Ep.225 – Ghost Story - A House That Will ALWAYS HAUNT YOU!

WEBVTT

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An innocent night at the carnival turns
into an evening of unspeakable horrors when two

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little boys follow another into a house
in a neighborhood. They've never been to

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a house that appears to be abandoned, and they are right, nothing lives

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there. But that's only half of
the story. What's that You want to

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be scared to? Come with me? You will experience tales over our borah,

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ghosts, and death. Death.
It is not recommended at the foot

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of the week at art Listen as
in the dark, it's more fun at

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00:00:51.719 --> 00:01:04.359
that way way. This is Weekly
Speaking, Hello, my Spooky's It's Wednesday,

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and you know what that means.
It's time for a little spooky in

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your weekly. I'm your narrator and
host, Enrique Kuto, and I can't

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lie boy. Am I tired?
This is the thirty second day in a

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row that we've published Weekly Spooky,
but hey, it was absolutely worth it

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to have an unforgettable Halloween season and
a lot of that is thanks to you

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listening. So if you're brand new, happy to see you. If you've

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been listening for a while, thanks
for coming back, and make sure you're

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subscribed on your favorite podcasting apps.
Well, tonight, we have quite a

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scary story, this one submitted by
a listener who goes by the name an

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Ominous. I know, I know, I wish I'd came up with it,

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but I didn't. If you have
a story you'd like us to consider

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for the show, just email to
Weeklyspooky at gmail dot com and we'll be

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sure to give it a look.
I also want to say a happy da

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denwentos to those who celebrate and observe
as I will be today. That's why

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this ghost story is extra extra appropriate. So get yourself comfortable this one.

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It'll give you some chills. And
if you want to check out more of

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what we do, head over to
Weeklyspooky dot com. You'll find every bit

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of information you could ever hope for
about our program and how you can support

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us, whether it's financially or simply
by leaving us reviews on Apple Podcasts or

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Spotify. We really do appreciate those
five star ratings. They help new spookies

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join the fun. And speaking of
joining the fun, if you head over

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to Facebook and type in Weekly Spooky's
Tomb of Terror, it's a little Facebook

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group where you can hang out with
all the other authors and fans and have

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a scary good time. But speaking
of scary, getting dark out, I

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think it's about time for our story, So turn off the lights and we'll

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be presenting it to you right after
these quick words. Ghost Story by an

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Ominous. I remember it as if
it were yesterday. I was young.

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I was young enough to taste the
adventure, but old enough to know better.

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I'm still not sure how this was
real. Too much happened and was

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seen to be the fanciful imagination of
being young. One thing is for certain,

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I have not forgotten what happened that
night, and I am certain I

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never will. It was fall,
the leaves were just starting to turn,

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The days were still warm, and
the nights were getting cooler. The County

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Fair had been in full swing and
was the last night it was open.

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I was there because a friend had
talked me into going, and I wanted

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to sample some kettle corn and caramel
apples. There. I was waiting in

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line for the popcorn when we saw
him. He was a boy about my

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age and my size. He looked
like any other boy there, except his

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clothes were funny. He looked like
he was dressed up in old time movie

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clothes. He was looking at us. My friend nudged me and nodded in

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his direction. We exchanged looks and
began to walk toward him. As we

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began to walk, to my surprise, so did he directly for us,

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without looking away. When we were
within speaking distance, I nodded and said

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hey. He nodded back and said
hello. My name is Jonathan. I'm

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from here, but have been elsewhere
for a while. I don't know anyone

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here now. I told him he
could go with us if he wanted to.

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He nodded. We spent the next
couple of hours riding the roller coaster,

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the ferris wheel, and the Tilte
Whirl, after which I thought I

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might hurl, but I managed to
keep things together. We had found a

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bench to sit. Jonathan and my
friend were working on some red vines when

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he asked if we liked scary things. We looked at each other and said

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of course, as if we would
reply any other way. He asked if

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we knew where the house was down
on Oak Street. He said he knew

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the house that was spooky down there. I was hesitant, but after some

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encouragement from Jack, we were soon
headed out the gates from the fair into

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the night. As we made our
way down through some neighborhood streets, it

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it really began to cool off,
and there was definitely a chill in the

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air. A breeze was picking up, and a few leaves were blowing in

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between our feet as we walked.
We were beginning to get far enough away

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from the fair now that I began
to become uncomfortable with the distance, even

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though I knew where we were.
It was just then when he said we're

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here. This had startled me as
I realized we had all been walking in

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silence. A glance from Jack told
me he was no more at ease than

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I was. I had this strange
feeling of foreboding and in retrospect, I

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know now that my survival instinct was
trying to warn me. As I looked

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at him, he stood looking up
at it. The house was huge.

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I can't believe I had never noticed
it before. It was a sprawling,

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three story mansion with what appeared to
have been a large yard all around it.

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It seemed to be well kept,
but everything about it repelled me.

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I looked at Jack and the other
boy. Jack was looking around nervously.

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The boy, though he had a
radiant smile on his face. I noted

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he was actually breathing hard. I
asked him if he was all right.

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He snapped his head towards me instantly, while taking a step toward me.

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Yes, he said, then slowly
retreated one step back again. What do

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you think, he asked. Jack
was barely audible when he answered, I

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don't think we should go in.
If that's what you mean. Of course

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we should go in. I know
who lives here. They aren't there yet,

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he said. I agreed with Jack
and voiced my concern with getting into

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trouble. There will be no trouble. Let's just go, the boy said,

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and with that he began to walk
up the walkway to the front door.

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I thought the walk to that front
door was the longest twenty five feet

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of my life. Every step forward
seemed to get colder, the darkness enveloped

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us, and the air seemed to
become still. The repulsion I felt going

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forward was immense and progressive. I
didn't know why I felt like this.

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I didn't want to seem scared,
but I was, and I didn't know

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why, which made me confused.
On top of the anxiety, I seemed

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to be becoming overwhelmed with I was
following the new friend of ours and Jack.

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The boy seemed to be bursting with
enthusiasm and excitement as Jack and I

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trudged along. As we approached the
steps up, I took hold of the

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rail and realized my palms were sweating
profusely. I became aware of my own

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labored breathing. I looked to Jack, who mouthed no at me as we

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were almost to the top step on
the porch. My mouth was dry as

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I thought of a hundred reasons not
to open the large front door, but

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couldn't utter a single word. The
boy stood in front of the door and

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turned to look at me. He
simultaneously reached for the knob and turned it.

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I yelled no as he did,
but to no avail as we heard

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the click and the door began to
swing open. The door creaked and groaned

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in a way that sounded guttural as
he swung it open wide. I could

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see inside into the middle of the
room, but the darkness swallowed the perimeter

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beyond. Come in, was all
he said as he boldly stepped in without

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looking back. Without a word,
Jack and I followed him in. The

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smell was overwhelming. As we stepped
inside, it smelled musty, earthy,

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and almost rotten, like a trunk
that had been closed for years. I

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thought the windows looked broken out in
places, but there was no air moving

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through the house. Now. I
don't remember the door shutting, but I

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felt the uncontrollable urge to run,
and I backed right into the shut door.

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Jack, in a panic, grabbed
the handle and wrenched on it,

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but it didn't budge. He pulled
with increased fervor, and I began to

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hit the door with my closed fist, and my hands began to tingle.

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I swung around to see the boy
standing looking at us expressionless. A smile

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began to creep into the corners of
his mouth. This twistedly sick look he

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began to have made the terror well
up even more. As I began to

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scream at him, he suddenly turned
and ran into the darkness, laughing maniacally.

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I followed a few steps after him, instinctively, until I realized that

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giggling, he ran down the stairs. Down the stairs seemed to be even

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blacker than the darkness that already left
navigating nearly impossible. I turned to look

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at Jack, who was gone I
cried out in fear and frustration at our

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stupidity. Why would you ever go
somewhere with someone you don't know? Yet?

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Here I am. Jack stepped forward
into my field of vision and grabbed

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my arm. He began to sob
What's going on? Where did he go?

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Why is this place so scary?
What's going on? I pulled him

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in and put my arm around his
shoulder. Look at me, We are

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going to get out of here,
I said, in as calm of a

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voice as I could muster. I
looked to the side to a window and

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ran to it. I ripped the
floor length velvet curtains open and gasped to

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see a window. I looked next
to me to see a small table and

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picked it up and banged it on
the glass. I wasn't sure what was

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going on yet, but I wasn't
fully committed to breaking out a window because

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I'm scared this could be a prank
done on poor taste. Fear overwhelmed my

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rational thoughts, and I swung it. It didn't budge, and I felt

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as though I were hitting stone.
I was even more scared at this abnormal

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response. I backed up one step
and swung as hard as I could to

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have the table splinter apart, with
pieces smashing against the walls, floor,

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and into my head. I felt
the point of impact to reveal on my

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head a spot of blood. On
my hand, the window appeared unblemished as

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I frantically turned to see Jack crumple
into a pile on the floor, crying

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I want to go home. I
grabbed his collar and pulled him to his

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feet. I went into the first
open door I saw aside from the staircase

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that boy must be in on this. I don't know why you would bring

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us here, but you can be
sure it's not good, I whispered as

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I pulled Jack along, who was
now regaining his composure. The doorway opened

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into a large room. It appeared
to be a library, as books lined

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the walls to high way windows which
must have been three stories tall. As

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there were balconies with ladders circumnavigating the
room. I pulled us to one side

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as it seemed to offer a mirage
of protection versus being in the room's center.

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I put a hand against the shelf
and looked at the books. Most

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of the titles were in languages I
didn't even recognize some with what appeared to

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be symbols. Only Breathing hard and
looking around for the next move, I

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noticed there were mounted heads of animals
surrounding the room. They were high above

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the books on the walls. Deer, bear, cougar. They did not

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have content looks on their faces,
rather anger or fear. I looked to

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the next and found the animal to
be beyond description. I stared at its

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cavorted face and studied it for a
moment. It was unknown to me.

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I glanced ahead and found another unrecognizable
head. Upon closer look, gasped and

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nearly threw up. It was the
head of what looked to be a person,

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but it had hair all over its
face. Its simian likeness was unmistakable,

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yet it seemed more human. Jack
was gasping at me, looking wildly

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in the direction I had been staring, yelling what is it? He pulled

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at me to follow him, and
I stumbled along. We came to a

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hallway with opposing doors. At the
far end was a door with windows on

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either side. Long velvet curtains hung
parted in the middle, showing the moonlight

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peeking through. We took pensive steps
towards the first door, and I reached

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out to turn the knob. I
cautiously edged the door open and peeked inside.

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It was too dark to make anything
out visually, but I heard sounds.

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It sounded like something some kind of
animal, was stepping in, something

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wet and sludgelike. Grunting and labored
breaths intermixed with ripping sounds came from somewhere

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within the room. A barely audible
whimper was immediately stopped by a low growl.

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It was then Jack stepped back,
and a squeak of the floorboard suddenly

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alerted whatever was in there. There
was a rustling of something moving toward us,

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and I knew beyond any doubt that
I did not want to know what

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was making that noise. I was
able to get us out and slam the

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door before the thing could get there. Jack was whispering how badly he wanted

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to leave, and clutching my arm
in a near frantic manner. I was

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unsure if we should look in any
more rooms or go try to escape from

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one of the windows at the end
of the hall. As I was gathering

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my wits, I heard another moan. I thought it might have been my

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imagination, but Jack's face registered that
he had heard it as well. Was

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that the other boy? He asked
in a whisper. I don't know,

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I replied, as my voice broke. I had never, and have not

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since, known fear such as this. Sweat dripped off my nose, running

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down my neck and back. I
was shaking and could barely speak. I

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had thrown up again after shutting that
door. It just hadn't registered until now.

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I wiped at my face, and
it was apparent I had not been

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aware enough to make any attempt to
project it away from my body. I

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had a sudden recall that I had
my cell phone. Funny how I had

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argued how I wanted and needed one
with my parents and used the safety reason.

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How ironic I thought, as I
frantically dug it from my pocket.

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No service, as I thought,
my spirit couldn't drop farther. The date

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under the time seemed to be spinning
like a dial. I had no idea

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what had happened, but the realization
it was broken almost made me cry.

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If we made it out of there, my parents would kill me for breaking

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it. I was truly terrified.
As the tears began to run down my

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cheeks. I was breathing fast and
hard. My head was spinning like I

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may pass out. Jack's sudden grip
on my arm again brought my attention back

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to reality. We must have been
moving the last few moments. As we

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were standing in front of the next
door, which unfortunately was open, there

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was a shaft of moonlight coming from
the window across the room, and it

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fell on two of the dirtiest,
foulest dogs I had ever seen. My

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mouth fell open in utter shock at
the putrecence of them. They seemed to

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have what looked like some rotting skin
in places. One looked like it was

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partially disemboweled, and something drug on
the floor a short distance behind it.

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The first one lowered his head with
a growl, and saliva or something like

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it, dripped from the large fangs. It momentarily glistened in the little light

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present. The smell coming from them
was nauseating, sickly sweet rotting stench with

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sulfuresque tones burned my nose as I
immediately recoiled from sight and smell. The

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closer animal, if you could call
it that, began to growl, although

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the sound seemed to emanate from the
hole in its side. I pushed Jack

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ahead of me as panic again rose
in me like a wave, commanding me

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to run. In spite of the
pathetic creature's aberrant appearance, they could move

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quickly, their claws dug to gain
purchase on the old floor, shredding with

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each foot strike. There were snarling
jaws snapping, making saliva fling and spray

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in the moonlight. Our complete terror
must have been adrenaline fueled enough, as

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they were nearly to the end of
the hall before I realized it. There

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was a perpendicular haul at the end
by the windows, and as Jack was

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slowing to make a turn, I
heard the hounds had stopped or slowed.

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I turned to look and they had
stopped twenty feet back and were crouching down

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with tails tucked between their legs,
whining, and were turning back as though

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they were afraid of something. I
called to Jack as quietly as possible to

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get his attention without drawing further alert
to our presence. We were stopped by

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the windows, and I looked out
My parents were walking down the street.

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My heart soared as I hit the
window, screaming their names completely, throwing

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caution to the wind. They couldn't
hear, and kept going as there was

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no way for them to know I
was here. I was supposed to be

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at the fair. How sorry I
was that I hadn't done as I had

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said. I was going to die
in this house. I didn't know what

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this place was, but it was
so much worse than anything I had conjured

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up as a haunted house in my
head. I would have given anything to

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be with my parents right now,
safe, not here in this terrible place,

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whatever this was. I looked down
the hall and at the far end

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was what looked like an old servants
staircase, narrow and steep, going down.

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Wanting to go anywhere but down,
I looked the other way and saw

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a door at the far end,
and doors on opposing sides down the hall.

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More doors made fear well up inside
me again. The hair began to

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stand up on my neck. There
was a faint crying sound that was slowly

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growing louder. Was it a child, a woman? Was it the boy?

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I couldn't tell, But as it
grew louder and louder, it became

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more distorted. It was a mixture
of crying that was morphing from a cry

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to laughter, with choking intermixed.
I had never heard a sound like that

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before, and if I never do
again, it would be a blessing.

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My fear was already overcoming me,
and this wretched was more than I could

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take. I began to pull Jack
to follow me, and we began to

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run. We sprinted into the hallway
blindly in terror. I frantically grabbed at

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doorknobs to open one, any one
of them, in hopes to get refuge

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from this horror. The light was
so low I could barely make out the

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shapes of the doors. The illumination
was minimal, and the color of the

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walls and doors appeared to be various
shades of black. I scraped and patted

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around what I thought was a door, and scrambled along as I jabbed and

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reached. As I searched, I
felt my fingertip catch on something sharp,

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and my skin hooked onto whatever nail
or splinter protruded. I felt the warm

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fluid spread and drip as I felt
the casing for the knob, I felt

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my fingernail pull off entirely. In
my nearly crazed search for a way out,

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the dark hall seemed to lighten slightly. The sound was still screeching,

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trying, laughter, constantly escalating to
the point I thought my ears might burst.

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I felt Jack hitting at me and
looked where he was staring. Coming

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down the hall was something I think
no mortal man was meant to see.

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It was distorted and terrible, flowing
with a jerking quality. Simultaneously, I

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was suddenly captivated at the indescribable sight
approaching It was sinister, abhorrent, and

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mesmerizing. I knew if it reached
us, all was lost. My hand

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found the knob that was freezing cold. I turned it as we fell back,

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with the door opening, I turned
quickly to survey and found we were

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trapped in a closet. In a
completely reactionary measure, I slammed the door

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just as the specter reached us.
It roared with an intensity that seemed impossible.

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It slammed into the door with such
violence that shards of wood, dust

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and material blew out of the wall, spraying down on us. For an

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00:23:03.559 --> 00:23:08.039
unknown but seemingly endless time, the
torrent of anger and pure rage continued to

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pound upon the door, and I
do not know how it did not breach

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it. At some point it stopped, if possible, The sudden silence was

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even more deafening. Jack continued to
lay on the floor next to me as

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I lay curled in the fetal position. After an indeterminate amount of time,

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I began to notice a light coming
from under the door. I thought it

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looked like sunlight. I moved over
and tried to peer under. I could

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see what looked like daylight on the
old red carpet. I looked and listened,

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and could perceive nothing outside the door. I reached up and turned the

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knob with a creak that was the
defining noise of every haunted house ever.

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The door opened, the hallway was
lit with the earliest rays of the beautiful

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morning sun. It was such a
welcome sight to the soul sucking pitch black

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of the previous night. As I
took in the sunshine, movement in the

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hall caught my attention and I recoiled
back. The sunlight was just peeking over

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the horizon through the windows, leaving
shadows in between each one. The far

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end of the hallway was bathed in
darkness. To the door and beyond the

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terrible apparition was hovering just at this
boundary of light and dark. It was

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almost too much for my mind,
and I thought I might pass out.

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It screamed and raged against this boundary, seething and pacing back and forth.

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It seemed to strain with all its
will until the last bit of darkness was

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abolished with the wonderful sunlight. There
was an implosion of sound with some sort

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of vapor or smoke, and when
it dissipated, there was a single shee

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with two eye holes cut out,
perched at the end of the hall where

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it had been. It seemed almost
comical, a cruel and mocking reminder that

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it was not gone, not truly. We eventually came to the realization that

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we were able to escape the house
only after we passed by the classic ghost.

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I felt taunted and bullied by it. I wanted to knock it over,

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but was so repelled by it I
couldn't bring myself to touch it.

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I didn't and don't know what was
under the sheet. We made our way

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through the house. There was no
resistance. Windows were broken out, exterior

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doors left open absent in some places. As we exited the house, we

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saw a passing police car and waved
it down. The officer listened to both

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of us, trying to relay the
story, and he became suddenly very excited

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when he heard our names. We
fell silent as he told us that we

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had been reported missing six days ago
and the entire town had been searching for

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us. Come to find out,
the authorities had actually presumed us dead.

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My parents were out looking for me
when I had seen them. My head

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beginning to spin was the last thing
I remember that day. I'm not sure

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how many people believed us, if
anyone. Jack and I drifted apart,

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as I think both of us couldn't
bear the memories of that night. Although

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thankfully I have never had another experience
such as this, I will never forget

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that ghost stories aren't always fun.
Well, my Spookyes, I think we've

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started November properly with that scary story. And I do mean scary story,

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A classic traditional story of the unknown
bringing great fear to the innocence of chill.

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00:27:00.839 --> 00:27:03.400
That's about as campfire story as you
can get. And that's the kind

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00:27:03.480 --> 00:27:07.480
of stuff that makes me love what
I do here at Weekly Spooky, and

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00:27:07.559 --> 00:27:11.480
I know you do too, and
I thank you for it, and I

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00:27:11.519 --> 00:27:15.640
want to let you know this Friday, we'll be publishing a compilation of our

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00:27:15.720 --> 00:27:21.839
last form Thanksgiving stories, and of
course on the Wednesday before Thanksgiving, we'll

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00:27:21.880 --> 00:27:25.279
be doing a brand new one for
you, so make sure you're subscribed so

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00:27:25.319 --> 00:27:29.359
you can check all that out.
As we enter into the fourth year of

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00:27:29.400 --> 00:27:33.279
Weekly Spooky, I want to remind
you you can send me an email at

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00:27:33.359 --> 00:27:37.279
Weeklyspooky at gmail dot com if you
have suggestions, thoughts, opinions of any

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00:27:37.319 --> 00:27:41.960
sort. I want to hear them. I assure you I'm not afraid of

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00:27:41.039 --> 00:27:45.720
interaction. You can also interact with
us on Spotify and leave comments on episodes.

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00:27:45.759 --> 00:27:49.799
I read every comment left over at
Spotify and I do appreciate it.

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00:27:49.839 --> 00:27:52.519
And if you want to support us
in a financial way, you can go

330
00:27:52.559 --> 00:27:56.839
to Weeklyspooky dot com and click on
Patreon. For as little as one dollar

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00:27:56.880 --> 00:28:00.559
a month. You help the show
continue going and going, and you get

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00:28:00.599 --> 00:28:04.200
an exclusive story every month to go
with it. And I want to say

333
00:28:04.240 --> 00:28:08.519
an extra special thank you to our
Patreon podcast boosters, folks who pay just

334
00:28:08.559 --> 00:28:12.200
a little bit more to hear their
names on the show. And they are

335
00:28:12.440 --> 00:28:18.200
Johnny Nix, Bobotopia dot com,
Megan Hua, Julia Kirsh, Brent mccallus,

336
00:28:18.279 --> 00:28:21.599
Steve King, Karen we Met,
Jack Kerr, and Craig Cohen.

337
00:28:21.880 --> 00:28:25.039
Thank you all so much for the
support. I really do appreciate it.

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00:28:25.079 --> 00:28:27.759
And now I am going to take
a much needed day off, my first

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00:28:27.839 --> 00:28:33.839
day off of podcasting in about fifty
days. But it was worth it.

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00:28:33.839 --> 00:28:37.319
It was worth it to have the
coolest, funnest and spookiest Halloween of my

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00:28:37.440 --> 00:28:41.440
life. And I hope we helped
you have a good one too, So

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00:28:41.640 --> 00:28:45.680
for myself, for my executive producer
Rob Fields, for my producer Dan Wilder,

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00:28:45.680 --> 00:28:48.680
and our composer Ray Mattis, I
will talk at you very soon.

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00:28:49.119 --> 00:28:56.680
So stay spooky, but stay safe, but also stay spooky. Thank you

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00:28:56.759 --> 00:29:02.160
for listening. Make sure to find
you a way back next week, but

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00:29:02.319 --> 00:29:14.079
for now you are safe, trust
me. Ham