Chambers of the Occult - The First Flame: Friday the 13th Campfire Stories

Episode Date: September 13, 2024

Gather 'round the fire, listeners, as we celebrate the unluckiest day of the year with bone-chilling tales to send shivers down your spine! In this special bonus episode of Chambers of the Occult, we’re serving up eerie campfire stories perfect for Friday the 13th.From ghosts lurking in cornfields, spouses acting strange, and the terrifying whispers of the Sandman, to being so starving you'd eat anything—prepare for a night of spine-tingling terror. Just don’t forget to keep the lights on!Send us a text

Chambers of the Occult may contain content that might not be suitable for all listeners. Listener discretion is advised. Hello. Hello. Welcome back. Hi. Welcome back to Chambers of the Occult. Chambers of the Occult. As you can tell by the title, this is not our typical episode. No, it's not. Because we have Friday the 13th. Oh my god. So we love Friday the 13th.

Yes, we do. We do. So we have some campfire stories for you. Yeah. Fun spooky little stories that may or may not be true who knows. But So we hope that you enjoy them.

We'll kind of jump straight to it. And happy Friday 13th. So I'm going to start us off with a story called The Lure of the Sandman. Oh, we love Sandman. And when I found the story, it was kind of written journal-like with like dates. Okay, that's cool. So I'll start with that. So the first entry is September 14th, 2018.

It all began with bedtime stories. Mom used to tell me about the Sandman, the friendly one, the kind who sprinkles dream dust into your eyes and carries you away into beautiful places. I was just a child then, so why would I question it? Kids trust in fairy tales. It's the goodness that's supposed to flow from them.

But as I sit here tonight, alone, in this dimly lit apartment in Austin, I wonder if I was ever truly that naive. Oh. The Sandman. He's not comforting. He's not the comforting fairytale I figured I believed he was. He's something far darker.

September 18th, 2018. I moved into this new place today. It's a small one-bed bedroom apartment in the heart of Austin. A cozy little worn out building, but it's mine. It's strange though. The apartment groans and creaks, like an old man's bones settling in for the night. The noises are worse. I keep telling myself it's just old pipes or maybe the wind rustling through

the trees outside. But sometimes feels wrong. It's as if the apartment itself is alive. And not in a good way. September 22nd, 2018. It's midnight again. The tapping starts up right on the dot. It's faint, like someone's gently drumming their fingers on the glass. But it's constant. It's not random. It's deliberate. As if someone or something is trying to get my attention. I told myself that it was just a tree branch against the window, but now it's clear, it's not random. It's like Moore's code, only I don't understand what it's saying. Why would anyone or anything tap on my window every night? September 29th 2018. Tonight my curiosity got the best of me. I got up and I crept to the window. Outside, the street was empty, safe for one thing. A figure, tall and impossibly thin.

His eyes, god those eyes, hollow like there was nothing there. I wanted to scream but my throat felt like it was being squeezed shut. I knew without him saying a word who he was. The Sandman. I yanked the curtain shut, but sleep was a distant memory. October 1st, 2018. He came back last night. The Sandman. His voice was like a whisper carried by the wind. Soft, but slicing through the ambient noise of the city like a knife. He promised me a world of dreams. A parade where I could live forever.

No pain, no worries, just eternal bliss. And God help me. I want to believe him. Who wouldn't want eternal happiness? But there's always a catch, isn't there? October 4th, 2018. The Sandman's visits are becoming more frequent. It's as if he's testing my resolve, trying to see how much I can take. Last night he came to the window, and this time I heard him speak. His voice had an unsettling warmth.

He told me that he had something special for me. A gift. I didn't want to listen, but his voice was so compelling. So hypnotic. I almost opened the window. I don't know how much longer I can resist. October 5th, 2018. I left the apartment today for a quick trip

to the grocery store. I thought maybe being around people would help me distract from what was happening at home. As I parked the car and walked into the store, everything felt normal. But when I returned and got back into the car, I heard tapping on my window. It was faint at first, but it grew louder,

persistent. I checked the windows, convinced I'd find a true branch or something else causing the noise. But there was nothing. I couldn't escape it, not even for a moment. windows, convinced I'd find a true branch or something else causing the noise. But there was nothing. I couldn't escape it, not even for a moment. And I drove back home feeling more defeated than before. October 8th, 2018.

I haven't told anyone about the Sandman. Who would believe me? I tried talking to a friend about the noises and shadows, but they just laughed off a stress or an overactive imagination. They don't understand it's not just noises, it's a presence. It's like something is trying to invade my mind. I feel like I'm walking on the edge of sanity and no one can help me, not even myself. October 10, 2018.

Last night I couldn't sleep at all. The tapping was restless. I tried to stay awake but eventually exhaustion took over. I dreamt of a long corridor lined with windows and outside each window was a dark featureless figure, but I each window was a dark, featureless figure, but I know it was him. They tapped against the glass, but the sound was muffled, like they were trying to get through to me, but I couldn't.

I woke up drenched in sweat, my heart racing. October 11, 2018. Today I drove to a nearby town, hoping the change of scenery would help. I thought maybe getting out of Austin would give me some relief from the Sandman. I spent the day exploring the small town, trying to forget the tapping, and it worked. But as soon as I got back in the car to head home, the tapping started again. It was as if I was being followed. As if it followed me all the way from Austin. I pulled over to a quiet road

checking the windows around the area, the car, but there was nothing there. The tapping continued and I had my first breakdown. I cried for what felt like hours, even after the tapping stopped. I drove home, and even without the tapping, I felt the weight of the Sandman's presence more than ever. October 12, 2018. I've been feeling disconnected from everything lately. Work feels like a distant memory, a place I used to go to before all this started. My days blurred together in a haze of fear and exhaustion. I don't remember the last time I had a good night's sleep. The Sandman's present is always there. A constant shadow. I tried calling in sick again, but I can't keep this up. I don't know how much longer I can do this.

October 13th, 2018. Tonight I saw him again. The Sandman. He was closer this time. Right up against the window. I could see his face clearly. And it was unsettling. His eyes were hollowed.

And his skin was like parchment, stretched all over his skull. Sick. He didn't say anything, he just stared at me. I wanted to look away, but I couldn't. It's like he was pulling me in, drawing me towards him. October 15, 2018. I've started keeping a record of the times he appears. It's like a pattern.

A cruel schedule he follows. Every night at midnight, without fail, he taps. I've tried staying up, hiding, even covering the windows, but nothing works. The tapping is always there, always persistent. I'm starting to feel like a lab rat in some twisted experiment. October 20th, 2018. The Sandman's promises are becoming harder to ignore. He keeps telling me that if I follow him everything will be okay. His

lies are sweet, so tempting. It's like he knows exactly what to say to keep me on the edge. But I'm scared am I actually given? I've never felt this desperate before. I'm trying to stay strong but it's getting harder with each passing day. I called mom but she won't be here until Wednesday. It feels so far away. October 22, 2018. I tried something different today. I went for a hike at the Barton Creek Greenbelt.

This scenery was serene for a fleeting moment. I felt a semblance of peace. The rustling leaves and gentle flow of the creek were soothing, and I almost forgot about the relentless tapping. But when I returned to the car parking lot, a sense of dread washed over me. I found myself staring at my car, paralyzed by

the thought of getting in. It was if I knew the tapping would be waiting for me. Eventually, I forced myself into the car. As I turned the key, a cold shiver crawled down my spine. The interior was eerily quiet. The kind of silence that presses against your ears and makes you uneasy. I drove home. The tranquility of the drive was a nice contrast compared to the fear that was growing in my chest. Just as I stepped through the apartment door, the tapping started again. Louder and more mocking than ever. I collapsed on the floor, tears streaming down my face.

It felt like the tapping was torturing me. A cruel reminder that no matter where I went, the Sandman was always one step behind. October 24th 2018. Mom came over today. She looked worried. Her eyes darting around the apartment like she was searching for something. She asked if I was okay but I couldn't find the words. How do you explain to someone that the Sandman is real and tormenting you? I could see the concern etched on her face, and I wanted to tell her everything, but the words felt stuck in my throat. She hugged me before she left, and for a moment, I felt comfort.

But as soon as she was gone, I swear I heard that tapping start again. I'm scared she might come back and find me completely lost. October 25th, 2018. I followed him. I don't even know how or why. One moment I was inside, the next I was outside in the cold Austin air. His eyes burned into mine, and every step felt like walking through quicksand. He kept talking, his promises twisting and wrapping in my mind. Then I felt it. The sand.

It scratched my eyes. It burned. My legs felt like lead, my thoughts sleeping away. The city lights blurred and the shadows seemed too close around me. I tried to move away, tried with everything went black. October 26, 2018. I woke up in my bed. At first I thought it was all a nightmare, but when I looked down I saw it wasn't. The wound was right there, right where his claw had pierced my skin. I can't shake the feeling that this is more than just a nightmare.

I looked around the room and I saw it. Sand. Trailing across the carpet, leading straight from the window. I had let the Sandman in. October 27th, 2018. Mom came by again today. She brought soup and tried to make small talk, but it was clear she was more concerned that she'd let on. She kept glancing at the window, and I could see the fear in her eyes when she noticed

the wraps around my wrist. I wanted to tell her what was really happening, but I couldn't bring myself to do it. I'm afraid that she'll think I'm losing my mind. She left a little earlier than usual, saying she had to go back to work. But I know she's worried. I wish I could reassure her. But how can I? When I'm not even sure what's real anymore.

October 30th, 2018. Mom's visit became more frequent. She brings food, checks on me, and tries to engage with me in conversation. Today she sat with me, her eyes filled with a mix of concern and frustration. She begged me to see a doctor but I couldn't. I can't explain this to anyone without sounding insane. I tried to act normal to convince her I'm fine but the Sandman's presence is a constant reminder of my deteriorating sanity.

As soon as she left, the tapping started again and I felt more alone than ever. November 4th, 2018. I've been in this apartment for what feels like an eternity. I've called in sick repeatedly, but I can't keep the charade up. I feel like I'm trapped in a dark void with the Sandman's voice echoing in my head every night.

Whispering about happiness that I could have. But I know better. There's no happiness here. Only a suffocating emptiness. November 6, 2018 Mom stopped by unexpectedly today. She had a look of determination in her eyes like she was ready to do something drastic. She noticed the sand on the floor and asked me about it.

I brushed it off saying it was just a mess and I hadn't cleaned up. She didn't seem convinced. She pleaded with me to talk to her and tell her what was really going on. I wanted to, but the Sandman's voice is in my head and it's too overpowering. November 11, 2018 Mom came over with the therapist. She was trying to be supportive, but I could see the anxiety in her eyes. The therapist was kind, but I couldn't shake the feeling that they were just part of another

nightmare. They asked me questions, tried to understand what was happening, but how do you explain something like this, Ant-Man? I felt like a puppet forced to perform in a play I didn't understand. When they left, Mom looked more defeated than ever. I know she's doing her best. But it's like she's fighting a fight she can't win. November 18, 2018.

Mom showed up at my door tonight, her face edged with desperation that I hadn't seen before. She had a new plan, she wanted me to stay with her for a while, to escape the apartment and the relentless presence of the Sandman. Her voice trembled as she pleaded with me and I could see the urgency in her eyes. I wanted so badly to leave, to be free of this constant terror, but my feet felt like lead stuck in place. She brought two empty suitcases and together we packed in silence. For the first time in what felt forever, I felt a glimmer of hope. The four hour drive to her house was uneventful, and I welcomed the normalcy.

Mom seemed relieved to have me home, and I shared that relief. My old room looked untouched by time, a small comfort amidst the chaos. My bed felt like heaven and I drifted off to sleep, feeling secure for the first time in a long while. That peace was short-lived. In the dead of night, I was jolted awake by a familiar tapping. It was loud and relentless, sending me into a panic. I screamed and mom came rushing into my side. I could only point to the window and she heard it too. With shaking hands she approached the window and despite my frantic pleas pulled back the curtain.

Outside a branch was tapping against the glass. Mom helped me get up from the floor, and despite my protest, she guided me to the guest bedroom. I spent the rest of the night there, unable to find any rest. November 19, 2018. At some point, I must have passed out from exhaustion. I only woke up to the harsh sound of a saw.

I stumbled outside to find mom cutting down the tree that had been tapping against my window. I wasn't sure if it was a relief or just another layer of strangeness in this surreal nightmare. That night I returned to my room and for what felt like an eternity, I finally managed to get some sleep. November 20th, 2018. I thought the worst was behind me, But tonight the tapping came back with a vengeance

It keeps going. I had hoped that cutting down the tree would put an end to it But as soon as a darkness fell the familiar rhythm started up again It was louder than before more insistent echoing through the silence of the house My heart race as I lay in bed my thoughts spinning with fear that the Sandman had returned, somehow breaking through the defenses Mom had set up. I tried to ignore it, pulling the blankets over my head, but the tapping seemed to grow louder and closer, as if it was right beside me. Each tap felt like a cruel reminder that no matter how far I ran, the Sandman was always lurking just out of sight.

I got up to check the windows, convinced that there must be something, SOMEONE outside. The house was dark and empty, but the sound persisted, relentless. I lay back down, trying steadily to steady my breath, but sleep was elusive. The tapping continued through the night, and a haunting lullaby that just kept me awake. Mom came in at one point, her face lined with concern, but even her presence didn't chase away the fear. I don't know how I managed to stay in that room, but by morning, I felt though as the night had drained every last bit of strength from me. The tapping may have been gone with the dawn, but the terror left behind lingered like a

shadow haunting me even as the sun rose. November 21st, 2018. This morning I couldn't take it anymore. The tapping kept me awake all night, gnawing at my sanity, and I found myself pleading with mom to take me back to my apartment. I was desperate, convinced that the sandman's grip on me was stronger than ever. Mom looked at me with a mix of worry and sadness. Her reluctance was evident,

but she finally agreed to drive me back. The drive was silent, filled with the weight of unspoken fears. As we approached my apartment, a weave of dread washed over me. I tried to steady my breathing, but the anticipation of returning to that place was almost unbearable. Mom helped me carry my things inside, her eyes full of concern as she glanced around the room, familiar yet unsettling. I reassured her that I'd be fine, though. My voice, however, betrayed by my anxiety. After she left, I sat in the dim lit of my living room, feeling an overwhelming sensation of isolation, the apartment seemed to mock me with its silence, the tapping now just a haunting memory of the night before.

I tried to convince myself that being back here was the right choice, but fear was palpable, a constant presence that seemed to seep into every corner in the room. November 24, 2018. I'm not alone in this nightmare. There are others trapped like me. Children, adults, prisoners in the Sandman's Twisted Game. I see them in my dreams every night. Children, adults, prisoners in the Sandman's Twisted Game. I see them in my dreams every night. He comes, feeding us lies, promising an escape that never comes.

November 27, 2018. It's been a few days since Mom last showed up, and the emptiness of her absence is suffocating. I had hoped her presence would act as a buffer against the tapping, but now it feels like I'm drowning in isolation. I called her twice yesterday and left a desperate message, but there's been no response. The silence is maddening, and I can't help but feel that I've been left to face this nightmare alone. I've tried reaching out to friends, but they don't answer. It feels like my social circle has vanished, leaving me isolated in this apartment with

only my fears for company. The tapping hasn't stopped. In fact, it seems to have grown more insistent, more invasive. The walls feel like they're closing in, and the constant rhythm of the tapping is a cruel reminder of my solitude. I find myself reflecting on my situation with growing frustration, I never confided in anyone about what I was going through, always keeping my fears to myself. Now, as I sit here alone, I realize I can only blame myself for not reaching out sooner. My isolation is a consequence of my own silence. And it's a harsh reality that the Sandman seems to exploit with each passing night.

The darkness is closing in, and without mom's support, I feel utterly powerless. The fear is becoming unbearable, and I can't escape the crushing weight of my own mistakes. I don't know how much longer I can hold on, but the certainty of my loneliness and the relentless tapping make it feel like there's no way out. November 29, 2018. The Sandman isn't just a story, he's real. A monster lurking in the shadows, waiting to claim his next victim. He offers everything, but in the end, it's just darkness.

Cold endless darkness. And I am just one of its many victims. Mom, if you're reading this, I'm sorry. I can't take this anymore. Tonight, I'm going to follow the Sandman. Maybe it won't be so bad. Wow. I feel sorry for him. Same! Sandman ruined his life. Yeah. Sandman ruined his life. Yeah.

But I mean, I guess he kind of led him, right? Yeah, in some way, I would say. Yeah. So. His fault. Blaming the victim. Well, Alexis, what do you have for us? Um, nothing like that, but I do have a spooky story.

Okay. So spooky. Spooky. Let's hear it. So I found this on Reddit. The person who posted it was stat1. That's their username. And this is called the man in the corn. Yes.

Or beans in the corn. Beans in the corn yes or beans in the corn beans in the corn so there was an unhoused man he was living on the streets of course trying to find some food and he comes across a garden of a local man and And in his garden, he grows corn. So of course, this man decides to steal some ears of corn. You know, it's hard to come by food, especially because of the situation during that time is what the username had said. And of course the local man who grew the corn was frustrated. And when he saw the man in his garden stealing the ears of corn,

he decided he was going to grab his shotgun and fire it above the man's head. So he's like the scarecrow of his garden. Yeah, yeah, but with a gun, shotgun. And this was of course an attempt to scare the man off, but it didn't last very long because the man came back to steal more corn the very next day. Now the local, he sees this man and at this point he's had enough so he grabs his shotgun one more time and he poured all the lead out of his shotgun shells and put small dry beams in them so that the next time you'd come he would be prepared. So the next day the man of course came again to steal some more corn. But the local, he was prepared this time. He opened fire on the man and shot him twice. The man, of course, being a human being, was scared and ran away,

pleading for his life. And you could just hear the screams of agony. and you could just hear the screams of agony. And from that point, the local, he decided to keep watch on his cornfield, make sure that the man would come back again, and he never did. Several days had went by, nobody had seen that man. And the shotgun that the local had was still filled with those small dry beans and he ended up shooting a plank of wood and that wood fell into pieces,

so did the bullet of course, and I'm assuming that this is when the plank of wood kind of covers the beans. But it was said that the next planting season that came, the local was walking his cornfield, going into the deepest of corners to prepare to plow it. He was cutting some corn husks along the way and as he was making his way he found a path of tiny little bean plants. And so he followed the path, it was going just along the edge of the field and he was met with a whole bunch of beans. So seeing this, he goes a little closer. And when he sees in the corner of his eye was the soles of a shoe kind of turned to the side. And then he saw an outline of a body that had been sunk into the mud and soil in the ground.

It was the man. He had found out he had killed the man that day. And he began to sink into the mud and the soil and the bullets that he was shot with, the beans ended up growing inside of him and they sprouted its way out. So that's where the beans were coming from. And the Reddit user, they said that their father ended up buying that exact same plot of land. And he claimed that random bean plants would be seen throughout the field for 20 years. There was one year he said that one of the bean plants had even wrapped around one of the corn stalks. It looked really cool.

So. Wow. Yeah. Spooky. Okay. Thank you. And short. Yeah. That was a good one. So, and that's it for me. Nice, thank you. All right. I had to do it because it was corn. I feel like the theme lately in life has been corn. Because of the corn hat and the corn that we're growing on property. You know what? As soon as you said corn, I'm not surprised. Yeah. I love corn. That's fun. Okay. Kai love Kone. That was fun. Okay.

Kai. Move it on. Should I do my longish story or my like medium longish story? I say we have time for your longish. Okay. Yeah. All right. Alright, well this is another Reddit story. It's from NoSleep, r slash no sleep, which is very fun to look at if you ever find yourself

wanting to. My wife has been peeking at me from around corners and behind furniture. It's gone from weird to terrifying. My wife Lynn and I have been together for six years and married for 11 months. Our entire history together has been very normal and never once have I noticed any weird behaviors or red flags. I can't stress enough how out of character this whole thing is for her. Lynn is very kind, intelligent, and thoughtful. She's always been the no-nonsense type of person. Being childish or trying to scare me is not something she'd normally do. She doesn't even like watching horror movies. When I first started dating, she agreed to watch The Shining with me because she knew how much I loved horror. She was so scared that she didn't even make it through half of the movie before we had to turn it off.

She isn't into anything creepy and has never been into pranks. It's just not her cup of tea and that's fine, but that's what was so strange about this. It's just so unlike her. I should also add that she never had any mental health issues and as far as I'm aware, it doesn't run in her family. I know some people are able to hide their mental health problems, but in the six years we've been together, I think I'd have seen some sort of sign Two months ago, I was in the kitchen making myself some coffee before work

I was running a bit late that morning and knew I wouldn't be able to make it to Dunkin Donuts for my usual morning fix I took a sip of my coffee as I hurried down the hall towards the front door When I happen to notice Lynn peeking at me from around the corner ahead of me, okay? door, when I happened to notice Lynn peeking at me from around the corner ahead of me. I could only see her eyes, and a strand of her long, dark hair hanging against the wall. The rest of her body was concealed behind the corner. I nearly spilled my coffee when I saw her. I did burn the shit out of my lips. Geez, Lynn, I said, wiping a few drops of coffee from my pants.

You scared the shit out of me. She immediately popped out of view like a little kid had been caught. I heard her scurry off towards the living room, and by the time I got to the front door she was out of sight. It was really weird and just totally out of character for her like I said, but I also found it kind of funny that she was being more playful and a little less serious. I shouted that I loved her and called her a weirdo. As I shut the door behind me, I heard her laughing.

Her behavior was a bit odd, but it certainly wasn't something to call a priest over. I forgot about it by lunch, and life went on. The next incident happened three days later. It was around 2am. I had woken up to get a drink. I was standing at the kitchen island, jug of OJ in hand, when I felt a strong feeling that I was being watched. For whatever reason, I looked down at the floor and saw my wife's smiling face staring

back. She was peeking at me from the other side of the island, staring up at me with wide, unblinking eyes and grinning. I screamed, I'll admit it, not out of irritation, but fear. For some reason at that moment I was scared. At the sight of my scream, Lynn scuttled backwards out of my view, her hands and feet smacking the tile floor as she hurried out of the kitchen on all fours. I didn't run after her, or even yell after her.

I just stood there frozen in shock, wondering what the fuck had possessed her to do that. It took me a little longer than I'd like to admit to go back upstairs, but I eventually did. When I got to our bedroom, Lynn was lying on her side, asleep, or at least pretending to be. I stood there for a while, watching her breathing to be sure she was really asleep. I had the feeling she might jump out at me the moment I got into bed, but she didn't. I climbed into bed and she didn't even move.

Her breathing was soft and deep and I was starting to wonder if I dreamt the whole thing. The next morning I waited for her to come down for coffee and after handing her a mug and kissing her cheek I decided to ask her about it. What was that about last night? I asked, keeping my tone light so I didn't offend or embarrass her. She frowned over her cup of coffee, shaking her head like she had no clue what I was referring to. You were peeking at me again. From over there, I said, pointing to the spot on the floor by the kitchen island. She followed my gaze and when she looked at me she burst out laughing. She laughed so hard that I couldn't help but join her.

You creep me the fuck out sometimes, you know that? I said. She giggled inside her cup on the counter and wrapped her arms around my neck. You creep me out all the time, so I guess we're even, she teased. We said our goodbyes and left for work. As I drove I kept thinking about how creepy it had been seeing her grinning at me from behind that island, the sound her hands made on the floor as she crawled away. I told myself she was just trying to be silly, just trying to join me in my love of all things horror.

It was not like I was afraid of her, but it still didn't sit right with me. I started seeing her peeking at me more and more. Sometimes she'd be peeking out from behind the couch or living room curtains. Once she even managed to get inside her grandmother's old trunk that sits at the foot of our bed. What? I might not have even known she was there at all had the trunk old hinges not given her away She'd had the lid propped up just enough so that only half of her face peek through she'd been It was unnerving I didn't even know what to say to her all I could do is stare when I finally found my voice I asked her why on earth she was doing this she didn't answer

But she had slowly closed the lid, shutting herself inside the trunk. I just walked away, feeling disturbed. I didn't understand why she was doing it, but it clearly made her happy. I just hoped she would tie out the game quickly. Lynn didn't peek at me for the next two weeks. I started to think she was done, and I was relieved. We were watching a show on Netflix one night, night and jokingly said that I hadn't seen her peeking at me lately and that she must have given up on her spy game. She looked up at me with a small smile and said,

maybe I've just gotten better at it. Oh my God. I didn't say anything, but I wondered whether or not she was joking. For the next few days, I couldn't say anything, but I wondered whether or not she was joking. Oh. Oh. For the next few days, I couldn't stop thinking about what she said. Was she still peeking at me when I wasn't looking and I just hadn't noticed? And if so, what the hell was she getting out of this? I started to feel paranoid, constantly checking whether she was watching from around the corner or behind a door. I was jumping whenever I was home and she wasn't in full view of me.

I felt stupid and a little crazy. But after a few weeks without another incident, I began to relax. I stopped checking behind furniture and walls and told myself it was just a bad memory. Then a few days ago, things got so much worse. Lynn left to go to a friend's and I lounged on the couch and played a couple of games on my laptop. Around 9pm I hopped in the shower and as I was washing the soap from my hair, I felt that awful feeling that I was being watched.

I slowly opened my eyes and almost had a fucking heart attack. Lynn was peeking from behind the shower curtain. Her entire head stretched into the shower, leaving just her body outside, her long dark hair hung against the curtain, the ends dripping with water. Her mouth hung open in a terrible grin, eyes wide and red, as if she hadn't blinked in a while. I screamed and jumped back against the wall, she didn't move nor did her smile waver. Her makeup ran down her cheeks in two black streaks. She looked giddy and completely deranged.

I was fucking terrified. We stood like that for a few minutes, neither of us saying a word. Finally, after what felt like forever, she slowly pulled her head back out of the shower and I watched her blurry figure through the curtain as she moved backwards towards the bathroom door. A second later, the bathroom door slammed shut, hard enough to rattle the mirror. I screamed again and jumped out of the shower to lock the door. I stayed inside the bathroom for over an hour. Maybe I overreacted, but joke or not, I wasn't going to put up with this crazy shit anymore.

That's what I kept telling myself as I paced in my bathroom, stopping to listen at the door every few minutes. Suddenly I heard a muffled sound, and I pressed my ear against the bathroom door's string to listen. I couldn't hear anything, but I envisioned Lynn standing on the other side of the door, giggling at her joke. I felt a surge of anger. I was beyond pissed at being made to feel scared in my own house and made to hide in

the bathroom for an hour. All for what? Some joke? If it was a joke, it was an awful one. What the fuck, Lynn, I snapped. This shit is getting really fucking annoying. I waited for her to apologize, or to call me a jerk, but instead I heard a faint moan. So quiet I wondered if I heard it at all. And then complete silence. Lynn, I called out, not even able to hide the shakiness in my voice.

I got no response. I swear to god, just fucking stop it, I yelled, pounding my fists on the door. But there was nothing, just the occasional drip from the shower head. I won't deny that I was scared, too afraid to open the damn door and face my own wife. I waited another 30 minutes or so. Finally I decided I wasn't going to spend the night hiding in my bathroom, so I got down on my knees and peered under the floor. I almost expected to see her face peeking back at me, but thankfully I didn't. I could see straight down the hallway to the top of the stairs, but no limb. I didn't know if

I should be happy about that or not. I looked for a few minutes, waiting to see her head pop up over the stop stop step, but it never came. I stood up, my hand hovering over the door, mentally preparing myself to open it. I slowly turned the lock with shaky fingers and was about to yank it open when I heard a sound that still makes me feel nauseous when I think about it. A moan, louder than before, but this time I was able to tell just where it was coming from. I turned my head back to the closet door, as if in slow motion, and locked my eyes with

my wife who was peeking out at me from the slight gap. Her eyes were still as wide as ever and her mouth was hanging open in the most grotesque gaping smile I'd ever seen. I didn't even scream, I was too scared for that. Her hands were clasped to her chest, body trembling with sheer delight, as if she could barely contain her excitement. A short raspy moan bubbled up from her throat, deep and raw, sending a shiver through my entire body. Somehow I found the ability to pull the bathroom door open and ran as fast as I could all the way down the steps, snagging my keys and phone from the table and living room before running outside to my car. I could

hear her shrill laughter behind me, but I didn't hear her getting closer. I didn't bother shutting the front door. I drove away from the house faster than I legally should have, shivering the entire time, either from fear or the cold. Maybe a bit of both. I didn't grab the coat or even a pair of shoes. I was still in my boxers, and my hair was still damp. I drove straight to my brother Chris's house about 40 minutes away.

Lynn had called four times and sent a flurry of texts, all wondering where I'd gone and why I left like that. I threw my phone at the dash in a rage, furious at her nonchalant attitude. My brother and his wife were surprised to see me, especially dressed in just a pair of boxers, but told me to stay as long as I needed. Chris let me some clothes and asked what happened.

I told him Lynn and I had a fight, but didn't get into the details. I didn't want him to think I was overreacting. I mean, hadn't I encouraged her for years to listen up instead of being so serious all the time? I had wanted her to relax and loosen up, but this was definitely not what I had in mind. I tried to sleep on their sofa, but my brain wouldn't let me sleep. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Lynn's face staring at me from inside the closet. Knowing she'd been in there with me the entire time made my skin crawl. She'd never left the fucking bathroom at all. Instead, she slipped inside the closet and slammed the door shut to fool me.

The mere thought of going back home gave me anxiety. Chris ended up giving me sleeping pills so I was able to get a little rest, but my sleep was filled with terrible dreams, all of Lynn's smiling face. I woke up just as the sun started to rise. I knew I'd have to call Lynn at some point, but didn't know what to say to her. I wouldn't be going home unless she gave me her word she'd never do anymore creepy shit. I just wanted my wife back. Her normal, serious self never looked so good to me.

I was contemplating calling her and telling her that when that familiar feeling came over me. I was being watched. I was staring at the ceiling, my heart in my throat. I didn't want to look away but the longer I ignored the feeling the worse it got. My eyes drifted away from the ceiling almost on their own. Her face was pressed up against the window beside the couch, staring down at me with that same gaping smile. Drool dribbled down her lips, leaving two long streaks down the glass.

I didn't know how long she'd been there, but something told me she'd been there quite a while, possibly all night. I didn't bother screaming, though I was afraid anger trumped any fear I felt at that moment. I jumped up from the couch and pounded my palm against the glass. Lynn, are you crazy? What the hell is wrong with you? Just go home! I shouted.

Now! She didn't move, and her ghastly expression never changed. If anything, her smile only grew as if she had never been more elated. I could hear Chris and his wife moving around upstairs as if Lyn could hear them from her place outside. Her head twitched slightly in their direction and she began to close her mouth slowly. Chris called my name from upstairs obviously concerned. I turned to see him, but when I turned back to the window, Lyn was gone.

The only sign she'd been there were the two streaks of drool still dripping down the glass. I tried explaining to Chris and Rebecca, streaks of drool still dripping down the glass. I tried explaining to Chris and Rebecca, waking up to see Lynn watching me through the window. They were skeptical, who wouldn't be? Chris and I went outside the spot in front of the window, but there were no footprints in the dirt, just a slight indent. Animal, probably, Chris guessed, and I didn't argue. I called out of work that day and turned myself off.

I didn't want to face Lynn, just talking to her was too much for me at that point. I started to believe something was irreversibly wrong with her, that no matter what promises she made, we'd never be the same again. The thought saddened me to my core. I tried and cried most of the morning. By noon I figured I was ready to confront her, give her one last chance to explain herself. I turned on my phone and saw the dozens of texts she'd sent, all from my seemingly concerned wife. Can we talk?

I love you. Please call me. I'm really worried. Can you answer? Just come home. And more of the same. All texts telling me she loved me and she wanted me home. How worried she was.

Not a damn one addressing the crazy shit she pulled, like she hadn't been acting like a character from a Stephen King book. Even her texts were different. I know it probably seems childish to some of you who are miles away from the situation, but if you saw the way Lynn had looked at me, how she scampered away on all fours like some wild animal, grinning at me from inside the closet like a lunatic, then I think you'd find my reaction was warranted. I ended up staying with Chris and Rebecca for another night.

I didn't wake up yesterday until afternoon, and thankfully I didn't see Lynn's face watching me through the window. I don't want to pry, because it's not my place, but is this fight something that can be mended? Rebecca asked. I don't know. I just… She's like a different person, I said, choosing my words carefully.

I still wasn't ready for her or Chris to know the full extent of the batshit craziness I had been dealing with. People change, Ben, but she's still the same woman you married. Maybe you both just need to talk through your issues. Whatever's going on, I'm sure it can be fixed," she said, ever the peacemaker. I think it's beyond that now. I don't think talking would help. I just don't trust her," I said.

Lynn loves you. She has to be absolutely crushed. I don't know about that. I said, well she certainly seemed like it to me. I've never seen her so upset. Very much unlike the Lynn I know, Rebecca said, shaking her head sadly. It took a full minute for her words to really sink in, and when they did, I felt a dread worming its way through my skin.

Wait, what do you mean? You saw her? You saw Lynn? I asked, my mouth suddenly dry. Rebecca nodded casually, as if that fact wasn't nightmare fuel. She stopped by this morning just after Chris left for work, she said, cleaning the plates from the table. I didn't see her car though, maybe she took an Uber or something. by this morning just after Chris left for work," she said, cleaning the plates from the table.

I didn't see her car though, maybe she took an Uber or something. Beck, what did she say? Did she come inside? I asked. I began looking around, examining corners as the predator looked behind them. No, she just asked if you were awake yet, and I said that you weren't. I asked if she wanted me to wake you, but she said no, just to let you sleep. That's all? She didn't say anything else? I asked. No, she looked awful though, like she hadn't slept in days. I think you should call her.

I got up from the table and thanked Rebecca for lunch. I sat for a while trying to figure out what to do next. I didn't want to go home, but I felt that I owed it to Lynn to help her if I could. If she was sick, which I truly believe she was, I had to try to get her the help she needed, but I didn't even know where to start. I didn't want to call the police, and besides, what the hell was I going to tell them? The police would have probably said that I was overreacting, but this wasn't some home prank.

It felt wrong, dangerous even, like something sinister lurked beneath her smile. I knew as her husband I was well within my rights to have her committed, but what if she simply acted normal in her presence? They'd have no choice but to release her after 72 hours. I felt lost and overwhelmed. So I did what any husband in my position would do. I called her mother. I didn't want to, believe me.

Her mother, Marianne and I, were never on the best terms. We'd never fought or anything like that. She just wasn't a very warm person and wasn't really easy to get along with. I only met her twice and both times were such short visits, I got the impression she didn't approve of me for being with her daughter. Lynn always showed us how quickly as she didn't want me to feel uncomfortable, which I was grateful for. I really didn't want to talk to her at all, but I had to talk to someone, and someone

who knew Lynn better than I did. So I grit my teeth and did what I had to." Yes, she answered, already sounding irritated. Mary Ann, it's me, Ben. Do you have a minute to talk? I asked. I'm in the middle of writing some checks, but if you insist, I suppose I can spare a minute.

What is it that you want to discuss, Benjamin? It's about Lynn. She's been acting strangely and I was wondering if you had any idea whether there was something I was quickly interrupted. It's a bit difficult to follow your rambling, Benjamin. What is it that you want from me? I wanted to know if you'd ever notice any odd behavior or possibly any mental health issues. There was a long uncomfortable pause that I couldn't tell was because she was just thinking or something else. Finally after a few seconds she spoke.

I'm not sure if this is one of your jokes Benjamin, but if so I don't find the humor in it. Now I do have business to attend to as I've said so if you don't mind, she said before I cut her off so before she get rid of me. Marianne it's not a joke. I'm sincerely concerned about Lynn's health. Her behavior has been very erratic lately. I'm very worried about her and I figured as her mother you would be as well.

If you're truly concerned then I suggest you get the health professionals involved. I don't know what you expect of me. She snapped. Please, if not for me, do it for Lynn. I tried. I heard a faint shaky and take a breath as she was trying to hold her steer persona together but failing. Benjamin, I don't know what to tell you. My only advice would be to seek professional help. Do not call here again. Goodbye. I tried to call out to her but she'd hung up. I tried to wrap my head around the call and

her refusal to get help even if she didn't like me. Why wouldn't she want to help her own daughter? I couldn't understand that. I tried to replay the conversation. After a while I almost gave up until I remembered her last words to me, seek professional help. She said those words with a bit of urgency. What had she meant? I assumed she'd been referring to medical professionals but maybe she was referring to someone else. Someone that she didn't for some reason feel comfortable saying directly or maybe I was just desperate. I waited for Chris to get home,

and after a very long and exhausting conversation with him and Rebecca, I convinced them that Lynn truly needed psychiatric help. I didn't tell them everything. I wasn't prepared to get into it yet. What I told them about our last encounter, how she'd hid it in the bathroom, peeking at me from the closet.

They were obviously shocked, but thankfully they believed me. They too just wanted to help her. Chris didn't think we should involve the police just yet. He offered instead to go with me, and I readily accepted. We drove over this morning just after breakfast. There was no way I was going at night. When we pulled into the driveway and my stomach began doing summer staults. Her car wasn't there, but I still didn't let my guard down. The front door was ajar and for a split second I thought we'd see her eyes staring through the gap. I was shaking and starting to sweat. Chris, however, was fine. I envied his ignorance.

I pushed the door open and was immediately hit with a stench of rot. Chris smelled it too, and he walked in the house behind me with his nose scrunched out. What do you guys use to clean the floors around here? Shit. Chris mumbled. Shut up. I said, my eyes are dry to ground for any signs of Lynn. The house was deadly quiet and dark despite being 10 in the morning. All the curtains were closed up tight, refusing to allow any sunlight inside. We moved to the reach room, carefully checking any place that she might hide, occasionally calling her name. Why the fuck are you looking under the couch? Chris asked eventually.

Aren't we looking for your wife? He was looking at me like I was a moron. Let's just go upstairs, I whispered. I noticed that one of Lynn and my wedding porches that hung on the wall along the staircase had been smashed. On the way up, my shoes crunched over the pieces of glass that looked to be littered over a few of the steps. The frame hung crookedly, all the glass removed.

I stared at the picture, a lump forming in my throat. We had taken the photo just after leaving the church, after saying our vows. We climbed the rest of the steps and checked the spare bedroom but it looked completely untouched. I was hesitant to go into the bathroom, my fear from that night coming back to me all at once. Chris noticed and offered to go in by himself but I couldn't let him do that so we walked in together, checking the closet and the shower. The bathroom looked as if it hadn't

been touched since the night I left. I don't think she's here, Ben. Why don't you pack some clothes and we'll try coming back tomorrow or something, Chris said. I nodded and went into our bedroom and shoved some clothes into a duffel bag. When I checked inside our closet, I came across the source of the smell and gagged. Chris took one look and lost all color in his face. He had to go stand by the stairs to get away from the sight and smell. I gazed down in shock at what lay inside my bedroom closet. Soaking into the rug were at least a dozen eyeballs, all carefully laid out in pairs. Some were as large as a quarter while others were as tiny as a marble.

I stared down at the eyes she'd collected from small animals and wondered how she'd gotten them and shuddered at the thought. Man, I thought I had it bad with Becca's shoe addiction, but fuck me, your wife's in here collecting eyeballs, Chris said, gagging. Ben, I think we should go. He called from the hall. I'm getting nauseous. Alright, I grabbed my duffel bag and shut the closet door on my new nightmare.

Who the fuck lines up eyeballs in their closet like that? Chris mumbled. I tried to tell you she needed help. She doesn't need help, Ben. She needs a fucking exorcist, he said. You coming or what? I can't stand the smell any— His words sighed in his throat, and his eyes grew wide with fear.

I didn't ask him why. I could feel it. Someone was watching me, and I didn't think it was the eyes in the closet. I turned around, my eyes slowly scanning the bedroom. Christ! I whispered, as I finally saw what we'd missed. Under the bed, curled on her side, watching us with the excitement of a kid on Christmas morning was my wife.

She held her hands together just under her chin and they were shaking eagerly. Now that she'd known she'd be found, I could hear the quiet noises she was making, a sort of hiccuping sound in her throat, as if the excitement was just too much for her. Everything in me told me to run, but I forced it away. That was my wife. No matter how twisted, she was still the woman I married. I had to help her. I said softly, and she didn't respond.

I said, baby, I just want to help. Okay, can you let me do that? I asked. I had taken a single step forward, approaching her like some kind of dangerous animal. I said softly, taking another step closer. I crouched down so I could see her better and immediately saw the blood. Her hands were covered in it. They trembled more the closer I got, as if she was barely able to contain herself.

Lynn, are you hurt? You're bleeding, I said. She bobbed her head again. I wanted to recoil in disgust. The smell that was coming off of her was revolting. I could feel the vomit trying to climb up my throat. I knew she wouldn't come out on her own, but I didn't want to leave her in the state she was in.

I scooted closer and reached out to her. Oh my god, Lynn, you're bleeding, I said. Instinctively I reached out to take her hand, but before I could even touch her, her hand sprang out towards me. A sharp pain shot through my arm and I fell back on my ass. My arm burned and I could see the blood dripping down onto the carpet. I looked back at her in shock and saw her grinning madly, her fingers clutching a large shard of glass. You alright in there, Chris-ass, here from behind?

I turned my head slightly and nodded to him, cradling my arm to my chest. When I turned back to face Lynn, I saw that her focus had shifted. She wasn't looking at me anymore, and she wasn't smiling anymore either. She was staring past me, her eyes glaring at Chris the way a hungry lion might stare at an antelope. Her mouth was still hanging open, but it was twisted into a snarl. I got to my feet and began walking backwards down the hall, afraid to take my eyes off her.

The moment, uh, are you bleeding? Chris asked. The moment the words left his mouth, Lynn started fast scooting out from under the bed, the glass shards still in her fist. Chris, run! Go! I yelled. He must have been too afraid to move because a second later I felt my back bump into him.

Lynn had crawled completely out from under the bed and stood in the bedroom doorway, her face twisted in rage, her whole body was visibly tense, blood ran down her fingers and onto the floor. Jesus, Lynn, Chris said. You uh, playing hide and seek? I reached back and pushed him towards the steps. Move your ass, Chris, I said quietly but friendly as I could. Lynn bobbed her head in fast, sharp motions and began to grin, stretching her mouth open

wider and wider so that her chin seemed to touch her chest. I only want to help, I said, choking back tears. Her eyes focused on me once again as she slowly lifted the glass, holding it out in front of her, and then she started sprinting towards me, grinning with utter excitement. Thankfully, my body took over, and I flew down the stairs, skipping two or three at a time. I made it to the front door before I felt her leap onto my back, wrapping her arms around my neck, her open mouth next to my ear so I could hear those terrible hiccuping sounds

up close. I shook her off me, knocking her to the floor. I felt a searing pain in my back as she went, but I tore open the front door and bolted to my car. Chris was standing in the front yard, talking on the phone with the police. I didn't say a word. I watched the rearview mirror. Sure, I'd see her there, running after us. But I never did. I went straight to the ER and got eleven stitches in my arm and three on my back. The police

asked a lot of questions and went back to the house to do a search, but of course Lynn wasn't there. They advised me to stay with a friend or relative for a while and to file a restraining order as soon as I could, but none of the things would matter. Somehow I just knew. I dropped Chris off at home and went to a motel an hour away. I wanted to put as much distance between me and Lynn as I could. This is where I've been for the last four hours.

I thought maybe the police would find her, maybe they'd get her the help she desperately needs. But now I don't think so. Because forty minutes ago I got a text from an unknown number. Just three words. I found you. And a picture attached. The picture was dark and grainy, but I instantly knew what it was.

There was no mistaking my wife's eye. I started typing this out immediately after. I don't know what to do. I'm alone and scared and I can't help but feel that I'm being watched. Was that it? Yeah. That's wild. Is that it? Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. That's wild.

Kind of a blush. There's no explanation whatsoever. And I love it. No, no. I love how the thing that really drew me to this story was just how like, like the imagery of like Lin and her like face stretching out. Yeah. The blood dripping and everything.

It was like so vivid while I was reading it. I was already uncomfortable when she was in the trunk. Yeah, like when she got down in the little trunk. Yeah. Oh yeah, that's so weird. Yeah. No, that was huge red flag. like would have divorced her right away. When when when he was like, no, but she's my wife. I couldn't

run. I had to help her. I'm like, no, you don't like no, you don't run away. All right. Thank you. Alexis. Do you have one more? Yeah. Yeah. Okay, cool. I have still listeners, not at all anything like their stories.

But I'm going to try my best to make it as good as possible. This one I again found on Reddit. This one was posted by user Plyvoy111. So shout out to you, whoever you are. And I really, the thing that caught my eye about the story is the fact that this was told by their Cub Scout leader and they heard the story when they were seven. And honestly, that Scout leader is kind of evil to do this to seven year olds. So this takes place during the pioneer times, which those of you who may not know what those years are.

1800s usually ranges, last time I checked it was 1860 till 1910. So I don't know. But there was a married couple. Don't know their names, don't know who they are, where they're from. All I know is that they were traveling west in hopes to find gold and become rich. But they did have another plan. They said if they didn't find any gold that they would try to find a nice plot of land to live on a farm and settle down.

Now as they were traveling they found the perfect plot of land and it was pretty convenient especially considering that winter was just a few months away. So they bought the land, built a little tiny shack that they could live in just for the winter. They were kind of hoping by the end of winter they could build a nicer home for themselves. And where this land was was pretty convenient as well because there was a lot of wildlife surrounding them. So they basically had food for days. So they thought and so they would spend months hunting for food, building kind of like a food supply for the winter. But after just a couple of months go by, they literally don't

see so much as a squirrel within the area for weeks. Having no sight of any animals to hunt, they resort to their last food supply and they completely finish everything that they have. Now this winter was very unrelenting of course and the couple slowly started starving and they would huddle up together for some kind of warmth in their small cold shack for days on end. The man one night notices that his wife is struggling. She's experiencing delirium from the malnutrition and the hunger. So he decides he's going to go out for a hunt. He's also just scared. He feels like the end might be coming soon. So he decides to set a goal for himself. He will not step back into that shack until he finds some food for him and his wife to

eat. So he spent this next several days hunting and he spent those nights huddling underneath some sticks and using a campfire to warm himself up. And after days of looking for food and being merely frozen to death Several yards away The man spots a rabbit So he takes his musket into his hands Ames right at that rabbit Perfect shot

So he takes that rabbit Super excited. Yeah, right, you know, especially after months of having no food He was so eager to just get home and eat some dinner with his wife Now i'm gonna directly quote what the user says in this part because honestly it's bars. Bar for bar, flow for flow. Anyways, the user says what he doesn't know is that while he was gone, his wife discovered some tasty flesh of her own. Literally. Oh fuck. The hunger had driven her insane. discovered some tasty flesh of her own Literally fuck The hunger had driven her insane Causing her to believe that her now frostbitten fingertips were lady finger cookies

Nibbles here and there slowly pulling the flesh away from her bones here and there, slowly pulling the flesh away from her bones. After just a couple of hours both of her hands were nothing but bone. So she worked her way up to her arms then to her elbow. The feeling of something in her stomach just continued to drive her further until she had chewed away at every last bit of skin she could reach, culminating in her chewing off her own lips." End quote. After running for... Kind of gnarly.

Yeah, no, right? After running for what might have felt like forever, the man finally approaches their own little shack. Suddenly when he approaches it, he gets a really strange feeling. He opens the door pretty reluctantly, kind of expecting to see his wife's corpse. When the door fully opened, he was met with a zombie-like being with exposed teeth and an insatiable hunger. And this is where the story ends. And this is where the story ends. Oh. It leaves right up the cliffhanger right there at the end.

Okay. The user said that this is when the scout leader screamed. And apparently one of the Cub Scouts also was like, stop the story, stop the story. So yeah. She ate, bro. I like it. She ate. Thank you.

She ate. Shut up. Yeah, she did. Anyways. Well, yeah, that is my campfire song song story. Hope you'll enjoy those stories. If you like them, feel free to let us know. If you have stories of your outreach, send them our way. That was a great story. Thank you for sharing.

Thanks to you guys. For listening listeners, if you have any stories you're adding or anything, like any fun little campfire stories, creepyfossas, whatever, let us know. They're more Friday the 13th coming up and we'd love to do more of these episodes. So if it's highly requested, we might do this once as a bonus episode like once a month. It just depends what you want. Tell us what you want. So let us know. Yeah. We'll sign off and until next time, folks. All right, until next time, everybody. Thanks for being here. Thanks for listening. Happy Friday the

13th. Happy Friday the 13th. Bye. Bye. Thanks for listening to Chambers of the Occult. For photos, sources, and anything else mentioned during the episode, check out our website at chambersoftheoccult.com. You'll find everything you need there if you do find yourself wanting more. You can also follow us on all of our socials at Chambers of the Occult and on Twitter at COTO Podcast. If you have any questions, comments, recommendations, personal anecdotes, or concerns, let us know. Fill out our contact form on our website, email us at chambersoftheoccultatgmail.com,

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