Spooky Stories - Week 1
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Hey everybody, welcome back to our podcast. This is Murder With My Husband. I'm Daphne. And I'm Fred. And he's the husband. And I'm the husband. If you are watching on YouTube right now, we are dressed up as the OG crime solvers from Scooby-Doo, Daphne and Fred. We were super excited about this. We're going to be dressing up for all of our spooky stories in the month of October and we're really excited about it. I'm trying to take myself seriously, but I can't. You look great, Fred. So I'm sure you guys...

think the same exact thing okay let's just get right into it we are super excited we got sent so many stories and some of these are so good try to pay attention to the stories if you're watching on youtube but not us okay so this first listener wrote in during my junior year of high school i got very sick with the flu and was out of school for almost two weeks after a week or so i started to feel a little better so my mom left me home alone to run errands

The Thanksgiving holiday was right around the corner, so she planned to be out for longer than usual, but told me to call her if I needed her. Normally, my dad would be home, but he was out of town for work and had limited access to his phone. Side note, I'm from Michigan, so by mid-November, it's usually really cold, and the conditions can be harsh. We have cold, windy days with intermittent rain or snow, and it's not unusual to experience brief power outages.

Anyway, I had been lounging in our living room watching a movie and nodded off. When I woke up, both of my dogs were growling and looking down the front hallway toward my parents' bedroom. My dogs were incredibly gentle and hearing them growl immediately put me on high alert. I noticed that the weather had gotten really bad. Mind you, the lights had been blinking on and off all night, but within the 30 seconds of me waking up, the power went out.

I called for my dogs, but neither of them would move from the hallway. At this point, I started to panic. So I grabbed my cell phone and tried to use the light from the screen to guide me over to the hall where my dogs were. And then she wrote right here. Remember when our cell phones didn't have flashlights? That's funny. Gertie, our golden retriever, started to herd me away from the hallway while Midge, our Yorkie, stood guard.

This really scared me, especially because the circuit breaker box was in my parents' bedroom down the hall. It was in this moment that I felt like I was no longer home alone. How many of you believe in ghosts? Because I 100% believe in ghosts. Me too. I'm not sure about everyone else, but... Yeah, I... Oh, yeah, completely. Completely.

So she says, my dogs were adamant that I needed to stay away. So I ran to my bedroom on the opposite side of the house and locked my door. I tried calling my mom and got her voicemail. So I decided to call our neighbor. He answered but couldn't hear me and kept saying, you're breaking up. Call me back.

but each time I tried, the same thing happened. I can't tell you why I didn't call the police, but it didn't even occur to me. To be frank, it probably had something to do with the fact that my teenage brain was feverish. I sat on my bedroom floor crying for a solid five minutes before I built up enough courage to go check things out, which...

I wouldn't have left. I would have just stayed under my blanket in my bed. Same. I would not have gotten out. 100%. She says she walked into the living room and noticed that my dogs were still standing in front of the hallway. So I said in a loud voice, if someone's here, you are not welcome and you need to leave. It was pretty dark, but my eyes had acclimated enough for me to notice a figure move in the doorway of my parents' room. Oh my gosh.

I let out a blood-curdling scream and my dogs ran down the hallway barking. At that point, I turned around and ran to the front door as fast as I could before hauling butt to our neighbor's house without shoes or a jacket on in the cold wind and rain. To make matters worse, his car wasn't in his driveway and I realized that I dropped my phone in a panic somewhere between our house and his.

I pounded on his door and saw his cat come to the window, but he never answered the door. I later found out that he had been visiting friends that evening and became worried when I called. So he contacted my mom who was also worried and was headed home. Maybe it was adrenaline, but my 15 year old self decided my only way out of this nightmare was to try to find my phone. I started back toward my house and noticed that the power had come back on.

Now, what I did next is not advisable, but I went back inside. Why would you go back in the house? It's like every scary movie, right? I know. Like, don't go back in the house. Go to McDonald's and go eat some food. Don't go back inside. She says everything looked unchanged. And at the edge of the hallway where my dogs had been growling, I saw my cell phone laying on the floor.

With extreme caution, I quickly walked over to my phone and looked down the hallway. My parents' bedroom door was now closed and I could hear my dogs whining and scratching at the other side of the door. So now they're locked inside her parents' room. I looked at my phone and saw that my mom had called me 23 times and that there was a missed call and voicemail from a local number, which actually turned out to be from a police officer who was on route to our home.

So what happened to the dogs? They just didn't run out? Yeah. Like she heard them in the room, but they're not coming out.

No words were exchanged between us, but something told me to avert my eyes and stay as still as possible. I truly felt like if I looked at him, he would kill me.

I don't know how much time passed before I saw police lights flicker in my peripheral vision and looked up to realize the figure was gone. A few seconds passed and an officer came running up to the doorway where I was standing and asked me if I was okay and if anyone else was in the house. I could hardly speak. I just said, I don't know where my dogs are. He moved past me and cleared the house. Oddly enough, he found our dogs locked in my bedroom on the opposite side of the house. Oh, man.

When I told him what happened, he told me that there was no evidence of a break-in. All of the windows and doors were locked other than our front door, which only I had unlocked.

A few minutes later, my mom got home and had me tell her and the officer what happened once again. It was clear that the officer wasn't taking my concerns seriously. So she explained to him that I had been very ill with the flu and probably had spiked another fever. He left soon after and my mom, who is a believer in ghosts, said, if anything like that ever happens again, you need to tell the ghost it is not welcome here and to leave you alone. I thought she did that. I

the beginning of the story. She did, but she hadn't seen the ghost yet. But this is a smart mom for telling her like, hey, address this and tell him to leave. Get out. Or call Ghostbusters. One of the two.

So what terrifies me still, this is what she said. What terrifies me still is that I heard my dogs behind my parents' door, not on the opposite side of the house. Yeah. I sometimes wonder what would have happened if I walked down the hallway and opened the door to let them out. Crazy. That is our first spooky story, which is top notch, baby. That is everything I was wanting. It's a good story. And I'm sure everyone after hearing these first ones, hopefully like a bunch more people start sending them into our Google form. Yeah.

Next time, go to McDonald's. I agree. Literally, I agree. All right, everyone. I'm going to try to read a story here. No promises. Wait, this is a groundbreaking moment for us. Garrett is going to read a story, you guys. Nothing crazy. Just one of these little stories here.

I'm crazy. Just ghosts, zombies, murderers. Dressed as Fred from Scooby-Doo. Yes. All right, here we go. So she starts off by saying she volunteered at women's shelters during college in New York City and one night stayed late but needed to get home.

So in some parts of New York City, they don't officially have yellow taxi cabs in residential areas. So locals have gypsy cabs you can use for a small fee. Oh, interesting. Yeah, I actually didn't even know that. Yeah, me neither. So they can't park in front of the train station since they're not licensed.

So they park across from the station and wait outside for customers. When they see someone, they call out and wave you over, gesturing to their cars and yelling, taxi. When they see someone, they call out and wave you over, gesturing to their cars and yelling, taxi, taxi, in case you need a ride. I'm not from Boston. You should be a taxi driver. I'm not from New York or Boston. Again, my school had a shuttle that picked students up from the train and brought them to campus. However, at that late hour, the shuttle had stopped running.

I didn't see any cabs around at first, so I wondered if they were all home for the night. I was about to give up and wait for a public bus when I heard, pssst, pssst, taxi. I turned and an older Caucasian male in his 50s stood at the corner smoking a cigarette. He looked at his watch, then up at me. I assumed I would be his last fare for the night. I nodded yes nervously.

It may seem odd to get into the car of a strange man, but gypsy cabs have been around long before Uber and my friends had taken them all the time. The man nodded me over, putting out his cigarette and he began walking. I followed him, looking around as I took my surroundings and I kept my phone in hand. We reached his dingy white older sedan as he opened the back door for me. "Put on your seatbelt." He gruffed and went to the driver's side and asked where I was headed. I told him my university and he nodded and took off.

The car smelled like old food and mothballs and had odd stains all over the back seat. So I put the seat butt on and then not touch anything else. Oh, I can imagine that feeling of getting in a car that is so gross and you're just like, oh, I don't even want to barely be sitting on the edge of the seat. You know what I mean? Yeah. I texted one of my friends where I was and that I was on my way back to campus.

I let her know I was in a gypsy cab. The maid came out of the car and told her the guy was a bit creepy. Smart. As I was reading her text, someone caught my eye from the light glowing off my phone. Some gypsy cabs have their identification cards posted on the back of their seats like regular cabs. This was usually done when they freelance for other ride services. When I looked at the ID photo on the back of the seat, I felt my breath catch in my chest. The man in the photo was about mid-30s, Indian, and smiling. However, he did not...

not match the description of the mid-50s Caucasian male driving me back to campus. My hands were shaking as I turned on my phone camera and took a picture of the ID to send it to my friend.

I wanted to take a photo of the man driving to show my friend it didn't match up. As I lifted my phone, I had noticed my finger slipped and turned on the flash. So when I hit capture, the light flashed on the side of his face and his beady eyes glared at me from the rearview mirror. He smiled, his mouth missing a few teeth. Like once again, this is like a scary movie where like the worst possible thing that could happen, her flash going on, like...

Do you know what I mean? I would have jumped out of the car for sure. So she says to him, I try to take a selfie. Camera was the wrong way. I lied then adjusted closer to the door. So I'll be like, what is she doing? When we reach the stoplight, I figured anywhere was better than this car. So I decided to get out. I reached a pool on the back handle and the door didn't budge. This was an older car. So there weren't electric locks. It was the kind you had to pull up a small knob to unlock the door. It had been removed. Oh,

Oh my gosh. The only way I was going to get out of the car was if someone let me out from the outside. Like red flag, abort, abort. Seriously. Like this is so bad. I clenched my phone as I glanced back at the man who met my gaze.

After what felt like forever, we finally reached my university. We parked a few feet down the street from the entrance gate. We sat there in silence. He didn't budge. Guess this is my stop. I said hesitantly giving a nervous laugh. The ride was about eight bucks. It seemed pretty cheap. I thought that too. Yeah. So I handed him 20 bucks to pay for my ride since that was all I had on me. He didn't give me my change. He just looked at me up and down from the rear view mirror. Is this to pay for our date? His eyes were dark.

I continued though the guard box was empty. I hope he didn't notice, but he didn't move his car. We just sat there awkwardly. His eyes didn't leave me from the mirror. You look nice tonight. I could just take you back home with me. My eyes darted to different things in the car, searching for something to use as a weapon.

The empty soda can, the random hanger in the back, which actually would probably work pretty well. I was trying to think fast but I was frozen. Suddenly a loud noise banged from the window as a light shined in my eyes. I was afraid this had been set up and he was waiting to attack me. I let out a yell before looking out of the windows to see my friend that I had been texting. She was shining her phone light in the car and knocking furiously.

She pulled on the handle and let me out of the backseat and loudly exclaimed she had been waiting for me and got worried since it was late. The man looked at her angrily then back at me. I could tell he was irritated by the interruption. We've been waiting for you, she pointed at the security guard who had finally appeared. The driver huffed and revved his engine before speeding off into the night. I hugged my friend and thanked her for saving me from what was already a bad situation. She had notified the guard that I was coming in the cab, but I was uncomfortable. He agreed to wait outside of the gate.

with her to make sure I was safe. I got an earful from both of them, who told me I needed to use better judgment. The guard told me if I was ever coming home late from doing volunteer work, I could call the security office and they would give me the number of a cab service and monitor my arrival. Lesson learned.

Common sense wasn't common that night. And most importantly, always use a reputable car service. Gypsy cabs don't require a license, so you never know who's behind the wheel, no matter the hustle or how tough a New Yorker you think you are. Wow, that was a freaking close call. Like, talk about, that could have been really bad. Yeah, that was crazy. It wasn't a ghost one, but it was, I mean, she could have been in one of the episodes. Oh, totally, totally. That was like a...

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Okay, this next one starts. Hi there. I just want to say how much I enjoy your podcast and I look forward to hearing them every week. You guys do such a good job and I love it so much. I'm so excited to hear all the spooky stories you get. So thank you so much. That was really nice.

She says,

She says that during this time she lived on Beverly road, strange things started happening to her. She said that her toys would go missing and that one time her high tracks actually like randomly blew up, which is like what the freak. - Blew up? - Yeah. She also said that she would like wake up with scratches on her little toddler body, which is so sad. - Geez. - She says her mom also always smelled smoke in the house and like a really bad body odor, but like no one else could smell it. Like her father couldn't smell it, just her mom.

She says her mother also had nightmares or sleep paralysis of people grabbing her ankles while she slept.

And then she also like tells during this part that she had a bedroom that for some reason had a trap door to their basement, which is like this two-year-old sleeping in a bedroom that has a trap door to the basement, which is just so scary. I surprisingly don't remember anything from living in this house except this monumental moment I'm about to tell and a select few memories, which now I'm wondering, is this where my childhood trauma comes from? Which I thought was funny.

She says,

You had to walk all the way down the stairs in order to turn on the light with a pole string, which if you can like picture that, like going down the basement with a tiny little light with a little string. My garage used to have that. I remember. Oh, so scary. She says it just gave me the creeps and it was obviously a scary place to a little girl. So we would keep that trap door shut with a little hinge clasp that locked it shut and

She says,

That day, while my mom wasn't paying attention to me, I remember making my way from the living room to my bedroom with the book in my hand. I had the book in front of my face while walking at the same time, not paying attention to what was around me. But before I knew it, I was tumbling down those cold, hard cement basement stairs. Yep, the basement trap door was wide open and I fell down it, smacking my head and body on the cement stairs, wall and floor.

I still don't understand why there's a trap door. I think it was an older house. So maybe that kind of makes sense. But the fact that it was left open when she said they, no one went down there, it was always locked. They were all creepy. And why would the parents open it? Right. So it's like, wait, how did this open? She says, I just remember falling and must have been knocked unconscious because the next thing I remember after reaching the bottom is my mom and dad frantically looking over me as I was now laying on the couch in the living room. At

At the time, I couldn't remember what had happened, but I knew I was in a lot of pain. They checked for broken bones and decided to take me to the hospital to get looked at. How did the door open? We still don't know. Neither parent opened the door. This was probably the worst incident I had had at the house, and I was terrified to go into my room after this. I had cuts and scrapes and a mild concussion, but nothing was broken and there was no severe injuries.

Yeah.

She says that after this incident, she actually started getting very sick in the house. Her parents brought in inspectors to look for mold, but none was found in the house. They couldn't figure out why their two-year-old little daughter was sick. She says she got so sick that she actually was on oxygen. Did they take her to the doctor? Yes, and they couldn't figure out what was wrong. She was just sick. So it got so bad, she couldn't play outside with her friends. She was on oxygen and nothing was helping.

This is also when she says that her mom's nightmares got worse and so did the smell. Like every day, this really bad smell was in the house that her mom could smell and it was driving her crazy. She says that this was the last straw. They finally put the house up for sale and moved, knowing that they couldn't spend one more second in that house.

When the family moved, everyone miraculously got better. She got taken off of oxygen and it almost immediately healed. The mom couldn't smell the smoky smell or that body odor smell anymore. It was like leaving that house immediately just made everything better. So she says, so going back to the Yates castle down the street and

It turns out that one of the male gardeners that worked at the castle actually lived in the house that they were living in many years before. Turns out he had also died in that house in the creepy dark cellar basement that she had fallen into. Some say he died due to old age and some say it was due to the fact that he smoked too much. Remember the smell that your mom smelled?

Okay, I have to point out here. Remember how she said her dad never noticed anything in the house? It was just the mom. It was just the mom.

- The mom and the child. - And the child, yeah. - He would go to work in the castle to tend to the gardens there and then come home to work on his own gardens and then chain smoke in his house alone. She says, "Coincidence? I think not."

Her family actually called the earlier tenants that live there before them. And they said that they moved out for the exact same reason. Yeah. They could smell the smell that they were having sleep paralysis. They would, they would wake up with scratches on their body. They thought the house was haunted and that's why they moved. Sleep paralysis. Sleep paralysis. It's horrible. I've had it. Yeah. Garrett gets it bad. Yeah.

I get it a lot. She says, luckily, I haven't experienced anything like this in any of the other places I have lived, but I do have a few more spooky stories from another historical home in the city of Brantford. My advice for everyone would be to look at the history of the home before you buy, especially in Brantford. Thanks for listening to my story, Emily. Crazy. Insane.

It's because I don't really have any creepy stories myself that like besides all my sleep paralysis. Yeah. I guess that can count. If anyone knows how to get rid of that, please let me know. Garrett just wakes up like or you don't wake up. He just starts making these noises. And now I've been trained to like turn over and immediately wake him up because I know it means he's in sleep paralysis. But like you get it often. Maybe I'm possessed. I hope not. But yeah, I do. I mean, I haven't had it actually probably in years.

like a month. Yeah. But I used to get it like once a week. Oh, it was bad. It was bad. All right, you guys, those were our spooky stories for this week's little short episode of spooky stories. Thank you so much. This was actually really fun. Like I really enjoyed reading your stories. Um, I love like going through them. I know that we're not going to get to everyone's and I'm sorry about that, but just know that I like,

have read every single one and I'm loving it. So keep sending them in and we will see you guys at the beginning of next week with our normally scheduled episode. And this is our first time doing this. So hopefully this was good. Yeah, hopefully. I mean, I like reading new stories. That was fun. All right. We will see you next week. I love it. And I hate it. Goodbye.