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

We are protected, though we may be frightened. Our life you may not steal, though we may be scared to death.

Welcome to Scared to Death, creeps, peepers, Roberts and Annabelles. I'm Dan. Hello, Dan. I'm Lindsay. Hello, Lindsay. Hello, good sir. And Happy New Year to everybody listening. By the time you hear this... Well, yeah, I guess that's true because it comes out on the 31st. Yeah, it comes out late on the 31st, so it'll either be 2025 or a few hours or less from 2025 when you hear this. May we be the first thing you do in 2025. Yeah.

And what a year 2024 was. I think we saw more growth on Scared to Death outside of any year than our first year. So just big thanks to everybody for giving us a chance and for so many for sticking around. Yeah, we're so glad you guys are here. It's such a wonderful, welcoming, beautiful community that y'all have built outside of the show. And we are grateful that you come back week after week. Yeah, so we will work hard to keep you around in 2025 and beyond.

And today we're going to get right into the stories, but stay tuned after the Annabelle's and before the spoopy shout outs for Lindsay to give a big charity and giving tree recap. So how many stories actually I already know because you just told me before the show. We have three. You have three stories to close out 2024 with. Yes. Yes. So I have my first story will take us to a powerfully haunted house, which seems to take a toll on the mental health of everyone who enters the house.

And then we get a tiny bit of backstory at the very end that maybe explains why it is the way it is. Then my second tale is more of a thin veil in between the veil kind of story. It's a little on the sad side, but it's incredibly beautiful. And I think it makes you think about the paranormal from a different angle. Great way to start the year with paranormal.

An awareness. Yes. Thank you. And then my third and final story for 2024 is the worst thing ever. Freaking aliens. Okay. Dang it. I have my standard two. My first is an old one. The small town of Glen Luce, Scotland was a family tormented by the devil himself in the late 17th century. One of my favorite old tales that I've ever tried to tell here.

After that, we head to Baltimore, Maryland to examine a poltergeist case from 1960 where Edgar Jones, his wife, son-in-law, daughter and grandson all terrorized by a poltergeist for a couple of weeks or were they terrorized by the grandson?

So you'll see what I mean when I tell that story. Once you have socked up for the last time in 2024, I'll talk to you about the devil. Oh, great. Can't wait. These socks are very funny. These little snowmen dashing through Merlot. Those are very cute. Dashing through Merlot. Cute and cozy. Do you get it? I do. Okay. Just checking. A wine reference. Okay, just making sure. First story I'm about to share with you first appeared in a very strange book.

a book written by a very strange man. The book in question is Satan's Invisible World Discovered, published in 1685, and its author was Professor George Sinclair of East Lothian, Scotland. Sinclair was an enormously accomplished scholar. He was the University of Glasgow's first ever professor of mathematics, a renowned expert on Greek philosophy, as well as a pioneer in the fields of engineering, geology, and astronomy.

Sinclair once wrote an entire book in Latin theorizing that humans could one day use pressurized air to power a perpetual motion machine, and he was also amongst the first people ever to embark on underwater explorations inside of a diving belt.

also known as a personal transfer capsule or a diving chamber. In 1655 alone, Sinclair attended multiple dives off the Scottish Isle of Mull to examine the long-forgotten wreckage of a Spanish Armada ship. For his engineering expertise, Sinclair was brought all over Scotland to oversee the implementation of water pipes and indoor plumbing in various cities, and after he was fired from the University of Glasgow for refusing to make the oath of allegiance to the British monarch,

He was hired by esteemed politician Sir James Hope of Hopeton as a mineral surveyor. So you get the gist. George Sinclair was one of the greatest academic minds of his time. But above else, above all else, more than mathematics or philosophy or engineering, geology or astronomy, Professor George Sinclair's real passion was the study of demonology. The book Satan's Invisible World Discovered is the culmination of all the research Sinclair conducted into demons over his entire professional career.

The book was first published in 1685, then reprinted in 1814, and its inside cover reads, Satan's Invisible World Discovered, a choice collection of modern relations proving evidently against the atheists of this present age that there are devils, spirits, witches, and apparitions from authentic records and attestations of witnesses of undoubted veracity.

And in the 11th chapter of this book, Sinclair explores the ungodly supernatural horror endured by a family in the small town of Glenluce, Scotland, after they were seemingly cursed by a devil-worshiping heretic. A heretic, by the way, who will later become the first man in all of Scotland to be hung or hanged for the crime of blasphemy. Let's meet this heretic and the family he allegedly cursed and see if we can answer two of the questions that Sinclair spent his entire life agonizing over. Is the devil real?

And if he is, is he already here? Time now for the tale of the devil of Glenn Luce. Chapter 11 of Satan's Invisible World begins as follows. This is that famous and notable story of the devil of Glenn Luce, which has been transcribed word for word by a learned pen and consists of nothing but the truth thereof and has usefulness for refuting atheism.

The subject matter then of this story is a true and short account of the troubles by the foul fiend, wherewith the family of one Gilbert Campbell, by profession a weaver in the old parish of Glenluce in Galloway, was suffered. When this book was published, the story of the devil had been often told already throughout Scotland, but what made this account written by Professor Sinclair different is that it was fortified by the testimony of a witness who claimed they'd experienced the horrors firsthand.

This witness, who Sinclair refers to as his informer and describes as a man of undoubted honesty, was none other than the son of Gilbert Campbell himself, the boy who the devil of Glen Luce tried to steal. The supposed haunting first began in October of 1654, when a sturdy beggar by the name of Alexander Agnew visited the house of Gilbert Campbell, requesting a charitable offering. Gilbert, a pious, hardworking man with six mouths to feed, denied Alexander's plea and

What the beggar said next is unknown, but whatever it was, it was so vile, so terrifying, that it left Gilbert Campbell unable to speak for the rest of the day. It also rendered him, for reasons unknown, unable to look in a mirror. The first time Gilbert spoke again was in the darkness of that very night, when he sat up and spat out of nowhere from a dead sleep, He has let the devil in!

Gilbert's unsettling proclamation awoke everyone in the house His wife Gristle, their sons Thomas, Robert and Hugh And the youngest daughter, Janet Or, and their youngest daughter, Janet Gristle asked her husband what he meant But once again, he seemed to fall into a vat of silence Staring at the thick darkness that lay outside their window Refusing or unable to acknowledge his family around him The next day, Gilbert was more or less himself again He was a weaver by trade And unless he got to work, his family would starve So off to work he went

he said nothing of his odd behavior the day previous and convened with his wife and children in a familiar manner however there was something different about him it was like he presumed at any moment he might be swallowed whole he was obviously frightened skittish he repeatedly glanced behind his shoulder when nothing was there and in conversation it seemed he would not look anyone in the eye but through them looking behind them as if someone or something was looming tall behind their backs

But it wasn't Gilbert who would suffer the devil's first blow. It was young Janet, his youngest. She was but 10 at the time and was skipping across the field to the water well, swinging an empty metal bucket in her hand as she went when it happened. She adored her daily task of gathering water for the family. I imagine she took great pride in being useful. As she made her way to the tall grass, her mind was floating elsewhere in a daydream and she was humming her favorite hymn.

But then when she was almost at the well, while she was swinging the bucket backwards, it suddenly caught on something and she lurched to a halt. Irritated, she looked behind her to see what the bucket was stuck on, but there was nothing there. Nothing she could see anyhow. The bucket, though, was suspended midair, parallel to the ground as if someone was holding it. Janet's heart began to race wildly. She turned fully around, put both hands on the metal handle, began to yank with all her might, but she couldn't pull it free from the invisible force that clutched it.

Janet tugged and tugged again. She pulled so hard the thin handle began to bend under the strain. Her little fingers were just about to slip off when the force abruptly let go. The bucket now flew out of her hand as she stumbled backwards, slamming up against the cobblestone well. The little girl looked around, hoping to find one of her brothers or her father or her mother, but there was no one. And now Janet suddenly felt very, very cold. The wind picked up and it felt like pinpricks against her skin.

In a matter of moments, it became so violent that her hair was whipping against her face like a belt, and its howl was so loud that she had to cover her ears. But that did nothing. She could still hear its piercing whistle through the branches of the dead trees and the sharp blades of grass. And she could hear something else, too. A voice in the wind. Or perhaps it was the wind's voice saying something new, something just for her. "'I'll cast you in it, Janet!' shrieked the wind."

Jenet now realized that though a second ago she had been sitting in the fetal position against the well, she was now standing above it, peering down into it, leaning precariously over its edge, staring down the eye of what looked like a bottomless pit. You will drown, the shrill voice then laughed. But it no longer sounded like the wind was speaking. It sounded like someone was screeching at her from inside the well. And it sounded like a child.

"'Janet leaned over still further, and in the darkness she swore she saw a child's face, but wrong. "'It was contorted and crumpled like a piece of cloth, floating on the surface of the water. "'And at that moment she felt a hand on her back and screamed. "'Before whatever was near could cast her into the well, Janet ran. "'She ran as hard as she could, as fast as she could, back to the house, "'forgetting all about the bucket and her task and everything else in the world, "'except the all-consuming fear that snatched, snatched at her ankles like broken twigs.'

and by the time she'd made it back home, it was like she'd lost her mind. For the last days of October, the family called upon the doctor every day to check on dear little Janet. They feared she had gone mad from a chill she had gotten in the cold, though the doctor said she showed no symptoms of a fever. Still, she was kept in bed throughout the day and night for roughly a month. About the middle of November, wrote Sinclair, the foul fiend came on with new and extraordinary assaults. It began with rocks being pelted against the front door.

Of course, the family assumed this was a prank played on them by neighbors, but little Janet cried in protest of these claims. It's him! It's the devil! Don't you see? No one paid her any mind until the devil, if it really was him, gave up on throwing rocks and decided to throw blades instead. The family was all together in the kitchen when the sound of the pebbles slamming against the door started up all over again. Gilbert Campbell sighed and walked to the door, ready to confront the ill-mannered person responsible. But, as always, when he opened the door, there was no one there.

It was a bright fall afternoon and Gilbert could see for acres and acres the land stretched out flat before him. He cursed under his breath and turned around to rejoin his family inside. As he did, he felt a sharp pang on the back of his skull and saw a smooth rock fall to his feet. He whipped around. No one was there. He backed into the house one foot after the other, keeping an anxious eye on the empty path in front of him.

When he was safely inside, Gilbert shut the door and took a breath. He told his family what had happened, and all but Janet agreed that whoever the fool was who was tormenting them must be caught and punished. Just then, a sound like hail enraptured the house. The clamor of rocks against the roof and the windows and the walls was louder than thunder, and it paralyzed the family where they stood. Strange thing was, they couldn't see any falling rocks or pebbles or hail outside. It was peaceful and clear, just as it had been all day. But what was this sound?

Suddenly, amongst the violent racket, a butcher's knife Gilbert had been teaching his son Thomas to use rose from the table next to where they stood. Higher and higher it levitated, with the blade pointed downwards, handled towards the sky. Gristle screamed and grabbed her youngest children, shoving them behind her. The knife paused for a moment, just under the ceiling, before plunging back down onto the table.

For days and days, this type of phenomena continued. Tools and cutlery and bowls, and even their wooden chairs, would rise as if summoned by some dark deity to the very ceiling of the house, hover there for a few agonizing moments, then plummet back down to the earth in a guttural crash. Soon the Campbells were beset by another strange form of torture.

It began in Gilbert's crowded workroom, where he did his trade as a weaver. One day, as he was working on his loom, the warp thread which stretched vertically across the device suddenly began to split open evenly down the middle, one by one by one, as if it was being sliced by an impossibly sharp blade from the very top to the very bottom. But of course there was no blade, and there was no one else in the room, just Gilbert and some invisible thing that he could feel reaching for him.

When it was over, two perfectly even pieces of fabric hung limply on either side of the loom, and Gilbert was reminded of the belly of a dead pig he once saw at a local butcher's. Gilbert had watched blankly as the butcher cut open the pig, the pink thing's soft underbelly, and peeled apart its dangling flesh, then dug inside with his bare hand, grasping blindly at its organs. The thought made him shudder.

He felt as the malevolent thing that resided in his home was the butcher, and he was the pig, soft pink, vulnerable, and already dead. The next day, Gilbert and his neighbor both witnessed his spools of thread fall prey to the same eerie fate as his loom. Before their very eyes, the spools were cut pristinely, as if by sharpened scissors. The men could practically hear the phantom blades slash through the coarse fibers.

When the tools of his trade were all lacerated to pieces, the poltergeist, it seems, took to slicing what little clothing the family possessed. And not the clothing that they kept folded in wooden chests in the bedroom, but clothing on their backs. And then one evening at dinner, young Thomas announced he suddenly felt ill. He began grasping, no, clawing at his neck in a manner so troubling and unnatural that his mother fell faint and tumbled out of her chair onto the floor.

She was immediately attended to by her eldest sons, Robert and Hugh, while her husband Gilbert rushed to Thomas' side, thinking the boy was choking. Thomas' sister, Janet, simply stared, not at Thomas, but at the empty space directly behind him. And then the little girl began to cry. In a panicked voice, Thomas assured his father he was not choking, but that instead there was something at his throat. Before he could explain further, the collar of his shirt suddenly cinched tightly around his neck. It looked as though an invisible hand was clutching the back of it, pulling hard.

Thomas now began to scream, a horrible guttural scream, and as he did, a linen cloth that had been soaking in the laundry bucket in the corner of the kitchen began to rise delicately up into the air. Dripping wet with dirty bathwater, the dangling piece of fabric paused there for a moment before suddenly launching across the room and into Thomas' gaping mouth. Thomas and his father then both attempted to wrench the fabric from out of the boy's mouth, but it felt as though something was pulling the cloth down his throat from inside of him.

yanking it harder and harder. Finally, all at once, the linen cloth and the boy's shirt were both released. The family fell into a terrified silence that was punctuated only by Thomas' ragged breath and Janet's tears. Then, just as Gilbert was about to say something to gather his family back to their wits, Robert yelled from where he was sitting next to his mother on the floor. Gristle was still unconscious from her fainting fit, but that wasn't why Robert was alarmed. It was her dress. It was ripping. No, it was being ripped.

cut, sliced, torn by an unseen blade, wielded by an unseen hand from the very top of the collar down to her waist, revealing her linen shift underneath. Panicked and confused, Gilbert bid Hugh to go get his mother a blanket to cloak her in. The eldest boy stood up and was about to do as he was told, but he stopped in his tracks. Father, he practically whispered,

The boy turned around with his right arm stretched forward, palm facing the sky. A small perforation was beginning to appear at the base of his wool shirt, around his wrist. It looked as though someone was struggling to cut through the thick fabric, as though they were working at it with a pair of dull, rusty scissors rather than a sharp blade. Before long, the unseen force finally pierced through, and it began to cut not just the wool fabric, but the tender skin of the boy's forearm as well.

Gilbert lunged forward and wrapped his hands around Robert's arm, trying to prevent the evil, invisible thing from cutting any further, but it was no use. Beneath his palms, Gilbert felt the wool sleeve and his son's bare skin be severed by what he believed to be the devil's knife. According to George Sinclair, that evening, in fall haste and speed, Gilbert Campbell removed his family and all their remaining belongings to a neighbor's house to keep them safe.

However, he was unable to join them. He needed to work, and his work was in his home. He could not simply give up being a weaver and take up another profession, for there was no other profession available to him where he could earn enough money to keep his family fed. So Gilbert Campbell resolved to repair his workshop and get back to weaving, despite whatever trouble the devil might bring. Remarkably, there was none. For the seven days and seven nights that Gilbert stayed in his house alone, he was unassaulted by any supernatural horrors.

The peaceful period convinced him that it was safe for his family to return. But according to Sinclair, as soon as they did, quote, the devil began afresh for upon the Lord's day following in the afternoon, the house was set on fire. It was midday when the blaze first began and the entire family was inside. They would have died in their house had it not been for their neighbors who happened to be walking by and witnessed the thatched roof of the Campbell's house suddenly ignite into flames, though no one and nothing was around to ignite it.

The family was rushed out and together Gilbert, his sons and his neighbors were able to extinguish the flames before too much damage was done. After that, the Campbell family receded unto themselves. No one in the village of Glenluce saw them practically at all. They stopped going to church, stopped walking to the market, stopped accepting invitations to dine with neighbors. Despite their disappearance from society, it was known that all members of the family were still alive.

as they were seen occasionally standing about their property, looking nowhere in particular, talking to the wind like they had all gone mad. On Monday, February 12th, the Glen Luce Parish minister, John Scott, learned the truth of the Campbells' strange behavior when he insisted on visiting their home. There he discovered that the family had begun to speak with the bodiless voice of their tormentor, and as long as they spoke with the thing, it would refrain from harming them. Every single day, quote, "'From evening till midnight,'

Vain discourse was kept up with Satan, and many idle and impertinent questions proposed to him, without that due fear of God. They came to a familiar discourse with the foul thief. They were no more afraid to speak with the devil than to speak to one another. In this, they pleased the devil well, for he desired no better than to have sacrifices offered to him. During that first visit, though the minister could not hear the voice that Gilbert Campbell and his family spoke of, he saw the evidence of its presence in their home.

As he spoke with the dead-eyed Gilbert in the entryway, the minister witnessed the weaver's scissors, which had been laid flat on a table behind him, rise slowly into the air, then hover in the open position, both blades pointed downwards just above Gilbert's head. When the minister bid the man goodbye, the scissors were still levitating above the man's skull. The following Tuesday, the minister returned with a company of people to help him expel the devil from the Campbell home.

This band of men included James Bailey of Carpin, Alexander Bailey of Dunragget, Mr. Robert Hay, and a gentlewoman called Mistress Douglas, whom the minister's wife, Catherine Simpson, did accompany. The minister warned these volunteers that in this house, the devil does speak, and no matter what he said to them, they must never respond, for once you do, he will not let you leave. Inside the house, they gathered with the family in their living room and waited for Satan to join them.

Suddenly a rush of ice-cold air like winter swept through the house, though there were no open windows. And now in front of all present the devil began to speak, not to each man individually, but to the whole of them. His voice came from everywhere at once. It crept up to the floorboards and seeped out of the pores of their skin. It crawled under the door and poured out of the tea kettle. It dripped down from the ceiling like rain and crawled up their feet like a snake. The devil spoke loudly to them all in Latin. The minister spoke louder.

He called each of them to bow their heads and began reciting the Bible, and they followed his instructions. However, according to Professor Sinclair, the prayer was ended when, quote, they heard a voice speaking out of the ground in the proper country dialect, which the devil did counterfeit exactly, saying, Would you know the witches of Glen Luce? I will tell you them. And so the devil related four or five living persons' names that were to be hung as witches. The weaver informed the company that one of the witches named was dead long ago.

And the devil answered, saying, It is true she is dead long ago, but her spirit is living with us in this world. Before Gilbert Campbell could respond to the devil again, the minister interrupted, professing, The Lord rebuke thee, Satan, and put thee to silence. We are not to receive information from thee, whatsoever fame any person goes under. Thou art seeking but to seduce this family, for Satan's kingdom is not divided against itself.

"'Above the prayer, the devil continued to speak. "'He told them that it was Christ who had commissioned him to torment this house, "'to punish this family for their filth and wickedness. "'He said he was an angel, and he could prove by speaking the truth "'that the minister before them, John Scott, would die in the winter of 1655. "'When Gilbert Campbell cried out that he was a man of faith, the devil returned, "'God shall judge you for your lying, "'and I and my father will come and drag you to hell with warlock thieves, "'and you will burn in the bottomless pit.'

According to Professor Sinclair, in that very moment, reaching up from the stone ground in the middle of their small prayer circle, "...there appeared a naked hand and an arm from the elbow down, beating upon the floor till the home did shake, and the devil uttered a most fearful and loud cry, saying, "'Come up, Father, come up! I will send my father among you! See there, he's behind your backs!'

For hours and hours, the exorcism continued, but to no avail. The minister and his company left the next morning exhausted and worn thin. They promised to return to continue the exorcism the following day. And when that exorcism also failed, they promised to return the day after that, and the day after that, and the day after that. Again and again and again. For months, they tried to free the family from their tormentor. But no matter what they did, the devil remained.

As the efforts continued, the Campbell family grew weaker and weaker. Though the village provided them with ample food to eat, Gilbert could no longer work. They still appeared to starve. No matter what they ate, their hunger was insatiable. No matter what they drank, their bodies continued to shrivel like plants in the desert sun. Finally, their story ends, and unremarkably.

Perhaps the exorcisms eventually started to work. Perhaps the devil just grew bored with them. But in October of 1655, a full year after Alexander Agnew came to their home asking for charity, the Campbell family were freed. Shortly after, the minister who freed them died in the winter of 1655, just as the devil said he would. The following year, on May 21st, 1656, the beggar and heretic Alexander Agnew was executed.

He had been found guilty of blasphemy by the judges of the Cromwellian Protectorate and sentenced to death by hanging. He was the first man in all of Scotland to publicly deny the existence of God. The fascinating testimony Alexander gave before the magistrates was recorded in a 17th century newspaper called Mercurius Politicus.

When asked to be believed in God, Alexander Agnew laughed, spat, and uttered, "'Hang God. God was hanged long since today. What had I to do with God? I have nothing to do with God. I am nothing in God's common grace. God gave I nothing, and I am no more obliged to God, though I am to the devil.'

Verse 1.

Pray you to your God, and I will pray to mine when I think time. But there is no God, nor Christ. I never received anything from God, but from nature, from below. Whichever reigned and ever will, I have received much. To speak of gods and their persons is an idle thing, for man has no soul, nor a heaven to go unto when he is to perish. Yay, yay, yay. E.G. Wow, wow.

It's a great story. Yeah. I thought that was really like well put together. Yeah. I like an old story. Yeah. I like them when they're, yeah, just like a well told like that. I, uh, I was hearing the weirdest noises in my headphones and I like during that story just now I was just trying to focus cause I would look over here and I could see on the little, like, um, there was like a little bar that shows like the volume of what we're saying in there. Yeah. Like a little waveform, a little waveform. It wasn't picking it up.

But it's gone now. But it was like in the middle of that story during the most intense parts. Yeah. Just this constant like weird static that was just kind of like undulating static just kept showing up. Was not happening in my headphones. Weird. Did you just summon the devil? I hope not. Do you want to say some prayers? No. I mean, it's gone. It's gone. Yeah. I got myself spooked or something, but I was like feeling weird in the middle of that story. Okay. Yeah.

Yeah. Do you want me to show you pictures now or do you want to? Yeah. Okay. Molly Box, who found the story, she couldn't find any good images, you know, for this story specifically. So for fun, she shared some of her favorite depictions of the devil from the medieval period up to the 17th century. Fun. And yeah, just some old creepy photo or, you know, engravings and stuff. This one's like a flyer. See if I can expand it here. Yeah. Says Satan's invisible world discovered. Oh yeah. This is like the, um,

Just a little description for this book is his first one. Okay. So that was the only... Come on. And then, yeah, here's... Is it? Yeah, just an old engraving. He looks so happy. He's a happy devil. Looks like people are giving him, I would guess... Little dolls. Little dolls. I would guess that's either supposed to be their souls or like sacrifices, like babies. I like that this devil has like a very voluptuous body. And then... Yeah. Like a very...

The face is like two dots for eyes, a little half circle for a nose, and then a bigger half circle for a smile. It looks like a very childlike smiley face. Uh-huh, uh-huh. And you can watch these images or look at these along with us if you just go to Scared to Death Podcast at Instagram or Facebook. Yeah, if you're listening on YouTube, then you should be seeing the photos right now. Mm-hmm. And here is just like...

Because there's so much detail. Yeah, really a lot of detail on this engraving. It's a knight on horseback visiting some devil and the knight looks a little evil and he's going to visit some devil in a cave, popping out of a cave. Mm-hmm, mm-hmm. Ooh, that's a creepy old one. Yeah, that looks more like a man with a mask, like with a devil mask, big beard. Goat horns. Horns, yeah.

Okay. Okay. Come on. And then this one is, oh yeah, I've seen this one before. I can't remember the artist on this one. Oh yeah, sorry. That first one I showed you was the history of witches and wizards with a smiley face one from 1720. The next one was from 1513, night, death, and the devil. Wow. And then this one is the garden of earthly delights where Satan's depicted as a cannibalistic bird man.

Kind of sitting on his princely throne, 16th century, exact date unknown. But man, a lot of souls being tortured in this hell. Yeah. All kinds of stuff going on in this old painting. Wow. And when is that one from? That one is from the 16th century, so the 1500s. It feels like it should be so much more recent. I know. It feels very much like modern art. Yeah, yeah.

This next one is the Witch's Sabbath. Satan is a goat man and a homeboy of the witches. This is from the 18th century. Homeboy of the witches? Did you just make that up? Yeah. Okay. That's not an official description. I was like, wait, wait, what? He's the witch's homeboy. But yeah, he's got his goat body. And then there's someone giving him a little baby, some kind of sacrifice. Yeah.

And then this next one is from the 15th century. So really old one. Altarpiece of the Church Fathers. The devil has a face of the donkey here as he presents a book of vices to St. Augustine. He has a face on his butt as well? Oh, yeah. Uh-huh. Oh, yeah. Face on his... That's what I meant to say. I thought ass was supposed to be like an actual donkey, but it's actually his ass. Yeah. There's an actual face on his ass, like his butthole is a mouth. Yeah. And then he has these really...

uh thin sort of yeah uh creature like legs uh-huh and then this one uh is this is the uh sister cistercian i'm not familiar with this order before this story uh the cistercian monastery founded in the late 12th century in uh it's glenluse abbey so this is like where that family would have gone to church okay

Yeah, I guess Cistercian monks and nuns splintered off from Benedictine monks and nuns in the late 11th century. All I can hear in my head is the cistern is cistern. Oh, yeah. Uh-huh. Cistern. Okay.

Okay. Yeah, you got any questions about that story? No. Okay, so we're done with the devil for today? I think that's enough devil in for today. All right. 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 to get all these episodes ad-free, additional bonus episodes, and more.

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And now we're going to jump ahead just over three centuries, hop back across the pond. And yeah, this story makes me think about the previous story in a way towards the end. I'll explain when we get down to the end of this story, but just a different perspective, kind of a perspective we brought up before on poltergeist, but one affirmed by somebody who studied these things a whole bunch. And again, you'll see what I mean here soon. Time now for the tale of the Baltimore poltergeist.

To the outside observer, Edgar Jones's family seemed to be the dictionary definition of a normal happy family. Three generations of the family lived in a pleasant six-room brick house on a quiet residential section of Baltimore, Maryland. Or in a quiet residential section. Edgar was a retired fireman who had worked for 37 years in the Baltimore Fire Department. He loved being a fireman. Even after his retirement, he still kept a specially tuned radio in the house so he could monitor fires around town.

Edgar and his wife had one daughter, just only one child, who grew up to marry a taxi driver named Theodore Pauls. The couple would also have one child, a son, Ted, who was 17 when the calendar turned to 1960 and the events of the story took place. And Ted was a little bit of an oddball, eccentric, gifted, but strange. He'd left school at the age of 16 because his classes just did not hold his attention, though he was described as brilliant by former teachers.

He also didn't want to go to college immediately. Mostly, he spent his days reading science fiction and supernatural horror novels. From his basement, he also wrote and distributed a newsletter called Fan Jack that he mailed to his friends. His parents and grandparents not thrilled about him devoting his time to just reading for pleasure and writing a random newsletter for friends. It sounds like it revolved around some fan fiction regarding stories he liked in lieu of working towards a college degree or just otherwise pursuing a career that would give him some kind of financial independence.

And then soon, they would have other things to worry about, things that Ted might have also been responsible for. The first indication that something might be paranormally wrong in the Jones household came on January 14, 1960, when 15 miniature pottery pitchers all exploded on a dining room shelf. Subsequent disruptions will usually occur in the late morning or the afternoon, but three days later, on Sunday, January 17, the poltergeist struck at night.

Ted's grandfather, Edgar, was in the kitchen when, as he watched, a can of corn simply tipped over and rolled off of a high shelf and hit the floor. Nothing like that had ever happened before. Perhaps being a young man who had grown up during World War I and the Great Depression and then had seen the world ravaged by World War II and plunged into a paranoia during the ongoing Cold War, Edgar did not have much regard for the supernatural.

Maybe he thought the real world was scary enough, that you didn't need to invent things to be scared about when there was plenty of horror right outside your door. Or maybe Edgar simply thought his old eyes were failing him and there had to be some reasonable explanation for what just happened. Whatever the reason, Edgar did not panic at the sight of this. On the contrary, he simply walked over to pick up the fallen can of corn. Knees aching, lower back straining, he bent down just a little more. A can of sauerkraut now fell off of the same shelf, cracked him over the head.

Before Edgar could do anything except stumble backwards, clutching his now aching head, a small table flew from the living room to the stairway landing, where it then threw itself down the stairs, as though mocking the fragility of Edgar's home. Then far below Edgar, a stack of kindling wood exploded in the basement. Something seemed to be very unhappy with the Jones family. The following day proved quiet.

Ted went to work, mimeographing his fan-jack magazine in the basement. His parents went to work. And Edgar and his wife settled back into the gentle domestic routine of being a retired couple. Maybe everyone thought it was over, but it wasn't. On Tuesday, January 19th, all hell broke loose. Almost everything the Joneses had ever put in their home, photos, vases, candlesticks, flew around the room as though some strange vortex had appeared, pushed into the home from the other side of the veil.

No sooner had they rushed to one room to assess the damage than they heard the tinkling of broken glass or the thudding of a heavy object hitting the floorboards in another room. Finally, the chaos subsided. And for four days, the Jones house would be silent as though whatever it was that was in their home needed to recharge its energy. Then on Sunday, January 24th, it was back at it. Plants were witnessed floating out of their pots this time, their leaves and flowers suspended in midair like tendrils of hair floating in water.

During the following week, there were a dozen more occurrences. Then on Tuesday, February 9th, the attacks suddenly and mysteriously stopped. Just completely. A mere 26 days after all the strangest began, it was over. By then, word had spread around and the Jones family had become local celebrities. Newspaper and broadcast reporters waited outside the house for a public statement. Something that would confirm or deny the theories that were popping up.

One theory was that it had all been a practical joke being played by young Ted. Some wondered if too brilliant for school and too odd for most conventional pastimes, Ted had decided to ruin his family's peace and safety for his own amusement. Ted's parents and grandparents denied that. Other theories were more scientific, that radio signals had something to do with it, or that an earthquake, or not sure who came up with this one, that someone had planted tiny explosives in everyday objects, like those 15 miniature pottery pitchers.

But a high-frequency receiver found nothing, nor did a seismograph find anything. Even a radio repairman looking for wind coming from a drainage pipe had to admit that he turned up nothing. And no one, of course, found remnants of any tiny explosives. One final theory offered by a plumber visiting the house on February 8th, the day before the activity ended, suggested that the hot air furnace was the real culprit. He advised the family to remove all storm windows, open a dining room window to equalize the air pressure in the home.

After the Joneses followed his instructions, the happenings did stop. And so in the press, the plumber would be credited as the problem solver and the implicit message was clear. There was no supernatural occurrence, but not everyone was convinced. Just before the happenings had stopped completely, Nandor Fodor visited the family to investigate, but not from the perspective of a scientist or a technician. Fodor was a British and American parapsychologist, someone who studies psychic phenomena.

Born in the Austro-Hungarian Empire in 1895, he had been a leading authority on poltergeists, hauntings, and psychic mediums for decades by the time he visited the Jones House. He was also once a close associate of famed psychoanalyst Sigmund Freud, and he published the Encyclopedia of Psychic Science in 1934, considered his most important work. And what he concluded regarding the so-called Baltimore poltergeist is very interesting. He said, Ted, not the paranormal in any ghostly spirit sense, was responsible.

Uh, not intentionally, but rather as an unconscious agent who used his mental power to create the disturbances. He concluded that Ted was a very bright kid, that his only creative outlet was writing that newsletter with a focus on science fiction and supernatural horror. And because of this photo or thought Ted had inadvertently ended up channeling additional creative energy of his into producing abnormal events. But it wasn't just his creativity doing this. It was his rage, uh,

Brilliant, misunderstood, underappreciated by his family and former classmates, Fodor postulated that Ted had subconsciously vented his frustrations at life through aggressive poltergeist activity. Conversely, that meant that if Ted could feel appreciated and valued, he would no longer have any need to destroy the family home. Interestingly, Ted's reaction to this was not confusion, indignation, irritation, or simply wanting this paranormal researcher to get out of his house. No, he actually seemed relieved to hear this.

And then Fodor wanted to do something more to prove what he was saying. He took and acknowledged risks by announcing during radio and television interviews that Ted was a very gifted writer, hoping the recognition of his talent would seal a breach in his psyche and stop the poltergeist activity once and for all. Furthermore, Fodor suggested that as therapy, Ted should write his own account of what had happened. And after that, the paranormal outburst came to an end. His interviews coincided with that plumber's visit. So who was correct? The plumber?

Fodor? Or neither. The Jones family, outside of young Ted, were still convinced that it was the plumber's simple advice that ended their torment. Nevertheless, in his write-up of the case, in his book, Between Two Worlds, published in 1964, the same year he died, Fodor concluded, "...the case is important because accidentally I stumbled upon a novel cure of the poltergeist psychosis. It is as simple as the egg of Columbus."

Find the frustrated creative gift, lift up a crushed ego, give love and confidence, and the poltergeist will cease to be. After that, you can still proceed with psychoanalysis, release the unconscious conflicts, but whether you do it or not, a creative self-expression will result in a miraculous transformation. Fodor pioneered the theory that poltergeists are external manifestations of conflicts within the subconscious mind rather than autonomous entities with minds of their own.

He proposed that poltergeist disturbances are caused by human agents suffering from some sort of emotional stress or tension. And he once wrote, the poltergeist is not a ghost. It is a bundle of projected repressions. I don't know how I feel about that. Yeah, I thought it was interesting where we've touched on this a bunch of times. This whole thing, like whenever there's poltergeist activity, people

I literally can't think of a story. I'm sure there are ones, and maybe even we've told some, but I can't think off the top of my head of a story where there weren't teenagers involved. It is. I think you're right. I think it is always teenagers because we always, we here, find ourselves talking about teenagers.

That that's already a hard time. You're already emotionally charged part of life. Exactly. You're angsty. You know, how that shows up is different, but oftentimes that shows up in a lot of anger and frustration. Yeah. Yeah. Feeling misunderstood. Totally. Like you don't belong. You don't fit in.

Yeah. And you're often not allowed, especially in previous generations, you were not allowed to express your frustrations and anger without fear of like a lot of punishment. Yeah. Not in our house. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. But like, you know, historically, so people are pushing down these emotions. Yeah. And it made me think of the first story I told, you know, way back in the 1600s.

where does the stuff show up first in their house? Around the kids. Yeah. The little girl running to the well. You know, the boy in the home getting choked at dinner. The parents are more witnesses to this stuff than they are being actively... I mean, yes, the dad got hit with a rock and stuff. Sure, sure. But always when he's getting hit by these things, he's also around the kids. Yeah. And when the family left the house for those full seven days...

Everything was okay. Yep. And then all of a sudden these teenagers come back into the home. Everything starts up again. Uh-huh. And you see that over and over and over. And I will say about this guy, Fodor, he studied this stuff for decades and early in his career for the first few decades, he definitely believes that poltergeist activity was a paranormal phenomenon, some type of spirit or spirits. Uh-huh.

And then towards the end of his life, I mean, he was clearly interested in psychoanalysis, his friendship with Freud and all this stuff. Sure. But towards the end, after observing countless poltergeist situations, he came to believe towards the end of his life that it wasn't, like he said, it wasn't an external entity. It was something being projected from the subconscious mind, which to me is equally fascinating as a spirit. Yeah. And,

And equally terrifying. Yeah. It's inside of you already. Yep. That you have some kind of ability inside of you to manipulate objects in the outside world without touching them. That just gave me full body chills. Yeah. So I have some pictures. Okay, great. This first one, there's a variety of scholarly articles associated with the Baltimore Poltergeist, but really no good picks. But here is a pick of that Nandor Fodor.

So this guy who studied this stuff for decades. It's not his fault that this is his name, but Nandor, I just was thinking of Nando's Chicken. This is the founder of Nando's Chicken. Yeah, I was thinking about that. And then Fodor, like F-O-D-O-R, it's like a guide, like Fodor's Guide. Oh yeah, Fodor's Travel Guide. Yeah, yeah, yeah. So I had to keep refocusing with his name. I was like, what up? I kept thinking of Hodor. Yeah.

from Game of Thrones oh man then I thought about Jimmy Fedor which is not the same which is some kid I went to school with oh okay it's just like a name yeah yeah sure I was like wait that's not who we're talking about Lindsay stay focused this next one is Fedor helping conduct a seance

Wow. Okay. So he's with some ladies there, date unknown. And then this is a movie poster for a 2023 film called Nandor Fodor and the Talking Mongoose. Okay. Nandor being played by Simon Pegg. Good cast. Yeah. Stars Minnie Driver, Christopher Lloyd. Based on the case of an alleged talking mongoose named Jeff, Nandor investigated in the late 1930s on the Isle of Man.

The Irvings, the family that owned Jeff, claimed that Jeff had communicated to them that he was, quote, an extra clever mongoose, an earthbound spirit, and a ghost in the form of a mongoose. The case was eventually determined after years of study by most to be an example of forgery of ventriloquism. Like they were projecting their voice to make this mongoose seem to talk. That's funny. Yeah, I haven't seen the movie, but it...

Posters look cool, but it flopped pretty hard. Yeah. I mean, I don't know if that makes a good movie, but that's a funny concept. Yeah. The quick critics consensus on it was that people wish they would have leaned harder into the utter absurdity of it. Okay. But they played it kind of straight, more like historically authentic. And it's like, yeah, it was like a comedy mystery. It's like you probably should have leaned harder into like how preposterous this is. Yeah.

More into the comedy. And then I have one more. I thought this was cool. So this, okay. I referenced an egg of Columbus or Columbus's egg. And that was in that when Nandor is saying it is as simple as the egg of Columbus when he's talking about like how he discovered finally what poltergeist activity really is. And I was like, egg of Columbus, what is that? Well, this is a 19th century print of an 18th century illustration created by English artist William Hogarth.

Called the Egg of Columbus, and per Wikipedia, an Egg of Columbus or Columbus's Egg refers to a seemingly impossible task that becomes easy once understood.

The expression refers to the apocryphal story, so probably didn't actually come from Columbus, dating from at least the 16th century in which it is said that Christopher Columbus, having been told that finding a new trade route was inevitable and no great accomplishment, challenges his critics to make an egg stand up on its tip. After his challengers gave up, Columbus does it himself by tapping the egg on the table to flatten the tip. So just yet, the story is often alluded to when discussing creativity.

Thought that was, you know, pretty cool. Okay. Where it's something where it's like, once you do it, everybody's like, oh yeah, that's so easy. But it's like, yeah, it's easy now that I've shown you by thinking outside of the box how to do it. But before I showed you, it would have taken you God knows how long to figure that out. Sure, sure. Yeah. Okay. I've never heard that before. Yeah. Me either, actually. I love Columbus eggs. It's my favorite kind. Your favorite kind of eggs. Oh yeah. I really only like eggs from Columbus. Totally. You know.

Eggs from anywhere else are just not as good. Not as good. Yeah. They're a little flat, you know? Uh-huh. Okay. Damn. Last set of stories before 2025. I am ready. You got a la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la. I do. I got the red one. Okay. Staying in the holiday. Excuse me. In the holiday theme. Yeah. Red's back. Okay. So we are off to a haunted house. And we dive right in.

So, we're flipping this house. The very first time I stepped foot in the house, it seemed off. Mind you, it was trashed, had holes in the walls, and it smelled like cat piss. I figured it was just that shitty house feeling. The first day working on the house, my crew and I started ripping up carpet and flooring. Under one section of flooring, we found a newspaper from Christmas Day. We left it at the house for a few days until my boss came by. We had wanted to show it to him.

In the meantime, weird things started happening. I had been working upstairs when I set my crowbar down. I did something else and then turned around to pick it back up and it was gone. I found it hanging on this really cool workbench in the basement, nowhere near close to where I had been working. No one else had touched it. It just moved there on its own.

A few days later, when my boss came by to check on us, we were standing in the kitchen while he was talking to us as a crew. It was dark and the lights on the windows acted as mirrors. I was looking through the kitchen doorway into a living room window. I could see the reflection of the front door and the bottom steps that led upstairs. I watched a man walk into the house and up the stairs. I went after him thinking it was a nosy neighbor, but there was no one there. My boss didn't believe me.

After our boss left, the crew got to talking about what I had seen, and a few other crew members shared that they too had seen a man. To make sure we weren't just playing off each other, I grabbed a paper and pen and had everyone write down what the guy was wearing, thinking if it were different, then it was just our minds messing with us. But we all wrote down blue pants, a blue and green flannel, and a brown ball cap.

Now this freaked everyone out and led us to decide that we needed to find out what had happened in this house.

I called up my buddy, who happened to be a police officer, and asked if he could look into it. He found sealed files, but he was able to have them opened, and it turns out that in 1951, a husband and his pregnant wife had moved into the house, which her brother owned. She went into labor in the house, and both her and the baby passed away in the upstairs bedroom where my crowbar had disappeared from. Four days later, the husband hanged himself on the front porch.

We now felt as though we could handle the house. We told the spirits we were sorry for what had happened to them and that they needed to move on. We continued our work, but tools disappeared every so often and the lights flickered frequently. We got to talking to one of the neighbors about who had last lived there. The neighbor told us it was a woman and her three sons. They were very nice, very sweet, and very normal when they had moved in three years prior."

They moved out after two of the boys were arrested for animal cruelty and the third tried committing suicide and was sent to live with his dad. The mom was sent to a psychiatric hospital because she was suspected of having schizophrenia and depression.

Now back to that newspaper we found in the beginning. Two days after finding it, the guy who had discovered it had a mental breakdown and tried committing suicide. The night I saw the man in the window, my boss took that newspaper home because he had thought it was cool. Around that same time, his 13-year-old daughter started to have her own breakdown. She began getting blackout drunk, skipping school, and getting into fights. This

This was extremely unlike her. She was top of her class and had never missed a day of school. Then she attempted suicide. I told my boss and his wife that we thought the house was haunted and that it was connected to that newspaper. His wife, a firm believer in the paranormal, lost her shit. She told my boss to get that newspaper out of their house immediately. He decided that it should be returned to the house we were working on where it was found.

He brought it over that night as we were lying plywood down to help prevent the floors from creaking and told us to put it under one of the boards just like it was before. The cover story had been about Christmas when the paper was removed from our home, but now it was about a 13-year-old girl's death. Freaked out, I said, fuck this, put it under a piece of plywood and started stapling the plywood down.

When I placed the air stapler over the spot where the newspaper was, it wouldn't fire. Something ripped the air stapler out of my hand and it flew across the room a solid six feet.

A few nights after that, I was at the house working alone. My boss was supposed to show up, but was running late. I had the radio on a country station. As one song ended, the next started, and I heard, I always feel like somebody's watching me. Come on. I was weirded out because of, one, that's the last thing you would expect to hear on a country radio station, and two, that was just a strange song to hear.

I switched to three different stations and the same song was playing on all three. I shut off the radio and went outside to smoke. I went back inside to work, leaving the radio off. After 15 minutes, I decided it was far too quiet and turned it back on. So I go back to the country station and it's just your standard country music. I went back to working, but 10 minutes later, that same song came on again. This time I said, fuck this, took off, leaving the lights on and the radio playing.

As I was leaving, my boss finally pulled up. I explained everything to him, but him being a non-believer, well, he didn't believe me. We walked inside together. He said to me, I thought you said you left the radio on. And I said, I did. And he responded with, well, it's not even plugged in. At this point, I'm like, fuck this house.

One of the guys on my crew happened to be a youth pastor. He told his pastor about the house, and he offered to make holy water and to come and bless the house. I agreed to have the house blessed. I mean, anything to make it stop. They did the whole ritual, but it didn't work. Creepy things kept on happening. Tools continued to disappear. Lights flickering and so on. About two weeks after that, my boss's wife called a medium.

There was no way they were going to be able to sell this house with whatever was in it. The medium was making her way through the house when all of a sudden she says she hears laughing and a man saying, you really thought a fucking priest could do anything about this?

My boss, confused, asked the medium what it meant. The medium shared that the man said, "'Ask the boy,' talking about me. I told him about the priest and the holy water. I didn't know this medium. We'd just met, so there was no possible way she could have known about the blessing of the house."

We finished the house, and it did finally sell. Still to this day, the man in the flannel shirt appears in my dreams. If you end up reading this, could you please also give a shout out to my buddy, AJ Guitars. Keep up the good work. I look forward to every show you guys put out. Wouldn't change a thing. Three out of five stars. Zach.

Thank you, Zach. And I apologize that earlier when I did the talking about this, I said that at the end there would be some history. That is a different haunted house story that I will be telling on our bonus episode in just a couple of days. Okay. Yeah, I get it. Yep. Working on probably the two stories simultaneously. Uh-huh. Exactly. Exactly. Haunted houses bleeding together in my brain.

That wasn't, yeah, that man, there was a lot of stuff going on in that story. Yeah. Holy cow. Yeah. Also weirdly in that story, all of a sudden I was like, I thought I was going to like pass out for a second. It was very strange. I was like, what just happened?

That's weird. Yeah, a very strange feeling. That's some weird stuff going on in the studio today. I know. It's the middle of the day, too. Normally, it only feels like that at night. Uh-huh. Yee-kee-kee. Time to cleanse. That one, man, like so many people were either having suicidal ideation or the history there had actually taken their own lives. Uh-huh.

Yeah, man, that was darkness in that place. And that whole thing of like the newspaper cover, like switching its stories. Yeah.

And I was like, burn it, burn it, burn it. But then I was like, I get also like, maybe you're just scared if this thing is so powerful and there's so much crazy, horrible stuff going on that you just don't want to mess with it. You don't want to like risk setting it on fire. And then it's like you increase its rage or something. And I would feel weird. I wonder if Zach felt kind of weird selling that house after all that. I mean, it wasn't his, he's working for the guy selling it. Yeah.

But I wonder if some people on the crew were like, we should burn this place. Yeah. Or at least have it blessed or cleansed again. Uh-huh. Yeah. Yeah. I don't know if like the end result with the medium was that they maybe got it cleared or I don't know. Yeah. The suicidal ideation and the amount of it for every person that came into contact with that newspaper, it did make me anxious that they put it back in the house. Yeah.

Because to me, it felt like, so the guy who found it, he had an attempted suicide. And then the owner who is like in charge of these flipping crews, he takes it home and then begins to have problems with his daughter or his daughter begins to have problems. I'm like, that feels like...

I don't know. It just feels really risky. Yeah, yeah, yeah. It does. It does also just like as somebody who, you know, deals with mental health. I mean, we all have our own struggles and stuff, but like, you know, I have been down that darker path and I'm like, man, I just sometimes that that edge of like, what is your mental health and what is an unseen force? Yeah. I just don't know. Yeah. That's something we talk about all the time here.

It'd be easiest just to believe that none of this stuff is real. And then it's like all... It really complicates things when you're like, shit, like...

You could be struggling with mental health and also have something, some external force. Yeah. Messing with your mind, messing with your sense of reality. Intensifying it. Uh-huh. And just tormenting you. I know. It does make me want to like have a conversation with my mom about my suicide attempt and just like ask her because our house, I am 99.9% sure that at some point she had our, my childhood house.

blessed by a priest because it was like, felt very dark in there. Uh, there were just, yeah, there was some stuff going on with my family and then some stuff happened with my dad around my parents' divorce all around like dark, dark thoughts. And I do wonder like, huh, if I really like poked my mom and asked her, I don't want to ask leading questions, right? Yeah. But she doesn't listen to the show. She's too scared. Uh,

I wonder if I could make some connections and see like, oh, is there something else going on there? I kind of want to like look up my childhood home and see what the history of that house was. Yeah, you should. It could be its own scared to death tale. All right. Are you ready for a story about the thin parts of the veil? I am. All right, let's go.

Hello, master and mistress of mysteries and magic. Greetings from the UK. You bring so much joy to my life and have helped me through some incredibly tough times.

I love hearing your stories and wait impatiently every week for the latest spoops and scares. Aw, thanks. My little creeper also loves listening to you on a night shift as she drifts off to dreamland, running off in excitement when I tell her there are new stories to send her imagination wild. I have a story from between life and death. Proof of contact from between the veil.

In April of 2024, I lost my best friend, Tanisha. She was more than a friend and the sister I never had. Now, I do need to explain a little backstory to our odd friendship. This was always her favorite part. Nish was my ex-husband's wife and my daughter's second mom. Over the eight-year relationship, we co-parented and bonded like we had shared many lives together before.

We supported each other, comforted each other, laughed together, and loved our combined five daughters as only mothers can. On April 12th, our nightmare began when Nish had a sudden stroke at home. Luckily, her husband was starting work late that morning. He held her in his arms while calling an ambulance, rushing her straight to the hospital.

Despite the quick response, my beautiful best friend spent 16 days in a coma before gently passing away as her mom held her hand. During those days, I watched over our girls while her mom and husband watched over her. She was watching over us too and made sure we knew about it. Now Nish loved a great many things, but Alice in Wonderland had a special place in her heart.

One day, when it all felt like too much, I decided to take a walk to the shop to clear my head and take some deep breaths. Due to painful disabilities, I never walk anywhere. Usually, I would drive. But today, I knew I needed a walk.

I didn't even get a street away from her house when I saw a playing card on the ground. It caught my eye because it was the Two of Hearts. I instantly thought of Alice in Wonderland. Our two hearts mirrored, and I felt compelled to pick up the card. When I looked at the card, turning it over in my hands, the other side was the Jack of Clubs, not the Two of Hearts.

It was so unusual, I kept the card to look at and investigate back at home. I'd never seen a card like this before, nor since. Now, there were no other cards anywhere on the street, not in the gardens, or on the roads. Just one singular card placed like it was meant for me to find it. This became the first of a few signs I dubbed niche nods.

The second sign we received was in the library. I'd had to get some change to print off some flyers for her mom. Now, in 2017, the pound coin was changed from a round coin to a, oh, de decagonal coin. The previous design was then removed from circulation. There's no way I should have been given one of these coins as change from any shop. Yet here I was holding one in my hand that I'd received just 10 minutes earlier.

As the printer refused to take the coin, I went to put it in my pocket. And then a thought struck me. What if it was from Nisha's birth year? These coins were minted for over 30 years. So what would be the chances? Yet, as I turned it over, searching out the numbers, yep, 1984, her birth year. I gave the coin to her mom. She agreed that this too was a Nishnod. And she planned on mounting the coin into a necklace to keep forever.

As the days passed and the doctors gave us bad news, then worse news, it was time for me to visit her. Her favorite flowers were roses. She always had a bouquet of them on her kitchen table and grew them in her garden and even rescued the wilty ones from supermarkets.

My miniature rose had just bloomed a singular yellow rose. Yellow roses, of course, signify friendship. Before leaving home, I snipped it and brought it with me to gift it to her. I held her hand, spoke to her, shared tears and laughter with her mom and her brother, and then placed the rose in her hands and left her with a forehead kiss she surely would have punched me for if she was awake.

As we left the hospital grounds and headed back to the car park, we had to climb up some curved stairwells waiting there as if precisely placed for us was a single perfect white rose head. No leaves, no stems, no other petals. It was as if someone had clipped a single rose head, placed it on the ground and then walked away.

We lived in West Yorkshire, and we are represented by white roses. They also symbolize purity, innocence, and loyalty. Nish was the most loyal friend I had ever had, and I chose to believe she was sending us another Nish nod to continue comforting, supporting, and loving us. If anybody could break the barrier between life and death, my tenacious Tanisha is the one to do it.

During this time, our mutual friend experienced the doors of her home opening on their own, her air fryer opening itself, and cupboard doors opening in her face. My mom, 200 miles away, experienced being awoken by a woman shouting, Hey! in her ear at 3 a.m., followed by the barking of a dog. Well, six months earlier, Nisha's dog had been put to sleep, and I like to think that she was telling us that they had now been reunited.

The night before her passing, I had a movie night sleepover with our girls so that dad could be with Nish all night long. He was joined by his brother for support and the nurse in charge insisted on bringing them copious amounts of coffee and teapots as well as biscuits and various treats. We all joked that Nish had set up a Mad Hatter's tea party for them, which is exactly what she would have wanted.

At 9 a.m., he came home to switch shifts with her mom, and that was when her mom called to tell us she had slipped away. Quickly, quietly, and without a fuss, it feels like she waited for the moment where we were all exactly where she wanted us to be. Since her passing, there have been a couple of small niche nods, but I know one thing is for certain. She will haunt us all loudly when she figures out how to scream through the void again.

Isn't that beautiful? Yeah. Yeah. Really, I read it so many times, I thought for sure I could get through reading it without crying. But it was just so, I don't know, there was something really, really moving about it for me. Yeah, it's such a special bond the two had. And then just so many of those nishnas, so many signs afterwards. I've never seen, if I heard you correctly, the...

The first niche nod, the card she found a block from her house with two of hearts on one side and the jacket clubs on the other side. I've never seen a poker card with different... Like a two-faced card? Yeah, exactly. A two-faced card. Yeah, me either. Yeah. Yeah. That in and of itself, I'm like, well, that's unusual. Yeah. And the only thing I could think of for that card is that it's like some sort of like...

Maybe something like a... Like a magician? Yeah, thank you. A magician would use. Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah. I was like, okay, I guess. But just for there to be like one randomly, I don't know, it just felt peculiar. Uh-huh, especially with her Alice in Wonderland, you know, fixation. Yeah. Yeah, that was a very, very cool story. Yeah, and it just like, you know, whether you're hearing this...

promptly at the stroke of midnight or just before in 2024. You're hearing this at the beginning of 2025. I don't know. It gave me this like reminder to love your people bigly and loudly and, you know, that maybe the veil is quite thin between life and death. And as you, you know, march into this new year, if you've lost people, you know, in death or, you know, the death of friendships or whatever, I don't know that like there's this connection between our

current situation and our past situations and we can find beauty and peace and, I don't know, move forward in special ways if we want to. Yeah, absolutely. You know, stay connected to those things that make us who we are. Uh-huh. Okay. One last scary story? Let's do it. Okay. Let's talk about aliens.

Dear Lindsay and, well, Dan, I guess. Fine. Fine. I've always wanted to write in, but have few ghost or spooky stories of my own that are long enough to share. But then I listened to episode 60, which is like, you know, over 200 episodes ago, when you and Dan shared stories about aliens. Memories from a particular summer of my childhood came flooding back, and I knew I had to write to you.

I grew up in a small town surrounded by cornfields. My childhood home had a huge backyard and no backdoor neighbors. It backed up to one of said fields. We used to love watching the farmer plant and harvest, but we couldn't help but feel a bit afraid of it as well. Acres of fields tend to make you wonder what is hiding in it. My sister Kel and I had rooms facing the backyard and field.

One night, Kel woke up and had a strange urge to look out her window. She saw two lights going fast across the field. She told me about it the next day, trying to talk herself out of something beyond her comprehension. I listened as she tried to rationalize. I don't know, it was like probably people on dirt bikes, but they would have been more like in the field and the lights were kind of like moving like headlights on the dirt bikes, but...

We were both so freaked out, we decided we'd sleep in the same room for the time being. Later that day, my mom was mowing the yard close to the field. She'd later tell me that she always got a little uneasy so close to it, imagining something jumping out at her. But she had an especially strange feeling this day in particular.

Out of nowhere, a rock came flying out of the field and hit her. It wasn't enough to hurt her, but it obviously startled her. She immediately stopped mowing and looked around, hoping it was one of the neighbor boys. No one else was out, and the rock couldn't have come from any direction other than the field. Terrified, she left the mower where it was and ran inside. My dad was confused why she had left such a small section for him to finish once he came home from work.

Later that night, I was walking through our dining room in the front of our house to head upstairs for bed. The neighbor's house across the street was a ranch, so we could easily see their roof line. Something caught my eye. It looked like a figure standing on the roof. It's just their satellite. It's just their satellite. I repeated in my head, trying to push down the terror, but then it moved.

I didn't want to see anymore, and I ran upstairs. My dad tried to assure me that it was just the satellite and that I had imagined that it moved. Kel and I slept on our parents' floor that night.

A few nights later, my mom was sitting out on our patio with our neighbor Nina, as they regularly did. While chatting, they started to hear a strange clicking noise. It was unlike any animal they were used to hearing. They sat in terror, staring at each other, quietly trying to figure out what the noise was.

Our yard was lined with Arborvitae trees, and from the corner of Nina's eye, she saw a tall figure step from one tree to the next, going towards the field. My mom said she was going home, or she told my mom she was going home and to go inside immediately. My sisters and I had wondered why they stopped the regular get-togethers on our patio. It all made sense once my mom finally told us sometime later.

Being a teenager, my oldest sister, Alexis, regularly stayed up late while the rest of us were sleeping. She was watching TV in our living room when she thought she saw something on our porch through the slanted blinds.

The kids her age in town regularly walked the town at night, sometimes ding-dong ditching houses. She went to the window on the side of the door to check it out, thinking she'd stop them before they woke up the rest of us. What she saw was not one of her friends, but rather a tall figure lurking out on our porch. Not knowing what else to do and probably being in some sort of state of shock, all she could yell out was, Creep! Creep!

Her yells and screams woke the rest of us up. My dad dashed downstairs, but whatever was on the porch was gone by the time he had arrived. My dad tried asking her what she saw, but she couldn't gather her words. It was tall. It was not human, was all she said. We all felt uneasy, and Alexis, usually too cool to, chose to camp out with Kel and I that night.

The next morning, we all tried to shake off the night before. My dad went off to work, and the rest of us went about our days. Then, the doorbell rang. Always close to my mom's side, I followed her to see who was at the door. It was an unfamiliar man, which was strange for our small town. He told us there had been some unusual activity in our town lately and asked if we'd been experiencing anything. My mom stared silently at him and finally asked...

Are you selling a security system or something? The man hesitated for a moment and then answered, Yes. Yes, I am.

The phone started to ring and our dog went crazy. So my mom simply said, we're not interested, but thank you, and quickly closed the door. After that, none of us had any more experiences other than my sister screaming in the paper boy's face early one morning, thinking that whatever was on our porch that night was now back. My dad, being a dad, likes to rationalize that it was always

almost likely the man who came to our door. Perhaps he came to rob a few houses or just freak out a town for a few nights. But my mom, sisters, and I tend to think it was something else. I can't help but wonder who that man was or why our experiences stopped after he came to our door. Needless to say, no one in my family can watch the movie Signs because it feels too close to something that could have happened to us.

Even going on 20 years, Kel and I both tend to stay indoors past a certain time of night and close up our houses tight before it gets too dark outside. She regularly has vivid dreams of aliens visiting her, while I tend to have less frequent ones about being able to sense them coming. It's beyond our comprehension, but we can't deny that something must have found us that summer, and it never really left.

Thanks for letting me share my story, Jay. Thanks, Jay. That was, oh man, like that's one of those stories I had a thought like two thirds of the way through it that if I'm, you know, I'm always trying to find like new stories as are like Molly, Sophie, you know, we have stories from Sarah, Olivia, like all these stories. What the, oh, that was, oh my God, that scared the shit out of me for a second. What just happened? Sorry, Lindsay just took a drink from her-

Water bottle? Water bottle. So I had these allergy shots. My brain is so foggy. You're doing great. Words are a struggle. But she went to grab her water bottle and she moved the mic to do so. And I didn't realize that the back of her mic arm touched the back of my mic arm. So it looked like my mic arm just started moving on its own. That's why I had the moment where I'm like, what the fuck?

Fuck. Like after all this stuff that happened earlier and the weird static and stuff, I'm like, okay, I was about to lose my shit there. And I was like, okay, all right, all right, your microphone touched it. That's great. But I can't remember what I was saying now before that thing happened. You were- Oh, it's hard to find good-

abduction, encounter, anything around like aliens. Yeah. And like that story, I'm like, I think that was like better than anything I've ever found. It's fantastic. And it did remind me of the movie Science. I'm glad that that was- Oh, you got so excited when I said that. Uh-huh. I wrote that down because I was like, I was thinking that the whole time. It's been so many years since I've seen that movie. I want to watch it again. I don't know if I've ever seen it. I remember being a really good movie. It's like- Let's put it in the queue for the weekend. Yeah. Yeah. It's what? M. Night Shyamalan. And then I think it's

I think it's Mel Gibson. I like that you're writing it on your hand right now. Uh-huh. Mel Gibson, pre-scandal. Oh, Mel Gibson. Joaquin Phoenix, I think, plays Mel Gibson's son. I do love me some Joaquin Phoenix. Yeah, and despite what you might think, anyone listening might think about Mel Gibson, I mean, he has been a really good actor in a lot of movies, but I remember that just being a good one. Yeah, listen, you can separate the art from the artist. Yeah, but yeah, it takes place... I mean, God, it's been so long. Oh, yeah, Rory Culkin. Actually, I think... Oh, that's right! I think...

Oh, this came out in 2002? How old would I have been? 83? No, I would have been... Teenager? No, I was thinking that this was...

Wait a minute. No, no, no. What's the good son that one of the Culkins was in? Macaulay Culkin was in The Good Son, that horror movie. Yeah, yeah, yeah. Okay, that one. I don't know why it really messed me up. That was a good one too. But yeah, but Signs is one where it really freaked out a lot of people who were nervous about aliens. Uh-huh. Because it feels like plausible in a way. It was around the time, that movie came out around the time that there was all these crop circles. That was a big thing in the news. Oh, yeah. Crop circles, crop circles, crop circles. And so I don't want to, wow, it's been so long.

I was going to say, I don't want to spoil it, but I don't even know if I can remember exactly how it goes. Let's see how well you can do. But there's something about these crop circles that are near. It's like Mel Gibson and his family, his sons, have this house way out in the cornfields. They're seeing these crop circles. And then all of a sudden, whoever's making the crop circles shows up. And shit gets real intense. But they're so isolated. They're like helpless. Yeah, they're in Doylestown, Pennsylvania. Yeah.

with his, oh yeah, son. Yeah, yeah. You were correct on casting Mel Gibson. Yep, M. Night Shyamalan. Yeah. Joaquin Phoenix, Rory Culkin, Abigail Breslin, Cherry Jones, who you might not know by name, but she's one of those, like, what they call working actress. Like, you see her face and you instantly know her. Yeah, I've seen her in a million things. Merritt Weaver, which I wonder if that's like Sigourney Weaver's daughter. But yeah. Okay, well, let's put it back on the list.

Well, how about we thank some Annabelles and then you give your announcement? Okay, that sounds great, Dan. I would love to do that. I'll start. Okay, go for it. I would like to thank Wendy Werthman-Harding for supporting us on Patreon. And also Zach Hopkins, Adria Myers, Marshall Payton, Melina, Noah McDowell, and Anthony.

They wrote it phonetically. Antony. But it's spelled out ant-toe-nee. I love that. Awesome. I would also like to thank the following Annabelles who are going to get a huge shout out here momentarily when we share our year-end recap. Nick Guifara. Guifra? Guifra. Guyufra. G-I-U-F-F-R-A. I don't know, buddy. I'm sorry. Nick G.

Sarah Ryerson, Noelle Fisher, Lindsay Whitehurst, Voodoo Gypsy, love that, Courtney Thurston, do you have an Uncle John? I know a John Thurston. Nikki, Brunelle Knight, and Alexandra Montgomery. Oh, thank you. And now...

now for our feature presentation. Thank you, Dan. Okay, you guys, just recap. What we want to do really quickly here is recap the Giving Tree and then recap all of our charitable giving for the year. Okay. So pretty exciting stuff, actually. At least

For me, I love this stuff. I am just so impressed by what our community has afforded us the opportunity to do. So this year, the Giving Tree, it's just so crazy to see all of you come together and love and support our most vulnerable community members, the kids. I mean, the holidays are tricky in a variety of ways, and it's just really cool watching kids

People who will never, ever meet, never, never know one another, help one another. It's so pure. So this year in 2024, you the fans donated $15,789 worth of Amazon support, which is incredible. And a whopping $33,792 was spent on the giving tree.

And this year, we were able to support 110 children in having a wonderful holiday season. So thank you all for participating, donating. We have a tiny bit left over that we'll just roll into next year. It'll give us a jumpstart. We're always aiming to be as transparent as possible. And so when it comes to The Giving Tree, we just want to say we know that

Every year there's a different glitch. Yeah. Last year there was a tech glitch. This year we had a different glitch with, um, so what we did differently was that once the slots were filled, we removed the link from our website because last year the complaint was that by leaving a dead link there, people just thought that it wasn't working. Oh, I see. So, yeah. So then we just had it die off this year. Uh,

we received some feedback that maybe that wasn't the best way to do it. So just know that internally we are always working to improve it and make it better. And then real frustratingly, no one's fault at all. Fucking Amazon. Yeah. Shut down our account twice. So St. Joan had shopped for everyone and then all

All the orders were canceled. And then she shopped for everyone again. And then like half of them were canceled. So then she shopped for those again. Meanwhile, Amazon is emailing. You cannot call them. It's impossible. There's no call center. It's only via email. I don't know how she did eventually force someone to get on the phone with her. But, yeah.

they said the accounts were fraudulent. They suspended the gift cards. They weren't going to reimburse the gift cards, like thousands of dollars worth of gift cards that we had to fight to get back. So we're just not entirely sure what our system is going to be for next year. We're trying to figure it out. So,

So if anybody works in nonprofits and has any suggestions, I would love an email in the new year because... Scammers just, they ruin things in so many ways. They do. That's the biggest problem. Yeah, they don't just take from the people they scam directly. Then they have to change all the security protocols that affect then other people not getting benefits from certain places. Exactly. Because they're worried about scammers. Fucking scammers just suck so bad. So bad. You know, the very first year that we did The Giving Tree, I physically shopped in person. Mm-hmm.

And something that I ran into was that like,

Our card was frozen because they thought it was fraud. So that's an easier thing to navigate. That's just calling the credit card company and explaining. But it did happen. And then when I would go to check out at some of the stores, there was a limit on how many items they could ring up at once. And so it became this very difficult situation as well. So we're trying to figure it out. All of that to say, frustrations aside, God bless St. Joan. She made it happen.

Once again, she crushed it. She leads up our shopping team. She does such a good job. She stays on it. She takes it very seriously. And as of last night, December 16th, she was done shopping. She completed it. Everything was done. Everything is shipped. And yeah, I just am so grateful that you guys as a community rally. And so I just wanted to take a second to share all of that and then also tell you that we want to thank all of you listening today.

We just want to take a moment to tell you how grateful we are just by listening every week, by rating and reviewing, by subscribing and following us within the Spotify app and telling your friends and family about us. You make this show continue to go. And for all of our patrons, you make our monthly charitable donations possible. It's without Patreon, that does not happen. It's this year. Be

Between the Patreon here at Scared Death and the Patreon at Time Suck, we were able to donate $141,326 to various charities over the course of the year. And we added $16,846 to the scholarship fund. Plus, this is not including the Giving Tree funds. That brings us to a grand total of $191,964 in charitable giving. Wow.

completed by bad magic through the support and love of the fans. I mean, this just, this Dan and I are not capable of doing that. This is you guys, 100%. It's absolutely amazing and so beautiful. And we're just so honored that you continue to show up for this.

And so as we roll into 2025, the goal for this next year is to finally crest over into $1 million in lifetime donations and charitable giving. So this coming year, we'll need to donate just under $84,000, which feels, based on those numbers, very doable. So if you're interested in helping us achieve this goal, you can join our Patreon. That's where the money comes from. If you can't, like, hey, no worries, no big deal. You know, that's not...

We didn't start this as a charitable thing. It just happens to be what happened. And just big thanks again to everyone who helped make this show a success. We could not do it without you.

And then lastly, I have a spoopy shout out. I have one spoopy shout out this week, just the way that it all fell. So to Cosette from Lacey, happy 15th snowed in anniversary to you, my beautiful Cosette. I'm proud of you for getting your AA. You're going to kill it in your BA program. I love you so much. And I'm so happy to have you by my side through all of life's up and downs.

Cosette and Lacey are so cute. They're one of my favorite couples. I love them. They are. I remember the very first time meeting Lacey. She's so cute. She's this tiny little thing. And just give me this big old hug at summer camp. And yeah, they're just they're a beautiful couple. I really love them. That's awesome. Yeah.

And that's it. And that's it. And that's our show. That's our year of shows. Thank you for continuing to send in your personal tales of terror to mystoryatscaredtodeathpodcast.com. You can email us for everything else at info at scaredtodeathpodcast.com. Thank you to Logan Keith scoring today's show. Thanks to Heather Rylander organizing the My Story emails to book editor Drew Atana polishing and preparing listener stories for book number six.

Thank you to Molly Jean Box, digging up that first old story I shared this week, and to Sophie Evans for finding the second. Nice. We are on Facebook and Instagram, where we post pics that accompany episodes and more at Scared2DeathPodcast. We also have a private Facebook group, Creeps and Peepers. Get in there and meet some horror lovers. Big thank you to the All Seen Eyes, the Creeps and Peepers moderators for making the Creeps and Peepers group so much fun. Enjoy your nightmares, Creeps and Peepers. Happy New Year, and 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. Huh? No, I mean, it's gone. It's gone. Yeah, I got myself spooked or something, but I was feeling weird in the middle of that story. Ugh.

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