The Cresson Creeper
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Attention, true crime fanatics. The Minds of Madness is a weekly true crime podcast that dives deep into the criminal psyche, covering the most shocking and disturbing cases from all over the world. We're talking about ordinary people who do unthinkable things. The show examines the psychology of the perpetrators, interviews experts in forensic psychology and criminology, and speaks with survivors who fought for justice.

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Whether thou art a ghost that hath come from the earth, or a phantom of night that hath come home, 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, sir. I'm Lindsay. Hello, Lindsay. Hello. Happy Thanksgiving to our American listeners and expats celebrating abroad. Hope you get to spend time with family and have some good food. Yeah. Okay, what's your favorite dish? The classics. Like me and Kyler, I think, are the same.

Where we like the traditional spread of – well, I guess some people find ham in the traditional spread. Oh, yeah. But I do like a honey-baked ham. But really, it's the turkey breast with gravy on it, mashed potatoes with more gravy, stuffing, probably a little more gravy, cranberry sauce, and then black olives. I care mostly about the Costco pumpkin pie. Yes. Yes.

And sweet potato pie. I care about those two items. Yes. Toasted. Oh, that's mine and Monroe's. Like always adding extra marshmallows. Yeah. You guys do love marshmallows. Only in that setting. I don't care about marshmallows otherwise because I don't like s'mores, which I know somebody out there is gasping right now. Uh-huh.

So you have a charity announcement, and then we're off into the show. Yes, I do. Okay, so this month, you guys, you have helped us donate $13,000 to the Best Defense Foundation. It was founded by former NFL linebacker Donnie Edwards. The foundation honors and celebrates veterans from past conflicts.

and those who have recently retired the Foundation Works to take World War II vets back to the battlefields where they served. And if you have a few minutes, I cannot encourage you enough to watch the short video about this year's 80th anniversary D-Day trip to Normandy. I sobbed through the entire thing. A very good friend of ours, Jerome, is an incredible photographer, and he was hired to go with them. And so he was telling me cool stories about

Each of the, you know, old men. And I mean, it was just like, I don't know, it was a very special one for us. They emailed us and thanked us. So that's always really cool too. So good job, you guys. If you'd like to learn more, if you'd like to get involved with them, you can find them at bestdefensefoundation.org. And then on top of that, we put $1,400 into the scholarship fund for 2025. And

And just as we're going into this Thanksgiving time, Dan and I just want to give a quick special note of gratitude to all of you who are able to and continue to support us on Patreon. It's really cool. Our community has made it possible to donate to date $882,736 since the very first donation we made many moons ago. In 2025, if we continue at this pace, we will officially hit

$1 million in donations. And yeah, we're just continually in awe of you amazing humans who have touched the lives of so many others that you will never meet. Well done. Mom and dad are real proud of you. No, it's incredible.

How many stories do you have, Lindsay Lou? Well, Danny do. I have two stories. My first story will give us a time slip. Always weird, always strange, always freaks me out. Just doesn't make sense, and that's all I'm going to say there. And then my second story, a slightly more traditional tale of a dark, mysterious figure of sorts. Okay, okay. I have two stories. Not Thanksgiving related, but

But one does center around a family get-together, a funeral. So maybe it kind of makes it appropriate for this holiday. Absolutely not. Well, my second story revolves around a disturbing incident at a funeral. My first story is based in a haunted lore that surrounds Pennsylvania's currently abandoned Crescent Sanatorium. I will share the history of the sanatorium, some paranormal lore, and a very creepy modern encounter claim. Okay. Like very disturbing. So once you put on your spoopy socks –

Our pre-game tradition has been completed. I'll get started. Yeah. Okay. So I have my cute little fuzzy taco socks, like pink and yellow. They're adorable and very squishy and cozy. I'm going to strap those on and I'm ready to go. Tacos could easily become my favorite Thanksgiving food.

Okay. They're probably just my favorite food currently. It's always like, it used to be like spaghetti and tacos. Now it's just tacos? Now I think it's, tacos definitely have the edge. No red sauce. What if, what if I took a taco shell and stuffed it with like turkey? Like what if I made a Thanksgiving burrito? Ooh, that could be something. Okay. I'm going to think about that. It sounds crazy with the mashed potatoes and gravy, but I think it could be delicious. No, I think it could be, I think I could do it. And then you'd have to like almost get a panini press to like press it shut. Sounds fantastic. Okay. I'm on it.

Okay, the Crescent Sanatorium, aka the Lawrence Flick State Hospital, was an early 20th century medical facility located in the mountains near present-day Crescent, Pennsylvania. Locals called it the SAN.

The sanatorium was in operation for just over 50 years, from 1913 to 1964. It was built after the wife of B.F. Jones, a pioneer of iron and steel in Pittsburgh, good city for that, gifted her cottage to the state in 1910. Building plans for a sanatorium were accepted the same year. A year later, 1911, American steel tycoon Andrew Carnegie donated a tract of land for the sanatorium.

In its half-century of operation, the Crescent Sanatorium would house over 40,000 patients. It was meant to be a hospital and long-term residential care facility that could treat individuals and sometimes even entire families suffering from tuberculosis. Some stayed for years before they were released back into society, while others, of course, never left. And many of those who died at the facility were buried on a nearby hillside.

In 1964, while the sanatorium closed, the facility was still used for medical care. It became the Crescent State School and Hospital, a psychiatric facility. By this time, there was little need for sanatoriums because of new medications that can now effectively treat tuberculosis. In 1983, the Crescent State School and Hospital closed its doors for good after two decades of operation, and the facility was repurposed yet again.

Crescent was transferred to the Department of Corrections, and SCI Crescent, a medium security men's prison, opened its doors in 1987. SCI Crescent would shut down after 26 years of operation on June 30, 2013, due to the age of the facility and rising costs of maintenance. And now the grounds would remain completely vacant for the next six-plus years.

Then in late 2019, a company called Hydroponic Life took over the campus with plans to grow, produce, and develop sustainable energy projects.

projects that have yet to come to fruition. Hydroponic Life was hosting tours of the facility to make some money, but it seems that those have now come to an end at the time of this recording due to some sort of legal battle between the company and the owners of the property. Before being shut down, Crescent became a popular tourist attraction for paranormal explorers who believed the former hospital and prison to be extremely haunted, home to multiple spirits.

Former visitors and more recent trespassers alike have claimed to have seen apparitions and shadowy figures throughout the complex in recent years. Some have reported hearing phantom footsteps in Building F. Various ghost hunters have claimed to have captured EVPs during their visits or heard unexplained sounds in Building E. And a lot of visitors have felt like they were being watched or followed, especially those who have wandered into the former children's ward.

Many of those who have ventured in there have encountered childlike spirits, some seemingly harmless, but occasionally some who have been referred to as aggressive and seemingly intent on harming the living. There have even been claims of a malevolent spirit able to mimic sounds and voices. In what used to be the J Block of SCI Crescent, some female visitors have reported being touched by invisible hands or having their hair pulled.

Some worry that this entity is the ghost of serial killer Joseph Callenger, who murdered three people and tortured four families, and a man who made his 12-year-old son help commit some of the worst crimes. Callenger was once imprisoned in Crescent. Callenger, who was diagnosed with paranoid schizophrenia, experienced an extremely abusive childhood and sadly later inflicted that same type of abuse on others, abuse he was forced to endure as a child. One of the victims he killed was his own son.

In prison, Callenger attempted suicide multiple times, once tried to set himself on fire before finally dying of heart failure at SCI Crescent in March of 1996 at the age of 60. And his spirit allegedly haunts the high security wing, especially Building B, which previously housed prisoners in solitary confinement. As scary as Building B can be for ghost hunters or could be before they kind of shut down exploration, it's not seen as the scariest part of the old hospital.

That would be the tunnels. These are creepy. I'll have pictures later. Perhaps the biggest lure for brave ghost hunters at Crescent is the complex of tunnels between the prison chapel and several of the older buildings. These underground tunnels, completely dark with no lighting source. They were once open to the public a few years ago before being closed again in recent years due to the legal dispute, I'm guessing. But in just a few years, numerous stories of unexplained banging, knocking sounds, and sightings of entities have been shared publicly.

Some of these sightings revolve around the Creeper, a shadowy entity said to hide in the tunnels and attack random visitors. The following story comes from the days of SCI Crescent, when a former guard might have had an unfortunate or been an unfortunate victim of this evil entity. Here is our story told from their point of view. Time now for the tale of the Crescent Creeper. Don't go into the tunnels under SCI Crescent, or whatever it might be called now.

I wonder if most of the general public even knows about those tunnels. Just don't do it. You're probably wanting an explanation right about now, so I'll give it to you. In 1991, I was a fresh CO. I'd only been at SCI a few months, and I'd been working in the prison system for just over a year. I was finally at the point where I was pretty much familiar with the facility and no longer doubted myself when I needed to get from point A to point B.

I was definitely aware of the tunnels underneath the prison. I'd been shown the entrance during orientation, but I hadn't had the opportunity to do a full walkthrough. I was working night shift because I was a new guy. Low on the totem pole, and we were short-staffed that evening. Typical of most prisons, but this night was worse than the others. We had a couple COs come down with the flu. They'd been going around. Easy for that kind of thing to spread quickly in a confined prison environment. At the time, I thought I was lucky that I hadn't gotten sick, but now I wish I had.

Then I would have been at home, laying in bed instead of working. And maybe I could have avoided this whole thing, but I think it was fate. I think it would have just waited for me to come down later if it hadn't shown itself to me that night. I was watching cameras in the control room when it all started. I was bored. There really wasn't much to watch. The call for lights out had already come and gone.

I was monitoring one whole half of the facility, and another CO, Bill, was watching the other whole half. Not ideal, but that's where we were at that night. Just me and Bill, keeping an eye on everything. I remember being again bored, bored and tired, which is a bad combination for the night shift. I was struggling to stay awake and was downing styrofoam cups of the weak, bitter coffee they had for us every hour, it seemed. Bill and I were almost two hours into watching the cameras when one of the motion detectors in the tunnels went off. Immediate red flag.

There were no maintenance workers or janitors down there. They were all gone for the day. There wasn't supposed to be anyone down there at all. No guards or staff were ever stationed down there, and all the inmates were locked up for the night, which meant that whoever was down there wasn't supposed to be. Bill was looking at me when I turned my chair around. You got to check that out. One of us has to stay here and watch the cameras, he said. Bill had 20 years of experience on the job, so he obviously had seniority. But I didn't want to go into those creepy tunnels by myself. Hell no.

"'Without backup?' I asked. "'See if you can find someone doing the rounds on your way down there,' he said. "'And get going. We don't know if it's an escape attempt or what.' He was right. We didn't know. Could be bad, real bad. I jogged out of the control room, nervous as hell. Even though I'd had plenty of training and I'd handled myself well during an escape scenario before. At my old job, someone had tried to sneak out through a kitchen delivery truck. But this was different.'

I wasn't the one who caught them in the truck. I was just the guy who noticed they weren't where they were supposed to be. I'd never been the one to encounter and subdue an escapee. Now, as I ran to the tunnel entrance, I checked my surroundings for anything suspicious, and most importantly, for backup. But there was no one in sight. I wondered at first why there wasn't a bigger response, but then I remembered that the alarms would only go off throughout the entire prison if one of the exterior doors was open, without the control center's authorization.

After about a minute of running, I was opening the door to the tunnels. The fact that it was closed made me feel real nervous. Whoever had gone in had shut themselves inside. Another clue that they were up to no damn good. But if I wasn't going to go look for them in that moment, who was? A sense of duty forced me to open the door and step inside. And then I realized that I should have radioed for backup when I first started running towards the tunnel instead of just looking around for other COs. I guess I just forgot in the heat of the moment. Not good.

Once inside the tunnel, I clicked on my flashlight and began walking down the dark passageway. With my free hand, now I reached for the radio at my shoulder, but nothing happened. I clicked the button again, and there was a second of static, followed by silence. Now was not the time for my radio to stop working, I thought. Deciding to try again in a minute, I continued walking down the tunnel, sweeping my flashlight side to side. I didn't see anyone, and that meant that whoever triggered the alarm had moved deeper into the tunnels.

I tried my radio again. I wanted some help before I got in too deep myself. Motion detected in tunnel. CO Smith responding. I need backup. This time, it worked. A second later, my radio crackled. CO Jackson responding. Be there in a minute. Knowing help was on the way gave me the courage to keep going with a lot less dread. As I finished walking down that first long corridor, I heard and saw nothing. I didn't like how far into the tunnel I'd already gone by myself, but help was on the way.

I turned a corner, still didn't see anything ahead of me. But then I heard something behind me. Footsteps. Footsteps that had appeared out of nowhere. I really hoped it was Jackson, but something in my gut told me it wasn't. I jumped and turned around, my hand automatically reaching for my baton. What I saw made me pause. Actually, that's not the right word for it. What I saw made me just about shit myself. It wasn't like anything I had ever seen before or since. It was a tall figure, taller than me and I'm six feet.

It was made up of shadows. Not human, not animal, but shadows roughly in the shape of a man. I'm not a good enough writer to describe exactly how I started to feel. The longer I looked at this thing, but it felt evil. It felt like evil just radiated out from this thing. Its entire being felt like a threat, like it wanted to hurt me, kill me. Danger alarms are going off inside my mind, but I don't think I even thought about running. I didn't want to get fired for running away from a ghost, I guess, when I was supposed to be checking out a possible escape attempt.

I also didn't want to turn my back on this thing. So I decided to try and, I don't know, deal with the threat as confused as I was. Looking back, it doesn't make any sense. I guess my brain was pretty scrambled. The whole experience really shook me up. I wasn't prepared for it, like, at all. For some reason, I thought it would be a good idea at the time to speak to it like it was a human. Even though deep down I knew I was looking at nothing of this world. Put your hands up where I can see them. I ordered it. Now.

The shadow didn't move. Of course it didn't. I repeated the command, though. Get on your knees and put your hands where I can see them. I told you I wasn't thinking straight. It just stood there, not speaking, not moving. Hell, it didn't even look like it had a face or eyes to see. But it felt like it was taunting me, daring me to do something all the same.

My thoughts were all over the place. I was wondering where my backup was, and I was starting to look for an escape route too, but there wasn't a good one. The only option I could think of was to run past the shadow and go deeper into the tunnels, but I had a feeling it would follow me. I was also dealing with a bunch of fear that was threatening to take over my whole body. I just knew deep down that something really bad was about to happen to me. I ended up taking a step towards the shadow. I'm not entirely sure why. I think maybe I wanted to bluff it, make it think I wasn't scared of it,

but i was immediately pushed back by an invisible force i hit the ground hard got the wind knocked out of me the shadow then approached me taking slow silent steps i tried to crawl backwards tried to stand up but i found it impossible to move while i struggled to catch my breath it stood over me menacingly no i wheezed nothing was holding me down but my hands and legs felt pinned to the floor i heard my flashlight hit the floor and roll the lights scattering everywhere

Then the shadow vanished. And for a split second, I felt a wave of relief wash over me. But in an instant, a black cloud appeared in front of my face and suddenly I couldn't breathe. It felt like it was strangling me. I don't know how. It didn't have hands, but it was strangling me. I can't breathe. I can't breathe. I can't breathe. That was the only thought running through my mind.

Finally, when I started seeing black spots in my already limited vision, the invisible pressure released from my throat. I took in a gasping breath and watched as the shadow now began to float into my mouth. There was nothing I could do to stop it. It had made me so desperate for air, I had no choice but to breathe it in. The thing was crawling its way inside of me. No, no, no, no, no. My ability to move restored. I pushed myself up, gagging in disgust. I could feel it, a cold, smooth sensation going down my throat, settling inside of my stomach. I was too late. I couldn't breathe.

The darkness was inside of me now. Seconds later, my backup arrived, giving me no time to recover or process what I saw or felt. He found me sitting on my ass, hands to my throat. What the hell happened? The other CO, Jackson, asked. Don't tell, a little voice whispered inside my head. It felt like it wasn't my own. I fell, I said. Surprisingly, my voice wasn't rough from the prior strangulation. In fact, I noticed that my throat no longer hurt.

It was like it had never happened. I started to wonder if it had. Had I imagined the whole thing? Did I fall and hit my head? Jackson gave me a look over, looking concerned and said, get up, we got to clear the tunnel. I managed to push myself up and maintain some semblance of professionalism while Jackson and I walked the entire tunnel system. Unsurprisingly, we found nothing. We checked back in with the control center and learned no additional alarms had been tripped, which meant that the tunnel motion sensor had to have been a false alarm.

Although I was no longer in pain, I didn't feel right as I settled back into my chair to watch the monitors. I was nauseous, deeply unsettled by the encounter in the tunnels. I still wasn't sure if it was real. I checked the back of my head. No tenderness or lumps. It certainly felt real. I couldn't stop replaying the memory of that shadowy thing slithering inside of me. I was glad when my shift was over and I could step into the warmth of the morning sun. I tried my best not to think about what happened as I drove home, which was impossible.

I had the next night off, and I was thankful I wouldn't have to go back to work right away. Some time away would help me process and figure out if I really saw the shadow in the tunnels, or if it was just some head injury-induced hallucination. Surprisingly, my sleep was undisturbed by nightmares or visions of the shadow. It was the next night that things went wrong. I didn't pull all-nighters on my days off, but I did stay up later than normal since my body was used to the weird schedule. Around 1 a.m., I was watching a movie in my living room when I heard a noise outside.

I lived in an area with a bit of a higher crime rate, so I was instantly on high alert. The noise came from the window directly behind my couch. It sounded like someone was trying to lift it up, but couldn't because it was locked. I couldn't afford a fancy security system, but I had installed a few motion detector lights around my house, and none of them had gone off. I peeked through a small gap in the blinds, didn't see anything. I was still on edge, but I tried my best to shrug it off and get back to my movie. At 3 a.m., I decided it was time to get some sleep. I wanted to enjoy my day before my shift started.

I managed to fall asleep pretty quickly, but didn't stay asleep very long. I woke up to the sensation of being choked again. My throat was blocked by something. I sat up and tried to cough to get whatever it was out, but nothing was happening. I still couldn't breathe. Had I choked on my own saliva? That's what I wondered, but I've never woken up from doing that before. I, of course, thought about the shadow, how I'd somehow consumed it. Was it happening again?

I'd hoped I'd imagined that, but now I knew it was real. I genuinely thought I was going to die, sitting in my bed in the middle of the night, completely alone. After several panicked moments of clawing at my throat, trying to somehow get myself to Heimlich maneuver, anything to restore my breathing, the problem fixed itself, just not in any way I'd hoped for. My mouth opened of its own volition, and my heart dropped, terror overwhelming my system, as I saw the black shadowy thing float out of my mouth now and into my room, somehow darker than the pitch black surroundings.

All I could do was watch this thing as it turned back into the shape of a man and began walking like a sentient being out of my room, shutting the door behind it. I heard human-like footsteps walk down the stairs and out the front door. I was so confused, so overwhelmed by terror and emotion that my mind just shut down and I guess I fell back asleep. It felt more like I passed out though. I didn't wake up until noon, feeling like I was hungover, even though I hadn't drank a sip of alcohol.

Definitely something to consider.

I've read a lot of other people's stories about encountering something paranormal, and they almost all wonder that if they've gone crazy, that someone that they thought that didn't make me feel better, though. We can't we could all be going crazy, I guess, couldn't we? Some of us had to really experience something. I think what if I was one of those people? My next shift passed uneventfully. I was on edge big time, but nothing happened. No weird shadows, no strange sounds.

I went back home without making any stops after my shift was done. I did my normal after work routine of checking the mail, unpacking my bag, leaving my belt, boots and hat by the front door and then heading upstairs to shower. I looked down at the sink while I was brushing my teeth. When I looked up, I saw that thing standing behind my reflection in the mirror. It didn't move, didn't do anything really, but I felt the evil emanating from it. The thing wanted to do me harm. It hated me, even though I had done nothing to it.

This thing had the power to paralyze me. I was forced to stand there and watch, toothbrush still in hand, as the shadowy thing lifted its arms and wrapped its dark hands around my neck. It didn't squeeze. It was like it was letting me know what was coming. Like without words, it was telling me, I'm going to kill you. You just won't know when. And then it disappeared. And this time it didn't try to get back into my body. That was the last time I've seen the shadow. But I don't think it's gone. I think it's still here. I just haven't seen it recently.

I think it's haunting me. I hear it. I hear something every night, different times, different places, but I feel like it always comes. Some nights it's just outside my house. Other nights I hear it inside, upstairs or right outside my bedroom door. I hear it knocking on doors and windows, walking outside on the gravel, twisting a doorknob, but it doesn't pull. It's like it always is letting me know it's here. So I can't ever get comfortable. So I'm always a bit scared. And I worry that one day it's going to appear before me again. And this time it'll kill me. Just like it said.

For now, the shadow and I are playing this strange game of cat and mouse. I finally stopped doubting reality and accepted that it is very real. It has to be, or else I'm going crazy and I'm probably going to die for some other reason. I decided that I was going to write down what happened to me so that maybe someone could find out the truth someday. It's the middle of the night as I'm writing this. The shadow was right outside my bedroom door. I know it. It knocked a few minutes ago, but now it's silent. I know it's waiting for me to walk out.

I'm going to try and get a priest to come over and bless my place. And if that doesn't work, I guess I'll try something else. I'm posting this now in case something happens to me. So someone will know what happened. I'll post updates and let you know what finally worked, if anything ever works. That post was put up over two years ago in August of 2022, and they never updated it. It's like a vessel. Uh-huh. I don't really know that I can recall any stories where something has gone inside of someone and

traveled with them to a new location, and then come out. Yeah, I feel like early, early on, like in the first six months of telling stories, I want to say maybe the LaChance house, LaChance mansion, something like that. It's in Missouri. Yeah, LaChance family mansion. Uh-huh. I thought...

That the shadowy entity went in somebody in that story perhaps, or at least like started to. And I feel, I feel like there's at least been another story where the person claimed that something started to kind of go in their mouth and maybe they like coughed it up or got it out.

Yeah, I mean, I definitely have heard stories of entities entering someone. I just find it fascinating that it entered and then exited. Yeah, yeah, yeah. And then, you know, it's like, okay, entered at the sanitarium. Oh, yeah, yeah, yeah. And now then went home with this person and then was regurgitated. Yep. And now is just stuck, attached, dead.

Because what's tricky for me about this is that it doesn't feel like this person, like, I mean, yes, you could try like the priest route, the blessing route, all of that. What I don't think would work is getting the fuck out. I think that thing is attached to them. To that person, yeah. And that is a terrible feeling. So hopefully it's a creepypasta. Otherwise, this person might be dead.

Sorry for them. Yeah, yeah, yeah. It'd be a terrible way to go. I have some photos, not of the encounter, anything related to that, but of the facility. And yeah, it does look like a place where I tried to find out if a horror movie had been filmed in it already. Yeah. And I couldn't quickly figure that out on the web. Maybe it has, but not from what I could tell. But man, something should be filmed there. This first one, old black and white photo, exact date unknown from the days when the facility was a sanatorium.

This photo and almost all the others I'll be showing are from PABucketlist.com, this website dedicated to, quote, exploring the natural and man-made wonders of Pennsylvania. I like that it looks like Paw Bucket. Yeah, Paw Bucket. Exactly. Paw Bucket. Oh, Paw Bucket. You know Paw.

This next photo is a recent photo of the main entrance. So, okay. The grass is dead. Of course, it's going to look a little creepy because it's abandoned. Sure, but I mean it doesn't look that bad. It looks like it could be like a really beautiful resort if they did it. Especially with that first photo, that aerial where you can see all the different buildings. Oh, yeah. There's a lot. It kind of reminds me of like the – oh, at – oh, my God. National Park. National Park.

Yellowstone. Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh. The design of the actual main building. Uh-huh. That like huge. Yeah. The Lodge Hotel. Yeah. Yeah. This next one here is a, this is an exam room. Nope. Don't like this. Yeah. It's in an old medical building. It's the Haunted Crescent Sanatorium. Why is it that anytime there is an abandoned medical room, it's always the gynecological. Oh yeah. Those chairs like with the stirrups. Yes. So disturbing. It's so creepy.

I just want you to know that they still essentially look like that. That's such a creepy. I mean, I get the functionality of it, but ugh. Right. Right. But ugh. Yeah. Yeah. It doesn't seem that all of the old sanatorium was converted into the prison. Some buildings, but not all. Yeah. Here's some of the old prison, though. This next picture is one of the abandoned cell blocks. Which, you know, those also prisons are inherently creepy. Even when they're not haunted. Just like just the fact, just thinking about like being in there.

But I bet that they are all haunted though, which is something that have heavy energy at the very least.

This next one is a picture of one of the underground tunnels. I mean, just imagine walking down that thing in the dark. I'm creeped out just looking at this tunnel right now. I know because like the way it bends around the corner. Just enough out of your sight line. Like they have a flashlight, you can tell. But obviously the flashlight, because of the bend, just is consumed by the darkness down there. So disturbing. And then one more tunnel photo from Reddit. It is so creepy. So creepy. Like something out of a horror movie.

Yeah, this whole place. They should just – this company that bought it, they should just build it out for movies. Yeah, something. Yeah, I don't know. I don't know if Pennsylvania has the tax credit, but they should work real hard, get the tax credit, set this up, and this could be any backlot. Like you could do so much with that. Yeah, it's too bad they don't own it. I don't understand fully what the legal dispute is, but there's a website. You can go to – and it's like they kind of mention –

that they are in disputes with this. It sounds like they want to do some paranormal like tours and stuff with it again. And I don't know why the, the owners are not letting them. Who knows? Sure. It comes down to money. Doesn't it always the, when you were first talking about that company that bought it, like some sort of like hydroponic, I was like,

Oh, you're just going to grow a ton of weed there. I know. I was like, when they said what they're doing, I'm like, huh, that's not what I expected. I expected them to just be growing a ton of weed. I don't know that I believe them. So maybe that's the dispute. Yeah. Maybe they're claiming, we're going to do all these environmental things. And they're like, no, you're just going to grow a ton of weed there. I also don't know if weed is legal in Pennsylvania. Yeah, I should have looked. I don't know. I don't know. That would be a huge determining factor. Okay. Are you ready to move on to the next story? I am.

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 the episodes ad-free, bonus episodes, and more. The holiday shopping frenzy is upon us. What are you planning to get your favorite people? I hope you're keeping in mind that what most people really want is to be together and share in special memories. And even if you can't be together, you can still give them your smiling face on an Aura digital picture frame. Named

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Thanks for listening to our sponsor deals, Kreefs and Peepers. No setup for the second story. I'm just going to dive right into this shorter encounter claim. Let's go. Time now for the tale of Don't Take Me to the Graveyard.

My mom died five years ago, but that's not really what the story is about. Well, I guess it kind of is, but only adjacently. Her death, you could say, was the indirect catalyst of whatever happened, but not necessarily where it began, if that makes sense. I think it will once you hear the story. I'll just tell it.

My mom, Sharon, died of lung cancer in 2019, which was a surprise to no one. She was a serial chain smoker and generally had zero regard for her health and well-being or the health and well-being of the people around her, for that matter. She was just a stagnant, unchanging monolith of a presence. She wasn't really a force of nature because, honestly, she didn't care enough about anyone, including her children, to do anything that would impact their lives in any way.

but she also would rather die than allow someone to do anything that would impact her life in any way. A simpler way of saying that, I guess, is she was selfish and stubborn as hell, and in the end, that's what killed her. Her funeral was bleak, but not because anyone was all that sad about old Sharon's death, to be honest. It was bleak because no one was, including me, her only surviving child.

There were no floods of brokenhearted tears or speeches uttered through sobs. There were no stories exchanged about how funny or witty or kind or generous she was because she wasn't any of those things. She's my mother and she's dead. And I know a lot of people think you shouldn't speak ill of the dead, but I bet none of those people knew my mom. She was a bitch and now she was gone.

The funeral was honestly pretty pointless. If it were up to me, I wouldn't have even had one. But my mom was an administrator at this crumbling church for over 45 years, so the other church people expected it. They planned and hosted the funeral for her, even though I know for a fact everyone there, except maybe the pastor, thought she was a bitch too. I guess he did it out of some sense of compliance with church policy or something.

Anyway, there were only about a dozen people present at the funeral. The pastor, some of my mom's co-workers, her physical therapist, Janice, and me, my husband, Harry, and our four-year-old son, Hudson. No one cried. No one even sniffled, not even Hudson. We just ran through the motions of it. The pastor gave a speech where he just kind of listed the most basic information about my mother possible. She was born here. She was married there. She had three kids. Her job was this, yada, yada, yada.

Said a brief prayer that I didn't listen to. Well, actually, I couldn't listen to it, even if I wanted to, because while the holy man was offering my mom up to the heavens or whatever, Hudson started freaking out. He had been sitting patiently on my lap, messing with the plastic truck I had given him to keep him preoccupied. And then out of nowhere, he started sobbing uncontrollably, pushing me away, kicking the air around us like he was fighting something off and screaming at me to let him go. I told him, shh, everything was okay. He needed to be quiet, but he just kept on screaming like a banshee.

I looked at my husband Harry for help, but no offense to him, he was fucking useless. He just whispered to Hudson, come on buddy, it's quiet time. Then returned his attention to the pastor. Harry's words didn't do dog shit to calm Hudson down, so I scooped him up and walked a little ways away. Based on everyone's stares, it was the right call. I listened to the rest of the pastor's dull speech while standing under a nearby tree, just close enough for me to make out what he was saying, but far enough away for Hudson's outburst to not be too distracting.

which now that I think about it is kind of insane. She was my mother. I shouldn't have been worried about what anyone was feeling but me.

Even if my mom was a grade-A asshole, she was still my mom, and Hudson was still her grandson. So now, while half listening to the funeral proceedings, I did my best to comfort my son and get him to calm down. But nothing, and I mean nothing, worked. He just kept screeching and crying and kicking. He was inconsolable, which wasn't all that unusual for him, but still overwhelming. I love that boy more than humanly possible, but Jesus Christ, can he throw the mother of all tantrums.

When he was really little, he would sometimes cry so hard that he would pass out, like he would actually lose consciousness for a second or two. His little face would turn blue and his eyes would lull to the back of his head. And then I would scream. It was absolutely horrifying. But the doctor said that it was normal and that I didn't need to worry because his body would take over and make him breathe again. And to the doctor's credit, he was right, but still absolutely horrifying.

Anyway, Hudson eventually stopped passing out when he cried, but his tantrums were still just as aggressive and extreme. And they happened often. When he went to bed, sometimes when he woke up, sometimes when it was time for dinner, when it wasn't time for dinner, when I made him wear shoes, when I made him take off his shoes, when I gave him the milk he asked for, when I wouldn't let him shove his finger in the electrical socket. You get the idea. His tantrums were frequent, so I got pretty used to them.

But this one, on that day, was different. "'Get off! Off! No, no, no! Off me! Off me! Off me! No! No! Don't touch me! Don't touch me!' He wailed through guttural sobs. I was so confused. He had to be talking to me, begging me to get off of him, because there was no one else touching him. No one else even near him. But it didn't seem like he was talking to me. I don't know how to explain it. I was struck with a strange feeling that my son didn't even know I was with him, like he had been taken somewhere else, even though he was right there in my arms.'

Not knowing what else to do, I did as he said, gently placed him on the grass, releasing him from my grip. But no sooner did I pull back my hands did he start screaming louder, protesting more vehemently, crying with more violence and pain than I'd ever seen him in. He was still begging, but this time for me. Mama, mama, mama! He screamed in agony while clawing at my legs, looking at the empty space over his shoulder like something was after him. I started to cry. I didn't know what was happening.

Flustered and sad and angry, not at Hudson, but at the world, I decided to leave. Not caring how crazy I seemed, I shouted, Harry, we have to leave. The pastor stopped talking. Everyone was looking at us. The sad sea of bored eyes, the faces of people who would mourn my mother out of obligation, but never miss her. I couldn't blame them. I wasn't going to miss her either, but still, it enraged me in the moment. I called to Harry again. I'll meet you in the car! And practically ran towards the parking lot, across the graves of strangers who no one would ever miss.

Eventually, Hudson did calm down and Harry quickly forgave me for interrupting the funeral. After all, he couldn't be that mad at me given it was my mom's funeral, not his. The death of my mom sort of faded into static now, her background noise, like a ringing in my ear. It was there, but not really there. Distinct enough for me to notice it from time to time, but not loud enough for it to really upset my day. Fast forward to a couple months later, to what would have been my mom's 65th birthday. I told Harry that I wanted to go see my mom's grave. I hadn't been there since the funeral.

and I felt like maybe I should bring some flowers or something. He agreed, and we loaded Hudson up into the back of the car and headed towards the cemetery. Throughout the entire ride over there, Hudson was enraptured in a pop-up book about different types of airplanes and trains and cars, so he was quiet as a church mouse. But as soon as we pulled into the parking lot and he realized where we were, he burst out into tears. No, Mommy! No, Daddy! I don't want to go! I don't want to see Grandma! He screamed, flailing his little arms and legs in his car seat.

"'It's important that we visit Grandma, honey,' I told him. "'Today would have been her birthday. No, no, no, no, no!' He shrieked some more. When Harry parked, I got out of the car and opened the door to Hudson's seat. He looked at me with his gigantic bug eyes filled with bloated tears, his lower lip jutting outwards in a gut-wrenching pout. "'Please, Mom, I don't want to see Grandma! I don't want to be grabbed!' He whimpered. "'You don't want who to grab you, honey?' "'Us? Me and Daddy?' I asked. "'No!' he said. "'Them!'

He pointed to the graveyard behind me. I turned around and it was empty. There wasn't a soul to be seen. I looked back at Hudson, alarmed and confused. Honey, there's nobody there. He shook his head no and pointed again at the same spot in the empty field of graves behind me. People, Mama, the people from Grandma's funeral is too crowded. There's too many. Don't you see them?

My mind racing, I swirled back around and took a few steps towards the empty graveyard, straining my eyes to see what Hudson saw, looking for whatever it was that he was mistaking for a crowd of people. But there was nothing, no one, just grave after grave after grave. Then I saw it, or her rather, a woman slouching and petite, so faint and gray she looked like a gravestone herself. She was standing under the tree I had taken Hudson to during the funeral, and she was familiar. I knew that bony frame, that scowl, that contempt that radiated off of her.

I shouted. She didn't answer. Mom! I screamed this time, but she didn't move. I looked over my shoulder at Hudson. He was crying. Harry was looking at me like I was insane. I started, don't you see her? She's right there. I looked back to the tree. The figure was gone. The graveyard was empty. I dropped the flowers on the pavement where I stood and walked silently back to the car. I don't know who was more relieved, Hudson or me. Ugh. Ugh.

I see dead people. Seriously. Yeah, yeah. This is a baby Haley Joel Osmond. I know.

Oh, man, that's so creepy. I've been to plenty of funerals and that has never happened. Thank goodness. Oof. Yeah, it wouldn't be – if you actually somehow could see spirits easily. Yeah. That would – unless you really were comfortable with it. Graveyard would be the worst for you. Yeah, it would be the worst for you unless you somehow truly made your peace with like, yeah, just like I see living people out in public and now I see these people too. But even if you did, I'm sure it would simply be overwhelming and exhausting. I would think.

Probably just like, oh, okay. Also, I guess like how many of them would be hanging around? That's always a weird thing. I don't know. I don't know the rules. Right. Some of them probably moved on. I hope so for their peace. I have no pictures attached to this story. Yeah. But I just Googled bitch, mom, ghost in graveyard. Bitch, mom, ghost in graveyard. Nice. Just to see what would come up.

And a pretty funny meme tweet from rel90 from 2019. It's a pic of a really creepy cemetery for everyone listening. And again, you can look at these pictures, Scared to Death podcast, Instagram or Facebook. But it's a pic of this really creepy cemetery and some ghost woman holding a toy bunny. And rel asks –

They offered you $80 an hour to clean the cemetery alone, 10 p.m. to 5 a.m. Y'all taking the job? Absolutely not. Right. That's most people. But then user xboville replies, $80 an hour? You got me fucked up if you think I'm going to refuse that. Shit, I'm making sure each one of those tombs are spotless with the finest holy water. Annabelle trying to visit her friend? Aisle 6, row 3, bro. I might get haunted, but I'm leaving every shift in a Bentley with Casper and his homies in the back.

I just thought, just cracked me up when I saw that. I mean, that's...

It's good money. Yeah. You know, so. I love, because there is always that person who's like, I don't give a shit. Well, yeah, there's a person who just is like. They don't care about ghosts. Yeah, or they don't see them or they don't believe in it. Like, they just have no fear around it. Yeah. You know, good for them. The people who impress me are the people who claim the most, or the people who impress me the most, if this is real, where they're like, oh, yeah, I see them and it doesn't bother them. Like, they could go into a haunted place knowing they're going to see something and be like, eh.

Okay. I think, you know, we all grow comfortable with certain things. So it's like if you had been seeing dead people, spirits, ghosts, what have you, your entire life. The shock is one off. Yeah. And you just kind of accept like, yeah, no, this is just the way I am, you know, like

You're short-tempered. You like spicy food. I don't know, whatever, like all the things. You get motion sickness. You see dead people. Yeah. You're just like, well, that's just a part of me and my personality. That's who I am. You're like Winona Ryder's character in the Beetlejuice movies. Totally. That was so good. You did such a good job with that. I did. The sequel was fun. Yeah, I thought so too.

I thought so too. Well, before I dive into my juiciness, I did just want to offer more thanks to everyone who supported The Giving Tree this year. We're honored to be the stewards of your generosity. At the time of recording this, the families are all signed up. So thank you. That process is always a bit stressful. I understand that. We will aim to find an even less stressful way for next year, but this was the most efficient year so far.

We will be helping out and supporting 97 children this year. Oh my gosh, wow. Yeah, the Patreon numbers for December are not in yet, so I don't have a complete picture of our financials. However, I do know that at...

uh, the time of recording this, that the fans have donated, donated an additional $11,500, which puts you and I honey on the hook for 11,005. And I estimate that we'll have about 12,000 from Patreon. So, you know, somewhere in that like 35 to 40,000 by the time it's all said and done. Um,

So I just, you know, so grateful that we get to do this. And, um, yeah, thank you all for stepping up to the plate for the $5 donations, the $10 donations. There were people who donated gobs of money that I'm just like, I don't even understand how you're doing that. So, um,

Yeah, just really grateful for everybody who gave up their coffee or made an even bigger sacrifice that they were able to do what they could and they chose to support this community. Yeah, yeah. It's a very cool thing that you guys do. Yeah, it's such a beautiful thing. You'll never know each other in all likelihood, and there's a certain –

I don't know. There's a certain beauty and humanity in that that I love. Mm-hmm. Okay. Good job spearheading that. Lindsay does a lot of work behind the scenes on that kind of stuff. I pretty much focus on, honestly, just basically just the content. And everything else that goes on here, that's Lindsay Liu. Oh, thanks, baby. Mm-hmm. I love you. Love you. I'll even make out with you later. All right. All right. Okay.

Okay. You ready for a very strange tale about losing time? Yeah. Yeah. Let's go. I know. I'm sorry. That losing time. Earlier, we didn't need to say this, but we had to start the recording over. I had the craziest deja vu I've ever had on the show where Lindsay's initial announcements and just the whole start of the show, I felt so strongly like I'd heard all of it before.

It was the weirdest feeling right down to, she's like, I get a little teary eyed talking about this. And I'm like, what is happening? Yeah. I was watching your face and you were like, you looked like you were about to have a panic attack. Uh-huh. I'm like, how have I been here before? And then, and then we went and listened to like the old episodes before starting to record again. Like, cause I was, I was a hundred percent convinced that,

that she had already done the opening. As far as the charity announcement, all of that, none of that happened. And so then when you said time slip in the story, I was like, ah, no. We just had one of those stories. I don't want to think about that anymore. Okay, actually though, because, okay, I know it's sort of a little bit of a joke with us that I am the person who will confidently say things like, nope, the store is over here on the right. And like, that's just kind of how I live life. Like I'm very confident all the time, even if I don't know the truth. I wonder if it's like a weird thing

like very quick slip where like a part of me has been here before, knows this. Like I slip into a different timeline where I think I'm talking about something else because then we'll get to said place and be like, oh, I guess it wasn't right. But in my brain, just so you know, like I'll be sitting there going like, I swear to God, I've been here before. I don't know. That stuff, I worry that even like thinking about it too much is just gonna make me just go crazy. Okay, well, let's focus on somebody else's strange experience.

Hi, Dan and Lindsay. Hello. Love the pod and can't wait to have you fill my morning commutes with hair-raising horror when new episodes drop. Keep them coming. Thank you. Now on to my creepy ass story. This story happened when I was 13 years old in the summer of 1984. I was one, just for anybody who's keeping track. I was 25. Oh, my God. No, I was seven. Creep. I was seven. I know. Well, at a time when my family lived in rural northeast Utah—

My best friend Joe and I planned on going fishing at a pond that was not too far from either of our houses. I finished up my chores for the day, packed some supplies in my backpack, grabbed my fishing pole, and hopped on my BMX bike for the meetup.

I had been gifted my first watch for Christmas that past December, and I loved it, so I wore it everywhere, checking it frequently. It was 12.48 p.m. when I met up with Joe. Together, we biked down the back roads to what was known as Montez Creek. We found the trail leading to the pond, turned off, and biked through the trees.

All the local kids knew about Montez Creek and would visit there often. We were hoping no one else was there so as to not ruin the fishing. Although we joked that we would not mind running into the Johnson sisters who lived nearby should they decide to show up and go swimming.

We made our way through the trails until we reached the south-each edge of the pond. This side was best for fishing because the trees grew right up to the edge of the pond and provided shade both for fish and fishermen. Today, the warm sun was out and the sky was crystal clear. We dropped our bikes by the trail and made our way down to the water's edge. From here, we could see the whole pond. The pond was almost perfectly round and maybe 100 yards across, surrounded by trees.

On the northern shore was a grassy, clearing, and dirt shore where most visitors would go to swim and lay in the sun. But today, there wasn't a soul in sight. Not a sound of civilization could be heard. It was perfect. Joe and I dropped our packs and our fishing rods, and in no time we had scavenged up a respectable pile of earthworms and grasshoppers for our bait. We took up our spots about 20 feet apart and began casting out into the dark, cool waters."

This particular spot was great for fishing. There were no large fish in this pond, certainly nothing you'd want to keep or even try to eat, but it was great fun because it never took long before you'd have a bite, reel it in, and examine your catch before tossing it back in the water. Rippin' lips, as Joe liked to call it when the fishing was good. We had a good time jawing and laughing about summer, girls, and fishing. It was 1.32 when we decided to have a snack.

I retrieved a soda that I'd put in the water to keep cool and a candy bar for my backpack while Joe popped handfuls of sunflower seeds into his mouth.

He chewed on them, separating the meat from the shells and then spit out the shell, keeping his hands free so he could continue to fish. I popped open the soda and had just taken a sip when I heard Joe shush me from his spot to my right. I looked over to him, and he was looking over his shoulder away from me, one hand signaling for me to be still. He turned back to me with a concerned look.

"'Did you hear that?' he asked, scanning the trees curiously. "'Oh, that was me opening my soda,' I answered. "'But it took me—' "'But his look told me it was most certainly not my soda. "'No,' he said in a hushed tone. "'I heard something over there.' "'He turned away, indicating the trees to his right.'

We sat still and listened, but there was only regular soft sounds of the forest in summer. A bird, a bug, a breeze. After a tense moment, I asked, what did it sound like?

I don't know, it sounded kind of like a growl, like it was just like clicking, he said. Joe and his family were lifelong country folk, so for him to not be able to identify a sound was unusual, and it put me more than a little on edge. Joe shook off his concern and turned back to the fishing. I sat my soda down beside me and cast out a line into the water again. We tried to resume fishing, but there was definitely an uneasy vibe now.

A flock of small birds took wing from the trees about 40 yards to my left. They bolted from the treetops all at once, as if something had spooked them from their perches. I scanned through the trees to my left, looking for some sign of whatever had spooked them, but I did not see or hear anything.

"'That was weird,' I said. "'I bet somebody's out here trying to mess with us.' I turned back to Joe for confirmation and found him standing perfectly still, fishing rod in hands, mouth slightly agape, eyes locked upwards above the pond. "'Joe?' I asked meekly. "'You all right?'

"'He did not move or answer, "'but his right hand slowly unwrapped from its fishing pole, "'his index finger straightened out and pointed upwards. "'There, above the pond, was the flock of birds "'flying together in a tight formation. "'Check that out,' I whispered to myself.'

I had never seen anything like it. The flock dove and rose, churned and swirled in and around itself in intricate patterns, never getting too far from each other, never crossing the edges of the pond. It was as if the birds were caught in a bubble. It was mesmerizing, hypnotic even. I don't know how long we watched the birds in this crazy flight, but at some point, everything went gray, and then it went black.

I regained consciousness to find myself lying on my back on the ground not far from where I had been standing. I was immediately aware of several distressing sensations all at once.

The first was that I was out of breath, heaving in mouthfuls of air. My heart was pounding and I was breathing so hard I felt like I might throw up. The other sensation I became aware of was my face and arms were hot, like I'd been lying in the sun despite having been in the shade. I sat up and looked around. My fishing pole was lying on the ground by the waterline and my soda and backpack were exactly where I had left them.

Fighting a bit of vertigo and trying to slow my breathing, I got up and went towards the soda, thinking a cool drink would be helpful. I picked up the can and took a big mouthful, but the soda was hot and completely flat. I spit it out and knelt by the edge of the water to splash cool water on my face. The confusion began to dissipate as my breathing slowed. I checked my watch. 1.53. Huh. It felt like it was so much later.

I called out, suddenly realizing that I was alone. Joe, where are you? I stumbled over to where Joe had last been and found his fishing pole and backpack lying there. But no Joe. I was starting to panic when I spotted him lying on the ground about 30 feet away. I rushed to him. Joe was curled up on his right side, almost in a fetal position. I dropped down beside him, calling his name and shaking him awake. His eyes fluttered open, and then he sat bolt upright in a panic.

It was in this instance that I noticed that Joe's jeans were soaking wet. Not damp, but sopping. Like he had literally just walked out of the pond.

But it was only his jeans that were wet, not his shoes nor his shirt. His jeans squished with every movement he made and water began to pool in the dirt beneath him. He had to be 40 feet from the water's edge and there was no sign of water leading up to him like it would have if he had walked out of the pond. It was almost like he had been plucked from the water and plopped down there.

Joe's panic got the best of him, and he crab-walked away from me for a few feet before rolling over onto his hands and knees and vomiting. When he was done, he rolled back over onto his butt and looked back at me. The panic had subsided, and confusion was setting in. His bottom lip quivered as he ran his hands across his chest and legs, as if checking to see if all of him were intact. "'Are you all right?' I asked. Joe's eyes looked me over quickly, then began scanning the floor's...

"'I don't know,' he muttered. "'What happened?' "'I definitely don't know,' I answered. "'Did you get in the water?' "'Joe looked at his wet jeans and backed me, but I could tell he had no answers. "'He placed his palms on the ground and took a couple of deep breaths, steadying himself.'

Without saying anything, he got up to his feet and urgently began gathering his things. The urge to get the fuck out came over me as well, and I quickly followed suit. In short order, we were back on our bikes and pedaling hard to get out of the trees and back to the main road.

Joe raced ahead of me the whole way, and when we got to my house, he just kept pedaling without looking back. I know he was scared. So was I. But not getting the chance to talk about it made it that much more disturbing for me. I dropped my bike in the yard and went in the house. Just inside our front door hung a large oval mirror. I stopped and stared at my sunburned face for a moment, wondering how I could have gotten so burned when I was not directly in the sun.

The next thing I noticed was the clock in the kitchen, which read 5.17 p.m. I looked back to my watch and almost cried when I saw that my watch read 2.38 p.m.

I tried to talk to Joe about it the next time I saw him, but aside from saying, yeah, that was fucking weird, he was adamant that he did not want to talk about it. He got angry when I asked any questions, so I never brought it up to him again. Joe and I grew apart after that. He mostly stayed at home, and then about a year later, his family moved away, and I never saw nor heard from him again.

I'm now in my 50s, and this has been the most disturbing event of my life. I tried to tell some people about it when I was young, but it seemed like no one took me seriously. And then, when I got older, it just sounded too unbelievable. I have thought about it a lot and done some research, but there are no answers that make sense.

I now know the birds flying in a weird pattern is called mermation. So that's a real thing. I guess the sunburn could have been caused by the sun's reflection off the pond. So that's possibly real. But the rest of it, I cannot explain.

Both of us losing consciousness, Joe's wet pants, me being out of breath, and most disturbing, the three-hour gap in time captured by my watch. I'll leave the speculation up to you, my fellow creeps and peepers. Thanks for letting me share my experience. Rich. Oh, man, Rich, that is such a good story. Isn't it great?

I mean, I think partially like why I especially love that one is I relate to it so much. Yeah. Where, you know, he's a tiny bit older than me, but not much older than me. You're 25, right? And where he was living in rural northeast Utah and the scene he painted, I'm like, oh, my God, that's like my childhood. Totally. Going out with a buddy to go fishing. I mean, we had the river, not the pond, but it's like whatever. It's all kind of like. It's all kind of the same.

Yeah. All the same. It's like the same vibe. And what detail like really resonated with me was the watch because, you know, like, okay, like our kids have watches, but they're definitely just fashion accessories. Yes. There's no, because everybody has their phone on them. You don't need a watch for the time, you know, like so many people have like Apple watches or whatever now, which are more of a computer than a watch. But I remember that when he was talking about like the BMX bike and going with his buddy Joe down to the fishing pond and he had just gotten a watch for Christmas and

Oh, man, Rich, I wonder if you picked out that watch, I would guess, in either Sears or JCPenney catalog. Probably. Probably. And I just remember those days where, like, when you get your first watch in that era, it is actually comparable to how people feel now as kids when they get their first phone. I would completely agree. You know, it's just a very...

It's like a little marker of a passage into a different phase of your life where it's like, I don't have to ask my parents what time it is. I don't have to ask friends. Like, I get to go mess around in the woods. And when my grandma or mom want me back by 6 p.m., I can do that now. Yeah, I think it's – It's like you get more autonomy. That's right. Yeah. It's a new level of independence. Yep. And so when he was talking about like, you know, at 1.32, we had our snack.

And he referenced like other times. And then 153, you know, is when my watch was saying we were – that was after the whole phenomena of losing consciousness and everything. And it didn't feel right. I 100% believe that he was checking his watch and knew the time down to the minute. Yes. Because that's what you did at that age. 1,000%. I had the same feelings and thoughts. Yeah. And just the way that story – I'm like that was – I mean –

Whatever. It's not like I know Rich any more than I know anybody else who's ever sent in a story here or any of the stories I've found. You sent this story. You are Rich. I am Rich.

for some reason on like a gut level that is like the most credible alien abduction lost time story oh you think aliens okay to me i'm like oh yep 100 that was a ufo incident maybe it's on my mind now more because like there was some more pentagon things recently oh my god i don't want to talk about it i saw the headlines and i'm refusing to learn about it i don't please don't okay well i'll just i'm not gonna say details you can have your own bonus episode where you talk

about it, but I don't want to talk about it. It feels more real than ever. Stop. Okay. But with, so that in my brain, it's like, and then with the watch and just the way the story, and then we're going home and be like, my watch said 2.38, but the clock said, I wrote these notes at 5.17.

Yeah. I'm like, if that happens to me and he's what he said, he's like 50 or early fifties. Yeah. Early fifties. Uh-huh. Where it's like, it is the craziest thing that has still ever happened. It's like, yeah, I bet. Uh-huh. He, man, Rich, you for sure were encountered in my mind. I. 100%. I. I mean, I shouldn't say 100% because I don't know, but 99, whatever, 99%. Yeah. As, as a.

Emphatically, as you can believe somebody, you believe him. Yep. Yeah. You know, I don't know why I don't immediately... Well, that's not true. I do know why I don't immediately jump to UFO because I don't want it to be real. You don't want it to be true. I don't want it to be true. So I'm just like, oh, that's weird. I wonder what happened. And then I just kind of move on. Yeah. The missing time, the losing consciousness, the weird... The birds, like he was talking about how they're like... I know. The birds really stressed me out. Yeah. How they were like... It seemed as if they were bound by the edges of the pond if the edges...

extended up into the sky. That's exactly correct. And I'm like, yep, there was something going on there where they were on the edge of the pond, the birds were by the pond, and everything in that little area just got like something interacted with them. Something was making sure they couldn't leave, studying them, controlling them, something. That's wild. Wild, wild, wild, wild.

Yeah, very interesting. Very strange. That one's going to linger. Do you have one more? I would love to hear one more. Dan, you know what I forgot to ask you before we started our previous story? What? What color Layla do you have with you this week? Ooh, I have, I've been squeezing the red Layla. Red Layla. Okay, let's get into it.

Like Dan says, even if just one story is true, well, I know mine is, so. Also, I've heard lots of stories from all different religions, but not many Jewish stories, so I wanted to represent my tribe. Love it. My daughter and I still talk about our experience, though I really don't like to. I'm scared by talking about it, that by talking about it, it might come back, even though we've moved over a thousand miles away from where it happened.

My daughter is definitely a creep and me, a peeper. I've thought about writing in with our story a few times, but I chicken out every time simply because retelling it freaks me out. But, well, here goes nothing. My daughter has always been a kind of magnet for the supernatural. When she was younger, she would tell me there were people in her room with her.

One of the people she saw in her room wore a hat, and they scared her and made her lights in her closet go weird. A Wiccan friend of mine said that our daughter was a medium, a conduit, if you will, and that spirits were drawn to her. She instructed me to salt my daughter's room and all the doorways and windows. And after I did that, my daughter never mentioned the people ever again.

Fast forward several years. We have bought our first home in Virginia. It was brand new, but as always, the land is old.

I was doing laundry upstairs, our hallway an L shape with the laundry room being at the top of the L and our bedroom at the end. Our daughter's room was at the corner of the L. As I was taking the fresh laundry to my bedroom to fold at the intersection of the hallway, the temperature dropped drastically. If you're familiar with two-story homes in the winter, the upstairs is always stifling hot.

There, in front of one of our bedroom windows, stood a very tall, dark, opaque, human-like figure. The edges of the figure were blurry and soft, like smoke in the wind, while its body was solid black with no features and no face.

All the air in my lungs froze. Complete and total terror took over my body. I dropped the laundry basket, ran down the stairs, through the house, out the back door, into our yard, setting a chubby girl speed record for short. I stood outside, shaking from both the cold and whatever was in my house.

Staring up at the bedroom window, I could no longer see the shadowy figure, but I still felt it watching me. I called my husband in a panic, choking back tears. He just so happened to be at our rabbi's office. A weird coincidence, as he had not mentioned to me that he was going to see our rabbi that day.

He put me on speakerphone. I managed to choke out that I had seen a shadowy figure standing in front of a window in our bedroom and that the temperature had suddenly dropped right before I saw it and that fear possessed me completely when I was looking at it.

Our rabbi told me that I had to go back into the house, bless our home, and command the spirit to leave. I refused. I'm no Darren. I was standing outside in the cold winter air in just a t-shirt and sweatpants and wet hair from a shower I had recently taken. Our rabbi and my husband did not want me out there in the freezing cold for the 30-ish minutes it would have taken my husband to get there. So after some major pep talks, I went back in the house.

As I placed my hand to open the door, I heard maniacal laughing, a voice in my ear that was most definitely not human coming through the phone. Neither my husband nor our rabbi heard it. They only caught a brief crackling noise before the phone cut out and was then followed by dead silence.

After more deep breaths and more pep talks, I willed myself to open the door. I was finally standing in our kitchen, terrified, as our rabbi shared a blessing with me to repeat all throughout the house, staying on the phone with me the entire time, offering some kind of peace and reassurance.

When I felt brave enough to go upstairs, I looked into our bedroom first, only to find that the thing was gone. I blessed the whole house, then ran back downstairs and stayed there until my husband and daughter came home. We did not tell our daughter what had happened. She was in high school by now, but we didn't want to scare her. My husband double-checked my work by going through the house again, repeating the blessing once more. Our daughter did ask what dad was doing, and when I told her he was cleansing and blessing our home, she went wide-eyed.

Did you see it? She asked. All the blood drained from my face. See what? I asked, trying not to give myself away. She proceeded to share that sometimes at night, standing in the hallway between our rooms, a tall, dark, shadowy figure stands there.

In the moment, she wants to scream for us, but she can't. She wants to run to our room, but it's standing in the middle of the hallway, trapping her in her room, terrified. She said she was afraid to tell us because she could sense that if she did, the thing would hurt us. She said the thing communicated to her through no words at all that if she cried out, it would hurt us. Her father, after hearing this, blessed her room next.

Every light in the house was on at this time. But when my husband blessed our daughter's room and commanded the spirit to leave, her ceiling fan lights flickered, went dim, then extremely bright before returning to normal. No other lights in the house did that.

After the blessings, though, we never saw nor heard it again. There were definitely times I didn't feel alone when I was home alone. Times our cat would stare at the ceiling, clearly following something around the hallways, things like that, but nothing as bad as the shadowy figure.

We have since sold our home in Virginia and moved to Texas. I sincerely hope that nothing has followed us here. I still get scared sometimes when I'm alone in our new home, and I occasionally feel a cold spot or that feeling of being watched, but seriously nothing that big. I have no idea why it chose us and our home that day, but I'm beyond glad I've never seen it since.

Thanks for all the scares. It's almost comforting knowing we're not the only people out there that we're not crazy, that we've experienced these things. However, I'd never wish it on anyone else. Carrie Jo. Carrie Jo, thank you for that story. Ugh. Like, it wasn't that scary. I mean, yes, like, creepy, but you could totally justify it away, as we so often try to do, until the daughter's like...

You saw it too. And then it's like, ah, fuck. Yeah. Having it show up in the phone call really gave me the chills. Oh, yeah. Yeah. That would just be such a terrible thing to go through where you're already scared. You've just ran out of the house. They're trying to talk you into going back in. And then you hear something on the line that they don't hear where it's like that would be equally terrifying in the traditional two ways of all of these things where you're

Have I completely lost my mind and I'm not going to be able to function like I've functioned my life prior? Yeah. Or is there something terrifying that is harassing me right now that's tormenting me? Yeah. It's one of those two. Both not great options. Nope. No good options there. No. I honestly don't know which one is worse.

I don't have an opinion because they both feel equally awful in their own right. The horrible entity might be the lesser, like the least bad option there, which is a terrible option. It is. Oh, man. Aye, aye, aye. Yeah, did you see it? Ugh. Her daughter asks. I know Monroe was recently sharing with me that...

It's crazy how things like stick with us. She said her bedroom, even though she is, you know, you know, much more grown up than she was, you know, all the years ago when we moved into that house. But there's a big tree outside of her window on top of the fact that very early on in living in that house, her stepsister let Monroe watched Supernatural with her.

And there was some like soul sucking demon thing on the show. So like the combination of those two things. So Monroe says, she's like, okay, listen, our house is old. Her mom's house is newer. She's like, so she's like, I'm not afraid to sleep at my mom's house, even though I'm surrounded by windows. She's like, but at our house, I'm so scared because the house creaks so much more that tree, you know, trees in front of a window, even though she has

blinds and curtains. Like she's got all the window coverings. The sounds, the shadows. Yep. She can still kind of like hear it. And then she said, no matter. She was like, I know it's not real, but like her mind just flashes back to her soul being sucked away. So at nearly 17 years old, something that happened to her when she was like seven, she can't, she just can't.

She hates being alone in our house. I can't believe Carrie Jo is a creeper after what she went through. She's a peeper. No, the daughter. The daughter. Oh, you're right. I said the mom's name instead of the daughter. My bad. I meant Carrie Jo's daughter. I can't believe she is still being identified as a creeper after seeing this thing multiple times growing up and be like, oh, you saw it too? But it sounds like she, ever since she was a tiny little nugget, was saying like, I

I see Debbie. So I don't know. Maybe it goes back to that thing of like, if that's what you've known your whole life, if that's your normal, if that's your reality, then I'm not saying that's true for everyone. I don't want to make a sweeping statement, but could be for some people like strangely comforting. Like, oh, okay. I've been seeing that my whole life. No big deal. Ichiwawa. Ichiwawa. Ichiwawa. Do you want to thank the Annabelle's first or me?

I can go first. Thank you. We'd like to thank the following Annabelles for their continued love and support on Patreon, making these incredible donations and the Giving Tree possible every year. We love you guys. So grateful. Raging Redbeard, Trent Pearson,

Wade Boggs. Oh, I love this one. Need to Do. Need like K-N-E-A-D. Like you need Do. And need to Do. D-V-O-H. Do. Like Homer Simpson. Need to Do. Hunter. Cardi Comp. And Jamie White.

Uh, I, I love in that name. And I was like, that is his name, right? I just had to double check Wade box. There's no, I mean, I guess this person's name might be Wade box, but Wade box is also one of the best contact hitters of all time in baseball history. Listen, Wade, if you're listening and it's, and you're that Wade, that's,

That would be incredible if Wade Boggs not only listens, 66-year-old Hall of Fame baseball player, Wade Boggs, one of the greatest hitters of all time, not only listens to the show, but he's like, I want to hear my name. I haven't heard it enough. I haven't heard it enough.

Oh my God. Okay. If it's not that Wade Boggs, which in all likelihood it's not, I hope that this Wade Boggs is taking carte blanche with that name, calling it for reservations. And they're like, oh, Mr. Boggs. I would ride that train. I think this person just might be a huge Wade Boggs fan, but yeah, possibly just another Wade Boggs.

Yeah, I mean, Boggs is a somewhat common last name. I follow this incredible woman on Instagram, Megan Boggs. Oh, my gosh. She's so strong. She's very brave, very much in the space of pro everybody's body is fine the way it is. Oh, my God. I can't think of a word that I like what you would say. But also, if you need some inspiration right now, Jamila Jamil is really doing some incredible body positivity stuff.

Did your Boggs ever hit .368 for an entire Major League season, putting up 240 hits? Who do you think I'm talking about right now? My female Boggs powered that male Boggs. Okay. Really? Yeah. I would like to thank the following Annabelles. Mackenzie Ryan, Follegg Drotning, Elizabeth Chambliss, Myra Frost, Krista Jorgensen, Lee, just Lee, Paige Summer, Victoria Gallardo or Gallardo,

Rusty Richardson. Gallardo? G-A-L-L-A-R-D-O. So Gallardo or Gallardo, I think. Rusty Richardson and Samson Nelson. Nice. Okay. And I have just a few spoopy shout outs this week to my beautiful wife, Shannon from Danny. Are you married to someone else? Oh, God. Oh, shit. What a way to find out. JK, to my beautiful wife, Shannon from Danny. Happy birthday. I love you.

To JDaddy from M, Bug, and Jojo, happy 31st birthday, my love. You're the most amazing husband and dad we could ever ask for. Hope 31 brings you another year of laughs and memories and joy. All for you. Love you loads. Lastly, to Amanda from Wes, happy 13th wedding anniversary. Aww.

And that is our show. That's it. 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 Keyes scoring today's show. Thank you to Heather Rylander for organizing the My Story emails. To book editor Drew Atana polishing and preparing listener stories for book number six. Thank you to Olivia Lee finding the first story I shared this week and to Molly Box for finding the second.

We are on Facebook and Instagram where we post pics that accompany episodes and more at scared to death podcast. We also have a private Facebook group, creeps and peepers full of fellow horror lovers. Get in there and have some fun. Make some lifetime friends. A big thanks to the all seen eyes, the creeps and peepers moderators. Uh, the online community we have here is just a fantastic welcoming place. 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. Mad Magic Productions. Like what if I made a Thanksgiving burrito? Ooh, that could be something.