Middle-aged opinion - No rest for the wicked

Episode Date: August 6, 2025

Today we talk about stories from no sleep stories that are quite disturbing. We hope you enjoy. #NoSleep #Paranormal

Wow. What do you think of that? What don't you think of that? I think that girl has got everything that she did. Ugh. I think it went inside me. You quite literally asked for it though. I did but I thought like to snug my face.

She's got all jealous. I'm struggling to get up at the moment. It's more I'm struggling to... I think it's because I don't have my routine right at the second. Maybe. I'm more struggling to have... the, where I'm not disturbed in my sleep and woken up, do you know what I mean? Yeah.

That's what is getting to be more at the minute. So in the morning, I'm making weight and then give him his food. And then in the evening, I have him feed him. So every time he looks at me, you get to say, it's gross, but I want more acknowledgement. What? Are you babying him like that? No, not babing him, I need him to look at me. Can you eat?

Yes. So why are you doing that? So he looks at me and knows that that's where it all comes from. No, that's, honestly, I looked it up and they were like, do that. Make him look at you, acknowledge you. Okay. I can still taste your dog inside me. I can't help you.

Oh, and I've been looking at the pole things. Poles? To feed him on. To lift the bowls. Oh, yeah. I thought he said Poles. Yeah, but it is on a pole, yours, isn't it? No?

I don't understand. Yeah, it looks like a pole. Have you pressed play? Yeah. You haven't even plugged it in, though. Oh, I was trying to sort this one out. This, I don't know what I'm doing with it. It's just flopping.

It's because it's on the edge. It's on the edge like me. It's like life at the moment. It's literally on the edge. Although I did enjoy it, babe. I think it's going to be a good ring. I do enjoy it. I get right into that is where I found most of the stories for...

And then I started reading the mother-in-law ones and they were a bit out of control. There's some really good ones. On my one. On my one, what did you think of that, beyond the bump? Yeah, there were some random things on there. So some of them are boring. Standard, I'm struggling with breastfeeding.

Some of them are out of control. I've quite, do you know, just because there was like a, I related to it, like there were feelings I felt too, like that, yeah, I get you up. Yeah, same here. I hear you. Yeah, same here. Like, I, I could understand and relate. And I think as well, because we're both mothers, it's easier for us to relate to that.

You made this worse. It's coming on. It's coming off. Bear with. It's drunk. I don't know what I'm doing. She's living her best life. Right, got it?

Yeah. We should be good. No, Zeus. Oh. So, Ellie's got a puppy. A really big puppy. He's a horse. He is a horse.

He is a gem chef across Malamois. He's got terrible manners outside. But what is it? Day seven. Day seven. And compared to day one, he's incredible. So we are getting there. Do you see any improvements since you were last here?

When were you last here? Monday. Saturday, weren't it? Was it Saturday? Yeah, Saturday. Any improvements? No, it wasn't Saturday. It was Monday, remember?

Because I see you on Saturday. Yeah, I saw him on there. Yeah. What do you think? He's like getting there. Yeah. He's a work in progress. Hattie, beds.

He's a baby. Bed. Go and down. Leave. Shose! Leave it. Down. So good luck with today's podcast, people.

I don't know if we're going to get through it. We'll be fine. Okay. Have to get a little water spring. every time like he does something. Yeah, something wrong. That or a stun gun. Zap him.

Oh my God. We're on week two of summer holidays and I haven't had my boys for the first two weeks and I don't know what day it is. It is Friday the 1st of August. It's the first. No, no. No. It's after 12. You can't do it.

Who told you that? It's a rule. Where's the rule? It is just an unwritten rule. It's a rule you're lying about. I'm telling you now, guys, tell her. Yeah. Oh, we have a lovely comment from a new follower today saying,

laughing at our prescription one. Right. And then she commented that she liked my ponytail. I don't know if it was because the fringe was out at the top. Either way, whether it was a diss or an actual compliment, I enjoyed it. It will take whatever we get. I tend to like a diss if I'm on this.

Except the ones where we got told we were going to burn in hell because we're lesbians. I mean, that was unnecessary, wasn't it? I mean, that was a little extreme. I was like, please calm down. Does your Lord, no, you're talking to us like that? Outrageous. Yes. You can't keep shouting his name, I'm sorry.

Chill. Chill turned him off at worst case. Yeah, and then he's going to be massively told off. Right, I say let's start before we can't. Right, what have I saved? Okay. Hello, I swear I'm losing weight, like I feel I'm looking at myself and I'm like, I'm drastically losing weight here from the stress of like trying to help this little boy. Okay, hello everyone and welcome to Related Opinion. I'm your host, Ellie, or I used to be.

I'm for myself. I'm your host, Emily. And today we are, what are we looking at? um we're gonna do no sleep first didn't we oh yeah oh i didn't even look so we are looking at no sleep you're right no sleep so this is basically looking at um sort of scary personal experiences sort of that people have yeah i think some are fictional and some are yeah there are definitely some stories Yeah, yeah. But either way, it's such a good Reddit thread. If any of you like that sort of thing, definitely head over and have a look because I found a lot of my stories for Halloween there. And then one of my stories, I didn't even read the last chapter because it just wouldn't end. It's like, beyond the grave. Beyond the grave. So, but it's definitely a good read. I think one that I've got, or maybe even two, are based on real events.

So, but that's for us to determine. You go. It's your Reddit. Okay, cookie. I'm going to start off with... It's not an engine you hear, by the way, guys, before she starts. That is simply the two dogs. Breathing.

Yeah. Existing in the... Yeah, you should smell my lounge. It's glorious. He smells fine, actually. Did it when you came in? Okay, maybe because I keep washing everything. He's having another bath soon.

Okay, good. My friends left the party hours ago, but I know they're still here. Go. Okay. Let me zoom. Even with my glasses. I haven't been sleeping very well, so actually my eyes feel real blurred. Really tired.

Yeah. But yeah. Do you mean it's because you're missing the boys? Missing. The anxiety of when they come back. And not having a routine. I've allowed myself to come out of a routine, which is not a bad thing. The type of person I am, I need that.

Yeah. that regular because I'm going bed late and then which I don't normally do it. Oh I like a routine but at the same time even she's out of the routine because of me which is really sad for her because like she's not having a dinner on time having a walk some of the time right having Suez has taught me that actually

I regulate quite well in a routine and I think obviously I've been Paul's care for so long I've been so far out of a routine unless I have to get up do you know what I mean whereas now having some time to get back into that is is wonderful yeah right so my friends left the party hours ago but I know they're still here she is fussing it's not him it's her two nights ago I hosted a small gathering of sorts I had just finalized my divorce from my ex-husband and moved into my own

apartment he was a controlling silent and unpredictable man for the entirety of five years marriage. So obviously my friends were happy for me. This congrats. A man isn't ruining your life anymore party was not even my idea. It was theirs. I spent that evening arranging, what does that say, charcuttery, whatever that says, on paper plates and pouring red wine into Walmart paper cups. That's how you know you're really living your best life. No real utensils, but somehow the fancy salami and cheese still made the budget. Nice.

Yeah. On paper plate it's the best way. Yeah. Just tuck it in the bin. You ain't even got to wash up in. Honestly, the place is a bit small and unfurnished. I have a decent job, but as it turns out, lawyers aren't cheap. Still, I'm now the proud owner of a 700 square foot, one bedroom, one bathroom apartment

in the night floor of this building that's definitely seen better days. I can't complain though, I'm just me and it's just me and my thoughts, or was it? They're gonna get up because she keeps giving them fucking food. Stop feeding my dog, she's fat. He was going to her ass crack. It's full of her mooching now. Oi! Stop.

Lay down, everybody. Relax. Everybody. Yes, I'm sorry. I'm new. All of that said, this place is empty. There's no comfort here, not yet anyway. It doesn't feel like mine.

I've been here for about two weeks and I haven't found the motivation to decorate or really to do anything at all. After getting myself ready and laying out a few blankets on the floor, the only seating option, unless everyone wanted to pile into my sad little air mattress. Yes. I took a deep breath and waited for people to arrive. I was excited. I swear I missed my friends. It felt like months since I'd had a real loving human contact. So glad you made it, I said to each of them as they walked through the door.

We traded hugs and warm little reassurances. Good for you, girl. You're better off without him. I'm so jealous. I love to live on my own again. I love my friends, truly. Most of them are instable, loving relationships. Sorry, I've heard that really funny.

Yeah, it was like you were going to say unstable. Yeah, I was like, yeah. I don't know what my head was trying to make me say. Yeah, he was trying to say unstable. Most of them. are in stable, loving relationships. Many have children, some run small Etsy businesses that actually thrive. They are determined. They're indestructible monuments to motivation and determined women. I sound jealous because I am. I do not

have enough pride to pretend that I'm not. The party was great. We laughed too loudly, drank too much, cheap wine and for a few hours it almost felt like nothing in my life had ever fallen apart. It's important to surround yourself with other women, the only people who can truly know you. Even if they don't fully understand what you've been through, their presence filled the empty corners of this space with something close to warmth. When they started leaving around 11 p.m. I felt a sudden aching sadness. We traded hugs and cheap kisses. I watched them disappear down the hallway one by one, then finished the last of the wine alone. That's when it all went wrong. Knock, knock, knock. Okay. The rattling door interrupted my soul, Kim. I figured one of the girls had left

something behind, a wallet, a car keys, I scanned the room but didn't see anything obvious. This is the problem with being too wine drunk everything's blurs I didn't think twice I hobbled to the door and cracked open all ten of my friends were standing there smiling too widely their eyes blew wide with dilated pupils as if they're just seeing something divine or unspeakable or both mind if we come in they asked in perfect unison yes yes I do it's a bit weird yeah I didn't didn't even have time to squeak out a response. The doors won full open. They pushed past me both too fast and too falsefully. I stumbled back, hitting my face hard against the closet

door. Jesus, what the hell I gasped, clutching my cheek, but they didn't acknowledge me. They just filed into the middle of the room and sat cross-legged inner circle on the floor. They giggled. Still perfectly synchronised and locked eyes on me. How drunk was I? Surely this couldn't be happening. I must have passed out. I must be dreaming. That makes sense. Yes, that has to be it. I burst out laughing. I didn't know what else to do. Then the laughter cracked and then I was sobbing. The friend said nothing. They weren't even blinking, just smiling and staring at me, as if I was supposed to perform for them. get out I whispered through my ragged breaths please even the air in the room was still nobody moved not even me I stood there for what felt like hours the overhead

light hummed softly my knees started to shake my throat was dry eventually I gathered enough courage to move I stepped over the fresh hold into the room no one reacted not when I walked past them not when I cried not even when I collapsed onto the bathroom floor and threw up. When I came back, they were all still sitting there, still smiling. I didn't sleep, I couldn't. I curled up on my air mattress and pulled the blanket over my head like a child, like that would do anything. I realised I should have called the police. I should have slept somewhere else. I should have done anything but stay there, but I was scared. All I had ever known is staying somewhere that

didn't want me. Now even my own space didn't want me there anymore. By morning they were gone physically anyway. It's hard to explain but I can still feel them here. I just can't see them. Sometimes I catch a pair of eyes blinking at me from the darkened hallway. Most days there's extra trash in the bin, dishes in the sink I didn't remember using. My friends have been texting worried. I sent back short replies, usually something vague about adjusting to the new place. They want to visit again, but I can't let them. I'm too afraid. Their faces are ruined now, corrupt by what I saw that night. It took me time to accept that I'm sharing this space with something else. Ghosts or whatever, I'm not sure what they are. I just know they're not

leaving. And the truth is, I'm not alone. But this kind of company doesn't comfort you, it just feels the silence with a weight you can't shake. The presence you can't hold and it's not unfamiliar. Living with them feels eerie, similar to living with someone who never really saw you. The hollowness is the same, so is the cold. Sometimes when I try, when I'm too tired, too lonely to care, I whisper into the silence. Okay, you can come in. every time the door creaks open that no one ever walks in.

Loved it. In and out of the story, but I loved it. Do you know what happens? First I was like, it's like mimics, but actually it's like something else in the apartment is mocking her. So it's all her friends, and then it's mocking her with their visual of her friends and not being her friends. Do you think it picked up on her sadness? And that's partly why.

So remember, like, we're like, ha, ha, your friends are really good. Yeah, we've read loads of stories. Like, sometimes because you're sad or vulnerable, you're open to these things coming to, because you're weaker than you generally would be. So it's like she's weaker. So it mocked, it mocked her in the most cruel way

with the only thing she's got left in her life. So now she's like, can I even trust my friends, again, creating more doubt in her than would have been there before? but I loved it other than my dickhead of the dog. He's fine. It's his first podcast. He's doing fine as long as he doesn't get excitable.

That's when I stopped him because I could see he wanted to play. And the answers, no. See? So hopefully he's going to go lay back down. It's very curious, isn't he? What did you think of it? What do you think about what I just said? Yeah, yeah, yeah.

That's sort of where I was like It just seems really cruel, doesn't it? It feels really cruel This is her fresh start and actually all you've done is made her still feel Of course And although it's her fresh start, it's still sad I don't mean But maybe also

Maybe it's trying to make her feel seen By the people it knows loves her the most Oh I don't I don't think that either but I'm trying to make a nice You're trying to be like she's not going to die trying to be nice maybe they're going to be friends sorry we've got a malfunction here as well of course we have what else I feel like this is summon of the day really isn't it yeah fine whatever I mean they've got to learn to be together it's not really

haughty she knows what we're doing we're ruining her life so she's used to this she's used to our nonsense they just need to be you know really hattie it's your fault I've got a dog because your mum kept telling me I needed to get one for you. So it's all on you, brother. Right, anyway, let's get into it before the next time I have to get up. Okay. Right. My organ donor was a serial killer.

Sweet. Can you imagine that? I don't know what to do. I don't even know who I am anymore. There's something inside me and it's not mine. I can't sleep. I can't think. Can't even look at myself anymore.

There isn't some cry for help, this isn't fiction, this is me leaving a record because if I lose everything and God am I fucking close, I need someone to know the truth because I should be dead. In some ways I think I am. It started a year ago. I was 32, healthy, normal, working in a tyre factory. The days were long, the hours sucked but I was alive. I had someone who had someone who had. who loved me, I had a little apartment, I had a routine, and I had a heartbeat, until I didn't. Cardiac arrest out of nowhere, no warning, no chest pain, just lights out, face down between two massive O-T-R tyres. The co-workers said that my lips were blue by the time that they got me. Paramedic shocked me three times on the floor, I flatlines. Six minutes, no oxygen, no pulse. Then somehow I came back. I remember flashing needles screaming, a nurse crying, the voice of a doctor saying he shouldn't be here. But I was. They said I was a lucky miracle, one in a million.

I didn't feel like a miracle, I felt wrong, like something got rewired on the way back. I spent the next nine months waiting for a donor. My heart was too damaged. They said it was like driving a totaled car, it might move, but eventually it would fail. I lost everything in those nine months. My girlfriend left me. It's funny how easy people you thought loved you will scatter the moment you can't provide what they want anymore. I wasn't sleeping very well anymore. My skin felt too tight. I jolt awake thinking that my heart had stopped. Sometimes I wish that it just would. I prayed and I'm not even religious, but I prayed. Not just for healing, but for anything, for it to end one way or another. Then one night the phone rung,

they had a match, a heart, a perfect fit. No complications, it was happening now. I remember being wheeled into the OR sobbing so hard that I couldn't breathe. The anesthesiologist smiled and said, This is your second chance. He had no idea how wrong that he was. I woke up in a nightmare. I was freezing, not shivering, not cold, freezing, like I had been submerged in the lake in January. I was drenched in sweat, but my fingertips were blue.

I couldn't stop shaking. My jaw locked so tight from chattering, I cracked a molar. My chest ached, not from the incision, but from something cold behind my ribcage. Oh, for fuck, sake. Stop touching stuff. I only moved it.

All right. Oh my God. I'm going home in a minute. I'm going home. Do not leave this in. This is not a. funny moments. This is a before Ellie has a full complete mental health breakdown moment. Right, that's going to drop at some point but I couldn't give a flying fuck. Okay. The nurse smiled, it's the anaesthetics, she said. It'll pass. It didn't. It never did. Even now, I'm always car. It doesn't matter the weather, blankets, heaters, hot showers.

It's like something inside me doesn't know how to hold heat. The cold leaves in my bones and in my chest, in my heart. Then the dream started. Always the same. Fluorescent lights, a white-tiled room that smells like bleach and meat. A chair bolted to the floor. Leather, restraints, rust-coloured, rust colour stains on the tiles. Someone strapped in, male, female, young, old, it changes, but they're

always gagged. Always wide eyes, always shaking. Then there's me. Not me now, but something inside me watching, circling, smiling. There's no sound in my dream, just a horrible hum like electricity through concrete. The lights buzz, the air tastes like copper, in the dream I'm always holding something, a scalpel, a pipe, a knife, a torch. I know these were all tools

used for nothing good. I don't remember using any of them, but I wake up with the weight of the tool still in my hand. The worst part, I enjoy it. I wake up with my fist clenched, my breathing slow and steady like it's finishing a ritual. There's blood under my fingernails, sometimes wet, sometimes dried. There are no cuts on me, no wounds, just the metallic stink on my sheets and the taste in my mouth like burnt pennies. I tried everything, meds therapy, journaling, my doctor said it's trauma from everything that I've been

through survivors guilt, depression, PTSD. None of these explain the scar. Not one across my chest, not the one across my chest that you expect, the one on the inside of my left forearm, a thin, healed X, pale, smooth years old. That's when I went to an old friend of mine that worked in medical billing for a hospital system who has access to the transplant data. I begged him to find the name of my donor. He said it was sealed but a bottle of bourbon and breakdown in his living room changed that. He pulled it up. I'll never forget the way his face changed like he was watching something rocked in real time. Oh shit he whispered. You're not going to want to know this. But I need to. The name was redacted, but the notes weren't. Convicted murder, torturer, nine confirmed victims, all ages. He kept them in a basement, soundproofed, white tiles and fluorescent lights, just like my dreams.

They said he turned himself in, no remorse, just walked into the police station and said, my work is complete. he died on death row no family to claim the body however he signed the organ donor form things got worse after that i started to black out awakening in awes and stairwells parking garages once in a supply closet with a box cutter in my hand and blood in the sink i couldn't explain it. I couldn't prove it. I can't stop it. I started noticing the smell first. Bleach, rust, damp concrete, followed me like a shadow. Then came the urges. I sat in my car outside grocery stores, just watching people, their routines, their vulnerability. I'd imagine what they'd sound like if they'd scream, what they'd look like if they started begging.

One night I followed a woman for seven blocks before I realised what I was doing. I was two steps from her building when I came to fist clench so tight that my nails left half moons in my palms. I ran and collapsed in the street, threw up in a gutter. I swore that I would never do it again. The next night I dreamt of her face. I went back to the hospital, found the surgeon who did. the transplant, told him I needed the heart out. He smiled like I was joking. You're alive,

he said. That heart saved you. No, it replaced me. Then came the worst night. I woke up in an empty bathtub, fully clothed. There was a knife on the edge of the tub. My hands were bloody, my clothes soaked in blood, my mouth tastes like iron, blood all over the floor. The blood wasn't mine. No report, no missing person, matching what I remembered. Maybe he's smarter now. Maybe he's learning through me. I haven't slept since. I don't think I can.

He doesn't dream. He remembers. He relives. And now so do I. Every screen, every second in the room, every flicker of the lights, I feel it. He's not a voice. He's a hallucination. He's not possessed me.

He's beating inside me. I tried to resist. I really did. But he doesn't ask permission. Last night, I picked up a knife again. This time, I didn't drop it. This time, my hands were steady. And for the first time in months, I wasn't cold, not even a little.

Uh-h! Stop. What do you think? I mean initially I'm like you've been given a heart like it doesn't matter who belongs to like that person is no longer here and they deserve to be not here and you do and then you went on is that even possible yes so research does show that there are um the way that we are is down to the DNA so the way that we're made so that is pretty new because there was a lot of cases of there would be someone get a transplant and then recall the way that the person died do you know what

I mean so it's like their DNA then combines with your DNA so there are cases that show yes it can when they can actually become part of what that other person so the memories and everything that's happen to you is is that deep that it's in your DNA so there are documented cases of people remembering how they died or stuff like that I mean it's a risk you take it doesn't there's not loads but there are definitely documented cases of people like this happen I mean that's scary yeah it is massively scary and for you to be a match with that as well the thing is you know

to be a match it'd have to be blood right it's not just blood it's tissue as well as because remember when I was going to give my kidney to that bird it's down to the tissue as well a human person not a chicken

yeah not a chicken like an actual person so our blood was a match but her disease or tissue was a match but her disease would have wiped out my kidney quicker or the same paste that hers was being wiped out so there was no point so then I was like surely it's not going to work with

anyone then because if she's got the kind of autoimmune disease that's going to wipe out kidneys left right and centre yeah so you when you have an organ transplant most the time if not all the time you have to take medication with it as well yes and it's like a forever thing because your body But her autoimmune doesn't work with medication. It's just, she's, she's gone her. She's fucked. And I'm just like, you're just prolonging it. You're prolonging it.

But unless they needed something that can slightly, but you've also taken something from somebody else. That's going to be killed quicker than. Yeah. By having someone else's kidney. I mean, okay. Yeah. I still would have been left with two.

Sure. But potentially your kidney could have gone to someone. else that could have saved them. So there was that option to then become a kidney donor if you're a stranger and then their friend's kidney would then go to her but that I wasn't up for that which makes me feel bad but at the same time I don't. It's different if it was family or a very close friend then of course that wouldn't even be a question do you know what I mean but I definitely I mean listen I've done all the test I was willing to give her a kidney if it was a thingy bob but it didn't work out but so then maybe she would have had some of me and my

memories and that inside her poor girls or something or actually because if this is real research and they're finding this to be true it is real research then maybe they shouldn't be giving murderers and the ratists and all that kidneys away oh yeah not kidney's half because a court a lot a lot of the slight so when something bad happens you feel it goes through your heart yeah but you know like when something for example when your dad was unwell you would have felt that right there like a pain yeah so you are genetically dear your DNA is feeling it storing it remembering it yeah and then of course you're passing that on and then you're passing that on someone else the the vivid dreams are scary there's cases of people that have like people that have

committed suicide and then they passed it and this person has never suffered from any depression or anything and then they're starting to have suicidal faults this that and the other so again it's just an example of being a bit passing on massively scary yeah because in everyone attitude would be like but you're live you've been given this blessing and actually it's not it's still deep yeah because it's cell deep that's really interesting and fucking scary really honestly if you look if you look into it because obviously I looked into a bit of it but then you see cases all the time and it's just quite fascinating and you know this boy knew that his so he got a he's um i believe it was a heart from a girl who had drowned

and he became terrified of water and all this stuff happened anyway long story short because there's a lot of cases where you don't know who you got your organ from long story short obviously she had drowned that is how he got the heart but the fear came from her because she drowned. So not only is it fascinating, it shows you. I wonder if that works the other way as well. Like if you had like an absolutely uncontrolling love for someone and then that person with that new heart,

then met that person and I wonder whether they would feel those... Maybe. That love and longing to be near that person. I mean, maybe. I mean, that's kind of nice, but also a bit stalkery scary. Yes. But it's fascinating that what we go through in life is literally cell deep. That is what research is showing.

Literally, it's in yourselves. But then that, you know, when I talk about PTSD, that actually explains PTSD more? Because when you have PTSD, you don't just, it's not just in your, you feel it in your whole body. So that explains, like, that kind of. of you can link that to that so you know it's fascinating that not just our brains what's going on in our brains but our whole body is connected and we know it's connected I'm not saying that you think also that would work the other way around so say for instance that that murderer is heart knowing this other person yeah and the potential of a victim that survived do you reckon

that that victim could feel the persona like the the aura of that heart in that other person. I mean maybe because they like I saw funny I saw a video this morning and they're saying that like you know when you when you go in a room and it's negative or you go to someone and then you can feel their energy. Yeah. That apparently is coming from the heart so it's an electrical magnetic field. So I wonder actually whether other people picked up on that negative yes but that's what I'm saying. It's too much. A week ago this could be a whole podcast on its own but yeah like if you think about it babe and that is true that is very true for me if I if someone's feeling negative I feel it straight away I can feel it all the way inside me you can feel it

inside you and that is telling you that's not coming from your brain your body on natural baseline cerebellum our first brain is saying fight or flight get the fuck out to there and that is electricity is waving out there's is waving in and yours is going whoa yeah no no no no no no okay we're not a match yeah get the fuck away from me oh my gosh but yeah we could do a whole podcast and that we could find some cases actually and talk about their experience after donor transplant let's make that a podcast you know what also i always see them i'm sure a lot of people see them but you know like um it'll be like a wedding or a christening or something like that and then like they've got a telly bear with the heartbeat of the child that they've lost

yes the um they donated and then the person who had that donation to them then turns up and it's like a whole thing yeah it makes you sob yeah yeah like even like that yeah oh my god it's beautiful yeah is it now beautiful from what we've just said yes is that still beautiful yes and it's beautiful because the person like if they like say someone that you love died and then someone came to you and gave you the heartbeat that is a beautiful thing especially if you know that that person is a beautiful person it makes it special it does if it's a negative evil person it does not make a special theory so do you think if you were a real good person and you donated your heart because you passed on I'm on the yeah thing but

it went to someone who possibly doesn't deserve it so much do you think your positive feed would then go into that person and actually they would suddenly I do want to be In a Christian sort of situation, I don't know about that. You know what I'm saying? But yes, I do believe it can't just be something negative you feel. It's got to be, even if it's a positive person, you get the positivity as well. I don't. I believe it works always because I believe it's sell deep.

And if it wasn't sell deep, then it wouldn't shape you into who you are. You wouldn't learn from what you go through in life to then turn around and do it all again. You learn from that, you feel it, you know what that feels like, so you don't often step into that again. Does that make sense? Because you already know, mentally and physically. I'm quite surprised someone on death row would be able to organ down. I mean, how, depending on how they are taken, it would be injections. Surely not.

Like to say, this could be made up, but yeah, who knows? But who knows? Electrocution? That was curious. heart off straight, but I mean, I don't know. I have no idea. I don't know if it's a true story. Still, either way, that's, it's... Would I, if I needed an organ, would I want, um...

A bad person? No. No. But, do I believe that the rest of my body, my cells, my brain would be enough to not turn into a monster? Right now, yes, I believe that. Can I be certain... No. How can you?

Do you know what I mean? You don't know, because you don't know what you. transferring into you what memories what's happened why am I now frightened of that why does that make me feel this way so fascinating mm-hmm I'm like keep coming before it's ready again well I think we should we look at find fascinating cases and we will do a podcast because that is a fascinating topic yeah it is yeah it is and okay moving on the notes started appearing around my house?

No, I haven't got that one. Let's do that one. Is this a long one? Oh no. It's fun. They're all long. They're all fucking long. Yeah. Okay.

The notes started appearing around my house. Now they won't stop. Fair play. I woke up, rolled over and hit snooze on my alarm. 7.45 a.m. It read. The brightness blinded me. The digital, uh, the digital sun flashing across my vision until I closed my eyes.

and my phone turned off. The headache was insufferable. Shit, I muttered, I was late for class again. My roommates had all moved out and I was looking for potential people to move in. The place was getting too expensive to pay each month and a new roommate would have helped drastically. I painstakingly got out of bed and slipped on my indoor shoes. an old pair of worn and scarred sippers. The red and the red they once were, yeah, the red they once were fading and appearing more washed pink than anything resembling the strawberry tint they once glowed. Draking my feet across the puke, stained carpet and down the stairs to the first floor, I, I reached for a mug and placed it underneath the coffee maker's nozzle.

I know... Just going to leave the puke there. Do you just like that? Yeah. Puk stained carpet? Brow. Clean that. Get a cloth.

I know it was stuck to the top of the silver machine. I hadn't remembered seeing it before. I picked it up and read with no hesitation. Careful, smiley face. I stood for minutes just staring at the note, forgetting I had pressed the pour button before reading. The purely black liquid dripped from the mug onto my hand and I dropped the note as it burnt me, also spilling onto the note.

I watched it disintegrate in front of my cup in sugarless, milkless coffee. I shrugged it off, properly drunkenly placed it there as I had gotten extremely hungover the previous night, Sunday. I went about my day, not thinking about the note I had found earlier, and I shrugged it off completely, until the next day. Another note, this time on my lap. You shouldn't know is what you read. I froze, to the point of shivering,

looking like a deer blinding in her headlights, The text was underlined furiously. What would you do if you found notes in your home that you didn't place? I had nobody to turn to. I jumped up and started pacing around my house. Checking every place someone or something could be. There were no signs of any instruction, any intrusion. The doors were locked, the windows too, and the attic was even shut.

Not that anyone would be able to get through it. It was high up and if you had dropped down they would have been visible signs, damage to the floor. Fuck, I even checked my closet like you would if you were a child, scared of monsters. Except I was an adult and I knew there were no monsters in this world. No amount of checking would bring anything up. There generally was nothing. Throughout the day, during lecture and at work, that note crept up in my mind like an unwanted memory from too long ago. An un-investigated guest, uninvited guests just showing up at the worst time, at your

worst time. Truthfully, it spooked me. I tossed and turned at night in my bed like angst had taken over my entire body. waiting for something to happen until nothing did. I fell asleep. I woke up before my alarm even went off. It was 5.45 a.m. I clicked on my lap and as I did, there was a note on the switch.

You checked. Is this a game, I thought. Mentally grasping at straws trying to explain to myself why it was happening. just like I did the previous night. I went through everything, this time the living room carpet. It was stepped muddy. The green carpet resembled a grass patch right after rain, dirty and a stain in an otherwise perfectly clean house and room.

Like a reject standing out in a busy crowd, an outline out amongst the norm, a note against the fridge, like a mother would when you were younger. You never learn. What the fuck? I muttered. Why was this happening? I couldn't take this anymore. I tore my house apart. My furniture was knocked over, plates shattered, the broken porcelain covered the ground like sea over sand during high tide. I went back to sleep and the notes were gone. Everything was fine. I had no lectures and took off work that day.

Figured I deserved a break for once in this never-ending week. A repetitive cycle, it crushed me, though I would never admit it. The following day, my room was covered in notes, all stuck to the wall. Scribble small but so much. I stood up shaking into my bathroom, notes on the mirror all the same. You did this, you must face it. I hit the mirror, my hands bled a dry, dark red substance, running all over my shaking hands as they trembled from pain. Inside another note, meds, nine.

I started, they must have forgotten. So either she's hallucinating and writing herself the notes. I mean, that's what it's giving. I mean, the story is giving you are ill and you're doing this yourself. Med's nine, like 9 a.m. Like, yeah. Yeah, so I think she's hallucinating and wrote because I've never heard, like, of any spirits leaving notes. Except Annabelle, who was like, I know, so it was, that was literally listening.

Literally, that was part of the whole film. It was like the first house she kept leaving notes. But in general, I think she's writing herself the notes and I think she's ill. You should have got immense. Like super fucking ill. That's what the story's giving to me anyway. It's not giving supernatural.

At first it was and now it's giving you are having blackout and writing yourself stupid notes. Because there's no one in your house to help you out. There's like you've completely lost. your mind and then you're like remember to take your meds like duh yeah you forgot yeah and that is why you're having schizophrenic breaks and uh it's it's not working out mate uh right i'm gonna do this one anything you want to add to that no no i am a carpenter and i don't think i'll be continuing the profession after what happened i am a carpenter and i am a carpenter and i am a carpenter and i am a

carpenter and I don't think I'll be continuing the profession after what happened. I've been a carpenter for five years and I'm 25. It runs in my family. My dad, his dad were both carpenters as well. It's pretty boring occupation but I've always felt proud of carrying on the legacy. You may be asking yourself, what can possibly happen that would make someone stop a family legacy? I don't think anything could ever until it happened. Let me back up. When everything started, I was at a one-bedroom apartment. It was gloomy, yet a beautiful day.

You know, when the fog is out, making everything more grey, but cosy. And all you want to do is curl into bed and watch a movie. Well, that's exactly what I did. until I got a call and his name was Glenn. I knew of him because I'd seen his billboards all over town. I think he's a lawyer, but I never paid close attention to billboards to know for sure. Anyway, I picked up the phone and he was quite quickly started telling me about a wine spill on his wooden floors and how they needed to be replaced. He sounded frantic like he was running from something while calling me.

I said, I can do it. When would you like to schedule this? I asked, deep down hoping that he would say today. He said tonight would be perfect. I rolled my eyes and said, okay, what time? 10pm, he replied. I told him, why can't I just come now? But he insisted that I had to come at 10pm, promising a healthy tip.

I was short of money so I figured that this would be a good opportunity I was horribly wrong at 9.30pm I packed my gear for the job and walked outside it was very dark almost like the moon had disappeared and I couldn't see any stars I chalked it up to the fog

I'd seen earlier and got into my car the drive was about 25 minutes so I started to drive as I got closer to the house it seemed like all the signs had simply vanished this creeped me out a bit but I needed the money

so I kept going until I arrived I pulled up to the house and upon closer examination it was huge it looked great pretty modern honestly I I made my way to the front door

and I could already see Glenn waving at me. I hopped out of my car with my gear and approached him. As I was walking up to him, I looked, I instantly looked at his pockets for any weapons. I've always been very anxious guy who tries to see the bad in everything. It's only to protect myself though. When I got about three feet away from him. He stuck out his hand for me to shake. I firmly gripped it and looked him in the eyes. His eyes looked dead like he was sleepwalking. I thought it was weird, but I just shrugged it off as him being tired. I asked him where the spill was and he showed me inside. As I walked in, it felt like I'd stepped into a tie machine. Everything in the house looked very old

as if somebody had taken the ambience out of the house and only fixed up the outside. It was weird. I already felt out of place, but I kept walking behind him. When we got to the area of the spill, he just walked up to it, pointed and walked away without saying a single word. Now this really freaked me out because before I could see, before I could say anything, he had already gone out of the door to another room and I was completely alone. I turned on the light and saw the red stone. I pulled out my gear and told myself, okay, fix it quickly and get the fuck out of here. I wasn't trying to stay long. But before I started, I decided to take a quick look around the room. The walls, what used to be white, were now yellow. There was a couple of

paintings on the wall and that was about it besides some old chairs. I started walking, cutting the carpet as fast as I could and I got out, hold on, when I got the cold shiver of dead down my spine. It made me stop and slowly checked my surroundings, inspecting everything carefully. I grabbed my box cutter just in case. Then when I started to head, then when I started to hear floorboards crackling, like someone was carefully sneaking towards the door, I decided to peek my head out to see what was happening. I cracked the door open and what was once a well-lit hallway was now pitch black. It took my eyes a second to adjust, but that's when I saw it. It was a man, I couldn't tell who, but he was yellow. He had yellow stained underwear on, crouched in a weird

position like one of those old cartoon characters trying to sneak around. He didn't seem phased at all that I saw him. In fact, I think he smiled. Before I could say anything, he started to run at me on all fours, like a fucking animal. Puzzle! That's me fucking me and you. That snapped me out of my shock. I made a dash the other way. I could hear him gobbling and growling from behind me.

It's me laying on the floor playing dead. and it only gave me more um more intuition to run faster i felt pure terror in that moment i made it to the stairs and saw the front door i could hear him closing in on me i knew this was my last chance i ran down the stairs skipping three steps at a time i made it to the door that felt like cold metal of the knob in my hand i used all my energy to fling it over and sprinted my car like never before. I made it to the car and opened the door as fast as I could possibly do it. The entire time I never looked back in fear of seeing something behind me.

But when I got into the car, I slammed the door. I looked back at the front of the house. Glenn was standing there waving exactly like he had been when I arrived. when I arrived the fuck that made me laugh that bit just reminds me of us any situation no people talking to us no did I just die yeah what did I just die yeah what do you think of that I like that sorry a bit of it I was like my brain's a bit like oh today I do like that story I had that story yes I got enjoyed I literally would have a heart attack, I'm telling you.

The thing is, I know I'd probably, like, if I heard so I'd have a little peek out of the door as well. I would. I'd be like, especially if I'm in a big fuck-off mansion, and I start, and everything's creepy as well. My head wouldn't be like, just get your job done and do it. Literally, I walk to the door. It's going on out there. He's the dead eyes and be like, oh my God, I forgot on my toes. I'll be back in 20 minutes.

Bye. I'm not taking the job, mate. I don't care how much money I ain't got. Fuck that. Seriously fuck that. Over to me. Okay. I think my mattress is alive.

Fair play. I wish mine was alive. You might not. Okay. Sometimes at night I can feel my mattress breathing. Okay, no I don't know. You got time for that. It's busy.

I know how that sounds. know how that sounds like some sleepy para para i'll say the word paralysis okay sleep paralysis paralysis paralysis they both like some sleep paralysis thing or maybe a rodent problem but i swear it's real and it's not fucking squirrels burrowing into my tempera pedic Tempip Tempipedic The map brand isn't Yeah yeah

I've checked I even unzipped the bottom cover With a flashlight once And nearly cried from relief When I saw nothing But that was weeks ago Things have changed Let's go back to the beginning

When I first thought I was going insane It was a regular Saturday night. I'm a boring person. I had a glass of high percentage wine and a horror novel. The wine makes it more immersive, numbs you just enough to let the story crawl in a bit deeper. The book was nothing groundbreaking, classic someone's living in your attic type of deal. I was finding it kind of dull, honestly.

the wine tasted sharp almost metallic I winced every time I saw a lad didn't stop me though I don't drink for the taste fair play to get drunk so near I closed my balcony door did the usual hygiene stuff and got into bed on freshly washed sheets and changed I changed them out of guilt after reading some article about how often you're supposed to wash them. Spoiler way more than I do. Most importantly, there was nothing weird, nothing lurking, nothing strange about the mattress, the room, the night. I fell asleep easy. Then the movement started. At first I thought I was dreaming. You know that slow, sloshy feeling when you roll onto a

bad mattress. It was like that. Except It didn't stop. It kept going. Rhythmic, slow, like a heartbeat. I remember lying there, eyes closed, thinking, is this what a waterbed feels like? Except I don't own a waterbed. I brought it up to my doctor. She chalked it up as hallucin, hypo, oh my God. Hypolytic hallucinations. nightmare creepies is best of what she said gave me something to help me sleep the meds made it worse because now when it happens i can't move i lie there fully aware completely paralyzed while mattress shifts underneath me pulsing slowly and deep like something alive is nestled inside and trying to sink it's breathing with mine.

How horrible. Potsom. She is already possible because she's taking meds. Docs like this I'll help you lock yourself out and you're like that. I don't even lay like in the big day.

Now I'm paralysed. I start calling them episodes. It made me feel more in control like if I gave it a name I could study it, track it. Talk about it without sounding completely unhinged. But now I just sound like

I sound like a lunatic when I say things like the episode started at 2.13am and lasted 14 minutes. I tried sleeping on the couch still woke up with that feeling. That presence like something knew I wasn't where I was supposed to be. I tried staying in a hotel once. Nothing happened that night but I had the strangest dream that something was waiting at home lonely

and last night last night I swear it pulled me down not physically emotionally like I was disappointing it like it missed me oh my God I don't think it's hallucination anymore I think my mattress is alive

and I think it doesn't want me to leave yeah get rid of that fucking mattress yeah I don't think it's the mattress like there's something else there's something else there but why does she continue to go to bed your sleep on the sofa because there's guilt

I don't know that's what she said so like it's a spirit like it's emotionally attached to her sorry the first comment I had to the first comment is that have you tried stabbing it repeatedly oh there's someone in there

Yeah, possum. Fucking, I would post them, I can assure you. OPEC replied saying, I don't think it's a good idea. I hope you get it's a good idea either, unless she's attaching herself to the mattress. Nothing else. She's starting to sound like a bit of a fucking fruit loop, if I'm honest. Oh, yeah, sorry. Right, ready?

Yeah, there's an extra hand in my kid's photo. Oh, I saw that one, yeah. I pay to get professional photos done for my kids. They follow some weird Hagenberry uncertain principle. I'm assuming when she's taking the photos on the line is what I can deduce from it. Only one of them is ever smiling at once.

I thought maybe it was time to bring in a professional in and stop having to photoshop different heads on the kids for Christmas cards. Everything went fine. We had a nice out-in session in the woods. My son and daughter hugged each other, smiled, pose, the works. Everything was fine until I got the photos back. As I looked at them, I noticed something,

Hey Frank, I said. Doesn't it look like there are two hands there? he leaned over the computer well yeah one's isabelle's and one is jack's no jack's hand is over there i pointed he didn't put his arm around her he refused remember but it wasn't obvious isabel was putting her hand up on his shoulder and there was a hand underneath her hand even though jack's hand was clearly hanging on the other side. I guess you made a mistake, Frank continued. She probably she's probably trying to get Jack's hand around Isabel, but then forgot to Photoshop out the other hand. I wish she had told us before she did that. It looks kind of weird. The hand under my daughters,

under my daughters didn't really look like a child's hand at all it looked too big just what was this woman getting get where was this woman getting these shocking images from I continued fitting through the album I stopped to linger on a photo Jack had finally wrapped his arms around Isabel she had wrapped her arms around him too

and they both looked at the camera, perfect picture, except there was an extra hand on top of Jack's hand. Just two fingers laying over his. I wouldn't have even noticed if I hadn't have seen the first hand. I called Frank Over, he began to laugh. Well, I guess that she's using AI. I don't think so, I said, I mean those are Isabel and... I mean that those kids are Isabel and Jack. How would AI make that?

No, there are things that AI can do now where you can upload a picture and tell it to do things, like make it a LinkedIn picture, remove the background, etc. That's a big privacy violation, I said. My heart started to pound. I don't want their pictures in the system. I called her up. I probably should have given her a chance and the benefit of the doubt,

but I was so angry by this point that I started yelling. You have no right to upload our pictures to AI, I told her. She sounded near to tears. I didn't. I didn't do it. I swear, please, don't write a bad review on me. Then she paused, wait, I can prove it to you. The photographer came over an hour later.

She showed us the original file on her. computer. She showed them on her camera screen in the originals. I saw the extra hand under Isabelle's hand and the extra fingers on top of Jack. She could be faking it, but she seemed sincere. When she left, I felt even more confused. I flipped through the photographs again, stared at the extra hand and it had to be AI. It had to be. We finally put the kids to bed. Frank and I relaxed in front of the TV. It's just weird, I said, I'm able to let it go. I know. An hour later, I went up to check on the kids and froze. Isabel was, as usual, sprawled across her bed in a chaotic fashion, her hand hanging over the edge of the bed, coming up from underneath the bed. There was another hand holding hers. I screamed. and flicked the light on. There was nothing there. Frank came running. I told him about it and he burst out laughing. You're going to start having nightmares about these things. He chuckles. As he got on his knees and checked under the bed,

then the closet and then Jack's closet and bed. There was nothing there, of course, nothing at all. I couldn't sleep that night. I kept checking. Stop! kept checking on the kids, I kept thinking about hands, hands attached to things under the bed, hands attached to serial killers breaking into my home, hands attached to nothing at all, going across the carpet like spiders. I finally fell asleep, but I woke up at 3 a.m. As I shook off the fog from the sleep, the first, thing I noticed was Frank's hand holding mine, something he never did when we slept. I turned over, backwards and forwards, and it took me a second to realise that the hand attached to mine

wasn't Franks at all. I screamed and the things seemed to disappear in the shadows of the covers. He checked everywhere, everything, there was nothing in our room, nothing in our home, but my own hand was pulsing with pain and five bright red scratches across my palm, bleeding. I couldn't do this, I sobbed, I can't. My hand felt tingly and weird and numb as we waited for the police to show up. I flipped my phone and looked at the security cameras,

one in the entrance and exit, and there's nothing there. Except I noticed the footage at the front door from the previous day when the four of us had gotten home from the park and there was a hand on my shoulder. But Frank didn't have his arm around me. Clearly being haunted. I thought you was like attaching to the child but... It's attached to the family.

It's the family. Yeah. How awful. I don't like it. I don't like it. I don't like it even. It's getting in other family photos and everything. Yeah, it wants to be part of it.

It's like trying to like creep in fully and be part of the family and it's like no thanks. You're not part of my family. It's like, no, no, no. Don't touch me. Possum. Possum. Possom. Thing.

Oh yeah, someone that was the first comment. It was. thing from Adam's family. Right, finish us off. Okay. Right, when I was a child, my family had a rule I never questioned. Never opened the bedroom window at night. Okay.

I wasn't a typical child. Despite thousand questions I had growing up, I was too obedient to insist on them. While other kids had their wife, is I, though naturally curious, was content to hear because I said so. So I didn't question the rules and followed them as law. I couldn't open the window because they said so and so I didn't. But the questions I didn't ask fought with the theories and stories I made up in my mind.

When my younger brother, Lewis, entered the his Wi-phase, I found myself having to explain something I didn't even know. So I replied with the most plausible theories to keep mosquitoes out to stop someone from trying to break in. So no madman would be staring at us through our binoculars. But Lewis, since our parents weren't as strict with him as they were with me, didn't settle for mere theoretical explanations. He wanted to learn first hand. He was shaking the light. Excuse me.

Can you just sit down that place? Sit. He wanted to learn first hand. What if the house catches fire and we need to jump out the window? He once asked our father, can't we open it then? My father put his spoon down in his bowl of soup and let out a long sigh. You must never open it. Don't worry about the house catching fire, it won't. Lewis kept insisting, but my father ordered him to finish his soup and go to bed.

Lewis's questions deepened mine, but I didn't ask, but I didn't dare ask. If my brother got a harsh word for undesirable behaviour, I'd get a slap or worse. Zeus, please. I went to a sleepover at a friend's house. I was 14 then. Lewis was 10. When I returned the next morning, Lewis was acting strange.

He didn't initiate conversation and answered any questions with one or two words. I remember it was a Sunday. He spent a long time lying on the laundry room floor. After a lot of insistence on my part, He finally said he was tired but didn't want to go back to our room alone. But that night, our mother forced him to sleep there. I told him he didn't need to worry because I'd be in the bed beside him.

That's when he really spoke for the first time that day. Can I tell you a secret? he whispered. I nodded. I opened the window yesterday, he confessed, looking down at his thighs, slouched in a way that was unusual. Sorry, he's just eating wires. Okay. I've done. I've lost where I am now.

He confessed, yeah. My curiosity overcome the fear and obedience I had towards our parents. I learned in, I learned in towards my brother, barely able to hide my excitement and uncovering the mystery. What happened? I asked, probably too loud and too fast. He took a while to answer. Nothing really happened. I mean, it did and it didn't, because I didn't see anything, but I felt my heart pounding hard and I got so cold I thought I was going to die. That sounds like anxiety, I said, but it's not just that, he insisted. I think there's someone, something in here. I think I let it in.

Let who in? I don't know, but it's here. It's in here with us. You don't believe in ghosts, do you? I ask. I'm unable to hide my sceptical disappointment. I don't know, but they whisper when we're almost asleep. I don't know what they want.

but they were speaking into my ear. I told Lewis to relax that he was just feeling guilty for disobeying our parents and was making up nightmares in his head. He didn't believe me but he laid down though his eyes stayed wide open

I went to sleep. But just as I was about to drift off I heard a whisper and unintelligible intelligible. I turned imagining to find Lewis standing beside my bed, but I saw his shape on the other side of the room, lying down motionless. I told myself it was just scared. I was just scared because of Lucius. Definitely not him. I told myself I was just scared because of Lewis's fear.

I turned to the side and tried to sleep again. I woke in gold. choking, woke up gasping, choking, desperate for air, that was too rough to calm my lungs. I heard the voices again, tangled incomprehensible. The hair on my body stood on end. What if Lewis was right? What if something did come in through the window? What if that's what our parents were trying to keep out? From that moment on, our childhood become increasingly strange, filled of events that always are bordered on the supernatural but still left me unsure. We were constantly hearing things when we were in our room, only being able to understand one or two words of the whispering, never enough for anything to make sense.

We'd see silhouettes, feel suddenly cold in the summer, here scratching, or footsteps, all that could be attributed to our anxious imaginations. We never told our parents about opening the window, that'd only get us into further trouble. I keep telling Lewis that there is nothing really hurting us, so we should suck it up and live with it. But sometimes even our parents would comment on how scared we looked, how stressed we were. still they'd sound more annoyed than concerned. Sometimes when we were too scared to stay in that room, we'd sleep in the living room floor. I'd have to get up before my parents, though, as I was scared they'd be suspicious if they saw us sleep in there.

We'd jump on any opportunity to not sleep in that room and we'd often spend our vacations with our grandparents, parents, mostly to avoid whatever was sleeping with us, but also because our grandparents home didn't have many rules to follow and we could act our age without getting in trouble. When Lewis was 13 and I was 17, he went to his first sleepover alone and I had to sleep in the room by myself for the first time. I thought I was old enough not to give into anxiety. I thought I had put on brave face, so I did the opposite of what any reasonable person would do. I decided to watch a horror movie by myself in that room. At first, it was kind of working.

I could blame the anxiety on the movie. I could convince myself that our room was just a regular room. No haunting. No, none of that exists. It was kind of freeing in a way. then the window slammed itself open despite the lock being in place as always the noise made me recoil covering my head with my arms but when i realized what had happened i jumped to the window to close it again as i was trying to get my my breathing steady my mum opened the door and asked me what the hell i was doing i'm sorry i said even more nervous i dropped my physics book

That was enough to convince her to leave. I couldn't sleep that night at all. I spent hours pacing around the room, fear and anger growing inside me. It was almost 2 a.m. when I laid down with my phone, watching several guided meditations on my YouTube, none of which was working. When my eyes began to close, I heard the whispering, but this time it was clearer. Her fault, trapped here. Let me out. Kill her. I jumped out of my bed, shivering, sweating cold and started pacing around again. I was convinced I was going to lose my mind that night. But when morning came, I left the room and forced myself to act normal, as normal as I could. I never told anyone what I thought I heard, not even Lewis. Anxiety and fear followed us until we moved out. I still have questions I can't bring myself to ask and now Lewis doesn't ask questions anymore either in fact we never talk about it but sometimes I feel like I'm going to lose my mind if I don't find out what it was in that room and what came in through the window and most importantly

why it was there in the past place the weirdest thing is that it came in via just that window no other opening in the entire house but just that window like it's got something to do with the window itself the room maybe but then surely it could come in another entrance and get into the room that's a very strange part of the story I enjoyed the story but I'm just saying like the whole attachment to the window

don't open that Pacific window but any other window door is a go yeah so it's like it's something to do with what the window's made from that there's like something attached on the other side you just wouldn't have your kiss in that room really would you

no you wouldn't and then give them these two little children the responsibility of not opening a window I mean what if it was hot what if there was a fire do you open the window it's very weird but I enjoyed it because it was well written

but I just for me it's a bit like that's weird that it's attached to the window but then you know like the doll annabel she's behind that glass so if you open that glass then that's a problem and of course it's a completely different situation but that's the only thing i can do it what's with that glass anyway with annabel it's uh blessed weekly weekly blessed by the church it's like a holy glass or whatever from made from the fat again or whatever and then it's blessed the whole room is blessed until they take it on tour again but as you do with a fucking haunted doll

I know what's a good idea but it's strange to me I'm buying it difficult to understand why opening the window creates a haunting but if you go in and out of your house normally it doesn't so I can only deter that it is attached to the glass

or the frame somehow it's strange with no explanation from the parents. Yeah, yeah, yeah. And now she's hearing... Lots of questions. Yeah, and now she's hearing a girl, she said, didn't she, in her room? Is it, they, they, the voice referred to her, she. Yeah. She did this. Yeah. Well, she did. Well, he did actually, technically. Mm. And if the, if it was such a problem to open that, why doesn't it closed, right? Weren't it now? I was going to say, as a parent, wouldn't you nail the, the, fuck out of that yeah or even bored it so my child is then number one not tempted number two can't even see it like I wouldn't even have my children in that room no I agree so other than

your clear flaw in writing that yeah I enjoyed it but yeah it bothers me a little bit yeah it does lots of things wrong with the situation yeah I mean at least adds why the window is haunted or like why did your parents not give you any information you know i mean we've got no information and how this spirit that's what i'm going with can't get in any other way only fire that window it's like a portal window did it come with that when you ordered it from the manufacturers do you see what i'm saying is it's weird that's us we're done we actually got through that it wasn't as bad as what you imagined no i mean You need to chill out.

I do, and I have been. I just don't want them to get... Yeah, they were okay. I want them to know that indoors is rest, outdoors you can play, and I'm going to let them play now. You can't look at that one. Yeah, you can't look at her because she thinks it's always like the happy show. Hey, what are you doing?

Here comes to the other one. What are you doing? What are you doing? What are you doing? Right, we're going. All right, peace. Like, follow. Subscribe.

And I need a pee. And she needs a pee, obviously. Wow. What do you think that? What don't you think of that? I think that girl has got everything that she did.