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

We are protected, though we may be frightened. Our life you may not steal, though we may be scared to death. Welcome to Scared to Death, Kreef's Peepers, Robert's and Annabelle's. I'm Dan. Hello, Dan. I'm...

Lulu Marie. Hello, Lulu Marie. I do love that new nickname. Yeah, it has a good ring to it. Yeah, let's just stick to it. Don't call me Lindsay ever again. Yeah, you're just Lulu Marie now? I am. I always wanted to be one of those people that was like, my name's Lindsay, but my friends call me Lulu. Why did I never do that? Just own it? Yeah, so it's Lulu Marie here or not. If you see me on the streets and you scream Lindsay, I'm just walking by. I'm not even talking to you. You have to say Lulu Marie, otherwise...

I just don't know. All right. Lula Marie, how many reportedly true paranormal fan stories did you pick from those sent in to mystoryatscaredtodeathpodcast.com this week? Because we are just skipping through announcements. Yes, yes. And please do make sure that that is where you send your stories to mystoryatscaredtodeathpodcast.com. If you send them to the info email, they just get bounced over there, just so you guys know. You're not working any shortcuts here. It's just been happening a lot, so I wanted to bring it up.

Okay, my three tales this week. My first takes us to Malta, someplace that you and I have not been, that we've always wanted to explore. Yeah, that's beautiful. Looks gorgeous. So we'll be hearing a tale there about a spirit hanging around. It has some interesting quirks to it.

Then my second story, we haven't had one of these in a while, a doppelganger story. Oh, yeah. It's a great story. Great story. Really well written. Absolutely love it. And my third and final tale is maybe about witches in the woods. Okay. Maybe. Maybe. Might be something else. Both of mine are modern encounter claims. Not sure where the first one takes place. A college campus somewhere.

The second takes place in Overland Park, Kansas. The first involves, I don't know what it is. Very mysterious. The second is the first possessed doll claim we've had in a while. Ooh, okay. Mm-hmm.

Those are always good and creepy. So once you've got your spoopy socks on for the week, I will get started. Okay, look. These guys are so cute. They're little bats, but they have magnetic hands. Uh-huh. So when you put them on and you get your ankles close together, they hold hands. That's super cute. They're adorable. Or they can just make like a little like ring around the rosy. Oh, yeah. I love that. Oh, man. All the sock tech. Oh, I love it. Okay.

All right. This first Chilean modern encounter tale was found on an online paranormal experience forum, one where each page is dedicated to a certain type of phenomenon, haunted locations, cursed objects, demonic possession, aliens, Ouija boards, psychic experiences, numerous others, and then miscellaneous. And this story was posted in that latter category. And I think after you hear it, you'll understand why. Time now for the tale of The Glass Door.

Hi everyone. I'm a long time reader of this site, but first time poster. Sorry if my story is a little choppy or if there are a few too many run on sentences. I'm a comp sci major and telling or writing a story is definitely not my forte. But if you can manage to bear with me for the next couple of paragraphs, I would really appreciate it because I need help. I really need help. I don't really know how to explain or really even talk about what I saw last Friday.

And if someone could offer some insight into whatever the hell it was, maybe if you've experienced something like it before or something, I would really appreciate it if you could DM me or comment. I really need to talk about this with someone. Not to sound cliche, I know 90% of all ghost, supernatural, what the hell stories start like this, but I feel like I'm going crazy. Here's what happened. It was about 3.45 p.m. on Friday, or maybe a little earlier, but not much.

I was walking from my dorm to my 4 p.m. biology lab. We were doing some bacterial transformation thing that day, and I was not prepared at all. So while I was walking, I was also going over my friend's notes. She texted me so I wouldn't look like a complete moron in class. That is to say, I was pretty distracted when I got to the science building and not really paying attention to my surroundings.

The science building, by the way, is by far the nicest building on campus because my school really doesn't care about the arts. All the music composition and photography and digital design and creative writing majors, etc., are stuck in a musty, outdated building with classrooms that have no windows. All the science majors and a handful of business majors, on the other hand, have this brand new, state-of-the-art, uber-modern monstrosity of a building to take their classes in. And when I say monstrosity, I don't mean that in a bad way.

I don't necessarily mean it's ugly, I mean it stands out like a big geometric chrome thumb on our clunky 1970s campus. The entrance to the science building is all glass. There's some plaque somewhere in the lobby that talks about how every feature of the building was designed to promote creative learning and imagination, but I don't really get how the glass plays into that. Anyway, to get inside, you first have to walk up a short flight of concrete stairs. Then you have to tap your student ID to open the first of two sets of glass doors.

Then you walk into this little vestibule, which, since it gets really cold where I live, I think is meant to preserve heat and the rest of the gigantic glass building. When you're inside the little enclosed entryway, you can still see the rest of the gigantic lobby because, you guessed it, the walls are also made of glass. You don't have to tap your card to get through the second surprisingly heavy set of glass doors. You just have to pull them open.

Same thing when you leave the building from inside the lobby. You can push interior doors open, but then once you're inside the vestibule, you have to tap your ID card to make the exterior doors open. I know that was a lot of banal information, but I wanted you to be able to picture the whole situation so you can understand, or I guess picture, exactly what I saw that day.

Like I said, I was super distracted walking up to the building, not really paying attention to my surroundings. It was lightly snowing out that day, so I was sort of aware of the ice on the ground, but that was about it. When I finally reached the entrance to the building, I stopped short. I hadn't realized I'd gotten there so fast.

On Mondays and Wednesdays, there's normally enough people going in and out of the building that I don't need to tap my card to get in. But on this Friday afternoon, it was pretty barren. It was 4 p.m. after all, and most people aren't stupid enough to sign up for a three-hour lab on Friday afternoons slash evenings. Most people, but not me and the 11 other people in my class.

Anyway, I rested my phone on the metal railing, started fumbling around in my backpack for my wallet. Before I could get it out, however, the doors suddenly yawned open. I jerked my head up, expecting someone exiting the building. But there was no one in the vestibule, and there was barely anyone in the lobby, which I had a good view of, of course, on account of all the stupid glass walls and doors. I was so confused. I looked behind me to see if somehow someone had snuck past and tapped their card while I was distracted.

But again, the whole area was empty. I was too stressed about the lab to really care that much how the electric door had opened. So I just shrugged and passed through. But as soon as I stepped inside the glass vestibule, it all suddenly became very, very, I don't know, clear? I got this feeling, this awful, awful feeling. I don't really know how to describe it. Dread, fear, horror, plain old anxiety, a mix of all of that.

Whatever it was, it actually hurt in my chest, like something was stabbing me. I felt sharp. I know how stupid and made up that sounds, given the constant references to glass in this story, but that's the best way I can describe it. It felt like broken glass, shattering against my sternum. I felt disoriented, too. Partly because of the strange unease that had come over me, and partly because it was cold. In the winter, I always look forward to walking into the science building because the floor of the enclosed entryway is entirely made up of these vents that blast heat onto you.

but that day I shivered. I bent down and touched my hand to the vents. Piercingly ice-cold air was shooting out of them. So frigid and bitter, I yanked my hand back in surprise. I shook my head and cursed whatever maintenance guy had messed that up and carried on with heading to class. As I yanked on the handle of the second set of glass doors, I told myself the reason I felt so weird was because A, I was nervous about the lab,

B. I was now late for the lab. And C. In that very moment, there was cold-ass air shooting up my pant legs when there should have been a nice warm breeze. But the glass door didn't yield. It stayed firmly shut. As I frantically tried a second, third, and fourth time to jerk it open, the logical voice in my head saying that everything was A-OK was drowned out by another voice in my head starting to panic.

I didn't think I was claustrophobic before this happened, but I'd never been trapped in a tiny glass cage before. And now that I have, I'm pretty sure I'm claustrophobic. Panicked, I looked into the lobby to try to get someone's attention, but it had cleared out entirely. Even the group of freshmen lounging on the rock hard geometric couches in the corner had disappeared. To where? I don't know, but they were gone. Everyone was gone. I was alone. I tried the door again. It was locked. I reached in my pocket for my phone to call for help, but it wasn't there.

I took my backpack off my shoulders and dropped it onto the ground. Crouching over the metal grates on the floor, I ransacked the bag in search of my phone, and I swear on my life that the longer I looked, the colder the air shooting out of the vents got. It got so cold, I started to actually worry that I could freeze to death. The only person to ever die of hypothermia in a vestibule. I started to cry. I looked back at the lobby, still empty. On a normal day, I wouldn't be caught dead openly weeping on campus. But I was so scared, so confused, so cold.

Suddenly I heard the faint sound of my phone buzzing against metal. Hope surged through me. I searched the floor for the sound, desperate to answer the call and scream at whoever was on the other line to come help me. But then, with obscene horror, I realized where the sound was coming from. I stood up, lunged at the door. There it was, sitting on the railing outside, right where I had left it. Damn it! I went back to the second set of doors and I practically pressed my face against the glass. I shouted, Is anybody there? Please help me!

I was answered with silence. Cruel, dull, normally harmless silence that now felt threatening. I put my face in my hands and I started to sob. I was so overwhelmed. I was so scared. I was so cold. But then finally, I heard footsteps. Someone was coming. I could hear the gentle thud of their shoes against the tile. They were coming from one of the main hallways on the first floor.

I frantically grabbed my stuff off the ground and tried to collect myself. It was going to be okay. Someone was coming. The footsteps were getting closer. I braced myself for the embarrassment of being found stuck in a glass vestibule on a Friday night. Every second that passed felt like an hour. And then I saw him. A tall man I'd never seen before. He was walking down the hallway directly across from me on the other side of the lobby. It was the only hallway without lights on, but I could still make out his silhouette.

The utter relief I just felt collapsed to my chest, and it was replaced by... what? Terror, maybe? I think it was terror. When the man reached the end of the dark hallway, and the sound of his footsteps stopped echoing in the lobby, and he stared at me, standing completely still, looking across the vast empty room, I knew terror was what it was. I strained my eyes, trying to get a good look at him, but I couldn't completely make him out. Not really. All I could make out was his silhouette.

his thin arms dangling by his sides, so long his hands almost reached his knees. His neck was the same, obscenely long, inhumanly long and thin, too thin to keep his head up straight. And I guess it couldn't, because as I stared at him, his neck suddenly bent and his head rolled sideways. And I don't mean he tilted his head to the side inquisitively. I mean his head was parallel with the ground. As far away as I was, the sight was still so grotesque that I screamed.

Maybe I didn't. Maybe I just gasped and covered my mouth or maybe something else. I don't know. All I know is that whatever sound I made or didn't make, whatever my reaction was, as soon as I did it, he broke into a dead sprint. I backed up against the glass door. I screamed again. I know I screamed. It was too horrible. His body, if it was a body, moved in such a jerky, distorted way and he was so fast. Before I knew it, he was across the lobby and he was about to open the door. I finally got a good look at his face then.

His head was still angled completely horizontal, and he had this strange, curious expression, almost playful, but a kind of cat playing with a mouse before it kills it kind of playful. He stretched his long arms out before him, eagerly reaching ahead. Without taking his eyes off of me, he pushed his flat palms against the glass door, violently swung open, and I braced for something awful, but then he was gone. Before I could comprehend or process the emptiness around me, the other electric glass door I'd been leaning against slowly began to open as well.

Without taking another second, I scrambled to my feet, lunged outside, grabbed my phone off of the railing, and ran. When I made it halfway across the courtyard, I turned back around. Both sets of glass doors were still open. The man, whoever he was, whatever he was, was gone. So that's my story. What the hell, right? Has anyone ever experienced something like that? I swear I was sober when all that happened. I've never done any drugs. I'm not mentally ill. I've never heard or seen things that aren't really there. No one in my family is mentally ill.

That was the one and only time in my life I've ever seen or experienced anything at all I cannot explain or that scared me like that. So what was it? I know there's talk about the mirror dimension and stuff like that, but I don't know if that really fits here. I don't know what to do. Please help. I don't know who or what that man was, but I worry that I'm going to see him again. For now, I'm going to make sure that I never go into that building again by myself. I'll show up early and walk in with someone else. At least that way, if I do see him again...

I won't be alone. Well, that's strange. Mm-hmm. Just a weird experience. Uh, yeah.

I was trying to really like, honestly, I just started picturing like Kyler's campus, which is not reflective of all at all of like that. But, you know, just like what was the last college campus you were on? I was like, yeah, you know what? That that very much often is how it is. Like you scan your little ID and you go in and you are in like this little vestibule vestibule and then you go into the lobby and just, yeah, just to be all alone there and to see someone there.

Something. Uh-huh. Maybe coming for you. Maybe not. And with the cold, that would be a strange like just concern of before, you know, they saw the weird man. But just thinking like, oh, yeah.

If someone doesn't come, especially as it gets later on like a Friday night. Right. Because there's not going to be like maintenance people coming in probably on a Friday night. I mean, I guess there's that class in the building. So you think like, okay, when class is over, people will come find me. But like just that panic of like, oh my God, what if I do just like die in plain sight of everyone? What if I just freeze in this little room? I know being really cold like that is so concerning. This is not the same, but like I just remember one time being on a flight home from Europe.

And I was in a window seat and it was so effing cold on this flight that I like, by the time I landed, it was when I was living in LA. By the time I landed there, I was sick. Wow. It was so fucking cold. And every, we were all like kind of complaining. I think there was something wrong with the system and they didn't have blankets. And like, I was not a seasoned traveler. So I just had whatever I had on. And I was violently shaking for, and it was a long flight. It was like an eight hour flight. And I was just so cold. So that's,

As you were telling the story, I just remember like that panic of like, I knew I would actually be okay in my right mind, but also what if I wasn't? What if I actually got so cold that I, I don't know, went into some kind of shock and then like, again,

died in plain sight. Yeah. It's amazing what we can conjure up in our brains. Uh-huh. Yep. When panic starts to take over. Mm-hmm. Mm-hmm. I know this is just a forum submission, but do you have any photos to go with it? No. Yeah. No pics. What do you mean by forum submission? It's...

It was from a forum, right? Oh, forum. I thought you said form. Yeah. I was like, oh, yeah. No, no pics attached to the story. But I decided to do an image search for large glass buildings. Yeah. And I just came across something very amusing that I thought I would share. Unexpected. This is a photo of a portion of the Foster and Partners. It's a British design firm. Designed Apple Park Campus in Cupertino, California. So in the Bay Area. Completed in 2018. The $5 billion campus features. Oh, my God. Yeah. Ton of glass walls. Wow.

And when the park partially opened in 2017, it was like a slow opening as the building, you know, got finished. Yeah. All the glass caused a lot of injuries and like serious injuries that required EMTs when employees, apparently including seven on the very first day the campus opened, were

They quote physically hurt themselves walking or otherwise slamming into glass. They had no idea was there. I just picture people like hustling to work full speed. Yeah. Coffee cup in their hand. Oh my God. Bam. Just like face plant into the glass was too clean. So clean. And yeah, I mean, here's like one image. This is a, a,

A photo of like a bunch of cubicles where they have all these glass walls and then glass partitions dividing up different kind of like hallways. I understand the idea of it that it's like infinite, right? Infinite ideas, infinite possibilities, right? It's a mental trick that we, you know, it's just the same way that like when you're in a Target or Walmart or,

the way that the lighting is is to make you look up. The light bounces off the floor so that it hurts your eyes to look down at the floor. Interesting. Yeah, or in a casino, like the dizzying carpet is also to keep your eyes up and not down so that you are looking at all the games and it pulls you in. Like there's very strategic things that happen when we're planning this. So when I see this, I mean-

That's right. Infinite possibilities. Because look at that looks like it goes on infinitely. Yeah. The problem is, is that like I can see a tiny bit of like frames. I just imagine walking around sort of like with like a blindfold. Uh-huh. Like put your hands out. Yes. Wait, what? Yeah. No, this was not. It's beautiful in theory. Yeah. It's not great in practical application. Right. And here's just one more to show how massive it's like. Holy shit. Like a Death Star. That's before it was completed, but it's a huge ring. Yeah.

I would be lost. I'm already lost. Yeah, not all employees were apparently pumped about this new campus. They didn't like the ring-shaped campus. Yeah, the plan centers around large open workspaces, shared tables referred to as pods, which are then divided by full-height glass doors and glass walls. You could just, like, literally never pick your nose. Right, yeah, there is a thing of, like, yeah, just no privacy, which, I mean...

I can see why supervisors would want that where it's like they can walk down a hall and easily see everyone's monitors. And there's a certain sort of like... It reminds me of Severance. Yeah. And there's a certain sort of thing about like, you know, you have nothing to hide, blah, blah, blah. But also like

part of being an employee is like seriously one of the greatest joys of being an employee is getting away with something even if it's like getting away with 30 minutes of social media time when you're supposed to be doing something else not giving your employees those small wins is not great yeah because they're not robots yeah studies show it doesn't these like collaborative spaces aren't always great yeah yeah makes sense to me

And then before I just move on, I just think like while it would suck to watch, to like personally run into full speed. Oh, that would be so fucking funny. So fun to watch. So funny. Just the look of shock of like, it would be like pain, like, ah, and then just confusion of like literally what just happened. Did I just bounce off a force field? Like what is happening? I think it would make me a little bit nauseous. I don't know that I would ever really be able to get my bearings. Yeah, yeah. You know, like just, yeah, yeah. Yeah.

So you ready to leave, whatever the hell that was, and go meet Cricket the doll? Oh, boy. Well, I don't know if I'm ready, but I guess we're going. 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 an Annabelle on our Patreon and get all these episodes ad-free, additional bonus episodes, which we have over 50 of those now, and more.

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Learn more at capella.edu. Thanks for listening to our sponsor deals, Creeps and Peepers. Okay, going to jump right into this second story. Okay, let's go. Time now for the tale of She Came Back. My name's Kimberly. I'm 43, married with two kids. I live a very normal suburban life in Overland Park, Kansas. Or at least I did. But something has been bothering me lately. Something started bothering me again. Something from my childhood that I never thought I'd have to deal with again.

But a few nights ago, it came back. This isn't a story about a big, creepy, old Victorian haunted house that looks haunted, or a ghost that follows you home from a cemetery after you foolishly held a seance there. It's a story about a doll, a child's cute, harmless-looking doll, that their mom picked up from the toil aisle of a boring, big-box department store. Specifically, a cricket doll. The talking kind from the late 80s. Remember her? They were only around for a couple years. I think. I think.

They were kind of like Teddy Ruxpin dolls, but they just didn't get nearly as popular. If you've never seen one, imagine a cute little girl with a hard plastic head and a big smile, blinking eyes, and a mechanical mouth that moves up and down when you play a cassette inside her back by pushing a button. About the size of a Cabot Patch doll. Mine looked a lot like me. Blonde, blue-eyed, cheerful. For months, she was a wonderful toy. One of my favorite toys from my childhood. Probably my very favorite.

And she would have stayed my favorite if something wouldn't have changed when we moved. If something hadn't have moved into her. I got Cricket for Christmas in 1988 when I was seven. I still remember the wrapping paper, red with tiny reindeer. And how my mom said, oh, Kimmy, she looks just like you. I loved her instantly. Her voice was bright, high-pitched, and she said the best things like, let's be best friends forever. For months, everything was fine. We had tea parties. I brushed her hair. I even made her a little paper crown.

I was a quiet, mostly happy, but sometimes lonely little girl with an older brother who mostly ignored me. It was easy for me to look back, or it's easy for me to look back and see why Cricket quickly became my favorite companion. Then in May of 89, we moved into a new subdivision on the edge of Overland Park.

Fresh siding, lots of empty lots, a finished basement that still smelled like sawdust and drywall. My parents were so excited. It was new. It felt twice as big as the house we'd moved out of, with a bigger, better yard that was all fenced in so we could get a dog, which we did, Max. But Max didn't show up for a few more months. Not until after Cricket went crazy. I was excited to move and have a bigger room and a better yard.

My brother, Chris, who was 10, not so happy. He was a lot more social than I was and he hated leaving all his friends behind. I don't remember anything feeling off when we moved in. Maybe that's because I was seven. Wouldn't necessarily be aware of things felt a bit off or maybe whatever was waiting for us in that house hadn't showed up yet. Maybe it was still asleep. I don't know.

Maybe whatever took hold of Cricket just hadn't woken up yet, or something was inside of Cricket the whole time, and the doll starting to change when we moved had nothing to do with the new house. Sorry. I've spent so many years wondering and thinking so much about it all. And the more I've thought about it, I think the more confused I've become. It all started so small. Not long after we moved, I'd come home from school and find Cricket somewhere she shouldn't be. I always left her sitting in a little wooden rocking chair by my window. But one afternoon, she was in my closet. I was so scared.

Another time she was in my toy chest with the lid shut. And once she was all the way down in the basement, sitting against the wall under the stairs, like she was hiding from someone. I started blaming my brother, Chris, who would swear on everything wholly that he hadn't touched her because he kept getting blamed because my mom started to tell him to leave the doll alone unless he wanted to get in trouble. He started to hate Cricket.

And then not long after, she started to show up in different places. Maybe after a few days, maybe after a few weeks. It's so hard to remember exactly how time moved when you were seven. Chris started to get scared of Cricket. She watches me when I walk past the door. I remember him telling me, seriously, her eyes follow me. I thought he was trying to scare me when I told him, she's just a doll, Chris. And while I don't remember this, he said I told mom that he was trying to make me scared of Cricket and he got in trouble. Grounded maybe.

I'm sure I was happy about that. I thought of Cricket as my best friend, and I didn't like him saying anything bad about her. Not long after Chris started to think something wasn't right with Cricket, I started seeing things too. The first thing I remember is seeing her move her head, which she wasn't supposed to be able to do. I woke up in the middle of the night, which I didn't do very often. I was a pretty deep sleeper as a kid, and I saw her head move as she laid next to me in bed. I think I thought I was dreaming. It was slow, subtle,

Her chin tilted up, her mouth opened, and not like it did normally, just kind of barely moving up and down in the same rhythm while the cassette played. It was much more realistic this time, like a real little girl's mouth would move when she really spoke. She whispered, in a different voice than normal. I still remember it so clearly. Not robotic. Not like the chipper voice from her cassettes. This was softer. Human. But wrong. I grabbed her and turned her over and checked her back. Her tape player was empty.

Despite how weird her voice was, despite a doll talking to me, I didn't scream and wake up the whole house. I didn't throw her across the room. I didn't tell my parents. She didn't scare me. That's the strange part looking back. At first, I liked that she talked. I don't really remember all that she told me that first night. Again, I think I thought it was dreaming, but it didn't feel like a bad dream. It felt like a fun fantasy. I hadn't made any friends since we'd moved. I was lonely. Cricket was my best friend and I wanted her to be real.

She talked again the next night, before I fell asleep this time, and the night after that. Soon she was talking to me during the day when no one else was around. She'd tell me not to tell anyone else that she was alive, that they wouldn't understand. She made a point to tell me to never tell Chris that she was real. She said that Chris hated her, and if he found out that she was real, he would tell our parents, and they'd get rid of her. I felt bad for her, and I was mad at Chris. Of course he hated her. He always hated my toys. He hated anything that I liked.

And then soon Cricket started to tell me that Chris hated me too. That he wished that I was never born. When I cried, she'd whisper, I'll protect you. I'll make him stop. Things kept getting more and more intense with Cricket. When I wasn't awake and talking to her, I was dreaming of her. But again, not in a nightmare way. More like she was showing me things in my sleep. Images I didn't understand. A fire. A little girl standing alone in the woods. A man holding something heavy.

Sometimes I'd wake up crying, but I never told anyone. As time went on, Cricket's messages grew darker. Chris is hurting you, she said one night after Chris had pushed me down in the hallway when we got into a fight over something I can't remember. I'm sure it had something to do with Cricket. He spreads rumors about you at school. He's the reason none of the other kids like you, she said another night when I was crying about being lonely and complaining that no one wanted to play with me at recess or sit next to me at lunch. He's going to throw me away when you're not here to protect me, she warned.

He's going to break me, she said another night. And then she asked, do you want me to stop him? I don't remember saying yes, but I must have. Things got really bad after that. Chris told our parents that he woke up and found crickets sitting on his chest in the middle of the night. She was smiling, he told mom and dad in between sobs. I couldn't breathe, he cried. They dismissed it. My mom said he had just had a nightmare.

My dad asked why Cricket wasn't in his room when they ran in after he woke up screaming for them if she had really been sitting on his chest. Chris said that Cricket must have ran back into my room. But if that was true, my parents asked, why wasn't I scared? And I wasn't. I didn't even wake up until a little bit after Chris started screaming. And when I did wake up, Cricket was in bed with me. She was giggling. I didn't tell my parents that. I was worried they'd take my only friend away from me. Cricket continued to terrorize Chris after that.

He claimed he saw her in the hallway when he went to the bathroom to brush his teeth before bed a night or two later. Said he saw her standing on her own and looking at him, and that she had a look on her face like she wanted to kill him. Again, he screamed. And again, my parents did not believe him. My dad actually got mad at him, told him to knock it off. Enough with the doll. Stop trying to scare your sister. I wasn't scared. Not at all. I thought it was funny. I thought Chris was getting what he deserved for wanting to hurt Cricket and for hating me. Chris started to lock his door at night.

Even if I didn't believe him at the time, he started to get really worried for me too. He told me that Cricket was evil, that she was going to hurt both of us and maybe mom and dad too. I didn't believe him. Cricket had told me he was going to say something like that, all part of his plan to get rid of her, to take away my best friend. But Chris was right. Cricket was evil. It took something really, really bad happening for me to finally realize that. I'll never forget the sound of that scream. It was late June, a Saturday or a Sunday because my dad wasn't working.

My dad had been doing something on the roof earlier that afternoon and had left a ladder leaned against the back of the house when he went inside. Chris had been in his room grounded again for yelling at me and scaring me again about the doll. I was in the living room watching cartoons, I think. Mom and dad were talking in the kitchen. Then we all heard the scream. My mom ran outside. My dad followed right behind her. Chris was lying in the grass. His wrist was broken. Blood was running from a gash on his head. He said I'd called him.

that I told him to come up onto the roof, that I had found something, but I hadn't. I'd been inside the whole time. He said when he reached the top, I wasn't there, but Cricket was, and that she moved. He said that she stood up, took a step towards him. He backed up in fear, and then she started to run towards him, and that she pushed him. She pushed him off of the roof. I believed him, and all of a sudden, it was like I woke up and saw Cricket for what she really was, a monster.

When Chris started to beg my parents to please get rid of her, I didn't defend her anymore. I told them that I was scared of her too now, that they had to get her out of the house. Looking back as best as I can remember, I think my parents were relieved. They were freaked out about her too. At the very least, they were eager to have their kids stop talking about a doll that had come alive. That same day, my parents loaded Cricket into a trash bag and took her to Goodwill. She never came back. And slowly, everything went back to normal.

We never had any more problems in that house, and I never saw Cricket again. Until just the other week. I was at a thrift store on Metcalf with my daughter. She was trying on old windbreakers. I wandered into the toy aisle, and I heard her voice. Let's play again! I froze, turned toward the shelf. There she was. Cricket. Same scuff on her cheek, same matted hair, same jumper.

I don't know what made me do it, but I picked her up, felt her weight. Her batteries were gone. The tape slot was empty. And then, and I know you're going to think I'm crazy, but I bought her. I brought her home. I needed to know how much of what had happened was the imagination of two scared kids and how much was real. Now I think it was all real.

Things have been happening again. I found her in the hallway, in the kitchen, this morning, in my bed. I asked my husband if he had moved her. He laughed. Kim, that thing's creepy. I'm not touching it, he said. Last night, I was feeding the baby at 3 a.m. I walked past the guest room and she was there standing in the doorway, standing. She tilted her head and said in the other voice that I remember, Kimmy?

After that, I picked her up, put her in a drawstring bag I had that I was able to tie shut, and then I put that bag in a storage chest we have that I'm able to lock with a padlock.

This morning, I called my brother, Chris. We hadn't talked about that doll in years. I asked him how much he remembered about Cricket, and he remembered everything. And he said that we didn't imagine it. He said that a few days before his fall from the roof, he had tried to get rid of Cricket. He had taken her into the woods behind our house, dug a hole, and buried her. No tape, no batteries. But then that night, she was back in her chair. When he looked in the backyard the next morning, the hole was still there. She'd crawled her way out.

He also said that after he broke his arm, he kept having dreams about her. Cricket would be sitting in the corner of my room, but she wasn't smiling anymore. Her face was blank. Her voice was lower. She'd say, you tried to get rid of me, but you can never get rid of me. You'll never be safe, Chris. I'll come for you. He said he had that dream for years.

I told him that I found her again. I asked him what I should do. And he said that we needed to burn her immediately before she figured out how to get out of that box. Burn her until there was nothing left but ashes and then take those ashes and spread them over several places so that there was no way she could somehow pull herself back together ever again. He now lives three hours away, but is on his way to me now. Wish us luck.

I need resolution. Everybody knows Lulu Marie needs resolution. She doesn't do well without it. She talks about herself in the third person too. That's what Lulu Marie does. That's just a Lulu Marie tick. You wouldn't understand. What the fuck? I know. I can't believe she bought it. I was so angry. I mean, I understand, but I'm also so angry. Uh-huh.

I'm mostly angry because Kim has a child in her house. I think I would feel differently. I think a couple maybe, yeah. Oh, yeah. Including the baby, yeah. Yeah, yeah, yeah. Oh, I didn't know if the baby... Oh, yeah, because she was trying on windbreakers. Whatever. I just feel uncomfortable about it because I feel like children could be harmed in this. Just the way like if Cricket, which I've never heard of this doll. If Cricket... I'll show you some pictures, yeah. Okay. If Cricket starts to like pit the kids against one another the way Cricket did Kimberly and Chris...

Excuse me. That will like drive me crazy. Uh-huh. But I was also like, okay, well, if it does stay in the padlocked box. Yeah. I would smash it to smithereens, burn it, and then spread the ashes. I do agree with the plan because there is something to be said of like, okay, well, now you're potentially keeping this doll from hurting anyone else.

But also, what if you burn it and now you just release its evil into the ether and it just takes form into something else? Yeah. So it's very tricky to know what to do. Mm-hmm. I know. Yeah. Do you like bury a locked box somewhere? I think I would burn it. I think I would want to burn it. I like spreading the ashes in different places. You're not worried about the release? I'm less worried about the release than I would be about this doll somehow getting out if it really is this like just diabolical. I have some pictures. I had never heard of this doll either.

Because you know I know what Teddy Ruxpin is, and I do not recall this. Yeah, it's from the same era. I looked into it. Oh my God. She kind of looks like Suzy Whozit. Okay, yeah. Or Suzy Who from Whoville. Uh-huh. So there's Cricket. Okay. I guess she comes in a few different looks, but this is the main one. This is from eBay. Somebody's selling it recently. This is the same doll from the back, and that's creepy. She looks too real. It's Uncanny Valley vibes.

I guess. Like a little kid with too much hair. Do you remember those weird dolls that people were selling at craft fairs? Probably not. Looking in the corner? Yeah. It was just like from behind. It looked like a real child. Yeah, yeah, yeah. It kind of looks like that. This is a closer shot of her back with the cassette tape and how you kind of like play it and stuff. Little buttons you can push on her back. And then this is a different cricket doll with her brother Corky.

Corky might look even creepier than Cricket. Yeah. So there's Cricket and Corky and then Cricket

Came out with like, I think there was another sister doll she had, like another sibling. There was supposed to be, I looked into it, I got like looped in. And there was supposed to be a whole line of them, but it just never took off enough. Like sales were slow. Oh, yeah. There were some commercials and everything. It kind of fizzled. And then the other planned dolls never came out. When did My Buddy come out? Like in comparison? My Buddy. Because My Buddy was very popular. Was 80s. My Buddy's and Kid Sister. Yeah. Would have been late 80s as well, I think. Just.

but they didn't have the tape no yeah and then um so here is some audio of how cricket sounded so you can see how creepy it might be of course that's not can you imagine if that was like the tape just like you played for a little kid just so you guys know because i i know there's no video anymore there was zero shock i just was like okay just rolling my eyes and here okay here's real cricket

My little brother started to get fidgety and when my brother gets fidgety he always asks about a million questions.

So it's not like a string. It's like you could buy all these different tapes for her. And she's basically telling you a story or something? Yeah, she's telling knock-knock jokes, you know, stories. I've watched other videos where she's like... This is stupid. I would have told them then, this is stupid. Her mouth, her eyes kind of go back and forth a little bit as she talks, and her mouth just, you know, keeps doing the same motion of moving up and down. This isn't what kids want in a doll. No. Like, it's just, it's not... Nope.

I see why it didn't take. No, Cricket, no. No, Cricket, no. They did better with Baby Secret. Oh, yeah, Baby Secret. I want to tell you a secret. Exactly. She's creepy. But there's something about the interaction between the child and the toy and the pulling of the string that somehow, I don't know what the psychology is behind that, but that matters. Just like putting a tape in a doll and having the doll just

talk is not really that exciting yeah and also i think that little kids we want to make up our own stories so oh yeah well like when all when i played with dolls i like would carry it around and the baby you know and i had to do the baby's voice and my voice like we're having an interaction and baby's probably in trouble for not eating it's dinner you know it's like uh

I, yeah, I don't, I can see why it didn't work. I was trying to pull up a baby secret and baby secrets from 1965, a pull string doll. We have her around here somewhere. I'll see if, I think this video will play her saying something. Like to whisper in the dark. Like it is insane. I mean, we've talked about it. It's been a while on the show since we have, but it is insane. And in the sixties, some of the tell execs were like, this is what kids want. Constant nightmares. Yeah.

I like to whisper in the dark. I want to ask my mom, you know, who's born in the 50s, like, does she have a little doll like this at all? Or Baby Secret herself? Because maybe it wasn't creepy to them. Maybe it was just like, well, little kids do like to tell secrets in the dark. Like, maybe we've made it creepy now. Yeah. But perhaps back then, because it was new technology, it was like, this is so fun. It's just like a sleepover. Yeah.

Yeah, maybe. Hilarious. And sorry about that. I was figuring some new audio thing out. And if anybody listening heard a little like, that wasn't in your head. That was me disconnecting my computer so it wouldn't accidentally play any other audio. You shouldn't have said anything. Ooh, just freak people out. Dun, dun, dun. What was that?

Okay. Well, those are really fun tales, Dan. Thank you so much. Well, thank you. Oh, yeah. And do you have, I bet you have trad Layla still. No. Good. Purple Layla. Purple Layla. Okay. I like it. Well, I'm ready to tell you three stories if you're ready to listen. I am ready. Okay. Well, then let's begin. Hey, guys. My name is Luke from a tiny piece of shit island in the Mediterranean called Malta. Okay.

Are you being serious? Is it a piece of shit, Luke? On YouTube, it looks incredible. Yeah. I think he's being sarcastic. Well, I hope so. Yeah. I started listening to your podcast this week from the beginning. I'm listening at two times speed, but it will be a while before I catch up. Oh my gosh.

I grew up with my house back to back with my grandparents' house, as in our back balcony would see theirs. Also, the houses are on a hill, so we were above them, meaning our basement was in line with their first floor.

Being so close meant my parents would have a literal 30-second drive to drop me off at my grandparents. Convenient, right? My parents and grandparents always told me that as a baby, I really struggled to fall asleep, which, you know, is normal with kids, but this persisted as I grew older. I always felt a presence at my grandparents' house when I slept there, and I also felt something in the basement of my house.

As I reached my teens, I learned what was up. It turns out my grandparents' neighbor had had two daughters.

Their first daughter died in the 70s, and their second daughter, who'd never met their older daughter before she passed, sadly died as a toddler in the 80s. The first daughter was named Marie, and the second, Anne-Marie, a kind of homage to the older daughter, I guess. The father was so distraught by both of his daughters' deaths that he would use a Ouija board to communicate with them.

I believe that the spirits wanted to interact with me and play with me, as kids do with one another, and that is why as a baby and younger kid, I always felt a presence. My aunt, she's like an older sister to me with just 19 years between us, would use the apartment attached to our basement as a place to study. She would often find picture frames of me flipped over or on the ground without explanation."

At first, she thought her friends were messing with her, but it happened frequently enough and with no one around. Eventually, my grandparents had a priest come over to consult on the matter. He determined that the soul of one of the kids next door was messing with my photos, but that she was not malicious. It was simply the soul of a lost kid trying to play. The priest blessed the house, asked the spirit to leave us, and the activity stopped.

Fast forward to 2019. Coincidentally, my best friend's uncle moved into the house where those girls had died. When he told me this, I didn't say anything about what had happened with the previous family who lived there.

Then one day, my friend and I were driving along when I turned to him and told him that I was not messing with him, but that his uncle's new house was haunted. He slammed the brakes, looked me dead in the face, and said I better not be taking the piss. After convincing him and telling him the above information I have shared with you, but not mentioning the girl's names, he went on to tell me of a ghost of a little girl who is constantly running up and down the halls at night playing with his young cousins.

His uncle named the ghost Marie. Of course he did. I told him the girls' names that had once lived there, Marie and Anne Marie. I swear you could have heard a pin drop.

So COVID rolls around and I needed to quarantine with my girlfriend. We stayed in the basement apartment of my grandparents. One of the nights, she went to bed early while I stayed up late playing video games till about 3 a.m. before I decided to turn in for the night. I switched off the lights and walked to the bedroom. From behind me, I heard, Luke, what are you doing?

I fucking froze and then immediately fucked off into the bedroom. My girlfriend slightly woke up when I climbed into bed. I asked her if she had called my name. She hadn't. I didn't tell her what had happened. It was only night three of 13 and I didn't want to scare her. I never stayed up alone for the rest of our quarantine.

My best friend's uncle has since moved out and my family has had no interactions with the spirit of the young girl. A new owner is living in the house, but I have no idea whether the ghost of the little girl is showing herself to them. Thanks, Luke. Yikes. I feel so bad for the dad. I know. I can't. The grandparents' friend.

Who's... Just the neighbor. Yeah, neighbor. Yeah. Who... Yeah, Marie and then Anne-Marie. And then, like, to have both of them die. In that situation, like, I also might start using a Ouija board. Oh, my God, yeah. It's like, I know, like, here we'd be like, no, don't do that. But if that's you, I'm like, okay, I'll risk it. Totally. I think you... Also, I suppose it depends on the circumstances of my children's deaths. You know, if there was illness, maybe I feel differently. But if it was, like, freak accidents...

I don't feel like I have enough information. Yeah. When I hear stories like this, and I know I've talked about this before, but I always think about my neighbor across the street growing up, Mrs. Roble.

Her and her husband lived there. They had two boys. They were older than me. I was like, you know, 10 or something. And I remember both of her sons dying within a few years of each other, both in fucking motorcycle crashes. The first one died and he wasn't wearing a helmet, I believe are the circumstances. And then years later, the other one passes also in a motorcycle accident. And I think that he was wearing a helmet. It was like,

Because I remember our entire neighborhood just like, you know, supporting her, but also talking, being like, you can't stop living life, right? Like your child dies in a motorcycle accident and the younger child also loves motorcycles. You can't ask them to just give up something they love. Yeah. But fuck. Yeah. Dang. Yeah.

Oh, and then I do want to say another thing to our listeners. If you hear in certain recent episodes a little clicking here and there. A little crackle or a little pop. Yeah, no one's messaged us about it, but we are aware of it. And we are doing things, troubleshooting things behind the scenes. We're getting like... Yeah, we think we have like dirty electricity. Yeah, it's like not to nerd out and get too far into it, but it's like, you know, like a proper recording studio like that like big bands would use to make albums. Yeah.

like they think of everything down to like literally how the building is wired and like all the special wiring to make sure that the electricity doesn't like fluctuate like it would in a home. And so we're getting this thing called a power conditioner that's supposed to help eliminate that and also getting, uh,

like gold plated XLR connections. I love gold. So we're, we're trying to figure it out. We'll, we'll figure it out. Yeah. So sorry if you hear a little crackles and pops, thankfully it's a spooky podcast. So yeah, just a little atmospheric. I know you can actually add a filter that some people will for like certain shows to give it those little crackles and pops. No big deal, but thanks for bearing with us as we try to keep it professional. Yeah. Okay. Are you ready for our next story? I am. All right.

When I was 10 years old, something happened that I've never told anyone in full. Even now, saying it out loud makes me feel like the air is being sucked from my lungs. But a tale around a campfire with nothing but flickering flames and darkness beyond seems like the right place to finally write it out. It started the summer we moved into my grandmother's old farmhouse after she passed. The place was nestled in a thick forest at the edge of a small town in upstate New York.

The neighbors were distant, and the woods were deep. The whole kind of place where cell service didn't exist, and the nights swallowed light whole. My parents were excited about a fresh start. I was less than enthused. It was lonely, and I didn't know anyone. And the house creaked in ways that made me feel like a dare.

The worst part? There was a long hallway upstairs where the bedrooms were. At the very end of it was a door to the attic. The door had a lock on it, and my parents didn't have the key. They said the attic was empty. They said Grandma probably just stored junk up there. But sometimes, when I was brushing my teeth at night, I'd see the knob jiggle, just slightly, like someone trying not to be caught turning it.

The first time I saw it, I was brushing my teeth before bed. I glanced up into the hallway mirror. The attic door was cracked open. Just an inch. I froze. It had been shut when I walked in. I turned around fast. Nothing. When I looked back, it was closed again. I told myself it was all in my mind. But then things got weirder.

I started waking up with things in my room moved around. My toys would be in different positions. Sometimes my closet door, which I always shut tight, would be wide open. And one morning, I found muddy footprints on the floor, small like mine. Only I hadn't been outside, not barefoot and not in the rain. One day, my mom asked why I'd gotten up in the middle of the night and walked around the house.

I told her I hadn't. She frowned, said she must have imagined it, but I saw the way her eyes didn't quite believe me. And then it all came to a head one Saturday. It had been a quiet day. My dad was working on the car. My mom was cleaning. I was in the backyard digging for worms under the old oak tree. And that's when I saw me.

About 20 feet away, near the edge of the forest, was a boy. My age, same clothes, same hair, same face. He was just standing there, half in the shadows, watching me. I thought it was a trick of the light. Maybe like a mirror, I don't know. Maybe a neighborhood kid who looked like me. I shouted at him, but he didn't move. I took a step forward, and so did he. Perfectly timed. I took another step.

He did too. I ran back into the house, heart pounding. I did not tell my parents. I wasn't sure they'd believe me. But that night, I locked my bedroom door and I pushed my dresser in front of it, just in case. I didn't sleep much. Around 2.30 in the morning, I heard footsteps in the hallway. And then they stopped at my door. And then one knock, soft and deliberate. Let me in.

The voice was mine. I held my breath, too terrified to move. Let me in, it said again. Not angry, not demanding, just like it knew what I would do. I didn't answer. I didn't sleep. In the morning, the dresser was pushed aside and my door was wide open. That was when I started sleeping in my parents' room. They weren't happy about it, but I was so scared that they let me. I didn't tell them why. I couldn't even find the words.

A few days later, my dad finally got that attic door open. He had to saw the lock off. I begged him not to. I screamed, I cried, I pleaded, but he told me I was just being silly. And inside, there wasn't much. Dust, old furniture, boxes, nothing unusual. For one thing, a mirror.

Tall, old, and the kind with an ornate frame. It was leaned against the far wall. My dad wiped off the dust and said it was a cool antique. My mom suggested we clean it and hang it up somewhere. Me? I wanted to smash it. That night, I dreamed I was in the attic, standing in front of the mirror, but the reflection wasn't copying me. It was smiling, but I wasn't.

And then the next morning, I had scratches on my cheek. Three tiny lines, like fingernails. My parents assumed that I must have done it in my sleep. That's what they said. Then came the day I was locked out of the house. I came home from school, and the front door was locked. Side door, too. I banged and rang the bell, but no one came. I was just about to go to the neighbor's when I saw someone through the window. Me. He walked through the hallway, looked out the window at me, and smiled.

And I ran. Eventually, my mom called my name and I turned to see her pulling into the driveway, shopping bags in hand. She asked what I was doing, why was I outside, and why was the door locked? I told her someone was in the house. She searched, but nothing. And everything appeared normal. But I knew, I knew he'd been there.

That night, I stood outside the attic door with a flashlight. I had to see it again. I needed to know. Inside the attic, the air was cold and still. Dust floated around like snowflakes, and the mirror sat where it had been. I took a step closer. My reflection also took a step forward. And then it smiled. But I didn't. It reached out and touched the inside of the glass, and I ran.

I begged my parents to get rid of the mirror. I cried. I screamed. They told me it was just a mirror, that I was just having nightmares and that it was, you know, the stress from the move. But then something changed. My parents started calling me the wrong name, calling me to dinner when I was already in the room and asking why I changed my clothes when I absolutely had not, telling me to stop slam the doors. But I hadn't touched the door.

Once, I walked into the kitchen and my mom just screamed. She dropped a glass, said that I had just walked out of the kitchen a second ago. And then I told them. I told them everything about the mirror, the footsteps, the voices. They looked scared. My dad went into the attic with a hammer, but he didn't really believe me. He just wanted it all to come to an end. So he smashed the mirror into like a hundred pieces. We cleaned it up together and I thought it was over. But it wasn't. That night, I woke up to breathing.

Not mine, but breathing from under the bed. I froze, bravely and slowly leaned over to look. Two eyes were staring back at me, my own fucking eyes. And then he crawled out, slow, smiling, calm. I tried to scream, but he put a finger to his lips. It's my turn now.

I backed away, heart pounding, but something snapped inside of me. I wasn't going to run anymore. I grabbed the flashlight from my nightstand and shined it right into its face. He hissed and recoiled like light burned him or something. I lunged, swinging wildly. He shrieked a sound not like a boy, but like metal tearing. I chased him down the hallway, back towards the attic. The door was wide open. He turned and stared at me with those eyes and then ran inside and I followed him.

The attic was darker than it should have been. Some broken shards of the mirror were still scattered across the floor, and he was backing towards them, snarling now. But I didn't stop. I grabbed the heaviest shard I could find, and I smashed it against the biggest piece left in the frame, then another, and another, and I didn't stop until it was all jagged edges and glittering dust. My doppelganger was screaming, a sound that split the room. He clawed at his face, at his skin, as if trying to stay together. Then...

he finally began to fade like smoke in the wind piece by piece until he was gone and just like that i was alone in the attic heart pounding but i'd done it when my parents found the mirror completely destroyed the next day they were furious with me i told them the truth again that he was still there even after dad's half-hearted attempt but they didn't believe me i mean not fully but i didn't care

And then the house went quiet after that. No more footsteps. No more voices. My parents stopped calling me the wrong name. But still, sometimes when I pass a mirror, I pause just to make sure it's really me looking back. Jonas. Thank you, Jonas. Fuck that. Fuck that. I know. I was just thinking like if I was 10 years old. Oh my gosh. And saw another little boy who looked exactly like me, especially like around my house. Uh-huh.

How wildly upsetting that would be. Yeah. Like I would lose my mind, especially if he said something creepy. Yeah. Well, I mean like that scene that happens much later when he's like, what do you say? It's like my turn now. Yeah. Or whatever under the bed. I mean, I'm freaked out for the rest of my life to some degree for that. Always like a low profile bed that practically sits on the floor. I never want anything. You know what's funny about the like doppelganger kid situation, and maybe this is more of like a little girl thing.

But when I was a little girl, I desperately wanted to have like a twin, like a, you know, a best friend that looked just like me. So I think initially I'd kind of be pumped. Like this little kid in my neighborhood, until I'm scared, you know, at first it's like, oh my God, I have a twin. How fun. Cause twins were rare and they get like a bunch of attention. As long as she wasn't saying creepy things. Right. Yeah. And pretending to be you. Yeah. That's what I'm saying. Just like initially I'm like, oh my God, how fun. I have a,

I have a twin. Funny. Little girls, like, you know, when they develop really close friendships, they want to, like, dress alike and have the same. Uh-huh. So there is this sort of thing. Yeah. So I was thinking about, like, how, yeah, okay, I get it, Jonas. Like, initially, at first, it's like, oh, cool, it's like a kid in my neighborhood. But it very quickly turned. I wonder where that comes from, like, that little girl thing of, like, wanting to dress. Because I've seen that a bunch of times. Yeah. Where, like, you know, like, little girls want to, like, wear the same outfits with their besties. Uh-huh. I can't.

think of any like an equivalent with any like my guy friends like I that was a thought I never had as a kid yeah I'm like ooh Kyler's so fun to hang out with I'm like we should dress the same yeah let's get these same overalls or something it's just like I

I wonder if it, this is so silly because obviously in Full House, it's only, you only see one of the Olsen twins at a time, but like you learn very quickly. Well, I did anyways. My parents were like, well, yeah, like this is how they do it. They have twins and then they swap. Yeah. So I wonder if it's just like a cultural thing around that time, like learning that like you could have two people that are the same and like, you know, just sort of this like fascination with like, oh, they're like famous little people on TV and just obsessed with that show. Cause I feel like it had something to do with that for me.

I think that existed before that, though. I think that, like, girls would do that prior to that show existing. Yeah. I'm just saying that's what it was for me. Sure, sure, sure. But, yeah, just so fascinating. Cultural influence. Cultural or some of it somehow just, like, genetic or just, like, a true difference between sexes in some ways. Well, sure, because even at this age, like—

My girlfriends and I, it's like, okay, Liz, every year for her birthday, we get a matching item. Same pair of shoes, same skirt. We don't plan outfits to go out together and be wearing matching outfits, but I don't know if it's some sort of fitting in kind of thing. Like, I belong. If someone wants what I have or we have the same, we're equal or we're somehow connected. More communal.

I don't know. Maybe guys are more like traditionally like more lone wolf mentalities because it's like... You're a wolf. I never thought about doing something like that with a guy friend. Like, ooh, what if we both wore the same necklace? Okay, but also some guys do because flashback to Chad Daniels' 50th birthday and him and two buddies, they had matching tracksuits. As a joke. They did it to be like... I know, but like...

Yeah, it's not the same vibe, I think. Well, sure. And it's similar to that thing, I think, when women are like, when it's such a cliche, but it is so often true, of like two women going to the bathroom together. Yeah. Like never had the urge to be like, ooh, I'm going to the bathroom. Chad, come with me. Well, we're talking about you. That's why we go together. Yeah, yeah.

We got to discuss. Got lots of thoughts. Sure, sure. Okay. All right. Well, I like that story. That was a really good story. That was very creepy. Yes. Very creepy. All right. Ready for one more about possible witches? Okay, let's go.

Hi, Dan and Lindsay. Hello. My name is Sarah, and I've been a big fan of Time Suck for a while. Thank you. And now I'm a fan of Scared to Death since my partner introduced me to it a year or so ago. I love listening on my long drive to and from work, even when I might be a little freaked out at night. Now, I love music and have spent many years going to concerts and attending music festivals. I live in Tennessee and have gone to the infamous Bonnaroo Music Festival for about 10 years non-consecutively.

After being postponed in 2020 due to COVID, the festival was set to come back in September of 21. Unfortunately, very last minute, it was canceled due to severe weather. My friends and I already had all of our camping gear packed in our cars when we heard through social media. Others were attempting to put together some last minute smaller festivals for those who were going to attend Bonnaroo. We figured, fuck it. We'd taken work off and spent all this money on food and supplies. Let's just go.

We also had our fun time supplies packed, if you know what I mean.

We picked the new pop-up festival that was closest to our hometown of Chattanooga. This festival was being held on acres and acres of farmland with a distillery on it in the literal middle of nowhere Tennessee. I'll keep the place anonymous just in case. Now keep in mind, we know nothing about this place except it being a farm and a distillery. It was amazing that they could pull this together in a little over 24 hours and they were featuring some local artists from our city, which was amazing.

While we set up camp, I found in my camping gear...

A little pocket protection spell I had purchased from a hippie shop in our hometown a long time ago. I thought, why the hell not? It consisted of a feather, stones, match, and spell card in a little matchbox. I read the directions and did the little spell before we set out for the first show. At that time, I was intrigued by the spiritual world, but I had never delved into it deeply.

We pre-gamed a little, drinking, smoking. I did a little microdose of LSD, like smaller than I've ever done, so not expecting anything crazy. I am, while not often, sometimes that friend that drifts off on their own side quests from the group when attending these types of gatherings. I'd grown up in and loved the peace of the outdoors.

During an EDM set that was just a little too much base for me, I decided to adventure around the open areas of the farm. I told my friends I was going to find somewhere to pee and then venture around, and I wouldn't be gone long. At this point, I'm feeling good. By no means tripping, just a little body high, and the pretty visuals from cascading lights. I found a willow tree on a hill. I stopped to pee, stargazed a little. You can really see such a vast amount of stars out away from all the light pollution of the city.

Fireflies started to come up from the grass. I mean, it was beautiful. I heard an owl off in the woods behind me and a whisper in the wind that I couldn't quite make out, like a hum of a woman, like the hum of a song. It was beautiful and calming, like when your mother hums you to sleep as a child. I decided to follow it a little ways. I felt light and warm being calmed by the beautiful hum of the woods. I came across a kind of arch in the forest opening and looked through it.

I saw a tiny cabin, overgrown with moss, but with a little light coming out of one tiny window. There was smoke coming from the tiny chimney off the roof. I started to feel drawn to it and weightless. Should I go towards it? And then all of a sudden I thought to myself, oh, okay, this stuff is a little stronger than I thought. I've heard of Feytraps, an Appalachian folklore from my southern family. I was of sound mind just enough to know I should not go through this arch.

As I turned around to walk back, I saw a hunter's tree stand up high. I sobered up real quickly and realized I was too far out, probably on someone else's property, and I needed to get back before I was shot. I walked back to the stage and the show was over. There was no service out where we were, so I kept walking towards our campsite. Passing each stage area, everything was shut down. I'd only been gone like 20-30 minutes.

This felt so weird. I finally arrived back at the campsite, and then my friends ran over to me, so concerned, asking where I'd been. I was like, I haven't even been gone long. Why'd they shut everything down? And they said, uh, you've been gone for over two fucking hours. My eyes went wide. What? There's no way. I didn't want to tell them about my experience because it just didn't seem like a big deal. Obviously, I had microdosed, so I guessed I just lost time. I went to bed thinking, damn, that shit was strong.

The next day, I woke up feeling great. Cooked breakfast, hydrated, and started to get ready for the next day's shows. No microdosing for me today. Just some beers and blunts. It was going to be a very chill day with some jammy bands and relaxation. One of the girls from our group said she wanted to take her hammock out into the woods by the creek to take a nice day nap. We saw her later for a couple shows, then she said she was going to go back to retrieve her hammock.

We grew concerned as the night went on. We called for her and tried to find her, but in these type of festival settings, people branch off and meet new people and have adventures, and we couldn't get a hold of her on her phone with no service, so okay. We went to sleep concerned, but we were relieved when she showed up the next morning. She was fine, but asked us, where were you? But we asked her, where were you? She said she fell back asleep and lost time.

She said the woods were just so magical, like she didn't want to leave. I told her, I know what you mean. We chalked it up to the drugs and being out in nature.

The last day of this little mini festival and the rest of my campsite friends had to leave early to get back home. I had an extra day off, so I decided to stay one more night in my tent by myself. I went to one of the last shows of one of our local musicians and friends. It was a little makeshift stage, which I hadn't attended yet. I was chilling, listening to music when I noticed off in the distance, right to the stage in the woods were some neon lights. There was a little trail. I started walking towards it.

There was a little light-up outhouse and a lit-up coffin with a fake skeleton in it. I followed the lights further. Then I saw a little trailer with a sign, Blank and Blank Farm and Distillery Haunted Tours. How did I not see this before? I went up to the window and asked what it was all about. Oh, they told me. A young man and woman told me there were lots of Native American history in these lands as well as family history of witches. I gulped. Witches?

Yes, the man said. Our family goes back centuries on this land, and there was a time in the early 1900s that our grandmothers and great-grandmothers were known as local midwives and healers until the stigma of witchcraft circulated the town's gossip. They then worked hard to keep their lives a secret as to not risk retaliation. Would you like a tour? I declined, mostly because I had to get back home the next day, but I was intrigued and I did want to come back.

I went back to my campsite alone, feeling a little scared and curious at the same time. I wasn't going to leave my tent, but trying to drift off to sleep, I just kept thinking about this. Was it a curiosity or a coincidence? I finally fell asleep and woke up the next day still curious. I wasn't afraid of my experience or the history of the place, but more wondered if what had happened to me could have possibly been real. I went home and did some research about the place, and yeah, there's definitely some lore there.

I still haven't gone back for a tour, but I plan to at some point. Nowadays, I'm very interested in the spiritual. I love my crystals and my stones. Intrigued by the power of nature, the sun, the moon, the stars, studying Norse, Celtic, and Appalachian mythology, I always come back to that experience, wondering if it was meant to be or just a coincidence. I know, I know, it's easy to chalk it up to hallucinogenic experiences, but still, I have to wonder.

I know this isn't the most spooky story, but I thought it might be interesting to share. Thanks for all the spoopy content that gets me home safe at night and lulls me to sleep. Love y'all. Sarah. Thank you, Sarah. Either that was a paranormal experience or really good drugs or both. I know. I think that when we're, you know, taking shrooms, LSD, like these kinds of psychoactive elements, you know,

it makes us more open, right? Like after a good shroom trip, we are emotionally more open. We're softer. We see the world in a different way. Uh, we're, we're kinder to ourselves, to people around us. We view nature differently. So it would make sense that if you were in a space that once, uh, you know, an area that was once inhabited by witches, inhabited by witches, uh,

Their energy is very likely there. And you absolutely could have been having a paranormal experience because your defenses are down. Yeah. I mean, there are theories out there in the psychedelic community that like, of course, you know, you're seeing visual distortions just like, you know, your brain is working in a different way and different connections talking to itself in a different, you know, way. And that that's all it is. It's just like, you know, these processing light and time differently and shadows take on different, you know,

looks and then like, you know... Yeah, I mean, it's like how the tree in our backyard suddenly was like full of tiki heads. Yeah, yeah. It just happens. I mean, there's going to be the scientific view, of course, that like it's just the way your brain is acting differently under the influence of this drug. Yeah. And then there's another school of thought that it's like, yes, okay, that's true. But that also on top of that...

These drugs allow you to see through the veil into something else, a parallel dimension, just something that you can't normally access, especially around DMT. Like ayahuasca DMT, there's a lot of theories out there that you're actually seeing entities that are their own thing outside of psychedelics that you can't normally witness. So, I mean, who knows? It could be both. It could be like they had some really good drugs and there was some actual paranormal weird shit going on in the woods. Yeah. I'm amazed by some non-paranormal elements in this story of like,

Whatever promoter was able to get a pop-up festival going to this degree in 24 hours is wild. Listen, somebody deserves a promotion. Oh my gosh. Somebody, I hope they made a lot of money. I hope someone was like, okay, okay, Bonnaroo's not going to happen. Okay, we got this farm. Well, yeah, because you've already got all these bands booked. You've already paid for a lot of these bands. But I doubt it was the Bonnaroo promoters. Totally. But maybe it was like a side promoter. Well, yeah, because it's...

I imagine in my mind, it's like you have the main promoter, but then they probably subcontract out other things because there's so many moving parts of a festival. Right. And they're like, hey, we can't handle the liability, but if you want to risk it, all these bands are on their way.

that's super cool. Yeah. And then that did just make me think of we had just went to, I mean, they call it a festival. It's not really. We went to this Willie Nelson Outlaw Festival. Yeah, I think in other places it's more festival-y. Yeah. Like, based on what I've seen online and, like, they do the gorge. So I think, like, at the gorge there's, like,

a lot of artisans. Yeah, people camping out. Yeah. And I think as they come through more cities, even though Spokane's like hardly a city, it's like, it's not like a big, you know, metropolis. They just pare it down into like something that fits into that arena. It just made me think when I was picturing Sarah and Sarah's friends, you know, like tripping and like just being like hippies in the best way. Yeah.

It's funny when you see that energy not in a fun festival area. And when we went, it was just one of the funniest people watching things I've had recently. Oh, yes. That lady. Oh, my God. Kyler and I were obsessed. And then we found out later that Lindsay was also fixated. I couldn't stop. And Monroe. And Monroe.

But like we went to this, okay, it's in a soccer field. It's like normally used as a soccer field and they have the stage on one end and then we're all, it's just like fold out chairs in the middle and then stadium seats on the side. So there's no open area where people are just tripping and hanging out on blankets. It's not that bad. There's no like rolling green hills to lie down on and just absorb the music. That's not happening. And because Bob Dylan and Willie Nelson, these ancient headliners are performing, the crowd is quite old. Right.

Yeah, a lot of wheelchairs. Yeah, a lot of wheelchairs and a lot of people, you know, most people, I would say, over 60 years old. So you have this vibe of like mostly older people sitting down in chairs, quietly watching Bob Dylan, quietly watching- It's a very chill vibe. Super chill vibe.

And then Billy Strings, who kind of has a jam, Bandy vibe to him sometimes. He'll go on these long solos. And there was like eight people who showed up just for them. Very clearly. And they were tripping on something. And this one lady...

A sea of people sitting down, quietly watching what they consider one of the opening acts. They don't know who Billy Strings is. He's great, but they don't know him. They're waiting for Bob Dylan to come out. And one lady in particular, it's like she's at Coachella. She is flippant.

fucked up on something. She's wearing this hot pink Aviator Nation hat, which if you know what it is, it's like a lightning bolt on the front, but it is like neon, neon pink. And she has the most thick white woman hair I've ever seen. It's like, it's very clearly that like, I bet when she doesn't straighten her hair, it's very curly. She has

And it matters because this hair is flowing all over the place. She just has so much fucking hair. Oh, that was the second lady. I'm talking about the lady before who was twirling. Oh, there's twirling lady with the turquoise hat. Oh, that lady. They were together. They were in the same group. They were together, but twirling lady had faded before Bob Dylan. The big haired lady, she was the only one standing for a long period of time in our entire section. And I felt bad for the people behind her because she has this huge...

Yeah. And she is throwing her arms up and like no one is feeling the same vibe she's feeling from Bob Dylan. Pink Hat Lady is like turning around with her back to the stage and grabbing the faces of the people that she's with and trying to have these like moments of like, I love you. Oh, yeah. But she's like holding their faces. Yep. But they're all high so you can see all of them just like locking eyes like, yes, this is so me.

And meanwhile, there's like some 80-year-old sitting behind them being, I'm sure, just like, what is happening? Or an 80-year-old who's like, oh, yeah, those were the days. True, true. Yeah, but oh, it just killed me. Like the twirling lady, she must have spun in a circle doing this weird little dance, mostly facing just seated stoic audience members.

for probably a good hour. Yeah. Just barely hanging on. And her, the way that she had her, her mouth was just wide open the whole time. Her tongue was almost hanging out. It was weird. She had like the tip of her tongue pressed behind her teeth. Probably a lot of Molly. Probably a lot of Molly. Oh yeah, probably a lot of Molly. And then did you see the couple that was like to the right? And she, the woman had on, I think like a purple hat. There were a lot of hats. She was wearing like a purple hat and she just was doing this, like the, like the rave hand motion. Rave hands. And just lots of rave hands. I was like,

And by the way, you guys, the doors opened to this festival at like 2.30 in the afternoon on a Thursday. It was raining. It was cold. And again, there's no like...

outdoor festival vibes to this. It's just a concert that happens to be outdoors. Yeah, it's like watching a concert at a ballpark. There's just like hot dog vendors off the sides. Yeah. And just, you know, craft beer vendors and a bunch of like old people sitting in chairs. God, it was so funny. And like eight people who think they're at Coachella. It was, oh God, it was the people watching. It was fantastic. It was fantastic. You want to do some Annabelle shout outs? I sure do, Dan. Thanks for asking.

I will start. Oh, you'll start? Yeah, I'll get started. Okay, I'd like to thank the following Annabelles. By the way, we will do our June charity donation announcement later this month. And I believe that later this month, in just a few weeks, we will also have scholarship announcements for people who were awarded scholarships. That's amazing. So thanks for making it possible for all that we get to do on the humanitarian side. Mandy May, Stephanie Crago, Camille Klum, Christy

Cornelison, Allie Jones, and Liz Hay. Yeah, thank you. And I'd like to thank the following Annabelles, Megan Cusimano, Matthew Zacharias, Shadow, just Shadow.

Jennifer Miller, Stephen Caldwell, Joseph Perlotti, Ryan King, Lizbeth Martinez, Candice Black, and good old Milk Dud. Oh, Milk Dud. Oh, Milk Dud. I understand, though. I'd love a good Milk Dud every once in a while. Yeah, yeah. It's not like a go-to, but if somebody handed me the fun-sized box with just three or four, I'd be thrilled. I like the flavor, but they get stuck in my teeth. You don't like anything that gets stuck in your teeth. Nope, I don't. Which is just about everything.

Okay, a handful of spoopy shout-outs. To Nick from Nick, happy 30th birthday. Maybe this year you'll decide if you're a creeper or a peeper. Hopefully, your wife agreed to go to summer camp with you. Well, I hope so, Nick, because it's going to be the best. To Phoenix from your mom, Stephanie, happy 14th birthday to my dancing firebird. Keep twirling to your own beat.

How appropriate. Listen, may you be a Billy Strings... Maybe they are. Maybe that's who we saw. Maybe we saw them twirling at the Billy Strings show. I don't think that this 14-year-old is ripped on Molly right now. Oh, yeah, 14. Okay. Never mind. To Timmy the Turtle from Manda, a.k.a. Wifey, happy anniversary. Thank you for being my best friend, partner in crime, and biggest fan. I am one lucky woman to have you.

To Kirsten from Kara or Kara, happy fourth anniversary to you and Matt. I love you so much. Can't wait to take on wet hot bad magic summer camp with you someday. I love it. You guys get there. Get there. To Eric from your favorite daughter Zoe, happy birthday to the best dad us kids could ask for and the best papa to Ivy. Everyone deserves someone like you in their lives. Thanks for all you do for us.

And that is our show. And that is our show. Thanks for continuing to send in your personal tales of terror to mystoryatscaredtodeathpodcast.com. You can email us for everything else, info at scaredtodeathpodcast.com. Thank you again to Logan Keith scoring today's show, to Heather Rylander organizing the My Story emails, to book editor Drew Atana polishing and preparing listener stories for book number six, to Molly Box for finding the first story I shared this week. I was able to find the second.

We're on Facebook and Instagram where we post pics that accompany episodes and more at Scared to Death Podcast. Also have a private Facebook group, Creeps and Peepers, full of fellow horror lovers moderated by the all-seeing eyes who do a fantastic job. Enjoy your nightmares, Creeps and Peepers. Hope you were scared to death. Bye. Bye.

If spirits threaten me in this place, fight water by water and fire by fire. Banish their souls into nothingness and remove their powers until the last trace. Let these evil beings bleed through time and space. Evil may pass through but have no home here within. Scared to death. Bad Magic Productions. Either that was a paranormal experience or really good drugs or both. I know.