Tale Of The Pontianak
01:04:53 Share

When it comes to your wireless, other prepaid providers lock you into plans with hidden penalties that hit when least expected. U.S. Cellular Prepaid offers a three-day grace period if you need extra time to pay. With plans starting at $25 a month, staying connected has never been better. No hidden fees or surprises, just the coverage you need at the price you love. Plus, you could get a free device like the Samsung Galaxy A16 5G. U.S. Cellular Prepaid. Terms apply. Visit uscellular.com for details.

Between vacations, errands, and everyday summer chaos, sticking to your health goals can be tough. Luckily, Thrive Market does the hard work for you. We're the online healthy grocery store that cuts out the junk ingredients and delivers high-quality groceries right to your door. From low-sugar beach snacks to organic grill night staples, no matter your health goal, we make shopping healthy a breeze. Go to thrivemarket.com slash podcast for 30% off your first order and a free $60 gift.

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

We are protected, though we may be frightened. Our life you may not steal, though we may be scared to death. Welcome to Scared to Death, Creeps, Peepers, Robertson, Annabelles. I'm Dan. Hello, Dan. I'm Lulu Marie. Lulu Marie. Hello, and welcome to Scared to Death. Lulu Marie, would you like to share a charity announcement, and then we'll just jump into it? Well, thank you, Daniel. I would. Yeah.

I need to come up with like a Lulu Marie equivalent for you. Oh, yeah. Okay. This month, we will be donating to Lost and Found Youth, an Atlanta-based nonprofit providing help to LGBTQIA plus youth experiencing homelessness.

Like so many of you, our amazing listeners, Dan and I were also once youth with little to no financial means who sometimes felt like outcasts in our own world. But we were lucky enough to not have the added layer of complexity by adding in housing insecurity or being denied support from places because of who we loved. Lost and Found Youth is providing a space for people 18 to 25 experiencing homelessness. This organization is doing everything

incredible work and we're so thrilled to be sending them $11,530 this month and we'll be putting $1,280 into the scholarship fund. Way to go, Roberts and Annabelle's. You are making a difference in this world. And if you'd like to learn more or volunteer your time, please visit LNN.

So lost and found youth org. And just so you know, next month I will be signing

during our charitable giving announcement because without a doubt, next month we will hit over $1 million. I'm crying now of charitable giving. $1 fucking million, you guys, since the inception of when we started doing these charitable donations that began with just Time Suck and then we carried that over into Scared to Death and collectively...

All of you who support us have made this possible, and we cannot thank you enough. So get your tissues out next month. And thanks for being a cool, inclusive group. Yeah, we're very appreciative of you guys. Very.

So how much fan horror have you pulled from the submissions sent to my story at scaredtodeathpodcast.com this week? Well, Daniel, I have two stories this week. I have a really good, just classic, creepy basement tale. All right. Those never disappoint. And then my second story, I think, is a new twist on something. I have a story about a family's curse that began with their interactions with Charles Manson.

Oh, wow. It's so strange. Okay, yeah. Just really different, really fun. Yeah, really looking forward to that. My first of two stories is about an especially terrifying creature from Indonesia known as the Pontianak. I will share lore. Have we talked about this before? We have not. I know. I think it has a similar name to some other entities we've covered. But I double checked in past episodes and does not appear we have. Okay.

Yes, so the Pontianak, I'll share lore and a handful of supposed modern encounters with his vengeful, angry, female, vampiric spirit. And then for my second story, and there are like similar entities in Southeast Asia that might be causing you to have deja vu right now. Yeah. For my second story, I will share the story of Ontario, Canada's Baldoon Mystery, or Baldoon, excuse me, the Baldoon Mystery, a good old-fashioned poltergeist story, but with a very strange twist from the 19th century.

So once you're socked up. Oh my gosh, my socks this week. Yeah. I both love them and hate them. Okay. The note was, thanks for the entertainment. Three out of five stars, Danielle Goebel. And these were given to me in Nashville. Ha ha.

My farts don't stink. Pretty funny. Is what these socks say. But I have never farted. I don't even know what a fart is. So of course they don't stink. You don't even have them. What's a fart? What exactly? Don't even worry about it. Don't worry about it? No, don't worry about it. You don't even want to know. Well, I kind of want to know. No, we got to get into our horror stories. Okay. Okay. So something stinks or doesn't stink, I guess. Anyways, thanks, Danielle. Super appreciate these socks. They're, well, the phrase is a little upsetting to me. They are really squishy, comfy socks. So thank you.

Here we go. There are some ghosts that don't just haunt places. They haunt entire cultures. Their stories become so old, so deeply rooted, that they become part of how the people of a particular culture understand their world and fear it. In Indonesia, Malaysia, and across much of Southeast Asia, one of the most dreaded of these spirits is known as the Pantinak or the Kuntilanak, depending on where you are.

Either way, she's a woman, she's a mother, she's a vampire, and she's furious. Time now for the tale of the Pontianak. The Pontianak legend originates in Mele and Indonesian folklore. So long ago, we don't know when. It's as if this monster has always been a part of this world. And it's often been told to scare people, especially children and men, away from going out alone late at night. Or from going out at all after the sun has set.

The Pontianak is mostly said to be the ghost of a woman who died during childbirth, or sometimes a woman who died while pregnant, violently, tragically, and often at the hands of a man. Betrayed, abused, or simply neglected, her death transforms her into a vengeful spirit, cursed to roam the earth in search of revenge and retribution. She appears as a woman in a perfectly white dress, with long jet black hair, pale skin, and when she isn't in human form, blood red eyes.

Her beauty is said to be disarming, otherworldly, and almost supernatural before you realize she is supernatural, and then she strikes. And all that beauty turns into terror. Her eyes now burn red, her white dress is suddenly drenched in blood, and her hands have turned into razor-sharp predatory claws. The Pontianak, if she so chooses, can kill you in a brutally violent manner.

She'll use her long, steely fingernails to tear into your stomach, rip through its soft skin, and then grab your organs and pull them back out and devour them. And if you leave your eyes open wide in terror, she'll literally suck them out of your head. Once she has finished eating your various organs, she'll move on to drain your body of blood. And in some tellings, she'll also gorge herself on your flesh, skin, and bones. She'll devour all of you.

So how do you protect yourself from this vampire said to hide high up in the tall trees of the jungle? There are signs, calling cards, that a pontianak is near, the smell of frangipani or jasmine on the wind, the sound of a crying baby coming from somewhere you can't quite reach or even properly locate, a sudden coldness in the air, and the sound of laughter just behind you.

While the Pontianak mainly targets men, particularly those who have wronged pregnant women in some way, don't think that just because you're a woman, you're safe. She's not exclusive. Women, and sometimes even children, have also supposedly vanished after the Pontianak encounters them. Sometimes all that's left when the attack is over is the smell of the perfume the woman was wearing and a single drop of blood. She's taken everything else.

In addition to knowing what sights and sounds will alert you to the beast's presence, there are also certain things you can avoid doing in Malaysia or Indonesia if you want to protect yourself from her. Never walk around whistling at night in a wooded area, especially near banana trees or graveyards. The sound is said to invite her in. Totally avoid banana plants in general after the sun has gone down. She's said to hide within them during the day and often attack from their tops 20 to 30 feet up in the air at night.

In addition to being terrifyingly strong, she can also fly. Hanging your clothes out to dry overnight? That's another invitation. If you do hang your clothes out to dry, you must wait until the morning light before you venture out to take them down. She's attracted to the smell, for some reason, of fresh linen. And if you smell flowers at night with no visible source of the scent, run. Finally, if you hear her cry softly, she's definitely close by. If her cries are loud, she's still far away, but she'll be approaching fast.

While, of course, many, if not most, write all of this off as nothing more than folklore, there are those who truly believe that this creature is a real and truly deadly entity. And some of those who claim to think it's real believe so because, reportedly, they've actually encountered it. Over the years, reports of Pontiac sightings have surfaced all across Southeast Asia, not just in jungles, but also along highways, in urban areas, even inside homes. You're never totally safe from these things.

Here are a few claims of those who have reported to encounter this monster and have survived to share their stories. In 2009, a man in Kuala Lumpur was driving late at night, returning from a wedding with his windows down and his radio off when he passed a banana grove on a winding road and thought he heard a baby crying. Worried that someone had abandoned an infant, he stopped his car, got out and looked around. No baby. He checked behind bushes all around the road, took a flashlight out of his car and checked up in the trees.

Nothing. No longer hearing what had sounded to him like a baby crying, he got back in his car, and as he did, he smelled it. Frangipani. The sweet, strong, heavy scent of that beautiful flowering plant. And then just as he was about to drive away, in his rear-view mirror, he saw her. A breathtakingly beautiful woman in white. She was sitting in his back seat, smiling at him, and her eyes were as red as blood.

Familiar with legends of the Pontianak, he practically flew back outside of his car, slammed his door shut behind him and started sprinting. When he returned with the police less than an hour later, his car was empty, except for several long strands of perfectly black hair on the headrest where she had been sitting. Four years later, in 2013, a group of teenagers in Bandung, Indonesia, broke into a long-abandoned colonial house rumored to be haunted. They brought with them flashlights and a camera.

And while exploring upstairs, one of them began to act strangely, shivering and speaking in a voice that wasn't his own. When his friends asked him what was wrong, he said a woman was watching them all from the corner. The others frantically looked around for this woman with the group's camera but saw nothing. But when they played back the footage later, they said they heard her. A faint, wet laugh. And then a low voice whispering, Don't look at me. The boy who had spoken in the strange voice earlier reportedly went missing a week later. His parents said he'd gone out for a walk one evening and never returned.

The last thing he said to his mother, I think she followed me home. This creature is so feared in Indonesia, an entire city was named after it. With a population of nearly 700,000, Pontianak City is the fourth largest city on the island of Borneo.

The city was formerly the capital of the Independent Sultanate of Pontignac and was founded on October 23, 1771, around an old trading station on the western coast of Borneo. It was built on a swamp subjected to regular flooding by the river, requiring special construction to elevate the buildings off of the ground. And it was built on legendarily haunted ground, said to be infested with dozens if not hundreds of Pontignacs.

The sultan and his army reportedly fought and expelled these monsters by blasting them with gunfire and cannons. Once they had been exterminated and expelled, he then built a mosque and a palace on the exact site of where most of them had been, essentially nesting. The mosque and palace became the very first buildings in the new city, and to this day, locals fire bamboo cannons on Ramadan and other holidays in memory of this battle against evil. Some also fire the cannons to remind the Pontinox to stay away.

But according to recent encounter claims, at least some remain. Locals in the city continue to report blood-curdling screams at night coming from the jungle edges. Taxi drivers have spoken about phantom passengers, women in white who get in the backseat, say nothing, and vanish before reaching their destination. One even supposedly left a bloody handprint on the window that couldn't be washed off for weeks. Now for a more detailed claimed encounter.

A woman claiming to be a 29-year-old from Melbourne, Australia named Carly posted the following online. I've never been to Indonesia before. I traveled all over Southeast Asia, but this was my first time in Jogjakarta. I booked a week in a traditional homestay, something rustic off the tourist trail. It was peaceful, simple, the kind of place that made you feel like time stopped. It was surrounded by rice paddies and banana trees.

The host family lived in the main house, and I had a little bungalow where I'd stayed behind it. It was beautiful. Quiet. Too quiet. The second night, I noticed something strange. I kept smelling perfume. Jasmine, I think. But I didn't have any. And it was coming from outside, like the breeze carried it right up to my door. Then I heard it. A baby, crying softly from the edge of the trees. I froze. It was nearly midnight. There were no babies at the homestay that I'd noticed. I was

The crying lasted maybe 30 seconds, then stopped. I figured it must have been a cat or something. The next night, I heard it again, closer. And now I no longer thought it was a cat. My mind went straight to ghosts. This time I didn't sleep. I sat up in bed, flashlight in one hand, pocket knife in the other. I don't know what I thought I was going to do with that pocket knife. Caught some ghosts. Around 2 a.m., the lights in my bungalow flickered and went out completely. And then I heard her, not crying, laughing.

High pitch, sharp, like someone trying to sound happy and failing. I turned on my flashlight and shined it towards the door. And I swear to God, I saw a shadow move across the window. The silhouette of a woman. Long hair. Thin arms. I didn't move. Didn't breathe. And then something began tapping on the glass. Not knocking. Tapping. One finger. Over and over.

I wanted to scream, but I couldn't make a sound. My mouth was open and nothing came out. I don't know how long it lasted, maybe two minutes, maybe ten? Then it stopped. When morning came, I ran to the main house and told the host family. The mother didn't look surprised, which was far from comforting. She calmly asked me one question. "Did you whistle at night?" I had. The first night walking back from the main house, I'd whistled to myself without thinking. She nodded and she said very quietly, "That's how she knows you're alone."

I moved to a hotel in the city that day. But the thing is, while I didn't hear any more during my time in Indonesia, I think I still hear her sometimes now, when I'm alone. In my apartment. Back in Australia. Did I somehow bring her home with me? Sometimes at night the room gets cold when I suddenly smell jasmine, and once I swear I heard laughing behind me. So soft I almost thought I imagined it. Almost. Was Carly just overtired in a strange place, caught up in an unfamiliar culture, and she simply let fear and her imagination take over?

Or did she really draw the attention of something ancient? Something waiting in the trees, listening for whistles, crying like a baby and laughing in the dark. Now for a second, equally detailed claimed encounter. This one allegedly comes from a 35-year-old man in Jakarta named Farid. I never used to believe in this kind of stuff. Ghosts, spirits, Pontianak. I thought it was just something people told kids to scare them into coming home early. Until last year.

My wife and I moved into a rented house in South Jakarta. It was older, 1970s construction, but recently renovated, and the rent was good. There was a rooftop terrace above the second floor, and the landlord said it used to be part of an old prayer room, but now it was just storage. First thing that happened was the smell. It started about three weeks after we moved in. Every night, always after 11, we'd start to smell jasmine, but too strong, almost rotten.

It seemed to come in through the windows, through the cracks in the walls. And it only lasted for a few minutes before disappearing. We asked the neighbors if anybody had plants nearby. They didn't. They also said very cautiously that the last two tenants had left suddenly and that they had seemed scared. One family had taken off after less than a month. No one ever said exactly why. Then came the scratches, not on the walls, but on the roof. It sounded like someone dragging long nails across the tiles. Not an animal, too deliberate.

It circled. We could hear its steps. I used a ladder to get up onto the roof the next day and inspect it, and that's when I saw actual claw marks. And then not many nights later came the crying. It started one night just after midnight. I was in the kitchen. My wife was asleep. It sounded like a baby right above me on the roof again. We don't have kids. There are no babies on our streets that I've seen. And the crying, it wasn't normal. It sounded like someone imitating a baby and not quite getting it right.

I froze. The hair on my arms stood up. I turned off the kitchen light and waited. The crying stopped. And I heard something that made me want to jump out of the window. Footsteps. Bare feet walking slowly across the rooftop terrace above me. And then they stopped and I heard knocking. Three soft knocks on the kitchen ceiling directly above me. As if she knew exactly where I was standing. I didn't sleep that night. Didn't wake my wife. Didn't move.

A week later, I finally told her. She said she'd been waking up around 3 a.m. every night because she felt someone watching her. She also thought she'd seen someone in the hallway mirror once, a woman in white with long black hair standing right behind her. But when she turned, nothing was there. That same night, we both heard laughter outside the bedroom window, a woman's laugh, cold and echoing. We brought in a ducun, a shaman, to cleanse our home, and he told us we must also ignore her, that not giving her attention will weaken her.

It seems to have worked. She seems to have left, but I fear I will now always worry she'll return. And now for one more. This was one shared by someone claiming to be a 27-year-old man from Portland, Oregon named Jake. I had no idea what a Pontianak even was until about two years ago. I was traveling through Bali for a few weeks, surfing, hiking, doing the whole solo backpacker thing. It was supposed to be my last big trip before taking a new job.

I've been staying at cheap hostels most of the time, but for my last few nights, I splurged on a nicer Airbnb in Seminyak. It was a standalone guest house with a private garden. It was a little ways off the main street. Gated, quiet, gorgeous. The first night I stayed there, while I chalked it up to jet lag or just being alone, I had this weird, uneasy feeling the moment I walked in.

It was so humid inside the house. No matter how much I adjusted the AC or opened the windows, it felt like the thick air just did not move. It was so heavy. I also kept noticing a faint perfume smell. Sweet, but cloying. Almost like jasmine or plumeria, but stronger. I thought maybe they had one of those oil diffusers hidden somewhere. But I checked everywhere and found nothing. I went to bed around 11 that night and was just starting to doze off when I heard it. Knocking. Not at the door, but at the bathroom mirror.

Just three soft knocks, tapped like knuckles on glass. I sat up immediately, just stared at the bathroom from across the room. The light was off in there, but the door was open about six inches. I got up, turned on the main light, and went over to check. The mirror was totally fogged over, even though I hadn't used the shower. And right in the center, about eye level, was this smudge, like someone had pressed their forehead up against it. I cleaned it, blamed it on moisture, told myself I was being dumb, and finally was able to lay down and fall asleep.

But the second night it got worse. Around 2 a.m. I woke up because I thought I heard someone breathing. Not heavily, soft actually, but close. I turned on my bedside light and saw the curtain slowly swaying back and forth, which didn't make sense. The fan wasn't on. Should have been, but it wasn't. The windows were closed. Nothing should have been swaying unless something or someone was inside and had bumped into it or rushed past it. Then the perfume hit me. This time it was so strong it actually made me gag.

It was as if it was being poured into the room somehow. And then I heard crying, low muffled like a baby or someone pretending to be one. It was coming from the garden outside the glass doors. I should have called someone. I should have left, but I was frozen. And then I saw her, a face, pale, hair over her eyes, pressed against the glass from the outside as if she had floated up from the ground. Her eyes, what I could see of them were red and her smile was, it was just evil.

I flipped the light off and ran into the bathroom where I slammed the door and stayed inside until morning When I finally opened the glass doors at dawn because yes, I had to check there was nothing below in the garden No woman anyway, but there were these two bare footprints in the dew on the stone path Afraid she'd come back. I checked out and found another place to stay So did any of these people actually encounter the pontianak? And if so, why were none of them torn apart? Why were none of them devoured?

If you ever find yourself in Indonesia or Malaysia or anywhere in Southeast Asia or the South Pacific and you smell the strong scent of flowers on the breeze at night or what sounds almost like the cry of a woman or a baby, don't ignore it, don't go outside, and don't whistle.

We have heard in U.S.-based stories about not whistling at night as well. Usually it's around, like, camping. Like, if you're out in the woods at night, don't whistle. And if something whistles at you, I think it's like, don't whistle back. Like, don't mimic the sound. I can't remember the specifics of it. Might have come up in a Skinwalker episode at one point, or some adjacent creature.

Where the creature was making a whistling sound to kind of like lure you into the forest. Uh-huh, uh-huh. Yeah, that could also be something too. But there are definite... I do have definite recollections of like, just don't whistle at night. Or maybe it's don't sing at night. It's something in that space. But I love it. The point being, I love when there's no barriers between culture in that way where it's like, here, there, not necessarily the exact same, but enough that we're like...

I don't know, these common threads, you know? It's just like, yep, we all laugh, we all cry, and we all get fucking scared. Yeah, yeah, exactly. Yeah, it's just to be human. Yeah, yeah. No pictures accompanied, you know, any of these posts, you know, these stories, but I do have some illustrations I found online that are pretty cool. Okay. This, oh wait, I was in the wrong spot. This first one, this is a thumbnail from a 10-minute video on the folklore of this creature called Monstrum that I found on dcmp.org. It also showed up on some PBS affiliate sites.

That's just a badass illustration somebody did of this creature. Yeah, that's really cool. And then here's another fun one from artist Arthur McTallen at pixelfed.art. Whoa, that's really cool. Yeah, very like graphic novel style. Totally. And finally, a young woman in Singapore just dressed up as a ponchi knock. Okay, yeah, she looks very ring-like. Yeah, yeah, yeah. This is from republicanpost.sg. Okay. Yeah, she's creepy as hell. Uh-huh. Yeah, it's a good costume. Really good.

Yeah, those were fun encounters. I mean, not fun for them, but... Yeah, fun to hear about. I thought that the banana thing was really funny. She hides in the banana field. Yeah, in the banana trees? Yeah. It's not good for you. Yeah. You love bananas. I do, yeah. She hides in there and climbs up on them and kind of swoops down, almost like a bat at night. There's like a... Hunting her prey kind of vibes. Yeah. Yeah.

I don't know why, but when you said the thing about the last guy who was staying in the Airbnb and he was like, oh, you know, I could smell this smell in the house and, you know, it was just... Oil diffuser? Yeah. Yeah. He said like, you know, it was like one of those oil diffusers. I don't know what it is about Airbnbs, but I'm like, can y'all stop saying...

like overpowering the house with all these scents. When I check into an Airbnb, I will go and find them and tuck them away. I'm like, this is awful. This is nauseating and migraine inducing. I know you want the house to smell good, but my God, calm down that. And like, yeah. And the, like the scent boosters that people put in their laundry. And like, if I can smell you across the store. Oh yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Jeez Louise. It's too much.

It was just cracking me up. I just had a very, like, visceral reaction to it. I was like, oh, yes, I totally understand that. Yeah, I saw you writing some notes at that point in the story. So funny. You got anything else? I do not. All right. Well, let's leave Indonesia and the area that surrounds it for a story set amongst our friends up north. Okay. Before we move on to more scares, we need to take a quick in-between story sponsor break. If you don't want to hear these ads, please sign up to be a Robert or Annabelle on our Patreon to get these episodes ad-free, additional bonus episodes, and more.

This is Elevated Customer Experience. This is Tractor Supply with T-Mobile for Business. Take your business further at T-Mobile.com slash now.

This is Comedy Bang Bang, the podcast, the promo. And in 30 seconds, I'm going to tell you why you should check out the show. I, the host, Scott Aukerman, have a lighthearted conversation with famous celebrities like Jon Hamm, Alison Williams, Phoebe Bridgers, Jason Alexander, Natasha Lyonne, Bob Odenkirk, just to name a few.

Things go a little off the rails when different eccentric characters and oddballs drop by to be interviewed as well. Each week is a blend of conversations and character work from your favorite comedians, as well as some new hilarious voices. Comedy Bang Bang, the podcast. Listen every Monday, wherever you get your podcasts.

Hey, Lulu, what's going on under your clothes? Oh! What kind of surprise do you have in store for me later today? Well, good sir. Today, I am rocking MeUndies Ultra Modal Lace Hipster in Purple and their Ultra Modal Fuel-Free Longline Bralette in Wild Jellies. That's hot.

The combo is not only so, so comfy, but also super duper cute. I love when you wear fun mix and match sets from MeUndies because I can tell you feel confident, sexy, and comfortable. You feel good, which makes me feel good. Thank you, baby. I do feel good in all of my favorites from MeUndies, and I feel absolutely

extra good about supporting a company that is size and style inclusive. From solids to prints, from extra small to 4XL, MeUndies offers goodies to everyone. Spring into comfort with MeUndies. Support this show by going to MeUndies.com slash scared and using my code scared to get 20% off your first order plus free shipping.

That's MeUndies.com slash scared, code scared for 20% off plus free shipping. MeUndies, comfort from the outside in. Summer is coming right to your door. With Target Circle 360, get all the season go-tos delivered just when you want them. Snacks, towels, and even pillows. Get it all delivered the same day with Target Circle 360. Restrictions apply. Nearly home.

Isn't home where we all want to be? Reba here for Realtor.com, the pros' number one most trusted app. Finding a home is like dating. You're not just looking for a place to live, you're searching for the one. That's where Realtor.com comes in. Like any good matchmaker, they know exactly where to look. With over 500,000 new real listings straight from the pros every month, you could find your perfect match today. Reba here for Realtor.com, the pros' number one most trusted app.

Ranch style with a pool, barn dominium with an in-law suite, realtor.com's got them. Modern craftsmen with a big yard and a treehouse out back.

Realtor.com will have you saying, yep, that's the one. No more swapping. It's time to start finding. Download the Realtor.com app today because you're nearly home. Make it real with Realtor.com. Pro's number one most trusted app based on August 2024 proprietary survey. Over 500,000 new listings every month based on average new for sale and rental listings. February 2024 through January 2025. Thanks for listening to our sponsor deals, Creeps and Peepers.

One of Canada's oddest, oldest ghost stories is the Baldoon Mystery, a 19th century tale of a family allegedly terrorized by a poltergeist. The Baldoon settlement, located in southwestern Ontario near modern-day Chatham-Kent, was founded over 220 years ago in 1804.

Baldoon is named after a Scottish estate, and Thomas Douglas, the 5th Earl of Selkirk, was who sponsored 15 Scottish families to settle in the area originally. And life was difficult for those first settlers. Many of them died from malaria, and the soil of the land they chose for their new home was difficult to work. The settlement was also attacked by American militia members during the War of 1812. The remaining settlers who survived the attack moved to higher ground, and then Lord Selkirk sold the settlement a few years later in 1818.

Some of the original settlers remained in the general area and were joined by other families looking to start a new life. And one of those additional settlers was a man named John McDonald. Despite the hardships of those previously in the area, the McDonald family lived peaceful, happy lives until November of 1828. Time now for the tale of the Baldoon Mystery. The poltergeist activity started after John McDonald and his wife moved out of his father's house and onto their own property about a quarter of a mile away.

Another local family had wanted this land, but the elder MacDonald had refused to sell it to them, and they were allegedly especially upset over this denial. So there will be, of course, speculation that they have something to do with the strange malevolent activity that befalls the MacDonald family.

John McDonald's son, Neal T. McDonald, was a young boy when he lived through this haunting, and 40 years later, Neal would collect statements from 26 different community members who had witnessed or had knowledge of the haunting, and he compiled their notes into a 62-page booklet published in 1871 titled The Baldoon Mysteries, An Or True Story. Most of the following is taken from what he recorded.

The whole mess began when a few of the McDonald family women were working in a barn that sat on the property line when three of the roof supporting poles fell and almost hit them. Upon inspection, there was no explanation for why the poles had fallen. It was chalked up as nothing more than a strange accident and life moved on. But then soon afterwards, a fire broke out in that same barn with seemingly no cause. It was attributed to nothing more than bad luck. Sometimes fires break out and you don't always learn how or why.

But then very shortly following this fire, John McDonald and his family began to be woken night after night after night by strange and disturbing noises in their house, like the sound of multiple sounds of footsteps marching in unison, as if a line of phantom soldiers were moving through their home. And of course, when they would get up to check, they would never see anything. In another disturbing incident, the baby's cradle began to rock on its own.

Thankfully, the baby was not in it or it could have been badly hurt because the cradle began moving back and forth so violently that three men weren't strong enough to hold it in place. It didn't stop until seemingly whatever invisible force had decided to start moving it now decided to stop moving it. More unexplained property destruction then followed and escalated in frequency and severity over the following days and weeks. At one point, water started to fall down from the ceiling in multiple places, but the family couldn't find the source of the leak.

Just like with the cradle, the leaks began for unexplained reasons and stopped inexplicably as well. Soon after this, the escalation continued and now rocks and then much more disturbingly, actual bullets pinged off of or embedded themselves into the walls of the McDonald home. On several occasions, they shattered windows and a few times they flew inside the house. The family was lucky that no one was killed. John tried boarding up the broken windows, but then large rocks would smash through the wood.

At one point, the family, running an experiment that I've never heard of anyone running before in poltergeist situations similar to this, they collected a large pile of rocks that had already hit their home, marked and bagged them, and then carried them down and threw them into the river. And allegedly, later that same day, some of those clearly marked rocks were thrown back into their house by unseen forces. And how crazy is this? John once witnessed a stone fly through the window and hit a visitor named Neil Campbell directly in his chest.

Mr. Campbell, an unbeliever, thinking he was being pranked in some way, loudly declared, Send us another ball, old fellow, and I'll catch it. Immediately, another stone flew through an open window, hit him again in the chest, but harder this time. Hard enough to stun him. Neil stood breathless and, quote, pale as a corpse. There was no one, absolutely no one outside who could have thrown it. John then saw a stone about the size of an egg come in through the same window, bounce off of a wall, and roll onto the floor.

He picked it up, and a moment later, another stone came flying at him. Directly following this second projectile, a large stone dropped down from the fireplace with such force it bounced all the way back up to the ceiling, then somehow hit Mr. Campbell in the head. According to John's brother, Alan MacDonald, "...it hurt him enough to convince him that there was more truth than poetry in what he had heard, and like many others who went, who did not believe in witchcraft, went home convinced that the handcuffs were of the old fellow."

This was the devil's work, and it was not just rocks and bullets that whizzed about the property. Various household items levitated and flew around on their own. One day, an iron tea kettle full of boiling water lifted from the fireplace and flew around the room. The family was terrified, of course, of being badly burned. Thankfully, not a drop spilled upon them. Having finally had enough of the terror, John McDonald and his family decided to move back in with his father. But there, in his father's house, the paranormal manifestations would continue.

Once again, windows were pelted by rocks, and now small, spontaneous fires started up at all hours, up to a dozen at a time. And then a larger fire broke out. John McDonald witnessed one exterior building catch on fire and then saw the figure of a large black dog sitting nearby. The dog disappeared a moment later, and he was unable to find it anywhere in the area. What was it? John's father's barn then completely burned down, destroying all the feed for his livestock.

And the fires still weren't done. The fires continued occurring, and so often that the family initiated a night watch to ensure their house didn't burn down with them inside. According to the account of Alan McDonald, there was one day where the house caught fire a full 50 different times. As time passed, word of all these strange and often dangerous happenings of course spread. Newspapers even reported on the paranormal phenomena, and the McDonald farm became a tourist attraction.

Hundreds of people would now visit the farm, and most would claim to witness inexplicable things. According to one local's recollection, it was said to be the strangest thing they had ever seen. Nearly all laid it to some supernatural power, and none undertook to account for it in any other way. At this time, everything in and about the house seemed under the influence, nothing in the house could be kept in place. The shovel and tongs would run about the floor, as would other things about the house.

The cooking was done by a large fireplace, and it was extremely difficult to keep anything upon the fire. The old Dutch oven would empty itself, making it extremely hard to get enough material cooked to satisfy their hunger. A witness named M. L. Burnham added, "...the idea that inanimate things can move around, and though hard substances without any visible person to propel them, is difficult to solve."

Nevertheless, it is true as they have been seen by the writer and other living witnesses and the strongest disbelievers have had to say It was something they could not account for despite all the chaos and constant projectiles being thrown at them None of the family were ever physically injured However, they all suffered psychologically and their home was destroyed and they lost two barns Their livestock suffered as well if any of their animals had a baby it would die soon after

A local priest finally performed an exorcism on the property, but it failed to stop the phenomena. Robert Barker, a teacher from St. Clair Township who claimed knowledge of the occult, volunteered to investigate and attempted to clear the home of any negative energy. Not only did his efforts also fail, but he was charged with witchcraft for trying to help. Fortunately, he was soon granted a pardon.

Finally, after more than two years of terror, John McDonald heard from Dr. John F. Troiner, who claimed his daughter could, quote, solve any mystery a person desired her to. John McDonald and a local minister traveled down a path that is now part of the Longwoods Road Conservation Area, about 30 miles from her home near the Baldoon settlement, to meet with this doctor and his daughter. During the journey, John heard fearful noises, according to Allen. In the middle of the wilderness, he said, quote,

He heard what sounded like people driving cattle, followed by the sounds of people fighting and cries of, "'Murder! Murder! Murder! Help! Help! Help!' M. L. Burnham said in his statement, while riding along he was beset with clubs and stones, as if his errand was known by the evil one. The minister who accompanied John seemed unafraid, and told John that the spirits wanted to frighten him, to scare him away from getting the help he needed to be rid of them. He encouraged John to be brave."

They soon arrived at their destination, fearful but unscathed, and met Dr. Troiner's daughter, who was said to have had the gift of second sight. She told the men that she could find out what they wanted to know after looking to a special stone her uncle had discovered one day while plowing the fields. After looking to the stone, what many would call a seer stone, she asked, Did you buy a piece of land previous to this trouble? John said, Yes.

And now the woman told him what she saw, a log house where an old woman lived, a woman who wanted to drive out his family. This was the same family John had refused to sell his land to. Then the woman proceeded to recount to John everything that had transpired over the past two years, even adding that one of his buildings had burned down two hours previously while he was traveling. Her claim would soon be proven to be correct. She then asked John if among his flock of geese there was a stray goose with a black head and one black wing.

John thought he remembered seeing a goose of that description, but he thought it was one of his own. But the woman replied, no, that is the old woman of the family mentioned, and she was the old witch. She turned herself into a goose, and she was the one that brought up the balls from the river bottom that were marked and thrown into the river. She now instructed John that if he saw the goose again when he got home, he must shoot it with a silver bullet, one that would end his torment. John and the minister who had traveled with him got up early the next morning, and John arrived home that same day.

After hearing about the building that had burned down the day before, he, sure enough, found the black-winged goose on his property. He had his family keep watch of it, and back in the days when people made things rather than bought them oftentimes, he stayed up until he had made himself a silver bullet, and then the following day shot the goose's wing in the presence of multiple witnesses. Surprisingly, he let it live.

McDonald and a group of people then quickly traveled to the property of the family who had wanted to buy his land years earlier and had been denied, and there they supposedly found an old woman on the porch clutching a badly injured arm. John asked her questions and hurled accusations, and while she refused to answer, it was clear she knew much more than she let on. It was also made clear that if John saw the goose with one black wing on his property ever again, he would kill it. He then made his way home and slept peacefully for the first time in years, as did his family.

And from that day on, the McDonald family were never again tormented by the supernatural. Although many parts of the story, of course, sound outlandish, cartoonish, utterly ridiculous. It is important to note that many people, dozens and dozens, witnessed inexplicable, unexplained events on the McDonald property that turned skeptics into believers. Multiple friends and neighbors provided sworn accounts attesting to the supernatural events they'd seen. And so perhaps as outlandish as this story might seem, what if it's also, at least partially, outlandish?

True. It was the goose. I know. I know. It's a crazy detail. Come on. That weird twist. I was like, it was fine until then. I was like, it seems a little, but okay. You know, I can let it ride. But then the goose, but you know, the old woman clutching her arm. Come on. I'm not saying it couldn't happen, but it just, it was hard to, to, to stay with it. I know. I know. I thought the same thing, but then I thought this, I think it's funny where we draw lines.

Yeah. Where we'll entertain like, you know, some, you know, folklore creature from another, you know, country, another area of the world, or we'll entertain like black eyed children or shadow people. Uh huh. But then when there's like a goose and a witch, we're like, get out of here.

Okay, that's fair. Right? But it's like, I mean, who knows? I mean, and then all the things that we entertain, black-eyed people, shadow people, there are so many other people who are like, shut up. This is fair. Okay. But yes, but I had the same reaction. And I imagine many people listening will have that reaction as well. Yeah. I'm curious what our Robert Santa Bell's creeps and peepers will think of the goose. The goose. Yeah.

I have a couple photos. Nothing much here. This first one is the John McDonald homestead. Now, didn't you once have a manager named John McDonald? Yes. Literally the same name. Immediately when you said that, I just... I mean, a very common name. Yeah. McDonald is a common last name, and John is a very common first name. But I don't know why it immediately cracked me up. No, I had to keep... I actually looked him up. I'm like, what happened to that guy? Where is he? I can't tell...

I think he's living on his former royalties of representing some big clients. Great, good for him. Yeah, it's tricky to say what he's doing, but he's gone quiet for a long time. Okay, well, I hope he's happy. Yeah, me too. Yeah, this photo is courtesy of the Lambton County Archives. This next one, a copy of a 1910 copy of the book about all this, written by John's son, Neal McDonald.

The Baldoon Mystery. It was also hard not to start singing, Old MacDonald had a farm. But I was like, that's not fair. I also had that in my head. Finally, there's a photo I found on TripAdvisor of the Baldoon Mystery Room at the Wallace Bergen District Museum in Chatham-Kenton, Ontario. Okay. Where you can walk through. They have a room dedicated to this mystery. You can check out the museum's take on it.

I mean, if a museum, regardless of size or stature, is dedicating an entire space to a supposed haunting, goose or no goose, it's probably got some threads of truth in it. Yeah. You know, I think they dedicated room to it because they're definitely not endorsing this as like, well, definitely that witch, you know, got what she deserved. Or, you know, there was definitely supernatural stuff there.

It's just this thing of why were so many people convinced that this stuff happened? It's just odd. It's a unique mystery. And 50 fires in one day. That was also, that was where I started. That's where he started to lose me. I was like, 50? I know, but also, just to play devil's advocate. Okay, please do. It is funny in that sense where we'll be like,

okay, so this ghost, you know, knocked something over and tried to like burn a house down. I'm like, oh my God, that's terrible. But then if you're like, and then 50 times one day, this ghost tried to, you're like, no, as if there's rules. I know, I know, but it does like, the more that you say something, it doesn't make it more possible or like, you know, so it just feels like a little kid telling a story and getting a reaction out of parents and parents are like, what? How many times? 50? A kid hit you? Yeah.

Because then what's the next question? How many times did he hit you? And then you say like three, dad. And you're like, he hit you three times. He hit me 50 times. Exactly. That's exactly how it felt. I get that. I get that. Who am I to judge? I mean, it could happen. Could be. Okay. Well, do you want to go to the basement with me? I would love to go to the basement with you. Okay, let's do it.

Hello, Dan and Lindsay. Hello. It is I, Faithful Peeper Keegan from Denver, Colorado. Oh, Keegan. I want to share something with you from when I was 11, something I haven't been able to shake for 20 years. I almost did the math there. I almost said for 31. That's also not correct. It happened when I first moved in with my mom, stepfather, and younger brother. Our house was an ordinary early 2000s split level, nothing remarkable, but the basement...

The basement had something in it. I had to move in unexpectedly, and since there wasn't a spare bedroom ready yet, I was set up in the semi-finished basement. It wasn't bad, except for the crawlspace, a pitch-black void behind a 3x5 foot opening in the wall, barely covered by a sheet of plywood propped in place with cinder blocks.

The first week, nothing happened. Then, one night, I woke to the sound of someone moving through the sheets my mother had hung up for privacy. I turned over, expecting to see her. My breath caught as I saw something, a dark shape, on the other side of the fabric. Then, slowly, it moved through the sheets, its six-foot shadow shifting and warping as it passed.

I yanked the blankets over my head and squeezed my eyes shut, willing myself to sleep. The next night, I was pulled from sleep by three slow, deliberate knocks on the plywood covering the crawlspace. My stomach dropped. I tried to convince myself it was just the house settling, until the knocking happened again, harder, rattling the board against the concrete. Then came the scratching from behind the wood. Slow, insistent.

I barely slept after that. My mother checked the crawlspace the next day, but nothing was there. No holes, no rodents, just dust, dirt, old boxes, and a suffocating darkness that seemed to swallow the flashlight's beam. That night, the knocking returned, but this time it didn't stop. Louder and more violent until finally, with a sickening scrape, the plywood shifted forward, leaving a one-foot gap.

My stomach twisted as I stared into the yawning blackness. And then two glowing orange-red eyes blinked open from the depths, followed by a low, guttural growl. I was frozen. It was watching me. After what felt like forever, the eyes vanished, but I still couldn't move. The sound of something or someone pushing onto my bed, a weight pressing on the lower corner.

My blanket tightened as if it was being pulled from my grasp. I clung to it, too terrified to see what was trying to uncover me, the low growl closer than it ever had been before. The next night, I refused to sleep downstairs. I moved to the couch, until the knocking started from under the floor. As I opened my eyes, the basement door opened itself ever so slowly, creaking as it moved.

Then the orange-red eyes appeared again, watching me from around the open door. I quickly shrunk up, trying to hide myself underneath the blanket. Then I tried the bathroom. As I drifted to sleep in the tub, the handle of the door rattled violently, leaving me sleepless and terrified. Finally, my mother moved me into the spare bedroom. The first two nights were peaceful.

But on the third night, at 3 a.m., the knocking returned aggressively, this time from inside my closet, so loud it woke the whole house. This continued for several nights, and for several nights my mother didn't believe me, thinking I was just being loud, until she heard it for herself. She'd come downstairs to see if she could catch me making that knocking sound.

When she opened my door, she saw me, awake in bed, curled up in the corner, while the knocking was echoing through the floor. That weekend, she tore through the crawlspace, determined to find an explanation. And she did. Hidden among the old boxes, covered in candle wax and dust, was an old, battered Ouija board.

My stepfather admitted it had belonged to his daughter and had been forgotten about down there. My mother, horrified, demanded it be removed. It was thrown out with the trash, and for the first time in weeks, the house was silent. A few days later, my mother came home from work and called us all into the living room. She was furious. Sitting at our front door was the Ouija board.

None of us had taken it out of the trash. We had no explanation, no answers. My mother had her pastor come and he took the board with him. After that, the house returned to normal. The knocking stopped. The eyes never came back. But to this day, I wonder who or what put that board on our doorstep.

This started a morbid fascination with the paranormal and a deep distrust of basements. Keep up the amazingly spooky work and sleep well, Keegan. Thank you, Keegan.

Uh, early in Keegan's story, when Keegan was talking about the, uh, the privacy, uh, sheets. Uh-huh. It just reminded me of, like, my, this bedroom I had in, uh, high school. Uh-huh. Where I had, like, no door but a sheet. And I was like, oh, man, that would have been terrifying. And especially, I was like, well. Was that the room with Donna? Uh, yes. But usually she wasn't in the next room. Uh-huh. Usually she was at mom's and it was just me and my dad's. Uh-huh. And so. And by the way, this was a shed. This wasn't a room. Dan was living in a, his dad lived in the main house. And then there was, like, a.

no walkway, but just some space. Then he was in... Yeah, like the yard in between. Like a shed. Yeah. And then the sheet just divided the room in half. Yeah, yeah, yeah. Yeah, yeah, yeah. No, for the visual. Yeah. Totally, totally. And... Because you're out there by yourself. You're out there by yourself. Right? That's fucking scary. Yeah, similar to a basement. I mean, I was older than Keegan in this story. I know, but still, like, just think about if you would have had a paranormal experience out there. Oh, my God. That's what the story made me think about. Yes. Yeah, just terrifying. Just like if that sheet would have started to move. Oh, my God. And there's no, like...

know why even though your dad was just in like the house right next door to me it is somehow worse not being in the room next door that I would have to physically leave one building and go to another and be outside and exposed to the elements I don't know it just feels worse oh yeah my actually like my room setup could have been like a horror movie setup where it's like if some drifter I mean it was right along the highway oh my god would have just nightmare fuel oh yeah would have just walked onto the property like they could have totally came into like my little shed area and I

My dad and stepmom would have been sleeping over 100 feet away in another building. Never the wiser. Never the wiser. Yeah, it could have been terrible. Yeah, it makes me think of The Last of Us. All of a sudden, Ellie, I blanked on her name. Ellie moved into the garage. Oh, uh-huh. I think that if you're a parent or somebody who's in charge of a child in any capacity. Yeah, there's such comfort in having them nearby. Yeah.

In the same house, right? Even when our kids are with their mom and stepdad who are lovely people, totally responsible, there's no fear of our kids being in an unsafe situation with them. Still, before I go to bed, I open up, I check Find My, I'm like, okay, we rose at our mom's house, great, I can go to sleep. And even when it's not our week, if I see it's like 11 o'clock and she's still out with her friends, I'm a bit anxious. It can't be helped. Yep, exactly. Ugh, yeah. How about that Ouija board just...

making its way back to the front door. And you know you can imagine a mom being like, who thinks this is funny? It's not funny. And just finding it in the crawl space to begin with. Especially when things are going on down there. But just like even if they weren't,

that would just be such a creepy item to find in a crawl space. I know of all the things, especially if there wasn't a whole bunch of junk. Like if there was boxes and boxes, old stuff, other games takes away from it. Yeah. But if it's just like dirt down there and then, you know, like one or two boxes and then just this and then just this Ouija board, that would creep me out. Yeah. Still at this age. Definitely. I know we're the parents and we have to go find the source and then we find that it's like, God damn it. Uh-huh. Oh yeah. Not good. Not good.

All right. Well, let's see what Charles Manson brought to this family. It's such a special story. Okay. Hello, Dan and Lindsay. Hello. First, let me say how thrilled I am to reach out as a dedicated fan of Scared to Death. Awesome. I stumbled across your podcast while searching for something to captivate me during my long night shifts, and I was instantly hooked.

I'm a creep to the core. Your show has been an excellent companion, keeping my mind sharp as I navigate the exhaustion of working third shift while being a full-time student. The binging is real. I'm currently diving into episode 121 and savoring every spine-tingling tale.

Allow me to introduce myself properly. I'm Mel, a 40-year-old Native American woman pursuing a career in aerospace engineering. Wow, nice. A woman of science, no doubt. And yet, despite my logical approach to life, I've experienced too many inexplicable events to dismiss the paranormal entirely.

Raised in a deeply religious household with my father as a pastor, I've been surrounded by faith and spirituality from an early age. My parents separated when I was just four, and my mom remarried when I turned 12. My journey into the world of the unusual began in an extraordinary fashion. I was born with a call, a rare occurrence, a.k.a. a veiled birth, at home with a traditional Native American midwife.

Then, when I was two, I accidentally ingested an entire bottle of no-dose. Oh my God. Leading to a rushed hospital visit where my heart stopped for three minutes while having my stomach pumped. While I now have a heart condition, the doctors remain uncertain whether this incident is the cause.

With these beginnings, I've always identified as an empath. Born under the Pisces sign, it seems fitting that I'd be spiritually sensitive, guided by a potent intuition and a collection of remarkable experiences. It's this innate sensitivity that has shaped my encounters with the strange and mysterious.

The story I'm about to share sets the stage for the many tales I hope to tell you in the future. It's a unique account of how the notorious Charles Manson cast a shadow over my family, a tale filled with eerie twists that forced us to confront the unimaginable. Thank you for creating a space where I and others can seek refuge and excitement amidst the everyday. I look forward to unveiling more of my ethereal experiences with you.

Time now for the tale of Charles Manson Cursed My Family. In the sweltering summer of 1997, life as I knew it took a turn into the bizarre and unsettling. At 12 years old, I had just welcomed a new chapter into my life, a stepfather named Tim. My mother had recently married him after a whirlwind romance that led them to an impulsive elopement in Las Vegas.

We now settle down in Corcoran, California, where Tim worked as a prison guard. Not just any guard, though. Tim was the one tasked with keeping an eye on the infamous Charles Manson. From the beginning, Tim was enthusiastic about his peculiar connection with such a notorious figure, often sharing tales with a mix of fascination and horror. One day, he came home with a look of eager anticipation and a plastic bag in hand.

My mother eyed the bag with suspicion, her instincts pricking as Tim revealed its contents. Disturbing keepsakes Manson had entrusted to him. A handmade Ouija board and a peculiar unsettling object that looked like a voodoo doll. The Ouija board, crudely fashioned from what appeared to be press board, was unevenly etched with the alphabet. Yes, no, numbers zero through nine, hello, and goodbye.

Its planchette was crudely crafted from a piece of material with a lens from an old pair of glasses. The doll, if it could be called that, was a grotesque creation, possibly made from twine, rubber bands, or maybe even hair, with bead-like eyes outlined by a sharpie exuding an eerie aura.

My mother, trying to accommodate Tim's fascination of his new items, bagged the creepy handmade keepsakes back up and placed them on the top shelf of their bedroom closet. She told Tim he could keep them as long as the children didn't mess with them. Little did she know that the children of the house were about to be the least of her worries. I'd often heard the phrase about a chill running down one's spine, but it wasn't until these objects entered our home that I truly understood its meaning.

My sensitivity to unforeseen forces kept me awake as odd knocking and scratching sounds echoed through the walls at night now. All of this starting the evening Tim brought home the disgusting and undoubtedly evil keepsakes. My stomach turned. I would smell disgusting smells only best described as rotting meat and musty damp clothing, sulfur and mildew.

My mother was far from pleased with Tim's new acquisitions. Her discomfort grew into dread, exacerbated by an incident one day when, amidst the usual cleaning, she found the doll, inexplicably moved, sitting ominously, unbagged, on the edge of a top shelf in her closet, its bead eyes fixated on her. Her scream brought me running, and I understood her fear.

The very presence of these objects felt malevolent, and I complained all the time of the smells nobody else seemed to smell. She re-bagged the doll and pushed it back to the furthest corner of the shelf in the closet. Despite my pleas to rid the house of these cursed items, Tim hesitated, caught between curiosity and potential monetary gain. However, the disturbances intensified. The knocks grew louder, the scratches sharper, the smells more pugnacious.

One morning, while tidying the living room and returning my stepfather's work boots to the closet, I discovered the doll, once again, poised on the shelf, legs dangling in an unnervingly lifelike manner. I took matters into my own hands. I had had enough, and I was blinded by this tunnel vision of what I can only describe as pure instinct.

Grabbing the doll, the Ouija board, and its makeshift planchette, I raced to the backyard to destroy them. Tossing them on the grill, and without hesitation, I doused them in lighter fluid and struck that first match. But no matter how much lighter fluid I poured or matches I lit, the damn things only scorched, refusing to fully ignite.

I began to cry. The tears of frustration poured down my cheeks as I begged God to help me. My face was hot from the fire and my tears felt like I was pouring ice water onto sunburned cheeks. My mother, witnessing my futile efforts and sincere fear blanketed by my determination, couldn't deny the haunting threshold our home had crossed. Together, we discarded the barely charred objects into our trash bin.

We lived in the country, so our trash bins automatically came with loops for locks to keep wild critters from entering the bins and making a mess of our waste. We zip-tied the bin so no persons nor critters would go through our trash, possibly additionally trying to hide what I did to my stepfather's prized keepsakes. We did this with a plan to cut the zip tie the morning of the trash pickup. All this effort seemed like a solution to end this horrific experience.

Unfortunately, all this effort was for nothing. We were to find them back on our porch the following morning. The fear that gripped us was palpable as we made our way to the trash bin to find that the zip tie was still holding. The lid closed tightly. I began to shake and cry.

After confession and begging him to believe us, Tim conceded. Recognizing the escalating chaos, he handed the items off to Freddie, another prison guard with plans to sell them and then split the money. However, Freddie's life soon unraveled after receiving the items. He became ensnared in alcohol and personal turmoil, spiraling into a destructive path that shattered his marriage and family. This was kept from me as I was barely 12 and my mother thought it was best not to speak of.

Years later, as an adult, I asked my mom about those dark days. Her answer lingered with a stark reminder of the inexplicable. The supposedly profit-driven transaction had instead sowed seeds of havoc and despair.

To this day, Tim's encounter with the remnants of Charles Manson remains a chilling testament to the unforeseen consequences curiosity and greed can invite, and to a long summer where our seemingly ordinary lives brush terrifyingly against the otherworldly. Thank you so much for listening to my story. I hope you find my true tale of terror to be as bone-chilling as it was to us. Keep it spoopy, Mel. Thank you, Mel.

Um, yeah, there's a lot, uh, a lot going on that story. I was, I was thinking one of the things I was thinking is, uh, you know, for people who are into like collectibles and stuff, when Mel talked about getting rid of the Charles Manson stuff, I bet, I bet some of the listeners were like, no, no, no, no, no, please, please let me, let me buy it. Yeah, absolutely. Mel, did you still have it? Then we get to the end of the story and they're like, damn it. Teddy, where is it? Or Freddie? Freddie, where is it? Yeah. And then, um, also like no-dos, um,

that uh i hadn't thought about those in so long do they still exist i mean i guess probably because you have like five hour energy just maybe like in different formats yeah i don't think i don't know i don't i haven't seen no notes in so many years i'm gonna say they do not exist anymore did you ever take it yes yes and it's just so crazy because i remember i took those in college and i think they would be illegal now i feel like they have ephedrine in them maybe they re oh are they still around like a new ingredients they have their own website

No-no's.com. Oh, okay. Caffeine, 200 milligrams. Yeah, and I feel like, I want to say a cup of coffee is maybe around 90 or something. I have no idea. But I just remember taking those during some finals week in college and just being like, oh my God. They really were amping me up. Sure. And taking two or three, and a toddler taking an entire bottle, that's insane. Yeah, and I think, wait, I want to look. Did she say she accidentally-

drank it so was there a liquid form of it I can't remember I thought she just took a bottle of it like all the pills yeah yeah um yeah yeah a lot of uh but that that is just creepy to think about Charles Manson also just making a doll and making a Ouija board mm-hmm mm-hmm but like of course he did mm-hmm yeah yeah exactly

Yeah, that. And, oh, also an unintentional theme, probably like with your stories of just like objects returning. Uh-huh. That was, you know, interesting. Oh, yeah. And both stories involving a Ouija board. Yeah. Both stories involving something, you know, creepy like a Ouija board being tossed away and then showing back up again. Yeah, I totally didn't even think about it. All kinds of creepy stuff there. Well, then.

Well, then. Well, well, well. Do you want to thank some Annabelles? Well, well, well. Look who it isn't. I said that to my dad recently and he thought it was so funny. I would like to thank some Annabelles. Huge thanks to our Annabelles who make our monthly donations possible. Zach Hopkins, Adria Myers, Marshall Payton, Noah McDowell,

Ant-to-ny. Oh, okay. Antony. I love it. Tara, Haley Lopeman, Nicholas Hartman, Nikki Young, and Cody Plummer. All right. Thank you. Thank you. And I would like to thank the following Annabelles. Austin Reneke, Hago Waffle, Abigail, I said Hago Waffle, Hago Waffle, Abigail Kampf-Henkel, Udibit M., Nicole Saucy,

Chips, Michaela, Amanda, those are all three separate people.

And then Katrina Jenison and Isabel Elizalde. Chiffs or chips? You sent me... No, I just didn't hear you. C-H-I-F-S. Chiffs. Okay. I don't know what that is. All right. And then I have a few spoopy shout outs to James from Chelsea. Happy five year anniversary. I'm so excited to spend all the years we have left kayaking and chilling with our fur babies. You're the best thing that has ever happened to me.

To Skylar from David, I love you and I hope we last forever and ever. Get it? No. Endeavor. Like, not and ever. Endeavor. Like an endeavor. Ah, okay. To Moira from Allura the Jerk, I'm extremely proud of you and all you're doing. Thank you for sharing your birthday with my graduation. I love you, you bitch. Then that's it. I love it.

And that's our show. Thanks for continuing to send your personal tales of terror to mystoryatscaretodeathpodcast.com. Oh my gosh. You can email us for everything else at info at scaredtodeathpodcast.com. Thank you to Logan Keith for scoring today's show again. Thanks to Heather Rylander organizing the My Story emails. To book editor Drew Atana polishing preparing listener stories for book number six.

Thank you to Olivia Lee for finding the second story I shared this week. I was able to find the first. 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 called Creeps and Peepers moderated by the All Seen Eyes. A great place to meet some people who love horror and enjoy your nightmares, Creeps and Peepers. Hope you were scared to death. Bye. 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. Mad Magic Productions. All kinds of creepy stuff there. Ay-yi-yi-yi-yi.

This is Comedy Bang Bang, the podcast, the promo. And in 30 seconds, I'm going to tell you why you should check out the show. I, the host, Scott Aukerman, have a lighthearted conversation with famous celebrities like Jon Hamm, Alison Williams, Phoebe Bridgers, Jason Alexander, Natasha Lyonne, Bob Odenkirk, just to name a few.

Things go a little off the rails when different eccentric characters and oddballs drop by to be interviewed as well. Each week is a blend of conversations and character work from your favorite comedians, as well as some new hilarious voices. Comedy Bang Bang, the podcast. Listen every Monday, wherever you get your podcasts.

Go to truthfinder.com slash dating to search now.