Spooked - Spirit of the Mountain

Episode Date: May 16, 2025

In Yauco, the mountain is alive. It knows you. It is aware of you. And when you pass, it will not let you leave unforgotten.Thank you Adam, for sharing your story with Spooked!Produced by Erick Yáñez. Original score by Doug Stuart. 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.

this can. The cans for the pup. I open the can and the pup eats it up. The tin hides the truth of what lived and who died. My pup doesn't care. You've crossed over to Spute. Sixth grade, rural Michigan. Close to where we live, there's a livery stable where the rich folk keep their horses. They let me and some of my buddies come through and muck stables, move feed, do chores or whatever for the exalted. privilege of getting to be around horses. No, we can't ride the horses. At least we better not get caught riding horses. Still, we get to tend the most beautiful animals that have ever breathed air, and there's one.

Just not bay like from a story. Looks like a patroness, glorious. But no one can get near her. She bites, she whinny, she kicks. We call her demon. You can't even walk by her, except for the owner's son Chad. The one that hisses at us to keep your head down. Don't you look me in the eyes.

The one always blinking. One day, my buddy steps too close to demon's stall. She nips him on the shoulder hard enough to draw blood. He screams bloody murder. Demon screams back. All the horses answer the stable explodes into panamonium. The owner's son, Chad, pads through, walks right up to Demon, pushes his hand into her stall, places it on top of her head.

Her crazed eyes still. Winnie's presses into his fingers, knickers, snorts. And she's silent. Every other horse grows silent as well And I am in awe I've never seen this kind of control This type of certainty So much I hate him

But he speaks horse No one that I've ever seen in life So I watch him hoping Hoping maybe someday Maybe I can speak horse too The owner Chad's father always laughs that he wants to train demon not to bite,

says she'd be worth a million bucks. I'm not getting anywhere near her. But I shadowed Chad from a distance. He always has sugar cubes in his pockets, so I make sure I have sugar cubes in my pockets. I always carries apples as a special treat. I start carrying apples. And one day, after someone else runs bleeding from the stable,

I see Chad press sugar. onto demon's tongue and occurs to me he never gives her treats when she doesn't bite he only gives her treats when she does the bigger the melee the larger her reward he looks over

sees me seeing him and quickly quickly before he gets angry and they never let me back in here again wild wooden animals plants have a different way of knowing a different relationship with the world.

Seems exactly what you might expect. What's odd is those rare moments when they let us see. What they see. Now, once you meet Adam. As a kid, Adam, used to travel a lot to Puerto Rico. To visit his family in Yaoko. In town surrounded by mountains and jungles. And there, he would spend time with Papito, his great-grandfather.

Everyone knew Papito in town. He was almost like the chief of the mountains. Everyone respected him from his kids to his great-grandchildren. Even the animals. Tito held all the knowledge of the teenage people. He would always tell Adam that the mountain is aware of things. I mean that Adam is about to find out by himself. When I was about nine years old, I spent a whole lot of time in my Papito's house, my great-grandfather's house.

It sits on one of the many mountain tops of Yaoko. It's on this little plateau that overlooks the cliff and the valley. And there's forest, forest, forest, forest everywhere. It's like a jungle. It's very difficult to see a neighbor. The only other neighbors that were near were his brothers and sisters who owned their own houses on this big property. in the mountains that was all owned by my great-grandfather. So one day I go up to Papito's house, which is a walk from my grandmother's house.

I love to hang out there because he had a bunch of interesting random farm equipment and tons of farm animals, cows and horses, goats. But nearby there was an enormous bull, and I was deathly frightened by this bull because it was enormous. It was huge, so much larger than me, huge horns. So I was hanging out and playing in the front of his house and this big bull came nearer to me. So I go to my papito and say, I'm scared of the bull and it's coming close. He laughed because he saw this city kid being scared of the bull that no one pays any attention to. The bull was walking away from the house

and Papito did this super powerful whistle like a Fourth of July firework echoing through the mountains. And then the bull just stopped and started calming back towards us. That was really scary. As is the last thing I wanted, I was like pulling away from him,

but he wouldn't let me go. And the bull is just lumbering over very slowly. And then he says, no, no, no, no. That's all he said. He said, no, no, no, no. And then he grabbed the bull by the horns, and he lowered it down into the ground and made it like bow its head

and put its horns towards the ground. And so he just grabbed me, pick me up, threw my leg over. The next thing I know I'm riding on this enormous bull. and holding on to the horns and it was scary, but it was awesome and exciting. I felt much better because

I saw that this thing did whatever he wanted it to do. One day, I'm in my madrina's house, which was at the top, highest peak of all of the hills that we lived on. I'm playing with my sister and my cousins. My madrina, my godmother, was taking care of Papito at the time.

He was in his late 90s and he had severe sort of dementia. Papito is laying in my madrina's room in her bed. And as we play during the day, I start to get the sense that something is happening. Everybody is gathering at my madrina's house. And more and more people keep showing up. People from the town, uncle. aunt's, and a priest shows up. I peeked into the room, and the room was filled with people.

Papito is laying in the bed. He looked very small and skinny and pale. He looked gray almost. I started to feel uncomfortable. I didn't know what was going on. but I knew that I didn't want to be around at that moment. So I go to my abuela and I tell her how I feel. She told me that I could go back to her house,

that the sun is just starting to set. If I leave now, I could make it before the sun fully sets. And that I could wait for them to be finished what they were doing. So I leave my Madrina's house and I start on the path to my grandmother's house. I can hear the sounds that are fading away from the house. And it sounds like crying. And I'm thinking, oh, okay, whatever it is that I didn't want to be around for is happening right now. I'm entering the lower part of the mountains, the beginning of the valley, and the forest.

And I realize that it's much darker than I thought it was going to be. There is just so many trees, vegetation, tangly vines. I get to my grandmother's driveway, which is a long little road. And as I get there, I heard somewhere nearby a very strange sound, an animal sound. The first thing I thought of was a cow, because there's cows everywhere. And then a moment later, it screamed in a way that I've never heard a living thing scream before. It was almost like a human whale coming from an animal. I get this cold tinglingness throughout my whole body,

goosebumps going up my neck. I immediately just started to run towards my grandmother's house. As soon as I start running, I hear another. And now I'm sure it's an animal. But it sounded like someone, a person, in pain. Then in the distance, a bunch of other animals start wailing. The pigs in the valley, the dogs that were randomly all over the mountainside, the cows and the horses and the bulls.

Some of it sounded like it was the pigs near the slaughterhouse that were not even on our property. They were in agony as if they were being killed. And then the night is just filled with these whales. It's an igniting of voices that keep coming out of the darkness because I can't see where they're coming from. And so I'm running, running, running to my grandmother's house. And this wailing seems like it's chasing me. Like it sounds like it's bright in the back of my head,

trying to grab at my ankles. Once I get to the top of the hill, I'm panting like a madman. I pass through the gates of my grandmother's house, slipping and sliding, run up to her patio, grab the door, yank it open and slam the door shut. I'm all alone. The wailing is still going strong, and it feels like it's completely surrounding my grandparents.

grandmother's house. I run into the room where I was sleeping and I lay on the cot. I just started praying. I just wanted the time to pass to wait for my grandmother to come back. Eventually, the animal noises finally died down and shortly after that, my grandmother arrives. My grandmother comes up to me and and asked me if I'm okay and I sort of stammer over my words. I told her that when I was coming back to the house, I heard the animals screaming. And my grandmother said, of course they're screaming. Of course they're upset.

And I asked her, why are they so upset? She said, because Papito died. Papito's gone now. At first, I'm confused. I didn't understand that. I said, how could they know that he died? And my grandmother said that all of the animals know these things. They sense his spirit.

Papito was like their father, their master, their protector, everything to them. Their chief. They could feel him leaving. They were sad and scared. So, of course, they know. That night, I... I was having a lot of trouble falling asleep. I was up thinking a bunch of things.

How could animals know that Papito died? And I wondered, do animals have some sense that we don't have? Or do we have that sense? I was so restless that I got up. I opened up the main door very carefully and quietly, and then went outside into the night. There was a place in my grandmother's house that I really loved to go during the day.

And it was in the rear of the house where there was a hammock hanging and there was just like a cliffside and it overlooked the valley. I went towards the edge of the cliff. I lay in the hammock in the darkness. I'm looking out over the valley, seeing the little bit of stars out there

and just the blackness of the mountain. I hear the crickets and the coquies, the little frogs that make a very specific sound in Puerto Rico. And I hear an animal sound in the darkness. It wasn't a growl. It was more strange and scary than a growl. I don't know what it is, but it sounded scary. And it was coming from the darkness. in front of me.

The animal makes this sound a second time. It was a strange, hyena-like yipping excitement, but not a good excitement. It sounded very close, and it sounds like something that wanted to hurt me. I'm frozen, stiff, I can't move. I was just like a deer in headlights. The thought crossed my mind. Oh, my grandmother's going to be so mad if I die. And immediately after I hear this whistle like a firecracker in the darkness, in the valley,

and that animal sound stopped, I'm feeling like I just got shocked by electricity. And I feel a sudden flush of relief. and in that moment I knew, I knew it. I just somehow knew that Papito made that sound. Papito was there with me. Papito's spirit said goodbye to the animals and even stuck around long enough to protect me and to say goodbye to me.

I slowly get up and make my way into the house. And I'm thinking, there's something after death. I knew that death was something very, very powerful, very part of life. But Papito showed me that that death is not the end of our energy. You Adam were sharing your stories as spooked. That original score was by Doug Stewart. It was produced by Idy Ganges.

Okay, so, Travents, Rhode Island. Far away from the cobblestone touristy part, there sits a quiet building called Steerhouse, nursing home into a hospice, and in this place lived a cat. Not a purring cuddle machine, no Instagram cuttie. No, this cat is cold-blooded, gray, white, fur, green eyes. Oscar doesn't care about sitting in your lap. Oscar doesn't chase toys. Oscar doesn't even want to be bothered with people.

much unless and until you are preparing for your final journey. And the first time this happens, no one really pays much attention. Oscar slips into the room of a woman who'd stopped speaking two days prior. Oscar jumps into her bed and this cantankerous feline actually curls up at her side. And just wait. Hours ticked by and quiet as much. missed, the woman passes away. The attendants think, what a sweet moment.

What a cosmic coincidence to have the cat as a comfort during her final moments. In another room and another patient. Oscar disappears from his usual spot in the hallway and somehow winds up curled in a ball besides this man. Oscar lies still, eyes have shut, tail, tucked. And this man too Passes into the beyond And another person

And another And again another still And by the time We arrive at the strange coincidence number 25 People aren't saying that's weird anymore Nah It's that they say call the family Oscar's on the bed

There's no vital sign crash It's just a feline signal that the end is not and Dr. David Dosa he sees us and he's trying to make sense of it he's a man of science but Oscars I just thrown off his game playing and start tracking him

Oscar he's right over and over and over again more than 100 times more than 100 people and not just patience and decline sometimes Oscar curls up before anything looks different

before the nurses even notice. Eventually they stopped questioning. Instead they start trusting. Family said that when Oscar enters the room something changes. It was eerie when daughter recalls.

He gave us time to say everything we needed. Another man, his eyes wet, voice cracking remembers he wasn't there for us, he was there for her. But he helped us understand what was happening. Oscar didn't howl. Oscar didn't demand, didn't console. He witnessed still a shadow when the breath slowed.

And the room filled with that silence born of absence. And touched and moved, the good doctor wrote a book about what he saw called Making Rounds with Oscar. How do you explain what happened? Is it a trick, a gift, a miracle, instincts? But of course, I tell you this story to ask a favor. Because if you have a knowledge of a non-human neighbor, it seems to have a special connection to the inexplicable. Maybe even that special non-human neighbor living in your house that you put food in their bowl twice a day, I'd sure love to know about it.

Why? Because, dear friends, there is nothing better. And a spook story from a spooked listener. Spooked at snapjudgment.org The spooked is brought to you by the team that makes their own pet food for any animal in their care. Except from Mark Ristich, who always says, if I can eat kibble, so can they. It's David Kim, Lloyd Friigno, Ann Ford, Eric Yanniers, Taylor de Kott, Marissa Dodge, Miles Lassie, Doug Stewart,

Elliot Lightfoot, Paulina Creeke, Juan Diego Beltran, Sasha Wilson, Dan Yashinsky, on Team Snap. The union representative producers, artists, editors, and engineers, are members of the National Association of Broadcast Employees and Technicians, communications workers of America, AFL, CIO, Local 51. The spook theme song is by Pat McCabe Miller. My name is from Washington. They say that time. It's just an illusion.

Well, it's a pretty good illusion, right? It's a pretty good trick. Everything time given, time also snatches the way. Nothing stays the same even for a moment. The rules are harsh. Unforgiving only for, never back, no appeals, no regard, no backdoor, no secret hatch. All the money in the world can't buy a fast pass off this ride. Sometimes if what we experience is supernatural, it's paranormal.

It's paranormal. It's really just echoes of those that discovered an escape route. From those that decided that this moment was too important to abandon and that part of them was going to stay right here no matter what time saying about it. And what is our responsibility to those lost echoes left behind. I don't have a magic formula.