Episode Transcript
[00:00:00] Speaker A: Foreign.
[00:00:06] Speaker B: 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. Before we begin, I want to bring attention to our show's new look. If you haven't had a chance to check out our camp's new cover art, take a look. I want to personally thank the artist Schizo draws for putting that together for me tonight. Our story needs no introduction as we're headed to California to hear a story from one of the most recognizably haunted locations in the world, the Queen Mary.
Now, without further ado, do you want to hear a ghost story?
[00:00:51] Speaker A: I could barely contain my excitement as we stepped onto the Queen Mary. The old ship loomed in the harbor, its rusted exterior a stark contrast to the glowing cityscape behind it, a floating relic of another time, a luxury cruise liner turned wartime transport turned hotel.
One of the most haunted hotels in America, that is.
For most people, that last tidbit might be a deterrent, but for me and James, it was the whole reason we were here.
We had spent years chasing the paranormal. Ghost tours, abandoned asylums, graveyard takeouts. It was more than a hobby for us. It was our thing, our shared obsession. But stepping onto that ship, something felt different.
Something felt like nothing I had ever felt before.
I chalked it up to nerves, anticipation, a heavy dose of wishful thinking. I had no idea how much I should have listened to that feeling.
Our room was small but beautiful in its eerie way. Art deco furnishings, dim lighting, a porthole overlooking the black water below.
It was the kind of place you expected to see a ghost out of the corner of your eye. James dropped our bags immediately, pulling out his camera. We should do an EVP session later, he said, grinning, scanning the room with his camera.
We haven't even unpacked yet, I responded. He grinned, brushing back my hair the way he always did. I just have a good feeling about this place, he said.
I had a feeling, too, just not in the same way that he did.
We went about exploring the ship, our fingers intertwined as we wandered through the corridors. The Queen Mary's history dripped from its walls. The lavish ballroom sat empty, its chandeliers gathering dust. A grand staircase that led to nowhere. There were pools once teeming with elegant guests were now dry, silent. We weren't the only guests couple. There were other couples, ghost hunters, a few skeptics laughing about the legends.
But the air felt thick like we were all missing something.
When James stopped. Do you hear that?
At first, just the soft hum of the ship settling. Then I heard children laughing.
We both turned down the empty hallway. It came again, a high pitched giggle bouncing off the walls like it had no source.
James squeezed my hand, his eyes going wide. The pool.
We had read about it. The little girl who drowned there and the one guest still heard playing there. We sprinted down the hallway, the sound of laughter trailing us, growing closer. But when we reached the pool, the space was silent.
James lifted his camera. I turned to say something, but I forgot what it was when I opened my mouth. Behind him, just at the pool's edge, was a wet footprint. Small, like a child's.
It hadn't been there when we walked through earlier.
James followed my gaze with the camera. Holy shit.
I wanted to share his excitement, but something deep down in my gut twisted. Something told me that we needed to get out of there.
After what felt like five hours of James talking about the wet footprint on his camera, we returned to our cabin, buzzing from the encounter.
James set up a recorder near the end of the bed, whispering questions into the dark. Is there anyone here with us? Do you want to talk? The lamp on our nightstand turned off by itself.
Gasping, I grabbed James Army. But again his eyes were wide with excitement. Cool. We should check out the hallway now. I didn't want to, but we did. He cracked the door open, peering into the corridor. Halfway down the hallway, just standing there, looked like a man. We couldn't quite make out what he was wearing, but he was facing our door, we think, not moving, not blinking. James went back for his camera, and when he came back, the man had vanished.
Not stepped away, not turned a corner, but vanished.
James slammed the door shut, bolted it, and for the first time in all our years chasing ghosts, I saw real fear in his eyes.
I don't know what happened, but he changed. Let's leave, he said.
I looked at him and said, can we leave? But James shook his head, not wanting to let off the fact that I knew he was afraid.
I hated this part. We got ready and went to bed, when all of a sudden we heard a knocking at our door. I sat up, my pulse hammering in my ears. What was that? It came again. Slow, rhythmic, like a pattern. I moved towards the door, but James grabbed my wrist. His face was pale.
That's the pattern, he said.
What?
That's the knocking you hear before you disappear.
My body turned to ice when the knob began to twist, and then the door shook. The light in the room flickered on and off.
James, giggling, grabbed his camera. I smacked him across the face. No. We leave now.
The SAEE didn't argue. We barely even packed. We just threw all of our stuff into a bag and ran out of the room, down the hallway, past the grand staircase, past the ballroom. We didn't stop until we reached the dock, gasping in the cold night air.
James turned back. His face was stricken, somewhere between disappointment and excitement.
You could really feel it in there, couldn't you? I nodded in acknowledgment. The Queen Mary wasn't just a haunting. It wasn't just a boat full of lingering spirits.
Something in there wanted us there.
Worse, something in there wanted us to stay.
We got in the car and left Long beach that night, and we've never spoken about what happened again.
James and I don't go around looking for ghosts anymore, but I still dream about that knocking and about what wanted us to answer.
[00:07:40] Speaker B: Thank you for allowing me to share this story. The Queen Mary is full of ghosts and stories, so don't be surprised if we make our way back there one day.
[00:07:51] Speaker A: I would like to shout out Mayor.
[00:07:52] Speaker B: C for becoming a camp counselor. If you'd like your own shout out at the end of an episode and access to our camp's monthly bonus episodes, head over to patreon.com do you want to hear a ghost story? But as always, I'm just 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 it, please leave a review. I'd love hearing from you. Until next time.
