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Will You Survive... The Podcast
Immerse yourself in the world of cinema as we embark on a journey to equip you with the skills to tackle any disaster head-on. Through the lens of thrilling tales, particularly those of the zombie apocalypse, we'll unravel the secrets of preparedness. Join us as we explore the silver screen to empower you for the challenges that lie ahead.
Will You Survive... The Podcast
Will You Survive Reads Reddit Stories #2
The scariest monsters don’t live in forests; they live in your head, in your hallway, and sometimes under your bed. We dive into two viral Reddit horror stories that turn everyday routines into nerve-grinding fear: a wife who peeks from corners with a grin that won’t blink, and a return‑to‑sender package that arrives with a smell no one forgets. We read them aloud, pause to breathe, and break down why these tales work so brutally well.
First, we explore the anatomy of dread in the “peeking wife” story: how a playful moment mutates into menace, why eye contact from the wrong angle short-circuits your calm, and how silence can scream louder than any jump scare. We talk shower-curtain fears, the psychology of being watched, and the way proximity turns love into danger. When hiding spots shrink—from the corner, to the kitchen floor, to the bathroom closet—the story pins you between empathy and survival, and we map each step of that escalation.
Then we switch lanes to the “package marked return.” It’s part true-crime vibe, part internet cautionary tale: a would-be viral stunt, a heavy box no one wants to open, and a vlogging camera that outlives its owner. We follow the slow-burn horror—the smell, the soggy cardboard, the clatter of a garage door—and the gut-punch twist that reframes guilt in one awful second. Along the way, we unpack why found-footage still haunts us, how everyday tech amplifies terror, and what responsibility looks like in a world chasing views.
If you love unsettling storytelling, practical fear analysis, and a little gallows humor to steady your nerves, you’re in the right place. Hit play, share this with a friend who claims horror “doesn’t get to them,” and tell us: which moment made you check your corners tonight? Subscribe, rate, and leave a review so we can keep bringing you the stories that stare back.
Alright. So this last story is from No Sleep. It's also kind of a long one. I have not finished this one. This is the one that I didn't finish. I started liking it a lot. So I was like, well, we'll see how it ends. You might know this one, TJ, because I feel like you're on this subject a lot. My wife has been peeking at me from around corners and behind furniture. It's gone from weird to terrifying. Uh I know this one.
SPEAKER_02:My wife has been peeking at me from around furniture and corn. Okay, what the hell?
SPEAKER_01:My wife Lynn and I have been together for six years and married for 11 months. Our entire history together has been very normal, and never once have I noticed any weird behaviors or red flags. I can't stress enough how out of character this whole thing is for her. Lynn is very kind, intelligent, and thoughtful. She's always been the no-nonsense type of person. Being childish or trying to scare me is not something she'd normally do. She doesn't even like watching horror movies. When we first started dating, she agreed to watch The Shining with me because she knew how much I loved horror. She was so scared that she didn't even make it through half of the movie before we had to turn it off. She isn't into anything creepy and has never been into pranks. It's just not her cup of tea. Okay. And that's fine. But that's what's was so strange about this. It's just so unlike her. I should also add that she never had any mental health issues, and as far as I'm aware, it doesn't run in her family. I know some people are able to hide their mental health problems, but in the six years we've been together, I think I'd have seen some sort of sign.
SPEAKER_02:Like TJ.
SPEAKER_01:Two months ago, I was in the kitchen making myself some coffee before work. I was running a bit late that morning and knew I wouldn't be able to make it to Dunkin' Donuts for my usual morning fix.
SPEAKER_02:Okay.
SPEAKER_01:I took a sip of c of my coffee as I hurried down the hall towards the front door when I happened to notice Lynn peeking at me from around the corner ahead of me. I could only see her eyes and a strand of her long dark hair hanging against the wall. The rest of her body was concealed around the corner. I nearly spilled my coffee when I saw her. I did burn the shit out of my lips. Jeez, Lynn, I said, wiping a few drops of coffee off my pants, you scared the shit out of me. She immediately popped out of view like a little kid that had been caught. I heard her scurry off toward the living room, and by the time I got to the front door she was out of sight. It was really weird and just totally out of character for her, like I said, but I also found it kind of funny that she was being more playful and a little less serious. I shouted that I loved her and called her a weirdo. As I shut the door behind me, I heard her laughing.
SPEAKER_05:It's immediately. No, I'm out. No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no.
SPEAKER_01:I think because we know this is creepy, then we're we automatically have those lens on.
SPEAKER_05:No.
SPEAKER_01:But if I was in a relationship and and your wife was just peeking at you around the corner and went and when you're like, oh fuck. And she's like back to the case.
SPEAKER_05:It was literally j like like this. It was literally just her eyes around the corner, wide, and then she steps away, no sound, gone.
SPEAKER_01:Okay, so here's the thing. I'm someone who likes to be scared, and I like to scare people. So if I was with a girl, I would now what's weird is that this is very out of character for her. But I wouldn't I would kind of think the same thing, like, oh, that was kind of funny. She got me. She was peeking around the corner. She knew that would free that would like spook me. She got me. So look, I wouldn't think anything of this.
SPEAKER_02:If my wife did this, I'm I'm with you. I think it would be very out of character. It would be very unrealistic. It would be I would be like, what the heck are you doing?
SPEAKER_01:Yeah. Like he says, um uh I shouted that I loved her and called her a weirdo. Yeah. As I shut the door behind me, I heard her laughing.
SPEAKER_02:I love you, weirdo.
SPEAKER_01:Yeah, you're like weirdo, I love you.
SPEAKER_05:I say, you know, I say immediately no, but like also like first time, eh, it's it's it was funny, you know. That's the perspective I want to get.
SPEAKER_01:I get that the first time you're like weirdo, but is it? You're not really weird.
SPEAKER_05:That's not what you do when you scare somebody. Normally, yeah, you go normally you show yourself scare, and then you like laugh and like ha, I got you, and then walk away. Bitch just disappeared, yeah.
SPEAKER_01:Or you walk into the hallway, give them a kiss, you're like, okay, bye. Uh like to just run away. Yeah, that would be the only thing that I'm like feet slapped out the fucking room, just gone.
SPEAKER_02:Yeah, just duck slapped.
SPEAKER_01:But also, I still I still wouldn't necessarily think anything of that. I I would I understand the whole like um what did he say about her being playful? I found it funny that she was being more playful and a little less serious. Right. You know, maybe she she's a little bit of a weirdo as it is, a little antisocial, and she does this, and he's like, weirdo. Okay, all right. I could I could I'm just want to add the perspective that I don't think the first time would tip me off. So to continue, her behavior was a bit odd, but it certainly wasn't something to call a priest over. I forgot about it by lunch, and by the time I got home, she was her normal self. I didn't bring it up, and neither did she, and life went on. The next incident happened three days later. It was around 2 a.m. and I had woken up to get a drink. I was standing at the kitchen island, jug of OJ in hand. I want to stop here. Who the fuck is getting up at 2 a.m. to drink a glass of orange juice? Listen, Eric.
SPEAKER_02:I've done it.
SPEAKER_01:That sounds awful. I feel like you drink milk.
SPEAKER_02:I've done it.
SPEAKER_05:Okay, look if I get up and it's like the middle of the night and I go chug juice, I'm gonna be 100%. Mellow does. Right after I just got done dicking down. That's that's the perfect time for some juice. Well, but that makes sense, though.
SPEAKER_02:There's another time. If you've ever done hard labor, really hard work, and you go to sleep semi-dehydrated, you're gonna wake up and you're gonna want something, not just water. Is not gonna sound good. And juice is something good because it raises the blood sugar.
SPEAKER_05:Just warm ass water.
SPEAKER_02:I just feel like No, I've I've done it after when you I don't know if you've ever I don't know if you've ever gone to sleep with a headache from working so hard and wake up and you're so thirsty. The same thing would happen. You know what else? I know what else you drink, OJ. When you go to sleep drunk.
SPEAKER_01:Yeah, but that makes sense. When you wake up in the middle of the day, so just wake up at 2 a.m. with no other circumstances and drink a glass of orange juice seems crazy. To me, that feels on par with toothpaste and orange juice.
SPEAKER_02:Melo wakes up and drinks juice.
SPEAKER_01:Juice, fine, but orange juice?
SPEAKER_02:Orange juice.
SPEAKER_01:That is the sugaryest drink. That is not what I want to drink in the middle of the night. As someone who loves sugar, I'm not gonna be drinking orange juice in the middle of the night.
SPEAKER_02:What the alright, alright.
SPEAKER_01:Here. So to continue. The next incident happened three days later. It was around 2 a.m. and I had woken up to get a drink. I was standing at the kitchen island, jug of OJ in hand, when I felt a strong feeling that I was being watched. For whatever reason, I looked down at the floor and saw my wife's smiling face staring back. Oh my god. She was peeking at me from the other side of the island, staring up at me with wide, unblinking eyes and grinning. No grinning like the Cheshire cat. I screamed, I'll admit it. Not out of irritation, but fear. For some reason at that moment I was scared. At the sound of my scream, Lynn scuttled backwards out of my view, her hands and feet smacking the tile floor as she hurried out of the kitchen on all fours. I didn't run after her or even yell after her. I just stood there frozen in shock, wondering what fuck had possessed her to do or what the fuck had possessed her to do that. It took me a little longer than I'd like to admit to go back upstairs, but I eventually did. When I got to our bedroom, Lynn was laying on her side asleep, or at least pretending to be. I stood there for a while watching her breathing to be sure she really was asleep. I had the feeling she might jump out at me the moment I got into bed, but she didn't. I climbed into bed and she didn't even move. Her breathing was soft and deep, and I was starting to wonder if I'd dreamt the whole thing. The next morning I waited for her to come down for coffee and after handing her a mug and kissing her cheek, I decided to ask her about it. I asked, keeping my tone light so I didn't offend or embarrass her. I might not have even known she was there at all had the trunk's old hinges not given her away.
SPEAKER_05:Oh no.
SPEAKER_01:She'd had the lid popped open, propped open just enough so that that only half of her face peeked through. She'd been grinning like an excited toddler. It was unnerving. I didn't even know what to say to her. All I could do was stare. When I finally found my voice, I asked her why on earth she was doing this. Or why on earth was she doing this? She didn't answer, but she did she had slowly closed the lid, shutting herself inside the trunk. I just walked away, feeling disturbed. I didn't understand why she was doing it, but it clearly made her happy. I just hoped she would tire of the game quickly. Lynn didn't peek at me for the next two weeks. I started to think she was done with her weird prank and I was relieved. We were watching a show on Netflix one night, and I jokingly said that I hadn't seen her peeking at me lately, and that she must have given up on her spy game. She looked up at me with a small smile and said, Maybe I've just gotten better at it. That that's that's a that's not an okay answer to that.
SPEAKER_05:No.
SPEAKER_01:That's not okay.
SPEAKER_05:Not at all.
SPEAKER_01:I didn't say anything, but I wondered whether or not she was joking. For the next few days I couldn't stop thinking about what she'd said. Was she still peeking at me when I wasn't looking and I just hadn't noticed? And if so, what the hell was she getting out of this? I started to feel paranoid, constantly checking whatever she was watching from around the corner or behind a door. I was jumpy whenever I was home and she wasn't in full view of me. I felt stupid and a little crazy. But after a few weeks without another incident, I began to relax. I stopped checking behind furniture and walls and told myself it was just a bad memory. Then a few days ago things got so much worse. Lynn left to go to a friend's and I lounged on the couch and played a couple games on my laptop. Around 9 p.m. I hopped in the shower, and as I was washing the soap from my hair, I felt that awful feeling that I was being watched. I slowly opened my eyes and almost had a fucking heart attack. Lynn was peeking from behind the shower curtain. Her entire head stretched into the shower, leaving just her body outside. The way I would have punched her. Yeah. Like I'm not if I didn't expect her to be home and I opened my eyes and saw that, you're catching these hands. I don't care who you are, you could be my grandmother. You are catching these hands.
SPEAKER_05:Every time I've I rinse my shampoo out, I tilt my head forward and I just do that.
SPEAKER_02:That it I understand that. I have this that's my irrational fear too.
SPEAKER_01:I have this thought often. When I'm when I'm every time I'm washing shampoo out or conditioner out of my hair, I always have this thought. And it's such a it's such a weird thought. I I don't know how you'll feel about this, but every time I I slowly open my eyes, I always imagine what if I open my eyes and there is a actual demon standing right in front of me. And and it's like every time I have my eyes closed in the shower and I go to open my eyes, I always like prep myself. I don't even know how you prep yourself for an encounter like that, but I always prep myself thinking, okay, open my eyes. And just just kind of like gearing up, ready. It's it's kind of like an irrational fear for sure.
SPEAKER_02:That's my exact irrational fear.
SPEAKER_05:I when I was a kid, I like I used to be a gamer, bro. Um, I just did not sleep for like probably a day and a half, and I was in the shower, and you know, I had been gaming and I love horror movies, so I've been watching horror movies. And I was taking a shower and then I fucking I was washing my hair and then I like opened my eyes and I could swear for like like a glimpse of a second I seen like Freddie Krueger and I like slammed back into the wall, but like nothing was there.
SPEAKER_01:So yeah, I I have a story about Freddy Krueger. I was I watched a movie when I was young, I shouldn't have. There was a T j junction at the top of our stairs, and I was like, Oh, I got to the top of the stairs and I was like, Mom, I I I can't go. And she's like, Why? I'm like, well, I can only look one way at a time. And if I looked left, Freddy Kruger's gonna be on the right. And if I look right, Freddy Kruger's gonna be on the left. There's no winning. It was a rough night.
SPEAKER_02:It's a rough night.
SPEAKER_01:To continue. Lynn was peeking from behind the shower curtain, her entire head stretched into the shower, leaving just her body outside. Her long dark hair hung against the curtain, the ends dripping with water. Her mouth hung open in a terrible grin, eyes wide and red as if she hadn't blinked in a while. I screamed and jumped back against the wall. She didn't move, nor did her smile waver. Her makeup ran down her cheeks in two black streaks. She looked giddy and completely deranged. I was fucking terrified.
SPEAKER_02:Yeah.
SPEAKER_01:We stood like that for a few moments, neither of us saying a word. Finally, after what felt like forever, she slowly pulled her head back out of the shower, and I watched her blurry figure through the curtain as she moved backwards towards the bathroom door. A second later, the bathroom door slammed shut, hard enough to rattle the mirror. I screamed again and jumped out of the shower to lock the door. I stayed inside the bathroom for over an hour. Maybe I overri overreacted to some of you, but joke or not, I wasn't going to put up with the with the crazy shit anymore. That's what that's what I kept telling myself as I paced in my bedroom, stopping to listen at the door every few minutes. Or sorry. That's what I kept telling myself as I paced in my bathroom, stopping to listen to the door every few minutes. Suddenly I heard a muffled sound and I pressed my ear against the bathroom door, straining to listen. I couldn't hear anything, but I envisioned Lynn standing on the other side of the door, giggling at her joke. I felt a surge of anger. I was beyond pissed at being made to feel scared in my own house in my own house and made to hide in the bathroom for an hour. Offer what? Some joke? If it was a joke, it was an awful one. What the fuck, Lyn? I snapped. This shit is getting really fucking annoying. I waited for her to apologize or to call me a jerk, but instead I heard a faint moan. So quiet I wondered if I heard it at all. And then complete silence. Lin? I called out, not able to even hide the shakiness in my voice. I got no response. Just my own heavy breathing. I swear to God, just fucking stop it. I yelled, pounding my fist on the door. I waited for her to cuss me out, something I would expect from me talking to her like that. I never screamed at her before. But there was nothing. Just the occasional drip from the shower head. I won't deny that I was scared, too afraid to open the damn door and face my own wife. I waited for thirty minutes or so which felt like a fucking lifetime when you're scared. Finally I decided I wasn't going to spend the night hiding in my bathroom, so I got down on my knees and peered under the door. I almost expected to see her face peeking back at me, but thankfully I didn't. I could see straight down the hallway to the top of the stairs, but no Lynn. I didn't know if I should be happy about that or not. I looked for a few minutes waiting to see her head pop up over the top step, but it never came.
SPEAKER_05:I'm out nerves. I am on a flight. Yeah, I I don't even know like I d I don't care to wear. I would rather move to Detroit.
SPEAKER_01:I stood up, my hand hovering over the door and mentally preparing myself to open it. I slowly turned the lock with shaky fingers and was about to yank it open when I heard a sound that still makes me feel nauseous when I think about it. A moan. Louder than before. But this time I was able to tell just where it was coming from. I turned my head to the closet door as if in slow motion and locked eyes with my wife who was peeking out at me from the slight gap. Her eyes were still wide as ever, and her mouth was hanging open in the most grotesque, gaping smile I'd ever seen. I didn't even scream. I was too scared for even that. Her hands were clasped to her chest, body trembling with sheer delight, as if she could barely contain her excitement. A short, raspy moan bubbled up from her throat, deep and raw, sending a shiver through my entire body. Somehow I found the ability to pull the bathroom door open and ran as fast as I could all the way down the steps, snagging my keys and phone from the table in the living room just before running outside to my car. I don't know if you guys gathered this. I because it like was a little confusing at first. He was still in the bathroom.
SPEAKER_02:Yeah.
SPEAKER_01:And she was suddenly in the bathroom, in the closet.
SPEAKER_02:Oh, I didn't know there was a closet in the bathroom.
SPEAKER_01:That's what it implies. Oh. He never opened the bathroom door. He heard a noise from the closet behind him. She's and then saw her staring at him.
SPEAKER_05:So he had been in the bathroom with her for like an hour. Yeah. And she's looking for her.
SPEAKER_01:Which goes back to her thing of maybe I've just gotten better at it.
SPEAKER_02:Yeah.
SPEAKER_01:So somehow I found the ability to pull the bathroom door open and ran as fast as I could all the way down the steps, snagging my keys and phone from the table in the living room before running outside to my car. I could hear her shrill laughter behind me, but I didn't hear her getting closer. I didn't bother shutting the front door. I drove away from the house faster than I legally should have, shivering the entire time, either from fear or the cold, maybe a little of both. I hadn't grabbed a coat or even a pair of shoes. I was still in my boxers and my hair was still damp. I drove straight to my brother Chris's house about forty minutes away, ignoring any and every call or in text I got. I didn't check my phone until I was safely parked in my brother's driveway. Lynn had called four times and sent a flurry of texts, all wondering where I'd gone and why I left like that. I threw my phone at the dash in in a rage, furious at her nonchalant attitude. My brother and his wife were surprised to see me, especially dressed in just a pair of boxers, but told me to stay as long as I needed. Chris lent me some clothes and asked me what happened. I told him Lin and I had a fight, but didn't get into the details. I didn't want him to think I was overreacting, leaving my wife over a prank, even if it was a strange one. I mean, hadn't I encouraged her for years to lighten up instead of being so serious all the time? I had wanted her to relax and loosen up, but this was definitely not what I'd had in mind. I tried to sleep on their sofa, but my brain wouldn't let me sleep. Every time I closed my eyes I saw Lynn's face staring at me from inside the closet. Knowing she'd been in there with me the entire time made my skin crawl. She'd never left the fucking bathroom at all. Instead she slipped inside the closet and slammed the bathroom door shut to fool me. The mere thought of going back home gave me anxiety. I tossed and turned, unable to sleep. Chris ended up giving me a sleeping pill so I was able to get a little rest. My sleep was filled with terrible dreams, all of Lynn's smiling face. I woke up just as the sun started to rise, my sore body ached from the sofa and I felt drained. I knew I'd have to call Lynn at some point, but I didn't know what to say to her. I wouldn't be going home unless she gave me her word she'd never do any more creepy shit. I just wanted my wife back. Her normal, serious self never looked so good to me. I was contemplating calling her and telling her that when that familiar feeling came over me, I was being watched. I was staring at the ceiling, my heart in my throat. I didn't want to look away, but the longer I ignored the feeling the worse it got. My eyes drifted away from the ceiling almost on their own. Her face was pressed up against the window beside the couch, staring down at me with that same gaping smile, drool dribbling from her lips, leaving two long streaks down the glass. I didn't know how long she'd been there, but something told me she'd been there quite a while, possibly all night. I didn't bother screaming. Though I was afraid, anger trumped any fear I had I felt at that moment. I jumped up from the couch and pounded my palm against the glass. Lynn, are you crazy? What the hell is wrong with you? Just go home, I shouted. Now she didn't move, and her ghastly expression never changed. If anything, her smile only grew as if she had never been more elated. I could hear Chris and his wife moving around upstairs, as if Lynn could hear them from her place outside. Her head twitched slightly in their direction and she began to close her mouth slowly. Chris called my name from upstairs, obviously concerned. I turned to see him and his wife Rebecca hurrying down the steps. When I turned back to the window, Lynn was gone. The only sign she'd been there was all the was The only sign she'd been there at all was the two streaks of drool still dripping down the glass. I tried explaining to Chris and Rebecca about waking up to see Lynn watching me through their window. They were skeptical 'cause who wouldn't be? Chris and I went outside to the spot in front of the window, but there were no footprints in the dirt, just a slight indent. Animal probably, Chris guessed, and I didn't argue. He and Rebecca assumed I'd dreamt the entire episode, but they didn't understand, and I was too scared to explain it to them. I called out of work that day and turned my cell off. I didn't want to face Lynn. Just talking to her was too much for me at that point. I really started to believe something was irreversibly wrong with her, that no matter what promises she made, we'd never be the same again. The thought saddened me to my core. I cried most of the morning. By noon I figured I was ready to confront her. Give her one last chance to explain herself. I could at least give her that after six years, I told myself. I turned my phone on and saw the dozens of texts she'd sent, all from a seemingly concerned wife. Can we talk? I love you. Please call me. I'm really worried. Can't you answer? Just come home. And more of the same. All text telling me she loved me and she wanted me home. How worried she was. Not a damn one addressing the crazy shit she pulled. Like she hadn't been acting like a character from a Stephen King book. Even her texts were different. She normally texted texted vowels just to tell me to pick up a loaf of bread. I suck. She normally texted novels just to tell me to pick up a loaf of bread. You'd think she'd have more to say to me after her bizarre shenanigans. I know it probably seems childish to some of you who are miles away from this situation, but if you saw the way Lynn had looked at me, how she scampered away on all fours like some wild animal grinning at me from inside the closet like a lunatic, then I think you'd find my reaction was warranted. I'm not gonna lie, man, I think you're painting a pretty good picture. I'd be fucking scared. I ended up staying with Chris and Rebecca for another night. I didn't wake up yesterday until afternoon, and thankfully I didn't see Lynn's face watching me through the window. Uh I don't want to pry because it's not my place, but is this fight something that can be mended? Rebecca asked. She'd made us both a sandwich for lunch, and I knew she wanted to breach the subject without seeming to be nosy. I don't know. I just she's like a different person, I said, choosing my words carefully. I still wasn't ready for her or Chris to know the full extent of the batshit craziness I had been dealing with. People change, Ben, but she's still the same woman you married. Maybe you both just need to talk through your issues. Whatever's going on, I'm sure it can be fixed, she said, Ever the peacemaker. I think it's beyond that now. I don't think talking would help. I just don't trust her, I said. The words stung in my heart. I missed and loved my wife, but how could I live with someone like that? Living in constant fear didn't sound too appealing. Lynn loves you. She has to be absolutely crushed, she said. I don't know about that, I said. Well she certainly seemed like it to me. I've never seen her so upset. Very much unlike the Lynn I know, Rebecca said, shaking her head sadly. It took a full minute for her words to really sink in, and when they did, I felt dread warming worming its way through my skin. Wait, what do you mean? You saw her? You saw Lynn? I asked, my mouth suddenly dry. Rebecca nodded casually as if that fact wasn't nightmare fuel. Maybe for her it wasn't. She stopped by this morning just after Chris left for work, she said, cleaning the plates from the table. I didn't see her car though, maybe she took an Uber or something. Rebecca, what did she say? Did did she come inside? I asked, uh sweat starting to break out on my forehead. I began looking around, examining corners as though a predator lurked behind them. No. She just asked if you were awake yet, and I said that you weren't. I asked if she wanted me to wake you and she said no. Just said to let you sleep. She said as she washed the dishes. That's all. She didn't say anything else? I asked. No? She looked awful though, like she hadn't slept in days. I think you should call her. I got up from the table and thanked Rebecca for lunch. I felt a little bit better at the knowledge that at least she hadn't come inside. Still, I needed to double check that the doors were locked. I sat for a while trying to figure out what to do next. I didn't want to go home, but I felt that I owed it to Lynn to help her if I could. Hadn't I sworn an oath to love and honor her through sickness and health? Clearly she was very sick. If she was sick, which I truly believe she was, I had to try and get her the help she needed. But I didn't even know where to start. I didn't want to call the police, and besides, what the hell was I going to tell them? That my wife was peeking at me? That she was being creepy? As bizarre as she'd been, she still hadn't committed any crime. Not yet anyway. The police would have probably said that I was overreacting. But this wasn't some prank. It felt wrong. Dangerous even. Like something sinister lurked behind her smile. I knew as her husband I was well within my rights to have her committed, but what if she was simply acted normal in their presence? Uh, she'd obviously been able to fool Rebecca into thinking she was just a concerned wife. As long as the doctors didn't find her a danger to herself or others, they'd have no choice but to release her after 72 hours. I felt lost and overwhelmed. So I did what any husband in my position would do. Well, like any husband. I called her mother. I didn't want to, believe me. Her mother Marianne and I were never on the best of terms. We'd never fought or anything like that. Uh she just wasn't a very warm person and wasn't really easy to get along with. She hardly ever smiled, and when she did, only her lips would move into a thin lipped smile, leaving her eyes as blank as before. She gave off this aura that felt like she was permanently on the offensive. I'd only met her twice, and both times were for such short visits. I got the impression she didn't approve of me for her daughter. Lynn always ushered us out quickly as she didn't want to fe she didn't want me to feel uncomfortable, which I was grateful for. Being in her mother's company felt like almost unbearable. Like walking on glass. I was glad when we moved three states away so we didn't have to see her often. I was happy to avoid the woman, but I needed her help. I really didn't want to talk to her at all, but I had to talk to someone, and someone who knew Lynn better than I did. So I gripped my teeth and did what I did. Yes, she answered, already sounding irritated. Marianne, it's me, Ben. Do you have a minute to talk? I asked. I could hear her cluck her teeth her tongue in irritation. I'm in the middle of writing some checks, but if you insist, I suppose I can spare a moment. What is it that you want to discuss, Benjamin? She said coolly. I hate when people use full names when you use a short name. Uh it's about Lynn. She's been acting strangely, and I was wondering if you had any idea whether there was something I was quickly interrupted. It's a bit difficult to follow your rambling, Benjamin. What is that you want from me? She asked. I could almost see her standing there in her thin sweater and slacks, tapping her fingernails impatiently on the table. I wanted to know if you'd ever noticed any odd behavior, or possibly any mental illness uh issues? I asked. There was a long, uncomfortable pause that I couldn't. Couldn't tell was because she was just thinking or something else. Finally, after a few seconds, she spoke. I'm not sure if this is one of your jokes, Benjamin, but if so, I don't find the humor in it. Now I do have business to attend to, as I've said, so if you don't mind, she said, but I cut her off before she could get rid of me. Marianne, it's not a joke. I'm ser I'm sincerely concerned about Lynn's mental health. Her beh behavior has been very erratically s recently. I'm very worried about her, and I figure as her mother, you would be as well. I said, frustrated, uh, my frustration evident in my voice. If you're truly concerned, then I suggest you get the health professionals involved. I don't know what you expect of me. She snapped. I could tell she was seconds away from hanging up, and for some reason I was desperate not to let her. I had the feeling that she knew a lot more than she was letting on. Please, if not for me, do it for Lynn. I tried. I heard a faint shaky intake of breath as if she were trying to hold her steely persona together but failing. Marianne, what's wrong? I started. Benjamin, I don't know what to tell you. My only advice would be to seek professional help. Do not call here again. Goodbye. I tried to call out to her, but she'd hung up. I tried to wrap my head around the call and her refusal to help me. Even if she didn't like me, why wouldn't she want to help her own daughter? I couldn't understand that. I tried to replay the conversation, desperate to find something I missed. After a while I almost gave up until I remembered her last words to me, seek professional help. She'd said those words with a bit of urgency. I could have just been grasping at straws, but no, I was sure her voice had changed ever so slightly when she'd said that, as if they were very important. What had she meant? I assumed she'd been referring to medical professionals, but maybe she was referring to someone else, someone that she didn't for some reason feel comfortable saying directly. Or maybe I was just desperate. I waited for Chris to get home and after a very long and exhausting conversation with him and Rebecca, I convinced them that Lynn truly needed psychiatric help. I didn't tell them everything. I wasn't prepared to go into it yet, but I told them about our last encounter, how she'd hidden in the bathroom peeking at me from the closet. They were obviously shocked, but thankful thankfully they believed me. They too just wanted to help her. Still, they didn't think it was all that serious. Weird, maybe, but not dangerous. They just kept saying that Lynn had to be playing some kind of weird joke. Maybe for YouTube, Rebecca offered, if only half-heartedly. Chris didn't think we should involve the police just yet. He offered instead to go with me, and I readily accepted. He reasoned that calmly talking to her, trying to coax her into going willingly, was the best recourse. I agreed to do it his way. At least I wouldn't be going into the house alone. We drove over this morning, uh, just after breakfast. There was no way I was going at night. When we pulled into the driveway, my stomach began doing somersaults. Her car wasn't there, but I still didn't let my guard down. The front door was ajar, and for a split second I thought we'd see her eyes staring through the gap. I was shaking and stare and starting to sweat. Chris, however, was fine. He waited for me to open the door, his hands in his pockets like he was going on a fucking stroll through the park. I envied his ignorance. I pushed the door open and was immediately hit with a stench of rot. Chris smelled it too. And he walked in the house behind me with his nose scrunched up. What do you guys use to clean the floors around here, shit? Chris mumbled. Good one, Chris. Shut up, I said, my eyes darting around for any signs of Lyn. The house was deadly quiet and dark despite being ten in the morning. All the curtains were closed up tight, refusing to allow any sunlight inside. If I hadn't left it just two days prior, I'd have thought the house to be abandoned. We moved through each room carefully checking any place that she might hide, occasionally calling her name. Why the fuck are you looking under the couch? Chris asked, eventually. Aren't we looking for your wife? He was looking at me like I was a moron. Let's just go upstairs, I whispered. He shook his head but followed me up the stairs to check the bathroom and spare bedroom. On the way up, my shoes crunched over pieces of glass that looked to be littered over a few of the steps. I noticed that one of Lynn and my wedding portraits that hung on the wall along the staircase had been smashed. The frame hung crookedly, all the glass removed. I stared at the picture, a lump forming in my throat. We had taken that photo just after leaving the church after saying our vows. She looked so beautiful in her white gown. I looked at Lynn's beautiful face. I never dreamed her face would ever be the source of terror for me. We climbed the rest of the steps and checked the spare bedroom, but it looked completely untouched. I was hesitant to go into the bathroom, my fear from that night coming back to me all at once. Chris noticed and offered to go in by himself, but I couldn't let him do that. So we walked in together, checking the closet and the shower. The bathroom looked as if it hadn't been touched since the night I left. I don't think she's here, Ben. Why don't you pack some clothes and we'll try coming back tomorrow or something? Chris said. I nodded and went into our bedroom and shoved some clothes into a duffel bag. When I checked inside our closet, I came across the source of the smell and gagged. Chris took one look and lost all color in his face. He had to go stand by the stairs to get away from the sight and smell. I gazed down in shock at what lay inside my bedroom closet. Soaking into the rug were at least a dozen eyeballs, all carefully laid out in pairs. Some were as large as a quarter, while others were as tiny as a marble. I stared down at the eyes she'd collected from small animals and I wondered how she'd gotten them, and shuddered at the thought. Man, I thought I had it bad with with Becca's shoe addiction, but fuck me. Your wife's in here collecting eyeballs, Chris said, gagging. Ben, I think we should go. He called from the hall. I'm getting nauseous. Alright, I grabbed my duffel and shut the closet door on my new nightmare. I stepped out into the hall and took a deep breath of air. I could taste the rot on my tongue, and I couldn't help but gag. Who the fuck lines up eyeballs in their closet like that? Chris mumbled. I tried to tell you she needed help, I said. She doesn't need help, Ben, she needs a fucking exorcist, he said. You coming or what? I can't stand the smell any. His words died in his throat and his eyes grew wide with fear. I didn't ask him why, but I could feel it. Someone was watching me, and I didn't think it was the eyes in the closet. I turned around, my eyes slowly scanning the bedroom. Christ, I whispered, as I finally saw what we'd missed. Under the bed, curled on her side, watching us with the excitement of a kid on Christmas morning, was my wife. She held her hands together just under her chin and they were shaking eagerly. Now that she knew she'd been found, I could hear the quiet noises she was making, a sort of hiccuping sound in her throat, as if the excitement was just too much for her. It was unnerving to say the least, wide eyes and the same huge smile. Everything in me told me to run, but I forced it away. This was my wife. No matter how twisted, she was still the woman I married. I had to help her. Lin, I said softly. She didn't respond, but her head bobbed back and forth in two quick little movements as if she were nodding. Baby, I just want to help, okay? Can you can you let me do that?
SPEAKER_00:I asked.
SPEAKER_01:I had taken a single step forward, approaching her like some kind of dangerous animal. I love you, Lynn, I said softly, taking another step closer. She let a tiny moan escape her wide open mouth, and I had to resist the urge to run. Her shoulders were starting to quiver, and her eyes grew as large as saucers. I crouched down so I could see her better and immediately saw the blood. Her hands were covered in it. They trembled more the closer I got, as if they were barely as if she was barely able to contain herself. Lynn, are you hurt? You're bleeding, I said. She bobbed her head again, her bloody fingers moving up and down as if playing an invisible piano. They occasionally grazed her chin, leaving smears of blood on her skin. I wanted to recoil in disgust. The smell that was coming off of her was revolting. I could feel the vomit trying to climb up my throat. Her lips were dry and stretched thin, blood seeping between the cracks. I knew she wouldn't come out on her own, but I didn't want to leave her in the state she was in. I scooted closer and reached out to her. The excited hippoc hiccuping sounds got louder and her hands shook, fingers flexing. It was then that I could see the blood oozing from in between her fingers. Oh my god, Lynn you're bleeding, I said. Instinctively I reached out to take her hand, but before I could even touch her, her hand sprang out towards me. A sharp pain shot through my arm and I fell back on my ass. My arm burned, and I could see the blood dripping down onto the carpet. I looked back at her in shock and saw her grinning madly, her fingers clutching a large shard of glass. You alright in there? Chris asked from behind me. Crazy that Chris isn't watching this play out. I turned my head slightly and nodded to him, cradling my arm to my chest. When I turned back to face Lynn I saw her that her focus had shifted. She wasn't looking at me anymore, and she wasn't smiling anymore either. She was staring past me, her eyes glaring at Chris the way a hungry lion might stare at an antelope. Her mouth was still hanging open, but it was twisted into a snarl. I got to my feet and began walking backwards down the hall, afraid to take my eyes off her. Are you bleeding? Chris asked. The moment the words left his mouth, Lynn started fast scooting out from under the bed, the glass trod still in her hand. Chris, run, go! I yelled. He must have been too afraid to move because a second later I felt my back bump into him. He was still standing at the top of the stairs staring at the horror that was my wife. Lynn was crawling Lynn had crawled completely out from under the bed and stood in the bedroom doorway, her face twisted in rage. Her whole body was visibly tense, blood ran down her fingers and onto the floor. Jesus, Lynn, Chris said. You uh playing hide and seek? I reached back and pushed him towards the steps. Yeah, now's a great time to fucking crack jokes, Chris. Chris is just a dude, bro. He is such a bro. Move your ass, Chris, I said as quietly but firmly as I could. Lynn bobbed her head in fast, sharp motions and began to grin, stretching her mouth open wider and wider so that her chin seemed to touch her chest. I heard Chris mutter a prayer, and then he was running down the stairs. I stood at the top of the steps, stuck between the love for a woman uh who clearly needed serious help and self preservation. I only want to help, I said, choking back tears. Her eyes focused on me once again as she slowed slowly lifted the glass, holding it out in front of her, and then she started sprinting towards me, grinning with utter excitement. Thankfully my body took over and I flew down the stairs, skipping two or three at a time. I made it to the front door before I felt her leap onto my back, wrapped her arms around my neck, her open mouth next to my ear so that I could hear those terrible hiccuping sounds up close. I shook her off me, knocking her to the floor. I felt a searing pain in my back as she went, but I tore open the front door and bolted to my car. Chris was standing in the front yard talking on the phone with the police. I didn't say a word. I just ran to my car and jumped in. Chris took the hint and followed me, still on the line with nine one. I watched the review mirror, sure I'd see her there running after us, but I never did. I went straight to the ER and got eleven stitches in my arm and three on my back. The police asked a lot of questions and went back to the house to do a search, but of course Lynn wasn't there. They advised me to stay with a friend or relative for a while and to file a restraining order as soon as I could, but none of those things would matter. Somehow I just knew. I dropped Chris off at home and went to a motel an hour away. I wanted to put as much distance between me and Lynn as I could. This is where I would have been this is where I've been for the last four hours. I thought maybe the police would find her, maybe they'd get her the help she desperately needs. But now I don't think so, because forty minutes ago I got a text from an unknown number, just three words. I found you. And a picture attached. The picture was dark and grainy, but I instantly knew what it was. There was no mistaking my wife's eyes. I started typing this out immediately after. I don't know what to do. I'm alone and scared, and I can't help but feel that I'm being watched. Well uh yeah, that's what you get. That's what you get, bam. That is way longer of a story than I thought it was. So sorry about that.
SPEAKER_05:I by the time I I finished the bathroom. Gunshots. Bitch is dead. Maddie, yeah. Sorry. You're dead.
SPEAKER_01:You ever do some shit like that? I I'm so when it comes to fight or flight, I am not usually a fighter. But I think if I open my eyes in that shower, and she was supposed to be gone.
SPEAKER_02:Right.
SPEAKER_01:If I opened my eyes and saw her like that, I don't think there's any part of me that doesn't instinctually fucking start swinging.
SPEAKER_05:There's no worse feeling than being watched.
SPEAKER_01:You're like, especially if I got that feeling, opened my eyes and saw her. Uh-uh. And you feel that? Yep. Dog, I'm yeah.
SPEAKER_02:I mean, it's exactly what you just said. You have that feeling like you're being watched already, and then imagine it coming true.
SPEAKER_05:Me and Alex, that whole fucking time you're reading, are both fucking just like bouncing our fucking leg, like, goddammit, buck.
SPEAKER_01:Yeah, I saw. I saw the nerves because even reading that, there were certain parts of that where I started to get like, fuck, is someone watching me? I'm alone at my house right now, waiting for my wife to come home.
SPEAKER_02:Yeah, that's a horrible thing. Turns out she's home holding it.
SPEAKER_01:Very well written.
SPEAKER_02:I know, right? She's looking at you. She's under the desk.
SPEAKER_01:I have one more story. It's the one TJ posted. This is definitely gonna be like a two or three part episode. Yeah, fuck it. I I know. I know we're pushing two hours. This is the one that's the one that TJ submitted.
SPEAKER_05:Just a super episode where it's just a shitload of this is the Halloween episode.
SPEAKER_01:This is the one TJ submitted, so I want to make sure we get this one in. This one is also from No Sleep. It's called A Package Marked Return. I know this one. My neighbor is one of those annoying wannabe YouTube personalities. Over the years, I've seen him cough out cinnamon, lay flat on the hood of his car as it slowly creeps down the driveway, and douse himself in lukewarm water, all the while screaming, Epic win, epic fail, or fuck, epic maintenance of the status quo, for all I fucking know. It can get tiring to watch him go about his shenanigans in the pursuit of viral fame. So when he knocked on my door the other day, told me he was going away for a few weeks, and asked that I get his mail, honestly, it was a relief. I can't explain the peace of mind I had knowing I didn't have to brace myself for any of his stupidity for a while. I was always afraid his stunts would wind up bleeding over into my life. Things were pretty normal for the first couple of days. He received a few bills, a bit of spam, and what I could only assume was a birthday card. Then one evening I got home to find a cardboard box waiting on his front porch. In big letters was written return to sender. I'm no small fry, but I admit I had trouble lifting the box on my own. It was really freaking heavy. Lucking it across the road to my house was even harder, and I quickly realized there was no way I was going to drag it up the stairs and through my front door. I decided I'd leave his package in my garage. It wasn't like I kept my car in there. The garage door was a piece of shit that refused to open without a good thug and a whack. It was less trouble just leaving the car in the driveway than it was to fight with the garage door every morning and night. In hindsight, I should have set the package down while I struggled to open the tricky door, but you know how it is when you've got a good grip on something. No point in setting it down if you don't have to. It was as I kicked the door for a third time that I lost my grip on the package and it fell to the ground. I heard a light crack inside. Shit, I cursed. I hoped I hadn't broken anything important, but I figured I just wouldn't tell my neighbor about it and let him assume the break happened on route. Hands free, I finally managed to get the garage door unstuck, and boy did it screech in protest as I rolled up as it rolled up over me. I dragged the box the rest of the way, setting it in the corner for whenever my neighbor would come back to claim it. And then I forgot all about it. Until a few days passed, that is. I'm not sure exactly how long it took for the smell to waft in from the crack under the garage to house door, but it came in in slow progression. It was a sickly sweet odor similar to a skunk, and for the first few days after I smelled it, I genuinely assumed that's exactly what it was. Roadkill that had left its mark on my house. It was only when I realized the scent was growing more intense, instead of fading, that I went looking for a source. That's when I opened the garage door, and that's when the odor knocked me back, holding my nose. The culprit wasn't hard to identify. The only change in my garage was the box in the corner. I remember thinking it must have been one of those meat of the month subscription boxes. The meat must have gone rancid from being left out of the fridge for so long. How much meat could have been in there for the box to have been so large and heavy? An entire freaking cow? I covered my nose as I approached the box, a pair of scissors in my hands. I probably wouldn't have needed them to open it as it had become soggy enough at the bottom to poke through with a finger, but I sure wasn't about to poke my finger into spoiled meat juices. That soggy bottom was the reason I had to open the box in the first place. If I tried to drag it out whole, whatever everything would spill onto the floor. I was gonna have to dump the pieces of meat one garbage bag at a time and take them down to the dumpster, a process I was not looking forward to. My scissors tore through the tape along the top of the cardboard box. I thought the smell couldn't get any worse, but as I flipped the flaps open, I discovered a whole new gamut of stink. It was like opening a burning oven, but instead of a heat wave, I was met with waves of piss, sweat, shit, and putrefication. It was so bad that I staggered back and had to force down the puke uh begging to guzzle out of me. I don't think I could have handled that scent mingling with the horrors coming out of the box. I'm not ashamed to admit I ran out of the door for a breath of fresh air, but in that short time I'd spent in the garage, the smell had become so ingrained in the fabric of my clothes that it clung to me like a shadow. Nothing I tried could keep the smell out of my nostrils. Not air fresheners, not a face mask, not three showers and a change of clothes. Every second that box lay open in my garage was another second that smell was allowed to foothold in my house. I had to bite the bullet. I returned to the garage, the flaps of the box still open as though inviting me to look. I was prepared, a clothespin pinning my nostrils shut, a garbage bag in one hand, and the strongest cleaner I could find in the other, and long rubber gloves to keep my skin from having to touch what was inside. But as it turns out, I needed none of those things. I wouldn't have to touch or clean the contents of that box. I would only have to suffer the nightmares every night. You see, there was meat in that box, but it didn't come from a cow or a pig. No, it was worse than that. It was my neighbor.
SPEAKER_03:Oh god.
SPEAKER_01:Dead. Still in one piece, but dead. I called the cops and naturally they took me in for interrogation. It's kind of hard not to suspect the man with a corpse in his garage after all. Thankfully they soon realized I wasn't involved. My DNA might have been all over that box, the smell might have left a mark throughout my house, but there was one piece of irrefutable evidence in my neighbor's own hands that proved my innocence, a vlogging camera. They showed me the footage only once. I'm not sure if they were allowed to or if they felt so bad for me they figured it couldn't hurt. Either way I saw it. My neighbor was sitting in the box outside of a shipping facility, laughing as he told the world how he was going to mail himself across state lines. He'd brought pea bottles, food, a pillow, and a few flashlights. His friend, a guy I'd seen at his place several times at uh to help with his stunts, closed the lid and presumably dropped him off for shipment. Throughout the next couple of hours or days, I'm honestly not sure, my neighbor recorded a few short clips about his progress. I think I'm in a truck now, I can feel it moving. Must be in a warehouse, pretty warm in here, still got plenty of food, that kind of stuff. And then on the last entry, the box toppled over. He broke his neck, and that was it. The camera recorded until either the memory card got too full or the battery died. There's one thing I didn't tell the police after they showed me the video, and one thing I heard in the footage that will haunt me to this day, uh to the day that I die. Just after the tumble that broke his neck, I heard that familiar screeching sound of my garage door. Oh he killed me. Oh by dropping the box.
SPEAKER_03:Oh my god, he made it home! Oh, dude. I like that one. That's a good one. Oh, that is so fucked. Oh he made it all the way. Wow. Leave it to TJ to introduce that one.
SPEAKER_02:Oh my god. Yeah, you are definitely the asshole.
SPEAKER_01:Am I the asshole? For not telling the cops I murdered my neighbor.
SPEAKER_03:Oh my god.
SPEAKER_00:I think it might be the devil.
SPEAKER_03:Well, he made it home.
SPEAKER_00:Well, that was Will You Survive Reed's Reddit stories.
SPEAKER_02:The majority of accidents occur within five miles of your home.
SPEAKER_00:Yeah.
SPEAKER_01:You know, they always say that you're most likely to get pulled over right as you're home. That's actually true. The only time I've ever been pulled over was about a minute from here.
SPEAKER_03:Really?
SPEAKER_01:It was for a headlight that was out too.
SPEAKER_03:Oh, that sucks.
SPEAKER_01:Yeah, I mean he didn't do anything. He he asked me uh a f a couple funny questions. He said, uh, any alcohol in the car? And I said, No. He said, You've been drinking? He said, No. Any drugs in the car? And I thought to the big container of weed that was under my Olaf costume. And it was like, no. Any dead bodies? And I'm like, that is awful that you have to ask. No.
SPEAKER_02:Not today. Make sure you guys go check out our YouTube channel. It is not really that new, but we're gonna say it's new. It's popping off. We got just over 500 hours of view time, 22,000 views in the last 28 days. Make sure you go check it out by searching Will You Survive the Podcast. You can also find us on TikTok, Instagram, and Facebook by searching the same name. That's Will You Survive the Podcast. We look forward to getting your emails. You can send those to the boys at will you survive the podcast.com. That's T-H-E-B-O-Y-S at Will You SurviveThePodcast.com. And remember, you can listen to this podcast by simply typing in Will You SurviveThePodcast.com. We have our podcast episodes up and live there through Buzz Sprouts. Thank you for the distribution, guys. And I think that's about all of it, guys. Make sure you go check all of those out. Make sure you like, comment, subscribe, follow, do all of those good things. Help us keep getting content out. And get ready because we're gonna get a new series coming out soon. Uh I'm working on stuff, already got videos going, working on editing. I'm gonna show you what to do with all of your stockpiled canned and dried goods so that you don't have to waste them if you know shit doesn't hit the fan within five years. So I'll be showing you things that you can make, recipes that you can do, and even creating a cookbook. So make sure you hit subscribe on any of the methods you follow and watch us, and stay tuned.
SPEAKER_01:All right. Well, thank you everybody for listening. I hope we could do more of these. I mean, it doesn't have to be two hour episodes every time, but I think this would be kind of cool to go back to Reddit stories and maybe I could practice reading out loud and not sounding like an idiot. Okay, well, stay alive.
