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

Dom, where we dive into your experiences and your stories. So, without further ado,

let's dive into the mailbag for our first story of this week's episode. This comes in from Connor.

Hi, my name's Connor, and this happened about five years ago when I was visiting my cousin in Edinburgh.

He knew I loved old books, so on afternoon we stopped into this small second-hand book shop just off a side street near the university. It wasn't fancy or spooky looking, just shells everywhere and a friendly older owner who barely looked up when we came in.

I wandered toward the back of the shop, where the shells were stacked a bit more haphazardly. I remember picking up this hardcover book. Nothing remarkable, just short stories by an author I didn't know. I flipped through it, thought, maybe later, and put it back. We kept browsing. As we were about to leave, I noticed the same book sitting on a different shelf near the front counter. I hadn't carried it there, neither had my cousin. I didn't think too much of it. Maybe it absolutely mindedly moved it, but something about it bothered me. I put it back again where I thought it belonged and we left. The next day we were passing by that same shop again. I wanted another look, so we went in, and I swear to that very first book displayed on the front table, like it had been intentionally placed to be noticed, was the same one.

Same worn spine, same tiny ink stain on the back cover.

The owner saw me look at it and said, third time's a charm, usually.

I told him I'd never bought it.

He just nodded and said, some books find their readers, others remind them. Now, that would have just been a quirky comment, if that was the end of it. But later that night, back at my cousin's place, I'd zip my backpack to get my phone charger, and there it was, the book. I never bought it. I know I didn't. My cousin swears he didn't put it there, and the shop owner never came near us. I kept it because honestly, what else do you do? But the strange

part is, every so often, I'll wake up and find it in a different part of the house, on a

chair, on the kitchen table, once even balanced on the arm on the sofa, like it had just

been placed there. Nothing dramatic, no voices, no cold spots,

no moving furniture, just as book, turning up where I hadn't left it, like it's still a

somewhere it's trying to go. When I first heard your story, Connor, I didn't get the haunting

feeling. I got the feeling of recognition. A book following someone is intimate. It's not loud,

it's not dramatic, it's,

well, deliberate. Your story does stick with me though, because it doesn't ask to be believed,

it just kind of is. And the moment the shop owner said, some books find their readers,

other than remind them, I swear I felt kind of a drop in my stomach, really, because I've

seen this kind of thing before.

I want to tell you what I think happened here. I think the book didn't just belong to someone

...