Speaker 1: A Podshape production.
Speaker 2: I never imagined a short weekend stay in the Rocks
Speaker 2: could turn into something I'd never forget. I had booked
Speaker 2: an airbnb on Argyle Street, just a stone's throw from
Speaker 2: the historic pubs and tourist shops. The listing described it
Speaker 2: as a charming sandstone cottage full of character and history,
Speaker 2: perfect for a quiet escape. I thought it sounded ideal.
Speaker 1: That's the email we got from Rachel, who lives in
Speaker 1: Melbourne and was in Sydney for a friend's wedding. Now,
Speaker 1: if you've got a story that's like Rachel's and you
Speaker 1: want to give us the chills, then just email us
Speaker 1: at the Chills at podshape dot com. Anyway, let's get
Speaker 1: back to Rachel's spooky story, which she didn't want to read,
Speaker 1: so we've had someone else read it secret Now. Rachel
Speaker 1: booked this little cottage in Sydney and the plan was simple.
Speaker 1: She was pretty much going to use it as a
Speaker 1: place to get ready and then I can sleep off
Speaker 1: a wedding day hangover the next day, with lots of
Speaker 1: cool coffee shops and cafes close by for a caffeine fix.
Speaker 2: When I arrived, the cottage looked exactly as it had
Speaker 2: in the photos, small, quaint squeezed between modern apartment blocks.
Speaker 2: The host left the key in a lock box, so
Speaker 2: I let myself in immediately. Something felt wrong. The air
Speaker 2: was thick, heavy with a musty smell of damp stone.
Speaker 2: The floors creaked beneath my feet even though I wasn't moving,
Speaker 2: and the place felt colder than it should have considering
Speaker 2: the warm Sydney.
Speaker 1: Evening now, if you're not familiar with the Rocks in Sydney,
Speaker 1: it's a cool spot for dinner and drinks in general fun,
Speaker 1: but it also is considered ground zero for haunted places
Speaker 1: and paranormal activity, which is generally not listed on the
Speaker 1: Airbnb websites. There's lots of pubs in the area that
Speaker 1: are suspected to be haunted. Like the Hero of Waterloo,
Speaker 1: they host their own Redcoats ghost tour. The Glenmore Hotel
Speaker 1: has an old world charm and a story of a
Speaker 1: sailor who met his tragic end and haunts the hotel's
Speaker 1: upper floors and then as Cadman's Cottage, one of Sydney's
Speaker 1: oldest buildings, it's believed to be haunted by the spirits
Speaker 1: of former convicts. Back to Rachel and her first night
Speaker 1: before the wedding in the Sandstone cottage that she booked.
Speaker 1: It just started with noises.
Speaker 2: At first, it sounded like the wind, a faint groaning,
Speaker 2: as if a breeze was passing through cracks in the walls.
Speaker 2: I went from room to room, checking the windows, but
Speaker 2: they were all shut tight. Yet the noise persisted, and
Speaker 2: it wasn't just a wind. It sounded like something dragging
Speaker 2: along the ceiling, slow and deliberate. I froze listening the
Speaker 2: sound was coming from above me.
Speaker 1: The this issue hear is that the cottage didn't have
Speaker 1: and upstairs it was a roof. When Rachel went back
Speaker 1: to her bedroom to unpack her bag, the temperature suddenly dropped.
Speaker 2: It was freezing, so much so that I could see
Speaker 2: my breath hanging in the air. The windows were sealed
Speaker 2: shut and there was no draft, yet the cold was palpable,
Speaker 2: like the room had been sucked dry of all warmth.
Speaker 2: That's when I saw it.
Speaker 1: In the corner of the bedroom is a wardrobe. Now,
Speaker 1: in a cottage like this, it's not built in. This
Speaker 1: is a massive old piece of furniture. Rachel said she
Speaker 1: wasn't sure it was original, but it looked old. And
Speaker 1: when she first reached the bedroom, she said the door
Speaker 1: was slightly ajar. But then as she turned and started
Speaker 1: to unpack her bag on the bed, my.
Speaker 2: Stomach churned as I stared into its dark, empty interior.
Speaker 2: But I told myself it was nothing. Maybe the door
Speaker 2: was loose or the floor was uneven. Anything to stop
Speaker 2: the creeping sense of dread climbing up my spine. Later
Speaker 2: that night, as I brushed my teeth, I glanced at
Speaker 2: the bathroom mirror, and that's when I saw the shadow.
Speaker 2: It flickered past the open doorway behind me, just for
Speaker 2: a second, a vague shape, like someone walking down the hallway.
Speaker 2: I froze, staring at the mirror, half expecting the shadow
Speaker 2: to reappear. The shadow didn't reappear, but what replaced it
Speaker 2: was even more spooky. It was the sound of dragging,
Speaker 2: and the dragging was coming from above. It sounded like
Speaker 2: someone or something was crawling through the narrow space between
Speaker 2: the walls, pulling themselves closer. I backed away, phone in hand,
Speaker 2: trying to call the host. No signal typical.
Speaker 1: Now, these really big stone cottages aren't really good for
Speaker 1: getting phone signals they'm all made for scare the shit
Speaker 1: out of people like Rachel. While she's trying to find
Speaker 1: a place to call a friend from inside the cottage,
Speaker 1: the bedroom door suddenly slammed shut with a force that
Speaker 1: felt like it rattled the whole place. Suddenly everything went silent,
Speaker 1: no dragging, just what Rachel says was an oppressive, suffocating silence.
Speaker 2: I stood there waiting, my mind racing with terror, and
Speaker 2: then I felt it. A presence behind me. Standing in
Speaker 2: the corner of the room, barely visible in the dim light,
Speaker 2: was a man. His clothes were old, torn like they
Speaker 2: belonged to a different era. His face was hidden beneath
Speaker 2: the brim of a wide hat, and his hands were pale,
Speaker 2: almost skeletal. He didn't move, He just stood there, staring
Speaker 2: at me with hollow eyes. His mouth opened, but no
Speaker 2: sound came out, just a faint, dragging noise that filled
Speaker 2: the room. I tried to scream, but no sound escaped
Speaker 2: my throat. My body wouldn't move, as if I was
Speaker 2: frozen in place by his geeze. Then, in a voice
Speaker 2: that wasn't his, he whispered a single word, stay.
Speaker 1: Rachel didn't stay. She made a wise movement left, She
Speaker 1: got in an uber and headed to the city and
Speaker 1: booked another more current hotel minus the ghost, on booking
Speaker 1: dot com. If you've got a spooky story that you
Speaker 1: want to share, then email us at the Chills at
Speaker 1: podshape dot com. We'll see you next time.