[00:00:06] 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 am happy to have you. A few episodes ago, we were interrupted by something or someone, and I told you that I would investigate. So for weeks now, I've been scouring the woods, though theyve been seemingly filled with only the echoes of the laughter of whomever I pursue. It mocks me as I search night after night, but I have seemingly found the rest of the flyer from the scrap I showed you before. In total, it reads Gertrude and Dollys 66th annual Harvest festival. Ive attached a full photo for you on instagram. What do you think I should do? Should I continue pursuing whomever these people are or just leave it be? Let me know. However, lets get back to the reason youre here tonight. We are headed to Puerto Rico to hear one of our very own camp counselors stories. Rickys story is one where local legend and reality collide in a world where people are much more attuned to the afterlife. However, before we begin, if youd like to check out our camps September bonus episode, head over to patreon.com. do you want to hear a ghost story? Youll also get access to ad free episodes and more. Now, without further ado, do you want to hear a ghost story?
[00:01:30] While most of the world has grown apart or forgotten the old ways, growing up in Puerto Rico, these beliefs are anything but lost figments to history.
[00:01:39] While everyone I grew up with is at least a little superstitious, I admit that perhaps my family was more so than others. In my family, the old ways are more than preserved. They are actively practiced. Following my fathers path. I am proud to say I come from what can only be considered a long line of practitioners. A core tenet of my beliefs is that humans are intertwined with the mystical, the unseen, and the whispers of the spirits that most people choose to ignore. This is a tenet that I was never fully taught, but rather experienced. It was the last night of summer 2011 in my hometown of Quebradillas, Puerto Rico. The evening air was thick with the scent of salt and hibiscus, and the beach murmured the secrets of the ocean. I was upstairs in my room with nothing but the dim glow of my laptop. As night settled, a restless energy stirred within me. Perhaps it was just the lingering heat, or maybe it was all of the tales my father had recounted earlier in the day, the stories of spirits that roamed our town. When the veil between the worlds was thin, I felt a urge to go explore outside and escape the confines of my room. Hey, Ricky, your friend John is calling you. My mothers voice echoed up from downstairs. I was grateful for this distraction. I closed my laptop and headed out. John stood at the gate, his face half hidden by the shadows cast by the street lamp. You feel like playing some ball? He said. Yeah, why not? I said. We decided to swing by our friend Nate's house to see if he'd join us, and from there the three of us set off the evening night, enveloping us like a warm, dark cloak. We played until the stars glittered overhead and the moon hung full like a silvery eye watching over our every move. By the time we headed back, it was close to 11:00 p.m. the streets were deserted, the usual hum of nightlife replaced by an eerie silence.
[00:03:37] As we walked home, fragments of my father's story from earlier that day began seeping into my thoughts. I began thinking of Madame Cantigny, a french woman who immigrated to Puerto Rico in the 18th century, and she tragically died while she was pregnant. Her spirit is said to Rome, one of the old gothic cemeteries. On a full moon night.
[00:03:58] I looked up at the moon and back at my watch. 11:30 p.m.
[00:04:02] and thats when I realized to get home, we had to pass the cemetery where Madame continy is laid to rest.
[00:04:11] The iron gates loomed ahead, twisted and ornate, guarding the silent tombstones that lied beyond.
[00:04:18] The air began growing heavier with each footstep, closer, echoing louder than the last. John, Nate, and I were all familiar with the legend of Madame Conteny, so none of us dared look directly into the cemetery. Ah, dang it. Hang on, guys, nature calls, John said, and he darts behind a crumbling wall adjacent to the cemetery. Nate and I stood there so we could hear John relieving himself from around the corner, and that's when I realized that Nate was looking into the cemetery. Not a word, but his eyes were just fixated on something.
[00:04:52] Ricky, do you see that? Reluctantly, I followed his gaze into the cemetery. Among the tombstones, a figure glided a woman draped in a tattered white gown that billowed despite the stillness of the air. A crown of withered flowers rested atop her head. Her skin was a ghastly shade of pale blue, almost translucent, with dark veins tracing patterns just beneath it. A thin veil obscured her face, but you could see two dark eyes piercing from beneath it. She moved through the cemetery with an unnatural grace, pacing while her feet never touched the ground, her form flickered like she was a candle. A cold dread started to squeeze me and rooted me to the spot. The world narrowed and I could only make out what was between me and her. And this is when the sounds of the night faded away. She stopped. Ever so slowly, she turned her veiled face towards me. An overwhelming sorrow emanated from her, coming right at me, pressing in like a physical weight.
[00:05:58] Without warning, a low, mournful wail arose from all around, as though it came from everywhere and nowhere, all at once, like some sort of chilling melody of the heavens. It was as if this lament was going to swallow me whole. Run.
[00:06:14] I managed to squeak out, but my legs wouldnt obey.
[00:06:18] I stood transfixed as she began gliding towards me, her veil lifting with every inch. She got closer, revealing her darkly stained lips as if they were speaking.
[00:06:31] A sudden rush of adrenaline washed over me, and Nate grabbed my arm. We need to go.
[00:06:37] We turned and sprinted, our feet pounding against the pavement, the wailing intensifying and echoing behind us. Turning the corner, we collided with John, falling to the ground. He looked at us. What is going on? What happened? But there was no time to explain. We got to our feet, we picked John up, and we continued going. We didnt stop until the comfortable lights of our neighborhood enveloped us, the haunting cries of Madame Conteny finally fading into the distance. Back home, the familiar surroundings did little to ease this terror. Sleep was impossible. Every creak of the house, every rustle of the leaves sent my heart racing.
[00:07:13] The next day, whispers spread through the town, others claiming to have seen us and heard the cries themselves too. To have seen the woman wandering. The legend of Madame Continy has morphed with each telling and with each reciting. No story exactly matches what Nate and I saw that night, and John thinks we made it all up.
[00:07:33] But one thing is for sure. That night left an indelible mark on Nate and myself. This night was irrefutable proof that the boundaries between the living and the dead are not theoretical and that they can become irrevocably blurred. I often find myself thinking about the cemetery and the mysteries it holds. The protective rituals and charms that once seemed more like a tradition now feel vital. And I am forever grateful to my father for teaching me. I realize that some stories are not stories or legends, but warnings, echoes of the past reaching out to the present. Sometimes they are also invitations, beckonings into a realm that is sometimes best viewed from the sidelines. One day, perhaps, I will return to the cemetery under a full moon, not necessarily out of fear or bravado, but to seek a deeper understanding. Until then, the legend of Madame Continy remains a chilling reminder that the unforeseen forces always linger at the edges of our reality. For those who are willing to look thank you Ricky for allowing me to share your story. I really love this one because it inspired me to look into the Madame Contini legendhe and some of the history of your hometown, something I probably never would have stumbled upon if you had never shared it. So I encourage all campers to look it up. As for show announcements, I dont have much other than to please let me know what I should do with the flyer I found in the woods and head over to patreon.com. do you want to hear a ghost story? To check out Septembers bonus episode I will leave you here for the night. Im glad to have you all its 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're enjoying it, please go ahead and leave a review. I would love to hear from you. If you have a story, send it to do you want to hear ghost
[email protected]? check out the episode description for more details.
[00:09:31] Until next time. Bye.
