 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 episode was originally aired on April 1, 2019, April Fool's Day. Many podcasts and YouTube channels today are taking advantage of the date on the calendar and playing practical jokes on their subscribers in celebration of All Fool's Day. And I'll admit I was tempted to begin a story and then rickroll you, but instead I thought it might be fun to bring some dark stories into today's podcast that have a funny or amusing twist to them. Still creepy, but comical as well. I don't believe any of these stories are actually true, but that doesn't mean that they're not entertaining. If you're new here, welcome to the show. While you're listening, be sure to check out WeirdDarkness.com for merchandise, my newsletter, to enter contests, to connect with me on social media. Plus, you can visit the Hope in the Darkness page if you're struggling with depression or dark thoughts. You can find all of that and more at WeirdDarkness.com. Now, bolt your doors, lock your windows, turn off your lights, and come with me into the Weird Darkness. If you travel to Bear Lake in Utah on a quiet day, you just might catch a glimpse of the Bear Lake monster. The monster looks like a huge brown snake and is nearly 90 feet long. It has ears that stick out from the side of its skinny head and a mouth big enough to eat a man. According to some, it has small legs and it kind of scurries when it ventures out on land, but in the water, watch out. It can swim faster than a horse can gallop, makes a mile a minute on a good day. Sometimes the monster likes to sneak up on unwary swimmers and blow water at them, the ones it doesn't carry off to eat, that is. A fella I heard about spotted the monster early one evening as he was walking along the lake. He tried to shoot it with his rifle. The man was a crack shot, but none of his bullets touched the monster. It scared the heck out of him and he hightailed it home faster than you can say Jack Robinson. His rifle behind him and claimed the monster ate it. Sometimes when the monster has been quiet for a while, people start saying it's gone for good. Some folks even dredge up that old tale that says how Pekos Bill heard about the Bear Lake monster and bet some cowpokes that he could wrestle that monster until it said Uncle. According to them folks, the fight lasted for days and created a hurricane around Bear Lake. Finally Bill flung that their monster over his shoulder and it flew so far it went plomb around the world and landed in Loch Ness where it lives to this day. Of course we know better than that. The Bear Lake monster is just hibernating. Keep your eyes open at dusk. Maybe you'll see it come out to feed. Just be careful swimming in the lake or you might be its next meal. The train rumbled around him as he adjusted the throttle. The night shift was always the toughest in the engineer's mind. It ruffled through tempas a few minutes ago and was on his way to Thatcher. Not a bad stretch of road and there was no better train in the entire Atchison, Topeka and Santa Fe railroad. He stretched a bit and yawned trying to stay alert and then he gasped. The lights had picked up the figure of a beautiful woman with long red gold hair and wonderful blue eyes standing near the tracks too near. He sounded his horn to warn her away and then he realized that the light was shining right through her. She was a ghost. She stepped into the center of the tracks laughing and beautiful. She disappeared seconds before the train rushed through her and then she was there in the engine cab next to him. The scent of roses filled the air. He stared at the ghostly vision bewitched by her beauty. With an enticing smile, she wrapped ghostly arms about his neck and kissed him, then was gone. Dazed and disappointed, the engineer finished the run to Thatcher in a trance completely forgetting to stop at the station. The fireman had to pour water on his head to snap him out of it. The engineer decided not to tell anyone about the ghost fearing for his job, but he was plagued by curiosity. Finally, he invited the story to a close friend who was a fellow engineer. To his surprise, the friend had heard about the ghost before. The ghost's appearance on the train was by no means uncommon. No one knew who the woman had been in life, but she always appeared on that stretch of track after dark, beckoning to the man on the railroad crew with a bewitching smile. Sometimes, said his friend, sometimes she would come right onto the train. Better not tell your wife about it, his friend advised. The engineer never did. There was an abandoned house sitting in the middle of a fancy neighborhood in Calgary that nobody would go near, and I mean nobody. Now, my pal Albert was the agent in charge of selling that haunted house, and he tried everything in his power to close the deal, but folks were too plumb scared to make an offer, even at rock bottom prices. Finally, Albert lit on the notion of selling the house right unseen to a rich city slicker from the States. Worked like a charm, too, until the day the city slicker decided he wanted to visit the property after all. Albert was all set to take the fellow there at high noon, but the city slicker's train was delayed, so it wasn't until after dinner that the two men set off for the haunted house. It was a dark and rainy night, but early enough in the evening that the ghost might still be resting. At least, Albert hoped this was the case. Albert unlocked the front door, and it opened with an ominous creak. Albert swallowed nervously, but the city slicker just chuckled and said something about atmosphere. Albert relaxed a bit and wondered if he shouldn't have raised the price a bit. The two men entered a tall foyer absolutely festooned with dusty cobwebs. Creepy, the city slicker said enthusiastically. He bounded energetically into the center of the foyer. Come to me foul spirits, he intoned loudly. Immediately the whole house rang with a sinister unearthly chuckle. Then an unearthly voice boomed, I'm coming down now. The city slicker jumped and then turned to Albert with a happy grin. Great special effects! How'd you do that? I didn't, Albert said, his teeth chattering. He backed up until he hit the front door and stood there with his hand on the knob. I'm coming down now. The voice boomed again, and the city slicker's grin slipped a bit. He looked at Albert's frightened posture and then followed the agent's gaze toward the stairs. A bright light exploded into being at the top of the steps and quickly resolved into a sinister green head with flaming eyes, writhing hair and fangs instead of teeth. The head opened its mouth and screamed a terrible, high-pitched sound that scraped across the nerves. As the head began rolling down the stairs toward the two men, Albert's nerve broke. In a moment later, he was halfway down the road, his own scream rivaling that of the specter in the house behind him. It wasn't until he was almost home that he realized he had company. The city slicker was running along beside him. Mr., I don't think I want that house after all! he panted. Why not? asked a hauntingly familiar voice. Albert and the city slicker looked over and saw the green head with flaming red eyes keeping pace with them as they raced down the street. The city slicker gave a screech that would have shamed a banshee and disappeared into the distance so fast there was no keeping up with him. Must have been the asking price, the floating head said conversationally to Albert. The real estate agent shrieked even louder than the city and ran away so fast that his shoes made sparks against the pavement. The next day, Albert quit his job and moved to Vancouver where he spent the rest of his life working on a fishing boat and the haunted house fell into ruin and was eventually torn down. Well now, old Sam Gibb, he didn't believe in ghosts, not one bit. Everyone in town knew the old log cabin back in the woods was haunted, but Sam Gibb just laughed whenever folks talked about it. Finally, the blacksmith dared Sam Gibb to spend the night in this haunted log cabin. If he stayed there until dawn, the blacksmith would buy him a whole cartload of watermelons. Sam, he was delighted. Watermelon was Sam's absolute favorite fruit. He accepted the dare at once, packed some matches at his pipe and went right over to the log cabin to spend the night. Sam went into the old log cabin, started a fire, lit his pipe, and settled into a rickety old chair with yesterday's newspaper. As he was reading he heard a creaking sound. Looking up, he saw that he gnarled little creature with glowing red eyes had taken the seat beside him. It had a long, forked tail, two horns on its head, claws at the end of its hands and sharp teeth that poked right through its large lips. There ain't nobody here tonight except you and me, the creature said to old Sam Gibb. It had a voice like the hiss of flames. Sam's heart nearly stopped with fright. He leapt to his feet. All right, gotta be nobody here but you in a minute, Sam Gibb told the gnarled creature. He leapt straight for the nearest exit, which happened to be the window, and hightailed it down the lane, lickety-split. He ran so fast he overtook two rabbits being chased by a coyote. But it wasn't long before he heard the pounding of little hooves of the gnarled creature with the red eyes caught up to him. You're making pretty good speed for an old man, said the creature to old Sam Gibb. Oh, I could run much faster than this, Sam Gibb told it. He took off like a bolt of lightning, leaving the gnarled creature in the dust. As he ran past the smithy, the blacksmith came flying out of the forge to see what was wrong. Never mind about them watermelons, Sam Gibb shouted to the blacksmith without breaking his stride. Old Sam Gibb ran all the way home and hid under his bed for the rest of the night. After that, he was a firm believer in ghosts and spooks, and he refused to go anywhere near the old cabin in the woods or watermelons. More fun April Fears Day stories coming up on Weird Darkness. There was once a crazy ghost over Pukipsy Way that got folks so plumb scared that nobody would stay more than one night in its house. It was a nice old place, or was, until the ghost began making its presence known. It got so nobody would enter the house, not even kids on a dare, and you know what they're like. Now, when my friend Joe heard a fancy old house in Pukipsy was selling dirt cheap, he decided to go have a look. He asked me about it, and I told him about the spook. But Joe just laughed, I don't believe in ghosts, he said, and he went to visit the agent selling the house. Well, the agent gave Joe a key, but refused to look at the old house with him, which should have told Joe something. But Joe is a stubborn man who won't listen to reason. He even waited until after dark to visit the house for the first time just to prove his point. But Joe got to the house around 9 p.m., and he entered the front hallway. There was a large entrance and well proportioned, but neglected looking with creepy cobwebs and dust everywhere. As Joe paused near the door to get his bearings, he heard a thump from the top of the staircase, facing him. A glowing leg appeared out of nowhere and rolled down the steps, landing right next to Joe's feet. Joe gasped out loud and stood frozen to the spot. An arm appeared and rolled down to meet the leg. Next came a foot, then another arm, then a hand. Glowing pieces of body kept popping into existence and plummeting down the steps towards Joe. Joe held his ground a lot longer than anyone else ever had, but when a screaming head appeared at the top of the steps and started rolling towards him, Joe had had enough. With a shriek that could wake the dead, those that weren't already up and haunting the house that is, Joe ran for his life, out of the house, out of the street, and right out of town, leaving his car behind him. He called me the next day and asked me to drive his car down to the hotel where he had spent the night. Joe was headed back to Manhattan and refused to come within 50 miles of the keepsie ever again. The agent gave up trying to sell the house after that and the house fell into ruin and was eventually torn down. A fisherman from Newfoundland was having difficulty finding someone to assist him. Help was scarce and he couldn't find a soul to hire. Then one day, he saw a handsome fellow in fancy city clothes walking along the docks. This was obviously not a man looking for work, but the fisherman still called out, half in jest, are you looking for some work? Well, it was a surprise the city man nodded and jumped into the boat. They agreed to split the catch into three parts, one for the city man, one for expenses, and one for the fisherman. Then they set out in the boat. At first, the skipper caught three fish to every fish caught by the city man. It was quite disgusted with his performance. At this rate, he would have done better fishing alone. So he said, am I supposed to catch all the fish for you? Why don't you catch some? Well, then, if it's the fish you're looking for, said the pesky stranger, how about these? He grabbed the fish gaff and smacked the port side of the vessel three times. Come aboard, fish, he shouted. Immediately, fish of every shape and size came leaping out of the water on the port side and flopped into the bottom of the boat. The stranger then hit the starboard side of the boat three times and fish came hopping and flopping in from that direction. Until the boat was so full, the skipper could barely see the stranger over the mound of fish. Stop or you'll drown us both. He shouted to the city man. Well, that pesky cityfeller held up the fish gaff and immediately the fish stopped jumping into the boat. The skipper eyed the catch and then grinned in delight at the city man. I wish I'd brought a spot of rum. He cried enthusiastically. We should celebrate this fine catch. A spot of rum coming up, said the pesky fellow. He bore a hole into the mast with a little gimlet he took from his pocket and out poured enough rum to fill a mug. Then he bore a second hole into the mast and poured himself some whiskey. By this time, the skipper was marveling at the magic produced by this pesky cityfellow, but he wasn't about to ask how he pulled off such stupendous tricks. He was just grateful to benefit from them. He topped off his rum from the hole in the mast and then turned the boat towards shore. The stranger wanted to steer, but the skipper, he wasn't sure where that pesky fellow would take his boat, so he politely declined that offer and the man grinned knowingly and poured himself some more whiskey. When they reached the docks, the two men sat down and started dividing the catch between them. Lay out one for you, one for expenses, and one for the devil, the pesky cityfellow said with a lazy grin. So that was what the skipper did. He made three piles and they kept throwing the fish one at a time into a pile chanting, one for me, one for expenses, one for the devil, until the entire catch was divided. The skipper put the devil's portion on a wooden rack called a stage that was used for drying fish. Much obliged, said the pesky fellow with a happy grin. He kicked over the stage, leapt into the sea with his portion of the catch, and the whole kitten caboodle disappeared in a puff of smoke. The skipper shook his head a few times. Then he went back to the mast to pour himself some more rum, but both of the boreholes had disappeared, along with the pesky fellow. I came home late one night after work and found my wife Ethel pottering about the kitchen with a big yellow cat at her heels. And who is this? I asked jovially. This is our new cat, said Ethel, giving me a hug and a kiss to welcome me home. She just appeared at the kitchen door and wanted to come in. None of the neighbors know where she came from, so I guess she's ours. It'll be nice to have some company around the house. I bent down and scratched the yellow cat onto the chin. She purred and stretched. Well, I think our income can stretch far enough to feed three, I said. My son had taken over my job at the mercantile and my wife and I were enjoying a leisurely old age. I like to keep busy, though, and so I spent a few hours every day cutting and hauling wood to be used at the mill. I went out to milk the cow, and when I came back in Ethel gave the cat some cream and a saucer. We sat on the porch after dinner and the cat sat with us. You are a very nice kitty, I said to her. She purred loudly. Donald, Ethel said. She sounded worried. I turned to look at her. The neighbors acted rather oddly when I told them about the cat. They seemed to think she was a ghost or a witch of some sort, transformed into a cat. They told me to get rid of her. A witch, I asked a laughed heartily. Are you a witch, you little cat? The cat yawned and stretched. Reluctantly, Ethel started to laugh with me. It seemed such a ludicrous notion. We sat watching the beautiful sunset and then took ourselves to bed. The cat quickly became an essential part of our household. She would purr us awake each morning and would beg for cream when I brought in the morning's milking. She followed Ethel around supervising her work during the day and would sit by the fire at night while we read aloud. The days became shorter, as Autumn approached, and often I'd work until nearly sunset, cutting and hauling wood. One night in October, I didn't finish hauling my last load until dusk. As soon as I piled the last log, I started down the road hoping to get home before dark since I hadn't brought a lantern with me. I rounded a corner and saw a group of black cats standing in the middle of the road. They were nearly invisible in the growing dark. As I drew nearer, I saw that they were carrying a stretcher between them. I stopped and rubbed my eyes. That was impossible. When I looked again, the stretcher was still there and there was a little dead cat lying on it. I was astonished. It must be a trick of a light, I thought. Then one of the cats called out, Sir, please tell Aunt Ken that Polly Grundy is dead. My mouth dropped open in shock. I shook my head hard, not believing my ears. How ridiculous, I thought. Cats don't talk. I hurried past the little group, carefully looking the other way. I must be working too hard, I thought. But I couldn't help wondering who Aunt Ken might be and why the cat wanted me to tell her Polly Grundy was dead. Was Polly Grundy the name of the cat on the stretcher? Suddenly I was confronted by a small black cat. It was standing directly in front of me. I stopped and looked down at it. It looked back at me with large, green eyes that seemed to glow in the fading light. I have a message for Aunt Ken, the cat said. Tell her that Polly Grundy is dead. The cat stalked past me and went to join the other cats grouped around the stretcher. I was completely nonplussed. This was getting very spooky, talking cats and a dead Polly Grundy and who was Aunt Ken? I hurried away as fast as I could walk. Around me the woods were getting darker and darker. I didn't want to stay in that wood with a group of talking cats, not that I really believed the cats had spoken. It was all a strange, waking dream brought on by too much work. Behind me the cats gave a strange shriek and called out together, old man, tell Aunt Ken that Polly Grundy is dead. Well, I'd had enough. I sprinted for home as fast as I could, and I didn't stop until I'd reached the safety of my porch. I paused to catch my breath. I didn't want to explain to Ethel that I was seeing and hearing impossible things. She dosed me with castor oil and called the doctor. When I was sufficiently composed I went into the house and tried to act normally. I should have known it wouldn't work. Ethel and I had been married for thirty years. She knew me inside and out. She didn't say anything until I'd finished the chores. Then she sat me down in front of the fire and brought me my supper. After I'd taken a few bites and started to relax, she said, Tell me about it, Donald. I don't want to worry you, I said, reluctant to talk about what I'd seen and heard on the way home. The yellow cat was lying by the fire. She looked up when she heard my voice and came to sit by my chair. I offered her a morsel of food, which she accepted daintily. I'll worry more if you don't tell me, said Ethel. I think maybe something is wrong with my brain, I said. While I was walking home, I thought I saw a group of black cats carrying a stretcher with a dead cat on it. And then I thought I heard the cats talking to me. They asked me to tell Aunt Can that Polly Grundy was dead. The yellow cat leapt up onto the window sill. Polly Grundy is dead? She cried that I am the queen of the witches. She switched her tail and the window flew open with a bang. The yellow cat leapt through it and disappeared into the night, never to return. Ethel had to dump an entire bucket of water over my head to revive me from my faint. The good news, she told me when I sat up, dripping and swearing because the water was ice cold, is that you have nothing wrong with your brain. The bad news is that our cat has just left us to become the queen of the witches. We'll have to get another cat. Ah, no, I said immediately, I've had enough of cats. We got a dog. The boy had been out looking for work all day with no luck. When night fell, he was far from home. He decided to spend the night in an empty, run-down house. The minute he laid down, he fell into a sound sleep. The boy was awakened quite suddenly by a thump on the roof. With a pounding heart, he sat up and lit a candle. A voice called out, I'm falling down. The boy scrambled out of the way, just as a skeletal arm came crashing to the floor. The voice shouted again, I'm falling down. And another arm landed beside the first. Then a leg, the chest and a second leg. Before he could count to ten, a complete skeleton was standing in front of him, grinning madly. The boy lifted his chin and grinned back, determined not to show his fear. The skeleton was delighted by the boy's spirit and said, You have courage, son. Are you brave enough to wrestle me? The boy was terrified, but he did not dare refuse this strange apparition. The skeleton and the boy wrestled back and forth, up and down the room. Remembering a trick his older brother had taught him, he twisted suddenly and threw the skeleton onto the ground. You've won, the skeleton said. Such courage deserves a reward. Come, I will give you my treasure. The boy was startled. What kind of a treasure could an old skeleton have? Pick me up and carry me on your back to the next room, said the skeleton. Remember to take your candle. The boy picked up the skeleton and put it on his back. Then he retrieved his candle from the corner of the room and carried the skeleton into the next room. As they passed through the doorway, the skeleton blew out the candle. Now stop that, the boy said, annoyed. The skeleton cackled madly. The boy let the candle again and the skeleton blew it out. I'm going to drop you, the boy threatened. He let the candle again and again the skeleton blew it out. The boy dropped the skeleton onto the floor. I will break all your bones, he said. Impressed, the skeleton replied, You are so courageous and strong, I will let you see my treasure. The boy let the candle again and turned to look into the room. It was filled with piles and piles of gold and silver and jewels. I want you to promise me something, the skeleton said. The boy drew his gaze reluctantly from the magnificent treasure and looked at the skeleton. I want you to promise me that you will gather all the poor people you can find in one day and give them each a bag of money, the rest you can keep for yourself. It would be a good thing to share this wealth with the needy, the boy decided, so he agreed to do what the skeleton had asked. The skeleton gave a happy laugh and began to disappear piece by piece, first his head, then his leg, then his chest, then his other leg, so on until he was gone. The boy did just as he had promised, and when he had finished his task, he took the rest of the treasure back to his family. They lived in comfort all their days. More April Fears Day stories coming up. Tommy knockers are the spirits of departed miners that help miners find one. They also knock on the walls of the mines right before a cave in. When you hear a tommy knocker knocking, it is best to depart the area right quick. They have saved the life of many a miner who has been in danger. Some folks say that the very first man to hear the sound is jinxed, but that is not always the case. It is important to stay on the good side of the tommy knockers. Many miners leave a bit of their lunch for the spirits, and to please them, they fashion the little clay figures of their spirits. The tommy knockers can be spiteful creatures if they don't like you. One unlucky miner named Eddie became a target of the tommy knockers. They drove him crazy, pelting him with stones, stealing his tools, blowing out his lantern. He couldn't figure out why the tommy knockers had singled him out until one day he heard a voice calling to him from the dark opening of a nearby shaft. Eddie, I want my five dollars, the tommy knocker said. Eddie was so startled he dropped his tools all over the ground. The voice sounded just like that of his old friend Joe who had died in a cave in a few months back. Eddie had borrowed five dollars from Joe and had never returned it. Eddie went into the shaft and sure enough, there was Joe Trelawney's ghost, shrunk to the size of a two-foot dwarf with a big, ugly head, large ears and a crooked nose, but it was still Joe. He wore a peat hat, a leather jacket, and water-soaked leather boots. The tommy knocker was not pleased to see Eddie. Give me back my five dollars, Eddie, the ghost of his old friend demanded. I don't have any money on me, Joe, Eddie said, patting his pockets for emphasis. I've heard that before, said the tommy knocker, dryly. I didn't believe it then and I don't believe it now. The tommy knocker disappeared into thin air, leaving an uneasy Eddie to wonder what the ghost would do next. He soon found out. All day long, Eddie was plagued by the tommy knocker. His ladder was shaken so hard that he almost fell. The loud tapping noise of an invisible drill nearly drove him mad. He just missed being buried by a rockfall. And through it all, Joe's voice would taunt him. Give me back my five dollars, Eddie. All right, Joe, all right. Eddie finally yelled into the mouth of the tunnel where his friend had appeared, I'll get you your bloody five dollars. Abandoning his work for the day, Eddie made the long climb to the surface and took five silver dollars from the money box he kept under a loose board in his bedroom. Then he climbed back down into the mine and stuck the five dollars into a crack in the wall next to the place Joe's spirit had appeared to him. There's your five dollars, Joe, Eddie shouted, his voice echoing oddly in the dark tunnel. It's about bloody time, Joe said, appearing next to him and peering critically into the crack where the money lay. Are you going to leave me alone now? Eddie asked. The tommy knocker grinned impishly at Eddie. Maybe, he said, he scooped up the five silver dollars and disappeared into the dark. The preacher was writing to one of the churches on his circuit when darkness fell. It was about to storm and the only house nearby was an old mansion which was reputed to be haunted. The preacher clutched his Bible and said, the law will take care of me. He went into the mansion just as the storm broke. He put his horse into the barn and made his way into the house. The door was unlocked. He went into a large room which contained a fireplace that filled one wall. There was wood laid out for a fire. He laid a match to it. Then the preacher sat down to read his Bible. Gradually the fire burnt down to a heap of coals as the storm howled around the mansion. The preacher was roused from his reading by a sound. He looked up from his Bible. A very large black cat was stretching itself. Then it walked to the fire and sat down among the red hot coals. It picked a coal up in its paw and licked it slowly. The cat got up, shook off the ashes and walked to the foot of the preacher's chair. It fixed blazing yellow eyes upon him, black tail lashing and said quietly, wait until Emmett comes. The preacher jumped from Genesis to Matthew in shock. He'd never heard of a cat talking before. Nervously he kept reading his Bible muttering to himself, the law will take care of me. Two minutes later another cat came into the room. It was black as midnight and as large as the biggest dog. It lay down among the red hot coals, lazily batting them with enormous pause. Then it walked over to the other cat and said, what shall we do with him? The first cat replied, we should not do anything until Emmett comes. The two cats, black as midnight, sat watching the preacher who read through the gospels at top speed, aware of blazing yellow eyes watching him the entire time. A third cat, big as a tiger, entered the room. It went to the fire full of red hot coals and rolled among them, chewing them and spitting them out. Then it came to the other two cats facing the preacher in the chair. What shall we do with him? It growled to the others. We should not do anything until Emmett comes. The other cats replied together. The preacher flipped to revelation, looking furtively around the room. He closed the Bible and stood up. Good night, cats. I was glad of you company, but whenever it comes, you don't tell him I've been here and went. One dark, windy night, the town drunk was meandering his way home after the bar closed. Somehow he got turned around and ended up walking through the churchyard instead of taking the road home. The wind picked up and he thought he could hear a voice calling his name. Suddenly the ground opened up in front of him and he fell down down into an open grave. He could hear the voice clearer now, calling to him. He knew it was the devil coming for him just like the preacher said he would on account of him being the town drunk. The hole was very deep and inside it was pitch black. His eyes adjusted to the darkness after a few moments and he made out a form sitting in the darkness with him. It called his name and he scrambled away in fear, trying to climb out of that terrible grave. Then the figure spoke. He can't get out, it said. The drunk gave a shout of pure terror and leapt straight up more than six feet. He caught the edge of the hole in his hands, scrambled out, and ran for home as fast as he could. Inside the open grave is neighbor Charlie, sighed in resignation. He'd fallen into the hole a few minutes before his friend and thought that together they might be able to help each other climb out. Now he was going to have to wait until morning and get the mortician to bring him a ladder. Everyone laughed at Jumpy Uncle Phil, who believed the world was largely populated with monsters and ghosts and spooks and witches and werewolves, but he was considered harmless and no one much bothered about the poor fella until one summer when a new family moved to town with two naughty sons. As soon as they learned about Jumpy Uncle Phil, those boys became obsessed with tormenting him. They snuck out to his place one night and painted hex signs all over his barn. When Uncle Phil woke up the next morning, he ran all the way to the church, sure the devil was out to steal his soul away. The old man wouldn't leave until the minister went out and blessed his house. A week later, the boys gathered all the black cats in town they could find and put them into Uncle Phil's house. When Uncle Phil opened the door, fur flew everywhere as the black cats hissed and bit. Uncle Phil ran back to the church and the minister had to bless the man's house all over again. Then one night they stuck in Uncle Phil's house through the parlor window, dragging a scarecrow with them. They set up the scarecrow so that it loomed over the poor sleeping man. Then they sunk out and positioned the lantern on a tree branch so that the light illuminated the scarecrow's face. The boys started moaning and groaning and calling Uncle Phil's name from the yard outside his bedroom window. Uncle Phil woke with a gasp and then screamed in sheer terror. Leaping off the bed, he dove out of his bedroom window and climbed into the tree. Below him, the lantern fell to the ground, setting fire to the woodpile beside the house. The boys stopped laughing and ran to the barn for something to put out the fire. Together, they managed to put it out, but the side of the house was scorched. The boys snuck into the house and removed the scarecrow before hightailing at home. In the morning, Uncle Phil had come down from the top of the tree and went to fetch the preacher. Uncle Phil was sure the devil would come to his house again and tried to take away his soul. The minister had to perform a third ritual cleansing of the farm before Uncle Phil would return to his property. The boys figured they'd better lay low for a while after the fire, so life went back to normal for Uncle Phil. Then, about a month after the devil's visit, Uncle Phil passed away in his sleep and the boys were sure it was their fault. They felt terrible about it, but what could they do? Uncle Phil was gone. Two weeks after Uncle Phil's death, the boys woke to find their bedroom full of black cats. The boys were alarmed and could not convince their parents that they did not know how the cats got there. Then the boys came home from school one afternoon to find hex signs painted on their barn. The boys yelled in terror and ran inside their house completely spooked. Later that night, the boys woke to hear a voice moaning their names. They sat up in their beds and saw the illuminated figure of a scarecrow looming in the center of their room. The boys screamed in terror. I have come for your soul, it moaned, waving its arms about. The boys screamed again. Then the scarecrow started laughing. One arm reached up and snatched off the scarecrow's head, revealing the glowing, partially transparent face of Uncle Phil. Gotcha! said the ghost of Uncle Phil with a huge grin. After all, turn about his fair play. Laughing and crying, the boys had to agree. And they never played a practical joke on anyone else ever again. Thanks for listening. If you like the show, please share it with someone you know who loves the paranormal or strange stories, true crime, monsters or unsolved mysteries like you do. And please leave a rating and review of the show and the podcast app you listen from. Doing so helps the show to get noticed. You can also email me anytime with your questions or comments through the website at WeirdDarkness.com. That's also where you can find all of my social media, listen to free audiobooks that I've narrated, shop the Weird Darkness store, sign up for the email newsletter, find other podcasts that I host, and find the Hope in the Darkness page if you or someone you know is struggling with depression or dark thoughts. Plus, if you have a true paranormal or creepy tale to tell of your own, you can click on Tell Your Story. All stories in this episode were gathered and rewritten by S.E. Schlosser. You can find links to all of the books that these stories are pulled from in the show notes. Weird Darkness is a production and trademark of Marlarhouse Productions. Copyright, Weird Darkness. And now that we're coming out of the dark, I'll leave you with a little light. 1 Corinthians 1 verse 25, For the foolishness of God is wiser than man's wisdom, and the weakness of God is stronger than man's strength. And a final thought, your journey will be much lighter and easier if you don't carry your past with you. I'm Darren Marlar. Thanks for joining me in the Weird Darkness.