Scary and Creepy True Kentucky Encounters
episode
Dark Mysteries — Unsolved Mysteries. Forgotten Secrets. Unanswered Questions.
1h 5m
1 speaker
8 chapters
transcribed
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Transcript generated automatically by AI and may contain errors.
What unusual experiences did the pizza delivery driver have in Kentucky?
Hello, I'm welcome stories all the time. Glad you are here. Let's get into it. I was 19 when I took that delivery. I hadn't been at Harold's Pizza for very long, maybe three weeks, maybe four, but already I'd logged more backward miles than I cared to count. Most of our deliveries went out to the quieter parts of Bicknell County. That's where the roads got narrower and the addresses got stranger. You'd think pizza would be a downtown craving, but no. Out there, people still wanted pepperoni and sausage like they were calling for a rescue helicopter. The money wasn't bad, especially with tips. But the routes? Let's just say if you drove too far your GPS started second-guessing itself and even the cows looked like they had questions.
You get good at memorizing landmarks, the shape of roads, the weird mailbox art, the one guy with a yard full of toilets. That kind of stuff becomes your map. That Friday night started slur. One of those nights where tine sticks in the ovens hum louder than the foam rings. By 10.30, the other two drivers had clocked out. I was folding up the prep counter halfway through scrubbing my name off the delivery log when the bell rang. One last order had slipped in. Sausage pizza, single topping.
What makes Deer Hollow Road feel eerie during night deliveries?
No drinks, no wings, just plain and simple. The ticket said East Finch Road. Didn't raise alarms at first. The guy I recalled didn't sound drunk or strange, but he hung up halfway through the confirmation. Not ideal. Still, if it was late. I was bored, and I didn't feel like staying to mop the soda machine. I grabbed the box, zipped it into the insulated bag, and loaded up my car. That Civic was on its last leg, always one pothole away from becoming a lawn ornament. The handbrake hadn't worked for months. I'd gotten used to it. Parking gear, wheels turned into the curb if there was one. No hills, no trust in gravity. I punched the address into my phone. The little blue dot hesitated before committing. Thirty minutes.
Mostly highway, then county roads, then whatever lay beyond that. I pulled out. Music low, headlights high, and I drove. The farther I got, the darker it got. Streetlights faded, and the road started to feel like it belonged to someone else. No cars, no signs of life, just farmer melting into dense woods. By the time I passed a rough-stained water tower with Calloway barely visible, my phone buzzed. No service. I wasn't surprised. That happened out here, but it always added pressure, like flying without a parachute. You start wondering what you'd do if the car broke down, or if someone flied you down in the dark. After a few more turns, and a gravel detour that felt like driving over broken pottery, I found Deer Hollow Road.
It wasn't a road, not really. Two routes barely wide enough for a car, trees clawing at the edges, branches low enough to scrape the roof.
How did the driver react to the abandoned house on the delivery route?
The kind of place you hoped you'd never have to reverse out of. I slowed to a crawl. Headlights bounced across twisted trees and low-hanging vines. It felt like driving into a tunnel made of brush. And then, after nine miles of this wilderness maze, I saw it. The house. It sat low in a gully at the bottom of a slope, half-swallowed by trees. A squat sagging shape with a roof that looked defeated, windows blacked out or broken, and what might have been a chicken coop collapsed beside it. The driveway was cracked and overgrown, but still passable. I eased down, tires crunching on gravel, engine humming nervously. I left the headlights on and the engine running, partly because of the handbrake, but mostly because something about the place just felt wrong.
Like it had been waiting. No porch light. No movement inside. Just a door, slightly open, like it hadn't made up its mind to close or invite me in. A pickup sat at the top of the drive. An old Ford caked-in mod, missing plates, one mirror dangling by a wire. It looked abandoned. Or worse, not abandoned at all. I sat there, one hand on the gear shift, staring, and something whispered, don't. Not loud. Not urgent. Just a quiet warning, you feel more than hear. But it was just a Peter, right?
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Chapters
8 chapters
1
What unusual experiences did the pizza delivery driver have in Kentucky?
0:05–1:11
2
What makes Deer Hollow Road feel eerie during night deliveries?
1:11–2:41
3
How did the driver react to the abandoned house on the delivery route?
2:41–4:09
4
What strange occurrences happened while house-sitting in Kentucky?
4:09–4:57
5
What unsettling discoveries were made in the old rental property?
4:57–6:10
6
How did the mysterious events escalate during the house-sitting experience?
6:10–8:32
7
What warnings did the locals give about the haunted tavern?
8:32–11:29
8
What chilling encounters did the bartender experience at the Brow Tavern?
11:29–1:05:16
Speakers
1 identifiedMore from Dark Mysteries — Unsolved Mysteries. Forgotten Secrets. Unanswered Questions.
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