Creepy - Creepy Presents: Scare You To Sleep - Powerless

Episode Date: August 3, 2023

"Powerless" written and performed by Shelby Scott***Content warning: suicide***Music by Epidemic Sound***Additional sound fx from FreeSound.org:Train stopping by VlatkoBlazekNokia Keypad Beep.wav by edinc90 bookcase rattling.wav by kineticturtle horror ambience 07.wav by klankbeeld Hosted by Simplecast, an AdsWizz company. See pcm.adswizz.com for information about our collection and use of personal data for advertising.

Hey everyone. Before we get going today, and I know it's weird to hear me mention anything on Wednesday, but we're doing something a little different in the month of August on creepy. Every Wednesday, for the entire month, our feed's going to be showcasing Shelby Scott's scarier to sleep, another podcast you find on the Bloody FM network wherever you listen to podcasts. Every Wednesday, Shelby's going to be presenting a news story, special just for our show. Remember that this is horror, and like creepy, we have content warnings listed in the show notes just in case. If you haven't heard Shelby's podcast before, you're in for a treat. And if you like what you hear, don't forget to subscribe to Scare You to Sleep. So, sit back, relax, and enjoy something

a little soothing and more than a little unnerving. No. And welcome to Scare You to Sleep. I'm your host, Shelby Scott, and I'm here to read you a bedtime story. This week I have for you a tale where an unlucky skeptic is forced to come to terms with the fact that maybe there are things in this world. We just don't understand. This is powerless. Part 1. When your power gets turned off, you don't even have to flip a switch to notice. You can tell by the quiet.

That and the fact that you've been getting notices from the power company for weeks. You knew it was coming. You open your eyes and... You hear the lack of buzzing. That hum you don't even know your hearing until it's gone. You do flip a switch, of course. Your heart thumping with hope that maybe you're wrong, but you're not wrong.

Those light bulbs stay cold, and you die a little more inside. I can already feel judgment coming from the bootstraps crew. Look, I work 40 hours a week, live in a modest apartment, walk to work, cook my meals at home, but with rent increasing every six months and a string of bad luck, I was more broke than ever. First, it was my girlfriend and I breaking up. It was sad, but pretty amicable. We had grown apart, and she was moving back to our hometown. I wished her luck, we hugged, we cried, we shared some memories, and she was gone. Of course, no matter how amicable a breakup is, That doesn't mean you aren't emotionally rocked by the end of a relationship for a while.

Plus, I was now in charge of paying the full amount of rent, which had just gone up on the lease we had just re-upped. That was the first financial blow. The next were rapid fire, a blown tire on the freeway that was not cheap to replace, followed by appendicitis, which meant not only medical bills, but missing work. and when you get paid hourly, that's a huge blow. Then the final. I woke up one morning, and my car had decided to just not start. A neighbor offered to jump me, but that failed,

and he rattled off something about a belt or sensors. It didn't matter. I knew I couldn't afford to fix whatever it was. Work was only two miles away. I could just take the heel-toe express. So no, the car shit wasn't even the extra financial, blow, just another blow to my spirit. The final one came when I was walking home from work the next day. Having made peace with my new walk when I dropped my cell phone, and it bounced across the sidewalk.

The crunch of screen meeting pavement was one I recognized immediately. In my panic to retrieve it to inspect the damage, my stride was a little too ambitious and I ended up kicking it. Right. into a storm drain. In this day and age, you can't live without the stupid things, so I just silently rerouted my walk to my provider's closest store and asked for the cheapest thing they had and a payment plan. I was presented with a model I didn't even know was still in production. Almost the instant my new phone was in operation,

I got a call from my sister, Shayla. Hey, Shay, what's up? I tried to hide the dejection in my voice, but sisters always know. What happened this time? You finally get struck by lightning? Shayla had been the one I had been dumping all my woes on lately. I'm sure it was getting old, hearing me sad again. Nope, I think the universe has that scheduled for next week.

Just had to get a new phone. The other one is now a part of the city's water system. You're kidding. Look, your shit luck is actually what I wanted to call about. I was telling Eric about your series of unfortunate events and... Eric, why are you telling Eric about my business? Eric was Shayla's husband. I never trusted the guy.

He was a decade older than her and spent six years of their relationship dragging his feet, flirting with anyone with a pulse and a sundress, binge drinking, and coming up with get-rich quick schemes. My sister was so distracted with her degree that she just didn't notice or care. After she graduated, she developed some revolutionary banking software that she sold for some sickening amount of money. And now she makes even more sickening amounts being a consultant to corporations for that very software. This is clearly a totally watered down version of what she does. I was never very math or sciencey.

But she's such a badass, and I'm so proud of her. She deserves much more than Eric, who, after the sale of her tech, just so happened to find the romantic inside of himself and finally pop the question. What a coincidence. He spent the last four years of their marriage, spending my sister's money and being an absolute tool. I seriously don't get their relationship, but whenever I've pressed her about it, she defends him, and we fight and feeling. get hurt. I noticed her pulling away, so I just stopped. I couldn't live without my sister,

even if the price was putting up with hugs for too long, Eric and his pyramid scheme of the month. Anyway, back to the phone call. Because he's my husband, Talia. I talk to him about everything. Are we going to do this again? She sighed. No, no, I'm sorry. I'm just having a rough go of it and feeling kind of embarrassed. Things have gotten even worse, and I was just kind of feeling like I'm drowning. Mom told me about your power. I can send you some money to turn it back on. You know, that's no problem. It's a problem for me. Call it pride or whatever, but I'm not going to be a forever mooch off my rich sister. I'm not rich. I'm comfortable. That's what rich people say. Also, you only feel that way because you work with literal billionaires.

So, yeah, I guess you don't make the GDP of a moderately sized European country, but you're still rich. Okay, smart ass, look, I called because I have a plan that will make us both happy. Eric and I are going to Italy for a month, and our usual house sitter sort of ghosted us after our last trip. And the new one can't start until next week, so I was thinking, tell work, you have a family emergency, take the train up here and spend the weekend just relaxing. I can't believe you haven't made it up here yet. We have a ton of acreage with beautiful woods. You can just walk around and maybe get back to sketching again.

You used to love drawing. Plus, there's a neat trail to take you down to the water. All you need to do is water the indoor plants and meet our landscape architect to hand him a check. A check? Didn't you literally invent software that makes checks like more obsolete than they already were? Shayla.

I know, but he's old school, but he has an incredible reputation, and I'm doing this kind of on the down low. Eric has been super weird about doing anything on the far south side of the property. I think he just doesn't have the vision I do. I'm having them totally overhauled and put in all native plants and trees,

and I want it to be like a natural oasis for all the birds and critters. I figured I'd have it done while we were away and surprised him when we get back. Once he sees it, I know he'll realize I was right. I mean, that sounds great, Shay, but I can't exactly afford... Oh, I forgot. I'll pay you, and you can't say no, because I'm technically employing you. Your house sitting and plant watering, and I'm even going to give you a bonus for handling the delicate transfer of funds for a client. The what?

Handing the guy the check. Look, just say yes. You'd make me so happy, and if you say no, I'll never forgive you, and the next time I'm interviewed for Forbes or the New York Times, I'll make sure to tell the story of how we caught you licking bullfrogs in the backyard when you were 13 because you thought it would get you high. Wow. Those billionaire friends have really taught you the art of blackmail, huh?

Okay, I'll do it. Great. Check your email. Your train. leaves tomorrow at 8.15 and don't be late. I'll meet you at the station. Okay. And Che? Thank you. Love you, Tolulu. And with that, she hung up? Part two. The train ride to my sisters was nothing short of breathtaking. She was right. I hadn't drawn in a long time and though the view whizzed by, I still took out my neglected sketchpad and put pencil to paper.

The train made its way up the coast from the industrial part of the city, to long stretches of verdant farmland, dotted with cows and horses, grazing away in the greenest pastures you've ever seen, up to the foggy and rocky coasts where the forest meets the sea. My sister had purchased a house up here about three years ago from a man who had, quite literally, lost his wife. The woman had gone missing six years ago and was never found. Her name was Lisa something? I couldn't remember exactly. The realtor had told my sister that the husband just couldn't bear to stay there anymore. He said it felt like she was still there and since he didn't believe in ghosts, he wanted a place where he could grieve without feeling so haunted. I didn't remember all the details about the case, so I did some light Googling.

on my way up and found that much of the internet suspected that he had killed her. Her name was Lisa Van Owen. His name is Robert Van Owen. He made his money in commercial real estate and she was an interior designer. Some true crime and paranormal nuts had even tried publicly reaching out to my sister on social media to ask if they could do their own investigation on the property. They were convinced there were clues that had been missed. My sister ignored them on my until she made a blanket statement about a year ago on Instagram, stating she believed in the professionalism and expertise of the local detectives and that if they say there is nothing left to find, then that's that. The comments were turned off. It seemed a little cold to me,

but I guess I could see why my sister didn't want people trampling her daisies to look for a corpse that has already been confirmed by professionals isn't there. She always was the most more logical and practical of the two of us. I would have welcomed all the internet weirdos in with open arms and offered them cookies and probably ended up missing alongside Lisa Van Owen. As my train pulled into the station, I looked eagerly out of the platform for Shadeless Face. I didn't see it, but no worries. I'd just find her once I got off. Maybe she was grabbing us some coffee. As I stepped off the train, I looked up and my eyes met. with two pools of pond scum that were the eyes of my brother-in-law, Eric.

Hey there, Talluloo. He went in for a hug and I leaned away, only offering a half-hearted, one-armed pat on the back. I only liked it when Shayla or my mom called me that. Where's my sister? I asked, looking around, hoping to God she would come walking up at any second. Ah, sorry, kiddo. She had a last-minute trip to Chicago.

She said she called to you to let you know. Her flight left about an hour ago. She's going to fly from there to meet me in Rome. As if on cue, my phone lit up with a few missed calls and a voicemail. Stupid, cheap fucking phone. Let me Google a whole missing person but couldn't ring when I got a phone call. I immediately hit play and held it up to my ear. Hey, Talia, it's Shea.

So, so sorry, but something came up with a client. have to go clean up a mess. Some IT guy, they must have hired off Craigslist, majorly screwed some stuff up. Way to start a vacation, right? Honestly, though, between you and me, I actually love being the one to save the day. Plus, I'm charging them an astronomical fee for the inconvenience. Your Christmas present is going to be amazing this year. Eric will grab you, love you. Have fun, and don't let my plants die. Oh, and I hit the check in the base by the door. Told you, kiddo. Eric smart. You're only like 13 years older than me.

Why do you call me that? I slung my duffel bag over my shoulder, and we started our walk off the platform to the parking lot. Oh, no, just seems to fit. You know, still figuring out your life and stuff. Yeah, not all of us had gold-digging opportunities just fall into our laps, Eric. I thought, well, old man, let's hit the road. The drive to Shayla's house was,

absolutely stunning. It was lush, deep green forests on one side and the foggy, rocky coast on the other. It felt like driving into a fairy tale, but a dark one, and I loved it. I could feel the tension melting in my back as I pictured my evenings by the fireplace reading a book and my days out among the trees, sketching mushrooms and ferns. As we wound our way up the private driveway, I started to feel how secluded the place was. That would be off-putting to some, but after the hustle and bustle of the city, I welcomed the solitude.

As the house came into view, Eric could clearly see the awe on my face and proudly began to rattle off facts about it. It's built in 1902. It's a shingled cottage style, 10,000 square feet, 23 rooms, and three stories. He said,

Not exactly the size I think of when I hear cottage, I replied, but it's so beautiful. It was designed by some fancy architect from back then. I can't remember the guy's name off the top of my head, built for some quack doctor who made a mint selling snake oil. Man, I wish it was that easy these days. Back then, you could just put some cocaine and castor oil in a jar and tell people would cure cancer. Bam, you're a millionaire. Yeah, for sure. I was too distracted by my home for the next few days

to tell Eric what I thought of his jealousy of a man who swindled cancer patients. The shingles were of a dark charcoal color. It fit perfectly into the almost black rocky cliffside. Uh, I admit, the fact that it's so close to the cliff gives me a little vertigo. Is it safe? Like, in bad weather?

Yep. This baby was built to withstand a hurricane, and back then they really knew how to build them. Wait till you see the inside. For once, Eric and I could agree on something. Even before getting up close, you could see the craftmanship from every angle as we drove around the side of the house to park. It seemed as solid as the rock it was built atop. As we exited the car, I could hear the waves crashing on the rocks, hundreds of feet below. I couldn't wait to drift off to sleep listening to that. We walked in through a heavy oak door, and I was just as dazzled by the inside as the out.

Gorgeous woodwork everywhere. The floors were made up of different species of wood, laid in a beautifully intricate pattern. The posts on the stairway were hand-carved. I even spotted some original hand-painted wallpaper. The mantle over the huge fireplace was also hand-carved with intricate filigree, a stained mirror hung over it, making the low. large space look even more expansive. We try to keep everything as original as possible up here, except, of course, we upgraded the

kitchen appliances. I suggested making do a tech house, and I thought Shela would go wild for the ideas, and she's all techy, but she said it was like an oasis away from work. Of course, work is just under our feet in the basement. Stay super cold down there, so all our servos and booping and beeping stuff can keep running as smoothly as possible. We've only furnished a few of the guest rooms. Still haven't figured out what we're going to do with all these rooms. So if you open a door and find a bed, feel free to take it. By our place is old school. Just toss in a log and light a match. Shela made sure the fridge and pantry were fully stocked. Not much to it. And I got to go take care of some business in town before my flight.

Car will be here in about two minutes. Any questions? Just one? What's the name of the house sitter? The one that's coming next week? Eric pulled out his phone and scrolled. Uh, Chelsea. Chelsea Mayhew, daughter of one of Shaila's colleagues who lives in town. College kid. Uh, just finishing out some school stuff, I guess, before she can make it down. Awesome, yeah. I saw some of those web sleuths online begging to come search the property. Didn't want to accidentally let in some rando who wants to dig up your yard. Eric turned suddenly.

Don't let those people in, Talia. They're just crazy. They're just fucking lunatics who want to make life harder for us. They have no right to be on this property. The police said they didn't find anything. That's the end of it. I had never heard his voice so serious. It almost felt like he was threatening me.

I won't. I'm sorry. I was just reading about them and that's why I asked. I didn't mean to upset you. Eric smoothed his hair and took a deep breath. Those people caused us a whole lot of stress the past few years. I don't want that shit coming up again. Of course.

Chelsea Mayhew. I'll even ask for an ID. Eric nodded, checked his smart watch and said, Rites here. Call if you need anything. We'll do. Have a good flight. He left without saying another word. Part 3.

That evening, I made myself an incredibly rich Fetuccini Alfredo for dinner, loaded with lots of heavy cream and cheese. I had that with a couple of icy cold martinis, and for dessert, I had some baileys and coffee, along with Oreos I dipped in peanut butter while I laid in front of the fire. I fell asleep as I read about two people

who hated each other, but were definitely going. to fall in love by the end of the book. I awoke in the dark to embers, giving off the last of their glow, and the only sounds being the waves crashing far below on the rocks outside. I decided I should probably get to bed. As I got up, I realized I didn't know where the light switches were, and my phone had died after the long journey and forgetting to charge it. I felt my way up the stairs, not really reminded.

remembering which room I had set my stuff down in, but, like Eric said, open a door, and if there's a bed, I'll just crash there. As I made my way up the old creaky stairs, I swore it felt like every time I stepped, someone else took a step, like two people were walking in tandem step to step. I wrote it off as just being some old stairs and weird acoustics in a big house, but it was eerie nonetheless, so I kept on, step, step, step, all the way up. Once I reached the landing, I turned to look back down the stairs. It was pitch black down there now. I couldn't see anything, but fog? I know this is a foggy place, but I was not expecting for fogg to appear inside the house.

What was weirder was the fog had a smell. I wrinkled up my nose. Is that Chappelle number five? I sat out loud to the dark. Whoa, I should not have had that second Irish coffee. I chalked up my foggy vision and phantom smells to my imbibing and made my way to a room with a bed and passed out. Only to be woken again by the bed. shaking as if there was an earthquake.

I panicked and just stayed put while it shook so bad that the feet lifted off the floor and came slamming back down onto the hardwood. For some reason, before it even stopped, I once again fell back to sleep. My third awakening came in the golden hours of the morning. Someone was banging on the front door. My head was pounding and my mouth tasted like ass and gasped. Who the fuck? I said as I hurried down the stairs because clearly this was an emergency. Maybe it was someone coming about the earthquake last night. There was an earthquake last night,

right? Or was that just a dream? I reached the front door and found a man who looked to be in his mid-60s wearing faded blue jeans and a navy polo shirt that had native scapes in orange embroidery on the left breast. Morning, ma'am, I'm here to collect a check. I presume your Mrs. Allen's sister? I'm Ronnie, the landscaper she hired. Oh,

great to meet you, Ronnie. Yeah, I'm Talia. I'm Shaila's sister. She said the check was... I searched my hazy, hungover brain for the memory of where the hell it was. I looked over at the decorative table where sat

a lavender porcelain base. I reached my hand in and, voila, here is your check, sir. Are you starting today? I asked with a wince I couldn't hide. I didn't think my headache could take the sound of machinery. Oh, no worries about that, ma'am. We're working on the southern lot.

You must not realize how much land the Allen's have out here. Noise shouldn't be a problem. We're going to start tearing out all the grass out there. It's all invasive. Mrs. Allen and I have a line. visions and really bringing back in native species to the land. She mentioned that. I think that's so great.

Well, don't let me keep you. I could feel my heartbeat behind my eyes, and it felt like someone was taking an ice pick to my skull. I burped a little in my mouth, and it tasted like peanut butter and parmesan cheese. I didn't mean to be impolite. Normally, I'd probably invite him in for coffee. But I was honestly afraid I was about to barf all over his work boots.

Take care. He nodded goodbye and stepped away towards his work truck. Clearly he either got the hint or wasn't much of a talker. Either way, it was time for some dry toast and black coffee. And Tylenol. Oh, and more sleep. After a long nap on the couch, I decided I should probably move my stuff to the room I had actually slept.

in last night, no point in messing up two beds. I grabbed my duffel bag and chucked it onto the disheveled bed. It bounced off and landed on the floor. And as I bent down to scoop it up, I saw them. Huge gouges and scuff marks in the beautiful dark wood floor. Oh shit. If it was this bad in here, there must be damage everywhere. I immediately searched the other rooms and downstairs area for signs of the quake. But I didn't find anything. No more gouged floors, no broken vases, not even a crooked picture frame. Great. The house is here for a hundred years so intact it could be a museum, and I'm here one night, and suddenly the original hardwood floors in one room are basically ruined. Just my luck.

As I tossed between the idea of texting Shayla, or just pretending I didn't notice and letting them find the damage when they get back, I decided to grab my sketchbook and head out to the woods like I had originally planned. Ronnie was right. Once I crossed into the forested part of the property, I couldn't even hear the construction noise, like I had stepped behind a noise-canceling wall of nature. All I heard were the sounds of the forest. I had sat myself on the damp earth, drawing a particularly interesting cluster of mushrooms when I saw a woman. She had dark hair, and she looked to be in her late teens or early 20s. She was wearing a red sequined party dress. Not exactly the type of thing you wear for a hike or even in the middle of the day. Hello? Are you lost? I got up and walked

toward her. She looked frightened. Maybe her car had broken down and she had walked for help and gotten lost. Hi, you can use my phone if you need to, to call for a toe or whatever you need. As I got closer, she opened her mouth as if she was about to scream. Oh, no, it's okay. I'm friendly. You can use my phone. Instead of screaming, her eyes rolled back in her head, and damp earth started to pour from the open orifice. Her head jerked back and choking noises came from her throat. Still, an endless amount of soil and mud squealed from between her now split open lips. I screamed and then...

I was on the couch. In front of a fire. It was dark outside. I was having a nightmare. When did I make a fire? When did I come inside? Where did my day go? I looked down and my hands were filthy.

my nails had dirt underneath them like I had been using my fingers to dig. The mushrooms. That had to be it. Did I eat one? Maybe they released spores. Like my sister had reminded me, I did have a history of trying to get high from questionable sources. Maybe I was still a little drunk and ate one.

I sat all the way up, feeling scared. scared and discombobulated, wondering if I should call poison control. I decided maybe just a hot bath in the big clawfoot tub upstairs with a big hot mug of tea, no alcohol, maybe never alcohol again. I ran the tub and went downstairs to make my tea. I chose a spiced orange flavor that sounded comforting, and I could use comforting tonight. Ever since I had a things had been so strange. Maybe all the stress that's been compounding over the last few months had decided to manifest as a total nervous breakdown now that I was alone with my thoughts.

Maybe the noise of the city and constant anxiety was actually keeping me at a baseline of sanity. I thought about calling my ex-girlfriend. It was still kind of a knee-jerk reaction when I needed someone to talk to. I thought better of it, though. Knowing my luck, I'd call and she'd be in the middle of a date, and that would just drive me further into the arms of a straight jacket. It was 7.30 in the morning in Italy, so I tried Shayla. Luckily, she answered.

Hey, how are my plants? Oh, it's how are my plants, not how is my sister, I joked. Well, I'm hoping my sister is relaxing and drawing and becoming herself again. I'm trying. I think you were right about me needing a vacation, though. I've been going through some stuff since I've been here. I think I was really starting to go off the deep end. Well, look, I'm glad you've started reaching out again,

especially since you've been having a hard time, but before your breakup, you'd kind of drifted. I know I've been busy with work and Eric and the house. house, but tell you, every time I invited you, you said no, you had some excuse. It's like, it's like you didn't want much to do with me anymore. Shea, I just, you're just, you're so fucking successful. You've always been this superstar. We all knew you'd be some rich bigwig someday. I, on the other hand, I'm the screw up. As we got older, I don't know, being around you just made me feel bad about myself.

I know it's dumb and not fair, but it's over now. I'm sorry. Water under the bridge, sis. Oh, did you give Ronnie his check? Yeah, he said they started ripping out the invasive grass. Perfect. They probably won't be there until the day after tomorrow. There's a huge storm coming in tonight and through tomorrow. Oh, great. Maybe the lightning strike I'm due for will come before schedule. Shayla laughed. If the power goes out, there's a breaker box on the side of the house. Just flip everything and it should be good to go. The electricity was all redone about eight or nine years ago, so it's not as antiquated as most of the house.

Cool. Well, I'll let you get back to your Italian vacay. Oh, and did Eric make it okay? Not yet. He got wind of some great investment and, He said he'd meet me in a few days. Oh, I almost forgot to tell you. I spoke to Chelsea's mom, and she may be coming in a day early, but you'll love her. You guys can be roomies until you leave. This house is so big that there's a good chance.

We won't even know the other one is here. I chuckled. See, that's the way to stay positive. All right, sis, got to go. I love you. Love you. Bye. With that, I grabbed my tea and made my way upstairs to my bath.

These big old clawfoots take forever to fill, so I wasn't worried about overflow. When I stepped into the bathroom, I realized I must have turned the water on way too hot, because it was full of steam, almost to the point of not being able to see. I quickly moved to turn off the water and was hit in the face again with the overwhelming scent of Chanel No. 5. I leaned over the tub to turn the knob and through the steam. I saw the figure of a woman lounging in the bathtub. She looked at me with the saddest eyes, eyes I had seen before. As I fell backwards in shock before I hit my head on the pedestal sink,

I remembered who those eyes belonged to. It was Lisa Van Owen, Part 4. I came to on the bathroom floor. I had a sizable lump forming on my head. I was freezing. My clothes were damp. Whether it was from sweat or the steam that had been occupying the room, I couldn't tell. The storm had already arrived, and a frenzy of wind and rain were whipping around outside.

I reached for my phone that was lying on the ground to check the time. It had been two hours, and my phone was almost dead. I now understood what Robert Van Owen meant when he said. He didn't believe in ghosts, but he felt haunted by his missing wife. I also didn't believe in ghosts. I always thought that type of stuff was nonsense. For kids, I quietly judged any adults I ever met who said that they did believe in them. But I had to admit to myself, I couldn't explain what I was experiencing.

I was missing time. I was seeing full-bodied apparitions. and it wasn't just seeing Lisa Van Owen. Who was the woman in the woods? What explains that? That was someone I'd never laid eyes on before. As I pondered my own madness, the universe dealt me yet another blow.

The power went out. I had come hundreds of miles to escape my electricity woes, and here I was, once again, powerless and now with an added touch of restless spirits. I remembered what Shayla had said about the breaker box. I couldn't sit here in a potentially haunted house with the lights out. So I moved as quickly as my body would allow down the stairs and out the front door straight into the elements. As I made my way around the house using my dying phone as a flashlight, I saw what looked to be a scared college girl.

Chelsea? I yelled over the rain, wind slapping my way. hair against my face. I knew Chelsea was supposed to get here early. What if this poor thing just showed up in the middle of a storm and my own nervous breakdown? The girl just stood there, so I assumed it must be her, but she wasn't sure what to make of me. Chelsea, I'm Talia. I'm Shayla's sister. As I moved towards her, she moved away. Then she ran, straight towards the construction site. I pursued.

It could be dangerous over there. It was dark. They had been digging. There was heavy machinery. Not to mention this whole place was on the edge of a dark cliff. I had to warn her. I ran as fast as I could to catch up to her, but she was like a track star. Sometimes I'd even lose sight of her and suddenly she'd appear again.

Still running. We did this all the way to the south side of the property. My lungs burned. I was too out of breath to call to her anymore. when suddenly she stopped right on the edge of the cliff. Chelsea, stop! You're going to fall! I ran towards her. When I reached her, she turned to me and screamed a scream that could only be described as that of a banshee. It out blew the wind and knocked me backwards into a muddy pit. Water was filling it up

It was so slick, but I managed to grab a root and pulled myself up and out of the water. Just as I broke the surface of the pit, I watched the thing I called Chelsea, smile, and jump off the cliff. I looked down at the tree root I had used to pull myself out, and it was no tree root. It was a decaying human hand. Its fingers wrapped around mine as if... We were holding hands. Out of the mud, I saw a glimmer of red, like that of red sequins. Somehow over the hill came the sound of sirens, and red and blue lights.

Who had called the police? Unfortunately, once again, I found myself under a spell and faded into a dreamless sleep, holding the hand of a corpse. Part 5. Epilogue. After the police came, they asked me some questions and sent me home. I told them the story of the girl. They searched the rocks below, but they didn't find anything. I had a fever, and they chalked up all my stories of ghosts to that

and a nervous breakdown brought on by stress. They swore I had called them. from my phone. But I just, I didn't remember doing that. It's not like the movies where you get all the answers. The whole estate was an active crime scene. They put me on a train and sent me back to my tiny apartment. My sister flew home from Italy to her dream home, being torn apart. The mystery of what had befallen Lisa Van Owen was solved. Her remains were. were found not far from the sequined woman, who unfortunately has yet to be identified. They found three more sets of remains as well.

Of course, all eyes were turned towards Robert Van Owen, that is, until my sister revealed to the police that she had lost contact with her husband. The day she flew home, Eric had disappeared off the face of the planet. As they began to identify the other three women they found, the picture became clearer. A local bartender, Eric was seen flirting with, a sex worker that other workers had identified as last being seen with Eric four years ago, but the police had never followed up. And lastly, their last house sitter, the one who had ghosted them. They showed her face on the news.

Amanda Sands, also Eric's old assistant who had suddenly quit. I knew her face immediately. She was the one who had led me to the construction site that night. The one who smiled. After what had become a nightly phone call with my sister, I decided to finally take that hot bath that I hadn't gotten weeks ago. I let the hot water and steam envelop my body and spirit. And though I was alone, I thought I'd say a little thank you.

Hello, ghosts, ladies, ghost ladies? I'm sorry they haven't caught the bastard yet, but I assure you the rest of his life will be a living hell. I hope you're at rest now. There's just one question that keeps eating at me. Why me? Why not Chelsea or Shayla even? Huh? I guess I'll never know.

As I got out of the bath, I saw I had a message from Shayla. I hit play and put it on speaker while I dried off. Talya, somehow it got overlooked until now, but the power outage wasn't from the storm. Tal, someone destroyed the breaker box. They think it was Eric. Please call me back immediately and get out of your apartment. I whipped up my head as I had been wrapping it in a towel. And there, in the steam on the mirror, was written.

Because you're next. Thanks for listening, and thank you so much to Creepy for featuring my little show. You can find Scary You To Sleep anywhere you get your podcasts and on social media at Scare You to Sleep. Sweet Dreams.