Cedar Hills

I stole her lucky charm, which made it cursed.

Cause that's just the way it works that all I touch goes bad inside.

I've tried,

but some things you must abide.

That day, I vowed I'd see her end.

So I placed the cursed charm

right back again.

Listen to spooked.

Stay tuned.

My grandmama's house.

Near the corner of Kircheville and Fisher Avenue, Detroit, Michigan.

Every single one of us, her dozens of grandkids, we still call it grandmama's house.

But my grandfather lived there too, long after she passed, but it's still grandmama's house.

And I've told you about this place before

because it looms so large in my mind.

My first memory was there.

I still would call the gunfire, the screaming, my first hiding place, hoping no one would find me under the stairs.

The first time I saw a house burn,

the Perry's place right across the street that night, watching the entire Perry family standing bewildered in just their underclothes, orange flames consuming the little bit they still had.

And I was in Detroit recently

to visit some cousins.

And together we decided to drive by the spot.

The spot where everything happened.

Grandma's house.

So tiny now to my adult eyes.

So raggedy, so pitiful.

Just one of two houses still standing on the block.

The rest, the entire neighborhood, long ago condemned and torn down by the city as part of the blight abatement program.

My grandmama's house

has someone's car in front of it.

Someone that is not us.

There are lights on.

Somebody in the kitchen.

And at first it makes me wonder.

Then it makes me angry

who is that inside my grandmama's house

how dare they

this is the closest thing we have to sacred land so many stories inside this a-frame this belongs to us to me

and i know we owned it once

why don't we own it now

And then,

from my cousins,

the story spells out.

They tell me for the first time that our sacred tract of land, our hallowed ground,

after my grandfather passed, it was traded away to a drug dealer in order to clear a debt,

to save a life.

And whose life is a story for another day, but we transacted it away so

that we now

have to stand outside looking in on tiptoes,

just trying to get a peek inside

and i wonder

if the house somehow knows we've returned because stories are ghosts

and this spot

will be forever haunted for us

with us

and then

Instead of anger, I feel pity for whoever lives there now.

And I wonder if we should tell them,

if we should warn them

to leave while you still can run away because this place takes her offerings in blood.

Instead,

we snap pictures

to remind us that it happened.

Then we get back into the car

and we drive away.

Stuck star,

star star, stark star, star,

now, now, now, now, now, now.

Now,

15-year-old Quita Nicosi and her parents and her seven siblings, they're looking to make a move away from their home in Grand Prairie, Texas.

They think perhaps this next rental house might just be the spot.

It's got four bedrooms.

It's got a huge patio, a field for the youngsters to play in, but

you know,

this is spook.

There was an incident that happened in our family.

My brother passed away.

We had a lot of emotions in the house.

So my mother wanted to get us all a fresh start.

She found a town called Cedar Hill, Texas.

It was a nice community.

The school school was good.

She wanted my twin brothers to continue sports and band and to graduate from the high school there.

My siblings were very close.

We were the kind of kids that went outside at 8 o'clock in the morning and didn't come back home until 5 because we were out playing.

There were kids all over the place.

In fact, I knew everybody in that whole little section of neighborhoods.

We played football, we run around in the neighborhood, we have a good time together.

But I am very close to my baby sister, Nita.

Nita and I are the only girls out of all boys.

We were living in a house for a whole week.

Then my dad had to take a run.

My dad was a full-time truck driver.

My dad had to pick up glass in Canada.

He was going to be gone for five days, which is perfectly fine because my mom took care of us.

Even if my dad dad was not there, my mother kept us together.

You know, kept the structure going on for us.

We ate breakfast, went to school, come back home.

She'd come in, cook supper, we'd eat, everybody get ready for bed.

It was the first night that my dad had left on his trek driving.

My sister and I were in their bedroom.

We're the only ones that shared a room.

We had two twin beds.

I slept near the window and she slept near the door.

I was sleeping in.

I felt something grab me.

I'm trying to figure out to myself what's going on.

I realized it was my sister.

She's shaking and just whimper crying into my ears and holding on to me.

I'm like, what's wrong?

She said, there was a man in our room.

The moon is shining in, and I'm looking around the room like, What man?

Who was he?

And she said, He's all black.

I can't tell.

She said he went to the window and was looking out the window, and then it started coming towards our bed.

So she went in the covers, pretending she's snoring really loud.

She peeked out and didn't see him anymore, and that's when she jumped in bed with me.

I'm looking at the window, I don't see anything.

There's nothing.

And she's like, he's gone.

She was sweating.

Seeing the fear in my sister, I was terrified.

I was scared.

But I had to keep her calm.

So I just held her tight.

She talked about telling my mom.

So I said, well, just stay in bed with me.

I told my sister not to tell my mom because my mom has a lot going on.

I drifted off, but I kept waking up, looking around, coaxing the room with my eyes.

We got up the next morning.

The way my sister looked, the fear in her face was still there.

That day, she stayed with me the whole time.

I didn't go to nobody's house.

We just sit outside on the patio.

together and I just held her hand all day.

We didn't talk about it.

We didn't tell my mom.

We told nobody what happened.

Tuesday night.

It's getting dark.

We go to their bedroom.

And I said, You're sleeping with me tonight.

We're keeping the light on.

You know, everything's going to be okay.

And she says, Okay.

I'm holding my arms and I go off to sleep.

I woke up because her.

She's practically scratching my neck.

She said, Quito, wake up.

Wake up.

Wake up.

I looked at her face and she's crying.

I'm like, what?

And she said,

he came back.

Why didn't you wake up?

And I said,

What?

I was like, I didn't see it.

I didn't hear it.

She said, he came back into our room, walked up across in front of our beds, went to the window, and looked out the window.

And then he walked right back out again.

She goes, hold me, hold me, hold me.

You know, I'm holding her tighter.

Seeing the fear in my sister, I was terrified.

We just sat there in the bed crying, holding on to each other.

But the whole time I'm telling her, it's going to be okay.

The sun's going to come out soon.

It's going to be okay.

I had to be the strong one for her.

It was the third day and I knew I gotta do something.

All day, I kept thinking, why is this person or shadow looking out the window?

If you look out the window, you would see a house across the street and you would see an open field.

My plan was that night I was gonna get the dresser and put it in front of the door.

So whatever was going to come into our bedroom couldn't come in.

Right when it gets dark, like at nine o'clock, we started taking out drawers.

And we only got maybe about a couple of drawers out and we're gonna move it.

And that's when we heard my brother, Marvin, scream.

We looked at each other.

And I opened my bedroom door.

I looked down the hall.

And there's my brother running.

My mom comes out of her room, grabbed him around the shoulders and said, what's wrong?

Marvin said, mom, somebody's in our house.

Somebody's in our house.

I just tense my whole body up and I hold my breath.

Tears start coming to my eyes because I'm so scared.

Marvin pointed in a little den by the front door.

He said that there was a man standing there, all in black.

Marvin said he was looking out the window.

Then he ran straight out to the back patio.

My sister and I just froze and stared at each other because, you know, she said the same thing.

He was looking out the window.

My mom turned around, looked at my sister and I, and she said, you two go sleep with me tonight.

I said, Mom, Nita's seen it too.

She looks at Nita and she said, you seen it?

it?

Nita's not in a really good position to talk because she's crying.

So I told her about the two nights and my mom just like, and shocked.

She goes, well, y'all just get in bed with me then.

Get in bed.

Get in bed.

Marvin and Mayor, the twins, came into the room and slept on the floor.

My two brothers were...

They're about to turn 17.

They're really like protected over as little ones.

To see

them

being older than us, wanting to sit with my mom.

That is something that's out of character, but they came in with bedding and slept on the floor.

We've never ever slept in our parents' room.

So being us all in there was different,

but it's also comforting having us all together.

I feel a little relieved that everybody knows, but

I don't understand what it is.

The next morning, we got up.

My mother was in the kitchen and didn't talk about it.

Didn't talk about it at all.

The whole day we just kind of like all stay together, though.

My brothers, they're usually off with their friends, bicycle riding or somewhere.

They stayed home too.

We all stayed in the living room that whole day and just watched TV.

My mom comes in with the food.

She made tacos.

And she puts it on the coffee table.

She tells us, I think somebody has a key to this house.

I think a neighbor or somebody is breaking our house.

I went up late by mom, but I could tell she was worried.

I think she was just trying to tell us something to make us feel comfortable.

Because we were the only native kids in the neighborhood.

My mother had a lot of running with the police and a lot of had to came with the color of their skin and stuff like that.

So I'm sure that's one where my mom never called the police.

We don't say anything.

We just listen to her and we're all like, we're going to be okay because mom knows.

It's getting late.

Mom goes, let's all go to bed.

We're going to put the dresser in front of the door and we're all going to stay in the room together we all went down the hall my brother turned the hall light on

as a group we all went into the bedroom she closed the door and the boys all get that dresser it's a big heavy dresser and they shove it in front of the door

we have the bedroom light on my mom's just sitting on the bed

My little sister's in bed, my mother, and I decided I was gonna sleep on the floor.

I was just laying there collecting my thoughts about everything and thinking everything's gonna be okay now because the dresser's in front of the door.

No one's talking.

My younger brother, Nishoba, was singing some songs and then

someone

banged on that bedroom door.

It was a loud bang, like bang, bang.

The door shook a little.

My little sister was crying.

She was on my mother's back.

And I'm on the floor.

The doorknob turned.

And I turned to look at my mom.

And my mom

got her mouth open and she screamed.

To see her that vulnerable scared me.

My mother's head, she realized it wasn't a neighbor like she thought it was.

We're all crying and shaking.

My mom gets up and she said,

Help me with the dresser.

I didn't know why she was doing it.

My brothers were all like reluctant to get up to help her to move it, but they get up.

I was scared of what was behind that door.

I was scared that she was gonna let whatever it was in the room.

My mom moves the dresser and she

slowly opens the door

she's got one hand on the wall and she's turning the knob really slow and she barely opens it

the hall light is off that's what really scared me she peeks her head out trying to look

and so she has to open it a little bit wider and wider and then she looks down the hall and she said

run

run

we all just jump up

i grabbed my sister's hand and we run

we're all just taking off running down the hall i'm looking down the ground We took a right in front of the living room and my oldest brother, Beaver, led us out the back door.

As soon as we got out of the house, we all ran to get as far from the house we can in the backyard.

Beaver turned to mom and said, When I went around that corner, he was standing there.

Mom, he's back in there.

He's at the window again.

He was in the living room.

I thought to myself, I'm glad I was looking at my feet.

We're all standing there.

Mom's like, so tell me, tell me exactly what y'all seen.

What have y'all seen?

Beaver said, like, he had no face.

That sent me like, oh, crap, what is this?

It's not a man.

No face.

Did he have a mask on?

All this was going through my head.

Half of us sat on the ground and half of us were sitting around a station wagon that we had in the backyard.

But we were facing the house.

Even though the patio light was on, the house seemed dark.

While we were sitting there,

I heard footsteps coming.

Something walking coming around the house.

We all froze and looked up.

We all froze and looked up.

He came out of the darkness of the house.

And it was my dad.

His eyes were huge, just looking at all of us.

He's trying to understand what's going on and looking at my mom.

We're all grabbing my dad.

I was really crying.

Couldn't even get off the ground crying.

Seeing him made us feel like,

okay, it's going to be all right now.

Dad's here.

Dad's going to make it better.

Dad's stronger.

He'll take care of everything.

But I was still scared.

He said, Bernice, what's going on?

She says, Henry, somebody's in our house.

Somebody's been in our house this whole week.

Dad goes, y'all stay here.

Stay over here.

I'm going to go in there.

My dad went back in by himself.

We're sitting there holding on to each other, and uh,

my dad comes out and he said, I don't see anybody.

He looks at my mom.

My mom is crying,

she is shaking so bad.

So he reaches over and he holds my mom.

He said, We're leaving.

Everybody get in the car.

We're going to Ada.

We're going to go to Aunt Louise.

I was thinking, Yes, we're leaving.

So we get in the car, and my dad pulls out

my dad being there I felt so safe I fell asleep I slept hard until we got into Ada

I think that whatever it was is in that house and us being there attracted it to us

and

it wanted us knowing it was there but

To me, I felt like it wanted to scare us.

My mother was very superstitious, like don't talk about what happened because it might come back.

My mother was really strong.

She already showed any emotions, but that fear in her scared all of us.

My siblings will not discuss it.

After my mother had passed, I asked my dad, did mom ever talk to you about that house?

He goes, yeah.

But after she told me what happened, she didn't want to talk about it ever again.

So you know how your mom was.

And I said, how did you come home so fast that night?

He said, I was driving home and I was going to drop off that diesel, my rig first,

and then get my car and come home.

I was coming in and my mom came in my ear.

My grandmother had passed in 1958.

He said it wasn't a whisper, it was her voice, and said, Henry, you need to get home.

They need you.

I drove that rig straight on to Cedar Hill, and I got there, and that's when I saw all of y'all outside.

I told them, you know, that was the best thing that ever happened to us was to see you.

Thank you so much, Sequita Nicosi, for sharing your story with the spooked.

That story was scored by Nicholas Marks.

It was produced by Chris Hembrick.

We often hold that there there is a magic in objects.

Charms, tokens, amulets, things that can bring us power, money,

the love of our lives, perhaps.

Everything I know tells me that it's never that simple, but I know nothing.

Perhaps you have knowledge.

Perhaps you have the experience with an object of power, the ability to use it for your own benefit.

Or perhaps

the ability to wield it to someone else's detriment.

Do you have it?

Can I see it?

If so, please let me know if you allow me to pick it up.

I promise I'll be ever so careful.

What I'd really like more than anything else is the story because you know there is nothing better than a spook story from a spooked listener.

Spooked at snapjudgment.org.

Please tell me about it.

Spooked at snapjudgment.org.

And if you would like stories the void of the creepy crawlies told in the bright light of day, our sister podcast is the amazing, the stupendous Snap Judgment available everywhere, forever and ever into all the world.

It's storytelling with A.B.

Spooks is brought to you by the team where each and every member has a photographic memory.

Except of course for Mark Ristich.

You're going to want to write him a note.

There's Davey Kim, Chris Hambrick, Leon Morimoto, Tayo DeCott, Marissa Dodge, Zoe Fergno, Ann Ford, Miles Lassie, Yari Bundy, Eric Yanez, Cody Harjo, Lola Obrera, Doug Stewart, the Spook theme song is by Pat Messini Miller.

My name is Lim Washington.

And someone told me the other day, someone I've known for a long time,

they told me that instead of encouraging children to explore their histories in order to avoid the horrors of the past, instead she's working to simply ban the books that mention the histories.

Or alternatively, forbid the teaching of certain words in educational settings on the theory that if you say certain words, Like for instance, if you utter the term slavery,

someone somewhere might be encouraged to explore what that word actually means, what slavery entails, what role it's played in our country, and as such, they may in fact feel something less than pride in our shared story.

That forcing someone to feel this discomfort, this revulsion, this shame about a history, this cannot be tolerated.

No.

She told me that stories unchecked, that histories unfound are matches on the tender of young minds that can tear whole communities apart.

Happy lies are far better than unhappy truths.

I listened silent because I wanted to understand.

And when she asked me finally if I could imagine anything more sinister than presenting people with their own histories,

it took me a moment

before saying, I hear.

that you are afraid.

And let me just say that I'm afraid too, not just of you but the same things you're afraid of

the hatreds the divisions societal collapse more than ever it can feel like we're fighting darkness and darkness is winning

but i know

that stories are candles

and the more candles you have the more you can see the brighter the world becomes

and when presented with the alternative.

The very best advice that I know to give

is to never, ever,

never, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever

turn out

the lights.

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