Speaker 1: At pod Shape Production. Welcome back to the Chills, the
Speaker 1: Spooky Story podcast. That's hard to believe, unless, of course,
Speaker 1: it happened to you. If you've got a story you
Speaker 1: want to share that might give us the chills, then
Speaker 1: send it in the Chills at podshape dot com. This
Speaker 1: story is from Ben. He emailed it in. He lives
Speaker 1: in Perth and it seems it happened to him a
Speaker 1: few years ago. Ben says he needed to leave the
Speaker 1: hustle and bustle of Perth, Western Australia and get out
Speaker 1: of the city. He wanted a country break time to
Speaker 1: clear his head. It was late October. We've used an
Speaker 1: AI voice actor for Ben's email.
Speaker 2: I found this old weatherboard cottage on a farm stay website,
Speaker 2: a quiet little place out in the bush. The photos
Speaker 2: made it look rustic but cozy, and the idea of
Speaker 2: being surrounded by nothing but gum trees and kangaroos sounded perfect.
Speaker 2: The cottage was ancient, probably built in the early nineteen hundreds.
Speaker 2: It had thick wooden beams, a tin roof and one
Speaker 2: of those verandahs that wrapped around the entire house. The
Speaker 2: owner mentioned it had been part of a sheep station
Speaker 2: for generations, but these days it was mostly left vacant,
Speaker 2: rented out to people like me who wanted to get
Speaker 2: away from it all. It was a good couple of
Speaker 2: hours from Perth, with the nearest neighbor about five k's away.
Speaker 2: As soon as I got there, I knew it was
Speaker 2: the quiet I'd been craving. The first few days were uneventful,
Speaker 2: just what I needed. I'd wake up early to the
Speaker 2: sound of magpies warbling and spend the day reading, wandering
Speaker 2: around the property, and soaking up the peacefulness. At night,
Speaker 2: the stars were incredible, the kind of sky you only
Speaker 2: see in the outback, far away from any light pollution.
Speaker 2: But on the fourth night, something changed. I woke up
Speaker 2: in the middle of the night for no reason at all.
Speaker 2: The room was pitch black save for a bit of
Speaker 2: moonlight sneaking in through the old, threadbare curtains. As I
Speaker 2: lay there trying to get back to sleep, I heard
Speaker 2: something outside. At first I thought it was an animal,
Speaker 2: a kangaroo maybe, or a possum, But then I heard
Speaker 2: it again, footsteps, slow and heavy, moving across the verandah
Speaker 2: my heart started to race. I wasn't expecting anyone, and
Speaker 2: the place was so isolated it didn't make sense for
Speaker 2: anyone to just show up. I listened harder, straining to
Speaker 2: hear anything else, but the only sound was the footsteps
Speaker 2: getting closer to the front door. They stopped for a moment,
Speaker 2: then moved down the side of the house, just outside
Speaker 2: my bedroom window. I couldn't see anything through the curtains,
Speaker 2: but I felt a cold draft slipping in, like the
Speaker 2: air had changed. I tried to brush it off as
Speaker 2: an overactive imagination. Maybe I was just hearing things. I
Speaker 2: told myself. The house was old, and the the bush
Speaker 2: plays tricks on your mind when you're alone. But the
Speaker 2: next night it happened again. This time I was wide
Speaker 2: awake when I heard the footsteps. They started at the
Speaker 2: front door, slow and deliberate, making their way down the verandah,
Speaker 2: but this time they didn't stop. I heard the faintest
Speaker 2: scraping sound, like fingernails dragging across the wooden boards outside
Speaker 2: the window. It wasn't just footsteps now, there was something
Speaker 2: or someone outside, and they weren't just passing by. My
Speaker 2: stomach twisted into knots, but I stayed frozen in bed,
Speaker 2: too scared to move. I didn't want to turn on
Speaker 2: the light or make a sound. Whatever was out there,
Speaker 2: I didn't want it to know I was awake. The
Speaker 2: scraping stopped after a few minutes, and the house fell
Speaker 2: silent again, But I didn't sleep for the rest of
Speaker 2: the night.
Speaker 1: Okay, So I have a few questions that I'd love
Speaker 1: to know from Ben. He can't answer them, so I'll
Speaker 1: ask you. The first is, who actually does that? Who
Speaker 1: decides to take a break from the city to go
Speaker 1: to a deserted farmer's cottage in the middle of nowhere?
Speaker 1: I mean, Ben, I don't mean to be rude, but
Speaker 1: have you seen shows like Wolf Creek?
Speaker 2: What the bloody lu buck is doing out here? This
Speaker 2: is a national park. You can't can't be here, mate.
Speaker 1: Judgment aside, what does Ben do? If you're thinking like
Speaker 1: I am, He packs the car, doesn't clean the place,
Speaker 1: and drives very fast to the nearest motel that has
Speaker 1: other people in it and was built after the early
Speaker 1: nineteen hundreds, Then you're wrong, Ben stays.
Speaker 2: I woke up in the middle of the night, disoriented.
Speaker 2: The room was dark save for a sliver of moonlight.
Speaker 2: As I lay there, I noticed an odd noise, A
Speaker 2: faint tapping rhythmic coming from the kitchen. At first, I
Speaker 2: thought it was just something loose in the wind, maybe
Speaker 2: a branch knocking against the window. But as I listened,
Speaker 2: it became clear the sound wasn't outside, it was coming
Speaker 2: from within the house. I grabbed my phone for light
Speaker 2: and cautiously crept down the hall. The tapping continued, steady
Speaker 2: and deliberate. When I reached the kitchen, I shone the
Speaker 2: light towards the sauce. There on the wooden table was
Speaker 2: an old, rusty teapot that I hadn't noticed before. It
Speaker 2: rocked slightly, it spout, tapping the edge of the table.
Speaker 2: I stared at it for a long moment, waiting for
Speaker 2: the movement to stop. Finally, after what felt like ages,
Speaker 2: it did. I couldn't explain it, but I convinced myself
Speaker 2: it was just the wind or some quirk of the
Speaker 2: old house. I went back to bed, but sleep didn't
Speaker 2: come easily.
Speaker 1: Okay, so maybe that's the cue. Maybe now then just
Speaker 1: jumps in the car and leaves right Ben.
Speaker 2: On the third night, things got worse.
Speaker 1: Come on, Ben, what are you doing?
Speaker 2: I was drifting off when I heard something again, but
Speaker 2: this time it was louder, the sound of footsteps, heavy
Speaker 2: and unmistakable, moving across the verandah, just outside the front door.
Speaker 2: My heart started racing, but I told myself it was
Speaker 2: probably a kangaroo or an emun. They sometimes wander onto
Speaker 2: properties curious and club. But then the footsteps stopped and
Speaker 2: I heard something else, low guttural breathing, like someone or
Speaker 2: something was standing right outside the door. I froze listening.
Speaker 2: The breathing became more labored, as though it was right
Speaker 2: against the door, straining to get in. I didn't dare move.
Speaker 2: After a few minutes, the sound stopped and there was
Speaker 2: a heavy silence. I thought it was over, but then
Speaker 2: came the most unsettling part, a soft but distinct knock
Speaker 2: on the door, like someone was gently testing to see
Speaker 2: if i'd answer. I didn't move. I couldn't. The knocking
Speaker 2: came again, this time louder, more insistent, but I still
Speaker 2: didn't respond. I stayed perfectly, still, holding my breath until
Speaker 2: the noise finally stopped and the house was silent again.
Speaker 2: It took a long time for me to fall asleep
Speaker 2: that night. The next morning, I packed up and left.
Speaker 2: I didn't bother cleaning the place up or leaving a
Speaker 2: note for the owner. I just wanted to get out
Speaker 2: of there. I didn't even look back as I drove
Speaker 2: down the long dirt road that led away from the property.
Speaker 2: I couldn't shake the feeling that someone or something had
Speaker 2: been watching me that night.
Speaker 1: If you've got a story that can give us the chills,
Speaker 1: then email us the Chills at podshape dot com. See
Speaker 1: you next time.