11: Deathbed Confessions: Chilling Secrets Revealed
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Experience social gameplay like never before. Go to Chumba Casino right now to play hundreds of games, including online slots, bingo, slingo, and more. Live the Chumba life at chumbacasino.com. BGW group, no purchase necessary. Void web prohibited by law. See terms and conditions 18 plus. Secrets. We all have them. Little parts of ourselves that we keep hidden from the world. Known only to us. There are secrets that people eventually tell. There are secrets that people take to the grave.

And then, there are secrets that people share just before they die. Those are the secrets that scare me the most. The kinds that torment people so much during life that they're afraid to take them with them. Those are the secrets that tend to reveal something about a person that fundamentally alters the way their loved ones see them.

I want to tell you some stories today of just that. People who revealed information about themselves right before they died that shocked those around them. Today's episode is going to look like a few different stories, but at their core, they're the same. Tales that prove you never really know the person sitting across from you. Let's get into it. It's that feeling.

When the energy in the room shifts, when the air gets sucked out of a moment and everything starts to feel wrong. It's the instinct between fight or flight. When your brain is trying to make sense of what it's seeing, it's when your heart starts pounding. Welcome to Heart Starts Pounding, a podcast of terrifying tales. I'm your host, Kaelin Moore.

If you're a fan of the podcast, please follow us on Instagram. And if you're feeling generous, you can support us on Patreon or with a one-time donation on Buy Me a Coffee. Both of those are linked in the show description.

We have episodes every Thursday, though we're taking April off to release our scripted fiction horror podcast called The Timekeeper. It stars Judah Lewis, Chandler Kinney, and Arjun Atalya. We'll be back on a weekly basis after that in May. A few weeks ago, I started a bite-sized series about deathbed confessions on our Instagram and TikTok, where I showcased some of the wildest confessions I could find—

Like the story of a nurse who was looking after an elderly man. This tale came from the depths of Reddit. It sat ice cold on an archived thread from years ago, lost in the swelling tide of the internet. The story was that this nurse was caring for a tough and rugged war vet who had softened at the end of his life.

He had seen more carnage in Vietnam than anyone should ever see in a lifetime, including the death of his brother, who was killed by an enemy soldier. But the thread reads, he was ready to confess something about his brother's untimely death. The two were twins, so identical that their friends had a hard time telling them apart, even into their teens. They had requested to serve in the same unit in Vietnam, which, contrary to popular belief, you were actually allowed to do back then.

The man confessed to the nurse that, while they were in Vietnam, his brother didn't actually die in enemy fire. He had killed his brother, stolen his tags, and came back to his unit fully assuming his brother's identity. This continued even when he got home and tricked his brother's wife into thinking it was him. He was so changed by the war, so unrecognizable from the man he was before, that no one could tell.

Some of the other stories are heartbreaking and sad, like the woman who was told by her dying mother that not only was she adopted, but her mother had adopted her from China's black adoption market, an underground child trafficking ring that can't guarantee if the child was given up willingly or stolen. But some of the confessions are borderline hysterical, like the tale of the woman and her owls.

The woman who posted this story starts off by saying that her grandmother had a home that was completely owl-themed. Think owl salt and pepper shakers, owl-themed towels, more owl figurines than you could ever count in your lifetime. The woman said her grandmother never talked about owls, but everyone knew how much she loved them, so every holiday they gifted her more and more owl-themed home goods.

But, as the grandmother was about to die, she lay in her hospital bed with her family around her, and her daughter asked if there was anything she'd like to share before she went. The woman thought about it for a moment, and then replied, "I never understood the owls."

It turns out that she had bought an owl salt and pepper shaker set in the 1960s. And then after that, someone assumed she loved owls and bought her a small figurine. And then after that, someone else came over, saw the owl decor, figured she loved owls, and then bought her another owl themed thing. This continued for the woman's entire life. But she was too polite to ever say anything about it.

These were gifts, after all. You accepted them and you said thank you. It was only on her deathbed that she could finally confess that she really did not care about owls at all. I love that story because I could see myself also accepting one too many owl-themed presents and then realizing it was way too late to ever say anything.

In my research, I also came across a story that was too long to share in a bite-sized moment. Many of these tales linger around the depths of the internet, getting shared like folklore. And they could be just that. But if this one's true, it's pretty chilling. All of the names in the following story were changed by the poster. This one comes from a woman named Lindsay.

Lindsay was an at-home nurse for an elderly woman near the end of her life named Miss Margaret. Miss Margaret was in her late 90s and mostly bedridden, so it was Lindsay's job to help her around the house and make sure she was looked after. Lindsay said she had done this kind of at-home nursing for elderly patients before, but Miss Margaret was Lindsay's favorite by a lot. She was a really kind woman and a really easy patient.

She would always ask about Lindsay's life, ask her about her friends, her potential love interests. The two definitely shared a bond. So, one day, about three months into the job, Lindsay walked in the front door and called out, "Hello, Miss Margaret," as she usually did. But no one answered. "Miss Margaret, hello." Again, no answer. So she walked down the long hallway of the house toward Margaret's room,

where she could see the faint flicker of a television set with no sound. Lindsay said she feared the worst and braced herself to see something she didn't want to see. But as she walked into the room, she saw Miss Margaret sitting straight up in bed, facing the door. Her feet were dangling over the edge as if she were trying to get out. And as she got closer, Margaret looked up at her, fear in her eyes. He's coming for me, she whispered.

Lindsay ran over to Miss Margaret to get her back in bed. She was so weak from being bedridden that Lindsay was afraid she would fall over if she tried to get out of bed like that. Who's coming for you? Lindsay was so confused. No one had called the house the entire time she had been there. She doubted any visitors had planned on coming. But judging by her face, whoever was coming was probably not a welcomed guest. Are you expecting someone? She asked again. But

She never got a reply. Margaret never said anything after that. The whole time Lindsay was there that day, Miss Margaret just lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, fists clenched and that same look of fear in her eyes. At the end of the day, Lindsay popped back into her room. "Okay, Miss Margaret, I'm leaving for the day. Do you need anything before I go?" Again, she got no reply. The older woman just lay there, staring at the ceiling.

Eventually, her head started turning slowly towards the door. Don't let him come for me, was all she said. Lindsay said she could tell things were not looking good. She knew that when she started, Margaret probably didn't have a lot of time left. And now this change in behavior and the confusion was making her think that Miss Margaret's death would probably happen sooner rather than later. So she told her she would be back first thing in the morning, and she didn't.

But once again, no reply. Margaret just turned her head back to look up at the ceiling, fists clenched. The next day, Lindsay walked into the house and gave the same, "'Hello, Miss Margaret,' not expecting to hear anything, just like the morning before. But this time, she heard, "'Hello, Lindsay,' echo down the long hall."

She was kind of shocked that so much changed overnight, so she ran over to Miss Margaret's room. And there she was, sitting in bed with a big smile on her face as if the day before had never happened. When Lindsay asked if she was feeling any better, Margaret just gave her a confused look as if she had no idea what Lindsay was talking about. Instead, she started talking as if everything was normal, launching into what she had watched on the morning news show earlier.

Lindsay thought this was weird, but she had worked with patients at the end of their lives before, and she had definitely seen weirder. Maybe Margaret just had a bad day. That day, Lindsay did her normal routine. She made food, she picked up a little around the house, and she made sure Ms. Margaret took all the meds she needed to take. And then that evening, after the sun had gone down, she walked back into Margaret's room to say goodbye.

And there she was, in the same position as the night before, sitting straight up, facing the door, feet dangling over the side of the bed. It seemed like she was staring into space, but she had the same expression of fear splashed across her face. Lindsay went to go help her lie down, but she snapped her head towards her. He's coming for me. He's almost here. Lindsay was now really freaked out.

She had seen patients hallucinate before, but this repeated delusion of someone coming was really scary. No one is coming, Miss Margaret. It's just me. You're okay. You're okay. Lindsay was doing her best to calm Margaret down while also trying to get her to lay back in bed. Don't let him get me. Miss Margaret was getting visibly agitated, almost gasping for breath and starting to cry. Who? Who is trying to get you?

Miss Margaret took one look at Lindsay, brow furrowed in fear. The devil, for what I've done.

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Miss Margaret had something she needed to confess. She proceeded to tell Lindsay the following story. It's the early 1930s, and Margaret's family has just moved to a new neighborhood in Oklahoma. Margaret is 10, and she doesn't remember a lot about the initial move, but she remembers hating her new neighborhood. She said everything was always covered in dirt, probably because it was the middle of the Dust Bowl, and that the other kids in the neighborhood were brutal.

Specifically, these two twin boys, Billy and Sam. They were these 12-year-old freckly redheads that looked identical to each other. Margaret said their dad was a mean, mean man, and that's probably where they got it from. And right after her and her younger sister Bobby moved in, it was like they had a target on their back. The boys would terrorize the two girls. Like one day, when Margaret and Bobby were walking back from town.

Their parents had sent them to get some flour and sugar, and as they're walking back home, they're being so careful to not cross paths with the boys. They were cutting through a neighbor's backyard and could see their house at the end of the street, when all of a sudden Bill jumps out of nowhere in front of the two girls. So Margaret quickly grabs Bobby's hand and turns around, but Sam is right there behind the girls. So now they're caught in a pickle between the two boys.

Sam snatches the flour right out of Bobby's hands, which causes Margaret to lunge at him, but Bill grabs her. Sam proceeds to open the flour and dump it all over Bobby's head. Margaret is screaming, but Bill pushes her down on the ground and is holding her face to the dirt. Sam then takes the milk right out of Margaret's hand and dumps that all over Bobby as well. Margaret said she felt something happen in her.

She could feel a darkness swell up inside her that she had never felt before. She said she didn't sleep at all that night. She just lay awake, staring at the ceiling, clenching her fists. But get this: Margaret tells Lindsay that she had overheard something a few weeks prior. And Lindsay writes that at this point, Margaret's eyes got really dark and she had this faraway stare.

So Margaret's at a church bake sale a month or so ago when she overhears Bill and Sam's mom talking to one of the bakers, asking if there were nuts in one of the cakes. Apparently, Sam had a strange reaction to peanuts as a baby and she wanted to avoid them altogether. The next week, when Margaret's father sends her to the store again, she picked up two extra items: taffy and peanuts.

This time, instead of trying to avoid the boys, she walked straight down the street home. And when the boys eventually came up to her and wanted to steal the candy, she didn't put up a fight. Margaret had pushed a peanut into each piece of taffy, and she watched as the boys ate them. Margaret said she ran away before she saw anything, but a neighbor discovered the boys' bodies in their front yard about an hour later.

They had both gone into severe anaphylaxis and died on the way back to their home. According to Margaret, everyone figured they had accidentally ate nuts. If you had a severe allergy back then, sometimes you just died. People didn't really look into it. Margaret had held onto this secret her entire life, never telling anyone, not Bobby, not even her late husband.

She said she had to tell someone before she died because if the devil got her, she wouldn't see Bobby in heaven. Margaret passed away a few days after she told Lindsay this story. Lindsay said that she didn't know if the devil came to collect Margaret, but her death was pretty peaceful. Could you ever look at a person the same way, knowing that they did that? I understand if Margaret didn't think the worst case scenario would happen in that moment,

But I also can't deny that something deep and dark lived inside of her. And it sounds like she knew it as well. Our next story is another tale of a mother harboring a deep and dark impulse. This is the case of Geraldine Kelly. In September of 2004, Geraldine Kelly was 54 years old and she was dying of breast cancer.

She lay in her home in Massachusetts with her daughter, Sherry Ann, by her side. Sherry Ann had been estranged from Geraldine since she was a teenager. But now, in the last few moments of Geraldine's life, she wanted to be near. The two talked more than they had in the past 20 years combined. But Geraldine's daughter didn't know that Geraldine was working up the courage to say something that would reveal a secret about their family that only Geraldine knew.

The last time Geraldine and Cherianne spoke, it was so Geraldine could let her know that her father, Geraldine's husband John, had died. Cherianne asked questions and wanted to know more, but Geraldine was incredibly vague about the details of John's death. He died in a motor vehicle accident in Nevada and was buried there. And that was that. No obituary, no funeral, nowhere to send flowers. But now,

Geraldine seemed to have more information. John didn't die in a motor vehicle accident. No. The only person who knew where John was, was the person that killed him. And Geraldine was ready to come clean. Let's start from the beginning. Geraldine Kelly was born in a tough neighborhood in Somerville, Massachusetts in 1950. And she was a tough person as a result.

At just 5'2", her height wasn't ever going to intimidate anyone, so she made sure her appearance did. She was all tatted up and kept unfriendly pets like vicious, untrained dogs and boa constrictors. Her friends said that sometimes she would be seen with a six-foot snake draped around her neck. But Jerry had a soft spot for John, her high school sweetheart.

They met as teenagers and they just got each other. Being raised in the same small town, you feel a certain sort of kinship to those who were raised the same as you. John also had a dark side to himself just like Jerry. And while their hot, fiery nature brought them closer, it also brought out the worst in each other at times.

This was not helped by John's drinking. It started when he was young, around the time his mother passed away, which was also about the time he dropped out of high school. And the thing about John's drinking was when he drank, he got mad. And when he got mad, he got violent. Usually, it was with other boys, like the time he almost knocked his best friend Tom out. Tom described John as Jekyll and Hyde when he drank, though he didn't see that when John was with Jerry.

There was something about Jerry that could just keep John in his place. But other times, it turned deadly. Like in 1981, when Geraldine and John were at a family wedding in their hometown of Somerville, Massachusetts. It was a small ceremony hosted at a housing authority complex for the elderly. Nothing too flashy. Sometime during the reception, John became wildly intoxicated and started getting aggressive.

Afterwards, he would admit to remembering flashes of what happened next, but not the whole thing. John began arguing with his brother-in-law, Edward Gordon-Yea, and in the heat of the fight, he punched Edward square in the face. Two other men entered the altercation, which ended with Edward being so injured that he was rushed to the hospital.

He held on for a few weeks in a coma, but eventually succumbed to his injuries and passed away. John insisted he had nothing to do with Edward's death. And family members who witnessed the event were so tight-lipped that the investigation never found anyone guilty. But a few years after the death, John and Geraldine moved to California. Some of his family members believed it was because John got nervous that one day he would be arrested for Edward's murder.

While living in California, John and Jerry's fighting intensified to the point where once their children were in their late teens, they cut off all communication with their parents. So, new location, no friends, no contact with the children. There's not a lot of people that ask a lot of questions when John goes missing in early 1992.

Jerry and John had been working together at an inn, and when Jerry goes into work one day, she announces to the staff that John got a job back in Massachusetts and he's left. But then within a few days, it's reported that Jerry's story took a fatal twist. John died in a motor vehicle accident in Nevada on his way to Massachusetts, she told those around her.

She also had to leave work early that day because she got a phone call from her storage unit saying that there was a leak that she had to take care of. This is according to a woman that worked with Jerry at the time. That's just the story that's told to the people who work with her at the inn, though. A few other versions of this story pop up.

In one, John is in Massachusetts when he was hit by a drunk driver. In another, he was killed outside of a Jack in the Box in Ventura. She didn't tell her children until five years after John's disappearance. But she sticks with the story that he was killed in a car accident in Nevada. No one compares notes to find discrepancies in this story. And Jerry gets mad at people for pestering her when they asked to see an obituary.

For the next six years, Geri worked at the inn without John until 1998, when she decided it was time to move back to Massachusetts. Geri packed up all of her things, including everything that was residing in a storage unit she had kept. One of these items was a big, unplugged freezer that was taped shut. It was transported 3,000 miles across the country to another storage unit in her hometown.

And that's where the freezer sat until 2004, when Jerry was sitting in her hospital room with her daughter. She told her daughter that John had not died in a car accident in Nevada. No. Jerry had shot him during an argument out of self-defense. She then placed his body in a freezer that she kept in her storage unit, and then she gave Sherry Ann the keys.

Sherry Ann called the police, who were able to open the storage unit and confirm Jerry's story. They could tell from the tattoos that were still visible 10 years later that the body in the freezer was John. But one thing wasn't consistent with Jerry's story. John had been shot twice in the back of the head, which didn't match up with Jerry's self-defense explanation. But Jerry was already dead at that point.

and they would never get the full story. The person you know best in this world could be holding onto a secret as devastating as the ones we discussed today without you even knowing. These confessions may bring relief to the people who tell them, but they often complicate things for those left behind. Sherry Ann left home at 18 to separate herself from her parents' spite. But then when she was able to finally make amends with her mother,

she learned that the truth was much darker than she ever imagined. So, I ask you, dear listener, is it better for someone to always be remembered as the person they were or for the truth to come out?

This has been Heart Starts Pounding, written and produced by me, Kaylin Moore. Music by Artlist. Have a heart-pounding story you would like to share on the podcast? Email heartstartspounding at gmail.com. Be sure to rate and review wherever you listen, follow us on Instagram, and support us on Patreon for just three bucks a month. Until next time.

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