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