No.

This is creepy.

A podcast dedicated to sharing the most famous chilling and disturbing creepy pastas and urban legends in the world.

Whether these stories truly happened or are simply fabrications is for you to decide.

These stories may contain graphic depictions of violence and explicit language.

Listener discretion is advised.

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Our first story this week, haunted by the silent presence of her husband after his suicide,

a grieving woman retreats alone to their familiar coastal rental, hoping the place might

finally force him to acknowledge her. Instead she finds

something inescapable. From writer, Desiree Horton and narrated by Heather Thomas, Creepy Presents,

The Beach House. I paced slowly across the slightly uneven wood floors, letting my fingers trail across the top of the dusty, aged blue couch.

This house was a rental, something my husband and I did every year. Not quite for an anniversary, but something like it.

My hands wiped themselves absently against my pants, as though to wipe away the gritty feeling my mind attached to unfamiliar furniture.

Looking at the large bay windows, I caught a view of my husband's back, his face to the wind that I knew must be blowing,

even though there was no evidence in his body language to suggest it.

Fall is always windy on the coast.

I turned to the kitchen, thinking perhaps to set my bag down and peruse the empty cupboards.

I imagined the cobwebs inside, and the spiders

...