Listen to ““HAPPY APRIL FEARS DAY!” #WeirdDarkness” on Spreaker.

IN THIS EPISODE: Many podcasts and YouTube channels today are taking advantage of the date on the calendar and playing practical jokes on their subscribers in celebration of All Fools Day. I admit, I was tempted to begin a story and then Rick-Roll you, but instead I thought it might be fun to bring some dark stories into today’s podcast that have a funny or amusing twist to them. Still creepy, but comical as well. I don’t believe any of these stories are true – but that doesn’t mean they’re not entertaining.

All stories in this episode were gathered and rewritten by S. E. Schlosser. You can find links to all of the books these stories are pulled from at https://amzn.to/43Gk6om.
Weird Darkness theme by Alibi Music Library.
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(Over time links seen above may become invalid, disappear, or have different content. I always make sure to give authors credit for the material I use whenever possible. If I somehow overlooked doing so for a story, or if a credit is incorrect, please let me know and I will rectify it in these show notes immediately. Some links included above may benefit me financially through qualifying purchases.)
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“I have come into the world as a light, so that no one who believes in me should stay in darkness.” — John 12:46
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WeirdDarkness® is a registered trademark. Copyright ©2024, Weird Darkness.
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Originally aired: April 01, 2019


DISCLAIMER: Ads heard during the podcast that are not in my voice are placed by third party agencies outside of my control and should not imply an endorsement by Weird Darkness or myself. *** Stories and content in Weird Darkness can be disturbing for some listeners and intended for mature audiences only. Parental discretion is strongly advised.

SHOW OPEN==========

Welcome, Weirdos – I’m Darren Marlar and this is Weird Darkness. Here you’ll find stories of the paranormal, supernatural, legends, lore, the strange and bizarre, crime, conspiracy, mysterious, macabre, unsolved and unexplained.

This episode was originally aired on April 1st, 2019 (April Fool’s Day). Many podcasts and YouTube channels today are taking advantage of the date on the calendar and playing practical jokes on their subscribers in celebration of All Fools Day. I admit, I was tempted to begin a story and then Rick-Roll you, but instead I thought it might be fun to bring some dark stories into today’s podcast that have a funny or amusing twist to them. Still creepy, but comical as well. I don’t believe any of these stories are true – but that doesn’t mean they’re not entertaining.

If you’re new here, welcome to the show! While you’re listening, be sure to check out WeirdDarkness.com for merchandise, my newsletter, enter contests, to connect with me on social media, plus, you can visit the Hope in the Darkness page if you’re struggling with depression or dark thoughts. You can find all of that and more at WeirdDarkness.com.

Now.. bolt your doors, lock your windows, turn off your lights, and come with me into the Weird Darkness!



Bear Lake Monster

A Utah Ghost Story 

retold by

S. E. Schlosser

If you travel to Bear Lake in Utah on a quiet day, you just might catch a glimpse of the Bear Lake Monster. The monster looks like a huge brown snake and is nearly 90 feet long. It has ears that stick out from the side of its skinny head and a mouth big enough to eat a man. According to some, it has small legs and it kind of scurries when it ventures out on land. But in the water – watch out! It can swim faster than a horse can gallop – makes a mile a minute on a good day. Sometimes the monster likes to sneak up on unwary swimmers and blow water at them. The ones it doesn’t carry off to eat, that is.

A feller I heard about spotted the monster early one evening as he was walking along the lake. He tried to shoot it with his rifle. The man was a crack shot, but not one of his bullets touched that monster. It scared the heck out of him and he high tailed it home faster than you can say Jack Robinson. Left his rifle behind him and claimed the monster ate it.

Sometimes, when the monster has been quiet for a while, people start saying it is gone for good. Some folks even dredge up that old tale that says how Pecos Bill heard about the Bear Lake monster and bet some cowpokes that he could wrestle that monster until it said uncle. According to them folks, the fight lasted for days and created a hurricane around Bear Lake. Finally, Bill flung that there monster over his shoulder and it flew so far it went plumb around the world and landed in Loch Ness, where it lives to this day.

Course, we know better than that. The Bear Lake Monster is just hibernating-like. Keep your eyes open at dusk and maybe you’ll see it come out to feed. Just be careful swimming in the lake, or you might be its next meal!


Ghost on the Tracks

A Colorado Ghost Story

retold by

S.E. Schlosser

The train rumbled around him as he adjusted the throttle. The night shift was always the toughest, in the engineer’s mind. He had rumbled through Timpas a few minutes ago and was on his way to Thatcher. Not a bad stretch of road, and there was no better train in the entire Atchison, Topeka & Santa Fe Railroad.

He stretched a bit and yawned, trying to stay alert. And then he gasped. The lights had picked up the figure of a beautiful woman with long red-gold hair and wonderful blue eyes standing near the tracks. Too near! He sounded his horn to warn her away. And then he realized that the light was shining right through her. She was a ghost!

She stepped into the center of the track, laughing and beautiful. She disappeared seconds before the train rushed through her. And then she was there, in the engine cab next to him. The scent of roses filled the air. He stared at the ghostly vision, bewitched by her beauty. With an enticing smile, she wrapped ghostly arms about his neck and kissed him. And was gone.

Dazed (and disappointed!), the engineer finished the run to Thatcher in a trance, completely forgetting to stop at the station. The fireman had to pour water on his head to snap him out of it.

The engineer decided not to tell anyone about the ghost, fearing for his job. But he was plagued by curiousity. Finally, he confided the story to a close friend who was a fellow engineer. To his surprise, the friend had heard about the ghost before. The ghost’s appearance on the train was by no means uncommon. No one knew who the woman had been in life. But she always appeared on that stretch of track after dark, beckoning to the men on the railroad crew with a bewitching smile. Sometimes, said his friend, sometimes she would come right onto the train!

“Better not tell your wife about it,” his friend advised.

The engineer never did.


I’m Coming Down Now!

An Alberta Ghost Story 

retold by S.E. Schlosser

There was an abandoned house sitting in the middle of a fancy neighborhood in Calgary that nobody would go near. And I mean nobody!  Now , my pal Albert was the agent in charge of selling that haunted house and he tried everything in his power to close a deal.  But folks were too plumb scared to make an offer, even at rock-bottom prices.  Finally, Albert lit on the notion of selling the house sight unseen to a rich city slicker from the States. Worked like a charm, too, until the day the city slicker decided he wanted to visit the property after all.

Albert was all set to take the fellow there at high noon, but the city slicker’s train was delayed, so it wasn’t until after dinner that the two men set off for the haunted house. It was a dark and rainy night, but early enough in the evening that the ghost might still be resting. At least, Albert hoped this was the case.

Albert unlocked the front door, and it opened with an ominous creak. Albert swallowed nervously, but the city slicker just chuckled and said something about atmosphere. Albert relaxed a bit, and wondered if he shouldn’t have raised the price a bit. The two men entered a tall foyer absolutely festooned with dusty cobwebs.

“Creepy!” the city slicker said enthusiastically. He bounded energetically into the center of the foyer, “Come to me, foul spirits!” he intoned loudly.

Immediately, the whole house rang with a sinister, unearthly chuckle.  Then an unearthly  voice boomed: “I’m coming down now!” The city slicker jumped and then turned to Albert with a happy grin. “Great special effects! How’d you do that?”

“I didn’t,” Albert said, his teeth chattering. He backed up until he hit the front door and stood there with his hand on the knob.

“I’m coming down now!” the voice boomed again, and the city slicker’s grin slipped a bit. He looked at Albert’s frightened posture and then followed the agent’s gaze toward the stairs.

A bright light exploded into being at the top of the steps and quickly resolved into a sinister green head with flaming eyes, writhing hair, and fangs instead of teeth. The head opened its mouth and screamed; a terrible, high-pitched sound that scraped across the nerves.

As the head began rolling down the stairs toward the two men, Albert’s nerve broke, and a moment later he was halfway down the road, his own scream rivaling that of the specter in the house behind him.

It wasn’t until he was almost home that he realized that he had company. The city slicker was running along beside him.

“Mister, I don’t think I want that house after all,” he panted.
“Why not?” asked a hauntingly familiar voice. Albert and the city slicker looked over and saw the green head with flaming red eyes keeping pace with them as they raced down the street.

The city slicker gave a screech that would have shamed a banshee and disappeared into the distance so fast there was no keeping up with him.
“Must have been the asking price,” the floating head said conversationally to Albert. The real estate agent shrieked even louder than the city slicker and ran away so fast that his shoes made sparks against the pavement.

The next day, Albert quit his job and moved to Vancouver, where he spent the rest of his life working on a fishing boat.   And the haunted house fell into ruin and was eventually torn down.




Never Mind Them Watermelons

An Alabama Ghost Story

retold by

S. E. Schlosser

Listen to the story (4.3 mb download)

Well now, old Sam Gibb, he didn’t believe in ghosts. Not one bit. Everyone in town knew the old log cabin back in the woods was haunted, but Sam Gibb just laughed whenever folks talked about it. Finally, the blacksmith dared Sam Gibb to spend the night in the haunted log cabin. If he stayed there until dawn, the blacksmith would buy him a whole cartload of watermelons. Sam was delighted. Watermelon was Sam’s absolute favorite fruit. He accepted the dare at once, packed some matches and his pipe, and went right over to the log cabin to spend the night.

Sam went into the old log cabin, started a fire, lit his pipe, and settled into a rickety old chair with yesterday’s newspaper. As he was reading, he heard a creaking sound. Looking up, he saw that a gnarled little creature with glowing red eyes had taken the seat beside him. It had a long, forked tail, two horns on its head, claws at the ends of its hands, and sharp teeth that poked right through its large lips.

“There ain’t nobody here tonight except you and me,” the creature said to old Sam Gibb. It had a voice like the hiss of flames. Sam’s heart nearly stopped with fright. He leapt to his feet.

“There ain’t going to be nobody here but you in a minute,” Sam Gibb told the gnarled creature. He leapt straight for the nearest exit – which happened to be the window – and hi-tailed it down the lane lickety-split. He ran so fast he overtook two rabbits being chased by a coyote. But it wasn’t long before he heard the pounding of little hooves, and the gnarled creature with the red eyes caught up with him.

“You’re making pretty good speed for an old man,” said the creature to old Sam Gibb.

“Oh, I can run much faster than this,” Sam Gibb told it. He took off like a bolt of lightning, leaving the gnarled creature in the dust. As he ran passed the smithy, the blacksmith came flying out of the forge to see what was wrong.

“Never mind about them watermelons,” Sam Gibb shouted to the blacksmith without breaking his stride.

Old Sam Gibb ran all the way home and hid under his bed for the rest of the night. After that, he was a firm believer in ghosts and spooks, and he refused to go anywhere near the old cabin in the woods.


More “April Fears Day” stories coming up on Weird Darkness.


Piece By Piece

A New York Ghost Story 

retold by

S. E. Schlosser

Listen to the story (4 mb download)

There once was a crazy ghost over Poughkeepsie way that got folks so plumb scared that nobody would stay more than one night in its house. It was a nice old place, or was, until the ghost began making its presence known. It got so no one would enter the house, not even kids on a dare, and you know what they are like!

Now when my friend Joe heard a fancy old house in Poughkeepsie was selling dirt cheap, he decided to go have a look. He asked me about it and I told him about the spook, but Joe just laughed. “I don’t believe in ghosts,” he said and went to visit the agent selling the house.

Well, the agent gave Joe a key, but refused to look at the old house with him, which should have told Joe something. But Joe’s a stubborn man who won’t listen to reason. He even waited until after dark to visit the house for the first time, just to prove his point.

Joe got to the house around nine p.m. and he entered the front hallway. It was a large entrance and well-proportioned, but neglected-looking, with creepy cobwebs and dust everywhere. As Joe paused near the door to get his bearings, he heard a thump from the top of the staircase facing him. A glowing leg appeared out of nowhere and rolled down the steps, landing right next to Joe’s feet. Joe gasped out loud and stood frozen to the spot. An arm appeared and rolled down to meet the leg. Next came a foot, then another arm, then a hand. Glowing pieces of body kept popping into existence and plummeting down the steps towards Joe.

Joe held his ground a lot longer than anyone else ever had, but when a screaming head appeared at the top of the steps and started rolling towards him, Joe had had enough. With a shriek that could wake the dead – those that weren’t already up and haunting the house that is – Joe ran for his life; out of the house, out of the street, and right out of town, leaving his car behind him.

He called me the next day and asked me to drive his car down to the hotel where he had spent the night. Joe was headed back to Manhattan and refused to come within fifty miles of Poughkeepsie ever again. The agent gave up trying to sell the house after that, and the house fell into ruin and was eventually torn down.


That Pesky Fellow

A Newfoundland folktale

retold by

S.E. Schlosser

A fisherman from Newfoundland was having difficulty finding someone to assist him. Help was scarce, and he couldn’t find a soul to hire. Then one day he saw a handsome fellow in fancy city clothes walking along the docks. This was obviously not a man looking for work, but the fisherman still called out, half in jest: “Are ye looking for some work?” To his surprise, the city-man nodded and jumped into the boat.

They agreed to split the catch into three parts, one for the city-man, one for expenses, and one for the fisherman. Then they set out in the boat. At first, the skipper caught three fish to every fish caught by the city-man. He was quite disgusted with this performance. At this rate, he would have done better fishing alone. So he said: “Am I supposed to catch all the fish for you? Why don’t you catch some?”

“Well then, if it’s fish your looking for,” said the pesky stranger. “How about these?” He grabbed the fish gaff and smacked the port side of the vessel three times. “Come aboard, fish!” he shouted. Immediately, fish of every shape and size came leaping out of the water on the port side and flopped into the bottom of the boat. The stranger then hit the starboard side of the boat three times, and fish came hopping and flopping in from that direction until the boat was so full the skipper could barely see the stranger over the mound of fish.

“Stop or you’ll drown us both!” he shouted to the city-man. Well, that pesky city-fellow held up the fish-gaff and immediately the fish stopped jumping into the boat.

The skipper eyed the catch, and then grinned in delight at the city-man. “I wish I’d brought us a spot of rum!” he cried enthusiastically. “We should celebrate this fine catch!”

“A spot of rum, coming up,” said that pesky fellow. He bore a hole into the mast with a little gimlet he took from his pocket and out poured enough rum to fill a mug. Then he bore a second hole into the mast and poured himself some whiskey.

By this time, the skipper was marveling at the magic produced by the pesky city-fellow, but he wasn’t about to ask how he pulled off such stupendous tricks. He was just grateful to benefit from them. He topped off his rum from the hole in the mast and then turned the boat towards shore. The stranger wanted to steer, but the skipper wasn’t sure where that pesky fellow would take the boat, so he politely declined the offer and the man grinned knowingly and poured himself some more whiskey.

When they reached the docks, the two men sat down and started dividing the catch between them. “Lay out one for you, one for expenses, and one for the Devil,” the pesky city-fellow said with a lazy grin. So that was what the skipper did. He made three piles, and they kept throwing the fish one at a time into a pile, chanting: “One for me, one for expenses, one for the Devil,” until the entire catch was divided.

The skipper put the Devil’s portion on a wooden rack – called a stage – that was used for drying fish. “Much obliged,” said the pesky Fellow with a happy grin. He kicked over the stage, leapt into the sea with his portion of the catch, and the whole kit and caboodle disappeared in a puff of smoke.

The skipper shook his head a few times. Then he went back to the mast to pour himself some more rum. But both of the bore-holes had disappeared along with the pesky Fellow.


The Black Cat’s Message

A Texas Halloween Story
Excerpted from Spooky Southwest
Retold by
S.E. Schlosser

I came home late one night after work and found my wife Ethel puttering about the kitchen with a big yellow cat at her heels.
“And who is this?” I asked jovially.
“This is our new cat,” said Ethel, giving me a hug and a kiss to welcome me home.  “She just appeared at the kitchen door and wanted to come in.  None of the neighbors know where she came from, so I guess she’s ours.  It will be nice to have some company around the house.”
I bent down and scratched the yellow cat under the chin.  She purred and stretched.
“Well, I think our income can stretch far enough to feed three,” I said.
My son had taken over my job at the mercantile and my wife and I were enjoying a leisurely old age.  I liked to keep busy though, and so I spent a few hours every day cutting and hauling wood to be used at the mill.
I went out to milk the cow, and when I came back in, Ethel gave the cat some cream in a saucer.
We sat on the porch after dinner, and the cat sat with us.
“You are a very nice kitty,” I said to her.  She purred loudly.
“Donald,” Ethel said.  She sounded worried.  I turned to look at her.  “The neighbors acted rather oddly when I told them about the cat.  They seemed to think she was a ghost or a witch of some sort, transformed into a cat.  They told me to get rid of her.”
“A witch?” I asked, and laughed heartily.  “Are you a witch, little cat?”
The cat yawned and stretched.  Reluctantly, Ethel started to laugh with me.  It seemed such a ludicrous notion.  We sat watching the beautiful sunset, and then took ourselves to bed.
The cat quickly became an essential part of our household.  She would purr us awake each morning, and would beg for cream when I brought in the morning’s milking.  She followed Ethel around supervising her work during the day and would sit by the fire at night while we read aloud.
The days became shorter as autumn approached, and often I would work until nearly sunset, cutting and hauling wood.  One night in October, I didn’t finish hauling my last load until dusk.  As soon as I had piled the last log, I started down the road, hoping to get home before dark since I had not brought a lantern with me.  I rounded a corner and saw a group of black cats standing in the middle of the road.  They were nearly invisible in the growing dark.
As I drew nearer, I saw that they were carrying a stretcher between them.  I stopped and rubbed my eyes.  That was impossible.  When I looked again, the stretcher was still there, and there was a little dead cat lying on it.
I was astonished.  It must be a trick of the light, I thought.  Then one of the cats called out, “Sir, please tell Aunt Kan that Polly Grundy is dead.”
My mouth dropped open in shock.  I shook my head hard, not believing my ears.  How ridiculous, I thought.  Cats don’t talk.
I hurried past the little group, carefully looking the other way.  I must be working too hard, I thought.  But I couldn’t help wondering who Aunt Kan might be.  And why did the cat want me to tell her Polly Grundy was dead?  Was Polly Grundy the cat on the stretcher?
Suddenly, I was confronted by a small black cat.  It was standing directly in front of me.  I stopped and looked down at it.  It looked back at me with large green eyes that seemed to glow in the fading light.
“I have a message for Aunt Kan,” the cat said.  “Tell her that Polly Grundy is dead.”
The cat stalked passed me and went to join the other cats grouped around the stretcher.
I was completely nonplussed.  This was getting very spooky.  Talking cats and a dead Polly Grundy.  And who was Aunt Kan?  I hurried away as fast as I could walk.  Around me, the woods were getting darker and darker.  I did not want to stay in that wood with a group of talking cats.  Not that I really believed the cats had spoken.  It was all a strange, waking dream brought on by too much work.
Behind me, the cats gave a strange shriek and called out together:  “Old man!  Tell Aunt Kan that Polly Grundy is dead!”
I’d had enough.  I sprinted for home as fast as I could go, and didn’t stop until I had reached the safety of my porch.  I paused to catch my breath.  I did not want to explain to Ethel that I was seeing and hearing impossible things.  She would dose me with caster oil and call the doctor.
When I was sufficiently composed, I went into the house and tried to act normally.  I should have known it wouldn’t work.  Ethel and I had been married for thirty years, and she knew me inside and out.  She didn’t say anything until after I’d finished the chores.  Then she sat me down in front of the fire and brought me my supper.  After I’d take a few bites and started to relax, she said, “Tell me all about it, Donald.”
“I don’t want to worry you,” I said, reluctant to talk about what I had seen and heard on the way home.
The yellow cat was lying by the fire.  She looked up when she heard my voice, and came to sit by my chair.  I offered her a morsel of food, which she accepted daintily.
“I’ll worry more if you don’t tell me,” said Ethel.
“I think maybe something is wrong with my brain,” I said slowly.  “While I was walking home, I thought I saw a group of black cats carrying a stretcher with a dead cat on it.  Then I thought I heard the cats talking to me.  They asked me to tell Aunt Kan that Polly Grundy was dead.”
The yellow cat leapt up onto the window sill.  “Polly Grundy is dead?” she cried.  “Then I am the Queen of the Witches!”
She switched her tail and the window flew open with a bang.  The yellow cat leapt through it and disappeared into the night, never to return.
Ethel had to dump an entire bucket of water over my head to revive me from my faint.
‘The good news,” she told me when I sat up, dripping and swearing because the water was ice cold, “is that you have nothing wrong with your brain.  The bad news is that our cat has just left us to become the Queen of the Witches.  We’ll have to get another cat.”
“Oh no,” I said immediately.  “I’ve had enough of cats.”
We got a dog.


The Skeleton

A New Mexico Ghost Story

Retold by S.E. Schlosser

The boy had been out looking for work all day with no luck. When night fell, he was far from home. He decided to spend the night in an empty, rundown house. The minute he laid down he fell into a sound sleep. The boy was awakened quite suddenly by a thump on the roof. With a pounding heart, he sat up and lit a candle. A voice called out, “I’m falling down!”

The boy scrambled out of the way just as a skeletal arm came crashing to the floor. The voice shouted again, “I’m falling down!” and another arm landed beside the first. Then a leg, the chest, and a second leg. Before he could count to ten, a complete skeleton was standing in front of him, grinning madly.
The boy lifted his chin and grinned back, determined not to show his fear.  The skeleton was delighted by the boy’s spirit and said, “You have courage, son. Are you brave enough to wrestle me?”
The boy was terrified, but he did not dare refuse this strange apparition. The skeleton and the boy wrestled back and forth, up and down the room.  Remembering a trick his older brother had taught him, he twisted suddenly and threw the skeleton onto the ground.
“You’ve won!” The skeleton said, “Such courage deserves a reward. Come, I will give you my treasure.”
The boy was startled. What kind of treasure could an old skeleton have?
“Pick me up and carry me on your back to the next room,” said the skeleton. “Remember to take your candle.” The boy picked up the skeleton and put it on his back. Then he retrieved his candle from the corner of the room and carried the skeleton into the next room. As they passed through the doorway, the skeleton blew out the candle.
“Now, stop that,” he said annoyed. The skeleton cackled madly. The boy lit the candle again, and the skeleton blew it out. “I’m going to drop you,” the boy threatened. He lit the candle again, and again the skeleton blew it out.
The boy dropped the skeleton onto the floor. “I will break all your bones!” he said. Impressed, the skeleton said: “You are so courageous and strong, I will let you see my treasure.”
The boy lit the candle and turned to look into the room. It was filled with piles and piles of gold and silver and jewels.
“I want you to promise me something,” The skeleton said.
The boy drew his gaze reluctantly from the magnificent treasure and looked at the skeleton. “I want you to promise me that you will gather all the poor people you can find in one day and give them each a bag of money. The rest you can keep for yourself.”
It would be a good thing to share this wealth with the needy, the boy decided, so he agreed to do what the skeleton had asked.
The skeleton gave a happy laugh and began to disappear, piece by piece. First his head, then his leg, then his chest, then his other leg and so on, until he was gone.
The boy did just as he had promised, and when he had finished his task, he took the rest of the treasure back to his family. They lived in comfort all of their days.


More “April Fears Day” stories coming up.


Tommy Knockers

A California Ghost Story 

retold by

S. E. Schlosser

Tommy Knockers are the spirits of departed miners that help miners find ore. They also knock on the walls of the mines right before a cave-in. When you hear a Tommy Knocker knocking, it’s best to depart the area right quick. They have saved the life of many a miner who has been in a danger. Some folks say that the very first man to hear the sound is jinxed, but that is not always the case.

It’s important to stay on the good side of the Tommy Knockers. Many miners leave a bit of their lunch for the spirits, and to please them, they fashion the little clay figures of their spirits. The Tommy Knockers can be spiteful creatures if they don’t like you.

One unlucky miner named Eddie became a target of the Tommy Knockers. They drove him crazy, pelting him with stones, stealing his tools, blowing out his lantern. He couldn’t figure out why the Tommy Knockers had singled him out until one day he heard a voice calling to him from the dark opening of a nearby shaft. “Eddie, I want my five dollars!” the Tommy Knocker said.

Eddie was so startled he dropped his tools all over the ground. The voice sounded just like that of his old friend Joe who had died in a cave-in a few months back. Eddie had borrowed five dollars from Joe and had never returned it. Eddie went into the shaft, and sure enough there was Joe Trelawney’s ghost, shrunk to the size of a two-foot dwarf with a big ugly head, large ears and a crooked nose. He wore a peaked hat, a leather jacket, and water-soaked leather boots.

The Tommy Knocker was not pleased to see Eddie. “Give me back my five dollars, Eddie!” the ghost of his old friend demanded.

“I don’t have any money on me, Joe,” Eddie said, patting his pockets for emphasis.

“I’ve heard that before,” said the Tommy Knocker dryly. “I didn’t believe it then, and I don’t believe it now!” The Tommy Knocker disappeared into thin air, leaving an uneasy Eddie to wonder what the ghost would do next. He soon found out! All day long, Eddie was plagued by the Tommy Knocker. His ladder was shaken so hard that he almost fell. The loud tapping noise of an invisible drill nearly drove him mad. He just missed being buried by a rock fall. And through it all, Joe’s voice would taunt him: “Give me back my five dollars, Eddie!”

“All right, Joe, all right!” Eddie finally yelled into the mouth of the tunnel where his friend had appeared. “I’ll get your bloody five dollars!” Abandoning his work for the day, Eddie made the long climb to the surface and took five silver dollars from the moneybox he kept under a loose board in his bedroom. The he climbed back down into the mine and stuck the five dollars into a crack in the wall next to the place Joe’s spirit had appeared to him.

“There’s your five dollars, Joe!” Eddie shouted, his voice echoing oddly in the dark tunnel.

“It’s about bloody time,” Joe said, appearing next to him and peering critically into the crack where the money lay.

“Are you going to leave me alone now?” Eddie asked.

The Tommy Knocker grinned impishly at Eddie. “Maybe,” he said. He scooped up the five silver dollars and disappeared into the dark.


Wait Until Emmet Comes

A West Virgina Ghost Story

retold by

S. E. Schlosser

A preacher was riding to one of the churches on his circuit when darkness fell. It was about to storm, and the only house nearby was an old mansion which was reputed to be haunted. The preacher clutched his Bible and said: “The Lawd will take care o’ me”.

He went into the mansion just as the storm broke. He put his horse into the barn and made his way into the house. The door was unlocked. He went into a large room which contained a fireplace that filled one wall. There was wood laid for a fire. He laid a match to it. Then the preacher sat down to read his Bible.

Gradually, the fire burnt down to a heap of coals as the storm howled around the mansion. The preacher was roused from his reading by a sound. He looked up from his Bible. A very large, black cat was stretching itself. Then it walked to the fire and sat down among the red hot coals. It picked a coal up in its paw and licked it slowly. The cat got up, shook of the ashes, and walked to the foot of the preacher’s chair. It fixed blazing yellow eyes upon him, black tail lashing and said quietly: “Wait until Emmet comes”.

The preacher jumped from Genesis to Matthew in shock. He had never heard of a cat talking before. Nervously he kept reading his Bible, muttering to himself, “The Lawd will take care o’ me.”

Two minutes later, another cat came into the room. It was black as midnight, and as large as the biggest dog. It lay down among the red-hot coals, lazily batting them with enormous paws. Then it walked over to the other cat and said: “What shall we do with him?”

The first cat replied: “We should not do anything until Emmet comes”.

The two cats, black as midnight, sat watching the preacher, who read through the Gospels at top speed, aware of blazing yellow eyes watching him.

A third cat, big as a tiger, entered the room. It went to the fire full of red-hot coals and rolled among them, chewing them and spitting them out. Then it came to the other two cats facing the preacher in the chair.

“What shall we do with him?” it growled to the others.

“We should not do anything until Emmet comes,” the other cats replied together.

The preacher flipped to Revelation, looking furtively around the room. He closed the Bible and stood up.

“Goo’night cats. I is glad of yo’ company, but when Emmet comes, you done tell him I been heah and went.”


You Can’t Get Out

A Oklahoma Ghost Story 

retold by

S. E. Schlosser

One dark, windy night, the town drunk was meandering his way home after the bar closed. Somehow he got turned around and ended up walking through the churchyard instead of taking the road home.

The wind picked up and he thought he could hear a voice calling his name. Suddenly, the ground opened up in front of him, and he fell down, down into an open grave! He could hear the voice clearer now, calling to him. He knew it was the devil, coming for him just like the preacher said, on account of him being the town drunk.

The hole was very deep and inside it was pitch black. His eyes adjusted to the darkness after a few moments, and he made out a form sitting in the darkness with him. It called his name, and he scrambled away in fear, trying to climb out of that terrible grave. Then the figure spoke. “You can’t get out,” it said.

The drunk gave a shout of pure terror and leapt straight up more than six feet. He caught the edge of the hole in his hands, scrambled out, and ran for home as fast as he could go.

Inside the open grave, his neighbor Charlie sighed in resignation. He’d fallen into the hole a few minutes before his friend and had thought that together they might help each other climb out. Now he was going to have to wait until morning and get the mortician to bring him a ladder.


Turnabout is Fairplay

A New Jersey Ghost Story
Retold by S.E. Schlosser

Everyone laughed at jumpy Uncle Phil, who believed the world was largely populated with monsters and ghosts and spooks and witches and werewolves. But he was considered harmless, and no one much bothered about the poor fellow. Until one summer when a new family moved to town with two naughty sons. As soon as they learnedabout jumpy Uncle Phil, those boys became obsessed with tormenting him. They snuck out to his place one night and painted hex signs over his barn. When Uncle Phil woke up the next morning, he ran all the way to the church—sure the Devil was out to steal his soul away. The old man wouldn’t leave until the minister went out and blessed his house.

A week later, the boys gathered all of the black cats in town and put them into Uncle Phil’s house. When Uncle Phil opened the door, fur flew everywhere as the black cats hissed and bit. Uncle Phil ran back to the church, and minister had to bless the house all over again.

Then one night, they snuck in Uncle Phil’s house through the parlor window, dragging a scarecrow with them. They set up the scarecrow so that it loomed over the poor sleeping man. Then they sunk out and positioned a lantern on a tree branch so that the light illuminated the scarecrow’s face. The boys started moaning and groaning and calling Uncle Phil’s name from the yard outside his bedroom window.

Uncle Phil woke with a gasp and then screamed in sheer terror. Leaping off the bed, he dove out of his bedroom window and climbed into the tree. Below him the lantern fell to the ground, setting fire to the woodpile beside the house. The boys stopped laughing and ran to the barn for something to put out the fire. Together, they managed to put it out, but the side of the house was scorched. The boys snuck into the house and removed the scarecrow before hightailing it home. In the morning Uncle Phil came down from the top of the tree and went to fetch the preacher. Uncle Phil house was sure Devil had come and tried to take away his soul. The minister had to perform a third ritual cleansing of the farm before Uncle Phil would return to his property.

The boys figured they’d better lay low for awhile after the fire, so life went back to normal for Uncle Phil. Then, about a month after the “Devil’s visit,” Uncle Phil passed away in his sleep, and the boys were sure it was their fault. They felt terrible about it, but what could they do? Uncle Phil was gone.

Two weeks after Uncle Phil’s death, the boys woke to find their bedroom full of black cats. The boys were alarmed, and could not convince their parents that they did not know how the cats got there.
Then the boys came home from school one afternoon to find hex signs painted on their barn. The boys yelled in terror and ran inside their house, completely spooked.

Later that night , the boys woke to hear a voice moaning their names. They sat up in their beds and saw the illuminated figure of a scarecrow looming in the center of the room. The boys screamed in terror.
“I have come for your soul,” it moaned, waving its arms about. The boys screamed again. Then the scarecrow started laughing. One arm reached up and snatched off the scarecrow’s head, revealing the glowing, partially transparent face of Uncle Phil.

“Gotcha!” said the ghost of Uncle Phil with a huge grin. “After all, turnabout is fairplay.”

Laughing and crying, the boys had to agree. And they never played practical jokes on anyone again.



Thanks for listening. If you like the show, please share it with someone you know who loves the paranormal or strange stories, true crime, monsters, or unsolved mysteries like you do! And please leave a rating and review of the show in the podcast app you listen from – doing so helps the show to get noticed! You can also email me anytime with your questions or comments through the website at WeirdDarkness.com. That’s also where you can find all of my social media, listen to free audiobooks I’ve narrated, shop the Weird Darkness store, sign up for the email newsletter, find other podcasts that I host, and find the Hope in the Darkness page if you or someone you know is struggling with depression or dark thoughts. Plus if you have a true paranormal or creepy tale to tell, you can click on TELL YOUR STORY.

All stories in this episode were gathered and rewritten by S. E. Schlosser. You can find links to all of the books these stories are pulled from in the show notes.

WeirdDarkness™ – is a production and trademark of Marlar House Productions. Copyright, Weird Darkness.

Now that we’re coming out of the dark, I’ll leave you with a little light… “For the foolishness of God is wiser than man’s wisdom, and the weakness of God is stronger than man’s strength.” — 1 Corinthians 1:25

And a final thought… “Your journey will be much lighter and easier if you don’t carry your past with you.”

I’m Darren Marlar. Thanks for joining me in the Weird Darkness.


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