transcript

Speaker 1:
[00:00] So you're saying with Hilton Honors, I can use points for a free night's stay anywhere?

Speaker 2:
[00:04] Anywhere.

Speaker 1:
[00:05] What about fancy places like the Canopy in Paris?

Speaker 2:
[00:08] Yeah, Hilton Honors, baby.

Speaker 1:
[00:10] Or relaxing sanctuaries like the Conrad in Tulum?

Speaker 2:
[00:13] Hilton Honors, baby.

Speaker 1:
[00:15] What about the five-star Waldorf Astoria in the Maldives? Are you gonna do this for all 9,000 properties?

Speaker 3:
[00:22] When you want points that can take you anywhere, anytime, it matters where you stay. Hilton, for the stay. Book your spring break now.

Speaker 2:
[00:31] This is a Bose moment. You've been there before. Somebody's apartment, small talk, that's going nowhere, plastic cup that's almost empty. It's not great. Then someone hits play on a Bose speaker. Heads nod, feet tap, one person dances, then everyone does. Awkward becomes electric. When Bose sound fills the room, you don't just hear the music. You feel it. Your life deserves music. Your music deserves Bose. Find your perfect product at bose.com.

Speaker 4:
[01:05] Hello everyone, and welcome back to Horror Stories. I know many of you use these episodes to fall asleep, so before you drift off, I'd love it if you could leave a comment letting me know where you're listening from around the world. Also, don't forget to like and subscribe if you're enjoying the episodes. Story one, I used to live in a small town in North Texas, near the Oklahoma border. It was a place with a lot of old and rundown areas. When I was 20, I moved in with my girlfriend in one of those neighborhoods, in a pretty deteriorated apartment complex. The place wasn't in good shape, but it was the only thing we could afford at the time. The area had a bad reputation for crime. People constantly talked about thefts and break-ins. It wasn't unusual to hear police sirens at night or see suspicious activity in the streets. Even so, I wasn't too worried. I had previously lived in Oak Cliff, a part of central Dallas known for having an even worse reputation. One night off from work, I was in the living room reading a book titled Shogun. I had been focused on reading for about two or three hours when I felt the need to use the bathroom. I set the book aside and got up to walk toward the back of the apartment. The place had two bedrooms and one bathroom. When I reached the entrance to the hallway, I noticed something that made me stop. Muddy shoe prints on the floor. The marks were pointed toward the living room, right toward where I had been lying down reading. In that instant, I went on alert and pressed myself against the wall, afraid that someone might still be inside the apartment. My heart pounded as I carefully followed the prints leading to the bedroom. The room was small, with a bed, a dresser, and a single window on the back wall, directly above the headboard. As I stepped in, I could see the prints clearly. They started at the window, crossed the bed, and returned to the same spot. The window was slightly open, and the latch looked loose as if someone had forced it. On the bedspread, there were faint smudges of mud, signs that someone had stepped there. That sight made my blood run cold. I stood still for several seconds, trying to determine whether the intruder was still nearby. I spent a long time checking every corner of the apartment, searching for the person who had come in, but I didn't find anyone anywhere. What terrified me most was thinking that the only entrance or exit to the apartment was the front door in the living room, right where I had been lying down. But the strangest part, and I know it sounds hard to believe, was what I saw next, the blanket I used to cover the window. It was a large blanket, folded and pinned in place to block out the light completely. However, when I looked at it, it was perfectly positioned, as if no one had touched it. Even so, it was obvious that someone had to move it to be able to open the window and get in. I imagined the scene, that person carefully lifting the blanket, slipping in through the window, crossing the bedroom and walking down the hallway to the living room, right where I was reading, with my back to everything. I shuddered at the thought that they might have stood there watching me for a moment before leaving. At the time, I was in good physical shape, but lying on the floor with my back to the hallway, I wouldn't have seen anything if someone approached. After that night, I had trouble sleeping for weeks. I constantly felt like someone was watching me. My girlfriend was worried at first, but since she wasn't there when it happened, she never fully understood my fear. Over time, she got frustrated with my nervousness and suggested we move somewhere else. It took me years to get over that experience. And even now, sometimes I catch myself thinking about what happened. I still wonder why that person didn't come closer, or why they didn't do something worse. I also can't understand how they managed to get in without leaving more of a trace. The idea that someone could slip into my home like that and leave without being seen still gives me goosebumps. Story 2. This happened about six months ago, one night while I was in my room getting ready for bed. It was around 10:30 p.m. I had the curtains closed so I couldn't see outside. While I was putting a few things away, I suddenly heard three loud knocks on the window. The sound was sharp and unmistakable, as if someone were right on the other side of the glass. My heart started pounding and I froze for a few seconds, too scared to move. A moment later, when my survival instincts kicked in, I ran out of my room straight to my father. I could barely explain what had happened because I was shaking with fear. I live with my parents and my two brothers in a fairly busy neighborhood, so hearing noises isn't unusual. But this knock was different, completely different. It came directly from my window, like someone wanted to make sure I heard it. The strange thing is that my room faces the back of the house, not the street or the front. For someone to knock on my window, they would have had to go into the backyard. I asked my dad to check. He pulled back the curtains, but there was no one there. He even went out into the yard with a flashlight to look around, but everything was empty. I closed the curtains again and tried to convince myself that maybe I had imagined it, or that it could have been an animal. I didn't want to think about it too much, so I went to bed, although with a lingering sense of unease. However, the next night, almost at the exact same time, I heard the same three knocks on the window. The sound was identical, loud, clear, and intentional. My stomach dropped and I didn't waste time. I ran to my dad again. He came back with me, checked the window, looked outside, and went out with the flashlight again. But there was no one, just like before. This time, the feeling that something was wrong didn't leave me. That night, I was so scared that I took a blanket and a pillow and slept on the floor in my parents' room. Over the next few days, nothing else happened, and little by little, I started to calm down. But a week later, while I was home alone around 8.30 or 9:00 p.m., I was talking on FaceTime with a friend when I heard the three knocks on my window again. I panicked and ran to my parents' room to call them. They were out of town and told me to ask the neighbors to check. I called them, but they didn't see anything outside either. The next night, around 1:00 a.m., the same sound woke me up again. But this time, it wasn't only three knocks, it was several, constant and deliberate, like someone kept insisting. It pulled me out of a deep sleep. For a moment, I thought about moving the curtain to see who or what was there, but fear stopped me. I got up and went to wake my parents. But this time, they were tired of the situation and didn't even want to check, saying it was probably the same thing as before. Over the following nights, the knocking continued. It didn't happen every night, but enough that I could no longer feel calm in my room. Eventually, my parents decided to move me to a different room. They turned the home office into my new bedroom, hoping I wouldn't hear anything again. At first, it worked. About three quiet nights passed, and I started to feel safer. But then it happened again. Three loud knocks on the window, identical to the ones before. This time, I was more annoyed than scared, and I decided to look out the window. When I did, I saw someone crouched outside. I couldn't tell clearly whether it was a man or a woman, although it seemed more like a man, or maybe a large built woman. They were wearing a gray hooded sweatshirt and dark jeans. I wasn't sure of the exact color because of the darkness, maybe gray or black. I closed the curtain slowly and ran to tell my parents everything. They listened carefully and decided to call the police. When the officers arrived, they searched the area around the house, but they didn't find anyone. Since there was no solid evidence, only my description, they couldn't do much more. They recommended installing security cameras around the house, especially near my window, in case it happened again. The next day, we installed a camera pointing directly at my window and several others around the house, hoping to find out what or who was behind those unsettling knocks. Story Three We moved into this house about seven years ago, and since then, I've had the feeling that we're not completely alone here. One of the first incidents that truly shook me happened in the basement. That day, I was looking for a tackle box with fishing hooks. Our house is a split level, so the basement is partially underground. During the day, some natural light comes in through the windows, so I usually don't turn the lights on when I go down. I found the hooks I needed and placed them on a table near the closet. While putting the fishing box away, I must have accidentally bumped the hook box, and it fell to the floor and spilled everywhere. I bent down to pick them up, and right at that moment, the basement light turned on by itself. At first, it didn't seem unusual. I thought my husband had gotten home from work. It was around the time he usually did, that he had found me down there and turned the light on so I could see better. I even thanked him, but he didn't answer. I called his name and got no response. I went to check, and he wasn't home. I was completely alone with my dog. That light had never turned on by itself before, and it never did again after that. The switch was flipped up, as if someone had turned it on. The doors were still closed and locked, so I have no explanation for what happened. Since then, other strange things have happened. Once, while I was cleaning up stairs, something happened with the vacuum. We have an Electrolux, one of those that isn't the common upright type. It has a large button to turn it on, and another switch on the brush head that activates the rollers. I had finished vacuuming the stairs and turned it off, though I left it plugged in in the living room, since that would be the next room to clean. I walked down the hallway to switch the laundry over, when suddenly I heard the vacuum turn on by itself. My dog was with me, and we both turned at the same time toward where the machine was. From the hallway, we could see it running, even though no one was there. It had never turned on by itself before, and it never happened again after that. Another time, my husband was home, and I witnessed something truly strange. We had just come back from the grocery store. I was going to fill the dog's water and food bowls, while he planned to go down to the basement with some of the groceries. We keep the dog food in a container inside a small cabinet, so I went down to get it. While I was doing that, I saw out of the corner of my eye what I thought was my husband coming down the stairs. The figure came down, stopped behind me for a few seconds, and then walked toward the area where we store canned goods and drinks. I spoke to him, asking if he needed me to bring down more things, but he didn't respond. I repeated the question, thinking maybe he hadn't heard me, but the silence continued. I walked over to the corner where he supposedly went, and there was no one. I was alone in the basement. I went back upstairs with the dog food and found my husband at the other end of the house. I asked him if he had come downstairs, but he told me he still hadn't. The strange part is that my husband has never believed in ghosts or anything paranormal. He always mocked or ignored my comments when weird things happened. Until one day it happened to him. I had just left work and called him to ask if he needed anything. We were talking normally when, all of a sudden, he went silent. Then he said, Wait a second, someone's here. It seemed strange to me, since I didn't hear the dog barking. He got back on the phone and said, I'll call you right back. I just saw someone at the door. He hung up, and I waited. When he called me back, he told me he had gone out to check the whole house, the buildings on the property, and the garage. But there was no one. He assured me he had clearly seen a person wearing a flannel shirt walking in front of the door. The most unsettling part is that we live far from any other home. Our closest neighbors are a few miles away. There are no places where someone could hide that fast if it were a real person. I have noticed many strange occurrences in the house, although I always tried to give them a logical explanation. I even started to think that maybe I was losing my mind or imagining things, until my husband experienced it too. From that moment on, he believed everything I told him and what I had seen myself. Our house isn't old, it was built in the 1970s. We bought it from my husband's family, and as far as we know, no one has died here. However, before this house, there was another one on the same land, an older house, that was demolished when the current one was built. Since then, sometimes I wonder if something from that old house is still here, watching us in silence. Story four. When I was about 16 years old, my dad, my brothers and I lived in an old worn-down house located far from town. We rented it privately, and one of my brothers worked for the owner as a way to pay the rent. The landlord never seemed like a strange person to me, although that might have been because I almost always stayed inside the house when he came to talk to my father. He never tried anything weird when my dad was present. But one day, I was home alone. My father and my brothers had gone out. I don't remember exactly where, so it was just my dog who stayed outside in the fenced yard, and me probably playing The Sims 2 in my room. My bedroom had a window that looked directly out onto the long driveway leading up to the house. We didn't usually get visitors, so hearing a car or seeing someone coming up was unusual. From that window, I could see everything, even the road in the distance. That day, I glanced out at the driveway now and then out of habit. I heard my dog barking far off, but I didn't think much of it, until I saw a car coming up the drive, and it wasn't my dad's. I felt immediate panic. I ran through the whole house, closing the blinds, turning off the lights, and making sure all the doors were locked. When I looked out again, I saw who it was, the landlord. He lived about 3 kilometers away, which made him our closest neighbor. It wasn't the first time he had shown up without warning. He had already done it on two previous occasions, and both times I was alone then too. Those times he didn't stay long, 10 minutes at most, but this time something felt different. I grabbed a baseball bat and hid under the kitchen table. I heard his car stop outside, then the front gate opening. My dog wouldn't stop barking, which made my heart race even faster. I could hear his footsteps coming toward the house, and then I heard him trying to open the front door. I was trembling with fear, not knowing what to do. So I texted my dad, telling him what was happening. The landlord started walking around the house, stopping at every window to try to look inside. The house was old and had three different doors leading outside, and I heard him test each one, one by one. At first, I thought maybe he didn't know I was there, that maybe, like the previous times, he had just stopped by casually. But then he started talking, calling my name out loud and clearly. In that moment, I knew he was aware that I was alone. I couldn't fully understand what he was saying through the thick walls, so I carefully moved through the house, following the sound of his voice. And then I heard something I will never forget. Eleanor, I know you're in there. Why don't you come out? I brought something special for you. You wouldn't want to keep me waiting, would you? His tone was light, almost playful, but there was something sinister in his words, as if every sentence were a trap. I know that if I had believed him in that moment and gone outside, things would have ended very differently. He stayed outside for at least half an hour, maybe a full hour before leaving. He didn't go because someone scared him off. He simply walked away as if nothing had happened. When my dad and my brothers came back, he was already gone. As soon as my father got home, I told him everything that had happened, every word, every action. He didn't say much, but you could see the anger on his face. A few weeks later, we moved out of that house. To this day, I still don't understand how the landlord knew I was alone at that moment. That question stays with me every time I remember what happened. Story five. When I was around 13 or 14, my friends and I decided to spend the afternoon at the park next to the woods. We were walking along a quiet trail, laughing and talking, when suddenly we heard a strange noise behind us. We turned to look, and in that instant, my heart started pounding. There was an older man, maybe around 60 years old, wearing dirty clothes with a dog beside him. We got scared when we saw him staring at us, moving toward us with slow, heavy steps. Without thinking twice, we ran up the stairs toward a bridge, screaming in fear. When we reached the top of the bridge, we stopped for a moment to look back. We thought we were probably overreacting, that the man would keep walking with his dog, or at worst, laugh at the jumpy kids who had taken off running. But that wasn't what happened. We saw him lift his head, looking straight at us, his eyes fixed on us, and he started limping up the same stairs we had just fled up. Panic took over and we ran again as fast as we could, following the trail. When we reached a fork in the path, we decided to split up, knowing the trails would meet again further ahead. We ran as fast and as quietly as we could, with our hearts about to burst. When we finally met up again where the paths rejoined, we were gasping and shaking. We stood there for a while, arguing about whether it would be safe to go back the way we came. It was the shortest and most direct route back to the main area of the park, where the playground and families were. After thinking it over, we decided to take a more open path where we'd have better visibility, convinced that we had probably imagined everything. However, when we reached the bridge, we froze. The man was there, slowly coming down the stairs with his dog. Horror washed over us. One of us screamed without meaning to, and the man lifted his head, saw us, and started climbing again, heading straight toward us. We didn't think of anything except running. We ran without direction, taking random turns, getting farther and farther from the bridge, until we finally made it back to the part of the park where there were families. Only there did we feel safe. We didn't go back into the woods for a long time, and even though more than ten years have passed, we still wonder why that man was so determined to follow us, and what exactly he wanted from us.