The Tape Library - Archive of the Paranormal & the Unexplained - Night Drive 1: 5 Terrifying but TRUE Paranormal Stories

Episode Date: May 7, 2024

Tonight we're taking a quiet drive together, as I bring you 5 never before heard real life paranormal encounters. We've got ghosts, encounters with the fae and a strange experience with a man in the snow. All narrated by  @TheTapeLibrary    Subscribe now for more terrifying tales of the paranormal. If you have a story to share then you can email me at [e-mail] Stock footage from Artgrid and Midjourney   CHAPTERS 00:00 Welcome to Night Drive 00:42 The Shadow Girl 06:56 The Tape Library 08:22 The Fae 25:59 Papi's Gift 35:29 The Snow Man 41:35 The Mosque Next Door Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Hello, and thank you for tuning in to Night Drive. Tonight I am bringing you a whole host of true paranormal experiences that listeners of the tape library have sent in. These stories are, wherever possible, presented in the words of the person who experienced them. Obviously this show is new, so I want to discuss my vision for it going forward. But before that, let's get into our first story, shall we? Our first encounter tonight comes from 28-year-old Maud, who lives in the northern region of Quebec, Canada. This is her story.

I still am a bit sceptical about what comes after death, but at the same time I am hypersensitive, due to many reasons. Traumatic relationships, including violence at a young age, made me hyper-vigilant. That sensitivity can also be explained. by heritage. As far as I can recall, my father was also very, very sensitive to unseen energies, and is still scared to sleep without a light, claiming he senses things. He recalled many experiences of ghost apparitions, but at that time in my life, he hadn't said a word about it. That also meant at the time the events occurred, I would manifest this same vulnerability as an open door to whatever was there. We lived for a while in an apartment with my mother and brother and I,

until she met a man named Charles, who was separated long ago and had a son, but my father and mother were separated a while ago. As the relationship with Charles went on, they decided to join both families and move into an old patrimonial duplex in Tuor Rivera's, downtown, located on Niverville Street. I was 11 years old at the time, and the building was 120 years old. It would be the first time that I was sleep in my own room, I was so happy. As we visited the duplex, I felt a cold, heavy ambience. The walls were very high with big mouldings. It felt like a whole world still remained there. I washed off the feeling as we chose our own rooms. The home was painted all white and wooden stairs were the original ones, admirably standing with visible wear

and sounded old as we put our weight on each step. There was a tiny room with a corridor just in front of the stairs. I decided that this would be the ideal size for me. I always love tiny spaces and feeling like I'm in a cocoon. I still do. The first night was a great night of sleep, which was as a success. I usually had trouble sleeping well in my childhood. I was always very scared, even with my brother sleeping in the same room.

Unfortunately, that would be the last effective good night's sleep I would have for the following months. The following night was as usual. I began to relax in my bed ready to sleep. While doing this, I turned my head towards the corridor, and there I saw a black shadow of a girl in a dress, looking at me, and then running away from my sight. It only lasted a few seconds, but it was. petrified me. The only time I'd ever felt good and grounded turned out to be over. The next morning I told my mother about it and she then laughed it off, saying it was because I wasn't used to sleeping

on my own. The following nights I couldn't sleep. I was still afraid and there was a corner in my room which I would always watch. I didn't really know why. Even with a nightlight right in that spot clearing all the shadows, I would be scared of it. Every night I heard the stairs. steps cracking as someone moved up them. Then came the nightmares of that girl on the stairs, moving very fast in a white robe. This was getting out of control and I felt helpless because I was the only one experiencing weird apparitions or sounds.

One night I know now that what I experienced in my dream resembled astral travel with the same girl. We flew away and it was a terrific nightmare. A few months in, still trying my best to sleep in this room, I experienced what I still recall as the scariest sleep paralysis I've ever experienced. As the nights followed without sleep, my mother got tired of my shenanigans, and after a hard week of severe lack of sleep, she ended up arguing that it was in my head and turned all the lights off in my room, shutting the door. I was on edge at that time I turned all the lights on and opened the door hoping I could shake off the argument with my mother

and that was when the paralysis started I was suddenly floating on top of me bouncing in between my body and the ceiling while still feeling totally stuck and unable to move then the same girl I always saw or dreamed of appeared in the corridor walking towards me. She came close and went to that exact spot that I would always watch. And then she just disappeared and my paralysis stopped.

I screamed at the top of my lungs. I was so terrified but my mother couldn't handle that and repeated the same speech as she turned off the lights and closed the door once again. But my stepfather came to me one day. and believed the events that I spoke about were true. He explained to my mother and I that he moved into this duplex years ago with his son Samuel, and he had slept in the same room as me.

He told me that Sam would wake up in the middle of the night, scared and unable to sleep, because he could see someone. It felt really good to be validated. As the family and I moved away to another house, the sleep I craved came back, and the ambience of the new home felt warm and welcoming. I recovered way better from the daily challenges.

Life seemed to be easier. What didn't change and still remains is my sleep paralysis and those weird astral dreams. All of this may be explained both rationally or spiritually, but that doesn't reduce the intensity of the fear and distraught to have experienced in that room on neither of your street. I still think about that girl

and what's happened in that duplex years ago. So for those who may have missed my announcements, Night Drive is the new home of all the creepy real-life stories that you all send to me to my main show, the tape library. It's a way for me to share these stories with you all on a more regular occurrence than I was previously able to. I want these episodes to mainly focus on sharing listeners stories, but from time to time I will be covering other paranormal stories that maybe don't fit a full

tape library episode. Also, because this show can be a little more conversational, I would love to make it as interactive as possible. So if you have questions for me, or want to suggest topics for discussion, then please do drop me a comment or an email, and I will try to answer as many as I can in the following episodes. Also, of course, if you have your own paranormal encounters that you would like to share, then please drop me an email at the tape library at protonmail.com. Please include your name if you wish to be credited, where the story took place, and as much detail as you can give. If you are watching this on YouTube, then please click like and subscribe to both this channel and the tape library if you haven't already. So this next story is a little different than many of the others I've covered,

but I got so excited when it dropped in my inbox and have been really keen to read it. story number two takes us into the world of witchcraft and fairies. I hope you don't mind me telling you a crazy story that happened to me five years ago during a gathering in Illinois. There are details such as the event's name and the name of the organisation that hosts it that I won't give you as there have been credible threats against them based on religion. I'll also change the names of anyone involved to protect them for the same reason. Just for background on me,

I am what you were called a hereditary witch. This means I come from a long line of witches, not wickens, but the traditional wise women witches. Interesting side note, and related to Mary Parker, one of the women hanged during Salem witch trials. My maternal grandmother was a clairvoyant, as was her mother and most of the mothers who came before her.

Another great-grandmother was a well-known medium and healer at the turn of the century in Appalachia. And my mother is a dream walker. Yes, she can enter people's dreams at will. It's annoying, especially when she's pissed at you. Anyway, my point is that I grew up not just believing, but knowing the supernatural existed and having my own abilities. All this said, my experiences were limited to ghosts and psychic events,

until I attended a summer solstice camping trip. And... Everything got weird. The camping trip where this story happened is a well-organised, week-long gathering of people who follow the old ways. In other words, it's a gathering of pagans. It is the most peaceful, loving and spiritually uplifting place I've ever been, and the only place many of us feel safe to reveal ourselves. This was my second year going, and I was in the final phases of editing a book.

I was writing at the time. I'm an author, so if this story comes off like, a short novella. That's why. My editor at the time had made her corrections and suggested and mailed them to me on a flash drive. The flash drive arrived the day I was scheduled to leave, so I didn't have time to look at her notes before I exited for the three-hour drive to the campground. However, before I left, I very carefully tucked that memory stick into a specific small pocket on the outside of my suitcase. I even locked that pocket to make sure that. sure there was no way I could lose it. As I'm generally paranoid, I double-checked to make sure

it was there before I put the suitcase into my car. Anyway, I made the drive and arrived at the campground. I was sharing a campsite with a friend who was already there, so we unloaded my car. I said hello to friends I'd made the year before, and pitched my tent. The first day at the gathering is chaotic, with everyone arriving pretty much all at once. So after my friend and I had our site prepared for our week-long stay, we helped other campers set up theirs. Then it was dinner time, and I was exhausted from setting up camps in the sun all day. I went to bed early, thinking I would get up at about 5 a.m., check my editor's notes and work while there were no distractions. I'm an early riser when I camp, and there's something about the thick dampness of dawn and the way it settles inside my tent that always wakes me up.

I was up just as the sun was peeking through the clouds. The world was totally peaceful, and I enjoyed the quiet until others began stirring, and no longer alone with the morning. I went into my tent to get my computer and flash drive, and this is where things got weird. When I opened the lock on my suitcase and unzipped the pocket, my flash drive wasn't there. My rational mind immediately kicked into gear. I knew I put it in that pocket. I remember checking before I left.

But I told myself I had to have put it somewhere else. I checked every pocket of my suitcase and then emptied my purse. There was nowhere to be found. I checked my suitcase again and then unpacked it until it was empty. There was no flash drive. Went to my car and looked there. No flash drive. I checked the pocket.

of the cargo pants I'd worn when I arrived. Nothing. No flash drive. Even though I knew with certainty, I put that drive in that front pocket. I called home anyway and asked my husband to look around. He found three flash drives, but they were all ones I'd had before, not the one my editor sent. He checked the envelope it came in. No flash drive.

He said he'd look around some more, but I knew he wouldn't find it, because it wasn't there. At this point, I started to experience a creeping, all-quoise. feeling. I can't describe it other than to say it was close to shame. I felt like I'd done something horrible and was being punished. Adding to my dread, I knew my editor would freak out if I told her I lost the drive and couldn't work on the corrections for a week. We were on a publication deadline and she tried to talk me out of taking the trip to begin with so I could get the work done. She wasn't the most reasonable person and I didn't want to have to deal with her when I got home. Anyway, when my friend got up, I asked her to search my tent. She did and found nothing.

I paid a neighbouring campus kid $10 to do it again. She found nothing. After several hours of searching, I was not only stressed out about not being able to work in my spare time, but I couldn't shake the sense that I was somehow in trouble. It was overwhelming. I finally decided to take a walk to chill out and think. I hiked across the campground to an area where our sacred fire was burning. A sacred fire for the purposes of this camping trip. It's a fire that is lit during an opening ceremony and is not allowed to go out. Because it's always roaring, it's a good place to sit and think. I entered the fire circle and walked circles around the fire, trying to think of what could have happened to my flash drive. I'd been there for about five or ten minutes before I had heard. I had been there for about five or ten minutes

before I heard the higher priestess's voice, coming from the other side of a row of trees. I'll call her Sylvia. It's not her real name. At the sound of Sylvia's voice, I wandered towards the trees to see what she was up to, because she sounded so intense. I saw her through the trees standing barefoot in the sand,

shaking a rattle at the sky. This is not unusual for a witch to do. What was unusual was when I realized, She was invoking the Faye. Or the fairy folk. This is not common at all. Most pagans are shy about or even terrified of the Faye. I've never seen anybody invoke them,

but Sylvia was in the middle of a full-on evocation, saying something like, Oh, ancient and noble Faye, I call upon you to hear me. Things in our camp have gone missing. A woman has lost her grandmother's wedding ring. A child has lost a beloved toy I have come to implore you to return them

and to tell you we are sorry if we have offended you I didn't listen to the rest I didn't doubt anything she said and didn't feel like I needed to hear more I just turned and quickly walked back to my tent understanding the sense I had that I committed some sort of petty crime was being called out

the fair nobody to mess with even by accident. Coming of age in the pagan community, I know many people who swear up and down that fairies are real. I never doubted they experienced something and were just trying their best to explain what it was. Who was I to judge? I grew up seeing and hearing ghosts for crying out loud.

But as for a fairy experience, I'd never had one. Until then, maybe. I decided. I decided that it didn't matter if I believed in the Faye or not. I needed that flash drive. I figured I had nothing to lose if I went around the back of my tent and begged some

mythological creature who didn't exist to return it. And if fairies were real, I needed to at least try to get my edits back. I won't say I wasn't nervous. I knew enough not to mess with the Faye. I had friends who claimed she had a chance encounter that went sideways with a group of them. She'd not one to tell tales, so I thought I'd ask her how to handle the situation. However, when I went to her campsite, I found she wasn't there, but she'd pounded iron spikes into the ground at all four corners of her tent. There was also one in front of the door.

At that point, I decided that the ferries were too sore a subject with her, and that I would figure it out myself. I went back to my campsite and sat for a minute, thinking, I wasn't sure how to approach to Faye. There are millions of stories about them being everything from tricksters to downright dangerous creatures, even deadly ones. I decided sincerity was the best approach. I went to the back of my tent where no one could see or hear me. I said, Hello, I'm speaking to the Faye. I was just in the fire circle when I heard Sylvia.

I am honestly so sorry if I offended you. I know this is your home. and I am only a visitor. If I did something stupid, please forgive me. I'm human. That makes me kind of stupid by definition. But I'm not malicious. Look, this is the deal.

My flash drive is gone and I really, really need it back. I went on to carefully explain why I needed it. I remember saying humans don't live long compared to fairy folk, and I had spent hundreds of hours writing that story. I explained why that story made a difference and talked about how it was almost ready to be sent into the world, and while making sure it saw daylight was so important to me, I told them how much love I put into it, but after my sincere appeal, I paused,

before I got to the part where I made my offer. Everyone knows that making deals with the fay can be treacherous. They play by different rules, and they never do something for nothing. I needed to make a contract of sorts, but I also needed to ensure, I didn't leave an opening where the fay could wreak havoc on me. I said, look, if you took it, I'm not angry. I don't want any trouble and I'll do something reasonable. I mean, fair and reasonable for both of us, to get it back.

I think I've read too many rumpled stiltskin stories, so I'm going into this gun-shy. Tell me what you want, but don't get crazy. It has to be something I can and I'm willing to do. The moment I finished speaking, I got... Very cold, almost like when a ghost is in a room. It's a feeling I'm not unfamiliar with, but I'd never experienced it outdoors on the sunny afternoon. And then I felt someone was standing too close to me, not touching me, but hovering close enough to make the hair on my arms and at the back of my neck stand straight because it made me so uncomfortable.

And then I heard an angry, scratchy voice in my ear. so low and so quiet that I had to strain to understand it. But I did. Basically it said, bring us a gift. We want something we can't find in nature. It must be special. Do not bring us a pretty rock or a shell. No braided flowers, leaves or a bit of moss.

Do not bring us anything made of wood. And do not bring us anything. with a fairy etched or drawn on it. If you do, we will be very angry. Do you understand? Every hair on my body was standing stiff, I felt sick and a little scared. I simply whispered, yes.

A split second later, the cold cleared, and my skin calmed. My heart was still ticking like the second hand of a clock, but I knew I was alone. I knew I needed to find something. something fast or the offer would expire. So I did just that. Pagan people tend to be artistic.

It's part of our culture. But it's also because for many of us, something in our souls makes us want to create beautiful things, to make up for all the ugly. Many of us also believe that bringing forth something where nothing was before is the greatest form of magic. Anyway, because there are so many pagan artists

There is another area at the camp Where artists set up booths and sell their wares I searched for anything that matched what I heard the voice say Walking up and down the aisles I found mostly items made from that where exactly Why I was told not to bring back And my heart was sinking fast Something caught my eye after I'd gone to every booth at least three times

Tucked into the corner of a display box filled with rings Was what I thought was a pile of cheap plastic bees I picked them up and found they were indeed baby pink, cobalt blue, and Christmas green plastic beads, attached to a small key ring by four or five wires. The thing was hideous. It looked like a four-year-old made it. It's a craft project in the kindergarten class.

For all I know, one did. But it was the most wholly unnatural thing I could find. So I bought it for 75 cents and returned to my campsite with this small, ugly monstrosity. clutched in my fist. I went straight back to my tent to speak to the Faye again. I said something like, Hi, I'm sorry to bother you again.

I know you're already annoyed with me. I did my best and I think I found something you'll like. If you don't let me know and I'll get you something else. I will leave it under the corner of my tent so no little kids see it and pick it up. I really am sorry for whatever I did to you. If you like this, please bring my flash drive back. I really need it.

I hope this makes us even. Just know I leave you this thing, along with better gifts, my greatest gifts, my best thoughts and my finest wishes for your happiness. I meant every word. I tucked the key ring under the corner of my tent, where I said I would, and went back around to my campsite. There was nothing else I could do after that. I just hoped that I hadn't somehow offended them again. I spent the rest of the day talking with friends and went to bed early, because I knew I was. I'd be up again at dawn. I was. When I opened my eyes, the first thing I did was go to my suitcase.

I knelt before it and unzipped the zipper of the little pocket where I left a flash drive. My breath came out in a rush, and then I sucked it in to stop myself from screaming. There, tucked away where I'd so carefully packed it in the first place. Was the missing flash drive? In all its shiny black glory. Lying there like it had never been gone. I burst out of my tent and ran around to the backside. I flipped up the corner of my tent where I'd hidden the key ring and searched the ground, even pulling the tarp up higher to see if I'd left it somewhere other than where I thought. The key ring was gone.

I never found it. Yes, I looked for it again, a few times. But right then I thanked the Faye and spent the rest of the week, feeling both blessed and mind-blown. Even now part of me wants to rationalise away what happened And say I simply misplaced the thing I choose not to though I have no proof of all that happened that day

But I know it did Every word in this story other than changing a woman's name to Sylvia Is true As for other people whose belongings went missing that week There were many Some got their stuff back Some didn't The woman who lost her grandmother's ring never found

it. The child's toy was recovered. I wondered to this day why they didn't do what I did. I wonder why they didn't approach the fay directly and make a deal. I don't know. Maybe they did, but my guess is that most were either too afraid, or unlike me, couldn't hear the bargain. I guess I can thank my grandmothers for that. I hardly ever tell this story, so I hope you enjoyed it. I'm sending you the same gifts I sent you. I'm sending you the same gifts I sent you. the Faye, minus an ugly key ring. My best thoughts and my finest wishes that you and yours are safe and happy, and let your ghosts and ancestors bless you with what you need to stay that way. Thank you so much to Melody for sending that story in. Next, we're going to be talking about a father's very special gift. I was born and raised in the Bronx, New York, to Puerto Rican parents. They are both very proud of our roots and growing up I was told often, remember the love of you, mother, comes before the love of you uncle. He can show you the world, but she is the world.

That will always be home. My father in particular had deep ties to the island culture and the spirituality that comes from there. My father and I always had a special bond. He was always saying that I was more like him than I was like my mother. And for years I thought that this was just a little joke between us. maybe even a little favouriteism, which made me feel special. It wasn't until I got older that I understood a little more exactly what he meant.

Here are some of my experiences. When I was growing up in the Bronx, we lived in apartments as most people did, and every apartment we lived in that I can remember, there was always unexplained noises, voices and lights. These were subtle things that I'd never even noticed until I got older, and started connecting dots between experiences. For most of my youth, we were living in a very old apartment building that was built in the early 1900s.

It was extremely creepy to say the least. There was a business on the bottom floor, and then our apartment in the middle, and an identical apartment above us. It was extremely hard for the owners to get anyone to stay in the apartment above us, which sat empty for most of the time we lived there. Sometimes people would leave in the middle of the night, and never come back. You could hear footsteps, people arguing, and doors slamming at all hours of the day and night, even when the apartment was vacant.

It wasn't extremely frequent, but it also wasn't uncommon for me to hear my name being called from the apartment above. I shared a room with my two sisters, which was directly across from the only bathroom. I hated staying in my room but one day I was so tired that I laid down to take a nap which I almost never did apparently while I was sleeping my mother went into the bathroom for something which gave her a direct line of sight to me

because I had my door wide open during my sleep I felt someone tapped me on the shoulder and tell me in Spanish it's okay baby girl it's time to get up I sat up in bed half asleep and got up to walk to the kitchen. My mother said as soon as I got up and walked away from the bed and out of the room.

The mattress called on fire. It was much later that I told her about the voice that I heard, which she shrugged off as bad wiring of an old apartment, or coincidence or some sort of childish exaggeration. My mother was always scared of those kind of spiritual things. My father, on the other hand, told me it was good, that I listened to the voice, but to be careful not to listen to just any voice that tells me to do something. He said, don't answer them when they call to you. Don't go to them. You are protected, and anyone who is worthy will be allowed to come to you. Remember that, Mamita.

Fast forward to 2016. My parents had divorced, and I very rarely saw my father in those years. They were separated. But seven years before this, I found out that he had been very ill. He was living back in Puerto Rico and did not have access to health care. I was living in Orlando, Florida, and so I went to the island to bring my father back to the States, to stay with me, so I could take care of him, as I was working in healthcare at the time. I took care of him, and we even converted the garage into a studio apartment for him, when he could no longer go up the stairs to his old room. I spent a lot of time with him in those last few years.

I also started seeing someone who I cared a lot about during this time. He wanted me to move back home to New York with him when he left Orlando, but I just couldn't do it. Something in my gut told me not to. He got upset and over the next couple of weeks we spoke less and less. One morning I was in bed just waking up. I hadn't opened my eyes yet. When I felt someone into my room, I heard a man's voice make a, hmm, sound.

As if to say, there she is. Then I physically felt someone sit on my bed next to me. I could feel their weight on my mattress pulling on my sheets. Later on that day, I told my father about it because I thought it was his dad, my grandfather, who had passed away a year before. My father told me he doubted it was him because his father would not. never do something like that. I shrugged it off and didn't really think about it until three days later. When I found out that the man I was dating had committed suicide a few weeks before,

right after we stopped talking. My father was getting sicker and had grown scarily thin and frail from cancer and was looking less and less like himself with every passing day. There were still little things he would do or say that would give me comfort. These were little quirks that were particular to him, like the way he sat. He was a very elegant man, who would sit in a chair with his legs crossed, with a cigarette in his hand, spitting out catchy one-liners, like the guys in those glamorous 1940s movies. Really classy. He passed away in 2016, and I went into a deep depression.

The next morning, just as I woke up and opened my eyes for a split second, I saw a shadow sitting in the chair near my bed in the exact same way with the exact same posture as my dad but just as soon as my mind recognised the shape it was gone that week I came home from work to see my mother sitting in her car in the driveway she told me she'd been waiting for over an hour for me to get home

I thought this was odd because my mother had a very annoying habit of letting herself into my house when I wasn't there whenever she wanted, which was something that my father and I hated that she did, and I was pretty vocal about it. She told me that she came to my house earlier and let herself in, and heard the water in the upstairs bathroom running. This was the bathroom that was my father's,

and was directly across from his original room. She went upstairs to check it out and saw that the faucet was on full blast in the bath. She said that she entered the bathroom to turn it off And when she turned around my father's room door was wide open Since the day he passed we'd always kept his door closed So she found this very scary that the door was wide open And there was an imprint where someone had sat on his bed

Right over his comforter She immediately left the house and went to sit out in the car in the driveway to wait for me to get home. Another incident was on a different day when she tried to come over while I was not there. Her and I had had an argument just evening before, where I'd asked her to stop coming in the house when I wasn't home, but she stubbornly refused.

On this day when she put the key in the lock, which was my father's old key, it broke and she couldn't get in. She stopped coming to the house when I wasn't home after that, stating that she guessed my father didn't appreciate the fact that she wasn't respecting my privacy. I previously got an opportunity to move up to North Carolina, to be near my older sister.

But I discounted it because my father was sick, and I couldn't see leaving him. Now that he was gone, I was presented with the opportunity again, but it was torn about the decision. I would usually ask my dad's advice on things of this magnitude. But since he wasn't around, I felt I couldn't trust my instincts, and had no one to lean on.

one particular night I fell asleep while pondering the possibilities of moving and had a very vivid dream I dreamt of my father sitting in a chair smiling at me I asked him in the dream whether he thought it was a good idea for me to go or not he answered me in Spanish and said not to be scared and that he wanted to come with me the next afternoon I got a phone call from the funeral director stating that my father's ashes were ready to be picked up

and that while making the arrangements he stipulated that they should come to me. The director's exact words were your father's ashes are ready to be picked up he said he wanted to go with you. I still have my father's ashes with me to this day. That story was kindly shared with me by Carla.

Next we're heading over to my home country with a chilling little tale from England. In the UK in February 1992, there arrived a week of chilly weather and snowfall that made the countryside that I lived in look even more scenic and enchanting. I was living at home with my parents at this time in a small town in the Cotswolds called Dursley.

For those of you unfamiliar with this area of Britain, it is well known for its chocolate box villages and old Cotswoldian stone cottages. In fact, J.K. Rowling named the family who kept Harry Potter under the stairs after the town, because she once lived in the area, but I digress. On this evening in February, my father and I decided to take our dogs for a walk around the surrounding area, so we could enjoy the snow and the magic of winter against the backdrop of forests, hills and villages. When the snow has fallen, night takes on a deep, creamy blue hue, and with very limited street lighting in that area, We were able to do our walk without a torch, as the bright snow was so newly settled underfoot, we could see our way about easily.

We had been walking for some time and was really enjoying being in the cold night, when we decided to cut across some fields from the lane we were strolling in, so we could get to another lane to start slowly making our way back home. Our feet by now were getting very cold, and we were wanting to get back to have a big mug of hot tea and warm up. As we walked up the field that was on a gentle gradient to cross the stile at the top of the lane, we could hear the distant sound of children enjoying themselves and playing with sledges in the snow. It was my father who first saw a man stood up ahead, next to the stile that we were going to have to climb over. He said to me that there was someone there, and that we should get the dogs on their leads in case they started barking at him. The dogs were a bit in front of us, but we didn't really have time to get them back because we both realised.

There was something odd about the figure standing there. By now we were about 30 yards away but could clearly see what this man, who was very tall, was wearing. A long black cloak. And what looked like something white over his head. Whatever he was wearing on his head looked bag-like, like a pillowcase. and there were two holes cut in front for eyes. That's the only way I can really describe how freaky he looked. Apart from that, he was completely clothed in dark colours.

We stopped in our tracks and his head turned towards us, as if seeing us for the first time. He held us in his gaze for a few moments, and then he took a few steps sideways towards the style. We were going to cross and he sat down on the step of it. A fear was slowly rising in me and I could feel my heart starting to beat harder. My father never one to show fear or much emotion, carried on walking, and I remember walking very near to him as we got closer to the figure.

The man didn't move. He was just sat there, seemingly observing us. Even as I recall this happening as of today, I can still capture the same scary feeling about it that I had then. As we got a bit nearer, the dogs then stopped and ran back to us. By now we were about ten yards away and could clearly see him sat there, completely motionless. As we got even closer, and a few feet away, the figure was just literally not there anymore. The outline of where he sat close up was the edge of the wooden structure of the style,

and where his head once was became the piled up snow that was settled on the crossover on top of it. It was just as if he was absorbed into the style. And what we were looking at was something that looked a bit like someone sat there, but was in fact just an illusion of the snow. It was bizarre. Even looking at it closer, still looked a bit like the shape of a man, but it was just a random configuration of snow in the wooden style.

that created this false imagery. We crossed the style still puzzling and looking around us, and all the time talking about what we had just seen, or thought we'd seen, and looking for clues around the snow. There was no disturbed snow, no footprints except for ours, and nowhere the man could have hidden away. The dogs growled a bit, but didn't seem to show much interest in it either way.

We walked down that lane quicker than usual, and kept looking back, but didn't see anything else. On reflection the whole thing seems so far-fetched and ridiculous But we genuinely saw someone standing by that style and move and sit on it How to best describe the way the snow had formed The look of someone sat Only added to the weirdness of the whole situation For years we talked about it

My dad passed away 11 years ago But I sometimes think back to that evening when we both saw the whole situation the frightening figure and how strange it was. In my mind it has proved to me that there are some things we witness in this world that we just cannot explain. Thank you to Chelsea for that one. I'm sorry that it's taken me so long to get around to reading it. Before we head into our final story, I just want to say a huge thank you to everyone who submitted their encounters. Again, just to reiterate, I really want this series to be interactive. So let me know what you think, about these individual cases, and feel free to throw any suggestions at me about what you want to

see on night drive. Let's get into our last story for tonight. About three years ago, I lived in an old house with my family. We lived there for five years. This house was right next to a Muslim prayer house, and it belonged to a family whose father had passed away years ago in the house, and even though it was super old, we rented it because it was very cheap. I'm not sure when the paranormal activity started, but at first we didn't notice anything was unusual until my brother saw something that made us pay more attention. One day my brother, who was autistic, was sitting in his bedroom and watching a movie, when at the corner of his eye he saw someone, standing in the door.

He turned his head and looked and saw a shadowy figure looking at him. He stood there for a little while and then disappeared. As you can expect, he was terrified, but we wrote it off as a lack of sleep and his overactive imagination. But then I started thinking about something strange. Sometimes I stayed awake and worked on my computer, and on those nights I would feel the ground shaking, as if someone was walking very fast in the hallway, back and forth, back and forth.

I wasn't scared, but it had an unsettling feeling. Then my little sister started saying, I heard someone running on the rooftop at night. Me and my two sisters lived on the second floor of the house, and she was the only one who heard this. Then one night I stayed with her in her room, and I heard it too. I ran quickly to the stairs and checked the roof. No one was there.

It happened multiple times, and then suddenly it stopped, and she never heard it again. A little while later, she refused to sleep in her room. and she told me that she had seen a shadowy figure at her door on more than one occasion. By the way, my sister didn't know about the incident with my brother, all the nighttime footsteps I was hearing. Finally we moved out of that house and I told my parents about my experiences. My father was shocked and told us that when we were done with the move,

he was checking to see if we took everything and he heard a cough coming from one of the rooms. but he thought it was from outside, and it sounded so loud because the house was empty. There was also a non-spooky incident that I call the Angel's Feather Incident. Me and my sister were watching a movie in our room when we saw a bright feather-like thing, fall from the ceiling, disappear

before I reached the ground. We looked everywhere and we didn't find anything. It wasn't a reflection because it was in the middle of the room. It looked like a feather, and even fell like a feather. There was another incident but it was in a different house. I had some problems and I was feeling sad. So I decided to wake up early every day for ten days and pray.

The first day I woke up at 4 a.m. and as soon as I started praying, I felt a presence behind me. Something came inside my room and sat down behind me. I got scared and it went away. I thought to myself it was something that wanted to pray with me so I asked for it to come back tomorrow but it never did I'm glad it didn't

also I stopped praying don't invite them to your home thank you once again to everyone who submitted their stories and an extra special thank you to you for listening to this first episode I have no idea if this is going to be as popular as the main channel but I love that it gives me a little freedom to just share even more stories with you all.

Again, if you haven't already done so, then please, please hit the subscribe button to help support this new show. I appreciate every single one of you who made it through to the end. Thank you, and I hope the rest of your journey home is a safe one.

See you next time.