Sometimes, what’s familiar to us isn’t what it seems. A loved one sings a song they’ve never known, their laugh rings fake, their touch feels... wrong. Doppelgangers, changelings, these are names we give to people, the things that slip into our lives unnoticed, wearing borrowed faces. We tell ourselves it’s just in our heads. But sometimes we know deep in our gut, the person beside us isn’t the person we know, and they’re definitely someone we cannot trust. First, some visitors never leave Followed by it wears her smile Finally in our last story, it’s already inside Story 1: The Exchange - Inspired by Caitlin K Story 2: Three Sisters - Inspired by Tiffani Story 3: Don’t Blink - Written by Sara Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices
Chapter 1: What is 'Borrowed Skin' about?
Jeder Läufer kennt diesen Moment, wenn es einfach klickt. Wenn deine Beine einfach mitgehen, der Schmerz nachlässt, die Zweifel weg sind und du nur noch das Runners High spürst. Das ist der Grund, warum du so früh aufstehst. Warum dich ein bisschen Regen nicht aufhält. Warum Laufen zum Ritual wird. Also laufe und fühle das Runners High. Go Wild und erfahre mehr übers Laufen auf puma.de
Hi Witches, I'm Blair Bathory and this is the Something Scary Podcast. Thank you so much for being here. Whether this is your first time or you're one of the brave souls who join us every week. And Witches, I just wanted to come on quickly and say how thankful I am to have been your narrator for the last two and a half, almost three years.
It's really been a privilege for me to tell you scary stories every week. It's been great working with all of the writers and the team to bring you weekly episodes. I've done over 100 now and countless scary stories. So thank you so much for being here. I really can't say that enough. Anyway, we have three new stories for you this week. Let's get into it.
Manchmal ist das, was uns bekannt ist, nicht das, was es scheint. Ein Verliebter singt eine Lieder, die sie noch nie gehört hat. Ihr Lachen klingelt falsch. Seine Geräusche fühlen sich falsch. Doppelgänger, Doppelgänger. Das sind Namen, die wir den Menschen geben. Die Dinge, die in unsere Leben unerwünscht fliegen. Die Gesichter, die wir gebraucht haben. We tell ourselves it's just in our heads.
Chapter 2: What unsettling experiences do we face with doppelgangers?
But sometimes we know deep in our gut, the person beside us isn't the person we know. And they're definitely someone we cannot trust. First, some visitors never leave. Followed by it wears her smile. Finally, in our last story, it's already inside. So, wanna hear something scary? Borrowed Skin. Not all guests are invited and some have plans to never leave.
Like in this story written by Caitlin Kay. Meine Eltern sind sehr vertrauensvolle Menschen. Das kam sowohl als Heilung als auch als Verzeihung. Während meiner Sommerabend haben sie entschieden, dass wir einen Ausländer für Ausländer anbieten sollten. Ich war ein wenig müde von der Idee, aber meine Eltern haben insistiert.
Also habe ich mich bequem in meinem Raum gearrangt, um Raum für den neuen Gast zu machen. The day she arrived is one I can never forget. I heard my mother call my name from downstairs, urging me to greet our new family member. As I walked over to the door, Malia stood there with a wide smile, her eyes sparkling with enthusiasm as she exchanged pleasantries with my parents.
The moment I met her, I felt an odd, unsettling sensation in my stomach, though I couldn't pinpoint why. Was it just my nerves? But before I could think any further, my parents ushered her inside, giving her a tour of the house. My mother flung open the door to my room, pushing us to step inside. She gestured to the bed and informed Malia that this would be her space.
Malia schlug mich an, ihre Stimme voller Dankbarkeit, als sie mich bedankte. Mein Stomach schlug. Das war nicht, was ich überhaupt wollte. Sie bemerkte, wie seltsam diese Situation sein muss, und ich bemerkte ihr, dass es gut wäre, obwohl mein Unruhe an mir schlug. Meine Mutter, mit einem letzten Lächeln, steckte aus dem Raum, leaving Malia und mich allein.
I sat down on the bed, closing my eyes for a moment to collect my thoughts. But when I opened them again, Molly was standing just a foot away from my face. Her smile still wide, without warning. She leaned in until our foreheads were touching. Her voice was calm, almost too calm, as she whispered, Watch your back, Evelyn. This is my home now.
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Chapter 3: What happens when Malia arrives in the story?
Sie schlug sich langsam zurück, saß auf ihrem Bett mit dem selben unerfüllten Lächeln auf ihrem Gesicht fest. Ich starrte sie in störendem Gelächter, nicht möglich zu bewegen. Nach einem langen Moment stand ich endlich und begann, Richtung Tür zu gehen, nie Augenkontakt zu brechen. Aber bevor ich gehen konnte, stoppte Mollys Stimme mich. Sie schlug ihre Hände, eine ruhige Warnung in ihrem Ton.
I'm gonna warn you once. Don't tell our parents. I nodded, too stunned to say anything, and quickly walked out of the room, my heart pounding in my chest. My mind raced as I ran down the hallway to the bathroom, but all I could think was, what the hell was that? At the time, I convinced myself to pretend it never happened, but looking back, I know that was a huge mistake.
The night of Malia's arrival was sleepless for me. I was laying in my bed, eyes wide. I could hear the breath of Malia on my left and I wanted to cry. Malia had threatened me and I did nothing about it. Suddenly, I heard movement from Malia's side of the room. I froze, listening as I heard the sheets rustle. Then, her face appeared over me, but this time without that eerily large smile of hers.
She had a blank expression as she stared down at me. Oh, du bist wach. Seine Gesichter verschwanden von meiner Vision und ich konnte hören, dass sie zurück in den Bett kam. Ich konnte meinen Augen starten zu waschen. Was hätte sie getan, wenn ich nicht wach gewesen wäre? Als die Tage passen, schaue ich Malia vorsichtig.
Sie hat nicht maliös gegen mich gefolgt, aber sie hat das seltsame Verhalten gehalten. Sie hat angefangen, meine Kleidung anzuziehen, obwohl sie ihre eigene hatte. Sie hat auch ihre Haare ausgeschnitten, um mir zu passen. Auch ihre Sprache hat sich sehr ähnlich zu meiner verändert. Wir wären bis jetzt identisch gewesen, wenn sie nicht einen Möwen unter ihrem Auge hatte.
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Chapter 4: How does Malia's behavior change after moving in?
Dieses Verhalten wäre nicht so seltsam gewesen, wenn sie nicht den Komet am Abend ihres Aufkommens gemacht hätte. Es fühlte sich an, als ob sie versucht hätte, mich zu sein. Eines Abends, etwa drei Wochen nach der Aufkommens von Malia, ist es passiert. Ich bin in mein Zimmer eingefahren, um mit Malia zu treffen, um ihr Bett zu machen. Ja.
Ich habe dieses Verhalten seit Wochen ignoriert, also war ich nur normal im Schlafzimmer. Ich hörte Mollys Schlafzimmer schrecken und ich fühlte ihre Präsenz über mir wieder einmal. Ich öffnete langsam meine Augen, wurde von ihrem breiten Lächeln gebeten. I believe my work will pay off. You've been a real help, Evelyn. I stared at her in confusion and she began to giggle.
Well, I suppose that's my name now. I blinked. What the hell are you talking about? I sat up quickly, hitting my head against hers. She stumbled back a bit, grabbing her head. I held my own as I watched her closely. She looked up to face me, her eyes filled with malice. She grabbed for something within the bundle of blankets on her bed and then quickly lunged at me.
I tried to grab her wrist, but her movements were too fast. I felt a sharp pain in my chest as she plunged something into it. Her smile was so large, it looked like the corners of her mouth were going to split. Sie hat das, was ich gesehen habe, als einen Kopfknife, aber schnell wieder geschlagen.
Sie hat ihre Hand tief über meinem Mund gehalten, mich zu schüchtern, als sie ihre Angriffen weitergab. Endlich habe ich die Bewusstheit verloren, Mollys Plan zu vervollständigen. Von dieser Nacht an lebte Malia ihr Leben wie ich, wie Evelyn. Sie hat meinen Eltern gesagt, dass Malia verloren ging, ohne Folgen zu finden. Sie haben nach Malia gesucht, aber der Fall lief am Ende kalt.
Hauptsächlich wegen der Tatsache, dass keine von Malias Ursprünglichen Kontakten tatsächlich existierten. Was mich am meisten erschreckt, ist nicht die Tatsache, dass Malia mein Leben verbracht hat, sondern die Tatsache, dass meine eigenen zwei Eltern nicht erkannt haben, dass ich diejenige war, die verloren ging. 3000 Actionfilialen in Europa.
Musik Musik Musik Musik Musik
Have you ever left a comment for the podcast? If not, then how about doing that today? After you finish listening, rate and review right where you're listening. Or maybe share with a friend. Letting people know how much you enjoy something scary is the best way to share the love. And thanks for doing that. Sometimes we lose things and it's better if they're never found.
Because when they come back, they're never quite the same. Like in this story inspired by Tiffany. Als ich ein Kind war, hatte ich imaginative Freunde, zumindest das, was die Älteren sie genannt haben. Geflüchtete, unbeleuchtete Playmates, Figuren einer aktiven Imagination. Aber als ich vier oder fünf Jahre alt war, hat sich etwas verändert. Meine Cousins haben auch angefangen.
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Chapter 5: What is the significance of the mysterious character 'Blank'?
I never gave him a name, or maybe he never had one, but you'll understand why soon enough." Für den Moment nennen wir ihn Blank. Er war ein Magenta-Dragon, der Kind, den ein Kind träumen könnte. Zu rund, zu weich, mit kleinen, gefälschten Wingen, die ihn nicht tragen sollten. Seine rote, fettige Haare steckten in wilden Blüten aus und seine Augen, seine Augen waren seltsam.
Nicht furchtbar, nicht gruselig, nur alt. Älter als ich. Älter als der Apfeltree außerhalb meines Fensters. I used to think he was just another imaginary friend, but that night I learned the truth. It started with the tapping. A faint, rhythmic tap-tap-tap against the glass. The sound wormed its way into my sleep, pulling me toward wakefulness. It's an emergency, Blank whispered.
His voice was muffled, like it came from the bottom of a deep well. I rolled over groggy. Go away, Blank. We don't want to play. Olive nudged me, but it wasn't her touch that made me sit up. It was her sharp, gasping breath. The bed was empty. The floor was empty. Eve, Mary and Claire were gone. A sickening silence filled the room, heavy and unnatural.
I could hear my own heartbeat, the whisper of my breath, the shadows stretched too long, pulling in places they shouldn't. Outside, the night was too dark, as if the world had been swallowed. Blank was crouched on the windowsill, perched like a forgotten stuffed toy. Beside him, the wind rattled the branches of the apple tree, the limbs swaying in some unfelt breeze.
They've been taken, he said.
Olive and I turned to the window. Where?
Woher komme ich her?
Blank versuchte.
Aber nicht von mir. Nicht von etwas Kindem.
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Chapter 6: How do imaginary friends turn into something sinister?
Ein tiefer Schmerz verschloss sich über mir. Die Luft fühlte sich zu dünn an. Mein Körper blitzte mit etwas, was ich noch nicht verstanden hatte. Angst. Ja, aber etwas Schlimmeres. Rekognition. Ich erinnere mich nicht daran, dass ich die Entscheidung gemacht habe, ihn zu folgen. Nur plötzlich stiegen wir aus dem Fenster auf seine Rücken. Der Boden war weit unten und die Nacht riechte anders.
Thicker, als ob die Luft Gewicht hatte. Dann kam ein Wurf. Nicht durch den Raum, sondern durch etwas tiefer. Wir landeten irgendwo, das nicht existieren sollte. Die Welt hier war sauber. Kein Wind, kein Rattern, kein Rattern in meinen Händen. Es war, als hätte ein Geräusch ausgelöst. Die Luft war dick, schmutzig und zu still. Als ob wir nicht wirklich bewegen, sondern stattdessen bewegen.
Schatten streckten sich an unnatürlichen Angeln, flickern wie Kandellichten. Und in der Distanz war es ein Geräusch. Soft, aber wachsend. Ein rhythmischer Klicken, als ob etwas von innen im Dunkeln tappte. Dann sahen wir sie. Eve, Mary und Claire standen in einer Reihe. Zu still. Ihre Augen weit und glasig. Seine Haut sah normal aus, aber streckend. Die Farbe war zu fest über etwas anderes.
Eve, I whispered. Slowly. Mechanically, her head turned. So did Mary's. Then Claire's. Their movements were too smooth, too precise. Like marionettes responding to invisible strings. A moment passed. Then Eve smiled. It wasn't relief. It wasn't recognition. It was calculation. Olive took a sharp step back. Something was wrong with them.
They have to go.
Blake urged.
Now.
Something was behind them. A shape shifting in the dark. Too many limbs unfolding. Eve took a step forward. But it wasn't a step. It was like she glided. I choked out, grabbing her arm. It was ice cold stiff, but she followed. They all did, but it was too easy. The thing in the dark didn't follow, because it didn't need to. We weren't stealing them back. We were bringing something else out.
We scrambled back through the window, Eve, Mary and Claire clambering inside, their hands too sure, their breathing too quiet. I didn't think about it. I couldn't. My mind felt slippery, like something was erasing the details before I could hold on to them. I was the last one through. Olive was already inside, shaking, staring at something behind me. At the tree line, I turned.
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Chapter 7: What consequences arise from not recognizing doppelgangers?
Somewhere out there, the real Eve, Mary and Claire, were still missing. And last night, after all these years, I heard a sound outside my window. Tap, tap, tap. And when I looked, Eve was sitting on the broken tree branch, smiling. If something looks like you, talks like you, is it still you? Would you notice if someone you knew had been replaced? Do you know someone who was?
Tell us your story by sending us an email at somethingscaryatsnarl.com Did you get a t-shirt or a blanket at our merch sale? Send us a photo of yourself and your new Something Scary merch and we'll post it on IG. They say the mind is the first to betray you, but sometimes it's your own reflection that lies. Like in this story written by Sarah.
It began with a glimpse, a fleeting shadow caught in the periphery of Eleanor Chang's vision. But it lingered. It was there, then gone, like the whisper of a thought you couldn't quite recall. She told herself it was exhaustion, the kind that piled up from late nights at the office. Stress from work deadlines, the weight of long commutes. She ignored it.
The hollow, gnawing feeling that something was wrong had to be her imagination. But the unease didn't fade. It festered. The first real encounter came unexpectedly. Eleanor had just stepped into the office, her coworker, Daniel, waving at her with that too friendly enthusiasm, his grin a little too wide. Back again? He asked, eyes squinting with an odd confusion. I just saw you leave.
Her stomach twisted. No, I just got here, she replied slowly, her voice trailing off in disbelief. He stared at her, an uncomfortable silence hanging between them. His brows furrowed. No, Eleanor, I swear. I saw you walk out the door five minutes ago. You were wearing the same coat, same everything. Sie konnte nicht sprechen.
Die Raum seemed to tilt around her, the floor beneath her suddenly unsteady, as if her feet weren't quite connected to it anymore. Are you okay? he asked, suddenly concerned. But Eleanor couldn't respond. The walls closed in on her, the air growing thick, stifling. That night she opened her phone to distract herself, scrolling absentmindedly. A new post from her friend Rachel caught her eye.
A group photo from their dinner last week. Eleanor smiled at the image, her reflection in the glass shimmering under the restaurant lights. A perfect moment captured. But as her eyes drifted to the edge of the frame, she froze. There it was, another version of herself. Barely in focus, standing just outside the range of attention.
Same coat, same hair, but the eyes, they were too wide, too empty, like hollow pits staring directly at her. Her stomach churned. It couldn't be. She scrolled through the comments. What's that in the background? The question was posted by someone she didn't know. The rest of the comments were all confused, asking the same thing. And no one had an answer. Her hands shook as she set the phone down.
Aber auch die Luft um sie herum fühlte sich schwerer, dicker. Am nächsten Morgen steckte Eleanor in ihr Bad. Seine Reflexion grüßte sie mit der gewöhnlichen, ruhigen Freude. Aber als sie sich in die Brüste geschnitten hat, hat sie etwas bemerkt. Einen kleinen Krack. Nur eine kurze, hübsche Linie, die das Glas im Fenster verteilt.
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