No Light

[00:00:01] Speaker A: I pulled my car into the driveway, coming to a slow stop. As I stared at the house, a mix of emotions washed over me. Fragments of my childhood memories began flooding back, playing with my dolls and my mother. Good evening, I'm Ben and welcome to the show where you and I gather around this campfire to share our scariest experiences. So whether you're a new or returning camper, I am happy to have you. Many people have trouble visiting their past, but no matter how hard you try to run from it, you will always inevitably find yourself staring it down. Tonight we are headed to San Antonio to hear Samantha's encounter with a tale that sheds light on the deepest corners of reality. Before we begin, I want to share a quick show update with you. I know I usually keep show announcements to the end, but I'm just really happy to have hit the ten episode mark double digits on what was just a thought for my bed a few short months ago. So I want to express my deepest gratitude to all of you for being campers on this journey. Now, without further ado, do you want to hear a ghost story? Mommy, is this ours? My son asked from the backseat. Yeah, yes it is honey. Lets go take a look. I responded, snapping out of my daydream. Cool. He said in awe, looking out the window. I hadnt been here since I was younger than my son and I didnt remember much about living here. The few memories I had were foggy at best. My grandparents had taken me in at a young age, getting me away from this home and everything that went along with it. Yet here I stood all these years later, outside my inheritance. It felt as though no matter how far away I went, I was destined to be brought back. Regardless of my feelings towards this house, it was paid off and the utilities were cheap, a stable foundation for my son and I. I got out of the car and looked around at the yard. The grass hadnt been cut in what seemed like years, with wild weeds and unruly plants creeping up the sides of the house. I sighed, trying to hide my unease from my son. I hoped my mother took better care of the inside than she did the yard. When we opened the front door, the inside of the house was dark and mustye. I quickly began flipping on every light switch as we walked into this barren sarcophagus of my childhood. Opening the curtains and windows, I tried to literally breathe fresh air into the space, illuminating the neglected rooms. The shadows seemed to retreat reluctantly, as if they had claimed this space for themselves and were hesitant to give it up. This feeling brought back again, more faded memories, as if they were shrouded in that same shadow, that sense of unease. I had quickly turned into a slight panic. There was a reason I was taken from this home. That trauma, while mostly forgotten, I suppose, now lingered in the deepest corners of my imagination. I turned on the last light switch, the kitchen, and just stood there a moment. I left all the lights on almost out of habit, something that I had done my entire life without question as I went about the rest of the day cleaning, trying to make the place feel like the home it never was for me. My son helped enthusiastically at first, but his excitement soon faded into a quiet contentment and then into a nap on the old dusty couch in the living room. While I typically enjoyed the help, I rarely saw any time to myself these days as my son was almost always attached at my hip. I suppose he was just at that age, but I happily took any quiet time I could get. I went back to get started cleaning the kitchen, but the light was off. I hit the switch to turn it back on, but nothing happened. I flipped it on and off a few times and on the last attempt it turned on. I guess what little money I'd be saving is going to end up going towards an electrician. I continued cleaning and started wiping down the counters. Samantha was called from the other room. Was my son awake? Why did he use my name? Did he even know my name? I crept into the living room to see that my son was still asleep. I was a little spooked, but maybe I just inhaled too much bleach or other cleaning chemicals. I went back to the kitchen, but again the light was off and it wasnt just that the light was off but that the switch itself had again been flipped. I turned it back on and this time it fired right up. Is someone in here? I thought to myself. I went and picked up my sleeping son as I walked through the house, checking each room, closet, window, anything I could think of that might indicate someone was here after all. I guess it had been empty for quite a while and maybe somebody was squatting, but there was no evidence that anyone was around after that. I decided I would just order pizza for dinner. My son eventually asked if he could sleep in my room with me, to which I agreed. That evening I tucked my son into my bed and laid down beside him. I woke up to use the bathroom around 01:00 a.m. following the nice path of night lights I had plugged in that afternoon while cleaning. As I opened the bathroom door I felt a tug on my shirt. I let out a half scream. Ah. Mommy, where are you going? My son was standing there in the hallway with me. Sometimes I forgot how incredibly attached he was, always needing to be close, just using the restroom. Ill be right out, I said to him, taking deep breaths, trying to calm my heart rate. We went back to bed and woke up to the sound of birds. The next morning, I drank my coffee as I sat in the kitchen looking out the back door. My son sat on the floor next to me, playing with his toys. I knew today was going to be a tough day as it was my goal to get the yard under control. Fortunately for me, my uncle was bringing over a lawnmower and weed whacker to help. It was my initial plan to convince him to do all of the work in exchange for food. But when he arrived, my son had other plans and wanted to play with my uncle. So I went ahead and handled the yard myself. It took a few hours, but I had gotten all but a little patch next to the tree in the backyard. Done. I tried pushing the mower through it, but there was a cinder block that stopped the mower, so I finished that area with a weed whacker. When I was done and the grass was gone, I saw that the cinder block was not a cinder block at all, but a fallen and broken headstone. It read Ignacio de la Torre, 1927 to 1959. Great. Always lovely to learn that there is someone apparently buried under the tree in your backyard. But hey, I suppose weirder things happen, huh? My uncle stayed for dinner and actually did all the cooking. By the time he left, my son and I were exhausted. We went to bed early around sunset, so it was no surprise when I woke up around 02:00 a.m. i went to get up and use the restroom when I noticed there was no light emanating from the hallway. All the nightlights were off. I put my hand down on my son, but my hand went all the way to the bed. He wasnt there. I shot up and ran down the hall, flipping on every light switch as I went. I could hear him in the kitchen talking and playing. When I reached the room, I found him sitting on the floor in the dark. I flipped the light switch on, but he screamed bloody murder. [00:07:58] Speaker B: No light. No light. No light. No light. No light. No light. No light. [00:08:03] Speaker A: He cried as his little voice echoed through the house. I picked him up, not knowing what to do, holding him as close as I could as he just sobbed. It took me over an hour to console him and get him back to sleep. The next morning he was terrified of the kitchen. Every time he had to pass it, he would cry, no, no, no, no, refusing to even look into the room. This incident began to happen again and again, becoming almost a routine. I even began to leave a light on in the kitchen, only to find my son playing in the room in the middle of the night with his lights off. He couldnt reach the light switch. Eventually I just started locking the door to the bedroom so he couldnt get out, and thats what finally stopped it. The only time it was ever brought back up again was over breakfast a few months after the last time. Im unsure why, but I gently asked him about his little nighttime adventures. He looked up at me with his wide, innocent eyes and said, Ignacio didnt like the light. I felt a chill wash over me as I remembered the name on the headstone by the tree. Whos Ignacio? I asked, trying to keep my voice steady. Hes the man in the kitchen. He talks to me when its dark. My mind began to race as I eventually ended up reflecting on my own fear of the darkest which had plagued me for as long as I could remember. And it now started to make sense. I had always thought that it was just an irrational fear, but what if it was eggnacio all along, lurking in the shadows, first talking to me when I was a kid and now my son. My son is in his early teenage years now and doesnt much remember these incidents, but he, like me, has an irrational fear of the dark and often refuses to enter the kitchen. Maybe returning to my mothers house has awakened more than just memories. Is it possible that the same spirits I had feared as a child also now haunt my son? The thought sends chills down my spine because it means that some ghosts never leave us. They merely find new ways to make their presence known. Thank you, Samantha, for allowing me to share your story. Your story reminds me a lot of the story I told in episode seven and many of the other stories that have been sent in, but yours stood out to me. The uncomfortableness of returning home added an extra layer for me. If you liked this story and want to do more to support the show while getting a shout out at the end of an episode and access to ad free episodes, check out patreon.com. do you want to hear a ghost story? But at the end of the day, I am just happy you are here. So please keep sharing the show with anyone you think might like these stories or someone you were just trying to scare. And if you have a story, please send it in to do you want to hear a ghoststorymail.com you can also follow the show want to hear a ghoststory on Instagram and TikTok? All this information from the Patreon to how to connect with the show can be found in the episode description. Until next time.