The

The Hello and welcome to 15 days of festive fear 2025 and we are on day number two.

And I have one story for you today and our story comes from Anonymous.

I would like to start this story with a trigger

warning for mild animal abuse, but no, the dog doesn't die. I know you talk on the podcast about

how you love those paranormal stories that are subtle everyday moments. Well, this is not one of

those. Now, I've run this story by my father before

sending it off to you, as this is his story. The one thing that I will preface about this story is

that my father was put into an orphanage several months after these events and wasn't adopted

for another five to six years after that. He was about five or six at the time when he was left at

the orphanage. When he was adopted, he would tell this story to his adoptive parents, and they would tell

him it wasn't real and it was all in his head. He told this story to me many times when I was a child

right into adulthood, and often I would wind up in my parents' bed for nights on end because of it.

But I would still get him to tell it to me over and over again.

He believed this story, and I still do.

I'll explain a little more after the tale is done.

We are mixed bloods.

I am of Chippewa-Meteis descent on my grandmother's side and Irish,

Scottish, English descent on my grandfather's side. I often wonder how my heritage plays into these stories, as my father and I have deep roots in Turtle Island, and my family was separated,

and we are still reclaiming our traditional knowledge. But somehow, throughout my entire life, my father, even I, have been

magnets for some intense spiritual shit. I don't know what my great-grandmother or my great-great-grandmother,

who lived from 1888 to

...