9 True Ghost Stories & Unexplained Mysteries from Listeners 👀🕯️ LEPster Writing Competition [1006]

Thank you for choosing Luke's English podcast. For more episodes with specific vocabulary and pronunciation teaching, plus add-free listening, access to the premium community, and to show your support for the podcast, sign up to LEP Premium at teachalook.co.uk/premium Hello listeners and welcome back to Luke's English podcast. This is my podcast for learners of English all around the world. Welcome to the show. How are you doing today? I hope you're doing fine. So this episode, well, this is going to be a good one. I've got a cracking episode lined up for you today. So this is true ghost stories and unexplained mysteries from listeners. In this episode, I'm going to read out some stories written by listeners of this podcast. All the stories I'm going to read out here were sent to me as part of a writing competition, which I launched ages ago. The competition was put on hold for a few months, but finally, here it is. Now, do you remember this? In episode 984 earlier this year, I spoke to author Anna Brooke, and she told us about some extremely strange experiences she had in her home. She believes they were paranormal experiences, including visitations by the spirits of people who lived in her building and who died in tragic circumstances. Do you remember that episode? So those experiences were the inspiration for her latest book. Now, admittedly, it is a fun book for children and not really scary, but the inspiration came from these things which she really experienced and which left quite an impression on her. In the episode, Anna told us all about it. I mean, I'm personally a sort of a skeptic really when it comes to paranormal things, but nevertheless, I don't know how to explain the things that Anna experienced and described. Check out episode 984 if you'd like to hear her talking about those things. But anyway, yes, she was inspired by some of those things to write her next book. She writes books for kids. So this book in question is called "Death by Chocolate" and it's appropriate for children aged around 8 to 12 years old. It's more fun than scary and is a sort of detective mystery that your children will enjoy very much. My daughter loved it, especially the sense that she was working out who had committed the crime. It's a sort of murder mystery story for children, but it was inspired by some of the things that Anna genuinely experienced, and like most of the best work that we produce, right, is inspired by real things that we experience. So in "Death by Chocolate", there's a hotel which is haunted by a chef, a chocolatier, a chocolate maker, who met a sticky end. And the character of Coco has to find out what happened to him in order to give him peace so he can move on and stop haunting the hotel. That's the idea behind the book, right? It's available now from Chicken House Publishing and you should be able to find it in any good book shop. It's an English language book, of course, "Death by Chocolate" by Anna Brook. You'll find a link in the description for more information. So during that episode with Anna, we launched this competition to encourage my listeners to share any stories of creepy experiences that they, I mean, you have had. We talk Anna and I talk together and we kind of thought, I wonder if my listeners have got any stories that they could share that are similar to Anna's. Okay, now you might be thinking, Luke, that was a long time ago now, why the delay? Well, life got in the way as it does, and that meant that it just took me ages to work on the competition. Competition's like this always require a lot of work actually because I've got to gather the stories and then put it all together and stuff like that. And then, you know, I have a tight schedule every week, which means that I have to pump out new episodes all the time. And sometimes an episode that requires a lot of attention gets sort of postponed and put off, and it got put off quite a lot actually. Life got in the way basically. And so, and then I thought to myself, it kind of September arrived and I thought to myself, why not wait until Halloween to do this episode. It seems appropriate to talk about creepy and spooky stories at this time of year when, according to folklore, the veil, the sort of curtain or separation between our world and the spirit world becomes very thin. So, the time is right for creepy tales in October. So, the winning story, so I asked my listeners to send in stories of their own creepy, unexplained or potentially paranormal experiences. The winning story, the one that Anna and I like the best, will receive a copy of Anna's book, that is the prize, and it will also be read out on the podcast. But also, Anna and I will make a selection of other stories to read out in the episode. So, that was the plan. And I didn't expect to get that many stories to be honest. This is because as a skeptic, I assumed that there wouldn't be that many paranormal experiences to share because they're rare, aren't they? I mean, sort of weird, creepy paranormal experiences are quite rare, aren't they? But amazingly, I got absolutely loads of stories, 74 stories in total. Now, maybe you sent in a story. Yes, it has taken the ages to finish this episode. I'm so sorry for taking so long. I didn't intend for this to happen, but anyway, better late than never. Now, in general, the quality of writing that I got in these stories was high, but we really had to narrow down the list of stories to a manageable number, a manageable number of stories to judge and to read out. So, in the end, I managed to reduce the number to just nine stories. So, from 74, all the way down to nine stories. And that was difficult, especially getting from about 20 stories down to nine was especially difficult. But in this episode, I'm going to read out all nine of those stories, including the winner. So, I'm very sorry if your story was not included in this short list. If you sent me a story and it's not included in this nine, then I'm really sorry. However, I do want to showcase every single story I received. So, on the PDF for this episode, you will see, first of all, all this stuff that I'm saying to you now, but also the nine stories in our short list, which I will read out during this episode. And that's going to start very soon. And all the other stories that were included in the list, and which I won't be reading out during this episode. But all those other stories will be on the PDF too. So, you can read them as well. And I encourage you to do so. Okay? So, all 74 stories are included there for your reading pleasure. Now, I like doing competitions on this podcast, but I don't really like picking one single winner. I find it very hard, and I want to encourage everyone who took the time to write a story and to send it to me. I want to encourage you. And again, apologies to those people who wrote a story, which didn't get included in my short list. I had to reject quite a lot of stories, which I still think are great. So, if you didn't get picked, don't feel bad or anything like that. Okay? Now, the winning story is simply the one that Anna and I decided was our favorite. So, the one that was moving, gripping, entertaining, and simply enjoyable to read. But of course, this is just our humble opinion and our particular choice. And you might have a different favorite. Okay? If that is the case, please say in the comments, which story is your favorite and why you like it. I'm sure that the writer will appreciate getting the feedback. Okay? Now, I'm very sorry that we can't offer prizes to everyone who took part, but in any case, we've really enjoyed reading all these descriptions. Now, on the topic of beliefs and whether or not we believe in the paranormal or not, I personally remain skeptical about paranormal things. And I believe that there must be some kind of rational explanation for most things, or perhaps some things are just beyond our understanding, but not necessarily due to paranormal or supernatural causes. But I still find all of these descriptions fascinating. Assuming that the people who wrote these were telling the truth and not mistaken in some way, then yes, I am genuinely unable to explain what happened in each case. Life is mysterious and the world is a mysterious place. Anyway, I am the skeptical one, and Anna is much more of a believer than me as you can hear in episode 984. And like in the BBC podcast series Uncanny, which is especially recommended by Anna, she's a big fan of that show, if you like this kind of thing, that's Uncanny from the BBC. Like in that podcast, we can divide ourselves into the skeptics and the believers. So you have team skeptic and team believer. So which one are you? I am personally in team skeptic, Anna is in team believer, but which team are you in? You can kind of tell us about that in the comments section. Now, after each story, I will briefly some summarize what happened just to make sure that you understood everything, but I will try to keep that short. I would also happily speculate about each one and attempt to give my rational explanations, but I'm not going to do that. I'm just going to read out the stories and I will let you, the listener, make up your own mind about each one. The aim here is to showcase some fantastic stories and descriptions written by my listeners. I was very impressed by the overall quality of writing here. I've made a few language corrections to the stories in this short list just to clear things up, but I didn't have to change very much and I didn't do any major rewriting. I just corrected a few small errors here and there, which were in the stories as they were emailed to me. Also, most of these stories had lovely little messages attached to them from the writers, expressing their sincere gratitude for the podcast. I've removed those, choosing instead, just to present the stories without any other comments, but thank you very much for your lovely words. If you did write something, I always appreciate that sort of thing very, very much. Again, this is our personal short list of stories. If you want to read all the ones I received, check the PDF. They're all there, presented without any corrections or edits to all the other ones. Now, there's a content warning. I need to give you a content warning. This is where I warn you about this is where I warn you about the content of some of the stories which are going to here. Some of these stories are very personal and contain strong themes of loss, grief, and emotional trauma. These are not just creepy stories. They're also moving emotional stories about people's profound experiences. Here is a little content warning at the beginning. Some of these stories contain descriptions of not only scary experiences, but also some traumatic ones, including the deaths of family members or loved ones, and similarly emotionally charged experiences. If those things trigger strong emotions and feelings in you, then please do continue with caution while listening to the episode. That's just a little warning. There are some strong emotional themes in this episode that could be upsetting if you have had similar experiences yourself. So, nine stories. Let's begin. Let's begin with story number one, which I am calling encounter on the balcony. Now, I'll tell you which story is the winner during the episode. But let's kick off with story number one. This was sent in by H, simply H. Not the full name, just the initial H. Okay, so here we go. It's not surprising that many people are skeptical about ghosts nowadays. Kids are perceptive to scary tales and like them, but the more science they learn at school, the stronger their immunity to mysticism becomes. However, different things do happen. Probably everyone has a few spooky stories to tell. I can tell you that nothing blows away your scientific knowledge, like a nice walk in the evening forest, especially if you take a shortcut and suddenly discover a human skeleton staring piercingly at you with empty, bottomless eye sockets. Strangely enough, science cannot help you cope with the weakness in your legs, and when a tree branch catches your shoulder, your imagination immediately draws a picture of a bony hand clutching you with a death grip. Real ghosts do exist, of course. I remember when I was a child, we lived with my grand mar on the first floor or was it the ground floor in British? Well, to be clear, we have the ground floor, then the next floor up is the first floor, then the second floor. So the ground floor is the one that's at the ground level. So we lived with my grand mar on the first floor of an apartment building. There was a recessed balcony, a very useful place. It held all the valuables that didn't fit in the apartment, empty jars, pots, garden tools, skis, not grandmas but my brothers, a bicycle, also not grandmas, mine, and God knows what else. There were also clothes, lines strung everywhere. Grandma was very provident and thrifty. This entire system of things, carefully arranged by caring hands, maintained a fragile but stable balance for the time being. One winter evening, when the darkness had thickened outside, we were sitting in the living room. Someone was reading, someone was watching TV. Suddenly this peaceful scene was rudely disturbed by a terrible noise on the balcony, the crash of falling things and the clanging of pots. When we finally emerged from our stupor caused by the horror that had gripped us and looked out, we saw our uninvited guest rushing off down the street. He glided away swiftly, as if carried by the wind, and it seemed to leave no traces in the snow. It was undoubtedly a ghost. That was from H. Let me just summarize that. H begins with some humorous reflections on ghosts, fear and the limits of scientific thinking. Then H recalls a childhood experience in a flat shared with grandma whose balcony was packed with carefully arranged household objects. One dark winter evening, the family heard a tremendous crash outside on the balcony, and when they looked, they saw a mysterious figure, fleeing, escaping down the street, apparently gliding over the snow without leaving footprints. H concludes that the visitor must have been a ghost. I've started with this one because I feel like it sets an interesting tone for the episode. I want to just make a note about the tone of that particular description. I like this story because it plays with the idea that ghost stories can't be true because they must have scientific explanations. That's how the story begins. This rational thinking quickly escapes you when you have a genuinely creepy experience and suddenly your mind starts to interpret things being supernatural and threatening. I want to introduce the episode with this one because it is about the idea that we are rational, but then creepy experiences can cause your brain to start interpreting things in a less rational way. I think the final sentence, it was undoubtedly a ghost, is almost certainly intended as a joke. Is it with the humour coming from the contrast between H's confident conclusion, like it must have been a ghost, it was definitely a ghost, with a more ordinary explanation that we can imagine. I think it's ironic. It was obviously a ghost. It might have been a bird, it might have been a crow, which had landed on the balcony and then flown off down the street without touching the ground. That's possible. We assume supernatural explanations for unexplained events. However, that's just my skepticism coming through. Other stories in this list are certainly harder to explain as we are about to see. I'm curious to see what your interpretations are of these stories. Leave your comments in the comments section. I'm going to resist the temptation to interpret any more than I did just now. Okay, so that was number one. Encounter on the balcony. Let's move on to story number two, which is called Grandmother's Medallion. Grandmother's Medallion. This is from Sylvia. Okay, so here we go. My Sicilian grandmother was a tiny hunchbacked person with long white hair she wore tight in a bun. She was very severe and spoke only the bare essentials. At that time it was the 50s and my family went to Sicily every summer to visit her. The grandfather was already dead. I enjoyed the Sicilian holiday very much though I was afraid of my grandmother. She wore around her neck a golden chain with an ivory medallion beautifully carved with a flower relief. But the fact that excited my curiosity was that it could be opened as a small box. What's inside? I asked grandmother once. She gave me a disapproving look and said girls should not be curious. My grandmother died when I was 15. Some days after the funeral I asked my father if I could get her medallion and he gave it to me. I couldn't wait for the moment to open it. I was so excited that my hands were shaking. Finally I moved the tiny hook and the lid popped off. The first thing I noticed, the first thing I noticed was a perfume so intense that I involuntarily pushed my head away. It smelled like withering jasmine, something like rotting flowers in a cemetery. I pulled myself together and looked inside the medallion. There was an old picture on the bottom. One of these old sepia-colored photographs almost erased but still recognizable. It was a little girl with long hair falling on her shoulders and a lace dress. She looked at me with large light eyes. But the small box held something more, a lock of blonde hair bound with a velvet ribbon. But that wasn't all. The moment I opened the box, I had the impression I could hear something in my ears. It wasn't a simple noise like tinitus. I heard something like a prayer. Yes, I heard women praying that kind of litany they used to sing in Sicily to watch the dead. I ran to my father and showed him the picture. Who is she? Do you know her? He looked attentively. The hair, he said, is of the same color as my mother's, honey blonde, and the little girl. I remember that once when I was a child, I heard two maids whispering to each other. They said that the mistress hasn't been the same after the fact and alluded to a dead child. I thought immediately that it could be a sister who died in mysterious circumstances before I was born, said my father. I was so baffled by the story that I forgot to ask him about the smell and the noise coming from the box. The same day as I opened it again, I found that the smell became so strong that the whole room was filled with it. The same happened to the noise. I clearly heard steps going into a wood, or through bushes, and I believed I could hear a voice or better a stifled lament. Scared, I put the medallion away, but I didn't resist very long. I had to take it again. I faced the smell of rotting flowers waiting for the noise to come, and it came. This time it was a clear child crying. I was deeply upset. I was sure that it was not a figment of the imagination. It was a message to me to go back to the home of my ancestors. I had to know more about it. Dramatic events, my father died, and my mother became ill, made me forget the medallion. When it ended up in my hands again, I knew it was time to go back to Sicily. I booked a flight to Catania and a B&B in Modica, the beautiful town, where the grandfather's family once lived. The next day I went to the municipal archive and asked for the documents they had about my family. The clerk looked at me incredulously and seemed to hesitate. As I asked the reason, he said, "Well, it's very strange. A couple of months ago there was a lot of talk about the discovery of human remains in the countryside. Some kilometres away, he showed with the arm, the direction, and about a family of this name." "Why?" I asked, very surprised. An old farmhouse was sold to some tourists. As the construction of the new house began, they found in a hole under the cellar the skeleton of a small girl. She must have died 80 years ago. How do we know her name? Because she wore a necklace with the image of the holy mother on one side, and her name and the birth date on the other side. The Cabernieri found out that it had to be the first daughter of the landowner's family, who was kidnapped at the age of five, and despite the payment of the ransom, was never found. I asked the clerk where the skeleton was interred, and he showed me the way to the cemetery. Therefore, instead of an archive, I visited the municipal cemetery where I paid tribute to a girl aunt. When I was back in my B and B, I opened the medallion, and I noticed that the perfume was almost gone, and no noise came to my ears. The photograph was still in its place, but it seemed to me very pale, and as I touched the lock of hair, it dissolved into a golden powder. Well, there you go. That's Sylvia's story of the grandmother's medallion. What do you think of that, listeners? What do you make of that? I think I should give a summary, and this is going to be quite a detailed summary this one, because, well, I'm just wondering how much you understood of that, but I thought that was a fascinating story. Let me give the summary then. This is a supernatural mystery by Sylvia, who, in the story, inherits a strange medallion, a kind of necklace with a, I guess, a round, kind of like a round large coin shaped piece of jewelry, with, I think, something, a decoration on the front of it, but it's the sort of medallion that can be opened, and it has a, it's like a pendant, so it has a little box inside. So Sylvia inherits a strange medallion from her grandmother when she dies. The medallion seems to contain messages from a dead child, leaving Sylvia to uncover a tragic family secret involving the kidnapping and death of her young aunt. Once the truth is discovered and Sylvia visits the child's grave, the supernatural activity stops. So let me tell that story again, in other words, just to make sure you understood the details. So when Sylvia was a child in the 1950s, her family visited her grandmother in Sicily every summer. Her grandmother was a small, strict, rather frightening woman who didn't speak very much. Sylvia said her grandmother was hunchbacked. So hunchbacked is an adjective that describes someone with an obvious permanent forward bend in their back. Someone who always bends forwards, and maybe their back is round or that it hasn't a hump, like a large lump on the top of the back, the upper part of the back. So that's a hunchbacked person. A hunchbacked person typically has to bend forward and might have a large rounded bump on their back. And I suppose to a child that might seem a little bit strange and possibly frightening in the case of this grandmother who was apparently quite strict and didn't talk a lot. So anyway, that's the grandmother who they visited every summer. Her grandmother always wore a beautiful ivory medallion on a gold chain around her neck. The medallion was like a tiny box that could be opened. Sylvia was very curious about what was inside when she was a child, but her grandmother refused to tell her and seemed to be quite protective of it, saying, you know, little girls should not be curious. Then when Sylvia was 15, her grandmother died. After the funeral, Sylvia asked her father if she could have the medallion and he agreed. Sylvia excitedly opened the medallion for the first time. Inside, she found an old photograph of a little girl and a lock of blonde hair, a lock of hair. That means just a sort of, I guess, a piece of hair, like lots of hairs all together in one bit. So imagine if you just grab someone's hair and snip, you snip some of that hair off with scissors, what you would have in your hand would be between your fingers. You would have a lock of hair. So there was the photograph of the girl and a lock of blonde hair tied together with a ribbon inside this medallion. And when Sylvia opened the medallion, she noticed some strange things, a very strong smell of dying flowers, which seemed to fill the room. She also thought she could hear women praying, so she heard noises. She thought she could hear women praying as if they were attending a funeral. She showed the photograph to her father and he remembered hearing servants talking about a child who had died in mysterious circumstances. I mean, this sort of thing does happen. I don't know if you've experienced this, but when a member of the family dies, sometimes secrets suddenly come out. Sometimes secrets, family secrets that have been hidden for years are then told when the person has moved on, right? Like here. So the father then reveals that he wants her servants. So there must have been a rich family that had servants. He overheard those servants when he was a child talking about some sort of incident that had happened, saying something like, oh, she's never been the same since the thing happened, you know? And he kind of like worked out or suspected that the little girl in the picture must have been his sister who had died before he was born. So he worked out or suspected that his mother had had a daughter previously and that girl had died and she'd never spoken about it. Every time Sylvia opened the medallion, the smell became stronger and she heard more strange sounds. She heard footsteps moving through bushes, someone crying quietly and eventually the clear, definite sound of a child crying. And This must have been quite. I mean, that's extraordinary. Hearing, like, sort of the auditory hallucinations and even a smell, a particular smell, it's very strange. And Sylvia became convinced that the sounds were not imaginary. She believed that the little girl was trying to communicate with her and that she needed to return to Sicily to discover what had happened, as if the girl was crying out for this mystery to be solved once and for all. Unfortunately, her father died and her mother became ill, you know. Life happened. And death happened. These events then distracted Sylvia from the mystery and she put the medallion away for some time, I guess, while over the years she dealt with these things. And then eventually Sylvia decided, I think she, yeah, eventually she decided that it was time to move back to Sicily to the home of her ancestors. She flew to Catania, stayed in Modica where her grandfather's family had once lived. She visited the local archives to investigate her family's history, presumably this is a place that has, you know, records of, you know, information about the people who lived in the town. An employee at the archives told Sylvia that workers had recently discovered the skeleton of a little girl buried beneath the cellar of an old farmhouse. And the skeleton was about 80 years old and the girl had been wearing a necklace with her name and date of birth on it. And this allowed the police to identify her as the daughter of a local land-owning family. So when Sylvia went to the archives, she spoke to a member of staff, showed them the name. And that's when the member of staff seemed to be kind of shocked and said, oh, you know, the skeleton, an 80 year old skeleton of a girl was discovered recently with this name. The little girl had been kidnapped when she was five years old. Her family had paid money to the kidnappers to get her back, but she had never returned. Nobody had known what happened to her until the skeleton was discovered. And Sylvia then realized that the dead girl was her aunt, born before her father was born. Her father's older sister, instead of continuing her research in the archives, she then went to the cemetery to visit the girl's grave and to pay her respects. When Sylvia returned to her accommodation, she opened the medallion again. This time the terrible smell had almost disappeared and she could no longer hear any strange sounds. The photograph had become very pale. And when she touched the lock of blonde hair, it turned into gold and dust. Wow, that what an extraordinary ending to the story that the hair just disintegrated, which I think is possible. If it's been locked in this medallion for all that time and now, after being opened again, after all that time, you can imagine it would break down. So I think that's possible. But anyway, the story suggests ultimately that the spirit of the dead girl had been trying to communicate through the medallion, where her memory had been kept all this time. Now that her remains had been discovered and Sylvia had visited her grave, the girl could finally rest in peace. So that is Sylvia's story of the grandmother's medallion. Quite extraordinary stuff. And I have to say this is the winning story, listen, as this is the winning story, by the way, both Anna and I thought that it was very moving and well written. Now, putting aside the believability of this, because this is not about writing the most believable story, just the most interesting story. And this is not a test of the truthfulness of these stories, you know, that's another thing to talk about. I will let you decide yourselves about that. But Anna and I found that the evocative descriptions of the mysterious paranormal moments were very effective in terms of storytelling. And they served the emotional heart of the story, which was essentially about sort of discovering a family secret and putting it to rest. And I think the story has a good balance between spooky elements and emotional elements, the sense of mystery is clear and there is a satisfying sense of resolution at the end. And a overall kind of creepiness and mysterious spookiness. So both Anna and I picked this one as a particular favorite. And that's why, you know, we both agreed this one was the winner. But so many other stories, which I received were of a similar quality, as you will see in this episode, which promises to be a long one, it seems, because I've only done two stories and we're already quite a long time into the episode. But anyway, congratulations, Sylvia. I do hope that you are listening. I will be in touch by email to get your postal address so that a copy of Anna's book can be sent to you. You might enjoy reading it yourself or you can offer it as a gift. So there you go. Now listeners, stay with me because I've got some great stories lined up now. So now we've decided who the winner is. Let's just enjoy the rest of these stories and we've got seven more stories with slightly different tones in each case. So are you ready to discover story number three? Okay, here we go. This one is called We Did a Really Good Job. And it's by Yoan. We did a really good job by Yoan. Here we go. Many years ago, I fell in love with woodworking. I first watched a video on YouTube about a famous Japanese woodworker named Ishitani. Then after that, I watched a lot of different videos from different creators until I decided to create my first piece of furniture myself. Before going any further in my story, I have to go back in time. I lost my grandfather 15 years ago when I was still a teenager. My grandfather was a special person to me. I loved him and admired him a lot, even though I spent too little time with him during my childhood. It was an awful loss for me, but I never spoke about it. Not even to my mother. I'm not a particularly talkative person, nor even an expressive one. Going back to our story, I'm now a self-apprentice woodworker and I want to start my journey through my new passion by creating my first piece of furniture, a bookcase. Trust me, I am a fully rational person, or at least I was. But when I started working on this project, I could hear my grandfather talking to me in my head. It was like having a conversation with him. He gave me advice, advice that I had probably created by myself in my head before he gave it to me, but I listened to it. I worked on this project for two weeks long, and every day he was in my head all day long, like an imaginary person I could talk to, like a child with his imaginary friend. Even though I felt it was odd, I didn't ask myself too many questions, and I enjoyed the moment. I was here alone in my garage creating something with my imaginary dead grandfather, and when I got home, nothing, the voices disappeared. I finished my bookcase, and installed it in my dining room. I was really proud of my creation, and guess what? So was my grandfather. A few weeks later, my mum came to my house. She didn't know I'd been working on this project, or even that I had this new hobby. She entered the house, saw the bookcase, and froze. She asked me where I'd bought this bookcase. I told her I'd built it all by myself, and she started crying. On that day, I learned that my grandfather had built exactly the same piece of furniture many years before, when my mother was still a child. I had no clue that my grandfather had once enjoyed woodworking, or even that he was a handyman. How is it possible that I created exactly the same bookcase as my grandfather did 40 years ago, and that he came back in my head at this exact period of time, helped me, and then left me when I'd finished. Since then, my grandfather has never come back into my head. The last thing he said to me, or perhaps we said to me, was we did a really good job. I have too many questions now that I still don't want answers to, Johann. OK, so that's how Johann's grandfather came back to him, and helped him build a bookcase that was exactly the same as one that his grandfather had built, say, 40 years before. OK, so here's the summary of that. So this is a touching and mysterious story about Johann, who discovers a passion for woodworking, and begins hearing his dead grandfather's voice while building his first bookcase. So while building it, his grandfather is talking to him the entire time. After completing it, he shows his mum the bookcase, and she is shocked. It turns out that Johann's grandfather had built exactly the same piece of furniture 40 years earlier. Johann is left wondering whether this was an extraordinary coincidence, and that he'd simply imagined his grandfather's voice in his own head, or whether his grandfather's spirit had somehow returned to help him build the bookcase. Well, listen as what do you think I'll let you make up your own mind. Let's move on. now to story number four, which is called Creepy Serendipity at the Bookshop. And as you listen to this story, I just want you to think of the tone of the story. What is the tone of this story? Okay. We've had sort of powerful, emotional, quite a power, the first one was a sort of like a slightly ironic look at what Creepy stories really are, whether they're true or if they're imagined or something like that, you know, science versus a more paranormal outlook. Second one was a, you know, clearly a powerful emotional story about family history. Third one was kind of like someone who's normally rational who can't understand this thing that happened to them. And it's heartwarming actually, quite a heartwarming story. What is the tone of this fourth one? Okay, so this is Creepy Serendipity at the Bookshop by Alex. Here we go. This story is creepy as hell and I swear it is entirely true. No ghosts or zombies here. Let's leave that stuff for kids. What I'm about to tell you is much more disturbing and unsettling than that. It happened to me when I was out and about walking around St Petersburg alone because I just wanted to break free from my family for a few hours and communicate with the city face to face. Because St Petersburg is a city that deserves that. It used to be the capital of Russia, a magnificent and yet melancholic gloomy place. This city has a character. It will lure you in and spit you out at the drop of a hat or hug you tighter than your own mother and never let go. It plays games with you and if you're not much of a player, you might find it a bit impolite for a city to do that. On that day, I stumbled upon a book market where they had thousands of unique and peculiar specimens alongside your typical pulp fiction romance drama and whatnot. One thing about me is that I could easily spend hours and hours on end in places like that. I have to confess, I'm not much of a reader, but holding books in my hands, skimming through pages, admiring the covers, even buying them when my wife is not looking, is one of the purest forms of pleasure for me. I also like adding titles onto my reading list. The books I will read one day. One at a time and slowly but surely, I do read a book or two every now and again. My reading list currently features 572 items. According to my modest calculations, I will read all of these books by the time hell freezes over with the devil in it. Speaking of which, the thing that happened to me was directly related to, if not set up by his infernal majesty. The next book on my reading list was a play called Faust, written by Johann Wolfgang von Gerter, a prominent German author, whom I know nothing about, apart from the fact that he is considered to be a clever man with something to say about the devil, the nature of human desires, free will, and all that. So there I was, admiring hundreds and hundreds of books, seeing what would catch my eye, and trying to figure out if there was any chance I could find the one I was after. I didn't want to disturb the bookseller for two reasons. First, the salesman could have actually sold me Faust and that would have been the end of my book admiring session. Because obviously, as soon as you find what you need, you're supposed to leave, at least that is how it works in the mind of a socially awkward person such as myself. The second reason is that the bookseller was nowhere to be seen. To my great satisfaction. So I had the liberty of browsing and even holding in my hands hundreds of gems without experiencing any pressure. Just a couple of minutes later, I noticed a figure in my peripheral vision. Upon closer inspection, I concluded it was just a regular man, casually looking around and seeing what's what just like me. Suddenly, and surprising even myself, I immediately asked him if he knew where I could find Faust. Now that is extraordinary in itself, because I'm not the sort of person who strikes up a conversation with strangers. I'm a bit too shy for that and tend to mind my own business, thank you very much. And in addition to that, what kind of question is that? Why would a stranger know where to find a book I need it? He doesn't work there. He's not a friend of the owner or anything. For all I know, he's probably there for the first time and the last time in his entire life just as I am. Thinking back, I might have blurted out that I was on a mission to get Faust just out of snobbery to demonstrate that I wasn't some simpleton looking for an action thriller. Even so, since when am I letting strangers know how intellectually developed I am, the very second I see them? The reason I opened my mouth does not cease to puzzle me. But what happened next? Still sends shivers down my spine to this day. The man looked as if he'd been struck by lightning. He said something like, "There is no way in hell." He fumbled in his backpack and pulled out the very book I was asking about. He said that he'd come to that market with the sole purpose of finding someone to sell that book to. I was baffled, but I wanted that moment to look cinematic in my memory, so on the surface I was as cool as a cucumber, and I just said, "Well, you've found someone now, haven't you?" I then grabbed the book, sent him something around one euro through a banking app, and we parted ways never to see each other again. Now, when I think about that story, I can't shake off an eerie feeling that somehow that book was meant to fall into my hands. And given the context of the play, which is about the devil interacting with a scholar, purchasing his soul, I can't help but wander. Wasn't the devil trying to interact with me that day? The end. Okay, so what's the tone of that story? Would you make of that listeners? I'll let me give you a quick summary. So this is a mysterious and humorous story written by Alex, who was casually exploring a book market in St Petersburg when he unexpectedly asked a stranger where he could find a copy of Faust, which is the book he was looking for. Amazingly, the stranger had that exact book in his backpack and had come to the market specifically to sell it to someone. Alex bought the book for about one euro, but the extraordinary coincidence has troubled him ever since, because Faust is a story about a man who makes a deal with the devil, Alex can't help wondering whether something supernatural was involved in their meeting. He felt the devil's hand at work. So, I mean, on the face of it, this is actually just the story of a coincidence, right? But I do like the way that Alex has painted a much more colorful picture with lots of humor and self-deprecation and drama and suggestions of evil magic at work here. So anyway, yes, he couldn't help wondering whether something supernatural was involved. Now, I wanted to know more, actually, after reading this. So, I emailed Alex to find out what the consequences of this have been, right? Now that he's in possession of this book in such creepy circumstances, what has happened since coming into possession of this dark and mysterious book in such dark and mysterious circumstances? Did he make some kind of packed with the devil that day? What is the nature of that packed? What powers and secrets have been revealed to Alex upon reading the words of this unholy text? Has he become a famous writer himself? Is he now a millionaire, the next Stephen King? Or has he found untold riches in some other area? But is his soul now in the possession of the devil himself? What price has Alex had to pay for this honor from Saint Nick? I wanted to know everything, and so I asked him. He replied, and guess what? He still hasn't read the book, so we don't know. There you go. So the tone of Alex's story there was humorous, broadly humorous, but with a, you know, with a still a curious and creepy coincidence in the middle of it too. There you go. That was Alex's serendipity at the bookshop. Moving on to number five, out of nine, this is Therapy of a Ghost, this one by Mira, M-I-R-A, Mira, Therapy of a Ghost. Okay, let me start reading this one then. Here we go. I'm not sure you will acknowledge this story, Luke, because it seems to be creepy, but in truth, it isn't. Perhaps it's more mysterious than creepy. And it is all true. So this is a true story, whether you believe it or not. It happened over 10 years ago when I was involved in the renovation of an old Victorian house in London. You know what such houses look like. They seem large when you look from outside, but inside they feel narrow, perhaps because of the high ceilings and the internal layout. This house was surrounded by a large garden full of bushes and neglected trees. it had four stories that's four floors, a basement, a ground floor, a first floor and an attic. A few steps led to an old door. When you entered you found yourself in a rather narrow hall. On the left there was just a wall with a small window at the end and then stairs leading down to the basement. On the right a wall again then doors to the saloon and further stairs leading upstairs to a landing with two doors to two rooms and then more stairs leading up to the attic. Although the house was large in square meters, subjectively it felt tight. The long solid wall on the left in the main corridor and the stairs descending at the end did not create a welcoming atmosphere. You had to enter a room to find a slightly larger space or climb the stairs searching for one but the upstairs stairs seemed to melt into the next corridor creating a sense of uncertainty. While from the stairs down you could see only the first few steps. I was in charge of the renovation. The project was to put some light into the house to make it more modern and remove the atmosphere of neglect. In fact before renovation the house itself already felt somewhat creepy. We strongly hoped to change that. Everything was carefully planned, colours, length and style of lamps. It was important to preserve the old style while transforming it from an neglected ruin into a beautiful aristocratic home. To achieve such a transformation we had to change everything that contributed to the current atmosphere and appearance of the house. The story happened when the saloon near the entrance had almost been done with a lowered ceiling, white walls, beautiful crystal lamps, a new floor and a few carefully chosen pieces of furniture, it looked like a bedroom for a princess and was completely unrecognizable compared to before. It also stood in sharp contrast to the rest of the house. Maybe it was the exhaustion from the whole day's work or maybe something else but the work on the corridor did not go smoothly now. The task seemed simple to repaint the wall. However to do that the wall paper had to be removed first and the wall seemed to strongly resist. The wall paper clung stubbornly and the workers had to use various tricks and even force to begin removing it. With every torn strip of wall paper a piece of plaster came off as well revealing old patterns and colours beneath but under one layer another appeared and then another. They emerged one by one as if they were infinitely many of them. Eventually the working day ended and only one worker remained, while Beck hoping to earn some extra money. Obviously the house had not been renovated for decades when a simple task like repainting the wall turned into a struggling attempt to achieve a smooth paintable surface. I watched in awe layers revealed a touch to past years and past lives. There were times of just pink who could have lived here then, then strong black and white patterns, then grey tones it seemed endless. At 10 pm, Waldek sat on the stairs to rest and took out a bottle of an energy drink. I stood nearby looking at the devastated wall, thinking about passing years and unknown lives. Suddenly Waldek turned to me with a trembling voice. Do you hear that? What? I'd been so lost in thought that I hadn't noticed anything. There's a knock. Someone is knocking upstairs, listen. Then I heard it, a clear knocking sound somewhere. Like someone striking a wooden door. "Yes, I hear it," I said. "Are you not afraid?" Waldek asked. "Well, I hear it. There is knocking," I replied. "So what?" The knocking repeated. "What do you mean, so what?" "Well, there's knocking. I hear it, so I acknowledge it. That's all. Nothing more." "Sorry, I can't work any more today," he said, gathering his things. "You're really not afraid?" "No," I said. "I'm not afraid of knocking." So Waldek left, and I stayed alone in the house. I went to sleep in the newly renovated saloon. I didn't hear the knocking anymore. It stopped when he left. Maybe the room's door was more soundproof, or he wanted just to scare me. I didn't care. I fell asleep. I must have fallen asleep quickly, tired from the day. Then I had a strange dream. In my dream, I was not asleep, but standing before the wall, watching how the layers on it fell apart one after another. Not just painting layers, and wallpapers, but plaster, bricks, and more bricks, until the raw wooden structure remained. It was hollow, like a skeleton on which everything had been built. Wind moved through it. But I felt warmth. It was a warm wind for me. Then I felt very vividly the presence of somebody. And I knew it was someone who'd lived in this house for years and can't leave. Someone we called out by our demolition. I'm not afraid of so-called ghosts. I don't even know if I believe in them. I simply do not question the experiences I go through. And because I'm a therapist, I felt the pain and deep loneliness of this presence, and I wanted to comfort it. So I asked it in my dream. What do you need? Do you want something? Are you scared? At that moment, a heart appeared on the wooden structure, a large heart, as if painted by an unsteady hand, and I knew what it needed. "I see," I said, "I recognize you. Tell me your name if you can, please." And then I felt the name Teresa, in my mind. It wasn't written. I simply received the direct information that this is Teresa. "Don't worry," I said. "I will remember you." The warm wind surrounded me for a moment, and that was it. When I woke up in the morning, and my team returned to work, I began to search for Teresa. I found the information sooner than I expected. It was the name of the wife of one of the former inhabitants. They had no children, and she was known as a strong, reserved woman, not very friendly, rather strict, and unforgettable. I also learned that the last owner of the house had a daughter who often claimed she felt a gentle touch on her head when no one else was around. Her mother didn't believe in such things, so she told her that she was imagining things, but I knew it was Teresa happy that a child was in the house. Later on, I went to the cemetery, found her forgotten grave, and put flowers and candles on it. The renovation was finished without any further disturbances, and the house was sold. Still, the question remains, "Was my dream just a dream? Or was it reality hidden before our critical conscious mind? Was my discovery of Teresa a pure coincidence? Or have I really helped a soul who could not rest unforgiven and unloved? Who knows?" That is from Mira. Okay, listen, what do you think of that one? That's extraordinary. They're all extraordinary. All of these are wonderful and extraordinary stories. Thank you so much for everyone who wrote to me with these. Everyone, I hope that you're enjoying this, because this is special. This is special stuff, I think. A summary of that. I'm assuming that Mira is male here, but I might be wrong. If that is the case, if I'm wrong and Mira, you're not a man, and you're in fact a woman, I apologize. I mean, it doesn't really matter, I suppose, but I hope you don't mind if I got it wrong. In any case, the story is great. So this is a mysterious and touching story about Mira who was renovating an old Victorian house in London, and while stripping layers of wallpaper from a wall, he and a worker heard unexplained knocking sounds. The co-worker, Waldeck, Waldeck got scared and left, and so Mira was left in the house alone, and that night sleeping in the house, Mira had a vivid dream in which he was standing in front of the wall that they'd been working on earlier, and he sensed the presence of a lonely woman called Teresa, who seemed to want love and recognition. When Mira investigated, presumably looking back through the records of who'd lived there previously, he discovered that a woman with that name had really lived in the house, and also he learned from the previous owners that indeed yes, the daughter who'd lived there had told stories of kind of ghostly encounters that the parents hadn't really believed, but there was some evidence of other similar weird events, and a woman called Teresa, who used to live there. So Mira decided that this weird dream where he was visited by Teresa, must have, this was the Teresa who'd lived there before. And he visited Teresa's forgotten grave and left flowers and candles. Afterwards, the renovation continued without any further disturbances, and Mira is now left wondering whether he simply had a strange dream or whether he had genuinely helped the spirit of a lonely woman find peace. Okay, let's move on to number six. This one is called Who Is That Baby Who Is Crying? Who Is That Baby Who Is Crying? And it was by Svetlana. So, this is Svetlana's story. Here we go. It can happen that certain unexpected circumstances change the current course of your life and put you in a completely new reality. It happens to me, sudden onset of abdominal pain, emergency room, hospital, operating room, and then nothing. The reconstitution of my consciousness started with the feeling of a very intense light striking from the ceiling and preventing me from opening my eyes normally. A rhythmic, mechanical, endless beep, beep, sound kept explaining to me how I was surrounded by machines. I was lying in the bed from each of my arms, an infusion tube came out. A very strange feeling in my nose, another tube passed through my nose and throat, and the moment I became aware of it, I started coughing. Oh, Lord, what pain, breathless pain in my stomach. I tried to touch it with my hand and realized that there were bandages all over it. Calm down, don't move my dear. I could hear a gentle voice. The young, charming woman was sitting by my bed, a nurse with a compassionate face and big blue, comforting eyes. "I'm Tanya. How are you?" "Could you turn off the light, please?" I said. "Unfortunately, I can't. We're in the intensive care unit, and patients must be monitored. I'm sorry," she replied. "Could you dim it at least?" I was almost begging. "I'm deeply sorry, but it's not possible." I closed my eyes and felt abandoned, hopeless, and as if I were the loneliest being in the world. Then I realised that at the same time there was another sound present besides the artificial beep, beep sounds, a baby's cry. A baby was crying and it felt to me like an echo of my emotions. Someone else was also lonely and desperate and somehow I could share that feeling with that other person, although a small one. I opened my eyes again, and nurse Tanya was still there. Gentle blue eyes were looking at me. "It hurts a lot," I said with tears. "Darling, you must be strong. You were given the highest doses of pain killers, and we have to wait until your body is ready to receive another one. She took my hand in hers." The baby's crying continued, beep, beep sounds continued, the pain continued. The warmth of the nurse's hands made the waiting possible for me. My eyes were closed, the baby's crying became disturbing. Were there some more hands for that little child? At one moment I could feel the presence of someone else, and I opened my eyes. A doctor was standing by my bed. "Hi, how are you?" she asked. "It hurts a lot." "Yes, I know, you have to be strong. Tonight is difficult, but tomorrow will be better," she said. "Doctor, can I ask you something?" I said. "Sure, what is it?" "Can anyone help that poor baby who cries so much all night, please?" "Baby?" she repeated with an unexpected tone of voice. "Yes, baby," I said. "Don't you hear that baby crying?" I had a feeling that I'd done something wrong. "There's no baby. We're in the adult ward. There are no babies here." The doctor answered with a very serious face. "I cannot say whether the terrible pain that I felt or that moment was harder for me. I could still hear the baby crying. I started to be very confused and afraid. I turned my head to Tanya, expecting support from her, and saw two beautiful blue eyes full of sorrow watching me. The silence from her side said more than any word could. I closed my eyes and felt lost. I would have given anything to escape from that place. What was going on? Was I losing my mind?" I didn't have a reason not to believe them. I didn't have a reason not to believe myself. I started to cry too. And at that moment, a kind of revelation happened. It was me. It was baby me crying the whole time. The hospital I was in used to be a maternity hospital, exactly the one that I was born in. It was the newborn me crying many, many years earlier, just separated from my mum lonely and terrified. At that moment, the baby crying stopped. I really didn't know what made me make that connection, but at that moment, and all the way until now, it seemed so logical to me and the only truth, the only possible reality. The next morning I could hear the doctor telling her colleagues how I had had audio hallucinations during the night while she was observing me. I could also hear another voice saying something about side effects of some drugs. But for me, it was totally irrelevant. I had my experience. It was real. It was unique. Even later, if I spoke to someone about that special night of my life, and that happened with only a few people, I would use an informative tone without hesitation. I didn't leave space for any subsequent explanations or other interpretations of my experience. A few months after I left the hospital and recovered totally, I wanted to visit Tanya and thank her for all that she'd done for me during that heavy night in the hospital. I bought some flowers and went to the hospital. I'd like to know if it's possible to have a short conversation with one of the nurses from the intensive care unit. I was at the hospital reception desk. "You're not allowed to enter there," said the gentleman at the desk. "Yes, of course, I know that, but if you could check if nurse Tanya is on shift, please. Honestly, I didn't expect a warm welcome at the desk." "Wait," the gentleman took the phone, and after a few words he exchanged with someone, he said, "There is no nurse Tanya." "You mean nurse Tanya is not in the hospital today?" I tried to correct him. "I don't know about the hospital, but there is no Tanya in the intensive care unit." He answered with a trace of nervousness in his voice. Suddenly, the doctor from the night I will remember forever appeared in the hallway passing by the desk. "Oh, that was so fantastic. I was so lucky." "Excuse me?" I decided to address her, yes. "I was your patient. I don't know if you remember." Her smile interrupted my question. "Of course, I do. How are you? Nice to see you. I was so pleased by her kindness." "I'm great. Thank you. How are you? How's the whole crew? How's Nurse Tanya? She was so kind and gentle and helpful. And as I kept talking, I noticed how her mood changed. Tanya, she repeated. And that made me recall another moment when she'd also repeated my words in a similar way. "Yes, Nurse Tanya. My enthusiasm started to melt. Do you remember she was on the same shift with you the night after my operation?" "Hmm. I remember that night very well," she said. And there was a moment of hesitation before she continued, "You know, we never had a nurse with that name in our department." "Oh, what a shocking surprise. No more the beautiful sunny day in which I wanted to thank the kind nurse for taking care of me when I really needed it. I felt embarrassed, confused, and for a moment almost lost as the night when I was in the hospital, just before I realized that I'd had a kind of inexplicable connection with myself from the past." But this time I could escape that place and I did it. After a short, oh, sorry, bye, I just went out and walked away. "Well, Svetlana, what an extraordinary experience. Listen, let me summarize it and then I'll just give a couple of comments. So Svetlana in this story wakes up in an intensive care unit or intensive care ward in a hospital after having emergency surgery, something to do with her stomach, but she'd had, she woke up and had emergency surgery. Maybe it was like a burst appendix or something like that. While recovering, she hears a baby crying. So she's very uncomfortable in a lot of pain. And in the recovery lying in this hospital bed, lying on this hospital bed in this hospital ward, she hears a baby crying. Even though the doctors insist there are no babies in the hospital, she becomes convinced that she is somehow hearing herself crying as a newborn baby in the very hospital where she was born." Okay, this is pretty weird stuff, right? Now, I don't know if this is exactly supernatural or what. Svetlana doesn't really talk about that. She just talks about the fact. that for her, I mean, it was probably a hallucination, but what a bizarre hallucination. I suppose hallucinations like that, when you're coming out of having had a general anesthetic, as we've talked about before on this podcast, in the case of this story of what's his name. I can't remember, but episode 799, there was a similar story. Anyway, if this happens sometimes, when someone wants to add a general anesthetic, recovering from the anesthetic can be very confusing and it can involve a lot of disorientating hallucinations, especially if you're being given powerful painkillers like morphine. The whole thing can cause hallucinations. Now, we talk about hallucinations as if they're just things you see in here, but I think those hallucinations and that state, that condition can be a very almost mystical place where truths are revealed to you in surprising and shocking ways and you sort of thing, things like distance in time and space get distorted. And I can imagine that Svetlana in that situation found herself somehow reconnected with herself as a baby, because she realized she was actually in the same hospital that she'd been born in years earlier. And the crying sound of the baby was somehow some sort of flashback or memory of the trauma that she'd experienced as a baby, you know, newly born separated from her mother and crying. And this crying was, she could hear it as if it was an echo of a previous experience, which had been brought back to her in this condition that she was in. It's very weird. But it turns out that, yeah, but that was just, we think, side effects of the medicine, but Svetlana doesn't really care. All she knows is that she had her own profound experience and it was true for her. Anyway, throughout the night, a kind nurse called Tanya comforts her and helps her to cope with the pain. However, when Svetlana returns months later after she's recovered, she comes back to the hospital to thank Tanya. She discovers that nobody by that name has ever worked in the intensive care unit. The story ends with two unexplained mysteries, the crying baby and the nurse who apparently never existed. I mean, my personal theory is that they were hallucinations caused by medication. And I think that those, as I've said, those sorts of hallucinations can have powerful emotional atmospheres to them as well, okay? And which probably is part of why drugs can have such profound effects that they don't just give you hallucinations and things, they can also give you emotional hallucinations too, if that makes sense. But that is a very, very odd and must have been a very profound experience. Fascinating story. Next, we've got Anna and the man in the corridor. This is from rice, rice, rice, rice, rice, rice, rice, sorry for not getting your name right. I never can get anyone's name right. Anyway, rice, rice, so here's the story of Anna and the man in the corridor, okay? So in March 2006, my father died. Two years later, in March 2008, my daughter Anna was born. She started walking very quickly. She was 10 months old and she was able to walk unadded within our small 40 square meter flat. What's more, she became very communicative very quickly as well. So around October, November 2009, when she was 19 months old, she was able to communicate clearly or express her thoughts and needs, etc. Some people say that the period of time between the end of October and the beginning of November each year is the time when the border of our world and the spirit world or underworld is very thin. This is Halloween time. Other people say that small children and animals can see ghosts or the souls of people who have died. Before October 2009, I didn't used to think much about these matters, but what happened that autumn changed it completely. At the end of October 2009, my daughter Anna started saying repeatedly that a man was standing in the corridor by the entrance door and she was afraid of him. Of course, I didn't see anybody there. There was no one at the door, so I tried to convince Anna that nobody was there. Every time she mentioned it, we walked to the entrance door and I tried to reassure her that there was nobody there. These incidents became so frequent month after month that I started thinking about them more seriously and then I remembered what some people say about Halloween time. In Poland, where we lived then, it was the time of all saints day on the 1st of November and all souls day on the 2nd of November. As you can read from the above text, Anna had never seen her grandfather as he died a year before she was born and what's important is that I'd never shown her a picture of my father before November 2009. One day right after she had told me that a man again was in the corridor, I took her on my lap and we started looking through a photo album. We began with the pictures of people she knew and she happily named them. When we reached the photo of my father and I asked her if she knew who that person was, she became frightened, pointed towards the entrance door and said that this was the man that she'd seen so many times. I turned pale and got goose bumps. It occurred to me that it must be true. My father had come from the afterlife because he wanted to see her. I explained to her that it was my dad who died and that if she ever saw him again, she didn't need to be scared because he was her grandfather and he would never hurt her. He would probably have loved her very much. Anna is 18 now and she told me that the last such experience happened a few years ago. One of our distant family members, let's call him Uncle, died unexpectedly. Anna knew him very well so she had no doubt who she saw. On the night he died, he passed away in a hospital 150 kilometres away from Anna's house. She woke up because she noticed a person walking from the entrance door towards her room. She recognized him, he smiled and waved at her, then walked into her brother's room and finally left the house. Meanwhile Anna tried to wake her mum saying that Uncle came. Her mum told her off for bothering her in the middle of the night. In the morning, they received a phone call saying that the uncle had died. I asked Anna whether she had been scared that night when he came to say goodbye. She said she wasn't. She'd got used to such incidents throughout her life. I told her I would have died of a heart attack. That's a risk guard from rugby, apparently now living in rugby. In England, yes, rugby, the home of the sport rugby, which was, of course, invented at university in the town called rugby. Anyway, what a curious story. Thank you for sending it, risk guard. So a summary of that then. So this is a mysterious family story about risk guard. About Rizard. Sorry, not Rizard. Why did I put a G in your name? I don't know, I'm sorry. Anyway, this is a mysterious family story about Rizard and his daughter, Anna, who apparently has the ability to see people who have died. I mean, it's like the sixth sense, isn't it? When Anna was a toddler, she repeatedly saw a frightening man standing near the entrance to their flat. One day, she identified the man in a photograph as Rizard's father, even though he had died before she was born and she'd never seen his picture. Years later, Anna claimed to have seen another deceased relative visiting the family on the night he died. Rizard believes these experiences may suggest that the spirits of dead relatives sometimes return to visit their loved ones. Anna, meanwhile, seems to have become so accustomed to these mysterious encounters that she no longer finds them frightening. I'd love to know your thoughts and interpretations of any of these stories. You can leave them in the comments section. Remember which stories are your personal favourite because I'm sure that the people who wrote these would love to get your feedback as well. We had the winner near the beginning, story number two, but I mean, you may have a different opinion, so do let us know which one you would choose to be your favourite story and why. So this is the penultimate story, the last but one. This is the password and it was sent to me by Lilliana. Here we go. So the story I'm about to share with you is a true story told to me by my mother-in-law. Unfortunately, she passed away two years ago. It happened while I was visiting my mother-in-law in Atlanta, Georgia, as in the United States. One night when I couldn't sleep, I went to the living room to read a book. It was around 1am and I was very concentrated on my book when I felt as if someone was staring at me. It was so real that I got goosebumps. bumps. I ran out from the living room and jumped into bed. I woke up my husband and told him what had happened, but his only answer was, "Don't worry, it was my father." Unfortunately, I never had the chance to get to know my father-in-law. The next day when I told my mother-in-law about my spooky experience, she assured me that it was her husband, who was a writer and had been working on a new book when he died. After his death, it was decided that another author would finish his book, but there was a problem. All his research and everything he'd written so far was on his computer, and my mother-in-law didn't know the past word. So she spent an entire day trying to find it among his documents. She also tried different combinations on his computer, but nothing worked. She was very frustrated by the end of the day. That night when she was crying in bed, she suddenly felt her husband's presence. It was so strong that she covered her head with a sheet. A few minutes passed and she was still under the sheet when she heard a whisper that said, "0, 5, 1, 9, 7, 2". It turned out to be the correct past word. Luke, as I told you, this is a true story. The numbers my father-in-law told his wife were the date he got his PhD. My husband and my brother-in-law also felt their father's presence on different occasions, Lilliana. Right, so a summary of that one. This is another mysterious family story. In this case about Lilliana and her late father-in-law, who was a writer, while visiting her mother-in-law's house in Atlanta, Lilliana felt an invisible presence watching her as she read a book late at night. Her husband and mother-in-law believed it was the spirit of her deceased father-in-law. Lilliana then learned that after his death, her mother-in-law had struggled to access his computer to recover an unfinished book. One night while crying in bed, frustrated because she couldn't find the password, she felt her husband's presence and heard a mysterious voice whispered six numbers. The numbers turned out to be the correct computer past word based on the date he had received his PhD. Lilliana and her family believed that he may have returned from beyond the grave to help his wife and remain close to his loved ones and presumably to see that his book finally was finished. Fascinating, isn't it? I mean, what do you think? Again, I'd love to know your thoughts, everyone. Number nine, this is the final story and it's called the Mystical Bank Account and it was written by Pavel. Here it is. When I was younger, I ran a side business apart from my regular job as a logistics manager. I made investments in the stock market, some of which were strategic, some speculative, and I actively traded trying to get the maximum income. I was quite successful and opened a special bank account to withdraw profits from the market. When I got my debit card, the first weird thing happened. The PIN code on the secret list was 1924. It was the year of my father's birth who passed away a couple of years before. This is strange, I thought to myself, what a coincidence. It looks like a reminder, a disguised message from my dad. But at the time I didn't ponder it much, and the really mysterious even mystical things turned up years later. Over the years, I got tired of the stock market of its turbulence and volatility, so I decided to stop my side hustle and dedicate myself fully to my regular job. I received all dividends and closed all positions in stocks, and then I went with cash and made deposits in several banks. I didn't use the bank account somehow connected to my dad any longer. No need to withdraw money from the stock market. No need to deposit there because of low interest rates. And I couldn't be bothered to close this account because it was free of charge to keep it. I almost forgot about it. Fast forward several months and suddenly a strange thought started popping into my head to visit the bank office and check this account. You know, in those days, online banking was not so popular and we used to visit bank branches for every operation. At first I tried to throw away this silly idea which had arrived in my mind. What should I waste my time for, I said to myself. But this strange thought was obsessive, so I was almost compelled to go to the bank. Finally I gave in and went to the bank with the idea to close this account. I handed my passport to the client manager on the counter and was absolutely shocked when he asked me what I was going to do with all the money. The word "shocked" is too weak to express my feeling at that moment. Absolutely lost, bewildered and even terrified might be better words. I was 100% certain I'd got all the money from dividends and sold shares that arrived in that account. Trying to keep a poker face, I asked if I could take this money there in the office. At that time, my debit card had expired. Sure, answered the client manager. So I got my cash. It was an equivalent of about $1,000 in rubles and left the office. Now with mixed feelings of joy, mystery and surprise, I tried to find an explanation. Maybe I forgot some things, maybe some late dividends, no way. All was calculated many times, the same with the shares. Maybe this is some kind of bank error. Sounds unrealistic. Reflecting over and over again, I couldn't get rid of the feeling that this sort of miracle was somehow connected to my late dad. That this was his reminder and act of support. I was not able to find any other explanation. Although I don't believe in the paranormal, modern science still can't explain many things. But the story didn't finish there. Fast forward several years. In the year of 2015, the same compelling thought of visiting the bank started popping into my head again. I didn't close the account when I visited before and now the familiar obsessive thought, "What surprise is now waiting for me?" I found myself, I found myself absolutely certain that there was something in the bank account. "What if it's 10,000 or even a million?" I dreamed. So guess what? When the clerk announced the sum of about $900 equivalent in rubles, I was absolutely calm and reserved. I took the money and left the office. You may believe in paranormal things or not, but as I've already said, they are phenomena in our life which cannot be explained by modern science. The story hasn't finished yet. The mystical bank account hasn't closed is still active. And one day, I'm going to revisit the bank when my inner voice tells me about it. Pavel. Okay, so this is a mysterious and humorous or perhaps just ironic story about Pavel, a man who used to make money by investing in the stock market. He opened a special bank account and was surprised to discover that its pin was 1924, the year his late father was born. Years later after he stopped investing and believed the account was empty, he suddenly felt a strong urge to visit the bank. To his amazement, he discovered approximately a thousand dollars in the account with no explanation for where it had come from. Now I do have a, okay, I've got some comments to share for this one which I will save for just a moment. So several years later, the same mysterious feeling returned. And when he checked the account again, he found another $900. Pavel wonders whether these strange events are somehow connected to his deceased father who might be sending in messages or offering in financial support from beyond the grave. The account remains open and Pavel is waiting to see whether the mysterious experience will happen again. Well, what do you think of this one? So either listeners, either there's a banking error or some other rational explanation as to why money keeps turning up in this bank account or Pavel's dead father is somehow sending in money from beyond the grave which opens a massive can of worms in terms of the implications of the influence that the undead can have on financial matters. I mean, I understand that ghosts can reappear, walk through walls and push objects off shelves. But can they, they can deposit money in bank accounts? Which makes me think I have to remember that when I'm gone, I must return and make sure my kids have got plenty of money in their bank accounts or at least just tell my parents, you know, have a special conversation with them by the way, just in case, just in case there is some sort of afterlife, maybe consider coming back and just, you know, maybe just sort of adding a few extra zeros to my bank account, you know, just a thought. I don't I don't know what do you think this is? It's a good story, though, isn't it? I like the idea. I don't know whether I believe it, but I mean, maybe I'm cynical and I am Team Skeptic, after all. But surely, like Pavel, could you not check the bank statement? Because banks have records and they show quite clearly where the money's come from, don't they? Right, so check the bank statement. Surely that's the solution to this mystery, unless maybe it doesn't show up or maybe Pavel, which is like, I'm not going to ask too many questions. I'm just going to take the money and just let it be. And I suppose if the bank, if the account does keep producing money, then maybe it's best not to ask any questions and just, let's just assume Pavel that your father, who somehow, his soul, his spirit, has been connected to this bank account, is there, he's got your back and he keeps dropping in a few hundred euros every month or something. I don't know. So, listen, there are more stories. I've got lots more. The rest of the stories are included on the PDF. As I said before, you know, nine, I had to narrow it down because obviously this episode is already long. But I originally planned to read out stories 10 to 16 as well. So I originally narrowed this down to like 20 stories and then I narrowed it down further to about 16 stories. But then I had to keep cutting and cutting. I ended up with nine stories. I intended to do stories 10 to 16 in this episode originally. But I decided not to in order to save time. But those are good ones too. And there are other, you know, great stories which were sent to me. So perhaps I could do. Perhaps I can do a second part of this episode in which I read out those other six stories or maybe another sort of another selection of stories, which I also thought were great. So what do you think? Would you like that? Would you like me to do that? Would you be interested in that? Let me know. In any case, yeah, you can read all the other stories on the PDF for this episode. And generally speaking listeners, I would love to know just just tell me what you think of any of these stories, which one is your favourite? How could you explain any of these? Not that I'm inviting you to explain them away because some of these are basically at their core, they are emotional stories, stories of lost deeply personal stories. So do please be respectful in your comments. And remember that these are deeply personal stories that have been shared with us, that the people who wrote these were willing to share some very personal things. So do be respectful in your responses. But basically, are you team skeptic? Do you believe there are rational explanation for all these things? Or are you team believer? In which case, what kind of paranormal, supernatural, spiritual explanations could you give for these things? Or what interpretations? How do you interpret these stories in a more spiritual sense? Thank you so much for listening. Thank you especially to everyone who wrote to me. Again, sorry for those people whose stories didn't get read out in this episode. And also, I'm sorry that I think I didn't reply to everyone. I replied to most of the people who wrote to me, but I don't think I replied to every single one because there was a lot, there was a lot to deal with. So if I didn't reply to you directly after you sent me a story, I apologize to lots of apologies. Apologies if I didn't read out your story. Apologies if I didn't reply to you. Apologies if you didn't win the prize, but just excellent stuff all round. I love doing this episode. I'd love to know what you think. And also, I don't know, next time you are alone in your home on a dark night and the curtains are not closed. Just, you know, be aware of what you might spot in your peripheral vision. And if anything strange does happen, let us know. It would be fascinating to hear from you. Okay, that's it from me. Have a lovely afternoon morning evening night, wherever you are in podcast land. And I will speak to you next time, but for now it's just time to say goodbye, bye, bye, bye, bye, bye, bye, bye. Thanks for listening to Luke's English podcast. For more information, visit teachalook.co.uk. 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