 Stories and content in Weird Darkness can be disturbing for some listeners and is intended for mature audiences only. Parental discretion is strongly advised. Welcome Weirdos, I'm Darren Marlar and this is Weird Darkness. Here you'll find stories of the paranormal, supernatural, legends, lore, the strange and bizarre, crime, conspiracy, mysterious, macabre, unsolved and unexplained. This is my monthly Fireside Frights episode where all the stories I'll be sharing were sent in by you, the members of this Weirdo family. And if you have a true paranormal or just a scary story that you'd like to share for a future Fireside Frights, again it needs to be a true story, just visit WeirdDarkness.com and then click on Tell Your Story to send it in. And it could be something that happened to you or maybe somebody you know. That's WeirdDarkness.com and then click on Tell Your Story. As with previous Fireside Frights episodes, there's no music or fancy production tonight, it's just me, this campfire, you and whatever sounds nature decides to provide in the background for us. If you are new here, welcome to the show. This is something I do only once a month. The rest of the episodes throughout the month are a bit more bombastic and bigger and more produced and a little bit more flashy. Tonight we just strip away all of that stuff. While you're listening though, be sure to check out WeirdDarkness.com for merchandise, you can visit sponsors you hear about during the show, you can sign up for my newsletter, you can enter contests, connect with me on social media, plus you can visit the Hope in the Darkness page if you are struggling with depression or dark thoughts. You can find all of that and more at WeirdDarkness.com. Before I continue though, regarding merchandise, it just now occurred to me, I have not told you guys yet about the new coffee flavors that we have. We talk a lot about Weird Dark Roast Coffee here on the podcast. There are two other flavors now that are available. We've got Nutty Mummy and Very Vampilla, and I'll let you read about those on your own, but Nutty Mummy has a little bit of almond in it along with the chocolate and other stuff. And then the Very Vampilla sound just exactly as it sounds. There's some there's a little vanilla in it, but there's also some dried cherry and chocolate. But I'll let you guys check that out for yourself at WeirdDarkness.com slash coffee that way. And of course, the original is there as well. And I will admit the original is still my favorite. In fact, that's what I'm drinking tonight. It's a little chilly tonight, 47 degrees right now. Temperatures are going to be dropping as I record this, I'm sure. So I'm drinking Weird Dark Roast Coffee tonight and I've doctored it up quite a bit because this is also my supper or dinner or whatever you want to call it. So I put in my built bar protein powder. It's actually not the protein powder, it's the peptides, I think is what they're called, that I put three scoops of that. They only recommend two scoops per cup, but I put in three because I like it extra rich. And I also add some extra chocolate flavoring in there. I added some peppermint, menth flavoring, all sugar free and a couple squirts of some caramel sauce. I mean, it's like drinking a, it's like drinking a Sunday. It's really what it is. It tastes like a peppermint patty, but it's in coffee form. And I'm just sort of addicted to that right now. And it's so rich and heavy, it kind of works as a, as a meal for me. Okay, you don't care about that. Let's get on with it. Bolt your doors, lock your windows, turn off your lights and come with me into the weird darkness. This first one comes from Melissa. She says, Hi, Darren. I just want to first say thank you for giving me an outlet to share my experience. My experience starts out as a simple, quick summer trip to Silverwood Theme Park in North Idaho. I've been to Silverwood many times, and in planning a weekend for my birthday months ahead of time, I reserved a cabin at an area State Park for two nights. I was able to reserve a beautiful cabin with a view of the lake and woods. My sister and I left the west side of Washington State in the wee hours and made the five and a half hour road trip to Farragut State Park. We had a great day checking out the park. We walked some easy trails, hung out near the lake, and toured the on-site historic military museum. The visit to the museum is where the entire stay changed for both of us. As crazy as it may sound to some, I can feel sometimes see and always know much more than I have reason to. The museum, at what they call the brig, displays the history and daily life of this World War II naval training station. This is one of the last buildings standing of many, and is full of items from the time of the active military base. My sister and I walked through and had the tour of the building being briefed on the history of the location and the memorabilia. What I can only describe as a shift in energy happened in the back of the building. I cannot recall no matter how much I think back on that day what exactly I was looking at when it happened. I do, however, remember the feeling. I got the chills and very much felt that it was time to go. Like right now, I nodded to my sister who was looking at something else and we went outside. She was oblivious and having a great time, but did mention that the statue out front, a sculpture of the bust of a man, gave her the creeps. After we left the brig, we went back to the cabin and we eat our dinner and both feel uneasy as the sun goes down and the wind picks up. We're staying in a dry cabin and not having a restroom means a short walk to one just down the way, less than 50 yards away. I walk out the door of the cabin just as it's getting dark knowing it's only going to get darker. I very much want to hurry and get back into the warm bunk of the cabin. I start the short walk to the restroom that I can see from across the small parking area and field. As I get about halfway, I realize I'm being watched and stop and look up in the direction of the restroom and just to the right, I will never forget what I saw. I had the same cold chill, the same go right now feeling. I saw a full body apparition of a soldier wearing only what I can describe as a dark button up uniform and a flat style hat holding a rifle over his left shoulder. I stood and looked at this figure for what felt like an hour but could have only been seconds. He was not a living being, he was a bit out of focus and not totally solid. I cannot make out definitive facial features and can actually see through him like you see through a thick cloud of smoke. I broke my gaze and ran a full sprint the rest of the way to the bathroom where I realize I'm totally alone. My cell has no signal, my sister is by this time totally unconscious and this thing is out there. After I get the nerve to exit the outhouse, it's darker outside and I look around as well as I can, as well as I can and I don't see anything. Thinking I was just paranoid or imagining things, I start back to the cabin feeling a little dumb. Again, I get to about the halfway point and this time I hear a large crack and a thud. The sound a branch makes as it snaps off a tree and falls to the ground. I look in the direction of the sound straight ahead and just past where I'm going and the same figure is standing again just in front of the trail head near our cabin. This time he is more visible, more whole. I can make out his facial expression and get the feeling of him not being there to scare me. He had a slight smile and is somehow telling me to go inside and not to worry. Feeling shaken as I literally had just seen a ghost, I try to make a call on my cell only to find I have absolutely no signal. I go back to the cabin and have a very long night wide awake. I wake my sister up very early in the morning and I've already packed the car and am ready to leave. The reaction of the front desk lady when I checked out that morning still makes me wonder how often people leave this place early. I walked in looking more than a little frazzled and said, we're checking out early. This woman took one look at me and asked hesitantly how our stay was and I guess my facial expression was all the answer she needed. I noticed a full refund for the stay was issued days later and my sister over breakfast listened to my story with wide eyes and amazement. Thanks for listening. I don't tell many people about these things, but I have so many experiences to share and find comfort in knowing that I'm not crazy or alone in them. Well, no, you're not crazy and you're not alone, Melissa. So thank you very much for sending in your story. That is really, really cool. This is my first impression. What I'm thinking was happening is there was an evil dark entity in the area somewhere, but this soldier was not that entity. You got the feeling that the ghost was trying to give you the feeling that it's okay to go inside, not to worry. I'm wondering if maybe that was like an angel coming down and protecting you from whatever was out there. It was standing guard waiting for you to get to safety. That's just my own opinion right off the cuff, but that's what occurred to me when I was reading your story. And you said that you've got a lot of other things that have happened to you. Please send them in. Once I get through with tonight's show, that means that I've run through all of the emails I've received. I have none after tonight's over for me to create a new fireside frights episode next month. So if you got more stories, please send them in. Okay, this next one I'm looking at comes from Christie. She has a YouTube channel. I started reading that though and there's no punctuation, so I can't tell when the sentences end. It's really hard, so I'm just going to skip over that. Christie, if you'd like to resend your story, come back with it with capitalization and punctuation and everything so I can make a bit better sense of it, because it looks like it might be a great story, but it would be really hard for me to to read that off the cuff here and and have it sound good. Thank you. Let's see. Genocide sends in something, hey Jen, not my story, but my great grandmother's story. When my mother was a child, she used to hang out with her grandmother while she cooked and talked to people who needed help. These people were usually people from the neighborhood who needed some natural remedies or reaching out to some loved ones. Sometimes the people who needed help were alive. Sometimes they weren't. One day, while cooking some bread or tortillas, whatever, great-grandma packed up my little future mom to go to the store. She bought a toaster. Then they spent a good portion of the day traveling to someplace future my mom had never seen and had no reason to go to. Great-grandmother would only say she needed to help someone and they eventually got to a house. Great-grandmother presented a sad looking woman with the new toaster, which I guess made the woman break down crying. My mother finds out the stranger was a widow whose husband had promised a new toaster but died before he could fulfill this promise. Wow. This man came to my great-grandmother and she got the new toaster for a complete stranger. During this time and place, I believe it was a Texas-Mexico village that was very poor, so a new toaster for this family was like planning to buy a new car for some. Apparently this happened a lot and my mom would sometimes run off to a stranger's house to deliver a note or small package, but the toaster story makes me laugh. I guess my great-grandmother was a tough, no-nonsense old lady and I keep imagining a tiny Mexican woman dragging a child with her while presenting a toaster to a mourning family and just walking away mumbling about having no time to deal with ghost crap because she's a busy woman. I'll see if my mother has more stories like that or send some more of my own stuff eventually. Drink water and always remember if you don't believe in the devil, he believes in you, even when you don't believe in yourself. Jen, that is amazing. We do have another story from Jen that I'll share later on, which is longer. I'll save it for the end. Jen seems to just have no end of stories. I think we get something from Jen at almost every fireside frights. I was wondering where you were going with that. She buys a toaster and takes it to somebody. That's an odd gift to buy somebody. If I was to just buy a gift for a complete stranger and walk up and say, here's your toaster, they'd call the cops. That is amazing though. Your great-grandmother definitely had a very unique gift on that, especially, and it sounds like it was a gift she did not want. She was actually perturbed by it because she didn't have time to deal with ghost crap. This next one comes from K. I have so many stories, at least 20 or more, that I've logged in journals since I was little. This is one that has bothered me for years. In 2006, we were staying the night at a friend's house. My husband, my daughter, was a few weeks old and I. We planned on leaving the next morning to move to another state. The friend told us her daughter's age 7 and 4 always tried going into the basement. They tell her that there is a girl down there that wants them to play. The basement had approximately 3 feet of water in it at that time and has a padlock on it due to the girls trying to sneak down there sometimes in the middle of the night. I went to bed early in the spare bedroom. I was lying on the bed with my daughter trying to get her to sleep so I could put her in the bassinet. We had a puppy she was sleeping on the foot of the bed. The door was open into the hall. I seen a dark shadow of what appeared to be a child crawl very fast across the doorway on all fours. Then, at the foot of the bed, they popped up. It was dark, but it seemed her eyes shined only. Looking back on it, she was darker than the room, but didn't realize it, but I didn't realize it at the time. Figure it was the older girl trying to play with a puppy. I told her, thinking it was one of the kids, to go back in the living room. The baby was trying to go to sleep. They ducked down, but I noticed they never left through the door because I watched for it. When I got the baby asleep, I went out in the living room and got on to my husband because I told him to make sure the girls stayed in there. They were all sitting on the couch watching cartoons. He said none of them ever left. About a year later, there was a car wreck, and the youngest and her brother both passed. I still feel all these years later that the shadow person had something to do with that. I'll send more stories later if interested. I've went to professionals and they keep telling me I'm attached by something that was never human but demonic. They explain it kind of like a grim reaper. They call it a scythe. Until next time, signed K. That's terrifying, K. You're going to these experts and they're telling you that something demonic is attached to you, but are they not giving you any solutions? Are they not doing like some sort of exorcism or something or blessing, cleansing anything? Because that's something that I'd want to get rid of. I would be going to a pastor or personally, I'd probably walk in, even though I'm not Catholic, I'd probably walk to a Catholic church because there's the ones that really know exorcism's best. I'd probably go to them and say, hey, something's going on here. Can you please help me? I'm surprised you've not done that already. Maybe you have and you just don't mention it here, but still. I've heard of shadow people, but I've never heard of shadow babies and I'm wondering if that's what you had there, a shadow baby. That's kind of the way that you describe it as well. I don't know what that would do, how that would affect the car wreck that took place later on. I don't know, but I'm picturing that in my head, the baby crawling on all fours completely black, like blacker than shadow, almost like there's just a nothingness in the shape of a baby crawling on all fours across the floor in front of your door and then popping their head up at the end of your bed. That would be horrifying. It's amazing how babies can be the cutest thing in the world or they can be the most terrifying. It's one of the two. So thank you very much, Kay. I appreciate you sending that in. Let's see, this one comes from Aaron. He says, hello, Darren. Let me first start by saying how much I love listening to your podcasts. I'm a paramedic that handles a lot of long-distance transfers to one hospital to another for patients requiring higher levels of care. Listening to your podcast not only keeps me awake all night while I'm driving, but keeps me entertained as well. So thank you for what you do. Well, before I continue on here, Aaron, thank you for what you do. You know I have a heart for first responders and I don't take that for granted, so I appreciate you being there. He says, I have yet to find another podcast I like so much. I've always been interested in the paranormal. I think my fascination with it started when I was young, probably around the age of six or seven. I would see shadow figures coming and going throughout my house. Being so young, I was frightened, of course, but I don't remember feeling like I was in danger. Fast forward many years and I'm in my mid-twenties. I belonged to a paranormal society at the time and we decided to go to West Virginia, yeah, okay, West Virginia Penitentiary in Moundsville, West Virginia. Now, I've been in a few haunted locations in my life, but none so interesting as this place. Between the history and the rumors of paranormal activity, I couldn't wait to get there and start our investigation. After the whole group of guests were led on a tour of the complex, we all split into our own groups. Our group decided to start in the area called Rat Row. This is where the inmates who needed extra protection from other inmates were housed, cops, snitches, pedophiles. This cell block is massive. It's roughly 200 yards long, four tiers high with cells on one side and they go around the corner and walk down the next row. We started at the top tier of cells and it was doing simple EVP stuff, taking pictures and using dousing rods. Nothing much was happening until we started down the second tier to the first. While we were walking down the steps, I felt as if someone had come up in front of me and pushed their index and middle fingers right into my chest and about my collar bones. It hurt like hell. It knocked the wind out of me and put me on my butt. At first, I thought I was having an asthma attack. I had not had one since I was a little kid, but being in an old, dusty building… Anyways, my cousin helped me to my feet. I kept rubbing my chest. I ate and I was instantly tired. My cousin and I walked from the cell block back to the front waiting area at the front of the prison. I walked into the bathroom and took my shirt off. Right where I felt the pressure on both sides of my chest, just under my collar bones, were two bruises. Each bruise was about two inches wide, about the width of someone's index and middle finger. That both scared the hell out of me and intrigued me at the same time. I've not been back to the prison in quite a few years, but would love to. I would like to see if I can capture whoever pushed me. I have plenty of other stories I'd love to share with you. I'll have to email you again soon. Again, thank you for your podcast, and especially, thank you for your Hope in the Darkness. It's not only helped me with my PTSD, but also my friends and family members. Every time I hear someone struggling about depression or stress in general, I always throw your name, podcast and website their way. Thank you and have a great night. Keep it spooky, signed Aaron. Aaron, man, thank you so much for the way you ended that. Talking about the Hope in the Darkness page and how you actually share that with others, that is cool. I really, really appreciate that. I'm really happy that you actually found help on that page with your PTSD. I never know. Most of the time, I never know if it's affecting anybody positively with what I do, unless somebody drops me an email and says, hey, I used this. I get enough of those that I get that confirmation that I am doing the right thing, but it is so great when I do here. It really touches me, so I appreciate you sharing that. That being said, you are crazy, and maybe you need help on that area too, because you would want to go back to this prison and try to capture that ghost on a film after it physically assaulted you. No, I can't do that. I do not understand how you ghost hunters do this. I really don't. I've never been on a ghost hunt. Probably never will. I've been invited, but I just won't do it. I'm fine telling the stories. I like telling creepy stories and scaring people in that way. I'm not about to put myself in the line of fire and deal with that kind of stuff. I don't think I'd have it. I don't think I'd have what it takes in me. And if something like that were to happen to me, I would never go back. No. Erin, please. I am looking forward to the other stories you send. And if you do decide to go back to this prison and something happens, I want to hear the story, but if I were you, I wouldn't. That's all I'm saying. Okay. Okay, this next one. Oh, it looks like it's going to be a sad one. Karen sent it to me. She says, Hello, it's with deep sadness. I report Kevin has passed away. He left this mortal world the evening of the 6th of December. He was a very special person and deeply loved music and the piano. He also loved speaking German and Spanish. I have an experience that ties in with my husband's passing. It was such a tender and loving moment. That was when the funeral home came to pick him up. They had me and my friend wait in another room where I would not be able to see them take him out of the house. While in that room talking with my friend, I felt a hand stroking my arm where there was no one standing there. It was a cool sensation and I knew right away it was Kevin trying to comfort me from the other side. There have been many more things since then that my husband has done to let me know he's still here for me. I want to thank you for everything you do for mental health awareness. I'm currently looking for a grief support group that is or can be active during the holidays. There's a complete lack at this moment in time of groups that meet during the holidays. I'll also look on your web page for help with depression. It's not completely what I need, but I'm sure that it can help in some way. Anyway, thank you for all that you do to put out there the need for better mental health care sincerely, Karen. I'm so sorry, Karen. As most of you know, I lost my dad in mid-October and it was actually just a couple of weeks ago that we finally attended a funeral service or a memorial service for him. It took a while to organize everything. It was a military thing, so it's still really fresh on my mind, but I've not lost a spouse and I just cannot imagine what kind of pain that would be. You expect to lose your parents someday. I guess depending on health or age, you might expect to lose a spouse, but still, in my opinion, you're closer to your spouse through marriage than you are to your own parents. Even though you may not genetically be related to that person, spiritually you are. And that would just be ripping a piece away from you. I cannot... I don't even want to think about what would happen if God were to decide to take Robin home before me. She and I have talked about it. We both decided, no, that's not a possibility. We either both go at the same time or we don't go at all. I'm not sure how God's going to take that plan, but that's what we put up to him, and say, God, this is the way we like it if at all possible. Karen, I'm very, very sorry to hear about your loss. It's interesting, though, that you are finding some comfort because it sounds like Kevin is still around and making his presence known. That's very interesting. And I hope that's always a positive thing. I hope that doesn't go a dark way as some hauntings, for lack of a better word, have. I really don't know. Obviously, none of us know what it's like to be a spirit like that on this plane as opposed to moving on to heaven, so I don't know. Do you go crazy after a while? Are you okay with what you're doing? Is it your choice? I have no idea, but I do hope it's always a pleasant experience for you. Okay, this next one comes from Mike. He says, this is a short story, a little background about this story. It was the first time I went hunting with my dad and brother, and I'm 12 years old. It was about a week ago during fall, and it was hunting season. I was hunting in a pasture when suddenly my dad said, what is that? I looked over with my binoculars and saw flashing lights about two miles out. My brother asked if it was a UFO, but I didn't think it was. My dad thought it was a plane, but when my brother looked at an app which tracks planes, no planes were within a 50 mile radius, and this went on for a solid five minutes before it all stopped. Now my dad knew the area, and there were no wind towers or radio towers in the area. Another thing, there were cows behind us, but as soon as the lights started, the cows ran off as if they were spooked by a gun or something. Anyway, while we watched the lights, something started to happen. There was no wind, but our truck started to shake violently, and my dog went crazy. At this point, we were going to leave, but something got my brother's attention, and he said, what is that? And I swear, I saw a little gray figure walking in the brush in front of us. You stop your story there, Mike. No! What happened next? Did you go chasing after the little gray guy? You talked about it afterwards, I'm sure. What did you guys all come to the conclusion of? That is so strange. More and more stories are coming out nowadays of people having alien encounters. It is so weird. It's like once we've all decided that aliens do exist, but the government's okay with talking about them, suddenly stories are just pouring out of everywhere. This next one comes from a man named B. He says, great podcast, good content, thank you for your work. Think of this, if you will. I'll start. Back some 18 years or so ago, when I was in my early 20s, my step-brother and I decided to head west again for a long road trip. I owned a 1998 Jeep Grand Cherokee 5.9-liter awesome rig, I wish they still made them, and we packed the thing to the gills with camping, fishing, and kayaking gear to spend a month or two living a life of camping, kayaking, and fly fishing. You know, living it up, wild and free, obliging our wild hearts while we were still young enough to do so. We headed north across the Canadian border, found TransCanada Route 1, took a left and headed west into the Great Wide Open. As they say, the sky was the limit. We stopped here and there along the way to camp, get rest, and fish. We had no schedule other than dropping my step-brother off to meet up with some friends who were hiking the Continental Divide, but that was a few weeks out. Eventually, after dropping him off, I landed in Glenwood Springs, Colorado and was staying with an old high school friend at his place. He was attending college in Glenwood Springs, studying photography, living in a condo complex out of town up on the dry mountains that overlooked the Colorado Valley. A few weeks went by and I fully enjoyed my stay in Glenwood. The beer was great, the people were friendly, the women were beautiful, and the fly fishing was amazing. It was early summer and I was in heaven. My days had been spent following local rivers and canyons, always alone, throwing flies ever looking for my goal of a trophy trout. As with any typical spring in Colorado, the weather was perfect. Each day greeted me with a cool morning followed by a long dry day of Robin's Egg blue skies, occasional thunderstorm, and pristine rivers. At that time, Glenwood held what was called Tuesday Jazz in the park, if I can remember correctly, and my friend, his girlfriend and I, headed down into town to enjoy an evening with music and fun in the park. I joined a game of Ultimate Frisbee with the local crowd having a great time when my buddy found me to tell me that he was heading home and asked if I needed to ride. I looked around and there were so many friendly people about, and I was having such a good time that I figured I'd easily find a place to crash, or someone would certainly be heading in the same direction as me, and I could bum a ride off of them and find my way home. Well, I was wrong. Playing Frisbee under the stars, I soon lost all track of time and before I knew it, it was 2.30 am and the large crowd had dwindled down to just me and a few other people. When we all called it a night, I noticed the other players were on foot, like me, and I didn't even bother to ask them for a ride or a place to crash for the night. I figured, what the hell, I'm a young guy, I'll just walk home. So I started off on foot. About a mile in, I was met with my first passing car, and I stuck out my thumb. Not surprisingly, they pulled over and I was greeted by a car full of kids and they let me hop in. They asked where I was going, and I remember one kid saying, dude, it's like 12 miles away. And thinking to myself, oh crap, I've got a long walk tonight. They brought me to the edge of town to where they were running off the main street that cuts through the shops and pubs of downtown. I hopped out and was left staring down the long, dark highway that led out of town into the brush and dust of the American West. Psy, it was nearly 3 am. I was already tired and yearning for a comfortable bed, yet 10 miles or more of dark pavement still lay between that and me. I had no food, no water, and no phone. I was beginning to feel like this was a bad mistake. I walked the following mile or two in the dark, alone, under the stars, greeted by the occasional car for whom I'd stick my thumb out, yet no one would oblige. I can't say as though I blamed them, though. Picking up a hitchhiker at that place and time would only be a good idea for a well armed and experienced trucker. I trudged on, licking my dry lips, and after some time, when headlights lit my surroundings again, I was blessed with the sight of taillights shining red. A car was pulling over to give me a ride. Anyone who has ever hitchhiked at night knows the feeling. The car was a small, light blue four-door sedan, nothing fancy at all, but at that place and time it could have been a horse and buggy and I would have viewed it as a lear jet. Anything was better than walking alone in the dark abyss of the highway for another 10 miles. I ran up to the car, I noticed the driver alone in the car, reach over to lock the front passenger door, and motion to me to get into the back on the passenger side. I got the hint and obliged, happy to sit in the back. Once in the car and seated in the rear passenger seat, my nose immediately flared to the onslaught of, I don't know what, perfume, incense? I'm not exactly sure what it was. All I know is that it was strong and was supposed to smell nice, but it didn't. It felt more abusive than the dry hot desert air outside that smelled of sand and juniper. Yet I was still grateful for my little blue chariot getting me home. I greeted the driver with the typical thank you for the ride, out of appreciation, and at once in a soft, light voice the driver answered, you're welcome. At that point I realized it was a woman. The driver was a woman, a long. It's 3 a.m. in the middle of nowhere and she just picked up a man hitchhiking. I gotta admit, I was surprised. Even as appreciative as I was, I remember thinking to myself, man, that's really risky for her to do. But then again, I also thought, what the hell do I know? Maybe this person has a gun, a can of mace, or it's just one heck of a fighter and was able to handle herself even against a man. So I let it go. She pushed a cassette tape into the player. Yes, they still had cassette tapes in cars then, and Rod Stewart came on the hi-fi over the speakers. I chuckled to myself. The car was then put into gear. Gravel slipped and crumbled between the tires and pavement, and off we went. We made some small talk, and I immediately picked up on something off in her voice. Now, I don't mean this in any offensive way to anyone. I'm just recounting my experience. But her voice was just, I don't have the words for it, just off. Kind of masculine sounding, but kind of feminine. More of an amalgamation of the two. Now, I've always been the type of person that likes to understand my surroundings. And I would say that knowing if I was in the presence of a man or a woman would fall under that prerequisite of mine. But this one, this voice, I couldn't quite peg. By voice alone, I could not have told you if I was in the presence of a man or a woman. I still can't. Now, you may be thinking, but B, this whole time you've been referring to this person as a she and a her, and for that you are correct. I know this person was a she. How I can't quite say but I knew. It was just a voice that was confusing. The way she talked was very quiet and flat, almost mechanical in its cadence over the droning on type of rhythm. Over the next couple of miles, we talked about this and that, and she asked me my name. I told her, and this is where things get weird. She kept saying my name over and over again. She would say, that's a really nice name, B, and start moaning and say it over and over again, dotted with deep, guttural size. I was not sure what to make of all of this. I leaned slightly forward and realized, I'm not trying to be inappropriate here, just relaying the experience. I realized I was pretty sure she was masturbating. Yep, I said it. She had one hand buried in her nether region and was breathing very deeply, saying my name over and over again. It was really weird and even comical to a young man in his early 20s. I sat back in my seat, tried to hold back my laughter, and enjoyed Rod Stewart's greatest hits. A little while goes by until she strikes up conversation with me again in her male-slash-female voice. And to be clear, when I say it was male and or female, I don't mean that it sounded like a man trying to sound like a woman or vice versa. It sounded like both. It went from sounding like one or the other, to sounding like something that was in between, to sounding like both at the same time. It was really, really strange, almost beyond description. So she asks me, have you been baptized? Being of Catholic descent, I answered yes, and she goes on to tell me that she can see auras around people who have been baptized, that she sees purple around them. I obliged her conversation as politely as possible, all the while thinking, okay, now I get it, I'm riding with a crazy person here. This is a crazy person, harmless and friendly, but probably crazy. So it occurs to me, now that we're close to my drop-off, that I want to see this person's face. What did they look like? I have no idea. I can't actually see their face because it was too dark and the dash lights in the car were super dim. And remember, there were no other cars on the road, so it's not like I was getting any light from oncoming traffic. The only way I'd be able to see this person's face would be to lean forward and look. So I tried. I would lean forward, trying not to be overly obvious and look over at her, and every time I would do so, she would look out her window to her left. It was like almost mechanical, like clockwork. If I moved forward, she would look to the left, so all I could see was her long brownish hair. When I'd sit back into my seat, she countered my movement by looking forward again, at the same rate and timing, driving with two tiny hands on the wheel. It was like we were tethered together and she knew what was going on, even as I did it. We pulled into the dark parking lot, my buddy's condo was in sight, and at this point I knew my ride would soon be over. I was now wide awake, sparked by trying to figure this out, totally consumed by this person near me. I thought, is it a man dressed as a woman, vice versa? Are they disfigured? And of course, I meant, and me, none of those comments in any sort of hurtful or disrespectful manner, but it was what was going on at that point in time. The car pulls over and it's my time to depart. It dawns on me. When I open my door to get out, the interior car light will come on and I'll step forward and say thank you through the front passenger door and be able to see her clearly. I had hatched a plan. The car stops and I hop out quickly and look back in through the front door as planned. However, just as if she knew what I was going to do or was on guard already, she reaches up and shuts off the overhead light almost perfectly in time. I say almost perfectly because in that split second of timing, where I was just slightly ahead of her, I did actually catch a glimpse of my driver in the light of the car. What I saw was this. Very, very small framed individual, not much bigger than a small teenager, wearing black tights, a short leopard print skirt, and a black sweater. The skeleton of her frame was visible under her clothing in bumps and lines where bones and joints lay. Her hair was almost certainly a wig, long and reddish brown. The most terrifying part, however, was her face. Or lack thereof. You see, in that small fraction of a second, between when my eyes landed on her and when the light went off, was a pale, featureless face, white and very smooth. It didn't look like a mannequin's face in a department store. It looked more real, more alive, maybe more human. It was certainly flesh and bone, but unlike anything I have ever seen before and quite frankly cared to see again. There was a mouth and nose, sort of, and I think eyes, but all were without distinction, kind of like white putty stretched over a framework underneath. I knew what I saw, and she knew I saw it too. I stood there dumbstruck and all I could say was, thanks for the ride. This little being answered back with a quiet and frail, you're welcome. I kid you not, I could still hear the Rod Stewart tape playing as she pulled away, leaving me in the dark in dust in total confusion. To this day, I often think about my faceless chauffeur out there in the dark of the desert and wonder what exactly she or it really was. Was it simply someone born with an abnormality, the victim of an accident or disfigurement? I don't think so. I don't think this was human. I think this individual falls into the realm of other. Of course, I will never know, and maybe to some extent I don't actually want to know the truth. Because maybe just, maybe, the inexplicable are better left as that. Maybe our minds have evolved in a manner where the terrifying and unknown are better left in the corners where we don't often look and where we fear to tread, the places where nightmares are born, and even the most stout of heart, falter, where confusion is better than clarity. But I will add this. I have not hitch-hiked once since that ride in the desert, and every time I hear Rod Stewart, I think back to that faceless driver speeding away in a little blue car. Thanks for giving me a chance to relay this experience. Be well. Signed a man named B. I cannot think of a better story to end on. I had one more story to share tonight. I'm going to save that for next month, because this is the absolute perfect story to end on. Wow, B. Oh my gosh. You are a great storyteller. I don't know if you're a writer at heart or not, but you explained it so well. You laid out the scenes just perfectly. I could see every little detail as you were telling the story, and you had me wondering the whole time as well. If I had read this in advance, if you know, or if you've been listening to Fireside Frights for any length of time, I don't read these in advance, because I like to be surprised by the stories, too. If I had read this in advance, I probably would not have used it because of what she was doing in the front seat to herself, but I'm not going to edit that out. I think I'm going to go ahead and leave it the way it is. This story is just incredible. Brandon, man, you can send in stories anytime. I don't know if you have any others, but I would love to see them. I am praying that this is a real story and not a creepypasta. You sent it as a real story, so that's the way I treated it. But if you write creepypastas, send me those as well. Thank you very much, man. I really appreciate it. And aside from that one other story that I'm going to go ahead and keep until next month, that's all of them that I have. So, if you would like to share your own story, please do so. Go to WeirdDarkness.com, click on Tell Your Story, and you can send me your paranormal or scary experience. It doesn't have to be paranormal. It can just be something that was very scary that happened to you, something eerie. About a couple of times, that people are surprised to be and just sent in something that was really funny that happened to them. It was weird funny, so it still kind of fit the Weird Darkness genre. But you can send them to WeirdDarkness.com by clicking on Tell Your Story. And that's it tonight. Thank you so much for listening. If you like the show, share it with somebody who loves the paranormal or strange stories, true crime, monsters, or unsolved mysteries like you do. You can email me anytime with your questions or comments, too. If you don't have a story, but you do have a question or something, you can just email me, Darren at WeirdDarkness.com. Darren is D-A-R-R-E-N. WeirdDarkness.com is also where you can find information on any of the sponsors you hear about during the show including the new coffee flavors I told you about earlier. You can find all my social media, listen to audiobooks I've narrated, sign up for the email newsletter, find other podcasts that I host, including Church of the Undead, which I come out with every Sunday. And just today, I've had two requests the last two weeks for this, so I finally set up my cameo. So if you're wanting something, if you want me to send a personalized message to somebody as a gift or maybe as an encouragement or a congratulatory message, whatever, you can find that on the contact social page as well. But it's pretty easy. It's just cameo.com slash WeirdDarkness. You can check it out if you're interested. All stories on WeirdDarkness aren't purported to be true unless stated otherwise. And you can find links to the stories or the authors in the show notes. WeirdDarkness is a registered trademark. Copyright WeirdDarkness. And now that we're coming out of the dark, I'll leave you with a little light. Proverbs 11 verse 7. When a wicked man dies, his hope perishes. All he expected from his power comes to nothing. And a final thought. A hundred years from now, it won't matter. If you got that big break, took the trip to Europe, or finally traded up to a Mercedes, it will greatly matter, 100 years from now, that you made a commitment to Jesus Christ. I'm Darren Marlar. Thanks for joining me in the Weird Darkness.