Welcome to Scary Story Podcast. There is something wrong with the neighbor in this
story. Perhaps you can spot it. My name is Edwin, and here
is a scary story. When I tell you that my neighbor and I were
not close, I mean our properties were not close to each other. Although
it is important to note that I was not his friend, and I have
no connection to him, nor had any connection to him or his property other
than being his neighbor. The area will not be disclosed, and after my
initial statement to the authorities, I decided not to speak of the incidents until
today. I understand it has been years and that some of you will not
believe me, so I'd like to remind you that I have nothing to gain
from this. It is hard to know which one of us moved in first.
One day, we were just neighbors and passing by each other's houses in
our own trucks, waving to each other as we pulled off the side of
the dirt road to let the other one pass. The only things I knew
about him were the things my sister would share with me when she would spend
a week at my house along with my nephews, who liked nature and the
outdoors ever since they were little. My sister, being the type of person
that she is, makes friends everywhere and strikes up conversations with everyone she bumps
into. They had brought along their dog this time and were taking him out
for a walk around the river area at the edge of the property, which
I knew would take them longer than usual. But right before sunset I got
a strange feeling and decided to go check on them to see if everything was
all right. I saw the guy's red truck on the side of the road
and step on the gas to pull up to them, just as my sister
and her two kids were about to get in the truck, but they suddenly
stopped and stared right at my headlights. The dog jumped out of the bed
of the truck as my sister pointed at me and walked over to my truck.
Everything seemed okay, but the neighbor remained at this truck, simply staring
at me, not a sign of him stepping out to say hello or anything.
My sister said something to him before her and the dog and the kids
walked over to my truck and got in. They were smiling, my sister
telling me that he was going to bring them back to my house. They
had spent a long time talking with the neighbor and it had gotten late.
She knew how I felt about the whole thing, and I told her I
don't want them talking to the neighbors that there's only two types of people who
choose to live the way that I do. Either they're looking for a calm
life or they're running away from something. Besides, I didn't want that guy
in my property, and I'm sure he didn't like me being in his.
Although I made sure to stay on the public access road. Respect goes both
ways. But everything my sister told me of the guy seemed to pass.
She said she felt sorry for him. They had talked about their lives and
eventually of divorce. I interrupted to ask if she had talked about her divorce
in front of her children. I mean, the whole thing was messed up,
but my sister had a strange, honest way about her. I had
a tough time opening up with my own problems, but she was willing to
share them with everyone, and therefore people would share them with her. She
had found doubt about the guy's wife, who had left them less than a
year ago, and out of nowhere one day, simply saying that she didn't
want to be around anymore, and left. There was hate in his voice,
my sister said, whispering it to me as we arrived, so the
kids wouldn't hear. I think the guy needed someone to talk to, although
he never made an attempt to talk to me at all, a chance he
finally got with my sister, who told me so many things about him,
including the way he mentioned that his wife would come back, that it would
only be a matter of time, and when she did, he would be
ready. It's best to stay away from the neighbors, especially the ones that
live alone. That's part of the reason why I used to live that way.
It was a Tuesday morning when I saw the old mail truck coming down
the road. The thing rarely stopped by here more than once a week,
but this had been an off scheduled delivery, which meant it was either an
important letter or an express package. It was strange, though, I mean
that truck. It was coming from the wrong direction. Not much happens around
where you live. You start to notice these things. I was walking down
the steps of my porch when it pulled up. Mister Greystone the mailman stepped
out with a box under his arm. There is a note to deliver these
to day, but Peter isn't home, he said. Part of his account
asks us to leave it with the neighbor, if that's okay. I took
it as he extended the box over to me. As I heard chirping and
saw beaks coming out through the holes on the box. Their chicks. Mister
Greystone said, great, the guy would be coming over to pick them up
later. I remember thinking to myself. Unless I simply grabbed the box and
took it to his house to drop it off before he got home, then
I wouldn't have to see him. I'm not sure why the idea made me
so nervous. Although my sister was right about the guy. A few times
I had seen him around, he didn't seem like he was all there anyway.
I made up my mind to take the box over to him as the
mail truck disappeared down the road, but I stayed there, listening to the
chirps and overthinking the whole thing. Visiting other people was not a thing I
liked to do, especially not to a neighbor, not one this strange.
It was around that same time, right before sunset. When I finally got
in my trees to head over to the neighbor's property, and well, that's
when everything started. I parked the car by the large no trespassing sign about
fifty yards from the entrance of the house. I could tell that was made
to look like a large cabin. The chirps stopped completely, and I made
a note to remember how suddenly they stopped when I got to the property and
shut off the engine. Walking up to the house seemed to take longer than
expected. The gravel path twisted two times through a small group of trees,
and then again by a broken down truck I had never seen. Immediately after
that was a clearing that led diagonally directly toward the porch of the house.
That the window on the back part of the house was a flickering light.
O. I thought there was no smoke coming out of the chimney, and
besides, it was too hot around that time to have it on. Then,
at first I thought it was music, a strange, deep rhythm emanating
from the house, muffled by the many walls between myself and the room.
With the flickering orange light, I figured if I left the box by the
front door. He was bound to get them before nighttime. The poor things
would die outside if he didn't find them. Then, in another one of
my quick decision moments, I knew it would be best for me to let
the guy know that his delivery had been left with me at my house.
Therefore, it would be best to knock, And I knew that. I
took a deep breath and took two steps towards the door, putting my hand
in a loose fish to knock, But I held back when I heard a
deep, guttural groan coming from deep inside that house. It was unlike anything
I had ever heard, and a molistic perhaps. It was angry and rumbled
throughout the house so much that the wooden floorboards along the porch had vibrated along
with it. And put the box down and stepped backwards toward the steps of
the porch and quickly walked down the path, how dark as I made my
way back to that truck. I was catching my breath as I made my
way back, before turning one last time to look at the house, stopping
there another man's property. But when I looked back, I heard a door
slam Even through the light of the dark blue sky, I could see that
the white box was not by the front door anymore. I got back to
my house and cracked open a can of coke from the fridge and sat on
the porch, not quite shaken up anymore, but wondering what that sound could
have been. I started thinking back of the first time I ever saw that
guy. I knew a small family had been in that house because of what
the realtor told me before I built my house on the property, I was
not sure if it was that guy's house someone else's. I never took the
chance to figure it out. The only neighbor, I guess you could call
him that I knew was an older gentleman who lived with his wife a few
kilometers down the road. They were collecting money for a church event one Christmas,
and I gave them ten dollars. I've only seen them a handful of
time, since no one else At my old job, the one I had
retired from, we had a procedure to troubleshoot problems, going for the most
basic to the most complex solution. About eighty percent of these problems were solved
with easy steps, simple explanations, just like the one I knew had to
exist for what I had just heard, but it bothered me. I don't
know how the following events unfolded, and to this day, I'm not sure
of what I saw. But like I promised, I'll be telling you this
with the best of my abilities and the best of my memory. For those
things that i'd don't remember, I kept detailed notes of the occurrences just as
they happened. It's just how I was taught to do things. Part two
of the Neighbor's House is coming up right after this. Stay with me.
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It was late at night and I wrote it down as three in the
morning, although it could have been earlier or later than that, when I
heard something moving around the yard by my window. When I stood up to
take a look, the first thing that I saw it was a flickering light
from the window of the neighbor's house off into the distance. Then I caught
a glimpse of what appeared to be a large dog going through the yard and
toward the closest tree to my property. It was moving slowly and away.
It suddenly stopped, turned around and stared right at me through the window.
The thing must have been what twenty yards away, and still I could see
that it was enormous. Against the truck of the tree, I could tell
that was about to reach one of the branches without standing on its hind legs.
Of course, I thought it had been a dream, obviously I did.
I wasn't some lunatic making up things for attention. That's the last thing
I ever wanted out of this thing. The way he looked at me and
brought its head down as it leaned closer to the ground and began approaching my
window scared me, it truly did. I ran to the doorframe where I
kept my shotgun and loaded it up before looking out the window again, and
the thing was gone. That shotgun slept next to me that night. About
two weeks after that, I heard the sounds of laughter and deep hums coming
out from the kitchen area of my house. I swear I could hear it.
I was fully awake, just like I had been the time I saw
the dog thing in the yard. I stepped out into the hallway with the
shotgun in my hand and pointed it in front of me. As those hums
got louder and louder, it had been a song, like the sounds that
two women make when they are singing together, like the wind deeper. I
turned left and into the kitchen. As the sounds got louder before fading away.
I looked through the window, and through the darkness I could see that
flickering light way out there, tiny die, a orange light that reminded me
that something wasn't right. I told my sister that following morning about what I
had seen, and even though she couldn't help, I knew she loved this
stuff and it was like oxygen to her. She asked me question after question,
telling me stories of people who had witnessed things like the ones I had
seen and heard, entities from other worlds and realms that come to spread messages
or to fulfill their own mission. There was a whole lot of information that
in the end didn't mean anything to me because it did not explain why it
had been me the one who was seeing them around the property when all those
years of living there everything had been fine. She was going to be off
work for four days and asked to come along with her kids to stay,
which I gladly said yes to. There was something about being there alone every
night that made me feel uneasy for the first time. Thoughts of the sounds
I had heard from that neighbor's house had gotten to me so much that I
had made it into my dreams. The once where I saw a woman that
would come asking for help on the side of the road before screaming in the
same sound I had heard that night. When my sister got there, she
asked to sleep in the living room while her two kids would stay in the
guest room. She wanted to be alert that night, she said, things
happen when the veil is thin. She was going to be there for it,
and like clockwork, at around three in the morning, I heard two
knocks on my door and then whispers for my sister as she said to follow
her quickly into the living room. I rolled out of bed and grabbed the
shotgun. On my way down the hall toward the front of the house,
all the while she was explaining to me what I should do once I got
to the window to look toward the east and to look toward the sky above
the trees. But I didn't even have to get close to the window before
I saw what she was talking about. Enormous birds or something dark that looked
like them, circling around a patch of trees in the distance. I could
see them through the light of the moon that night, but as I got
closer to the window, I could hear the sounds. They were making,
deep flaps and a constant hum that would make its way into your inner ear
until they vibrated inside my head. The opposite of the sounds were used to
hearing during the day when the light is out. Once that signal nothing other
than darkness. It was my sister who pointed out the other flying creatures around
the area, too large for them to be birds, although they could have
been. When we talk about it now, that's where my mind goes,
and I would still be trying to convince others that they had been large birds
or some type of nocturnal condor looking things, maybe owls. If my sister
hadn't made the discovery, it was through her laptop that she found details of
a woman, and god knows how she was able to remember this sort of
thing, but she said it had been the name of the neighbor's wife.
My sister was one of those people who could remember details of just about anyone
she would meet. I used to think it was because of her love of
gossip, but I knew there was a useful skill in there somewhere. She
had asked me what the name of the high school in the area had been,
and there would be no way for me to know that. So before
I could explain that to her, she had found the name. It was
all the information she needed to find this woman and send her a message.
Two hours, that's how long it took for her to get back to my
sister. Her accounts, that she was more than eager to share, pushed
the boundaries of what I knew was possible, I mean, to a complete
stranger. She retold bits and pieces of her life with that guy, Peter,
the neighbor's name, and his fascination with the occult. Peter had been
fired from his job as part of a streak of bad luck he was having,
although at the time he was not alone with Hannah by his side to
help him through the rough patch. But it's how it all started. A
salesman, she said, had come to the door one afternoon and told him
a book for anything he could afford. Curious about it all, and having
nothing to lose, he figured he might as well start reading. He was
always a bit out there, and he saw the salesman as a sign of
something he should be doing with his life. She said. He gave them
two dollars and took the book from him, and he started reading it that
very night. Hannah had warned him many times that the rituals in the book
were not to be mess with. They had both been raised Catholic, and
despite their beliefs in God, there was a branch that warned them about the
devil in his existence. Still, as time went on, Peter's curiosity turned
into an obsession, and eventually had claimed to have some in a demon the
name and everything. Hannah was afraid of mentioning it. By the way,
the whole time my sister was reading this to me word for word, just
as Hannah had written it, I was stunned. There were some nights,
she continued, that he would chant and light candles, reciting ancient words and
phrases. She was sure Peter didn't understand either, and it was one night
when he woke her up to tell her that things were going to change,
that he had made an agreement, and things did change. Peter got a
new job, that were going to be expecting a child, and they used
the extra money to fix up the house and everything. However, it all
came at a price. Peter's explanation had been that this entity was a jealous
one that they could hear from the corners of the rooms and the attic at
night. Peter's side of the agreement was that he would recite from the books
and provide what it needed. In Peter's flaky fashion, he would forget.
The situation got so bad that soon after the birth of their child, Hannah
decided to leave. Things had gotten dangers around the house, with loud noises
and thumbs in the middle of the night that would scare their young daughter.
Sacrifices, mainly rodents, had become a common thing for Peter. Hannah was
forced to leave him after a close call. She said, although she refused
to give more details about it, the sounds I had heard were the same
ones Hannah had heard when she left the house. Stay away, Hannah warned
at the end of the message that man is up to no good. For
several night after my sister left, everything was calm at night, but not
with me. Something had changed. I always felt stared at somebody was watching
me, hearing me at night. And it was a Wednesday. I clearly
remember when I got a knock at the door at around nine at night.
It was the police. They had found Peter's body hanging from the wooden beam
in his living room. He had done it himself, they assumed. I
felt strangely at ease knowing he was gone, and began to get into my
regular patterns of sleep, until one night when I heard a loud hum coming
from outside constant deep. Then it became a daily thing, feeling watched and
heard, and at night when I wouldn't see these things, I would dream
them large dogs and birds and bugs coming from every corner of the house,
a shadow standing in front of my door, and no matter what, I
just always kept visualizing that same window with a flickering light. I didn't know
what I had done to deserve this. I had walked away from my previous
life to be alone, didn't want to be around anybody. I was done
with all of my friends and all the connections I had, except for my
sister and her nephews and her daughter. It was a tough world out there,
and scammers and thieves and people who would not make a full out of
me anymore. One night, I rolled out of bed and walked over the
window. With every step I took, I tried to adjust my eyes to
the darkness as I looked outside. And there and the dark was the orange
flickering light. Once again, just my luck. I don't remember exactly the
day when this happened, but sometime around noon better knock at the door.
When I opened it, a man in a suit, a large smile and
eyes that looked directly at me. Standing there, sir, he said,
reaching out a box in front of me. I asked something to show you.
I reminded him of the sign of the front that said no solicitors.
He looked at me calmly and smiled once again. Oh but you see,
in order for me to sell you something, that something has to have a
price, right. I simply looked at him, not willing to join him
in any of his tricks. What do you say, he said, I'll
take whatever you can affe Please subscribe to get the upcoming stories, and if
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We have a couple more coming up. Thank you very much for listening
and for your messages over on Spotify, dms and all the emails you've sent
me. They really mean a lot. Let's see you soon.