I never believed in ghosts, until I lived in a haunted housing college.

It's 11 p.m. on a Friday, and I'm chatting with a stranger at a bar in Marfa, Texas when

he tells me this.

The subject of what we did had just come up, so I told him about heart-serts pounding,

honestly, a little nervous that he made judge me for having a podcast.

Oh, they let anyone have a podcast now.

I could already hear the snide remark in my head.

But instead, his eyes go wide.

I unlocked something in his memory.

He tells me he never believed in ghosts until he thought he experienced a haunting.

And then he stopped to see if I would invite him to tell the rest of the story.

And this, right here, is my favorite part of making this podcast.

It's when I tell strangers about the podcast, and they respond with some bone-chilling

tale of something they can't explain.

I've had people tell me about shadow people who haunted their hotels, ghostly images

of their deceased loved ones that operate in the darkness, and strange warnings that their

grandparents gave right before they died.

This stranger proceeded to tell me the following story.

A few years ago, he tells me, he lived in a house in Savannah, Georgia during grad

school, a big Southern Gothic house that he lived in with a few other students.

The house had some quirks, like how once a week a group of people would stand outside

to look at it for about 10 minutes, and then just continue on walking.

...