Speaker 1: Calarogu Shark Media, Hello and welcome to Ghost Scary Stories.
This episode is titled eight Nights of Terror, Episode two,
The Fog of Memories.
Speaker 2: The sea was restless that night, churning and roiling beneath
a starless sky. Mark Davidson stood at the helm of
his fishing boat, the Sea Mistress, squinting into the darkness.
He'd been out on these waters since he was a boy,
following in his father's footsteps, but something felt different tonight.
The air was heavy, charged with an electricity that made
the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.
As Mark steered the boat back towards the small coastal
town of Millhaven, a fog began to roll in. It
started as wisps tendrils of mist curling across the waves,
but soon grew thick and impenetrable. Mark frowned, checking his instruments.
The fog shouldn't be this dense, not at this time
of year. Damn it all, he muttered, reducing speed. The
last thing he needed was to run aground on the
treacherous rocks that dotted the coastline. The fog swallowed the
Sea Mistress, muffling the sound of the engine and obscuring
everything beyond the bow. Mark's grip tightened on the wheel
as he strained his eyes, searching for any glimpse of
the lighthouse that would guide him home. A flicker of
movement caught his eye. There, off the port side, a
figure in the mist. Mark's heart raced as he turned
the boat, trying to get a better look. The figure solidified,
a man standing atop the waves, his rainslicker gleaming wetly
in the boat's lights. Hello, Mark called out, his voice
swallowed by the fog. Are you all right? The figure turned,
revealing a face Mark knew all too well. It was
old Tom Harper, a fisherman who'd gone down with his
boat in a storm five years ago. But that was impossible.
Tom was dead. As Mark watched in horror, more figures
appeared in the mist, men and women in outdated clothing,
their skin pale and water logged, eyes dark and hollow.
They surrounded the boat, their ghostly hands reaching out as
if beseeching him.
Speaker 1: No.
Speaker 2: Mark whispered, stumbling back from the wheel. You're not real.
You can't be. A woman's voice cut through the fog,
familiar and achingly sad, Mark, my boy, why did you
let us die? Mark's blood ran cold. It was his
mother's voice. But she had drowned when he was just
a child. How could she be here. The ghosts pressed closer,
their whispers growing to a cao hoophony of pleas and accusations.
Mark clapped his hands over his ears, squeezing his eyes shut.
Leave me alone, He shouted, You're not real. When he
opened his eyes, the apparitions were gone. The fog remained,
but the sea was empty once more. Mark's hands shook
as he grasped the wheel, guiding the Sea Mistress through
the murk. After what felt like hours, the fog began
to thin. The familiar silhouette of Milhaven's harbor came into view,
and Mark let out a shaky breath as he docked
the boat. The events of the night seemed to fade,
like a bad dream. Maybe that's all it had been
a hallucination brought on by exhaustion and the strange fog.
But as Mark stepped on to the pier, he realized
something was off. The harbor looked different, The boats were
older models, and the buildings along the waterfront appeared weathered
and outdated. Chill ran down his spine as he made
his way into town, noting the old fashioned cars parked
along the streets and the antiquated storefronts. People stared as
he passed, their clothing and hair styles belonging to a
bygone era. Mark's pace quickened, panic rising in his throat.
What was happening? Had he somehow traveled back in time?
He broke into a run, heading for his home on
the outskirts of town. But when he reached the spot
where his house should have been, he found only an
empty lot, overgrown with weeds. No, no, no, Mark muttered,
running his hands through his hair. This can't be happening,
Mark Davidson. A voice called out. He turned to see
an elderly woman watching him from her porch across the street.
Is that really you? Mark approached cautiously. Do I know you?
The woman's eyes widened in disbelief. It's me, Sarah, Sarah Connolly.
We were in school together. But how is this possible?
You haven't aged since you disappeared in that fog thirty
years ago. The world spun around Mark as the truth
crashed over him like a wave. The fog, the ghosts,
the changed town. It all made a terrible kind of sense.
He hadn't traveled back in time. He'd been lost in
the fog for three decades, trapped in some kind of
limbo between worlds. I I need to sit down, Mark stammered,
his legs giving out beneath him. Sarah helped him to
her porch, peppering him with questions he couldn't begin to answer.
As the shock began to wear off, Mark's mind raced
if he'd been gone for thirty years, what had happened
to his life, his family, the town he'd known. Over
the next few days, Mark struggled to come to terms
with his new reality. The town had moved on without him,
His parents had passed away, and his younger sister had
grown old, believing him long dead. He felt like a
ghost himself, wandering the streets of a Millhaven he barely recognized.
But the fog wasn't finished with Mark. Each night it
rolled in from the sea, bringing with it the spirits
of the drowned. They whispered to him of secrets long buried,
of dark deeds committed by the town's founding families, of
a curse that had haunted Milhaven for generations, Mark found
himself drawn to the harbour each night, standing at the
edge of the pier. As the ghostly figures emerged from
the mist. They spoke of a great injustice, a sacrifice
made to ensure the town's prosperity. The spirits were restless,
unable to move on until the truth was revealed and
the wrong was righted. As Halloween approached, the vale between
worlds grew thinner and the fog became almost constant. The
townspeople huddled in their homes, whispering about the strange occurrences
and the man who had returned from the dead. Mark
knew he had to act to uncover the truth behind
Milhaven's dark history and put the restless spirits to peace.
But as he delved deeper into the mystery, Mark began
to question everything he thought he knew about himself and
his place in this story. Was he truly the man
who had disappeared thirty years ago, or was he something
else entirely a spirit given flesh by the FOG's dark magic.
The truth, he feared, might be more terrifying than anything
he had encountered in the mist, and as Halloween drew near,
Mark Davidson stood at the precipice of a mystery that
threatened to consume not just him, but the entire town
of Millhaven. The fog continued to roll in, bringing with
it the whispers of the dead and the secrets of
the past, and somewhere in that mist the answer to
Mark's true identity and his destiny. Awaited.
Speaker 1: Ghost is a Caloroga Shark Media production, written and hosted
by Alexander Ian McIntyre, produced by Mark Francis. Executive producers
Mark Francis and John McDermott. Portions of this podcast may
have been created with the assistance of AI.
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Speaker 1: Calaroga Shark Media