Episode Transcript
[00:00:00] Foreign 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.
[00:00:18] You know, they say going for walks is one of the best things you can do. They say whenever you're happy, go for a walk. Upset, go for a walk. Can't sleep, go for a walk. But what if you were doing just that and you heard someone following behind you, crying while you walked, only to turn around and see no one there?
[00:00:42] Tonight we will hear a story about a young man who set out to work off some energy and to work through some emotions that were keeping him up at night. But he got more than he bargained for when he came face to face with his town's legend, the Weeping man of Chestnut Ridge. As always, before we begin the show, if you want to check out our camp's monthly bonus episodes, head over to patreon.com do you want to hear a ghoststory? You'll also get the shout out at the end of an episode. Now, without further ado, do you want to hear a ghost story?
[00:01:16] I love walking at night. It started as nothing more than a habit, a simple way to allow my mind to calm and miss the calmness of the world around me. So it should be no surprise to learn that I've never been a good sleeper. Whether that was because I was up walking or if I needed to walk to sleep, I don't know that's a real chicken or the egg head scratcher.
[00:01:42] All I know is, ever since I was a kid, the nights seemed to stretch on like endless hallways just asking to be explored. I tried everything. Reading, meditating, warm milk. But nothing ever worked. My mom used to tell me, when your mind won't settle, your body will just walk it off.
[00:02:03] So that's what I did every night around 1am I. Once Brownsville had settled into silence, I'd slip on my sneakers and walk past the gas station, past the mill's empty lot, the cracked sidewalks leading towards Chestnut Ridge all became part of my routine.
[00:02:23] People would always whisper about the ridge like it had a shadow hanging over it. But I never thought about those stories until the night I heard the crying myself.
[00:02:34] It was faint at first, just the barest tremble of a sound carried on the wind.
[00:02:42] I stopped my breath, fogging in the cold. The crying was thin, strained, the way a child sounds when they're too tired to keep sobbing but can't quite stop. I turned scanning the street behind me. But nothing moved. The town was empty, the same as always.
[00:03:00] I stood there listening for that faded sound. An animal, probably, I told myself, astray, caught in a drain or something. I kept walking. Then I heard it again, this time closer. The crying wasn't distant anymore. It was right behind me. I turned fast, my breath catching, but the street was still empty, only the flickering streetlights throwing long shadows behind me. I swallowed hard and turned back around.
[00:03:35] You're imagining things, I thought to myself. But only I wasn't. A chill crawled up my spine, slow and deliberate, the way it does when someone is staring at you from across a room. Only there was no one here staring at me. Or so I thought.
[00:03:53] I picked up my pace when I noticed footsteps behind me. Soft, damp, like bare feet against the pavement. When I froze, the footsteps froze.
[00:04:07] When I took another step, the footsteps took another step.
[00:04:12] I turned around fast, expecting, I don't know, someone standing there, some sleepwalking neighbor out for a midnight stroll. But again, nothing. Just an empty street, just the wind whispering against all of the old buildings. I turned around, and now the steps seemed to outpace me, and the crying was getting louder, ragged. I began to ran. I don't know when the panic really hit me, but by the time I saw my house, I was sprinting, and whatever was behind me was sprinting in tow and crying louder.
[00:04:52] I don't care how stupid I looked. I didn't care that my lungs ached and that my feet felt like they were giving out. The crying rose behind me, twisting into something worse, something too big for any person's lungs, too stretched out for a human throat.
[00:05:10] I hit the porch, hard yet, yanking my door open and slamming it behind me. My heart hammered in my chest as the outside of my house was hit by a suffocating silence. I stood there, hands braced against the wood, my breath coming in sharp gasps.
[00:05:28] Outside, the town was as I'd always known it. Still no footsteps, no crying.
[00:05:36] I let out a laugh, thin, shaking. My hands trembled as I ran them through my hair. Jesus, what was that?
[00:05:46] But on the other hand, I was finally exhausted.
[00:05:50] It had to be my mind playing tricks on me. That's what happens when you don't sleep well enough. I walked up the stairs and got ready for bed, recounting what had just happened on my walk. Told myself it was just exhaustion, maybe a bad dream stitched into my sleepless night, but I knew better.
[00:06:10] For that reason, I didn't bother to turn my lights off when I laid down in bed. As I lay there I swear I could still hear it, the crying. Faintly. Though even now, sitting in my room with my lights on, it was there, on the edge of my mind.
[00:06:26] I don't know when I dozed off, but at some point I woke up too. Silence. Silence so thick it made my ears ring. The kind of silence that feels too heavy, too manufactured, like someone's pressing down on your world. I scanned my room. When had my lights turned off?
[00:06:45] When outside my window came a sob.
[00:06:49] Right outside the glass.
[00:06:51] I didn't move. I could hardly breathe. The crying came again, closer. Shaking was something deeper than sorrow. I forced myself to turn my head, slowly, inch by inch, until I could see the window. At first there was nothing, just my own reflection in the glass, pale, tense and confused.
[00:07:15] But the reflection shifted. The darkness outside the window stretched, pulling back, like there was something leaning against the glass. A shape formed, tall, thin, soaked. Its head tilted like it was watching me when a sob raked against the glass, fogging it over.
[00:07:36] My body locked up, frozen between the instinct to run. In that certainty, I knew that if I moved, this thing would find a way inside.
[00:07:46] But the thing at the window didn't press closer. It didn't scratch, didn't pound or try to get in.
[00:07:54] It only wept.
[00:07:55] I don't remember how long I sat there staring, barely breathing. But eventually the sobbing faded and I must have fallen asleep again.
[00:08:06] When I awoke this time, the shape was gone. The only sound outside my window were the morning birds.
[00:08:12] I sat there and reflected about all the stories about walking near Chestnut Ridge after dark. About a man or something in between that cries.
[00:08:23] No one knows where he came from. Some say he was a father who lost his son in the mines, and he walks the hills searching for him. Others say he was just a boy who drowned in the river long ago, his spirit never learning how to move on.
[00:08:39] I still walk all of these hills at night. I've never seen the Crying man again.
[00:08:45] But I'm still not so sure I believe in the stories, because I don't think he's either of those things.
[00:08:51] Thank you all for listening to my story. It really means a lot to me that I can sprinkle in some of my own creativity at this campfire. I know that I am no Stephen King, but I am grateful that you all allow me to practice my storytelling.
[00:09:07] I wanted to address episode 38 as many of you are familiar with the story between. I guess if anyone's new, it can best be described as what is happening around this digital world our campfire exists in.
[00:09:23] And that takes me Back to episode 38. It has gone missing and I am searching our forest between shows for clues as to where it went. So keep a lookout on these show's social media because I'm going to need help figuring out what happened to our lost episode 38.
[00:09:44] With that, I will leave you here for the night. If you want early access to ad free episodes, a shout out at the end of one, head over to patreon.com do you want to hear a ghost story? And I'm glad to have you all as campers on this journey. So please keep sharing the show with anyone you think might like these stories or someone you're just trying to scare. And if you're enjoying the show, please leave a review. I love hearing from you. Until next time.
