These Are Your Stories #48 – The Moonville Tunnel

Michael from Cleveland, Ohio sent in this story he calls The Moonville Tunnel, but before we get to the story here is a bit of history first:

The darkest, most desolate stretch of the Marietta and Cincinnati Railroad ran through Moonville, Ohio. According to local legend, an epidemic once spread through the tiny community, and trains were forbidden from stopping there. Running low on supplies the residents sent a volunteer with a lantern to flag down a cargo train on the edge of town. The idea was that the train’s conductor would start to slow down after seeing the man outside town and come to a stop by the time he cleared the passage. But the plan never had a chance. The volunteer was late getting to the tunnel, and the oncoming train struck and killed him before he could reach the other side. Today, the Moonville Tunnel is one of the few remaining landmarks from the defunct mining town. Some visitors still claim to see a ghostly figure carrying a lantern in the darkness.

That is the history and this is Michael’s story: 

Let me start by saying that I am not a ghost hunter. However, I have been known to go to haunted places just to see if something will ever happen to me. Nothing ever did and for the most part, left me as a skeptic until that day in June when I was turned from skeptic to believer.

The Moonville Tunnel today is a favorite hiking stop. My wife and I made plans to not only hike a section of the ten-mile trail but do it towards the evening in hopes of seeing something. We got to the tunnel, hung out for a picnic, and waited to see what would happen.

For the most part, it was trouble-free and quite fun. We enjoyed the rich history provided by markers on the trail itself and our picnic was pleasant. I will admit we had brought some other forms of entertainment that was …shall we say is not entirely legal. For my wife, it’s a medical necessity. We were enjoying that near the bridge that leads to the tunnel when it happened.

We both saw a figure moving towards the entrance. It was mostly mist, but there was a bright light about where its arms were. It moved towards the center of the tunnel and then rapidly moved inside. We dropped what we were doing and ran after it. About halfway down the tunnel it stopped, reversed direction, then shot right by us and was gone.

That’s it. Everyone we tell this story to says that it was the weed. Anyone who smokes knows that the mild stuff does not produce anything, but a pleasant buzz.  We saw what we saw. There was no one else around and we never even thought to record it on a cell phone.  – Michael

This Week’s Podcast: On the show this week we debut a new old-time radio western called Frontier Town. It stars Jeff Chandler who was a popular actor in the ’40s and ’50s. In fact, the entire show is western-themed and should be a lot of fun. You can listen to this podcast on Thursday at Ron’s Amazing Stories, download it from Apple Podcasts, stream it on Stitcher Radio or on the mobile version of Spotify. Do you prefer the radio? We are heard every Thursday at 10:00 pm and Sunday Night at 11:00 PM (EST) on AMFM247.COM. Check your local listing or find the station closest to you at this link

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These Are Your Stories #47 – Houston WE Have A Problem

On the podcast this week, Sylvia and I are going to chat about ripples in time on a show we have titled Terror In The Fabric Of Reality. These are my favorite type of paranormal stories. Over the years you the listeners have sent in many tales with your experiences. I love them all. Here is a story from J.C. Hodges from one of my very favorite cities, Austin, Texas. I tried to track it down when we first heard this one and I couldn’t find it. I think it was in 2016ish. Here is J.C.’s Story:

Ron's Amazing Stories

Hey Ron, I have been listening to the show since the beginning and thought it was high time I tell you that I love it and I share a story with you.  I call this tale “Houston we have a problem”.

I was given two tickets to a Rockets game for my birthday.  Austin is a little over a two-hour drive away from Houston. My girlfriend was already there for business so the plan was to meet at the arena at 6pm. The game was at 7pm. Good solid plan.

I left a bit early in case of traffic and had traveled about an hour when my car stopped. (And I do mean stopped). It was like someone had thrown the main breaker. It was all I could do to roll to the side of the road. I got out and checked the car over. I couldn’t find anything wrong and I am a repair tech for Ford.

Next, I took out my cell phone to call for a tow and let my girlfriend know. The phone was about as useful as a brick. It had no power, and even stranger my backup power stick was dead as well. I know for a fact that I had charged that up just that morning. 

And now for the strange part. The freeway was empty. I should not have to tell you that 71W is never completely empty, ever, and this was 3:30 in the afternoon. I settled in and waited for a car to come. I saw some headlights come towards me and readied myself to wave the car down. That is the last thing I remember. 

Next memory? driving up to the Toyota Center where I usually park my car. The sign above the entrance read 5:45 PM.  I have tried so very hard to reconstruct what happened to me. Family and friends think I just blacked out. I don’t know. I have no side effects and nothing like this has happened since. It has been a few months now and my girlfriend wants me to seek help. 

Thanks for your show. It helps and it is nice to hear other folk’s strange tales knowing that I am not the only one.

J.C. Hodges – Austin, Texas

This Week’s Podcast:

This week we have an episode of Ghost Stories With Sylvia. Sylvia and I tell stories that are lost in time. I will revisit one of the craziest sent in by Jim Richards who experiences the unexplainable during a flight to Houston, TX. You can listen to this podcast on Thursday at Ron’s Amazing Stories, download it from Apple Podcasts, stream it on Stitcher Radio or on the mobile version of Spotify. Do you prefer the radio? We are heard every Thursday at 10:00 pm and Sunday Night at 11:00 PM (EST) on AMFM247.COM. Check your local listing or find the station closest to you at this link

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These Are Your Stories #46 – The Scream

Our story this week comes from my brother James. Jim donated many stories to this show over the years, but this one has always stuck with me. My brother recently passed away and I wanted to present his story in his own words. Here is the original manuscript of a story that he titled The Scream. It is not for the faint of heart.

-Ron

The Scream - Edvard Munch
The Scream – Edvard Munch

There are many ways in which people encounter the ineffable, some of them are terrifying.  Ron gives us, his fans and listeners, opportunities to share these encounters through his show. I know that it’s sometimes difficult to tell these stories because our memories disturb us. I know that because I find no pleasure in recalling this particular event. But I’ve told the tale in one of my books and the feedback I got showed me that it helped some readers who had similar experiences. So I’m reluctantly sharing it with all of you now.

One of the great privileges of my life was the opportunity to work as a hospice chaplain caring for hundreds of dying people over five years. Death is the boundary of life as we know it and like any borderland, the order that normally governs daily life fails at the edges of things. The approach of death can be an occasion for ecstatic joy but there are also passings shrouded in oppressive darkness. One thing can be counted on, death is always an event filled with discernible spiritual energy.

Knowing that I was always careful when approaching a death setting. As a chaplain, I worked for a government-sanctioned For-Profit hospice company. I was part of a team that included a physician, nurse, nurses aides, a social worker, a chaplain, a music therapist, nutritionists, and so on. I believed that caring for my team was as much a part of my job as comforting the dying and their families. As part of that care, I made it a practice to deal with the spiritually unsettled nature of death by offering on their behalf a silent prayer for protection every time we approached a place where someone was actively dying. That prayer, rooted deep in the ancient church, was simple: “Lord, let your holy angels take charge of us and that the wicked one has no power in this place.”

One Wednesday I was called to a nursing home where a young female client was dying. I was told that three members of my team were already present in her room. On this visit, I forgot to offer my prayer. That, as it turned out, was a mistake. What I saw when I entered the private room staggered me. The patient was sitting up in bed but was not conscious. That position was unusual enough but wasn’t what caught my eye. I was shocked by her face. It bore the expression made famous by Edvard Munch in his painting titled “The Scream”. Which was later made famous in advertising for a movie bearing the same name. 

Now, don’t misunderstand me. Her expression didn’t resemble the image it WAS that image precise in every angle and detail. I will never forget it because it’s burned into my mind. But there was more. Below her head and shoulders, which were oddly propped up against the headboard, was the rest of her body. It was encircled by polished round black stones spaced several inches apart. At the foot of the bed, a dark candle flickered, slowly melting into a pitch-black pool of wax. The drapes were closed so the room was a dusky gray. Presiding over the scene was a man in a black cloak that concealed his face and body completely. That man, who I took to be her spiritual advisor, sat in stony silence in a corner of the room and never said or did anything to acknowledge our presence. The air near the bed was cold and clammy. When I looked at my hospice team I could see we were all suffocating in the evil atmosphere presided over by that silent dying scream.

After this had gone on for a while I started to feel sick. So, I resorted to a hospice worker trick. When a patient was just hanging on, seemingly forever, we would sometimes explain to the family that people often waited until they were alone so they could let go of life in privacy. The idea was partly true but was mostly a way to give a worn-out family or tired team members an excuse to get out of the death room.  They could breathe some fresh air, go to the bathroom or get something to eat. Families usually accepted the opportunity with gratitude. In this case, I offered the idea entirely for the sake of my hospice staff and they all thought it was definitely the thing to do.

Once outside the room all four of us instantly formed a tight and frightened circle. We didn’t say anything except a few muttered oaths like “Oh my God!” I offered a prayer including the one I should have said much earlier. But it was too late, a spirit of fear and hopelessness had found its way into each of our souls. The only thing we knew for sure was that we did not want to go back in that room. We also knew that as professionals that we had to do something. So, we made a plan. Each of us, one by one, would enter the death room, spend a few minutes doing what we had to do then leave to be replaced. 

I was in the room as the labored breaths that accompanied death slowly expanded fully followed by the deep sigh that marks the moment of death. Looking at the body I saw that the terrible scream remained. Her dead eyes were wide open and fixed in a baleful stare directed straight at me. At that moment I came close to screaming as well but turned my back instead. 

After that, it was all routine. One of our nurses pronounced her, our social worker arranged for the body to be picked up and we each escaped to our cars. I learned later that all four of us attended various churches the following Sunday. This was unusual because two team members never went to church. I suspect it was partly because the dark mood we picked up that day just wouldn’t go away. 

That Sunday the two of us who were active in our respective churches experienced the same extraordinary event. In my case, as I walked into the sanctuary my head reeled and I fell to the ground in a dead faint. I quickly recovered and was aware that a crowd had gathered and someone was urging people to call 911. That woke me up fast. I stood up, claimed I had just slipped, apologized, and headed straight for the parking lot. At that moment the oppressing spirit dissolved and never returned.

This story has a kind of funny postscript. Government regulations require each hospice team to provide a full year of support services to bereaved families. This includes having a staff chaplain preside at the funeral of the deceased if requested. To my amazement, relatives of this woman asked for me. They wanted a service appropriate to the faith she was following at the time of her passing. Now, I’m an ordained Lutheran pastor and I was sure there was no way I could do that. Unfortunately, the company I worked for insisted that my contract required me to perform whatever service was demanded and that if I refused I would be fired. The situation created quite a stir in the office. But my fellow team members risked their careers by standing with me in my refusal and the company eventually backed down. I will always be grateful not just for their support but for the fact that I could end this terrible story on a note of grace.

Jim Thompson – Rio Rancho, New Mexico

This Week’s Podcast: On the program this week we recover from a crazy event. We were supposed to have a Ghost Stories With Sylvia, but the entire recording was corrupted and I didn’t know this until late. So, I have to scramble to put together a replacement show. So, please tune in this week and find out what I did! You can listen to this podcast on Thursday at Ron’s Amazing Stories, download it from Apple Podcasts, stream it on Stitcher Radio or on the mobile version of Spotify. Do you prefer the radio? We are heard every Thursday at 10:00 pm and Sunday Night at 11:00 PM (EST) on AMFM247.COM. Check your local listing or find the station closest to you at this link

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These Are Your Stories #45 – Strange Encounter At Brooks Park

Our story for this week comes from Sandy Harmon. When this one appeared on the podcast I had no way to track down where Sandy lived. However, after it aired on the show she contacted me and said that she hails from San Francisco. One of my favorite cities to visit!  Here is Sandy’s original email:

Thank you for the podcast. I listen to it each week and marvel at the stuff you come up with. It’s so entertaining. I have a story to share that happened to me this past summer. I want to title it Strange Encounter At Brooks Park. 

I was walking in a local park when I got this feeling that I was being followed. I turned around and there was no one there, but just to be on the safe side I took a second look. I kept on walking and coming from the other direction I saw an older man walking his dog. This made me feel a little better since now I wasn’t really alone but I still had the feeling that I was being watched. As I walked by the man he stopped me and asked if I had seen anyone in the area. I responded that I hadn’t, but asked him why he was asking. He told me that he had this strange sensation that he was being watched. I had to pick my jaw up from the sidewalk. I told him my story and we both laughed about it. We continued to talk when another lady came up to us and said that she couldn’t help but overhear us. Then she told us that she too had felt like someone had been following her and watching. This was too strange. We chatted a bit longer, thought that we must be crazy, laughed about that, and then went our separate ways.

That night I had a dream about walking in that very same park. I remember in my dream that I was looking around and a bum walked up to me and asked for some food. I told him that I was out walking and that I didn’t have anything for him this time. That was the dream, and the odd thing is that it felt so very real. The next morning I was listening to the radio and one of the stories that they were reporting was that the night before a transient man had been found passed away in that very park. He had died of natural causes and authorities were having trouble identifying him. I wanted to go to the police and share my story but I just couldn’t see how it would be helpful.   

Ron, that is my story and I hope you enjoyed it. It’s true and it probably doesn’t mean anything but I thought I should send it in. 

Sandy Harmon – San Francisco, CA.

This Week’s Podcast: On the show this week we have lots of original content. I love doing programming like this. There is a brand new Our Amazing Stories and A Moment In Time. Also, we have an OTR story from the classic series The Inner Sanctum and much more! You can listen to this podcast on Thursday at Ron’s Amazing Stories, download it from Apple Podcasts, stream it on Stitcher Radio or on the mobile version of Spotify. Do you prefer the radio? We are heard every Thursday at 10:00 pm and Sunday Night at 11:00 PM (EST) on AMFM247.COM. Check your local listing or find the station closest to you at this link

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These Are Your Stories #44 – The Brooks Robbery

This story first appeared during the Month Of Spooky 2018. It comes from Delia Powell who writes to us from Brooks, Wisconsin. When I receive emails or messages from folks I like to look at where these towns are on the map. When I went to research Brooks and had some trouble finding it and thought it was a fake. But, in the end, I did find it located in Central Wisconsin. There is hardly any information on the place and for good reason. Brooks is located at the intersection of County Road A & G in the New Chester Township close to the Upper Neenah Creek State Fishery Area. Needless to say, Brook is a small community of mostly full-time homes (think about that for a moment). It has a church with a bar & grill inside and a railroad on the Eastside. This area is mostly farms, woods, and wetlands. Now, here is Delia’s Story:

My Story begins when I was a little girl growing up in Madison, Wisconsin. My family lived in a very old house that was built in the early 1900s. This house has quite a history. It was at one time a brothel, a care facility for polio victims, and later a funeral home. My parents bought it in the early 1980s and as you might guess growing up there was interesting. To say the house was haunted is an understatement. We just got used to strange things going on. There were bumps in the night, apparitions going up and down the stairs, and of course the occasional scream. I could tell you a story from almost every day in my childhood, but there is one that stands as my favorite.

One of the owners of the house was a man by the name of Charles Barros. Not much is known about him other than he was a well-to-do businessman with a wife and seven children. He truly loved his family and took care of them the best he could. The story goes that one morning while going to work he stepped out onto the street. He was struck by a car and killed. His family was of course devastated and didn’t know what to do without him. They need not have worried because financially he left them in a very good position. They would live the rest of their lives in comfort. However, that was not enough for Charles; he wanted to do more. One of the ghosts that reside in the house is that of Charles Barros. It appears that even after death he continues to care for the house and its occupants. This is where my story begins.

One night my parents had gone out to a party and left us, kids, all home alone. My older sister Gwyneth was left in charge. It was getting late and she had sent us to our various bedrooms throughout the house when there was a crash in the downstairs living room. This was followed by angry voices telling someone to keep quiet. Our house was being robbed. All of us kids gathered up together and we were unsure what to do when we heard a scream come from downstairs. Then one of the men threw open the front door and ran out of the house. Soon to follow were the rest of his crew. One of the neighbors must have seen or heard something and had already called the police. The men ran right into the open arms of the gendarme. All of us kids sighed in relief and knew that we were safe.

The next morning father read us the newspaper. It carried the story of the men that had attempted to rob us. It said that the men had been terrified by an apparition of a man threatening them with a cane. It might interest you to know that on the main stairway landing is a picture painted of Charles Barros. In that picture, Charles is holding a very opulent walking cane. If you are interested and want to check you can find this story listed in the archives of The Daily Cardinal which is one of the newspapers in Madison.

Delia Powell –  Brooks Wisconsin.

I decided to call this story The Brooks Robbery and yes I know it took place in Madison. Thank you Delia for the story and thank you to everyone in Brooks, Wisconsin.

This Week’s Podcast: On the show this week we have a listener-submitted story from Comet Magazine, July 1941. It is a strange tale about the consequences of playing with the fourth dimension. You can listen to this podcast on Thursday at Ron’s Amazing Stories, download it from Apple Podcasts, stream it on Stitcher Radio or on the mobile version of Spotify. Do you prefer the radio? We are heard every Thursday at 10:00 pm and Sunday Night at 11:00 PM (EST) on AMFM247.COM. Check your local listing or find the station closest to you at this link

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