Spooked - Fire Creature

Episode Date: March 28, 2025

When you’re lost in the forest at the foothills of the Himalayas, a light in the distance is not always good news.  Thank you, Razdan, for sharing your grandfather’s story with Spooked.Produced by Erick Yáñez, original score by Clay Xavier, scouted by Aditya Mattoo, artwork by Teo Ducot. Hosted by Simplecast, an AdsWizz company. See pcm.adswizz.com for information about our collection and use of personal data for advertising.

They've lost their homes. To the fire, the burn. I bring them warm blankets with care and concern. If there's anything you need, don't hesitate to ask. You've crossed over to spooked. Stay. Okay, so, from a thermometer, hanging outside the window, it's the kind of freeze that only happens after the blizzard.

coldest day of winter, fourth gradeish. And I know I feel that if I stay inside this trailer with my pop, something very bad is going to happen. So I put on long johns, on top of my long johns, socks on socks, my coat with the hood.

And I step out into the blinding whiteness, cold like the face of the moon cold, everything snow. No trails into the woods, no paths. I walk. Slowly, you can't mess up here. No wrong steps. Winter doesn't care. Still every move I make.

Deeper into the woods, the fear falls away. The more of the chair inside the house fades. Destination, just movement. Cold crackles and snaps. Limfuls of snow. I walk. Making a game of how quietly I can move.

If I was slow, I can breathe. That shadow deeper into the loss. Something, someone else in this tundra, I turned toward the almost sound. It can't outstelf me, outstep me. Slowly, I push four than I see it, closer than I would have imagined a deer. Four-point buck magnificent antlers, if you are very, very lucky, you see this kind only once in your lifetime. He glares directly, drips from his muzzle onto the white snow,

and I'm thinking it's hurt, probably shot, and I'm angry. It is not deer season. No one can legally shoot anything, not on our property, and not leave it wounded in suffering. I don't understand what I'm seeing. Steam rising from his freshly ripped open belly, the deer glowers at me. protective of its prize, then stretch a bloody viscera into its mouth,

and daring me to take a step forward toward the red-stained snow. I take a step back, then too, because dears, they don't eat flesh, dears are ruinous. Four chambered stomachs made for plants only for plants. Every Missiganda knows this, so this ain't a deer. This is what kind of deer-shaped monster? I don't even realize that I'm running until a low-hanging branch knocks me down. I scramble back to my feet, frantic sprinting crashing, pushing away from that creature, that abomination.

No more careful steps now running wild. I hear it. I hear something crashing through the woods beside me, behind me, running, running, knock back down, climb back up, and finally, finally, I see our trailer. in the clearing, sprinting toward it. I see it. The dread leaking from the trailer, like blood on snow, the fear that pushed me out of the warmth into the cold,

radiating like sick. I stop in front of my door. The hungry cold gathers, sweat freezes on my lips, my forehead, my ears. I listen for footfalls following me. I listen for warning inside the house. Now let's meet Chaita New Razdan. Just seven years old, living with his grandparents in the beautiful city of Jammu, India,

the foothills of the Himalayas. Now his grandfather would always tell him stories, but there is one story that he had kept to himself until right now. One day, I was in the front yard of my house, playing with a ball while the sun was setting. We had this house that was surrounded by farms and fields, and I could hear the birds chirping and going back to their nests. I loved living there.

My grandmother was inside the kitchen, preparing supper for the whole family. And my grandfather was sitting on the veranda. That's where we used to sit in the evening and have a cup of tea and watch sunset. I went to grab the ball, I bent down, and as I got up, I saw a light blinking in the horizon. It looked like it was a bulb or a fire floating in the air, six feet above the ground. It's in the middle of the field, very far away from our house. The light was there for just a few seconds, and then all of a sudden it disappeared. It was gone.

My first thought was there's never a light on that side of the house. There was no electric pole. There was no road on that side where you could see a bike or a car. or a bus or anything. I turned to my grandfather. I used to call him Papa-ji. I said, Papa-ji, did you notice that?

I just saw some light on the other side of the field. Did you also see that? The expression on his face, it suddenly changed. He looked startled and surprised. He said, if you ever see a light in the forest at a far-off distance, never approach it or go towards it. just make sure you follow your path.

The immediate question was like, but why? It's just a light, right? He said, okay, sit in this chair right next to me and he started narrating his story. In the early 1950s, my grandfather used to work for food and supplies department as an inspector. His primary role was basically going around to different parts of Kashmir

to check the quality of the food grains before they could be destroyed. distributed within the province. One fine day in the fall season, my grandfather had to go for an inspection to a very far-off village in the middle of the mountains. So he prepared for the trip. He put everything that he usually used to carry in his bag,

a spare set of clothes, a shoe horn, a knife that he would use for protection if needed, and some food that he could eat on his journey. He caught the bus in the city of Srinagar at around 10.30, 11. His plan was up to get off the bus around 5.5.30 and then another one hour of journey on horse carriage and be at his end destination

before it started getting really dark. After a few hours into the trip, the bus broke down. So he ended up reaching his first stop at 8 p.m. And it was already dark. My grandfather stepped out of the bus, expecting a horse carriage to be there. There was nobody there.

He was in a very small town. Everything was closed. But then he thought, he has been to that village so many times. Maybe he can just start walking towards the place. It might take him just two hours. So he started walking away from that town towards the forest.

He could barely see the path in front of him. He could hear. crows, wild dogs barking at a distance. He was not afraid. He was used to going to places like these. All of a sudden, he notices a small light flickering at a distance. It looked like a ball of fire, dark orange in color. It was few feet above the ground, like hanging in the air.

He thought, why is a flame there? I've taken this journey so many times there's supposed to be nothing in that direction He thought maybe it's a shepherd Usually they take their animals for grazing in the mountains But then the light disappeared He thought oh maybe he's imagining it So he kept walking

Around 30 to 40 paces ahead He notices something from the corner of his eye He turned his head to the left and he noticed there's another light there this light is at far of distance on the other side of the mountain hanging in the air

he was surprised is this the same light that he saw earlier was that light moving and following him or it's a new light and then he turns around and he sees four lights right behind him at a distance

they were very close to each other as if it was four lanterns together and they are getting slightly brighter which means the distance is getting shot my grandfather was wondering is somebody following me

are there any thieves or docoids that are following his lead he's scared he turned around and he started picking up pace towards his destination my grandfather looks ahead and he notices the first lights

they were all changing directions some were moving left some were moving to the right few feet above the ground it's as if the lights are circling around him they are following him from different directions he starts thinking

this is supernatural my grandfather was a devote Hindu he had heard stories from his grandparents about spirits some of those mystical beings that take position of your soul they take position of your body

some of those try to kill and it is said the forest is full of those kind of creatures he thought I better get out of this place as soon as possible

he started running the trail moved to the right along the mountain and as soon as he turned right what he saw was out of this world. In the horizon in front of him, there were 50, 60 lights glowing, floating above the ground, moving from one side to another,

criss-crossing, jumping 50 feet in irregular patterns. Some of them were coming closer, some of them were moving further away. Some lights would go off and they would start glowing in a different direction altogether. It was like a dance of those lights. My grandfather started rubbing his eyes.

It was something that he had never seen or imagined. His hands were shaking, his legs were shaking, and he starts running at his full speed. Then he noticed that the lights were kind of following him. They were also moving in the same direction. He was scared so much that he thought, But this is the end of his life. He realized that the village was still far ahead.

He couldn't run that far. And he suddenly remembered that his parents and grandparents had told him when he was a kid. If you are ever in danger, you should chant Hanuman Chalisa, and Lord Hanuman will come and save you. He is the monkey god, the savior of all. The lights are immediately behind him. So he hurriedly sat down, opened his bag, he took out his knife, and also the metal shoehorn that he would always carry with him. It's a common belief in some parts of India that having a metal object with you saves you from anything supernatural. He put that shoehorn on the ground.

He stick that knife into the ground. He crossed his legs, closed his eyes, and started chanting Hanuman Chalisa, loud and clear. He is just sitting there, pray. He doesn't dare to open the eyes. He just keeps chanting. And he's just praying, pray, pray. Chankar Suan Kayseri, Nandthage Pratap, Mahavak, Vytya

Finally he gathers the courage to open his eyes. He could not see any lights. He looked behind him. He looked behind him. He turned left. He turned right. But there were no lights to be seen anywhere. He thanked God.

He grabbed the knife and the shoe on in his hand. And he started running towards the village. He ended up reaching the village at 11 o'clock. My grandfather straight went to the village head's house. The village head was a very good friend of my grandfather. The village head came and he opened the door. He said to my grandfather, What happened to you? Why are you so late?

Are you okay? Why don't you come in? So my grandfather comes in and he sits on the ground on the carpet, also known as Kaleen. He told my grandfather, okay, so what happened in the journey? After my grandfather explained it to the village head, he had a very concerning look in his eyes. He said,

You know what? you should consider yourself very lucky that you made it to my place tonight. Not everybody's been so lucky. My grandfather asked him why. He's like what you saw there, it's called a Rachok. Some people also call it Bram Rachok.

They say that Rachok is a human-like creature on two legs and it has a light on his head. It has a fire on his head. It's so bright that you cannot see his phrase. He shows himself to people who are traveling at night. It creates an illusion, makes you take the wrong road. People usually tend to follow the light,

thinking there's a human dwelling there or a village. My grandfather's like, yeah, I have heard about Rachok when I was a kid. I thought it's a, you know, story you tell your kids and then when you grow up you kind of forget about those stories. So is it real? And the village had replied. Yes, it is real. There have been people we never found again.

In the past, we had to send search parties to find people. Some of them were lucky. We found them. But some people, we have no clue about what happened to them. You are lucky that you did not leave the trail and start following those. those lights. Otherwise, who knows, tomorrow morning we might be looking for you in the forest. My grandfather was shocked. He said nothing. But he also felt a sense of gratitude towards

the Lord. Probably it was some of his good karma that helped save his day. After that, he made it a point that he did not travel anywhere by himself at night. My grandfather finished his story. he went quiet. Then I was silent. I had goosebumps and I was also scared a little bit because I had just seen a light. My grandmother had actually come out and she was also listening to this story probably maybe 20th time or 50th time. My grandma says, okay, let's go. Let's have dinner now.

I am 40 now and I still remember all the details of this story. It left an everlasting impression of. me. I do believe there are still Rachuk somewhere in those mountains. I still have an iron ring that was given to me by my parents. I've never taken that ring off my finger. It's been a part of my body for the last 30 years. Just keeps me safe. Let's put it that way. Razzan for sharing your grandfather's story with Spoot. The original score for that story was by Clay Xavier. It was scouted by Adityaumato and produced by Eric Yanez. 1868, London in front of several witnesses, a man by the name of Daniel Douglas home,

flew out of a third-story window and flew back in through another window. Naturally, folks were both amazed and dubious. Daniel later allowed himself to be tested by multiple skeptics, including eminent scientists. After a thorough examination, one of these esteemed souls finally concluding, and I quote, I have seen him rise completely from the ground on several occasions. Daniel never charged for his performances. Even after his death, no concrete evidence to dispute his miracles ever arose. So, I guess what I am asking, Stokeshers,

is, can you fly? Can you? Seems unlikely, but if you can, I really need to know about it. No funny business. Spooked at snapjudgment.org. Let us know. Why? Because there's nothing better than a spook story from a spooked listener.

Spooked at snapjudgment.org. And if you want to see spook come to life a whole new way, follow Spout on. YouTube, Instagram, TikTok, it is on, spread the word. Spook just brought to you by the team that still returns home before the streetlights come on, except of course, Mark Ristich. Mark shout out his streetlights a long time ago. There's David Kim, Zoe Frigno, Ann Ford, Eric Yannes, Tell de Kott, Marissa Dodge, Miles Lassie, Doug Stewart, Paulina Creek, Elizabeth Z. Pardu, Adityamatu,

Lulu Jemima, the spook theme song is by Pat Massidi Miller. My name is Glen Washington. And it feels like our consciousness is expanding to consider ideas that we may have dismissed as absurd or fringe

even a little while ago. Mainstream thinkers speak about GAIA, the collective unified consciousness of the planet, which I think is progress, but it's hard to get my mind around. What about this place? What about this forest, this valley?

Can it have its own consciousness? Can it love? Can it hate fear? See, the ancients didn't just build temples to their gods. They built temples where gods already danced. Those standing stones aren't placed at random. Those sacred groves don't flower by chance. Our reverence is a dialogue with that which is already here.

Communication that demands we approach with offerings. With respect and return, some places give blessings. Others spit curses. They are no more the same than we are, each speaking its own tongue. When you think you feel that whisper a rain on your skin, when the buzz of the swarm presses against your daydream, listen, you may be standing exactly where the ancients would have built a temple. You may be standing on a temple where the mystery still dwells,

still watches, still waits. Do you imagine? But you cannot hear the scream of a place and it's being murdered as we kill our own gods? This is not just madness. This is dark. And it's why we plead. It's why we beg. Never, ever, never, ever.