Listener Tales 6

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Find someone and have someone with you in therapy. Sign up and get 10% off at BetterHelp.com. That's better H E L P dot com slash morbid. Hey weirdos, I'm Elena.

I'm Ash and this is morbid the listener episode brought to you by you for you from you and about you. It's all about you guys. Let's do this. But before we do this.

It is Thanksgiving. So happy Thanksgiving. Woop, boop. It's actually not even Thanksgiving anymore because it's 1230 midnight.

That's okay. And if you guys are looking to start your holiday shopping early, which I'm sure you are because it's Black Friday technically, go on our website morbidpodcast dot com and in our merch store, there are two existing shirts that have been there and two new designs that are 20% off if you use the special Black Friday promo code morbid and that is going to be good through Cyber Monday. So go on there and check it out. And after this, there's going to be a ton more new designs and styles in the store.

Keep looking out for that. But these four shirts are on sale right now, 20% off. So go check that out. And the new design was actually done by one of our very own weirdos, the wonderful insanely talented Miranda.

You can find her on Instagram at mocks, knocks, moon. That's M O X, N O X, M O O and E. She's so talented and we love her. We love her design and we hope you love it too.

So go check it out. One more little order of business. If you have not already, go get your tickets to our Gramercy show on January 30th 2020 in New York City. There are only a handful of tickets left guys, which is insane, but go get them.

It's going to be littier than a tittier. It sure is. So go get them. Do it.

Do it. You won't, but I hope you do. You're totally going to. And now without further ado, let's get into listener stories.

Shall we? I think we shall. Let's do it. Okay.

I'm going to start because I have a really long one in front of me right now and we fought to the death and I died, but she's still here. Don't worry about it. So mine is called I think I was almost murdered by a bald headed phantom man. LOL.

What a great one to start with. He's just really setting us up here. This is from M. So hey, M weirdos before we start.

Please may you call me M throughout because I'm a paranoid bitch. So no spooky phantom man who may or may not have existed can hunt me down and finish what he may or may not have intended. I'm still unsure if he was a real person. Hold on to your arseholes.

Shits about to come loose. You sorry. That's amazing. That was kind of gross, but thank you.

Also I love you guys. You're genuine and hilarious and I really appreciated how detailed yet respectful you are of every case you share. Thank you so much. Keep up the good work, ladies.

And I'm excited to share my story. Thank you much, Lee. You're so welcome. Thank you, much Lee.

You're welcome, much Lee. Kids need to know that they should never walk home from anywhere alone after dark. I agree with that. Hopefully other weirdos listen to my story and say, yeah, what the fuck mate?

You're a dumbass. I love it. Okay, this will be a bit of background about me, but this is likely to be a long one. So feel free to skip over this part.

I won't do it. We can never, never, ever. I'm 22 years old and from the middle of fucking nowhere in the depths of the British countryside. That's awesome.

Yes, I have an accent like the one you hear on Downton Abbey. That's literally exactly what I was wondering. Me too. And from the twats that run the UK, our countries both have shitty leaders.

Ain't that nice? Anyways, I digress. Basically I'm young, dumb and British, also a journalist, not the fun kind that cracks the code and leaks official documents incriminating our souls everywhere. But the talking about stocks and shares and finance things, it pays the bills.

I love it. I get it. I moved to study at a university in a big city for three years and boy did it open my eyes to the world. For example, it was the first time I could take order take away, take out for the Americans and have it delivered because I legitimately lived on a farm with nothing else in a three mile radius.

So Domino's wouldn't deliver insert crying face emoji. That's tragic. I've never felt anything more in my life. Onto the spook spook things.

University. Yeah? I just felt really excited. I was like, whoo.

That was like, you just did a full body roll. I'm like, whoo. Sure did. I'm real excited.

So university is expensive as fuck. And debt is the spookiest thing of all. Sure is I feel you so hard on that. There was no way I could live away from home without working.

I found this job where I could choose my own hours and basically hang out around the various music venues in the city and go to gigs. I don't know if Americans call them that, but concerts. Yeah, sure. We know what gigs are for free and then write reviews.

That sounds like an awesome job. Basically, I got to see all my favorites and get super good seats. Ideal, right? Yeah.

I had been working for this online mag for a few months when I landed my first arena tour ticket, the Pesh mode. Holy shit. Shut the fuck up. I'm so jealous right now.

I'm a huge 1980s music fan. So it was, oh, so I was, I thought it was like, so I was amazing. So I was buzzing. My mom was so jealous.

Oh my God, that's adorable. Love it. Bright eyed and bushy tailed. I traveled to the arena and went straight to the front of the line because journalists were privileged.

The reviewers and photographers were all seated on one side of one of the side banks right up close to the stage. The general audience milled around in the center in the most polite mosh pit I'd ever seen. I've never seen a polite mosh pit gently bumping into each other in time with Darude San Storm, which by the way, I played upwards of 20 times on a loop as everyone just filtered into find their seats. Oh my God, that sounds like a nightmare.

Yeah, I don't like when songs play more than once. I'm just picturing it. Do, do, do, do, do, do, do, do, do, do, do, do, do, do, do, do, do, do, do, do, do, do, do, do, do, do, do, do, do, do, do, do, do, do, do, do, do, do, do, do, do, do, do, do, do, do, do, do, do, do, do, do, do, do, do, do, do, do, do, do, do, do, do, do, do, do, do, do, do, do, do, do, do, do, do, do, do, do, do, do, do, do, do, do, do, do, do, do, do, do, do, do, do, do, do, do, do, do, do, do, do, do, do, do, do, do, do, do, do, do, do, do, do, do, do, do, do, do, thing and I love it. I was scrolling on my phone looking at cute puppy videos as per usual.

When I saw the flash of a camera going off in my peripheral vision, I looked over to my left and saw the guy holding up his camera. As it was the interval to Peshmoad wasn't on stage and I'm pretty sure it's common courtesy not to have flash on at events. So it was obvious straight away he was taking a photo with me in frame. I know you shouldn't judge a book by its cover but let me tell you I judged the fuck out of him because ew I could instinctually tell he was a pervert.

Ew I hate this. I hate when you have a feeling about someone and you just know that you're right. Oh I'm not into this at all. He was over six feet in height and skinny as a french fry.

His skin was pale enough that it could be lit up in technicolor by the lights from the staging area. He was bald and his eyes were dark and sunken into his face. He looked ill or dead. Oh I just got full bod gills.

I don't like this. This sounds like slender man. He was dressed nondescriptly but the dark clothes definitely accentuated how pale he was. I actually feel him on that.

I was gonna say I feel personally attacked because when I go to shows I definitely light up with the colors that are there. I feel personally victimized by this description. He was the kind of man you think was creepy if he came up to you and started chatting but otherwise you probably wouldn't notice he was there. I had given him the benefit of the doubt if I didn't notice his camera.

That I understand. I assumed he was a photographer because he had no notepad and obviously he was holding that pesky camera of his but rather than one of those professional spaceship-esque kind of cameras with a really wide lens he was using one of those three megapixel ones grandma would use back in 2005 when you went to on a seaside holiday and every photo would come out blurry. Definitely not a camera for a professional but what was weirder was that his camera hadn't been pointed at the stage. It had been pointing at me.

Nope don't love this. I'd be like turn your mother fucking camera away from my mother fucking mug. I would literally walk up to him take the camera and just smash it on the ground and be like no pictures please. He noticed me looking at him and smiled.

All his teeth were gold like the robber guy from home alone but every single tooth. Hello? Sir get out of my presence. I hate this so much.

I hate this man. He took another photo of me actually taking the time to zoom in and focus it. The audacity. They wrote that and I agree.

I'm dead serious. He looked me dead in the eye still smiling with his gold ass teeth. They did not write that but I said that and I looked back at him with a gormless expression because I wasn't fucking processing. Then I said can I help you?

Because I'm British and politeness is all I have in stressful and or creepy situation. I'm screaming. Am I fucking love you? He took another picture and replied you'll do.

No I'm leaving. I'm out. I'll do. I'll do you the fuck out of here bro.

I'll do you one. I fucking kill you bro. Try me. Try me bro.

There was something about his voice. It was really raspy like he was a heavy smoker but he said it with a leering tone. Like one of those shitty guys who approaches you in a bar and gets mad when you reject him. You know the type.

Yes. His name is Chad. Always. But excuse me sir.

I'll do for what? I had no fucking idea what that meant and was understandably freaked out. Instead of climbing over to the row behind me and getting the fuck out of there. I stayed where I was because Karen and her friend were back and the guy sat back down in his seat at the end of the aisle.

I convinced myself he was having a creepy few minutes and wanted a few photos of young women but was otherwise harmless even though that in and of itself is hella spooky. Don't do it boys. I agree. The second half of the gig started and I definitely wasn't enjoying myself anymore.

Understandable. I was intensely aware of him and my whole body was one big goose mount at this point but it gets worse because this psycho dude starts edging closer. Nope. No.

Every time I looked over he was another sea closer and the closer he got the more I could smell him. I've smelled a few dead animals in my time. I grew up on a farm so I recognized the scent of decay and that's what he smelled like. Why?

Why? He's probably dead. Oh you can't get rid of the dead ones. There's there's nothing you can do.

You should have straight up decomposing next to her right now. But if you're a ghost why do you still smell? I don't know. If you're from Africa why are you white?

Always a mean girl connection somewhere. Let's see. Maybe he had an intensification of the case of halitosis. I don't know but my true crime and paranormal obsessed brain started screaming dead demon meds.

Honestly that's what I think. I'm going to be honest. The worst thing? No one around me seemed to notice he was being a total creep.

In fact no one seemed to notice him at all. I don't think he existed. I'm fucked up. Two ladies behind me have been close enough that they should have noticed his creepy behavior or smelled his stench but they were still completely engrossed in their theories about whether Susan's husband would find out her baby wasn't his and I refuse to believe anyone could be so self absorbed not to notice this was happening.

Maybe they were. I don't know. You'd be surprised. By this time Depeche Mode was singing personal Jesus great song.

Oh my god. Love it. I was praying and I'm not even religious. Now father who art and heaven get me the fuck out of here.

Please. I love you. I love you so much. He settled in the seat next to mine and turned the cameras.

If he wanted to take a selfie with me I was beyond done with this shit. Before he could put his arm around my shoulders I said excuse the fuck out of you. Yeah you did. You did it.

And jumped up from my seat. I basically hurtled over it into the laps of Karen and her friend who stared at me like I was insane. Again no mention of the guy next to me. I then proceeded to rush along the island out of the arena as fast as my short ass legs could carry me.

I was freaking out. Unfortunately though I needed to get the train home and the train station was a 15 minute walk away. It was almost 11 p.m. And the arena was slapped bang in the middle of a more residential part of the city so it was quiet.

And as it wasn't quite the end of the show, taxis hadn't pulled up at the taxi rink. I should have waited. I would have been the only I would have only had to hang around out there for 10 minutes. The area was well lit and there would have undoubtedly based security cameras so close to such a massive venue.

But like the dumb ass I am, I started jogging down the road figuring that staying in one place for too long was risky. I'm not fit enough to maintain that pace for more than 30 seconds. Same. So this slowed to a speed to a speed walk as I headed down Dim Streets and began my panic-directed train station.

I'm like getting anxiety for her. I know I hate when I can picture them in my head and I'm like oh man I want to help you. I was constantly looking over my shoulder and I was shaking so badly I couldn't hold my phone still enough to scroll through and pull out my boyfriend at the time's number to call him. And then I heard footsteps.

Everyone take any breath. No no no no no no no no no no no. I had just cut the cut through a deserted alleyway. I know so dumb.

She wrote it. She wrote it I didn't say it. It was walking through the city square which was deserted apart from the bronzy statue of the late queen Victoria who I thought was 100% about to watch my death or something. I was crying at this point and my heart felt like I was crawling its way up my throat.

Oh my god also you're painting a very vivid wonderful picture here. I looked over my shoulder and saw there was a tall shadowed figure just 10 feet behind me. Slenderman? Oh hey I thought he looked like Slenderman.

Foreshadowing. Great minds. Slenderman? Hello?

No for real. I just knew it was the creepy guy from the gig. He hadn't been there the first time I looked over my shoulder. Although we were in the wide open space and I would have been able to easily spot him from 100 feet away.

But he was following me. I could hear him chuckling. Oh I hate it. I hate it.

I never want anything like this to happen to anyone. No I'm really upset for you. I turned the fuck around and lungs be damned started sprinting. Yes.

I could hear booted feet pounding against the cobbled road behind me now and I screamed loud smart girl. But there was no one around to hear me. I didn't know what else to do so I just kept running. Phone in hand.

It felt like one of those nightmares where you try and out run the monster but you're just moving in place. Oh I have those all the time. I feel like it was getting closer and closer. Any second and he would be grabbing my shoulder.

Hey Siri call insert ex boyfriend's name here. I screamed because bitch I didn't have time to die. Oh fuck. I should have called the police.

Obviously because my ex lived 40 minutes out of the city and what could he do against my attacker. I guess I just reasoned I could let him know I was about to be murdered and the police could use the call in some way. I don't know. It was dumb.

The phone was on loudspeaker but boy didn't even pick up the phone. Our soul. True our soul. Straight up our soul.

I rounded a corner and ahead I could finally make out the lights of the train station. Oh my god. Just like go girl go. I could no longer hear footsteps.

I dared to slow down and look over my shoulder. The dude was standing at the top of the high street about 50 feet away now swathed in shuttles. His head was tilted at a natural right angle like he had just snapped his own fucking neck. Oh no.

No. What the fuck I am I am spooked. I know I'm not okay with this at all. I blinked several times and shook my head because I had to be imagining this shit.

I started backing away again facing him so I knew so I'd know if he came from me. I knew it was the same guy from because he had his in his hand was a camera. He lifted it up and there was a flash in the dark as he took one more photo. This is a fucking movie.

I have like a score playing in my head like this is very intense and very vivid. Some other dude in an anorac which was tightly drawn around his face walked past me. I can't have beer in his hand as he staggered along. He looked at me like I was insane.

I guess I did look crazy. I was walking backwards crying, panting and babbling to Syria in a messy panic. At this point I definitely thought I'd lost my mind. It was seeing things.

The train spotter anorac man gave me a whole wide berth as he walked past and muttered something like crazy bitch rather than stopping to ask if I was okay. Fuck that guy. Fuck all these guys. Seriously what the fuck.

I wanted to warn him about the crazy dude ahead but when I looked back at the top of the high street there was no one there. I knew he was real because my vision was still weird from the last flash of the camera. I couldn't have imagined it. I haven't experienced anything like that before or after this.

Hella spook. I made it to this train station and got home safely. My ex finally called me back. He had been watching TV and didn't think picking up the phone to his girlfriend was worth pausing Rick and Morty.

Um fuck that. I mean Rick and Morty is a great show. Fuck that. And didn't believe me when I told him that what had happened and was generally unsympathetic.

I'm glad he's an ex. I stayed with him for another few months before realizing I was worth more and dumped his ass. Yes. Listen ladies you're always worth more.

You're queen. To this day I've kept the full story of what happened that night to myself mainly because I didn't understand it. I thought I was crazy and convinced myself I was overreacting. Written down it sounds completely unbelievable.

We believe you. A couple of weeks later I did call the venue to report the creepy guy and told them the row that we were sat on with everything when everything went down. Get this. They told me no one else had been logged in the system to sit in that row.

Either he had seen me and decided to sit in an unassigned seat on the same row or no one else had known he was there at all. I don't know which theory is creepier. Honestly both of those are really fucking scary either way I'm fucking terrified. After that I went to the concert alone.

Oh after that I never went to a concert alone. I still have nightmares where I can smell decay and see the silhouette of a tall skinny french fry demon following me silently like a phantom. The flash from cameras in the dark still creeps me out and that my friends is my long ass story. Thank you for your patience and I hope it was worth the read.

Thank you so much for providing hours of entertainment to the thousands just by being your kick ass selves. All the best m. Holy shit m. I want to make this a full length feature film.

It needs to be a full ass feature film. Like I was just on the edge of my seat floor. Like Wes Craven is rolling over in his grave right now because he didn't get a chance to turn this into a fucking thriller thriller thriller. Thank you m.

Cause this is true. I thought you were gonna do it so I had to because you didn't. I love that. I love you.

Alright so mine is called listener tale and your death experience and the little boy. Heath is already. I love it. Hey Ash.

Hey Alina. Hey girl. Hi. I've debated for a while whether or not to share my story because frankly it is not a spook spooka some of the other stories you read but the narcissist in me has one out.

I love her already. Let me start by saying I excuse me. Let me start by saying I'm a huge skeptic. I'm not religious.

I believe when you die you die and that's the end. Whoa. That's deep. That is bleak.

And also another mean girl's reference. I don't really buy into ghost mediums etc. However I do believe that if there is something to see people who have been near death would be most likely to tap into that. That being said just before my third birthday I almost died.

Oh no. Alright so here we go. Our house caught on fire. Oh I mean buried the lead on that one.

She uh no this is not a true crime story. Sorry. It was just some hungry mice to trying to get a snack out of the coffee maker cord. We lived in a small trailer which I don't know if you know but those things go up in smoke.

It was just me and my two older brothers home at the time very very early in the morning. My mom had to drive my dad to work and my sister was out of friend's house. My oldest brother was able to get my other brother out by the way. He was just a scrawny kid and he had to shove my parents bed out of out from in front of a window because it was the safest route out.

He came back for me but I was terrified. A terrified almost three year old. Also I was a chunk. And probably way the same as my then 12 year old brother.

Well honestly same. So he told me to stay in my room not to move while he ran to the neighbors to get help. When the neighbors came to get me he found me in the hallway between my room and my parents room. Apparently having had tried to follow my brother after realizing I'm sure I share his health was more than more scared being by my damn self.

I was unconscious and the fire was up the walls and across the ceiling above me. Oh my god. Obviously I survived. Yes girl.

Oh plot twist. You fucking lived. The gal who lived. I spent a month in the hospital being treated.

Oh my god sweet baby. We lost everything. Oh my god. This is really sad.

It's horrible. And by the way yes my big brother is still my absolute hero. Without his quick thinking and adrenaline field strength I do not think I would be here today. You are touching all my heartstrings right now.

Shout out to your bro name. Your brotato. Fast forward a few years. I want to say I was maybe six or seven.

We had a new house and my sister and I shared a room. She is six years older than me. I was always absolutely petrified of the dark and my sister's porcelain dolls. Duh.

Yup. I'd beg my mom to let me keep the hallway light on with the door jar but my sister's mean and would tell my mom I was too old to have a night light. Well fuck her. Consequently for her I would wake up frequently at night crying and begging her to turn the light on.

Oh. Then one night I woke up screaming crying. Begging my sister. Please, please turn the light on.

After several minutes of ignoring me crying and yelling my mom whips up in the door as told by her. I opened the door and said what the hell is going on in here. And you pointed to the dresser across the room and said tell him to go away and all the hairs stood up on the back of my neck. What had me in such a state of horror of terror was that I woke up to see a young boy maybe around eight or nine and full 1920s get up.

Nisocks button up shirt with suspenders and page boy hat chilling in my goddamn room. The roaring fucking 20s just appeared in your room in the middle of the day. Okay but does that not sound fucking familiar? Oh shit.

I'm sorry I'm cutting into your story. But at one point me and my mom lived at my grandparents house with Alina and we all shared a room. Me and my mom and Alina because the room was fucking huge. We did trust me.

We did. It was unfortunate. But one night I woke up and I was like I woke my mom up and I was like mom there's a little boy reading your book and she wanted to neglect me so she was like go back to sleep and I was neglected. And then I woke up the next morning and everyone was all fucking freaked out because I was talking about this ghost ass boy literally just like the boy you described 1920s page boy hat Nisocks and all like I can still see him in my mind.

And he was reading my mom's book and my mom's book that she had left on the dresser was wedged in between the closet where I said the boy was. I think it's the same boy guys. I'm just moved as fuck but back to the story. She says my mom is a big believer in ghosts.

Hell yeah she is. She loves that shit. It is my dream to one day take her to the Winchester mystery mansion. You have to.

I'll remember from the rest of that night was sitting in the living room with my mom while she smoked a cigarette and let me have steps of her coke. It seems like a normal thing but with four kids pop with my parents to drink not us. I smoked the hell out of her with that one. Yeah.

And still to this day whenever anything weird happens around the house we blame the little boy. The weird thing is even being a skeptic I was six or seven. How the hell could I have dreamt up that outfit. Fast forward again to about four years ago.

My boyfriend and his buddy were renting this house as in the one we later purchased and living currently from his grandpa. My boyfriend's mom stepped on who grew up in said house and whose mother had just passed away at the previous fall. Sorry if that's confusing. It's the shortest way I could think to explain it.

No, I think I'm on I think I'm on the same page. I got you. Instead of letting it sit empty while they sorted out her will and such one night I came to stay with him as I was falling asleep. I saw a shadowy figure standing in front of the small opening of the bedroom door.

I was mostly asleep but I could still kind of make out some details of the form before fully falling asleep. Now this didn't scare me because I'm a skeptic. I must have already started dreaming or maybe it was his buddy walking by the door. Whatever.

But the next day as I started thinking about it it couldn't have been his buddy. He worked midnight and had long since left for work and doesn't return home until about seven in the morning. Still I wasn't scared. I must have been dreaming.

Maybe a year after that I was helping my mom or I was helping my boyfriend's mom clear out some stuff from the house. His grandpa, her step down, was getting ready to sell it. She was describing to me how she didn't really like being alone in the house. It kind of creeped her out ever since her grandma passed away.

I laughed and told her how there was nothing to be scared of. That stuff's not real. She asked me if I'd ever seen anything weird in the house while her son was living in it. I told her about my vague experience falling asleep and seeing a figure.

She asked me what details did I notice. I mentioned that it looked kind of like a tall man thin wearing a fedora style hat. I was laughing the whole time because she looked so spooked but I knew it was nothing. But then she gets on the phone and calls her cousin.

Her cousin proceeds to tell me that before passing away a decade ago from cancer, her grandpa was a tall thin man who often wore a fedora. Again, I may be a skeptic but what are the fucking odds? On a true crime note, the house I lived in for the rest of my childhood, the one I saw the little boy in and where my parents still lived to this day, is about five miles from the Nichols farm. As in Terry Nichols and Timothy McVay, the Oklahoma City bombers.

Oh shit. Oh shit, you just brought it right back around. Full mother fucking circle. I hope this isn't too long.

I get a kick out of telling my stories and I hope if you read this, you get a kick out of it too. Best wishes and keep it muh fucking weird Candace. P.S. my brother-in-law has a sister named Ashley and we love me call her trashly.

Please feel free to adopt the name. Oh girl. My drunk alter ego is always trashly. It's true.

We've called her trashly before and also we didn't just get a kick out of this. We got a full mother fucking round house kick out of this story. Jackie Chan style. Like the fact that we had the same exact experience really spooks me and I and like the trashly thing is in there.

So I feel like you have some kind of weird connection. I mean the other day I tweeted that I was kindred spirit with Dolly Parton but Candace, I might have been wrong. It might be you. I think it is.

I think it's true. Love you Candace. Thank you for that. So my next story was is called My Husband was going to let ghost slash demons have my soul.

Wow. That's rude of him. Are you sure he's not your ex-husband's? This is from Amanda.

It says, Hey guys, I fucking love your podcast. I listened to it on my way to events at my nephews Christian school nine times out of ten when I pulled into the parking lot there. I'm listening to something about murder. It's my own weird little secret and if they knew I would probably be banned.

I love that for you. I love that for you. Also, my niece and I are the same ages as you guys, which is kind of cool except that we are both seniors in nursing school because my dumb ass was more worried about drinking and being stupid than it was going to school when I was supposed to. You are definitely the ash of the relationship.

I was just about to say that side note. My favorite part of nursing school so far has been autopsies. We were supposed to go to see one each C one each our junior year. I saw three.

I would go every day if they would let me. I'm pretty sure they're all scared of me now. I you know what I'm in. I love you and I feel you anyway.

I live in Indiana, which is really nothing but corn fields and methods at least in my area. Well, when my husband and I first moved together, I was working nights in a group home from mentally handicapped adults. You know what? You're a goddamn hero.

You're a straight up gem. Good for you, man. And he worked days as a roofer. We worked into we moved into a two-story house in a shady part of town because we were broke AF.

We all feel that. This house was 100% haunted. I also feel that. My husband used to say that he would hear my voice screaming his name when he was alone in the house.

Oh, I don't like that. They got to use your voice. That's fucked up. Yeah, I don't love that.

I used to hear running feet up and down the stairs and above our head where his son slept on the second floor when I would go out there fully prepared to whoop some ass because those boys were up at 3 a.m. running around like psychos. They would be fast asleep. Oh.

And you never went back to sleep after that, right? Never. My husband woke up screaming once saying I'd smacked him across the face when I was most definitely in the living room watching the office. Girl, you are us.

You are us. One time that my husband convinced me was a dream. I feel like I felt like someone was laying on top of me and I felt hot breath as my own name was being whispered into my ear. How fucking long did you live there, sis?

Get me out of there immediately. He convinced me it was a dream until this happened. My husband was at work and I was in bed since I worked nights and I heard what sounded like a bunch of second-rate musicians drumming out a beat on my pipes in the basement. Actually, that's my house always sounds like that.

Sure does. I called my husband and this dick hole tells me I'm crazy. It's just the old ass pipes clinging around and to just go back to sleep. For someone who was such a pussy about his experiences, he sure didn't have much concern for mine.

I love you. I laid their wake until the pressure of my bladder had built up so much that I couldn't possibly hold it in. I grabbed the shank, I kept by the bed. An old pocket knife.

I keep them hidden everywhere, always smart and make my way to the restroom. In this house, the bathroom was actually in the second downstairs bedroom and you had to walk through the kitchen and pass the basement door while that sucks. I rushed through the area. Nothing was out of the ordinary and into the bathroom.

Did my business and prepared to make the dash back to my room. As I passed through the kitchen, I noticed all the cabinet doors were open. All of them. That is my nightmare.

I stood there frozen. I am frozen right now. That's when you're real scared. You don't just freeze.

It's very chic. A very chic way to paralyze yourself with fear. No, she stood there frozen and dishes started to fall out of the fucking cabinets. And then you ran out the fucking front door, right?

Right? I hauled my fat ass straight the fuck out of there. Good girl. Yeah, it is.

Grabbed my keys, got in my car, and drove straight to my husband's job site to tell him how terribly fucking wrong he was. That it was not just the old pipes clanging. It was fucking ghost or demons who obviously had no respect for people who work nights. Home alive.

We lived in the house for another year and there were more incidents, but nothing that shook me like the damn thing rooting through my kitchen cabinets and banging on my pipes. Thanks for reading. Maybe next time I will tell you about the crazy method in laws. One wrapped a dead body up like a fucking gordita.

Like a gordita. How dare you do Taco Bell wrong like that? Holy shit. And another murdered his girlfriend.

Oh my god. We need to hear these. I really should have screened my husband's family before we got together. Keeping weird Amanda.

Oh my god, Amanda girl. Amanda, you just gave me life. I love you so much. That's but honestly the whole cabinets being open thing.

No, I'm most here cabinets don't have doors. I am that I picked this house specifically because of that. I'm alive. Thanks, Amanda.

This one is called the time I was killed a listener tale. Whoa. And the time I was killed is all in capital letters and then listener tale is in small letters. It says hey guys, you guys make my shit life interesting in the good way and I will forever love you guys for that.

I'll save the rest of my gushing till the end. Oh my god. I love you. So I was going to bed a couple of months ago.

It was no it was a no shit night, but I woke up at like 3 a.m. And I have never been shit faced with this is how I imagined it would be. I woke up slowly, but I couldn't move. I had a huge headache.

You have that's on us. When my eyes finally adjusted, I could see another person in my room. I shit you not. I pooped out all of my internal organs because I didn't know if it was my parents at the time, but that shit is still scary.

I still couldn't scream and I still couldn't move. The person looked like a shadow. My brain just mentally saying, what kind of fuckery is this? What kind of fuckery is this?

What kind of fuckery be this? I couldn't ask anything or do anything for a while. And I kind of just stared at it. But after a while, it started to move slowly towards me.

And then the spoopy is shit. Okay. All the time, I think that people are making a typo when they say it's poopy, but I guess it's a real ass thing. I love the words poopy.

Oh, he is crying right now. Guys, I show you not every time the whole entire Ted Bundy episode that the girl wrote to you about Ted Bundy. I was like, why is she saying spoopy? Because it's the best word ever.

Guys, I don't cry on the real ass stories of like murder mayhem and tragedy. But your listener tales get me crying. All the fucking time. I know it's funny.

Okay. So, and then the spoopy is shit. It's hard to say spoopy. Spoopy shit happened when it began to whisper.

No, no, no, no, no. I hate that. I hate that. Like that last girl said supremely fuck that.

And that's something it's something along the lines of hello sweet girl. Goodbye, sweet Lily. Oh, at least he's charming. No, he said hello goodbye.

Yeah, that's charming. That's my name. You can use it. I couldn't move.

But at this point, I was positive that there was a serial killer in my room and I was going to die. I saw that person raised an arm and I felt something hard hit my head and then I woke up. I thought it had to be a dream. I thought I was safe.

But when I got to the bathroom, I looked at the mirror to see a giant goose egg and bruise on the side of my head where the person would have hit me. It was a real mom picked me up. I'm scared moment. Yes, being girls reference.

I love you. I have no idea what happened that night, but I thought you would enjoy it anyways. I live in an unimportant part of the US between the Midwest and the West Coast, Utah. We have nothing to do here except for drive around counting churches or gossiping about all the weird shit that goes down in school from the wrong side of the tracks, AKA my school.

But don't worry, there's enough, but don't worry, there's enough bored people and fans that you could totally sell out a show here. Seriously, I'll set up a show for you. I'll set up a show here for you if that's what it takes to get you here. Oh, I love you guys so much and you guys are an inspiration.

Best wishes, Lily. Lily, you're a fucking inspiration. Thanks, Lily. I'm glad you didn't die.

I'm really glad you didn't die because I need more stories from you, Lily. I love that I just get to say spoopy because it's a real word. Lily, you're the spoopyest and I love you. It just sounds like poopy.

It does. It's poopy and spooky. I'll roll it up in one. Everything I love.

Poops and spooks. Good band name. I'll call it. Why didn't we name the podcast Poops and Spooks?

Because our band name is going to be that. Can we put Poops and Spooks on a shirt? Hell yeah, we can. Raise your hand if you want that.

Raise his hand. All right. So mine is called Hamster Resurrection Using Boobs. Question mark.

Okay, I read this and I was holding your baby and I took everything. I mean, I had to drop your baby because I was laughing so hard. Shit, I'm glad you did, but this is awesome. So this is from Isabelle.

Hey guys, first off, let's get one thing straight. Y'all are mace balls. Thanks. I love how aggressive that one.

Let's get one thing motherfucking straight. You guys rock ass. You guys actually make me feel a lot better about myself because I've realized I'm not the only morbid freak show out there that finds death fascinating and these stories crazy interesting. Welcome.

Welcome to the spoopy show. So thanks for making me feel normal. You're welcome. Keep it being weird, please.

We'll do. Don't have a choice. All right, so on to the story. When I was about tennis, I had a hamster named Bailey.

That's my that's my Bubba Bailey's name. That's my puggles name. Yep. Who was a fucking fat ass?

So is my Bubba. That's my Bailey too. I tried to buy her all of those sweet tubes that you can attach to their cages, but she kept getting stuck in them and I was pissed. But at the same time, she was hella cute.

So I couldn't be too bad. Oh my God, I love this already. Anyways, at the time of this story, she was nearing the end of her life about three years old. I was staying over at a friend's house and it was just my mom home.

She was actually in the middle of getting dressed and for some strange reason, she decided she needed to go check on Bailey and make sure she has food. My mom has always claimed she has a sixth sense or something because she'll have dreams and shit or get these feelings. And then whenever she felt her dream will happen very soon after or a very similar situation will happen. It honestly freaks me the fuck out sometimes.

So I'm guessing this weirdo. Love you, mom. Just had a feeling that she needed to go check on the fat hamster. So she went into the room all down up in Spanx and Abra and opens the cage to find Bailey just laying there.

This was strange because she would usually wake up if the cage got opened. My mom picked her up and even though she was still floppy, she was ice cold and unconscious. She couldn't see her breathing and she couldn't feel any movement or pulse at all. My poor mother just burst into tears and held her, thinking about how the heck she was going to tell me that my precious fat ball of fur had died.

So there's my mother sitting on my bed holding Bailey, bawling her eyes out. She sat there for a few minutes holding her to her face until the hamster obviously got a little heavy and my mom moved her down onto her chest into her goddamn cleavage pretty much that poor poor baby and just held her and stroked the hell out of her while she bawled. She sat like this on my bed in her Spanx with a hamster between her boobs for like 15 minutes. Suddenly this quote unquote dead thing moved.