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Even in the midday sun, an oppressive atmosphere hangs over the desolate expanse. The air is heavy, devoid of even the faintest whisper of a breeze, and the ancient rocks remain eerily silent, as if holding on to their secrets. It's a disquiet that clings to the very marrow of your bones, an insistent intuition that today's journey into the abyss of the canyon may be one from which we never return.
Welcome to Destination Terror, your passport to the scariest places in the world. From haunted hotels to locations of unexplained creature sightings, and now places that you can only visit in your imagination, we will travel to places that will provide excitement, adventure, and horror. Today we're exploring the Slaughterhouse Canyon and its disturbing history.
So if you're into travel and all things scary, listen close, and you just might discover your next exciting adventure destination. But hopefully not your final destination. Destination Terror is an EerieCast original podcast hosted by me, Carmen Carrion. If you would like to send us a suggestion or submit a story with your own experience, you can email them to carmencarrion at gmail.com.
or follow me on Twitter at Carmen Carrion. If you enjoy the show, please follow and rate Destination Terror on Spotify and Apple Podcasts to help us grow. Also, check out eeriecast.com for more scary podcasts, such as Freaky Folklore, the podcast where together we explore horrifying legends across the world and tell terrifying tales of monsters both ancient and modern.
It was a sultry afternoon at UCLA when four college friends, Sarah, Mike, Emily, and John, found themselves huddled in the dimly lit corner of their favorite cafe. With graduation looming on the horizon, their minds were buzzing with excitement and uncertainty about the future. Sarah was doodling on the pages of her yearbook when Emily nudged her on the shoulder slightly. "Graduating class of '85 looks so much better after you've scribbled on half of our faces."
They both chuckled. "We only have a few weeks till graduation, guys," John said, and almost sounded sad. Mike retorted, "Yeah, only a few more weeks of this hellhole." Emily rolled her eyes. "You know, Mike, this place wouldn't be so bad if you'd actually show up to class and do your work." He shook his head and shot her a look of disgust. "I'll pass on that one, but thanks." They all laughed. It felt good just to let it out.
These last few weeks of school had been grueling. They had all been burned out and completely exhausted from finals and prepping for the real world. They had a few small assignments and one rather large group project left to complete. "Hey guys, I have an idea," Sarah declared, her eyes bright with enthusiasm. "For our final documentary project, we should take on something big, something that's never been done before."
I was in the library studying for Mr. Walker's final, and I stumbled upon a very interesting book about haunted places in California. Emily raised her gaze to meet Sarah's with a wary look. "We could explore a haunted place and write a documentary about it," Sarah said enthusiastically. John, silent as ever, just stared with curiosity. "Look, we need something over the top. I think something like this would be intriguing and out of the box."
I'm pretty sure one of the groups is dissecting an Atari. When we could explore a little, live a little before we have to be responsible. It'll be fun. She was practically begging at this point. If I agree, will you shut up? Mike asked with a grin. Yes, she grinned and hushed. So say we do this. Emily finally spoke up next. So say we do this. Where would we even go? Everyone here knows the local legends.
We'd need to go somewhere they haven't heard of around here." "What about…?" "Slaughterhouse Canyon," John said softly. "My grandparents own a cabin in the nearby town. We'd have somewhere to stay for the weekend while we worked on the project. It's less than six hours from here." "A canyon? Is it actually haunted? Or is the name just super creepy?" Mike asked. "Oh, it's beyond creepy. The locals have their legends and honestly, I believe them.
Sarah flipped her yearbook closed and grabbed her notebook out of her bag and started jotting down notes before chiming in. We could capture the paranormal activity, conduct interviews, and make a compelling documentary for our class. Maybe even see a ghost or two. Emily smiled, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. This was most definitely not her thing, but she didn't protest. Sarah, on the other hand, couldn't hide the excitement from her voice.
This will be so cool. Don't tell anyone in class what we're doing. I want them to be surprised and awed. Assuming everyone is free this weekend, I'll make the plans and John can secure the cabin. And I'll make a list of everything we need to do and gather whatever information I can from the library. The week went by relatively quickly and Sarah spent every spare second she had studying what she could about the paranormal. Their library didn't have that many books on the matter.
But she absorbed everything she could. By the time Friday afternoon rolled around, everyone was packed into Mike's van and headed towards the cabin. They didn't waste any time getting there. Mike had expressed that he'd like to get in a little sleep before Sarah drug them through a canyon. The night had fully embraced Kingman as the clock neared eleven, casting a shroud of darkness over the quiet small town.
The overcast sky held the moon captive, preventing even a sliver of its silvery light from piercing through the thick clouds. The air was heavy with an eerie stillness, the world wrapped in a blanket of obscurity. "The cabin is just a few more miles outside of town. I can drive since I know the roads," John offered, his voice carrying a sense of reassurance amidst the eerie atmosphere.
Mike, equally appreciative of John's familiarity with the area, nodded in agreement. The two-lane road had no lights, and the moon remained completely hidden behind the clouds. The headlights on the van were barely cutting through the thick fog. A cold chill swept through the van, and the windows started to fog up. "Hold on, I'll get it," Mike said, wiping a window with the towel that he'd pulled from the glove compartment. "Seriously? A towel? What's wrong with the defroster?"
John said with a furrowed brow. Mike huffed a laugh. Yeah, I've been meaning to fix that, but holy shit, look out! Standing in the middle of the road was a hooded black figure. It didn't budge as the van barreled right for it. John slammed on the brakes, throwing everything and everyone forward. Mike's head hit the windshield and knocked him out cold. Emily had been thrown into the back of Mike's seat and was holding on for dear life.
Sarah was curled up in the fetal position at Emily's feet. There wasn't enough time to stop, and John knew it. He knew he was about to hit this person, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. Seconds before impact, John locked eyes with the hooded figure, only to be met with a pair of glowing red eyes. John closed his eyes and waited for the impact, but it didn't come. The van finally came to a stop in the middle of the road, and the hooded figure was just gone.
It wasn't until then John realized the girls were screaming in absolute terror. John blinked and swallowed hard. He looked around frantically looking for the figure. There was no way it could have moved. Mike! Mike, wake up, damn it! Emily smacked him on the cheek a few times, and he opened his eyes, groaning. Are we dead? No, you hit your head, John said. Oh, thank goodness. You guys were still here, so...
I was worried I ended up in hell or something worse. Sarah reached over the seat and smacked Mike on the shoulder. Ha ha, very funny. Seriously though, did we hit the guy? Mike asked. John let out a heavy breath. No, but I don't think that was a person at all. Well, it was something. We all saw it, John, Emily said with a shaky voice. Well, it's gone now, whatever it was. I checked.
John said with a shrug. The last two miles to the cabin were tense but uneventful. By the time they had managed to unload everything and get settled into their rooms, they were all too shaken to fall asleep. John had built a small fire in the fireplace and sat down with a cup of tea to try and settle his nerves. It didn't take long for everyone to join him in the living room. Sarah had already pulled out her notebook and documented the strange encounter on the road.
Surely there has to be a local with a death wish. Just out there trying to scare the crap out of people. Emily scoffed. John took a deep breath and started to speak. That was no person, and this place is no joke. That's why I suggested this place. I've seen many spirits in this canyon over the years. Everyone looked at John wide-eyed and mouths gaping. Excuse me, John? Are you playing some trick on us? Sarah said accusingly.
John shook his head slowly. "If you'll listen, I'll tell you everything I know. And everything I've seen. But you must keep an open mind to the possibility that what I'm saying might actually be true. Can you three do that?" Sarah, Mike and Emily all exchanged glances and nodded unanimously. John swallowed hard and started to talk. "I've came here to visit my grandparents every summer since I was two.
Every summer my grandfather would take me hiking into the canyon. I would always get scared when we would go down by the water. I would swear to grandpa that I could hear crying, but grandpa would just tell me it was the wind. He told me all about the local legends the older I got, but he would remind me that they were just legends. The summer I turned 15 he had fallen ill, too ill for us to walk down to the river, and by the next summer he was gone. But I came anyways to visit my grandma.
I was determined to make that walk one more time with my grandpa, so grandma gave me some of his ashes to sprinkle in the river. I hiked down to the river and sat there by the water for what seemed like hours, talking to a jar of ashes, reminiscing about all the time we had spent there. I found myself very tired and closed my eyes for what felt like a second when I heard a loud sloshing in the water and children screaming. I immediately jolted upright.
and I saw a woman across the river screaming to the sky. She was wearing a white dress and covered in what looked like blood. I looked at the river, and the water had turned red. I squeezed my eyes shut but couldn't block out her screaming. I thought I was dreaming, but I opened my eyes, and she was gone. But the screaming was bouncing off the walls of the canyon, echoing louder and louder.
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The legend of Slaughterhouse Canyon is a spooky and eerie tale that has its origins in Arizona. This legend has all the classic elements of a haunting story, including ghosts, mysterious deaths, and a sinister past. However, it's worth noting that the details of the legend may vary depending on the source, and it's often considered a piece of folklore rather than a historical account.
Slaughterhouse Canyon is located near Kingman, Arizona, in the Black Mountains. It's a rugged and remote area, which adds to the eerie atmosphere of the legend. In the year 1882, Kingman, Arizona was formally established as a town with a multifaceted history, having previously served as both a military encampment and a reservation for indigenous American communities.
Its growth trajectory was significantly impacted when a railway line was extended through the region. Around 1858, the Arizona Gold Rush commenced, mirroring the challenges encountered by those who harbored dreams of striking it rich in the western United States. However, as prospectors soon realized, the odds of discovering gold in Arizona were slim.
Consequently, they redirected their efforts toward the more abundant copper and silver deposits. At a certain juncture, the value of gold depreciated in relation to copper and silver, primarily due to the scarcity in the region. Families who had uprooted themselves in pursuit of prosperity bore the greatest burdens. Following the arduous and often excruciating searches, many were left to grapple with starvation and destitution.
Much like other urban legends born in times of profound adversity, this story is imbued with the haunting remnants of affliction brought about by disease, hunger, despair and madness. This particular ghost story rapidly evolved from a simple tragedy into a grotesque saga, firmly cementing the canyon's reputation as a prominent paranormal destination. The name Slaughterhouse Canyon is purported to derive from a gruesome event
believed to be the site of a family tragedy. In certain renditions of the legend, it is suggested that the father succumbed to madness owing to the isolation and harsh conditions which led him to commit the horrific acts. It's worth noting that this distressing account transpired in Luna's Canyon. Located to the southeast of Kingman, Arizona, multiple variations of the Slaughterhouse Canyon legend exist, with discrepancies in the tales.
But the core premise remains consistent. The site of this gruesome story, Luna's Canyon, or Luana's Canyon, is indeed situated in the southeastern vicinity of Kingman, Arizona. Kingman is a quintessential small desert town. In the vicinity, there are other tales of similar nature.
And those familiar with the Slaughterhouse Canyon legend occasionally confuse it with the Mexican tragedy known as the Legend of La Llorona, which translates to "Weeping Woman" in Spanish. However, a common thread in all these accounts revolves around a mother who tragically ends the lives of her children. And even though in some of the legends it's the father who goes mad,
The most prevalent version of the story centers on the father and his family. The father was a miner, and with his family, they had established a modest wooden shack along a dry wash in the heart of the canyon. The wife, Luana, lent her name to the canyon itself. Living in a small desert shack was no easy feat. And the miner, a dreamer with aspirations of providing a better life for his wife and children,
regularly ventured into the mountains. His objective was twofold: working in the gold mines and securing food for his family. The family's irregular income made it a challenge to put food on the table, relying solely on what the miner could bring back from his expeditions. One day the miner set off for the northwestern mountains on his trusty mule, though various accounts of this story differ on whether he left home every two weeks or for two-week stretches.
Nonetheless, it was a fairly typical experience during the Gold Rush era, regardless of the duration of his absence. The miner was the family's sole source of sustenance, income and supplies, providing for their well-being and comfort. A pivotal day arrived when the miner bid farewell to his wife Luana and their children, unaware that it would be the last time they would see him.
Days stretched into weeks, and apprehension began to grip Luanna as the supplies dwindled. Concerns swelled regarding her husband's fate. Whether he had fallen ill, suffered an accident, or worse, had met with peril at the hands of wild animals or robbers, the miners seemed to have become yet another tragic casualty of the unforgiving gold rush. Luanna heavily relied on her husband's consistency.
leading her to forgo rationing the supplies from his last journey. As food and provisions grew scarce, the family descended into starvation. With the canyon offering no alternative means of support, the children, pale and emaciated, wept and screamed in agony. Their cries echoed through the canyon, even carried on the night's gentle breeze.
The anguished sobs of her starving children, incessantly imploring Luana for sustenance, eroded her mental well-being. As each day passed, Luana edged closer to the precipice of insanity until she reached a breaking point. She could no longer bear to witness her children's agonizing starvation, and in her state of psychosis, she committed an unthinkable act. During a stormy night,
Tormented by her children's cries and her own excruciating hunger, she donned her wedding dress and tragically took the lives of her own offspring to end their suffering. Her sanity unraveling, she dismembered their lifeless bodies, splattering the walls of their small shack with blood, an act that led to the moniker "Slaughterhouse." After completing this gruesome deed,
She carried the remains of her children and discarded them into the river. There, on the river bank, she collapsed in despair, her wedding dress soaked in the blood of her slain offspring. Overwhelmed by sadness and guilt, she wailed and screamed over her actions, until she succumbed to starvation herself the following morning. Though the family has long since departed this earthly realm, the haunting presence of the woman is said to linger in the canyon.
her mournful cries can still be heard echoing through the desolate landscape a heart-wrenching lament for the husband who never returned and the tragic loss of the innocent children she took from this world
Today, Slaughterhouse Canyon is accessible to the public, a mere 12-minute drive from Kingman. It's believed that on tranquil nights, when the moon bathes the landscape in its glow and the air is heavy, those with the courage to venture into the desert canyon after midnight are likely to encounter eerie phenomena. The oppressive darkness reverberates with the anguished cries of the mother and the mournful echoes of her children's demise.
as if their tragic tale endures. Locals recount how it was a popular pastime during their high school years to pile into a car with friends and park near the remnants of the old slaughterhouse shack within the canyon. There they would lower their windows and sit in silence, awaiting a potential encounter with Luana. Inevitably, they would hear mysterious sounds that hastened their departure.
Another account recalls an individual who, motivated by curiosity and a desire for teenage freedom, away from watchful eyes, made regular trips to the area with their sibling. They would gather for bonfires and indulge in youthful revelry, until one fateful night, past midnight, when they began hearing haunting wails around them. A hurried search of the surroundings revealed nothing tangible but instilled enough fear in them to flee the canyon entirely.
Additional reports from those who venture into the depths of Slaughterhouse Canyon often revolve around encounters with a mysterious woman shrouded in black, her figure cloaked beneath a dark veil. Ghost hunters and thrill-seekers traversing the road leading to the ominous canyon claim to have glimpsed her ethereal presence. However, this spectral woman is a fleeting mystery.
Witnesses recount their experiences of spotting her with their vehicles, her form emerging in the moonlight, a specter of sorrow. Determined to unravel the mystery, some have attempted to approach her, only to find that she defies the laws of the living. Inexplicably, she vanishes into the dark night, leaving behind an eerie sense of the uncanny and a profound sense of wonder and trepidation to those who dare pursue her apparition.
The presence of the paranormal is abundant in the canyon, and many flock to the site each year to come in contact with the supernatural that dwells within the canyon. Enter its depths to experience it for yourself, if you dare.
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A heavy sense of unease settled upon the group, and Sarah broke the silence, her voice trembling. "John, that sounds terrifying, but are you sure it wasn't just a vivid dream? Or a trick of the imagination? People can experience strange things when they're emotionally charged, like you were that day when you sprinkled your grandfather's ashes." John looked at her with somber determination. "I wish it were just a dream, but I know what I saw and heard that day.
I've seen other spirits in this canyon too, although none as intense as that woman. There's something dark and eerie about this place that goes beyond mere legends. Mike, typically the skeptic, was starting to feel uneasy. "So what you're saying is that the legends about Slaughterhouse Canyon are real? The hauntings, the spirits, everything?" John nodded. "I believe so. The legends have been passed down through generations for a reason.
Emily, who had been silent throughout John's story, finally spoke up. "Okay, I'm officially freaked out now."
This wasn't the kind of adventure I had in mind. I thought we were making a fun documentary not dealing with real pissed off spirits. Sarah, always the one to look on the bright side, tried to lift their spirits. Hey, think about it this way. If we capture some real paranormal activity, our documentary will be groundbreaking. We might even get national recognition. But the excitement of recognition did little to comfort the group, given their newfound fear of what lay in Slaughterhouse Canyon.
They continued discussing their project late into the night, all of them choosing to sleep in the living room instead of their respective rooms. As morning broke, they gathered their equipment and set out on their first exploration of Slaughterhouse Canyon. The atmosphere had changed overnight. The canyon was shrouded in an eerie mist that clung to the ground like a ghostly veil. Every rustling leave and distant sound sent shivers down their spines.
Sarah guided the group along the winding trail, which led deeper into the heart of the canyon. They passed a dilapidated shack that looked as if it hadn't been inhabited in years. Emily took pictures while Mike filmed the surroundings. John's eyes darted back and forth, as if he were searching for something he couldn't quite name. The sun was obscured by thick clouds casting a dim foreboding light over the canyon. The group moved forward, the tension in the air growing heavier with every step.
The eerie atmosphere made it clear that this place held many secrets, and John's previous experience weighed on everyone's minds. As they continued, Emily suddenly froze in her tracks, her face pale as she listened to distant whispers that seemed to echo from the very walls of the canyon. "'Did anyone else hear that?' she asked, her voice trembling. Mike, gripping his camera tightly, panned the area as the group listened intently."
Faint voices, like ethereal murmurs, reached their ears, carrying words that they couldn't quite decipher. The collective unease in the group grew, and Sarah fought to maintain her composure. I'm sure there's a logical explanation, she said, though her voice quivered. Let's keep moving and document as much as we can. With barely held together determination, they pressed deeper into the canyon, encountering strange whimpering sounds.
Unexplained drafts and eerie sensations, the weight of the past bore down on them, like a silent witness to the tragedies that had unfolded in Slaughterhouse Canyon. It was during one of their stops for filming and documentation that a bone-chilling scream echoed through the canyon, sending the group into a panic. Their flashlights flickered, casting menacing shadows that seemed to move independently. "Let's get out of here!"
John said, his voice trembling with fear. "This place is unholy." Sarah agreed, trying to maintain her leadership role. "Okay, okay. We'll retreat for now. We'll regroup at the cabin, examine our findings and make a plan to explore more tomorrow." The group scrambled to collect their equipment and hurried back towards the cabin, their every footstep heavy with trepidation. The canyon was no longer silent.
It seemed alive with whispers and eerie noises that followed them like specters. Once they returned to the cabin, they decided to rest. They gathered in the living room, which was now illuminated by the fire crackling in the fireplace. Everyone was on edge, unable to shake the feeling that they had crossed a threshold into an unseen world. By morning, the group had regrouped, but their conversations were filled with uncertainty and fear. They discussed the things they had felt and heard the day before.
realizing that Slaughterhouse Canyon held mysteries beyond their imagination. Sarah determined to push forward, pulled out her notebook and discussed the next steps. "We need to keep going, even if we have to get done before night. There's more to explore, more to document. We've already experienced so much. And we have a chance to create a groundbreaking documentary." Their discussion went on for a while as they tried to summon the courage to return to the canyon.
John's somber warning echoed in their minds, but Sarah's determination and the allure of recognition kept them going. They packed their gear and prepared to face the unknown once more, as they ventured back into Slaughterhouse Canyon. The day brought an entirely different sense of eeriness. The sun remained hidden behind the thick clouds, casting a diffused gray light over the landscape. Their footsteps seemed to echo with ominous resonance.
With each step they discovered remnants of the past. Old mining equipment lay rusted and abandoned, evidence of the hardships the miners had endured. Sarah documented everything, while Mike filmed the surroundings, their resolve wavering with each passing minute. The group stumbled upon an entrance to a cavern, a yawning maw that beckoned them forward with an irresistible curiosity. A cold draft swept out from within, carrying a haunting, almost mournful sound.
"We have to explore this cavern," Sarah said, her voice filled with a mix of fear and excitement. "This might be where we find the answers we're seeking." Mike nodded reluctantly, his camera at the ready. John took a deep breath and pushed forward, his earlier warning seemingly forgotten. Emily, now caught up in the collective momentum, followed closely behind.
Inside the cavern, their flashlights pierced the inky darkness, revealing the remnants of an old mining camp. Tents tattered and weathered still stood, and rusted lanterns dangled from skeletal frames. Nearby they found a journal, its pages filled with the desperate musings of a miner who had been trapped in the cavern, detailing a tale of betrayal and vengeance. Could this belong to the husband of the woman who haunted the canyon?
As they read, an eerie guttural moan echoed through the cavern, freezing their blood. They turned to find a spectral figure emerging from the darkness. The spirit was that of a miner who had met a gruesome end, his eyes burning with fiery rage. The specter didn't speak even though its mouth was moving. Instead, it just let out a threatening hiss.
Mike and Emily watched in horror. The specter reached out and wrapped its transparent fingers around John's neck. Mike and Emily watched in horror as the spirit's spectral hands tightened their grip on John's throat, his eyes rolling back in agony. Sarah and Mike attempted to free John, but the spirit's grip was unrelenting. Emily could only watch in terror as the spirit's anger grew more malevolent. Fearing for their lives and with no other options left,
Emily grabbed Mike's arm and pulled him away from the room, with Sarah following closely. They fled the cavern, leaving John behind in the clutches of the vengeful spirit. Emily dared to glance over her shoulder one last time, only to see John's lifeless body suspended in the air. As they emerged from the cavern, the realization of John's fate hung heavily over them. Their adventure had taken a tragic turn, and there was no turning back.
The supernatural forces of Slaughterhouse Canyon were far more potent and malevolent than they could have ever imagined. Sarah, the one who had driven them into this endeavor, was consumed by guilt and sorrow. She would never escape the realization that she had led her friends into a dangerous situation that had cost John his life. Thank you for joining us on our journey into Slaughterhouse Canyon.
Tune in next week as we discuss another terrorific location. I'm Carmen Carrion. Remember, you can send me suggestions and stories of haunted places to my email, carmencarion at gmail.com or follow me on Twitter at Carmen Carrion. Go to eeriecast.com to find other terrifying podcasts, such as Freaky Folklore, also hosted by me, Carmen Carrion.
Until next time, be safe out there, until I see you at our next destination.
