Hello and welcome back to Monday Mail Time on the Paranormal Activity podcast with me producer Dom,

where we dive into your experiences in your stories. So, without further ado, let's dive into

Mailbag for our first story of today's episode, and this comes from Toby. Hi, Domina there. What

happened to me took place a few winters ago when I travelled to Iceland in December. I'd gone specifically

to experience the strange traditions around the Yule lads, the thirteen

figures said to wander the country during the Christmas season.

Before travelling, I assumed it was just a cultural story, something playful for children.

But once I arrived, I realised the people there speak about it of a certain seriousness.

Not fear, exactly, but a kind of respect.

As if the stories exist for a reason.

I was staying in a small wooden cabin on a stretch of volcanic land miles away for any town

lights.

During the day it was breathtaking, endless snow, jagged black rock, and a sky that never seemed

to fully brighten in winter.

But at night the place felt

very different. Once darkness settled it was absolute, no distant traffic, no

neighboring houses, just a vast empty silence. Earlier that day a guide had been

talking about the Yule Lads and mentioned that each night in December belonged to a

different one. Some of the Shiva, some are strange, some are overstealing food. That particular evening he said quietly belonged to Stufor. He's described as a smallness of the 13, short, quiet and fond of left over food. I didn't think much of it at the time. That night I went to sleep with the wind moving across the snow outside in the faint creek of the wooden walls settling in the cold. Sometime in the early hours, I woke suddenly.

I don't know what woke me, but the first thing I noticed was the silence.

The wind had completely stopped.

The entire landscape felt unnatural still, like everything outside had paused.

...