Jun 1, 2026 · 17 min · 5 segments
Not all warnings come from old books. Sometimes they begin with an injured cat… with an argument that shouldn't have escalated… with a word spoken too many. Other times they begin on a dirt road…
Just a few weeks ago, I discovered your channel, and honestly, I never thought I would end up writing something here.
I always listen to ghost stories the way someone listens to things that happen to other people, especially stories about witches, stories we don't know are true or not, until they happen to us, until it happened to me.
But there are things you say with too much certainty, and afterward you almost wish you had never said them.
I would only hear her occasionally when she came out to tend to her laundry or sweep her patio.
The wall between us keeps me from seeing her house directly, but when walking down the street behind mine, which for some reason feels much lonelier and darker than my own, I notice that her house is old, built of dark wood, as if it had never been repainted, with marks that looked like water damage.
It wasn't words that came from her mouth, nothing clear, just sounds, as if she couldn't speak, as if she had some kind of speech impediment.
From my patio, I could only make out the tops of some trees she had on her property.
Between our houses, there is a tall wall, so tall that if you don't climb up, you can't see to the other side.
I started leaving food out for it in the patio, even though I had never owned a cat.
Just a few weeks ago, I discovered your channel, and honestly, I never thought I would end up writing something here.
I always listen to ghost stories the way someone listens to things that happen to other people, especially stories about witches, stories we don't know are true or not, until they happen to us, until it happened to me.
But there are things you say with too much certainty, and afterward you almost wish you had never said them.
I would only hear her occasionally when she came out to tend to her laundry or sweep her patio.
The wall between us keeps me from seeing her house directly, but when walking down the street behind mine, which for some reason feels much lonelier and darker than my own, I notice that her house is old, built of dark wood, as if it had never been repainted, with marks that looked like water damage.
It wasn't words that came from her mouth, nothing clear, just sounds, as if she couldn't speak, as if she had some kind of speech impediment.
From my patio, I could only make out the tops of some trees she had on her property.
Between our houses, there is a tall wall, so tall that if you don't climb up, you can't see to the other side.
I started leaving food out for it in the patio, even though I had never owned a cat.
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