The Confessionals - CHRISTMAS EVE SPECIAL with Sasquatch Chronicles, Astonishing Legends, Dark Waters, Strange Familiars, Hillbilly Horror Stories and History Goes Bump

Episode Date: December 24, 2018

Merry Christmas Eve! I was driving around in my truck for work in late November when an idea hit me. As I was thinking about the holiday season and people traveling I thought I would be fun to host a Christmas music special to help people get through their travels for the holidays. And while I was at it, why not have other podcasts co-host with me by reading short scary Christmas stories! Welcome to the first ever Christmas Eve Music Special from The Confessionals!

Nobody is quite sure when ghost stories first became associated with Christmas time. Some people actually believe the tradition is older than Christmas itself. Before Christmas was a holiday, the dramatic people of Europe celebrated a festival called Yule, which came at the end of the year. During the longest, darkest nights of the year, it was thought that the barrier between our world and the afterlife became thinner, and ghosts were more likely to appear on earth. This led to all kinds of stories about ghosts being told. Eventually, many, Ewell traditions were incorporated into Christmas, including ghost stories.

In 1863, Charles Dickens published his famous novel, A Christmas Carol. The book was a huge hit and helped reignite people's love for the Christmas season. It also helped to associate the season with ghosts like those that visited mean old Scrooge to help him mend his way. After that, ghost stories became a beloved part of Christmas in England. Families would gather around the fire and read stories to scare and thrill one another. Some people read stories written by popular authors of the day, while others came up with their own stories. Yet others still told stories that have been passed down in their families for generations, stories that might have come from reality.

out in the snow There'll be scary ghost stories Scary ghost stories Scary ghost stories Scary ghost stories Scary ghost stories Scary ghost stories scary Ghost stories scary

If you do not like sinning Against Christmas music I highly suggest you change the dial It's good old Santa Claus Down to the chimney with lots of toys All for the little one's Christmas joy. I still stock in the little now. Oh, dear Santa fill it well.

Give her a dolly that laughs and cries. One that can open and shut its eyes. I still believe in Santa Claus. This was in 1996. It must have been three or four in the morning. I heard something on the roof, a thunk. The jangling sleigh bells, then the slow plotting of footsteps toward the chimney.

Quickly I ran downstairs, careful not to wake my parents. Then I waited by the cookies and milk, hiding behind the couch. The jangling grew louder, echoing down the chimney. Thuds, scrapes, wind whistled. Dark soot fell and clicked off the cold coals. I remember looking down and seeing how hard my little fingers gripped the top of the couch. The creek of the leather, the whites of my knuckles. It's all stayed with me.

I jumped as a black boot slipped out from the chimney and kicked up dust. The red of his suit was frayed, like the hem of a castaway's pants, and the color faded to a soft pink, not like the mall Santa at all. The other boot fell. This one had a manacle crimped around it, so tight it had chopped through the boot and bit into the skin underneath. Then a length of chain dropped next to his foot. and jangled in the hearth.

It wasn't sleigh bells after all. He sat on his heels and stooped forward with a cascading crack of two dozen joints. He pushed his face through the hanging stockings, threadbare hat hanging low, and strings of white matted hair clinging over his face. He emerged into my living room, short and emaciated,

dragging a red burlop sack blackened by soot. Santa? He saw me and stumbled in shock. The face. It just... I couldn't believe it. The deep wrinkles. The wiry beard.

Coated in sediment from infinite chimneys. The shape of it. Too, not jolly and round. No. Gone cave with hanging sallow skin. He cowered away from me like a dog that had been kicked too many times. But I still caught his eyes,

small and possibly black dots, darting away to look anywhere, but back at me. He dragged his chain leg to the tree and began dropping gifts beneath it, beautifully wrapped gifts, a facade covering the horror I was witnessing. There came a sudden tug on his chain, and he moaned in fear, quickening his pace. Then the chain tightened and began reeling him in. He stretched frantically and took the cookies in his hand, shoving his whole, fist into his mouth, then chugged the milk so fast it streamed over the sides and onto his dirtied suit. A harder tug took his feet out from under him, and he smacked his face onto the carpet. With bewildered black eyes, he finally stared up at me, stretching out his hand.

I remember the look he gave me, his whole ghostly visage, trembling in fear. And I can still hear the whimpering as he slid backwards into the fireplace and up the chimney. That whimpering wakes me up every Christmas Eve. I still believe in Santa Claus. I just wish I didn't. That was Forrest Burgess, and I'm Scott Philbrook from Astonishing Legends. Merry Christmas, everyone. Hey, everybody.

This is T.J. Smalley from Austria, and you are listening to The Confessionals with Tony. In 1990, a childless couple in Merseyside, England, jumped at the opportunity of fostering an 11-year-old boy, named Gary. The authorities told the couple that Gary had been put up for adoption two times before, but had been returned to the care of the social services for being unusually hyperactive. The couple took Gary home a fortnight before Christmas and spoiled him rotten. The child said he wanted three Christmas stockings and was given them. The couple put up a huge Christmas tree and laid bundles of presents for Gary under it. The child opened some of these presents, but the couple didn't scold him, they just laughed about it,

and allowed the boy to take the gifts, a box of antique tin soldiers and a little drum, up to his room. At 3 a.m., the couple were awakened by the sound of a strange racket which was coming from Gary's bedroom. The foster parents jumped out of bed and barged into Gary's room and were shocked at the bizarre sight which greeted them. The drum was beating all by itself, and all the little tin soldiers were hopping along the floor

in a single file to the drumbeat. A sleepy-eyed Gary was sitting up in his bed, giggling and clapping his hands as he surveyed the eerie spectacle. The couple, who were very religious, took the poltergeist-like phenomenon as a manifestation of the devil, and promptly decided they didn't want to adopt the child. During the journey to the Social Services Department, strange knocking sounds were heard on the side window of the couple's car. Once again, Gary spent his Christmas without a mum and dad, because he probably possessed the psychic gift of telekinesis. the ability to move objects by the power of the mind. Problems child fate is unknown.

This is Diane Student from the History Goes Bump podcast, wishing you a Merry Spookmas. I mean, Merry Christmas. Merry Christmas. Merry Christmas. I tell you what happened to me. I was attending the University of Tennessee, and I had the unique privilege of working for the Smoky Mountain National Park.

I got college credit, didn't get paid for it. I got along with most of the Rangers. They liked us young guys. The price was right. Didn't cost them anything. And they used us around the park, you know, strong back, strong legs to do a lot of the work that they didn't want to do. I enjoyed it. You know, we had a lot of unique privileges.

We had access to different areas of the park. No one else had access to. And I knew most of the trails like the back of my hand. On this particular day, the Rangers had called us in all this young guys. and they needed some legs on the ground. There was a search and rescue going on. I believe it was a father and son that went missing. The father and son weren't actually missing.

They had checked out a permit. When you go to these parks, you got to check out of permit, and then you return the permit when you're done. Well, they never returned. After we took a look at his permit, it looked like he was going to be on top of Mount McCann. Mount McCann is one of the tallest mountains in the Smokies. Now, the father and son had changed their plans.

We didn't know that at the time. Mount McCahn isn't the easiest thing to get to. Some of these trails, it takes six to nine miles to get there, and you're basically going straight up a mountain. The worst part was a storm was coming in. I mean an unexpected heavy, heavy snowfall coming in. So we packed our bags and started down the trail. So six of us young guys took off.

Three went up one trail, and me and two other guys went up another trail. And I'm knee-deep in snow. I'm wearing all my pack, all my gear. it was a long, long day, especially with the elements and trying to get through the snow and the wind. I was exhausted. I went about nine miles that day. We get to the top of the mountain, and as we get up there, there's a cabin up there. Now, the rangers take care of that cabin. It's meant for workers, it's meant for guys like us, volunteers, guys doing trail maintenance,

and I was so happy to see the cabin. To describe the cabin to you, it's basically the size of a one-term, car garage, maybe a little smaller. There's two sets of bunks that sleep three high. There's a little wood stove in there. There's a huge heavy door with a latch on it. It's not a hotel, but it sure was a site for sore eyes after hiking in the snow all day. I took my pack off, sat down, made something to eat, talked with the guys, took some clothes and set them off to dry. Couldn't wait to get in my bed. I was exhausted. We had these sleeping bags. There's zero degree sleeping bags, mummy style.

So basically if you sleep in it right, the only thing is showing is your eyes. I finished up eating, crawled into bed. I was so tired. And it was one of those nights to where you could just hear the wind outside. And I was so happy to be inside that cabin with a nice fire going. Now, I can't tell you how long we were asleep. I know I was asleep. But then, this thing started screaming and howling outside the cabin.

I woke up. It was horrific, sound this thing was making, and it was right outside the cabin wall. And it wasn't screaming a little bit, it was screaming a lot. Now I have a lot of experience with Black Bears, as you can imagine with my job. And they scratch and they claw and they hit, but they don't hit like this. Whatever this thing was, whatever was screaming out there, began hitting the cabin. Now this cabin was bearproof. So I had this huge heavy front door. It was the only door to the place.

Had a latch and it was a solid door. And this thing was hitting the door so hard, the top of the door was flexing into the cabin. It was sheer terror. Now I'm laying there in my mummy bag, looking straight across from me is one of the guys I was with. And his eyes are as big as saucers. And he's looking directly at me.

Now you would think, six tough ex-football players that have been hiking all day, we're outdoors men, we're the tough guys, you'd think we'd get up and do something. No one said a word. I don't think anyone breed. When you have true fear, you freeze. I remember feeling so helpless, listening to this saying bang on the cabin door, bang on the cabin walls, and just screaming. Whatever it was, it wanted to kill us.

If it could have came in, it would have killed us. The last thing the creature did, as it was banging on the door, it stopped screaming and did this weird vocal. I'm not sure what it was saying, but it was gone. The cabin had returned to silence. Nobody had said a word. Sometime that night I fell asleep. I think everyone fell asleep.

I can't tell you when. The next morning we all woke up, And normally as a couple guys, we all screw around, mess with each other, joke around. There was none of that this morning. We ate breakfast. Finish packing. No one said a word. We opened the door.

And that's when we saw the tracks. They were huge, huge impressions. It had snowed all night and had been windy, so there was no real definition to the tracks. But they looked huge. And you could see where it walked right up to the cabin. Now I want to make one more comment. I know all the park rangers, and we were communicating via radio prior to going to bed that night. I knew where every one of the park rangers were that night, and they were not on top of Mount McCann.

The weather was too bad. Whatever this thing was, it was not happy we were there. We started the long hike down. No one's saying anything. We hiked about two or three miles and stopped to take a break. We all took our packs off. One of my friends said, Okay, guys, what the hell was that last night?

We all talked about it. We finished a trip and made it back. I returned home and went back to college. People asked me today if I believe in Bigfoot. Well, I can tell you that one exists in the Smoky Mountains. I've had a few scary things happen to me in my life. The scariest probably being when my brother pulled a butter knife on me. However, I was listening to scary stories.

about half an hour ago, at least, from when I post this, and thought about scary things in my life. Then I remember this one thing from when I was five. Call my bluff, but the story is completely true. When I was about five around Christmas, I was being babysat by my grandparents. I was talking about elves and how kids of my class didn't believe in them, and how I wanted to take a photo of one to get proof. My grandmother said sometimes elves visit children, so maybe I could look in our back here. yard, through the sliding glass door, of course, and find some.

I pressed my face against the glass and scound for elves, seeing a little splotch of red by the gates, blurry. I got excited and said it must be an elf, and my grandma, who must have assumed it was my imagination, said that was great, and I should keep looking. I continued searching and saw the red blotch was closer, standing by her swing set. This time I was able to make out what it was. A short figure in a red suit and hat. He was bald, it seemed, and his eyes were malicious. He was really, really short, so much so that he might have even suffered from some

physical handicap. So I assumed it was an elf, and got excited as all hell. He seemed to inch closer, and note, this was in my backyard, not to wash behind my house or something. I called my grandma over and pointed towards the figure. to which I remember her face contorting into one of slight horror. She pulled me back from the curtains. That's nice dear, but elves don't like seeing children

because the children can't see Santa Claus and his helpers, she explained, closing the curtains and making sure the door was locked. Still, I ran back up to the glass door and looked out again. The man was gone. I saw him moving behind the fence that separated our yard from the wash. I was sad to see him go, but my grandma looked relieved. She didn't call the police, so I don't think he was ever caught, sadly. I hate to think about what would have happened if I hadn't told my grandma that he was there.

This is Timothy Renner from StrangeFamiliers podcast, StrangeFamiliars.com. Wishing everybody a Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays. Slavelle's rings, are you listening? In the lane, the snow is glistened. A beautiful sight, all we're happy tonight, walking. in a winter one land gone away is a blue bird here to stay is a new bird he's singing a song as we go along you can do the job when you're looking spire as we dream by the fire to face unafraid of the plans of it is a blue bird here to stay is a new bird he's singing a song

This is my true scary Christmas story. This story takes place four years ago and still haunts me to this day. It was Christmas night and my family were driving home from this fancy restaurant. I, unlike my family, wasn't tired. So the 45-minute drive seemed perpetual. In top of that, my little sister was constantly moaning about how her friend didn't get her anything for Christmas. I threw about 20 minutes of driving my dad stopped at a gas station to get some cigarettes, and my sister, brother, and mother all got out to pee.

I stayed in the cars as I'd already gone before we left. Once they all left, I decided to play a few games on my phone. I looked at the car clock and saw that ten minutes had passed, so I immediately wondered what was taking them so long. As soon as I peered out the car window, I saw a man staring at our car. The man startled me as I didn't know how long he had been watching me. What made it even more unnerving is that he had a plain, blank face. No expression at all was shown.

It was hard to make out any features as it was pretty dark, and he wasn't standing in an illuminated part of the station. He was about 5'9 and looked to be middle-aged. Once he saw me notice him, he started walking towards the car, and I'd be lying to you if I said I wasn't scared. Luckily, my dad came back with the rest of the family just as the man took a couple of steps. My dad apologized and told me that he had been in an argument with the cashier. I didn't care. I was just glad that my dad was with me.

I took another glance at the man outside, and he was still staring. But this time, he had an annoyed look on his face. We drove off, and for the rest of the car ride, I couldn't stop thinking about that man. This wouldn't have been too bad if it had ended there, but it didn't. Later that night, I was watching YouTube while everyone else was asleep, and luckily for me a storm was raging over us. I enjoy storms. It makes me kind of cozy as I'm laying there in bed. I put my phone down and just enjoyed the ambiance.

That didn't last for long as I heard something smash into the window behind me. I lurched forward and nearly fell out of the bed. I thought a bird had just smashed into the window. I parted the blinds and what I saw next haunted me. I saw a man standing out by my parents' car, looking up at my room. I took a closer look and nearly had a heart attack. It was the same man that I saw at the gas station. Only this time when our eyes met, he grinned.

Being the 14-year-old that I was, I did the manly thing and screamed at the top of my lungs. My dad came running down the stairs and entered my room. Why the hell are you screaming? I told him about the man and I explained everything that had happened. My dad grabbed a baseball bat and told me to call the police. After ten minutes, the police turned up outside our house and found the man in our shed. He got arrested, and that was the last time I saw him. The next day my dad inspected the house and we found the handle of our back door had been damaged,

but not completely broken. This gives me an eerie feeling as if it was a feeling as if you were. he actually managed to get in, he could have harmed us all or possibly even killed us. Hey guys, my name is Jerry, and I'm the host of Hillbilly Horror Stories, and I hope you enjoyed this story. All of us at Hillbilly Horror Stories would like to wish all of you a very Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year. Christmas for as long as I could remember was a joyous event in my life. The smell of a fresh Christmas tree.

Mother's baked cookies. And the sounds of my father putting together my toys in the middle of the night, it's pretty much all I can remember up until the age of 12. But around 12 going on 13, that's when Christmas changed for me. Not because my parents broke up or because something went wrong in my family. Because that was the first time they came to visit me. That Christmas Eve, I went to bed early, real early, about 7.30. And if we're being totally honest, just like any other kid for Christmas,

after I went to bed, the most important thing for me was letting time pass so I could wake up and get downstairs to my toys. Now I remember waking up and feeling this rush of excitement, because I just knew I was getting ready to get out of bed, run down those steps, and open all my toys. But as I went to move my body, that's the first. when I realized that something was wrong, terribly wrong. I couldn't move my arms, legs, fingers, toes. And when I went to turn my head to look left and right, it felt like my body was stuck in concrete.

The only thing that could move was my eyes. I darted them, left the right up and down, looking around the room. And that's when I first saw this creature. It was no more than three and a half to four feet tall. Pale, pale white skin. And its head was shaped like a freaking egg. Man, it was weird because this thing didn't have ears or nose like we do.

It just had these two slits in skin right up under his eyes. A slit across the bottom as if it was a mouth, but it didn't seem to move. The eyes, the only way to describe them to you is if you're, Remember the singer Amy Winehouse and how she used to take her mascara and wrap that long extension around the side of her head to where it like it dragged and exaggerated the width and length of her eyes? Imagine that except for the entire area was black. So its eyes actually wrapped around the side of his head damn there. But it wasn't big and strong and muscular. It looked weak and frail like a little child.

And after I had taken a good look at it, that's when the panic set in. Mentally, I was telling my body to move, we need to run, jump out of bed and go, but nothing will respond. And that's when I heard it for the first time. This kind of laughter, not coming through my ears, but inside of my mind, my eyes darted to the right of the bed where this thing was standing. And I realized that it was laughing at me. But his facial expression didn't change at all. then I thought to myself, why? Why are you doing this?

Why are you doing this to me? Why? And I heard it clearly in my head because of what your great-grandson did to us. After that, I remember feeling what felt like a cold metal rod being inserted into my genitals. And then this pain as that rod expanded and opened, then I blacked out. When I awoke, the sun was up.

And my mother was standing over the bed saying, hey, sleepy head, wake up. It's time for Christmas. I didn't tell my parents what happened to me that night because I didn't even understand what was going on. But then it happened again when I was 13. And then again, when I was 14. And finally, when I was 15 years old, I told my dad what was going on. He didn't believe me. When I told my mom, she kind of believed me, but kind of didn't.

So we went to a psychiatrist who advised that we go to a hypnotist. And when we got there, I was forced to relive the emotions and see what happened to me over and over and over again. My parents witnessed this regression. And over the years, we switched houses and moved out of state and tried everything we could to avoid these creatures. But no matter what, they still visit me every Christmas. The most disgraceful assortment of deplorable rubbish, imagine. mangled up in time