 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, crime, conspiracy, mysterious, macabre, unsolved and unexplained. If you're new here, welcome to the show and if you're already a member of this Weirdo family, please take a moment and invite someone else to listen. Recommending Weird Darkness to others helps make it possible for me to keep doing the show and while you're listening, be sure to check out WeirdDarkness.com where you can find me on Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, Mines, Miwi and more. Due to the migraine I'm dealing with today, this episode is a Dark Archives episode with stories from 2017, 2018 and 2019. Now, hold your doors, lock your windows, turn off your lights and come with me into the Weird Darkness. It was time to head over to my favorite hangout, the Skyliner Diner. Once again, it would be a very enlightening late night listening to Jake Griffin. This story session would be quite different though. Jake had alluded to me at our last meeting that he had a very strange case to tell me about. It would be a somewhat difficult story to tell but he needed to get it off his chest. Pulling into the parking lot, I could see that there were very few patrons. Jake's old pickup was parked in its usual spot. Turning off my car's ignition, I casually walked up to the front door already smelling the intoxicating aroma of the hamburgers and chili before I even pulled the door open. I placed my order and walked back to Jake's booth. Hi, Jake, I said. Oh, hi, Roger. How was your shift this evening? asked Jake. Um, okay, I guess. I want to know that I've been thinking about you telling me of that weird encounter back in 1975, I said excitedly. Oh, yes, that investigation. Yeah, I'll tell you about it, said Jake, somewhat reluctantly. Jake took a sip of his black coffee and I sat back into my seat firmly. Little did I know this weird tale would shake me to the core. This encounter happened back in the fall of 75. Now officially, the USAF was not investigating UFOs by that time, said Jake with a nervous chuckle. But unofficially, they were still active. We kept a real low profile on this one. I met with the individual involved. We'll call him Ted. Now, Ted was a young college student who was majoring in drafting. He was very articulate and intelligent, so his claims were definitely taken seriously. His account is as follows. Driving home late one evening from a study group meeting. I was on a two lane highway just five miles from my house. I was listening to a tune on the radio and well, it being my favorite, I knew how long it was. It was perfectly timed to last me to my house. Suddenly, everything changed. Reality had been peeled away exposing a surreal hypnotic state. It was as if I had been floating. I felt a bit disoriented. Then a thick fog started to form enveloping my car. It was the strangest thing. The fog was multicolored. I had to pull over into a gravel parking lot of an old abandoned business. Then it got even more unusual. A craft about the size of a large truck hovered in a nearby field. I could see it as a blurry ellipse. The fog started to clear a little as it got closer. I was frozen in terror. I found myself later on in town by a neighbor who was out walking his dog. My car was where I had left it. The strange thing is I couldn't remember anything from the time of that appearance of the craft till my neighbor found me lying on the courthouse lawn. I was taken to the hospital and checked over thoroughly. I was found out to be fine except for being a little weak, but the dreams started within a day or two of the event. I was consumed by them and the dreams were getting more and more gruesome and dark. Images of beings and strange noises. I was forced to drop my glasses. This definitely did not make matters any better. I intervened by getting Ted to see a regression therapist. I knew this wasn't going to be easy for him or his loved ones. Now the session is where things get deep. Jake took another sip from his coffee. Clearing his throat, Jake continued. Besides Ted, it was just the therapist and me in a quiet room with no windows. There was a single bed for Ted to lie on. The room was devoid of any pictures or any decorations. It was what you would call a sterile environment. I was in a separate, glassed-in room, but I could hear everything as I had to take notes. The doctor soon had Ted in a relaxed, hypnotic state and he started to recall the chilling details of that evening. Everything was going smoothly. Ted was offering no hesitation at that point. He was talking about the craft and how a beam of light shocked him. His tone changed dramatically, suddenly. Ted started to scream loudly. It's got me. It's taking me. Briefly pausing, Jake continued. The doctor asked, How do you feel now, Ted? Ted, my body is completely numb. I'm floating up to the craft. Oh no! Get away! Stay away from me! Calm down, Ted, the doctor said. Just take a deep breath and wait a moment. Okay, the doctor. His breathing was slowing a little. The doctor proceeded slowly with the next set of questions. Here's where it really gets hairy. I could feel my skin tingle and the hair on my neck rise as Jake continued. Ted started to act out suddenly, violently shaking and then he floated above the bed almost six inches. Jake's face went flush as he continued. I shifted on easily in my seat. The startled doctor backed up quickly across the room. Ted screamed so loud the glass vibrated. I'm burning up! They're injecting me! Stop it! No! Ted's body spun around and fell to the floor covered in sweat. I ran out of the small room. Ted was face down on the floor and was very pale. His heart was racing. The doctor immediately notified the hospital and an ambulance arrived soon afterward. I have never seen anything like it before or since. Ted was taken to the hospital. He was in a coma for a week and showed no signs of recovery. His organs started to reject his body and his kidneys started to shut down. His breathing grew more and more labored. He passed away early in the morning. Blood tests as well as other tests were inconclusive. The doctors were truly stumped. His cause of death was listed as unexplained. This case always bothered me the most. There is not a shred of rational thought to quietly explain it away. I was at a loss for weeks afterward. Jake was shaking his head. I had let Ted down. But then I found hope in another investigation that might help explain what happened to Ted. I could see tears gathering in Jake's eyes. I patted him on the shoulder. He paused and then continued. I was en route to interview this other abductee but a fate was not kind this time either. The person died in a one car accident just an hour before I was to meet with them. I don't like these kinds of coincidences, especially in my line of work. As far as answers, well, some might say it was a form of psychokinesis. Maybe the aliens injected him with some powerful drug and these were the side effects. Others would just say it was illusion of sorts, a freak convulsion or seizure that took Ted's life. Hopefully I'll be able to answer all these questions. Someday, I was taken back for a while. I chatted with Jake about other things in the news and felt very unsure going home at this late hour, especially with the fog rolling in now. There are very few among those with a love for the supernatural who don't also have a passion for Edgar Allen Poe. Poe wasn't simply a melancholy author who wrote about premature burials, sinister black hats and talking ravens. He was much more. If you've ever read a modern mystery or horror novel, you can thank Poe. Poe invented the modern mystery story, mostly invented science fiction and was the first writer to take the horror stories of the Gothic era and set them in modern times, starting a trend that continues today. With a lifelong interest in Poe, Troy Taylor decided to take his own look at the mysterious and macabre writer, his tragic life, unexplained death and lingering hauntings. He invites listeners along to delve into the strange and bizarre world of Edgar Allen Poe, from his early life to his tragic marriage, his insane grief, his dramatically failed career, his links to an unsolved murder and the mystery of what happened to the writer in the five days before his unexplained death. Even more than a century and a half later, no one knows what happened to Poe before he was found delirious on the streets of Baltimore, Maryland or what killed him. Why did he disappear and then show up in an incoherent state, wearing another man's clothes? Where did he go when he vanished and who was the mysterious Reynolds that Poe whispered about in his dying breath? And perhaps strangest of all, does he haunt the mysterious graveyard where his body is buried? Nevermore the haunted life and mysterious death of Edgar Allen Poe, written by Troy Taylor, narrated by Darren Marlar. Find a link to the book on the audiobooks page at WeirdDarkness.com. Years have passed since I lived in the Cloverdale home. The year, late fall 2010. About five years or so since the last time I was near or stepped foot into the home. Myself and a giant group of about nine other friends returned to the house. Still ramshackled with mold. Up for sale by the bank as we were bought out. We returned to play airsoft in the very woods where something with red eyes stalked us. Older, wiser into the world of the supernatural and with daylight on our side, we didn't care. We had an awesome four hour airsoft battle and as the light of the day was running out, most of my friends left except myself and two others. A former neighbor of mine was playing airsoft as well and he explains to me somehow every night a light would be on inside the home. I catch up with my friend more personally and we end up having a bonfire at his house. Around 12 a.m. we notice the house's outside lights are somehow on like a zapper calling bugs to their doom. We decide to check it out. I do not encourage breaking or entering into any paranormal area ever. Luckily, we don't have to as the front door was open. We step into the house carefully not knowing where the mold was. Years of scary and sad memories flash within me as we get to the main living room dining area. It was the last place I ever saw my dog Koko. We had to put her down when we moved. She got too old, blind and leaped. I began crying. Ice crystals were all over the walls with it being almost winter and very cold out. We had flashlights as the old curtains were still covering the windows and it was just not safe to be in there in the dark. Plus, yeah, it was pitch black outside. Suddenly that sense of experiencing paranormal so much didn't mean anything. My limited faith at the time and many experiences since first living in that home did not matter. The walking upstairs started slowly, then more rapid, like being left alone and getting worked up. My friend from next door had a camera with a light built in recording the craziness, something I was never brave enough to do the first time I lived there. We turned around due to a bang on the front window. The porch light shuts off. There was clearly no heat and there wasn't supposed to be power on when a realtor or someone from the bank wasn't there. The power grid or circuit box was all the way in the basement where the mold was. It was at this time we removed our white face masks from our faces as the room started to spin. Heavy pressure like I've felt in other haunted places starts to kick in. At this point I've been doing investigations almost full time since 2007. Having a car in all helps but my initial childlike stage sets in screaming at me to get the hell out of there, jump in my car and bail. But we were recording this time. I had the chance to prove this home was haunted. We both sucked it up and went towards the door leading to the dreaded upstairs. Locked, no luck. Starting to feel sick we walk towards the front door to leave when the door to upstairs jiggles, something I've never seen before or since then happens. My friend's camera light dies then shuts off completely. The feeling wasn't demonic but it wasn't welcoming. It felt like we've been waiting for you. I have been waiting for you. It's about time you were here. I need to say hi then you're gone for good. I say we because it wasn't an old man this time. It felt like many eyes were watching us from the middle floor hallway and kitchen areas. We start to back up seriously quick now as my flashlight goes out. Clearly something was sucking up the energy from our electronics. We hear a knock like a before you leave let's get a look at you. The door leading to upstairs opens slowly. Both of us stunned in fear. This time that familiar sense that you have to look in this room feeling was back. The sense of others watching was gone. Just this little crack in the door that was locked had our attention. My friend utters a few swear words and opens the door to the front porch yelling at me to come on. As I go to turn I hear something say hey the door to the upstairs slam shut and I run out the door back to my neighbor's property. Looking through the trees next door at that red brick house we used to play in as kids get terrified by when we were teens now freaked out beyond belief staring at the red brick at the cold frosted windows. I insist my friend walks to the back of the house with me to see me off as I didn't want to go alone. I hop in my Mustang and pull away my friend walking to the side of the car with me. I tell him thank you for the bonfire. Stopping my car I see him get back into his house safely. Neither of us acknowledged we were beyond terrified. So I stopped without him asking but he waved and nodded thank you. I began to pull away once again leaving the house that just terrified me. The front porch light comes back on almost like an effort to get me to come back. Now I'm zooming away from the house down the long driveway. I turn out cloverdale road and stop with the scary woods to my left front neighbor's house to my right. But my old red haunted house still in view. The light flashes twice and shuts off as if it was saying goodbye. I drive away scared and now sad again. Flash forward a year. The house is mold free for sale. I would drive past it on the way back to work in Bloomingdale. Another year passes and I see something I never thought possible. The house was sold and it was a priest who bought the home standing out by the road with some realtor removing the sold sign. I thought it was a joke like the day I picked to drive down cloverdale in a long time just so happens to be the same time the new owner of my former house that is haunted picked to remove his sold sign. I freaked out so I called my former neighbor to the left of that house and he confirmed a priest just moved into the home two days ago. Funny world. I don't know. Funny story about that one though. Just a month later I drive past again for sale sign back up. Not a sign of life at the home. I thought to myself even if a priest lived there it wouldn't stop whatever was haunting it. I called my friend. He informs me after several nightmares the priest left in the middle of the night. He never stepped back in the home. My former neighbor sends me pics of the priest standing outside and sitting in his car while movers were going in and out of the truck. He said the last thing the priest did was show the home his rosaries and stood there for two minutes before leaving. Even a priest couldn't handle the darkness in that home. I drove past the home recently and it seems to have been bought. Informed as of 2015 a new family with young kids had moved in. I decided to not dig deeper into it. I often drive past to this day afraid for the family getting vivid daydreams of what happened in there. I have not set foot inside that home in many years but when I do feel like driving by it I only do so in the day. Sadly daylight couldn't keep that house from being haunted and night only made the weird things going on inside darker. My name is Emma. Ever since I was a child I knew there was something wrong with me. I knew there was something following me and every so often I would get to see glimpses of it. When I was a little girl I thought of it as a little girl, my imaginary friend of sorts. When I was happy she was happy. When I was sad so was she. We did everything together and I was excited to be her friend that is till I stopped listening and playing with her then she started to hurt me. First with scratches and cuts then she would push me off of my swing set. The only time I would be away from her torment was those few hours I had to go to school. It went on like this for many years till I became a mother myself. My first born son would wake up screaming in the middle of the night and have the same scratches I had growing up. Once when my son was three I had woken up to what I thought was him talking and crying. Thinking he was playing I went into his room and he was hidden under his bed in his blankets on top of him. He poked his little head out when I asked him what he was doing and he told me Baba the little girl won't let me sleep she said it was your fault. So I picked him up and brought him to my room to rest and I went and called my mom to come over. I was freaked and hour later my mother was smudging my home anointing it with oil when she ran from my son's room and told me there was a little girl staring at her from outside my son's window. The problem with this is that I lived on the fourth floor of an apartment complex with no ledges for anyone to stand on. After my son and mother saw this little being and described her as a bloody, eyeless, toothless girl around six or so I left that place. I had my house I live in now blessed so that this thing won't hurt my family anymore. Moving to the woods near the lake seemed like realizing a lifelong dream or that's what I thought. I purchased a 16 year old camper situated it on top of a mountain behind a tall barn. If I were hiding from the mob or a zombie invasion I couldn't have picked a better spot. Surrounded by hundreds of sycamore trees anyone who has seen them realizes they are hardly known for their vast shady foliage. They have dry peeling bark and sporadic limbs filled with green, pointy stick branches that drip sap. The landscape covered with millions of ankle-turning rocks, rare spurts of grass peeping in between. There are coyotes and other wild animals that live in the woods and canyons. Allowing my dog outside to walk after dark without a leash, now impossible. I was tense the first few nights but enjoyed the quiet and safeness of the situation. At night the stars seemed as if you might reach out and touch them in the dark sky, a constant breeze stirred after sunset. Inside my camper with the lights low I felt cozy and safe. My dog never barked as he did in the city, actually going to bed without me for the first time in his life. Each night the same. Watch television, take the dog for his last potty break at 9 o'clock, lighting the way with one of my solar bulbs, a ritual of walking around the trailer twice then back inside. I often crawled into bed with a book of some kind leaving the radio on until morning. However, I wanted to enjoy quietness so I left the radio off that night. Closing my book I turned out the light when I instantly heard it, the distinct sound of a truck driving past my trailer, shifting its gears, driving fast and loud. I lay there frozen for a second, peeping out my window next to my bed. The moon full, no problem seeing everything in the yard clearly is day. The farm gate still closed, no car lights reflecting on trees or barn. I lie down confused wondering what was that. The road led through the woods with only enough room to drive between trees on each side to a dead end five story drop off on one side, impossible for any vehicle to drive down the road at that speed. Perhaps I might have actually fallen asleep hearing an airplane passing over, mistaking it for a truck driving past. Two nights later in bed, freezing, my heater broke down in 32 degree temperature, wind gusts of up to 40 miles an hour rocked the trailer angrily. Eager to cuddle under the blankets with my dog for warmth, a lying bed reading my book when, unexpectedly, I heard an engine of a truck again, shifting gears heading into the woods. I lie listening, trying to figure out what was going on, peeping out my gate still closed, again no lights. My heart was jumping like a freight train, my mind racing thoughts and scenarios. I've heard this truck now on three separate occasions in the middle of the night. Light knocks at my door with the lights still on, the distinct smell of cigar or pipe smoke. Last night I heard voices and the sound of drumming or thumping. Yesterday, when walking the dog to the woods, I frequently saw deer tracks, new tracks this morning made by a wide hoof steps wide apart and deep. I followed them on the trail to the woods, only two prints, never four. Living alone in the woods, my neighbors miles from my camper another good distance straight up the mountain to the drive that leads to the back of the barn. This place seems to have a whole life of its own after dark. I can't move. At my age, this is my last home, my last chance to live on my own. I have to learn to appreciate and become one with this land, the trees, animals and whatever else lives here in the darkness. Thanks for listening to this archive episode of Weird Darkness. 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. You can email me anytime with your questions or comments at Darren at WeirdDarkness.com and you can find me on Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, Mines, Miwi and more along with the show's Facebook group on the Contact social page at WeirdDarkness.com. All stories in Weird Darkness are purported to be true unless stated otherwise and you can find source links or links to the authors in the show notes. Return to Cloverdale House was written by Randy Lee Beasley. Little Girl was sent to us from Weirdo family member Raven Knight. The Woods Come Alive at Night is by M.J. Hill and the fictional story we began the show with, Deadly Contact, was written by Paul Spangler. And now that we're coming out of the dark, I'll leave you with a little light. 1 Corinthians 16 verse 14, Do everything in love And a final thought, never give up on yourself. Remember, great things take time. I'm Darren Marlar. Thanks for joining me in the Weird Darkness.