[00:00:00] Speaker A: Sabers here.
[00:00:25] Speaker B: Falling leaves, heavy mists over the pasture, long shadows in the evening.
Halloween is a whole season, and the sound barrier welcomes you to our annual Scary Story episode. Today we're going to be reading stories of our region and the world that challenge the mind to wonder just how alone we are in the world. What planes of dimension really exist out there? And why do they seem to draw thin as autumn turns the landscape from green to red to orange to yellow into the darkness? Highway ghosts are fairly common in Tennessee. The Bristol Highway is said to be haunted by Long dog, a family pet that was brutally killed by the notorious outlaw John Morel. On a stretch of I 40 that crosses the Cumberland Mountains, drivers are claimed to see glowing balls of light buzzing around their cars. But perhaps one of the best known haunted roads in East Tennessee is the Netherland Inn Road in Kingsford.
According to the legend, on one foggy night over a hundred years ago, in 1922, five young men were joyriding in an old Model T Ford down Rogersville Pike near the Rother Bridge when a dog ran in front of the car.
The driver swerved to miss the dog and inadvertently crashed into the concrete abutment of the bridge. When rescuers arrived, two of the boys were already dead. The driver, Charlie Hamblin, was rushed to the hospital. His father, Hugh Hamblin, was notified that his son had been in a crash. Despite the foggy evening, hugh jumped in his own car and sped away down Netherland Road. Although the fog was thick, Hugh made it, pulling off Netherland Inn Road and walking up to Ridgeview Hospital to visit his son. Charlie suffered a concussion and internal injuries, and Hugh stayed by his son's bedside the entire night.
The next morning, Hugh was relieved to learn that Charlie had improved and he was going to make it. When he left the hospital that morning, he was surprised to see the fog along Netherlanden Road had become thicker instead of thinner.
He walked down the road to his car, starting it up. He pulled out and left, pulling onto Netherland Inn Road, when suddenly, from out of the fog, two large, round headlights drove straight toward him. Before he could react, Hugh was struck and killed by the oncoming car.
The driver was a girl who'd never driven a car before.
Other drivers who witnessed the accident rushed to Hugh's aid and carried him back to the hospital, where he lingered for two days before dying. Legend has it that the very moment that Hugh died, his son Charlie's ears began to bleed. Charlie Hamblin recovered physically, but the feeling that he somehow caused his father's death lingered with him for years. It was a few years later. Another motorist was driving down Netherland Inn Road on a foggy night when he saw the figure of a man standing along the roadside.
The man was wearing a trench coat, a fedora hat and a white scarf. As if he'd stepped out of time.
Suddenly he stepped into the middle of the road and frantically waved his arms at the other driver. The driver attempted to stop, but his tire slid on the wet pavement and his car struck the man, or so he thought.
He pulled off Netherland In Road and walked back to the spot where he saw the man standing.
But no one was there.
In the years since Hugh Hamlin's death, more than 120 people have reported seeing an apparition standing in the middle of the road, frantically waving his arms to caution motorists on foggy nights.
Whoever this figure is, it's always a misty, stormy, dark night when visibility is poor. To upcoming motorists.
One firsthand story about this phenomenon happened this summer.
My girlfriend and I drove down Netherland In Road on a very late summer evening after dark, roughly about ten 10:30 P.m., a fog drifted up from the South Holster River. It lay lightly yet very pronounced along the road and over the hills. As you drive down Netherland Inn Road, there's a left turn to Ridgefields Road. Just past that road there's a parking strip with wooden steps that lead down to the banks of the Holston River. Rivers are sacred places to many. As we drove down Netherland Inn Road, we turned on to Lilac Street on the corner where the Netherland Inn museum stands. It was an uneventful night as we just talked, driving up the hill with Lilac Street, we made a right turn into a sharp curve near the railroad tracks. And out of nowhere something changed.
We didn't know if it was the fog, the air, the car, but for 3 seconds we suspended and the time space continuum lost all meaning, when all of a sudden we were jarred. A pair of bright white headlights appeared only feet from our car. I slammed on the brakes. My girlfriend screamed. I grabbed her. Only inches from our car was a large white van. Those same headlights that Hugh Hamlin may have seen on that dark night in 1922.
It wasn't the same car, but the effect was still the same. But the 3 seconds preceding that moment, time and space evaporated. We were on some different plane that we couldn't quite understand.
We had almost been in a head on collision. The OD part was there was no Irate driver blowing his horn. I couldn't even see into the cab of the van, just two bright white headlights coming right through our windshield.
I flipped the car in reverse, backed up and drove around and over the railroad tracks of Lilac Street.
Those headlights came from nowhere.
They just appeared, which could have been a terrible accident. It was not. We circled around the van and traveled on. But the shock of what we'd experienced lingered as we drove in silence for at least ten minutes.
We finally broke that silence by asking what just happened? We pulled over, exited the car and touched it.
We touched a telephone pole, the grass and the sidewalk, trying to seek comfort in the material world where we all believe we reside.
We gathered ourselves and returned to our van and stopped at a general store, bought some sweet tarts and Coke Zero, and drove on home.
For the remainder of the night, we talked about what happened.
No conclusions. We were reached. Now, we didn't see a trench coated man waving his arms frantically and warning us. But did old Hugh Hamlin emerge from a ghostly portal to stop our collision?
What happened in that 3 seconds of space time continuum where the material world and the ethereal world became so thin as to be non existent? But what we can tell you is, beware of foggy nights on netherland in road for old Hugh Hamlin or something from some other side of the material world may be lurking to help you or save your life.
[00:07:56] Speaker A: The elegant ten story Reed House hotel has been described as Chattanooga's only first class historic hotel. While other local hoteliers might dispute that claim, no one doubts the Reed House's fame as the city's premier haunted hotel.
Soaring up in the heart of downtown Chattanooga, the Reed House stands in elegant distinction thanks to its brick and terracotta finish. In this richly appointed Georgian style hotel, the luxury of yesteryear merges with all the conveniences of modern life. Presently owned by the Sheraton hotel chain, the hotel features every amenity guests could want. A few rooms even come with resident spooks at no additional charge.
The present building, at 827 Broad Street, dates to 1926, but its roots and likely most of its spectral guests go back to before the Civil War. After being under Confederate control in the early days of the war, chattanooga fell into federal hands. By the spring of 1863, the Crutchbuild House was one of the first buildings occupied by the blue Coats. Initially used to billet officers, the hotel was converted into a hospital as battle casualties mounted within its brick walls. Men's limbs were amputated by the hundreds, often without anything to kill. The pain wounded men suffered and died there. In large numbers, the Crutchfield House survived the siege of Chattanooga and the war, only to burn down in an accidental fire in 1867. The location remained an excellent spot for a hotel, however, in 1871, dr. John T. Reed and his son Samuel decided to build a bigger and better hotel where the crutchfield one stood. The Reed House quickly acquired a reputation for luxury and excellence. In the ensuing decades, not only Chattanooga's elite, but the rich and famous from across the nation, president McKinley among them, chose to stay there. By the roaring twenty s, the original Reed House was showing its age. In 1926, it was rebuilt from the ground up. A year later, a new and even grander Reed House opened to the public. Over the course of the 20th century, the hotel played host to presidents, foreign dignitaries, movie stars, and even a notorious gangster or two.
In 2004, during the latest renovations, modern amenities were added, while all the elegance of the old hotel was preserved. In the Silver Ballroom, for example, contractors were about to tear out what looked like old iron sconces when one of the veterans of the staff, a bellman named Howard Johnson, told them to simply polish them. Those heavy old candle holders turned out to be solid silver.
Another thing the Reed House has preserved is its haunted heritage. While local legend swirls around one particular room, the venerable hotel abounds with the spirits of the dead. If accounts of employees and guests are correct.
Throughout the hotel, televisions have been known to go on and off in vacant rooms in the middle of the night.
From time to time, employees hear the sound of luggage racks rolling down the hallways, only to turn around and find no one there.
Far and away, the greatest number of supernatural encounters has come from the third floor and from one room in particular room 311.
Unless someone requests a specific room, lodgings are normally assigned at random. So many guests given room 311 over the years were totally unaware of its spooky reputation.
As a longtime employee, Howard Johnson has seen it all. During his years at the Reed House, for example, a female guest once came down the lobby in the middle of the night, dressed only in her robe. She had been in room 311 and vacated it. Abruptly terrified out of her mind, the guest demanded Johnson go upstairs, pack her bags, and bring them down. She told him she refused to return to her room while that lady is sitting in the corner.
Apparently, she awakened in the night to see a female ghost staring at her.
Another employee related a similar experience. In 1995, a wealthy patron came to Chattanooga on his private jet one night after being picked out by one of the Reed House staff, he checked into room 311.
Later that same night, the man came off the elevator dressed in his pajamas, a panicked look on his face. He had the staff gather his belongings and chauffeur him to another hotel. As he was checking into the new accommodations, he related how he had been chased out of the room by a female phantom. The lady ghost apparently took offense at his cigar smoke.
Howard Johnson has never actually seen the ghost in 311, but other employees have.
The ghost is invariably described as a female wearing a long, white wispy gown. Some room service workers flat out refuse to deliver to the third floor because of her. On occasion, guests riding the elevator find that it makes an unexpected stop at the third floor.
As the doors open, a chill floods the elevator.
Although no one gets on, the lady in white is occasionally visible in the hallway as the doors open. A chill floods the elevator. Although no one gets on, the lady in white is occasionally invisible in the hallway.
Not everyone staying in room 311 has been spooked out of their wits. It may even be that the ghost was once intimidated by an occupant of the room.
Legendary gangster Al Capone was kept there during his criminal trials in the 1930s. Although the ghost reputedly dislikes men who smoke, no serious disturbances were reported during his stay in room 311. Despite Capone's wellknown love of cigars up until the renovations in 2004, the room retains the iron bars on the windows installed during Capone's day, such as its reputation that in recent years, some guests at the Reed house have sought out room 311 to stay in, or at least to visit. On a number of occasions, these amateur guests hunt.
On a number of occasions, these amateur ghost hunters have had interesting encounters, and few even claim to have captured paranormal phenomenon on film.
In one case, a guest staying on an upper floor prevailed upon the hotel staff to let him visit the room.
Room 311 was vacant at the time, so the hotel, always willing to accommodate its guests, gave him a key.
At the stroke of midnight, he entered.
To his surprise, he found the room disheveled. The furniture was disturbed. Some pieces were even knocked over. The bedsheets were tied in a knot. To top it all off, the lights wouldn't work.
The visitor saw no lady in white, but did get an overwhelming sense of something angry and evil lurking in a dark corner of the room.
Not waiting for the entity to act, the man hightailed it out of there.
When returning the key to the front desk, the guests told how someone had already been in 311 and torn the place up, that it was not his doing.
The front desk and lobby personnel greeted his declaration with stunned silence.
Only a short while before the man went up to 311, a cleaning crew had made sure the room was in good order for the visitor. When the crew left, it was neat and tidy for the guests. Midnight tour.
Guests staying in the psychic ground zero have heard weird noises in room 311. Some have described them as sounding like a woman moaning. One guest felt a hot spot in the room, even though the air conditioning was turned on full blast. When witnesses catch such sight of the ghost in the hallways, she is always described as wearing a white gown or dress.
On rare occasions, guests staying in 311 have been awakened by the sound of the shower venturing into the bathroom. They see the silhouette of a young woman behind the curtain. As they watch, the figure disappears into thin air.
Pinning down the exact cause of the haunting of room 311 has proven difficult.
One persistent legend says that the female ghost was murdered by a soldier. Some debunkers have tried to discredit the haunting on the grounds that the hotel did not exist in the 1860s. While it is true that the current structure dates to the 1920s, there are numerous documented cases of ghosts continuing to occupy the same physical space long after the original building they haunted was demolished and replaced. The property where the Reed House stands has been the site of hotels since the Crutchfield house in 1847, so a civil War era haunting is not impossible.
In fact, staff members have on occasion, spotted the specter of a confederate soldier. He has been seen pacing back and forth on the mezzanine level just above the main lobby during the siege of Chattanooga. Wounded soldiers certainly suffered within the walls of the Crutchfield. That the spirit of one of those who died here may linger remains a possibility.
At least a few guests have spied a lady in white sitting in a chair on the mezzanine as well. How these two ghosts relate to the haunting in 311 is unknown.
An alternate explanation exists as to who the lady haunting 311 may be. On the face of it, this seems more based in fact, than the Civil War story. Those versed in Chattanooga lore can put not only a name to the ghost, but a year to her demise as well.
According to the version, the ghost in white in room 311 is a young woman by the name of Anna Lisa Netherly.
She was murdered by her husband, who was a chain smoker of big, stinky cigars.
The story of Annalise's death in 311 is often cited as documented fact. For that reason, many prefer it over the Civil War story as an explanation for the haunting. However, in recent years, researchers have combed the local archives and failed to locate any record of poor Anna Lisa alive or dead.
Those attracted to haunted hotels will find more in store for them at the Reed House than just those the story connected to room 311. For example, some visitors to the hotel in April 2009 caught a glimpse of two dark humanlike figures in the mirrors in the Opulent Silver Ballroom. Other than the witnesses themselves, no other persons were in the room at the time.
At other times, people going down darkened hallways late at night have seen pairs of tiny crimson colored eyes staring back at them from the depths of the darkness.
On the fourth floor, guests have occasionally spotted a woman in 18 hundreds costume roaming the hallways.
Prior to the last major renovation, a pair of ladies on a business trip booked rooms on the fifth floor. Shortly after 04:00 in the morning, one of them was awakened by what she thought was a door slamming. Startled, she sat up but could see nothing.
Just as she was falling back to sleep, she felt her mattress deepen on one side, as if a large person had sat on the edge.
Initially, she thought it was just her imagination working overtime in the dark room.
Then she felt, but could not see, a large, heavy arm pressing against her shoulders. Terrified, she jumped out of bed and went to awake her associate. But even with the lights on, they could see no one else in the room. Badly rattled by the unexpected encounter, the two hurriedly dressed, packed and went downstairs to check out of their rooms.
Ghost hunters have captured some unusual photographs in and around the Reed House in recent years.
Other electronic devices have also documented paranormal phenomena, leading many to conclude that there is indeed a high degree of psychic activity in the hotel.
Even without such evidence, however, the abundance of eyewitness testimony over the years makes it clear that at no additional cost to those who book a stay at the Reed House, very well, get an uninvited roommate.
[00:22:14] Speaker C: This story is titled the Haunting of Hollow Hill. It was Halloween, and I couldn't have been more excited. The crisp autumn air rustled the leaves, and the scent of bonfires wafted through the small, peaceful town of Hollow Hill.
Halloween was always a grand affair here, with the whole community coming together for a parade, costumes, and a bonfire dance that lasted until the witching hour.
My friends and I had been planning our costumes for weeks. We were going as a group of classic monsters, with me as Dracula, complete with a cape and fangs. My best friend Sarah was the bride of Frankenstein, and our other friends, Mike and Emily, were the mummy and the werewolf respectively.
As night descended, we gathered at my place, all dressed up and ready for a night of fun.
The town square was a riot of colors and laughter. Children in costumes paraded around, collecting candies from the local shops. Adults milled around, chatting and admiring each other's outfits. We joined the festivities, laughing and snapping photos, soaking in the Halloween spirit.
As the sun set, the parade began. We marched alongside ghouls witches and superheroes. It was a vast mix of sounds and colors, a joyful procession that felt like the heart of Hollow Hill.
It was one of those perfect fleeting moments where you truly feel alive.
After the parade, the bonfire dance started. The towering flames cast eerie shadows on the revelers, and the air was electric with excitement.
We danced, laughed, and spun in a circle around the bonfire, caught in the enchantment of the night.
Around midnight, when the moon was high and the embers of the bonfire glowed hot and bright, I noticed a mysterious figure standing near the edge of the forest. It was a cloaked figure, obscured in the shadows, watching the festivities with an intensity that sent shivers down my spine.
Their eyes seemed to flash with an intensely vicious light, and a sense of terror washed over me.
I nudged Sarah and pointed out the cloaked figure. She, too, was unsettled, and we decided to investigate, thinking it might be a part of some Halloween prank, our friends tried to dissuade us. But our curiosity got the better of us, and we ventured into the woods.
The cloaked figure led us deeper into the forest, where the trees loomed like ancient sentinels. Its dark, winding paths seemed to stretch on endlessly, and we couldn't shake the feeling that we were being lured deeper into the woods. The figure finally came to a halt near a large, gnarled tree and pointed to a weathered gravestone. The name on the gravestone sent chills down my spine. It read Eliza Blackwood.
Suddenly, the cloaked figure turned to face us, revealing a ghastly, skeletal appearance. With hollow, glowing eyes, it pointed an accusatory finger at Sarah, her Bride of Frankenstein costume transforming into something far more horrifying. It was as if the very essence of the character was consuming her.
We screamed, and the figure's bony hand reached out toward us. As it made contact with Sarah, she was swallowed by darkness, her terrified face disappearing into the depths of the hooded robe.
I turned to run, but the figure was upon me in an instant. It spoke in a hallow, raspy voice you have trespassed into Hollow Hill, and you shall never leave. And with that, I was engulfed in darkness. I woke in a place that was neither here nor there, a place where time and space seemed to have no meaning.
It was a realm of shadows and whispers, where tormented souls wandered into eternal anguish. My friends Sarah, Mike and Emily were there too, trapped in the same dreadful fate. We had unwittingly crossed a boundary, awakened something ancient, and now were prisoners of the very darkness we had tried to confront.
As I reached out to them, the skeletal figure from the forest appeared once more, its ghastly form hovering in the shadows. It spoke again, a hollow, sinister laugh escaping its skeletal lips. You thought you could play with Halloween, but Halloween will play with you.
My heart raced, and I knew that our journey into this eerie otherworldly place was far from over. The chilling realization that our Halloween night had taken a nightmarish turn sent shivers down my spine. And there, in the depths of the darkness, surrounded by the souls of the beyond, we awaited a Halloween fate that defied all reason and sanity.
Days blurred into nights, and nights into unending darkness. In the Otherworldly Realm we had stumbled into, time lost all meaning, and our fears became the only thing that remained constant.
We wandered through the nightmarish landscape, trying to find a way out, but every path we took led us deeper into the abyss. The spirits of those who had met a similar fate whispered into our ears, their words chilling our souls, telling us of the horrors that awaited. The skeletal figure, the one who had lured us into this cursed place, never left our side.
It reveled in our fear, its malevolent laugh echoing through the shadowy void. It had become our tormentor, our geller. And there was no escape from its grasp, we clung to one another, our hopes dwindling as each day passed. The darkness grew thicker, the air colder, and the whispers of the beyond more unbearable.
Our costumes had become our cursed identities, as if we were slowly being transformed into the monsters we had dressed in.
Sarah's hair turned stark white, her skin pale as the moon. Mike's body began to weather, and his flesh became mummified.
Emily's eyes glowed with a feral beastly hunger, and her nails elongated into razor sharp claws. As for me, the blood red cape of Dracula seemed to merge with my very flesh, and a thirst for something dark and sinister came over me. The skeletal figure continued to haunt us, its unpleasant presence a constant reminder of our grim fate. It whispered secrets of the realm we had entered, tales of souls lost to its malevolent power, and the horror of realizing there was no escape. Then, one night, the figure revealed the truth about our predicament, a revelation that sent us into a frenzy of terror. Hollow Hill is a place where Halloween lives forever, and those who dare to challenge its eternal celebration becomes a part of its sinister grasp.
In a demented twist, it explained that we were destined to become the next guardians of Halloween, cursed to lure unsuspecting wanderers into this terrifying realm, just as we had been lured into, we would be the ones to perpetuate the cycle, trapping others into their nightmarish loop. The skeletal figure cackled as our screams of despair echoed through the endless darkness. It disappeared into the shadows, leaving us in a state of utter hopelessness. Now we wander into the abyss, tormented by the realization that we are bound to Hollowville forever, cursed to become the very monsters we once celebrated on Halloween. And as for the darkness swallows us whole, we know that our screams will soon join those who have come before us, forever entangled in this terrifying, unending nightmare.
[00:30:54] Speaker A: On a personal note, when I would visit my grandmother growing up as a child, she would tell ghost stories for bedtime stories, of course, my sisters and I would beg her to, but then would regret it later, after she told real life ghost stories. This one in particular, my grandmother's grandmother witnessed.
She lived near a hospital in southern Virginia.
She heard all kinds of things pretty often, but this one night in particular, she heard screams like she'd never heard before, screams that were unearthly and caused her to look out her window to see what was going on.
As she peered out her window, she couldn't believe her eyes, for she saw a man in a dark cloak pacing back and forth outside a particular window. This window was on the second floor. Inside the window was a man screaming, it's hot. It's hot. Get it off of me. My feet are on fire.
As the man outside the window continued to slowly pace back and forth, the nurses hurried into the room, trying to comfort the man, trying to cool him down. But he had no blankets on him. He had already thrown them off. He screamed, My feet are burning. My feet are burning. Help. Get it off me.
As the man outside the window just peered in, patiently pacing back and forth.
The next morning, my grandmother's grandmother found out the man screaming that his feet were on fire died in the middle of the night.
What's even scarier is, while I was staying at my grandmother's, I was right inside a window on the second floor. So I myself would check out the window to make sure no one was pacing outside.
[00:33:16] Speaker B: When you look up the night sky, what do you see beyond stars in the moon?
Some people are seeing something different the so called Black Triangle UFO as an alleged sightings caught the attention of UFO enthusiasts and even critics. For decades, the National UFO Reporting Center has cataloged more than 8100 sightings of triangle shaped UFOs since the early 1960s.
More than 200 were sighted in the first half of the year 2020, and the numbers have gone up in 2023. The origin of the triangle UFO is a mystery.
Is it simply a weather phenomenon, atmospheric disturbance, or people with poor eyesight? Witnesses describe what they claim to be the craft's extraordinary abilities. For example, in Belgium, in 1989, two police officers near the German border spotted an odd triangular shaped object overhead. In the ensuing days, hundreds of Belgians reported similar UFOs, describing in news reports as a triangular object with a bright red center light, or as a flying platform with three huge searchlights. In March of 1990, the Belgian Air Force set up two F 16 fighter jets to get a closer look at one triangle that had been spotted on radar.
Their onboard computers recorded the object's remarkable maneuverability and its ability to accelerate from 1000 km/hour, or about 620 mph, up to 1120 mph within seconds. What the computers registered exceeded the limits of conventional aviation, a Belgian Air Force colonel told reporters. In March of 1997, Phoenix, Arizona became a UFO hotspot when some 30,000 local residents claimed to see something strange in the skies.
News reports said the object was V shaped, but many witnesses described it as triangular.
It was triangular with three lights, and it was moving very slowly, said one witness.
A retired airline pilot described it as the size of 25 airliners. It didn't make a sound.
Other witnesses described it as being the size of three football fields. In 2000, police officers from neighboring municipalities of southern Illinois were called to investigate a trucker's report of a massive arrowhead shaped craft hovering low in the sky. The trucker described as being two stories high and as long as a football field dispatch tapes revealed a shock and awe expressed by different law enforcement teams, who are all in radio contact with each other. The phenomenon has found. Its way to TikTok and Twitter, with other people posting photos claiming a scene. A triangular shaped object in the sky, no less than the late, great Art Bell also saw this as he sent on his radio show coast to coast and Dreamland, as he, he and his wife Ramona, claimed to see a triangular shaped object matching this UFO's description in 1994 while he was returning home from Nevada. What's up in the skies, friends? On a summer night in 2007, I was standing in my backyard. The day had been much like any other, nothing stressful or sad. There was no great pressure, just a warm wind blowing through an August night as I stepped out onto my deck and into my yard to just soak up the skies, as I was often want to do at that time.
As a disclaimer, I wasn't drinking or on any intoxicant during this night or any other night.
The night wasn't ominous. Nothing spooky going on. Just your average night. You couldn't tell it apart from any other.
I walked around my backyard feeling a crunch of the grass underneath my feet. The wind was steady but not gusty, and some clouds hung overhead, low clouds that moved, rolling but not fast.
The hours maybe 11:00 p.m..
That's when I noticed it.
There was some type of unusual movement within the clouds, and for some reason they began to intensify in their speed. But the clouds were not what I noticed.
Something was blocking the stars.
My backyard borders an open pasture land of a nearby farm sky is wide and vivid with the night's clear that's what I saw was so eye catching.
The clouds seemed to mask a solid triangular shaped object moving to the sky above me.
Clouds started rolling faster and lower to the ground, or so it seemed, and the shape was completely black.
Now, maybe my vision was off, or maybe the light was purely pain tricks on my eyes. Maybe the clouds from creating some optical illusion.
There was a black triangle above my yard in the sky.
Large it stretched across, so large it stretched at least down midways to the pasture land, a good 100 yards down below me and maybe a good 20 yards above my house.
Size and darkness was one thing.
The object did something else that was more disturbing the clouds and the stars. As sources of twinkling light seemed to change around the object's shape. It was as if the triangle could bend light and space as it moved. I watched it glide over my house for at least 10 seconds in total silence. It made no noise.
The clouds seemed to engulf it in some type of shattery curtain that closed off the sky. But within a moment, the clouds dissipated while the wind became gusty all around me.
While staring into the sky above me, I noticed something else.
The clouds seemed to move with the object. They were there, and suddenly they trailed it until it disappeared.
The experience left me rather speechless. So I kept looking into the sky, trying to find what I just saw.
The object was gone.
Stars appeared clear and bright, as if all the clouds simply melted away.
It's then I noticed something else.
Looking straight into the sky above me, a bright yellow light opened up like a flower in bloom or maybe even a camera aperture.
It opened like the bloom of a tulip. And yellow goldish light held its frame for 3 seconds and closed.
The sky was still black. Now, what that yellow light was, I will never know. And maybe that's the most unsettling part. The extraordinary and the mundane intersect at all hours of the days and night.
How many times do we notice them?
Who or what is trying to get our attention?
And from where are they trying to get our attention?
What plane of reality existence or what other universe are they reaching out to us from?
What's above, what's below? And what's moving along our paths every day?
[00:41:01] Speaker C: Sound Barrier listeners, we hope that you enjoyed this special annual edition of Scary Stories with the Sound Barrier host.
Make sure to send this to somebody else that may be in the mood for a scare. We hope that we put a little bit of fear in you this Halloween season. We want to shout out the Entertainment Technology Department for helping us put this podcast on, and we'll talk at you next time as we continue break the barrier.