Hey, y'all, welcome to Glory Photos. I'm your host, David Flora.
I have the eleventh edition of Ghost Stories here for you for this year's
more. It's an exciting addition because I have a couple of original tales,
including one from author and fan of the show, Val Burkis. So there's
only a couple of let's go around, but they're meaty and they're a good
time. Before I jump into the stories, I'll update you with a little
news and I have a couple of shout outs. Firstly, I wanted to
get a Deep Dive episode out this month for Photober, but I have been
slammed and have only just finished the research for it. I read two books
for it. There's lots of note taking, and I just want to make
sure I get stuff right. That's why it's taken a long time to bake.
I also think one to two weeks in November never actually happened, so
it's like we skipped from November first to November fifteenth or something. There hasn't
been a November. But anyway, I'm writing that episode now and I feel
confident I can get something together for December. Although part of the reason I've
been busy is that I'm preparing for a trip across the Pond. I'm hoping
to do a little work while overseas, but Anna and I will be taking
a vacation for a while, so I'll see what I can do. Part
of the trip, though, is going to be for researching a book I'd
like to put together, so I'm optimistic I can get an episode together at
some point anyway. That one's still being worked on, but good news on
the film front. We have a final cut done and post production is wrapped.
I think Derek and I are happy with what we were able to put
together and we're excited to show you guys. So now we just have to
wait just a little bit longer until it's sold for distribution, and neither of
us have any idea how long that will be, unfortunately, but there is
a light at the end of this tunnel, and this project is tantalizingly close
to being fully realized. Trust me, I am just as annoyed at how
long it's taken as you guys are, but we will all get to see
it a very soon. I have a couple shout outs for folks who have
written in lately, and I appreciate hearing from sergeants Squatch, Andy and William
and Dustin, and to Adam, I believe you were looking for an episode
about chronology theory, and if it's the one you're thinking of, try episode
two thirteen Phantom Time. If that's not the correct one, I'm not sure
which one you might be thinking of. To Jason, you were one during
How I organize future episodes, I try to come up with a list of
topics I want to cover and then tackle them one at a time, but
sometimes I have to call an audible and switch up topics or release schedule,
as exemplified by this episode coming out a month late and before the Deep Dive
episode, I was hoping I could get that out before this one and have
not been able to. So I'd say have a plan, but be ready
to roll with the punches. One more quick thing. I have a new
audiobook out, It Stalked Me, Volume one by Tom Lyons is now available,
and I'm also working on volumes two and three currently, and Tom and
I are in talks to produce a series of short stories together as well,
so I might have a short volume of short stories published in the near future,
which you know that's pretty exciting anyway. That's what's going on lately.
With the business concluded, let us get to the eleventh edition of ghost Stories
Enjoy the Scrounger. Jess awoke with a smile on her face. She felt
Paul's arm around her, holding her snugly while they both lay in bed,
sunlight rolling in through the window and over the mess of blankets and intertwined limbs.
It was the aftermath of weeks of graceless flirting, cautious dating, and
undeniable tension, and it was glorious. She slid out from under his arm
and dreamily made her way to the bathroom. Although she'd been to Paul's house
several times, this was the first time spending the night, and she couldn't
help but smile wider as she traversed a new path from bedroom to bathroom.
After taking care of necessities, she decided to brush her teeth, with no
small part of her hoping the fun of the night before might spill into the
morning as well. Forethought had been on her side the day before when she
had brought an overnight bag just in case, and she reached for the toothbrush
she had carefully placed on the sink not eight hours ago. Her smile was
joined by a frown. However, as the toothbrush wasn't there, one of
them must have accidentally knocked it off the sink, she thought, and she
bent down, looking beside the sink, cabinet, and all around the floor.
Coming up empty, she opened her overnight bag and sifted through the contents,
but again had no luck. Did I forget it, she asked herself,
thoroughly confused. Now, no, she definitely used it last night when
they got home. Sure some alcohol was involved, but she absolutely remembered brushing
her teeth before joining Paul in the bedroom, and she had a memory of
laying the brush beside her bag when finished. A sudden sound snapped her back
to the present moment. Sharply spun around to face the door. Heart thumping
at the break and concentration, she opened it to see Paul leaning against the
door jam, smiling coyly at her. Good morning, he said, sleepily,
morning, she said, the smile returning to her face as her heart
relaxed a bit. Paul took her chin in his fingertips and gently moved her
close to kiss her. Toothbrush. Be damned, she thought, and gave
in to the moment. Later that morning, she was eating cereal at the
kitchen table while Paul was working on making a cup of coffee at the counter,
when the brush popped back into her thoughts. Hey, did you move
my toothbrush last night? She asked, No, I didn't even realize you
brought one. He responded, Yeah, it's so weird. I'm sure i'd
brush my teeth last night, but now I can't find my brush anywhere.
Huh, Paul replied with what seemed to be a mixture of disinterest and unconcern.
I'll just I'll look for when I get home, she said, again,
losing herself to memory and thought. Jess left in high spirits, going
about her day amidst the glow of a blooming relationship. Paul called her that
afternoon and the two had no trouble, making plans for another night together.
As she was leaving, she remembered her toothbrush and stepped into her bathroom to
grab it. However, she was met with an empty toothbrush holder. Okay,
she said out loud, her mind turning as to where the elusive brush
might have gone. She spent a solid five minutes looking everywhere in her bathroom,
her overnight bag, her cabinets. She even rifled through her coat pockets
just in case nothing. Guess it's time for a new brush, she said,
as she slipped her coat on, donned a pair of sunglasses, and
headed towards her car. Jess was able to grab a brush on her way
to Paul's, and the two spent another amazing night together. The next morning
played out similarly, except this time her brush was right where she left did
on the sink. At breakfast, Paul asked if she wanted to go for
a walk in the park. With an enthusiastic yes, she ran to the
table where her purse sat. As Paul began getting his shoes on, Jess
reached into her purse to find her sunglasses, but couldn't feel the hard shell
case that should have been on top. She opened the purse wide, sorted
through the contents, but could not find the glasses at all. Frowning,
she paused as Paul walked up ready, he asked, Paul, did you
have you seen my sunglasses? She hesitantly asked sunglasses? No, I don't
think so, he answered. Jess started feeling a little frustrated. Are you
sure you didn't move them or take them out of my purse, she asked,
edging on an accusatory tone. Why would I do that, he responded,
seeming genuinely confused. No, it's I mean. I'm not saying it's
just my toothbrush disappeared last night, and now my glasses, she said,
now more puzzled than upset. Hey, it happens to the best of us,
Paul said, putting an arm around her shoulders. I always track of
stuff all the time. I'm constantly buying little things like that. I'm so
scatterbrained. I misplaced things, forget where I put stuff, lose whole items,
blankets, vases, contact solution. I'm so forgetful, he chuckled.
Right, she replied, somewhat skeptically. Look, it's no big deal,
he said. Take this box of crackers. Paul grabbed a box from the
counter. I made a bowl of left over chili for lunch, and I
was a little embarrassingly excited to eat it with these. But when I opened
up the box, I had forgotten. I must have eaten them already.
Talk about disappointing. Thanks a lot me from the past. You could have
at least thrown the box away. She half smiled his self deprecating humor,
but still couldn't take her mind off the sunglasses. She distinctly remembered wearing them
in the night before and sticking the case in her purse before settling in for
a fun evening of movies and makeouts. Maybe they're in your car, Paul
offered. I doubt it, she said, disappointedly, but she left it
at that, and after checking her car thoroughly, the two went to the
park and she was able to take her mind off things and enjoy the moment.
After another lovely day, the two went to bed, and sunglasses and
toothbrushes were the last things on her mind. Jess awoke in a bit of
a haze. It was still dark out, and she fumbled on the bedside
table for her phone. The screen lit up harshly, showing the time as
three thirty two am. Why was she awake, she thought, grimacing from
the assault of light in her eyes. Her eyes popped open. That was
what had awakened her, with some kind of scratching sound. She laid there,
eyes wide as the phone screen shut off. In the bedroom was once
again dark. It had been a scratching sound. Yes, something unnatural.
No house settling, no movement from Paul. Everything was still, and she
started to relax once more, hoping she had just imagined the sound. Her
eyes popped open again. Nope, no imagining. Something made a scratching sound.
It was like metal on wood, or maybe like a drawer that sticks
when trying to open it. She nudged Paul. Paul, Paul, She
hissed, hm. He grunted. Something's going on. I hear a scratching
sound, she whispered. He grunted again, probably tree scratch the house.
Hear it happened sometimes, He groggily mumbled, there it is. She whispered
through clenched teeth. It sounded like it was everywhere, and she was wide
awake and terrified. Paul grunted. He was absolutely no use. This one
was definitely not wood scratching sound, more like a blanket being pulled through an
almost closed window. Jess sat up, staring at the bedroom door. Her
mind raced, but as terrified as she was, she also knew it would
nod or if she didn't figure out what was causing these sounds. And she
was no shrinking violet. She slowly got out of bed, picked up her
phone and turned the flashlight on, and made her way silently to the door.
She twisted the doorknob and cracked the door open as quietly as she could.
She was sure now it was coming from the kitchen. Covering the light
on the phone to maximize her stealth, she crept along the hallway slowly,
deliberately. The sound had turned oddly squishy, but suddenly stopped, as did
Jess silence, as if the whole world had frozen in time. What felt
like the age of the world doubling. Jess stood in the dark hallway,
her heart almost betraying the noiseless moment from beating so hard. Then suddenly,
Jess sprinted the final few steps down the hall and turning the corner, she
let loose the light from the phone, dazzling the kitchen, as if casting
a spell to repulse the darkness and the mystery at hand. Movement caught her
eye, a shadow slinking beside the counter and around the corner of the little
kitchen island in the middle of the room. Eyes wide, heart pumping,
just stepped farther into the kitchen and shone the light on the other side of
the island, nothing was there. After a beat of realization, she stepped
back to her previous spot and shone the light where she had seen the sizeable
shadow slipping around the corner. Nothing, Paul, she called out loudly.
Fumbling for the wall light switch. She managed to find it and flip it
as Paul stumbled out of the bedroom in a daze. What's going on,
he asked, eyes fixed and burning with readiness. She said, something's in
the kitchen. Wake up and get in here. Paul walked with a bit
more wakefulness to stand beside her and surveyed the room. He saw everything looking
normal save one jar of peanut butter with the lid off and lying next to
it. Wanted a midnight snack, he asked, confusedly, Paul. Something
was in here and went around the island. There, Jess said, pointing
at the spot she had last seen it. Paul began to walk toward the
spot when she grabbed his arm, stopping him. He looked at her as
she pointed at the knives in a small butcher block. He nodded, sliding
one out and resumed his walk towards the end of the island. She could
see his hand with the knife quivering ever so slightly, but appreciated his willingness
to investigate. He paused at the corner of the island, then stepped around,
holding the knife out before him. Jess watched as his body, stiff
with anticipation, relaxed a bit. He walked around the end of the island,
circling it before joining her again. There's nothing there, he said.
Jess grabbed a knife of her own and retraced his path. Indeed, there
was nothing at the end of the counter, nothing under the table, nothing
in the kitchen. But then maybe a bad dream, Paul asked, returning
the knife to the block. You sleepwalk, no, Jess said firmly.
I don't mind you sneaking some peanut butter, but maybe next time use a
spoon, he said, showing her obvious finger marks in the peanut butter itself
before screwing the lead back on. I didn't do that, she said,
fear once again tinging her voice. Well this is weird and all, but
how about we just go back to bed, Paul said, as he made
his way back to the bedroom. Jess returned her knife, gave one last
look to the island, and turned the light off before joining Paul in the
bedroom. Paul settled in and almost immediately passed out, but Jess could not
relax. Her body was filled with adrenaline and fear, and she sat in
the dark, her mind smoldering with what she had just experienced. Soon it
was light out and Paul awoke to find her still sitting upright, chewing her
fingernails. Hey, he said, gently, it's all right. We checked
it out. It was nothing. Don't worry about it. He hugged her
and kissed her forehead. I'm gonna take a shower are Jess's head barely nodded
as he got up and made his way to the bathroom. When the bedroom
door closed, her eyes snapped to it, a new thought suddenly forming in
her mind. She got out of bed and went to the kitchen, Eyeing
the end of the island with a look of curiosity and determination, she nudged
the wood at the end of the island. The wood was loose, like
a panel that didn't fit bright. She knelt down and took the sides of
the end panel in her hands and slid the wood to the side almost too
easily. Heart thumping and mind burning, Jess took her phone flashlight and shined
it at what lay behind the panel. Half the space was taken up with
pots and pans, beside a back wall of cabinet space, but on the
other side, maybe a foot wide as a cavity, empty cabinet space with
no floor. Instead, an earthy hole dropped about three feet down, leading
to a small tunnel dug beneath the floorboards. From the angle she could shine
the light on, Jess saw that the tunnel ran farther under the house.
She followed the direction it went with her eyes, tracing a path up to
a coat closet in the hall. Scared but kneading answers, Jess opened the
closet and turned the light on. Haul's coats cluttered the space, as did
numerous shoes and boots on the floor. Tearing the coats and shoes out.
In a frenzy, she stared at the back wall of the closet for a
second until her eyes came to rest on an outline in the wood. She
nudged it with her foot and gasped as it gave and moved with each poke.
Almost angry now, she nudged it hard and the panel rebounded with the
force, falling open in front of her. A stench billowed out from the
small opening in the closet, causing Jess to gag and put her shirt over
her nose. A smell of rancid meat, decay, ammonia, and a
host of other foul scents assaulted her senses. As she held her phone light
up to the hole, A small tunnel of insulation extended a couple feet before
opening up into a bigger cavity. A dead space between walls and rooms was
illuminated by the small light, with a few other tunnels leading off, and
Jess could see several things inside. Some shredded blankets and newspapers were coiled in
a corner, looking like a dirty, worn nest. Objects were strewn around
carelessly, a broken light bulb, crumbs, small bones, a cracked vase,
and then the light fell on two things that made her heart leap into
her throat, a toothbrush and a glass's case. Her toothbrush and glass's case,
she staggered back in shock and horror, dropping her phone in the process
and leaning against the corner of the hall and kitchen. Suddenly she felt the
strangest sensation, an unmistakable feeling of being watched. She slowly turned toward the
end of the kitchen island. There, leaning out from the corner of the
island, stood something staring back at her. She looked directly into its milky
white eyes and got a sense of the thing in her peripheral It was about
four feet tall, all dark from dirt or maybe blackened skin. It had
fur or maybe extremely tattered and filthy clothing. Its fingers were gnarled and ended
in sharp nails, though she couldn't tell if it had five or four fingers.
The eyes were slightly bigger than normal eyes, but not cartoonish, and
the face was almost too dirty and maybe hairy to tell many features. It
looked simultaneously like a knotted, distorted old man and a wrinkled, deformed beast.
Jess inhaled and let out a blood curdling scream. The thing flinched and
shrunk a bit behind the end of the island. Jess picked up the closest
thing she could, a winter boot, and hurled it at the thing with
force. It barely dodged the boot and scrambled through the kitchen. As Jess
picked up more shoes and hurled them, the thing moved oddly fast and made
it to the back door, flinging it open awkwardly as shoes ricocheted off the
wall around it. It shot out the door and bounded down the steps.
As Jess ran to the door and morbid curiosity, she watched it move swiftly
and disappear into the woodline at the edge of the backyard. Jess woke up
with Paul soon after, and never slept quite so well from then on.
Paul sold the house and moved to another town. Neither had anything go missing
from their homes again. Ghost Train by Valentine Jay Burkice. I don't like
to talk about it much. It took me years before I could even sleep
the whole night through. Heck, even now sometimes I wake up from some
god awful nightmare in a cold sweat, not sure where I'm at. But
I guess I'll never really forget it completely. I mean, who could ever
forget something like that. We set out early that morning because we knew we
had ways to go. We wanted to get on the trail as soon as
possible before it got too hot. Of Course, when you're trying to move
a group of people like that, and it's never easy. We had to
stop so many times for shit we forgot. Heck, it was mid afternoon
before we actually got going. The drail head sat right smack in the middle
of Hoopieville, USA. I never seen such a rundown shanty town in all
my life. I didn't think people still lived like that. The road leading
down to the trail was so dry and dusty, and it was hard to
see where you were going. And the smell, God, the smell was
so bad your eyes watered. Smelled like a deer that's been rotting along the
side of the road for days in the hot summer sun. The bugs shirt
isn't mind, though, They were more than happy to greet us at the
trail. I remember I was getting my bike ready, you know, checking
the tires, the brakes, whatnot, when I noticed this ragged old man
sitting on his front porch watching us. For some reason, he was waving
his hand at us. At first, I thought he was just being friendly,
so I waved back, But then I realized he was trying to get
us to come over. Hey, Joe, I said, pointing to the
old man. Let's go see what this guy wants. Joe frowned. Eh,
probably just wants some money or something. Look at his house, a
piece of shit. Doesn't even have any windows or anything. I could see
what Joe was talking about. The rundown old shack looked like it could collapse
at any minute. Windows were missing, shingles were falling off the roof,
and the gutters had grass and weeds growing from him. It was hard to
imagine anyone actually living in such a place, but the old man didn't seem
to mind. Either that or he didn't care. So against our better judgment,
we left our bikes with the others and made our way over to the
old man. I didn't realize just how decrepit he was until we got up
to the porch. This guy wasn't old, he was ancient. His entire
face was one big wrinkle, shaded beneath the brim of his dusty old ball
cap. I could barely read it, it was so filthy, but I
was able to make out the words Chesapeake and Ohio Railroad. The trail we
were about to ride was a part of this old rail line that had last
been used in the nineteen thirties. After years of lying idol, the tracks
were finally torn out in the early nineteen eighties. After that, it was
converted to a bike trail as part of the States Rails to Trails program.
The old man didn't say anything at first. He just stared at Joe and
me, a broad smile on his wrinkled face, as if he was reading
our minds. After an uncomfortable moment, I decided to ask him what he
wanted. Did we help you with something? We were just about to head
out on the trail. We're not trespassing, are we. We were told
this was a trailhead. There's a trailhead, all right, he said,
has an eerie smile grew on his face. Fire you and just pack up
and head back where you could from. Joe looked over at me, confused.
Who the hell was this guy to tell us to pack up and leave?
This was state property? Excuse me, I asked. Before Joe could
say anything, You heard me, I said, fire you. I just
turned around your home. You're now wanted here. This time, Joe jumped
in before I could respond, We're not wanted here. He said, well,
who the hell asked you? Yes, me, it's now your goddamn
business. The old man wasn't moved. He just continued to grin and stare
back at us from his rickety old chair. Well, Mike said, Joe,
let's get going. We're burning daylight talking to this old fart. I
didn't know what to say. Both confused and annoyed by the old man's words,
I just figured he was old and bitter. Joe and I just decided
to let him be. As we turned back toward the trail, Lance was
waiting for us back with the others. Hey, he said, what that
guy won? Oh? Nothing, I replied, he's just crazy or something.
He's just pissed because he lives in a piece of shit excuse for a
house. Joe yelled out, but the old man didn't seem to hear or
care. Leave him alone. Joe, Joe's wife Natalie didn't care for his
comments. You wait till year old, you'll be just as mean non ray
as him. There were nine of us all together, being my wife Marie,
Joe and Natalie, my friends Lance and Nate, Joe's friends Amy and
Nancy, and last, but certainly not least, Joe's little brother John.
There was nothing little about John, however. He may have been the youngest
one in our group, but he was also the biggest, still just a
teenager, John was already well over six foot and towered above his older brother.
Joe was no slouch himself at six foot even, but he even looked
miniature in John's shadow. After we pissed around for a while, checking our
bikes and basically just wasting time, we finally started down the trail around mid
afternoon. That's when we heard the first whistle, somewhere far off from the
distance behind us. The distinctive sound of a train whistle broke the calm of
the summer afternoon. Lance was the first to say something, What the hell
was that sounded like a train whistle? Said Marie. Yeah, but that's
impossible. This line went out of commission almost fifty years ago. Hecked the
rails in right back there in those jackers. Nate jumped in, Maybe there's
another rail line across the river. Nah, said Joe. You know what
it was. There's probably just an old steam whistle from a factory or something.
The industry around here hadn't changed since the depression. You know, yeah,
replied Lance, and neither had the houses. We all laughed. All
right, Joe said, let's hit the trail. We're burning daylight, and
with that we were off. I just wish we had listened to that old
man and then none of this would have happened. It was pretty humid that
day, just like most days in late August. I guess the heat was
rising off the trail and waves, and it drew the bugs out and droves.
You had to be careful to keep your mouth shut riding or you'd get
a mouthful of mosquitoes. But other than the bugs, for the most part,
it was a pretty great day for a ride. The sky was cloudless
and blue, and as long as you kept moving, a friendly breeze made
you forget all about the late summer heat. We started out the ride as
a group, with all nine of us riding in formation along the old rail
line, but about an hour into our ride we had spread apart a good
bit. Lance, Joe, and Nad were way ahead of the group a
couple of miles at least. Lance never rode slowly no matter where we were.
Every time we went on a ride, Lance would be way ahead of
the pack. A veteran long distance rider, he was always in training for
his next race. We tried to tell him to take it easy on this
trip, since it was just a recreational ride, but he couldn't be reasoned
with. Lance only knew one way to ride fast and hard. Joe and
Nat on their custom tandem bike were the only ones to keep up with him,
so before long the three of them were nothing more but a speck in
the distance. I, on the other hand, was in no hurry to
kill myself so early in the ride. We had a long trip ahead of
us, round one hundred miles or so, and I wasn't about to use
up all my energy at the start. Marie felt just the same, and
so we enjoyed ourselves as we steadily peddled down the old trail. Not far
behind, Nate and Little John were taking their time as well. This being
John's first official ride with the group, Nate wanted to make sure he felt
welcome and decided to ride with them for the first few hours. About a
mile or so behind him, Nancy and Amy were struggling to keep up,
neither of them being experienced riders. This was their very first long distance ride,
and you could tell right away it wasn't going to be easy for them.
They had dropped off from the pack almost immediately and made no attempt to
catch up to the rest of us. I wasn't worried, however, the
trail only went one way. I wasn't worried about him getting lost. I
just figured they'd catch up with us at the first stop. A couple hours
in. We had traveled around twenty miles or so. Because there's some plans
we'd made before we set off, I knew our first scheduled break was coming
up. It was an old train station, the oldest one on the line
actually, and we figured it was a good place to stop and rest a
bit. As Marie and I rounded a bend on the trail, we could
see the old wooden station about a hundred yards ahead. Joe, Nat and
Lance were already there waiting for us. The hell took you so long?
Lance yelled down the trail, poking fun at us, as was his way.
Whoever said this was a race? Lance, I yelled back. As
Marie and I slowed to a stop. Lance slapped me on the back.
As I got off the bike and reached from my water bottle. Ah,
he said, I'm just messing with you. Hey, said Joe. There's
everybody else. Nat and John aren't too far behind us, said Marie.
I don't know about the girls, though, they were pretty far back.
Stupid chicks, Lance added he never was one for pleasure riding. A couple
of minutes later, Nate and John could be seen emerging from a bend in
the trail. I couldn't help but chuckle to myself. Nate looked so much
smaller than his younger counterpart. John looked a bit silly himself, his enormous
frame just one minute for bike riding. I guess about time you guys catch
up, Lance said. Nate weaved him off. We got a long ways
to go now. I'm not going to get all tired right at the start.
Besides, he said, I had to wait for the little guy.
Everyone laughed as John turned red with embarrassment. How about the girls, Joe
asked, you've seen him at all? Nah, said Nate. They're way
back. We lost them just a couple of miles after we started off.
Suddenly, the sound of a distant train whistle echoed down the valley and reached
our ears. What the hell was that, I asked. Sounds like that
same old train whistle we heard when we first started off, said Lance.
I don't care what you say, Joe, that wasn't no damn factory whistle.
That was a train. Yeah. Joe joined in that sure did sound
like an old steam engine. Maybe it's one of those excursion trains or something.
I heard there was one near here. We all just stood there by
our bikes and listened quietly, but the whistle didn't blow again. About a
half hour passed with no sign of the girls, and we started to get
nervous that something might have happened, like maybe a flat tire or something.
I'll go back and check on him, I said, No, that's all
right, Nate jumped in me and John will go. I'm sure it's nothing.
They probably just stopped to take a break or something. We all nodded
in agreement. You guys just go ahead. We'll catch up to you later.
It sounded like a good idea, so we all agreed. Nate and
John took off back down the trail as the rest of us continued on.
We figured we just wait for him at the next resting point. By five
thirty or so, we had reached our second plan stop, the old Greenbrier
Tunnel, nearly six hundred feet long. It was an awesome sight. The
tunnel had been built at the turn of the century, carved out of the
mountain through sheer muscle. I can't imagine how it must have been excavating all
that rock, mostly by hand. Legend had it that five miners actually died
during the construction, buried alive when part of the tunnel collapsed without warning.
Man said, Lance, that is so freaking awesome. I laid my bike
down and took off my helmet. Yeah, I said, that is pretty
sweet. How the hell did they build that with nothing but their bare hands?
It's amazing. Well, what are we going to do? Joe asked?
Should we wait here for Nate, John and the girls? Or should
we just press on? After all, we're burning daylight? It was his
favorite saying. I say we just go, replied Natalie. They said they'll
catch up with us. Lance agreed, we gotta get camp set up before
it gets too dark. They'll be all right, So we decided to keep
riding and get to camp before dusk. One by one we mounted our bikes
and headed into the tunnel. I buckled up in my helmet and was the
last one to go through. But right as I started in, I slammed
on the brakes and listened way off in the distance, I thought I heard
someone screaming, and that's when I heard it again, the train whistle.
It seemed much farther off this time. Would make no mistake about it.
I heard it for a moment. I just sat there and listened, but
there was nothing, only the sound of the water rushing by in the river
below the trail. Hey, Mike, yelled back through the tunnel, you
come in or what? Yeah, I said, I'll be right there.
I only waited another second or so before heading into the tunnel. By then,
a cold, eerie feeling had come over me, and I began to
wonder if our friends were all right. Finally, around eight o'clock or so,
we decided to stop. We'd gone almost fifty miles in one day,
and as you can imagine, we were all pretty tuckered out. We set
up camp just off the trail, in a bear spot underneath a canopy of
towering trees. Right away, Joe and Lance began to build a fire,
mainly for protection, in order to conserve space and keep our packs light.
All we had brought to eat was instant oatmeal and granilla bars. Honestly,
after fifty miles of riding, I would have rather had a nice chicken dinner,
but that just wasn't possible. Besides, we were in an area thick
with black bear wouldn't be too smart to have any real food around them,
might draw them in. Camp was set up in no time at all,
and we turned our attention to our missing friends. It was now pitch dark
out and they were nowhere to be found. Joe was really worried, where
the hell are those guys. They should have been here by now. Maybe
it got too dark for him and they set up camp on their own.
Lance said. Natalie was far less optimistic. I'm worried someone got hurt.
I don't think they would have stopped until they caught up with us. Yeah,
said Marie. Maybe they had to go back for help. Joe looked
deep in thought, probably thinking about his younger brother. I think we should
go looking for him, I said, Are you crazy? Said Lance.
It's way too dangerous go riding down the trail at night. You never know
what you could run into. These hills are full of bear mountain lion too.
Yeah, said Joe. You're probably right. I just hate not knowing
they'll be all right, I said, trying to sound positive. Nate's an
old woodsman. He'll take care of the rest of them. Hacked up,
probably all sitting around a fire right now talking about us. Joe looked up
at me and smiled, I hope you're right. A full moon lit up
the night sky as we called it a day and climbed into our tents.
All we could do was hope that Nate, John and the girls were somewhere
safe. The next morning, we woke to find our camp and shambles.
Our bikes hadn't been touched, but all of our gear lay strewn across the
dirty ground, like someone had been looking for something. What a mess.
All of our stuff was ripped apart and covered with dirt. The only bit
of food we could salvage were a couple of lousy granula bars. The rest
of the bars in the oatmeal were nowhere to be found. I was stunned.
What the hell happened here last night, mare, said Joe. Matter
of factly, black bear must have come out of the hills in search of
food. Marie grabbed my arm and looked around as if she expected a bear
to be right behind her. I don't worry, hon, I said,
They're long gone now. At least that's what I hoped. They're more afraid
of us than we are them. She nodded her head, but wouldn't let
go of my arm. This sucks, said Lance. How the hell are
we going to ride another fifty miles on an empty stomach? Well, said
Natalie, we still have a couple of granola bars left. Maybe there'll be
some berries or something on the trail. Lance wasn't satisfied. Eh, a
lot of good a couple of shitty granola bars are going to do for us.
I hate to admit it, but I agreed with him. My stomach
was already growling and we hadn't even started to ride yet. Suddenly it hit
me, Hey, I said, what about Nate John and the girls?
I bet you they still have some food. Once they catch up with us,
we'll just rashing out what we got left. Everyone seemed in are,
so we decided to just sit and wait awhile to see if the others showed
up. As the sun slowly crept over the horizon, we got a fire
going and started to clean up. At nine o'clock, there was still no
sign of him, and Lance was sick of waiting. This is stupid,
he said, I'm going back to look for him. Joe didn't seem to
think it was the best idea. I don't know, man, we've already
got separated from those guys. I don't want to lose you too. You
cann't, said Lance. I'm not gonna get lost. It's a freaking railroad
bed, for God's sake. How the hell can you get lost. I'm
just gonna ride back and see what's keeping them. We can't wait here all
day, you know, yeah, Joe replied, You're probably right. The
rest of us will pack up and get going. We'll just take it easy
and then you can catch up to us after you meet with the others.
Sound good, And with that Lance was off. He was our best and
fastest rider by far. Surely he would find the others and in no time
they'd catch up with the rest of us. Heck, they were probably just
down the trail a bit. We'd be all together again by the afternoon.
At least that's what we thought. Just before noon, Joe, Natalie,
Marie and I had reached the Old Skeezer Tunnel, about twenty miles farther down
the trail, just like the old Greenbrier Tunnel, the Skeezer had been carved
over one hundred years before, but it was much bigger and much more ominous.
It was massive, large enough to drive two trains through side by side.
It had been carved out of solid rock way before. The track had
actually been laid back when the railroad was supposed to be a double track,
but the workers soon found out the landscape was just too treacherous and could only
support a single line. Apparently this had angered some of the tunnel workers who
had worked their asses off in the excavation. Some of them actually were killed
during the construction. Well, some of the workers staged a strike and things
got real ugly. When the railroad tried to break up the strike, a
riot broke out and eighteen men got killed. Legend had it that those men
still haunted the tunnel, swearing vengeance upon anyone who dared enter it. I
knew it was just a silly ghost story, but it still made me feel
a little uneasy. There'd been a couple of mysterious train wrecks right around and
inside the tunnel over the years. The investigators determined them all to be just
run of the mill derailments, but it was agreed upon by some that the
ghosts of the tunnel workers had caused them. I don't know if this was
true or not, but as we sat at the entrance of the long dark
passageway, I couldn't help but feel a little uneasy. Marie could tell I
was worried. What's wrong, Mike? You okay? Oh? I'm okay,
I laughed, just daydreaming, I guess. I took a deep breath
and turned to Joe, who was taking a drink of water. Joe,
when do you think happened to Lance? You should have found them and caught
up to us by now, don't you think. Joe took another swallow from
his canteen and wiped his mouth. Yeah, I'd have thought they'd have been
here by now. Maybe they got And there it was again, way off
in the distance, that eerie train whistle blew again and echoed down the valley,
Only this time it was followed by a blood curdling scream. Oh my
god, Natalie gasped, what was that? But no one answered her.
Were all sat frozen like statues, trying to make sense of what we had
just heard. Marie stood beside me, her hand clamped over her mouth in
fear. A cold chill ran up my spine. There was no mistaking it.
We had all heard the whistle and the terrible scream. That scream,
I paused. It sounded like like someone being killed, said Joe. For
the first time ever, I saw fear in his eyes. I've never heard
anything like that in my life. I gotta go see who it was,
No, said Natalie. You're not leaving me. I have to. Nat.
I hate to say it, but I think that sounded like like Lance.
You're right, I said, And if that really was him, he's
definitely in trouble. We gotta go check it out. Natalie and Marie grabbed
us and begged us not to go, but we had to. We had
to go help our friends. Oh god, Natalie screamed as she pointed down
the trail. I turned to look, and there he was Lance. He
was crawling down the trail on his hands and knees. It was a side
I'll never forget. He was bloody from head to toe. His clothes were
all torn, like had been attacked by some wild animal. As Joe and
I ran towards him, Lance collapsed on the trail and lay motionless. I
reached him and I couldn't believe what I was seeing. Must have been a
bare or mountain lion. I said, what else could do something like this
to a man? He was all torn up and blood was everywhere. It
was clear his left leg was broken. The jagged bone had punched through the
skin. I turned my head and puked all over the trail. It was
just too much to take, Lance said, Joe, Lance, talk to
me. What happened to you? Where are the others? Lance strained to
raise his head. His face was all cut up and bleeding, struggling to
breathe, He could barely speak. Joe, the train I couldn't I couldn't
move it, train, I said, turning to Joe. The el's he
talking about? Joe didn't answer me, Lance, what train? What are
you talking about? They're dead? He said, they're all dead. The
train, Joe, the trains coming, And with that he went unconscious.
He didn't say another word. What the hell is he talking about? Joe?
What train? Who's dead? Naden, John, It can't be.
Joe stared down the trail. I don't know, he said, I just
don't know. It can't be. They can't be. He just kept staring
down the trail. As he held Lance's bloody head in his arms. Marie
and Natalie ran up to us. We got to get him to help,
said Marie. Natalie winced when she looked down at Lance. Oh my god,
what happened to him? I don't know, I said. He was
mumbling about a train or something. That's when we heard it, that horrible
sound. He was like a nightmare, something out of a dream. The
train whistle, the same one we've been hearing all along. This time it
was much much closer. It was right on us. He came out of
nowhere and was louder than anything I'd ever heard. I covered my ears and
fell to my knees. Marie and Natalie did the same. Go let go
of the lands and tried to get back up, but the sound was so
loud and powerful it just seemed to knock him right back down. And we
saw it. I never would have believed if I hadn't seen it with my
own eyes. Just down the trail where it bent around a towering cliff,
a giant black shape came blasting around the bend. At first I didn't know
what it was. The whistle was still blaring and I could hardly open my
eyes and I saw it. I saw it clear as day. It was
a locomotive, one of those old steam engines, like the ones you see
in books or westerns. The iron monster belched a cloud of black from its
towering stack as it barreled around the bend and charged down the trail right at
US three, screamed. Natalie was still laying on the ground, driving around
in pain from the intensity of the whistle. Get up, I yelled to
him. Get up, Joe, come on, get up, We gotta
move. Joe's gaze was frozen on the train. You can't be, he
said, It's impossible. He wins. Does The train's whistle blasted out again
through the air. Marie grabbed onto me and pulled herself up. The train
was coming on fast, Mike, she cried, I can't move the whistle.
It's we gotta move. I said, it's coming right for us.
Let's go. A raging river was to our right at the bottom of the
jagged slope. To our left, the mountain was a sheer wall of rock.
Our only hope was to get through the tunnel to the other side.
Joe ma managed to get up and threw Lance over his shoulder. Natalie followed
right behind him. You gotta get through the tunnel, Joe said. Leaving
our bikes, we darted into the tunnel. Natalie went in first, followed
by Joe with Lance over his shoulder. I went next, dragging Marie behind
me. I looked back and saw that the train was only a hundred yards
away or so, and it was gaining fast. I can't see anything,
Joe yelled, over the sound of the steam engines roar. It's pitch dark
in here. Just head for that light, I said, referring to the
opening on the far end of the tunnel. It seemed miles away. As
we struggled to make our way through the darkness, the sound of the train
grew louder with each step. It's no use, Joe said. Just then
he and Lance fell to the ground like they were tripped by something. Get
up, yelled Natalie. Joe. Get off the train. It's coming.
I didn't need to turn around. The light from the locomotive entered the tunnel
and once let out a terrible blast of its whistle. Pain was almost arible,
but I knew we had to keep going. Get up, I said,
We've got to keep going. We're almost there. Joe jumped up and
once again through Lance over his shoulder. With every ounce of strength we had,
we took off towards the other opening. The train was almost honest now,
and the sound was unbearable. It pierced my ears like a knife.
I just kept running. Finally we reached the other side, burst into the
sunlight. The train was right behind us, so close you could feel the
heat from its engine. It followed us out of the tunnel like the fiery
breath of some dragon. To our right, of sheer rock. To our
left, nothing but a slope of jagged rocks leading to the river below.
Now what Joe said as he guessed for air, still holding Lance over his
shoulder. Right then I saw an old rope swing off to the left.
It was our only chance there. I yelled the rope. Go from the
rope. The two girls grabbed onto the rope, took a few steps back,
and then swung themselves out over the rocks before dropping into the water.
I looked at Joe and he motioned me to go ahead. So I leapt
for the rope, swung out to clear the rocks, and then dropped into
the river. Joe struggled to get a grip on the rope of Lance over
his shoulders still, just then the train burst out of the tunnel with a
terrible roar. Joe leaned back, jumped up, and flew through the air
towards the river, right as the black locomotive Harold passed, and it missed
him and lanced by inches as they swung out past the rocks and dropped into
the water. The ghostly train then roared down the trail and just disappeared,
its black smoke still hanging in the air. We floated down the river a
mile or two to the nearest town. No one said a word as we
drifted downstream. When we hit the town, we immediately went to look for
help, but it was too late. Lance was gone. He never regained
consciousness. I can't explain what happened on that hot summer day all those years
ago. All I know is it was real. No one believes me,
of course, that's why they've got me locked up in this nuthouse to ride
away. If my wife was here, she'd tell you too, but she's
gone. She lost it not long afterwards, haunted by that godforsaken whistle.
He kept her up nights. They said it was dementia, but in the
end I know that's what really killed her. They never found John Nate and
the girls. Their bikes were found all smashed on the side of the trail,
but no trace of them was ever found. The state just wrote him
off as victims of a bear attack. I don't care what anyone says.
I know what really happened. All I keep seeing is that old man laughing
up there on his porch, telling us to go home. If only we'd
listened to him, if only LaBelle dom san Marci, A beautiful lady without
mercy by John Keats, Oh what can ail? Thee knighted arms alone and
palely loitering. The sedge has withered from the lake, and no birds sing,
Oh what can ail? Thee knighted arms so haggard, and so woe
begone the squirrels. Grainery is full, and the harvest's done. I see
a lily on thy brow with anguish moist and fever dew, and on thy
cheeks a fading rose fast withereth too, I met a lady in the meads,
full, beautiful, a Fairi's child. Her hair was long, her
foot was light, and her eyes were wild. I made a garland for
her head, and bracelets too, and fragrant zone. She looked at me
as she did love and made sweet moan. I set her on my pacing
steed, and nothing else saw all day long, for side long would she
bend and sing a fairie's song. She found me roots of relish, sweet
and honey, wild and manado and sure in languid strange, she said,
I love thee true. She took me to our elfin grot, and there
she wept and sighed full sore, And there I shut her wild wild eyes
with kisses for and there she lulled me to sleep. And there I dreamed,
Ah, woe betide the latest dream I ever dreamt. On the cold
hill side. I saw pale kings and princes too, pale warriors, death,
pell were they all? They cried LaBelle dom sin, mercy, the
half in thrall. I saw their starved lips in the gloam with horrid warning
gaped wide. And I awoke and found me here on the cold hill's side.
And this is why I sojourn here alone and palely, loitering, though
the sedge is withered from the lake, and no birds sing. There you
go, the eleventh edition of ghost Stories and a songless steam powered stolen nutshell.
Thanks to val Burkitch for letting me read his ghost Trained story. You
can find more of his writing at Valentine Birkitch dot com. That's b rkic
dot com and I'll also link to his site in the show notes. And
now the spookiest part of any set of stories huns. A group of nine
kayakers set up from the beach one day, hoping to paddle along the shore
where there used to be old World War two ship blockades. One by one
they disappeared as the sound of metal sliding against metal in the water was heard.
Eventually they saw all the cause, a long set of iron links sliding
quickly through the water, a trap for ships to get snagged on, deadly
for small watercraft. Only four of them ended up surviving the coast chain.
Sometimes you need to look good and feel comfortable when your stuff is getting stolen
and you have to search for things in the walls. That's why you should
check out Jess's scroungeware cheek Sleepers for finding wall creepers. Ms ponnds. Hey,
thanks for listening to another Ghost Stories episode Prapas Knocked is coming up.
Hope you guys have a real terrible one. Saturnalia is also on the horizon,
so start making your plans for the longest night of the year, and
don't forget to check out Quiz Quiz Bang Bang for some fun trivia and Hysteria
fifty one for some more paranormal topics with me and Brent Hand For this episode
of Blurry Photos, I have been David. This scrounger Flora. Don't stopple her even