Accounts of the Paranormal
Join me in exploring the paranormal as guests share their true accounts involving ghosts, UFOs, and cryptid sightings. We’ll also hear from paranormal investigators and researchers who will share their most exciting cases and compelling evidence.
We’re also excited to bring you Campfire Tales, our YouTube series of paranormal and mystery short stories told around the campfire!
And if YOU have an account to share and would like to be a guest on the show, please email me at show@accountsoftheparanormal.com and tell me what you saw!
Accounts of the Paranormal
AOTP Campfire Tales Ep.7
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Accounts of the Paranormal's Campfire Tales
The Ghost Ship of Maine
A chilling tale of a phantom ship and its spectral passengers haunting a Maine fishing town.
Paranormal and mystery short stories told around the campfire, straight from our Accounts of the Paranormal YouTube channel! https://www.youtube.com/channel/UC9zKn4LcW3VJROe1-l9EAcQ
If you have an account to share and would like to be a guest on the show, email me at show@accountsoftheparanormal.com and tell me what you saw!
Accounts of the Paranormal -
Creator/Producer/Host: Gino Barreto
WEBSITE: https://accountsoftheparanormal.com/
YOUTUBE: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UC9zKn4LcW3VJROe1-l9EAcQ
INSTAGRAM: https://www.instagram.com/accountsoftheparanormal/
FACEBOOK: https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=61578228277599
TIKTOK: https://www.tiktok.com/@accountsoftheparanormal
X: https://www.x.com/aotparapodcast
Accounts of the Paranormal (theme song)
Written by: Gino Barreto / Produced by: Kobe Ofei
All music produced by:
Kobe Ofei https://www.fiverr.com/kobeofei
Welcome to Accounts of the Paranormals Campfire Tales. I'm Julia, your host and guide into chilling tales of the paranormal. Join us around the campfire for tonight's story. The locals in a small fishing town along the coast of Maine will tell you there are some things the fog brings in, and some things it never quite takes back. They call it the Grey Wake. No one agrees on when it first appeared. Some say it's been seen for over a century, slipping through the mist just offshore, an old, three masted ship with torn sails that never flap in the wind. Others swear it only started showing up in the last few decades, always on nights when the fog rolls in thick enough to swallow the lighthouse beam whole. But everyone agrees on one thing. When the gray wake comes, it doesn't come alone. It started for most folks, with the sightings in town. Fishermen would come off the docks late and swear they'd seen men in oilskin coats and strange, outdated clothing wandering near the harbor. And some were even seen inside local pubs, sitting quietly in corners, not speaking, not drinking, just watching. And then, just as someone worked up the nerve to approach them, they'd be gone. Most people tried to laugh it off, tourists, maybe, reenactors, pranks, until the night with the cabbie. His name was Eddie Kearns, and he'd been driving those roads for twenty years. He knew every curve, every back road, every stretch of coastline where the fog rolled in thick and fast, and he wasn't the kind of man who scared easily. One night, just past midnight, he picked up the fair. A man standing alone near the edge of town, half hidden in the fog. Eddie said the guy looked off. Not in a way he could quite explain, just strange enough to make him hesitate, but Eddie greeted the man, who slid into the back seat without a word. Where to? Eddie asked. A long pause. Then, in a low, distant voice, the man said The beach. Not a specific one, just the beach. Eddie didn't press, he just drove, and the whole ride the man didn't move, didn't speak, didn't even seem to breathe, and Eddie said the temperature in the car dropped so suddenly his windows started to fog from the inside. Halfway there he checked the mirror, and the man's face, it looked sunken and wet. His eyes were dark, like deep water at night, and his clothes, old, not vintage, not styled, just old, like something pulled straight from another century. Eddie kept driving. When they reached the shoreline, the fog was thicker than he'd ever seen it. It rolled over the sand in slow waves, swallowing the headlights. We're here, Eddie said, his voice barely steady. No answer. He turned around. The backseat was empty. Door still closed, no sound of it ever opening. Just an empty seat. Several nights had passed, then someone reported seeing the gray wake again, just beyond the fog line, and on shore, just for a moment, figures could be seen walking from the town toward the water, or maybe from the water toward the town, depends on who you ask. So, if you ever find yourself on that stretch of coast and the fog rolls in thicker than it should, and you spot a lone figure asking for a ride, you'd be wise to keep driving. Because not everyone who leaves that beach is meant to come back.com, where you can access full episodes and links to all our socials. And while you're there, be sure to sign up for our blog so you never miss show info or other announcements. I'll see you next time.