Camp Monsters - The Sunnyvale Haunting

Episode Date: October 18, 2021

In this bonus episode we're gathering around a digital campfire in the new REI Co-op store in Sunnyvale. What's so special about this store? We're glad you asked. This store has a haunted reputation. Previous tenants have complained of flickering lights, unusual noises and that eerie feeling that has you looking over your shoulder. This bonus episode is about the Sunnyvale Store and what might be waiting for you on your next visit.Thanks to this season’s sponsor, YETI for supporting the podcast.Artwork by Tyler Grobowsky (@g_r_o_b_o)

This is an REI Co-op Studios production. You'll be safe, if only you can make it to the campfire. There it is, up ahead, through the trees. We're waiting for you, but... Will you make it? This is the Camp Monsters Podcast. And here we are, around a campfire. Well, a fake campfire. Inside the new REI Co-op location in Sunnyvale, California. This is a special bonus episode.

Normally we save these for the months in between seasons, but when we heard where the new REI Co-op was opening in Sunnyvale, we knew we had to record a special episode about it. You see, the location of the new REI Co-op has a very haunted reputation. So, we thought we'd tell this short, simple little story that takes place in the same location that the Sunnyvale REI Co-op now occupies. Except, it takes place way back in 1970, when the first retail building was built on the site. Before that, it had just been a little patch of orchard land, where there had been nothing for a hundred years except some peach trees and a pump house over an old well. Maybe there was something in that old well,

something that should have been found before they sealed it up and built over it. But that was the last thing on Kirk's mind as he prepared to close up for the night after the successful grand opening of the newest location of a big national toy store chain. Kirk was the best manager that the toy store chain had. He'd spent the last seven years running the location in Sheboygan, Wisconsin, turning it from the corporate laggard into the jewel of the chain's midwestern crown. And now he'd been sent out to California to make sure the new store in Sunnyvale had some of that old Sheboygan magic. And Kirk had done the best he could. It hadn't been easy. One thing after another had come up, and all of them beyond Kirk's control.

Construction delays, contractors screaming at each other, accusing one another of sabotaging the other's work. Electrical problems, lights that turned on and off on their own. Inventory mistakes, with items appearing in the wrong places on the store's many shelves, even when the stalkers swore they'd put them somewhere else, in the correct spot. But all of those headaches were finally over with. They'd gotten through all of it, and tonight had gone very well. Oh, a little hitch here and there, but that was to be expected.

That would all get ironed out in the coming days. It was a job well done, and Kirk was about to head home for some much-needed rest when he realized that his night was not quite over. Kirk was standing in the store's office, which sat up a set of stairs above the level of the sales floor. One wall was lined with big one-way mirrors that gave a view of the registers and down the long aisles of shelves. And as Kirk reached for the handle of the office door, he glanced down at the closed and quiet, but still well-lit, store below,

and he saw, distinctly, the figure of a child walk up the last section of aisle 12 away from him, and then turn behind the end cap of aisle 13 and disappear from Kirk's view. Well, there was a reason why Kirk was the best manager the toy store chain had. Experience. He'd seen it all. And this kind of thing wasn't as uncommon as you'd think. You see, kids would get overwhelmed by this amazing place filled with all the toys they'd ever dreamed of, and they'd wander off, decide they were going to stay there and live with the toys. The parents would almost always miss them and come frantically to the manager, and then a little search and maybe some light bribery would bring the child out of hiding and reunite

them with their parents. But on three separate occasions in Sheboygan, Kirk had run into situations where the kid hadn't been missed until after closing time. Maybe the two parents left the store on separate errands, each thinking the other had the child. Or the kid came from a rough home with some kind of unreliable caretaker. Lost children were just one of the occupational hazards of running a toy store. Well, it wasn't how Kirk had hoped to wrap up the first night, but he knew how to handle it. Kirk stepped out of the office and shut the door silently behind him.

The first time this had happened to Kirk, back in Sheboygan, he'd made the mistake of calling out to the child. And then he'd ended up having to bring most of his staff back for three hours of overtime, taking the store half apart to find the kid's hiding place. Kids are the world's best hiders. He didn't stand a chance if he gave them a head start amidst all those crowded, colorful shelves. No, calling out to the kid was a rookie mistake. And Kirk was no rookie so he stole

quietly down the office stairs and passed the registers hoping to get close to the child before they realized he was there it was a long walk down aisle 12 it was a big store the lights shone brightly from above, row after row of long fluorescent tubes, and reflected off the shiny tile floor below. There were

no shadows anywhere. The thick, rubber soles of Kirk's shoes squeaked once or twice as he walked softly across the freshly waxed floor, and he winced. But the child must not have heard it, because as he approached the end of the aisle, Kirk heard a sound coming from aisle 13. A sound like a child laughing quietly. Or, no. Were they sobbing? Kirk couldn't tell. With some kids it was hard to tell the difference just by the sound. And the sound was quiet,

but definitely growing louder as Kirk snuck to the very end of aisle 12. He peeked slowly around the end cap that stood between aisles 12 and 13. There was no one there, but the sound of the quiet crooning was coming from the very end of aisle 13, no doubt about it. Kirk stepped carefully around the end of the shelves, right to the edge of the next aisle. The laughing, or crying,

had assumed a burbling note now, something almost musical, like a little child will do when they're commiserating with or trying to comfort their favorite toy. No words came clear to Kirk where he was standing. Just a high-pitched, lilting babble. A strange, sad chant, half-sung, around and around, a loose rhythm. The child sounded close, and that was good. Close enough and they'd freeze when Kirk appeared, rather than trying to run away. But when Kirk rounded that corner into aisle 13,

he was the one who froze. There was no one there. And the sound, the little voice that had been so clear an instant ago, it stopped as suddenly as if someone had lifted the needle off a record player, and Kirk was left staring at a shelf full of rowdy Ralphie dolls, with their stuffed felt faces grinning dumbly at his, and their pale brown nylon hair standing up wild all over their heads. Kirk stood for a moment, listening.

Listening for any sound, retreating footsteps, a box being stealthily slid in front of a hiding place. But he heard nothing except the faint hum of the fluorescent tubes above and the HVAC fans whirring up in the ceiling ducts somewhere. There were no other sounds. But there was a feeling. Suddenly, unaccountably, Kirk had an overwhelming feeling of unwelcome hostility. A feeling like there must be someone standing just behind him who didn't want Kirk to be there. A feeling Kirk hadn't felt nearly this strong since he was a little kid, sent to get something

from the far corner of his grandmother's dim and crowded root cellar, and then racing back up the basement steps with imagined hands clawing out of the darkness toward him. Kirk turned around quickly, just to reassure himself that he was, in fact, alone. And the sight of the crowded, colorful end cap stretching down the long store's many aisles calmed him down. This was just a toy store, like he'd worked in for years. This was his toy store. He'd ordered and overseen the arrangement of everything that filled the place. He must be getting scaredy in his old age,

heading for a second childhood, seeing and hearing things that weren't there. Maybe he hadn't seen a child down here after all. Maybe he just imagined it as he turned to the office door. Or maybe it was some kind of reflection from one of these dolls. Kirk turned back to look at the rowdy Ralphie dolls again, trying to convince himself that the little stuffed creations with the goofy looks sewed on their faces could have been what he'd seen.

But when he turned around, there wasn't a single goofy face in sight. Because all of the dolls, six shelves high, fifteen feet down the aisle, every one of them that had been staring at him an instant before, now had their heads, all of their heads, turned completely away from him. So that there was nothing showing but the brown hair on the back of their soft skulls. Well, Kirk had ordered everything in this store. He knew every toy in the place and he knew he was absolutely certain

that these stuffed felt dolls did not have rotating necks so for all of their heads to be in that position with their bodies still facing him someone something had to be twisting

and holding them there. And just as this horror, this horrible realization was dropping from Kirk's mind and driving his heart down into his stomach. He felt something that sent it fluttering back up into his throat. An icy hand, strong, irresistible, grasped onto the back of his neck, hard. And a cold, moist breath, with the smell of wet earth and decay on it, hit him on the side of his face. A sound like wet lips working rapidly and voicelessly began beside his ear. But when a distant, murmuring rasp finally joined it, it sounded like many conflicting whispers instead of one. Faint.

Unintelligible. Saying things too softly and quickly for Kirk to hear. Until a terrible chorus of whispers cut in, much closer than the rest, and said, Get out! Get out! As soon as the words were spoken, the heads on every doll spun back to Kirk at once, staring at him with grins that seemed much more knowing and malevolent than before.

The whispering stopped, and the icy hand gripping Kirk's neck gave it just the slightest twist, like a warning, and was gone. And Kirk was gone too, on the first plane out that could connect him to Sheboygan. He recovered, but he's never been back to Sunnyvale. And if he did come back, I think he'd probably take advantage of the curbside pickup option that's available at most REI locations, including Sunnyvale.

You just order online, wait while your order is prepared, and then pick it up without ever having to get out of your car. Just so convenient, you know? Kirk's was just one of many similar experiences that plagued that toy store from the time it opened in 1970 until it closed in 2018. But where do these strange phenomena come from?

And what do they mean? Many theories have been put forward and then debunked. The truth is that no one really knows. Now that the REI co-op is moving in, with a grand opening on Halloween weekend, no less, will the phenomena continue? There's only one way to find out. If you happen to be in the South Bay area this Halloween,

or any time, be sure to stop on by. And if you're in the store, looking at some Yeti camp chairs, when you suddenly feel an icy grip on the back of your neck, and you hear a voice whispering, Buy it! Buy it! Well, good advice is good advice, no matter where it comes from.

As for us, there's no need to put out a fake campfire, so we'll let the flickering flames continue to light up this empty store while we test out these new sleeping bags and tents. But if you wake up in the middle of the night and think you hear a child laughing, or crying, backed by the racks of winter coats, just remember,

we're the only ones in the store tonight. At least, we're supposed only ones in the store tonight. At least, we're supposed to be. Camp Monsters is part of the REI Podcast Network. Both the laughing and crying sounds were made by our senior producer, Chelsea Davis, and recorded by our engineer, Nick Patry. Our executive producers, Paolo Motilla and Joe Crosby, both prefer working for REI over their old jobs at the toy store.

Uh, clean up on aisle 13, fellas. This special mini-episode was written and performed by yours truly, Weston Davis. And just a reminder that the stories we tell here are just that, stories. Sure, they're based on things that people claim to have seen and experienced, but it's up to you to decide what you believe and how to explain away what you don't. Thanks for listening. We'll see you soon.