Audiobook Narrator Haunted Ghost Stories
Description
Vocal Characteristics
Language
EnglishVoice Age
Middle Aged (35-54)Accents
North American (General) North American (US Midwest- Chicago, Great Lakes)Transcript
Note: Transcripts are generated using speech recognition software and may contain errors.
This is a story about the car that came out of nowhere and changed my life forever. It was mid afternoon on a weekend and I remember the sky was particularly gray and drizzly. My son and I were in the car talking about baseball as we drove home from the grocery store one minute everything was fine. My son was smiling as he chatted away and I was listening to him while keeping my eyes on the road. The next something red flashed in front of us and I slammed down on the brakes. But I wasn't fast enough. Everything after that happened so fast there was a resounding crash and the impact through my son and I back in our seats, glass cascaded all around us and I heard the sound of metal tearing and crunching every part of my body hurt even as the airbag attempted to cushion the blow, all I could do was gripped the steering wheel until my knuckles turned white, waiting for it all to be over. And right beside me was my son screaming at the top of his lungs in pure pain and terror. I don't think I'll ever forget that sound as long as I live. At some point the car flipped over but I was already unconscious. By then I woke up when the paramedics were removing me from the wreckage of our car. I couldn't move my left arm and I was pretty positive it was broken. There was pain everywhere as the paramedics loaded me onto a stretcher but I didn't care as I screamed for my son. I just wanted to know that my son was okay, calm down. He's on his way to the hospital already. I was told by one of the paramedics as they folded the legs of the stretcher beneath me and lifted me into the ambulance. I saw him, the monster responsible for this. He was sitting next to his car crying as far as I could see, apart from a scratch on his forehead. He was uninjured, hot, painful tears began to stream down my cheeks and I turned my head away too disgusted to even look at him anymore. The whole ride to the hospital. I only had one thing on my mind. It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair that he was the one who went through the red light and he only walked away with a scratch. My son and I had done nothing to deserve this. It was five hours before I saw my son again. It was supposed to be his birthday next week. He was supposed to be turning nine. I kept thinking what terrible timing this all was. He was supposed to be excited getting ready for his party, trying to guess his presence. He should be living like a normal nine year old, not in the hospital because of someone else's carelessness. They wheeled me into his room and my heart just sank. His head was bandaged and he had a ventilator, breathing for him. He wouldn't open his eyes or respond to me. It was like I'd already lost him. The next day I got the news. I had been dreading a parent's worst nightmare. My son, I would never see his 9th birthday. He was brain dead. There was no coming back from that, no chance of recovery. I had to make the call to take him off of life support. The news broke me. I remember staggering around his room too numb to walk, grasping at the bed handle to prevent my knees from buckling underneath me. I was hysterical. My son, my baby was gone. I'm going to skip forward to a week after the funeral. I had taken leave from work to deal with my grief. At first I was thankful for the bereavement leave, but after a few days I started to curse it. I thought what I needed was some time alone to process everything. But I was wrong. Being alone meant I was stuck in my head all the time. The same thoughts overwhelmed me. The same feelings of guilt and grief in my head. All I saw was the crash. My son lying in the hospital bed on the ventilator and the last breath he ever took the middle of the night. At some point during that week was the first time something happened. I woke up to one of my son's toys going off. It was one of his cars that made a siren noise when you pushed it, startled and confused. I simply laid there in bed listening with my eyes wide open until the siren eventually stopped. After a few minutes, I finally managed to control my trembling hands and take a few deep breaths and mustered up the courage to go and investigate. I slipped out of the covers and tiptoed barefoot to his room. Instead of going inside, I paused outside of his door and just listened, holding my breath inside. It sounded like someone was playing with his cars. I could hear them clinking together as if someone was banging them into each other. I didn't understand at first what I was hearing was I imagining it, but it sounded clear as day as though someone was inside my son's bedroom playing with his toys, sucking in another deep breath, I opened the door as fast as I could and switched the light on. There is nobody inside. But on the floor About two ft in front of me was a red car, a fire truck and a black car. A few days before this I had gone into his room and made his bed and picked up all of his toys and placed them into the bins in the closet. I was certain I hadn't missed any and I'd shut the door after me. I couldn't bear walking past his room and seeing how empty it was. But if I had put his toys away and I was certain I had gotten them all, then why were they on his floor right now? Who had put them there toys didn't just jump out of closets all on their own. I held back tears as I picked the toys up and place them back inside his closet, making sure the door was shut tight. Then I scanned the room carefully to make sure nothing else was out of place. His clothes and shoes were all put away and his bed was still made. Even his ipad sat untouched on the headboard shelf. I shook away my confusion, trying to convince myself that I must have simply forgotten to put them away. My head wasn't exactly at a great place and it wasn't completely impossible. I had missed them. I gave the room one last glance then turn the light back off and carefully shut the door behind me. A few more weeks went by without anything unusual happening. I had finally reopened my son's door and I would sometimes go inside his room and sit on his bed, talking out loud as though he was still there with me. It brought me a sense of comfort in a way. One night I just come home from work and was putting some laundry away. The towel closet is right outside my son's room on the other side of the hallway as I was loading the shelves with the towels, I heard something fall to the floor behind me, coming from inside my son's room. I shut the towel closet, turned around slowly and walked into his room. On the floor at the side of his bed was his ipad. It had been sitting on the middle shelf of his headboard, far away from the edge. Far enough that someone would have had to smack it very hard to get it to land where it did. It definitely couldn't have fallen there on its own. I picked it up and placed it back where it had been cautiously inspecting the room. I was starting to feel as though I was being watched like I wasn't alone there and I began to consider the possibility that someone had broken into the house. Well, I had been at work, trying not to appear too panicked. I went to the kitchen and grabbed a knife from the drawer just in case. Then I went through every room checking any hiding places and making sure all of the windows and doors were locked, There was no sign of a break in and no other evidence that someone could be inside the house. I was starting to think I was going crazy. Although I tried to tell myself there were probably perfectly rational reasons for the things that had happened. I still couldn't shake away the feeling that something was definitely going on. This was finally confirmed a few months later when another incident occurred. This one is what finally got me wondering if my son was still around somehow. I had just gotten home from work again and was making dinner. I wanted something easy and quick so I settled for mac and cheese. I set my plate on the table at the spot. I normally sat, then grabbed my cup and went to the fridge to fill it with some ice. After I had gotten my ice and some soda, I went back to the table to sit down but something made me pause. My plate was no longer sitting at my usual spot. Instead, it was further down the table at my son's usual place. I looked between the spot. I had put the plate to where it was now in disbelief. I knew I wasn't going crazy. The plate had definitely moved, trying to stay calm. I moved the plate back to my spot and sat down but I couldn't just ignore what had happened. So after a few bites I decided to do a test. I got up from the table, leaving my plate where it was and went down the hallway to the bathroom. I shut the door and waited for a couple of minutes before returning to the table. As expected, the plate had moved again. It was now sitting right in front of the seat. My son always chose tears formed in my eyes again as I sat down staring at the empty chair. My plate was now sitting in front of, I smiled and said hello, tucker. I sat there in silence for at least 20 minutes unable to move or even eat any more of my dinner. I just stared at the chair and wondered if my son really was still here with me. This is the story of the worst day of my life and the strange incidents that followed. I still noticed that things move around the house from time to time. I'm not scared of it anymore though, and I've learned to accept it as the way things are now. I normally just shrug it off as that's just tucker being tucker.