An emergency alert interrupts normal programming across Ohio with a chilling warning: if you live in Daggerlin, leave immediately. No explanation. No official clarification. Just a single urgent directive — run.
In this suspense-driven episode, we examine a fictional emergency broadcast scenario that triggers confusion, fear, and speculation throughout a small community. As residents scramble for answers, conflicting information spreads online, authorities remain vague, and unusual events begin unfolding within city limits.
Is the alert a mistake? A hacked system? Or a last-resort warning about something authorities cannot publicly disclose? As tension escalates, the mystery deepens — and the clock starts ticking.
This episode blends atmospheric storytelling with emergency alert realism, designed to immerse listeners in a rapidly unfolding crisis scenario.

Underground beneath the city lies a network of tunnels most people never see — dark, damp, and filled with constant noise from flowing water and shifting infrastructure. For maintenance workers, it’s just another job. But for this crew, there are rules that make the job far from ordinary.
In this original rule-based horror story, we follow a worker who quickly learns that survival depends on following a strange list of instructions. Never work alone after midnight. If you hear knocking from inside the pipes, ignore it. Report any figure standing motionless in flooded sections — but do not approach it. And if the lights flicker three times in a row, leave immediately.
As shifts progress, unexplained sounds echo through the tunnels and something moves in the darkness beyond the beam of a flashlight.
A tense underground horror experience for fans of industrial isolation and supernatural suspense.

Working in one of the most remote and extreme environments on Earth sounds adventurous — until isolation, harsh weather, and psychological strain begin to take their toll.
In this original first-person horror-style episode, we follow someone who accepted a job at a research station in the South Pole expecting scientific routine and breathtaking landscapes. Instead, long stretches of darkness, violent blizzards, limited communication, and strange occurrences inside the station slowly transformed the experience into something unsettling.
This story explores isolation effects, environmental stress, unexplained disturbances in remote facilities, and the eerie atmosphere that forms when survival depends on teamwork and strict protocol. As days turn into months and conditions worsen, doubts grow about whether something else — beyond the environment — is contributing to the tension.
A chilling tale for fans of remote-location horror and psychological suspense.

Train stations are meant to be busy hubs of movement — passengers arriving and departing, announcements echoing through platforms, and schedules running on time. But at this station, there are rules that go beyond standard procedures.
In this original rule-based horror story, we follow a station employee who discovers three strange rules that must be followed during every shift. Do not respond to voices calling your name from empty platforms. If a train arrives with no lights and no listed schedule, avoid it at all costs. And if passengers appear who cannot be seen on security cameras, do not acknowledge their presence.
As night falls and the station empties, unusual occurrences begin to test those rules. Shadows linger near tracks. Unscheduled trains appear in the distance. And something moves through the waiting area when no one should be there.
A tense atmospheric horror experience for fans of institutional mystery.

Working as a night guard at a museum might seem straightforward — monitor exhibits, secure entrances, and make rounds after closing. But this museum isn’t normal.
In this original rule-based horror story, we follow a guard who discovers a strict list of rules left behind by previous employees. The instructions aren’t suggestions — they’re survival guidelines. Don’t look directly at the statue on the third floor after midnight. If a painting appears to change expressions, report it immediately. Never enter the restricted wing unless the emergency lights are flashing. And if you hear footsteps behind you while no one is there — do not turn around.
As the night progresses, strange movements begin to occur among the exhibits. Objects shift. Shadows linger. And the rules become more relevant than ever.
A slow-burn atmospheric horror experience for fans of institutional creepypasta and isolation tension.

The cabin rental seemed perfect — remote, quiet, surrounded by dense forest. But taped to the inside of the front door was something unexpected: a list of rules.
In this original rule-based horror episode, we follow a traveler who books a weekend stay at an isolated cabin, only to discover a series of strange instructions left by the owners. Don’t look out the windows after 1:13 a.m. If you hear three knocks, ignore the fourth. Keep the fireplace lit at all times — even in summer. And if the basement light turns on by itself, do not go downstairs.
At first, the rules seem like a prank. But as night falls and each warning becomes disturbingly relevant, it becomes clear they exist for a reason.
Some cabins are abandoned for a reason. Others… are occupied.

Miles above civilization, surrounded by endless forest, the job seems simple: watch for smoke, report fires, stay alert. But at this remote fire lookout tower, there’s one rule — and it exists for a reason.
In this original rule-based horror episode, we follow a lone fire lookout stationed deep in the wilderness. Days are quiet. Nights are not. When the radio crackles with transmissions that shouldn’t be possible and something moves through the tree line long after sunset, the single rule becomes the only thing standing between safety and something far worse.
Never acknowledge what you see after dark.
As isolation intensifies and strange patterns emerge below the tower, the line between paranoia and reality begins to collapse. Out there, help is hours away — and whatever is watching knows you’re alone.

The night shift at a grocery store should be simple: restock shelves, mop aisles, count inventory. But at this store, there are rules — and breaking them isn’t an option.
In this original creepypasta-style episode, we follow an employee who discovers that survival depends on obeying five strict rules. Don’t respond to your name over the intercom after midnight. Avoid Aisle 7 when the lights flicker. Never make eye contact with the customer who doesn’t blink. And whatever you do, don’t check the freezer when you hear knocking from inside.
As routine tasks become increasingly disturbing, the line between paranoia and reality begins to blur. Something walks the aisles after closing time — and it isn’t shopping.
If you enjoy rule-based horror and immersive storytelling, this episode delivers tension from start to finish.

At first glance, it looked like a straightforward homicide. A victim. A scene. A suspect.
But the deeper I examined the details, the less sense it made.
In this gripping true crime episode, I break down a case where the evidence doesn’t align with the official narrative. Timeline discrepancies, forensic anomalies, unexplained injuries, and overlooked witness statements suggest there may be more beneath the surface.
Why were certain details never disclosed publicly? Why does key physical evidence contradict early assumptions? And why do investigators seem divided behind the scenes?
Listeners are guided step-by-step through the known facts, expert analysis, and unanswered questions that make this case feel anything but ordinary.
Sometimes a homicide is exactly what it appears to be.
And sometimes… it isn’t.

At first, they were just quiet. Too quiet.
They moved in overnight — no moving truck, no introductions, no lights on during the day. Packages sit untouched for weeks, yet someone is always inside. I’ve never seen them blink. Never seen them eat. And every time I try to make eye contact, they freeze… like they’re calculating something.
In this chilling psychological horror episode, I document the small details that stopped feeling normal: synchronized movements, identical clothing, late-night mechanical sounds coming through the walls. When I started recording what I was hearing, things escalated.
Are they hiding something? Running from something? Or are they something else entirely?
This story explores paranoia, isolation, and the terrifying possibility that the people living next door might not be people at all.