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 that mailbag for our first story of today's episode.

This song comes from Neve. Hi, I'm Neve, and I've never really told this properly out loud before. Well, I'm doing that job for you,

Neith. Not because I don't remember it, but because every time I try it feels like I'm bringing

something back with it. This happened in County Sligo in Ireland, along as so as

the Ben Bulbin. I'd gone out alone, just for a late afternoon hike. I'd always loved

that part of Ireland. There's something about it that feels untouched, like it exists slightly outside of everything else. It was meant to be simple,

up along the ridge, take in the view, head back before dark. But I stayed too long. By the time

I turned back, the light has started to drain out the sky. Not a dramatic sunset, just that

slow, dim

fading where colour disappears first, then depth. The well flattens, sound dolls. Even my own

footsteps felt muted, like they weren't fully connecting with the ground. That's when I heard it.

At first I thought it was the wind catching somewhere in the rock face, but there was no wind. The air was completely still, then it came again, a long drawn-out, keen and cry. It wasn't loud in the way a scream was loud. It was worse than that, it was deep. It felt like it was vibrating through the ground beneath me, like it was coming from everywhere at once rather than any one direction. I froze. As soon as I stopped

moving, it stopped too. But silence that followed was absolute. No birds, no distant traffic,

not even the usual hum you don't notice until it's gone. It felt like the entire hillside

had gone still with me. I remember thinking, just walk. Just keep going and don't think about

it.

But before I could take another step, it started again.

Closer.

Not physically closer, not like something approaching, but more present, more focused.

Like whatever was making that sound had turned its attention fully on to me.

The grief in it was unbearable, not human grief, not just sadness, but, you know, something ancient and hollow and endless,

...