My mom keeps coming into my room every night to cry.

I tried to tell my mom to stop, but my hand went through her shoulder.

Written by at User X Dark Wolf.

Hi, I'm Blair Bathory, and this is the Something Scary podcast.

Thank you so much for being here, whether this is your first time,

or you're one of the brave souls who join us every week.

Sometimes it's not the stories we're told that haunt us,

but the ones we inherit without hesitation.

The prayers whispered in the dark, the trinkets worn without asking why.

Belief can be a comfort until it isn't, because when something is passed down for so long,

you stop knowing where faith ends and fear begins.

First, mirror marks won't fade, followed by inherited horror.

Finally, in her last story, you're getting blurry.

So, wanna hear something scary?

Grief makes ghosts of us all.

Sometimes the scariest thing isn't what you summon,

but what becomes of you afterward,

like in this story written in honor of Jewish American Heritage Month by Sarah.

The apartment smelled like old wax and peeled onions, familiar and vaguely rotten.

Leah Klein hadn't been back in almost four years, not since she walked away from her seminary program

and traded Talmudic texts of

Jewish studies for molecular biology. Science makes sense, she told her father. Miracles don't.

...