Hush (2016) Horror Film Review and Break Down
December 5, 2021
The Old Ways Movie Review
March 8, 2022A Strange Possession in England
Listen to the podcast episode below or read on for the full Copper Shock Horror Episode!
Lay Preachers in Panama 2020
Because of people like Anna Elisabeth Michael. A German woman in the 1970’s who was diagnosed with depression, episodes of epilepsy, and intolerance for known medical treatments at the time. Her parents, desperate for answers, sought out religious leadership and arrived at the label of possessed. They tied her down as a prisoner for so long she suffered malnourishment and dehydration to her death after 67 exorcism sessions. Her case is the most famous, and very sadly her fate isn’t individual.
There are multiple cases around the world of people attempting exorcism to the detriment of human life. Even as recently as January of 2020, there were reports of a community in Panama called Ngäbe-Buglé (Again forgive me if I mispronounce their name), a rouge religious sect called “The New Light of God” had been operating for about three months of extreme exorcism in an isolated village before this even escalated. 10 “Lay Preachers” went about their community and kidnapped people from their homes. Men, Women, and yes children. They were tortured, beaten, burned, and hacked with machetes compelling people to repent and be exorcised of the sins they housed.
Three villagers escaped the madness that was happening and on foot made their way to a local hospital. When authorities raided the location it was in a remote jungle region about 155 miles north of Panama City.
When they arrived, they were greeted with a mass grave of seven people, one of which was a pregnant woman the rest were children. A mile from that, was a structure described as an improvised church holding 15 more people still alive. Officers found a naked woman, machetes, knives, and a ritually sacrificed goat in the structure. If the kidnapped persons did not declare repentance a subverted rite of exorcism was practiced that involved torture that ended up in death. These horrific events lasted for about 4 days before authorities arrived to raid the location.
I don’t know about you. But to me, that is truly horrific, barbaric, and evil. This was only last year. While this podcast does dabble in the mystery and fables of the world mixed with true experiences. I also believe that creating context and logical fences around what is entertainment should be refocused every now and again. I love horror because I believe it is a medium for which we may be able to place a lens between a societal fear and materializing that into a common monster. Practicing a fear in real life that leads to the harm of another is right out.
The true story told today does involve suspected possession. No exorcisms or rites are in this story, and frankly, religion is a complex and massive subject. All I focus on today for you Constant Listener is this person’s experience while serving a religious mission in England. All names have been altered for the privacy of the Constant Listener who submitted this story.
We must be willing to take care of one another in this world, and I'm glad to visit with you today, Constant Listener.
I’m Tasha Wheelhouse, and this is Copper Shock.
Mision Calling to England
I’m female and while it’s a bit more common now for young women to opt into a mission, it wasn’t back then. I remember feeling really excited. Going on a mission is not only an opportunity to share your faith, but also see a bit of the world. It’s a rite of passage for young Mormon kids to go to a foreign land away from home, learn a new language and customs. Many missionaries come back with life-long lasting tales.
I got one too, but it wasn’t make you “feel good” kind.
That year we were waiting for our letters to arrive about where we were going to be called to go. My other friends were called to exotic places like Hawaii, Russia, Indonesia, Argentina, & Canada. I was a Scottish girl who was ready to serve the Lord at the young age of 21. When my calling came, I opened up the letter to feel a slight disappointment. I was going to the UK. Don’t get me wrong, there’s nothing wrong with the United Kingdom, but for living in a small village in Scotland my whole life, going to London as a calling was a bit like being called to adventure in my backyard. Not exotic, intrepid, or even unfamiliar. It was somewhere I knew very well as I’d visited it many times beforehand.
I decided to make the best of it and go with an open heart. A year and a half of serving others and reaching out about my faith in Christ was going to be a challenge, I figured it’s best to be as optimistic as possible.
One afternoon my companion and I were quietly reading our bibles when we received a call. To explain really fast what a companion is, Mormon missionaries always travel in pairs. Your companions change out over time during your mission, but you always have a buddy system. My companion during this phase of my mission was Sister Garcia. She was awesome and we got on just fine. I saw her reach over and pick up our landline, listening to her half of the conversation.
“Hello? Mmmm yea, I think that sounds great. Mmmhmmm…Yes I’ve got it written down. Thank you, brother.” She hung up the phone and looked at me hopefully. “We have an appointment!” She smiled and handed over a piece of paper. I turned it over and it a simple address that was about a 25 minute commute from where we were. “They’d like us to come over and pray with them, said they’re having some difficult family times and would like missionaries nearby.”
“Do we know what for? Do they need a blessing or anything like that?”
“No, didn’t say much more than that. Perhaps we will come over to ask if there’s any sort of service we can help with.”
I nodded. The best way to help someone even if they weren’t interested in hearing the gospel was to offer to help their life in another way. Doing dishes, helping someone move, etc. And in this case, it was wanting company for a prayer. Honestly it wasn’t that unusual of a request.
The next day, Sister Garcia and I packed up our gospel lessons into our backpacks. We put our name tags on and began walking to the underground. Sister Garcia frequently wore her hair in a bun, and a black button blazer she’d wear over a long paisley blue dress. I cannot seem to picture sister Garcia without this outfit.
“How many in the family would we be visiting with?” I asked. Sister Garcia shrugged at me then responded.
“He didn’t say, but he mentioned his sick mother, so I think it’s at least the two of them.”
Hornchurch is a quaint little town, with familiar sets of rows of homes. As she and I walked a slight wind began to pick up. Eventually, Sister Garcia and I came upon the home we were to visit. I looked at the address on the paper again confirming the right number and placed it back in my pocket. We walked up and knocked on the door. The face of this home was weathered to say the least. The red brick facade was stained from hard water from lawn sprinklers, and the windows were trimmed with a chipped dark brown paint that was certainly peeling. The whole thing struck me as a building that was… Ill. Sickly even. A stomach ache from within it made it want to cry out. At least that was the feeling I got from just looking at it. Being called to a home where someone seemed downtrodden was also not unusual.
The thought shook from me as the front door opened before we could even knock. A man stood there. The skin under his eye was dark and baggy. He looked as though he hadn’t had at least a week’s worth of sleep. Sister Garcia perked up.
“Hello Brother, I’m sister Garcia and my companion here,” She pointed to me and I gave a friendly small wave “Is sister McDunn.”
The Mans facial expression barely changed, but he nodded and stepped back letting the door swing inward naturally. As I walked past him I did give him a slight measurement check. He wasn’t muscle-bound, but he was definitely a tall and big guy. Not an Adonis, but just a sort of person where you’d look at him and think the guy is a natural tank. He wore a tattered green polo that had the fabric fringing around the edges in some places. The home had some natural light from the windows.
Sister Garcia then held up her hand to the man, while holding her bible in her other arm. “It’s lovely to meet you, thank you for inviting us into your home. Your name was Mr. Coulter wasn’t it?”
The man nodded. “Thank you for taking our call and coming to pray with us.”
I looked around and didn’t see another person anywhere in the small living room that would indicate who “us” was. The man noticed that I was looking for a sign of the second soul meant to be joining us for prayer together. He cleared his throat and rubbed his nose sniffing.
“My mother is very ill and cannot leave her bed. Her room is just at the top of the stairs.” Sister Garcia and I gave each other a look.
“Oh, I’m so sorry to hear she’s not well.” I said politely.
The man nodded and began to walk slowly up the stairs ahead of us.
“This way.”
I remember the meaningful look my companion gave me before we even began walking up those stairs. We trailed about 4 or 5 steps from where Mr. Coulter was as we ascended upward. The top of the stairs had no windows and it dissipated into a dark corner of a hallway. Mr. Coulter then placed a hand on a door. Second door to the right. He turned the handle with his other hand and gently leaned in. I could hear him softly say behind the door.
“Mother they’re here.” He leaned back out, opening the door and stepping aside. An arm extended into the direction of the door inviting me to go in first.
I stood there a moment then stepped forward. In most new visits, within 20 seconds of stepping into a new home Sister Garcia lights up like Christmas to ask the new persons about themselves and what they love to do and how is family. She has a gift for gab, but She felt as much as I did that something was off. I could tell because like a canary in a coal mine… she was quiet.
As I turned the corner to step past the large Mr.Coulter. The room was even darker than anything in the hallway. A pungent smell hit my nostrils hard. It was a mold-like smell that had a vinegar undertone. It got stronger as the door swung wide. Sister Garcia and I were then introduced and moved forward to meet… Mother.
The next thing I noticed was that the room had thin curtains drawn with no other illumination. No Lamps or even cadles. I didn’t think about it downstairs, but… yes. The whole house didn’t have any electricity turned on. I didn’t notice it downstairs because of natural daylight coming through the windows. I looked to Mothers bed in the corner. Through the dark haze of the thin drawn curtains I could see her. She lay face up on her pillow.
It’s hard to describe to you how much dread wrapped around my heart as I started to look around the room stepping toward the bed.
She looked at me and gestured her hand patting on the side of her bed. “Come sit with me.” her hair was so thin, you could easily see bald spots. My eyes followed the shape her body took under her blanket. I stopped to observe her knees. The blanket tidly tucked down under the nubs of her knees, she had no legs. Sister Garcia stayed close at my back as we approached. Her skin had a slightly sallow blue tone, her lips thin. Mother certainly wasn’t well, but the compassion I felt for the dying and sickly can have a warming feeling when your faith teaches that this life isn’t the end. But this woman, something felt terribly off.
“Sit down.” The old woman asked my companion and me again. I looked at my companion and she didn’t move toward the bed at all. I took every effort within me to take a step forward and sit at the very foot of the bed. Honestly, I sat as far away from her as I could.
“There we are. So where are you from?”
I stumbled over my words, “We’re.. Er.. well I’m from the outskirts of Glasgow and my companion…” I looked back to sister Garcia and I felt the blood drain from my face. I glanced over her head to behind her.
Above the bedroom door we had just passed under, were four crucifixes of varying size, all nailed to the wall up-side-down. I looked down from above the door, to the door frame. I saw Mr.Coulter, and nearly his entire body frame blocking the doorway. I felt panic begin to rise within me. “I don’t go to Scotland myself very often.” She pointed to cut-off legs almost as if she were trying to land a very bad joke. I tried to laugh, but it was so forced. The breath within it was so unsupported and shaky no one in that room could mistake my fear coming to rise within me. As my eyes continued to adjust to the darkness I began to take in the smell a bit more. The horrific smell was radiating from the walls. Each one around us had discolored drip patterns running down from the ceiling to the floor, almost like they were crying and smearing the wallpaper on the way down.
“So sisters.” She took in a deep and rasping breath that sounded like it scratched her throat. “You believe in God?”
“Yes, sister.” My companion said and I felt her take a step toward me from behind. The tone in her voice was defensive, and almost like she was preparing for a fight.
“What kind of prayer shall we say today?”
“I’d be happy to offer one.” I’ll admit to you, I volunteered myself so I could say as short a prayer as seemed alright and excuse ourselves. I looked to the floor as I began to play with my hands nervously.
The floorboards underneath Mother’s coverings had a lot of scratches. Some in almost recognizable patterns, but others seemed to be some kind of loose symbol. All outstretching from underneath her bed. I looked back up. The woman was fully sitting upright.
“How is it serving God?” The way she said the question was almost in curiosity like she’d actually like to know our answer. There was a slight smile of hers that came across as more of a grimace. The son behind us took a small step forward. I took a deep breath and started to feel panic in the deepest part of my chest. I looked back at the woman again.
“We’re liking it fine. It’s very rewarding to be serving the Lord.” I heard my companion say from behind me. I felt everything within my skin scream at me to move away from Mother. I looked back at the son, he was unmoving at this point, but beyond the door frame and inside the room now. And I mean, he was truly unmoving. He could have fooled me if he was even breathing at all. He stood there so very very still.
As I looked back to the woman inside the bed, she had shifted herself forward without my notice. She was much much closer to me now, Instead of a beds length, she was now nearly arms reach from me. Dear God in heaven, her eyes. I finally got to see her eyes.
Believe me I know how insane it will sound. But I have never seen eyes like that. They weren’t brown, or blue, but a deep bracing red. I’d never seen anyone’s eye’s like that in my life. She was trying to scare me. She was trying to make me sink into a panic. I saw it in her face. She was drinking in my fear. I was a fine wine for her.
Even my companion had noticed the woman’s eye’s and she stepped over to place her hand on my shoulder giving it a small squeeze.
“I’m so sorry you’re feeling sick. I think it may be best if we come back at a later time when you’re feeling better?” I could hardly get out the sentence as I stood up from the bed and backed into my companion accidentally stepping on one of her feet. “No, No, let's pray.” The woman clasped her hands together and bent her head. I folded my arms and reflexively began to pray.
“Dear Heavenly Father….” and as I continued, mid sentence of mine, I felt Sister Garcia’s hand squeeze my shoulder again, nearly digging in my skin. I continued talking and quickly closed the prayer. I looked up to sister Garcia, and she was looking at Mr. Coulter. Who was very close now.
“Thank you sisters.” Mother gave an affirming coo. I looked back over to her. She was smiling a little.
“Thank you for inviting us over, we should get going on our next visit.”
The woman’s Cheshire grin widened, leaned forward, threw back her blanket…. and swung the tops of her legs over the side of her bed … and then stood up on the floor… She stood up on her two perfectly solid, and complete legs. I swear to you on anything you’ll believe. She did not have legs under her covers when she was lying down. And now Mother, who was too “Ill to come downstairs to pray” now stood up before me.
I immediately thanked them for the visit and brushed past the son in the door. He himself was still unmoving as a statue as my companion and I walked down the stairs and saw ourselves out. He didn’t even turn around to look at us leaving.
I looked over to my companion sitting staring straight forward from her seat on the train. She and I were together in total silence listening to the scratches and whirs of the underground train with the occasional beeps. I felt sick to my stomach and felt myself begin to cry a little. Mostly out of relief.
Finally sister Garcia spoke, clearing her throat. “I didn’t close my eyes for the prayer. I… did that thing that some little kids do where they pretend to close their eyes but really you can see a sliver through your eyelashes. I saw Mr Coulter take out a small pocket knife.”
“What?!” I said feeling ice go through me.
“That’s not all.” She and I rocked back and forth to the weight of the moving train.
“I grabbed you during your prayer when he cut his palm and specifically was bleeding on the floor by making a fist.”
I felt numb, and grabbed sister Garcia’s hand. I felt her shaking, and she grabbed tighter onto my hand too. “Sister Garcia, I’m pretty sure you saw her eye’s too.” She nodded.
“I’m telling you, something inside knew if she touched me at all that would have been the end of something. Something they were building up to.”
“I had that feeling too” Sister Garcia said. The rest of the trip was done in silence. Later that evening, we called out our mission president to tell him about that house. He sounded very alarmed.
“You went there?”
“Yes, we received a call from them for a visit.”
“Oh sisters…” he trailed off a little. “Hey sisters, yes I’ll get you the list of homes that are blacklisted. I’ve heard of that address. They will call and ask for visits a lot, and you’re not the first to report strange encounters there. They’ve been known to call local missionaries around here all the time. I’m telling you now, never go back.”
I looked at my sister companion, neither of us had any idea missions had a list of homes that were off-limits in any way. But after meeting Mother, I now understood.
Copper Shock Horror Podcast
Come download new fresh episodes from one of the best horror podcasts around. Original constructed horror episodes year round for your pleasure.
A female Mormon missionary has a strange encounter while proselyting. For more information visit coppershock.com.
