 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, Halloween Morning Edition. If you're new here, welcome to the podcast and be sure to subscribe so you don't miss future episodes. These are a few ghost stories, just for the kids to get them and you, mom and dad, in the mood for the day's spooky activities. Everyone knows that ghosts can be scary, but have you heard the story about the ghost who was tricked by children or the ghost who haunted a man's house just because he was looking for a place where he could sit down? Well, bolt your doors, lock your windows, turn off your lights, and come with me into the Weird Darkness, the Canterville Ghost. Mr. Hiram Otis was moving his family to Canterville Chase in England. It was a grand old house and everyone said it was haunted, but Mr. Otis did not agree. There are no such things as ghosts, he told Lord Canterville. Lord Canterville described all of the ghostly sightings, but Mr. Otis refused to believe. A few weeks later, he was joined by Mrs. Otis and their four children. Mrs. Omni, the housekeeper, was standing on the steps when they arrived. She led them into the library to have tea. Mrs. Otis noticed a dull red stain on the floor. I'm afraid something has been spilled here, she said to Mrs. Omni. Yes, replied the old housekeeper, that is blood. Well, I don't care for blood in the library, said Mrs. Otis. Please remove it once. The old woman smiled. That is the blood of Lady Eleanor. The bloodstain cannot be removed and her husband, Sir Simon, still haunts this house. That is nonsense, cried Washington, the oldest Otis son. Finkerton's champion stain remover will clean it up in no time. He scrubbed the spot and the stain was gone. Just then, a flash of lightning lit up the room. Mrs. Omni fainted. Mr. Otis came into the room and found Mrs. Omni on the floor. He splashed cold water on her face. Mr. Otis, Mrs. Omni said, beware of the ghosts that haunt this house. Thankfully, we're not afraid of ghosts, said Mr. Otis. The next morning, Mr. Otis and Washington found the bloodstain in the library again. I don't think it's the champion stain remover that's to blame, said Washington. It must be a ghost. Each morning, they found a fresh stain on the floor. Mr. Otis was beginning to think the ghost existed after all. One night, Mr. Otis was weakened by a curious noise outside his room. It sounded like the clank of metal. Right in front of him was a ghostly old man. Dear sir, said Mr. Otis, holding up a bottle, kindly oil your chains with this rising sun lubricator. I must get some sleep. The Cantorville ghost threw down the bottle and disappeared through the wall. He went to his secret chamber. He was greatly insulted. He thought of all the people he had frightened in the last three centuries. They never treated me like this, he said. All night, he thought about his revenge. The next night, the ghost appeared again. The family had just gone to bed. Suddenly, they heard a fearful crash in the hall. Mr. Otis rushed downstairs. There, she found a large suit of armor scattered on the floor. The Cantorville ghost sat on the stairs, holding his head in his hands. Stop! Hold up your hands! shouted the twin boys. They had brought their slingshots with them. Each of them fired a shot at the poor ghost. Just then, Mr. Otis leaned over and offered some medicine to the ghost. You are far from well, she said. I have brought you a bottle of Dr. Dobel's soothing remedy. The ghost glared at Mr. Otis. With a groan, he vanished in the air. The ghost retreated to his room. He was very upset. How could they treat me this way? wondered the ghost. It's humiliating. The ghost felt very ill after this. He hardly left his room, except to put the blood stain on the floor in the library. When he recovered, the ghost resolved to try again. He planned to go quietly into Washington's room. Then he would mumble and mock him at the foot of his bed. Then he would go see the twin boys. He planned to sit on them until they screamed. What a marvelous plan! he thought. That night, the ghost set out down the hallway. He waited for the clock to strike twelve. A raven croaked from an old tree outside. The wind rattled the shutters on their hinges. What a perfect night for a scare! thought the ghost. The ghost chuckled to himself and turned to the corner. Suddenly he wailed and fell back in terror. Right in front of him stood a horrible ghost. Its head was round, fat and orange. Its eyes were empty black holes. It laughed at him with an awful grin. The Canterville ghost had never seen another ghost before. Naturally he was very frightened. After a second glance at the strange phantom, the Canterville ghost covered his eyes and ran back to his room. In his bedroom, the ghost hid his face in his blankets. As the sun came up, the ghost gained some courage. He decided to try and talk to the other ghost. Perhaps he can help me scare the twins, thought the ghost. The ghost tiptoed down the hallway. He reached the spot and gasped. Something had happened to the ghost. It no longer looked frightening. The Canterville ghost could see that the ghost's head was only a pumpkin. He read a sign that said, Ye Otis Ghost. A Canterville ghost had been tricked. A few days later, Virginia Otis went riding and tore her skirt. She knew her mother would not be happy. Virginia went to the sewing room, hoping to fix her skirt before her mother saw it. When she opened the door, she was surprised to see the Canterville ghost. He was sitting by the window, watching the leaves fly by. He looked very sad. Virginia felt sorry for the ghost. My brother is relieving tomorrow for school. She said, If you behave yourself, no one will bother you. The ghost turned around. It is my job to misbehave. He said, Nonsense. Said Virginia. She turned to leave. Please don't go, Miss Virginia. Cryed the ghost, I'm so lonely and I don't know what to do. I want to go to sleep, but I cannot. That's absurd, said Virginia. I have not slept for three hundred years, he said sadly, and I am so tired. I wish to fall asleep and never wake, said the ghost. He continued to explain why he haunted the old house. The ghost needed Virginia's pure heart. If she would be his true friend, the ghost could sleep forever. Virginia considered the ghost's request. She stood up and said, Yes, I will help you. She took the ghost's hand and followed him through the wall. About ten minutes later, the bell rang for tea. Mrs. Otis was greatly alarmed when Virginia did not appear. Mr. Otis rode his horse across the countryside to search for her, but he could not find her. Then, at midnight, a panel at the top of the stairs flew open. Virginia came out looking very peal and tired. She was holding a small white box. My child, cried Mr. Otis, where have you been? Papa, said Virginia quietly, I've been with the ghost. He is dead now. Virginia led them down a secret corridor. Finally, they came to a great oak door. Virginia opened it. They found themselves in a small room. A huge iron ring was attached to the wall. A chain led from the ring to a skeleton. Virginia explained that Sir Simon was locked in this room long ago. Now he can rest, she said. Four days later, the Otis family had a proper funeral for Sir Simon. After the funeral, Virginia remembered the white box the ghost had given her. She brought it to her father. Slowly, Mr. Otis opened the box. Virginia gasped. Look at those beautiful jewels, she cried. Virginia's father handed them to her. You must take them, he said. We certainly want Sir Simon to rest in peace. The Legend of Sleepy Hollow There once was a valley that was said to be the quietest place in the world. It was just off the eastern shore of the Hudson River. For as long as anyone could remember, it had been called Sleepy Hollow. The folks who lived in Sleepy Hollow were a strange lot. They heard voices and saw strange things. It was known that Sleepy Hollow was haunted. The spirit that most often haunted the enchanted valley was a man riding on his horse, but the man did not have a head. People loved to talk about the ghost. He was a soldier, someone would start. They buried him in the churchyard, someone else would quickly say. The people of Sleepy Hollow called this spirit the Headless Horseman. One of those people was Ichabod Crane, a tall, sweet-tempered teacher. He taught at a plain schoolhouse that stood in a lonely spot at the foot of a green hill. Ichabod's students could not help but think that their teacher's arms and legs were just a bit too long for his body. He looks like a scarecrow they would whisper as they watched Ichabod walk to school on windy days, his clothes fluttering around him. Ichabod loved all scary things, so Sleepy Hollow was the perfect place for him. One of his favorite things to do was stretch out next to the river and read spooky stories, just like I am doing now for you. The only thing that Ichabod loved more than a scary story, though, was a young lady named Katrina van Tassel. Katrina was one of Ichabod's music students. She was known throughout Sleepy Hollow for her beauty. I am only a schoolteacher, Ichabod would say, but I know I could make her happy. The only man who Ichabod worried might hurt his chances with Katrina was Brom Bones. With a burly frame and broad shoulders, Brom was a threat to the gangly Ichabod. He was known throughout Sleepy Hollow for his strength and his great skill and horsemanship. Ooh, Brom Bones, the women would say, he's so strong and brave. Wherever there's a fight or a party, the men would chuckle, Brom isn't far behind. Although Katrina showed interest in Brom, Ichabod would not give up. I shall not lose, Ichabod thought. He went about courting the lovely Katrina, visiting her home, and taking her for long walks in the moonlight. Brom became jealous when he found out that Ichabod was also seeing Katrina. Brom found ways to make things difficult for the young teacher. He began playing practical jokes on him. One night he went into the old schoolhouse and turned everything topsy-turvy. Brom always tried to make Ichabod look silly in front of Katrina. One autumn afternoon, a messenger arrived at Ichabod's schoolhouse to give him an invitation. What's the invitation for? asked his students curiously. Why, it's for a party tonight at the Van Tassels, replied Ichabod. He knew that this was his chance to sweep the fair Katrina off her feet. She will forget she ever met Brom bones, he exclaimed. The classroom was a buzz with excitement. Ichabod even agreed to dismiss the students a full hour early. He needed time to primp. After the students burst out of the schoolhouse doors, Ichabod began to groom himself for the big event. He combed his hair, studying his reflection in a mirror that hung in the schoolhouse. Finally, Ichabod stepped back and looked at himself. Perfect, he declared. Ichabod proudly mounted his horse like a knight in search of adventure, but he was far from being a brave knight. The horse he rode to the Van Tassels was not even his own horse. It was an old plow horse with a tangled mane. It was a strange sight to see Ichabod riding an old horse. His elbows stuck out like grasshoppers' legs. His arms flapped about like wings. As he rode, his black coat fluttered around him in the wind. Ichabod was confident when he walked into the party, but his shoulders dropped a bit when he saw his rival, Brom bones. He was in a corner with some people. Brom had arrived on his favorite horse, Daredevil. Daredevil was just as mischievous as his owner. No one had ever been able to tame that horse. Ichabod could hear Brom's booming voice. And then I lifted all five men with one hand, Brom bragged. Ichabod sighed. Would Katrina really choose him over Brom? Suddenly music floated throughout the manor house and the guests began to trickle into the ballroom. May I have the honor of this dance? Ichabod asked Katrina quickly. Soon they were whirling across the floor. Katrina smiled happily. But Brom was anything but happy. He stood in the corner, jealously watching Ichabod. Before Ichabod left the party, he joined a few people who were telling tales of the haunted land. Soon they were talking about the headless horseman. It seemed that he'd been spotted several times lately. He's been seen at one of his favorite places, the bridge that leads to the church, someone said. It was almost midnight when Ichabod left. There was hardly a sound except for the chirp of the crickets. Even though Ichabod loved all things spooky, he began to feel nervous. His heart was beating loudly. He remembered all of the ghost stories he had heard at the party. I must be brave, said Ichabod, his voice trembling. Ichabod had never felt so lonely. He began to whistle to keep his spirits up. He thought he heard someone else whistling, but it was just the wind sweeping through the dry autumn branches. Suddenly Ichabod jumped in his saddle. Straight up ahead was something white, hanging in the middle of a tree. A ghost, yelped Ichabod. But the nervous school teacher saw that it was not a ghost. The tree was only white where it had been struck by lightning. Ichabod was almost at the very spot where the headless horseman had been seen. Soon he began to hear a thumping noise. Ichabod turned his head towards the noise. He saw a huge figure standing in the shadows. Who are you? shouted Ichabod. Ichabod turned his head to get a better look at his unwelcome guest. The figure was a large man, riding a great black horse. Ichabod's teeth began to chatter. Then he saw that the man was headless. The headless horseman, Ichabod gasped. Faster, faster, Ichabod told his horse. When Ichabod looked behind him, he screamed in horror. The headless horseman was about to throw his head. Ichabod dodged, but it was too late. He fell off his horse. The headless horseman rode off into the night. The next morning, a search party found Ichabod's horse. In the little ways from his horse, they found his hat and a shattered pumpkin. Ichabod never came back to Sleepy Hollow. When the townspeople told the story, Brom Bones always had a smile on his face. Was it just Brom throwing a pumpkin? Or did Ichabod really see the headless horseman? No one knows for sure. It has become one of the many mysteries of Sleepy Hollow. Keep listening. I have many more scary Halloween stories to come for the whole family when Weird Darkness returns to Microterrorz, scary stories for kids, full of chills, thrills, and spine-tingling spooks. Microterrorz are family-friendly frights for those ages eight and up. Visit our website at microterrorz.com where we will also have spooky games you can print out and play, like wicked word searches, mysterious mazes, and more. Microterrorz.com is also where you can find us on your favorite social media and even send in your own scary story for us to tell. Join us each Saturday for another scary story. I hope you'll join me soon for Microterrorz, scary stories for kids. White Dog Once, there was a boy who had a friendly white dog named Ghost. Joey and Ghost were best friends. They loved to roam the countryside looking for adventure. They climbed rocks and waited through cool streams. Joey's neighbors all liked Ghost, too. One day, Farmer Green saw the two friends walk by his farm. There goes that boy and his white dog again. He said, They're lucky to have each other. That day, Joey and Ghost were hunting squirrels. They never caught any, but the chase was the fun part. Ghost would sniff them out, and the two friends would run after the squirrel until it hid in a tree. Suddenly, Ghost spotted a squirrel. Then Joey saw the squirrel. Ghost ran around a rock. When Joey got to the other side of the rock, he stopped. Ghost barked at Joey. What's wrong, boy? He asked. Ghost kept barking until Joey backed up behind the rock. Then Ghost moved. Now Joey could see why his friend was barking. A large black snake was coiled up next to the rock. Ghost had protected Joey. What a good boy, Joey said. Let's go home. That night, Joey said good night to Ghost. Then he left a treat for him on the doorstep. See you in the morning, he said. Next morning, Joey jumped out of bed and ran downstairs. Outside, he whistled for Ghost. Ghost! Come here, boy, he called. But Ghost did not come. Joey wondered where his best friend could be. He ran to the barn to find his father. Have you seen Ghost? He asked. Joey's dad climbed down from the tractor. Son, I found Ghost this morning as father started. He wasn't moving, so I took him to Dr. Parker's house. I'm afraid there was nothing he could do. Ghost was very old. Joey was heartbroken. He would miss his friend so much. He wondered who would explore the woods with him. After Ghost was gone, Joey spent most of his time alone in the woods. He walked along the creeks where he had once played with Ghost. One day, Joey ventured further than he'd ever gone before. He was walking along the edge of a ravine. Suddenly he lost his footing. The rock gave way and Joey landed on a ledge below. Joey's leg was twisted and scraped. He could not climb out of the ravine. Joey yelled for help, but no one was close enough to hear him. A few miles down the road, Farmer Green was working in his field. It was a very hot day. He wiped the sweat from his brow. Just then he noticed a white dog running towards him. It looked like Joey's dog. The dog barked and barked at Farmer Green. Hey, Ghost! How are you doing? He said, Haven't seen you in a while. The dog continued to bark at him. Farmer Green tried to drive his tractor through the rows of beans, but the dog ran right in front of the tractor's wheels. Farmer Green blew the tractor's horn, but the dog would not budge. Finally, Farmer Green turned off the engine and climbed down from his tractor. Where's your friend? He asked. Now go find him. The dog was very persistent. He continued to bark at Farmer Green. Then he ran up to Farmer Green. He grabbed the man's trousers in his mouth and tried to pull him along. Oh, okay! said Farmer Green. I'm coming. Let's go. Farmer Green followed the dog through the woods. They wandered for miles through thick brush and tall trees. Every few feet, the dog would look back at Farmer Green. He wanted to be sure the man was following him. They came closer to the ravine. The dog disappeared in the brush. Now, where did you go? called the farmer. And then he heard the boy's cries. Joey was trying to yell for help. He'd almost given up. Then he heard a man yelling back to him. Hello? yelled Farmer Green. Are you hurt? Joey looked up from the ledge. He could see Farmer Green standing at the edge of the ravine. The man was peering down at Joey. He could barely see the boy through the trees. I'm okay, but my leg is hurt. Joey yelled back, I can't make it up there all by myself. Hang on! said the farmer. I'll help you up. Farmer Green found a strong vine. He held one end of the vine and then he threw the other end to Joey. Use this to pull yourself up, he said. Joey grabbed onto the vine. It was strong and thick like a rope. Using his good leg, Joey pulled himself up the side of the ravine. Near the top, Farmer Green reached over and pulled Joey onto the rocks. Thank you, said Joey. He tried to catch his breath. Farmer Green helped Joey sit up on the rocks. Let's have a look at that leg, he said. Joey's leg was still bleeding. It hurts, Joey said, but I think I could walk. Let's find a branch you can use as a crutch, Farmer Green said. Farmer Green pulled the bark off one end of the branch. Then he helped Joey to his feet. You can use this branch as a crutch, he said. Now, let's get you home. Joey stood up, shakily. Thank you, Farmer Green, he said. Joey steadied himself with the crutch. Farmer Green held on to his other arm, then they hiked through the brush. When they came to a clearing, Farmer Green spoke. That's some dog you got there, he said. What do you mean, asked Joey. I mean, you'd still be sitting in that ravine. That white dog didn't show me where you were. He came to my field and barked and barked. Then he led me out into the woods to find you. Joey could not believe what Farmer Green was saying. That couldn't have been my dog, sir, whispered the boy. My dog died almost a month ago. Sweet Mary. Holmesville was a nice place. At least that's what the people who lived there said. The people who grew up there liked it so much they nearly always chose to stay there to raise their own children. Holmesville had all the comforts of a big city, but people always knew their neighbors. When you walked down the street, someone would always smile and ask how you were doing. Jack was one of Holmesville's citizens. Everyone in Holmesville knew him, and everyone liked him. Jack had a lot of friends. Jack had spent most of his time playing football, basketball or baseball with his friends, but he did not have a friend that he could just talk to. Until that is, he met Mary. It happened quite by accident. Jack was sitting in his car in front of the library, daydreaming as usual. He spotted a girl sitting on the bench by the bus stop across the street. She was wearing a party dress and looked like she had been waiting there for a long time. That's the prettiest girl I've ever seen, Jack said. Jack wanted to introduce himself, but girls always made him nervous. He never seemed to say any of the right things. Finally, though, he gathered his courage. Jack reached the bench and sat down. The girl kept staring straight ahead. Jack could feel his heart thumping in his chest. Hello, he said shyly. The girl did not answer. My name is Jack, he continued. Then Jack lightly brushed the girl's shoulder. Suddenly, she came to life. She turned to look at Jack. He could see a touch of fear in her eyes. Hello, she said softly. My name is Mary. Jack saw that Mary was shivering in the cool autumn air, so he gave her his letter jacket. They sat on the bench for a long time. Jack did all of the talking. Mary just smiled and offered a few kind words. The hour grew very late. Jack drove Mary home. When Jack stopped in front of her house, Mary leaned over and gave him a quick peck on the cheek. Jack watched Mary walk to the front door. Before Mary went in the house, she turned, looked at Jack, and smiled. It was the sweetest smile Jack had ever seen. The next morning, Jack picked a small bouquet of flowers and went to Mary's house. A small old woman answered his knock. When Jack asked if he could see Mary, the old woman looked startled. Mary, she asked. The old woman looked at Jack carefully. Finally, she said, please come in. The old woman pointed to a picture on the mantle. Is this the girl you spoke with last night? She asked. Yes, he replied. I am Mrs. Sweet, Mary's mother, she said. Mary died almost twenty years ago. Jack did not believe what he was hearing. Everybody liked Mary, said Mrs. Sweet. She'd meet someone for the first time and talk to them like she had known them forever. This house was always full of her friends, laughing till all hours. Mrs. Sweet paused. You're not the first person to tell me that you've seen her. I like to think that she's close. Jack was shocked. It's true, Jack, said Mrs. Sweet. She paused and wiped away a tear. Mary is buried in the Holmesville Cemetery. Jack left Mary's house and ran until he reached the cemetery. When he saw the letter jacket that he had given Mary hanging on a tombstone, he stopped short. Then he saw what was written on the tombstone. Mary Sweet. January 14, 1942 to May 5, 1958. Jack placed the flowers on Mary's grave. He did not know that Mary's ghost was perched on top of the tombstone, watching him closely. I couldn't have imagined you, Jack said. My jacket is right here. Jack reached for his jacket and held it close to him. He noticed that it smelled faintly of perfume. You did wear this, he exclaimed. You were at the bus stop. Jack began to pace. He was trying so hard to put this puzzle together. There were so many things I wanted to talk to you about, Jack said. Then Mary walked over to Jack and said, Don't be sad. I'm right here. Jack couldn't hear her, though. But goosebumps rose on his arms at the moment she whispered in his ear. He did not know that Mary, the sweetest girl he had ever met, had come to say goodbye. A Cardiff ghost story. I unlocked the door and stepped into my new apartment. I worked hard all day. I was tired. All I wanted to do was settle in before a cozy fire, read the evening newspaper, then crawl into bed. I stoked the fire in the fireplace and eased into my favorite chair. In the newspaper I saw a story about the Cardiff giant. Headline, Stone Man has plastered twin. Crowds of people had been lining up to see New York City's own petrified man at the 18th Street exhibit hall. They believe that they are paying to see the stone giant that was discovered on a farm in Cardiff, New York. They don't know that the giant on display at the exhibit hall is merely a plaster cast of the Cardiff giant. Earlier this year, a Cardiff farmer was digging on his farm when he found the stone figure of a man. The stone man was over ten feet tall. Many people believe that an ancient tribe of giants lived in New York thousands of years ago. They believe the farmer in Cardiff discovered the fossilized remains of one of these giant men. The scientists are now studying the Cardiff giant. Many experts doubt that the figure is a petrified giant at all. They believe it is just a statue carved from stone. I laughed. Some people will believe just a bad anything. In Cardiff, they were paying to see a stone man that is probably a fake. In New York City, they are flocking to see a plaster imitation of the fake. At least now, though, I knew why the street outside had been so crowded. I lived across the street from the 18th Street exhibit hall. I climbed into bed. I was glad I had a scientific mind. I had a man to prove when I heard far-fetched stories. I closed my eyes and was drifting off to sleep when I heard footsteps in the hallway. These were not just any footsteps. They sounded like boulders being dropped on the floor. With each step, the whole building shook. After each step, I heard a clank, like somebody was dragging a chain. Thump. Clank. Thump. Clank. I pulled my blanket over my head. I pressed it against my ears. It muffled the thumping and clanking, but I could still feel the building shaking. And the shaking seemed to come closer. My blanket slipped off my shoulders. I tugged on it. Something or someone tugged back harder. I pulled the blanket from my face. A huge man loomed over me. I screamed. The man screamed. I stared up at the man. His head was the size of my duffel bag. His chest was as big as a barrel. His arms hung down at his sides like tree trunks. I could see right through him. Through his head, I could see the ceiling. Through his enormous belly, I could see the fire still crackling in the fireplace. You're a ghost, I whispered. I'm a spirit. It's true. His voice boomed. A spirit who cannot rest. His massive shoulders sagged. He looked so sad and lost, I forgot to be afraid of him. I scrambled from my bed. The poor giant shivered. You must be cold, I said. Come, sit by the fire. He stomped over to the fireplace and heaved his ghostly body into my favorite chair. The chair shattered beneath him. The giant stood up and looked down at the sticks of wood scattered around him. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have tried to sit on something so small. He lumbered over to my bed and lowered himself down onto it. Crink! The metal frame squashed to the floor. Stop that! I said. You'll crush every piece of furniture I own. The ghost struggled up from my flattened bed. I'm sorry. I'm just so tired. I haven't had a chance to sit down for a very long time. Here, I said, sit on this. I pulled the rug in front of the fire. Thank you, he said. The giant sat on the rug. I wrapped a blanket around his shoulders. I turned my wash tub over and set it on his head to keep his ears warm. Now, I said, tell me why you're haunting my apartment. The ghost sighed. I didn't want to hurt you. I'm only trying to get some rest. My body is lying across the street. It's on display for crowds of people. I'm so tired. I want to go back to sleep, but I won't be able to until they bury my body again. You're the card of giant, I said. The what? asked the ghost. I retrieved the newspaper and spread it open to the story about the giant. Listen to this, I said. I began reading the story to him. I skipped over the part about the scientists who did not believe the stone man was real. I did not want to hurt the ghost's feelings. His eyes grew wide as I read about the plaster imitation. The ghost stared at me. The stone man across the street. Isn't me? I shook my head. He isn't even stone. He's plaster. The sad ghost buried his face in his hands. You mean I've been haunting this street for nothing? Don't worry, I said. I reached out to pat his shoulder. Go to Cardiff. That's where your stone body is. The ghost rose to his feet. I'd better get started. He lumbered across my apartment and walked out the door. His footsteps thundered across the hall and down the stairs. I glanced at the newspaper. The experts thought the stone man was a fake. I knew now that he was real. But the experts would never believe me. They wouldn't believe my far-fetched story about talking to a ghost unless I gave them proof. But I did not have proof. I smiled. I was glad I did not have proof. If the world believed the stone man was a fake, they'd leave him alone. Then the giant's spirit would be able to rest. I heard the ghost stomp out onto the street. I watched the poor ghost of the cardiff giant trudge away down the street. Then the ghost turned the corner and disappeared into the darkness. Are you too scared to continue? Or would you like to hear more creepy, scary stories? Well, if you answered more, then keep listening. I'll be right back with more Weird Darkness. Volume 1 is now available. It includes 10 stories originally heard on the podcast, including The Creeping Ghost, Space Monster, Computer Crash, Starved for Detention, and more. Plus two horrific tales written by young Microtarrers listeners. Microtarrers, 10 scary stories for kids. Volume 1 is available on Kindle or in paperback at Microtarrers.com. Haunted Cemetery Ghosts and spirits have been seen in many places, but a cemetery is one of the most common places to see a ghost. Bachelor's Grove Cemetery is near Chicago. It is called the most haunted place in Illinois. Over the years, a lot of strange things have happened at Bachelor's Grove Cemetery. Many people have seen the white, misty shape of a woman holding a baby. Others have even seen a disappearing house at the cemetery. An eerie light comes from one of the windows, and then the whole house disappears. But the strangest report was about a ghost car. A couple was driving through the cemetery. Suddenly, they saw an old car coming right towards them. The couple knew that they could not swerve out of the way in time, so the man and woman closed their eyes. They expected to crash into the other car. They heard screeching brakes, a loud crash, and broken glass. But when they opened their eyes, they realized they were not hurt. They looked around. The old car was nowhere to be found. They got out to inspect their own car. It didn't have a scratch on it. Another cemetery where there are almost just as many ghosts as graves is Woodland Cemetery in Dayton, Ohio. One dark night, two college boys were walking home. It was late, so they decided to take a shortcut. They climbed the tall gate to cut through the cemetery. The boys saw a woman crying on the steps in front of a stone tomb. Do you need help? asked one of the boys. As they got closer, the boys noticed that they could see right through the weeping woman. Are you okay? asked the other boy. The ghostly shape looked up at the boys. She had very sad eyes. She stood up quickly and started to float backwards. She drifted up the steps, passed through the tomb's heavy stone doors, and disappeared. The boys looked at each other. Let's get out of here, they shouted, and they ran away. When the two students told the cemetery's groundskeeper what they had seen, he simply nodded. He'd heard that story many times before. Well, the groundskeeper said, you're not the first people to meet the weeping woman of Woodland. Ghost sightings at cemeteries usually happen at night. Many ghost experts believe this is when ghosts roam. They say that many spirits cannot find rest in the afterlife. They are cursed to wander all day and night. For this reason, ghosts are sure to be awake when everyone else is asleep. One famous ghost in Columbus, Ohio, wanders at night. She makes so much noise, she wakes up the neighbors. People who live near Camp Chase Cemetery wake up to hear loud cries in the middle of the night. The sad ghost is known as the Lady in Gray. Neighbors who've seen her say that she's dressed in a gray suit from the 1860s. They say the Lady in Gray is full of sorrow because her husband died in the Civil War. Some believe she is the wife of Benjamin Allen, a soldier who died at Camp Chase during the Civil War. His tombstone is still there today. Many people have seen the Lady in Gray. One neighbor heard her cry out, I miss you, Benjamin, oh no. The neighbor thought the cries were just a loud prank. He went to the cemetery to investigate, but he did not see the Lady in Gray or anyone else for that matter. But there were footprints in the snow. Then he found two red roses left in front of Benjamin Allen's tombstone, the Flying Dutchman. Reed Brenner was the youngest and smallest sailor on the ship. It was his first voyage out to sea. The smallest sailor always had the job of night watch. Reed climbed up the ship's tallest mast. Reed stared into the dark waves. He saw a fuzzy red flash of light. The light moved closer. Suddenly the ship rocked. A rough wave crashed against the boat. A fierce storm fell upon the ship. Reed looked down at the sea and there beside his ship another ship bobbed on the waves. The ship was old, its sails were tattered. The crew of the strange ship looked up at him. Their eyes were gloomy. All their clothes were soaked and torn. Their faces were pale. Lightning flashed again. Suddenly the storm ended. The ghostly ship was gone. Reed looked for the ship but he could not see it. The next morning some of Reed's mates asked about the sudden storm. Reed told no one what he saw though. Later that day Reed Brenner was struck with a terrible fever. His ship was miles from shore. There was no doctor on the ship either. He could not be saved. Sailors tell many stories of the sea. Some are true and some are just legends. One story has been told for hundreds of years. The Flying Dutchman was a ship that sailed the seas long ago. In 1641 this ship sailed into a terrible storm. The captain, a proud man named Hendrik van der Decken, would not stop or turn his doomed ship around. The captain ordered his crew to push through the dangerous storm. The captain and crew of the Flying Dutchman never reached land. Some sailors say the Flying Dutchman still sails the seas today. It said the ship must sail through stormy waters forever. For almost 400 years sailors have reported seeing the Phantom ship. Often it appears from nowhere and disappears just as quickly. Usually it is seen at night or during a storm. The ship's ghostly crew may be seen working on the deck. Some sailors have claimed to see the Flying Dutchman's captain. They say he sadly warns them to stay away. Any ship that crosses the Flying Dutchman's path is said to be doomed as well. After seeing the Phantom ship, other ships have had accidents. Many sailors have gotten sick. Some have died not long after reporting a sighting. The sea is a dangerous place. Sailors throughout history have faced storms, pirates and diseases. On long voyages they tell many stories to each other. Legends of haunted ships have been told for centuries. The story of the Flying Dutchman has been told again and again. It is not just an old tale of the sea. Sightings have been reported in modern times. Many people claim they have seen it. The story of Hendrik van der Dekken's ship is a true story. His ship and his crew were caught in a storm. They never made it to shore. The reports of strange sightings are hard to ignore too. The terrible tragedies that happened after sightings are also very real. But are they all related to seeing the Phantom ship? Many ships have been lost at sea. There is no way to know what happened. Lost ships leave no explanations. Their crews are simply never heard from again. They may have been sunk by storms. They may have crashed into rocks. Some may have crossed the path of a Phantom ship. Were the last faces those doomed sailors saw the ghostly faces of the crew and Captain of the Flying Dutchman? How he left the hotel. After the Civil War ended, I headed to New York City. My Captain was from New York. He told me all about the city. Stop by the Empire Hotel, Mole. He told me when I was discharged. I know some people there. Perhaps I can get you a job. New York was exciting. I decided to take my Captain's advice and stopped by the Empire Hotel. It was an elegant red brick building with a fancy lobby. Welcome, said the friendly doorman. He was dressed in a uniform with polished brass buttons and a stylish cap. My name is Joe, he said with a grin. I shook his hand and then introduced myself. Joe introduced me to the hotel manager. I spoke with your Captain, the manager said. I'd like to offer you a job. We need someone to operate the hotel elevator from two o'clock in the afternoon until twelve midnight. We'll provide wages and a room. Like everything at the Empire Hotel, the elevator was modern and fancy and had a decorative light inside and mirrors on the walls. It even had velvet cushions where visitors could rest during their ride. On one November, a new tenant arrived at the Empire Hotel. His name was Colonel Saxby. Colonel Saxby was also a Civil War veteran. I knew right away because he often wore his military cloak. Colonel Saxby moved into room 210. It was on the fourth floor. Room 210 was right across from the elevator. I saw his door every time I stopped on the fourth floor. Colonel Saxby was a kindly gentleman who kept to himself. I figured he was in his 50s. He was tall and thin with a gray mustache and a pointy nose. His skin was pale. He had a reddish scar on one cheek. He also walked with a very slight limp. I took a bullet in the knee, he explained to me one day. Sometimes in the elevator, the Colonel and I would talk a bit about the war. Even though he would talk to me, I wouldn't say he was overly friendly. That did not bother me, though. Since I worked at the elevator, I came to know everyone's routine. Colonel Saxby was especially predictable. He rode the elevator up to the fourth floor at the same time each day. He never rode it down, though. I figured he must have used the stairs for that. I was proud to tell people I worked at the Empire Hotel. It was one of New York's finest. Sometimes operating the elevator grew dull, though, but I really enjoyed all the people. I became good friends with a few of the other workers. Joe the doorman worked the same shift as I did. When it was slow in the evening, we'd often talk. He told me all about his brothers in Boston. I told him about my sister in Connecticut. A lot of times, we talked about the war. Every night at midnight, I always locked the elevator. Joe generally tidied up the lobby a bit. Then, on Wednesdays, we headed to the community room for a game of cards. Helen, one of the hotel housekeepers, often joined us. Helen was cheerful and talkative. She always kept things lively. Best of all, she generally brought us something good to eat. Her homemade soup and meatloaf sandwiches were mighty welcome after a long day. This is delicious, I told Helen one cold February night. She'd baked an apple pie. I dare say it was the best I ever tasted. Joe pushed his empty plate aside and thanked Helen for the meal. Then, as usual, we began shuffling as well-worn deck of cards. The three of us played until the wee hours of the morning. The next day, I found myself watching the front door, waiting for Colonel Saxby to arrive. The Colonel always rode the elevator up at three o'clock each day. In fact, I could not recall a single day when he had not been on time. Well, I guess there's a first time for everything. Colonel Saxby never did show up that day. He did not show up the next day, either. Have you seen Colonel Saxby lately? I finally asked Joe. No, Mole. I can't say that I have, he replied. I'm told he's very ill. At the end of my shift that night, I just started to lock up the elevator when the call bell rang on the fourth floor. I figured it must be a visitor who did not realize the elevator stopped running at midnight. As the clock struck twelve, I rode to the fourth floor. When I opened the elevator door, I was very surprised to see Colonel Saxby. His military cape was draped over his shoulders. I noticed his skin was even peeler than usual. The man definitely looked ill. I was really concerned about him. I wondered why he was venturing out so late at night. I'm glad to see you're better, sir, I said. But Colonel Saxby just looked at me with a hollow stare. Then he boarded the elevator. It was the first time I'd ever given him a ride down. When the elevator stopped in the lobby, I opened the door. Colonel Saxby, who had stood perfectly still during the ride, departed without a single word. Joe opened the door. Then Colonel Saxby walked out into the snow. Just then the doorbell rang. Joe opened the door. A gentleman with a black bag entered. I could tell it once he was a doctor. Fourth floor, he said hastily. I'm sorry, but the elevator stops running at midnight, I explained. This is a matter of life and death, said the doctor. I did as he requested. The doctor rushed straight to room 210. Oh, dear! I heard the doctor sigh. I'm afraid I'm too late. Colonel Saxby has passed away. The doctor covered Colonel Saxby's face with a sheet. That can't be, I said. I took the Colonel down in the elevator just a few minutes ago. Joe saw him, too. Colonel Saxby just left the hotel. It must have been someone else, the doctor said. The manager asked me to take Colonel Saxby's body down in the elevator. I can't do that, sir, I said. I can't take the Colonel down again. I knew I couldn't stay at the Empire Hotel any longer. Not after what I had just seen. I turned in my keys and left that night. Joe the doorman left with me. The lighthouse. Jack was a writer who moved to a seaside town. He traveled around the coast to write stories about the people who lived there. He did not know that he would soon have his own story to tell. After settling into his new home by the sea, Jack decided that he needed some artwork. He'd heard about an old man who ran a gallery in town. Jack woke up early one morning and walked to the gallery. Good morning, Jack said as he opened the gallery door. He shook the old man's hand. Jack introduced himself, then began looking at the paintings. The old man had an assortment of paintings. There were scenes of flowery meadows, city skylines, and desert landscapes. But Jack kept coming back to a painting of a lighthouse. He reminded him of the lighthouse at the edge of town. What a perfect picture for my wall, he said. I'll take this one. I hope you have the perfect place for this painting, the old man said. He wrapped the painting in brown paper. Jack paid the old man and walked home with the painting under his arm. He couldn't wait to find the perfect place to hang it. That afternoon Jack found a place above his mantle. He hammered a nail into the wall and hung the picture. Jack sat back to see if it was straight. This is perfect, thought Jack. I can look out my window and see the sea, and I can look above the mantle and see the lighthouse. What inspiration! That evening Jack sat down to read over some notes from the day before. He'd been interviewing a young woman. A grandfather had run the lighthouse years earlier. The young woman told many stories about a grandfather. He'd loved to see so much that he wanted to be buried there. Jack suddenly looked up from his notes. He thought he saw shadows moving across the dark room. Jack got up and walked down the hall. He saw the shadow again. This time he caught a glimpse of a ghostly old man. Jack shivered in the darkness. He rubbed his eyes. Perhaps some just tired, he thought. My eyes must be playing tricks on me. Jack turned out the light and went to bed. That night he dreamed about the lighthouse in his new painting. Jack was standing on his platform and looking out to see. He saw an old man sitting alone inside the lighthouse. The man seemed very sad. Jack tried to speak to him and then Jack woke up. The next morning Jack felt like he had to move the painting. He didn't know why he felt that way. He just felt it. He looked around his house for the perfect place. He decided the best place for the painting was right above his desk in the den. This will inspire me to write my newest story, thought Jack. That evening, after a quiet dinner, Jack sat down at his desk to work. He was reading a book about lighthouses when a strange feeling came over him. He felt very cold. Jack shivered as he turned the pages. Then, in a corner, Jack saw the shadow again. This time Jack was sure it was an old man. The shadow paced back and forth in the room. Jack could tell the man was sad and restless. Jack looked around the room. He wondered where the shadow was coming from. When he turned around, the shadow was gone. Jack was very puzzled and began thinking about the painting. Could that be why the shadow was here? Perhaps I have not found the perfect place for it? Jack went to bed that night thinking about the painting and the ghostly shadows. He tossed and turned throughout the night. In the early morning Jack finally fell asleep. He had a dream about the old lighthouse again. This time the old man was looking out the window of the lighthouse. He was staring at the sea and watching the gulls dip and dive. The old man looked so happy. Jack awoke with a start. He knew exactly what he must do. Jack jumped out of bed and quickly got dressed. He took the painting down and carried it to his living room. Then he found the perfect place for the painting. It was directly across from his biggest window. Jack loved sitting in front of this window himself. He had watched the waves breaking on the rocks as the sun rose each morning. Jack hammered a nail into the wall and then he carefully hung the painting. He stepped back to see if it was straight. Then he turned around to look at the sea. Yes, he exclaimed, this is definitely the perfect place. That night, as Jack worked, he waited for the ghostly shadow to appear. But it never did. The shadow did not appear the next night or the night after that. Jack noticed that a certain sense of peace and calm had come over his house. He stopped dreaming about the old man and the lighthouse. Soon after the strange shadow had disappeared, Jack started working on a new project. He was writing a story about the painting and the ghostly shadow. Jack decided to start at the beginning. He described how he had found the little house by the sea. He wrote about meeting the old man at the gallery and how he chose the painting of the lighthouse. Then he came to the part about the warning from the owner of the gallery. I hope you have the perfect place for this painting, he had said. The old man's comment made Jack wonder, did he know all along that the painting was haunted, Jack thought? Did he know the painting belonged near the sea? Jack decided to take a break from his writing. He got up from his desk and walked over to the painting. Jack grabbed a cloth and dusted the wooden frame. Then he stopped to look at the picture. Jack noticed something he had never seen before. A man was standing on the platform of the lighthouse, looking out to the sea. This man looks almost like the shadow, Jack thought. Then he realized something else. It was the same man from his dreams. Houdini's great escape. Harry Houdini was probably the most famous magician of all time. People especially loved Harry Houdini's great escape tricks. He was famous for putting himself in great danger in escaping just in time. Houdini's assistants once wrapped him tightly in heavy chains. They locked the chains together and lowered him into a large pool of water. People in the audience could see through a window in the side of the tank. Houdini held his breath for a long time and just when the audience thought that he was about to drown, he escaped. He wiggled out of the chains, floated to the surface, and took a deep breath. The crowd cheered. Houdini performed hundreds of death-defying tricks like this one. But his most famous trick was the one he did from the grave after he was already dead. Houdini promised his wife Bess that he would contact her from beyond the grave. With his last breaths, Houdini whispered a secret message to Bess. The message contained 10 words, only she would know the coded message. This way, she would know it was really Harry speaking to her from beyond the grave. On Halloween night 1926, Harry Houdini died. Bess Houdini saw her husband do many spectacular tricks before his death. She believed he would find a way to contact her and give her a message. She kept a candle burning near a picture of her husband. Each year, she held a séance on Halloween. The séance is when a group of living people tried to talk to the spirits of people who have died. In 1929, a man named Arthur Ford came to the séance on Halloween. He said he was a medium. A medium was a person who speaks all the words that spirits want him to say. Ford held another candle in front of him. He closed his eyes and began to whisper and hum. His voice changed suddenly. Hello, Bess. Ford said in a very strange voice. The voice sounded just like Harry Houdini's voice, but this voice was far away. A cold breeze came through the open window and blew out a nearby candle. The table shook, and then Ford slowly said ten words. Roosevelt, Answer, Tell, Pray, Answer, Look, Tell, Answer, Answer, Tell. These were the exact words Houdini whispered to his wife on Halloween three years earlier. Bess was amazed. She believed her husband had reached out to her from beyond the grave. Did Houdini really figure out a way to speak to his wife from the spirit world? Or was the séance a hoax? If Arthur Ford was a fake, how did he know Houdini's message? The words in the message were a special code for letters of the alphabet. Each word stood for a different letter in the alphabet. In their secret code, the letters spelled the word believe. In 1929, newspapers printed many articles about the séance. Even though Houdini's message said to believe, many people did not believe it was real. One newspaper article said Bess Houdini and Arthur Ford planned the séance as a show to make money. Some believed that Ford and Bess Houdini made a deal. If she told him Harry Houdini's secret message, he would share some of his riches with her. In fact, Ford did become quite famous after the séance. Other people believed and still believe that Harry's spirit really did speak to Bess. Even today, people hold séances on Halloween night every year. They try to talk to Houdini. They want Houdini's spirit to reveal how he did such an amazing trick. They believe that if anyone could have escaped death, it would certainly be Harry Houdini, the greatest escape artist of all time. Ghost Cave Riley counted his workers and then yelled, line up, man! Riley was the foreman of a road construction crew. He had to make sure everybody reported for work. This morning, he counted an extra worker, a teenage boy. The boy stepped forward. My name's Tate. I'm here for the job. Riley studied the boy. He did not look healthy. He was skinny and pale. I can't have kids running around getting hurt, Riley said. I won't get hurt, sir, said Tate. I could do the work of three men. Tate grasped the bumper of Riley's truck with one hand. He took a deep breath and lifted the front of the truck off the ground. He took another breath and lifted it over his head. Riley laughed, okay, son, you've got the job. Tate worked hard all day. He never took a break. He did not stop for lunch. At the end of the day, Riley handed out pay envelopes to all the men. Tate put the envelope in his pocket and walked towards town. The next morning, Tate reported early for work. He worked very hard all day, collected his pay envelope, and then set off for home. On Saturday, Riley went into town for a haircut in a shave. So how is the work coming along? the barber asked. Fine, fine, said Riley. We've gotten more road dug the last few days than we have all summer. The barber raised his eyebrows. Is that so? What's causing your men to work so much faster all of a sudden? It's not the men, said Riley. It's a boy. I've got a new worker on the crew. He can't be more than 15 or 16. Maybe you know him. His name's Tate. Ah, yes, the barber nodded. Tate, he's an odd one he is. And you're right, he doesn't look older than 16, but he has to be at least 20, lived here all his life. You think that boy is 20? Riley asked. Ah, yes, said the barber. But the funny thing is, he doesn't seem to get any older. Once he got to be a teenager, he just stopped aging. He's even worn the same clothes for the last five or six years, and he never needs a haircut. Riley frowned. That's very strange. That guy should have a talk with him. Ah, leave him be, said the barber. He's a good boy. Works hard. He has to. His mom is sickly, and she needs him. Riley left the barber shop. Outside, he saw two women, Mrs. Mallory and Mrs. Winslow, chatting in front of the dress shop. Good day, ladies, he said. But the women were too involved in their conversation to notice him. The poor boy will miss his mama, Mrs. Winslow was saying. Poor Tate, said Mrs. Malloy. Tate? Riley wheeled around. Pardon me, I don't mean to eavesdrop, but you were just talking about a thin, fair-haired boy named Tate. Yes. His mother passed away this morning, said Mrs. Malloy. I'm sorry to hear that, said Riley. She's been sick for a very long time, said Mrs. Winslow. Last week she took a turn for the worse. She kept getting weaker and weaker. Mrs. Malloy nodded. It's a blessing, really, that poor old lady no longer has to suffer. But Tate will be heartbroken, said Mrs. Winslow. He adored his mother, said Mrs. Malloy. He spent all his time caring for her. It's as if he had no other purpose in life. I don't know what will become of the poor boy now. Suddenly Mrs. Malloy's son came running up. Mama, mama, the boy shrieked. You'll never guess what we saw. Slow down, Jimmy, said Mrs. Malloy. Tell me what happened. Jimmy took a deep breath. We were playing near the creek. Tate walked by. He looked funny. He was even paler than usual. I could see right through him. Jimmy, said Mrs. Malloy, don't make up stories. I'm not, said Jimmy. I tried to talk to him, but Tate walked past like he didn't even hear me. Probably thinking about his mother, said Mrs. Winslow. We followed him, Jimmy said. He went out past the old mill and down to the creek. Then he walked right into the ground. Jimmy, said Mrs. Malloy, it's true, said Jimmy. It was a cave. I never even knew it was there. Tate got paler and paler as he walked inside. Then he just disappeared. I gotta catch up with the other kids. They went to tell the sheriff. Jimmy raced down the street. Riley laughed. He has an active imagination. Tate is certainly pale, but I don't think he could actually disappear. A Monday morning Tate did not come to work. He did not like Tate to not show up for work. Then Riley remembered Jimmy's story. Riley put the crew to work, then set out down the road past the old mill. He saw that the sheriff had gotten to the cave before him. Came to see if Tate was okay, Riley told the sheriff. You're too late, the sheriff pointed inside the cave. There, right in the middle of the cave, was a skeleton. Tate's clothes and work boots were rotting in a heap around the brittle bones. That can't be, said Riley. He was working for me last week. The sheriff nodded. I've seen him around town too. I'd say this skeleton has been here about five years. Funny thing is, five years ago was just about the time Tate stopped getting older. He started looking paler and skinnier. I found this in his pocket. The sheriff unfolded a piece of paper. It's his mother's grocery bill, paid in full. Tate always did take good care of her. And he kept taking care of her even after he was dead, said Riley. He pointed to the date on the paper. Tate had paid the bill. On Saturday, the very day his mother died. I guess he can stop taking care of his mother now, said Riley. Well, I'm running out of stories to tell. I might be able to find a couple more in my files if you give me a moment to look. Do you really want to hear a couple more? Yeah? Okay, alright. Give me a couple minutes and I'll see what I can come up with. Weird darkness will be back in just a moment. My doc agrees that I need to lose a few pounds. I knew that going in, but he also told me that the meds I'm taking for my type 2 diabetes aren't going to do me much good if I finish each meal with ice cream or cheesecake. I kind of knew that in advance, too. But cutting back on carbs and sugars, it is a lot easier said than done. I've tried a lot of protein bars while on the road, but I swear it's like eating non-sweetened chocolate-dusted particle board. But now I travel with built bars. Built bars taste like candy bars. In fact, I'm now using them for my dessert. And at about 150 calories per bar, less than 3 grams of sugar, up to 19 grams of protein, I can satisfy my sweet cravings guilt-free. Visit WeirdDarkness.com slash Built in Try a Box. You can go for a variety pack of several flavors to try, or pick and choose to build a box of your own. Use the promo code WeirdDarkness at checkout and get 10% off your entire purchase. That's WeirdDarkness.com slash Built. The Wreckers' Daughter Sheenberg Cone Manor was a very large house on the rocky coastline of Devonshire in England. For 300 years it was haunted by the ghost of a young woman. One owner after another reported seeing the young woman. No one ever reported being afraid of the ghost, but no one ever knew who she was, not for 300 long years. Then, about 100 years ago, the owner of the house discovered a tiny room. It had been hidden away behind plaster walls for years. Inside the little room was the skeleton of a young woman. She was lying on a beautiful bed. She was still dressed in the clothes that she had worn more than 200 years before. The clothes had been soft and beautiful. But now, of course, they were dusty and fragile. The skeleton wore beautiful rings and necklaces that were now dark with age. But still, no one knew the woman's name. No one knew why she had been hidden away in this tiny room for so many years. The skeleton was soon buried in a small cemetery in the village. But the sad ghost continued to walk up and down the halls of the old house. Why was she there? In the 1600s, Chamber Cone Manor was owned by Thomas and Mary Oatway. The Oatways owned a little shop, but no one knew that the Oatways were Wreckers. During stormy weather, when the Oatways knew that a ship was sailing by the coastline, they would build a fire on the shore. The captain of the ship would think that the fire was a light to guide him to safety. He would sail his ship into the big rocks on the coast, and the ship would wreck, crashing into pieces. That's how they got the name Wreckers. The cargo would wash up on the shore, and the Oatways would gather all the valuable goods and store them in a cave. The cave led to a secret tunnel that went right into their house. No passengers or crew ever lived to tell the story. But one night long ago, the sky was black except for some streaks of lightning. Thomas searched the sea each time the lightning flashed. Ah, she's still there, he shouted. Maybe she has seen our fire. Pile on more wood. We must make a large light for the ship to see, Mary said. We need more goods for our store. Mary and Thomas piled more wood on the blazing fire so the heavy rain would not put it out. She's seen our fire, Thomas said. She thinks it's the safe channel. Mary and Thomas stood in the rain and wind. They watched the ship roll and toss on the waves. They heard the crunch of wood as the bow of the ship struck the rocks. There she is, Mary, Thomas yelled. She's wrecked. Mary thought she heard cries for help above the roar of the waves. She closed her eyes and put her hands over her ears. They began to search for the boxes and crates. Thomas said his lantern by his side to pick up the boxes. The yellow rays from the lantern fell on a still body, lying face down in a shallow pool of water. There's a woman here, Thomas called. I think she's alive. They pulled the woman from the water. Thomas leaned down and put his ear to her heart. She is alive, he said. Mary saw that the woman's face was badly cut from the jagged rocks. Her heart sank. She wanted to help this young woman. We can't leave her here, she said to Thomas. All right, Mary, we'll take the lady with us, Thomas said. He picked up the woman and carried her safely into the cave. They put the woman in Elizabeth's bedroom. Elizabeth was their daughter. Thirteen years ago, the young girl had run away. Life in the tiny village and work in the store was not very exciting for her. She'd not known about the fires, the shipwrecks, or the secret tunnel. They'd never received a letter from Elizabeth since then. Mary had cried for years before packing Elizabeth's clothes away. This woman and Elizabeth were about the same age. Mary sat by the woman laying still on the bed. She had cleaned her face and wrapped bandages around it. But there was nothing else Mary could do. The lady was dying. What can we do with her body? Mary asked. If we report her death, people will know that we are wreckers, Thomas said. They sat next to the young woman until she stopped breathing. The sun was shining brightly through the windows. We could bury her in our secret room, Mary said. Thomas thought for a while. You're right, Mary. We can plaster over the doorway and nobody would ever know that she's there. We'd be safe, he said. He lifted the woman's body and carried her to the secret room. Three days passed. Mary was pouring the tea when she heard a knock at the front door. Mary crossed through the hall and swung open the heavy door. Before her stood a tall, well-dressed man. His head was bandaged. His arm was in a sling. Mrs. Mary Oatway? He asked. Yes, I am Mary Oatway, Mary said. I'm afraid I have very bad news for you, a stranger said. May I please come in? Mary invited the stranger inside. They sat quietly and drank tea until the man broke the silence. Four days ago, I was on a ship from Ireland, but it sunk off your coast. I'm the only survivor, he said. Mary's face turned pale. Thomas gripped the arms of his chair. Did the man know that they had built the fire that caused that ship to wreck? I'm afraid I have some very bad news for you, he repeated. Your daughter, Elizabeth, ran away to Ireland 13 years ago. She married a wealthy Irish gentleman. I met her on that ship that sunk. She missed you terribly and was coming to visit. It was supposed to be a surprise. In the 1960s, construction workers were tearing down an old house in Ireland. They found a metal box. Inside the metal box was a letter addressed to the owners of Chamber Cone Manor, Cone Martin, Devonshire, England. The letter read, Before I die, I wish to confess my sins. My good wife is now dead. I cannot go unless someone knows what I have done. My wife and I lived for a number of years in Chamber Cone Manor. We were blessed with a beautiful daughter who ran away when she was still a girl. We caused a ship to wreck and killed our own daughter in the wreck. We placed her body in a secret room. We could no longer live in our house. We thought we saw our daughter's ghost in the house. We moved to Ireland so we could be near our grandchildren. Make God forgive us. Ghost Hunters It was Friday night. Jim Osborn crossed his fingers. He hoped nothing strange would happen at his restaurant that night. Friday night used to be the busiest night at Jim's Village Inn, but now very few people came to his restaurant. The week before, the cook had quit. How could I get the food ready? The cook had asked. The flame on the stove keeps blowing out. Food is missing from the cupboard. Every time I turn around, the freezer door opens. I can't stand it. The word was spreading around town that Jim's Village Inn was haunted. Jim watched as a family started to eat their dinner. The table shook and their plates crashed to the floor. Jim went to apologize for the mess. The family, of course, was shocked. They wanted an explanation, but Jim didn't have one. Jim picked up the phone. He dialed a number from a newspaper ad. Incident investigations, the voice answered. This is Jim Osborn. Jim said, I run Jim's Village Inn. I need your help. Close your restaurant early tonight, said the ghost hunter. I'll be there before midnight. Ghost hunters do their best work at night. They study poltergeists. Poltergeists are ghosts that like to knock things over. They make a lot of noise. Ghost hunters do not study every case they hear about. Some events can be easily explained. Sometimes people are just imagining things. But some cases are truly unusual. These cases demand an expert, and that's when the ghost hunter comes to investigate. In their investigations, ghost hunters use the tools of science. A ghost hunter's kit would contain a camera, a sound recorder, and a thermometer. Harry Price was a famous ghost hunter. He studied hundreds of haunted places. He did not believe a place was haunted until he could find scientific proof. Price wanted to get evidence that he could record. He studied a haunted place by spending the night in it. Price wanted to record sounds and watch for movement. He spread flour on the floor to detect footprints. He set up motion sensitive alarms that would wake him up. Sometimes tables shook, lamps fell over, or doors locked. There was nobody in the house, but Harry Price, and he had not moved. These were places that Harry Price proved were haunted. Other famous ghost hunters were some of history's most respected scientists. They started out wanting to prove that haunts were just silly stories, but their studies changed their minds. Sir William Crookes studied haunted houses in England during the 1800s. He attended many séances when people get together to try and talk to spirits. He saw and heard many things that science just could not explain. Today's ghost hunters have advanced machines. They are used to sense the slightest changes in temperature or movements in the air. Machines can help the ghost hunters see in the dark. They also help to give proof that other people can see and believe. Ghost hunters do not really hunt ghosts. There is nothing they can do to make ghosts go away. They hunt for proof in haunted places. Once they record ghostly activities or find no proof, their job is done. Their work proves that ghosts are hard track and impossible to trap. For these real life ghostbusters, the hunt continues. A ghost hunter proved that Jim's village in was inhabited by mischievous spirits. It's now called Jim's Haunted Inn. Every Friday night, people come from miles around to dine in the presence of a poltergeist. If you like the podcast and you haven't already subscribed, be sure to do so now so you don't miss future episodes. And also, please, tell someone else about the podcast. Recommend weird darkness to your friends, family and co-workers who love the paranormal, horror stories or true crime like you do. Every time you share the podcast with someone new, it helps spread the word about the show, and a growing audience makes it possible for me to keep creating episodes as often as I do. Plus, telling others about weird darkness also helps get the word out about resources that are available for those who suffer from depression, so please, share the podcast with someone today. A huge thanks to the website HowStuffWorks for providing the stories for this episode. I didn't get to tell all of the stories they had available though, so I've placed a link in the show notes to the original page if you'd like to see the rest. And also, thank you to Shadow's Symphony for generously supplying the background music for this episode. You can find a link to their Facebook page in the show notes as well. Weird Darkness Theme by Alibi Music And now that we're coming out of the dark, I'll leave you with a little light. First Peter 4, verse 10. Each of you should use whatever gift you have received to serve others as faithful stewards of God's grace in its various forms. And a final thought from Gene Houston. No matter the situation, never, ever let your emotions overpower your intelligence. I'm Darren Marlar. Thanks for joining me in the Weird Darkness.