Do Not Let It In | 5 Horror Stories of Unseen Visitors & Intruders

0:00 Good evening, my spookies. You know that little pause you have before you answer the door? The moment when your hand rests on the lock, but you still have a choice. Well, tonight, we're going to spend some time in that very moment. Our first stop is a tiny fishing hut on a frozen Ontario lake. There is a heater. A locked door and a snowstorm making the trip back to shore impossible. Then the knocking begins. From there we'll follow a curious boy into the basement of an old house where a hidden passage gives his imagination somewhere very real to go.

0:50 An electronics repairman receives a tape with a message meant especially for him. Next, a babysitter in 1944 discovers that an open window and a strange smell are warnings worth taking seriously. And finally, a paranormal investigator sees a stranger where his partner should be, while everyone else insists she looks just the same. So get comfortable, keep a light within reach. These five stories all have a way inside. And the people listening for trouble may already be looking in the wrong direction. And make sure you're subscribed on your favorite podcasting app. There's a brand new scary story every single Wednesday right here on Weekly Spooky. Now, let's kick up your feet and hope no visitors come gently rap, rap, rapping on your chamber door. Knock, knock. by Gary D.

1:54 up in Ontario. Hi there. My name's Gary, and I'm located in Ontario, Canada. And I've been an avid fisherman as well as salesman of various different things for many years now. And with that being said, that doesn't mean that I'm now going to try to sell you on this story that I'm about to tell you, as I'm sure that after hearing it, there'll likely be a few of you who'll tell me that you're not buying what I'm selling. Hey, that's totally okay and fine by me, cause in the end all that really matters is that I know that it happened, and I'm the one still having to deal with the after effects. And as you're gonna find out shortly, it's not like I'm claiming to have seen a ten-foot-tall, fire-breathing, three-headed demon with glowing red eyes and antlers sprouting out from the sides of its head.

2:50 But what I did experience that night was every bit as freaky, bizarre, and disturbing. And yes, it scared the crap out of me. Bottom line being that some experiences are just far, far stranger than others, and this is definitely one of them. So, without further ado, let's get into my story. Back when I was a teenager and pretty much throughout my 20s and 30s, I was quite the avid fisherman. I fished throughout the spring, summer, and fall, but also did my fair share of fishing through the ice during winter. Over the years, I rented ice fishing huts on many different frozen lakes all across Ontario, including some with names like Temegami, Nipissing, Jumping Caribou, Cross, and Simcoe.

3:46 And to be honest with you, it was really more about the journey than it was about the destination. There was just something about sitting all alone in a remote location somewhere and then being forced to deal with nothing but your own thoughts that I found kind of therapeutic. And if I caught fish, which I usually did, that was secondary and a bonus or cherry on top. And as luck would have it, it was late one night on one of these midwinter ice fishing excursions, when the only frigid ice water flowing wasn't located just below the ice under my feet, but was also trickling down the center of my spine. I'd rented a six-by-six-by-six-foot-tall-at-its-highest-peak fish hut, also known as an ice hut or ice shanty from a small-time hut rental operator, located on a sizable lake up here in Ontario. This guy, Tyler, had four of his huts set up in the shallows for those fishermen targeting northern pike and yellow perch, and then I think there were like another four huts located about five miles out, in about 60 to 70 feet of water for those wanting to catch the deeper-dwelling lake trout and whitefish. With regards to the fish hut itself, it had a good-sized propane tank strapped and mounted firmly to the outside wall,

5:16 with copper piping feeding it into the hut, then connecting to a small heater which was there to keep me warm. So basically there to potentially keep me from freezing to death. I gotta say, the accommodation was pretty crappy with there just being two wide and very hard wooden planks, one located on each side which were covered with a very thin and barely padded kind of Cheap pleather material which I'm guessing was there to make it waterproof. And last but not least, of course there was a large exposed hole which had been drilled in the ice right between the two benches. And yeah, I know what you're thinking. Yes, it was uncomfortable as hell. Especially if you're going to be sitting there in that same damn spot for over 14 hours straight.

6:09 Shit. Shit. That's longer than it takes to fly the 5,000 miles from JFK in New York to Honolulu, Hawaii. Anyway, on this particular ice fishing trip, I was going to be fishing all alone, and on top of that, I was going to be pulling an all-nighter. That meant being dropped off at my hut by snowmobile at around 4.30 or so in the afternoon, and then not being picked up again until about 7 the next morning. Yeah, I know. Some of you are probably rolling your eyes right now as you're sitting in your car, a bus, the subway, a plane, or a train, or maybe even just sitting in your favorite chair at home or laying in bed.

6:52 You're probably thinking out loud, are you freaking out of your mind, dude? Why the hell would you even do that? Actually, it's just another human's idea of having fun. But you won't find me out there bungee jumping, hang gliding, or climbing a mountain just because it's there. We all have our vices, hobbies, and addictions, and this just happens to be mine. So, once I got dropped off at my hut, Tyler then double-checked the propane tank to make sure it was full, and he also checked my heater, just to ensure that it was working. He then loaded me up with a bucket of live minnows to use as bait, wished me luck, jumped back on his snowmobile, and then headed back to shore. What he did tell me, though, just before leaving, which honestly kind of freaked me out, at least a bit, was that as far as he knew, I was going to be the only one fishing out here in this small cluster of deep-water fish huts tonight.

7:55 So I would be truly out here, all alone. I shut the door and slid the bolt across to lock it, and then got down to business getting all my gear ready for fishing. as I heard the sound of Tyler's snowmobile getting quieter and quieter as he headed back into shore. Once I settled in, over the next few hours I caught a few fish, ate a sandwich, had a drink, not alcoholic, and then just kinda laid back to try and get some sleep. And over time, I could hear the wind really picking up outside, blowing stronger and stronger.

8:38 So I popped open the front door for a second and saw that it was snowing really hard. Great. I was now in the middle of a bloody snowstorm. I'd probably nodded off for maybe like an hour and a half or so when I suddenly heard this on the side of the hut, which made me jump straight up out of my sleep. My heart was pounding like a jackhammer. I figured because of the high winds, a random piece of ice probably just slammed up against the wall. And then, a few minutes later, another loud thud. And then, another.

9:25 And another. It must have happened at least a couple dozen times, and literally sounded like it was hailing golf balls outside. And I'm thinking to myself, like, what the actual fuck? I looked at my watch and saw that it was after midnight. I drank from my bottle of water and then just sat there listening to the howling of the crazy wind outside, which sounded a lot like a runaway freight train would, one that was heading straight to hell. And just as I was starting to fall asleep again, I hear another thud, but this time it was much, much louder. Just the sheer shock of hearing this super loud bang made I felt like my heart had suddenly hit the ejector seat button and had shot itself up into my throat. I can't remember exactly how long it was quiet after that, meaning only hearing the sound of the raging winds and snowstorm outside, before the shit decided to really hit the fan. At some point, as I sat there just kinda all dopey and half asleep, and amidst all of the howling wind, the weirdest thing happened.

11:01 Rhythmically and methodically, I heard plain as day, a slow and loud knock, knock, knock at my door. What. The. Hell. I look at my watch again and see that it's now like 2.30 in the morning. I yell out, Hello? Hello? Who is it? I get no reply. My heart's racing, and I'm thinking to myself, Okay. Okay. I'm sitting here all alone in the pitch dark in the middle of the night in this tiny little wooden ice shack like five miles out from shore and in the middle of a frozen lake and now suddenly, randomly, there's somebody knocking on my front door. Really? So, not thirty seconds after that first knock, I hear it again. That slow, metronome-like... Knock, knock, knock.

12:11 This time, stupidly, I open the door a tiny bit to take a look, and scream at the top of my lungs. Who is it? Who's out there? What do you want? At this point, my head is spinning, just trying to make sense of what's going on, but then... a possible explanation suddenly pops inside my head. I'm thinking, okay, maybe because of this terrible snowstorm and knowing that I'm sitting out here all alone, Tyler got worried about me, so he came out here to pick me up and bring me safely back to shore.

12:55 Then suddenly, again, I hear that same rhythmic knock. Knock, knock. So I slide the door lock across and open it just a crack and yell, Tyler, is that you? No response. Again, Tyler, is that you out there? Nothing. And then I realize I don't see a snowmobile anywhere near the front of the hut. so I quickly shut the door and relock it.

13:37 And now, I've completely lost it. Psychologically, I'm basically shitting my pants in panic mode, wondering what the fuck is actually going on. For like, maybe the next 20 minutes or so, the knocking stops, and I'm finally able to enjoy some peace. But then, completely out of the blue... I suddenly hear a crazy barrage of very loud, irregular knocking sounds coming from all four walls of my hut. It's like a group of escaped lunatics from a nearby asylum is playing the fist and knuckle bongos together on the walls of my hut at the same time. Come on!

14:26 I try to look out my tiny plexiglass window, but It's completely fogged over with condensation because of how freezing cold it is outside compared to how warm it is in the hut. I quickly wipe it away, but then... I see that the outside of the window is completely caked with snow from that wicked snowstorm going on. The sporadic staccato-type hammering just continues on and on. and the psychological stress is making me feel like both my heart and head are about to explode. I scream as loud as I possibly can. Who the fuck are you, and what the fuck do you want? Please, leave me alone!

15:12 This does nothing. No response, and the knocking seems to be getting louder. This is so screwed up. None of this makes any sense. The knock, knock, knocking on my hut continues for like, I don't know, at least a minute or two. When all of a sudden, just like that, it completely stops. And now all I can hear is the loud howling wind and my fast, heavy breathing. I sit slouched over with my head in my hands. and look down at my watch to see it's now almost 3.30 in the morning. I've barely gotten any sleep and at this point my heart's racing and pounding in my chest so hard it's like it's trying to escape my body or like it's some wild frenzied animal continuously throwing itself over and over against its bony cage. in a desperate attempt to break free. I'm mentally and physically exhausted, and my bloodshot eyes are burning like someone's poured salt into them.

16:32 I'm done. I'm completely done. I just want it all to stop. I rack my brain, trying to make sense of it all. And then, I think. Maybe a group of young punks came out here from shore, bored out of their minds and thinking it'd be fun to scare the shit out of some poor fucker sitting all alone in an ice hut in the middle of the night, in the middle of a frozen lake, and in the middle of a snowstorm. That just didn't make any sense at all, though. Who in their right mind would even do that? And then, for the next couple of hours or so, and right up until sunrise, all I did was just sit there, listening. Listening carefully, to see if who or what had gone away, or if they were actually still out there, just patiently waiting for me to crack open the door so that they can then grab me and do who knows what to me.

17:52 My heart's calmed down a bit by now, but my mouth and eyes are dry as hell, and I have a hard time swallowing. Then, finally, my heart skips a beat when I hear the distant sound of a snowmobile approaching from off in the distance, and the closer it gets, the more the clenched feeling of tightness relaxes in my chest. Eventually it pulls up right in front of my hut. I hear it shut off, and then I hear the loud crunching of footsteps in the snow as someone approaches my front door. Still leery and not really wanting to open it, I call out through the closed door, Tyler, is that you? I hear a snort and a slight chuckle, and then in a kind of Mocking voice, I hear Tyler reply, Um, actually, no, it's just me, Santa Claus, and I'm wondering if you can help me find my lost reindeer. What the hell? Of course it's me. Who else would it be? Relieved, I swing open the door and see Tyler standing there. And as I step out, he says, Holy crap, man, I should have charged you extra.

19:17 You have some friends out here last night and throw a party or something? What's with all the footprints? So then I step out a little further from the hut and see that there was deep snow drifted up everywhere outside. But all around the walls of my hut, the snow was completely trampled down. I take a closer look and could see large footprints, but The wind and blowing snow had changed their shape. so there was no way of knowing what made them. The weird thing was that there were absolutely no snowmobile tracks anywhere to be seen other than those left by Tyler's machine, and the final bizarre icing on the cake was that there were about ten different individual sets of footprints all scattered and leading off in completely different directions out into the lake. To this day, I still think about it from time to time, wondering and trying to figure it out. What really happened that night?

20:31 If it actually was just a group of bored teenagers out having some fun by scaring the shit out of someone... then why the hell didn't I hear their snowmobiles? And being out in the lake so far as I was, and given the bad snowstorm, does that explanation even make any sense? And why would all of those footprints lead off in different directions? And yes, this was the very last time that I ever went on an overnight fishing trip. A couple years later, after telling my story to an 80-plus-year-old long-time fisherman that I'd met while daytime ice fishing in the same deepwater area and on that very same lake, he set me straight on something. He explained to me how there was a long-standing unsaid and unwritten pact, law, or general understanding amongst all the ice fishermen. that whatever weird shit happens out in the deepwater fish huts late at night stays in those godforsaken deepwater ice huts. Come on in by Morgan Moore. Hey, curt dog, you mind coming down and helping your old dad out? A fatherly

22:04 voice called up from the basement. Curtis Tucker stared down the stairs toward the place his father's voice had come from. Normally, he would jump at the chance to help his father with any project. Ever since moving into their new house, he had helped whenever his father asked. It was an old house and needed some TLC, so the opportunities were plentiful. More than that, They were chances to spend time together between his dad's long stretches on the road as a trucker. But this wasn't an opportunity he wanted to take. Basements were not something that Curtis liked. He could tolerate them when they were furnished like a friend's house, where there was a couch, a pool table, and a television with a game console hooked up. But your plain old Joe average basement? Uh-uh. Theirs wasn't finished and was nothing more than cold concrete floors, brick walls, creaky wooden stairs, cobwebs, and grime, with the occasional visit from garden snakes and other critters. It wasn't fun, and it scared Curtis immensely.' Curdy?' his father called. Curtis gulped and took a breath. He really didn't want to go down there, but he couldn't

23:35 leave his father hanging. He took another deep breath and started his descent into the basement. The damp odor immediately filled his nose as the wood creaked beneath his feet, teasing the idea of breaking and sending him falling. The house was old, so it wasn't impossible if one wasn't careful. Curtis remembered hearing the realtor say the house had been built in the 1800s, and while old homes could be sturdier than modern ones, they could also be weaker, depending on how they had been kept. Their house needed some tender, loving care. Stepping on to the basement floor in just his socks... Curtis felt the cool concrete penetrate the fabric.

24:30 The basement was divided into two sections, the main room and a side room that held the furnace and water heater. Both areas were littered with old metal shelving, rusted in spots, along with boxes of the family's belongings and remnants from previous tenants. Not seeing his dad in the main section, Curtis gulped. and walked to the other room. To him, this was the worst part of the basement. It had one lightbulb that always flickered, even when a new one was screwed in. It always smelled of mildew, and his parents had put considerable time into cleaning mold from just that space. The room also featured an old, rotted wooden door, which Curtis had imagined being kicked in by anyone who wanted to do the family harm. More realistically, he figured it was how the critters kept getting in. But then, there was the small shed in the back corner of the room. That was what held his attention the most, as well as his imagination. Whenever he thought of the basement, it was wooden, aged and worn, though not quite as derelict as the basement door. There you are, kiddo, his father said. Curtis smiled at him. Sorry I took so long.

26:05 His father returned the smile. No worries, just happy you didn't leave me hanging. What do you need me to do? There's a spot on the furnace I need to get to so I can fix it, and I can't really hold the flashlight and reach it and Fix it all at the same time. Ain't holding it for me. Sure thing, Dad. Curtis took the flashlight from his father and held it where he could see. With steady light, his father got to work on the furnace. As Curtis held the light, his eyes eventually drifted over to the shed. From what he could recall, he hadn't heard anything about its purpose when the family toured the house. nor had he worked up the courage to look inside and find out. That would mean venturing into the basement, and with how much he already disliked the thought of being down there, he was more than happy not to scratch his curiosity. His father stood up from his crouched position and wiped his hands against his pants. That should do it for now.

27:18 Curtis stood up with him. and turned off the flashlight. Thanks for all your help, Kurti, his father told him with a smile. Curtis smiled in return and gave his father a nod. His eyes shifted back to the shed. Wondering what that's all about, aren't you? his dad asked. Yeah, Curtis answered. I figured. I've seen how you look at it whenever you come down with your mom or me to help out. Do you know what it's for? Mm-hmm. The realtor told your mom and me when we first looked at the house. I don't think you were with us for that tour. If you were, you probably stayed upstairs.

28:05 So what's it for? The realtor said it was actually part of the Underground Railroad. Really? Curtis asked, surprised. Yep. The house used to be a school for girls back during the Civil War, and it was one of the stops along the route. Escaping slaves would enter a passageway nearby. Tunnels, really, from Lord knows how long ago. Anyway, they would crawl through them, and at certain points there were places where they could get out of the tunnels and into buildings in the area. They could find shelter or just stay in the tunnels and wait out whoever was trying to catch them. As it turned out, the school and now our house was one of those buildings. So there's a tunnel in the shed? Curtis asked, making sure he understood.

28:59 You got it, kiddo. Well, more specifically, the tunnel leads to a little ledge since the house sits on a hill. Inside, there's a ladder that leads up to the ledge and People would climb down it to come in or climb up it to get back into the tunnels. But why put a shed there? To hide it, I imagine. A lot of houses back then had similar little spaces that worked as pantries or storage. Most likely it was already there before the war and the owner discovered what was behind it, then cleared everything else out. Or maybe the shed was built and the ladder put in specifically to help escaping slaves. Either way, it's a pretty interesting little historic touch to our home, don't you think? Curtis nodded.

29:52 His father smiled and ruffled his hair before heading back upstairs. Alone. Curtis felt his skin begin to crawl. His eyes stayed fixed on the shed as he thought about what his dad had said. Maybe that was how so many animals found their way into the basement. He wondered what people who didn't know about the passageway would have thought if a stranger suddenly appeared in their home. The information his father gave him answered the question of what the shed was for, but it also made his anxiety worse. It was strange knowing that anyone or anything could let itself into their house at any time of day, from somewhere else entirely. His dad had said there were other entrances in the area, either inside other buildings or hidden outside.

30:56 The shed had already creeped Curtis out. Now he wasn't sure whether knowing the truth made him feel safer or even more afraid. Are you coming, Curdy? His father called from the top of the basement stairs. Yeah, Dad, he answered. Curtis walked out of the room and back toward the stairs. Step by step, he climbed up. thinking about the unease the basement gave him, and now the shed as well. Before, curiosity had been easier to ignore. Now that he knew what it was, the mystery felt worse. At the top of the stairs, he stepped into the kitchen and turned to look back down into the basement. A chill ran through him. He shook his head, trying to shake away the anxious thoughts. Curtis flicked the light switch, plunging the entire basement into darkness, then closed the door. He only prayed he could close the door on the shed inside of his head as well. Rain poured down on the Tucker house. creating what some would call peaceful white noise for anyone trying to fall asleep. That wasn't the case

32:30 for Curtis. Aside from the small leak in his ceiling which made a plipping sound each time a drop hit the wooden floor, his sleep was restless. Thoughts of the basement ran wild through his dreams again, as they often had since the family moved in. The dreams usually involved Curtis being trapped in the basement, unable to get out through either the door leading up to the kitchen or the door leading outside. Sometimes he died of fright, stranded in the damp dark. Sometimes an animal attacked him. The worst dreams combined both fears, only upping the terror by replacing the animal with a human intruder Tonight was no different, except the shed took center stage. Curtis's mind conjured images of being trapped not in the shed, but inside the tunnel itself, with the earth collapsing around him and blocking the way back as well as the way forward. He dreamed of being chased through the tunnels by animals, each one more vicious than the last. He saw himself opening the shed and finding one, if not several of those animals,

34:03 waiting inside, ready to leap out at him. But the human threat and the possibilities of the tunnel scared him the most. Instead of animals leaping out, there were human threats of every kind. Thoughts of being chased through the tunnels by a person crept in every so often. In those dreams, Curtis was pursued by slave catchers, either because he had helped people escape, or because he had somehow become one of the hunted himself. In every nightmare where the shed led to a human threat, Curtis didn't simply die of fright or wait helplessly. In the dark, he died horribly each time in a different, macabre way. A raindrop fell from the ceiling and landed smack dab between his eyebrows, finally waking him fully. He hated it all the same, but at least he wasn't drenched in cold sweat from the nightmares. Curtis wiped the wetness from his brow.

35:20 and stared out the window into the dark rain. He was tempted to look at the clock, but fought the urge. Why bother? He knew it was night, knew it was late, and knew he most likely wasn't falling asleep again anytime soon. The problem was, he didn't know what to do. The house was only one story, save for the basement, and with its layout, trying to watch television or play a video game would most likely wake his mom and dad. He could read, but he didn't know if that was what he wanted, or even what he would want to read.

36:07 That was the problem. Wide awake with plenty of possibilities, but no clear choice that wouldn't disturb the rest of the house. Curtis sighed and stared up at the ceiling. He hated lying in bed without sleeping. The rain hadn't helped, but he had to admit it was probably better than the nightmares. The basement still ate away at him, though, even while he was awake. All the anxiety, all the terrible things that could happen, all the possibilities of what the shed, could lead to, or what it could let in.

36:53 Curtis remembered hearing in a movie that sometimes when you were afraid of something, all you could do was try to face it head on. In movie land, of course, that was easy. In real life, it was easier said than done, depending on the fear. Curtis thought about the basement. He knew being afraid of it wasn't unusual for a kid, and his reasons were the sort of reasons anyone might give. Then, an idea popped into his head. He shrugged and got out of bed. I mean, what else am I doing?

37:37 He asked himself. It was simple enough. Take the movie's advice and face his fear head on. Curtis left his room and walked down the hall toward the back dining room, took a left, and entered the kitchen. Not wanting to look at the basement door right away, he got himself a cup of water and drank it, then another, and then another. Thirst satisfied, he put the cup in the kitchen sink and finally turned toward the basement. He stared at the door for a long time, trying to pump himself up. How exactly he was supposed to conquer his fear, he didn't know. He could stay down there for the rest of the night with the lights on. There were boxes of his and his parents' old belongings down there, so he wouldn't be short on things to play with or read. If the overhead light wasn't enough, He could bring a flashlight. He liked that idea, so he got one from a drawer near the sink. Armed with the flashlight, Curtis flicked the switch to turn on the basement lights, then opened the door. With a push of his thumb, the flashlight came to life. Taking a deep breath, Curtis

39:10 took the first step down into the basement. It's only a basement. Just a basement, he said aloud to calm his nerves, taking it one step at a time. Curtis made his way to the bottom of the stairs and stood in the main room. He moved the flashlight beam across the space, letting it reveal the area in finer detail than the faint light from the overhead bulb. All he saw were things he had always known were there.

39:51 Brick walls, dust and cobwebs, boxes of stuff, leftover shelving and random artifacts from previous owners. Normal things. Things anyone might find in any basement. The only thing that made Curtis afraid was the old, bare-bones, dank feel of the place. Standing there, taking it all in, he slowly eased into being down there. He turned off the flashlight and let his eyes adjust. The room still made his skin crawl, but the sensation began to lessen. That only left the other room, with the basement door and the shed. With a gulp, Curtis turned the flashlight back on and entered the adjoining room. Just like in the previous rooms, he swept the beam along the space and noted everything he knew had been there since the family moved in, as well as what had been left behind by others before them.

41:08 Then his arm and the light came upon the shed. Curtis stood and stared at it with dreadful curiosity. The rest of the basement felt like something he could slowly learn to handle. The shed remained uncertain. It offered too many possibilities to his mind, most of them dreadful, if not outright macabre. There were two ways to conquer the fear of it. He could keep doing what he was doing look at it from a distance, and hope that over time it lost its power, or he could give in to curiosity. After thinking it over, Curtis made his decision.

42:00 He stepped up to the shed and looked at it closer than he ever had before. He had always known it was old, but now, up close, He could see just how aged the wood was, with small cracks running through it. Instead of a knob or handle, there was only a circular opening that acted as a grip. Reaching out with his free hand, Curtis slid his fingers into the opening and pulled the door outward. Inside, he found exactly what his father had said was there. A ladder.

42:43 leading up to a ledge and an opening. Curtis looked at the ledge and what little of the opening he could see. The ladder was made of wood and looked to be in about the same condition as the door, except for the dust and dirt coating it. Curtis ran a hand along it and felt how cool the wood was. When he touched the brick wall, it was even colder, like stepping onto a porch in bare feet on a winter morning. Feeling the inside of the shed and looking at the entryway, only a ladder climb away, Curtis had a thought. It was a stupid idea. Nobody in their right mind would do it. Not a kid, not an adult.

43:37 It could be dangerous and lead to who knew how much trouble. but Curtis thought it might be the one thing that could quiet every fear and curiosity he had. So he grasped both sides of the ladder and climbed up the ledge. Sitting hunched on his knees to avoid hitting his head, Curtis aimed the flashlight into the opening and saw the packed earth that shaped the tunnels. Despite knowing that escaping slaves had once used it to get around, Curtis didn't find it all that big. It smelled of old earth and rain. He wondered how much of it had always been there, shaped by the area itself, and how much had been dug by human hands before or during the war. Either way, Curtis was impressed that such a thing existed. Mineshafts were one thing, as were caves, but this felt like either a strange natural oddity or a man-made marvel. The bad idea stayed in his head, screaming at him to go through with it. Careful not to hit his head or fall off the ledge, Curtis hunched over more and began to crawl into the tunnel on all fours. keeping the flashlight as steady as he could.

45:12 He moved carefully, occasionally stopping to inspect the walls. As he followed the path, he tried to note any differences that might help him keep track of where he was and where he had been, though there were frustratingly few. When he reached a fork, he thought about which way would be best. He tried to imagine where he was outside and guess what direction each path might lead. Curtis settled on the right, thinking that since his neighborhood was mostly old houses and even a few old churches, he might loop back either to his own house, one of the churches, or another nearby home. He just hoped he wouldn't crawl over a ledge, fall, and hurt himself. That was the last thing he needed. Continuing on, Curtis felt a little peace, not because crawling through the tunnel was pleasant, but because he now knew just how tight it was.

46:24 The likelihood of some deranged maniac using it to burst into his home and hurt him and his parents seemed next to none. Animals, maybe, but... Curtis had yet to find any real signs of them. More and more it seemed like he was the first person to use the tunnel system in a very long time. Curtis made his way deeper into the system and came across more forks and branching paths. He kept to the rightmost path each time, hoping it would make the return trip simpler. than if he had changed direction randomly. As he crawled, he began to wonder if he would find an exit anytime soon.

47:13 If he did, he hoped it would take him into a building, and not outside. With it being night, and with the rain falling, he wasn't sure he could find his way home, if he emerged outdoors. At least if he came out into a building, He might find someone who could help him. The idea of simply turning around and going back the way he came occurred to him, but Curtis figured one crawl through the tunnel was enough. Besides, he was beginning to feel tired. Soon the flashlight showed him he was close to getting his wish. In the distance, he saw a one-way turn. Once he took it, Curtis found a curtain acting as a makeshift door. Crawling through it, he entered a space no bigger than a closet. And there was a door in front of him, which he noticed only when he crawled forward and bumped his head against it. Rubbing his scalp with his free hand, Curtis saw by the flashlight. that it was a sliding metal door, like something in a garage. Standing carefully so he didn't hit his head again, he placed his free hand on the metal and slowly slid it open. Stepping out, he

48:49 found himself in a basement, not much different from his own, except this one had concrete walls. The flashlight revealed a bare-bones room with only one other door on the opposite side. Curtis made his way to it and tried the knob. It wasn't locked, but it was stuck. Curtis slammed his shoulder into it while turning the knob. but got no farther than he had by simply turning it he walked back to where he had come from and stared at the door from across the room taking a deep breath he rushed it and slammed his shoulder into it with his whole weight behind the impact The door flew open.

49:41 Curtis stumbled forward and fell onto a dirt-covered floor. Sitting up, he noticed the room was dimly lit. The odor of aged earth hung heavy in the air, just as it had in the tunnels, but there was something else with it. Curtis couldn't identify the smell. The closest he could come was a mixture of pennies and stale trash. Slowly his eyes adjusted to the faint light, but he still swept the flashlight around the room to better see his surroundings.

50:23 He very quickly wished he hadn't. Across the floor and walls were red stains, darkened by age. Against one wall stood a plastic folding table, The kind Curtis had always seen at picnics. But this one was covered in more red spots and cluttered with tools. Yet the most horrifying discovery was the small body lying face first in the dirt. The person was barely clothed, wearing only a tank top and underwear. From what Curtis could tell, it was a girl.

51:08 and she was dead. Curtis didn't know much about what happened to a body after death, but he instinctively knew she had been there for a while, and that she was responsible for the smell. The number of stains and the strength of the odor told him there had been others. He wanted to vomit, and the stench was starting to work on him. but he managed to hold it back until he saw the wall lined with drum barrels. He didn't want to look inside them. He didn't have to.

51:50 He knew exactly what he would find. Curtis stood. He had seen enough. He desperately wanted to get out of wherever he was. He was about to turn around and run like hell back through the tunnels. when he felt a hand clamp onto his shoulder. Curtis turned his head to see who the hand belonged to, but instead of a face, he met a fist. It crashed into him, and he fell onto his back. His vision blurred from the blow. The impact of hitting the ground sent the flashlight rolling out of his hand. and across the floor. Well, well, well.

52:40 What do we have here? Looks like somebody let himself in. Can't be too surprised. If I found these passages only make sense, somebody else would, too. Problem is, now you know how to get here through them. You might not know where the house itself is, but, well, can't be too careful with these things. was going to finish the girly and then try another house connected to the passages, but it looks like you're next. Curtis, despite being young, had seen enough shows and movies to understand what was going to happen. He had been so afraid of someone or something using the tunnels to get into his basement and hurt him and his family that he had never stopped to wonder what might happen. If the roles were reversed.

53:37 Now he knew. The tunnel had never been an escape. It had only been an invitation. I Do Not Know You by Tyler Belmont I've always loved analog tech. Something about it has always felt more authentic to me compared to modern technology. Digital media is nice, and while very convenient, it just doesn't match up with physical media. Just the mere act of holding something in my hands that I can touch and feel is irreplaceable, especially for someone like me who collects VHS tapes, film cameras, and Walkmans. Sorry, I'm getting ahead of myself. My name is Jerry Scott.

54:40 I run a consumer electronic tech store. We mainly specialize in cell phones, tablets, television repair, and even arcade cabinets, but we do some older analog tech here and there. This all started on a quiet day at the shop. It was dark and cloudy with rain, no doubt, on the way. I was at the register, tinkering with an old black and white Game Boy. When I heard the front door open, I looked up to greet them and saw no one was there. I thought that was odd.

55:20 As I returned my attention to the Game Boy, there was a small brown package right next to it. I nearly jolted out of my seat. I looked around and found no one in sight. It was just me. I examined the box and cut it open. Inside, I found a tape recorder. It was small and rectangular, about half the size of a brick. It had a weirdly cool design of spider webs on the body. It actually reminds me of this podcast I listen to about this archivist who records statements with a tape recorder of people who have had supernatural encounters. I tried to test it, but nothing happened. So I figured it needed new batteries. I picked out some AA's from under my desk and stuck them in, and still nothing. I wondered if maybe it was broken, so I took it to the back and started taking it apart. Everything seemed fine. The gears were all in place and nothing really stood out to me.

56:41 I reassembled it and examined the cassette tape. No signs of tear or damage, so I put it back in. And the voice spoke. It was a man, a calm man. British man, not unlike that head archivist from my favorite podcast. He spoke very clearly and directly and apologized about the quality of this tape. I chuckled at this, but just as I was wondering who this message was meant for, they said very dryly.

57:24 Hello, Jerry Scott. It's a pleasure to meet you. I nearly fell out of my chair. I stopped the tape and rewound it to make sure I wasn't hearing things and sure enough the voice on the other end did speak my name. I wasn't sure if this was some sort of prank but I continued to listen to see where exactly this was going. The voice continued. Jerry I'm sure this is going to come as a shock to you, hearing your name on this old piece of tech. I know you're thinking this is some sort of ruse, but I can assure you it is not.

58:11 We don't know each other. I am not someone you have ever met in your life. I know everything about you. That you run your own tech store. You have a cat named Velvet. and that you were second place in your fourth grade science fair. At this point, I was starting to get uncomfortable. How on earth could this guy possibly know any of this about me? Was he acquainted with some of my family or friends? I have important news for you that you will want to hear. The date that you are listening to this is March 24th, 2026.

59:01 I glanced at my calendar on the wall, and sure enough, that was the correct date. I returned my attention to the tape recorder. You are going to die in five minutes. I was silent. What did they mean I was going to die? You have met with a terrible fate, I'm afraid. Your end is near. I was honestly starting to get really angry, and started talking back to it, asking how did it know I was going to die, as if I should have expected a reply from this distorted voice. This is a pre-recorded message, and I cannot reply to your questions. Was that supposed to be a joke?

1:00:01 Would you like to know how you are going to die? I stared at the recorder in dead silence. I stopped the recorder. I was really freaking out and didn't know what to do. This had to be some sort of prank, right? How in the hell can anyone know such things? specific info about me and then proclaim that my end was near. As much as I wanted to believe this was a prank, it felt too elaborate to be one. How long? From what period of time? When was I given the recorder?

1:00:56 When I hit play, I had so many questions going through my head at once. I needed to calm down and get a grip of myself. If I really was going to die and this thing was warning me about it, I should probably find out how it's going to happen. Maybe I can avoid it. I hit the play button. Still listening, are we? Excellent. Your demise is unavoidable, I fear. In five minutes, a visitor will approach the door to your shop. He is not of this world. If you value your life, you would be wise to not allow him entrance into your little sanctuary. I was growing more and more anxious as the voice continued. I imagine you're asking yourself many questions of how you may escape this ordeal.

1:02:00 While I can't say you will survive what you are about to encounter, you most certainly have my sympathies. The tape was finished. I sat there at my workbench in shock. I had never been more terrified of anything in my life. Christ, this was a lot to take in such a short time. I immediately ran out of my office and locked the front door. I was told I had five minutes before the arrival of whatever was coming for me and was not going to waste them.

1:02:45 I came back to the office, locked the back door, and searched around for anything I could use as a weapon. I happened to have a baseball bat from my trips to the batting cages. I hid under the desk with the bat held tight against my chest. Maybe I could just stay back here for the rest of my life, I thought. Who was I kidding? I knew I was going to have to go out at some point and face whatever awaited me. I cautiously looked outside my office door.

1:03:29 The world outside my shop seemed darker than usual, as if it was cut off from it. I didn't see anything outside the store at first, until a crack of lightning illuminated a figure standing in front of the entrance. It was tall and human-like with a Slender physique. I could make out a white outline. It seemed to be wearing a fedora and a duster-long coat. A long, thin hand touched the door. The head was tilting, its finger tapped on the door. Was it asking me to let it in? Fat chance. I thought to myself. It continued tapping on the door. It seemed to gradually become more aggressive as it became faster and more intense. I slowly backed away and closed the door to my office. I knew it was only a matter of time before this thing was going to break in. I could make a run for it. I could go out the back door, but what if there are more of them? I didn't

1:04:59 know how to deal with the circumstances. Just as I was thinking about this, I heard the front door breaking down. I clutched the bat tight to my chest and took some deep breaths, trying to remain calm. I could hear slow footsteps from a distance, gradually getting closer. I don't know what happened, but at that moment I had this sudden desire to fight. Not sure if it was adrenaline, but my will to live seemed to increase as those distant footsteps got closer and closer to my location. I decided to hell with this. If I'm going to die, then I'm going to go out kicking and screaming. I got out from under the desk and walked to the side door. It wasted no time banging on the door.

1:06:02 My hands raised the bat. The door exploded into pieces of wood and metal. My grip tightened as I prepared to strike my assailant. As I waited, I started to realize. There was no shadow on the floor to indicate that anything was standing there. I continued to wait a few moments before I cautiously stepped in front of the door to find nothing. That was odd, I thought to myself as my eyes scanned the front of my shop to find nothing but the shattered door. I knew it would be foolish to step outside my office, but I reasoned I was really no safer in there since this thing had already broken in. I stepped out and found nothing.

1:07:04 I did a complete 360 and I found no sign of the figure whatsoever. I even looked up at the ceiling and there was nothing to be found. I almost wanted to let my guard down, but I knew better and kept the bat at ready. I walked over to the shattered door and really started to become aware of the darkness outside. Might be strange to say, but it almost seemed like I was cut off from the rest of the world. It was at this point that I honestly was... Left dumbfounded on what to do, I knew the figure had to still be here, and it was no doubt hiding in anticipation of when I would finally let my guard down. What would I do? What could I do? A never-ending amount of questions continued to flood my mind as I tried to rationalize my situation and what I could do about it. I decided I would return to my office and await my fate. I sat down and placed the bat on my desk. I looked over at the tape recorder. I was looking at the design of spider webs when I noticed a reflection from

1:08:37 above me. Silver threads dropped down. and with the speed of a bullwhip grabbed both my arms and pulled me back into my chair. I tried to reach for the bat, but it was no use. I could only stare up at the same figure looking... down at me. I couldn't make out a face or anything remotely human, apart from the silhouette. As its arms stretched out, two more arms emerged out of its body. It started to lower itself more.

1:09:17 getting closer to me until we were face to face. Since I had no real way of doing anything, I just decided to talk. What are you? It said nothing and continued to stare at me, almost as if it was studying me. Who are you? I asked. I have many names, it finally said. Is there anything I can say that will convince you not to kill me? It said nothing. It was at this moment I realized this was the end. I had no way to escape this fate.

1:10:18 All I asked of the creature was that they just make it quick. As I stared back into the empty void of its face, I could just barely make out a long, creepy smile. As I promised myself, I started kicking and screaming. Its head leaned in closer, and seeing what could be my only opportunity... I slammed my head into its face and it screamed in pain as it released me from its tight grip. I shoved it aside and quickly grabbed the bat and smashed it into its face.

1:11:02 The figure exploded into dusty shadows and vanished. I continued to take deep breaths as I tried to get my bearings together. I noticed bright light coming from outside my office. I ran to the entrance to see the clouds were gone and the sun was bright. I almost couldn't see the world around me. I turned around and realized to my shock that I had not escaped my fate. I stared at the still, very much alive shadow figure. feasting on what remained of me. There was no life in my eyes. I don't know where I am now or what awaits me, but I can't lie. I do miss my shop. Intruder in the Night by David O'Hanlon My name is Candace Cardona, and as far as I know, I'm the last survivor of the terrible events that occurred in September of 1944. I've spent eight decades living in fear,

1:12:35 but as I approach my centennial, death is no longer a threat. It's a certainty. The madman is long since dead, as are those that covered up the massacre in the name of public safety. Everything was tidily swept away, blamed on a confluence of industrial incompetence and hysterical women. Bribes and threats and accidents ensured the secret was kept. These old hands ache with every keystroke, but the pain... is gratifying. The world will finally learn the truth of the mad gasser of Kuto Basin. I had just turned fourteen a week prior to my night of terror. We didn't know it at the time, but the gasser had already begun his grim work. The local newspaper, the Basin Journal Gazette, had been focused on a Nazi POW, that escaped custody from Camp Perry. Sensationalist headlines warned that he may have been looking to commit acts of sabotage and mayhem. They speculated he may target the basin's Denoyer diesel chemical. In the meantime, the deaths of Urban Geist and his wife were somewhere on page three, under a hyphenated headline that read,

1:14:10 Gas Leak Claims Too I wonder if the paper was in on the cover-up at that point, or if the speculative Nazi saboteur was just too intriguing to bother doing their jobs. Or perhaps it really was a faulty pilot light that ended the lives of the Geists. I never did find out, not for sure. The Marshall family was attacked the next night. but the incident was still under investigation at the time the Journal Gazette went to print. That was the last I heard on the subject before I went to school that day. It was still uncomfortably warm in Kuto Basin, and the smell of the Marshall House drifted well beyond the police cordon. The classrooms were stifling.

1:15:06 but the teachers kept the windows closed in fear of letting the ghosts inside with the odor. Little did we know, the smell would get much worse in the coming weeks. After school, I walked to Ollie's Diamond Dine, a general store with a small counter for soups, sandwiches, and ice cream. I worked the counter there four afternoons a week. The pay was terrible, even for 1944, but the free malt every shift made up for it, and Mr. Ollie was a nice old man. It's funny typing that. Just north of 60, he was a nice old man back then.

1:15:54 Now I'm decades beyond that number which seemed so decrepit to my teenage self. Time is cruel, but she's not without a sense of humor. There were fewer customers than normal that night, but the place was loud with boisterous discourse. I caught only bits as I cleared away the forgotten shakes left to melt in their glasses. Alice Marshall's death, along with that of her sister and children's, had officially been announced by Chief Bowles, and the entire basin had their theories as to what had happened. According to the Holland brothers, Alice's husband killed them to steal a sum of money, a claim given credibility by Drew Mills, who saw the sisters counting a considerable amount of cash in the living room while he walked his dog. Tammy Greenberg said it was another gas leak. That's what she'd heard at the salon, anyhow. The wife of Officer Daly confirmed it was murder. That didn't sit well with the sister of Officer Winfield, who said it was smoke inhalation. That Nazi, now identified as Johann Sprigg, was naturally a suspect.

1:17:26 But. Sure as a bear shits in the woods, someone pointed a finger at poor Lou Farley. As far as I knew, he had never done anything to earn the title of pariah in our community. They all hated him, nonetheless. To the point that little kids even had spooktales and rhyming games about him. It never changed, either. He's still the basin's boogeyman. one of them, anyhow. The war had been pulling men away from the basin for three years, and that left a shortage of workers for Denoyer Diesel Chemical.

1:18:10 A lot of the townswomen worked there in the evenings, which put babysitters in high demand. I took on the herd children to help out around the house. My father had done his service during the previous world war, and while he made it home, His left leg hadn't. It was presumably still in France somewhere. The prized chew toy of some poodle that fished it from the marne, he often joked. The only work he could find was a low-paying desk clerk position at Denoyer. Mother made a nickel more working one of the production lines. I'd slip my babysitting money into his wallet while he slept. I'm sure he knew it hadn't been there before, but he never questioned it. I arrived at the herd residence a bit past seven and knocked softly in case little Eric was already asleep. The toddler was more like a wind-up toy than a child. He'd go and go and go until he didn't. At that point, he slept where he landed and waited until his body's gears were wound tightly enough to resume playing. The door creaked open, and I shifted my gaze two foot lower than I had expected to find a welcoming face.' Candace!' Elwood screamed. The eldest herd

1:19:43 boy was six and a tad small for his age. He made up for it with a big mouth. I don't know if Eric had been asleep before the greeting, but he certainly wasn't afterwards. He did the frantic, bow-legged run of all three-year-olds straight into his brother's backside. He made a show of hiding behind Elwood before poking his head out with a wide smile that seemed to have too many teeth in it. Can eyes, he screeched before holding out his hand with wriggling fingers. Play me. I slipped off my shoes before I took his hand and pretended I was unable to resist his impressive strength as he dragged me through the living room. I heard his mother laughing in the kitchen. It was a braying hee-haw sound that shouldn't have come from such a fine and delicate lady. In retrospect, she wasn't so delicate, nor a lady, but that's not my story to tell. Good evening, Mrs.

1:20:53 Hurd. I called over my shoulder as we rounded the hallway into the boys' bedroom. Play me, Eric repeated, flopping onto the floor amidst an assortment of wooden blocks. Build house, can eyes? I know he simply couldn't pronounce my name, but the attempt always made me a little self-conscious about my glasses. It seems so silly now, especially since I can barely see with these pesky things, but aren't we all a little silly when we're fourteen? I took the glasses off and set them on top of the toy box.

1:21:35 I wouldn't need them just to stack blocks, especially not for the ten minutes it would take little Eric to tire of such a stationary game. Sorry to interrupt, Mrs. Hurd said from the door with Elwood hugged tightly to her waist. Seems there's some serious construction underway in here. I just wanted to let you know I could be home a little earlier than usual. Oh? Is it because of the thing at the Marshall House? I asked. Barney won't be in for... Well, maybe not ever, I suppose. He's the only one that can keep those damned machines running right. It's just terrible what happened to him.

1:22:20 She stroked Elwood's hair. I mean, Alice is one thing, but to lose the children, too, there's no telling what that'll do to a man. Nothing good, I whispered. thinking about the theories batted around at the diner. Do they know what happened yet? It's the basin, dear. Everyone knows everything, especially when they don't. She pinched Elwood's cheek. Mommy's going to work. Be good boys for Candace. They're always the best boys, I reassured her. Usually they were the easiest children to care for. Not that night. Apparently my compliment sounded like challenge to them. Twenty minutes after their mother left, I went to run their bath, which gave Eric enough time to engineer a stepladder from a chair, the bread box, and a mixing bowl. Elwood watched the doorway while he sent the expendable toddler up to their own Tower of Babel for the cookie jar. atop the refrigerator. Like the tower of old, theirs also came toppling down. My socks slid perilously as I navigated the broken glass. Elwood had darted as soon as he heard the crash, leaving his little brother dangling from the icebox door. The base of

1:23:51 the mixing bowl rested below him, with a four-inch glass fang waiting to bite through his cotton diaper when he fell. Can eyes, Eric cried. Me sorry. I was almost to him when the pain shot through my foot. I hopped the rest of the way and managed to pry Eric's death grip from the appliance. I sat him on the counter and fought the urge to give him a smack. My sock made a sickly noise when I raised my foot from the cedar floor. The bottom had turned crimson already. and dripped fat drops. I scooped Eric into my arms and edged my way around the kitchen before settling him in the hallway. Elwood Dwayne Heard! Get in here right this second! I commanded, even though the pain-induced crackling of my voice took all of the authority out of it.

1:24:54 The boy came anyhow. He sniffled and started to apologize, but... I cut him off with a snap of my fingers. Take your brother to the bath, and you two stay put until I come get you. Yes, Candace, he muttered. Are you hurt? His shaky hand pointed at the blood faucet that used to be my foot, as if it were another explanation aside from being hurt. I measured my response and pointed toward the bathroom. Go. Now. and be sure to get the backs of your necks. I slid down the doorjamb and inspected the wound with a sigh. I want them clean when I wring them later.

1:25:40 I hobbled back to the kitchen counter and climbed on top to put my foot in the sink. I could hear the gentle splashing of the boys in the tub. I prayed the misadventure would keep them from the usual chaotic splashing. I turned on the sink and and let the water warm while I peeled the sock away. I discarded the gory garment into the empty basin with a heavy plop. Biting my lip, I stuck my foot under the spigot. My glasses were still in the boys' room, but the bulge was easy to spot. There wasn't enough of the shard to grip. The thought of what was to come brought me to tears before I even began.

1:26:29 I pressed on my foot, pushing the intrusion out the way it came in until there was enough to pinch hold of. I took three deep breaths and jerked on the shard. It didn't come free. I pulled again and it just kept sliding out like a magician's trick handkerchief. It finally came to an end and slipped from my trembling fingers with a clatter into the sink. The wound gushed worse than before. I stretched to pull a hand towel from the stove's handle and gasped sharply as I sat up. Perhaps it was my absent glasses or the crying, but I could have sworn there was someone looking right through the window. I squinted at the inhuman figure with its strange, bulbous head. I bit my lip. stealing enough of my jangled nerves to move my face closer to the window. The face didn't flee. It didn't even twitch.

1:27:39 The screen door thumped, giving me a start and pulling my attention away. When I looked back, the face was gone. Nothing's gone, silly. It wasn't there, I told myself while I dried my eyes. It never was. The kitchen was a disaster area. Broken glass, slices of bread, and bloody footprints occupied the floor in stark contrast to the floral wallpaper and yellow trim. The cleanup would have to wait. I used the hand towel to control the bleeding and got the boys out of the tub. While they put on their pajamas, I went back to the bathroom and Cleaned the cut with mercurochrome. Muttering darns and hex the whole time. Tiny knuckles wrapped on the bathroom door. What is it? I asked harsher than I'd meant. Can eyes? UK?

1:28:46 Eric muttered. Yes, Eric. I softened my tone. Can eyes is fine. Go put on your PJs. I'll be in to read you a story. I found a bent tin can of Band-Aids and put a couple side by side over the wound. I hobbled back to the kitchen and carefully worked my way to the fridge. I grabbed three cookies from the jar and slipped two of them into my dress pocket. When I got to the children's room, Eric and Elwood were sitting on their beds with their heads hanging. I leaned on the doorjamb, taking a slow, contemplative bite from my chocolate chip cookie. This is what all that trouble was over?

1:29:35 I said before making a show of swallowing. I guess they're pretty good cookies. Yep, Elwood pouted. The best. The kitchen is a mess. I walked to his bed. Seems like a real waste to go through all that and not get a single cookie out of it. It is. He agreed. I drew one of the cookies from my pocket and passed it before his downturned eyes. He looked up at me and started to say something, but I put the cookie in his mouth as soon as it opened. I answered his befuddled gaze with a smile. Hush up and eat your cookie. I handed the second one to Eric.

1:30:23 You boys should have known to just ask me. and I'd have gotten the jar down for you. Eric could have gotten badly hurt, but he didn't, so there's no reason to be upset. But you hurt, Eric said, chewing slowly. And tomorrow it'll hurt a little less, and not at all in a week, I answered. Mistakes happen. It's going to take a lot to clean up that one. So I need you boys to go to sleep so that I can get finished before your mother gets home. We'll go straight to sleep, Candace. Elwood took another bite. We're really sorry. Really, Eric added. Not straight to sleep, I said.

1:31:10 We're not skimping on story time after all. And we didn't. After an hour of Tarzan, the boys felt Sleepy enough to at least stay in bed, and I felt empowered to go forth and conquer the wild jungle of Mrs. Hurd's kitchen. I turned the radio on lowly whilst gathering cleaning supplies from under the sink and in the cupboard. I swept up the entire mess and never heard a note of music. Even late in the evening, the airwaves seemed reserved for the depressing state of affairs. When the broadcaster finished with news from the war, he spun straight away into local events. He spoke of Johan Sprigg, who was still at large, and he spoke passingly of the deaths of Alice Marshall, her sister, and the three children.

1:32:10 I stormed over to turn it off when something moved in the window. I screamed. And so did Elwood. I didn't mean to spook you, he said quickly. I need a glass for water. I laughed at my ridiculousness. For a half second, I knew the Nazi had come to get me. I even convinced myself the movement had been outside the glass and not Elwood's reflection. A simple trick of the light played on the mind of a silly young girl. We got Elwood his glass and some water from the sink before walking back to his room. Were you getting hot? I asked. No, he said.

1:33:00 Why? I thought that might be why you opened the window. He looked at the curtain moving gently in the breeze, then to me, and shook his head. I didn't open the window, he whispered. Oh. I walked to it. It wasn't open much, just about four inches. Eric's bed was closest to it, but I doubted the toddler had the strength to lift it himself. I brushed his hair away from his eyes and found him sound asleep. I wasn't about to wake him up to ask. Perhaps it had been open all day and I simply hadn't noticed earlier. It's nice to get some fresh air, but let's keep it closed tonight. I shut the window and tucked the boy back in before returning to the kitchen. Something seemed peculiar in the kitchen, too.

1:34:08 I dumped the broken glass and spilled bread into the trash to take outside, but I didn't recall setting the can next to the back door. I shrugged it off. I made another pass around the kitchen with the broom and then tied up the trash bag and took it outside. A strange, faint smell lingered in the backyard. It was sweet but unpleasant, somewhere between cough syrup and bad fruit. Its origins nagged at me. I deposited the bag into the outside can and sniffed at the receptacle cautiously. The smell definitely wasn't coming from there. The stench of old garbage made me gag and twirl away from the putrid can.

1:35:00 A cold sweat formed on the back of my neck. Paranoia spurred me into a jog around the back of the house to the children's bedroom window. It was still closed. Of course it's closed, Candace. I groaned, frustratedly. You closed it. We lived in a boring town in a boring state, and I was outside investigating a window for signs of Nazi spies. The previous Christmas, my mother gifted me the first five Nancy Drew mystery books. I devoured them before New Year's. I'd read all of them since. Maybe that's why I kept seeing clues. Being a teenaged sleuth sure beat being.

1:35:55 me. Only I wasn't any good at it, apparently, and I felt completely idiotic in the moment. My bare toes bumped against something that clanked against the home's foundation. I slapped a hand over my mouth in surprise. In the midst of heavy footprints was a metal canister. I knelt to inspect it and immediately toppled onto my backside from the waft of its remaining contents. My vision blurred and the soil seemed to pull me in. I laid back for a moment, staring up at the sky. Stars danced and Shadowy figures moved around my peripheral vision. The next thirty seconds passed, agonizingly slow. My eyesight returned to its normal, poor state, and the ground became solid again. I sat up, carefully.

1:36:59 The canister had rolled next to the trunk of a shade tree, right when I had fallen. Oh, Candace, I groaned. You stupid little girl. My teenaged foolishness had prevailed once again. The moonlight revealed the still webs of tent caterpillars in the lower branches. I'd just sniffed a carelessly discarded canister of pesticide. I crawled to my feet, which proved the effects hadn't entirely worn off. I used the house to steady myself to the back porch. and stepped into the kitchen.

1:37:40 The single bulb in the overhead light hit my chemically compromised eyes like fireworks. I could just make out the human shape through the brightness before I closed my eyelids tightly.' Elwood, you've had enough water,' I said.' Please go back to bed. You don't want to still be awake when your mother returns.' When I opened my eyes, he was gone. I sat at the kitchen table, tapping my fingers on the hardwood top. I still had homework to do when I finished cleaning up my blood. I looked down at my filthy feet and crossed my wounded one over my knee. The track outside had peeled off one one of the band-aids. I slung my head back with a dramatic whine. Yet another thing to deal with. I went to the bathroom, leaving mud and grass in my wake. I'd have to mop most of the house at the rate I was going.

1:38:47 I washed my feet in the tub and and redressed the wound as quickly as I could. My clothes were damp and dirty, but I hadn't brought any extras, so that was just tough cookies. Determined to get things done, I limped back into the kitchen and mixed a bucket of water and ammonia to clean up with. The sponge which I swore had been in the bucket was nowhere to be found. I checked the sink and then under it. Not only was it not there, but there wasn't a second one either. I retraced my footsteps, literally following the muddy path to the bathtub, wondering if I'd somehow managed to carry it off in the chaos. I stopped at the bathroom door, turning slowly to the hallway. Dainty, barefooted dirt tracks were showed my path from the kitchen to the bathroom, but they weren't alone. Large, vaguely shaped boot prints that had left scratches in the hardwood led to the children's room. Fear overpowered common sense. I burst into the bedroom. Eric was still fast asleep. Moonlight dazzled in a strand of drool from his lip to the mattress.

1:40:21 Moonlight was shining through an open window. I slammed it shut, not giving a damn if I woke the children. Someone had been in the house. Maybe someone still was. I'd take them across the street to get help, only the window hadn't woken them. I shook little Eric, but he didn't budge. I turned to Elwood. Oh, God, no! I ran to his bedside. I'd found the sponge. The intruder had stuffed it into his mouth. That same sickly odor hung heavily around Elwood. I pulled the sponge out of his mouth and tossed it to the side. I patted the boy's cheek. and said his name, repeating the actions over and over with greater intensity until I was slapping him and screaming for him to wake up. He jerked upright, then bent to the side, vomiting violently over my dress before collapsing off the bed and onto me. I got him onto his side. He coughed, choked, and threw up some more. I'm going to get help, I promised him.

1:41:49 I took another glance at Eric's still body and began sobbing uncontrollably as I fought to my feet. I couldn't bring myself to check if he was breathing. I stumbled from the bedroom. Elwood's wheezing and coughing worsened and I dashed madly to the front door. Terror assaulted my senses. It tore away at my logic, my knowledge, my awareness. All I had was that door. I couldn't think of anything else, couldn't see anything else. It was the thing that was keeping me from getting help. I charged at it with laser-like focus. Then, the wet mist hit my face.

1:42:37 My glasses kept it out of my eyes, but my panicked hyperventilation drew it deeper into my lungs. I fell forward and slid on my knees, head first, into that damn door. My scalp split, leaving a splatter on the panels. I heard the whistle hiss of the flit gun pumping more chemicals into the air. The air thickened inside my throat, hardening like cement in my lungs. A man spoke from somewhere in the room. Every night for eighty years I've wondered what he might have said. My brain swelled inside my head. Every syllable he spoke was a thunderclap rumbling over the horizon, so loud but so distant. He spoke like any other person I'd ever heard, but the words were not words in my befuddled mind. The man's boots were all I could see as he approached me. The floorboards seemed to shudder as he drew closer. I could see the hobnails gouging the boards with each step. I shriveled into a ball, determined not to look at him.

1:44:08 If I saw him, he would have been real. He knelt. letting the chemical sprayer bang down beside my head. I struggled for a single breath of air, gloved fingers twisted in my hair, turning my face up. No face looked back. Beneath the rim of a steel helmet was a mask of leather and chainmail, the eyes covered with metal slats. The intruder dragged me to a seated position, and I watched his other hand move to his bayonet on his hip.

1:44:50 He took his time drawing the weapon, letting the razor-sharp edge drag on the brass locket of the sheath. He pressed the point into my chest. Past the bayonet, I saw the sprayer with its handle primed to give another puff of its vile contents. He was going to kill me, and then he was going to finish the boys off with the poison gas. That's when it all clicked into place. The marshal house, the people in the diner, arguing over murder or gas leak. I knew then what had really happened, and that it was about to happen again to the herd children. The intruder dragged the tip of the bayonet to my throat and raised my chin with the edge.

1:45:45 I felt it resting on my jugular notch, ready to plunge downward into my heart. My fingers tapped along the floor. The intruder leaned forward, steadying himself for the killing blow. Got it. I raised the flit gun onto its handle and pushed down, firing a puff of the poison under the chainmail. The intruder whirled away, taking a slice out of my chin in the process. He choked on his own noxious mixture, giving me the time to scramble to the kitchen on all fours. I used the counter to pull myself upright. I leaned over the sink, hacking from the exertion when the powerful arm wrapped around my waist. I grabbed onto the faucet for dear life with both hands. He pulled at me hard. My hands slipped closer to the spigot.

1:46:36 The still bloody shard I'd wrenched from my foot sat in the basin. I risked letting go with one hand and grabbed for it. The next jerk broke my grip. The intruder slung me down onto my face. He grabbed my hair once more as he straddled me from behind. Only this time, I had an advantage. I clawed at his hand, feeling for the perfect target, then pushed the glass in between his knuckles. He roared and stumbled away. I pressed myself up. I didn't know how to fight, but there wasn't any other way I would survive. I made the best fists I could, but the intruder did something completely different. He pulled a glass jar from a pouch on his belt. Another Smaller jar rested inside, nestled in a bed of crystalline powder. Before I could give it much more thought, he threw them at my feet.

1:47:38 The contents bubbled violently on the floor when they shattered, filling the room with white fumes and the stench of moldy hay. Whatever diabolical mixture he'd unleashed was much more potent than the chemical he'd sprayed before. My lungs spasmed, my knees buckled, the intruder sheathed his dagger, and with a final glance in the direction of the children, turned and stormed out through the front door. I'd won, but the victory would be short-lived. And so would I. I staggered forward, slicing my feet on broken glass. for the second time. I fell and crashed into the cleaning bucket I'd prepared earlier. The ammonia mixture washed across the floor.

1:48:30 Air coming in from the intruder's escape swirled the fumes around me like a poisonous sea of clouds. The ammonia burned in my cuts, keeping me awake despite the choking effects of the gas. Then the smell began to dissipate. The fumes thinned out as the breeze pushed them around the kitchen. A sticky sheen sparkled on the floor where the heavy gas can had settled. I rolled to my side. The cleaning solution had washed over the intruder's gas bomb. It fizzed placidly from the new reaction. I crawled toward the living room and passed out, a few feet shy.

1:49:18 When I awoke in the hospital the next day, I told Chief Bowles what had happened. I explained everything. The man in the military uniform, the chemical sprayer he'd used on the boys, the sponge he'd jammed in poor Elwood's mouth, and how he'd used some sort of poison gas to overcome me so that he could escape. The chief never made a mark in his notebook. When I was done recounting my story, I was told what had really happened. I'd cut my foot on some broken glass, and while cleaning it up, I carelessly mixed dangerous chemicals together. The vomit on my dress was my own. Any blood in the kitchen was mine as well. I fell and hit my head on the counter, and anything I thought I saw was a combination of the chemical reaction and a concussion.

1:50:18 That was the story I would tell, because it was in the best interest of the public good. When I protested, I was told the other story of what happened that night, the one where A disturbed teenage girl wracked by psychotic hallucinations decided to punish the kids she'd been babysitting by holding a sponge full of chloroform over their mouths until they were unconscious. You can guess which version I told. In the coming weeks, it wouldn't matter. The Mad Gasser of Kuto Basin was just getting started. Not Them by Tyler Belmont. My name is Anthony Thomas. I'm a paranormal investigator. Yeah, you heard that right. I investigate the things that go bump in the night and make sure they know that someone out there bumps back. I've been doing this for about ten years now, and as you might expect, I've seen a lot of strange and weird things that... I can't really explain. Ghosts, demons, ghouls, eldritch abominations, I've seen them all. I used to have a partner I worked

1:51:49 cases with back in the day. Margaret Clark was her name. She was a fierce one, to be sure. A no-bullshit type, ready to jump into action without hesitation. We actually got an award for rescuing some infant children from a group of vampires. back in the day we were hailed as heroes margaret and i were close and we would get drinks every friday night at the local bar by the office and sometimes her wife courtney would join us typically we'd just blow off steam have a smoke and go off on the latest spooky creature that we had to deal with that day i always admired her determination she never liked putting other people's lives at risk She would always put her life on the line to help anybody.

1:52:43 But it had to be hers. No one else's. Suppose she may have seen herself as a hero. I miss working with her. It's a real shame. What happened? This all started on a Monday morning. I had just arrived at the office and was still recovering from a pretty bad hangover from being out late. I had just sat down and taken my first sip of coffee, and in walked someone I didn't recognize. I asked her how I could help, and with a strange look she said, Help? It's me, Anthony. Margaret. I stared up at her, and she looked nothing like her at all. It was a young woman. In her early thirties, she was dressed in a gray blazer, dress pants, and heels. She gave a rather uncomfortable grin and asked if I had too much to drink last night. I was understandably confused and slightly annoyed and asked her if this was some sort of joke.

1:53:51 She laughed and told me that I was being silly. I told her this isn't funny and I want to know where Margaret was. She just laughed it off and suggested we start getting to work on this next case. She sat down at her desk like it was no big deal and just started reading over a case file, wearing that big grin. I decided not to ask further about Margaret as I was pretty sure this wasn't going to go anywhere, so I decided to just let it play out. I mean, maybe it was a prank. Perhaps Margaret paid this woman to pretend to be her in an effort to catch my goat. So we carried on the day like normal, if you could call it that.

1:54:37 Her wife Courtney stopped by the office and brought her lunch. She ran up and kissed her cheek with the same enthusiasm of a newlywed bride. I was surprised at first. I asked Courtney if she knew who this person was, and she thought I was joking. She told me this is Margaret, her wife. This was the moment I realized. This wasn't a prank. Courtney is a bad liar and would always avoid eye contact whenever she was lying. When I questioned her about Margaret, she was looking me in the eyes. I wanted to ask further about how this could possibly be Margaret, but what use would that be?

1:55:18 They'd just start to think I'm being crazy. I've done this job enough over the years to know when not to ask questions. I spent the day interviewing possible new clients. with this thing that was not my partner. The Margaret I knew was tall and had long, dark, black-blue colored hair and piercing green eyes. But this thing had short, sandy blonde hair and bright blue eyes. It was unsettling, to say the least. I didn't know what to do. How could I prove that this person or thing was not my partner? She left for a bathroom break, so I figured I'd examine her desk. First thing that caught my eye was that her wedding picture had changed. It was as if the Margaret I knew was swiped out for this new, not Margaret. I had passed by that picture every day when I came into work, and this couldn't have been the same photo. For some reason, I had this urge to check the photos on my phone.

1:56:29 As I looked at them, I was horrified. All of the pictures of Margaret were replaced, just like the one on her desk. It was impossible to comprehend. This person I've been working with for years just suddenly vanishes like she never even existed. I ran back to my desk just as the thing that was pretending to be Margaret returned from her bathroom break. She looked at me, and just gave me the same wide grin. She knew what she was doing. A few days passed by and I was staying home. The office wasn't safe. I didn't know where to start. All I knew was that I needed to get to the bottom of this. What was I supposed to do? How do you prove an imposter is an imposter when it seems to have the ability to manipulate reality to make it seem like it's always been there?

1:57:27 Maybe there was a blind spot I could exploit, somehow. The only thing I could think of was the pictures. I had plenty on my phone, but did it affect Polaroids? I did have a few of them with us lying around. I found an old photo album and started searching for them. And I found three pictures of Margaret. My Margaret. There she was exactly as I remembered her. I wondered if this was going to be enough to prove to Courtney that her wife wasn't the woman she had married. I decided to return to work the next day and keep an eye on this. Not Margaret. She didn't do much out of the ordinary apart from the usual paperwork and meeting with potential clients that came in. She seemed to be paying just as much attention to me. She, it, must know that I'm onto it. So, after over a week of just keeping an eye on it, They invited me out for a drink since it was Friday. But I told them I wasn't really feeling well and decided to just head home. They seemed disappointed but didn't stop me.

1:58:43 I had a feeling it was going to try something to get the better of me and I decided I would wait at home and see if it would try to follow me and try something. So I lit a cigarette and waited in my apartment for something to happen. The hours went by And nothing. Nothing happened. How odd that was. Wasn't it trying to get the upper hand on me? I didn't know what I should do till I got a text on my phone. And it was a picture of Courtney, staring, and the old warehouse just outside of the city. It was followed with the words, We have a nice surprise for you. Come.

1:59:28 Join us. She's using Courtney to get to me. Smart. It's what I would have done. Well, I knew I had to act fast, so I ran out to my car and tried to get there as quickly as possible. I pulled up to the warehouse. It was a large building decaying and falling apart, rusted to hell and probably filled with asbestos from top to bottom. I entered the building. It was dark, with only a few sources of light in the entire building. I took out my phone and turned on the flashlight. I started walking down the metallic corridor. I was starting to be reminded of an old horror game I used to play, where creatures would be hiding around every corner, ready to jump you. That's what wandering into this warehouse felt like, just waiting for something to jump out at any second. I started to hear a scream.

2:00:24 It sounded like Courtney. I ran as fast as I could and came across a staircase. I ran up the stairs and walked into a large room, and there she was. What I saw is difficult to describe, but I'll try my best. The thing that was pretending to be my partner was big. Its limbs had stretched out as it towered over us like a giant. Its eyes were pure milky white, and all around its body were screaming faces swirling around desperately trying to claw out. of that organic prison. There's no way to describe the horror that I felt.

2:01:06 It looked down at me almost as if it hadn't noticed I had entered the room. Welcome, Anthony. I'm glad you could join us. The impossible grin was wider now, and it displayed its very sharp teeth. Courtney looked in terror and shouted, What the hell is this thing? I told her, It's the thing that killed your wife. The creature started laughing, taking such amusement from the pain it created. And she was delicious. I pulled out my gun and started firing bullets into its fleshy body. It seemed to do little damage, so I grabbed Courtney and we ran out of that room as fast as we could. We were halfway down the stairs when the creature burst through the doors. I dropped my phone during the rush so we had no light. We had to think of something.

2:02:02 How could we kill this creature? If bullets don't work, what will? Courtney and I hid behind some large pillars and out of sight of the creature. I lit my lighter so we could see where we were going. Then, as I looked at it, I got an idea. I asked Courtney if she had any pepper spray handy. She handed me the spray off her keychain, and I took out my lighter. I told her very carefully, When I say run, run. The creature was moving around slowly, lurking. Anthony, Courtney, please come out. I don't mean any harm. I just want you to become part of me and join my little family. Family. Is it some sort of flesh hive?

2:02:54 It's not enough that it consumes its victims. It keeps them alive by making you become one with it. I can't think of a greater hell. Eyeing the exit sign, I told Courtney to run. She dashed as fast as possible and the creature chased after her, giving me enough time to run up behind it. I took the pepper spray and lit my lighter and it became a flamethrower. The creature screamed in agony as its entire body mass was engulfed in flames. It ran around until finally collapsing to the ground and burning until it was nothing but ash. I examined the remains and didn't find anything left of it.

2:03:38 I just had to make sure this thing was dead and finished. I exited the building and found Courtney hugging her knees, crying quietly. I sat down next to her. I shared my regret and sadness that we couldn't save Margaret. She didn't understand what I was sorry for, considering I was the one that saw through the thing's disguise. Did I see through it, though? Or was I just lucky enough to not be affected by its power to warp reality? I don't know how long we waited, but as soon as we heard the police sirens, I knew it was best to leave. It's been a few weeks since the incident, and I haven't seen much of Courtney. She's probably still grieving.

2:04:25 Can't exactly get over the death of a loved one right away. I'm still recovering from the shock and mental scars it left me. I'll manage, and I'm glad that creature is dead. I only hope there aren't more like it out there. Well, my spookies, we've reached the other side of the door. I hope the only knocking you heard tonight came through your headphones and that the next mysterious package on your doorstep contains something you actually ordered. Thank you for spending a little bit of your weekend with Scary Old Me, your narrator and host Enrique Couto.

2:05:13 Whether you listen under a blanket, on a long drive, or while getting through your chores, I'm glad you were here. If you enjoyed this compilation, make sure you follow Weekly Spooky on your favorite podcast app so the next episode finds you. A brand new scary story every single Wednesday with more strange places and dangerous people waiting throughout the week. You can also share this collection with somebody who appreciates a good scare. and knows better than to investigate every sound they hear in the basement. But now, my spookies, it's time for me to get back to it. I mean, keeping Halloween alive all year long won't do itself. I got a lot of work to do, and I'll be seeing you real soon.