HELL MINDS
PART 1: PODCAST – INTRODUCTION
The familiar crackle of static begins, a digital whisper that hints at unseen energies and the liminal spaces between worlds. It slowly coalesces, solidifying into the somber, steady thrum of a human heartbeat, a primal rhythm that underscores the vulnerability of flesh and blood in the face of the unknown. The pace is measured, almost funereal, each beat a stark reminder of the delicate balance between life and whatever lies beyond. Then, a voice, close and breathy, seems to materialize from the static itself, a chillingly intimate whisper that sends a shiver down the spine: "He let it out…" The heartbeat fades slightly as the main theme music swells, a more discordant and unsettling melody than the previous chapter, incorporating unsettling scraping sounds and a distorted, almost mournful cello.
KAIRA (Host):
Welcome back, everyone, to the shadowy recesses of your imagination, the place where fear takes root and the unbelievable becomes terrifyingly real. This is Hell Minds, your weekly descent into the stories that make even the bravest among us double-check the locks and maybe, just maybe, leave a nightlight on. I'm your host, Kaira, and after our last foray into the unsettling world of haunted dolls, I thought I had encountered the pinnacle of creepy inanimate objects. But oh, how wrong I was. If you thought a possessed Raggedy Ann was the stuff of nightmares, wait until we pull back the veil on a seemingly ordinary wine box that has left a trail of ruined lives and inexplicable misfortune in its wake.
MALIK:
(A deep sigh, laced with apprehension)
Man, what is it with people and keeping cursed objects around? Seriously? What's in the box? Forget hair and pennies; I'm telling you right now, it's pure, unadulterated trauma. That's what's lurking in that damn box. The kind of trauma that sticks to you like a shadow, that poisons everything it touches. This story already has me feeling uneasy, and we haven't even gotten to the gruesome details yet.
JUNO:
Juno here, and this case actually elicits a different kind of reaction from me. While the Annabelle story was disturbing, this one…this one makes me genuinely angry. Because, unlike a doll that might be unknowingly gifted, this was a situation where the danger was explicitly stated. There was a clear warning. And yet, driven by curiosity or perhaps a misguided sense of invincibility, someone chose to disregard that warning. It didn't have to be opened. The potential for suffering was there, clearly labeled, and someone still chose to unleash it. That's what's so infuriating about this whole thing.
EZRA:
(A skeptical grunt)
Alright, alright, let's not get ahead of ourselves. While the anecdotes are certainly…colorful, I still maintain a healthy dose of skepticism. I think what we're looking at here is a potent cocktail of suggestion, confirmation bias, and a series of unfortunate coincidences. You have a creepy story attached to an old object, people are primed to expect something bad to happen, and then they interpret everyday misfortunes through that lens. A bit of bad luck here, a vivid nightmare there, and suddenly you have a "haunted" object with a terrifying reputation that only grows with each retelling. It's a story that grew teeth, fueled by fear and the human tendency to seek patterns, even in randomness.
LIA:
Or, Ezra, just hear me out, or it's exactly what the box's history claimed it to hold: a Dybbuk. A concept deeply rooted in Jewish folklore, a malicious, restless spirit that clings to the living. This isn't just some vague ghostly presence; it's a specific type of entity with its own set of characteristics and intentions. And someone, despite a direct warning from the previous owner's family, willingly opened the door to whatever was trapped inside. That act of defiance, that disregard for the warning, could have had very real and very terrifying consequences.
KAIRA:
Tonight, we're plunging into the unsettling saga of the Dybbuk Box. Not a creaky mansion or a shadowy graveyard, but a seemingly innocuous small wine cabinet that was sold on eBay in the relatively recent year of 2003. What makes this case particularly chilling is the explicit warning that accompanied it, a desperate plea from the seller: do not, under any circumstances, open this box. The initial buyer, perhaps thinking it was an elaborate joke, a quirky piece of online theatrics designed to inflate the price, chose to ignore that ominous warning.
He opened it. And in doing so, he may have unleashed something truly ancient and malevolent into the world. Prepare yourselves, because the story of the Dybbuk Box is a disturbing exploration of what happens when curiosity overrides caution, and when the warnings we receive turn out to be far more real than we could ever imagine.
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PART 2: DRAMATIZED RETELLING
Portland, Oregon – 2001
Kevin Mannis was a man who appreciated the unusual, the forgotten relics of the past that whispered tales of lives lived and histories untold. He wasn't a believer in the supernatural, dismissing ghost stories and paranormal claims as fanciful narratives designed to entertain or perhaps prey on the gullible. His passion lay in the tangible, in the physical objects that connected him to bygone eras. He was a writer by trade, weaving stories of his own, and he supplemented his income by running a small antique shop, a haven for the curious and the collectors of oddities. It was at a local estate sale, the dispersal of a lifetime's worth of possessions, that he encountered a peculiar piece – a small, unassuming Jewish wine cabinet. It was old, clearly handmade with a rustic charm, and it exuded a sense of history that piqued his interest. He purchased it from the granddaughter of the original owner, a woman named Havela, a Holocaust survivor.
As the transaction was being finalized, the granddaughter, her eyes holding a deep sadness and a hint of something else, something akin to fear, leaned in and spoke to Kevin in a low, earnest voice. "My grandmother," she said, her voice barely above a whisper, "she always said: Never open it. This box…it is for keeping the Dybbuk inside."
Kevin, a pragmatist through and through, took the warning with a grain of salt. He assumed it was a cultural story, a piece of folklore passed down through generations, perhaps a symbolic representation of past traumas. He thanked the granddaughter for the information, filed it away as an interesting anecdote associated with the antique, and thought little more of it. He certainly didn't believe that a simple wooden box could contain a malevolent spirit from Jewish mythology.
Back at his shop, Kevin examined the wine cabinet more closely. It was crafted from dark, aged wood, its surface worn smooth by time and handling. The hinges were rusted, and the latch felt stiff. Inside, he discovered a collection of strange and seemingly unrelated objects: a tarnished lock of blonde hair tied with a faded ribbon, a coarser lock of dark hair, a small, intricately carved silver goblet, a dried rose that crumbled at his touch, two old American pennies both dated 1920, and a small, smooth granite sculpture etched with Hebrew letters he couldn't decipher. These items only added to the box's mystique, fueling his writer's imagination and reinforcing his perception of it as a unique and intriguing historical artifact.
Shortly after purchasing the wine cabinet, Kevin decided to give it to his mother as a gift. He thought it was an interesting piece of furniture with a unique story, something she might appreciate. He placed the box in her living room. Later that same day, while sitting in a chair near the newly arrived wine cabinet, his mother suffered a debilitating stroke.
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Over the ensuing weeks, a growing unease began to settle over Kevin. He tried to sell the wine cabinet, hoping to recoup his initial investment, but potential buyers would inexplicably back out at the last minute. He then attempted to gift it to friends and acquaintances, thinking perhaps it would be appreciated by someone else. But a disturbing pattern began to emerge. Every single person who took possession of the box, even for a short period, reported a series of unsettling and often terrifying experiences.
Horrific nightmares plagued their sleep, vivid and disturbing dreams often featuring the same recurring figure: an old woman with gaunt features and piercing, sunken eyes. Strong, unpleasant odors would suddenly permeate their homes, most commonly described as the acrid stench of cat urine or, paradoxically, the overwhelmingly sweet and cloying fragrance of jasmine, often with no discernible source. Shadowy figures would be glimpsed in the periphery of their vision, darting in the corners of rooms or lingering just out of sight. Perhaps most disturbingly, those who came into contact with the box reported sudden bouts of illness, unexplained physical ailments, and a pervasive sense of bad luck that seemed to follow them relentlessly. Relationships soured, financial troubles mounted, and a general feeling of despair would descend upon them.
Kevin himself was not immune to the box's apparent influence. His antique shop was vandalized, the windows smashed and valuable items damaged. He began to experience strange gaps in his memory, losing entire days without any recollection of what he had done. His health deteriorated; his hair began to fall out in alarming clumps, leaving bald patches on his scalp. One terrifying night, he awoke in his bed with the metallic taste of blood in his mouth, convinced that he had been speaking in a language he did not know, a guttural and unfamiliar tongue that left him shaken and deeply disturbed.
Desperate to rid himself of the cursed object, Kevin tried various methods of containment. He attempted to seal the box shut with heavy-duty tape and metal straps, hoping to trap whatever malevolent force resided within. He even went so far as to bury it in a remote location, hoping to consign it to oblivion beneath the earth. But each time, the box would inexplicably reappear, finding its way back to him as if drawn by an unseen force. The return of the box filled him with a growing sense of dread and the chilling realization that he was dealing with something far more persistent and powerful than he could have ever imagined.
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2003 – The Box Goes Viral
Frustrated, terrified, and at his wit's end, Kevin Mannis made a desperate decision. He decided to list the wine cabinet for sale on the online auction site eBay. In his listing, he detailed the box's history, including the granddaughter's ominous warning and the string of disturbing events that had plagued him and anyone who had come into contact with it. He explicitly warned potential buyers not to open the box, hoping to prevent anyone else from experiencing the terror he had endured.
His warning, however, had the opposite effect. The bizarre listing, with its tale of a haunted wine cabinet and a dire caution, went viral. It captured the morbid curiosity of the internet, drawing the attention of paranormal enthusiasts and skeptics alike. Among those intrigued by the story was Jason Haxton, a museum director and academic with a keen interest in spiritual energy and the paranormal.
Unlike Kevin, Jason was not a disbeliever. He approached the Dybbuk Box with a sense of cautious fascination, believing that spiritual energies were real and that perhaps he possessed the knowledge and understanding to neutralize whatever force might be contained within the cabinet. He saw it not as a cursed object to be feared, but as a potentially significant artifact with a unique and possibly dangerous history. He purchased the box from Kevin, undeterred by the warnings and convinced of his ability to handle whatever it might hold.
The moment the Dybbuk Box arrived at Jason's home, the unsettling phenomena began anew, and perhaps even intensified. He reported experiencing violent and terrifying nightmares almost immediately, often featuring the same old woman with sunken eyes that others had described. Electronic devices in his home began to malfunction inexplicably, flickering, short-circuiting, and failing altogether. Most disturbingly, Jason developed a series of severe and baffling physical ailments. His eyes began to bleed spontaneously, and he was afflicted with a rare and aggressive skin disease that left doctors bewildered and unable to provide a diagnosis or effective treatment. His health rapidly declined, and he began to fear for his well-being.
Realizing that he had perhaps underestimated the power of whatever resided within the box, Jason took drastic measures. He commissioned a specially designed container lined with gold, believing that the precious metal might act as a barrier against negative spiritual energies. He carefully placed the Dybbuk Box inside the gold-lined container and then, in an undisclosed location, he buried it, hoping that this final act of containment would finally neutralize the entity or at least keep it from harming anyone else.
But the story of the Dybbuk Box, like the entity it supposedly contained, refused to remain buried.
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2012 – Hollywood Takes Interest
The bizarre and unsettling tale of the Dybbuk Box, fueled by its viral internet fame and the firsthand accounts of those who had encountered it, eventually caught the attention of Hollywood. Inspired by the seemingly true story of a haunted wine cabinet and the misfortunes that followed those who opened it, a horror film titled "The Possession" was produced.
During the filming of the movie, strange and unsettling events mirrored the real-life accounts associated with the box. Lights on the set would explode without explanation, casting eerie shadows and disrupting production. A van used to transport props mysteriously caught fire and was completely destroyed, an incident that many on set attributed to the malevolent influence of the story they were portraying. Perhaps most telling was the palpable unease among the cast and crew; no one wanted to keep the actual Dybbuk Box, which was brought to the set for research purposes, anywhere near them for extended periods. Its presence seemed to cast a pall over the production.
Even years after the release of "The Possession," the Dybbuk Box continues to hold a disturbing fascination and remains one of the most talked-about and feared allegedly haunted objects in the world.
Today, the Dybbuk Box is owned by Zak Bagans, the host of the popular paranormal investigation television series "Ghost Adventures." He claims that the box is securely sealed behind thick glass in his Haunted Museum in Las Vegas, a macabre collection of allegedly cursed and haunted artifacts. Bagans states that the box has been blessed by rabbis in an effort to contain any negative energies and that it is kept under constant surveillance and protection.
However, despite these precautions, those who have been in close proximity to the Dybbuk Box, even within the confines of the museum, have reported experiencing a range of unsettling phenomena, including the now-familiar nightmares of the old woman with sunken eyes that can persist for weeks after their encounter. The box itself sits silently within its glass enclosure, an unassuming wooden cabinet that belies the terrifying stories and the lingering sense of malevolence that surrounds it. It may be silent now, but for many, the fear remains that it is merely waiting, its unseen presence a constant, chilling reminder of the darkness that can be unleashed when a forbidden box is opened.
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PART 3: PODCAST – DISCUSSION
The low hum of the recording studio fills the air, soon punctuated by the subtle shift of clothing and the distinct metallic hiss of Ezra cracking open a soda can, a small, mundane sound that contrasts sharply with the unsettling topic at hand. Tense, atmospheric music, heavy with foreboding, plays softly in the background.
EZRA:
(A nervous chuckle)
I mean…what the actual hell was in that thing? Hair? Coins? A rusty old cup? How does that translate to bleeding eyeballs and rare skin diseases? It's insane.
KAIRA:
Well, let's look at the contents again. Hair – possibly from the person the Dybbuk was attached to. Old coins – often used in rituals. A goblet – perhaps for ceremonial wine. And that small granite slab engraved with Hebrew letters – likely a ritualistic object used in an attempt to trap or contain something. It's not just random junk; it's a collection of items that strongly suggests a deliberate attempt to confine a spiritual entity.
MALIK:
And Kevin just…hands it to his mom for her birthday? Like, "Happy birthday, Mom! Here's a potentially demon-infested antique wine box! Hope you like it!" Seriously, the lack of awareness is astounding.
JUNO:
The fact that she had a stroke the same day she received the box is a truly wild coincidence, statistically speaking. Now, correlation doesn't equal causation, and I'm not saying the box caused the stroke, but the timing is undeniably eerie and certainly fuels the narrative surrounding the box's negative influence. It's the kind of event that makes even the most rational minds pause and consider the possibility of something more.
LIA:
And the dreams! That's what really gets me. The consistent reports of the same recurring nightmare – the old woman with sunken eyes. Across multiple owners, people who had never met or communicated with each other were describing the exact same terrifying figure in their sleep. That level of consistency is incredibly difficult to explain away with mere suggestion.
EZRA:
Okay, but dreams are notoriously subjective and easily influenced. Once the story of the Dybbuk Box and the old woman became public, it's entirely possible that subsequent owners, knowing the narrative, subconsciously manifested that image in their dreams. That's the power of suggestion at play. Our brains are wired to look for patterns and confirm our expectations.
KAIRA:
But what about the very real physical ailments? The bleeding eyes Jason experienced? The rare and debilitating skin disease that baffled doctors? Kevin's hair loss and the sensation of speaking an unknown language? And the consistent reports of those bizarre smells – the putrid odor of cat urine juxtaposed with the sweet fragrance of jasmine? Those are tangible, physical manifestations that are much harder to dismiss as mere psychological suggestion.
MALIK:
(Leaning closer to the microphone)
You know, Kaira's got a point, Ezra. You're usually Mr. Debunker, but even you're starting to sound a little less certain about this one. I think the Dybbuk Box might be cracking through that wall of skepticism.
EZRA:
(Clears throat)
I'm not sweating, Malik. It's just… the sheer volume and consistency of the negative experiences associated with this particular object are… noteworthy. I'm not saying it's definitely a Dybbuk, but the level of reported misfortune is beyond what you'd typically expect from random chance or purely psychological factors.
LIA:
The key here, I think, lies in the folklore. A Dybbuk isn't just a generic ghost; it's a specific type of entity in Jewish tradition – a dislocated soul, a spirit that for some reason could not move on to the afterlife and instead clings to the living. The idea of trapping such a spirit within an object, a box specifically, suggests a deliberate ritual, an act of spiritual binding. This wasn't some random haunting; it was a contained entity, and when Kevin opened that box, he essentially broke that seal. That's not random; that's a potentially significant spiritual event.
JUNO:
Exactly. And consider Havela's history. She was a Holocaust survivor. Who knows the horrors she witnessed, the traumas she endured? It's not unreasonable to think that she might have encountered something truly dark during that time, something that latched onto her, and that sealing it in the box was her desperate attempt to protect herself and her family. Trauma can leave deep scars, not just on the living but perhaps even on the fabric of reality around them.
KAIRA:
I don't think it's a stretch at all to consider that surviving trauma of that magnitude could leave a person vulnerable to attracting or being affected by negative spiritual forces. And the act of sealing something away suggests a conscious effort to contain a known threat, not just a superstitious belief.
MALIK:
So Kevin, in his quest for a cool antique, basically undid a supernatural Tupperware party and let all the bad vibes out. Great job, Kevin.
EZRA:
(Sighs)
Let's talk about the people who actively chose to open it after being explicitly warned. What kind of mindset does that take? Why would you knowingly risk unleashing something potentially harmful?
LIA:
Because humans are inherently curious creatures. We are drawn to the unknown, even when it's shrouded in danger. There's a part of us that always wants to peek behind the curtain, to test the boundaries, to see if the warnings are real. Sometimes, that curiosity can have devastating consequences. We think we can handle it, that we're somehow immune, but we often underestimate the forces we're dealing with.
KAIRA:
What makes the Dybbuk Box so different, and arguably more terrifying than something like Annabelle, is that there's no pretense of innocence. Annabelle, according to the Warrens, initially presented as a harmless child's spirit seeking love. The Dybbuk Box, on the other hand, came with a clear and unambiguous warning. It was pure, concentrated negativity sealed tight, and simple human curiosity, a desire to see what was inside, unleashed it.
JUNO:
That's the truly unsettling aspect of this case. There was no manipulation, no deceptive facade. Just a contained malevolence and the conscious decision by some to break that containment. It speaks to a darker side of human nature, that irresistible urge to tamper with the forbidden, regardless of the potential cost.
MALIK:
So, the solution is just…burn it, right? Get rid of the damn thing once and for all?
LIA:
That's the conventional wisdom with unwanted objects, but according to Jewish tradition and paranormal beliefs surrounding Dybbuks, destroying the vessel wouldn't necessarily destroy the spirit. It could, in fact, release it, potentially making it even more dangerous and untethered. Containment, as Jason Haxton attempted, is often seen as the only viable option.
EZRA:
So we're just…collecting evil now? Locking it up in glass boxes around the world and hoping it stays put? That doesn't sound like a very sustainable long-term strategy.
KAIRA:
Pretty much. And the unsettling part is that people still seek out these objects. They visit museums, they touch the glass, some even try to interact with them. And as we've seen, the consequences can be immediate and disturbing.
JUNO:
Remember the stories about Post Malone? He reportedly touched the Dybbuk Box and then experienced a bizarre string of freak accidents – a car crash, issues with his private plane, a home robbery.
LIA:
Now, we're not definitively saying that the Dybbuk Box caused all of those incidents… but the timing and the pattern of misfortune are certainly… suggestive. It adds another layer to the already unsettling legend of the box.
KAIRA:
Next time on Hell Minds, we'll be delving into one of the most well-documented and perplexing cases of poltergeist activity in history: the Enfield Poltergeist. This haunting terrorized a family in England in the late 1970s, and despite extensive investigation and scrutiny, many of the events remain stubbornly… unexplained.
The outro music begins to play, a low, unsettling drone that gradually fades in volume. A distinct sound of distant, rhythmic knocking can be heard subtly beneath the music before fading into complete silence.
KAIRA (V.O.):
This has been Hell Minds. Double-check those locks tonight. Maybe steer clear of antique wine cabinets. And if something, anything, tells you in no uncertain terms not to open a box… for your own sake… please, just listen.
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