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Land Shark | EPP Bonus Episode 200!

by cnkguy
Land Shark | EPP Bonus Episode 200!

Strange noises and power anomalies bewilder a group visiting a beach at night.

A listener finds that a homemade spirit board is just as dangerous as a store bought one.

A mother awakens from an emergency c-section with a new level of sensitivity and thinned veil.

A family is alarmed when they repeatedly see a doppelganger of mom.

If you have a real ghost story or supernatural event to report, please write into our show or call 1-855-853-4802!

If you like the show, please help keep us on the air and support the show by becoming an EPP (Extra Podcast Person). We'll give you a BONUS episode every week as a "Thank You" for your support. Become an EPP here: http://www.ghostpodcast.com/?page_id=118

#ghosts #ghoststories #halloween #horror #paranormal #supernatural #haunting #haunted #demonic #hauntedhouse #cemetery #evp #ghoststory #ghostbusters #unexplained #shadowpeople #investigation #truestory

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HAUNTED PLACES

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I Will Never Work for McDonald’s Ever Again

by cnkguy
I Will Never Work for McDonald’s Ever Again

I Will Never Work for McDonald's Ever AgainReading Time: 4 minutes

Just to preface, I have a lot of scars on my arms. Not because I harm myself, but because my father likes to get wasted and beat me. Sometimes with the beer bottles he smashes after he’s done drinking. So yeah, I have scars. Scars from all of the horrible shit I’ve gone through over the years. They go from my wrist up to my elbows, reminding me of all the times I had to protect myself from my father’s drunken rage. Because of this, I wear long sleeves at work, that way nobody will make asshole remarks about them.

Now, I had been at the McDonald’s in my hometown for over two years, mostly working nights. One day when I came in, I noticed a sign taped to the ice cream machine. Broken. Not an uncommon thing to happen, but we had just gotten it fixed the week previous. Whatever, I thought. One less thing for me to clean.

At around midnight, I was washing the windows across from the counter. All of a sudden, I heard a low humming sound. I turned around to see where it was coming from. It was the ice cream machine. This was weird, considering it was supposedly broken, but I had known some of our appliances to spring back to life without warning, so I wasn’t too spooked by it.

I walked over to shut the thing off. At about five feet away from the counter, I felt what seemed like water running down my arms. I thought it might have been a chill, but as I moved closer, the coolness turned to fire. I felt sharp pains wrapping around my arms, then moving up to my shoulders and down my back. I stopped walking and rolled up my left sleeve. At first, everything looked fine. Nothing unusual. I took another step forward before it hit me and then looked back at my arm. My scars… they were gone. I quickly rolled up my other sleeve to check. It was the same, no scars in sight.

I felt another watery sensation on my back, as if a whirlpool had opened up in my skin. I touched at the area under my shirt and felt it. Skin, not properly healed. Was it my scars? Freaked out, I backed up towards the windows. I watched my wounds as they slithered back onto my arms where they had been made. I froze for a moment, then took a few steps forward. My scars moved once again. I moved back and forth, towards and then away from the counter a few times. Every time I stepped forward, my scars squirmed around like worms in the dirt. When I moved away, they went back into place. How was this possible? What was causing my wounds to travel around my body?

Once I got used to my scars’ movement, I decided to search for some answers. I looked behind the counter, near the fryolator, and further back by the grills. Then, I noticed something. The ice cream machine had stopped humming. As I moved toward it, my scars began frantically snaking around my skin. Upon closer inspection, I noticed that the damned thing wasn’t even plugged in. I opened up the lid, looked inside, and saw a silver liquid sloshing around where the ice cream normally was. I reached my hand towards it, if only out of curiosity. As my fingertips touched the surface, it stopped moving and my entire hand went numb. I felt a strange feeling come over me in the form of a thought. Was it alive? I put my hand in a little further and felt something within the wet metal. It was rough to the touch, but perfectly round; a metallic sphere of sorts. I tried to pull at it, but when I did, the liquid began crawling up my arm. Frightened, I pulled back, and ran right out of the store. Without even so much as saying anything to my manager, I got in my car and drove home, truly terrified of whatever it was I had felt.

The next morning, I woke up on the floor of my bedroom. A sudden dizziness compelled me to grab my head. It was warm, borderline feverish. Was the night before just a weird nightmare? Or did I smoke too much after getting out of work? Frazzled, I made my way to the bathroom and looked in the mirror. I placed my hands on both sides of the sink, staring deeply into my own eyes. I then inhaled, closed my eyes, and lowered my head. When I opened them, I noticed it. They were gone. I raised my arms closer to my face, twisting them side to side to check all around. My hands then darted to my back. They weren’t there either. I quickly shut the door to the bathroom and locked it. I undressed and scanned every inch of my body. My scars had vanished.

Feeling born anew, healed from the troubles of my past, I exited the bathroom with my head held high. I didn’t know how or why, but I was thankful. Completely elated, I decided to go about my day, venturing down to the kitchen for some breakfast. As I rummaged through the fridge, I heard a loud thud come from the direction of my father’s bedroom. I glanced down the hall and noticed that the door was closed. I tiptoed over and cracked it open a bit, careful not to wake the beast. The room was pitch black. He had hung a blanket in front of the window to block out the light, as he often did when hungover. I felt along the wall for the light switch. When I flicked it on, I saw my father, laying on the floor, his face beaten in. On his arms were scars, but not just any scars. They were mine. I would recognize them anywhere. Next to him, was a metallic, silver sphere. I didn’t think, I didn’t scream, I didn’t do anything that I probably should have. I just ran.

 

CREDIT: R.L. Rogers

The post I Will Never Work for McDonald’s Ever Again appeared first on Creepypasta.

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Abandoned Hotel | Haunted, Paranormal & Supernatural

by cnkguy
Abandoned Hotel | Haunted, Paranormal & Supernatural

Does an abandoned hotel in a small New Mexico town hold ghosts of former guests, with a message for the living?

A family member rescues her young nieces from a seemingly peaceful interaction with two children by a river bank… But just who were the children they were playing with?

A caller shares her account of an interaction with a shadow person that made it difficult for her to breath. Could it have been a guardian angel?

What was hidden beneath the cement of a families new home, and what did it want?

Source:

HAUNTED PLACES

, Real Ghost Stories


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An Open Letter To My Daughter’s Killer

by cnkguy
An Open Letter To My Daughter’s Killer

An Open Letter To My Daughter's KillerReading Time: 2 minutes

An open letter to the killer of Samantha B. If you’re somehow able to read this wherever you are now, know that I will find you.

No father should have to watch their child lowered into the sacred silence of the earth. I don’t know if there is a right age to die, but I do know it isn’t seventeen. Better at birth before eyes had filled with light and I had learned to love so deeply. Better late into old age when life’s fleeting joys had been more than tasted. Better not at all, but a world where prayers are answered is a world where they’re not needed: a world that isn’t ours.

All the hours I spent playing on the floor were wasted. All the faces and bad jokes I made to get a smile, all the music I played to inspire a song or the books I read to inspire a dream: all wasted. I thought that was all it took to make me a good parent, but I was wrong. I invested my entire life into this single purpose, but everything I had to give was not enough. I wasn’t there when I was needed most, and nothing I have ever done or could ever do can change that.

The police found the knife you did it with in the woods where you dropped it. It was a slow death, they told me, but passing out would have avoided most of the pain. I wonder if you regretted it as soon as your blade entered the skin. Did you mean for it to dig so deep? Did you panic when the blood wouldn’t stop? Did you call for help, or struggle in vain to bandage the wound, or were you too ashamed? I wonder if you planned the kill at all, or whether time was flying too fast and your blood pounding too loud and you didn’t know how to make it stop until it was too late.

Were you thinking of anyone but yourself when you did it? I don’t know what private torment brought you to this point, but taking a life will never cease that pain. The pain is passed from one person to the next, enduring past life, past death, past mortal strength to bear. Until the day long after you’re gone when the next victim sees the sun dawn without light or warmth and all sounds and colors bleed into an endless grey. And then that sun too will set, passing on your pain once again.

You must think that I hate you. I don’t think anyone would blame me if I did. I hate that you destroyed my family, but I forgive you for everything. You may not believe me, but I promise it’s true. It’s everything about this world that made you into someone capable of such an act that I will never forgive.

I still don’t know why you killed yourself, Samantha. If you’re somehow able to read this though, know that I will find you. And somehow, someday, we’ll be together again.

 

CREDIT: Tobias Wade

The post An Open Letter To My Daughter’s Killer appeared first on Creepypasta.

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Face to Face | Haunted, Paranormal, Supernatural

by cnkguy
Face to Face | Haunted, Paranormal, Supernatural

Does a home hold the spirit of a beloved prankster grandpa, still fooling around with his family to this day?

A romantic couples getaway to Bermuda turns into anything but as the two find themselves face to face with a black eyed child.

No matter how clean a hotel gets, sometimes its simply impossible to wipe away the spirts that infest it.

If you have a real ghost story or supernatural event to report, please write into our show or call 1-855-853-4802!

If you like the show, please help keep us on the air and support the show by becoming an EPP (Extra Podcast Person). We'll give you a BONUS episode every week as a "Thank You" for your support. Become an EPP here: http://www.ghostpodcast.com/?page_id=118

#ghosts #ghoststories #halloween #horror #paranormal #supernatural #haunting #haunted #demonic #hauntedhouse #cemetery #evp #ghoststory #ghostbusters #unexplained #shadowpeople #investigation #truestory

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HAUNTED PLACES

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Final Message | Haunted, Paranormal, Supernatural

by cnkguy
Final Message | Haunted, Paranormal, Supernatural

A clear and meaningful final message is given to a woaman after a loved one passes.

If you have a real ghost story or supernatural event to report, please write into our show or call 1-855-853-4802!

If you like the show, please help keep us on the air and support the show by becoming an EPP (Extra Podcast Person). We’ll give you a BONUS episode every week as a “Thank You” for your support. Become an EPP here: http://www.ghostpodcast.com/?page_id=118

#ghosts #ghoststories #halloween #horror #paranormal #supernatural #haunting #haunted #demonic #hauntedhouse #cemetery #evp #ghoststory #ghostbusters #unexplained #shadowpeople #investigation #truestory

Source:

HAUNTED PLACES

, Real Ghost Stories


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