Letters

[00:00:08] Good evening. I'm Ben and welcome to the show where you and I gather around this campfire to hear some of our fellow campers scariest experiences. So whether you're a new or returning camper, I'm happy to have you. [00:00:21] I apologize for quickly ending the last show. I didn't find out who or what was lurking near our campfire, but I will keep searching the woods between episodes. However, I did find one clue when I followed the footsteps. I found a ripped piece of paper. Check out the Instagram post for this week if you want to see it for yourself. But lets get back to the show tonight. Were headed to Seattle to hear a story passed down in Annas family through the generations now passes through our campfire in a story that reminds us that everyone around us is living a fully fledged life. A story that reminds us our parents or grandparents are living a life full outside of their role to us as a child or grandchild. Before we begin, the camp will be having its very first bonus episode this month, so be sure to head over to patreon.com. do you want to hear ghost story? To access it when it drops next week. Now, without further ado, do you want to hear a ghost story? [00:01:28] The end of the summer of 1982 marked a significant change in my life. [00:01:33] I was starting high school. My grandmother is moving in with us and, well, you know how it is around that age. Everything seems to shift in ways you can't fully comprehend. [00:01:45] I loved my grandmother, even though she was considered a bit weird and witchy by my mom and her siblings. There were stories, whispers, really, about my grandma Ethel, seeing things before they happened, like how she knew my mom was pregnant months before she did. These were the kind of tales that were passed around at family gatherings half jokingly, as if no one really knew whether or not to believe them. But to me, she was just a sweet old lady who gave me candy, even if she did smell like a blanket locked in a cedar chest. For 15 years. I loved her, and her quiet presence always made me feel safe, even if the stories made me a little curious. She didn't talk much, but her eyes always seemed to be looking. Looking as if she could see right into you, past the surface, into those parts of yourself that even you were afraid to look at. Maybe that's what my mom always meant by weird and witchy. [00:02:46] It was really hard to reconcile this quiet woman that I knew with the lively figure my mom often described from her childhood. I always wondered what happened to Grandma Ethel, what had turned her into this reserved version of herself, while I only knew her past self. Through my mother's stories, I could tell. It was hard on my mom to see her own mother age into someone unrecognizable. Yet when my mom recounted these old stories, her eyes would light up, if only for a brief moment. Sometimes I even glanced at Grandma Ethel, and I could see her crack a smile, a smile so faint it was almost imperceivable, as if she was a statue that a sculptor just left after beginning to form a smile. [00:03:36] These moments of my family storytelling sparked my love for all things history and folklore. But it was always the smaller, more personal stories that drew me in, especially those about Grandma Ethel. What had happened to make her so quiet? And were the stories about her visions true, or really just a family folktale? [00:04:00] It wasnt until we started to empty out her house that I began to unravel the mystery. [00:04:06] The sun had begun its slow descent when we arrived at my grandmothers house, the golden light filtering through the half drawn curtains of a place that had once been filled with warmth and laughter. Now it was just another house to be cleaned out, memories to be boxed up, sent to storage, or sold to the highest bidder. I could still catch a faint trace of my grandmother's old perfume as I walked through the rooms, each step bringing with it a wave of nostalgia. I made my way to the attic, the room where I used to hide away when we would visit, playing among Grandma Ethel's old forgotten things. I knew from those childhood explorations. At the attic is where we would have the most of our work cut out for us. [00:04:50] I walked over to a chest that sat in the middle of the room. It was the only item that looked like it had been cared for. Nothing was piled on top of it, unlike the rest of the clutter that resembled a precarious game of real life Jenga. [00:05:05] When I played up here as a kid, the chest acted as the stage for my barbies, but I never thought to open it until today. Inside, tied together with a faded ribbon, was a stack of letters, my grandparents letters. I carefully untied the ribbon and began sifting through the stack. The postage dates on the envelopes stretched back to the Second World War. This must be my grandparents correspondence from when my grandfather was away. [00:05:33] My heart skipped a beat as I delicately unfolded the first letter. [00:05:39] My dearest Rick, the days grow longer without you here, the nights even more so. I find myself waking in the middle of the night, standing at the window, unsure how I got there. But Barbara has been a rock for me, taking care of her has kept me grounded in reality and wishing for the day you come home. Please take care of yourself. For me, for Barbara. For us. [00:06:08] With love, Ethel. [00:06:10] This letter must have been from when my grandfather first left for the war. My mother had just been born. Intrigued, I began reading through each letter one by one, reading along as my grandmothers tone began to shift, shift from lighthearted updates to something darker. [00:06:31] My lovely Ethel. They think if we keep pushing like we are, we might be home for Christmas. I cannot wait to see you and Barbara. I love you, Rick. [00:06:43] I had another dream last night. You were in it, standing in a field. But something was wrong. The sky was too dark, the air too still. Please, Rick. Please promise me you'll be careful. [00:06:59] I'm being as careful as I can be. I really enjoyed the pictures you sent in the last letter. They keep the light at the end of the tunnel shining for me at these dark days. [00:07:10] My grandmothers words haunted me as I read on each letter revealing more of her growing fear, revealing more of her premonition that something was going to happen to my grandfather. It was as if she knew deep down that his time was running out. Underneath the last letter was a small bundle wrapped in a piece of cloth. My hands trembled as I unwrapped it, revealing two letters and a flag. The flag that had traped my grandfather's coffin. [00:07:44] The unopened letter was addressed to my grandfather. The open letter was addressed to my grandmother. [00:07:50] I hesitated before opening it. [00:07:53] Dear Ethel Thompson, I am writing you with a heavy heart. I was with Rick on the day he. Well, I was with him when it happened. He spoke of you often, even in his last breath. [00:08:08] One thing he kept going on about was your visions. Visions of being pregnant, visions of the house you all bought, and visions of Rick going off to war, and finally the vision of him dying here. [00:08:21] He wanted me to tell you not to worry, that not all of your visions come true. But I have to tell you the truth. It was just like you said. The field, the sky, everything. [00:08:34] But Rick seemed at peace. [00:08:36] I think that since you said it, he knew it. The words began to blur as my eyes filled with tears. It was all there, just as she had written in her final letter to him, the one he never got to read. The premonition, the warnings, everything had come true. And yet something felt incomplete. There was more to this story, something just out of reach. [00:09:02] I closed the chest, my mind erasing with questions. Had he known? Had he sensed that it was coming? Or was it all a coincidence? A tragic alignment of events. [00:09:15] The truth, I suppose, would remain buried with him unless Grandma Ethel would talk about it. [00:09:23] As I left the house, I felt the weight of those letters, of the history and love they contained, pressing down on me. Perhaps in the end, it wasn't really about the premonition after all. Maybe it was about the love that endured even in the face of death. A love that somehow I was discovering decades later. [00:09:44] When I got home, I asked both my mom and grandma Ethel about the letters. My mother said that Grandma Ethels visions were just a piece of family folklore. Nothing more than just a fun story we told to make it seem like Grandma Ethel would know when we were misbehaving. [00:10:01] But I looked at Grandma Ethel. I saw that familiar start to a smirk. But this time she let herself fully smile. I waited, but she never said anything. [00:10:14] Thank you Anna for allowing me to share your story. Its an interesting one and curious that your grandma Ethel is the only person in your family with abilities. Oftentimes when I find stories like these, the whole family has a history of strange occurrences. [00:10:32] The story also made me reflect upon my own family. The stories that get tossed around when were all together. [00:10:38] The stories that seem a little bit too big to be true. [00:10:42] For instance, my mom says she was saved by a guardian angel at a truck stop once. My sister swears she saw the mothman. And I swear that I was saved by a deer once when I was lost in the woods. [00:10:55] All these stories, I know mine to be true, but I always assumed the others were just all tales. [00:11:02] Maybe these stories, like your familys own folklore, deserve a second look. [00:11:07] I have no new patron shoutouts tonight, but if you would like one head over to patreon.com. do you want to hear a ghost story? I will leave you here for the night. I am very glad to have you all as campers on this journey. Please keep sharing the show with anyone you think might like these stories or someone you are just trying to scare. And if you have a story, please send it to do you want to hear ghoststorymail.com until next time.