Speaker 1: She screamed, it don't turn off the light. That it
was full on freaking out from the outside of the boat,
well on the boat, but on the outside part of
the cabin. The light flickered back on, completely swallowed up
by the dark sea all around us. Someone had clogged
the toilet, and instead of fixing it, we collectively decided
to use the bucket with the rope and then just
slid it into the water, stuffing the toilet paper into
the yellow plastic bag from the grocery store. I could
still get some cell phone signal at that point, I
remember that much. I looked at it while I was
half asleep. Everything else was still debated by my own
stubborn mind. I was trying hard to make me believe
it never actually happened, that I'll wake up and see
their dumb messages again on my phone. My name is Edwin,
and here's a scary story. Eric's dad, the one who
owned the boat, had told us that the toilet flush
goes straight into the water. Who knows if that was real,
but we took his word for it and figured it
would be the same thing with the bucket. We just
have to be more careful. I'd gotten sick almost immediately
once we stepped on that thing the boat. I mean
just two pills. I think I took the natural one
first and then the chemical one because it wasn't working.
I still felt the world twisting and flipping upside down
every four seconds I was counting. Plus I couldn't ask
my friends to leave the only room with the bed,
no matter how tiny it was. When the three of
them decided to go in there to hang out. It
was the only normal place in the boat with furniture
that wasn't made completely out of solid wood or rusted metal.
But they were laughing and joking around as if everything
was normal. The next thing, I remember that it came
in talking about what a waste of space Richard was.
Waste of space, she said, and I started laughing at
that right away. Then she said that he had dropped
the anchor, like literally dropped it, because the chain went
all the way down. I knew it was serious then,
but I still couldn't process what it meant. At the time,
we were supposed to be out there for the evening.
We had been joking about catching our own fish, because
we brought sandwiches just in case no one caught anything,
not that anyone actually tried. At least no one was
going to have to wash the frying pans. But then
it stormed out and kept yelling at Richard and Eric
about god knows what. It all blurred together, mixing with
the tiny waves bumping on the side of the boat,
my name being shouted among them. I rolled out of
bed and stepped out. All the lights were off. Don't
turn off the light, I heard from the outside before
the lights flickered on very I shouted toward the window.
There were windows all around that tiny cabin of the boat,
and yet I couldn't see her. I could tell something
was off, though. Suddenly something startled me from the side window.
Hands against the window, banging on it hard as they're
trying to break the glass. We had worked on that
thing together, all of us, Daddy, Richard, Eric, It was
our summer project, and knew it's every corner except well,
we didn't know how to fix it. It made it look nice, though, still.
Something about hearing them hit the glass so hard made
my blood boil. I yelled out what as it reached
for the doorknob. Before I even touched it, it swung
wide open. Slamming against the outer wall. The wind rushed in,
but with it also came the darkness. I'm not sure
if anyone else had ever seen anything darker than that,
A door that opened to a deck against the wall
of nothing, an emptiness with a texture so heavy that,
if close enough, wouldn't let you breathe. I tried to
stay away from it as I walked around the boat
to the other side of the cabin, expecting to see
everyone sitting on the deck at the back, maybe cans
of soda in their hands, maybe the familiar songs of
Maroon five through Richard's cheap old speaker, though when he
bought at the swap meat the year before, a gift
when he never gave away. Five steps in and there
was nothing but the soft waves tinkling against the boat.
The orange light bulbs we put in looked nice but
did a terrible job against the darkness. Now I could
see were dark lumps a few yards in front of me.
I was about to shout out that is name when
I heard the door slamming on the other side of
the boat. I rushed over and watched as Steada was
opening and slamming. The door shut over and over again.
She stood completely still, looking at me with those wide
brown eyes she would make when she would tell me
one of her guys stories. They were large and un blinking.
That what the hell? I yelled, walking over to her
to grab the doorknob, But as it got closer, I
realized that it wasn't there day. Looking back, her mouth
was whiter, and her ears were large, her teeth yellowed
and dark between them. Something about her hair reminded me
of the pine needles we gathered on our gutters, the
same ones that were piled outside that very bulu cabin
in layers. They had been thick enough for an apossum
to have made its home there, had its litter, and
then come back to die. She had stopped slamming the
door by this point and was looking right at me,
her head beginning to drop down enough for me to
lose her eyes. I took a step back, but she
rushed at me with impossible speed. Her cold hands gripped
my arms as she pushed me back toward the railing
that I knew wouldn't hold us both. She was yelling
something I couldn't decipher, an angry hiss coming from her
entire body, anywhere but her own mouth. I grabbed her
arm and twisted it, and then half of her body
went over the railing, and then the rest of it.
I heard no splashing, just a sudden PLoP into the water,
and then silence, broken only by bubbles rising to the top.
I held out her name and confusion, though I knew
it wasn't her, I ran across the deck of the boat,
yelling out for the guys, Richard and Eric, but there
was no response. I walked around the boat, my breath
now made up of soft screams as it looked for
them and the emergency vests we had to buy for
our registration, the last thing to pay aside from fuel
before we could take it out to the water. There
were three empty hooks but the only vest, and in
a panic, I turned to my left and saw the
dark lumps on the deck by the orange lights we
had set up Eric Richard. I asked, half whispering by
this point, but the lumps didn't move. I walked up
to them cautiously, this time, afraid of them going after
me the way that it did. But once I got
up to them, I realized they were only the chairs
they had taken out from the area inside the cabin.
My heart was racing by this point. I turned around
quickly to the railing that I had fallen off. I
thought of throwing the vest overboard, of putting it on
myself and jumping in there. Thought of everything but the
fact that whoever I had seen there was not my friend.
It couldn't have been. But I felt that small seedling
of a doubt sprouting in my mind that I knew
how to swim right. Why would she just sink down?
Did I just not hear her? The boat was small
compared to the ones we had run into earlier, not
far from the surface of the water. That's when I
thought of the boats. We hadn't been too far from
the shoreline on purpose. We wanted to stay close so
Eric could get back in time for something he needed
to do at night. And yet ere we were floating
in the dark waters, with no lights on the horizon
or signs of nearby boats. And that's what got me worried.
What if they had left me. I walked around the
remaining part of the cabin and back to the door.
I stepped inside and shut it behind me. I yelled
out their names. I shouted hello. I pleaded with the
emptiness on that boat that someone else would be there
with me. And that's when, from the room I had
just been in, I watched the figure of a guy
move away back into that room. I hurried toward it.
Loneliness was scarier right there. And then I swung open
that door and found no one else, no other place
to hide, no other place to leave that room, but
that door. The confusion lasted just a couple of seconds
before fear started crawling all over me. Nothing felt right there.
The wall of darkness outside the boat, even the shapes
of the chairs, the ones that were outside on the deck,
it didn't seem to match. I sat on the floor,
grabbing the sides of my head, wondering what could have
possibly happened. That's when the voices started again, laughing and
then shouting my name, being yelled through the glass, tapping
on the windows non stop, over and over. I would
hear those voices, and at times I could hear them
say to open the door. The door in my mind
was wide open. I heard that of repeating herself about
Richard and the anchor time and time again, should call
them a waste of space. I heard myself laughing. I
could hear Eric yelling for Theddi. It was just all
too much to bear, so I went outside again. I
went to the bow of the boat. The anchor was missing.
We had rigged one up on to the front side
of it to crank from the front directly. It was
the one that Thedda had been complaining about in tears.
By this point, I went back inside and shut the door,
begging my mind to stop circling around. So I closed
my eyes and put my hands against my ears to
hear nothing else. It was still dark out when I
woke up. I stepped on that cold wooden floor. I
hadn't brought a jacket. No one had. We weren't going
to be out for that long. I felt that sickness
to my stomach again, but no way I was going
to take more medicine, and instead I just walked over
to the door. Everything was still on the outside of
the door. I saw the bright pink shoes at that
it wore. Next to them were the two pairs of
sandals we made fun of when Eric and Richard showed
up with him. In the distance, and I'm saying, really
far away, I could see the lines of tiny light.
That was it. I rushed back inside to look for
my phone, and fortunately I still had battery and signal.
I looked through my messages, dozens of them, where are you,
When are you guys coming back? And I kept scrolling
looking for something about my friends, but there was nothing.
I walked around the boat again, checking every area of
it with my phone. I went to the bathroom, to
the bottom part of the deck and looked under the
chairs in case I missed something, each bringing further confirmation
that I was alone. I went to the navigation chair,
not sure if that thing had a name or not.
I looked around for anything that looked off, but it didn't.
I went back to the room, looked at the bags,
the ones that belonged to them, and uneaten snacks by
the table, searching through things to see if anything was
out of place, but it wasn't. I called my mom
at that moment. I told her where I was and
what had happened. She was panicked over the whole thing,
but I could tell she was relieved by the tone
of her voice. She called back with another man in
the line, some type of officer, coast guard or something.
I gave him the information they needed about the location
and boat or vessel. He called it, and about an
hour later a light started shining in the distance. They
came on board, asked if I needed medical help, and
then asked about my friends, but I had no answers
for them. They were able to bring the boat back
to the dock, filed reports with the local authorities that
his parents showed up first, followed by Eric and Richard's
parents and some of their family, all of them asking
what happened and where were they? We found out the
next day when they washed up ashore on one of
the nearby islands. A fisherman called in to report Eric first,
and after a quick search they found there and Richard
no signs of foul play, and after them hearing my
account that I had been asleep while I heard the
shouting on the motion sickness pills, they called it an accident.
Richard had bruising on his hands and tore so consistent
with getting tangled up with the anchor chain. They assumed
Derek had jumped in after him after throwing the life vest.
It was unlikely for Thedda to also jump in, they
said so, despite her cause of death being drowning. The
investigation remained inconclusive. But then there's a part I kept quiet,
the thing that wasn't theda rushing at me part of
me that believes something else was on that boat, And
yet I have to stay with the story, the one
of the pills for my own sanity. Up next, we
have an old favorite. This one's called about a Ghost,
and it's based on a request from Gabby, one of
our loyal listeners, over on a comment that we received
in one of our channels. I opened my eyes to
the golden light of the sunset. Marissa chose the curtains,
which I thought let too much light into the living
room at one point, but I had grown to love.
The light shining in my face. For an instant reminded
me of the day we got married. I looked over
to the table in the middle of the living room,
across the couch and picked up the face down portrait
of our wedding day. I put it back where it belonged,
trying not to look at just how happy we used
to be. Those rays of light highlighting the edges of
her dark hair. It wasn't always like this, well, she
had always been this way, Yeah, with the light and everything.
She had always loved the sunny days, laughter, and places
where there were crowds. You mentioned a crowded mall or
a festival, she wanted to go. When we walked around
and by pure coincidence we saw a group of people
gathered around a street performer, or because something was being
given away for free, I would let out an audible sigh.
She would want to go. I was different, though. I
like rainy days and sad stories. Sometimes not all the time,
but there's something about cozying up around a fireplace and
falling asleep to that instead of the late night comedy shows,
the ones that Marissa loves to watch. She hated that
about me. She was the biggest chicken in the world
and could not manage to get through a simple horror movie,
even a kid one. And when I convinced her to
do so, she would make me walk with her everywhere,
and sometimes in the middle of the night she would
wake me up to walk with her and wait outside
the bathroom for her. Yes, she was this afraid of
things like that. I use it to my advantage when
we got into arguments if I said something insensitive or
forgot to take out the trash, and she'd be visibly
upset and short with me. I would wait until nighttime.
I would approach her and come in for a hug.
If I saw her pull away slightly, I would simply
mention something scary, a thing about a ghost. She'd immediately
step closer to me and tell me to stop, which
I would, but then she would stay close to me.
Soon we would be speaking to each other as we
normally would. Those were the days. We would laugh about
it afterward. But I remember when I stopped joking around
that way as much like the time we had been
sitting on the couch and she found something on Instagram
that she absolutely had to show me another cat video.
I suspected, but no, she said, I absolutely had to
watch it. It was a video of a cave where
a small woman was seeing walking around in the dark,
and then suddenly she got up close to the camera.
The thing made me flinch. I'll admit that. She laughed,
and I laughed too, scaring her by telling her that
I would get her back. Now you won't, she said,
sticking her tongue out. Do you want me to talk
about the ghost? Huh? I asked, stop it? She yelled,
half jokingly. I knew she was serious. Though. For a
while we had been talking about some strange noises in
the house. Even though I liked to joke about that
a lot, I was a little scared of it, also,
scared of those simple things. I made a face at
her playing around like children on the couch. I missed
those moments. We had ordered Chinese food and were eating
in the living room couch when Marissa mentioned the light
bulb that had gone out in the kitchen the night before.
When suddenly, I swear we both heard something fall and
shatter against the floor on the other side of the house.
We were the only ones in there, so I grabbed
the iron stick thing that we kept next to the fireplace.
I sprinted off the couch and walked up toward the
dining room area. I could see nothing there. I got
feel Marissa against my back, her hands gripping my shirt.
As I stepped closer to the kitchen counter, I saw it,
a thousand pieces of glass of the light bulb, forming
a tiny hilt of white dust against the floor. I
looked back toward Marissa. Her eyes were opened wide. It's
probably the ghost, I said, trying to ease some of
the fear I was feeling, but the shiver that ran
down my back gave it away. I was afraid too.
I grabbed a dust pan in the hand room we
had while Marissa stood behind me, holding her own hands
against her chest. But what was it? She kept asking,
how could that happen? I had no clue. Obviously, I
didn't know what to do or what to tell her. More,
things kept happening, mostly with things being misplaced. Part of
me believed that this thing that was in our house
had something to do with the arguments Marissa and I
were having. I stayed out a little later than usual
one day at work, less than an hour, but the
sun had set and Marissa had made a big deal
about it. I nearly yelled at her for the first
time since we had met, but I held my anger back,
simply throwing my jacket against a chair in the kitchen
area as hard as I could. She was visibly scared
and literally ran away from me, leaving the sturf for
burning on the pan. I ran up to it and
turned it off. The steam was turning to dark smoke
when it placed the oversized lid on it. When the
pan stopped crackling, I could hear Marissa sobbing in the bedroom.
Our arguments were never like that, but now, whenever something
came up, I would say or do something that would
make it worse. Very unlike me, she would do the
same things, bring up things that I had been doing
forever and finding a fault with them. That was tired
of it. She was tired of it, and it had
been this way for months. Sometimes the only way to
stay sane as a couple was to simply not talk
to each other, or to limit our interactions. Not a
great idea, I know. I walked up to the bedroom
door that night and got to see her grabbing one
of the blankets from the closet. I thought it was
for me to sleep in the living room, something that
I would do for the first time, but no, she
walked right past me, ignoring me calling her name. I
felt that anger once again, the sudden rush to push
her away from me, to yell at her for being
so emotional or unreasonable or dumb. So many words came
across my mind as she disappeared into the hallway. Hate
was not strong enough to describe my feelings toward her,
But again I knew these were simply rushes of anger.
They would go away in a few minutes. That night,
I felt Marissa get back into bed and turned away
from me sometime in the middle of the night. Then
I felt her get up before dawn to get ready
for work. I kept waking up, adjusting myself over and over,
but still I refused to turn around to face her
that anger. There was no way this would last another day.
It never had, but that other day, when I woke
up in the living room, Marissa still hadn't come back home.
The sun had completely set by that time. While I
was sitting there in the dark, not wanting to or
unable to turn on the lights to the living room,
I must have been dozing off when I heard the
keys against a doorknob. Marissa was picking off her jacket
when she peeked into the living room to see me.
She ignored my hello as she walked over to the
kitchen to drop off some leftovers from wherever she had dined.
She walked over to the living room, my mind went
dark with fury. I wanted to scream and destroy the
useless curtains she had decided on for the living room.
I wanted to shred them to pieces and then move
on to the disgusting green chair she picked for the
living room. Then I wanted to pay her a visit.
Hold back, I told myself. I took a few deep breaths.
This was going to go away, and it did. That night,
Marissa grabbed the blanket and walked over to the living
room once again without saying a word, and again I
held back saying what I was thinking. As she settled
into the couch and I could see her knowing phone
screens still on, I knew that I wouldn't be able
to sleep well once again, and it was going to
be her fault. Sure enough, at around two in the morning,
I felt her next to me on the bed, too
much for her. I figured I really didn't want to
look at her face, and that came as a courtesy
from those pointless curtains that let all of the light
from the street lamps outside in. But I needed to
use a bathroom. I crawled out of the bed, not
even minding making too much noise, not caring if she
woke up. I opened the door and stepped out into
the hallway when something caught my eye. It was a
light floating in the living room. I rubbed my eyes
and I felt them adjust to the darkness. It couldn't
be happening. I stepped closer to it, but it flickered off.
That's when I saw it, a dark lump resting on
the couch. I thought of the ghost, the silhouettes. I
would see the thing that made random noises and move
things around, and intruder or some type of haunt. My
face went cold and my chest ran out of air.
My socks nearly made me slip on the wooden floor.
As I ran back to my room to grab my phone,
I turned on the lights of the hallway and then
the bedrooms. As I stepped inside, I looked over Marissa
on the bed. There was nobody there, Marissa, I yelled
out what I heard a voice say from the living room.
I could hear Marissa moving around over there as she
asked what is it? With fear in her voice. I
saw the light of the living room turn on as
she crawled out of the dark blue blanket, moving her
hair away from her face. I stood there, frozen. I
turned my head back toward the bedroom, now with the
orange lights of the lamp on. What is it? She
asked again, worried and about to cry. This time, I
walked toward her with the urge to give her a hug.
Everything would be all right. I was hugging her tightly
on that couch when you both heard it, the voice
from the bedroom, the whispering chance of someone or something
taunting us. We would get through this, I told her.
She looked at me through the tears in her eyes.
She nodded and placed her head carefully against my shoulder
once again. Our final feature is a remaster of There's
an Old Lady Who Visits My Dreams. I started writing
down my dreams after looking one up in a book
that would tell you the meanings behind them. I remember
that I met an old lady who would come up
to me. She would open up her coin purse and
give me a dollar. Sometimes it would be in quarters,
sometimes it would be a dollar bill, but I remember
counting it. It was always exactly one dollar. What happened
so often that I started looking up the meaning of coins,
the meaning of money, and the meaning of old people
in my dreams. The mentioned positivity and wisdom, but it
surely didn't feel like that. That old lady had no
eyes and no teeth, and her purple hand and black
veins would be as cold as ice when she would
place the money in my hand and close it for
me into a fist. That feeling still gives me the creeps.
When I told my friend about it, she said that
I should start writing these down, to which I replied
that would be of no use since I would just
forget most of the dreams right away. She convinced me
to try anyway, so I grabbed the cheap paper notebook
and put it next to my bed. I remember that
night I fell asleep listening to my window fan. I
woke up suddenly with the noise of cars and honking
still in my head, for my dreams slowly fading away.
That's when I wrote down the following entry. My taxi
driver dropped me off to pick up some flower to
take for his dead brother. I couldn't say no to
the pit stop, even though I was in a hurry.
He gave me a twenty dollars bill and asked me
to pick them up from the flower shop. There was
no parking, and then the woman gave me the change
one dollar. I got to my apartment and he left
for the cemetery. Now who knew that I could remember
these things. It's like a whole other world that makes
no sense. The second morning, I wrote down another entry.
I'm sitting waiting for my mom at the laundromat, playing
with a toy gun that shoots rubber bands. It broke
and I was trying to fix it. The old lady
comes by and says, well, aren't you a good boy?
She gives me a dollar, she closes my hand. Another
woman comes in yelling frantically. Her baby had been taken
from her car and she was panicking. And so I
kept writing every morning, sometimes in the dark, writing as
fast as possible before forgetting what the dream was. And yes,
the old lady would always be there. After about a month,
I noticed that the dreams had recurring characters. Sometimes a
woman yelling for her baby would run into me as
I was leaving for work, or the same taxi driver
would pick me up from a meeting. Sometimes I would
enter the same flower shop, but in the city I
didn't recognize. Even in some of the weirder dreams with
impossible scenarios, or with my parents driving me somewhere as
a child, I would notice the same place. My entries
became more detailed, sometimes two or three pages long, and
I got into the habit of recording them on my
cell phone and then passing them onto paper right away.
I became obsessed, and these dreams are trying to tell
me something of this place I didn't know. My friends
suggested that I stop writing, But now whenever I see
a yellow cab, I look for the driver's face to
see if I recognize them. But I know I can't
stop writing. The unknown city in my dreams is familiar now.
I know the names of the streets. I see the
same delivery man and the same old lady over and
over again. I'm afraid that I've created a different world
for myself when I sleep living in someone else's life.
Where is this place? Who are these people? And what
do they want? Scary Story podcast is written and produced
by me Edwin Kohar Rubiaz. If you have any old
favorite stories that you want me to remake, please let
me know. I'm working on bringing back my old, familiar
style to the stories, both authentic to my style and
to what everyone else enjoys. You've been listening for a while,
you know I really like dark, melancholic and realistic stories
about things that could happen instead of the typical monsters
and evil creatures, but I'm always up for experimenting with those.
If that's something you want to hear, but anyway, let
me know in the comments or via email at Edwin
at scarystory dot com. I rarely get to hear from everyone,
so any signs of life would really help. Thank you
very much for listening. Keep it scary everyone, See you soon.