Speaker 1: Welcome, dear listeners to Midnight Mailbox, the podcast that unlocks
Speaker 1: the eerie secrets hidden in the shadows of the night.
Speaker 1: I'm your host, Steve Stockton, and tonight we embark on
Speaker 1: a journey into the supernatural, guided by the tales that
Speaker 1: arrive in our mysterious mailbox. Each episode we delve into
Speaker 1: the unexplained, the other worldly, and the downright spine, showing
Speaker 1: experiences shared by you are brave listeners. Picture this. It's
Speaker 1: the dead of night and you find yourself alone, surrounded
Speaker 1: by an atmosphere thick with mystery. That's when the unexplainable happens.
Speaker 1: Maybe it's a ghostly encounter, an extraterrestrial rendezvous, or a
Speaker 1: brush with the unknown that sends shivers down your spine.
Speaker 1: Now imagine sharing that story with the world under the
Speaker 1: cloak of darkness. Join us as we open the Midnight Mailbox,
Speaker 1: revealing the emails, the whispered confessions, and the spine tingling
Speaker 1: encounters that defy reason. Each episode is a journey into
Speaker 1: the paranormal, a peak behind the veil of our reality,
Speaker 1: and a celebration of the uncharted territories of the supernatural.
Speaker 1: So grab a blanket, turn down the lights and prepare
Speaker 1: to be captivated by the tales that defy explanation. Midnight
Speaker 1: Mailbox is here to make the unexplained a little less
Speaker 1: lonely and a lot more thrilling. Are you ready to
Speaker 1: step into the shadows and explore the mysteries that await
Speaker 1: in the heart of the night, Because, my friends, the
Speaker 1: Midnight Mailbox is now open. Civil War ghosts, the listener writes, Hey,
Speaker 1: there's Steve and listeners. So happy that you're doing these
Speaker 1: listener stories again. I really miss them. Gather around because
Speaker 1: I've got a wild tale from the eighties that'll give
Speaker 1: you the he be jeebies. It was me and my
Speaker 1: buddies Jake and Brent, on a summer night in Alabama,
Speaker 1: headed to this haunted battlefield we had heard about. I
Speaker 1: ain't wanted to buy into all this ghost type, but
Speaker 1: this night, well, it was something else. We set up camp,
Speaker 1: cracked open some cold ones, and laughed off the yeerie vibes.
Speaker 1: But then it was like the woods started talking whispers,
Speaker 1: like old soldiers chatting about war. At first we thought
Speaker 1: maybe it was just the wind, but deep down we
Speaker 1: knew better. Suddenly a chill hit us and we heard
Speaker 1: what sounded like distant drums, slow and mournful. We followed
Speaker 1: them to what must have been the battlefield center, where
Speaker 1: moonlight danced on ancient, gnarled trees, And there they were
Speaker 1: ghostly soldiers, marching with a weight of sorrow in their eyes.
Speaker 1: One guy in a gray uniform gave me what appeared
Speaker 1: to be a spectral salute. It was like they were lost,
Speaker 1: just like us. The drums hit their peek and then
Speaker 1: poof the soldiers vanished, leaving us in the quiet aftermath,
Speaker 1: surrounded by the echoes of a long gone war. We
Speaker 1: stumbled back to camp in the days, packed up just
Speaker 1: as dawn was breaking, and high tailed it out of there.
Speaker 1: But that haunted night, it stuck in my head like
Speaker 1: a catchy tune that you just can't shake. So there
Speaker 1: it is, my brush with ghostly soldiers in the nineteen eighties.
Speaker 1: Did we really cross paths with the past? Who knows? Anyway,
Speaker 1: Keep those lights on and catch on the creepy flip side.
Speaker 1: Thanks again, Signed George College UFO Encounter pay Steve loved
Speaker 1: the show and thought I'd toss my hat into the
Speaker 1: ring with a wild story that still gives me the chills.
Speaker 1: So back in college, I had this totally bizarre run
Speaker 1: in with the UFO. Yeah, I know it sounds crazy,
Speaker 1: but hear me out. It was crisp all night and
Speaker 1: I'm strolling back to my dorm after a late night
Speaker 1: library sash. Everything's chill until I spot this weird light
Speaker 1: in the sky. At first, I'm thinking, oh, it's just
Speaker 1: applying doing plain things. But nope, this thing's playing hopscotch
Speaker 1: up there, zig zagging like it's on a joy ride.
Speaker 1: I stopped dead in my tracks, try to make sense
Speaker 1: of the cosmic disco show. The light gets brighter, and
Speaker 1: I swear the air feels electric or something. My heart's
Speaker 1: about to beat out of my chest. And here's where
Speaker 1: it gets fuzzy. I don't know how much time passed,
Speaker 1: but suddenly it was gone. The light disappeared faster than
Speaker 1: I could imagine. I shake my head, try to collect
Speaker 1: myself and notice it's completely quiet. No usual night sounds,
Speaker 1: just silence. I glanced at my watch and it's like
Speaker 1: I've lost a pretty good chunk of time, like a
Speaker 1: plot hole in my life story. Next day, I told
Speaker 1: my friends, expected to WHOA, that's nuts, but instead I
Speaker 1: get a laugh track. They blame caffeine and stress. I
Speaker 1: even hit the books, digging into the UFO tails, doing
Speaker 1: like a character out of a paranormal TV show. I
Speaker 1: can't explain it. Was it a caffeine induced space trip
Speaker 1: or did I witness something out of et I've read
Speaker 1: up on other folks stories and it turns out I'm
Speaker 1: not alone in this weird cosmic club. I'm not saying
Speaker 1: it's a little bring men, but hey, maybe there's more
Speaker 1: to the night sky than meets the eye. Please keep
Speaker 1: the spookiness rolling on the podcast. Cheers your friend Andy
Speaker 1: hat Man encounter. Here's what happened. One night. I was
Speaker 1: in bed and couldn't sleep. It felt kind of weird.
Speaker 1: You know. The room was super dark and it was
Speaker 1: all quiet and spooky, and suddenly I got this creepy
Speaker 1: feeling like I wasn't alone. I peeked to the end
Speaker 1: of my bed and guess what. There was this tall,
Speaker 1: shadowy figure and a big hat. Yep, a hat man.
Speaker 1: He looked pretty scary with that hat making his face
Speaker 1: off shadowy. I got really really scared. The hat man
Speaker 1: had this bad vibe and it felt like the room
Speaker 1: was getting all stuffy I tried to breathe, but it
Speaker 1: was hard. I kept telling myself it was just my imagination,
Speaker 1: but nope, the hat Man stuck around, just standing there
Speaker 1: at the end of my bed. I could feel him
Speaker 1: looking at me, even though I couldn't see his face.
Speaker 1: And then the room got cold and it felt like
Speaker 1: something heavy on my chest. It was like the hat
Speaker 1: Man was taking all the air out of the room
Speaker 1: and I couldn't breathe right. I wanted to scream, but
Speaker 1: I couldn't get my voice to work. It felt like
Speaker 1: forever that he just stayed there. I could tell he
Speaker 1: wasn't a nice person. He had this dark and mean feeling,
Speaker 1: almost demonic. I closed my eyes, hoping he'd be gone
Speaker 1: when I opened him. When I was finally brave enough
Speaker 1: to peek again, he was gone, but I still felt scared.
Speaker 1: It was all weird and made me think a lot,
Speaker 1: whether it's just my mind playing tricks or something spooky.
Speaker 1: I couldn't forget about the hat Man. It was like
Speaker 1: this strange thing that stuck with me. Thank you for
Speaker 1: letting me share my story. Signed Anonymous, the Haunted Dairy Farm.
Speaker 1: Hey Steve, glad you're taking stories again. I've got one
Speaker 1: about an abandoned dairy farm in rural Ohio that'll make
Speaker 1: your hair stand on it. It was a bunch of us,
Speaker 1: fueled by a mix of curiosity and some courage, we
Speaker 1: decided to check out this whole farm that's been sitting there,
Speaker 1: almost like a forgotten ghost town. Rolled up in our truck,
Speaker 1: parked a good distance away to boid getting caught trespassing.
Speaker 1: Armed with flashlights and hopefully nerves of steel, we made
Speaker 1: our way through this creaky gate that sounded like it
Speaker 1: was straight out of a horror movie. The night was darkest,
Speaker 1: sin clouds hiding the moon, and the whole scene felt
Speaker 1: like something out of a Stephen King novel. As we
Speaker 1: approached these old barns, the smell hit us, a weird
Speaker 1: mix of damp, hay and something sour that made my
Speaker 1: stomach turn. The air felt thick, and the only sound
Speaker 1: was the occasional crunch of gravel under our boots. And
Speaker 1: then we heard it, this low, creepy moan that sent
Speaker 1: shivers down our spine. It wasn't an animal sound, mind you,
Speaker 1: but something straight out of a paranormal book. Normally, I
Speaker 1: don't even believe in stuff like this. But there was
Speaker 1: something in the air that night. There were shadows playing tricks.
Speaker 1: The air felt like it does sometimes before a storm.
Speaker 1: We tried to laugh it off, made some jokes, but
Speaker 1: deep down we were all getting really nervous. We wandered
Speaker 1: through the farm, checking out the barns and stumbled upon
Speaker 1: the old milking parlor, a place that smell like death
Speaker 1: warmed over. I swear I heard whispers in the wind
Speaker 1: telling tales of days gone by, and in the flick
Speaker 1: light I caught a glimpse of shadowy figures moving just
Speaker 1: out of sight, like in my peripheral vision. Creepy huh.
Speaker 1: But the real freak out happened in the farmhouse. Inside,
Speaker 1: the temperature dropped like crazy, and we started feeling watched.
Speaker 1: Footsteps echoed behind us, but every time we turned around
Speaker 1: there was no one or nothing there, classic haunted house
Speaker 1: type stuff. In one of the rooms, we found this
Speaker 1: old photo album that gave us the serious creeps. Pictures
Speaker 1: of family, kids, cows, like a snapshot of a long
Speaker 1: lost time. And there was this picture of a woman
Speaker 1: staring at me like she had a bone to pick.
Speaker 1: I just couldn't shake the feeling that she was the
Speaker 1: source of those mournful mourns we'd heard earlier. We decided
Speaker 1: to bail, but as we headed out, things got even weirder. Now.
Speaker 1: The air crackled with energy, and the shadows in my
Speaker 1: peripheral vision were going crazy, and I swear I felt
Speaker 1: a cold hand on my arm. We ran out there
Speaker 1: like our lives depended on it. It was like the
Speaker 1: whispers chased us out of there. I can't explain what
Speaker 1: happened that night, whether it was the spirits of the
Speaker 1: past or just our imaginations running wild, but one thing's
Speaker 1: for sure. That old dairy farm's got some serious spooky vibes.
Speaker 1: So if you ever find yourselves in rural Ohio and
Speaker 1: hear about an abandoned farm, take my advice and steer clear.
Speaker 1: It ain't a place for the faint of heart. Signed
Speaker 1: Adam the Haunted Rocking Chair. Hello people, I've got a
Speaker 1: crazy story for you. So a couple of weeks ago
Speaker 1: I found an old rocking chair in a thrift store. Well,
Speaker 1: turns out I believe it's haunted. Yeah, I know, sounds
Speaker 1: like I'm cooking up a horror movie plot. Let's stick
Speaker 1: with me. From the beginning, the chair was all creaky,
Speaker 1: and I'd occasionally catch it rocking by itself, not like
Speaker 1: a general sway, but a full on, I'm doing my
Speaker 1: own thing kind of vibe. At first, I thought it
Speaker 1: was probably the wind or a draft in the house
Speaker 1: or something. But then I started to hear what sounded
Speaker 1: like whispers. I'm not joking, whispers like the chair had
Speaker 1: its own secret gossip club. It sounded like it was
Speaker 1: seeing things like why did you bring me here? Or
Speaker 1: I don't want to be in this place. I thought
Speaker 1: I was losing my mind. And you know what else,
Speaker 1: the chair played musical chairs. When I wasn't looking, I'd
Speaker 1: leave it in the living room, and the next day, bam,
Speaker 1: it'd be back in my room, rocking away. I swear
Speaker 1: it was like it had a GPS set for my bedroom. Creepy, huh. Now,
Speaker 1: let's talk about nightmares. Every time I dozed off near
Speaker 1: that thing, I had these crazy dreams about a shadowy
Speaker 1: figure watching me. It was like a horror movie marathon
Speaker 1: in my head every night. I even tried recording the
Speaker 1: whispers just to make sure I wasn't going bonkers, but
Speaker 1: I didn't get anything substantial. Things really hit the fan
Speaker 1: one night and the chair went berserk, rocking like it
Speaker 1: was auditioning for a horror movie. The room turned ice cold,
Speaker 1: and I saw some sort of shadowy figure. I couldn't
Speaker 1: even scream. I felt like the star of a low
Speaker 1: budget ghost movie. That was it for me. I grabbed
Speaker 1: a chair and put it outside like it was on fire,
Speaker 1: and the next day dropped it off back at the
Speaker 1: thrift store. Since then, it's been all quiet on the
Speaker 1: spooky front. No more whispers, no more ghostly rocking sessions,
Speaker 1: and definitely no more nightmares. I did do a little
Speaker 1: detective work, though, and found out from the lady at
Speaker 1: the thrip store that I'd originally purchased the chair from
Speaker 1: that it used to belong to some lady who met
Speaker 1: a super creepy end. Call me crazy. Officially on Team
Speaker 1: Haunted Chair. Now lesson learned venice charm might come on
Speaker 1: the side of ghostly drama. From now on, I'm sticking
Speaker 1: to Aikia Furniture. At least their chairs don't have a
Speaker 1: ghost mode. Thanks for reading my story. Annie. Hey there,
Speaker 1: glad to see you doing the listener stories again. Here's mine.
Speaker 1: Imagine Savannah, Georgia back in the nineteen eighties, It's a
Speaker 1: place dripping with Spanish moss, where every house seemed to
Speaker 1: whisper secrets. Now my childhood home, well, it wasn't your
Speaker 1: typical haunted house. It was like living in a Southern
Speaker 1: Gothic horror novel. I remember one night I was about
Speaker 1: ten mine in bed, trying to fall asleep, when this
Speaker 1: whale started floating through the air. At first, I thought
Speaker 1: it was just a wind playing tricks, but it started
Speaker 1: sounding like a ghostly woman singing the blues. I mean,
Speaker 1: who knew ghosts had a thing for blues tunes? But
Speaker 1: that was just a warm up act. I'd wake up
Speaker 1: to shadows doing a mysterious tango in the corners of
Speaker 1: my room, mischievous little imps, I swear. And there were
Speaker 1: the footsteps, like an invisible party happening every night. Confederate
Speaker 1: soldiers with a slow march, flappers with a jittery shovel. Now,
Speaker 1: why didn't we I tailor out there, he asked, Well,
Speaker 1: ghosts don't come with eviction notices, my friend, we were
Speaker 1: stuck with our spectral roommates, who'd occasionally rearrange my toys
Speaker 1: like they were having a ghostly playdate. It eventually became
Speaker 1: air normal, the paranormal, like living with the weirdest roommates. Ever,
Speaker 1: I finally got the guts to ask my grandma about
Speaker 1: the house's history. Turns out it seemed more action than
Speaker 1: I ever imagined. A Civil War hospital prohibitions speak easy,
Speaker 1: you name it. No wonder we had such haunted goings on.
Speaker 1: Like I said, as the years passed, we just got
Speaker 1: used to it. Ghostly Shenanigans were just a part of
Speaker 1: life in Savannah. Like sweet tea and Sunday dinners, we coexisted,
Speaker 1: each respecting the other space for the most part. Sometimes
Speaker 1: I'd leave out biscuits for the Southern Bell ghost and
Speaker 1: hoped that in return, she'd serenade me with some of
Speaker 1: those other worldly blues. We eventually moved out, though, leave
Speaker 1: behind the ghosts and the memories still live in Savannah.
Speaker 1: But every time I strolled through the neighborhood where we
Speaker 1: used to live, I can't help but wonder if those
Speaker 1: ghosts are still hanging out on the moonlit balcony of
Speaker 1: our old house. Well that's my tale of growing up
Speaker 1: in a haunted house in Savannah, where ghosts are as
Speaker 1: real as a moss on those ancient oaks. Do you
Speaker 1: ever catch a whiff of blues on savannah breeze? Just
Speaker 1: know it might be the ghost of a than bell
Speaker 1: getting down with the afterlife. Thanks for reading my story,
Speaker 1: Signed Anonymous. The old truck, Hey there. Years and years ago,
Speaker 1: I was this little dude tearing around my uncle's farm
Speaker 1: in Ohio. Now this farm was like a spooky adventure
Speaker 1: waiting to happen. So one day I'm out rambling around
Speaker 1: and I stumble up on this beat up old pickup
Speaker 1: in the weeds out behind the barn. The thing looked
Speaker 1: like it had survived a tornado, but there was something
Speaker 1: off about it. I swear you could feel it in
Speaker 1: the air, had a huge creep factor. I was just
Speaker 1: waiting for mysterious music to start, you know. Being the
Speaker 1: brave or maybe just dumb kid that I was, I
Speaker 1: decided to investigate this truck closer. When I got up
Speaker 1: near it, the air suddenly felt all charged and staticky,
Speaker 1: and the barn doors start creaking like they're in some movie.
Speaker 1: I took a peek inside the dusty window of the truck,
Speaker 1: and there, to my surprise, there's this ghostly farmer dude
Speaker 1: in the driver's seat. Overalls, worn out hat, the whole deal.
Speaker 1: I'm freaking out, thinking my eyes of playing tricks on me,
Speaker 1: but he just sits there and keeps on staring straight ahead. Fear.
Speaker 1: Oh yeah, it hit me hard, but I can't look away. Eventually,
Speaker 1: the press was broke and I stumbled my way back
Speaker 1: to the farmhouse. I told my uncle about what I'd seen,
Speaker 1: but he didn't buy it for a second. Kids in
Speaker 1: their wild imaginations, right, But man, every time I passed
Speaker 1: that truck, I swear it had this ghostly aur Fast
Speaker 1: forward to today, thinking about that old Ohio farm gives
Speaker 1: me the willies. The hearted pick up with its ghostly farmer.
Speaker 1: It's one of those stories that just stays with you.
Speaker 1: Maybe the past really does have a way of hanging around,
Speaker 1: like that old truck rusting into the ground on my
Speaker 1: uncle's farm. Signed anonymous, the headless Man, Hey, Steve, love
Speaker 1: your show. So I've got a creepy story to tell
Speaker 1: you about this crazy thing that happened to me back
Speaker 1: in the day, said Iowa. Probably around ninety five, cornfields
Speaker 1: had a bunch of clueless kids thinking they're invincible. There
Speaker 1: was a corn maze in the neighborhood and We decided
Speaker 1: to wander through it in the dead and night, thinking
Speaker 1: we were on some next level adventure. But old boy,
Speaker 1: did it take a turn for the bazaarre. It was
Speaker 1: so quiet, it was even as if the crickets took
Speaker 1: a break. And then we heard this creepy thudding sound,
Speaker 1: like someone stomping around with no care in the world.
Speaker 1: Lo and behold, somewhere in the middle of the corn maze,
Speaker 1: there he was a guy without a head, just strolling
Speaker 1: around like he was out for a casual evening walk.
Speaker 1: It was the strangest thing I've ever seen. We were
Speaker 1: frozen just watching this headless guy doing his thing. He
Speaker 1: looked disheveled, but he moved with purpose even without a head.
Speaker 1: We didn't dare to make a peep, thinking the thing
Speaker 1: might come after us. After what it felt like an eternity,
Speaker 1: he sort of disappeared into the dark and the cornfield
Speaker 1: went back to his eerie silence. We got the heck
Speaker 1: out of there, didn't say much, just trying to process
Speaker 1: what the heck we just witnessed. It messed with our
Speaker 1: heads for weeks. We just couldn't shake off that feeling
Speaker 1: that we stumbled upon something way beyond our imagination. It
Speaker 1: wasn't our mind playing tricks. We legitimately had a supernatural
Speaker 1: encounter with a headless man in the corn I guess
Speaker 1: as time passed, I kind of buried the memory. But
Speaker 1: if I stop and think about it long enough, it
Speaker 1: still haunts me sometimes when I least expected that cornfield,
Speaker 1: that corn maze, or once upon a time playground turned
Speaker 1: into this weird, mysterious spot. I thought this tale might
Speaker 1: fit in with your creepy podcast. I hope you enjoyed it.
Speaker 1: Cheers your friend, Chester, Massachusetts Shadows. Dear Midnight mailbox, hope
Speaker 1: you're doing awesome. Have I got a story to share
Speaker 1: with you. It's about something that happened in a super
Speaker 1: old colonial house in Massachusetts. It was in the winter
Speaker 1: of two thousand and three. There was a chill in
Speaker 1: the air, and I'm hold up in this ancient house,
Speaker 1: knee deep in transcribing manuscripts. Now, this house wasn't just old,
Speaker 1: it was practically dripping with history. It all started one
Speaker 1: evening when I was burning the midnight oil in the study.
Speaker 1: The fireplace was throwing shadows on the wall like it
Speaker 1: was putting on some kind of show, and That's when
Speaker 1: I first noticed them shadows not from the fireplace, but
Speaker 1: shadow figures doing their thing in the kitchen. I know
Speaker 1: that sounds crazy. These shadows that I saw, they were
Speaker 1: weirdly human shaped, but totally featureless. Imagine a shadow but
Speaker 1: without the details. It was like they were stuck in
Speaker 1: limbo between form and no form at all. I was
Speaker 1: just too curious or maybe stubborn to be scared at
Speaker 1: that time. After that, for many nights, these shadows would
Speaker 1: just show up, just kind of moving around like they
Speaker 1: were up to something. They seemed to love, hanging out
Speaker 1: near the fireplace, soaking up the warmth, like they were
Speaker 1: reliving some old memories. And I'm just here going through
Speaker 1: these books trying not to completely lose my mind. Eventually, though,
Speaker 1: I went full detective mode dug into the history of
Speaker 1: the house. Turns out it had more skeleton in its
Speaker 1: closet than I thought. Family, sagas, secret affairs, you name it.
Speaker 1: This place had seen it all. The shadows, it seemed,
Speaker 1: were like the keepers of these ancient stories. Sometimes they
Speaker 1: do a silent reenactment in the kitchen, like it was
Speaker 1: their own personal stage. And now the really crazy part.
Speaker 1: These shadows weren't just random b lips. They seemed to
Speaker 1: acknowledge me in their own shadowy way. It was like
Speaker 1: we had this unspoken understanding. I'm typing away with these
Speaker 1: old stories. It felt like they were saying, yeah, you
Speaker 1: get us now. I'm not trying to convince you I
Speaker 1: was hanging out with Casper's extended family or anything. But
Speaker 1: there was this strange peace in the kitchen during those
Speaker 1: nightly spectacles. It's like the shadows and I were sharing
Speaker 1: this unspoken connection, bridging the gap between the living and
Speaker 1: whatever dimension they were. Again, it's not about convincing anyone
Speaker 1: of what was happening in that colonial kitchen. It's more
Speaker 1: about the crazy goings on between what we know and
Speaker 1: what's just beyond their grasp. This old house in Massachusetts,
Speaker 1: with its creaky floors and dark interior, became the silent
Speaker 1: witness to these things that defied the ticking clock. Well
Speaker 1: there it is, my run in with these shadows in
Speaker 1: a kitchen in an old house in Massachusetts. However you
Speaker 1: choose to see it, the mystery lives on. Here's embracing
Speaker 1: the enigma and keeping the conversation spooky. Thank you for
Speaker 1: reading my story, Signed anonymous the old house on the
Speaker 1: outskirts of town. Here's my strange encounter. It was years
Speaker 1: and years ago when I was in my teens. I
Speaker 1: just finished high school, and one of my buddies lived
Speaker 1: in this old house on the outskirts of town. One night,
Speaker 1: things got crazy. I was crashing at his place, just
Speaker 1: shooting the breeze, and we were playing some tunes on
Speaker 1: his record player. Suddenly we noticed these weird shadows moving around.
Speaker 1: Was it just our imagination, Nah, it was something else.
Speaker 1: These shadowy figures started appearing out of nowhere, like people
Speaker 1: made out of pure darkness. They didn't have any real features,
Speaker 1: just dark shapes that seemed to move in and out
Speaker 1: of the room. I remember the chill running down my spine,
Speaker 1: like something wasn't right. We tried to ignore it and
Speaker 1: blamed it on the lights or whatever. But these shadow
Speaker 1: folks they stuck around. They weren't doing anything, just lingering
Speaker 1: and giving us these really strange vibes. It was like
Speaker 1: they were watching us, even though they didn't have any eyes,
Speaker 1: if that makes any sense. There were times when the
Speaker 1: room had get cold felt heavy. We tried talking to them,
Speaker 1: asking if they were there for a reason. Or something,
Speaker 1: but they just stayed silent. Shadows. Man, it was a trip.
Speaker 1: We couldn't figure out what was going on. We thought
Speaker 1: about bowlding out of there. We were just kind of frozen,
Speaker 1: like scared to move. But then when we thought about it,
Speaker 1: where would we go? It was my friend's house. Eventually,
Speaker 1: after what felt like forever, the shadows eventually began to
Speaker 1: fade away. After they had gone, we were just left
Speaker 1: there scratching our heads and wondering if we'd just left
Speaker 1: through some strange supernatural episode. Never saw those shadow people again.
Speaker 1: With something like that, it stays with you, like some
Speaker 1: kind of weird puzzle from your past. Even with my
Speaker 1: high school education, I just couldn't wrap my head around
Speaker 1: what happened on those nights. Thank you for reading my story.
Speaker 1: If anybody else has had similar encounters, I hope they'll
Speaker 1: send theirs in too, Signed Larry A sleep paralysis encounter.
Speaker 1: Hey Steve, hope this email finds you chilling and ready
Speaker 1: for some spooky stories. So here's the deal. I've been
Speaker 1: going through some seriously wirrid stuff at night, and I
Speaker 1: figured you or your audience might appreciate the bizarre teale
Speaker 1: on a regular night, I'm out like a light after
Speaker 1: day of high school chaos. But then I start waking up,
Speaker 1: or at least I think I am. Turns out my
Speaker 1: body's on vacation mode, but my mind is wide awake,
Speaker 1: playing hide and seek if you will, that old boy.
Speaker 1: It gets weirder. There's this pressure on my chest, like
Speaker 1: someone decided my ribcage is to comfort spot in town.
Speaker 1: It's not just the immobility, it's the feeling that there's
Speaker 1: some invisible guests sitting on me, throwing a party on
Speaker 1: my bed without an invitation. Now, the first time it happened,
Speaker 1: I thought, Okay, this is just some sort of freak incident,
Speaker 1: but nope, it soon became a nightly thing. It's like
Speaker 1: my body no longer belongs to me at night when
Speaker 1: I go to sleep, and the hallucinations, I guess they're hallucinations.
Speaker 1: Shadowy figures in my room gives me the kind of
Speaker 1: shivers that you get from reading the scariest ghost story.
Speaker 1: So I googled it and turns out it's called sleep paralysis.
Speaker 1: Apparently stresses the trigger, and with the high school drama
Speaker 1: and family chaos, it's like my brain is throwing a
Speaker 1: sleep deprived party, although some people claim it's a supernatural thing.
Speaker 1: I've tried everything, new, sleeping positions, call me, bedtime routines,
Speaker 1: you name it. But this thing got a mind of
Speaker 1: its own. It's like my brain's the puppet master and
Speaker 1: I'm just along for a spooky ride. Some people even
Speaker 1: call it the old Hag syndrome. Talking to my friends
Speaker 1: about it feels awkward. I mean, how do you explain
Speaker 1: that you're being haunted by invisible creatures? They probably think
Speaker 1: I've been watching too much television, So I'm keeping it
Speaker 1: on the down low, smiling by day and dreading the night.
Speaker 1: I've read about therapy and mad's helping, but it feels
Speaker 1: like slapping a band aid on a deeper issue. Call
Speaker 1: me stubborn, but I'm not ready to go down the
Speaker 1: medical path just yet. Feels like admitting defeat. You know,
Speaker 1: the reason why I'm spilling this to you and your
Speaker 1: audience is I thought maybe putting it into words will
Speaker 1: lift a creepy cloud. Steve, if you've got any thoughts
Speaker 1: or advice or any of your audience, I'm all ears.
Speaker 1: Thank you for letting me share my personal horror story.
Speaker 1: Looking forward to more spooky up episodes. Sincerely Dwayne, Hi Steve.
Speaker 1: I saw your call for stories for Midnight Mailbox, and
Speaker 1: I thought i'd send you one of my strange encounters.
Speaker 1: This is totally serious and it really happened. It was
Speaker 1: the weirdest hiking trip of my life. Was out in
Speaker 1: the tall trees, the ones that make you feel like
Speaker 1: you're in some giants backyard, deep dark woods, straight out
Speaker 1: of a movie, where the sunlight barely pokes through. I
Speaker 1: usually don't get scared, but on this hike, I was
Speaker 1: frightened out of my wits. First of all, I'd strayed
Speaker 1: from the usual trail, classic mistake, I know, but curiosity
Speaker 1: had gotten the better of me. The deeper into the
Speaker 1: woods I went, the quieter it got. Suddenly I noticed
Speaker 1: there were no bird sounds, no leaf rustling, nothing, just
Speaker 1: this creepy silence that was all around me. Then all
Speaker 1: of a sudden, I stepped into clearing sunlight beaming through
Speaker 1: the trees, and in the middle an ancient looking circle
Speaker 1: of stones. It wasn't very big, but it was indeed
Speaker 1: placed there by human hands. As I'm circling these rocks,
Speaker 1: I spot these funky symbols etched into them. I'm gonna lie.
Speaker 1: It looked like some kind of bizarre alien tic tac
Speaker 1: toe game. And then I hear what sounds like people
Speaker 1: chatting in the distance. I'm standing there, thinking what is happening?
Speaker 1: It sounded ancient. I felt this weird energy. But that's
Speaker 1: what happened the next strange thing that was part of
Speaker 1: this hike. I'm on this narrow trail, trees closing in
Speaker 1: like a tunnel, and I hear footsteps behind me, leaves crunching,
Speaker 1: but every time I stop, it stops. I turned nothing.
Speaker 1: It's just me by going footsteps and this feeling of
Speaker 1: being watched. And then off in the trees, I see
Speaker 1: a misty figure. I'm squinting, making sure that my mind's
Speaker 1: not playing tricks, but no, it's a shadowy somebody or
Speaker 1: something just standing there. I wanted to call out, but
Speaker 1: it was like my voice was gone. I started to
Speaker 1: take a step closer, and it was gone. I'm standing
Speaker 1: there with my heart racing, wondering what I just had
Speaker 1: a close encounter with the last part of this particular
Speaker 1: hiking adventure. I'd set up camp by a stream and
Speaker 1: cooked up some beans out of a can when I
Speaker 1: hear like this a soft humming noise, and again I'm like,
Speaker 1: what is that. I followed the sound to another clearing,
Speaker 1: but this time it was full of fireflies. You've ever
Speaker 1: seen the synchronous fireflies of the Smokies, That's what it
Speaker 1: looked like. It looked like they were making these crazy
Speaker 1: patterns in the air. Then in the same clearing, a deer.
Speaker 1: I wonder, sir, not an average deer. This deer was
Speaker 1: blacker than black, and its eyes were glowing. And the
Speaker 1: deer and I we had this deep moment, locked eyes
Speaker 1: and all that, like the forest is putting on a
Speaker 1: show just for me. Somehow I managed to fall asleep,
Speaker 1: and when morning breaks, it's back to normal. I can
Speaker 1: hear birds chirping, leaves rustling in the trees. The stone
Speaker 1: circle's still there, but it looks benign and old, with
Speaker 1: the shadow figure and the whispers all gone, like some
Speaker 1: kind of bizarre Durham. I packed up my camp, thinking
Speaker 1: the trail back home might not even be there, but
Speaker 1: thankfully it was. I can't explain the things that happened,
Speaker 1: but it felt like I crashed a secret party in
Speaker 1: the woods. Either I had some sort of weird hallucination
Speaker 1: or mother Nature is hiding some wild secrets. If you'd
Speaker 1: like to hear more stories, let me know. Oh you
Speaker 1: won't believe the other things that have happened to me.
Speaker 1: Thanks again for reading my story, and I look forward
Speaker 1: to the show, Signed anonymous, Well friends. I responded back
Speaker 1: to this anonymous listener and they sent me another story.
Speaker 1: This time he writes once more. I decided to take
Speaker 1: a solo hike in the woods. Right now, I get
Speaker 1: chills just thinking about it. I wandered into the woods,
Speaker 1: thinking it's going to be a chill day of communing
Speaker 1: with nature. I couldn't have been more wrong. The air
Speaker 1: seemed thick, like walking through molasses, and the leaves were
Speaker 1: crunching under my feet a lot louder than they normally do.
Speaker 1: But then, somewhere off in the distance, I started hearing voices,
Speaker 1: not just any voices, but voices that sounded like my
Speaker 1: aunt Mary and my best friends said Era, and at
Speaker 1: once even my own voice. What in the world was
Speaker 1: going on? So I start calling out, asking who's there.
Speaker 1: All I get back is this echo of my own voice.
Speaker 1: But it gets stranger. The voices start mimicking conversations I've
Speaker 1: had with people laughing at inside jokes and even bringing
Speaker 1: up embarrassing moments I thought were buried deep in my
Speaker 1: memory vault. I finally decided just to sit down and
Speaker 1: take a breather on a fallen log, thinking I'll figure
Speaker 1: out what's going on. But that's when the voices continued,
Speaker 1: whispering secrets, personal stuff like family skeletons and old crushes.
Speaker 1: It's like the woods turned into my therapist. And if
Speaker 1: that wasn't enough, I caught a glimpse of something moving
Speaker 1: between the trees, some kind of shadowy figure that would
Speaker 1: occasionally peek out. I tried to spot, but it's like
Speaker 1: chasing smoke. I can see it out of the corner
Speaker 1: of my eye, but when I look directly at it,
Speaker 1: there's nothing there. I decided the best thing for me
Speaker 1: to do was to get out of there, and that's
Speaker 1: what I did. As I headed back to civilization at
Speaker 1: a steady clip, the voices faded away. It's like the
Speaker 1: Woods knew that it messed with my head long enough
Speaker 1: and decided to let me off the hook. I don't
Speaker 1: know what happened, and I'm not sure I want to.
Speaker 1: Maybe the woods have a secret society of their own.
Speaker 1: Or maybe I just stumbled into some ghostly place. Either way,
Speaker 1: I don't think I'll be venturing back into the great
Speaker 1: unknown anytime soon, not alone anyway. So what do y'all think?
Speaker 1: Am I crazy? Or did I stumble into a forest?
Speaker 1: Freak show? I can't wait to hear your comments. Signed
Speaker 1: Anonymous the Black mass Hi, Steve, so glad you've joined
Speaker 1: us here in New England. I have a story from
Speaker 1: my childhood that I'd like to share for your new show.
Speaker 1: During my childhood, I lived in a small town in
Speaker 1: Massachusetts that held great historical significance. It was the birthplace
Speaker 1: of the term minute men, which originated during the Revolutionary War.
Speaker 1: As I grew older, I learned from a friend who
Speaker 1: lived nearby that he had seen Revolutionary War soldiers in
Speaker 1: the woods behind his house preparing for battle. When I
Speaker 1: was three years old, my mother and I moved into
Speaker 1: an apartment and were excited to have our own little space.
Speaker 1: I'm now thirty eight years old, but I vividly remember
Speaker 1: it all as if it happened yesterday. I remember having
Speaker 1: problems sleeping immediately after we moved in. I developed night
Speaker 1: terrors and would wake up in the middle of the
Speaker 1: night at the same time three am, experiencing utter terror.
Speaker 1: I was so young that I couldn't rationalize what was
Speaker 1: going on. I would scream for my mother to get
Speaker 1: me and take me to her room. Every night at
Speaker 1: the same time this happened. It'd be like I was
Speaker 1: woken up out of a sound sleep because of sheer
Speaker 1: terror and just had to get out of that room.
Speaker 1: In my mom's room, I would hear strange music coming
Speaker 1: from nowhere in the silence of the night, and see
Speaker 1: bizarre flashing lights soaring around the room. It's a wonder
Speaker 1: I ever slept at all. Flash forward two years. At
Speaker 1: this point, I'm five years old. This one particular night,
Speaker 1: I went to bed and woke up, as you guessed it,
Speaker 1: at three am. So I'm just laying in bed, but
Speaker 1: only this time I'm not screaming for my mother. I'm
Speaker 1: laying there waiting as if something is going to happen.
Speaker 1: I can sense it in my soul. All of a sudden,
Speaker 1: in the pure silence the night, I heard the knob
Speaker 1: turn and the door to my room opened. The door
Speaker 1: just glided extremely slowly across the carpeted floor. Something in
Speaker 1: my gut told me not to look. I knew if
Speaker 1: I looked, whatever I saw looking back at me would
Speaker 1: ruin me forever. So I just lay there, silently, staring
Speaker 1: at the wall, while doing everything I could to avoid
Speaker 1: looking at the door. Suddenly, the door slammed shut, the
Speaker 1: clamorous noise echoing the darkness. I lay in fear, and
Speaker 1: eventually somehow rocked myself to sleep. When I woke up
Speaker 1: the following morning, I immediately asked my mother if she'd
Speaker 1: gone in to check on me the previous night. She
Speaker 1: said no, because she had been asleep herself, probably ecstatic
Speaker 1: not to have been disturbed for once. The look of
Speaker 1: sheer terror on my face must have been one for
Speaker 1: the books, because someone or something definitely opened that door
Speaker 1: last night. I was wide away. I know I was.
Speaker 1: I heard that door open and physically felt someone or
Speaker 1: something standing there looking at me. If it wasn't my mom,
Speaker 1: then who wasn't it was just the two of us
Speaker 1: living there. I knew she wasn't lying. She was always
Speaker 1: honest with me. I try to forget this experience and
Speaker 1: go on with life now. My mom loved having fish
Speaker 1: tanks and all varieties of fish, since we weren't allowed
Speaker 1: to have other pets. Where we lived, the fish would
Speaker 1: just keep dying. I know, fish die, and it could
Speaker 1: be a coincidence, but my mom knew how to take
Speaker 1: care of them, and it was just odd how frequently
Speaker 1: it was happening. We came home one day and all
Speaker 1: of them were dead, all of them. My mom just shrugged,
Speaker 1: said she had no idea what happened, and chalked it
Speaker 1: off to bacteria or something in the water. That's not
Speaker 1: what I think it was. I went to bed that
Speaker 1: night and woke up, you guessed it. At the same
Speaker 1: time three a m. I groggily looked over to my closet,
Speaker 1: which was directly across from my bed, and saw through
Speaker 1: the darkness a huge black shadow or black mass, just
Speaker 1: hovering over the closet. This thing was massive and the
Speaker 1: blackest black I've ever seen to this day. I was
Speaker 1: paralyzed with fear and screamed from my mother, who rushed
Speaker 1: in to see what was wrong, and to my horror,
Speaker 1: she saw it too. She hurriedly turned the light on,
Speaker 1: and the black mass still hovered over the closet. Looking back,
Speaker 1: as an adult, I know how terrified she must have been.
Speaker 1: She didn't want me to be scared, though, and I
Speaker 1: commend her for this. So she just got in my
Speaker 1: bed with me, pulled the covers up over us both,
Speaker 1: and held me close until we finally fell asleep. I
Speaker 1: have no idea how long that thing hovered there to
Speaker 1: this day, I have no idea what we saw that
Speaker 1: night or what was actually happening there. Whatever was there
Speaker 1: didn't seem to have any good intentions for us, and
Speaker 1: we ultimately moved not long after that terrifying night. It
Speaker 1: frightens me to think that something was actually watching me
Speaker 1: on all those sleepless nights and just praying on my innocence. Unfortunately,
Speaker 1: my mom is not with us anymore, but I asked
Speaker 1: her about that night about fifteen years ago, and she
Speaker 1: remembered it vividly, but could not explain it. I could
Speaker 1: tell she was uncomfortable talking about it, and she hurriedly
Speaker 1: changed the subject. I was hoping she said she didn't remember,
Speaker 1: so it could all be chalked up to my young,
Speaker 1: wild imagination. But her confirming that it happened shows me
Speaker 1: to the court to this day. If you ever find
Speaker 1: yourself in central Massachusetts, beware you never know what might
Speaker 1: be watching you while you sleep. I hope you enjoyed
Speaker 1: this story, Signed Parker wig Aboard story. I bought this
Speaker 1: weageboard when I was nineteen, so in the year of
Speaker 1: twenty eighteen, my friend and I saw it on Amazon
Speaker 1: for cheap and grabbed it because we were planning a
Speaker 1: trip to Centralia in Pennsylvania and thought we could use
Speaker 1: it there. Fast forward to about a week later. We
Speaker 1: end up in Centralia and we're in a graveyard during sunset,
Speaker 1: at the grave of a young girl named Jane. She
Speaker 1: was supposedly known as one of the first victims there,
Speaker 1: and I believe her uncle may have been responsible for
Speaker 1: what happened her in the mines before the fires had started.
Speaker 1: We soon got a lot of activity. After asking if
Speaker 1: Jane was there, the weigboard answered that it was Jane,
Speaker 1: but almost every question it either spelled Jane or the
Speaker 1: number seven, with both the resort letters. We thought it
Speaker 1: was weird because we didn't understand what seven had to
Speaker 1: do with anything. This went on for almost an hour
Speaker 1: until we said goodbye and thought to try our spirit box.
Speaker 1: The spirit box then kept yelling out the same thing
Speaker 1: over again, and soon after it went completely silent and
Speaker 1: wouldn't work again. Until we left the cemetery. We thought
Speaker 1: nothing of it and went back home to Massachusetts. The
Speaker 1: next day, we wanted to try it again to see
Speaker 1: if it was real or if we were scaring ourselves,
Speaker 1: so we went to the graveyard that my grandmother was
Speaker 1: buried in and tried to reach her. We did not
Speaker 1: mention her name or anything, so nothing could try and
Speaker 1: trick us, and we only got the same answers of
Speaker 1: Jane and the number seven. Again. We closed out the
Speaker 1: session and drove to the closest McDonald's because it was
Speaker 1: only a mile away and we wanted to be somewhere
Speaker 1: where there was a lot of people. Curiosity kicked in
Speaker 1: and my friend opened the box to make sure we
Speaker 1: had put it away properly, and as she did that,
Speaker 1: my new twenty sixteen Nissan Duke started to idle and
Speaker 1: the lights went crazy to this day until I turned
Speaker 1: it in that car, my Duke would do that anytime
Speaker 1: it stopped, and it never did this before that day.
Speaker 1: We put it away and left it for a month
Speaker 1: or so in the trunk storage in my car. There
Speaker 1: was a place known as the Rocking Horse Graveyard in
Speaker 1: Massachusetts that we wanted to visit. And we have visited before.
Speaker 1: It's nothing scary. It's just people dropping off rocking horses
Speaker 1: and the owner of the land moves them around in
Speaker 1: fund designs for a little girl that used to run
Speaker 1: a lemonade stand there. We've never had a scary experience here.
Speaker 1: But the wachboard was still in my car. We went
Speaker 1: at night, so it was dark, and we both looked
Speaker 1: up and saw what we thought was a pole in
Speaker 1: the field, but then we both saw it move. I
Speaker 1: moved closer to get a better look in case it
Speaker 1: was someone that needed help. As I got closer, it
Speaker 1: disappeared completely in front of me, and we got two
Speaker 1: spoke to stay there. The next day, I was at
Speaker 1: work at four am, and I left around twelve to
Speaker 1: find out my brake lines were sliced and I couldn't
Speaker 1: use them. I don't know if that was because I
Speaker 1: was in a bad area with a Wiji board, but
Speaker 1: it still made me aware. That was the last time
Speaker 1: we noticed anything for a couple of months. I soon
Speaker 1: quit that job and worked with my sister, but we
Speaker 1: car pooled because she had car issues, so moved into
Speaker 1: her apartment with her boyfriend and her young daughter. I
Speaker 1: had to empty my car because I was trying to
Speaker 1: trade it in, so I brought everything into the apartment.
Speaker 1: I didn't end up trading in that car yet, but
Speaker 1: I forgot everything from the car in my room at
Speaker 1: my sister's for a while. After about three days of
Speaker 1: the board being in their apartment, there was problems with
Speaker 1: their Xbox turning on and making strange noises at three
Speaker 1: am on the dot every day, even if it was unplugged.
Speaker 1: My sister had also taken a picture of my niece
Speaker 1: while home alone, and in the background caught something standing
Speaker 1: very strangely in the hutch reflection behind. There was no
Speaker 1: TV or other person around at that time. The xbox
Speaker 1: stopped doing that today. I moved out and took the
Speaker 1: board with me. I moved into my own place within
Speaker 1: the next couple months, and obviously brought the board with me.
Speaker 1: Within the very first night, my kitchen cabinets would open
Speaker 1: a slam shop by themselves every time I shut off
Speaker 1: the lights for bed. This went on for months until
Speaker 1: my friend wanted to borrow the board because she was
Speaker 1: going back to Centrolia with other friends. I stayed behind.
Speaker 1: I do not know experiences with the board in Pennsylvania
Speaker 1: this time, but she came back a week later and
Speaker 1: one of our friends came up to visit from Florida.
Speaker 1: He didn't believe this thing would cause us much destruction,
Speaker 1: so he wanted to try it in his hotel room. Now,
Speaker 1: his hotel room was right next to rock wall where
Speaker 1: it was believed that some woman was buried in, so
Speaker 1: we thought that would be a good spot. We played
Speaker 1: and got something very cheerful at first until it started
Speaker 1: to spell out Jane and seven. Again. Being curious, my
Speaker 1: friend broke out the spirit box again while me and
Speaker 1: my Florida friend kept the board going. She was getting
Speaker 1: the exact same answers as we were. She put the
Speaker 1: spirit box away and she put her hands back on
Speaker 1: the board and it started going crazy, going back and forth.
Speaker 1: I know Zozo is the demon of the board, but
Speaker 1: that's all it was spelling, and I didn't believe it
Speaker 1: until that day. We quickly ended the session, and as
Speaker 1: we said goodbye, all the hangers in the closet went crazy,
Speaker 1: and my friend was too scared to stay in there alone,
Speaker 1: so I spent the night and we did not sleep
Speaker 1: at all. That night. My sister was throwing a Halloween
Speaker 1: party and my friend had brought the board and we
Speaker 1: thought it could be used as a prop, but we
Speaker 1: never touched the planchet to the board. It's been at
Speaker 1: my sister's house ever since and nothing happened that night.
Speaker 1: But since that day, the new Xbox has been turning
Speaker 1: on and off again, and we've all seen things walking
Speaker 1: around the house. Things are happening through this day as
Speaker 1: we've opened the box for the first time since Halloween,
Speaker 1: and within minutes, my sister's bearded dragon's tank started to
Speaker 1: smoke from the lamp. That has never happened in the
Speaker 1: years that they've had him. Signed anonymous, Hi Steve, This
Speaker 1: is Ajkay from the YouTube channel The Retrospective Vault. When
Speaker 1: I was a child, my parents divorced and they both
Speaker 1: remarried eventually, and my mother and I, along with my
Speaker 1: new step family, moved to a new house. The house
Speaker 1: was located near a real nice subdivision named Buck Lake
Speaker 1: in northern Illinois. This place was a nice place to
Speaker 1: move to. It was out in the country and very quiet.
Speaker 1: There was also no shortage of children to run around
Speaker 1: the neighborhood with. This area had a pond and creek
Speaker 1: that ran into buck lake that was man made by
Speaker 1: a small dam. People could fish, swim, canoe on the lake,
Speaker 1: and even ice skate in the winter months. Nothing seemed
Speaker 1: out of the ordinary at first. I don't remember how
Speaker 1: long I had been living in the house when I
Speaker 1: had my first encounter. I woke up one night and
Speaker 1: I could look out my bedroom door, down the hall
Speaker 1: and into the kitchen. There stood two ghostly looking figures
Speaker 1: next to the refrigerator. A third orb looking thing was
Speaker 1: racing real fast around the soup terain on top of
Speaker 1: the refrigerator. At my age and height, I thought the
Speaker 1: refrigerator was tall. The one ghostly figure standing next to
Speaker 1: the fridge was strangely contorted. It looked like it was
Speaker 1: bent in an awkward position. After that incident, I never
Speaker 1: slept with the bedroom door open. I don't understand why
Speaker 1: that house was haunted, but I could only guess either
Speaker 1: the previous owners invited the men or the land around
Speaker 1: the area has cursed. Strange occurrences would happen to things
Speaker 1: in my room. I had a snow globe that was
Speaker 1: knocked over on the floor, which broke it. I would
Speaker 1: wake up with scratches on my body, and my mother
Speaker 1: would ask if I'd been playing rough with a dog.
Speaker 1: Another time, I was in my room, but thankfully not
Speaker 1: alone in the house. I had a mirror that hung
Speaker 1: over my dresser drawers that reflected in the hallway outside
Speaker 1: my bedroom. A small, pitch black figure walked past my
Speaker 1: room in the hallway. It was short, maybe three feet tall.
Speaker 1: It was holding what looked like a stick with a
Speaker 1: chicken egg on the end of it. It scared me
Speaker 1: real bad, and I ran to the other side of
Speaker 1: the house where all the adults were. I don't know
Speaker 1: what was worse, seeing ghosts and being scared, or nobody
Speaker 1: believing me when I told them what I'd seen. As
Speaker 1: time went on, we moved to another house in town
Speaker 1: and I could walk to school. I didn't see anything
Speaker 1: in the new house. It wouldn't be until years later,
Speaker 1: as an adult, that I would experience paranormal activity again.
Speaker 1: To be continued. Thanks AJK for sending that in and
Speaker 1: absolutely feel free to send us more stories of your
Speaker 1: personal encounters. That brings us to the end of our
Speaker 1: first episode of Midnight Mailbox featuring your paranormal stories and
Speaker 1: strange encounters. Are you someone who's experienced the unexplainable, the eerie,
Speaker 1: or the downright mysterious. Have you, dear listener, ever had
Speaker 1: a paranormal encounter that sent shivers down your spine. If so,
Speaker 1: we want to hear from you. For future episodes, we
Speaker 1: invite you to share your personal paranormal experiences. Email your
Speaker 1: stories too Midnight mailbox thirteen at gmail dot com. This
Speaker 1: podcast aims to create a space where individuals from all
Speaker 1: walks of life can come together to share their unexplained
Speaker 1: encounters of the supernatural. Whether you've encountered ghosts, UFOs, cryptids,
Speaker 1: or anything else that defies rational explanation, we want to
Speaker 1: hear your story. Your first hand experiences can be a
Speaker 1: source of intrigue, inspiration, and even comfort for those who
Speaker 1: may have had similar encounters. Thank you for being a
Speaker 1: part of this thrilling journey into the world as paranormal.
Speaker 1: We can't wait to listen to your spooky tales. Stay
Speaker 1: safe out there. I'm Steve Stockton and I'll talk to
Speaker 1: you next time. Tell your animals, I said, Hi.