Prepare yourself for a chilling journey into the unknown… This 5-hour marathon is packed with true paranormal encounters, unexplained mysteries, and real horror stories that defy logic. From terrifying ghost sightings and haunted locations to demonic possessions, alien encounters, and bizarre cryptid sightings, every story in this compilation is based on actual eyewitness accounts and terrifying lore.
🔦 Whether you’re a fan of creepy late-night stories, unsolved supernatural cases, or true tales of the unexplained, this nonstop horror compilation will keep you on edge. Perfect for background ambience, overnight listening, or a deep dive into the world of the paranormal.
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0:00 – Introduction
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Searching for the ideal place to settle. A young family moves. Into. A new home, believing
their prayers have been answered. However, just a year later,
they find themselves gone, never to return. They’re left questioning
just who truly answered those prayers and what exactly invaded their lives. An enigmatic entity that perpetrated violence and terror upon them. The Untold Story of the Black Monk of Pontefract. In September 1954, Bill Farah and his wife
Barbara, moved into a new home in the historic
market town of Pontefract, England. They were a young family with a two year
old daughter named Jane. At 30 Easter Live with its three bedrooms, this should have been their ideal home. Yet less than a year later,
they moved out. The fairies quickly had grown
terrified of their new home. Their dream had seemingly become
a nightmare. Objects moved on their own. Voices echoed in empty rooms and. Halls. And large rips and. Tears. Appeared on their furniture. Out of nowhere, forming an ominous
atmosphere that began to smother them all. These events would culminate one night when Bill and Barbara found their daughter
crying. Her small face
inexplicably covered in scratches, small trickles of blood dripping from each slash with no rational cause. The family had no pets to blame
for their daughter. Jane’s injuries, and even after
they placed cotton mitts on her hands, the wounds continued to appear. The poor child cried every night,
leaving her parents scared and confused about what to do and just what could be happening. One day, Barbara
frantically rushed upstairs at the piercing
sound of her child’s cries. What she discovered
would shake her to her core. She would find a pillow placed over
Jane’s face as if someone or something was attempting
to extinguish her young life. At that moment, the answer became clear. The family had to leave
and leave immediately. So they did. They would leave the house
and its dark forces. Friends and neighbors of the. Farrell’s. The Prichard family
be convinced by the Farrow family to switch homes with them,
ultimately leaving them at the mercy of whatever malevolent forces
that dwelled within the walls. August of 19. 66. The Pritchard’s were to move
into the old Ferrer residence. Their new home was quite a bit larger
than their last and seemed to be
the answer to their prayers. The Pritchard family consisted of Father Joe, Mother
Jean and their small children, daughter Diane and son Philip. Shortly after moving in, however, the same strange occurrences
began to manifest. Strange sounds. Such. As banging and knocking began to be heard,
reverberating throughout the house
with no rational origin. Or smells began. To waft throughout the. House as well. Again, with no explanation. As to what could be causing them. The children first. And then the parents. Began to be terrified by a shadowy, dark
figure that began to make its presence
known at various hours of the day and night,
seemingly watching their every move. Jean Pritchard ended up giving
the creepy figure several nicknames. She called it Fred and Mister Nobody but history would come to know the entity by a very different
and certainly a scarier name. By most. Standards, the black. Monk of Pontefract
liked the Prichard’s noticing that these happenings were far from normal
approached their former. Neighbors. The fairies. And asked them if they had ever experienced
anything weird when they had lived there. The fairies would say no in August of 1980. The Pritchard family had long
been suffering from the haunting. Colin Wilson, a well-known
writer on subjects including the paranormal and mysticism, visited the family after being tipped off
by a local historian, a man named Tom Cunliffe. Kenneth had stumbled across
newspaper clippings from the late 19. Sixties. Alleging that a Pontefract family
had experience some poltergeist phenomena. As he dug deeper
into the history of the area. He discovered a rather disturbing story, one that he believed
could be connected to the haunting itself. In the 16th century,
a monk was executed for the brutal assault and murders of several young victims. Upon reading that,
the family was being stalked by a shadowy robed figure, he put two and two together
during his research. Upon discovering that
the family still lived in the same house, couldn’t have contacted. Wilson. Prompting Wilson to journey
to Yorkshire to interview them to see if perhaps they could
get to the bottom of things. With the information
provided by Wilson’s records. A more detailed version
of The Haunting chronologically begins to emerge,
according to Wilson’s records. In August 1966, on that Thursday, most of the family Joe Pritchard, his wife Jean, and their 12 year
old daughter, Diane, were on holiday in Devon,
leaving their 15 year old son Phil up, and Jean’s mother, Sarah Sholes, and her sister Marie, at home. Philip had reached the age when the family
holidays had lost their appeal. So as most adolescents do, he spent much time to himself
reading in the family garden that Thursday, while outside, Phillip returned indoors
to get himself a drink as he did this,
he noticed something bizarre His grandmother, sitting in the living room, heavily focused on her knitting, was completely oblivious
to a gray hued cloud floating around her. Philip would later
say that it was a chalk, like powdery substance,
and from this cloud it appeared to be falling from,
not from the ceiling. The top half of the room
was perfectly clear and yet curious. Dust seemed to materialize from nowhere,
weirded out. Philip returned to the kitchen,
only to find several large pools of water covering the floor
with no apparent origin. Then heading back to the living room, he saw the dust or a cloud
had continued to fall like a miniature snowstorm, forming
a fine white layer on the furniture. And even on top of his grandmother, rushing to another room
to get his aunt’s attention. He would bring her round
into the living room where she would notice
the very same thing. Unsure of just what it could be, she called to her mother
to gain her attention and get her out of whatever
the cloud or strange powder seemed to be heading towards the kitchen
to get her cleaned up. She, too, would notice
the puddles of water everywhere as Marie tried to mop up in the kitchen. New puddles. Supposedly manifested. She would pull up the linoleum to reveal
no leak underneath and the water wasn’t falling
from above them either. So just like the dust in the other room, the puddles seemed to have come
from nowhere. The odd drama. Intensified. When after the water supply to the house
was turned off by a helpful neighbor, the water company was called to
the property. Pipes were checked for knowledge lifted once again and drains examined, but nothing was found to be broken
or blocked. The water companies
suggested that some strange condensation caused by the summer
weather might be responsible. But after about an hour, they left and the mysterious
puddles stopped appearing. However, before the day ended, more
odd happenings were reported. Sugar and tea leaves were emptied
from their dispensers in the kitchen and sprinkled all across the countertops. Cupboards vibrated and shook. Loud bangs were heard from upstairs. A plant, which was usually located
at the foot of the staircase. Was also mysteriously. Transported halfway up its part found separately on the landing above. Unable to tolerate the house any longer,
Philip and his grandmother left with and would spend the night with Anne Marie. Vic Kelly, Marie’s husband. Unhappy with the strange situation,
reportedly phoned the. Police. To check on the. House. With Vic present. Upon law enforcement’s arrival,
everything seemed normal, with no intruder being found. Nothing else seemed out of place either until they found a glass
shattered on the floor. And one of Joe and Jean Pritchard’s
wedding photos. The photo itself. Slashed. From side to side as if with a sharp knife chilled to his core. They simply followed the officers back
outside of the home and then closed the front door of 30 East Drive and returned to his home. When Jean, Joe and Diane
returned from their holiday, Sarah relayed
the unsettling events to them. There was a disbelief at first, but as she spoke,
everyone would hear three loud. And distinct bangs. Reverberate throughout the home. Then a cold wind blew through. The house. Almost as if the. Entity. Had perhaps left. But that was far from what would happen. It was merely seemingly taking a break, according to testimonies
recorded by Colin Wilson. The haunting truly resumed for the. Pritchard’s. In 1968, when Jean decided to redecorate Diane’s bedroom. As I’ve noticed,
while studying numerous other hauntings, construction or redecoration, or essentially changing what once was, seems to be a way to disturb or wake up. Whatever forces good or bad,
it could be dwelling within a space. Following this mysterious temperature
changes began to be experienced,
inexplicable bangs and. Knocks. Once again
plagued the family and daily household. Items, such as? In one instance. A paintbrush began to be flung across the room by unseen hands. One just so happened to barely miss
Jean’s face by mere. Inches. During the remodel itself. It’s even been claimed that Mrs. Pritchard witnessed. In the. Moonlight
one night as she went to the bathroom. A long strip of wallpaper standing on end in swaying like a cobra. When she attempted to grab it, the strip simply fell to the floor, causing a feeling of fear to grip her that one would seldomly experience
otherwise. Horrifically, within the same room
that was being remodeled. Not too long after this occurred, the family vacuum flew into the air, swinging around as if wielded by giant. Invisible hands. Screaming Jean dropped onto all. Fours. And rushed back to her daughter as wallpaper and various
objects continued to be thrown. Towards her. The unseen
presence in the house had returned, and it seemed more aggressive than ever, particularly fixated on Diane’s bedroom. What followed was described
as nine months of chaos, in which all manner of violent activity
was reported. Bangs and thumps echoed from Diane’s bedroom with such physical aggression that she occasionally took
to sleeping in her parents room. Ornaments were thrown and levitated and lights
flickered on and off repeatedly. One day,
the entire contents of the family’s China cabinet
were reportedly hurled onto the floor with not a single precious item being smashed or chipped in the process. One evening, a particularly chilling
incident marked an escalation in the severity of the activity and Diane’s room yet again. The lights randomly went out and a huge shadow appeared on the wall
before her as she witnessed this firsthand
in the hallway while her mother scrambled with a flashlight
to try and turn the lights back on. As the teenage girl watched a heavy oak hall
stand floated into the air and rushed towards her with incredible
speed in her attempt to escape, Diane tripped
and fell her back up against the. Stairs. With the hall
stand being thrown on top of her. The weight of the piece of furniture
pressed down on her small body, pinning her against the. Steps. As she struggled to breathe
and free herself. Another heavy object, a sewing machine that had been on top of the stand,
was also thrown onto her. When the lights finally illuminated
the scene, her family rushed to help, but the hall stand was too heavy and firmly positioned to move. Jean and Joe struggled
to free their daughter, and yet, strangely, despite the pressure, Diane was unharmed. The heavy furniture was merely
being held in place by some invisible force, enough to keep her trapped,
but not to injure her. When instructed to release her. The force. Seemingly obliged,
finally allowing the whole stand and sewing machine to be removed. The poltergeist then seemed particularly
fascinated with Diane Pritchard. In addition to the whole stand incident. It was reported that she was tossed
from her bed as many as four times in the night
by the unseen entity. Her bedroom often turned icy cold, and she told her parents
it felt as if those someone was present with her, always watching her and lurking just beyond her sight. On one occasion, while standing in the living room,
combing her hair in front of a mirror, a brass crucifix that she found comfort in with her faith was thrown from a shelf and struck her in the back, sticking to her skin like a magnet. When the crucifix finally fell away, her mother inspected her
and discovered a cross shaped red mark on her skin
between her shoulder blades. The mark left reportedly lasted for days,
showing the strong. Force. Of which it had been thrown with. Before long, the house at 30 East Drive gained quite the local reputation
after being featured in two Yorkshire newspapers
in September of 1968. People either actively avoided the House or sought to engage with the alleged
haunting ghost hunters attempted to gain admission
into the residence, and it was even reported
that a group of students who requested permission to camp in
the garden were forced to settle for the large round grass verge
in front of the house. When Jean Pritchard
declined their request. However, even from that distance, the group claimed to still have heard
an assortment of bangs and crashes. Along with this newfound fame,
it became commonplace for the Pritchard’s family’s neighbors to experience
disturbances within their own. Homes, as the noises were. Reportedly that loud emanating
from the Pritchard. Residence. When all the family’s possessions
upstairs in the bedroom were allegedly thrown out of. Windows. And onto the ground below. It was impossible for anyone in the area
to deny that something bizarre was happening,
something that no one could truly comprehend or truly understand. Eventually, the family began
calling their unwanted houseguest. Mr.. Nobody later nicknaming it Fred. Despite its attempts to force them out. However, the Pritchard family remained. When a local preacher, a man
named Reverend Davey, advised the family that something evil lurked in their home
and that they should move. Jean reportedly
scoffed at him, asking him, Why should I be driven
out of my home by a ghost? This was certainly a testament
to the family’s resolve. No doubt as the disturbances. Worsened. And the activity further intensified, the family yet continued to persevere perfectly good and often newly purchased
food would spoil something strange that became a calling card for the entity,
as if whatever it. Was brought. Death and decay along with it. Aside from spoiling food, Mr. Nobody, as they called it,
but also often smeared jam on door handles and would often throw toilet paper
all over the house. Fine china plates and cups
would be thrown onto the floor, sometimes shattered,
and other times perfectly fine. But yet, despite
being watched by the dark robed figure that had plagued them for years
and all of its accompanying terror, the family still refused to be chased
away. Even after both Jean and Joe
saw the tall, shadowy figure with a hood standing in their bedroom doorway. They had been in bed
when they heard the door creak open and both turned to see
the terrifying apparition. Others reported seeing the tall figure in a long hooded garment as well at night. Frightened family members
heard loud, labored breathing outside of their doors, became clear
that Mr. nobody, or as he was increasingly known. As the monk. Was gaining power. It was if the creature fed off
of their fear, the activity would peak yet again. One evening,
when all of the lights went. Out. And Diane,
along with her mother and brother, would experience something dark that none of them would ever forget. As the family huddled together
in the dark, trying to find their way around the home, Diane suddenly,
as if she had been grabbed by large invisible
hands, was forcibly dragged up the. Stairs. By her throat. Colin Wilson. Who documented the events in his book,
noted that Diane’s cardigan was stretched out in front of her
as if the monk was tugging on it with one hand
while gripping her neck with the other. Roused by her screams and gaffs for air, Philip and Jean rushed to pull Diane
back down the stairs, but they were both repelled, thrown back by
what felt like a large clawed. Hands. Fighting for her life and on the verge of blacking out as she struggled. Diane,
fortunately, would ultimately be freed almost as quickly as she had
been attacked. Philip later explained that it was as
though his thought of trying to touch the. Presence. Had caused it to release his sister. When the family inspected the profusely
shaking and traumatized girl, once the lights turned back on, they would see
red hand marks around her neck. To say they were terrified
was perhaps an understatement. Although they collectively didn’t
want to leave their home, they desperately wished
for the entity to depart. The family would contact religious
figures. They would pray and sprinkle holy water
throughout the entire property. But despite their best efforts,
nothing seemed to work. In fact, these actions seemed
to exacerbate the disturbances, almost as if they were angering
the entity itself. But their. Efforts? One of Jo’s
friends recently returned from Scotland, recounted how people there
hung garlic over doors and. Windows to keep out spirits. Fascinatingly,
when the Pritchard’s followed suit, the activity diminished, eventually disappearing altogether. Thus, what began for the Pritchard’s
in August of 19. 66. Ceased after two. Years. By May of 1969, when Colin met with the family in 1980, he reported no ongoing activity. Although it’s not exactly clear
when the home would eventually find its way into the hands
of a man who was all too familiar with the paranormal
and investigator named Richard each step. If these accounts are true,
the events at Three’s Drive appear to be a classic case of Poltergeist activity,
similar to many other documented. Instances of. Spirit. Hauntings. Like the Enfield. Poltergeist. In 1977. The activity is often
centered around adolescents, and there were adolescents present
in this case as well. First, a 15 year old Philip in 19. 66. And then an aged 15. Diane in 1968. Wilson oddly noted
that nothing seemed to occur in the. House. While Diane was. At school. Objects even large and heavy
items like solid oak furniture were said to move on their own accord food to appearing irresistible
to the entity food it throws drive besides rotting
and being moved and displaced would also mysteriously manifest bite
marks, appearance of puddles of water
on the kitchen floor. At the beginning of the Pontefract case,
there’s also the hallmark of other Poltergeist. Occurrences. The respected parapsychology
researcher Guy Leon Playfair, suggested that the need puddles
found in the Pritchard home and others allegedly haunted by poltergeists might be some form of condensation of the energy. Used. By the. Entities. The activity disappearing as the children
transition from adolescence to adulthood is also consistent
with other poltergeist cases. Yet despite these. Claims. Many argue that activity at thi strive
never truly. Ceased. Asserting that it pre-dates the. Pritchard’s and. Their teenage children by over a decade. At the beginning of this story,
I referenced a test of mony from the Farrow family
and their two year old daughter, Jane, who had lived at the property
before the Pritchard’s. This particular testimony was presented
in the 2019 book The Black Monk of Pontefract in alleges
horrific events, including the baby
girl covered in scratch marks and told of the attempted suffocation
of the same child by what is presumed to be the same black monk entity
that haunted the Pritchard’s. However, it’s peculiar
that Jean and Joe didn’t report similar experiences
regarding their young children. Having taken over a 30 East drive from. The fairies in the. Mid-19th fifties. By the time of the alleged onset
of activity in August of 1966, they’d been in the house
for several years. Yet, as far as we know,
it didn’t target them in the same way. The Why would this be the case? Perhaps the poltergeist or whatever
it was. Maybe a demonic entity was in a state
of paranormal hibernation for a decade or more and was woken up, so to speak, for one reason or another. Yet this inconsistency becomes
all the more intriguing when one examines the 2019 book
The Black Smoke of Pontefract. Indeed, the authors
of the text paranormal researcher Richard Easthope
and the current owner of 30 East Strive film producer Bill Bungee, argue
that Bill Farrow and his family represent a previously unknown
origin of the Pontefract. Case. In their book. This new starting point is ultimately
used to support their conclusion that the black monk of Pontefract
is less likely to be a poltergeist and more likely to be a demonic entity,
one that remains on the property. To this day, it is indisputable
that the fair family not only existed but also lived at the property
before the Pritchard’s, and there’s ample record to prove this. In fact, the authors claims were allegedly
presented from Mr. Far in Self, but the family moved into 30 East Drive in September of 1954
and would leave within a year due to horrific activity
in the aforementioned book. The readers treated to Tales
of the Dark Monk, which are accompanied by many photographs of dark,
demonic entities captured within the. Walls of the home. Does this house still exist? It most certainly. Does. Today, the former council house. Is just as famous as. It is creepy. Those who visit the site have documented
many. Scratches
in. Suffolk’s hiding. Sensations. As well as capturing numerous photographs of the alleged black monk entity itself. These alleged pieces of evidence. Are. Accompanied with the two families
who lived there and the current. Owners experiences. We are left with more questions
than answers. A few of my questions. Are these. Just who was this black monk? If they did exist. What drove them to such madness? To abuse the young? Are they perhaps a man of God at one point and ultimately corrupted by darkness? The same darkness
that would corrupt them in life and consumed them in death? Perhaps this is what led to the violent
manifestations that affected all of. Those. Who cross the threshold of 30 East Drive. Was the entity a malevolent human spirit. A demonic entity, or a textbook case of poltergeist activity? All questions we truly may
never have the answers to, but one thing. Is certain. There was something that called the House
at 30 East Drive in Pontefract home,
something that was not. Of this world. A dark robed and lurking. Presence. That stalked those who dwelt there
in the land of the living. Perhaps it still lurks there, stalking, watching and waiting for the right time to awake and wreak havoc upon those. Of us who. Still breathe and whose. Hearts still beat. Thank you guys so much for watching this
special episode of Mystery Archives. I truly hope that you enjoyed this
deep dive. This episode was suggested by Oliver Gold, who wanted to dedicate this episode
to his late friend Kieran Lee. He said that they would have enjoyed
the episode as well, but had recently passed away. I hope I did the story Justice
for the both of you. My friend. Thank you again for suggesting this
incredibly interesting and spooky tale. Don’t forget to like this video. Subscribe with notifications on
and leave me a comment below. What you think the black monk was? And other than that. Last month’s limited designs are now gone and unfortunately unavailable forever. However, I do have some brand new limited. Merchandise that’s going. Up just now that will only be available
for the month of November. I’m planning on doing a two more limited
launches. This one that I just mentioned now
in November and another one in December. We’re going to do some special Christmas
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to be few and far between after these. In total, three drops are done,
so head on over to my official store. Check them out and support me in the channel and
get yourself something awesome to wear. After a terrifying encounter
with a demonic entity in the woods outside of their home,
two brothers find themselves under attack
by dark and malevolent. Forces. With no place or refuge from torment,
not even their own home. Will they escape the wrath of a real life
nightmare they have unearthed? Or will the darkness take them? This is the untold story
of the demonic Shadow Man. Case. That was experienced by. Brothers Tom and Tim Yancey, who. With the majority of my audience
not being subscribed. Please consider subscribing
with notifications on liking the video and leaving a comment
as well as checking out one of hundreds of videos
available on my channel. Thank you. Lake Worth, Florida. Founded in 1913, City Place, home to the Arts,
boasting festivals. Boutiques. Music venues and a historic theater. But amongst the. Songs. Paintings and acting, it is also the home to something evil that lurks just beneath the surface. In the late 19. Sixties. The Yancey family called Lake
Worth their home, living near the mostly underdeveloped
southern woods in the town at that time. Brothers Tim
and Tom, along with their father, Sonny and mother Barbara, up until this point,
had lived a rather quiet life. Tim would describe his childhood home as a very peaceful
and remote place to live. It was fairly isolated
and in the middle of nowhere, his mother, Barbara,
a beacon of light and joy. A woman who always had a diamond
smile upon her face. His father was a stern man, a battle hardened Korean War veteran who then worked as a carpenter
doing construction. Sonny suffered from PTSD or post-traumatic stress disorder
as a result of the war, and according to Barbara, was a totally
different person when he came back. He had been a sergeant in charge
of a mortar platoon during the war and would very rarely
speak of what had happened. Although both of the brothers later
would recall that he told them
a few different stories of his time there. One story that following a battle, he had to arrange for mass graves
to be dug and for. Bulldozers. To lay the dead to rest
while suffering with PTSD. Sonny
tended to have a short fuze on his temper. But for some reason, this particular summer had seemed to get inexplicably worse. Where the family lived was remote
and surrounded by lush woods, and prior
to being settled, the land where the house now stood had been heavily
utilized during the slave trade as well as being the home
to numerous bouts of. Violence. Between warring Native American tribes. So what The combinations
of the terrors of war and those experiencing persecution
over the years, these heavy emotions seem to leak into the earth,
in the woods, in and of themselves seem to become a beacon for darkness,
almost as if the black. Hearts of those. Who perpetrated the acts still rested
beneath the leaves. Sticks and stones. Of the forest floor. Playing together as brothers often do. Tim and Tom would spend much time
within those very same woods, bonding, exploring
and having a great time. Sonny had built a fort for the boys
to enhance their time spent out there, and at this time Tom was 12 years old
and Tim was seven. One chilly fall day as Tom ventured
into the woods alone as he approached the fort, he began to get an eerie feeling as if someone or something
was watching him with his inner voice, screaming. He bolted and ran inside the fort
as he peered through the openings in between the various boards and peeking
past the cloth covered windows. At first he saw nothing, but as his heart began to subside
from beating out of his chest, he began to hear the crunching
of crisp autumn leaves around him, and through the darkness of the boards, he sees a silhouette of a creature. Although the figure appears man like. Something tells him
that it’s not of this world. Tom Doing the sensible thing
runs for his life. Leaving the fort behind. Terrified at what he had just experienced. He decides to not tell anyone
about what had happened. As Tom ventures back to the house,
disturbed by what he had been through. Tim had entered through
another path in the. Woods. Blissfully
unaware of his brother’s plight. As the boy walks
the crisp path of dried leaves. He, too, begins to feel
as if he’s being watched. Then in front of him, up in the tree,
he sees something strange, something out of place there in the tree, with the environment reacting around it. There appears to be some kind of creature,
but this creature is either see through or it’s
reflecting its surroundings. Almost like a freakish distortion
of reality. Perhaps something that shouldn’t have been
within the confines of our reality. As his eyes grow larger with fear,
this entity begins to make its way down the tree and then lands in front of him,
mere feet away from the boy hitting the ground with a loud thud. This is enough to truly frighten
the young man, and he, too, similar to his brother, decides
to run for the house. The one place
a child should feel safe to be. Tim frantically
makes his way out of the woods and quickly into the arms of his mother, who was near
the front door of their house. After explaining things
as best as he could. Barbara calms him with the love
only a mother can provide, asking him to calm down. She tried her best to convince him
that it was perhaps an animal that he had startled
and that things would be okay. And although she did
what she could as well come to see, this would be far from
what would take place. The brothers, in due time, would discuss
the strangeness of their experiences. In the woods. With one another, confiding in each other
and trying to make sense of just what this thing or what
these things were. Fearing that even talking about
it could prompt a visit, the boys did their best to move on
and shift their focus to other activities,
fearing that if they spoke of it, they would invoke the wrath
of what they began to call the Shadow Man. During the day, things seemed to regain
a small amount of normalcy, but at night, the brothers began to see the very same figure outside, usually near the tree line, presenting a thick man
like shadow, always watching and lurking like a wild animal stalking its prey. One night, as the moon
peeks through the clouds overhead, Tim is jolted awake out of a sound sleep, with his eyes opening and slowly
adjusting to the darkness of his room. He tries to make sense
as to why he was suddenly woke up. Bessie glances towards his window with the faintest amount of moon
light illuminating the room. He sees a shadow go past. Scared, but getting up to investigate. He reluctantly. Looks. And he sees nothing. Thinking that perhaps his mind is playing
tricks on him. Tim laces
head back down to try and sleep again, but as he gets comfortable
right before he closes his eyes, he again sees this menacing shadow
passed by his window, attempting to wake up his brother
but unable to do so. He once again gathers the courage
to take a look through the window, peering around their yard
and towards the tree line there in the mist
emanating from the woods. He sees the shadowy outline of a man, and this man appears to be staring
directly into. His soul. From afar. It then suddenly begins
to rush towards him, absolutely petrified with fear. The young man lets out a blood
curdling scream. His brother quickly wakes up
and so do his parents, with Sonny
being the first inside the room. He asks just what is happening. After being told by Tim
that there was a man in the yard, he quickly grabs a flashlight and begins
sweeping the property. He ultimately would find nothing. Several weeks later,
as the boys slept in their room, 12 year old Tom starts acting strangely, waking up to the sound of footsteps. Tim sees his brother in the middle
of their room as he calls out to him. He receives no response, and Tom then begins to walk and leave the room. Calling out to their parents
as well as his brother. Tim continues to follow him as he descends the stairs, headed
towards their front door with. Sonny and Barbara rushing
close behind him. They watch as Tom heads
out of the front door and into the yard. As Tim would describe it later. It was
if he was being called out to something or there was something drawing him
into those woods. It was very frightening for me
because I knew there was something there and I didn’t understand
why this was all happening. Sonny is able to wake the boy up
as the four stand in the yard. Tom seemed to have been sleepwalk, unaware of what was taking place. Although this hadn’t happened previously, it was completely new to the family. This incident would be far from the last. For the next several weeks,
Tom would continue to sleepwalk. At times. With other members of the family, unaware
that he was missing. Tom would find himself
waking up next to the lake out in those foreboding woods
to try and keep the boy from. His parents began to implement measures
to keep him from leaving the house. Frustrated and understandably so,
having to get up late into the night. What soon became night after night with Tom often able
to maneuver his way out of locked. Rooms. They took to stacking chairs
in front of the boys room in hopes that this would prevent Tom
from escaping and potentially hurting himself
under one of. His spells. Later that night, after the family
had gone to bed, Tom took to waking up as per usual as he aimlessly tries
to unlock the door to their room. He wakes up Tim, fearing that
his brother would wake up their father. He tries to get him to wake up and realize
just what he’s doing. And while this is taking place,
the closet door directly across the room
from Tom begins to shudder. And then it. Opens. By itself. Then, as if he was being controlled
like a marionette puppet, Tom would turn around, face the closet,
and then walk inside. Hide. Then with the boy inside, the door would shut behind him once again, seemingly by itself, as if it were operated by unseen hands. Tim scared, but also transfixed on
what was taking place. Began to hear a conversation. He heard his brother speaking. Then he heard another voice. A low, gravelly, deep voice. This frightens the young Tim so bad
that despite his fear of his father, he calls out to his parents
for protection. And thankfully, his parents heed the call as they rush to push the chairs aside. They finally do, and then throw the door
open to find out just what had happened. Now, Tim,
pointing to the closet, indicates that Thomas inside,
heading to the closet door and opening it. They find the boy
sat down inside, now apparently awake. Upon asking him just what was going
on, all Tom could say was that there was a man in here in later
interviews. Tom would say that he remembers waking up
inside the darkness of the closet to the voice of a man, and then, upon
speaking with him towards the back of the closet,
he saw two red eyes. Staring. Back at him. Despite knowing of their son’s
sleepwalking, his parents tried to argue that he was clearly messing
around in the closet, possibly playing with toys. They then scolded both of the boys
for waking them up yet again in the weeks to come, as their parents
grow increasingly angry. The Yancey brothers continue to experience
the abysmal force that they have come to refer to
as the Shadow Man. One night, the entity seems to find a new way of terrorizing the brothers. Tim has suddenly woken up
when he begins to feel small Things hit his comforter and mattress, feeling where the objects had fallen. His hands
discover rocks like small pebbles and thinking it was his brother
messing with him. He asked him to stop and then laid
his head back down onto his pillow. And then more of them started falling pelting the blanket that covered him. He now knows for certain it is not Tom because he’s looking directly at him. He as fast. Asleep as the rocks continue
falling on to him. He then discovers leaves
and then pine cones as well. Then he feels something drop onto his head and this something begins to crawl, prying off
whatever this thing was and throwing it. The boy begins to scream. Barbour soon comes to his aid, and upon
turning on the lights, she too, finds the. Stones. Pinecones, leaves and to her surprise, giant Florida cockroaches. It was as if the shadow man
was brewing again things from the woods. But for what reason remained unclear. It was with this incident
that Barbara began to notice that perhaps it wasn’t
just the boys imaginations at work. Perhaps there was
something terrorizing them. In the weeks that followed this incident. Barbara, too, begins to notice
the ever growing hostile environment within the home and soon begins to seek. Answers. From any and all sources. While her husband is at work
and her children are at school, she purchases a Ouija board
and upon returning home, places it on the coffee table in the living room,
not being into the occult previously. She doesn’t really know what she’s doing, but wants to do her best to communicate
with whatever could be there and to try and seek answers
as to why it was tormenting her family. She tries to make contact but doesn’t receive any answers. Later that day,
the family retires to their. Beds to catch some. Sleep. Little did they know of Barbara’s attempts
to contact the other side, and little did they know that hell was about
to be unleashed upon them. As everyone drifts off to dreamland. Tim once again finds himself
being woken up out of a dead sleep. Perhaps it was his intuition. It’s hard to know for sure why, but as he wakes up and sits up in his bed, he sees a dark hand emerge
from the closet in their room. As the familiar fear grips. And he gets up and shakes
his brother Tom, awake. And to Tom’s disbelief as he looks ahead
where his brother is pointing, he too, sees the hand and then a more fuller
figure begins to emerge from the closet,
opening before both of their eyes. A shadowy figure. Emerges. Casting itself on to the wall. With glowing red eyes. Staring at them. It begins to climb
horizontally on the wall towards them, with the brothers absolutely shaken to their core. They scream for their parents
as the figure dissipates, as if it was never there. The two then rush out of their bedroom and run up to their parent’s bedroom. And although apprehensive
because of their father, they would rather deal with his wrath than that of the shadow Man doing a knock and then opening their door. Tim leads
the boys and calls out to their parents. He tells them that the man was back and that he was on their wall like a fly. This bizarre statement from his son
and the continuous lack of sleep prompts Sonny to explode. He tells the boys that there is no mand
that they’re dealing with the boogie man and that the boogie man
does bad things to bad kids. And if they were good,
he would simply just go away. With tears in his eyes. Tim and his brother would make their way
back to their bedroom. Tim would later recall this notion
that I was a bad kid, that I had done something wrong
and that something had come to punish me for my misdeeds is something
that has stuck with me my entire life. I didn’t know what I had done
to deserve this. From that point on, the boys keep silent
about the nightmare experiences that they had had with the entity
known to them as the Shadow Man. But the. Entity seems. To grow ever. But even though they have been silent, the rage that dwells within their father,
Sonny, also continues to grow. Tim later again would say he seemed to
not understand what was happening in the House, and this led
to a lot of family dysfunction. Whether this attracted
whatever this thing was. To us. Or it
fed off of the negative. Emotions or. Whatever,
there was some kind of connection there. These entities seem to do this,
and it’s like a coupling. The entity attaches itself to a family and then continues to cause problems and seems to derive energy from this. As time passes, the boys find themselves awake On the night of Christmas Eve being rambunctious kids,
as some of us were. They decided to sneak downstairs
to take a peek at some of their Christmas. Presents. Under the family tree in the living room. The boys seem to be successful, not alerting their parents
to their sneaky endeavors downstairs when suddenly, loud, booming knocks begin to come from upstairs trying to figure out
what could be causing it. They realize that they seem
to be originating from their room downstairs
upon their mantle next to the tree. Their mother had set up a nativity scene
showing Mary, Joseph and Baby Jesus as the banging intensifies further. The scene begins to shake and move. It then drops to the floor, shattering the porcelain figures, the breaking
only adding to the cacophony of sound now reverberating
all throughout the house. Then the heavy footsteps of their father
cuts. Through the noise. As he descends the stairs. The boys are trapped. He is pissed. Then he finds
the shattered porcelain figures. And this further enrages him as he interrogates the boys as to what
they could have been doing. The boys deny causing the. Sounds. Or breaking the figures, but
this too, only serves to deepen his rage Since the boys, quote, wanted to stay up, they could do so outside
using his scare tactic. He marches the boys outside
and into the yard, right near the tree line of the forest. He tells them that he was going
to get a good night’s sleep and they were to stay outside all night. Little does he know,
he has inadvertently delivered his sons into the arms of perdition. The air is cold and bites at their skin as a large moon hovers above them and the low rustle of leaves around them. The two young men,
despite their best efforts to comfort one another, are absolutely paralyzed
with fear as they stand
in the darkness of the night. They both suddenly hear the crunching of leaves
from behind them. Upon turning around,
they are besieged by the shadow Man yet again,
screaming for their mothers. They run up to their deck. They beg to be let back into the house. Finally, their mothers woke up and forces their father to come with her
and let the boys back in, finding the punishment to be cruel, especially since she knows herself that there are things at work
that none of them understand. Tim would later say this when interviewed. My father’s anger continued to grow, and he became increasingly frustrated. He would blame the noises. On us. And his punishments were severe. The goal of this monster
seemed to be to create more anger, more chaos,
and more depression within our family. The situation grew bleaker day after day on a cold and stormy night as Tim laid in his bed,
it was all too familiar. Lee woken up without warning. This time, however,
something was different. His sheets and blankets
were pulled from him, as Tim would later say. You know something’s there. It’s in the room with you
and you’ve got to reach down and pull those sheets back up. The boy reaches down to do
just that, peering down as he grabs them off the floor. He thankfully doesn’t see anything, pulling them back over himself
now laying back down. He once again tries to get comfortable
to sleep as he starts to drift off. He then feels the sharp, searing pain
on the right side of his ribs. Feeling
this pain, his eyes pop open to find what appears to be a long, bony hand
coming from underneath his sheets. Scared for his life, the boy screeches and runs
as fast as his legs will carry him. But being this scared,
he had his blinders on because he ran directly into the door
that was locked to try and prevent his brother from sleepwalking
and ultimately leaving the house. He smacks into the door
with a visceral crack, screaming in pain
and crashing to the ground. This prompted the attention
of his parents, who came into the room
to discover their son writhing in agony. They would
quickly rush him to the hospital and it would turn out that Tim had broken
both of his. Collarbones. Following this event. As the months turned to years,
things from here did not get any better
for the Yancey family. Tom being the oldest when he became old enough, left the house
as quickly as he could. No longer able to deal
with the dark forces that dwelled there. Tim, Sunny
and Barbara would not see him for years. Details past
this point are practically non-existent, but I will do my best
to bring a conclusion to this very haunting case based on what
I could find over the next 30 years. Tom would play college football and then
become a career firefighter fighter. Tim Given all the experiences
he experienced before and after his brother left, would become a paranormal investigator
and a park ranger. Drifting apart as people do. They wouldn’t reconnect
until after their parents were gone. Sunny and Barbara had continued
to live at the same house. The two had grown up in and had had
all of their shadow man experiences. When the brothers inherited the house, they came back together to decide
just what to do with it. Tom, who had done practically everything
to never return to the. House. Would later recall that he had a sickening
feeling in the pit of his stomach. Upon entering the house again, saying that it was just an evil,
sickening feeling. As the brothers discussed things,
it would become apparent that Tim wanted to move back into the home
with his wife and reclaim it. So after working out a deal amongst
themselves, that’s exactly what Tim did. And by moving back in, he intended
to cleanse the home, to rid themselves once and for all of this ominous presence
that had caused them so much pain. The entity they knew as the Shadow man
prior to moving in. Tim would out to his friend Roy
Hall, who had dealt with violent hauntings for many years to help him perform
a cleansing ritual of the home. Roy believed
that entity was demonic in nature and haunted the family
because Tim’s father was abusive. Sonny, who was a Korean War veteran, probably
saw a good amount of the horrors of war. He believed that because of Sonny’s PTSD,
that perhaps the entity had been attached to the land
and had seen this and exploited these problems
as an entry into their lives, where it continued to wreak havoc upon
all of them. As Roy would say, and interviews,
these entities seek to cause further dysfunction. They feed upon it. The two men on a rainy and dreary
afternoon would step into the home together. Roy would begin to pick up on the ominous,
thick atmosphere, almost immediately, lighting
incense and beginning various prayers. The two men go from room to room cleansing
as they walk throughout the house. They sense that the presence
is stronger than Tim and Tom’s old room, calling out to God to cleanse the house
of all evil and negativity. The process took about an hour,
but following it, the energy in the house seemed to be rid once
and for all of the shadow man. Tim recalled that things felt different. They felt much lighter,
as if we had displaced the negative energy within the home. In August of 2009, Tim, his wife Trish and son Gabriel, all moved
into the Lakewood, Florida, home. Although they never experienced anything to the degree
the boys did while growing up within it, there still seem to be an undercurrent
of evil just right below the surface. In closing. It is believed that the dysfunction
of the Yancey household was more than likely far worse
than what the sons portrayed publicly. But to what extent? I’m not sure. I did my best to dig as deep as I could, and I believe Tim
and Tom are both still alive, with Tim still being a consultant to various
paranormal groups across the country. I did want to say that their story
was a terrifying and a harrowing one, and although somewhat anticlimactic
in the end. As we know here on this channel, things don’t always work out the way
we want them to. In cases, don’t always have
some kind of ultimate showdown. But a few questions
I was left with after researching this case were just
what was the shadow man? Was it a demon? Did it exploit the vulnerabilities
of the family, particularly Sunny, in order to create a feedback
loop of negativity in which it could enrich itself with? And although from the outside looking in those that are still with us
who were involved seemed to be doing okay. But just how has surviving the Haunting affected these two men on a daily basis? Do they still think about it, as I
occasionally do, with my own experiences? All questions
I may never have answers for, but one thing is certain
There was something evil that stalked the. Woodlands surrounding. The Yancey home. Something stalking
like a predator seeking prey. And all the things seem to be dormant
for now. These malevolent. Entities. May still be watching and lurking
just beneath the. Surface. Waiting for the moment to strike. Don’t let their victim be you. Thank you
guys so much for watching this new video. Please let me know what you thought
down to the comments below and if you have any particular cases that you’d like me
to research and cover, let me know. Don’t forget to like this video. Subscribe with notifications on
and consider checking out the YouTube membership program
and or supporting me on Patreon. It has been said
that many have been plagued by ancient demonic forces from Mesopotamia to more modern times. These evil and terrifying entities are said to enter our world and wreak havoc
upon those who dwell within it. These are the team Anthology Archives. My name is Cody
and for years I have studied and investigated the paranormal,
and part of my fascination. And many others. Is the. Existence of demons. This new mini series aims to explore the origins, symbols and. Stories. Surrounding particular. Demons. Just where they are said to come from,
what they are and who they are. So if demonology fascinates you, I urge you to watch until the end, because you may just learn something
that you didn’t know before. Real quick, I wanted to let you guys know
that I have brand new and limited edition merchandise that is only available
for the month of October. Designs that were made in collaboration
with a great friend of the channel phobia icon. Now I’ll be in Scotland filming
from October the 10th until the 25th. So all orders that come through
because I process all of them myself, will essentially be preorders
and will be shipped out after the 25th. With that being said, it’s
available on my official channel Shopify store
linked below and tagged here. You can also save money by bundling
a merch item with a copy of my book. And if you’re a channel member or patron,
I will be giving out an additional 10% discount to you
to thank you for supporting me. These will only be available this month
and once they’re gone, they’re gone for good. So grab
the more you can to support the channel. It’s some awesome merch and rip yours
truly today. Thank you. Today we will be deciphering the strange and complex entity known as Zozo. In our first. Episode. Zozo is allegedly a fallen angel, one of the original angels
who sided with Lucifer and who were banished from the heavens
eons ago by God during the Great Fall. Zozo, or at least under this current name, is a relatively recent phenomenon, only mostly emerging
in the mid to late 20th and now 21st centuries. The name Zozo is attributed
to the name Pazuzu, which is a mesopotamian demon,
which an ancient Mesopotamian religion. Pazuzu is a personification
of the southwestern wind and held kingship over the lively wind
demons. Depending on who you ask
or what sources you cite, Pazuzu is either considered
a good or white magic entity, or an evil or black magic entity considered as both a destructive
and dangerous wind, but also as a repellant to other demons, one who safeguards the home
from their influence. In particular,
he protects pregnant women and. Mothers. Whom he could defend
from the machinations of the demon. This Lamassu is rival. He is invoked in ritual,
and representations of him are used as David’s charms. It is known as a demon of the home,
a domestic spirit. Then secondly, as the wandering wind demon
traversing the. Mountains. Seeking to destroy the. Innocent. The main representation of the white magic
belief is the well-documented
use of Pazuzu in Mesopotamia, via its inhuman and grotesque
form, was used to frighten away unwanted. Guests. As well as prevent his when demon subjects
from entering the home and wreaking havoc, as well as warding off
rivals and disease. His role in ritual and magic is documented
inscriptions on the backs of his. Statues. Or in ritual texts, spells, incantations and special artifacts which were used to gain the favor
and protection of the demon. Such artifacts were often placed in
and around the home or worn on the. Person. To achieve the desired effect. When favor was gained with the demon. Amulets were typically given
and worn by pregnant women to protect their unborn from other evil. Forces or demonic spirits. Large numbers of Pazuzu heads
have been discovered, made from a variety of materials, chiefly terracotta,
but also bronze, iron, gold, glass and bone. These heads often featured holes
or loops at the top, allowing them to be worn on necklaces. Occasionally,
the heads would be attached to cylinder. Seals. Or worn as brooches as well. Some of these heads have been found
in various graves. The current name of Soso is often
attributed to the Romanized naming
of the ancient Mesopotamian demon Pazuzu. The other was named and believed
to have been the main demon that possessed Roland Doe or later
revealed to be a boy at that time named Ronald Edwin Honkala, who was born June the first of 1935 and passed away May 10th of 2020. Ronald had accessed or opened a door
to the other side using a Ouija board, the most common tool associated
with conjuring this demon and many. Others. Which we’ll explore later on. The name Zozo was changed. To Pazuzu. And along with the Possession,
were written about in a book called The. Exorcist. Which was inspired
by the Ronald Honkala case by now famous author William Peter Blatty. The book was later adapted to the infamous and also arguably film of The Exorcist, which was released in 1973. The name Zozo was also mentioned
in the French Demonic and Encyclopedia as one of the. Demons who was. Responsible for diabolical possession
and corruption within the book. It tells of a case dating back to 1816
where a girl was possessed, and Zozo, as well as several other demons, are mentioned to have been present. Although with loose associations
with older deities, Sosa’s notoriety, as previously mentioned,
is relatively recent. The first widely
publicized mention of Zozo, or the one that most people are aware of, appeared in a 2009 online forum post by a man named Darren Evans,
who detailed him and his family’s terrifying encounters
with the entity following Ouija board. Sessions. And that these encounters
persisted for years. Since then, numerous individuals
have reported similar experiences, claiming Zozo communicates
through the board, often spelling out its name in a repetitive
and ominous manner. The etymology of the name Zozo is unclear,
with some suggesting that it might be a corrupted
or disguised form of other demonic names. However, its consistent appearance
and spirit board. Sessions. Have cemented its identity
as a distinct and malevolent entity. Besides the name Zozo. It also has appeared under other names such as Zozo, Zaza, Zuzu, Mama and the Bacchus. Some calling cards of the. Demon, so to speak. Are when using the board. The planned shed is known
to move on its own, sometimes in a rainbow pattern,
moving from side to side, spelling Zozo over and over again. This is also known as the Rainbow Effect. It has also been known to make a figure
eight, creating an infinity. Symbol. With a more modern. Of Zozo. Some believe that its power
could be being strengthened through what’s known as an agreed gore
or collective group of thought form created by cultists. For certain purposes. Although this seems unlikely because
the entity does not appear to serve any. Human desire. Other than to destroy. The person. Or people it comes into contact with,
if it’s able to agree, Gores are typically formed
to bring control over a deity. Or the person or group’s intentions. Perhaps instead of an agreed Gore,
there is a Cold War. Zozo. Strengthening its reach in power
through thought form and with wider exposure, the more powerful
the entity becomes. This is also known as forming a Tolba. A torpor is a being or thought form that is created through intense
concentrate action and spiritual practice, typically emerging in the form of a human. Though the term is borrowed from Tibetan
Buddhism, the idea of a torpor in modern paranormal law is slightly different
from what is found in Tibetan. Traditions. Being added to modern lore. After journalist
John Kiel mentioned them in his 1975 book The Mothman Prophecies. Reports often describe Zozo
as malevolent and deceptive, using the Ouija board to frighten, confuse and manipulate those attempting
to communicate with spirits. Those who have encountered the entity have
been asked by it to chant out or spell. Phrases or. Various. Words. And Hebrew or Latin, which has convinced
many of the intelligence of the being that they were speaking
with when encountering the demon. One find shadows
appearing on the walls around you or the surrounding environment, if not. Indoors. Almost as if you’re seeing past veil
to a dark world that exists
just beyond your normal frame of vision. Many users report that their sessions
take a dark turn when SOS becomes involved, often
leading to feelings of dread, anxiety and even physical harm. This connection has made Zozo
a symbol of the potential dangers of spirit, communication
and the unknown entities that might be encountered
through such practices. The Ouija board, however, is not
the only way that Zozo makes itself known. It also shows itself through other means such as sudden
hypnosis, automatic writing. Sessions. And electronic voice phenomena, otherwise known as EVP. When it comes through, was an EVP. It may do so masquerading
as something positive, like a deceased family member,
a loved one or friend. Typically mimicking the voices of the
dead is one of its specialty. The entity seems to love watching his victims squirm
with confusion and oftentimes seeming to take pleasure when the gullible human believes its lies. The entity also appears to be sadistic
in nature and loves watching friends fall out over the lies,
typically revealing half truths. Or secrets. To sow discord. It or he is a master deceiver. Which is not surprising considering
the devil or Lucifer is claimed to be the father of all lies, and Zozo
allegedly being one of the original. Demons. Who fell alongside him. If you have truly made contact
with the Zozo, do your best not to panic. It feeds off of fear. If the contact is made
during a Ouija board session, close out the session by saying goodbye. Do not use the same board again and body
the old board with holy water post session do not speak its name and sage. The area or have it blessed,
especially if it is your home and use sage to cleanse yourself to avoid
Zozo set boundaries for the ghosts or any spirits
before you start a Ouija board session. Also, don’t taunt him or try to summon Zozo can possess you or make you go crazy, causing a potential mental breakdown. You can also make your nose bleed
and it can cause bruises and cuts. A more recent story I found online was of a young lady named April. She had decided to play with a Ouija board
with some friends one night after moving in with her sister. She had dealt with Ouija boards
before, but had no negative impact previously. When the group sat down
and put their fingers on the plan shed, they didn’t open the session by saying
that they mean no disrespect, act and letting them know
that they had nonbelievers in the group. They asked if anyone was there
and the playing chat moved to yes. Then when they asked who it was, the play and chat spelled out Zozo. They should have ended the session. There. But instead they asked
what the spirit wanted and it replied her. The group asked, What do you mean? Who is her? Zozo then said, I want her. And then spelled the name April. The Spirit then kept spelling out
Zozo, go. And I want her. April,
who out of fear, lashed out at the board. The board
then quickly began to spell out death. After being told not to provoke the spirit
further by the rest of the group who were visibly freaked out,
they would continue to ask questions until the and chat started to feel hot
underneath their fingers. The planned chat
then started to spell out Mama. One of the friends who was too scared
refused to play anymore. Then the mood changed. April no longer felt like herself. She began to laugh and cry uncontrollably, and she then began to lash out at everyone
present. As the board continued
to spell out the name of the with those who were more experienced
rushing to say goodbye after doing so, April
somehow would return back to her old self, but had no memory of what had transpired while she was allegedly
under the entity’s control. Other than Darren Evans and Roland
Doe’s stories. Other possible encounters
other than those self reported on the Internet have been the doors
bid, their case in Los. Angeles. In 1972, when, after using a Ouija board, she encountered a dark entity
that then plucked her and her family. Another case
I have covered, which I’ll leave a link to the description below
the infamous Enfield Poltergeist case,
which took place in Enfield, England, where a family was plagued
by a sinister and malevolent force which occurred during the years of 1977 to 1979. In 2012, in Tombstone, Nevada, a small group of soldiers were off duty
and decided to mess around with a Ouija board
just for fun. They allegedly made contact
with the Spirit who told them that he had died
in Tombstone. And on the way back,
the man who was driving the vehicle allegedly got possessed
and almost killed the. Others. In a deliberate car crash
before the demon left him. Following regaining consciousness, the man had no memory of what he had done. I tell Darren Evans story, along with some additional
information, diving into. Zozo. On the untold story of the demonic Zozo. House. Of Oklahoma linked here on screen. If you would like to hear the terrifying
and harrowing story of Darin and his family dealing with this entity, something that I haven’t said
publicly until now is that I didn’t speak with Darin
directly, but rather with a verified close friend of his
who went by the name of Butch. He told me that Darren won’t even speak
the Demons name for fear of its return,
that the experiences were very real and that he had dealt with them for years, that they destroyed him for whatever reason, whether it’s the result of an angry Gore
making tollbooths, collective, strengthening a cold or just raised public consciousness. The demon known as Zozo
has become a popular part of modern paranormal culture,
appearing in numerous. Books, movies. Videos and stories via internet forums and some by yours truly. It certainly shows
no signs of slowing down in popularity any time soon. But make no mistake,
Zozo is known for being dangerous and should not be sought out or summoned. The occult is not a joke and should not practiced
by the majority of people, in my opinion. So please be safe. Be smart when dealing with the paranormal, especially the darker side of things. Or you may just encounter Zozo or another entity
from the darkest of realms, those of which we will continue to uncover here
on the Demonology Archives. I hope you learn something new. And if you enjoyed me trying this new. Mini series. And or the video in general,
give it a like, share it around and subscribe
with notifications on and leave a comment
letting me know your thoughts down below. Throughout history it has been speculated that many have been plagued
by an ancient demonic from Mesopotamia to more modern times. This evil and terrifying entity is said to enter our world and wreak havoc
upon. Those who. Dwell within. When a seemingly normal family
disregards the. Warnings. And partakes in multiple. Ouija board sessions. What happened next nearly destroyed them. This is the untold story
of the demonic Zozo. Owls. Of Oklahoma
and the abhorrent creature stalks. Its walls. Oklahoma City, a small but growing city
in the heartland of America known for blue collar work and brick and mortar shops. Red dirt and sports. Would soon become known for something much darker. A teenager by the name of Darren. Evans. Was growing up here,
a normal boy, by all accounts, doing things that any teenagers
would enjoy hanging out with friends Chandana Egan’s here and there and dating girls. He began dating a girl named Brandi who attended school with him,
and the two found themselves visiting each other
as often as they could. Whether that was walking to
and from school in between classes or visiting each other’s homes. One day, while Brandy’s home
was having some plumbing work. Done on some pipes. Located the. House. The plumber doing the work would soon
make a strange discovery. Located below the foundation of the home covered in dirt was an old Ouija board. The front letters were partially buried in the back of the board
was solid black and color. Off to the side of where the board was found was an aged plain shirt. What made this finding even more bizarre
was that four old jars sat on. The corners of the board,
speckled with dirt as well. Thinking perhaps the kids had stashed the board away
and forgot about it. The worker told the young couple
after his. Work was done. About what he found. And it’s from here that things seemingly take a darker turn. Upon examining the discovery, they began
to brush the dirt away from the jars. They were then shocked by what they found inside each one of the jars. Sitting on the. Four corners of the board
where the decaying bodies of blackbirds, congealed blood and. Matter still present. Bewildered but intrigued. They sat the jars off to the
side and picked up the board. As soon as his fingers made contact
with the board, Darin seemed to have an instant connection
with it. And with this. Soon came a burning curiosity to examine. And this curiosity would manifest. Into obsession with this. The couple took the board inside the home where they spoke with Brandy’s mother. She actively practiced
the Wiccan religion, but had no idea
who could have put the board there. Several days
later, curious as most teenagers are, Darin was an avid music fan, and one night, after building up
the courage to do it, he decided he was going to contact the deceased
singer of the popular band AC DC. A man named Ronald Belford. Scott using the board. Scott had passed away
from alcohol poisoning in 1980 after lighting several candles, laying the board
with letters facing towards him and placing the plan chat upon the board. He began his session. At first, nothing seemed to happen but Darin was still feeling
this otherworldly connection. To something within the board itself. After trying for half an hour to his shock amazement, the plant shed began to move slowly at first and then frantically began
to move by itself. Moving from Z. To o Z to O over and. Over and over again, spelling out the name Soso. Shocked and unsure of what or who he had contacted,
Darin said goodbye in an attempt to end. The session. Before his eyes. He saw the plain Chet
spell out C, see the town, and then it threw itself across the room. A Now terrified and bewildered,
Darin ran out of his room and tried to make sense
of what had just taken place. But this was. Just beginning of what was to come. It started with horrible nightmares. He would wake up, unable to move or speak
and would hear. Whispering in his nerves. These episodes that night were soon
followed by banging and knocking throughout his house
during the daytime, as well as the constant feeling
as if he was being watched. By something he couldn’t see. But despite the presence. He. Was feeling, Darin now sought answers. His ever growing list of. Questions. Just what exactly he had uncovered. So He continued to hold. Sessions with the board. For better or for. Worse. Darin would later quote. This. The sessions
now were as intense and paranormal as anything I’ve ever witnessed. A deep and terrible moaning could be heard
emanating through the walls. After those sessions. I developed sleep paralysis and became reclusive
to society in general. I was once again
messing with Zozo and Ouija boards. Despite the terrors
of my earlier sessions, which I had promised myself
I would never do it again. But again and again I did. When not in use,
the board was kept in a purple silk cloth
and stored in his bedroom closet. He would also often go missing, sometimes for days on end when checking back where he had placed it. In order to set up
and initiate a new session, the board would seemingly vanish
only to reappear at random. Times. As if it was the one calling
the shots is when it could be. Seen and used. The years came and went and the sessions on the mystical Ouija board continued. Darin, by this time, started his friends to partake in the sessions,
and although. Their sessions. With him would prove. He’s not insane. It’s of little consolation considering
the tragedy it would seemingly. Manifest. Later on. Darren’s best friend was a man
by the name of Randy. The two had bonded over their love
for the band AC. DC in high school
and had been inseparable ever since. Randy’s idol also being the late Bon Scott, whose lifestyle seemingly
imprinted upon the youthful teens once upon a time
and perhaps would ultimately lead to the downfall of one of them. By now,
Darren was living in his own apartment and working construction at, a job. Site he was on. He would make his strange
but familiar discovery as he was digging down into the earth. He found what appeared to be a jar. Upon picking it up to discard it. He wiped away the dirt and debris, only to be shocked
by its familiar contents. Alone and behold, within the jar was a congealed and rotting blackbird. Extremely similar
if not identical to the ones initially found alongside the Ouija board underneath
his high school girlfriend’s home. All years. Ago it was particularly weird
not just because of. This. But the fact that he had found it. Digging down deep into the earth, he wondered what were the odds of this? And although he had no way of knowing
for sure, his gut began to tell them that there was some kind of witchcraft
or pull expertise at play here. Perhaps someone or a group of people
were contacting this entity. Known as Soso. Though for what remained to be known. One evening in 1980, Darin and Randy were relaxing
at Darren’s apartment when they decided to host a session
on the Ouija board. Randy More than anything, wanted to try and make contact
with his late idol. Bon Scott. While wearing a Highway to Hell AC DC. Randy’s and terms. Clear the two dimmed,
the lights lit a couple of. Candles. And began the session upon the. They made contact within a few. Minutes. Once the plancha was moving. Randy exclaimed. We want to talk to Bon Scott of AC DC. With this sentence. The plain Chet seemingly obliged. It moved in circles, eventually spelling out a wily M-80. The two looked at each other in amazement. The entity was using Australian dialects, and for anyone who doesn’t know, Bon Scott was. After several more. Questions. Both of the young men were convinced. They were. Speaking with their idol. The spirit seemed to know
every little detail to any question they. Asked during the session. The entity then made a strange request. From them that. It asked them to light. A cigaret. And place it in
the hole in the plane chair. But proceeded to make both of them laugh,
also made them quite spooked as well. So they lit a couple. Cigarets. One for each of them and one for. This entity. They took a few drags to it away and then placed a cherry side
up in the chat hole. The bland chat then spelled out things. They then watched in utter amazement as the cherry of the cigaret lit up, as if Bon himself
was taking puffs off of him. But this amusement was short lived. Once the cigaret
had seemingly been smoked, the playing chat
began to spell something very different. It’s spelled f you, Randy. I will have your soul
and I’ll see you in hell. Zeo CEO Terrified. The men quickly ended the session
by saying goodbye and tossing the. Board outside the second. Storey apartment balcony door. Clearly scared and upset. Randy also didn’t take kindly to threats. He began cussing out. Zozo. With complete and utter rage. The board would later
be returned by his downstairs neighbor, and after this session,
a series of lows for both of them that seemed to manifest in years to come. Influenced by the lifestyle, his idol, Randy, fell victim to alcoholism. He soon would lose his wife to divorce
and have split custody. With his son. And although many opportunities
presented themselves for Randy to better his life
for one reason or another, he was always just too far away
to be able to grasp them. He often said to Darin, I feel like I’m in a prison. And I can’t escape. For old time’s sake. The two did one last Ouija board. Session. Together in 2000. And five. In which Randy asked
the board how he would die. The board responded in a car at night alone. In 2007,
after spending the evening with Darin, the last words he would say to him
were, Darin, I will see you in hell. The next morning, Darin received a phone call from Randy’s
girlfriend, Alicia, saying that Randy never made it home
after he left. Instead
He had passed away in a violent head on collision,
ultimately passing away in a car at night and alone. This devastating passing, along with the
frequent contact with the entity known as. Zozo. Over the years, led to a fascination and borderline obsession
with a search for answers for Darin. As it was. During the time before
and after Randy’s death. He had been living in a home in Oklahoma
City, Oklahoma, that would become. Synonymous with the dean’s name. It was here that the afflictions brought on by
the entity would take place to him and his family. Darren’s fascination with the occult
led him to hanging on to and possessing
multiple Weegee boards and other various occult objects. It was here that he began to study
on a much more in-depth and organized basis,
just trying to figure out who. Or what it was. But this research
would soon be interrupted, and this home lived himself. His wife Kathleen,
and their young daughter at the time during a session with his wife, Kathleen. One evening while their daughter
slept rooms away, Zozo would once again make. Itself present in their lives. But this time seemed to take possession
of Darren. Kathleen trembled with fear and bated breath
as something stared at her. Through Darren’s eyes. Something that clearly wasn’t human. He then turned violent, attempting to attack her. Fortunately for Kathleen,
she was able to say goodbye and get away
before any harm could be done to her. Several minutes
later, Darren would come back to. Himself. With no memory of what it taken. After this session, things seemed to escalate in intensity. Sounds began
to wrap throughout the entire home, from knocking to hissing. Footsteps and bang. All seemingly with no explainable origin. The family got so terrified
that they sectioned off a particular bedroom upstairs,
calling it their safe room. One night, however. Not everyone was within the safe room. Suddenly, an overwhelming sense of terror creeped upon Darren
as he was. Trying to sleep. He rushed to the safe room to attempt to. Stop what he was. Feeling, but quickly realizing
he couldn’t leave his family behind. He rushed back out of the room
and then attempt to gather, bring them to. Safety as well. As he was heading towards the stairs. His daughter had heard his cries,
but was now at. The foot of the stairs. It was here
that Darren saw her being lifted by invisible hands into the air and, carried away from screaming for his child
as she screamed for her father. Darren ran down the stairs
as fast as he possibly could. But couldn’t see her anywhere in sight. He then heard her muffled screams coming from the basement. At first
the door was locked and wouldn’t open. But after adrenaline and brute force, Darren, thankfully, was able to open it. He then retrieved his hysterical child and brought her to the safety of the safe
room. Once inside the room,
the family huddled together, fear as they continued to hear movement. And noises all throughout the house. After
this abhorrent nightmare of a situation, the family knew
they had to get out of the house. This situation
and the many other paranormal. Experiences had. Led to a lifelong fascination for Darren. Evans. With the occult and finding out just. Exactly what so. So with. The was it worth jeopardizing. His safety? It took some time,
but the family would soon relocate to another home once
his family was safe. Dan was able to continue his deep dive
into the unknown to try and track down and decipher
just what this entity could be
and where it came from. And although he knew the topic was vast, I think it went far deeper
than he ever anticipated. Whilst trying to dig up more information,
he posted his experiences. To. An old paranormal form in 2000. And nine. And since then, many,
many people have shared their. Experiences. With the demonic force, many of which have been documented
and compared by Darren. Himself on his website. But these experiences are not just a 21st or even 20th century phenomenon. They date back far older than that. Not every fine
detail will be mentioned here, but I will do my best to list
the most important. Details. That I could find in regards
to the origin of Zozo. According to Darren and other online
sources, Zozo in the old Basque language means blackbird or crow. The Zippy Belle of Haiti
practiced a form of voodoo whose rituals involve
horrific scarification as well as the intake
and passing around of bodily fluids and bizarre rituals. Their witchdoctors are called
Zozo and wear demonic looking. Masks. As part of their death ritual. When someone is passing away,
they lift up the mask at the moment of death
to take in the person’s final. This is
apparently done to absorb the soul. Of the person. To gain more spiritual power. Zozo also, in the Malay
language is the same as it is in English, but it translates to wandering spirit,
which is a spirit they believe to steal people’s souls
while they sleep. Which is also bizarre
because sleep is often considered the cousin of death. Zozo has been called
Minister of Deception. It is known to convince you
that it is a deceased loved one or friend, or even someone you’ve idolized, when in reality it’s not. Sessions
typically start out friendly and inviting, but soon turn malevolent and dangerous. During his research over the years,
Darin made contact with and spoke to famous immunologist Zaferes, who shared with him and his experience that over 40 years
of studying the demonic and paranormal. The name Zozo
and other pseudonyms of its name kept coming up in his investigations,
which too led. Him to seek answers
as to what it could be. And some of those investigations. When questioned,
the demon stated that it was the son of Satan himself possesses things. Perhaps, as with many deities
that seem to be lurking in the shadows. Zozo could be an entity. That’s existed. Far before the founding of Christianity. Besides evidence
showing up in Africa and Egypt, there’s also evidence found linking Zozo
to ancient as well. Other names
Zozo has gone by throughout the. Ages. Have been. Zuzu Zarza and Momo, among many others. The name Zuzu. Could refer to Pazuzu, the same demon
from the film The. Exorcist. Which in reality was a demonic entity from ancient Mesopotamian religion. It’s incredibly strange
to note the following as well. Zozo was replaced in the. Story of the Exorcism for Orlando. And Peter. Blatty was using it as. Inspiration to write The. Exorcist. He changed Zozo to Pazuzu. Zozo is believed to be the demon that possessed Roland. It was described as a terrifying form. The first appeared in the Neo-Assyrian
period, roughly around 934. To six. Ten B.C. It had a monstrous head
resembling a fierce lion or a dog with. Horns. And had an initiated human body
with clawed. Hands, the scorpion’s tail and two sets of wings. One translation reads I am Pazuzu. The son of horned King of the League of Demons. I have scaled the powerful mountains. They trembled the contrary. Winds were headed. West. One by one. I broke their. Wings. Pazuzu and other demons like it, were held
responsible for. Ailments like disease. Fetal death, nightmares and much more. Could it be
that this ancient demonic force is what could be plaguing
people all the way to modern times? The demon Zozo is also mentioned
in the Fringe Demonic Encyclopedia as one of the demons
responsible for diabolical possession and corruption. The possession of a young girl in 18. 16. Is noted as a documented. Case where Zozo. Among several other demons were. Present. Other noteworthy possession
cases over the. Ages. Ranging closer to modern. Times. That bears
as his name than the exorcism of Roland Doe in the 1950s
are the possession of Daws Splitter. In 1970. Two, in Los the Onfield Poltergeist incident in 1977 in the UK. And as recently as. 2012, where a possession. Incident. Led to an attempted murder. Other theories
with how this entity could communicate with so many people so quickly
and across the globe over the years. Besides, supernatural ability. Of its own. Would be that its own reach is perhaps being strengthened
by an aggregate or collective group ethos created by cultists for a certain purpose. However, this seems unlikely,
considering the entity doesn’t. Seem to. Serve any human. Interest. Other than to the person or people’s lives
it makes contact with agree. Laws are typically formed to bring control
over a summoned deity for the person or group spitting. But perhaps instead
there is a coal worshiping. I mean, that would make more sense to me. People who have made contact
with the entity via spirit or Ouija board have also been asked
to chant or spell out phrases. In Hebrew. Or Latin, which has convinced
many of the intelligence of the being they’re speaking with. What is also interesting is that Letter Z was actually removed
from the original Latin alphabet because it was considered too evil
when pronouncing it. It was said that one’s face
would make a death’s. Grimace. Like that of. A corpse. And that it mimicked the letter. S. Like an evil twin. Perhaps the entity. Uses this name. As some sort of marking, whether to God. Or something else. One may also ask. Despite the. Origin theories and historical details
that could be linked. To this ancient. Demonic. Force. How would one know if they. Encountered such a thing? These are what’s known as those calling. Cards when it’s being summoned. Using a Ouija board. The obvious. Is there. That the planned share will begin to. Move on its own. But some less obvious. Signs are there as well. And are as. Follows. The plancha will move in a rainbow
pattern. From side to side. Spelling z. O. C. O over and over again. Also known as the Rainbow Effect, it can also move in repeating figure
eight. Movements. Like an infinity sign. The planned chart will spell out
various versions of the demons name like Zozo, Zozo, Zaza Zuzu or Mama. You may also begin to see Shadows
moving around the area where you were hosting the session, like you’re seeing through the finished
sheet and to a dark world that. Exists. Just behind your vision and you and whoever may be with may start to feel scared. Uneasy or upset, seemingly for no other reason. Before or after. This takes place. When you tell this entity goodbye, typically the best way to close a session, it may not truly be goodbye, because often times, depending on how long the session has been for,
it can ever widening door. The entity may have had just enough time to sneak in to begin to
wreak havoc upon your life, and thus begins what many demonology. And. Religious leaders alike called. Demonic obsession. Which is where the entity becomes
aware of you and begins to crave, which then leads to low pressure
or begins to inflict various forms of torture upon in an effort
to break you down. Whether that’s physically,
psychologically or spiritually, it will also work to isolate
you from others, especially those who care about you. And finally, if you’re incredibly unlucky, possession with the entity,
finally takes control of you. As its vessel. All of which to me
are absolutely terrifying in every imaginable way. Darren Evans, to this day, continues
to research the Zozo phenomenon. Having been involved
in a number of paranormal investigations shows and various
other public and private events, as well as radio shows and podcasts,
many of which he goes into various degrees of details
regarding his encounters, other people’s. Encounters. And other various historical details. He also, in 2016, compiled his years
worth of research. And experiences into a book. Also titled. The Zozo Phenomenon. Which you can read. Learn more about the entity
and the topic as a whole. If you’re interested, all link it below. I also pulled a lot of this information
from various interviews, which I’ll also be linking below
as well as an older website he. Runs. That doesn’t seem
to have been updated in a while. The supplied with much information
to get this story as. Cohesive as I. Possibly could. I also source
the photos of the apparitions. From the site. Some of which were taken by Evans himself
over the. Years. So does this demon or ancient force
truly exist? Is it some kind of elder God,
a pre-Christian deity, or being or a manifestation
of a cult or musafiri and practices? To Darren Evans, just make it up. Did thousands of people
find it interesting enough to make up their own stories
and partake in a masquerade? That was last two years. All of these answers
may never truly be known. But my opinion. Is this. I think not only given the wide array
of strange coincidences and. Details. Throughout history, from the origins to the stories of this creature
existing distant. Past to the present. To literally thousands of people from casual interest in the occult to more hardcore
fanatics, religious scholars. Demonology lists and more. Claiming to have had experiences. With this thing. With all of these details in mind,
I certainly think it very well could be real. I do think there are things that. Exist in the shadows. Things
we can’t see or touch that are there watching and waiting to strike. When and if the
opportunity presents itself. So my advice to all of you to avoid any possibility
of opening a door that you can’t. Close. And inviting evil into your life. Is this. Don’t mess with. Ouija. Boards. These things are not toys. Whether You believe it
or not, these entities do. Exist. And they believe in you. So keep away from them because you might just let something end
that won’t want to leave. Even if you say goodbye. I told this story before
in a video called NASA Engineer Claims
demons Attacked in the Belleville Story. After making this video, Bill personally reached out to me
and thanked me for sharing his story, that there was some information
that needed to be corrected. And after lots of back and forth
chatting with one another. I can say with great honor that Bill
has chosen me to help clear the air and get the most accurate retelling
of his harrowing story out to the world. Bill did want to include his reasons
for sharing his story in the first place to expose Satan, to offer hope that there is a way out
and to pass on the lessons learned from this, what worked
and what did not work. With that being said,
he was also generous enough to provide a signed copy of his amazing book,
which was the source material for the original video as well as this now
more accurate retelling. So please stay. Tuned till the end of this video
for that giveaway opportunity. Now let’s begin telling this absolutely incredible tale. After a chance encounter with a strange ritual,
Bill would find himself plagued by a merciless evil
one that threatened to ruin his very existence. Yet he was just haunted by a burning desire to know the truth about what was tormenting him. First things. First. In the original video, I reference
that Bill was announced as a scientist. However, this isn’t totally true. He was, however, an operations quality manager for a NASA subcontractor. So although there was misinformation
repeated over many mediums, this is what he truly did. So there was a connection,
but he did not directly work for NASA. The claim that he worked for
NASA was erroneously added to the television show that Bill did,
and he’s tried to get the truth out. Since. Bill would find his life taking a sudden turn
when he his wife, finalized their divorce in 2002, feeling burnt out
and needing a fresh start in life, He quit his job in the aerospace industry
and moved to his hometown of Arlington, Texas, to be with his younger brother Bob and reconnect After many. Years. Being burned out from high stress jobs. Bill searched around for something,
anything different to do with his life and his time. Before long, he accepted a job at a water
purification company, and his brother Bob joined him later, so they had the opportunity
to work together during this time. He looked around for a house
and found one well within his budget. That was a good fit for him. And the deal made. In fact, the deal was so good that it seemed almost too good to be true. Early during Bill’s employment at his new, his employer had received a call from
a client asking for someone to be at her. House. At exactly 5 p.m.. Not a minute before or a minute after. Wanting to prove his competence
to his fellow coworkers, Bill accepted the job. He kept a keen eye on his watch
as he drove the suburban streets of Arlington to make sure
that he would arrive right on schedule. As promised. When he reached his destination
outside an ordinary looking home, the first noises he heard were the muffled
screams of a woman from inside the. House. Raising an eyebrow and feeling
that something wasn’t quite right and hoping that they would just cancel
the appointment altogether. He walked the front door and knocked. At exactly 5 p.m.. At first there didn’t appear to be any interruption
in the woman’s yelling. He couldn’t make out much of. What she was saying. Until he heard unmistakably in the name of Christ. I you to leave these men. After ring the doorbell several times
with no response, and knowing that the woman was just on the other side
of the door, continuing her. Orders. He knocked. Then the door opened and a strange woman stood
in the small crack that had been created. She stared at him with a blank expression, as though looking through him behind her, he could make out the figures
of three men on. Their knees. In a darkened room at that. Bill bolted to his company. Van as fast as his legs could carry him. He called his employer and told them that he would never take a call
from that client again. Although the interaction was strange. Bill simply thought at the time
that these three young men had done something terribly wrong and that this was
the woman’s way of punishing them. Later that night, Bill’s heavy bed shook violently
for what seemed like several seconds, almost to the point of,
knocking him off of it. All he could do
was be tossed back and forth and hold on as best as he could. Still in awe of what had just happened,
Bill set about attempting to see just what had happened
and what it caused this. Although wide awake
and knowing what had happened was real, he somehow convinced himself
that he must have simply been dreaming. So he laid back down and slowly
drifted back off into dreamland. The following morning,
nothing else in his house appeared to have been shaken by the quake. The clocks in his room read 3 a.m. and he wasn’t terribly convinced
that it was, in fact an earthquake that had caused the disturbance
in the first place. Later day, he would search to see if an earthquake had in fact
been recorded the previous night. But no such quake had happened. After this incident, Dove birds would begin gathering in the trees
outside of his home. So much
so that the realtor who sold him the. House. Was baffled. Quoting Bill here I was on the phone with the real estate agent
when the trees in my yard became of doves. There were hundreds of them. They were so loud
that I could not hear the conversation. I had to call the agent back later. This was within a day or so of me
moving in. And then it never happened again. Strange, no doubt, but only the mere of many strange things to come. Bill started to notice the pervasive
and almost smothering smell of bacon in. His home. As if someone were constantly cooking
an entire package on his stove. Other odors began filling his home
at random times as. Well. From the pervasive scent of. Ozone. To perfume and more intense. Odors. Like those of sulfur and. Feces. The atmosphere from here
would grow ever darker. Each time
Bill seemed to cross the threshold into his home day after day, the feeling of his house
grew more heavy and foreboding, with a strong feeling of doom and evil. Mysterious areas of cold temperatures
in the house became normal, and although Bill would try his best
to find an explanation that it was caused by the AC or poor insulation or a draft. Obviously, being a smart guy,
I’m glad Bill took so many steps to debunk things, but some manifestations. Are just. Not explainable as we’ll continue to see. At night,
he’d experience things that would only get darker and more sinister. He would wake in the early morning. Hours. To the sensation of a small creature like that of a cat
or a dog running across his feet. But his dogs were kindled at night. They would also growl and even bark at seemingly
nothing in different areas. Of the house. I did also want to note
that I had previously mentioned the various smells
that would invade Bill’s home, one of them being that of fecal matter. This did not occur
because of any animals that Bill owned. The activity would continue,
however, would be so slight as to be easily ignored
or even if it couldn’t be ignored. Bill would simply accept that
even if he did not know of a logical explanation,
it was out there somewhere. The Watershed moment for Bill came
when he sat down to watch TV one evening. Suddenly, he watched as a water bottle
that had been sitting on his kitchen counter
from the night before, flew across the room
and bounced off the wall next to his head. It was at this point that, Bill
and all of his logic and intelligence and. Experience. Had to finally admit
that he was dealing with something that fell under
the realm of the paranormal. For he had no other explanation, no other reasoning that would make sense. Of the months. Of unseen forces toying with him at this final acceptance that this was,
in fact, something supernatural. The phenomena began
to kick into a much higher gear, and the phenomena deepened beyond just. Sights. In affected Bill’s surroundings. Bill began to hear as he describes. Evil hissing sounds. And these would wake him up
and would be accompanied by awful. Scratches. On various parts of his body. Bizarrely,
all white colored things within his home began to be turned black. Black stains would appear on the. Carpets. In. Walls. For no apparent. Reason. And with no discernible cause. As Bill would tell me. It took a lot of effort
to scrub these dark spots, and I never did truly know why
they showed up or what the purpose or message they were supposed to convey
other than just trying to unsettle me. Electron ack technicians frequented
his house often due to the constant flickering of lights, failure
of his computer and television, and many of them stated
that they had never seen anything like it
in all of their experiences. His phone would call random people
in the middle of the night. He slept always around 3 a.m. in the morning. Bill called his phone company to attempt
to find a solution to the problem, and during his phone call
with the representative. A strange, aggressive voice could be heard speaking in a language
that neither of them could understand. And the representative confirmed
that they heard it as well and were baffled
as they used a secure line that a third party
wouldn’t be able to hijack. One night,
while calling his friend Michael, who happened to be a sound engineer,
the same voice appeared on the phone line. Bill told Michael to hang up and that the voice was evil. Michael had already turned
on his recording equipment, which he used to record plenty of podcasts and other auditory material. However, upon reviewing the tape
recording, he could only hear Bill speaking on the other end of the line,
for which he had no explanation. I’ve heard of this happening
in other cases as well. That forces often manipulate things
to a nerve. Or person. In manifest. Themselves. For example, over the phone
in another video I told the story of the case of a woman
named Julia and psychologist Dr. Richard Gallagher,
where the line was secure and low evil. Voices. Invaded. The calls. Between Gallagher. And the priest
who was involved at that time. Bill needing more confirmation
that other people were seeing what he was seeing,
that he wasn’t losing his mind, decided to invite his brother over
and asked him to stand in his. Closet with the lights off. Bob stood in his brother’s
closet with the door closed. He would emerge a little later
disgruntled, and Bill had asked
if he had seen anything, and he replied, I think your closet
needs to be cleaned out. Bob would later reveal
that during his time in the closet, two large boxes had fallen behind him and the cord for,
the overhead light had whipped him in the. Face. As if it was grabbed by an unseen hand. It spooked him enough that he didn’t
wish to talk about it further. Bill and Bob loved to golf
as it was one of the few times that they would get to come together
and unwind and catch up on
what was going on in each other’s lives. One day,
the trunk to Bob’s car slammed shut while they were attempting
to retrieve their golf clubs. They were unable
to recreate the same occurrence on their own as the trunk required
some effort to close, and there was no wind to speak of
on that day. At one point
when Bob was at Bill’s house in his den, sitting at his bar
or writing down information for a, he began to hear something rustling around in the trash
can out of his sight. He ignored it for a time. Soon that possibly Bill’s
dogs were getting into the trash, so he stood up
and walked over to inspected. However, not only was the trashcan
untouched, but he also had to pass. The dogs were still in. Their kennels in order to inspect it. On another occasion,
he briefly used Bill’s house as a pit stop on the way to an appointment, and
after using the restroom, Bob noticed that the sway light
hanging from the ceiling was moving back and forth quite radically. He assumed it must have been an AC unit
making it move. It was only later,
when asking Bill about it that he learned that in fact there was no AC unit
anywhere near that light. When Bob and his wife were at Bill’s house
for dinner, Bill watched the television
and saw something move out of the corner, his eyes. He stood up immediately, wanting to make sure that he wasn’t
the only one seeing whatever. This thing was. He quickly had Bob
sit down and watch the TV to see if he noticed anything
out of the corner. Of his eyes as well. Soon. A look of shock came over Bob’s as he saw something
move in and out of his closet. When Bob’s wife sat down, she gasped after a moment as well. Then all three began to sketch
what they had seen, and all of them drew the same thing. Small 2 to 3 foot tall. Beams that looked like embers. For those unaware
and their demons from European folklore and myth that are depicted as small, mischievous and goblin like, and were the familiar spirits of witches or even the devil’s personal attendants. After this bill told them everything
he had been experiencing and Bob offered to let him stay over
to get away from it all. Everything that was tormenting him, he declined. His reasoning was that he felt that if he left, it would be like running away and letting whatever was attacking him
win the battle. Following this, his bedroom
became a constant. Source of. Torment as the bed would shake, sometimes violently, and other. Times. Only enough to keep him awake. Small hands would depress. His mattress. And hit him from underneath. He would feel invisible
being slide into bed next to him and often heard loud knocks. Bangs and scratches from inside the walls. He would receive scratches and bruises
without explanation. He then began to see the apparition
of a ghost in strange cold. Mists in his house. The home at this point was a place full of an abyss or foreboding presence. Bill desperately wanted all of this
to stop, to reclaim his home and his life. He began to research the occult, the paranormal in anything and everything online and in literature
that could give him a better understand ending of what he was dealing with
and possibly how to remedy it. I can relate heavily with this,
although I’m very fortunate that. My main experiences, as
I told them in the Willow Street Nightmare and the Sedgwick Horror,
also known as my personal. Experiences. Took place when I was a child. It has led me down
the path of a lifelong fascination with the paranormal and the demonic. I think for me anyways,
and perhaps Bill as well, that it’s part of not only trying to find a solution
in the active situation, but to later with just what we had experienced. The activity was also starting
to take a toll on Bill’s health. He found himself sick often and taking trips to the hospital
much more than he used to. Part of these new ailments
included this searing and horrendous pain of cluster headaches. As Bill would tell me
in our conversations, watch a YouTube video on them to get an of
just how bad they are. They call them on a living. Headaches because they are so. Severe that people have on a
lived to end the pain. Cody I would have tried anything
to resolve them at that time. It is said that cluster. Headaches are the worst. Pain a person can and trust me, they are correct in continued efforts
to defeat the evil forces he now was battling day in and day out. Bill decided to call paranormal
investigators teams of people
who brought state of the art equipment to answer the question of
if the supernatural existed and if there is life after death. He went through many teams, none of which seem to be very scientific,
according to Bill. That is, until he found the team known
as Did you see that or DIY as to which two bill had the right kind
of logical and rational. Mindset. To properly investigate. Beings. That infested his life? He found their number
and dialed it right away from here. Bill’s Life would only continue
to go down a rabbit hole. He never would have found himself
going down otherwise. It was a Saturday night
when Bill heard a knock at his door. For some time now,
he had been inviting groups of strangers into his home
to investigate the happenings. His house. He has seen many come and go. Usually only for a night. And none of them
had truly been able to help. When he opened the door. This time there was only one man
standing there to greet him, and his name was Brian Hall,
the founder of DIY s t, a paranormal team that claimed
that they did not search for ghosts. They searched for. Answers. Brian founded DST in 2005
with his friends. In. The Dallas Fort Worth area. In Texas. They performed investigations
and posted their findings on MySpace, began to receive emails and. Calls. From people wanting their aid
and expertise in the paranormal. Part of the group’s procedure was to begin with a single member of the team
giving an assessment of the location before bringing in the rest of the team
or any equipment. Brian quickly
noted the oppressive atmosphere in. The house.
And once he had made his. Rounds. He gave the okay for the rest of his team
to begin the second phase. The team was full of various experts in their fields with a critical eye
for anything that could possibly cause. Noises. Or strange phenomena in an ordinary house. They searched the house
from top to bottom, and once they were satisfied
that they had identified any possible. Areas of false evidence,
they went outside. Returned with their equipment. They set up a command post
in the living room with cameras and audio recorders throughout the house,
trying to pick up anything that could be lurking within its steps. That night,
however, was relatively uneventful, as we also know from studying
many cases here on the channel. These things. The paranormal can always be invoked
or replicated to study because of pure sporadic nature of it all. After the team
had departed with little to go on, Bill called his mother
to tell her how the investigation. During the call, Bill heard three distinct knocks as if the House was declaring
its own malevolent victory. Unlike the previous investigators, DST would eventually return
over the course of the next several. Months. To continually probe the home for its dark and sinister secrets. A variety of activity began to reveal. Itself
to the members of the research team. Shadow people. Abuzz. And even the disembodied
apparition of a ghost like Cat were experienced by the crew. Just as Bill had been experiencing on one occasion, the team brought
in lasers for a particular experiment. The tech was designed to cast a laser grid
in the darkened room. This technique is intended to detect
even the slightest movement that might be. Invisible. To the naked eye. The first night came
and went with nothing of note. The second was much like the first. But on the third night,
where the crew used this laser grid, bill, Brian and the team sat in the command center, and they all heard a loud crash
from Bill’s bedroom. Upon inspecting the bedroom, they found the laser device on the floor. The device had been thrown by a powerful. And unseen force. It had been flung so hard that it had struck the bed, bounced off and collided with the dresser where it had been fastened
before hitting the floor. They first checked the. Cameras. Only to find their batteries drained. All power. This was a common occurrence
during their investigations at the house, and it was a pervasive obstacle to finding any visual. The team noted times
when they could audibly hear the moment when their cameras were switched off
by something that they couldn’t see. Luckily, they found that the audio
recording devices. Were still. Functioning. The phenomena occurred
when they played back the audio. They not only heard the loud crash, but something else entirely. They heard a disembodied voice
say, He’s coming. Put it back on. Just before the laser
crashed to the floor, Bill was amazing enough to not only provide
all the footage used for the lasers, but the actual EVP as well, which all play for you now. Oh. Despite the lack of visual evidence, Brian was determined
to catch the phenomena on video. The next time they arrived at the house,
they brought even more cameras and laser crews. They set up the equipment as before
and let the newest team mate, Shawn lay the bed in the master bedroom and asked If you’re here, can you give me a sign? Within an instant, the laser moved with a violent force, causing Shawn to cry out and surprise. The rest of the team
rushed into the bedroom to gather the equipment
and to assess the evidence. All but one camera had been completely drained of power. This device had been pointing directly at the laser. The footage caught
not only the laser being shoved, but a strange mist
that formed around the laser, turning into a violent
and aggressive vortex. Before the activity occurred and finally dissipating
after its conclusion during another investigation, Bill and his brother Bob
and his wife Cindy attended. In addition, Bill invited his friend Chuck and his wife, Melissa. Chuck Kelly had been longtime friends
with Bill through golfing. To call him a skeptic of the paranormal
would be an understatement. His wife, Melissa, however, was a woman
who not only believed in the paranormal, but was sensitive to it
in a way that allowed her to see beings that would otherwise be invisible
to the naked eye. For a long time, she had refused
to ever go near Bill’s home. Eventually, Chuck confronted her as to why she said, There’s something in that house that’s intelligent and evil, something that knows that I know. And I’m afraid of what will happen
if I go there. There is seldomly experiences
that terrify me. Personally these days. With having studied so many. Cases. And having had a good amount of my own. Experiences. But the feeling that
there is not only something evil truly evil within a place, but that it’s intelligent and that it seeks to intimidate
or hurt you. Now, when you feel you feel
it in your core, you’re very sore. You’re being and this is something that will make
you truly experience the feeling that we know this fear. As Bill reached out to Chuck. Chuck told his wife
that she needed to speak with because he needed her help. When she met with Bill, he revealed
everything that had been happening. And despite
knowing the danger of the entity his home, Melissa was moved by Bill’s plight and agreed to attend
the next investigation with Chuck. The day of she felt apprehension, she sensed that the entity was furious at her coming and wanted to harm her. Her mind’s eye saw a beast like that of an ape
throwing itself against the. Walls and windows of the house. Daring her to come inside. So a deep breath she did. Upon entering and being greeted by Bill,
she saw several small and hideous creatures
gathered at his feet. When they stood on two legs, they looked like hunched over little men when on all. Fours. They looked similar to cats with the hind. Legs. That were thick like those of a kangaroo. Seeing that no one else noticed, these. Beings. She ignored them as best as she could as she continued her journey
throughout the home. When she got to Bill’s bedroom, she saw that the Imps were out there
most comfortable. In his room. And played across the furniture
and the floor. Halfway into the room, she froze. She searched every corner of the room, wide eyed with
her hair standing on it, and she sensed horrible and smart lurking out of her
sight in a corner of the room or in the closet. She didn’t to know. What it was. She left the bedroom
and refused to ever set foot in. And again, when the device team arrived, they sat in the living room to wait
while the team set up their equipment. Then she. Observed, as the small. Creatures
gathered around her in a group of six. They were. Curious. Like wild. Animals. Sniffing her and testing their boundaries, not letting her get too close. She believed they were trapped
by the dark entity who used them for more mischievous activities, such as tormenting in his bedroom. Noises and subtle happenings. Chiming in once again here. I’ve come across many cases. This seems to be the case, not necessarily
the trapping of demons by other demons or the stronger ones deeds,
but rather a dark or demon holding other spirits captive to invigorate or empower themselves. I just find it interesting that. This is yet
another case that we can add to that list. While pondering. This. She heard a commotion from the bedroom
where the team was setting up. She saw a large black sheep leap from that direction
and onto the chandelier, causing it to nearly swing and collide
with the ceiling. It jumped down into a corner to hide
from the investigative team before lunging onto the chandelier again. And then bouncing into the opposite
hallway. The large black sheep
took up the entire hallway. Entrance. Before it disappeared. Unsure Of how to process. What she had witnessed. She collapsed into her chair. The device team convinced her
husband, Chuck, to sit in the closet in Bill’s bedroom. He had utter confidence
that nothing would happen. The lights were turned off
and Chuck just sat and waited. After several. Minutes. He became impatient and spoke loudly and whatever they told him
was supposed to be there. Attempting to provoke it was. For a few minutes, nothing changed. But eventually Chuck felt
the atmosphere change. Become heavy and oppressive. He heard hangers begin to clink
together around him. The team saw Chuck emerge with wide eyes. And a face as wide as a ghost. And all he could say
was, there’s something. In that closet. Neither he nor
Melissa stayed long after this occurred. Brian Hall, after thorough investigations, enlisted the help of any experts
he could to try help Bill. Ricky Masters, Wiccans. Buddhists. Cultists. Anyone and everyone who could attempt
to drive out these entities. But sadly, none of them worked. Bill became used
to the look of defeat upon the faces, the people who had earnestly tried
to help him but ultimately accomplished nothing. Eventually,
when Brian reached the end of his. Ideas. He sent a single email to Bill. It was straightforward and to the point You need a priest. Throughout the trials
that Bill was forced to face. He found himself
struggling with borderline PTSD. He was constantly in state of hyper
vigilance, looking over his shoulder
and watching his peripheral vision for even the slightest sign
of something supernatural. He was dealing with an opponent
that he couldn’t see, but one which could see him
and even attack him. At a moment’s notice. The suspense kept him from sleeping, and he met each evening with dread. He could no longer distinguishes. Nightmares. From reality. He had a habit of laying down
and closing his eyes for a few seconds and opening them up again to search anything that had gone amiss. The fatigue would take its toll and he would often nap in the daytime to offset the sheer exhaustion he was experiencing on a daily basis. The months turned to. Years. And the activity inflicted a cost
Bill’s health. He had two bouts of pneumonia, two heart. Attacks. Requiring. Stents. And would continue to suffer cluster. Headaches. Which Bill had never had prior. He only wanted the constant torment
to end, yet he hid his turmoil quite well, became good at pretending that things were
better than they really were putting up a front of normalcy. Despite the reality of his situation. I feel like this is the only way
that someone could continue to live through something
this bad. It also affected
those who visited Bill’s home to the point a few stopped by effectively
isolating him. These entities. Their goals are often get you isolated and by yourself
so they can continue to torment you and feed upon your fear and negative emotions. At night he would hear loud crashes inches
away from his head. He’d awaken to find scratches
all over his body and always in threes. He’d get touched while laying in his bed and hid, shoved and would even feel the sensation
as if he was being electrocuted. He looked around his room one night,
wondering what was in the room with him, as he always did, when suddenly
the covers were torn off of his body. He sat up in bed and saw a large black shape
at the footboard looming over him. It stood feet tall with the body of a man. The man was wearing a trench coat
and a fedora, all dark as the abyss. When Bill noticed it,
it moved towards him. Or rather, it floated. He felt an experience that went far beyond fear or dread. He described it
as this sensation of pure evil. The shadow would travel the length,
the bed getting within two feet of Bill’s. Face and. Then would vanish. During the investigations,
they had taped a dark mass in the very location
this entity had disappeared. It dropped from the ceiling,
making an audible thud on the floor, but then dart rapidly across the room, rising above the bedroom window
and ultimately dissipating. Bill was so disturbed by this new threat
that he did not and could not speak about it
even to friends. However Bill was not the only person. This entity
he referred to as the heart man revealed itself to a friend of Bill’s, a woman named Devin claim
to have seen this entity and believed it was friendly
and as a result was not afraid of it. After apologizing, not warning her
and showing Devin of the other examples of this same hap man entity
appearing to others on the internet, he cautioned her that if she sees it again to not communicate with it, it is not a friend. Unfortunately, Devin would take his advice and would continue to appear to Devin
that one point. Devin described it
appearing in Bill’s closet with glowing red eyes, uttering in a deep, growling voice that felt like it was scratching
the interior of her skull. Kill Bill. My God, what a terrifying description. A voice so low and grating that it felt as if it was scratching
the interior of a person’s. Devin began to change after this event. She transitioned from frightened to angry, and finally to violent frenzy. Bill would often come home
to find his house torn apart. He would later learn that the heart man had appeared many times to Devin. It wasn’t until Devin threatened Bill
with a large kitchen knife in her hand
that he began to see just how. Serious the. Situation had become. On one evening, after Devin had a tantrum of throwing and breaking things,
Devin insisted to Bill, He’s here and he wants you dead. Bill replied with Cannot kill me
trying to keep calm. Devin responded with Turn out the lights. You’ll see. With a malevolent grin on her. Face. Bill was unsure whether he had lost
his fear, no longer cared or simply wanted to shake Devin
out of the throes of this evil. Regardless, he shut off the lights, although nothing happened, and Bill proved that
the hat man had no authority over him. Devin’s personality
only grew more aggressive eventually. Neither Bill nor the police,
who were often seen at his home to resolve the issue and their friendship, came to a sudden and terrible conclusion. Bill believed that
this man was the general, the main source of evil around
which all the other activity orbited perhaps the main entity that had trapped
the others and was calling the shots, so to speak. Bill began to learn from his experiences,
accepting that he was in a war with an unseen,
so that had tactics and strategy. They utilized scare tactics and fear
to wear him down in a war of attrition, but he was quickly becoming
a more worthy adversary. Against their assaults. Bill returned from a
meeting and decided to lay down for a nap. He signed in chains
like hands and feet in his. Mattress so much. That it became impossible. To sleep. Then massive crash shook the entire house as if something large
had hit the side of his home. He shot up and inspected,
looking for damage, but would find nothing. A second crash filled his house. He searched everywhere
for any sign of destruction. His kitchen is. Then his office. But the same
nothingness presented itself to him. He heard his car alarm go off and he finally stopped his tracks. He felt pure,
white, hot rage build up within him. He screamed. I’ve had enough. You don’t scare me anymore. I’m not the same person
you picked on years ago. Show yourself and fight me. One of us is going to hell tonight. And it won’t be me. This is God’s house now. Leave this place. He heard another crash and ran towards it, continuing to yell
that the entity show itself Hell was unleashed inside his home
like a hurricane. Crashes and booms filled the air. Suddenly,
the missing puzzle piece clicked. He Knew that
no amount of anger, desperation or earthly knowledge
would save him from this evil. So we called upon Christ and his seed. He screamed. You were not invited
to the authority of Christ. I demand you leave
or be bound by your worst fears. And so final judgment. He repeated these words at each
new crashing sound. Eventually, 30 minutes of unrestrained. Malice ceased. And a new peace finally filled his home. My God, the courage, overall fearlessness of Bill in this
moment is truly commendable. I mean, just imagine putting up
with these horrible things day in and day out
and holding out for so long. Although terrifying
no doubt to have gone through, I’m glad that there was
some sort of confrontation between whatever this entity we know is to happen, because I definitely feel like
it needed to happen. The days afterwards, Bill felt new sensation amidst the peace like that of a chained up,
rabid dog in the distance. Just watching and waiting for a chance to break free and back into his life. While occasionally things would happen
afterwards. Bill no longer like evil, dwelled
within his home or his life. However, the encounters left scars of psychological and physical. Bill still struggled
with looking over his shoulder and being comfortable sleeping at night. His health effects from the ordeal
also never truly improved, whether it was from the evil presence or simply the stress of the events, he would never be sure, although in our conversations. Thankfully, Bill said he did
vanquish the cluster headaches, which he. Believes. Were a byproduct
of the otherworldly interactions. In the years since. Bill has studied
become an expert in demonology in order to help others
against an unseen foe in their own lives. He founded an association called
the United Paranormal International. This story has been featured on the show
Paranormal Witness. In 2013. An abridged versions of the events
have been featured across the Internet and YouTube. Again, in our conversation Oceans. Bill would tell me that he had to be
talked into telling his story on the show
Paranormal Witness by their Producers. He’s truly a man that values his privacy. I can tell you that for sure,
but that he became convinced that his telling of his experiences would ultimately,
hopefully have a positive impact on who could
be experiencing something similar. Bill has given multiple interviews
on various podcasts, but decided to set the record straight in his 2022 book, Satanic Warfare Tactics of the Demonic. In it, he gives his own account, as
well as the eyewitness says in his life. Of the events that. Transpired. He also includes extensive entries over
just what he learned concerning the demonic forces
that Stockton made. But he cautions anyone
attempting to utilize his methods. They are the collections
of his experiences, personal beliefs and convictions cannot be considered scientific. They are also not guaranteed
any degree to be successful. He says that spiritual warfare is a form of psychological warfare,
utilizing fear tactics to wear a target down over time
so that we give up spiritually and obey evil’s power. It is based on negative emotions. Such as. Fear, stress anger and social disunity. As a victim grows weaker,
the demons begin to appear stronger. The first line of defense
is to have no fear against demons. He states that as fallen angels, demons still have rules
that they must follow. The into our lives, to the degree which we explicitly or implicitly allow. They are not all powerful. For if they were,
they would not be forced to resort to scare tactics
and trickery to wear down their opponent. However, they have the experience
of the entirety of human history on their. Side. When they wage war. Upon human souls. Once you acknowledge that there is
in fact a demonic presence, the only recourse you have
is that you must call upon the name of Christ. Bill has since retired
and moved out of the. House. Within which he suffered for so. Many years. He now lives with his wife, Carolyn Vail, and his stepson, Ryan in Arkansas. And Bill’s story. We have seen how curiosity can be
used as a doorway, a doorway that can lead to knowledge
and understanding. However, curiosity can be used
as another kind of doorway. One that once opened can in a born. Darkness into our lives. One that is not always so easily cast out. I would not only like to thank Bill
for being amazing and providing the clarifying details,
the evidence and overall for being so down to earth and patient
with me to make this video happen. In all honesty,
I find him to be a truly genuine person and in my opinion, it only adds
to the credibility of his story. If you liked this video,
please give it a like share with the world
so we can spread Bill’s true story and clear up any misinformation
that could still be believed. And subscribe
if you’re new here with notifications. Bill did
also want to add a personal statement. He says. Cody, I so appreciate your hard work
and bringing the facts to light. It has been a long, hard slog
to correct many of the inaccuracies being told online. My goal is. And has. Shall remain to get to the truth. Your efforts and hard work will, I hope. Accomplish this. As I know you’re sincere individual who wants nothing more out of this story
but to help people and to give them hope
that there can be a positive outcome. To remind people
that this is a spiritual. War. Must be fought as such. Thank you again, my friend. You did a great job, as I mentioned
at the beginning of the video. If you’d like to win a signed
copy of Bill’s book, Satanic Warfare Tactics of the Demonic Lessons Learned, signed by not only Bill Vail himself,
but also the other coauthors, Monica Cole Dike Miller and Carolyn Vail. Then like this video and watch this video
along with nine other mystery archives. Videos. For ten in total, and the email
a screenshot out of the proof, so to speak, to mystery archives
at gmail.com. And I will do the drawing two weeks
from the release of this video to the day. Bill’s books are available on Amazon
and I highly recommend picking up some copies today
as well as my book. Stories from the Archives. Volume one. And please leave us both. Five star. Reviews. This helps us out so much on Amazon. Lastly from Bill,
anybody who wants a signed copy of the book can mail its bill
with a $5 add on charge for Bill and Carolyn signature
and a $10 add on charge for Monica’s. This is to cover shipping. Then I have to mail it to where
after we sign it and she has to mail it
to whoever purchased it. I did also want to add that
my cousin Brad, also known as Faux Bacon, helped me with the original script
for this video and will be posting his own content
very soon. You may also remember him from Willow
Street haunting video that I put out. I recommend you subscribe
and follow him for spooky stuff that he’s got coming very soon. Amusement parks are meant to be the bastions of joy and wonder
where families can escape the stresses of everyday life
and immerse themselves in a world of. Thrills. And laughter. However, there is a haunting undercurrent
that lurks beneath the. Surface. Of these seemingly innocent playgrounds. Abandoned amusement parks in particular possess
a palpable sense of unease that permeates the crumbling structures
and overgrown landscapes. The Shawnee Amusement Park in West
Virginia stands as a testament
to this unsettling phenomena. Once a bustling hub of entertainment, this forgotten site
now exudes an eerie and atmosphere. Its dilapidated rides and decaying. Buildings. Serve as a stark contrast
to the joyful memories they once held. The park’s troubled past, marked by tragedies and misfortunes, has imbued it with a sinister energy that seems to linger like a specter among the shadows of its
abandoned grounds. Whispers of the scariest amusement
in the world and tales of its haunted nature
have only added to the allure and trepidation
surrounding this forgotten place. The juxtaposition of the once vibrant
and smiling faces of the past in the current state of neglect
and decay evokes a weird feeling, as if the very essence of the park’s
former life has been consumed by the darkness
that now shrouds it. This unsettling blend of the past
and the present, the light and the dark creates a deeply unsettling and captivating experience that continues. Draw in those who dare to venture
into its forgotten corners. The Lake Shawnee Amusement Park harbors a dark history nestled in Mercer County,
just a few miles from Princeton. This once vibrant hub of entertainment now
sits abandoned, awaiting for the next round of guests
to brave to enter the haunted structures within the land
where the park was built has. Long since been a burial ground
for the Shawnee tribe, with archeologists estimating that the site may hold
remains of as many as 3000 people. This profound connection to the past would prove to be a harbinger
of the park’s troubled future. In 1775, a of white settlers known as the Clays,
consisting of the father, Mitchell Clay, his wife Phoebe
Belcher, Clay and their three children, Bartley, Tabitha and Dizzy Kiel,
moved into the remote area and established a homestead directly
over the Shawnee Burial Ground. This act, which disregarded the sacred
nature of the land, would set in motion a series of events that would ultimately
lead to the park’s downfall. The Clay’s arrival and their disrespect
for the Shoney’s ancestry or resting place did not go unnoticed by the local tribe. Tensions escalated and the clay soon
found themselves embroiled in a violent conflict
with the Shawnee, a clash that would leave its indelible
mark on the land. The echoes of this tragic history would reverberate through the decades shaping the dark and unsettling aura that now envelops
the abandoned amusement park. The tribe, angered by the desecration
of their sacred burial, repeatedly
warned the Clay family to leave, but they defiantly chose
to ignore the warnings. In August of 17 three,
a group of native tribesmen descended upon the clay homestead
while the father was out hunting. The Shawnee Warriors
proceeded to brutally murder the youngest. Son. Bartley, as he worked in the fields
and then scalped his lifeless body. Tabitha, the daughter was tracked down
and viciously stabbed to death. The oldest son,
Ezekiel, was not killed outright, but rather kidnaped,
dragged away from his home and later burned at the stake in a horrifying display of violence. when the patriarch of the family
returned home to find his children slaughtered, his thirst for vengeance was immediate and unrelenting. He gathered a policy of other. Settlers. And set out to hunt down
and take out several of the Shawnee Tribe’s
people in a bloody act. Retaliation. The haunting legacy of the Clay family. Massacre would. Linger over the area for years, casting a dark and ominous shadow that deterred most settlers
from venturing anywhere. Near the site. The tragic events that unfolded on
this land have infused the abandoned amusement park
with something ghostly, as if there were spirits of the past still lingering,
unwilling to relinquish their hold on the once vibrant
but now forgotten grounds. By pure coincidence
the land where Khan left his Nito chose to erect his amusement park in 1926, harbored a dark and unsettling past. Unbeknownst to him or perhaps disregarded this very soil had once been stained
by the blood of the clay family, brutally massacred by the Shawnee tribe in retaliation for desecrating their sacred burial grounds. Initially, Snyder’s venture
seemed innocent enough a simple affair with swing sets, a Ferris. Wheel. And a swimming pond catering to the families of coal miners
flocking to the region. However, as the operation expanded,
adding a dance hall. Concession stands a swimming pool, motorized rides such as bumper cars. A roller coaster, and then paddle. Boats. It was as if the amusement park was built
upon a foundation of darkness. For a time, the park thrived. A vibrant hub of laughter
and joy, with patrons blissfully unaware of the gruesome history
that lay beneath their feet. Yet the lands thirst for tragedy seemed insatiable. The foreboding sense lingered
like a specter lurking in the. Shadows. Waiting to cast its sinister veil. Once more. In the 19. Fifties. The first incident at the park unfolded
when a young girl’s life was abruptly cut short on the circular swing ride as the swing hurled at breakneck speed. A truck carelessly backed into its path, causing the girl to collide
violently against her fragile body. No match for the unforgiving force. This tragic event
cast a shadow over the entire. Atmosphere. And. The harbinger of darkness that seemed
to linger within the park’s very. Foundations. Was making itself known once again. In 1960. The park’s thirst for tragedy was quenched once more when an 11 year old boy, his youthful spirit
filled with wonder and excitement, ventured too close to the park’s
murky pond, only to become ensnared in a drainage. Pipe’s unyielding grip. His cries for help went unanswered. And it wasn’t until over a week later
that his lifeless. Body was discovered. The pond’s depths having claimed another innocent victim. These high profile incidents
weren’t merely the tip of the iceberg as whispers of other unsettling
occurrences began to circulate. Tales of a man who plunged from
the dizzying heights of the Ferris wheel. His motives, unknown. To the accounts of six tragic deaths
during the park’s years of operation. As told by the current owner,
only added to the feelings at the park in the wake of the young boy’s drowning. The Shawnee Lake Amusement Park
shuttered its gates for good in 1966. The crumbling. Structures. And overgrown landscapes that now
stand as reminders of the park’s troubled. Past. A past that seems unwilling to relinquish
its hold on the forgotten. Grounds. Casting something. Ominous. Over the now abandoned the park’s descent into abandonment
was a haunting spectacle. Its once vibrant attractions
reduced to rusted, decaying relics that pierced
through the overgrown landscape. Like the skeletal remains
of long extinct creatures. The site lingered until 19 five, when Gaylord White acquired the land, harboring ambitions
of resurrecting the park’s former glory. However,
his efforts were met with resistance, as if the site’s troubled history
deterred. Visitors.
From embracing its revived allure. Despite White’s endeavors, the amusement park failed
to recapture the magic of its heyday, and after a mere three years, was forced to shutter its doors once more in the wake of its failed revival. The land was transformed
into a fishing lake and campground. Yet The park’s crumbling. Ruins. Remained their presence, serving as a grim reminder of the tragedies. That. Had once unfolded within its. Boundaries. Whispers of otherworldly occurrences
began to circulate, tales of ghostly apparitions and unexplained
phenomena were told in the local. Bars. And on Internet. Message boards. The park’s ruins stood
as a haunting testament to the complex interplay between human ambition
and the lingering echoes. Of the past, a past that seemed unwilling. To be buried. The abandoned grounds of the former
Shawnee Lake amusement park seemed to be a magnet
for paranormal occurrences, and the tales that emerged
from its crumbling. Ruins. Do not disappoint. Visitors often report an unsettling sensation
of being watched or followed, as if unseen eyes linger in the shadows. Sudden waves of panic or overwhelming dread wash over some, leaving them with a feeling
that defies a rational explanation. Chilling accounts speak of disembodied hands pressing upon shoulders, or the feeling of being pushed or tapped by an invisible force. Objects have been known
to move on their own accord. Defying the laws of physics. While shadowy figures
lurk among the deteriorating. Riots. Adding to the. Park’s sinister ambiance. The swings. Once a symbol of childhood
joy, now creak back and forth in the absence of wind, as if propelled. By unseen. Hands. Orbs of light float
through the overgrown weeds. There are the aerial glow beckoning the. Curious. And the brave. Small child sized apparitions have been reported
dashed among the rustling hulks of long forgotten rides,
as if waiting to turn in a ticket for one final time. Even the spirits of the land’s
original inhabitants, the Native. Americans. Are said to make their presence known, with shadowy figures
skulking about in the darkness. Their whispers carried on the wind. The sounds that permeate the abandoned
park only add to its creepy feeling with a disembodied echoing the stillness as if the ghosts of children still linger. Frozen in time, whispers to come from directly behind, people sending chills down
the spines of those brave enough to venture into the park’s
forgotten corners. Shouts and strange chanting, perhaps in a Native American language
have also been reported. Perhaps Most unsettling are the accounts of those
who have captured photographic evidence. Of the. Park’s paranormal activity. Numerous visitors have been shocked to ghostly figures or shadowy apparitions
lurking within their photographs. Whispers echo
through the abandoned grounds. Tales of a restless spirit
bound to the very. Swings that. Once brought her joy. It is here amidst the rusted frames and tangled vines
that the ghostly presence. Of a young girl lingers. Her essence forever
tethered to the tragic moment when her life was cut short. The white family and their pursuit
to resurrect the park’s former glory unknowingly invited
this haunting specter into their midst. They acquired the original swing set, unaware of the dark history
it carried and inadvertently provided a conduit
for the girl’s spirit to manifest. Those who dare to venture.
Near the swings. Often recount several weird encounters. A single swing marked by a crimson ribbon seems to beckon visitors
with an unseen force. Yet it is the adjacency adorned with an owl ornament
that appears to be her favorite haunt on days when the air hangs still, the owl seems sway and dance as if propelled by an invisible breeze. Visitors have reported
feeling an icy chill, caressed their or the weight of an unseen entity settling beside them on the swings. Weathered plague. Some have even claimed to hear
faint echoes of childlike laughter, tinged with a melancholic undertone
carried on the. Winds, whispers. These unsettling occurrences
have left many questioning the. Boundaries. Between the realms of the living
and the dead, and wondering
if the girl’s spirit bound to this. Place. Forever, seeking the joy and. Innocence. That was so cruelly stolen from her. Also lingering with the abandoned park’s confines
is the restless spirit of the young boy whose life was also tragically cut short by the murky depths of the lake. His ghostly
presence seems to wander the grounds drawn particularly to the front entrance,
as if driven by a. Compulsion. To safeguard visitors
from the fate that he could not escape. Near the lake’s edge, a simple white plastic
pinwheel affixed to an old ticket booth
appears to serve as a conduit between his ethereal realm and the world of the living. This unassuming pinwheel exhibits
an ability to move and spin without the aid of any discernible breeze. Its movements controlled by an invisible. Force. Seem to respond to the beckoning
of those brave to engage with it. Witnesses have told chilling encounters where the pinwheels rotation
accelerates, slows or, halts
entirely in response to spoken commands, as if the little boys answering their. Questions. Or simply acknowledging their existence. Along with the. Apparitions, another. Phenomena has been experienced in the park
as well. Voices echoing from realms
beyond our comprehension. These chilling recordings
captured by the intrepid Polly Geer of Mountaineer
Ghosts, offer haunting. Glimpse. To the unseen forces. That. Linger amidst the decaying. Structures. One such encounter occurred when Geer ventured
to knock a weathered
sighting of an abandoned trailer. The silence that followed
was shattered by a gruff disembodied. Voice. That seemingly commanded them to please
leave. The ominous utterance
sent shivers down the spines those present as if the very spirits of the park were issuing a warning to trespassers. Another bone chilling
recording place between the rusted frames of the Ferris wheel
as two friends. Conversed. Their voices mingling. Within the stillness. A sudden interruption pierced the air. A shockingly clear, high pitched voice, perhaps that of a young girl
uttering the haunting. Words won’t talk. Yet the unsettling
phenomena does not end there. The same another recording was captured
what sounded like the wistful plea of a child’s
voice, whispering, Either I want to swing or I’m on a swing. Above all the other haunting scenery
located in the park, the abandoned swing
stand is an unsettling beacon, an area that seems to have more activity
than the rest of the park combined. Several visitors
tell terrifying encounters as the rusted chains creak and groan, seemingly propelled by unseen forces. Sudden chills caress the skin. An overwhelming sense of dread
washes over the unwary as if they’ve trespassed into a realm or the boundaries between the living and the dead blur. At the heart of these unsettling occurrences
lies the persistent. Sightings. Of a ghostly young girl, her form clad in a ruffled pink. Dress. Stained with the crimson. Hues. Of tragedy. Some claim to have witnessed her
spectral figure swaying. Upon the swing. Others recount her haunting presence
lingering nearby, her gaze piercing through the veil
that separates our world. The park’s current owner, a man who has stared into the abyss
of the unknown, tells his own chilling. Encounters with. The girl’s spirit. He speaks of moments when his body froze, paralyzed by her ethereal gaze, as if she held dominion over him. His words paint a vivid picture. The strange sensations that permeate the. Swing’s vicinity. Seats swaying without wind, icy blasts of cold air,
caressing the skin, and an inexplicable. Warmth. Radiating from the very center,
as if the girl’s essence lingers here, forever bound to the place
where her life was extinguished. In a haunting recollection shared with Travel Channel,
the owner’s words echo with the weight of one who was borne
witness to the unexplainable. Sometimes the seed will start to move
sway your hand till you feel cold
air blowing through the sea. And then you get to the middle
and you feel something warm. And we believe that that’s her spirit. Certain areas
seem to exert an unsettling pull, drawing in paranormal occurrences
like moths to a flame. The Ferris wheel, its rusted
frame frozen in time, has become a haunting focal point
for unexplained sightings. Visitors have reported glimpsing shadowy. Figures. Seated within the precarious confines of. Its cars. Particularly the one locked eternally at the 9:00 position. Some even claim to have witnessed ghostly apparitions plummeting
from the heights of the fair’s wheel, only to vanish into the ether, leaving onlookers
questioning the boundaries of reality. Could these spectral forms be
the lingering essence of the unfortunate. Souls. Purportedly leapt to their demise
from the Ferris wheels lofty perch? Or are they merely tricks of light
and shadow cast by the encroaching vegetation that clings to the decaying metal structure? The uncertainty only adds to the feel of the abandoned amusement
park. The park’s murky, drained pond also harbors its of haunting tales. Fishermen casting their lines
into the stagnant waters have reported sightings of shadowy figures gliding the surface, their forms distorted by. The rippling depths. Inexplicable waves and disturbances. As. Have been known,
to ripple across the pond. Surface. As if something unseen lurks below. Stirring the. Waters with its presence. Some brave
souls who have ventured into the ponds embrace have even claimed
to feel an unseen force tugging at them as if an entity from beyond seeks
to pull them under and hold them within its watery embrace. The desolate concession
stands once bustling, hubs of activity
now stand as silent sentinels. Their empty shells
bearing witness to haunting apparitions visitors have reported sightings
of what appear to be Native American figures aimlessly
wandering those abandoned structures. Their shrouded in mystery. What draws these spectral forms
to this forgotten place? Their motives. Remain obscure. The history of the unexplained, coupled with the undeniably bizarre
ambiance shrouds this place, have transformed the abandoned Shawnee
Lake amusement park into a mecca. For those seeking a brush
with the supernatural or the macabre has become a primed destination
for paranormal investigators, ghost hunters and thrill seekers alike. The park’s reputation has captured
the attention of numerous television programs,
each seeking to uncover the sinister. Forces. That lurk just beneath. The surface. Some of these shows claim
to have encountered genuine brushes with supernatural entities. But are these encounters true or mere? While these paranormal reality shows undoubtedly seek
to amplify the spooky factor, the accounts they present
cannot always be so easily dismissed. They offer glimpses
into the haunting phenomena, seem to permeate the grounds, beckoning those within curiosity for the unknown to venture forth. The abandoned Shawnee
Lake Amusement Park now embraces its haunting legacy, inviting the Intrepid
to unravel the sinister secrets that lurk within its crumbling confines. While the park’s remain accessible
for fishing and camping, the dilapidated rides and structures. Themselves. Are off limits. For most of the year because their decaying state poses
potential. Hazards. To the unwary. However. From October the 25th to the first,
the park opens its gates for the Dark Carnival event, offering daring souls
the opportunity to embark on a haunting. Tours. And experience
a chilling haunted house attraction. Visitors are guided through the park’s
crumbling ruins, their footsteps
through the desolate concession. Stands. And past the rusted frames. The Ferris wheel
or spectral figures are still said to to the depths of the drained pond. And at the heart of it all, the abandoned. Swings. Still stand. There are rusted chains
creaking and groaning. For those unwilling
to brave the guided tours, the surrounding woods offer camping. Opportunities. Through the looming
presence of the amusement. Parks, ruins. Piercing through the treeline, casting an ominous
shadow over the landscape. If abandoned sites invoke an unsettling
chill and forsaken amusement parks
must be the epitome of haunted abandoned parks. With the legacy of death and tragedy
are about as spine tingling as it gets. Whether or not any authentic
spectral linger here, an undeniable air of desolation,
abandonment and bleak dread hangs heavy in the air as if accumulating a debt of fear
for every child’s smile that once graced its now rusted. Timeworn gates. Is this sense of foreboding
and our tendency to perceive phantoms in such locations
merely. Illusions. And tall tales. Projections of our morbid curiosity and innate aversion
to the discarded unwanted places. Of our world. Or do some of these sites truly harbor or channel forces
beyond our comprehension? Perhaps seeing their men whose lives become legends? Then there are. Those whose. Legends become warnings. John D was many. Things. Mathematician, navigator, advisor to a queen and architect
of one of the greatest. Libraries in. Renaissance Europe. But behind the titles and beneath
the brilliance was something stranger, something darker. D believed he had spoken with angels. And worse still,
he believed they had spoken back. This is not a tale of myth. It is a reconstruction
drawn from DS own words. His diaries rituals. And the strange alphabet
he claimed was gifted to him by celestial beings. It is a journey through shadowed. Halls. And burning visions across courts and cathedrals and into the mind of a man
who dared to cross the boundary between heaven and hell. What you’re about to hear is nonfiction. This the account of the man
who opened the gate and found something staring back. Some called him a genius, others
a heretic. But all who knew his story
understood this. Once the mirror. Speaks. It never goes silent. The fire
and Mort Lake’s earth had nearly died, leaving only a faint orange glow
that flickered across the stone walls. Like a breath from another world. Outside the tames, twisted in silence. Beneath a shroud of fog. The river’s black waters. Whispering secrets into the night. Inside among rotting books and cracked instruments, said a man whose mind had once charted the heavens. Dr. John D, aged Hall, a wide and forgotten by the court
that once exalted him. Hunched over a tattered diary, his hand, which in youth had drafted star. Maps. And summons spirits,
now trembled uncontrollably. The ink spilled onto. The parchment was more than just record. It was confession. Years had passed since he had last
heard the angels voices. Decades since he and Edward
Kelly had gazed into the Black Mirror and received language
not born of this earth. These brilliance once commanded the ear of Queen
Elizabeth herself. Now only ghosts remained around him. The shadows shifted strange deliberation, as if animated by forces unseen. Books creaked open on their own accord. The walls. Exhaled. Mirrors. Long covered in cloth, pulsed beneath their wrappings. Still, D wrote, for whom no one knew. He claimed the words were not his, that something else guided his hand that the veil between worlds
had thinned too far. And what once whispered now
walked freely in his home. He no longer wrote for kings or scholars. His diary. Smudged. With age and grease or words
meant for the unknown reader, the one who might some day
follow the same path. In that final winter of his life, D remained convinced of one truth that the Divine had spoken to him. And so it’s something else. The boundary between angel and demon
he feared, had never been clear. And if he had opened the gate,
they were still watching. John D was born in London during the winter of 1527, a season marked by biting winds and thick, coldest fog. His father, Roland, served in the court of King Henry
the Eighth, affording his son access to an education that few in England could dream of. Even as a boy, John was strange. Brilliant. but distant. His mother, pious and soft spoken, worried early on that her child’s mind was reaching into places
not meant for the living. By the age of 15, D had entered St John’s
College at Cambridge, where he devoured classical texts at a feverish pace. He studied geometry, astronomy, theology, philosophy and everything that he could find
that touched the edges of the known world. His peers feared him. His professors. Admired him. They whispered that he never slept, that he solved theorems. In his dreams. It was at Cambridge that deconstructs
a mechanical scarab and a automaton powered by clockwork, which crawled
across the table like a living thing. It terrified the servants. Some accused him of witchcraft, and he laughed in their faces and quoted Archimedes. Give me a place to stand and I will move the world. In 1548, seeking broader minds and older. Secrets. He left for Leuven. There, beyond the cautious boundaries of English academia,
he found the forbidden text. He had long desired. He pored over Agrippa as the occult
philosophy, studied the pick. Of tricks. And sought meaning and half lost fragments attributed to Hermes Tourisme. Augustus. What he found wasn’t madness. It was order, a design beneath reality, a divine structure hidden in number language and star. The stars, he began to believe,
were not just lights. They were symbols. He is upon his return to England. He carried with him
not just books, but a reputation. Some called him a genius, others
a heretic. Queen Mary’s briefly imprisoned him on suspicion of sorcery and treason. His astrological calculations had been misread
as omens of her death. And after weeks of solitary confinement,
he was. Released. But the fire in his mind had only grown when Elizabeth ascended the throne
in 1558. These fortunes changed. The new queen saw in him
not a threat, but an asset. She summoned him to court, insulted him in private, and tasked him with the. Heavens for. Signs of political tides. To the world, D appeared as a learned man, a scholar, an astrologer, a servant of crown and country. But in the quiet hours,
when the mirrors were uncovered and the stars were in alignment, he pursued something else entirely. He was not simply a man of learning. He was a seeker of the divine. Among jaundice. Earliest surviving notebooks. Why is a curious annotation
unrelated to equations or anything else? It is a short, unstructured passage
scrawled between. Pages. Of Euclidean. Its ink is faded, its tone uncharacteristically unsettled at the time, D was 17. The notation describes a peculiar moment during his studies
while working late into the night. He had begun perceive patterns
behind the diagrams. Geometric shapes
not drawn by his own hand, but somehow embedded in the margins as if waiting to be discovered. One in particular, a star inverted upon itself, surrounded by seven. I like. Notes. Seized his attention. He traced the symbol absently
into the wood of his desk. Hours passed when he awoke. His fingers were stained with ink and blood, and the symbol had been etched into the oak grain
as though burned there. And no one could explain how. That night, he dreamed of a staircase
spiraling downward into a vast library
where the shelves were alive. And the books whispered. As they breathed. At the bottom, beneath candle light,
they gave no warmth. SAT a robed figure with his own face, smiling and waiting. The symbol appeared again
in later notebooks, always subtle. And always. Incomplete. He never spoke of the dream. Then the years that followed, he would return to that symbol again
and again, redraw it, refining it, searching for its meaning across dozens of languages and forgotten grim wars. Even then, something had marked him, and whatever it was,
it had not come from this world. By the time Queen
Elizabeth ascended the throne, John D had become more than a scholar. He was a name that stirred all
in fear and equal measure. Her Majesty
summoned him early in her reign. The young Queen, poised and unshaken, met
with thee in her lavender
scented chamber at Whitehall. It was said. She asked only one question. Is it true you can read the stars? To which he replied, I do not read them, Your Majesty. I listen to what they seem so, began
his rise as England’s celestial adviser. He chose the date
of Elizabeth’s coronation. He aligned treaties by planetary or diplomacy. Even royal marriages
passed through these calculations before they passed through. But beyond his duties to the crown, these ambitions stretched far deeper. His estate at Mortlake
transformed a labyrinth of scrolls. Globes. Instruments and. Mirrors. Books lined the walls, many forbidden. Most written in tongues. No ordinary man could translate. It was said his library rivaled Oxford’s. Explorers and captains sought his counsel
before crossing seas. Francis Drake visited him more than. Once. And returned, haunted. Speaking in hushed. Tones. Of spectral lights above strange waters, foreign diplomats left more lake,
whispering that he had not merely observed
the future, he had spoken to it. To some, he was a visionary. To others a heretic in disguise. At the center of it all
stood d measuring orbits. Composing invocations. Drawing complex sigils by candlelight. Mathematics became music. Music became vibration. Vibration became prayer. And then prayer became something else
entirely. He began constructing ritual circles
and secret fasting, reciting ancient. Names. While gazing into obsidian. Mirrors. And calling out to the beyond. For a time, nothing answered. Then one evening, a strange mirror, black, glassy and cold as stone began to hum. It had been delivered by a trader from. Venice. Who claimed it came from a jungle
temple in the new world. The man refused to enter the. House. And fled as soon as the mirror
crossed the threshold. The place to the artifact
in a western corner of his chamber. And soon after,
strange things began to happen. A whisper in the dead of night. A shattered inkwell without cause. Unintelligible symbols drawn by unseen. Hands. Into the. Dust. Of his windowsills. He began dreaming of faceless women, crawling across ceilings, drawing sigils with their bleeding
fingers. His hand would move without his will, writing phrases he did not understand. Jane D, his wife grew pale and fearful. Once she stood motionless
before the mirror for nearly an hour. When D touched her shoulder, she screamed, claiming a voice had spoken her name from inside the glass. Their youngest child cried out each night, insisting an angel
without eyes stood at the foot of his bed. Yet still, D persisted. He believed
he had reached the edge of heaven’s veil. He did not
yet understand that the veil, once torn, lets anything through. The servants would later
say the man never knocked. One moment
the estate at Mortlake was quiet. Its halls filled with the usual creaks
of old. Timbers. And rustling manuscripts. The next a stranger stood just beyond the threshold, cloaked in what looked like
starlight woven into silk. He did not walk up the lane. No one saw a carriage. There were no footprints. In the frost. He asked John D by name. D met him at the door,
and what followed remains one of the few events
he never attempted to explain. The visitor carried no satchel or scroll. Only a peculiar object in his hands. A brass timepiece. Smooth as bone. Its face covered in glass
that shimmered like water. Its hands turned counter to time. It ticked softly, not like a clock, but like water
dripping into an empty basin. The man asked where he had been born. D told him. The stranger corrected. He then took his hand
and whispered something so softly that no one else heard it. But whatever was said caused the scholar to be pale. He turned to fetch ink and parchment, and when he returned to the doorway, the visitor had vanished. No trace, no footprints, and no ticking clock. Later that night, D wrote a cryptic note in the margin of his astrological chart. A man of no century came to remind me. Not all visions are called. Some are. Send the mirror in the West Chamber began to hum again. Edward Kelly entered his life
like a crack of thunder across a still pond. A man of shifting pasts and uncertain intentions. He arrived with rumors trailing behind him of grave robbing, forgery in whispered. Séances. And forgotten chapels. It was a scraper, he claimed. A man who could see beyond the veil. D ever the seeker did not hesitate. Their first invocation took place in a consecrate it room within Mortlake. D had drawn the necessary circles
and powdered silver at its center, an obsidian stone rested atop a carved pedestal. Kelly trembling sat before it, while D recited a Latin invocation that had not been heard
allowed for centuries. At first there was only silence. Then Kelly’s mouth opened not in speech, but in all his eyes rolled back. His breathing changed. He began to describe what he saw. An enormous being of fire and geometry crowned with 12 wings. Speaking with a. Voice. That fractured the air like. Glass. The being called itself Uriel. From that moment, the sessions became daily de feverish with purpose, transcribed
everything as Kelly channeled it. Names of celestial. Beings. Warnings of, judgment. Encrypted prophecies. And the foundations
of what they came to call the anarchy and language. The Divine Tone said to have preceded
Babel, the spirits demanded. Obedience. They dictated exact rituals and fasts
that required the construction of wax sigils called laymen’s and requested tables of letters set in grids. That shifted as they spoke. Some symbols appeared in Kelly’s skin overnight, blistered into his forearm without pain or cause. The most frequent visitor was Mahdi Army. She first appeared as a young girl, a crimson gown, speaking with a singsong voice. But in later visions, she took the form of a winged crowned with blood and serpents. Delivering paradoxes. And riddles. Sometimes weeping, and other times. Laughing. You seek the throne, she told them once. But you walk this serpent spine. Kelly suffered frequent collapses once. He did not rise for two days. He claimed in the space between breaths, it seen the edge of creation, a library of ash watched over by. Angels. Whose. Faces had no mouths. The house grew colder with each ritual. Servants refused to enter certain rooms. Jane D began sleeping in the Eastern wing. Strange Marks appeared on the children’s
bedsheets. Shapes no one had drawn. One of the mirrors in the hallway
shattered inward, though no. One. Was near. Still, the angels came with each new session. They believed he was closer to something. But something was watching. Even then, from beyond the mirrors edge. One night in late autumn, during a particularly grueling invocation at work,
Kelly’s body went unnaturally still. The candle light flickered violently. The air grew thick and metallic, as if the room itself had been buried underground. Then, without warning, Kelly convulsed. His eyes rolled upward and his lips parted, as if to speak. But no sound came, his hand ink stained and trembling. Reached for a piece of chalk
and drew a spiral onto the wooden floor, the symbol expanded slowly, precisely until the circle of invocation was covered in curling ash. John D, watching from across the ritual
boundary, dared to speak. What do you see? He said. Kelly’s voice returned all low and slow, as if echoing from a great depth, a throne, black carved from stone, a bleed shadow. His eyes remained unfocused. It rests in a cavern beneath the world. There are eyes on the walls. A hundred, maybe more, watching. But blind D leaned forward. Who sits upon it? Kelly began to shake it. It was your name. He wept as he spoke. It has your hands, your voice. But its face is gone. Kelly collapsed. He could say more. For three days, he did not. Rise. During that time. The spiral on the floor
could not be removed. When they attempted to wash or scrub
it away, the chalk only darkened,
staining the wood like soot. On the second night, the spiral began to glow
faintly under the moonlight. Even through the closed shutters d, attempted prayers and ritual purification. But nothing worked. At sunrise on the fourth day. The spiral had vanished, but only from sight. Its presence lingered like pressure in the mind. Later,
when reviewed the notes from that night, he found several pages had been overridden
by unseen hands. Each contained the same. Phrase. Repeated again and again. I sit where you would stand. The following entries were recovered
from a sealed compartment in John D’s library
at Mortlake, bound in calfskin. The pages were splattered with candle wax. Scorched at. The. Corners. And in places. Smeared. With what appeared to be blood. They were also not
written in these meticulous hand. March 4th, 1581, Mortlake. They come now,
even when I do not call them. The scratching behind the walls
has begun again. I hear wings above my bed, though the roof is still the language flows
through me like a fever. But I cannot stop writing. The phrases. Burn. I do not know who watches me. I fear they never stopped. March 21st, 1581 Vernal Equinox. Mahdi Army appeared to night with blood
staining her mouth. When I demanded to know
what offering had been taken, she smiled and, pointed towards
the nursery. Jane claimed
she heard only foxes in the night. But I know better. There are no foxes. Mortlake. April 2nd, 1582. Kelly has drawn something he claims was dictated by Rafael himself. A sigil unlike any I have seen. Two sharp to living. It burned into the
desk as he at the word este. When I buried the parchment in the garden, I heard a scream beneath the soil. In these entries,
these usual confidence had frayed. He no longer questioned
the veracity of the. Voices. In to only their intent. He had asked the spirits
if they served the light. They had not answered. Only Madame, he returned. Transfigured her eyes hollow, her wings weeping. Fire. She told him There is light in the pit, but it is not wholly. By 1582, John Dee left England behind. He traveled across Europe, carrying trunks of scrolls and angelic tablets, trailing behind the lingering scent of burnt wax and scorched faith. At his side walked Edward Kelly,
The longer justice crier, but something more, something darker. The spirits had told them to go east to the land of fire and crystal to the place
where men dream beneath stone. They went first to Krakow and to Prague and to the court of Emperor Rudolf,
the second. A monarch enthralled by the occult,
a man who collected. Philosophers. Like weapons there. D and Kelly were received
with honor and suspicion. They conducted ceremonies behind veiled
doors. Priests
watched them with clenched rosaries. It was in Prague
that things began to change. The angels, if that’s what they were, no longer waited to be summoned. They began appearing at
will through mirrors and. Reflections and voices. Rising from ink. Guests at the palace reported
the air turning cold during D sessions. Others claimed to see pale shapes
moving across as. Walls. Flickering like flames behind curtains. Kelly grew unstable. He stopped sleeping. He spoke in tongues,
even outside of the ritual. He carved sigils into his. Arms. Claiming they had been dictated
by Mahdi Army herself. He drank heavily. Some nights
he stared at the shoe stone for hours, even after the ceremony
had ended, muttering, They are watching. They are inside me now. Once he disappeared for three days. When he returned,
he was barefoot, cloaked in bloodied. Robes. And smelled ash and rosewater. He refused to speak of where he had been. De recorded visions
more disturbing than anything before. One spirit declared that
the throne of heaven had been emptied. Another whispered of a divine war that had already ended in failure. That mankind’s creation was a correction of a celestial error. And then came
the demand that destroyed them. In a voice that turned glass to frost, the supposed angel Norvege. Spoke. The bind yourselves and unity. You must share the vessel of flesh. You must share your wives. De wept Jane. De faithful and long suffering
collapsed in grief. Kelly Nothing. His face unreadable. But de obeyed. What happened that night in the upper
chamber of the estate was recorded in no journal. But something shifted forever. After
Jane never looked me in the eye again. Kelly became hostile,
erratic and paranoid. Their work faltered, and Poland. Kelly began refusing. Rituals. He accused of manipulation, of twisting the will of the angels to serve his own. During one final vacation, he rose without warning
and smashed the shoe stone. The hammer made of meteoric iron. They are. Devils. He screamed. And you are their scribe. He fled the next morning, taking stolen manuscripts and angelic tablets with him. Years later, word reached de that Kelly had fallen a tower in Prague. Some said he had jumped, others
that he had been thrown. His body was never recovered. But even in Mortlake de Spoor,
he could still hear Kelly’s voice. It came in the dark just the edges of sleep,
whispering through shattered. Reflections. John, you open the gate. You never closed it. When John D returned to Mortlake in the waning years of the 16th century, he found nothing as he had left it the once glorious library, his life’s. Work. Had been ransacked. Scrolls and sacred volumes were gone. Precious
square memoirs have been torn apart. Their pages used to stoke fires. What remained? They scattered across the. Floors. Like bones after a feast. His telescope had been shattered. His angelic instruments desecrated. Jane greeted him in the silence. His children, now older, offered him wary. Glances. Some refused to stay in the house
after nightfall. The servants whispered behind. Locals. Cross themselves
when he walked through town. But D all died and gaunt resumed his work. He began to reconstruct the anarchy
in tablets from memory, though the letters came broken, twisted. Sometimes reversed. He no longer spoke aloud
the angelic names. His voice cracked when he tried. The spirits no longer invocation. They came on their own accord. At first they appeared in the reflections,
eyes flickering in silver trays. Faces behind. Mirrors. Moved too quickly to see. But soon the manifestations physical. Books flew from. Shelves. Candles extinguished without wind. Voices whispered to his children. The walls. He sealed the West Wing of the house. Jane avoided the library entirely. She slept in a separate room, clutching a crucifix beneath her pillow. One night, DIA awoke to find Mardini
standing in the garden. Her had changed. Her eyes hollow. Her hair blackened with soot, her wings draped through the soil
like wet silk. She did not speak. She only pointed. Towards the sky. The next morning, she discovered pages he had never written lying on his desk. They were in his hand, but bore no memory. The language was unlike anything
that he had studied. Even the spirits had not spoken this way. He locked the pages. Later he tried to burn them. They would not burn. In 1605, Jane died. There were no last words. No blessings. Only a mirror wrapped in red cloth,
left on the mantel. D buried it in the garden. But for weeks afterward, he heard her voice in the night, calling from beneath earth. Why did you choose heaven over me? But by then, even though she knew it had not been heaven, he chose. It had been something that wore the divine
like a mask. In the final days of his life,
John D spoke little. He wandered the darkened
halls of Mortlake, mumbling to himself, his hands forever stained with and wax. Most believed
his age had finally unraveled, the man once hailed
as England’s greatest mind. But those who saw him closely, who dared to look into his eyes, sensed
something. Else. He had not been abandoned by his visions. They had returned. At nine D scribbled furiously in notebooks
that no one was allowed to see. He left the lamps lit until morning and sealed mirrors behind
iron laced cloths. A candle burned constantly in the room or the shoes stone had once rested. Though the stone itself was long gone. One evening, neighbors reported a sound low and resonant, like a pipe organ buried deep underground. These homes shook
as if from a distant thunder. Yet no storm had passed. What happened inside the house
that night was never recorded. And for. But the last pages of his surviving
diary tell part of the tale he wrote of voices returning not as distant whispers. As. But as shapes in the room. They walked beside him,
sat across from him. At his desk. They no longer spoke in symbols. They spoke. In memory. He claimed medium. He had come one final time, her form shifting with each breath from child to woman, skeleton and flame. She told him, You have written the seals. Now we unseal you. That night, every mirror in Mortlake cracked from corner to corner. Books blooding, gone to the floors. Walls shook, light poured from beneath closed doors. And a wind rose from nowhere. The final entry Deaver scribbled in an unsteady hand read. It did not find me. They were waiting
and that I have opened the gate. They are not leaving. This is not a warning. This is a map. After John D’s death, no priest came to bless the home. His manuscripts were locked away
or burned. His name was spoken only in hushed. Tones by. Those who remembered the strange. Lights. That once flickered behind his. Windows. But for those who dared to examine
what remained, those who opened his diaries
deciphered his. Sigils. And translated the ravings. Scrawled into the margins. Of his final. Days. A terrifying vision emerged. The had believed that he had unlocked
something beyond the bounds of human reason, not simply divine knowledge, but the architecture of itself. He had spoken with entities
claiming to be angels, beings of immense
wisdom, beauty and terror. And in doing so, he had torn a hole in the fabric of the world. He Wrote of gardens, made of fire, of libraries that whispered of thrones surrounded by watching eyes of souls that sang in languages. No living man should ever know. Those who study these work. Today’s still argue over
the truth of his visions. Were they hallucinations born of obsession
and sleep deprivation? Or were they something something real or perhaps ancient? One line found inscribed in fading ink behind the of his journal remains
the most debated. The spirits do not lie, but they do not tell the whole truth. And beneath
that written and trembling script, walk lightly, dear reader,
the path to heaven is lined with fire long after his bones turn to dust. His work lived on. Studied By. Kings. Feared by. Priests. Whispered about secret. Orders. Is still used as sigils to open locked. Doors. Between. Worlds. What he saw may never be fully understood. But one thing is certain. Once you call to the other
side, it listens. And sometimes it answers. They called a corpse wood manner, a name borne from dead trees and gothic whimsy
whispered through the pines of Taylor. Like an unholy hymn. It wasn’t just a house. It was a handmade. Fortress. Of eccentricity, nestled deep the. Backwoods. Of North Georgia, where brick walls held
no insulation and strange sigils glared from stained glass
like watchful eyes. To the locals,
it was the home of two devil worshipers, a castle of sin
where wine flowed like blood and forbidden pleasures,
curled in the dark to its owners. Dr. Charles Scudder and Joseph Odum. It was a refuge from judgment, a dream carved out of isolation and earth, a sanctuary far from the reach of society. But dreams, when misread by the cruel or the ignorant, can become nightmares. On a bitter December night in 1982, that dream was shattered by four gunshots. Then five more. A harp, gold leafed and silent, watched as its master fell to loyal mastiffs
died trying to protect him. When the killers fled into the shadows
they left behind not just a scene of unspeakable violence,
but something else. Something
colder than blood and quieter than death. What happened? A corpse would was more than murder. It was an exorcism of the unwanted
cloaked in bigotry and. Greed. And in its aftermath,
the land itself would not rest. The manor burned the bricks, refused to stay quiet. Those who returned
spoke of eyes in the forest, phantom howls and music with no saws. This is the true story of Corpse
Wood Manor. A tale of sanctuary turned
slaughterhouse of men hunted for who they were of murder that bred myth and perhaps something beyond myth. The facts
are real the horror is undeniable. And the dead. Some say that they never left. In December 1982, a gruesome double murder in rural north
Georgia shocked the nation. Dr. Charles Scudder,
a retired university professor, and his partner, Joseph Joey Odum, were found brutally slain at. Their hand-built home,
an isolated brick mini castle that they called Corpse Wood Manor. The murders and the bizarre circumstance
surrounding the crime scene quickly became the stuff of local legend. To this day, the tale of corpse Wood Manor haunts Chattooga
County, a blend of true crime, horror
and whispered paranormal folklore. It’s a story of two eccentric men seeking amid a violent end, a pair of drifters
driven by greed and hate, and a crime scene so lurid that had fed tabloid headlines about devil worship and sparked the ghost. Stories that linger. For decades. Dr. Charles Lee Scudder was an accomplished scientist
and academic before he ever set foot in the Georgia
woods. Born 1926, Scudder earned a Ph.D. in pharmacology and spent over a decade
as an associate professor at Loyola University in Chicago. By the late 1970s, however, he had grown disillusioned with urban life
and academia. He was weary of university
politics, the chaos of the city, and what he perceived
as the moral decay around him. Scudder had also undergone
personal changes. He had been married,
fathering four sons and divorced, and by 1959, he had met Joseph Odum, a gentle soul, 12 years his junior, who originally worked as gutters
housekeeper and cook. Over time, Scudder
and Odum became devoted. Companions. And lovers seeking a simpler
more fulfilling life together. The pair dreamed of leaving Chicago’s
turmoil behind and retreating somewhere quiet, remote and open minded enough to
tolerate two openly gay men. SCUDDER His vision of an idyllic sanctuary was vividly described in a Mother
Earth News article he wrote. He longed for some place in hilly country with the glamor of four seasons, but without super cold winters, and with a good supply of pure water
and wood for heating, and most importantly, with a measure of. On his 50th birthday in October 1976, Dr. Scudder turned that dream into a reality. He resigned from his faculty position, auctioned off most of his posh belongings, and shed modern conveniences. Even giving away all of his appliances in preparation for an off grid life with a modest inheritance
from his mother’s recent passing, Scudder purchased a 40 acre
wooded tract on Taylor’s Ridge in Chattooga County, Georgia. That winter, he and Odum packed their two beloved English mastiff
dogs into a Jeep and drove south
through a blizzard to their new home site. The journey was. Arduous. They lost their way in the Appalachian. Foothills. And even camped in a tent amid
a snow storm. But when the skies cleared,
they’d be held an otherworldly scene of bare bone white trees on the ridge the abundance of. Leafless. Lifeless trees looked like corpses, inspiring the macabre name corpse. Their homestead, Charles Scudder and Joey Odum set out
to build their own little castle in the. Wilderness. Entirely hand. They lived out of a cramped camper
as they broke ground on the new. House. In early 1977 with determined and labor. The couple spent roughly two years laying 45,000 bricks,
one by one, to construct a two story brick home with walls
three layers thick. Scudder drew up unconventional plans inspired by medieval architecture here. In fact, there are no square corners
in the whole place. An investigator later remarked of the oddly rounded turret design. The first floor, finished by the end of summer of 1977, contained a kitchen dining room
and living area. By the next year,
the second floor to cozy bedrooms reached by a circular staircase lit by stained glass
windows, was topped with a roof. They dug a deep well and built a small brick pump house for it, installed a wood burning stove for heat, and erected a brick outhouse
for a chemical toilet. All of this was achieved
with no electricity and using only hand tools. Truly living off the grid long before it was trendy. From the outset,
its gutters flair for the occult and dramatic was embedded in Corpse
Wood’s design. It crowned the arched front entrance with a leering pink
gargoyle statue made of concrete, a guardian demon watching over the door. Inside guide he crafted stained glass windows depicting a human skull, and the goat headed baphomet,
an emblem of the church. Satan. Scudder was indeed an official member of Anton Lavey’s
Church of Satan and Atheist Philosophy. Rather than a literal devil
worshiping one, and his new home was filled with arcane
and unsettling decor. He kept human skulls
his days in medical research. A black and gold statue of the demon
Mephistopheles stood on display,
and each of the manor’s four brick. Chimneys. Was adorned with an inverted pentagram
symbol. Life, a corpse wood
manor, was deliberately primitive, which gave the place
an even more gothic atmosphere. The manor had no electricity, no phone and no plumbing. At night, the couple relied on oil lamps and candles that cast dancing shadows
across the walls, decorated with a cold artwork. A wood stove in the kitchen provided heat and a place to cook the vegetables
that they grew their garden. Odum tended a small rose garden out front in a patch of Muscatine grapevines out back for making homemade. By day, the two men tended to a menagerie of animals
and projects on their land. Besides their two. Mastiffs. Aptly named bells above and arsenault. If they kept chickens
and even built a small lake orchard and apiary over time. In a 1981 letter, Scudder described an idyllic daily routine at Corpse Wood at 10 a.m.. We had tea in the gazebo tonight,
and they practice my harp. Or perhaps I’ll sit in the courtyard and listen to the tree frogs and. Whippoorwill. While bats
fly and clouds drift across the full moon. The world that’s around me now is fresh, quiet and very beautiful. Indeed. Scudder brought a lavish gold leaf harp
to this wilderness and often played music under the stars, adding to the site’s otherworldly aura. Beyond the main house, Scudder
and Odum erected several outbuildings, including a three story brick chicken coop that would gain infamy and local law. The first floor of this structure
housed their poultry and stored food. The second floor held supplies and reportedly part of the couple’s extensive pornography collection. The top floor was painted
entirely in a rosy hue and decked out as a den of pleasures, soon known as the Pink Room. Inside this loft space were mattresses
draped in pink candles and lanterns for light. Assorted whips and chains hung on the. Walls. And a log book for visitors to sign in. This was Scudder and Odom’s private retreat for entertaining guests. A secluded loft
where they offered guests homemade wine, marijuana and an escape from prying eyes. Locals whispered that sexual parties took place in the pink
room. And indeed, Scudder did not hide his free
spirited sexuality. The pair were not monogamous, and Scudder was known to correspond with pen pals,
including prison. Inmates. About erotic interests, even keeping notes on various lovers kinks. Rumors later claimed that the Pink ROOM’s
guestbook contained names of up to 300 visitors, including supposedly
some prominent local men. Though the ledger mysteriously vanished during the murder investigation, whether or not local VIPs
indulged in Corpse Wood’s offerings, such rumors only fueled the dark legend that grew around the place. Despite their quest for seclusion, Scudder and Odum did not entirely shun
the outside world. They frequently drove their black jeep into the tiny town of Tryon
for groceries and supplies. Their vehicle turned. Heads. It was emblazoned with a cold symbols, including a large pentacle on the side. In the conservative rural
south of the early 1980s, the saloon a stir. Townsfolk began to gossip
about the two peculiar devil. Worshipers. Living up on the ridge. Whispers Spread of satanic rituals, orgies in a pleasure castle and other lurid imaginings. Some locals used homophobic slurs, referring to Scudder and Odum
as the queer devil worshipers. On the mountain. Yet those who actually met the men often came away with a different impression. By all accounts, Scudder
and Odum were friendly and accommodating
to curious folk and deer hunters. The couple did not brandish weapons
or threaten trespassers. They welcomed neighbors and adventurers
alike. with flasks of their potent homemade wine
and marijuana. Joints. By the fire. One of those visitors was Kenneth
Avery Brock, a local teenager who stumbled onto Corpse Wood Manor
while hunting deer in the. Woods. In 1982. Brock was 17 years old,
a high school dropout, doing odd jobs,
and he had heard the fearful. Whispers. About the gay devil. Worshipers. On Taylor’s ridge. But Curiosity got the better of him when he encountered Dr. Scudder on a hunting for Ray. The Professor turned
homesteader greeted him warmly. Scudder even gave Brock permission
to hunt on the property and invited him to the pink room
for a taste of homemade muscatine wine and conversation. By Brock’s later account, these visits turned sexual, and then he returned several times
for intimate encounters with the men. At the time,
the age of consent in Georgia was just 14. But sodomy, even between consenting. Adults. Was still illegal. Brock Secret liaisons with the two men would have been scandalous
if revealed, and he reportedly kept them hidden
from his friends. Nonetheless, his experience as a corpse planted a seed in his mind, one that would soon grow
into a deadly plot. In the fall of 1982, Kenneth
Avery Brock moved into a trailer home in the nearby Hall’s Valley
with a new roommate, Samuel. Tony West. Each throw West
was considerably older than Brock and had a far more troubled past. Hailing from the same area. West had spent much of his life
in and out of. Prisons. And mental institutions. In fact, his criminal history was already littered with violence. Chillingly, West’s career in crime had begun years earlier when he shot and killed his own two year
old nephew in what was described
as an execution style murder. He Had also been implicated
in other serious crimes over the years. By 1982, Tony West was an unemployed ex-con living in a rundown trailer,
a volatile man described as wild and prone to bouts of cruelty by those who knew him. Brock, drifting and aimless, became West’s roommate
in an unlikely friend. It wasn’t long before young Brock told West all about the oddball couple living up on Taylors
Ridge, and Brock’s telling Corpse would Manor
must have sounded like a tempting target. He spun tales of rich Satanists who dwelt in a remote brick mansion filled with antiques who drank fine wine. And most importantly,
who Brock believed were hiding a fortune somewhere in the walls of their house. Brock
had seen enough to tantalize and scatters gold encrusted
harp, valuable artwork and furniture, and perhaps even vials of LSD and drugs that might fetch a price. And indeed, Scudder
kept a supply of LSD old lab. Samples. On hand. Though
it turns out they were mostly inert. Neither Brock nor West had much money to their names,
and the prospect of robbing the couple promised a windfall
beyond their wildest. So in the privacy of that trailer, the two men began to plan as West. Later admitted to investigators,
they planned the crime days in advance. They would gain
entry under friendly pretenses. Then subdue the victims, torture them if necessary, and force them to reveal where their money and treasures
were hidden. Brock
even attempted a reconnaissance mission in November of 1982. He visited Corpse Wood
several Times that month, ostensibly to socialize, but with an ulterior motive of learning
the layout of the. House. And where valuables might be kept. However, Scudder
and Odum never let the teenager inside the main house
beyond the vestibule. All of Brock’s interactions
took place in outdoor. Areas. Or in the pink room. Loft remained largely unaware that the Brick Mansion had no safe
full of cash, no electricity,
which might have tipped him off that high value electronics
or appliances were absent. And in fact, there was very little
money on the side at all. The homesteaders lived simply on about hundred dollars a month with any savings kept in a local bank. Brock’s imagination, fueled by town
gossip and, youthful greed, filled in the blanks
with fantasies of hidden riches. Frustrated by his limited knowledge
of the interior, Brock and West decided
that they would simply have to storm a corpse wood manor
and find the loot by force. They prepared weapons and tools. For the. Deed. Brock borrowed a 22 caliber Remington rifle from his mother under the ruse of needing it
to hunt rabbits. West, meanwhile, mixed up a batch of homebrew and toxic
and called to the loo a noxious cocktail of alcohol paint thinner and glue puffed to produce a cheap high. On December 12th of 1982, the conspirators
set their plan into motion. They invited two teenagers Joey. Welles. West’s 18 year old nephew
and his girlfriend, Teresa Hudgens,
both of whom were unaware of the to ride along with them under the pretense
of a casual double date. Brock and West suggested
they all drive up into the mountains to visit those folks at Corpse. Wood. Or some homemade wine, a proposition
which sounded harmless enough to the teens, though Teresa was uneasy about visiting devil worshipers. But she was eventually coaxed into it. The four loaded West’s car
bringing along the rifle, a jug of two to Lou
and a couple of empty wine flasks. They rumbled up the winding dirt road
and formerly known as Dead Horse. Road. Toward a corpse wood manner. As dusk fell, as they neared the property, Teresa later recalled seeing the rifle wedged between the front two seats, an ominous sign that something was amiss. Charles Scudder and Joey Odom were relaxing
on that chilly Sunday evening, unaware of the danger
that approached them. Earlier, Odom
had prepared a chicken dinner and the couple likely
spent the early night in routine, perhaps listening to music
or reading by lamplight. They had no telephone and no electricity. The surprise visitors were not uncommon and usually welcomed sometime after dark. The sound of car
tires crunching up the leaf strewn drive announced the arrival of guests. Dr. Scudder stepped outside, greet
the unexpected guests, even bummed a cigaret from the young men
to take inside to Joey Odom, who was tidying up the after supper. The group explained
that they were just out joyriding and thought that they’d stop by
being the ever gracious host that he was. Scudder invited all four visitors
to climb the 40 foot ladder up to the pink room
for some plum wine and converse station. He had no reason to suspect anything sinister. Brock was a familiar face by now,
and the presence of a young woman likely put the couple further at ease up in the drafty pink room,
illuminated by a single kerosene lantern
and a propane heater, Scudder poured two glasses of his homemade muscatine wine
for everyone. Brock passed around
a plastic bag of the two Tolu cocktail, which Theresa and Joey Wells sniffed. Though Dr. Scudder himself
politely declined the huffing in favor of sipping wine. The gathering must have seemed surreal. Five people huddled in a dimly lit
attic loft, painted Pepto-Bismol pink, surrounded by whips and eccentric bric a brac with the winter
wind howling outside for a few minutes. They engaged in small talk in scooters. Two English mastiffs
barked occasionally down below, uneasy at the unfamiliar commotion, perhaps to break the ice. Scudder played host in his quirky way by showing off some pornography
and making. Any semblance of normalcy, however, was short lived. After 15 or 20. Minutes. Kenneth Brock excused himself,
saying that he needed to go down to the car to get more party drink. A clamor down the ladder
into the cold night. In truth, this was the moment that he and West had been waiting for their ambush was about to begin. Brock retrieved the loaded
22 caliber rifle from the vehicle and returned to the base of the ladder. When the young man emerged again
through the trap door in the pink
room, armed with the rifle, Dr. Shutters eyes caught the glint of the gun
barrel. Incredibly, Scudder laughed, perhaps thinking that it was a prank. The gray professor calmly joked,
Bang, bang, as if playing cops and robbers. His relaxed reaction may be born of intoxication or disbelief, momentarily threw Brock off guard. But Tony West eyes blazing pulled out a knife in a flash. Brock lunged at Scudder, yanking
this slight 50 year old man by his long gray hair while West pressed the knife blade hard against Scudder throat. At this moment, in the illusion of a harmless visit evaporated. Theresa Hudgins
let out a scream in Joey Wells. Frozen terror. West barked orders, shoving Scudder face down
and binding his hands with the rope. The attackers demanded that Scudder
tell them where the money was. Those startled and roughed
up, Scudder remained eerily calm. He insisted that there was fortune hidden here. The house held no cash and only a few. Valuables. That their modest funds were all kept in a bank account instead. Not believing him. Brock grew agitated. He decided to force Joey Odum to hand over money instead. Brock clambered back down the ladder,
shouting for Odum to come out of the main house
with the dogs. Frightened. Theresa and Joey Wells saw their. Chance. And bolted down the ladder as well, hoping to run to the car. But Tony West chased after them, catching the teens
before they could escape. But Tony West chased after them catching the teens,
before they could escape at gunpoint. He corralled them back, even attempting to start the getaway
car himself at one point. But the car stalled, leaving them no. Choice. But to drag the trembling teenagers
back up into the loft as hostages. Meanwhile, at the foot of the ladder, Kenneth Brock was already kicking
in the kitchen door of the manor. Joey Odom heard the commotion, and his lover’s
distant voice had unlatched the door
to see what was happening. He was greeted by the muzzle of Brock’s 22 rifle. Without hesitation, Brock opened fire, a crack of gunfire
that echoed throughout the trees. Odom was struck. Multiple times. And crumpled to the floor of the kitchen. Brock
then turned the rifle on the two mastiffs, shooting both dogs at point range as they cowered by the woodstove. The loyal mastiffs
that had been the pride of corpse would now lay dying alongside Odom in the pink room above West, and the teens heard the gunshots
ring out in quick succession. Teresa later said that it was a barrage of bullets and then a terrible silence. West Forced the bound Scudder
and the two shocked teenagers down the ladder and then marched them
at gunpoint toward the main house. It was a chaotic scene. The once cozy home
now had a bullet riddled door. Blood splattered on the. Walls. And the smell of gunpowder
and death in the air. Joey Odom, though mortally wounded,
was still clinging to life on the kitchen floor,
and he had managed to drag himself a short distance, smearing blood across the stone tiles. Charles Cutter’s eyes
fell on the horrifying sight of his partner sprawled in blood. The professor’s composure finally cracked. He lurched forward, muffling a cry through the gag that West had shoved over
his mouth. West ripped the gag off and again demanded, Where’s the damn money? He also snarled the Brock to fetch a soldering iron from the tools, apparently intending to torture Scudder
for information. SCUDDER Even now managed a dark quip. We don’t have electricity out here. So what good would a soldering iron do? And raged at the Defiance West, threatened more violence. In that moment, Dr. Scudder looked around at the carnage. His lifelong partner dying, their beloved. Dogs slain. And their dream home violated. And he spoke quietly. I asked for this, he said cryptically. Perhaps those words reflected for inviting these dangerous
young men into his haven, or regret for moving to a place where such intolerance festered. Those would be his final words. Scudder made a desperate lunge toward Joey Odom’s prone body, reaching out to comfort his partner, even as West aimed the gun. A shot exploded from West’s rifle, and Dr. Scudder fell. A bullet wound searing through his face. Incredibly, Scudder did not die. Instantly, despite a severe wound, the 50 year old man was still moving, stubbornly attempting to crawl toward. Odom. Brock and West stood over him and coldly fired four more rounds
and just gutters. Head at range. At last, Dr. Charles Scudder lay still, his blood pooling onto the floor near his cherished library of cold. Books. And the fallen Christmas tree. The castle in the. Woods. Had truly become a. Corpse wood. Its. Keepers. Now corpses within its walls. In a grim stroke of irony,
hanging on the wall. Not far from Scudder,
his body was a self-portrait that he had painted of himself
some months earlier in the painting. Scudder depicted himself bound and gagged with five bleeding bullet. Wounds. In his head. It was as if this scene now playing out had been foretold on the canvas. An eerie premonition. Real lost in blood. Even the killers would later remark on the spooky accuracy of that artwork. Its paint now the very gore it predicted. Joey Oden was still gasping weakly, terribly wounded, but not yet dead. Brock approached the crawling man and ended Odom’s life with a final point blink gunshot. Executing him on the spot. The brutal deed was done and only a few explosive minutes. The quiet of the Georgia. Woods. Had given way to gunfire and screams,
and two innocent men, along with their. Dogs. Had been slaughtered
in their own sanctuary. The terrified teen. Witnesses. Joey Wells and Theresa. Hudgens. Huddled together in shock, weeping and begging for their lives. Brock and West spared them, but only because they might useful and could be intimidated into silence. With Scudder and Odom dead. The intruders ransacked Corpse Wood
Manor in a frenzy. They tore through drawers,
flipped mattresses and pried at floorboards desperately searching
for cash and valuables. They found almost nothing of the riches
that they had imagined. In The end. The murderers
grabbed a handful of personal items, a few pieces of jewelry, a gold plated ceremonial dagger, a couple of silver candlesticks, a pistol and a leather jacket. They also eyed Dr. Sutter’s Big Harp,
perhaps the single most valuable item in. The house. And even lugged it out to the car. But it proved too large
to fit into the vehicle. Frustration and disappointment
set in as it dawned on them that there was no hidden fortune. This whole massacre had been
for a few meager trinkets. Time was running out
before someone might come along. So the men decided to flee. They forced Theresa
and Joey Wells back into their own car and left the crime scene in shambles. Crimson blood splashed across the manor’s brick walls and bookshelves outside. West issued
a chilling warning to the teens. If they told anyone
what had happened here, he would kill them, too. In fact, according to later. Reports. Theresa was essentially held hostage
by the extended Wells family for the next several days. They were terrified
that if she went to the police, West might return and harm them all. Brock in West then transferred
their stolen goods into Dr. Sutter’s black Jeep. The killers decided to use the victim’s
own vehicle for their getaway. Since West’s car was not running, reliable since it had stalled earlier,
they started the jeep, barreled off down the mountain, leaving corpse Wood
Manor littered with bodies, bullet casings and spilled wine. In their haste, they had abandoned
some incriminating evidence. Notably, West had left behind
his bloody knife and Brock his rifle, the stock of which had broken
during the assault. But any concerns about covering
their tracks were secondary to escape. Brock and West drove through the night, heading westward out of Georgia. Their fanciful plan was to flee to Mexico. Far from the reach of southern. Little did they know their nightmare was not over. They were about to add another victim to their bloody is Brock, and West sped away from the dark and woods of Chattooga
County on the night of December 12, 1982. News of the murders
had not yet reached anyone. The remote location of corpse wood meant that the bodies of Charles Scudder
and Joey Odum would lie undiscovered for days. Meanwhile, the two fugitives drove Dr. Scudder
Jeep across state lines, chain smoking and nervously planning their next moves. They swapped out the Jeep’s
distinctive license plate to avoid detection. By the next day. December 13th. They had reached rural Mississippi low on fuel and money. The pair decided to ditch
the very identifiable black Jeep for another vehicle
that would not attract attention. Later that day, the duo pulled into a rest area
near Vicksburg, where a lone car sat with a man
sleeping inside. The man was Navy Lieutenant Kirby Ken Phelps, age 20. Six. Was on his way home
to Georgia for the holidays. Brock and West
crept up to Phelps small Toyota and in a maneuver as cold blooded
as the corpse would attack, they woke the groggy Navy lieutenant at gunpoint
and forced him to walk into the. Woods. Beside the rest stop as they prepared to tie him to a tree, Lieutenant Phelps
made a desperate attempt to flee. Tony West did not hesitate. He shot the young officer dead, firing multiple bullets into Phelps
before he could escape. Brock and West then stole Phelps wallet,
netting only a bit of cash in his car, abandoning
Scott’s Jeep there at the rest stop. The senseless murder of Lieutenant Phelps, a stranger to them,
demonstrated that Brock and West were willing to kill
anyone who got in their way, even when it was completely unnecessary. It was an act of pure, callous violence that would later horrified public even more than the initial murders. After switching to Phelps his car, the fugitives continued West for a time,
possibly considering
heading toward California or Mexico. But tensions were rising
between the two accomplices. They had been on the run for days. They were hungry, tired and growing, increasingly distrustful of one another. Argued in Austin, Texas,
over their next steps and ended up splitting up around December 17th or 18th. Kenneth Brock, the younger of the two, was cracking
under the weight of guilt and fear. He ultimately decided to turn back toward
Georgia, perhaps hoping to surrender
and blame everything on West. Brock hitchhiked his way
East, reaching Georgia by December 20th of 1982, near Marietta, just outside of Atlanta. He called his mother from a payphone. She informed him
that the police were looking for him and that the whole horrific story
had started to come out. Brock quickly hung up. Resigned to his fate,
he walked into a nearby gas station and calmly confessed to the attendant
that he was involved in the corpse wood murders. The clerk
kept him talking until law enforcement, who by then had arrest
warrant out for him, arrived within. Minutes. They then took him into custody
without incident. Tony West’s journey took a different turn. After parting from Brock in Texas, West meandered through Oklahoma and Missouri,
apparently unsure of where to go on Christmas Eve, 1982. West was in Chattanooga, Tennessee,
just a short drive from the Georgia state line
when his stolen car ran out of gas. Exhausted, broke and desperate. West walked through cold rain
into a highway truck stop lounge on the outskirts of Chattanooga. There, he actually approached a uniformed police officer and said, go ahead and take me in. West essentially surrendered, confessing on the spot that he was wanted for murders
back in Georgia. The officer, startled by this unsolicited
confession, checked for. Warrants. But initially couldn’t
find one for West in the system, likely due to some administrative delay. Regardless, West refused to leave. He was shivering and exhausted. He clearly wanted to give up. So the Tennessee officer detained him
and contacted Georgia authorities. By the early hours of Christmas, Tony West was handed over to the Chattooga County deputies
and formally arrested. For the murders. Of Charles Scudder and Joey Odom. Back on Taylor’s
Ridge, several days had passed and nobody had seen or heard from Dr. Scudder or Joey Odom. The first sign of trouble came on December 16th, when a couple of locals. Something odd. A corpse. Wood. One neighbor spotted bullet
holes, riddling the door of the manor and got an uneasy feeling. That same day, Theresa Hudgins could no longer contain her trauma, having been effectively
kept under watch by Joey Wells’s family
since the night of the murders. Theresa finally managed
to reach out to her own family and then the police overwhelmed and shaking. The young woman told sheriff’s deputies
about the horrific events that she had. Witnessed. With this eyewitness information. Chattooga County Sheriff
Gary McConnell and his deputies raced up to Corpse
Wood Manor on December 16th. Meanwhile, a family friend of Scudder and. Odom’s. Worried after days of silence also came by the property
that day, only to flee in terror. After glimpsing the gruesome scene inside and smelling decay in the air. Authorities would describe it
as a crime scene unlike any other. The quiet brick home
was now a tabloid of horror. Investigators found blood
stained walls, overturned furniture and spent bullet casings
strewn about in the kitchen lay. The body of Joseph Odom
collapsed in a pool of his own blood near the stove with the carcasses
of the two large mastiffs at his side. Deeper in the. House. Dr. Charles Cutler’s
body was discovered on the floor. His hands still bound. The violence of his end was obvious. Scudder had been gagged and shot
multiple times in the head and fragments. His shattered eyeglasses and teeth
were scattered nearby, hanging on the wall above him, detectives noted, with a shiver. Was Cutter’s own self-portrait depicting almost an identical scene. Truly a chilling detail
that many would consider to be a premonition
given beyond the bloodshed. The contents of the House fascinated and shocked law enforcement. The remote castle was filled
with an odd collection of items. These ranged from satanic and occult
artwork to ritual daggers, whips and chains, a tiara and a wig. Stacks of pornography into humans skulls. Deputies even came across
three small vials labeled LSD 25 later determined to be old,
mostly inactive samples that Scudder had taken from his lab
in Chicago two years prior. The pink room,
in the outbuilding with its. Mattresses and. Bondage gear, further confirmed the rumors of the couple’s libertine lifestyle. The scene was a detective’s nightmare, but a tabloid reporter’s dream. Sheriff McConnell wisely summoned
the Georgia Bureau of Investigation, or GBI and state crime lab technicians to meticulously process the site. Evidence was collected,
including the rifle and knife left behind by the killers. Fingerprints
in the guest log book, though. Intriguingly, the infamous guest
book of names was reported missing, possibly pilfered as a keepsake. Word of the double murder of two eccentric recluses
spread quickly in law enforcement circles
and to the media. On December 18th of 1982,
the Atlanta Constitution ran a headline that captured the sensational tone
that would pervade the coverage. Slain devil. Worshipers. Were ex college teacher and companion. The article, Sheriff McConnell, who noted it is a very bizarre murder. The gentleman that lived in the house
were devil worshipers. We’re a very small town
and we had known about that. But that’s just freedom of religion. To McConnell’s credit,
he appeared to recognize that Scudder and Odom’s unorthodox
beliefs were their own business. But once that detail was out, the press ran with it sensationally. The next day’s paper spoke
breathlessly of the bizarre killing of two reclusive devil worshipers in their homosexual activity,
alluding to the whips and unusual sexual devices
found at the scene. The salacious details of the skull’s
satanic. Symbols. And paraphernalia were splashed across headlines
from Georgia to California. As the Associated
and other outlets picked up the story, small town Chattooga County suddenly
found itself at the center of a national media frenzy that mixed genuine horror at the crime with a prurient fascination for the victims lifestyles. Sheriff McConnell, meanwhile, had a triple homicide to solve. Scudder Odum and the unknown third victim from the Jeep would soon be identified
as Lieutenant Phelps. Thanks to Theresa Hudgins statement
and evidence at the scene, warrants were swiftly issued for Avery Brock and Tony West on the charges of murder. The abandoned jeep
recovered by police in Mississippi further tied into the case once its Georgia plates
were traced back to Corpse Wood Manor. With Brock already in custody
by December 20th and West captured by the 25th. The manhunt was relatively short lived. But intense. Brock had confessed his role
almost immediately upon surrender, providing investigators
with a detailed timeline of events. West After initially trying to blame Brock alone, also gave a full confession
of the shootings, including the murder of
Lieutenant Phelps to a GBI. All I can say is they were devils and I killed them. That’s how I feel about it, West said
coldly. Speaking of Scudder and Odom. By Christmas 1982,
the killers were behind. Bars. And a community was left to grapple
with the aftermath. On December 26, the Atlanta Constitution
printed a particularly dramatic summary. Scudder and Odum were described by. Authorities as. Homosexual devil worshipers
who lived in a dank castle like home. cluttered with. Skulls, pornographic materials. And an extensive occult library,
along with statues of Satan. Serpents lizards and frogs. The tone of some coverage
verged on vilifying the. Victims more than. The. Perpetrators. A fact that did not go unnoticed
by outside observers. The Church of Satan founder Anton Levey. For instance, expressed anger
at the injustice of what happened to them, noting that this case was proof
that in parts of America, people could still be persecuted
and even killed for being different. Among many locals in Chattooga County, however, there was a conflicted response. Some viewed Brock and West
with a degree of grim sympathy, seeing their act as, in their eyes,
a cleansing of perceived evil in the community. This stark notion
that the murders were justifiable in the eyes of the public would later
be remarked upon underscoring the prejudice that Scudder and Odum had quietly lived among the legal aftermath of the corpse, Wood
Manor murders moved quickly. By February of 1983, just two months after the killings. Case was on the Chattooga County docket, facing overwhelming evidence
and his own confession. Kenneth Avery Brock accepted a plea deal on February 15th of 1983. Brock pleaded guilty to his role
in the murders, specifically admitting to shooting Joey Odum in exchange
for avoiding the death penalty. He was sentenced to three consecutive life terms in prison, one for each murder,
including Lieutenant. Phelps. At 17 years old. Brock would have no chance
for parole for decades, effectively
spending the rest of his life behind bars. Tony West, however, chose to stand trial in late February of 1983. West was tried for the murder
in a Georgia courtroom, with Judge Joseph Loggins presiding, a judge known
for being tough on criminals. The trial lasted about a week and a half, and it was as sensational as expected. West defense team floated multiple, sometimes contradictory explanations. In a. Bid to a capital conviction. Initially, West claimed that the slayings
were an act of revenge on Scudder for supposedly corrupting Brock,
essentially saying that Brock had been embarrassed by the sexual encounters
with Scudder and that they sought payback. Was a dubious rationale for a robbery murder,
and it didn’t gain much traction. The defense
then shifted tactics, asserting Dr. Scudder had drugged
Brock and West with LSD laced wine, causing them to hallucinate
and go temporarily insane. West even alleged that he saw Sutter’s
golden harp pulsing with an evil glow and that the professor had bewitched
somehow. However, forensic tests on the leftover wine found no trace of LSD. Investigators had already learned that Scudder owned old LSD samples. He hadn’t actually dosed anyone
that night. The only drugs consumed were voluntary alcohol or marijuana and huffed solvents. The prosecution
countered with evidence of premeditation. Witnesses
and Brock’s own statements showed the duo planned the robbery of stone cold
sober days beforehand. At one point, West’s attorney
even resorted to inflaming anti-gay sentiments in the courtroom,
making homophobic insinuations. About the victims. And an attempt to justify the violence. The courtroom drama was intense, but in the end, the facts were clear
and the jury remained. Unswayed. By the defenses. After just 2 hours of deliberation, the jury found Tony West guilty
on all counts. He was sentenced to death by electrocution for the murders of Scudder and Odom and effectively for Lieutenant Phelps
as well. For a brief time, it looked like West might face Georgia’s electric chair. However, an appeals court later found an issue
with the composition of the jury. Reportedly, not enough women
jurors were included, among other concerns,
and overturned the death sentence on procedural grounds rather than face a retrial and,
the possibility of a new death sentence. West agreed in March of 1985
to a plea deal. He accepted two consecutive life sentences
plus additional years in exchange for the state
dropping the pursuit of execution. Thus, by 1985, both Brock and West were securely in Georgia’s
prison system for life. In the decades since,
neither man has ever paroled. As of the 40th
anniversary of the crime in 2022, Brock, who’s 57 years old
now, remains incarcerated at a Georgia correctional facility
and west around age 70, is also still behind bars, each having been denied parole multiple times. The law had done its work,
but the court of public opinion was left deeply about the case for years. Sheriff McConnell
bluntly summed up what he believed were the killers to what motives robbery
was Probably about 50% of the motive. The rest likely the devil worshiping and homosexuality. In other words, prejudice and hatred played as much of a role as greed. Tony West’s own
unapologetic post-conviction statement underscored that ugly truth. They were devils and I’d killed them. That’s how I feel about it. Such sentiments were made clear
that Scudder and Odom were victimized
not only by the bullets that killed them, but also by the bigotry
that followed them, even in death with. The trials over. The focus turned to what would become of
corpse would manner in the property. Neither Scudder
nor Odom had surviving partners spouses, so their families
squabbled over their modest estate. Dr. Scudder had willed everything to Joey
Odom, but Odom, too, was deceased. Scudder is for adult sons and Odom sister. Each laid claim to the land. And what remained of the possessions? A notable
legal battle ensued over artifacts like shutters
Harp in the bronze Mephistopheles statue in 1983. Famed Georgia defense attorney Bobby Leigh Cook was hired by Scudder Sons and ultimately secured harp and statue
on their behalf. These pieces, curiously,
ended up in display in Cooke’s Law. Office or. Some time. The 40 acre property itself was sold off
relatively soon after the murders, passing into private hands. The new owner did not relish the site’s dark notoriety. And trespassers. Were discouraged. However, Corpse Wood Manor did not stand intact for long. In January of 1983,
barely a month after the. Murders. A fire of mysterious origin gutted the three story chicken house, destroying the infamous pink room in which the nightmare had begun. Locals suspected that it was arson,
perhaps revenge, by someone outraged at the devil worship
that had allegedly occurred there, or simply vandalism by thrill seekers. Then, in late 1983, another blaze. Almost certainly arson
as well burned the main manor house to ruins, consuming the wooden roof. Floors. And exterior. The brick walls,
sturdy to the end, did not entirely. Collapse. But the once home was now a blackened shell
open to the sky. Over the years, weather and neglect took their toll. Ivy and wild vines crept over
the remaining brick arches and walls, and the forest began to reclaim the site. By the 1990s and 2000s, all that was left of Corpse Wood Manor or piles of bricks, partial walls and the skeletal brick pillars
of what had been the front gazebo where Scudder and Odum once
drank their morning tea. A pair of stone gate pillars
that marked the entry to the property
still stand in the foundation. Outline of the manor is barely visible
beneath. Vines. And fallen leaves. Locals
say the ruins exude an eerie calm now like a tomb sealed off in the woods. The land remains privately owned and is considered off. Limits to visitors. But that has not curious. Souls. From making pilgrimages, hikers,
paranormal investigators and true crime. Enthusiasts. Frequently sneak down the overgrown
logging road. Dead Horse Road, as Scudder
had grimly named it to glimpse the place
where the infamous events occurred in the wake of the tragedy, The remains of the victims were handled according to their family’s wishes. In a small private ceremony,
a corpse wood friends scatter Joey Odom’s. Ashes. And his beloved Rose
Garden on the property, granting his wish to forever be a part of the place
he loved. Dr. Scudder,
whose body was claimed by his family and returned to Milwaukee, Wisconsin,
where he was buried in the Scudder family plot by his sister in April 1983. Thus. Even in death, the couple were separated. One laid to rest in the soil of corpse
wood, the other returned to his Midwestern roots for show to the county. The Corpse Wood Manor case became a
cautionary tale, told for generations. As. It highlighted, the extreme culture clash between two free living
northern transplants and the insular. Religion. Rural community. They settled, in the words of one commentator. Two innocent men were brutally murdered,
then victimized again for their sexual orientation
and religious beliefs. Over time,
some measure of reexamination occurred. People began to recognize that Scudder
and Odum hurt no one, and that the real evil that visited Taylor’s Ridge
that night was not satanic at all, but rather human greed and intolerance. The site, however, would never escape
the shadow of its dark lore evolving into a local legend of a haunted place. Almost immediately after the. Murders. Tales of paranormal activity
at Corpse Wood Manor began to circulate. Even the sheriff’s deputies and GBI. Agents. Who processed crime scene felt
an uncanny vibe. Some officers later said that they felt as if they were being watched
in the empty words or sensed a strange presence as they worked the case, given the occult trappings of the house. It’s perhaps not surprising
that imaginations ran wild. Locals already primed with rumors of devil worship
and black magic, soon began spinning
ghost stories about Taylor’s rage. One persistent legend warns that anyone who takes a brick
or artifact from the. Ruins. Will suffer horrible, bad luck. Or a curse. This law may have been started
because several people who grabbed. From Corpse Wood. Reported sudden misfortunes and became convinced the objects. Were cursed. There is the story of a young man
who stole a decorative brick from the rubble,
only to experience a string of personal. Disasters. Until. He returned it. Whether by. Coincidence. Or psychological suggestion, the curse brick tale endures. Many Refuse
to disturb anything at the site or fear of angering restless spirits. Visitors to the ruins over the years frequently describe
the eerie sights and sounds. There are reports of shadowy figures
fitting between the. Trees. And. Apparitions. Believed to resemble Charles Scudder
or Joey Odum wandering the grounds. Some have claimed to smell roses. Perhaps Odom’s garden or whiffs of pipe tobacco with no logical source. Auditory phenomena
are especially common in these tales. Many have reported hearing the distant echo of gunshots in the woods,
as if replaying the. Violence of that night. Others swear
they’ve heard the fierce barking of. Dogs. When no dogs are present. Perhaps the loyal. Mastiff is. Still guarding their. Masters. Even in death. One chilling account even describes
the tinkling sound of Harp playing a melancholy tune
from somewhere among the ruins. Despite no instrument being there. Campers
who have snuck onto the property at night tell of an oppressive silence falling, then the sudden shatter of unseen. Glass. Or a guttural scream
that sends them fleeing after nightfall. Multiple witnesses have reported seeing
pairs of glowing red eyes in the forest darkness, eyes at some believe
belonged to the spectral mastiff. Beelzebub still standing
watch with preternatural ferocity. Local folklore has also grafted
older legends onto the corpse story. Some say the area was haunted even before Scudder and Odum arrived. Tales of a Civil War. Soldiers, Ghosts roaming. Ridge. Or curses tied to the Cherokee who once lived on that land. These unrelated legends
sometimes get mixed in with the corpse wood narrative during retellings,
creating a kind of legend stew. However, the ghost stories
specific to the. Murders. Are the ones most often repeated around
campfires in teenage sleepovers in the region. The site is so notorious that among local
it earned. Nicknames. Like Devil Worshipers. Mountain parents would warn their kids
to stay away. And indeed, some
who ventured Dead Horse Road recounted scary encounters. In one case, a group of visitors claimed they were chased off by unknown men brandishing machetes and guns, leading to whispers that either
violent squatters or some secretive
cult now guards the ruins. Over the years, paranormal investigators and occult enthusiasts
have been drawn to corpse wood. Some self-proclaimed witches
have held midnight. Rituals among. The crumbling. Walls. Attempting to communicate with the dead or to conjure ghosts out of tragedy. Ghost hunting groups who visit often
come away convinced that the site is a hotspot of supernatural energy,
citing their EVP recordings of disembodied voices
or inexplicable enough spikes. One paranormal author even noted that after researching the case
thoroughly, the combination of the gruesome murder scene and creepy isolated ruins was so chilling that it kept him from sleeping
without the lights on after he visited. And yet, for all the spooky lore, there is a rational perspective
that tempers the legend. Skeptics
point out that any cold spots or noises. At corpse wood. Can easily be attributed
to the natural environment, the scurrying of animals,
or the echo of distant hunters in these deep woods. As one journalist wrote
after visiting the overgrown site, storytellers imbue corpse wood with a demonic. But the only thing that remains here is an inspired crime scene. Indeed, walking among the graffiti marked bricks and tangled brush, one may simply feel a profound sadness. More than any malevolent force, it as if the land itself
remembers the blood spilled. And mourns the. Senseless. Loss. Of life. One tantalizing paranormal footnote often discussed is doctors
gutters own role in what many see as him
for telling his own fate. The fact that he painted
a portrait of himself bound and shot before it happened
has led to much speculation. Did Scudder
have a genuine psychic premonition, or was it a morbid artistic fantasy that coincidentally came true? We may never know. It’s said that in the weeks
leading up to his death, Scudder told a friend that he had
finally achieved peace on his mountain and that life was perfect,
almost tempting fate. He also famously said that out in the country,
I asked for this after all, which he then eerily repeated under. Duress. During the attack. Such details feed
the idea that dark forces were circling. However, a more grounded interpretation is that Scudder, a devotee of the occult, perhaps accepted the possibility
of violence. As karma or consequence for his choices. Like moving to an intolerant area or fraternizing with unstable people. It is an area where fact and myth blur, leaving ample material for ghost stories. And what ifs. Local storytellers have been shy
about layering on embellishments in dorm and campgrounds. Corpse wood tale was told in hushed. Tones. Of the two Satanist. Gay lovers allegedly
made a pact with the devil OR how one of. Them. Supposedly uttered a curse with his dying
breath that haunts the mountain. These are folkloric. There’s no evidence of an actual curse. Yet the string of misfortunes
that befell the perpetrators right after crashing the car, fighting each other and getting caught sometimes gets spun as the curse of corpse wood ensured that they didn’t escape
justice. In reality, those events were the logical fallout of a botched crime spree. But the certainly makes for a good ghost story in the end. Corpse Wood Manor has achieved
a kind of infamous immortality. It stands alongside other eerie
Southern legends, a place where true crime
and the supernatural intersect in popular imagination. For those inclined to believe the ghosts of Charles Scudder and Joey Odum do roam the Ruins, perhaps playing phantom harp music
under the moonlight or staring out from the
trees with sorrowful eyes. For others. The power of the sight lies
in its symbolism as a reminder of how prejudice and fear of the other can lead to real evil acts. One thing is certain. Anyone who visits the remnants
of Corpse Wood Manor today will find it hard to not feel a chill. Whether that is the chill of the mountain
air or the whispers of restless spirits. As for each person to decide, thank you guys
so much for watching this newest episode. I’ve been working on researching
Corpse Wood Manor and the events surrounding it for a few months
now, and I hope. You enjoyed the final product. Please subscribe like the video comment below and share this around. Please check out the Ghost of Me podcast
and consider becoming a channel member by clicking Join now or by visiting
Patrick on dot com slash mystery Archives. For all my content ad free,
I also sell my three published books. The stories from the Archives series on
my website along with other merchandise. Or you can find it on Amazon. With all that being said, I truly hope that you enjoyed this
blend of true crime and paranormal. And as. Always. This has been Kody here in Mystery
Archives. Please make sure to stay safe out there
and take care. I’ll see you next time.
31 Comments
So sorry for the wait guys. Please like, share and subscribe!
I work crazy hours. I drive a truck long distance. I have a cat named wazzle as my navigator we just stopped for the night. We count on your Stories to help us relax and sleep. Thank you..
I have a ton of paperwork to get through today and this is exactly what I need to help me power through!
Pontefract is not in England! I am Scottish it's in Wales!
eegit
I love those long story time. Perfect to sit down and relax to, after a long day at work 😊
Long time no see I'm back 😊❤💪🏻👍🏻🙏🏻
The only yt channels I watch:
1. Mystery Archives
2. The Tape Library
3. Paranormal Nightmare (Fourman Brothers, paranormal investigators who help families being haunted)
What would terrify you more?, to open your closet to find a demonic entity ready to suck the soul out of you , or R Kelly 😂😂😂😂
This is typical poltergeist generally, but with added differences that are not usual. I live in Lancashire, not too far away. The current owner offers stays overnight. Trying to persuade my sceptical, unshakeable husband to come along. 😊
AWESOME !!!!!!
Can you please timestamp the start of each story in the description?
Oh HECK YEAH!🙌🔥
Good night it’s been a while and glad to hear a long story while I sleep. I’ve missed this channel.❤
Love it!! Getting chills just listening to your voice and watching the intro. Hard to watch alone sometimes lol. Thanks again for all your hard work 🙏❤️🙏
❤❤ ❤
Hey kids! Greetings from SoCal…🌴
Once I concentrated to suspend my sense of disbelief this was enjoyable.
Great marathon, Kody! Now I have another to listen to when I go to bed! Thanks a lot, my friend!
This is awesome and so worth waiting for. ❤ I think your real fans understand life happens and you don't ever have to apologize for changes or delays etc. You work hard on your content and the results prove it..your videos never disappoint! <3
As far as Darren goes with six he goes on Ghost Adventures and very publicly talks about Zozo and summons him so the fact of him being “ scared” of him I find highly suspicious
YAY!!🥳🎉🎉🎉🎉❤️💯
Oooohhhh…I’m loving the spooky music and amazing narration!! Keep em coming cuz I couldn’t hit the subscribe button fast enough!!
Broooo, just post some basic true possession stories! Or exorcisms! Or even haunted houses.
These 9hr events suck. They're either copy n paste from past episodes, or reddit users writing fan fiction👎🏻
You got way too many ads 😂
Cody you are awesome! I love your stories ❤
Wow, wasn't expecting to see a video 5 hours long. I'm going to enjoy this.
So I’ve just started watching just realizing some of these are older like the sweatshirts but realized you said they’re only available for month of October lol it’s now June of 2025 lol
Your dad is gay hahahaHAHAHAHAHAAAA!
I saw your 11+ plus video 📹 this and any video over an hour is perfect to sleep 😴 too .
If I have bad dreams or my wife is not close enough lol just switch the video amd vibe.
Thank you.
Another night falling asleep 😴 💤:)