was. But now, sitting there in the stillness, I felt her. And for the first time, I felt her love. The roses kept coming. Every morning without fail. I started talking to her, filling the silence with the things I wish I'd said to her when she was alive.

I told her about my life, my struggles. I told her my name, Elliot. I'll never forget that night I finally said it out loud. Mom, I'm your son. And my voice cracked, but the words felt right. The room seemed to hum softly, a warmth wrapping around me like a hug. I sobbed, feeling something lift, feeling something heal.

The roses stopped coming a month later. I woke up to an empty table, and though part of me felt the ache of loss all over again, I also felt at peace. It was like she'd been waiting for me to know, to feel her love, and to let her go. I know it sounds impossible. I know you probably think I imagined it, that grief can make people see and feel things that aren't really there, but I did not imagine those roses. I

I didn't imagine the warmth or the scent or the way the house finally felt lighter. I planted a new white rosebush in the backyard that spring. Every time it blooms, I feel her with me. And I know she's proud of me now. Of who I am. Of her son. Thanks for reading, Elliot. Oh, that's a really good one. Yeah, I cried so many times reading this.

Really special. And thank you, Elliot, for sharing your story with us. Yeah. It's beautiful. Yeah, what a beautiful story. Beautiful confirmation. I mean, so cool, the detail of, like, the flower. Keep coming back. You know, like, associated, like, with his mom. Yeah. And, yeah. No, that's awesome. Yeah. Really, really, really special. And so sad, obviously, about, like, the dad. It's like, I'll never understand that. You know, when a... Especially as a parent. But even before I was a parent, I never understood it. How a parent, like... Like, okay, like, it's...

In a very extreme scenario, let's say your kid becomes a sadistic serial killer. Sure. Your son is Jeffrey Dahmer. Right. I'm still going to love him. Yep. I'm going to also be like, you need to never be out of fucking prison. Right. I'm disgusted by your choices, but I still love you. Yep. But like outside of extreme things, like extreme violent crime type situations, like

Like when parents just like disown their kids because the kid won't follow their religion or the kid marry somebody they don't want them to marry. There's been a million different reasons. Yep. Or the kid is transgender or like whatever or gay. It's like...

What a fucking shitty person you are. What are you fucking doing? To do that to your kid. Like, what a... Like, you think you're taking some moral high ground? No, you're just being a piece of shit. Well, you're just ruining the possibility. Yeah. Of loving this person. What does that accomplish? Absolutely nothing. Other than just spread more hate out in the world. And there's so much of that already. Yeah, we don't need it. And you can be...

scared for them. You can be anxious for them. You can be confused. Yes, you can be confused. You cannot understand. Guess what? There are an endless amount of support groups for parents who are scared and confused. There's an endless amount of books. There's an endless amount of help to understand, right? I mean, if your kid was diagnosed with some rare disease,

You wouldn't just abandon them. You would go to the ends of the earth to keep them safe, for them to live a healthy, productive life to the best of your ability, right? Yeah. We would do...

Most of us would do absolutely anything for our child. A lot of parents, and this has definitely, like, I remember talking about this a lot before I had kids, where they live vicariously through their kids. Totally. Which is so stupid. I am going to be judgy here. Where it's like, what are you doing? Get your own life. Yep. You know, like, focus on your life. It's like, they're not an extension of you.

As they should not be. They're their own person. They're their own autonomous human. And if you can't, I mean, go get some fucking therapy if like you can't understand that. Yeah.

Yeah, my dad and I just have had some very difficult—my dad and I have not spoken for many years. A long time ago, we're very close now. We've had some really big bumps in the road. We have very different ideological beliefs. We have different religious beliefs. We have so many differences between us.

And just in the last couple years, he's really softened. And it's been very beautiful to see. So also, if you're the child of a parent who doesn't fucking get it, man, if you can, hang tight. Don't give up on them.

Because what I've seen— And you've softened towards him, too. That's right. It's been an interesting evolution. Absolutely. Because, you know, as you—I think as you grow older, you soften and understand more about the world. And it can harden you if you let it, but it doesn't have to. And, you know, my dad and I have different political ideologies, all these different things. But the most beautiful conversation I had with my dad not that long ago was around—

religion, gender, politics. And I said, you know what, dad, at the end of the day, here's what I know to be true about you. And I want to believe this statement about the vast majority of people in this world, which is that if, if,

dad, if you saw somebody on the side of the road broken down with, you know, it's raining, maybe they have a kid in the car and they just look frantic and stressed, I know you, dad, and I know you would pull over and help them. And in helping them, you wouldn't fucking ask them, who did you vote for? Yeah. Hey,

who are you married to what's your gender identity what's your sexual preference you wouldn't you put all things aside and you just look at this person and say you are a human in need and i am a human who can help you the fucking end i know can you can you imagine pulling over to help somebody like they have a flat tire and they're like oh my god thank you so much i'm like yeah no i got a jack i got like i can help you have you know switch out tires a ton of times

and they're like, oh, thank you. Okay, here's the spare, and then you get the jack, and they're like, yeah, no problem. But real quick, just to make sure, got a couple questions for you. Let's start with, who did you vote for? What's your political affiliation? Get the fuck out of here. It's like, what are you, a fucking maniac? Yeah, yeah, so...

Not, yeah. Just, god damn. Thanks, Elliot. Love each other. Just fucking love each other. All right. Well, I have some spoopy shout outs and we have some Annabelle shout outs. Do you want to start with the Annabelle shout outs? I will. All right. I would like to thank the following Annabelles for supporting us on Patreon. Thank you so much.

Nick Holt. I feel like Nick Holt is the name of a comic I used to know. Probably not the same guy. It definitely is. He definitely sent in a message and was like, this guy. I want to support you. Nick Holt, Riley Hyde, Arwen Storm. Nice name. I know, it sounds like a superhero. Hell yeah. Tasha Pollan, Kels, TJ Vogler, Eric Merlos,

Jazz Panda. That's a very funny image to me. A panda who's really into jazz. I was thinking about a panda doing big jazz hands. Oh, yeah, yeah, yeah. Even more fun. Sandra Davis and Elena Russo. Nice. Russo. There we go. Probably Russo. Yeah, it's Russo. Okay. Well, I would like to thank the following Annabelles for their continued love, support, and patronage on Patreon. Robert Speaks. Brandon Knox.

Patience Leanne. I wonder if it did. I wonder if it's Leanne Patience. Oh, yeah. Like, you know, like put your. Flip it around. Yeah. Or maybe not. I don't know. If it isn't flipped around, change it. Get on that right now. Get on that. Okay. Or else we're never changing your flat tire on the side of the road. Can't help you. Can't help you, Leanne Patience.

Joseph. Chris. Okay. Naya. A lot of one-name entities. I know. I like it. Jose Valdez. Okay. Sean Tafoya. Evadine Hauser. That's also a great name. Yeah. Samantha Hamill. Okay. Jose Valdez reminded me, wasn't there a coffee guy named Juan Valdez?

A coffee guy? Yeah. You do yours boobies out. This is going to drive me crazy. I'm pretty sure back in like the 80s or the 90s, there was coffee commercials centered around a guy, a mythical person. Yes! Juan Valdez. I'm so happy. Instant coffee. Now I'm going to look it up. Juan? Oh my God, I can barely reach my keyboard. Oh my God, it immediately like auto-populates.

Oh, that's not the image that I was thinking. Oh, yes, that is the image I was thinking of. Cafe de Colombia. Yeah. Oh, my gosh. This is really funny. There was this actor who played Juan Valdez in all these commercials, and he had like the most stereotypical outfit. He dressed, basically, he dressed up like Indiana Jones, but he had a big thick mustache. Yeah.

Okay, so this is just a completely made-up guy? I don't know. There was somebody who played him, but I don't want to dig too deep into the history of one of those. The legendary Juan Valdez actor Carlos Sanchez of Colombian Coffee Commercials has passed away. Okay, but the guy, the commercial guy, he is lightly tanned, has like a big puffy mustache. He wears a white cowboy hat, but it's like a... Oh my God, what's the word that I want? A...

You know, it's like that lightweight material that's woven like a sun hat. It's got a leather trim edge. He's got a blanket shawl thing over his shoulder. It's just like such a fucking stereotype. Oh, yeah. He's got a handful of rope. Usually had a mule with him, too. Yeah. He would like wander through the coffee fields with his faithful mule. And then a crossbody bag. Mm-hmm. Probably full of his tools. I just remember watching those commercials and thinking like, oh, coffee's so exotic. Yeah.

This is amazing that we get this at the grocery store. That Juan Valdez has shared his gift with us. Oh, Juan, thank you. Okay, sorry. That's okay. All right. Spoopy Shadows. To Matt from Jackie, happy second ann- I'm sorry, happy two-year anniversary. I love you, Tudor.

To Michelle from Allie, happiest of birthdays. I could not have asked for a better sister. Thanks for teaching me all about life and growing alongside me. I love you so much. To Brian from Brian, happy birthday to myself. To Kelly from Kelly. To me from me as well as myself and I. Wishing all of us a fabulous 58th birthday. Hell yeah.

To spawn number one from your mum Thor, congrats on earning your nail tech license. Keep being your authentic and truly inspiring self, my gremlin. All my love.

Adorable. Adorbs. And that's our adorable show. Thank you for continuing to send in your personal tales of terror. Check out this scary podcast. It's adorable. It's adorable. It's adorable. To my story at scaredtodeathpodcast.com. You can email us for everything else at info at scaredtodeathpodcast.com. You can send in coffee questions to juanvaldez at scaredtodeathpodcast.nothing.

Thank you, Keith, for scoring today's show. Thanks to Heather Rylander organizing the My Story emails. To book editor Drew Atana polishing and preparing listener stories for book number six. Thank you to Molly Jean Box finding the first story I told this week. Olivia Lee finding the second. We are on Facebook and Instagram where we post the pics that accompany these episodes and more at Scared2DeathPodcast.

We also have a private Facebook group called Creeps and Peepers, full of horror lovers that you should meet if you haven't already. Big thanks to the All Seen Eyes, the Creeps and Peepers moderators, and enjoy your nightmares, Creeps and Peepers. Hope you were scared to death. Bye. Bye.

Ignore the fact that I look like a crackhead.

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