Edith's Summer Visitors
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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, Dan. I'm Lindsay. Hello. Hello, and welcome to our show. I'm going to get us started with one quick announcement right off the top.

This month, we are donating $11,620 to Farm Rescue, which is the only nonprofit organization of its kind providing farm and ranch families with the operational support they need in a time of crisis. Farm Rescue sees a world where family farms and ranches thrive for generations to come. Big...

Big thanks to fan Michaela for sharing this with us. And while neither Dan nor I come directly from ranch or farm families, we do have extended families that currently or previously were members of this community. So regardless of that connection or lack thereof, we love to be able to support any organization that offers help to those in need.

And, you know, I certainly don't know what it takes to put food on my table in that way, but I sure am grateful to those who do it for us. Absolutely. We'll also be adding $1,290 to the scholarship fund for 2026. Also, if you want to learn more about Farm Rescue, you can pop over to farmrescue.org.

And that is it for announcements. And then we're just going to roll right into my story previews. Yeah. I have three tales this week. I'm calling it a little bit of a death sandwich. Okay. All right. My first story is a really powerful story of connecting with our loved ones after they pass. Then my second story will take us to a family home that burns down and then the fun begins. Okay. And then my third and final tale brings us back to death and the man in black. Yikes.

Okay, my first of two stories comes from small town Oklahoma. Who or what may have visited an elderly widow living alone in the early 1980s? An entity we shared several supposed accounts of during the first two years of Scared to Death, but not as much in recent years as a little clue. For my second, we'll bounce around the world to a number of so-called phantom islands. Can an island discovered by numerous explorers inexplicably just disappear?

And if so, what does that mean? So once you've showcased your spoopy socks and completed the scared to death pre-story ritual, I'll jump in and start telling the first story. Well, I know Easter was Sunday. I hope you all enjoyed chocolate bunnies and marshmallow fluffiness. Yeah. I have bunny socks. Very cute. Yes. I ate my fair share of things that taste like circus peanuts but were shaped like bunnies.

All righty. Which is a snack no one likes except for me. True. Well, I mean, they sell them, so there's got to be others out there. I don't know. They're always stale. So I think, like, who really is enjoying these besides me and your Aunt Stel? They just have a huge stockpile of them somewhere, and once they're gone, they'll just be done with them. I mean, possibly. All right. Time now for the tale of Edith's Summer Visitors.

You know, there's a particular kind of quiet you only find in rural parts of America, places where the land stretches flat for miles and the wind sounds almost like it's whispering secrets. Edith McLean knew that kind of quiet better than most. Born and raised just outside of the small town of Sayre, Oklahoma, Edith was a widow in her late 70s by the summer of 1983. Her husband, Walter, had passed nearly a decade earlier, and her only son had moved to Tulsa with his family.

But Edith had always been fiercely independent, and she saw no reason to leave the farmhouse she and Walter had built with her own hands back in the 1940s. She had a routine, coffee at dawn, tending the garden by mid-morning, and a little knitting or TV or both in the evening. She never locked her doors during the day. Like everyone else in Sayre, she didn't see a need. Her nearest neighbor was nearly a quarter of a mile away. And besides, it was Oklahoma.

Folks just didn't lock up back then unless something was happening in their community. And in most communities, something bad just wasn't happening. But that summer, that summer gave her a reason to start locking up. The whole strange thing started happening that June. Late one evening, just past the sun setting, Edith was sitting in her favorite chair in the den watching one of those old detective shows she liked. Probably Cagney and Lacey or maybe Remington Steele. She did think that Pierce Brosnan was about the handsomest man to ever live.

She heard a knock on the front door, soft at first, almost polite. Thinking it might be a neighbor's child or someone needing help, she rose slowly and made her way to the door. But when she opened it, no one was there. At first, she thought it was kids playing pranks. But then as she stood there a bit longer, peering past the dim light of the porch, she saw them. Two figures standing just past the warm light of the porch about 20 feet away, not moving. She squinted and could see it was two children, a boy and a girl.

They looked to be about 10 years old, dressed strangely, like they had stepped out of a photo from the 1950s. They reminded her of how her own grandchildren had dressed when they were about that age. The girl wore a pale, knee-length dress and had long, stingy black hair. The boy wore an oversized jacket and a newsboy-style cap. It was odd, sure, but that didn't really bother Edith. Most folks were poor around Sayre, and wearing hand-me-downs was the norm for children in the area.

Wearing hand-me-downs that old was not normal, to be certain, but it wasn't the clothes that bothered her. What really disturbed Edith was how still they were, just standing there completely, perfectly still, silently staring at her, even though it must have been one of them who had just knocked on her door. She called out, Can I help you? You kids lost? She asked. They didn't answer. Now Edith really began to worry, but not about herself.

At first, she was worried about the safety of the children. She thought that maybe they'd run away from home and she worried what would cause them to do so. She figured they were silently sussing her out to make sure she was an adult who was safe. So she took a step out onto the porch and that's when the girl now spoke. Can we come in? Edith stopped cold. There was something very wrong with the girl's voice. It didn't sound like the voice of a child. Didn't sound like the voice of anyone she'd ever heard speak.

Can we come in? The girl repeated in exactly the same flat robotic voice as before. We need to come inside, the boy added, his voice also flat and devoid of emotion and virtually identical to the girls. Now Edith began to worry about herself. Something about the way they spoke, so robotic, cold, rehearsed. It really bothered her. It made her skin crawl and placed a big knot of worry right in the pit of her stomach. Edith told them no, they could not come in.

She told him they needed to go home. It was late, too late for kids their age to be out, and she headed back into the house. She locked her door that night for the first time in years, the first time since the first couple of months after Walter had died, when she'd been so scared and nervous to be alone since she had literally never lived alone before. Before Walter, she'd still live with her parents. She was afraid back then, afraid that someone would try and take advantage of an older woman living alone.

That fear had faded after several months once she'd gotten used to life without Walter and realized that safety-wise, life wasn't much different than before. No one had come to bother them when he was still alive, and no one was coming to bother her now that she was on her own. But now that fear was back. But then, when she peeked out through the window, they were gone. Not walking away, not lingering, just gone.

She walked to the back of the house and locked the other door. And then after peeking out one of the rear windows and not seeing the children there either, she laughed at herself for being foolish enough to get herself all worked up over nothing. After grabbing a glass of water and then peeking out the window again, she sat back down to finish her show. After it was over, she peeked out again, felt bad for not finding out why they wanted to come in. She began to forget just how strange their voices were. Then she went to bed after leaving the door locked and making sure the back door was locked as well.

Over the next week, Edith didn't see them again. She tried to tell herself that maybe she'd never seen them in the first place. Maybe it was just her mind playing tricks on her. She wanted if she had dozed off watching her show and it had just been a strange dream. She still kept her doors locked though. Then a little over a week after the first time it had happened, again at night, but a little later this time, as Edith was winding down for bed working on a crossword puzzle, the knocking returned. And this time, it was louder, more insistent,

thud thud thud thud thud thud she was nervous to open her curtains and look out her window this time that worried feeling returned to the pit of her stomach before she even saw who was knocking they were back they were standing closer than they had before on the porch itself same kids wearing the same clothes with the same blank expressions on their faces let us in they said in unison edith shouted for them to leave before she walked over and turned on the porch light the moment the light flickered on they vanished from view

Edith gasped. She'd never seen anything like it before. One moment they were there, and then the next, when she looked back out on the porch no more than a single second later, they were already gone. After looking out a few other windows for them and not finding them, she returned to the front door and flung it open, looked around. Nothing. No sign of them ever being there. Not even footprints on the dusty floor.

Before she went to bed that night, she dug out Walter's old shotgun and made sure it was loaded and ready to fire. She was thankful Walter had taken the time when they were young to show her how to use it. In addition to making sure the doors were locked, she now made sure she could grab the shotgun without even needing to get out of bed. Whatever she'd seen, while they might have looked like children, she was now convinced they were something else. She just didn't know what. She didn't like to think too long and hard about it because it scared her. She didn't call the sheriff, didn't even tell her son.

She figured that if she told them exactly what had happened, they would think she had gone senile. That July, after another week or so of nothing happening, the situation escalated. Now, Edith, several nights in a row, began hearing what sounded like someone or something scratching at the windows around two or three in the morning. Whatever it was, it wasn't animals. It was too rhythmic and deliberate sounding for that.

That first night it happened. When she dared to get out of her bed and peek out, she saw one of them, the girl, standing just beyond the glass, not moving, staring back at her, and she screamed. Something was wrong with the girl's eyes. In the light of what was a full moon or close to it, she saw what she hadn't noticed before. Her eyes were black, entirely black. Not dark brown, not dilated pupils, but a solid inky black, like two gaping holes.

She taped up some newspapers to cover her windows that before she went back to bed and tried to fall back asleep. She now started sleeping with the lights on, all of them. Her electricity bill shot up that month, but it was worth it. The kids didn't seem to like the light. It was the only thing that gave her some peace. They stopped scratching at the windows after that, but they didn't leave. Every night they kept coming back. Sometimes just one of them, sometimes both. And both had those horrible dark pits for eyes. They never aged, never changed clothes, never looked tired.

♪♪

Something had tripped all the breakers, and until she was able to make it to the electrical panel and flip them all back on, her home was pitch black. She said she could now feel them and hear them approaching, whispering, then twisting and pulling on the doorknobs in both the front and the back of the house. But when she flipped the lights back on, they were gone. The next day, she started researching, desperate to understand what she was dealing with. No internet back then, obviously, so she went into town to the library.

She didn't find much, but then a librarian from Oklahoma City was in town to help with something or other, overheard her asking about black-eyed children. She said that that woman pulled her aside and whispered, The woman explained that earlier that summer, she'd had two different people come into her library, claiming they had seen what sounded like the same strange kids, always at night, always asking to be let in. One of the people said she'd heard that they couldn't come in unless they were invited, like they were some kind of vampires.

She claimed that if they were invited inside, they brought sickness, madness, or even death. That same woman claimed she knew of a couple in Texas who let the children into their RV and they were found a week later dead, their faces twisted in terror. No wounds, no signs of struggle, just gone. Now Edith was more scared than ever. She stopped answering the door entirely now, day or night. Then one night that August, she slipped up and made a mistake. It was just after midnight. A storm had rolled in.

With that famed Oklahoma thunder rattling the walls the lights went out but it wasn't the breakers this time The power had been knocked out by the storm. She grabbed her flashlight heart pounding and then she heard the sound of sobbing It wasn't coming from the porch this time not in the front wasn't coming from near the windows It was coming from behind the house by the back door. It was a girl's voice broken and soft. Please. Please help us. We're hurt Edith froze

Didn't sound like the voice of one of the terrible black-eyed children she'd been terrorized by all summer. The girl sounded different. Human. Against her better judgment, she opened the back door just to crack. Nothing. But then BAM! It was the front door. Edith hurried through the house, her flashlight beam bouncing wildly, and then she froze. Standing in the center of her living room were the two children she'd seen all summer. They were inside her house, dripping wet, no emotion on their faces. Only those eyes. Those soulless, bottomless eyes.

You let us in, they said together. Edith was so scared she dropped her flashlight and then she fainted. The rest of that night she had terrible nightmares or visions. She couldn't tell if she was awake or asleep.

She said she saw the most terrible things like her dead husband Walter's body rotten in a Sunday suit, her brother's lifeless body floating face down in the North Fork of the Red River where he'd drown one hot summer's day when they were both kids. She saw her own reflection in the mirror smiling back at her with pitch black eyes and that same strange ventriloquist dummy smile. At some point she woke up from those nightmares or her visions ended and it was morning. The power was back on.

The doors were locked and the black eyed children were no longer there. She called her son on the phone, begged him to let her live with him in Tulsa. He agreed. She was able to sell her home that fall and she was never seen and say her again after dark. She didn't initially tell her son the real reason she wanted to leave town when she called to move in, worried he'd think she'd lost her mind to old age and that he'd try to put her in a home.

But she did tell her son the whole story some 14 years later, just once, on her deathbed in 1997. He shared it years after that on a message board about the paranormal, swearing it was all true. He said she never recovered mentally from her experiences that summer, that she would panic at the sound of a knock, that she refused to open the door for anyone other than him and his wife after dark, and only then if she could clearly see their faces.

and she slept wearing a crucifix necklace and left her bedside lamp on every single night until she died. Did she have a mental break, an isolated case of night terrors, or was it something more? The son shared one final detail that points to the paranormal. He said that shortly after his mom sold her house, the people who bought it moved out, and that it then stood empty for years before finally being torn down in the early 2000s.

And he heard through a friend he'd grown up with in Sayre who had never moved away that the crew hired to demolish it reported some strange things, like tools going missing and unexplained cold spots. And that the foreman swore that one day around sunset, he saw two strangely dressed children standing at the edge of the property line, staring, waiting. And then he heard them ask if they could come inside. And thankfully, he said no.

I jumped so hard at your backdoor frontdoor bang. It's been a long time since you got me. Backdoor frontdoor bang sounds like a euphemism. Well, what are you and Christopher walking up to? Doing whatever you want to do later tonight. Very excited. I thought about it a while. Uh,

No pics were posted along with that story. What if there was a black guy child, Christopher Walken? Oh my God. Let us in. How could you say no to that? Right, right, right. Please. It's very cold out. And we like to come inside. That would be the black guy. That's the one black guy child. Oh my God. Okay. Let me just wipe the tears off my face.

Oh, God, that was really funny. I needed that. Okay. Wow. Well, we have not had a black-eyed child, black-eyed kids, in a long time. Not a long time. It's so funny because we're recording back-to-back. So we just finished recording 293. And I had made a note to myself that I was like, I want to dig for some black-eyed kids stories. Yeah. That's so weird. Yeah, right? Well, maybe we're connected. Right over here. Black-eyed kids. Funny. For some reason, I had it in my mind that, like,

How many times would the kids ask before they would go away? Like, I had this mental block where I felt like it was like when you're trying to convert to Judaism, you must go three times. Oh, funny. Before they will let you. Yeah. Even like...

Before they'll even consider you. Yeah. But I guess that's not true because these MFers would not go away. I mean, yeah, this is unusual. I mean, it's been a while since we've told other stories, but most of the lore is they just show up one time. Okay. This recurring thing over a summer is very, I can't think of another Black Eyed Children story like that. I'm sure they're out there. Sure. But I can't think of one I've seen.

And then also at some point she only sees one of them. And that one I- That's weird too because normally they're in pairs. So maybe she just didn't see the second kid? That's what I was thinking. I was thinking like the one's on one side of the house, one's on the other maybe or something like that. Or yeah, she just, in her terror, just didn't notice the other one. Okay. And then how did they get in? Because she did not say they could come in.

I know. It felt like some interpretation of since they were asking to be let in and she opened a door. Okay. That they took that as an invite. Okay. Okay. Yeah. I guess. I'm just guessing too. Yeah. I was like, oh man, there's a few. But also then when you get to the end and you explain that she sat on this for 14 years and then told her son on her deathbed. Yeah. It's entirely possible that all those years later she wasn't-

clearly relaying all of the details. She's old. She's dying. She's probably fucking terrified that she's going to see these monsters on the other side. Yeah, I didn't even think about that. Yeah, like if you, especially if you haven't written this down, you haven't talked about it in a long time, your memory of it's going to be inevitably, no matter what age, going to be different than how it went. Exactly. A little bit at least. Yeah, yeah, yeah. You're just going to forget certain details. And she didn't know the rules, so she didn't need to say like,

And then I said they could come in. Yeah, yeah, yeah. That was crazy about the experience in the library. Uh-huh. Oh, man. Like, yes, terrifying, but also I love that that motivated her to call her son. Like, I got to get out of here. Yeah, yeah. That helped spawn it. Mm-hmm, exactly. I was proud of her. Yeah.

Yeah. Ugh. I have no pics. There were no pics associated with the story, the posting. But here's a photo I found. I don't want to see it. Of a little farmhouse. I was going to be a black-eyed kid. Now, this is a farmhouse just outside of Sayre, Oklahoma. You can just imagine how creepy it would be to live alone in some place like this all by yourself, how dark it would be at night, and how helpless and terrified you would feel if some scary visitor showed up. 1,000%. Dan is showing me a photo, which you can find on our social media, Scared to Death podcast. Yeah.

I was writing down when you were first talking about this tale. I'm like, you know what? When I'm older, if it's just me, I want to be in an apartment. Mm-hmm.

Probably not even a townhouse or a condo. Like, I think I actually want to be in an apartment where there's not a front door. Back door, you mean? Well, or front door. Just in the sense of like, it doesn't open up to the street or to a yard. Oh, gotcha. Your front door is in a building and I wanted to have full-time security. I probably want to be on the top floor so that I'm not hearing footsteps above me. Yeah. I've got a lot of requirements. Okay, okay. And listen,

and Liz and I, my best friend, we're going to live together. So Jeff and I go first and you guys can live together. We talk about it frequently. Oh, all right. That's, we've got a little planning. Uh, we're not going to kill you guys. It's just, you know, like she's not going to go live with her kids and I'm not, not going to go live with ours. Okay. So we're just going to live together. Golden girls part, part two. Oh, golden girls reboot. Okay. Do you know they are doing a reboot? Oh,

I don't know how I feel about that because the original is so good. They better kill it. I won't even give it my time. I don't even know who's in it. I just saw it as like a deadline thing and I was like, I'm not interested in this. Okay, there's another picture. I did feel the need to find a new picture of some black-eyed children. So that was just on medium.com attached to a story written by Cynthia Verity.

Just creepy. Obviously not a real photo, but still very creepy. I'm not even looking. And then one more pic. One glance was enough. This is a smiling ventriloquist dummy. What is that? Howdy doody? What the fuck is going on there? I know. It's a really creepy one. Oh, God. This is, just to give a visual description of the black eyed girl smiling. This doll comes from Doe and Hope. D-O-E. Doeandhope.com.

The doll was made in England by Leonard Insull, a prolific doll maker, made sometime between 1908 and 1925. Doesn't have a name here in this, but that is wildly disturbing. I have my eyeballs covered. I cannot because that's going to be emblazoned in my brain for all eternity and I don't want it. Yeah, he's very disturbing. Okay, he's gone now.

It's like a weird like Pee Wee Herman situation. Yeah. I didn't mean Howdy Doody. I don't know why I said that. Well, Pee Wee, I think his Pee Wee Herman's character very much like clearly based on a doll, like even down to his makeup, the rosy cheeks and everything. He was trying to make himself, I think, look like a ventriloquist doll. Rest in peace. You ready? You ready to leave Oklahoma, bounce around the world, checking out some phantom islands? Bro, get me out of here.

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, bonus episodes, help us make our contributions to charities and more. Thanks for listening to our sponsor deals, Creeps and Peepers. It should come as no surprise.

That as technology has evolved, as GPS and satellite imaging has made even the most isolated corner of the world visible, that the world has gotten a lot less mysterious in many ways. According to cartographer Mick Ashworth, consultant editor of the Times Atlas of the World, nearly all of the Earth's surface has been mapped down to a scale of 1 to 500,000, one inch on the map representing 500,000 inches on the ground, and

Though some polar regions and parts of Central and South America remain to be covered quite to that scale due to like the rainforest and such. Even so, that's pretty amazing. And it's even more amazing when you consider that most of what has been mapped was mapped before the days of GPS. World maps started becoming pretty accurate way back in the late 1600s. That was when it became possible to measure the longitude of a location on land thanks to telescopes and the moons of Jupiter.

Jupiter's visible moons experience about a thousand eclipses a year, three a day on average. And by measuring the time one of these eclipses was observed from a spot somewhere in the world and comparing it to the predicted time of that eclipse in Greenwich, part of the London-England metro area, in an atlas published regularly by the British, you could calculate the spot's longitude and thus plot it accurately on a map. And yet there are still places whose boundaries have seemingly shifted over time, or maybe they never existed to begin with.

Many of these are called Phantom Islands, like some sort of glitch in the matrix, some correction or update in the simulation theory. These landmasses have vanished, if they were ever really there to begin with. Time now for the tale of Phantom Islands. ♪

One of the most famous phantom islands is High Brazil, located, or at least previously located, off the western coast of Ireland. Unlike its unrelated namesake of Brazil and South America, High Brazil was reported as being a small, mist-covered rock sitting isolated in the rough seas of the Atlantic Ocean. The island was first described and mapped way back in 1325 CE, and soon after that, its mystery began. Subsequent mapping efforts weren't able to agree on the island's exact location.

reportedly only appearing once every seven years, with many sources saying it was completely hidden inside a thick mist those other six years. Some who have claimed to come across the island have reported sailing towards the rock before witnessing it becoming shrouded in a strange mist and then simply sailing right through that mist without ever reaching or seeing land inside of it. One very strange account describes the voyage of Captain John Nisbet back in 1674-1774.

who apparently not only spotted the island from afar, he actually then anchored just off its coast before he and a small crew rowed a small boat ashore. He would later describe the island as containing a castle and being mostly uninhabited. In his account, he claims to have met an ancient grave gentleman who told he and some of his crew of the island's ancient history over a lavish feast.

A number of expeditions to find High Brazil left from the English port of Bristol in the late 15th century in search of this island and others, the last of which was manned by John Cabot, who arrived in North America in 1497 without ever spotting the island on his long journey across the Atlantic. Maps eventually stopped featuring the island in 1865, with the last reported sighting occurring seven years later in 1872. Where did it go? Did the island ever exist to begin with?

Did it exist at one point, but then was it somehow literally wiped from the face of the map? Did whoever programs the simulation some believe we are living in decide to just get rid of it? Let's talk about another phantom island now.

In 1529, Spanish explorer Alvaro de Saavedra Cerón reported the discovery of two small islands in a position generally placed about 375 miles northeast of the Mariana Islands, an archipelago in the northwestern Pacific Ocean that includes the islands of Guam and Saipan. Cerón named the islands he claimed to have found Los Buenos Jardines, the Good Gardens.

and said that he and his crew spent several days on them, writing that the island's natives were very friendly. And then, unlike many of the landmasses that were being discovered by Europeans circumnavigating the globe, nothing further was heard of Los Buenos Ardennes for almost 250 years. Not until 1788, when British Captain John Marshall, for whom the Marshall Islands in the Pacific Ocean were named,

reported the sighting of the same two small islands in the same position where alvaro savera savera serom had seen them two centuries before captain marshall had an international reputation as being a very good navigator so his positioning of these islands was recognized as fact and put on the charts except as far as we know today they aren't there or at least they're not there anymore

The nearest island to where they were said to be is Marcus Island, a small, wooded, and historically unpopulated island that now belongs to Japan, located some 210 miles to the northeast of where the two Los Buenos Jardines Islands were said to exist. Could a 16th century explorer like Alvaro de Saavedra Cerron have gotten it wrong?

Sure, but the same was far less likely, if not almost impossible, for a British naval officer in 1788 to also make the same exact mistake. A whaling vessel would also claim to spot these two islands, not long after Marshall's supposed sighting, but nobody else as far as we know has ever seen them again. However, in 1933...

The USS Ramapo, a massive naval replenishment oiler, conducted an organized search for Los Buenos Jardines, spending two days in the area where the islands were supposedly sited, covering the area thoroughly. No semblance of land was ever sighted, but the sonic sounding gear in the ship did discover something remarkable beneath the surface.

From surrounding depths of 3,000 to 3,200 fathoms, a unit of length about six feet long, an underwater mountain about 20 miles in diameter rises abruptly to a height of 2,000 fathoms or about two miles above the ocean floor and terminates in two small peaks about eight miles apart far beneath the surface. Did these two peaks somehow once rise above the surface? Or then perhaps some earthquake caused them to fall back beneath the surface?

Not a paranormal explanation I know, but I can't think of a better guess. Now time for one more. Perhaps no phantom island has a more supernatural reputation than a supposed landmass near Carpoon Island, a little island that's part of the Canadian province of Newfoundland and Labrador. Today, other than its lonely lighthouse, Carpoon is pretty barren outside of some berries, otters, and foxes. Except for the lighthouse's caretakers and the odd visitor to the Carpoon Lighthouse Inn, none have willingly stayed on the island for long.

And perhaps there's good reason for that. For close to 500 years, there were strange rumors about what lay near this island, located off the northeastern tip of Newfoundland's Great Northern Peninsula. Early Europeans were convinced that a massive landmass overrun with evil spirits jutted out from the waters near Carpoon. Mariners called it the Isle of Demons. Indeed, the Isle of Demons appeared on maps for close to a century, beginning with the 1508 world map by Dutch monk and artist Johan Ruisch.

Mariners whispered that although its terrain was lush and its wilderness abundant with wildlife, nobody could live there, because any human being who set foot upon its shores would be harassed day and night by evil spirits who jabbered unintelligibly and conjured terrifying illusions until you were driven mad.

When sailors passed along this coast, quote, According to André Thevet, a monk writing in 1575.

And yet it doesn't seem that this lush island full of life exists anymore. The closest island we know of today to the alleged former location of the Isle of Demons is Carpoon Island. So if this island wasn't an island, where were those supposed creepy voices thought to have originated from that the island that they thought originally was coming from the island? The cries that could be heard offshore might have been the calls of the thousands of seabirds that breed on rocky outcrops along the Atlantic coastline.

But that doesn't quite make sense either because European sailors would have been very well acquainted with the sounds of those particular North Atlantic seabirds. So were the sounds of the, or were they the sounds of ghosts? Or some other sort of spirit, spirits haunting a phantom island. A countless number of ships have wrecked in the waters around Carpoon Island, even after the lighthouse was installed in 1920. That alone is sort of odd as shipwrecks in most parts of the world became rarer as maritime technology progressed.

According to the operator of the lighthouse inn, Ed English, a woman in her 90s came from Texas in 2022 to visit the site of her grandfather's shipwreck from over a half century before. All the crew survived except for him. It was presumed he drowned in the wreck, but then his remains were found on land two or three years later. Turned out he'd made it to shore, crawled up into the woods and froze to death. Is his one of the voices that calls out, not from the Isle of Demons, but from Carpoon Island?

Or is the Isle of Demons real, but not actually quite there? Is it somehow shrouded from human sight, only appearing once in a while, like the many phantom islands that have been observed across history? Is it the landmass equivalent of a ghost, spotted in the same place over the years by numerous witnesses, but unable to be touched and unable to be witnessed consistently as well? GPS and mapping technology may have convinced us that the world is no longer home to as many geographical mysteries as there used to be, but is that really true?

On the one hand, I love the idea that we haven't discovered everything. Oh, yeah. You know, there's something exciting about that. On the other hand, I don't think I want to go to any of these

supposed Phantom Islands. I don't need to go to Carpoon. Honestly, you can probably just cross Guam off while we're at it just to be safe. I just don't want to get too close. Any more than like I'd want to go to the Bermuda Triangle. Yeah, yeah, totally. It's just, it's too dicey. I know. It's funny that stuff. It's like, um,

I want to write it off as just, you know, like superstition and folklore. And I've looked into like the Bermuda Triangle and debunked some of it. But at the same time, if someone's like, hey, do you want to spend a week in a boat just like circling around in the Bermuda Triangle? Nope. No. No, it's just there's been too many instances of people not coming back. For whatever reason. Yeah. And at the end of the day, I don't even really care what the reason is. Yeah, I don't care if they're ship capsized. I don't care if they died by suicide. And that was like their way of life.

giving their family peace and just saying like, I don't know, it just went missing. Like, yeah, nope.

Just the fact that they didn't make it back is enough for me not to go. Yep. I have a few picks associated with this lore. This first one's from an old map, Date Unknown, showing the location of High Brazil Island off the western coast of Ireland there. Fascinating. So old, old map. And then this is from a French map. It's actually a really beautiful old map. Yeah. This is from a French map from 1634, also showing the location of the island on the very western edge of the map.

So just way over here. Huh. Yeah. And then this next one, this is a portion from a map from the mid-20th century showing the location of Los Buenos Jardines before those islands ended up being removed from maps altogether.

So there it is. It's this little speck out in the ocean. Existence doubtful. I know. Even by that math, they're like, we don't think it's here. But, you know, numerous people have said that there's these two little islands right here. Interesting. But that's the one that three different people found and then was also found by like a stenographer, right? Yeah.

That was the one that there was like two expeditions found and then a whaling vessel. Oh, okay. I miscounted. I counted four different encounters. Yeah, I think it was that. And then this is just an old map from 1556 of New France showing the Isle of Demons. It's even larger than Newfoundland and populated by devils and enormous birds. So here's this Isle of Demons. Funny. Isle de Dumony. Yep, and there's little people being tormented.

There's some devils up on top. Some flying angel devil guys. Yep. Okay. Pretty cool map though. Yeah, really cool map.

uh, and that's all I have for that story. But before we shift to your stories, yes, Dan, do you have something that you want to share with our friends? Do a very cool announcement. The third bad magic wet hot summer camp is coming up September 4th through the 7th in upstate New York, but really Pennsylvania. And I wanted to announce Friday night's comedy show lineup this year. Uh, besides me, I'll host it again. We've got my buddy, Josh Wolf, host of the Hey man podcast, multiple YouTube specials that have gone viral. Uh,

You should check out, check those specials out. And he also performed with his son, comic Jacob Wolf, co-host of the Hey Man podcast. They'll both be there. I have another friend, one of my favorite comics working today, New Orleans, Sean Patton, one of the stars of the FX sitcom, The English Teacher, just got renewed for a second season. He has a standup special, number one on Peacock, coming to YouTube as well. And we have another friend, the fantastic Tone Bell. He is great. He's been on countless sitcoms on the Netflix shows, Drink Masters and Survival of the Thickest.

And of course, one of my best buddies, comic Doug Mellard, who was at the first two summer camps and is a delightful human being. Tickets still available at badmagicproductions.com if you want to join the hundreds of others attending. It's an all-inclusive weekend of food, booze, tons of camp activities, karaoke, stand-up, live scared to death podcast. Most of all, an awesome community of people coming together for a weird weekend in the woods just to escape the rest of the world and just have fun.

So get all the details at badmagicproductions.com. Join us September 4th through 7th in Pennsylvania. Leave the rest of the world behind for a few glorious, memorable days. I think you forgot one person on that stand-up lineup. Lindsay, are you going to be doing a set? So many sets. I got a tight five. Okay. All right. That sounds awesome. Oh, God. It would be so tragic. It might be really funny. I'm not funny.

It could be funny for a variety of reasons. It could be funny because I just eat shit. Yes. Who knows? You know, baby, that's true. I love your confidence. Okay. Did you want to tell us about your Layla? Oh, I got, well, I mean, we said we recorded these ones back to back. Oh, so you're sick. Well, actually, you know what? No, I forgot. Oh, who's that white Layla? I brought the albino Layla. No face even.

Well, not really. I mean, yeah. What's those pink dots all over her? Does she have a disease? She might be. She might be sick. She's been in the bin too long with the other Leilas. Oh, no. She's got an STD. Oh, no. I know they're STIs now. I know. I know. Okay. Well, are you ready to buckle up for three stories? I am. All right. Let's get going.

Hello, queen and king of the suck and all things spoopy. Hello. I love Scare to Death and have been a listener since day one. Thank you. I love that. I'm going to tell a paranormal story that many will find troubling. I do want to offer a warning of suicide.

My girlfriend Peyton and I had been dating for about seven months at the time, but we basically lived together as neither of us had many friends and really just love rotting in bed and watching movies together. On August 4th, 2021, we were watching a movie in bed when Peyton turned to me and said, I just need a moment. Something feels off.

She walked into the bathroom, turned on the sink, and splashed water on her face. I followed, rubbed her back, and asked her what was the matter. She said it wasn't anything specific, but that she felt like she needed to call her mom.

Her and her mom were very close and talked at least two times a day, so this wasn't anything unusual. Her mom calmed her down, told her nothing was wrong, and she probably was just tired from working so many night shifts. Afterwards, we were able to lie down and she went to sleep. However, she tossed and turned a lot that night, as did I. We were awoken around 6.30 in the morning to a phone call from Peyton's dad. Immediately, we knew something was wrong. Not

Not only because we never got phone calls that early, but because her dad was never the one to call first. "'Pay?' he said in a broken voice. "'What's wrong, Dad?' Her dad paused, took a breath, and said, "'Carter passed away last night.'" Carter was Peyton's older brother and her best friend. He was a close friend of mine, too. It's actually how I had met Peyton. I will never forget the scream that left Peyton's mouth when her dad told her it was suicide.

He had hung himself in his apartment and his roommate had found him when they were getting ready for work the next morning. You never get over the loss of a sibling, especially when you're as close as Carter and Peyton were. Carter was the most kind-hearted, funny person I'd ever met. I know everyone says that about people after they pass away, but he really was. He could put a smile on anyone's face.

We knew he had trouble with depression and hard drugs, but we did not know the severity of it, which made his death so much harder for Peyton and her family. The coming months were tough, as they still often are. But Peyton, who had always had a bit of a sixth sense, found peace in going to mediums and psychics to help talk through some of the thoughts and feelings she had.

After Peyton began going to mediums, we both noticed odd things happening around our apartment, as well as a few signs appearing in front of us. Our German shepherd, Alex, refused to go into our spare bedroom. However, around 7 p.m. every night and until we went to sleep, Alex would sit outside the spare bedroom facing away from the door like he was guarding it.

I frequently checked the room, but there was never anything there. Just a frigid, cold room, even in the summer. Something I wished the rest of our apartment would feel like in the Georgia heat. The other weird thing that would happen in our apartment was our lights, which constantly turned off on their own. I assumed it was faulty wiring, but the apartment complex was fairly new, and I had maintenance check on it multiple times to no avail.

Still, the lights would go out at least once every few days. None of these things were anything that frightened me, unless I'd been on a grind of listening to Scare to Death. Flash forward about a year and a half after Carter's death.

Peyton still wasn't the same as she was before he passed, but she had slowly begun to come out of her shell. We went out for a few drinks at a brewery and got a little tipsy. She said, let's go dancing. Me, who hates doing anything social, agreed because she was happy and I just wanted to keep her happy. About 30 minutes into dancing, we made our way over towards the bar for another round of drinks.

past a guy wearing a Randy Moss Vikings jersey, number 84. It was the same date that Carter had passed away, 8-4. Peyton turned to me and said, I feel like we should leave here as soon as possible, in a very nervous tone. We skipped the next round of drinks and I ordered an Uber immediately. The next day, we found out that there was a gang-related shooting that killed a young man at the bar that we had been at. The shooting took place less than an hour after we had left.

We were both shaken, but thankful we decided to leave. Peyton said that jersey was a sign from Carter for us to leave. Flash forward 2024. Peyton still had many moments where she missed Carter, and plenty of signs had come from him. Whether it was a Blue Jay that sat outside our window every morning, Carter's favorite baseball team was the Blue Jays, or Alex's dumb ass that still sat outside our spare bedroom every night.

One night, I didn't sleep very well. I kept seeing Carter in my dreams, which never happened. He kept saying, You're going to love him. Love who? Who's him? I didn't know what to do, and I didn't want to tell Peyton. I felt like it would only upset her to mention Carter. But when I got home from work the next day, she said, I had this strangest dream last night. I was curious, and I wanted to hear about it. She said,

Carter kept knocking on our door and he had a baby in his arms and I kept shutting the door on him, but he just wouldn't go away. I then told her about my dream and she joked, maybe the him you're going to love is our future baby. We laughed as neither one of us wanted kids for a few more years. We weren't even married yet. Less than a week later, Peyton's morning sickness came. We were shocked, but we couldn't have, but we shouldn't have been. Sorry.

Mm-hmm.

We brought him home. Alex was thrilled to meet his little brother. The very first night, we put Carter down to sleep at 7. And Alex sat outside the door, guarding it, as he had been preparing to do every night the past few years. We felt like it was a full circle moment. Carter, if you're out there, we love you and we miss you, bro. Thanks for watching Over Us, Chris.

Yeah. Yeah, it's a sad, you know, sad in many ways, but also beautiful story. Yeah. And just like so many signs of Carter's presence. Yeah.

Yeah. And it's incredible that they were both open to it and hearing it and, yeah, just willing to accept that there might be something from the great beyond. Yeah. And especially, like, for her to have that reaction while they're watching TV, not knowing that her brother had just died. Uh-huh. Or that something bad was coming. Uh-huh. Just, like, this bad feeling. Sounds like she's very, like, sensitive, gets a lot of feelings about things. But then those feelings are connected to, like—

real you know uh huge events happening yeah yeah that was a that was a really cool story i mean again sad not yeah maybe cool is not the right word but like nice validation yeah very moving yeah absolutely yeah okay well let's leave a little bit of sadness and go into a different kind of story okay

Hey, Dan and Lindsay. My name is Dalton. I'm a time sucker and now a scared to death fan. Thank you. I'm from a little town in central Indiana called Nashville, west of Columbus, Indiana and east of Bloomington, Indiana. Around here, we call it living in the sticks. After dark, it gets so dark. You literally can't see your hand right in front of your face.

My childhood home burned down when I was about 18. It's very hard losing everything you own and having to rebuild, but my family and I got through it and we did rebuild. As soon as our home was rebuilt, we moved into our new house and strange things started happening. At first, it was small things like it almost always is.

We would wake up in the mornings to find the kitchen lights on, and the light switch was very weirdly stuck in the middle. Not up, not down, in the middle. Of course, we brushed these things off. At the time, I worked third shift as a Nashville police officer, so I was home alone during the day.

Nothing creepy about it at all until this particular morning.

I heard a noise I couldn't place, so I turned the TV off and listened. At first, I couldn't figure out what it was. And then it hit me. My mom's exercise ball was bouncing up and down. I thought, okay, somebody's still home, downstairs messing around. I walked to the basement door, opened it, looked down the stairs, and I saw the ball roll past the stairs. I headed down to see who was still home, but upon landing at the bottom of the stairs, I could see no one was there.

I walked upstairs thinking, okay, I've been working a lot of third shifts. I am tired. It has to be my imagination. I didn't tell anyone what had happened because I wasn't even so sure myself.

Then, about a month later, my girlfriend and I had gone on a date and gotten home at about 1130. We walked through the back door and the house was pitch black. We had a small guest bath by the back door that she made a beeline for. I went to the living room to wait on the couch. I didn't turn on the lights in the living room because I just didn't want to wake up the whole house.

As I was sitting there, I heard what I thought was my girlfriend walking across the room and then asking me where I'm at. Over here, I said, but then I heard the toilet flush.

And then she walked out of the bathroom into the living room and found me staring at her in disbelief. What's going on? She asked. I was paralyzed with fear. I eventually stood up and whispered in her ear what had happened. Not long after that, I moved out and got married. And then my sister did the same. And with the house being over 6,000 square feet large, it was too big for my parents, so they sold it.

My grandparents still live next door to our old house. And a couple years ago, my wife and I were visiting them when the new owners came over. And the new owner asked, I know this may sound strange, but did anything weird ever happen to you in that house? I smiled and I told him my stories. Turns out, I'm not the only one that had weird things happen in that house. Dalton. Thank you, Dalton.

Oh, man, those are always like good confirmation things when the next owner is the one to initiate it. And be like, hey, anything weird happen there? Right. It's like, oh, yeah, I did. Also, not paranormal, 6,000 plus square feet. That is such a huge house. That's a big house. That's a monster of a house. It's like more than double our house. I know. That's wild to think about. Yeah. Good for you. Yeah, that's cool. Good for your folks. That's a giant house.

And then Nashville, is that what it was? Nashville, Indiana? Yeah. That's funny. But you know, I think that there's kind of duplicates of a lot. Oh, so many. You know, I'm sure that like Cleveland isn't the only Cleveland. It always just cracks me up when one of the cities is, you know, like a very known city. Oh, yeah, yeah, yeah. You know, like Nashville, country music, there's so many associations with it. Yeah.

And then to have like another Nashville, it's like I was just thinking the person, you know, like, where are you from? Nashville. Oh, Indiana. Nashville, Indiana. I bet people just say I'm from Indiana. Yeah. Probably like say like Bloomington or something else. Qualifier. Uh huh. Uh huh.

Yes, yes, yes. But yeah, and that whole thing of like that moment of hearing who he thought was his girlfriend, but then having his girlfriend walk out. Again, I just, I love maybe the most those little things like that. Yeah. Where just one little thing, it's not like a huge arc. It's not like a long, I mean, obviously those are great for like getting yourself good and scared. Sure. Listening to an intense story that has a bunch of build to it. But those little details sometimes almost freak me out more.

because it just feels like it could truly happen to just, you know, anybody. Yeah. And I just think like my mind starts drifting. I'm like, God, if that happened to Lindsay and I, if like, you know, I hear, cause you know, you talk to me all the time. You know, we're always together at the house. You're never separated. You know, like you might be asking me to come do something, come grab something if I want a snack. And

And I just picture myself like walking into the kitchen, you know, to get a snack or, but then you're not there and I'm confused. And then you come out of the bathroom upstairs. I'm like, wait, what? I know because we both mumble to ourselves quite a bit. Like, you know, like all people, we have our little sounds that we make or whatever. And,

I'm just thinking about like, okay, oftentimes when we're working at home, you work at the dining room table and I work at the kitchen table. Yeah. They're like a whole 15 feet apart, but there is a half wall in between us. Yeah, we can't see each other. So we don't frequently see each other. And I was just thinking, if I was at the kitchen table doing my work and I heard you doing your like mumble speak-

or like laughing at one of the jokes that you're writing into time suck or how you like, sure. Just sometimes like sing, you know, when you have headphones on and you're singing out loud, you don't rest. If I heard any of those three things and then you, I don't know, came up from downstairs, walked through the front door, just fucking anywhere. I'm never sleeping in that house again. To be clear, I've moved out. I'm living with Liz now. Oh boy. I don't think I'm actually kidding. I don't think I could. I think I would be so paranoid.

Yeah. Well, maybe we just get it cleansed and then you'll be okay. Well, I can cleanse it, but I just don't think that I'm strong enough. Okay. One more? Yeah. Okay. Hello, Dan and Lindsay. Hello. I sit here writing this late on a Saturday evening as I attempt to do some work on my part-time gig and watch my husband play video games while also trying to catch up on the pod. Perhaps it's the steady influx of alcohol, but I figured I would tell you this little tale.

I love everything associated with the occult, and I have for my whole life. However, I always considered myself as someone who did not have any significant paranormal stories to share. Recently, however, I have come to realize, thanks to your podcast, that many of the unexplainable things I've experienced possibly do, in fact, tie back to the paranormal and are interesting to share. This is a story that I've been

This is a relatively short take, and while it may not be your most hair-raising story that you've ever encountered, I do hope it gets your wheels turning about who or what may crawl out of the shadows to welcome us into the warm embrace of death when our time has come.

I

I remember that we walked in the front door through the living room where some old Western was playing loudly on the clunky old TV set and into the kitchen where grandpa sat at the kitchen table drinking coffee. He looked it up. He looked up at us, said hello and asked my mom a peculiar question.

"'Who is that man that you brought with you?' My sister and I shot each other a concerned side glance. We had certainly not brought anyone with us, and there should have been no one else in the home at this time. Mom quickly looked behind her and said, "'We didn't bring anything with us, Dad. It's just the girls and I.' "'Ha,' said my grandpa. "'I was hoping you'd introduce me to him. I've been seeing him around a lot lately.'

"'Oh?' my mom said. "'Where have you been seeing him at?' "'Oh, just around. He mostly paces back and forth outside the windows,' Grandpa said. I could tell my mom was visibly uncomfortable and shaking, but she kept her cool."

Oh, really, Dad? Well, what does he look like? She asked. Grandpa shakily picked up his coffee cup, brought it to his lips for a sip, and then said, He wears all black, with a hood pulled over his head. Then he said matter-of-factly, and then my mom asked matter-of-factly, Does he scare you? No, he's just hanging around like he's waiting for something.

Mom nodded and shooed us kids to the attic to play with our Barbie dolls. It wasn't but a few weeks later that Grandpa passed away on his 83rd birthday. He was not a religious person and always said that life was full circle. We're born, we live, we die.

We die, and that's it. Hard not to believe him when he literally completed his life circle by dying on the day he was born. My family and I have revisited this conversation many times in the nearly 20 years since Grandpa's death, and none of us can come up with a logical explanation for the man in black that kept appearing several times shortly before his passing.

Since then, other loved ones have claimed to see deceased family members coming to get them shortly before their death, but never have any of them claimed to see a stranger or a man in black.

I can't help but liken the person my grandpa described to the Grim Reaper or some such entity. I'd love to hear your thoughts on this. I'd truthfully probably shit my pants if I saw the Grim Reaper or a similar looking person regularly pacing outside of my windows, but it is rather interesting to me that grandpa claims he was not afraid.

We all love the idea of angels or loved ones coming to guide us to the other side when our time has come. But what do we do if we are instead greeted by something else? Thank you for all you continue to create in this wonderful podcast. I'm a true creep. Love the endless scares. Keep up the great work, Marsha. Thank you, Marsha. Yeah, that's just interesting. Like when somebody sees something that is like this, this known entity, like, like,

you know, could be fictional, like the Grim Reaper, like the old medieval illustrations of the Grim Reaper, this hooded figure with a scythe, you know, I don't remember exactly when that, you know, image originates, but I just wonder, it's like, okay, what if...

And that's – you interpret like, okay, death. If somebody is going to come visit me in death, some entity, it's going to be the Grim Reaper. That gets in your head. And then you do see that, but it's not because you're just – it's not just your imagination because you were wanting to see the Grim Reaper. It's like the universe or whatever is like, okay –

death is coming for this person. They're comfortable with this image of the grim Reaper. That's what you're saying. That's what we're going to present for this person. So just to clarify, are you saying that like there maybe is the potential that the universe or whatever is out there provides for us? We can handle what we, what we, sorry. That's okay. Yeah. A guide into the afterlife is,

like you were saying, that we're comfortable with, that doesn't scare us. So like for me, it's probably like a beautiful unicorn, you know? But like for him, it's, you know, this hooded figure because he's not a religious man. He's not afraid. He's just like, yeah, it's just this guy. Yeah. That would be really fascinating if everybody gets their own personal guide to the afterlife. And maybe most people never see them because they're too afraid. They don't want to see anything. That would just like fill them with terror in their final moments, which...

Which is why you don't get those stories very often. I'm totally speculating here. Or maybe you're not, maybe you're seeing it, but you feel like you're hallucinating. Or maybe you just never say anything to anybody because you're like, that can't be real. Yeah, possibly. Yeah, you're worried about what people would think. Yeah, you don't want to. Worried about how you sound. Yeah, I mean, I cannot imagine your pop award. Let's just say the Grim Reaper. Totally.

He would quite literally rather fucking die than say he's seeing some entity coming to get him. True. He was so practical and logical that would not have been what he wanted anyone talking about him after his death. He could have been talking to me. The Grim Reaper could have been resting on my shoulder staring at him. And he would have just like, nope, I'm not even going to acknowledge it. Yep. Yeah. Only for me to know. Mm-hmm. He was a very private man. So I don't know. Interesting. Mm-hmm. That's an interesting thought. Yeah. I like that story. Yeah. Well, thanks for sharing that, Chris.

Thank you, Marcia. Excuse me. Well, yeah, and thank you for that story. Sorry, that input. Yeah. Pulling it out of my butt, taking a guess out of it. Well. Or taking a guess out of it? Taking a guess. Taking a guess at it? I guess. Taking a stab at it? Taking a stab at it maybe is what I was trying to say. That was strange. Listen, it's been three hours of talking. It's okay. Do you want to do some Annabelle shout outs? I do. And I liked how we got a lot of stories in that hour.

That was, that was, Oh, that was a tight hour. I know. I do feel like that was a, that was a tight, tight one there. Uh, I'd like to thank the following Annabelle's, Brittany Boswell, Anna Banana. I love Anna Banana. Tiffany Ditterline. You, you love Anna Banana. I love the name Anna Banana. Yeah. Careful buddy. Uh, Travis. We all know how you love bananas. Travis Bloemendahl.

Carrie Currens, Alicia Mendez, Maureen Nino, Big Bald Bastard. Nice. Cammie Alexander, and Tanya Welch. Great. I have the following Annabelles to thank for their continued support and helping to us donate to Farm Rescue this month. Yeah. Derek Geiger, Karen and Jodi, Reet, Christina Cole, Casey McConnell, Anna Usitalo, Ephraim Sharpe,

Lori Bae Craycroft, Tiffany Smith, and Chris Paul. And I have no spoopy shout-outs again this week. Again, I mentioned this in the last episode when we're recording ahead. It often causes a backlog at that time of year. But we did just want to give a spoopy shout-out to all of you out there listening. Just take a moment to say thank you for all your love and support on this show. Yeah, truly.

You know, listen, just like you, we understand that there is an endless amount of content out there to consume. Totally. Music, podcasts, audio books, TV shows. And so it actually means so much to us that you choose to spend any amount of time with us and that our patrons choose to spend any amount of money to support the show and keeping it going. It just means the world to us that you're here week after week. Yeah, it does.

A big spoopy shout out of love, loyalty, support, and light to all the creepspeapers, Roberts, and Annabelles. Yeah, yeah. Thanks for supporting this show, both Lindsay and I. And thanks to so many of you for also taking a chance, you know, on Nightmare Fuel a little over a year ago and also enjoying and giving good feedback for that show. Yeah, we just feel very lucky.

crazy you've been doing nightmare fuel for a year over a year now yeah started it in uh february of 24 yeah we're up to i'll be working on my 30th story yeah uh the day after this recording i think even though like you know we both work on the back end of the show you know like uploading different things and i see that i think i forget which is so ridiculous that it's every other week so like i see you know episode 29 in there and i'm like oh yeah 29 weeks but i forget that that's

Wow, well, congratulations. Yeah, thanks. Yeah, yeah. And I had to look at my computer. When you said Reap, one of the Annabelle's Reap. Reet. R-E-E-T. That's right. R-E-E-T. Yeah, it was a Reet. It made me think of Reek. I knew it. I did the same thing. I did the exact same thing. Game of Thrones. And I was like, man, that season of Game of Thrones. I mean, every episode...

Game of Thrones was one of those shows that I don't know if there was ever a season where I was like, ah, I'm out. Yeah, me either. Me either. But that one with the Theon Greyjoy line. Oh, that actor. If you're not familiar, if you haven't watched the show, oh my God. It's just. It's brutal. It's so brutal. It's so brutal. It's just such a distinctive character. Woo wee. And that's our show.

Thank you for continuing to send in your personal tales of terror to mystory at scaredtodeathpodcast.com. You can email us for everything else at info at scaredtodeathpodcast.com. Thank you to Logan 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. I want to thank Sophie Evans for finding the second story I shared this week. I again found the first one.

We are on Facebook and Instagram where we post pics that accompany episodes and more at scared to death podcast. We also have a private Facebook group, creeps and peepers full of fellow horror lovers. Big thanks to the all seen eyes, the creeps and peepers moderators. Thanks for making our online community such a fun and welcoming place for so many. Enjoy your nightmares, creeps and peepers. Hope you were scared to death. Bye.

If spirits threaten me in this place, fight water by water and fire by fire. Banish their souls into nothingness and remove their powers until the last trace. Let these evil beings bleed through time and space. Evil may pass through but have no home here within. Scared to death. Bad Magic Productions. Backdoor front door bang sounds like a euphemism. Well...