Speaker 1: Welcome this Scary Story podcast. We have three short creepy
pastas to day. In the first, a dog seems to
have a strange reaction to what lurks outside, The second
about a kid's school tale leads to an eerie discovery,
and the last, a hidden Wi Fi network reveals something terrifying.
My name is Edwin and here's a scary story. I
don't know how to explain this, but I heard my
dog talk. I was in the back room of the house.
It's will be called the second living room, the one
that faces the yard. I was by myself, with my
mom calling in to check on us every hour or
so from work. By us I meant me and my dog,
and suddenly all of the lights turned off. My dog, Millard,
almost never left my side when I was home alone,
and this night there was no exception. He raised his
ear as he looked around the house. The only light
was coming from the post on the corner of the yard,
a dim orange light that broke through the branches and
into the house from the glass sliding doors. We didn't
have any history, per se of ghosts or anything in
the house, so I never felt afraid of being in there.
But on this particular night, everything was different. Even the
way Millard responded was different. The blackouts were becoming more
frequent because they were fixing some streets around our neighborhood,
potholes in light posts and all that. But that meant
that our cable TV and of course the electricity would
be out for about an hour at night. That's what
they kept saying, but really it was only out for
about ten minutes. Anyway, As I was looking toward the
backyard with nothing else to look at, I spotted something
standing on the branches. Millard got up and ran toward
the sliding glass door, scratching at it to get out.
I wasn't about to move from the couch, though, men
simply looked at this figure literally walking on the branches,
dashing away to another near by tree, and then dashing back,
all at an unnatural speed, at the shape of a small,
hooded person that stretched out would appear to be wings,
right before jumping to another branch of a tree. Millard
was growling at this point, and the smart dog that
he is, he ran tover the hallway, hoping to get
out of the house through the kitchen door, which Mom
always kept unlocked, but it also left me completely alone
in that room, in complete silence. As the branches of
the tree snapped, with this thing bouncing from tree to tree.
All I could do was stare out the glass, and
that's when I saw the thing appear closer than before. Yes,
there was a small hooded person, a brown or black
cloak over its head, and it was only ten feet
away from the doors. It stood still before crouching down,
and I was terrified. And then I reached for the
phone to call my mom. But when I turned back
over the sliding glass door, I was only able to
see Millard standing in the yard, his tail completely still,
something unusual from that labrador who wouldn't keep himself still
while out in the yard. He walked closer to the
doors and sat down, looking directly at me. I stood
up before getting a better look at him. Something looked off.
It was basically just a silhouette at this point against
that orange glow, and yet I knew, I knew there
was something weird. Still, I stood up and took one
step towards the door when I heard it, we'll open
the door, You will open the door, you, and it
cursed at me. The voice was deep and distant, and
I couldn't believe it. It was like everything I knew at
that moment was turned upside down. Reality suddenly not real
any more. But then, right at that instant, I heard
growling from behind me. I turned round and pushed on
that couch all the way to the wall. When I
sat back down, the loud thud blended with a de
familiar bark and panting coming from the hallway. It was
Millard running toward the glass doors at full speed, and
then stopping, growling and barking like I had never heard before.
The silhouette on the outside completely disappeared. When the lights
came back on, all I could see was a reflection
of Millard and my own figure that was sitting on
the couch in that room. Millard stopped barking and turned
to look at me. He sat down and wagged his tail,
and then came running up to me and curled up
on the couch again. He had done a great job
that night, and as of what happened, I still don't
have any answers. I was eight years old and my
sister was six when I started believing what they said
about the devil. There was a house at the edge
of the school yard that nobody dared to get close to.
The house had a dog that would bark at the
kids that would get close to it when they were
running the mile on Wednesdays. I used to hate them
under nine minutes. I know it sounds easy for you guys,
but for me, especially back then, it was hell. My
sister told me about a time that her and her
friends went to give the dog there left over pizzas
was after lunch, when they saw a woman picking out
of the window and then hide. They started calling her
the Witch of the Blue House. Soon the whole school
was talking about this witch. Even us in third grade
had our own versions of the story of how a
certain kid, Martin, who no one had ever heard of,
had gone in and never come out. There was no
one who knew about it, no teacher there whoever had
him as a student. But much later, when I learned
about people directories on the Internet, that kid turns out
had actually existed, marked as a kid who went missing,
name on the mill, carton and everything. Of course, it
might have all been a rumor that fed into itself.
Kid goes missing and suddenly every kid at school talks
about him. The one that was taken by the witch
of the Blue House. I thought about it almost every day.
Our walk home was through that sidewalk that passed by
the blue house. But something about how he disappeared. Maybe
wonder if the whole thing could have been true. The
news reports were all from the seventies. Nineteen seventy six
in March, the local newspaper scan surrounded his news along
with the largest meteorite and how the drummer of the
who had collapsed during a concert. The specific article was
next to a bake sale and a car mechanic announcement.
It was weird thinking about it again. When you were
a kid, I feel like you could witness a crime
and not know it, a dark innocence. This day, a Friday,
after school, I waited for my sister. We were walking
home when we passed by the only blue house on
the block. We could hear the same dog barking from behind.
Our friends, also a brother and a sister, walked up
next to us. They were telling us that one of
the older kids, a fifth grader, and his brother, We're
going to visit the house and knock on the door
the next day. They had already told everybody. I wanted
to look toward the windows of this house, but the
entire yard was covered with trees whose limbs were hanging
like a fountain, large bushes with green and brown leaves
growing up to the windows. Some say that there was
a tombstone there, though I had never seen it. Whenever
there was a chance to look toward the windows or
to look for the tombstone, it was like my legs
automatically got into gear and one of us would trigger
some type of escape response and we would all take
off running. My sister asked our parents about the house
when we got home, and they didn't seem to know
much about it, although they said that the name Martin
actually sounded familiar to them, but they left it at that.
The entire next day was buzzing with all the talk
about the fifth grader, a kid named Tommy, who was
going to go to the Blue House and knock on
the door, though the group that turned up was smaller
than expected. When the day was over, there was a
group of about ten of us out there on the
sidewalk watching as Tommy and his brother, a kid about
my age, walked up to the door. Tommy knocked and
then tried to run away. The door opened quickly and
a woman grabbed Tommy by the arm, bringing him inside
the house and then leaving the door wide open. Everyone
gasped what we had just seen, and it was made
even worse when his brother walked up to the door,
yelling out his brother's name. He would turn to look
at us, waving his arms, trying to get us to
come closer and help him, but nobody moved. Now, this
whole thing must have happened in ten seconds, and yet
it felt like forever. His brother stood there at the
front door, looking up as if trying to decipher something
an adult was saying to him, and it was all
through the darkness of that door frame. He shook his
head no, and then looked back at us, pointed at us.
Some of the kids freaked out and started running, but
my sister and I stood still. We still had to
go in front of the house to get to the
corner where our house was, and that's when we saw her,
an older woman with many wrinkles on her face, her
white eyes, looking at us, completely still for what seemed
like forever, before she hid again behind the door. Tommy's
hand then grabbed onto the door and stepped outside. Everything
was so quiet. When the door closed. The pair walked
through the messy garden and onto the sidewalk, and Tommy
had tears in his eyes and was having an asthma attack,
ticking out his inhaler. As a group started to scatter
away slowly, some had to get home back the other
way and to others, like me, were curious as to
what had happened and stayed. Tommy and his brother walked
up to the sidewalk. Of course I had seen them
before somewhere in the cafeteria for breakfast or after school,
but not like this. They were pretty shaken up about
what had just happened, but his younger brother was able
to say a few words in between his loud breathing.
They both kept looking back, trying to keep walking faster
down the sidewalk as my sister and I and three
other kids waited for them to tell us something. But
it wouldn't matter. The school still talked about how the
witch of the Blue House tried to take Tommy, that
his brother has seen the witch, claims that other kids
had also been there, too many to count had added
their own versions of the story. It was like that thing.
They used to say at church that the devil wasn't
a person or a monster, but a thing that surrounded us,
sometimes making us believe lies and spreading them around. I
thought of what Tommy's younger brother had told us that
day after they escaped from this woman from the Witch
of the Blue House. You see, when she grabbed Tommy,
she called them by a different name as she stared
at him, little Martin. She told him, my little Martin,
reaching out for his face with her wrinkled hands. His
name is Tommy, the brother said, his name is Tommy,
Little Martin. She kept saying until the illusion vanished right
in front of her. She looked away and stepped away
from him and disappeared into the dark hallway. I think
about that woman a lot, the pain of seeing chill
drin from across her yard, and I'm sure she didn't
care about being called a witch. It's likely she didn't
even know about it. She passed away sometime when I
was in middle school. My sister was still in fifth
grade back then, and the rumors still continued that the
wage from the Blue House would take kids and make
them disappear, not knowing the truth that all she wanted
was for one of them, just one of them to
appear again. I moved into apartment for a last August.
Small studio, no oc, the kind of place where the
neighbors avoid icon intact and pretend not to hear when
someone screams in the middle of the night. Cheap rent.
Though the first night, while trying to connect to Wi Fi,
I noticed something weird Among the usual routers. Next year
twenty four Exfinity WiFi and FBI surveillance van, there was
one labeled off line Underscore Room Underscore three B. It
was locked, no signal strength. I assumed it belonged to
someone who moved out or changed their settings, but the
name stuck with me. It didn't follow the usual router
naming vibe. I mean off line, why advertise that? I
asked the landlord about it the next day. It was
an old guy who chained smoked through every sentence. Three
bees been empty for months, he grunted. Last tenant just left,
no notice, no boxes s gone. That was the first
red flag. The second one came three nights later. I
couldn't sleep, just scrolling on my laptop watching videos, when
at exactly three thirty three a m. The router offline
Underscore room Underscore three B lit up full bars and unlocked.
Out of curiosity, I clicked connect. My screen glitched like
the pixels warped and shifted. It didn't just freeze. My
cursor disappeared for a few seconds and then reappeared. My
Chromb browser closed itself. A window popped up an old
school chat room in her face, like something from Windows
ninety five, gray background, green text, and then came a
message welcome, Your presence is required. I tacked back, who
is this? The reply came instantly, do not be afraid.
You have been selected selected for what to complete the chain,
all rooms must be occupied. Before I could ask more,
the Wi Fi cut out, the router vanished from the list,
and the lights in my apartment flickered back on like
nothing happened. I didn't sleep for the rest of the night.
I try to ignore it, rationalize it sleep deprived hallucination,
maybe some weird glitch, maybe someone was trolling me with
the Wi Fi emulator. But I couldn't stop thinking about it.
So the next day I went to the library and
search for anything I could find about Apartment three B,
and one news article came up from two years ago
local man missing, last seen an apartment three B and
then the address. The photo showed a guy about my age.
He looked like he hadn't slept in days. His name
was Old Jones. No foul play suspected and the police
called it a voluntary disappearance. Then a second article came
out from a year ago. Woman vanishes from city apartment,
room three B, different name, same unit. I went back
and asked the landlord again, pressing him this time place
is cursed. He muttered under his breath, I should have
sealed it off. Every year, one tenant gone like they
never existed. I asked why he still rented it out.
He looked at me with bloodshot eyes. It's not about rent,
it's about balance. That room wants to be filled. If
it's empty, it's bread. That night, I set my alarm
for three thirty a m. I was ready, phone recording,
laptop on, and like clockwork, at three thirty three a m.
The off line underscore room Underscore three b router reappeared
and I connected. The same chat window popped up, but
this time it showed me something new. A video feed, grainy,
black and white. It looked like the hallway outside of
my apartment, except in the footage, my door was wide open,
and I saw myself lying in bed asleep, At least
I thought I was the me on the feed started
twitching violently and then sat up and stared directly into
the camera. No, not the camera me, And then a
message appeared, one must stay so the others may leave.
You are the next occupant. The screen went black and
the Wi Fi cut out. I checked my hallway, My
door was locked, nothing out there. But something changed after
that night. Now when I walk past Apartment three B,
I swear I hear movement inside. Not regular movement, more
like whispering, electronics, faint typing, like some one scrolling endlessly.
And then last week I posted everything I just told
you on a paranormal tech forum. I uploaded screen shots,
the chat logs, even a still from the hallway feed.
The poet's got tons of attention, comments, theories, even a
podcast invite. But then it vanished. The thread deleted, my
account suspended, the screenshots on my hard drive corrupted. And
just now, just now, I opened my laptop and checked
for networks, and a new one appeared offline room for
a that's my unit, and it's open and it's three
thirty three am. Scary Story podcast is written and produced
by me Edwin Corrubjes. If you have any true creepy
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