Season 1
The Dogs That Never Left (Part I)
The Dogs That Never Left (Part II)
Haunted Hillview
Lost To Time
The Unseen Presence
Unwelcomed Tenants
Lore and Legends : Black Eyed Children
Lore and Legends : Mary Black
Lore And Legends : The Mimic
A quiet house. A familiar sound in the dark. And a presence that didn’t seem ready to move on. Part one of a true story about loyalty, loss, and what may linger in the in-between. This page is a place for anyone who wants to reach out — whether you’ve experienced something strange, unexplainable, or meaningful and would like to share your story, or you simply want to say hello and connect. The podcast is built around real experiences and real voices, and your message helps shape the stories we explore. Visit my page to learn more Life, The Universe, And Everything In Between
Years after the first story, something else happened — something far harder to explain. A Ring camera notification, a set of tracks in the snow, and a final moment that felt like a goodbye. This is the conclusion of a true story about loyalty, loss, and what may wait in the in-between. This page is a place for anyone who wants to reach out — whether you’ve experienced something strange, unexplainable, or meaningful and would like to share your story, or you simply want to say hello and connect. The podcast is built around real experiences and real voices, and your message helps shape the stories we explore. Visit my page to learn more Life, The Universe, And Everything In Between See the video https://youtu.be/8lQwrzq0Pp8
Hill View Manor is not a place defined by one terrible moment. There was no fire, no massacre, no single event that explains why it feels the way it does. Built in 1926 as a county almshouse for the poor, the elderly, and the forgotten, it became a place where lives ended quietly and routinely. When we were there, the building did not feel empty. We captured real EVPs with clear responses that did not belong to anyone present, and we experienced unexplained movement, sounds with no source, and moments where the atmosphere shifted without warning. In this episode, I talk about the history of Hill View Manor, the things we personally witnessed, and why some places do not feel haunted because of one tragedy, but because of everything that happened there over time.
In this episode, we explore a series of experiences where the line between coincidence and intention begins to blur. Objects behave as if they’re aware. Spaces seem to react. And the question is no longer if something is happening—but why now.
An internship. A new apartment. Nothing unusual—at first. Over time, small things begin to happen. Objects turn on by themselves. Lights flicker the moment she enters a room. Sounds suggest someone is there when no one is. Each incident on its own is easy to dismiss. Together, they become harder to ignore. This episode tells the story of a place that didn’t feel wrong all at once—only persistent enough to demand attention. Because sometimes, it isn’t life that’s trying to get your attention. It’s something in between. Visit my site Life, The Universe, And Everything In Between
We tell ourselves the strange smells and odd sounds in a new house are just 'character.' But for one woman in Wilmington, NC, the character of her 1971 brick ranch was a man who never truly left. Join me, VanHolsing, as we uncover a history of yellow tape, hidden freezers, and a resident who still insists on smoking in the master bedroom. Are you sure you’re alone right now?
It’s 3:00 AM. The world is silent, your house is dark, and your dog is whimpering at the front door. Then comes the sound that chills every urban legend hunter to the bone: a soft, rhythmic, persistent knock. In this episode, we dive into the terrifying world of the Black-Eyed Children (BEKs). We explore the "Male Perspective" of a home encounter that turns a quiet night of coding into a fight for psychological survival. Why do these entities need our permission to enter? What happens to those who finally say "Yes"?
Mary Black is one of the most enduring urban legends in Ellwood City, Pennsylvania. Born Mary Johnson in 1801 in Ireland, she immigrated to western Pennsylvania, married Andrew Black, raised nine children, and was buried in Tindall Cemetery in Chewton, Lawrence County. Those are the recorded facts. But over time, the Mary Black legend took on a darker life. By the 1970s and 80s, her gravesite became a local gathering spot tied to paranormal dares, vandalism, and rumors of occult activity. Her headstone was eventually removed and is now preserved by the Lawrence County Historical Society. How did a historical woman become known as the Witch of Ellwood City? In this episode, we explore the true history of Mary Black, the folklore that reshaped her story, and how rumor transformed a grave into one of western Pennsylvania’s most talked about haunted locations.
"If you hear your name called from the woods... no you didn't." In the heart of the Appalachian Mountains, an ancient range stretching over 2,000 miles from Canada to Alabama, there is a rule every local knows by heart. It’s a rule born from centuries of shadows and the unexplained: Never answer a voice in the brush. In this episode, we journey into the "in-between." We begin with the chilling account of a solo hiker who discovered that the forest doesn't just listen—it plays back. From the distorted "playback" of a friend's voice to the discovery of a campsite that time forgot, we explore the terrifying reality of the Appalachian Mimic. But where does the fiction end and the history begin? We dive into the factual documentation of high-strangeness in the mountains, starting with the Bell Witch of 1817—North America’s first recorded sentient mimic. We weigh the evidence of master mimics like ravens and crows against the sobering statistics of thousands of missing persons cases that haunt these 480-million-year-old peaks. Is it a biological glitch, or something much older wearing a human mask?
Children have long stood at the crossroads between the visible and the unseen. Across cultures and centuries, there are stories of young ones who speak to figures no one else can see, describing departed relatives in uncanny detail as if the veil between worlds has not yet fully closed to them. Some recount memories that feel older than their years — names, places, and events from lives they insist they once lived — while others suddenly speak in languages they were never taught, as though fragments of forgotten knowledge linger somewhere deep in the mind. Whether interpreted through spirituality, psychology, or folklore, these accounts challenge our understanding of consciousness itself. And then there is the quiet, undeniable force of a newborn placed into the arms of someone nearing the end of life. The frail find strength enough to smile. The weary seem, if only for a moment, restored. It is as if the beginning of life radiates something ancient and luminous — a reminder that whatever mysteries surround us, renewal and wonder are always waiting in the smallest among us.