We have all, at one time or another, heard something that wasn’t there, or felt the presence of something that couldn’t be seen. We often brush it off as nothing, but that’s just ignoring the truth. There are things that can't be explained by the ordinary senses, like shadows that move when no one is there, whispers that echo in empty rooms, and cold spots that linger in a warm space. Those with a gift, or perhaps a curse, see beyond the veil of the world we know, perceiving the unseen forces that linger just out of reach, the forces that are powered by the dead. First, Shadows call you home. Followed by it’s always watching. Finally in our last story, when intuition turns to terror Subscribe: https://bit.ly/subSNARLED Watch the latest: https://youtube.com/watch?playlist&list=PLlt49G0M7dfhhFe79kdPucjYzWv4CK8H1&index=1 Follow us EVERYWHERE: https://facebook.com/watchsomethingscary/ https://facebook.com/getsnarled/ https://instagram.com/wearesnarled/ https://twitter.com/wearesnarled Follow Blair: TikTok: https://tiktok.com/@blairbathory Instagram: https://instagram.com/blairbathory/ Facebook: https://facebook.com/blairbathory1 Twitter: https://twitter.com/blairbathory Pinterest: https://pinterest.com/BlairBathory About SNARLED: Your home for scary stories, from urban legends to true tales of murder, mystery and the unknown. If you have Something Scary to tell us, send it to [email protected]. More about the show! • Go to SomethingScary.com to check out the awesome Something Scary Merch. We’ve got something for everyone, from hoodies to hats to writer’s notebooks. • Do you want to connect with other people who love horror and all things Something Scary? Join our Patreon and you get members only access to our Discord. And you can chat with all the other horror lovers. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices
Chapter 1: What is the theme of 'A Haunted Vision'?
Hi, witches. I'm Blair Bathory, and this is the Something Scary Podcast. Thank you so much for being here, whether this is your first time or you're one of the brave souls who join us every week. And February is extra special around here because we'll be celebrating Black History Month with some incredible female writers and scary storytellers by telling their stories every week. So...
We have all at one time or another heard something that wasn't there, or felt the presence of something that couldn't be seen. We often brush it off as nothing, but that's just ignoring the truth. There are things that can't be explained by ordinary senses. Like shadows that move when no one is there and whispers that echo in empty rooms. In cold spots that linger in warm places.
Those with a gift, or perhaps a curse, see beyond the veil of the world that we know. Perceiving the unseen forces that linger just out of reach. The forces that are powered by the dead. First, shadows call you home, followed by it's always watching. Finally, in our last story, when intuition turns to terror. So, wanna hear something scary? A haunted vision.
Chapter 2: What stories are featured in this episode?
When shadows call you home, it's the last dance. Like in this story written in honor of Black History Month by one of our featured writers, L. Marie Wood. Her grandmother warned her about them. She said when the time came and the shadows started to show themselves along the wall, hovering up high, where the ceiling and wall met, she was on her last dance.
The party was over and the last song was almost finished. She told her this when she was just nine years old, right after she started seeing shadows of her own.
how they call you home child she said while thumbing a pocket knife pieces of chewed apple fell from her mouth to land on her apron but she didn't seem to notice barbara did she always did i see your grandfather in him all the time addie mae went on he gets closer and closer every time he comes Grandpa wouldn't hurt you. Barbara's voice was low and nervous.
The idea of the shadows was frightening enough without putting faces on them. I know it. That's how I know the shadows are good. She peeled off a sliver of apple and thumped it into her mouth. What does he say when he comes? Nothing. He just stands there and smiles. Her grandmother couldn't help but smile at the thought of his visits. That bothered Barbara more than she knew
I see him dressed in his finest suit suit and hat, as clean as he can be. He looks like he did when we used to strut up and down the avenue after church on Sunday. A fine man he was, a fine man. She started to rock in her chair. Addie Mae shut her eyes and smiled again, seeming to smile at him. It could just be a memory, Barbara cut in nervously.
The darkness that filled the sky outside seemed to creep in around her. Her grandmother's eyes opened fast. They looked at her with a mixture of sorrow and anger. I know the difference between a memory and a vision, missy. I ain't out of my head yet. Blushing, Barbara hurried. I'm sorry, I didn't mean it to sound... But Grandma, you're talking about seeing ghosts. I know it. I see them.
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Chapter 3: What happens when shadows call you home?
Addie Mae lifted her head proudly. Her eyes skimmed the ceiling, but there was nothing there. And so were you, she continued. Just wait and see. Your granddaddy ain't the only one who comes to see me. My mama and daddy have come before. My sister Sue comes from time to time. I expect more of them will come when my time gets closer. Like I'll come to you when it's your time.
Doesn't it frighten you? It sure frightened Barbara to hear it. "'Nah,' she said, peeling off another slice of apple and shoving it into her mouth. Some of the juice dripped over her lip and down to her chin as she spoke, but she made no effort to wipe it away. "'It's how they wake you up from the nightmare.' What nightmare? Barbara would always ask.
Her grandmother's musings were always interesting to her, even though she could never back anything up with any solid evidence. Faith was always her answer. Faith in yourself. This one. Her grandmother would inevitably answer. This is the nightmare. This? Barbara asked, not wanting to know what she meant, but knowing somehow she would need to one day.
Usually Barbara's grandmother didn't answer the question, but on that day, 79 years ago, she did. Laugh, child, she said. Her eyes set firmly on Barbara, looking into the child as though she could see the intricacies of her very soul. Life is the nightmare? Barbara asked her grandmother why she thought that way, asked her to stop talking like that.
No child wants to hear their grandma talking about death, their death. Barbara already wondered what she would do if her grandma ever left her. She was her playmate, her historian, her model for proper etiquette, her confidant. She was the moon, the stars, the sun, and the clouds. Death wouldn't dare lay a hand on her grandma's silver gray hair, not as long as she could help it.
Barbara tried to reassure the 91-year-old woman she would live forever, that she would be there to see her great-grandchildren. Addie Mae responded with a sincerity that chilled Barbara's spine with the implications even then. I'll see your children, all right. I'll pick out nice ones and send them to you with a kiss.
That thought always made her film warm inside, even after her grandma's death a year and a half later. Until that day. Barbara was watching television the first time she saw them. Her stories had just gone to commercial, and she was getting up to pour some more coffee, muttering about why Lorraine would ever give Peter another chance.
Barbara stood up to trudge to the kitchen when they caught her eye. She lived alone, her daughter and grandson more than an hour away, so no one heard her when she gasped, nor saw her hand flutter to her chest. Her body stood rigid, straight as a board. The shadows were wide and oddly shaped, the inkblots spreading across white paper.
They were there, just like her grandmother told her they would be. Dressed in their Sunday best, Gillian and Jonathan made their way up the steps to the church. The place was full of people who had known Barbara throughout her life. Most of them were in their 90s, like Barbara had been. Wheelchairs and walkers cluttered the pews and aisleways. Sniffles and muted cries filled the room.
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Chapter 4: How does intuition transform into terror?
I tried to focus on the task, but my eyes kept darting to the gaps between the shelves. Then I saw it. A glimpse of something white. A long, silky gown dragging across the dirty cement floor, just out of sight. My breath hitched, and I stopped in my tracks. Tasha turned back to ask me what was wrong. Nothing, I said quickly, shaking my head. Just thought I saw something.
She said it was probably just a shadow, but her words didn't comfort me. I picked up my pace to catch up with the others. When we found the replacement railing, Mr. C and Tasha started lifting it. As I bent down to help, I froze. Standing six feet away, partially hidden by the shadows was a woman.
Her black, empty eyes stared directly at me, and her grin stretched unnaturally wide, as though it would split her face in two. She wore a long, tattered nightgown. Stain brown was something that could only be blood. The stench of rot and decay hit me like a wave, and I fought the urge to gag. She raised a bony, skeletal hand and pointed at me, her voice low and raspy. Come here. Come here.
My legs felt like lead and I couldn't move. Her gaze pinned me in place, cold and unrelenting. It was only when Tasha touched my shoulder that I snapped out of it. You okay? You look like you've seen a ghost, she said, half-joking. I swallowed hard and nodded. Yeah, let's just get out of here. The trip back to the stairwell felt like an eternity.
Every shadow seemed to stretch and shift, and I couldn't shake the feeling of being watched. When we finally reached the stairs, I practically bolted up them, leaving Tasha and Mr. C behind. As soon as we were back in the light of the hallway, I felt like I could breathe again, but the relief was short-lived. Mr. C noticed my pale complexion and told Tasha to take me to the nurse's office.
She led me there, and I collapsed onto the cot, hoping the worst was over. But the oppressive sense of unease followed me, clinging to me like a shadow. Lying on the cot, I turned to face the wall, trying to block out the world. My eyelids grew heavy, but just as I was about to drift off, the feeling of being watched returned, stronger than ever.
My heart pounded as I slowly opened my eyes and glanced at the small window above the cot. There she was. The nightgown lady, her rotten, bloody face pressed against the glass, her unblinking eyes boring into mine. That same horrific grin stretched across her face, wider than seemed humanly possible. I couldn't move, couldn't scream.
My body was frozen with terror and she stayed there, unmoving, watching me. When I finally blinked, she was gone. But her image was burned into my mind, and it's never left. To this day, I've never told anyone outside my family about what happened. That night, I realized that my sixth sense isn't just a strange quirk.
It's a connection to something far darker than I ever imagined, and I can't escape it. How would you react if you saw something unexplainable, like the woman at the window? I know we only have a couple of months of cold weather left, but go ahead and get a cozy blanket while you can.
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Chapter 5: What experiences did listeners have with unseen forces?
Etta hesitated, her feet sinking slightly into the soft earth as she walked toward the tall grass. The sun hung low in the sky, casting the same long shadows she had seen in her vision. And then she saw it, a flash of red among the weeds. Her breath hitched as she moved closer, pushing the grass aside. There, just as she had seen, was a woman's body.
The blood, the broken shoe, everything was exactly as it had been in her vision. Etta stumbled backward, her hand flying to her mouth. Her knees threatened to give out, but she forced herself to stay upright. She fumbled for her phone and dialed 911, her fingers trembling. When the police arrived, their initial skepticism gave way to unease.
The scene was exactly as Etta had described, down to the smallest detail. Melanie Irby's identification was found in her purse nearby, confirming what Etta had feared. Word of Etta's discovery spread quickly, and with it came questions that she couldn't answer. How had she known? Was it just a coincidence, or something more? The media latched onto the story, dubbing her a psychic nurse.
Strangers reached out, asking her to find their missing loved ones, while skeptics accused her of involvement in the crime. Etta's life was upended. She couldn't go anywhere without being recognized. And the weight of the discovery hung heavy on her. She replayed the vision in her mind, searching for answers, for meaning. Why had she been shown this? And by what force?
In the weeks that followed, the police arrested three men in connection with Melanie's murder. They had abducted her, stolen her car, and left her to die in the field. The evidence was damning, and the case seemed closed. But for Etta, the nightmare was far from over. The visions didn't stop. They came unbidden, each one more horrifying than the last.
She saw faces she didn't recognize, places she'd never been. And always, there was the same sense of urgency, the same heavy dread. Etta began to fear sleep, knowing that with it might come another vision, another burden she hadn't asked for. She tried to ignore them, to push them away, but they clung to her like shadows, refusing to let go.
One night, as she sat alone in her apartment, the television playing softly in the background, Etta felt the familiar pull. Her vision blurred, and she was somewhere else again. A narrow alley littered with broken glass, the sound of footsteps, a woman's scream cut through the air, sharp and desperate, and then silence. Etta gasped, clutching the edge of the couch as the vision faded.
She knew what she had to do. She couldn't ignore it, no matter how much it terrified her. The question lingered in her mind, relentless and unanswerable. Was this a gift or a curse? What would you do if your dreams revealed the truth? Have you ever felt drawn to a place that you've never been before? Did you end up having a strange connection to the place?
This week's podcast stories were edited by Sarah Lukasiewicz. Narration by Blair Bathory. Audio edited and mixed by Fitz Harris. Additional audio editing by Calvin Linderman. Produced by Anna Villalobos. Executive produced by Gil Gilman. Music by Sapphire Sindalo and Calvin Linderman. If you have a story you'd like to submit... send me an email at somethingscaryatsnarled.com.
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Chapter 6: How can you share your own scary stories?
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