Copper Shock Horror

A female Mormon missionary has a […] The post A Strange Possession in England appeared first on Copper Shock Horror Podcast.

When a teenager sees strange things […] The post Possession in 1984 California appeared first on Copper Shock Horror Podcast.

When a teenager sees strange things happening all around town that suggests the Devil is here. If you would like to see more information about this episode, check out more at Copper Shock.com.

I’ve been away gathering more original […] The post Temporal Time Slip on the RMS Queen Mary appeared first on Copper Shock Horror Podcast.

Copper Shock delves into parallel universes […] The post What Happened to the RMS Queen Mary in Long Beach? appeared first on Copper Shock Horror Podcast.

This poem is nationally celebrated in […] The post The Tale of Tam O’ Shanter appeared first on Copper Shock Horror Podcast.

A young girl and her family […] The post Beautiful Stranger at the Del Coronado appeared first on Copper Shock Horror Podcast.

When a group of college kids […] The post The Abandoned Prison at 1776 Buckley Lane appeared first on Copper Shock Horror Podcast.

Hello Constant Listener, it’s strange to […] The post Preview of 1776 Buckley Lane appeared first on Copper Shock Horror Podcast.

A young man visits Hawaii for […] The post Christmas Ghosts in Hawaii appeared first on Copper Shock Horror Podcast.

This old childhood memory recounts playing in a pine-forested backyard when a stranger wanders nearby. Resources for this episode can be found at https://www.coppershock.com/the-red-lady-in-the-forrest/

One of the oldest murder mysteries in America is smack dab in the middle of New York City. Resources for this episode can be found at https://www.coppershock.com/the-manhattan-well-murder/

Hello Constant listener! Happy election year here in the US. I thought this upcoming episode should be focused on a ghost of a founding father. But as I was able to take a closer look at a certain haunted location in New York City, did I realize what ghost story I was looking at. Join me for The Manhattan Well Murder. I’ll see you soon. SECTION: “Let me tell you about the year 1799 in New York City. It’s a port and countryside town. When you look in the newspapers during the turn of the century, green coffee and Havana sugar were in high trade for sale. Horse and carriages lined the streets. And an advertisement for the curious asks patrons to spend a quarter of a dollar at your local tavern to see the Green Dragon (also known as the curious Lavana). These were the common items reported in the daily newspapers in December of 1799. However American tastes for newspaper headlines changed in January of 1800. Because on January 2nd, a woman’s body was discovered and dredged up from the deep. She was bloated from sitting in water for over 10 days. Her neck was purpled, consistent with strangulation before she ever had a chance to drown in the dark abyss that was the well.”

La Llorona (The crying woman) is a very old tale told in many different countries. This episode shares a telling of the classic story paired with a personal experience of a constant listener in Houston Texas. Resources for this episode can be found at https://www.coppershock.com/la-llorona-in-houston-texas/

Hello Constant Listener, This week’s preview will highlight the examination of death. How it is part of our lives at every moment, and while it may not need be the focus of how we live, we know we live with the Momento Mori. A constant reminder that death is near, even if not sensed. This weeks preview episode discusses an experience in Houston Texas, and a ghostly woman famously known as La Lllorona. Enjoy

Hello Constant listener, I have a special treat for you. Would you be curious to listen to the original person behind the story of The Basement Stairs That Lead to Nowhere? I was able to record my conversation with her, and thought you’d find it interesting also.

INTRO: Hello Constant Listener. This week I’d like to share with you that sometimes I practice Lucid Dreaming. A method by which a dreamer is conscious of the fact that they are dreaming and mentally work to alter the narrative of the dream. Christopher Nolan popularized this in his thriller “Inception.” That you may create a way to know if you’re awake or dreaming. When I remember to test myself, it’s usually with obscure methods. Like, standing next to a great cliff and not feeling the fear of the height, or you know, trying to breath underwater. Those realizations snap me out of my autopilot in dreams and I take the next steps on my own to push myself into any environment. I’ve sailed through the stars, felt the joy of flight with just my body, I’ve built Utopias for the world. And then woke up feeling invigorated for my day because I live such a double life at night.  However, just two weeks ago I had a Lucid Dream that did not go as I expected and harkened back to a memory I had as a child. I’d like to tell you about that memory. When I was eleven, my parents took me to visit Universal Studios in Hollywood. The backlot tour; that was my favorite. There was the courtyard from Bye Bye Birdie and Back to the Future. I saw the real-life house and motel from Hitchcock’s Psycho, and a myriad of other sets from films I loved. Even as a young child I consumed many old classic Hollywood movies. So visiting these sets made my little heart so happy.  After the tour, mom and dad pointed me in the direction of a walkthrough attraction for The Mummy. I thought it was going to be a museum, and the first part of it absolutely was just that. Glass cases filled with film memorabilia. Props and costumes from the Brennan Fraser hit. And yes, I said “fray-zer” and not “Fray-szhure”, turns out i’d been saying his name wrong for a long time. However, as we progressed through this museum walk, I didn’t understand it was going to turn into a haunted house. Walking into the first dark chamber surrounded by faux stone, lanterns, and a narrow walkway I felt myself clam up and immediately grab my mothers hand.  To this day anyone who has gone through a haunted house with me can tell you when I am scared, I have a grip so strong that more than one person in my life have asked me to let go because they were losing the feeling in their hand. This unfortunately was also the case for my mother. She lovingly asked me to let go because I was too much. I insisted on walking in the middle of our group. My Mom and my little brother were ahead of me, and my Dad was behind me.  But this haunted house was more complex than any I’d experienced before. There were multiple paths. A universal actor in robes and holding an ankh staff held up his hand. “Halt!” he said “You and you go this way, and you go that.” He pointed to my mother and little brother asking them to go to the right, and my father and I to go to the left. He was splitting us up. My father and I obeyed, we went left. Mom and my little brother went right. Up through this point, we could normally see other strangers, park goers really, who were walking just ahead of us on this path. This sort of thing really helped to break up the atmosphere. Wasn’t as scary if I could see a perfect stranger in front of me. But this new pathe the actor sent us on… there was no one here. It was so empty. I clutched onto my father’s arm, tightly. I began to heave deep breaths of anxiety and felt like I was going to start crying. My dad looked down at me and noticed I wasn’t doing so well. “You okay there Tash?” I shook my head ‘No’. “Well,

INTRO: Hello Constant Listener. This week I’d like to share with you that sometimes I practice Lucid Dreaming. A method by which a dreamer is conscious of the fact that they are dreaming and mentally work to alter the narrative of the dream. Christopher Nolan popularized this in his thriller “Inception.” That you may create a way to know if you’re awake or dreaming. When I remember to test myself, it’s usually with obscure methods. Like, standing next to a great cliff and not feeling the fear of the height, or you know, trying to breath underwater. Those realizations snap me out of my autopilot in dreams and I take the next steps on my own to push myself into any environment. I’ve sailed through the stars, felt the joy of flight with just my body, I’ve built Utopias for the world. And then woke up feeling invigorated for my day because I live such a double life at night.  However, just two weeks ago I had a Lucid Dream that did not go as I expected and harkened back to a memory I had as a child. I’d like to tell you about that memory. When I was eleven, my parents took me to visit Universal Studios in Hollywood. The backlot tour; that was my favorite. There was the courtyard from Bye Bye Birdie and Back to the Future. I saw the real-life house and motel from Hitchcock’s Psycho, and a myriad of other sets from films I loved. Even as a young child I consumed many old classic Hollywood movies. So visiting these sets made my little heart so happy.  After the tour, mom and dad pointed me in the direction of a walkthrough attraction for The Mummy. I thought it was going to be a museum, and the first part of it absolutely was just that. Glass cases filled with film memorabilia. Props and costumes from the Brennan Fraser hit. And yes, I said “fray-zer” and not “Fray-szhure”, turns out i’d been saying his name wrong for a long time. However, as we progressed through this museum walk, I didn’t understand it was going to turn into a haunted house. Walking into the first dark chamber surrounded by faux stone, lanterns, and a narrow walkway I felt myself clam up and immediately grab my mothers hand.  To this day anyone who has gone through a haunted house with me can tell you when I am scared, I have a grip so strong that more than one person in my life have asked me to let go because they were losing the feeling in their hand. This unfortunately was also the case for my mother. She lovingly asked me to let go because I was too much. I insisted on walking in the middle of our group. My Mom and my little brother were ahead of me, and my Dad was behind me.  But this haunted house was more complex than any I’d experienced before. There were multiple paths. A universal actor in robes and holding an ankh staff held up his hand. “Halt!” he said “You and you go this way, and you go that.” He pointed to my mother and little brother asking them to go to the right, and my father and I to go to the left. He was splitting us up. My father and I obeyed, we went left. Mom and my little brother went right. Up through this point, we could normally see other strangers, park goers really, who were walking just ahead of us on this path. This sort of thing really helped to break up the atmosphere. Wasn’t as scary if I could see a perfect stranger in front of me. But this new pathe the actor sent us on… there was no one here. It was so empty. I clutched onto my father’s arm, tightly. I began to heave deep breaths of anxiety and felt like I was going to start crying. My dad looked down at me and noticed I wasn’t doing so well. “You okay there Tash?” I shook my head ‘No’. “Well,

Hello everyone, Tasha Wheelhouse here. I’d like to let you know that I was not able to get to a preview of this week’s episode. The main reason is because It’s going to be a long episode, and I didn’t get to sound mix the portion I wanted to feature. However it’s going to be awesome and a bit more fantastical than other episodes on this podcast. Basement Stairs that Lead to Nowhere is going to be amazing and I hope to see you there.

INTRO: Hello, there constant listener. I have a special episode ready for you today. They’re all fragments of nightmares from other constant listeners just like you. People who have told me what they see in the dark of night behind closed eyes and are ready for me to tell them to you. There’s an official name for the study of dreams. It’s a Greek based word Oneirology (On-ier-olo-gee) and it has a wide variation of what the study entails. It’s a more analyzed approach elevated from a general “dream interpretation”. These scientists seek out correlations of dreams and waking knowledge. How the brain functions during dreams as it pertains to memory formation and mental disorders. You’ve likely heard of REM sleep, also known as rapid eye movement. What’s interesting is that recognizing REM sleep wasn’t observed until the 1950’s. By measuring a body’s response to REM, we’ve learned that the average dream lasts only 5-20 minutes. Yet, the recesses of our mind sometimes take us back right where we left off in an almost alternate reality that lives solely within us. How 5-20 minutes often experience as a passage of time that can be an hour, a few days, or in some dreams a passage of years before we wake. I love to dream, and I love to hear where others have travelled in their mind. Come with me as we explore these dream fragments together. I’m Tasha Wheelhouse, and this is Copper Shock. BODY: Part 1: My Patio Door. Nightmare derived from constant Listener: Lani H from Utah. I lived in Lake City Florida with a beautiful home that had a wooden porch that wrapped around three-fourths of the house. It was trimmed in tan and an off white being the dominant color. Living with three older brothers I had to toughen up quickly, especially when we played games outside. I remember that we had a wonderfully huge yard. It was a jungle to my young eyes. It contained not only a pond but a thick brush of Black Mangrove trees. Only occasionally did the trees give off a ‘bad egg’ smell. It wasn’t always, but we stayed clear of the pond regardless due to the potential of crocodiles, even in neighborhoods like ours. You’d be amazed what sort of wildlife or vermin roam about your suburban world in Florida. (Unless you’re from Florida, then you know exactly what I mean.) While living at this house I had a recurring nightmare of the porch around our home. The porch was slightly raised with vertical wooden slats around it to keep out animals. A single square wicker door sat near the front porch steps off to the right. The door was just big enough for young me. The dream always started out at night. I’d be standing on our St. Augustine Grass, facing the pond. I was barefoot and hated it. The grass always had an itchy feeling, and I felt vulnerable to any bugs or snakes that could be nearby. The moon above was bright. I saw occasional lightning bugs drift on and off gently between the Mangrove trees that flanked either side of the pond. I’d been here before, I knew what would happen next, as I’d seen this progression many times before. The fireflies would all stutter out like burnt out lightbulbs until blackness clouded over the space between the mangrove trees. Almost like a viscous black cloud. Labored breathing would pulse from the tree line. A beast. I couldn’t see It but it could see me. It was watching and waiting for me to flinch. I knew as soon as I began to run back to the house I would not make the front door. But the wicker porch door, that was within my reach. I felt my breath catch preparing myself for the sprint, squishing the gras between my toes. As soon as I turned my back I heard the beast wading through the pond ...

Hit play to get a sneak preview of the upcoming episode that is a five part series of nightmares from Copper Shocks Constant listener series.

INTRO: I’ll start out upfront that I do not know the true integrations of Japanese cultures and ghosts. The dream I had was a subconscious mind interpretation of a myriad of different influences within my life that resulted in the dream to follow.  Historically dreams in Ancient Egypt were considered prophetic visions. Visions that are meant to assist in healing, cures for illness, or to help guide a major decision of where to wage war. Ancient Egyptians were so invested in dream interpretation that a “book of dreams” was discovered in a library for Scribe Kenhirkhopeshef’s (ken-heer-koh-pes-hefs). I honestly could be mispronouncing that. This is the same scribe whom was in charge of keeping a work journal for the tomb building of the Great Ramses. He recorded how deep digging was achieved, the number of wicks used for candlelight during work. We know he oversaw the building on a day to day basis because a niche of rock-cut above the tomb. And it had the scratched words into the rock “Sitting place of the scribe”  I may be oversimplifying this in my amusement, but he had a day job very similar to my own of crunching numbers and recording daily operations, and at night wrote about other things that interested him. Although religious or mysterious beliefs intermixing with everyday life was not uncommon during this era. He even made sure to write down differentiating dreams of bad in and a good dream in different ink colors. Good dreams were written in black. The bad were written down in bright red ink. Some of the dream passages he wrote may seem very odd to a modern audience. Dreams like “If you see yourself eating crocodile flesh, this is a good dream.” You’re acting as an officious leader among your people. The other odd one I found was “If a man sees himself in a mirror, this is bad. It means a new life.” There are many other examples of history that tie into dream interpretations, and as we explore more episodes of dreams and their outcomes, or worse, cliff hangers, we will seek out their meanings together. I’m Tasha Wheelhouse and this is Copper Shock. Warning on this story, while projected as a nightmare and not real. There are subject matters within the story dealing with self-harm, and children’s deaths. BODY: I’ll tell this story in the way as though I’d experienced it in real life. Mostly because it had a profound impact on me. Sounds weird right? But so do most nightmares when told out loud. I had applied to go to study abroad in Japan. I was very excited to go. The city I was sent too was more of a mini-city. Not a village exactly, it had more industrialized buildings, and streets but the name conveyed an unknown town closer to the countryside in Japan.  I remember standing outside of a five-story high building that had a yard with a chain link fence. The front of the building was cement with long rectangular windows in the front. You couldn’t quite see inside. The wall was tinted a brownish-orange color that stood in contrast to the gray sky above it. Ominous is a bit cliche of a word, but what other logic befalls us when describing a nightmare of disjointed scenes from memory. An experience solely taking place away from the rest of reality. My classes would be taught totally in English and the classmates I shared were also from America. We had a very small pool of about 15 other students with me sitting in this room waiting to start. I sat down for my first lesson slumping my backpack on the floor. The professor walked in and greeted us. I remember a few details about him. He was tall and stately with a slightly round mid-section.

DEMON in a Small Town Air BnB What scares people has evolved over the centuries. Have you ever seen old scary films? Creature of the Black Lagoon. Phantom of the Opera? Nosferatu? They were from a golden era in Hollywood just beginning to learn a new craft in film. They were meant to capture an audience’s’ anxiety, to shock them, and most importantly to take and uneasiness home with them when they left the theater. It worked too. During this era Universal Studios had made such a profit from Tod Browning’s Dracula in 1931, that they approached Director Tod Browning to do another horror film immediately whatever project he wanted. Tod pondered this and finally went to Irving Thalberg (the who’s who of Hollywood producers during the 1930s) and placed a short story on his desk titled “Spurs”. I won’t go into too much detail of the short story, but at its core it was about a twisted union between an average-sized grown woman, and a male midget. Tod Browning before he came to Hollywood did carnival barking in his teenage years. “Come on folks done be a shy step on up my tent for I have the most amazing wonders to show you. And what lay beyond if you pay that nickel in the bucket next to me. Why you’ll be witness before God of the most amazing one of a kind wonders of the world. A man so thin, he’s only a skeleton! A beast of the orient when we found them we didn’t know what to call them because they were half man half woman! Yes, sir yes, sir! Step on up to see only one in the world like ‘em, just behind the curtain!” Tod lived amongst the freaks at the carnival there and noticed a social distinction and purview between “regular” people who worked at the carnival, and the “freak show” people backstage. They didn’t socialize. Freaks were either beloved by some, or kicked down by others seen as ‘not entirely human’.  So in 1931 when Universal gave Tod Browning full creative control for a new horror project. He was adamant about a horror film that only focused on the backstage life of a carnival, and the examination of the human spirit, and for us the audience to judge who here is the real monster? Even before the first shot was made, the main producer for Hollywood studios read through the initial script and said. “This is the worst thing I’ve ever read.” and he didn’t mean it as bad writing. He meant it made him uneasy and disturbed. Tod’s reaction to this was “well. Good.” and walked away. The film was titled “Freaks” and released in 1932 as a talkie with full sound and music. As much as I love all of this film, there’s one scene, in particular, I’ll recount for you. You may actually recognize it’s most famous quote. “One of us! One of us!” Does that sound familiar? You’ve heard it, but allow me to give you the context of what it means. The plot of Freaks involves a gorgeous tall blond woman who performs in the ring at the carnival. She finds out one of the midgets she teases secretly has come into a major inheritance. The carnival strongman and the woman concoct a plan to have her marry the midget, then kill him to obtain the full bank. Here now we stumble upon the scene I wanted to tell you about. The wedding feast. A large long dining table is laid out with simple table cloth, fold-out wooden chairs grabbed from the popcorn gallery in the big top tent, plate ware, and silverware. Each chair is occupied by the carnival’s freaks dressed in their Sunday best. At the head of the table are the midget groom and his now ‘large woman’ wife. Music of horns and clarinets play from the Siamese twins while another carnival member dances on the table for everyone’s entertainment. Both the strongman and the bride sitting near one another and have become exceedingly drunk and laughing hysterically at...

Well hello there constant listener. I have a small offering preview of this week’s episode, “Nightmare of Study Abroad in Japan”:

INTRO: Have you ever had the feeling like you’re being watched? The wives’ tale explanation is that it’s a primal instinctive feeling that is beyond rational sense. If you feel you’re being watched, it’s likely that you are. However, a doctor in the late 1800s named Edward B. Titchener decided that he’d run a series of experiments to see if this can be quantified. It gets a little complicated when you introduce ideas of consciousness through introspection and other attributes of parapsychology. The long and short of the experiment was that it had no success. The subjects couldn’t tell in a controlled experiment whether they were and were not being watched without their knowledge. The idea seemed to really stick with people over the next 100+ years who were just so sure that maybe there are different methods of testing this instinct. In 1913 a study resulted in a 50.2% accuracy by John E. Coover. Then in 1983, a closed-circuit television method had a higher confirmation of 74% success rate. This however was highly criticized by the scientific community as having what they call a “result bias”. So from just flat out receiving a negative or at the best inconclusive result, it doesn’t seem very promising, does it? It’s a little discouraging to know that when science took a stab at this wonderment of human phenomenon that everyone has experienced at least once in our lives… they almost found nothing? And yet after all this time, we experience it so widely as humans, that scientists in parapsychology are just so sure there’s some mental explanation to be laid out and explored. As I’ve said in a previous episode to quote Arthur B Clark. “Magic is just science that we don’t understand yet.” So who knows if one day we’ll have a bridged connection to what this feeling of being watched is, and more importantly… when to trust it.  I’m Tasha Wheelhouse, and this is Copper Shock. The below story was submitted and adapted for storytelling from Lucas in Cedar City Utah. BODY: I’ve been to Bear Lake a lot of times with my family. We have a massive cabin that we use for family reunions about once a year.  This was a familiar and wonderful place to me. What happened in 2014 soured a lot of my experience, and I don’t like going there as much as I used too, even if I’m ok now. I’ll let you guys know upfront, this story gets a little on the religious side. Some people don’t like their supernatural stories mixing with faith. But that’s what some of this is.  It was the first week of September. All of my friends and I would head off to separate colleges around the state when the weekend was over. Since it was the fall, my parents didn’t mind as much if my friends and I took over the cabin for a weekend trip. The only catch being we had to do general cleaning before we left.  Bear Lake is beautiful. Even though we didn’t have a speed boat with us, we could still splash around on the beach, have bonfires at night, and generally hang out with one another. On our last night there, I was on the top deck that overlooks the water. The cabin is settled in between a lot of other houses around us, but we’ve got the best view for sure. Bear Lake is a massive stretch of water, that sits inside a bowl of green rolling hills. The hills are pocked all over with big cabins just like my family cabin. It was night time and pretty late. I don’t remember the exact time, but Cambri (A girl I had a crush on at the time) had just come out to sit next to me and look over the moonlit waterfront. I started to talk to her more and realized, this may be one of the last times I’d actually get to tell her how I felt.

Get a look into this weeks episode of followed by a water demon on Copper Shock.

Wendigo in Lake Powell Hello Constant Listener. I wanted to take a moment and say thank you if you’re still out there listening for my stories. My personal situation has changed drastically over the last few months and has limited the time that I can dedicate to this horror podcast. But I’ve had some wonderful fans reach out to encourage me. So as a thank you this evening, we will be doing a double feature. Both requested subjects are from wonderful fans I’ve met through Twitter and Facebook. Luciferos X, and Brandon of New Zealand. Thank you both for reaching out, these original Coppershock Horror Stories are for you two. Each episode will have its own openers as well. Enjoy. COLD OPENER: FADE IN:  ***The wind outside whistles*** ***knocking of wood on wood pulses in the background*** “Will you just stop the pounding of that cabin door?” A woman turned about, then leaned down as she stuffed a rock near the bottom to wedge the door shut against the blizzard outside.  ***wind cont’ but banging stops*** The group of people looked to one another in shame, hunger, and sickness. They were going to die out here in the cold, they had lost their trail. The snow had covered it so deeply, that by the time they were able to really see the ground again did they realize they were hopelessly lost. They found empty cabins nearby to take shelter in. That was almost a week and a half ago, and all food was absent. “We need to talk about it.” A man with a long mustache called out to the quiet room. The silent group of eight looked around to one another. Five men, two women, and a young boy. “I can’t even think of it.” A woman in a blue shawl tucked her arms around her stomach harder.  “Someone could sacrifice themselves for the rest of us.” Patrick stood up rubbing his hands together in the cold. A bachelor on his own, but a neighbor to all standing in this very room. The woman in the blue shawl looked to the ground away from Patrick’s eye contact.  “What about him?” A bulking man with a fur hat stood and pointed to a wavering thin young boy. The woman standing by the boy with her hair in a long braid stood herself physically between the large man, and the young boy. “He’s so weak.” the man continued “But he’s not gone yet.” The woman with a braid spoke in such defiance the large man eyed her then took a step back. The cabin fell to silence again listening to the wind. “I have an idea.” Patrick exited through the door to the outside, feeling the wedged rock roll away. The group of them stood nearby listening to the wind and snow attack the sides of the cabin. Until the cabin door once again burst open with Patrick clasping something inside his hands. Eight midsize twigs. Patrick then snapped one in half, placing all of them neatly into a grip in his palm. He turned around and handed the bundle to the woman in the blue shawl.  “A lottery. Whomever draws the short branch. They are the one.” The group looked terrified to even touch the simple sticks in the woman’s hand as though they were cursed. For one unfortunate soul, it would be a curse.  “Go ahead.” Patrick said.  ***begin slow music*** The large gruff man took one step forward and drew the first stick. One by one, each person drew a twig and gave a large sigh of relief when they saw it’s comforting length. There were two left.

Hello constant listener! I got to meet a new friend who has reached out to me through Facebook. Caitlin hails from New Jersey. As we had our chat I got to ask her my favorite question when meeting anyone new. Can you tell me about a time that scared you?   She recounted a memory as a young woman helping her mother manage a theater. There were things within its walls she couldn’t explain. It reminded me of a similar story my own mother told me about the Paramount Theater in Provo Utah back in 1976. I asked Caitlin if it would be alright to create a new story for Copper Shock by marrying the two realities together for a new original horror story just for you, Constant Listener.  The more I thought about the two stories, the more excited I became. I’ve always wondered about buildings that just felt… off. Syndication of bad vibes from wall to wall, resonating, and vibrating throughout a room. Buildings that usually get the most reputation for hauntings are ones that house multiple lives at one time. Hotels, prisons, hospitals, and theater houses. Stage plays have been around for hundreds of years. From Greek tragedies in 700 B.C. all the way up to modern hits like Phantom of the Opera, Wicked, and recently Hamilton. You’d be hard-pressed to find anyone who has never heard of Shakespeare. In fact, Shakespeare does have a play that is infamous for being cursed. It has many names, “The Bards Play” or “The Scottish Play”. The closest name to help you guess is “Mc B”. For those who speak its name inside a theater house sets into motion old magic known to curse the theater until the offender takes measures to clear the name again. I don’t have the exact instructions, and a quick search on Google tells me that it has something to do with the order of spitting over your shoulder, turning about a number of times, and being formally invited back into the theater house once you’ve taken the appropriate steps to clear the curse. Where the curse actually comes from, no one is sure. But my favorite theory is in the writing itself. I once was in a Grassroots Shakespeare production of Macbeth, where myself and two other women played the three witches. As a witch for this particular production I took out my guitar and we sang our lines in a haunting lullaby. Here’s the catch? It is supposed that these very first lines of Macbeth are true curse incantations. That Shakespeare took lines from a real coven of witches. It is bad luck to write down incomplete incantations, so the theory goes he only wrote what he wanted and not the whole thing. A repeated curse done by tradition for thousands of theater houses all over the world. Whether that’s true or not is unproven. But listen to the passage: “When shall we three meet again? In thunder, lightning, or in rain? When the hurlyburly’s done, when the battle’s lost and won. That will be the ‘ere the set of sun. Where the place? Upon the heath. There to meet with Macbeth… I come, Graymalkin! Paddock calls: Anon! Fair is foul, and foul is fair; however through the fog and filthy air.” I’m Tasha Wheelhouse and this is Copper Shock. BODY: Near the center of Provo Utah, the Paramount Theater rested on Center Street. You wouldn’t be able to recognize it now, because it’s gone. Torn down. I saw a picture of it pop up on my regular feed on my phone and the memories about the place came back to me and the summer that I was there in 1976. I still remembered my mother standing next to me as I looked up at the exterior of the building. I was fourteen and my body was just starting to show the hints of womanhood I’d be growing into soon, and a hershey’s chocolate bar still cost $0.15 cents.

Tasha Wheelhouse here, i’ve been enjoying mixing the upcoming episode Haunted Movie Theater in Provo Utah. Stick around for a clip of the upcoming episode:

Bloody Mary As a Kid INTRO: Hello constant listener. I was thinking of childhood memories and this one came to me as I was about to go to sleep last night. It’s a game I haven’t played for over 20 years. Yet, in some ways, I’ve been playing it at least once every day without realizing it. Each time I turn out the lights in before I go to bed I make sure to keep my eyes facing straight forward. I’ve grown so used to walking by mirrors and purposefully turning my head away while in the dark. I lowering my gaze to my feet over the carpeting will do. When I finally crawl beneath my covers I listen to the constant and even breathing from my husband near me. I’m comforted and eventually, I go to sleep. This particular ritual of turning off the lights each night is now routine. I NEVER look at a reflective surface.  I heard a funny about phobias that I think you’ll find interesting. Phobias are the instinctive echo of an event that killed us horribly in a previous life.  With that idea in mind, the commonality of how people fear spiders… could you imagine what sort of apocalyptic arachnophobic-insanity had to occur if so many people in the world can’t stand spiders? My fear of deep water? I think understandable. But reflections… in the dark… That can’t hurt me. The face I’ll see looking back at me is one that I control. I don’t know about you, but I can’t look at the dark reflection of me in the eye. I’m not alone in that phobia, the fear of looking into a bathroom mirror with the lights out is all too common. The face that’s mine, and yet isn’t mine. Black sunken eyes, pale skin, a common description around the world. Some scholars believe it’s an unconscious fear of our own death. Those features are common for corpses after all. But what if it’s more? If we circle back to the idea that phobias of initiative feelings we carried over from death in another life. This image of the reflective monster before us has been described by some as the “Ancient Villain”. Pale-faced, empty socket eyes, twitching lips, and a veil so thin it could reach beyond that glass and touch you. How could this be such a common fear universally around the world? A shared phobia of something common. Who was this old monster, and why does almost every human being fear their own reflection in the dark? Have you ever heard of the word scrying? It’s a common practice of “mediums”. You know, people who work with crystal balls, reading tea leaves, or the lines on the palms of your hands. Scrying is used by witches as well, those seeking darker magic. Their version of scrying can sometimes involve a polished black surface of obsidian, no less by candlelight to summon demons. Scrying can even involve mirrors. Have children passed down what we thought was a game of Bloody Mary? A stupid tradition? What… if we’ve done something more. We’ve invited something into this world that follows us, and gave us more than we ever bargained for. A children’s game, derived from something real? I’m Tasha Wheelhouse, and this is Coppershock. BODY: In the pines of Flagstaff Arizona. I sat on a bedroom floor with two other 9-year-old friends. The night was young and we were having one of my first sleepovers with my good friend Carrie. We were talking about school crushes, creepy bus drivers, and the Grey house at the edge of the playing field behind the school and that’s when Carrie got her idea. She wanted to play truth or dare, for those who listen to Coppershock, you already know why I don’t like that game. When I absolutely refused, Beth suggested “Bloody Mary.” I then gave Beth a confused look. Before that point, I’d never heard of it. This was 1996, Google didn’t exist yet,

This is Tasha Wheelhouse with Copper Shock. Many of you who are listening know this horror podcast from 3 years ago. I got about 26 episodes before I let it fall apart. That’s on me, my personal life made it invariably difficult to find the time and I slowly started to sink into an insecurity that my ideas, my writing, my production isn’t good enough. But I’m going to tell you right now. The immediate thought that counters that is two fans from across the world that reached out to me when I went dark. So Brandon and Caitlin if you’re still out there listening, the both of you made me realize I can do this even after all this time. My personal circumstance has changed, as life does, and I’m going to be putting in more dedicated time to Coppershock. I am so VERY grateful for all of you who have been there to support me while I was able to produce what little I could from home between my jobs and dedicated home life.  Growing up my parents were writers, and were able to make a career out of it full time. They gravitated to storytelling in the vein of Joseph Campbell’s Hero of a Thousand Faces, and Dramatically Theory. Naturally, over the years, there have been other books they have recommended to me, or storytelling seminars. Stephen Kings On Writing, Blake Snyders Save the Cat!, or William Goldman’s Which Lie Did I Tell? All with amazing nuggets of information for story structure. Where to hear more of my thoughts that expand of these books? By following Copper Shocks Facebook page. In addition to podcast episodes told in the Foley style here, I’ll be posting blog entries of story structure of all manner of horror films. From the Classics of Nosforatu, up through modern horror.  I’d LOVE to write an essay one day about the evolution of horror and how it reflects modern society’s fears. In the 1950’s “body snatcher” aliens were a metaphor for Communists. People who look like you and me, and yet are a threat. Remember how suddenly Zombies were a huge cultural thing in the mid to late 2000’s? There was a massive terrorist in New York City on 9/11 attack that spurred on the idea that an enemy could multiply around you in moments of sheer panic. I’m very curious to know what the next trend will be here and now during the Coravirus pandemic? What is a common fear we all share? And How do we tell that story? I hope you have a wonderful day, and cannot wait to give you the next long-awaited episode. Bloody Mary, a personal childhood experience of mine playing Bloody mary for the first time as a child during a sleepover dare. I’m Tasha Wheelhouse, and this is Copper Shock.

Authors Notes: Elephant Graveyard Original Short Story from Copper Shock. Elephant Graveyard Episode My original short stories first started as a simple writing exercise after reading a series fo Stephen King Short stories. not all of them had to make sense, and often those who are affected by the supernatural are not always privy to the entire picture of the monster that has come for them. Elephant Graveyard was at first a series of short horror fiction stories set into a time of how much panic would ensue when those who have a disease are considered “pre-dead”, and constitutional rights are stripped away. A strongly prescient story for 2010 as ten years later we’d see the biggest pandemic and how it has affected life, new unrest is highlighted almost every day in the news, or across social media. I myself for a period of time took a “social-media” fast because the constant bombardment of hopelessness or elevated discussion of new pains just to survive felt overwhelming. So I turned back to Copper Shock. I began to show it love and allow it to be my escape key from the oppression of life as an adult. I sincerely hope I can do this channel justice after my neglect for so long. And the last story I left it on? Had to do with a resulting scene for a pandemic devolved into animalistic abuse to those who are infected. Naturally with life evolving every day under COVID-19, I am understanding more and more fully a universe that I felt was so make-believe ten years ago. Constant listener. The frame for this story is set during a resulting and massive pandemic, however my goal as a writer within this short story had only been to focus on what makes us human. And that while desperation can push us into states of reality we never dreamed possible… it is never too late to remember who we are as a people, a community, a society, a kinship a neighbor, and be kind to those we don’t know. Our own plight will always feel enormous, but shifting your gaze to be that which is outside of your immediate view to other less fortunate as ourselves reminds us how we can reach out to be of help. And that must account for something. When I wrote Elephant Graveyard I pictured the setting something along the lines of this place. In fact here’s a picture if you’d like to just look at it here: Zions national park is beautiful as it is alienating. It’s a natural fortress if you wanted to build an encampment right in the middle of it. For another original Copper Shock short story, we have “SHUTTER” available for your review. FULL STORY: “It’s coming isn’t it?” Grey asked. “It’s coming.” Toliver reflected. “It’s the old adage to a more literal term.” He continued as Grey turned to face him. “Meaning what?”  “Let the dead bury the dead.” Toliver spat a wad of dry saliva from his crusting peeling lips. It was a thick sludge, it’s color had been tinged a burnt-orange as it mixed with the desert sand. Grey began itching his arm as he casually watched Tolivers freshly spat slime crawl itself down the slope stretching thinner as it went. Grey flinched as he accidentally popped one of his sores with his nail. It spewed a small ooze of brown. “Damn it. I didn’t have these last week.” “They say the more of those you rupture, the faster you kick the bucket dumb ass. You probably got it from someone else here at the Elephant Graveyard.” Yes thought Grey. This designated camp for diseased,

I wanted to give a little gift to those fans whom have reached out to me. This episode is for you, and EXTRA long for your entertainment. MERRY CHRISTMAS!

The clown urban legend is definitely one of those stories that stuck with me for a while after I’d read the first time when I was a kid. It sets this unease int he back of your mind. Could someone be in your presence and not even know it? I hope you like my rendition of this story. Story Intro: This next story promises to be a dark tale. Babysitting can be a frightful thing. Simply the feeling of being a child wanting to prove adulthood at only the age of 14, and taking on adult responsibilities. You are the guardian of the house, the protector of someone small who depends on you. And if that was challenged. Well….What would you do? I’m Tasha Wheelhouse and this is Copper Shock. The Clown Urban Legend The smell of barbeque smoke was heavy as I walked over the lawn. The sun was out and the block party Barbeque was in full swing. Being the awkward 14-year old that I was, I stood with my cup of Kool-aid. There wasn’t really anyone my age. Frankly I felt I was too old to go running with the group of kids to play tag or ultimate frisbee. Families around me were talking in circles and laughing with one another. And, that’s when I spotted Austin Nielson sitting next to his mom. I looked at him in wonderment. He was a toddler when I last saw him and, now he was 6 and happily doodling in a coloring book at a picnic table. His mom looked up and made eye contact with me. She smiled and waved me over. “Hi Austin,” I said. “Hi.” “Whatcha drawing?” I looked over his shoulder, It sort of looked like… well I tried to guess. “Is that an Elephant?” I asked him. Austin stopped coloring and gave me a dark look. “No! It’s a dog!” “Well then what’s that?” I asked pointing to a long trunk-like appendage to the animal. The crayon color was purple so it truly was hard to tell what he had in mind. “Tail duh!” I looked to his mom who gave me a look and rolled her eyes. “Austin is pretty creative.” She told me petting the top of his head and giving it a small kiss. “So how are things with your parents?” She asked me. “Dad’s business is doing so well he’s started traveling out of the country regularly. Mom’s been working on her house styles blog.” “I’m so glad to hear they’re doing well! What about you? How’s school?” “It’s great. I am eager to get a job, but can’t really hold one down at 14 because I can’t get a consistent ride and won’t have a learner’s permit until I’m 15. So I’m feeling sort of stuck.” “You know, Todd and I were thinking of going out this Friday. Why don’t you watch Austin?” “Watch? Like Babysit?” Mrs. Nielson laughed. “Yeah, you can call it babysitting. I don’t see the harm, I know your parent’s well, and I think Austin would love to spend time with a big kid. Would you like that Austin?” Austin looked up from his paper and gave me a big glare. He then took a deep breath and asked me seriously. “You’re a girl.” He said in small disgust. “Do you like Transformers?” He eyed in utter suspicion. I smiled to myself and said, “Bumblebee of course! He’s awesome and funny.” Austin then beamed back at me and looked to his mom. “Can we watch Transformers when she comes over?” Austin was now very excited about this idea. “Oh, I don’t see why not?” “Mrs. Nielson?” “Hmm?” She looked up to me from her boy who had now gone back to coloring. “I don’t want to blow this but, I’ve never officially babysat before? Do I need to make him dinner? Tuck him in?” Mrs. Nielson smiled and then leaned forward. “The secret to babysitting? You just watch him closely enough so that he doesn’t eat paint, stab himself with anything sharp, raid the candy jar, or set the house on fire. After that, you have him brush his teeth,

Aren’t you Glad you Didn’t Turn On The Lights? I love this urban legend. We always hear urban legends from a he-told-me to thats-what-i-heard-from-so-and-so. Copper Shock wanted to take them and express them as though they were living through them in description. I hope you enjoy it. MAIN STORY: How much blood could actually be in a person, when it’s all spilled and spread out, it’s quite incredible. Difficult to control as it just seems to get on everything even if you didn’t think you’ve touched it. It was now dry on parts of me. They’d already taken away the knife. Police were there, and I was in handcuffs letting them take my statement until I was no longer a suspect. “A lot of people in this hall would hear you two arguing. Even pranking one another.” “Dousing my hair in paint while I was passed out drunk was not a cute prank. Allie was just mean.” “Heck of a thing to still say when he’s lying stiff 15 feet that way.” He pointed over to the body being loaded into a white van. The second cop spoke up. “We just want to understand, if you didn’t then who?” “This person!” I pointed at my phone they held in an evidence bag in one of the officers’ hands. “Start again.” The officer said. This time don’t skip any details. Everything exactly as it happened.” I sighed and thought back to the night before…. I could hear the tick tick tick of the library master clock. Closing would be soon and I’d have to give up on the idea of studying further for my exam. Biology is my least favorite. For those who love it, kudos. For Me? It just doesn’t stick. I read the same page over and over again for the third time before I sighed and shut my textbook. I looked up at the clock, and it was 11 PM. Good enough for me, I’ll pick it back up in the morning. I hitched my backpack high on my shoulder and walked out of the campus library. It was a calm night, toward the end of the spring semester so actual spring was starting to make its appearances in the local school gardens. I turned onto my street, at the end of it sat my building. I warmed my hands together before tugging open the swinging metal door. Bounding up the carpeted stairs I reached my dorm room floor. I did notice how quiet it was. listening to my tennis shoes pat pat pat on the cheap dorm carpet. I got out my keys and opened my door. I reached over and flipped on my bedroom light. Allie was in bed she turned over and gave me a scathing look. “Turn off the light! How would you like it if I just woke you up in the middle of the night? You’re such a jerk. Turn it off.” Yes, well… that was Allie. She was no picnic to room with, she’d have boys over late at night while I tried to sleep. She’d snicker and claim it was the weekend and I should relax, despite having work the next day. She also had a propensity to just drop her Ipad on the floor, loudly, when she was done before going to sleep. I flipped the light off and got out my phone to navigate my way around her piles of clothing she left everywhere on the floor. “I”m sorry Allie, I didn’t think about it.” “Of course you didn’t think about it.” Allie bit back, and then pulled her blankets over his head. I grunted and tucked myself into bed not bothering to change into pajamas. I drifted off to sleep running scenarios of questions through my head of what might be on my exam the next day. The quiet hum of my room was about to overtake me into sleep. I liked making the room pitch black, Alex used to sleep with a nightlight, but she quickly lost that battle with me. BUMP. I heard a thunk noise and what I thought was our closet door shutting. I pulled my phone close to my face. It was 2:46 AM? Closing my eyes again, I tucked my phone under my pillow. BUMP.

The post Urban Legends: Collection #1 appeared first on Copper Shock Horror Podcast.

There are some parts of the wild that are not meant to be explored. Skinwalkers and Night Land Nav Intro: Hello constant listener. Did you miss me? I’ve missed your company too. While I’ve been away I’ve been gathering more stories to tell you, more places to bring you, and am glad you are here with me. Tonights’ tale has been submitted by an anonymous subscriber. If you’d like to follow me on Twitter, my handle is @copper_shock. This story is from the perspective of a male. I’m Tasha Wheelhouse and this is Coppershock. Body: This story is one that I often question my own sanity. Because, I don’t know how it could even be possible. It’s one of those moments you experience that echoes through you, it’s so visceral and real. I was in basic combat training, and a lot of things were changing for me at that point in my life. I had decided to break away from some of my family ties, needed direction, and the ROTC seemed to welcome me into their fold. This particular week we were going through an exercise called Night Land Nav. The goal of the exercise was to take a team of men and navigate through the landscape in pitch darkness. No lights were permitted. Your team was given a map, a compass, coordinates, one set of NOD (Night Observation Device), and emergency chemlights (‘chemlights’ are what you would call them glow sticks.). We had marched out behind our sergeant who was the only one holding a flashlight. When we reached the original point, he stopped and turned to face all of us. “Alright boys. You have everything you need to follow the coordinates, and get back here.” The sergeant took out a marker from his pocket. “If I see a one O’ you with a flashlight, chemlights, or I just plain find you. You’re getting one of these.” He fiddled the red marker between his fingers showing it to all of us. It meant he’d draw a red line across our neck. “Out here in the vast wilderness of Fort Sill, Oklahoma. You won’t see hills, trees, nor city lights. Judging by this sky, you won’t even have God himself to help you tonight.” I looked up. The sky was nothing but black. No stars, no heavens to guide us. There was however flashes of heat lightning. Stretches of electricity racing in between clouds, lighting the ground below for only a second. “All right. Get organized, and get going.” I turned to my team. I was going to take lead of my squad. “Ok guys. Column formation, all of us walking in a line. Belzer.” Belzer lifted his head to me. “You’re the tallest, take the front, count your steps. Gibbons. You’re the shortest, hang in the back, and count your steps also. Both of you keep your pacing even. When we reach a checkpoint check with each other to gauge how far we’ve actually gone.” Private Belzer and Gibbons nodded and went to go stand in their respective spots. “Hallows. I want you wearing the NOD’s, and holding the compass telling us the direction to go. Me, Kipps, and Longmier will be security detail.” Hallows nodded and picked up the Night Observation Device and started to strap it to his face. They were large and heavy. I’d worn them once before. It’s not the bright green emerald color you’ll see on ghost hunting TV shows. It was more of a silver mercury. No depth of field because it picks up Ultra Violet light, and it doesn’t cast the same shadows you would expect it too, but at least you can make out shapes. Longmier, and Kipps picked up their M4 Carbines and holstered them in a gip in front of their body. For exercises like these, our guns were more for practice. At the end of the muzzle of my gun, it had a little metal box screwed on. We call these “Blank Firing Adapters.” It disables the gun from firing at all. “Lights out, let’s go!” The Sergeant turned off his flashlight forcing all the other troops to start their trek. “Let’s move.” I said.

Secret admirers aren’t so exciting when they reveal what secret they’ve kept all along. Secret admirers aren’t so exciting when they reveal what secret they’ve kept all along. This episode is an adaptation of a Reddit post. Link in the description. This story is told from the perspective of a male. Episode 19: Mr. Blue I’m Tasha Wheelhouse, and this is Coppershock. Chrissy and I sat in the cafeteria lounge at our university. The clanking of table chairs and groups of people between classes hummed about us. Chrissy was eating her pasta lunch and pushing the food around. Something was bothering her. Chrissy was a well-liked girl, but oddly shy. She only liked to confide in me, I was mad about her but I also knew I was very much “friendzoned”. “Who do you think wrote this?” She held out a piece of paper that was folded over multiple times to be no bigger than a small index card was placed in my hand. I unfolded it, and raised an eyebrow while reading it. It read the following: “Chriselle, You’re my sunshine. With my love, Mr. Blue.” I looked up at her and smiled. “Someone is madly in love with you clearly.” I handed her the note back. She flicked my shoulder with her finger and gave me a sharp look. I put my sandwich back down. The concern on her face told me that she wasn’t as comfortable with this note. “Honestly Greg, this is weirding me out. How do they know my full name?” I shrugged at her. “It could be someone from class, who knows, besides it’s a love letter. Appreciate it.” Chrissy nodded and sighed. She stuffed it back in her book bag and we continued to finish our lunch. Some days passed and I was in the middle of reading notes for class when my phone dinged. I looked at the screen to see “CHRISSY-ELLA” in bold text. A nickname of hers I’d call her sometimes. I unlocked my phone to see an urgent text asking me to meet her at the coffee shop two blocks from my apartment. Once there I waited patiently sipping my coffee and browsing my phone, when the chair across the table from me slid out and Chrissy plopped down into it. Her face was white. “Remember that note?” She asked me eagerly. Just as I spoke the word “Sure.” Chriss dumped a handful of folded notes onto the tiny coffee table. “They’re all from the last few days.” She breathed. “I got one just now wedged into my apartment front door. It sort of pushed it too far.” I picked up one of the notes from the pile before me. I unfolded it. The handwriting looked familiar to me. “Chriselle, Your hair in curls is so beautiful. I wish I could tangle them in my fingers. With love, Mr. Blue.” “Chriselle, The smile you have on your face when you leave your house in the morning is the best way to start my day. With love, Mr. Blue.” “Chriselle, I love the way your figure looks running around the gym track. With love, Mr. Blue.” The fourth one said “Chriselle, You look attractive in green. With love Mr. Blue.” I looked up at Chrissy’s green sundress. “Was it this the one from today?” I asked. “Yes, this is really starting to creep me out… and… there’s more.” I looked at her interested. “I did laundry and hung it out to dry outside my window because the complex dryers are busted. Some of my underwear went missing.” I started to smile. “Chrissy it could have fallen down and blown away, you know how you make thing a way bigger deal than what they actually are?” “Was some guy walking around the outside of my window last night blowing things out of proportion for you too?” “Chrissy! You live on the first floor next to the parking lot… so yeah? Chrissy, come on… what do you want to do? Go to the police?” She deflated into her chair. “No, you’re right. I don’t have evidence. And I mean, if you look at these notes one at a time they don’t even seem that threatening. But i’m really starting to dislike whoever is le...

When a group of college kids decide to dare one another to go visit the local haunted train tracks, what lurks there waiting for them offers so much more than what they bargained for. [/vc_column_text]INTRO: Today’s story was submitted by subscriber Carl Schaible from Murray Utah. This story is told from the perspective of a male. The music contained within this episode had been through a collaboration with composer ‘Mi-oo’ his inforamtion is available on Coppershock.com under featured artists. The music within this episode is available for purchase on Itunes. I’m Tasha Wheelhouse and this is CopperShock. BODY: I can’t be sure of what I saw, all I know is something out there in the wood deceived me and I almost killed Brock. Back in college I had a group of friends that would get together on the weekends for a few beers to hang out, shoot the wind, and talk about our week. We sat on their porch feeling the humid air pleasantly rest on our skin, and listening to the  crickets. I leaned back into the porch post, and heard it slightly creak. As I took a sip of my beer Kevin said aloud to the group. “You guys ever go to the haunted train tracks?” I looked him over and he had a big grin on his face. “Are you talking about that one ghost story with the guy who.. Umm…” Becky then raised one hand and made a chop motion into her neck. “That’s the one!” Kevin said pointing his beer bottle toward her. “Tell me about it.” I called over to him. The rest of the group seemed interested in hearing the story too. There were only about 7 of us. Three guys, four girls. “Story goes like this.” Kevin sat up and leaned forward for dramatic effect. “Along this railroad track back in the 1880’s, a train had having trouble with one of the hitches tugging at the engine weird as they moved. They decided to come to a full stop to see exactly what was going on. The engineer stayed put, but one of the conductors was sent to inspect it. Turns out, some of the chains weren’t hooked up right and jumbled around in a big knot. So it would stretch and pull the car forward as it moved. The hitch itself wasn’t even done right, or hooked up at all. So the conductor starts getting the heavy chains untangled before he could hook up the hitch again. But, something went wrong. The Engineer later at the trial said he swore up and down he saw the conductor leave the gap between the two cars. Give him the A-ok sign with his right hand and ust before he stepped on the train, he had a malevolent smirk as though he’d just achieved something. But as the engineer starts the steam engine again, the front cars inch forward. Then he hears a garbled scream, followed by silence and an audible crack sound. He turns back to see the cars aren’t connected and he’s spreading the gap more.The engineer now hops down from the engine to walk back to the two cars. Lying on the ground staring up at him with wide open eye’s and a gapped mouth, the severed head of the conductor nestled in between two rail rungs. Blood coated the chains, and spilled like thick black milk over the metal track. Gushing from the conductors neck and body. The trial pieced together what they think happened. The tangled mess of chains somehow got around the conductors neck, and when the engineer started to pull forward…..Decapitated him.” Kevin leaned back. The rest of us were mortified, captivated and dumbfounded. “Who was it he saw go back into the train?” Becky asked. “Don’t know, but they never found that guy he said he saw. The engineer was thrown in jail for involuntary manslaughter.” Kevin gave a small burp which he covered with the back of his hand. “So what is it that makes it haunted?” I asked. “I think we should go out and see.” I heard Brock chuckle. Kevin’s smile gets wider. “Are all you guys in?!” He points around to the group of us.

Nick decides to stay home alone while his family runs out to do chores. But Nick soon discovers, perhaps he does have company with him after all. INTRO: This is the fifth and final installment of the Caveat Emptor Series. This story is told from the perspective of a male. All names have been changed to protect their identity. Part Five: Going in Circles I’m Tasha Wheelhouse and this is Coppershock. BODY: I reveled in being alone, until the night this happened to me. I was chasing Rickelle in a game we made up, we called it “shark”. She and I ran around the entire house. The hallway connected from the front door down a hallway of bedrooms to the kitchen, and through the kitchen there was a back hallway of bedroom doors until it circled around again to the front door. If I was “Shark”,  I would give Rickelle a 15 second head start. She’d walk off in one direction of our house, and when it was time I’d go to chase her. Rickelle was allowed to change direction whenever she’d like, but if I caught her during the chase, then it was her turn to be “shark”. “Ok I’m going to go now!” She said. “But this time if I can sneak up on you by tugging your shirt you stay it.” I liked that twist, it meant that I could get caught too, which only heightened the suspense. I closed my eye’s and started counting. I heard her little padded feet run down the hallway. I smiled to myself. I was going to hunt her down and tag her. This game required stealth. Which I felt I was very good at. After counting out loud to the number “15”, I started to tiptoe down my hallway toward the front door. Passing the Den opening I scanned to see if she was in “the Safe Zone”. It was empty. I then heard a board creak from around the corner. Was she trying to wait there to tag me first? I smiled and slid my back against the wall, creeping carefully up to the corner. I leaned forward and thrust out my hand. It fell through nothing but air. I poked my head out, the hallway corner was empty. I stood a moment straining my ears. A small giggle from behind me in the distance around the inside of the kitchen. Walking through the door, all the table chairs were strewn about the floor. At first I was confused. I carefully stepped around them as I approached the back hallway that lead up front again from the side. I heard a bedroom door click shut. That cheater! She did duck into one of the bedrooms? If I caught her she deserved a small indian burn from me. I still wanted to scare her and so I quietly pranced up to the door. I pressed my ear up to it. I heard her breathing. I reached out my hand clutching the cold brass door handle. Just then a hand tugged on the back of my shirt! “Tag you’re still it!” Rickelle laughed from behind me. I whirled around to see my short little sister standing there with big brown eye’s and a face of pride for outsmarting her 10 year old big brother. I stared at her dumbfounded. Then looked back to the door. I opened it. The room was empty. “Rickelle did you go into this room?” Her face melted into disdain. “That’s against the rules!” She protested, she felt like I was attacking her integrity. But I furrowed my brow and looked back to the empty room, slowly shutting the door. Later that night, Dad was out late working again, and I was in the Den with one leg swinging over the arm of the couch. “Nick!” My mom appeared in the archway putting on her coat and swinging her purse onto her shoulder. “Nick will you turn down that Tv for a minute? You coming with us?” “No Thanks. I’ll stay here. Digimon is on.” “Okay. Common Rickelle, Cassandra.” “Mom! I want to stay home and watch TV too!” Rickelle whined. “Sorry baby but you’re not old enough to stay home alone. Nick is.” My mom then pushed the girls out the door. Before she closed it she leaned in and said “We’ll just be going to the...

Nick listens at the door as the local sheriff tells his mother the true events of what happened in that home. INTRO: This is the fourth installment of the Caveat Emptor Series. This story is told from the perspective of a male. All names have been changed to protect their identity. Caution, This section of the story includes gun violence, sexuality, alcohol, and abusive scenarios. Please skip to part 5 if any of these subjects are objectionable.   Part Four: Mr Pendleton   I’m Tasha Wheelhouse and this is Coppershock.   BODY:   “They had a terrible time selling this place after all that tragedy. Aren’t they supposed to disclose this kind of stuff when you buy a house?” The Sheriff asked my mom. “Well, we don’t own it. Yet. We’re renting for the first year with an option to buy after 12 months.” “Renting? Well, buyer beware I guess. Mr. Pendleton was a farmer. Built a lot of these rooms himself. Kristin had just divorced him, and left him in a terrible way.  After that he started frequenting the nightlife locations downtown.”   “Jim! Another whiskey.” Mr Pendleton tapped the bar counter in front of him. “Get on girl!” Mr Pendleton yelled up at the front of the strip club stage. A sallow woman in her mid 30’s was slowing tilting her hips back and forth while raising her arms above her head. The music in the room pulsed and bumped. The speakers in this bar had blown out in old age and New Mexico dust. But when the lights come on, drink goes in, and ladies of the night come out. A howling street cat could sing a good strip number, if only it had a good baseline to sing along with. “Dip it low!” another man shouted from the other side and started to laugh heartily from the bottom of his belly. Mr Pendleton smiled, and kicked back another shot of whiskey, it burned all the way down. A hand traced over his shoulder and rested a slim arm with bright blue painted fingernails. “What are you doing tonight?” “Going home I guess.” He said looking the woman up and down. Her blue fingernails started to play with the back of his neck. “Alone?” “Not if I don’t have to.” Mr Pendleton smirked turning to face her all the way, the bar stool creaking under his weight.  She laughed and ran her fingers through her blonde crimped hair. “75?” Mr Pendleton nodded. “Sounds fair.. Miss…” “Brandy.” She held out her hand and shook Mr Pendletons. “Alright then.” Mr Pendleton slapped a 20$ bill onto the bar counter. He stood up and followed Brandy out the door. Later in the evening, after ‘activities’ had come to a close, Brandy had re-dressed, then grabbed the handle for the exit. “Do you do repeat customers?” Mr Pendleton called after her. “What did you exactly have in mind?” “Tuesday night. Come back here.” Brandy nodded and left. Mr Pendleton went out to the back porch to take a smoke. He breathed the cigarette in deeply, feeling the warmth and thickness fill his lungs. He let it hug him from the inside out. Letting his breath go, he watched the smoke as it dissipated into the desert wind. On Tuesday Brandy returned. Mr Pendleton smiled opening the door looking her up and down. “I got something for you tonight.” He said. “Something new?” She smiled. “Something borrowed.” He said. Brandy followed Mr Pendleton to his bedroom. He then gestured to his bed. An ugly green dress laid out in care. “I want you to wear that tonight.” Brandy held it up pinching it between two fingers. She then looked to Mr Pendleton. He was dead serious. She shrugged. “If this nunnery frock get’s your motor going who am I to argue.” She sighed and pulled the dress over her head. Mr Pendleton took a moment looking her over and then the biggest grin rose on his face. “You look like a dream.” Brandy did a flirty twirl in her dress then walked up to Mr Pendleton.

PART 1: (http://www.coppershock.com/caveat-emptor-white-sticks-part-15/) PART 2: (http://www.coppershock.com/caveat-emptor-the-visitor-part-25/)   Visit the Coppershock website for additional notes on this story HERE (http://www.coppershock.com/authors-additional-notes-caveat-emptor-counting-down/) Itunes Subscription    (https://itunes.apple.com/us/podcast/coppershock/id1081678890) TWITTER     (https://twitter.com/copper_shock) CONTACT: ([email protected])   ******TRANSCRIPT BELOW******   INTRO: This is the third installment of the Caveat Emptor Series. This story is told from the perspective of a male. All names have […]

  PART 1: (http://www.coppershock.com/caveat-emptor-white-sticks-part-15/)   Visit the Coppershock website for additional notes on this story HERE (http://www.coppershock.com/authors-additional-notes-caveat-emptor-the-visitor/) Itunes Subscription    (https://itunes.apple.com/us/podcast/coppershock/id1081678890) TWITTER     (https://twitter.com/copper_shock) CONTACT: ([email protected])   ******TRANSCRIPT BELOW******     INTRO: This is the second installment of the Caveat Emptor series. This story is told from the perspective of a male. All names have been […]

  PART 2 : (http://www.coppershock.com/caveat-emptor-the-visitor-part-25/)   Visit the Coppershock website for additional notes on this story HERE (http://www.coppershock.com/author-additional-notes-caveat-emptor-white-sticks/) Itunes Subscription    (https://itunes.apple.com/us/podcast/coppershock/id1081678890) TWITTER     (https://twitter.com/copper_shock) CONTACT: ([email protected])   ******TRANSCRIPT BELOW******   INTRO: Today’s story has no introduction. It needs no introduction. Rather, it is riddled with pockets of unknown. Unknown, best left behind. but because of […]

Be careful when playing “Truth or Dare”, there may be consequences. Visit the Coppershock website for additional notes on this story HERE (http://www.coppershock.com/additional-authors-notes-double-dare-episode-11/) Itunes Subscription    (https://itunes.apple.com/us/podcast/coppershock/id1081678890) TWITTER     (https://twitter.com/copper_shock) CONTACT: ([email protected]) YOUTUBE: (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5QcPIXCC7Mo)   *******TRANSCRIPT BELOW********   INTRO: Schools are the first place we learn to have independence as children. A new environment away from […]

When there’s so much wilderness, how do we know we’ve discovered every animal out there? Visit the coppershock website for additional notes on this story HERE        (http://www.coppershock.com/additional-authors-notes-wandering-man-episode-9/) Itunes Subscription    (https://itunes.apple.com/us/podcast/coppershock/id1081678890) TWITTER     (https://twitter.com/copper_shock) CONTACT: ([email protected])   *******TRANSCRIPTS BELOW:********** INTRO: Cameron looked out over the fall bitten forest, the sun was setting over […]

Quiet summer nights? Thought you could use a little company on the way home….   Visit the coppershock website for additional notes on this story HERE    (http://www.coppershock.com/additional-authors-notes-close-to-home-episode-8/) Itunes Subscription    (https://itunes.apple.com/us/podcast/coppershock/id1081678890) TWITTER     (https://twitter.com/copper_shock) CONTACT: ([email protected]) YOUTUBE: (https://youtu.be/sBjJMWbOaK4)   ********TRANSCRIPT BELOW:***********   INTRO: Mr. Crosland scurried across the wet Great Tower Street in 1857 […]

  You’re not home alone when you hear the door down the hallway shut…   Visit the Coppershock website for additional notes on this story HERE        (http://www.coppershock.com/additional-authors-notes-sick-day-episode-7/) Itunes Subscription    (https://itunes.apple.com/us/podcast/coppershock/id1081678890) TWITTER     (https://twitter.com/copper_shock) CONTACT: ([email protected])     *******TRANSCRIPT BELOW:**********     INTRO: A young boy, Howard, stared out his window looking up […]

Keep your eye’s on the road, you may catch something you didn’t see before. Visit the coppershock website for additional notes on this story HERE        (http://www.coppershock.com/additional-authors-notes-pedestrian-episode-6/) Itunes Subscription    (https://itunes.apple.com/us/podcast/coppershock/id1081678890) TWITTER     (https://twitter.com/copper_shock) CONTACT: ([email protected]) YOUTUBE: (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1RBfmpYxpYs)     *******TRANSCRIPT BELOW:**********     INTRO: “You can’t count it, it may be their very […]

Ever heard the campfire stories of the “Yenaldooshi”?….   Visit the coppershock website for additional notes on this story HERE        (http://www.coppershock.com/additional-authors-notes-haunted-hike-episode-5/) Itunes Subscription    (https://itunes.apple.com/us/podcast/coppershock/id1081678890) TWITTER     (https://twitter.com/copper_shock) CONTACT: ([email protected]) YOUTUBE: (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=71FH8RWSoS4)   *******TRANSCRIPT BELOW********   INTRO: Superstition is powerful. Superstition isn’t limited to just voodoo, ghosts, and black cats. It’s an inexplicable […]