Chambers of the Occult - The Second Flame: Friday the 13th Campfire Stories

Episode Date: December 14, 2024

Gather 'round the fire once more, listeners! This Friday the 13th, Chambers of the Occult returns with a sequel to our spine-chilling special. In this bonus episode, we’re serving up even darker and more haunting tales to send shivers down your spine. Beware where you rest your head, for not all inns offer safe haven. Step cautiously among the dead, as their wake may be more alive than it seems. Face the creeping dread of the boogeyman, who waits patiently in the dark, and uncover the chilling truth of what lies beneath when the mask finally comes off.So stoke the fire and sharpen your wits, for the tales we tell may linger far longer than the night and some shadows are best left undisturbed.Send us a text

Chambers of the Occult may contain content that might not be suitable for all listeners. Listener discretion is advised. Hi. Hello. I did not freeze. You didn't freeze? Let's go! Hi, welcome back to Chambers of the Occults. Today is a special episode. Because it's Friday the 13th. Well, it will be when you guys are listening to this. Or when this comes out. But when this comes out, yeah, when this comes out. Yeah when this comes out it will be currently It it is not Friday the 13th, but that's okay in spirit. It is yeah, I'm Jay

I'm Kai and I'm your friendly disembodied boys Unless you check us out on YouTube. Yeah, and then you can see our faces. That's true. Oh crazy thought check us out on YouTube. Yeah. And then you can see our faces. That's true. Crazy thought. Anyway, yeah, we've got a special episode. I don't know if you guys were tuned in for our last special Friday the 13th episode, but we did some spooky stories, campfire stories, if you will,

and we're kind of bringing that back. Once again, let us know what you think, if you have any other ideas, but. Yeah, this time we have two stories for you each. And- I'm pretty excited. Hope you enjoy them. Yeah.

They're meant to be more of a treat compared to the typical like true crime paranormal. I would say, yeah. Because it's like, hey, let's take away, let's take a step away from reality which is already scary enough. And just have a little fun. Yeah unless you know not reality is more scary but that's for you to choose. Who knows? I think reality is a lot more scary especially with what we've talked about on this podcast. Fair.

Yeah. Yeah. Now, I don't remember who went first last time. Do we have a preference this time, Kai? Um, you know what? I don't know. But since your story might be longer, should we start with my shorter-ish story? Sure.

Yeah. Or I don't know how... Should we work our way from shorter shorter-ish story? Sure, yeah. Or I don't know, how about- Should we work our way from shorter story to longer story? What do we rock, paper, scissors? Well yeah, I'm fine with rock, paper, scissors. Okay, let's, okay, okay. Okay, it's rock, paper, scissors, shoot. Yeah, okay, on shoot we do it, right? Yeah, on shoot, yeah.

Rock, paper, scissors, shoot. Okay. Okay, rock, paper, scissors, shoot. Bro. Rock, paper, scissors, shoot. Rock, paper, scissors, shoot. Okay. I win. So you get to pick, right? Do you go first or do you go last? Yeah, yeah. I'll go first. Okay. Yeah. Yeah, yeah. I'm just... Okay. Got it. Okay, so I'll wrap up the story. It's cool.

I was just like trying to figure it out. I was like, how does that work? Cool Sounds good. All right. Well, I guess I'll get started you have my undivided attention You know who rolled doll is right listeners you guys know who rolled doll is who? Rolled doll. He's like a like a children's book author. I used to love his books growing up. What books did he write? Let me see. Rolled doll, popular books. He wrote...

What books did he write? The Big Friendly Giant. Love that. Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. Oh, okay. Yes. You know Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. Yes.

James and the Giant, Peach, Fantasies of Mr. Fox. Yeah. Matilda. So like awesome, awesome author. Something you all should know, like listeners, I know my movies, I know my books, I know my music, but when it comes to names, they don't stick. Valid. Yeah. But anyway, keep going. Yeah, he wrote multiple books. So Roald Dahl, you know, children's book author, but he had a darker side to him as well.

Did he write horror stories? Yeah, he did write horror stories. No, wait, okay. Yeah. He wrote a lot of horror stories? Yeah, he did write horror stories. No, wait, okay. Yeah. He wrote a lot of horror stories that he published, actually. Oh. They're mainly all short stories, and they're actually pretty fun.

So, in honor of that, I'm gonna get started with one of Roald Dahl's short horror stories. Okay, I'm excited. This one's called The Landlady. Cool. This one's called The Landlady. Billy Weaver had traveled down from London on the slow afternoon train with a change at reading on the way, and by the time he got to Bath, it was about nine o'clock in the evening, and the moon was coming up out of a clear starry sky over the house's opposite the station

entrance. But the air was deadly cold, and the wind was like a flat blade of ice on his cheeks. Excuse me, he said, but is there a fairly cheap hotel not too far away from here? Try the Bell and Dragon, the porter answered, pointing down the road. They might take you in. It's about a quarter of a mile along on the other side. Billy thanked him and picked up his suitcase and set out to walk the quarter mile to the Bell and Dragon. He had never been to Bath before. He didn't know anyone who lived there, but Mr. Greenslade at the head office in London had told him it was a splendid town.

Find your own lodgings, he had said, and then go along and report to the branch manager as soon as you've got yourself settled. Billy was 17 years old. He was wearing a new navy blue cover coat, a new brown shrilby hat, and a new brown suit, and he was feeling fine. He walked, hell yeah, he walked briskly down the street. He was trying to do everything briskly these days. Briskness, he had decided, was the one common characteristic of all successful businessmen. The big shots up

at the head office were absolutely fantastically brisk all the time. They were amazing. There were no shops on this wide street that he was walking along. Only a line of tall houses on each side, all of them identical. They had porches and pillars and four or five steps going up to their front doors, and it was obvious that once upon a time they had been very swanky residences. But now, even in the darkness, he could see that the paint was peeling from the woodwork on their doors and windows, and that the handsome white facades were cracked and blotchy from neglect.

Suddenly, in a downstairs window that was brilliantly illuminated by a streetlamp not six yards away, Billy caught sight of a printed notice propped up against the glass in one of the upper panes. It had said, bed and breakfast. There was a vase of yellow chrysanthemums, tall and beautiful, standing just underneath the notice. He stopped walking. He moved a bit closer. Green curtains, some sort of velvety material, were hanging down on either side of the window. The chrysanthemums

looked wonderful beside them. He went right up and peered the glass into the room, and the first thing he saw was a bright fire burning in the hearth. On the carpet in front of the fire, a pretty little dachshund was curled up asleep with its nose tucked into its belly. The room itself, so far as he could see in the half-darkness, was filled with pleasant furniture. There was a baby grand piano and a big sofa and several plump armchairs, and in one corner he spotted a large parrot in a cage. Animals were usually a good sign in a place like this, Billy told himself, and all in

all it looked to him as though it could be a pretty decent house to stay in. Certainly it would be more comfortable than the bell and dragon. On the other hand, a pub would be more congenial than a boarding house. There would be beer and darts in the evening and lots of people to talk to, and it would probably be a bit cheaper, too. He had stayed a couple of nights in a pub once before and he had liked it. He had never stayed in any boarding houses before, and to be perfectly honest, he was a tiny bit frightened of them. The name itself conjured up images of watery cabbage, rapacious land ladies,

and a powerful smell of kippers in the living room. After dithering about, like this in the cold for two or three minutes, Billy decided that he would walk on and take a look at the bell and dragon before making up his mind. He turned to go. And now a queer thing happened to him. He was in the act of stepping back and turning away from the window when all at once his eye was caught and held in the most peculiar manner by the small notice that was there. Bed and breakfast, it said. Bed and breakfast, bed and breakfast, bed and breakfast.

Each word was like a large black eye staring at him through the glass, holding him, compelling him, forcing him to stay where he was and not walk away from that house. The next thing he knew, he was actually moving across from the window to the front door of the house, climbing the steps that led up to it and reaching for the bell. He pressed the bell. Far away in a back room, he heard it ringing. Then at once, it must have been at once because he hadn't even taken time to take his finger from the bell button, the door swung open and a woman was standing there. Normally, you ring the bell and you have at least a half minute to wait before the door

opens, but this dame was like a jack in the box. He pressed the bell and ouch she popped. It made him jump. She was about 45 or 50 years old, and the moment she saw him, she gave him a warm, welcoming smile. Please come in, she said pleasantly. She stepped aside, holding the door wide open, and Billy found himself automatically starting forward. The compulsion, or more accurately, the desire to follow after her into that house was extraordinarily strong.

I saw the notice in the window, he said, holding himself back. Yes, I know. I was wondering about a room. It's all ready for you, my dear, she said. She had a round pink face and very gentle blue eyes. I was on my way to the bell and dragon, Billy told her, but the notice in your window just happened to catch my eye. My dear boy, she said, why don't you come in out of the cold?

How much do you charge? Five and six pence a night, including breakfast. It was fantastically cheap, it was less than half of what he had been willing to pay. If that is too much, she added, then perhaps I can reduce it just a tiny bit. Do you desire an egg for breakfast? Eggs are expensive at the moment. It would be six pence less without the egg.

Side note, eggs are still expensive today. Which is just kind of funny. Five and six pence is fine, he answered. I should like very much to stay here. I knew you would. Do come in. She seemed terribly nice. She looked exactly like the mother of one's best school friend, welcoming one into the house to stay for the Christmas holidays.

Billy took off his hat and stepped over the threshold. Just hang it there, she said, and let me help you with your coat. There were no other hats or coats in the hall. There were no umbrellas, no walking sticks. Nothing. We have it all to ourselves, she said, smiling at him over her shoulder as she led the way upstairs. You see, it isn't very often I have the pleasure of taking a visitor into my little nest. "'The old girl is slightly dotty,' Billy told himself. But at five and sixpence a night? Who cares about that?

I should have thought you'd be simply swamped with applicants,' he said politely. "'Oh, I am, my dear, I am, of course I am. But the trouble is that I'm inclined to be just a teeny-weeny bit choosy on particular, if you see what I mean. Uh, yes. But I'm always ready. Everything is always ready, day and night, in this house, just on the off chance that an acceptable young gentleman will come along.

And it is such a pleasure, my dear, such a very great pleasure, when now and again I open the door and I see someone standing there who is just exactly right." She was halfway up the stairs, and she paused with one hand on the stair rail, turning her head and smiling down at him with pale lips. Like you, she added. And her blue eyes traveled slowly all the way down the length of Billy's body, to his feet, and then up again. On the second floor landing, she said to him, this floor is mine.

They climbed up another flight, and this one is all yours,' she said. "'Here's your room. I do hope you'll like it.'" She took him into a small but charming front bedroom, switching on the light as she went in. "'The morning sun comes right in the window, Mr. Perkins. It is Mr. Perkins, isn't it?' "'No,' he said.

It's Weaver.' "'Mr. Weaver, how nice. I put a water bottle between the sheets to air Weaver. Mr. Weaver, how nice. I put a water bottle between the sheets to air them out, Mr. Weaver. It's such a comfort to have a hot water bottle in a strange bed with clean sheets, don't you agree? And you may light the gas fire at any time if you feel chilly. Thank you, Billy said. Thank you ever so much.

He noticed that the bread's bed had been taken off the bed and that the bedclothes had been neatly turned back on one side, all ready for someone to get in. I'm so glad you appeared, she said, looking earnestly into his face. I was beginning to get worried. That's all right, Billy answered brightly. You mustn't worry about me. He put his suitcase on the chair and started to open it. And what about supper, my dear? Did you manage to get anything to eat before you came here? I'm not a bit hungry. Thank you, he said.

I think I'll just go to bed as soon as possible because tomorrow I've got to get up rather early and report to the office. Very well then. I'll leave you now so that you can unpack. But before you go to bed, would you be kind enough to pop into the sitting room on the ground floor and sign the book? Everyone has to do that because it's the law of the land and we don't want to go breaking any laws at this stage in the proceedings, do we? She gave him a little wave of the hand and went quickly out of the room and closed the door. Now the fact that this landlady appeared to be slightly off her rocker didn't worry Billy in the least.

After all, she was not only harmless, there was no question about that, but she was also quite obviously a kind and generous soul. He guessed that she had probably lost a son in the war, or something like that, and had never gotten over it. So a few minutes later, after unpacking his suitcase and washing his hands, he trotted downstairs to the ground floor and entered the living room. His landlady wasn't there, but the fire was glowing in the hearth, and little dachshund that was still sleeping soundly in front of it. The room was wonderfully warm and cozy.

I'm a lucky fellow, he thought, rubbing his hands. This is a bit of all right. He found the guestbook lying open on the piano, so he took out his pen and wrote down his name and address. There were only two other entries above his on the page, and as one always does with guestbooks, he started to read them. One was a Christopher Mulholland from Cardiff. The other was Gregory W. Temple from Bristol.

That's funny, he thought suddenly. Christopher Moholland. It rings a bell. Now where on earth had he heard that rather unusual name before? Was it a boy at school? No. Was it one of his sister's numerous young men, perhaps? Or a friend of his father's? No, no, it wasn't any of those. He glanced down again at the book. Christopher Mulholland. 231 Cathedral Road, Cardiff. Gregory W. Temple. 27 Sycamore Drive, Bristol. As a matter of fact, now he came to think of it, he wasn't at all sure that the second name didn't have almost as much of a familiar ring about it as the first. Gregory Temple, he said aloud, searching his memory.

Christopher Mulholland? Such charming boys. A voice behind him answered. Then he turned and saw his landlady sailing into the room with a large silver tea tray in her hands. She was holding it well out in front of her and rather high up as though the tray were a pair of reins on a frisky horse. They sound somehow familiar, he said.

They do? How interesting. I'm almost positive I've heard those names before somewhere. Isn't that odd? Maybe it was in the newspapers. They weren't famous in any way, were they? I mean famous cricketers or footballers or something like that. Famous, she said, setting the tea tray down on a low table in front of the sofa.

Oh no, I don't think they were famous. But they were incredibly handsome. Both of them. I can promise you that. They were tall and young and handsome, my dear. Just exactly like you." Once more Billy glanced down at the book. Look here, he said, noticing the dates. This last entry is over two years old. It is? Yes, indeed. And Christopher Mulholland is nearly a year before that, more than three years ago. Dear me, she said, shaking her head and having a dainty little sigh.

I would have never thought it. How time does fly away from us all, doesn't it, Mr. Wilkins? It's Weaver, Billy said. W-E-A-V-E-R. Oh, of course it is, she cried, sitting down on the sofa. How silly of me, I do apologize. In one ear and out the other, that's me, Mr. Weaver. You know something, Billy said?

Something that's really quite extraordinary about all of this? No, dear, I don't. Well, you see, both of these names, Mulholland and Temple, I not only seem to remember each one of them separately, so to speak, but somehow or other in some peculiar way, they both appear to be sort of connected together as well, as they are both famous for the same sort of thing, if you see what I mean. Like, well, Dempsey and Tunny, for example, or Churchill and Roosevelt. How amusing, she said. But come over here now, dear, and sit down beside me on the sofa, and I'll give you

a nice cup of tea and a ginger biscuit before you go to bed. You really shouldn't bother, Billy said. I didn't mean you to do anything like that. He stood by the piano, watching her as she fussed about with the cups and saucers. He noticed that she had small, white, quickly moving hands and red fingernails. I'm almost positive it was in the newspapers I saw them, Billy said. I'll think of it in a second, I'm sure I will. There is nothing more tantalizing than a thing like this that lingers just outside the borders of one's memory.

He hated to give up. Now, wait a minute, he said. Wait just a minute. Mulholland. Christopher Mulholland. Wasn't that the name of the eaten, the Eden Schoolboy who was on a walking tour through the West Country, and then all of a sudden, milk? She said.

And sugar? Uh, yes please. And then all of a sudden, Eden Schoolboy?" she said. And sugar? Uh, yes please. And then all of a sudden, Etton's schoolboy? She said, Oh no, my dear, that can't possibly be right, because my Mr. Holmohallen was certainly not an Etton's schoolboy when he came to me. He was a Cambridge undergraduate. Come over here now and sit next to me and warm yourself in front of this lovely fire. Come on, your tea's all ready for you." She padded the empty place beside her on the sofa, and she sat there smiling at Billy and

waiting for him to come over. He crossed the room slowly and sat down on the edge of the sofa. She placed his teacup on the table in front of him. There we are, she said. How nice and cozy this is, isn't it? Billy started sipping his tea. She did the same. For half a minute or so, neither of them spoke, but Billy knew that she was looking at him.

Her body was half turned toward him, and he could feel her eyes resting on his face, watching him over the rim of her teacup. Now and again, he caught a whiff of a peculiar smell that seemed to emanate directly from her person. It was not in the least unpleasant, and it reminded him, well, he wasn't sure what it reminded him of. Pickled walnuts? New leather? Or was it the corridors of a hospital? At length, she said. Mr. Mulholland was a great one for his tea. Never in my life have I seen anyone drink as much tea as dear, sweet Mr Mulholland. I suppose he left fairly recently, Billy said.

He was still puzzling his head about the two names. He was positive now that he had seen them in the newspapers, in the headlines. Left, she said, arching her eyebrows. But my dear boy, he'd never left. He's still here. Mr. Temple is also here. They're on the fourth floor, both of them together. Billy set his cup down slowly on the table and stared at his landlady.

She smiled back at him, and then put out one of her white hands and patted him comfortably on the knee. — How old are you, my dear? She asked. —Seventeen. —Seventeen! She cried. —Oh, it's the perfect age!

Mr. Mulholland was also seventeen. But I think he was a trifle shorter than you are. In fact, I'm sure he was, and his teeth weren't quite so white. —You have the most beautiful teeth, Mr. Weaver. Did you know that?" They're not as good as they look, Billy said. They've got simply masses of fillings in them at the back. Mr. Temple, of course, was a little older, she said, ignoring his remark. He was actually twenty-eight, and yet I never would have guessed it if he hadn't told me.

Never in my whole life there was a blemish on his body. A what? Billy said. His skin was just like a baby's. There was a pause. Billy picked up his teacup and took another sip of his tea. Then he set it down gently again and it sauced him. He waited for her to say something else, but she seemed to have lapsed into another of her silences. He sat there staring straight ahead of him into the far corner of the room, biting his lower lip.

"'That parrot,' he said at last. "'You know something? It had completely fooled when I first saw it through the window. I could have sworn it was alive.' "'Alas, no longer. It's most terribly clever the way it's been done,' he said. "'It doesn't look in the least bit dead. Who did it?' "'I did.' "'You did?' "'Of course,' he said. It doesn't look in the least bit dead. Who did it? I did. You did? Of course, she said.

And have you met my little Basil here as well? She nodded toward the docks and, the curled up so comfortably in front of the fire, Billy looked at it, and suddenly he realized that this animal had all the time been just as silent and motionless as the parrot. He put out a hand and touched it gently on the top of its back. The back was hard and cold, and when he pushed the hair to one side with his fingers, he could see the skin underneath. Greyish black and dry and perfectly preserved.

Good gracious me, he said. How absolutely fascinating. He turned away from the dog and stared with deep admiration at the little woman beside him on a sofa. It must be most awfully difficult to do a thing like that. Not in the least, she said. I stuff all my little pets myself when they pass away. Will you have another cup of tea?

No, thank you, Billy said. The tea tasted faintly of bitter almonds and he didn't care much for it. You did sign the book, didn't you? Oh, yes. That's good, because later on, if I happen to forget what you were called, then I could always come down here and look it up. I still do that almost every day with Mr. Mulholland and Mr. Mr. Temple, Billy said. Gregory Temple. Excuse my asking, but haven't there been any other guests here

except them in the last two or three years? Holding her teacup high in one hand and cladding her head slightly to the left, she looked up at him out of the corners of her eyes and gave him another gentle little smile. No, my dear, she said. Only you. No, my dear she said only you And that's the story no What you think I loved it and You Kai you play a wonderful creepy lady. Do I? Perfect.

Um, no, that's all. I love the suspense of it. I loved how it just ends. Oh, yeah, sorry. It's like the the freaking like dead animals that are like taxidermied threw me off and he's like, this people are still here up on the fourth floor. Then real quick, I got into the true crime brain because you're like, oh yeah, the tea smells.

Almonds. Almonds. Cyanide. Yeah. Only 20 to 40 percent of the population can smell the almonds. Cyanide. Yeah. Only 20 to 40 percent of the population can smell the almonds. So. Cyanide. Yep. I really like this. That was a good story, right? Yeah, for sure. And like, I don't know, I wouldn't have, I would have never expected that from a children's book author, but that's so good.

Sometimes they gotta like break the mold and write something else. And I would say never expected that from a children's book author, but that's so good. Sometimes they got to break the mold and write something else. And I would say that they were successful. Hell yeah. So thank you. Other than that, I think that was all... Yeah. Yeah. Okay. Cool. Thank you.

Now, I have a story that was, oh, just published last year, at least on this website, and the name of the story is called Ashes to Sawdust. Okay. So let's get started. Yeah. So let's get started. Yeah. Before going inside, Deborah stopped at the front of the walk to pluck dried rose buds away from Nancy's bushes. They'd been left neglected after she died.

Raymond stepped away from her and took the opportunity to light a cigarette. He knew better than anyone how the years of smoking had been the culprit in his mother's death, but he had to do something to keep his hands from trembling. Deborah glazed at him over the shoulder. His haircut was still fresh, a little too short, but he looked put together in his suit. He wore grief well. We can pay a gardener to come look after this, she said, rolling a desiccated bud in her palm before it crumpled to dust. I don't know, Raymond said, looking over the bushes.

He didn't recognize them. They're plants, let them grow how they want. These aren't native, they'll die if nobody takes care of them. I don't know, he said again, turning away to pull on his cigarette. He let the smoke trickle from his nose. We'll figure it out. Standing at Raymond's side, she opened her mouth and tried to push out anything that might have given some comfort. When she found there wasn't anything she could even fake, Deborah just sighed and took

his free hand in her own, squeezing it. It was a stupid idea, he said, spitting his words like they had been stuck in his teeth. We should have just cremated her, or did the tree thing she wanted. It's not stupid, Deborah pulled him closer and wrapped an arm around his waist. Lots of people around here do it this way. She wouldn't have wanted it if Raymond took out his cigarette and blew smoke through the clenched teeth. You think this is a religious thing? Mom hated that shit. She even had one of those drawing fish things on her car. She'd

hate me for this. This isn't for Nancy though. If this is how you want to do it, then fine. But before Raymond could put the cigarette back into his lips, Deborah stole it from his fingers, took one small drag, and then flicked it into the street where it skipped across the black tub like a lively spark. Funerals aren't for the dead. They're for everyone else. What you want is more important. No it isn't, Raymond said, his voice sour. He paused, then pulled her close to his side, his finger sliding through her short, dark hair. Thank you, he said, but you're wrong. Mr. Scherver shouted an unfamiliar voice.

They both turned to find a thing attractive attractive black man standing on the lawn. He was sharply dressed in a black and a dark purple suit with shiny black shoes that looked like huge beetles on the grass. On his hands he held a cross on his waist. He wore nearly a dozen rings, some silver with huge stones, some only on strips of leather won't wound around his finger. The expensive, well-fitted suit stood in a sharp contrast to the necklace of bones strung around his neck.

Here we go! Raymond mumbled to Debra before putting on a smile on his face. Sorry, we're just coming in. Stopping for a smoke break. No trouble, no trouble. Parties just getting started, said the man, his rings clinking together as he took Raymond's hand. He had a deep voice and you could feel your chest on a thick crelo cre creole creole accent um only once she was close to devra no only once she was closed that devra noticed that the mask of tattoos on the man's dark face when his eyes met hers it was like a spotlight that had turned on somewhere above her. We haven't had the pleasure, said the man. He extended his hand.

Mr. Bonventure. Oh nice to meet you, Deborah said, automatically shaking his hand. I'm Deborah Raymond's wife and you are ah. She glassed at her husband for help. Caretaker finished Mr. Bonventure with a sight not for Miss Nancy. Is she ready? Is she? Raymond stammered. Oh, she's ready for you. The caretaker smiled, stepping aside, gesturing to the door. Go on. She's been waiting all day. Raymond hesitated, taking a step back towards Deborah. She managed to wiggle her hands between his, breaking them apart while giving him a firm

squeeze. Her heels clicked on the stone as she walked towards the door. Mr. Bonventure glided behind him, closing the door as he went. Nancy was a child of the 60s and her home showed it. Artwork, some of her old and others, artworks for friends. It gave the white walls a burst of psychedelic color, blown glass, bottles hung in the windows,

a cast of luminous shadows over a worn carpet. Every square inch of the empty space was taken up by plants, most of them ferns, spilling over their pots and oar vines, winding up in poles. Mourner sat on the re-upholstered furniture and hand-knitted quilts, struggling to find comfort in the chairs made it look difficult. They looked up at Deborah and Raymond when they entered the room. Familiar faces all around them. Raymond had no siblings and his father was a mystery, leaving Deborah the only other family present. Nancy, magnetically charismatic, filled her life with friends and lovers, one often becoming the other.

There were smiles, greetings, and friendly touch or two, but all were avoiding the eye contact, keeping the words short and maintaining a distance from Raymond. As Mr. Von Venture perched himself in a chair in the corner of the living room, he looked at the watchful bird of prey. Deborah noticed what the mourners were all avoiding in the kitchen. Raymond was on his way there. The kitchen was empty aside from a small thin woman standing to the left of the stove. Her back to the door, she had long gray hair that trailed down her back, nearly reaching

her waist and wore a white peasant dress with white sleeves embroidered with a kaleidoscope of flowers. The edge faded, the edge of a faded tattoo on her upper shoulder peeked through the collar. She was chopping green onions on a worn cutting board, pushing the roots aside with the back of her hand to compost later. Her feet were bare on the floor. When Reymard entered, he stopped and she turned to face him. Took your time, didn't you? Party's just getting started. Deborah lingered in the doorway, struck with revulsion. Nancy's skin was waxy and dry, and the wrinkles in her face smoothed flat, being refitted to her skull.

Her mouth was too wide, too thin, her teeth unnaturally wide, her eyes, two glass marbles with flat irises, stared in slightly opposite directions, unmoving. They were too small to completely feel the sockets, leaving a small gap where Deborah could see the darkness behind Nancy's face. It was worse when she moved, twitching with sudden jolts and the limited range of an animatronic doll. But Raymond didn't see any of those things. All he saw was his mother. Without a word, he approached Nancy,

half stumbling across the kitchen tile. He took her hand, her skin caressed like dried leather, and he brought it to his cheek. Nancy did the rest, giving him another unsettling smile and running her fingers through his hair. The sleeve fell back, revealing Deborah, a thick seam running down from her wrist.

Everything okay, Rockstar? She said. It was her voice, but muffled and distant, like she was speaking through cotton. Yeah, yeah, Raymond's voice wavered, his lips trembling. He took her hand back into his hand and squeezed it. I'm okay, mom. Um, it's... I don't think I'd get used to seeing you like this again. Not see me again? You can come over whenever you want, that is. She ruffled his hair like she's done to Raymond since he was a boy. You know where I am. Yeah, I guess I do. After taking the knife out of Nancy's hand, Raymond pulled his mother into a hug,

burying his face into the nape of her neck, and winding his fingers through her long hair. Deborah backed out of the kitchen. She could feel her pulse thumping through her hand as she bit down on her finger. This wasn't what she expected. This was wrong, and everything human in her body told her so. She wanted to run to grab Raymond by the collar and drag him out to the car by force. But her husband's joy was the only thing that stopped her. He'd been inconsolable since Nancy died, rarely sleeping and eating even less. If this is what it took to put a smile back on his

face, was it worth it? Deborah nearly stepped on one of the shiny stones of Mr. Bonaventure, Deborah nearly stepped on one of the shiny stones of Mr. Bonaventure, who was watching Raymond and Nancy with a finger against his lip. Satisfied, he asked her. She looked back at Nancy and shuddered. She looks horrible. You were expecting different? He said. It wasn't a question. Mr. Bonaventure crossed his hands over his chest, closed his eyes, miming a body in a coffin. Something like this. She doesn't even look like herself anymore. You'd be wanting a body to lay still like you go using chemicals, glue, embalming fluids.

You'd be wanting a body to get up and talk, sing, dance. It ain't gonna look the same. She's not embalmed? Then what Deborah face turned white? I should turn to look at Nancy's glass eyes. No! Can't be using no chemicals now. Makes the joints too stiff and the skin too hard. Got to keep it natural for the magic to do its thing. Herbs, rope, and a little bit of sawdust. Taxidermy? Deborah whispered. Jesus Christ. Mr. Raymond knew all about that fucking vile. You skinned her like a rug and stuffed her? Oh shit. I tell you the truth. I've done nothing your husband didn't know about first. You can't tell me he let you do this to his own mother and expect me to believe you.

Does he look upset to you? Ms. Bon Venture said, gesturing over to Deborah's shoulder. this to his own mother and expect me to believe you. Does he look upset to you? Miss Bonventure said, gesturing over to Deborah's shoulder. Raymond was holding Nancy by the shoulders, muttering as he gazed lovingly into her false eyes. He hadn't stopped smiling since the moment he first touched him. Sometimes, Mr. Bonventure said, sometimes, it don't matter how we get somebody back, as long as they're here.

He patted her on the shoulder, his rings clinking together. You be sure to tell me if Miss Raymond, Mr. Raymond needs anything. He left her, his hard shoes clicking on the tile as he walked away. Raymond appeared in the kitchen doorway, his eyes red and puffy above the gleaning smile on his face. Hey Deb, Mom's asking for you, he said, his voice giddy. She wants to know what you used for that Indian sauce you made for her birthday. I, um, Debra clenched her hands together, putting on her, pulling on her fingers. It was coconut milk, minced garlic.

Don't tell me, tell her that. He puts back, he puts his back to the doorframe, making room for her to be able to walk into the kitchen. Deborah fell her throat close up, close up as she glanced over the shoulder, searching for eye contact with anyone in the room. With no other options, she shuffled forward with tiny steps, her breath becoming faster the closer she got to Nancy's walking corpse. Hey!

Raymond caught her by the shoulders and spoke into her ear. It's just mom, okay? There's nothing to be afraid of. It's just her. She's dead. I know, I know. He sighed, tucking a lock of her hair behind her ear. But it's still her. Taking a spot next to the sink, Deborah stared into a bowl and fought for the strength to look up while whatever was left of Nancy was putting along next to her. Debbie, what was the name of that Indian chicken thing you made for us? said Nancy, even muffled

and flat. It was still her voice. Tika something right? Tika Masala, Deborah said, failing to raise her voice above a terrified whisper. Tika Masala, that's what it was. I had the damnedest time trying to find that recipe on the internet until I realized I didn't even have the name right. Nancy laughed and turned to smile with her mask like face. Debra forced one in return, her eyes trailing down the cutting board. There was a small pile of sliced green onions on the counter but Nancy was continuing to chop the empty air. What?

Deborah swallowed. What are you making? Oh, just throwing something together. Nancy froze, the knife dangling from her weak fingers. You know, something... I don't even remember what I was doing. She laughed. A distant sound that pumped ice through Deborah's veins.

Fuck. Oh, fuck. Fuck, I can't, I can't do this. Nearly tripping on her heels, Deborah stumbled away from the sink. Nancy's blind eyes following her. She would have been backpedaled all the way out to the front door if Raymond had not been there to catch her. Deb, it's okay, it's okay, he squeezed her shoulder trying to turn her face to him.

But the last thing Deborah wanted was to be put back near Nancy's corpse. Of course. No, I can't. I can't. With a twist of her shoulder, she tore out Raymond's hands and whirled around at his face. This was a bad idea. We need to leave. I want to go home. Please, Deb. I know, okay? I know what it looks like, but it's mom. It's just mom. It's too much, Rhea. It's okay. It's too... Deborah grasped at the air, her mouth open as she struggled to find the words. Ray? You back there?

Called Nancy from the kitchen, sending chills crawling up Debra's back. It got worse every time she spoke. We don't have any cheese left. Do we? I could have sworn we just bought some. Be there in a minute, Raymond shouted as he put his hands on Debra's shoulder again, but gently without holding her there. Debra, this is my last day with her. The last one. After that, she's gone. I'm seeing the same things you are, but I need this. And if there's any time

I needed you, this is it. Sniffing, his eyes retten. He half collapsed into her arms, squeezing her. Deborah fell hot, wet, tear against her neck. She's my mom, Raymond whispered. She's my mom. Deborah struggled to hold both of them up tight as Raymond weighed, sagged against her. The sound of Nancy's body moving in the kitchen were drowned out by his breath, close to her ear. She joined in with a sigh and patted

Raymond's back like a child. I'll try. I won't forget this, he sighed, giving her another squeeze. Raymond wiped his eyes with the sleeve of his jacket and gave Deborah a kiss on the forehead before slipping past her into the kitchen. Hey mom, forget about lunch for a minute. You're ignoring everyone out there. They don't want to see me until I can feed them, said Nancy. She tottered on stiff She tottered on stiff legs that were never meant to move, looking as frail as a scarecrow, and Raymond walked out of the kitchen. Debra stepped away, put her back against the wall. Then we'll order some pizzas or something, okay? Don't spend all day in the kitchen. All that time in the kitchen is why I can cook more than a ham sandwich now. You're lucky I didn't give you food poisoning when you were little.

No way, you were a great mom, you always were. As Raymond and Nancy passed, Deborah saw what looked like a dozen of thin spider webs trailing from the dead woman's back. It was a gloomy day outside. When the clouds passed over the sun and darkened the room, she followed the ethereal strings through the trail. They cut through the air. They led back to Mr. Bonventure's fingertips. As he sat in the chair in the back of the room, it wasn't life, just kind of puppetry that resembled it. Raymond walked Nancy to the couch and sat down next to her. Her still-living friends kept their

distance given the two of them looks. Francine put her hands over her mouth and she kept them there for nearly 10 minutes. Her husband George had his chin in his hands and he watched with a revolt fascination, usually reserved for car crashes. Ed was staring out the window and his hands balled up into fists. Dean glared with naked contempt at both of them. His hands gripped the head of his cane like he was ready to start swinging. Mr. Bonventure looked like he wanted to laugh, but he had the good sense not to.

Nancy's glassy eyes stared out from her paper face. Her white smile fanned out like a thin slit cut in fabric. What was that pizza you always liked? Raymond asked. The one nobody else ever wanted to eat? Pineapple, ham and honey said Nancy counting them off her fingers. Her joints popped and rustled like old newspapers and If it wasn't nobody Ed was usually the one who'd split it with me. Isn't that right? Ed said nothing only daring to look at Nancy out of the corner of his eye. Shuddering at the sight of her, he crossed his arms and turned back to the window, shifting

his weight from foot to foot. "'You made me eat so much sweet pizza, I can't stand it anymore,' Raymond said with a smile. "'Now people look at me funny when I put salt on it. Kiddo, what do you what you do to pizza is worth it is worse than anything I've ever got. Ray used to get those little squares of sandwiches and cheese and lay them all over his slice until they melted then eat it. I should point out though that you were always the one that let me eat stuff like that. This is disgusting, growled Dean in his Scottish accent, using his cane to rise from the armchair and he crossed to the living room towards the door, scowling at Raymond all the time. You hear me?

This is disgusting and you know it is. Dean, you're not leaving already, are you? Nancy asked, turning to look at his empty chair instead of the man. We haven't eaten yet. If nobody else wants to say it, I will, he continued pointing at Raymond. This is wrong. What you've done, I don't care who you are. It's desecration. Desecration of a woman I loved, and I'll have no more of it." With as much of a strength as a man his age could muster, Dean took his coat from the

hook, threw it over his shoulders, and slammed the door behind him as he left. No one rose to stop him. Oh, Dean, said Nancy, sighing without breath. He's always so dramatic, usually needs a day or two to cool down. Raymond nodded, but remained silent as he started to point at the carpet. Despite the chill in her spine, Deborah sat by him on the couch and squeezed his hand.

She made sure to put Raymond in between her and Nancy. When we were dating, you know, back in the dinosaur times, it was almost quicker just to get him off whenever his temper flared up, said Nancy. In life, her blue sense of humor always got laughed. Now the only one to smile was Mr. Bon Venture who chuckled deep in his throat with a voice that could crumble stone. She got some fire in her blood, he said smirking at Raymond. I can see why you wanted her back. Be right back, Raymond muttered. He leapt to his feet, jerking out of Deborah's grip as she tried to stop him, and disappeared into the nearby bathroom, leaving her sitting next tobra's grip as she tried to stop him, and disappeared into the nearby

bathroom leaving her sitting next to Nancy's taxidermy courts. Oh god, Debra whispered, feeling her skin crawl. Wasn't my cooking? said Nancy. Not this time, at least. She turned to Debra, one eye facing her while the other gazed over at the ceiling. You want to hear something funny? I forgot why we got together. I've thrown so many of these things, I can't even remember the occasion. I really am getting old. A sick kind of pity filled Debra's stomach. With her hand clenched on her lap to keep them from

shaking, she moved closer to Nancy while avoiding touching her. Nancy, pausing, Debra glanced over her shoulder towards the bathroom door, still closed. This is your wake. Your funeral's tomorrow. She dared to unclasp her hands and put one over Nancy's. It felt cool to the touch and smooth as paper. "...You passed away last week." Something peculiar flickered across Nancy's face, a kind of polite confusion. It was like Deborah had briefly spoken to her in a foreign language and Nancy was simply pretending to understand. With a faint nod and patronizing smile, she patted Deborah on the hand and said, well, either way, any excuse to have everyone

together is a good one. Ain't gonna work, Miss Shriver said Mr. Bonventure, even as his deep voice filled the room. Nancy didn't seem to hear him. Miss Nancy, her soul ain't all the way here. Got blinders on. Can't see what we see. It's really fascinating work you've done," said George, leaning closer to the armrest to speak to Bonventure.

I used to study with some folk folks back home, some folklore traditions in the area, back when I taught in college, but I've never heard of taxidermy being part of it. Is this a popular practice where you're from? No, Mr. Bonventure, said Toyne with one of the bones around his neck. Oh, well, I imagine it's probably reserved for special cases then. No, he said again, his voice flapped. Back home? We let the dead have their rest.

So, you're willing to reanimate for customers but not yourself? George asked. Why would that be? Mr. Bomb Ventures shrugged and gestured vaguely towards the bathroom door where Raymond was still behind. Whatever people want to pay for. With a flush in of the toilet that seemed to be performative, Raymond slipped out of the bathroom, rubbing his hands together in the dim light.

Only Deborah could see the puffiness around his eyes. There you are. I was about to call the Coast Guards and tell them you fell in, she said. Sorry, Mom. Fast food ran right through me. You want to do you want anything to drink? Raymond, stop at the kitchen doorway. Pour me a glass of Merlot. And I have it in the pantry if you don't mind.

Ms. Bonventure shook his head then pointed to his throat and mimed a sewing motion. Uh, sorry, looks like the bottle's empty. Shit. Did I put back a dead one again? I swear, I thought I had another glass left. Nancy waved a hand, the scars on her wrist only inches away from Deborah's face. Never mind, never mind the wine. Just quit neglecting your poor old mom and get back here.

Neglecting? I came by to visit every week since college, Raymond said as he sat opposite on Debra's mother's left side. He lifted her fragile hand, kissed it. I love you, Mom. Don't say I neglected you. Come on, Rockstar. I was kidding around.

Nancy pulled Raymond closer and kissed him on the forehead. Everybody knows you're the best thing I ever did with my life. You had a great life, though. You did a lot of stuff. You met so many people. Had a... Raymond stopped and choked down a saw as his eyes betrayed him. Had a good time. I regret I didn't travel more before I had you though. I always wanted to go to Europe. Franny remembers our trip to Greece. Nancy leaned around Raymond looking around at Francine, who flinched violently at the attention.

I wish we'd managed to go to Cyprus. Why didn't we? Well, we we couldn't go because Francine's high voice trembled as she looked on the verge of tears. We wanted to go by boat, but the charter was too expensive. Why didn't we fly? It was too close to the end of our trip. We wouldn't have made our flight home in time. At precisely the wrong moment, a small beetle with a tortoise shell pattern crawled out of the grasp of Nancy's eye socket. Oh, ew. It perched for a moment in the center of her glass pupil, rubbing its legs together, then crawled down her face and disappeared in her open mouth. She didn't seem to notice.

Oh, God, Francine whimpered, her hands gripping her mouth. She leapt out of the chair and ran to the front, her face totally blanched. I can't, I can't, I can't, I can't. Fran, George hurried outside after her, leaving the front door open. They could all hear Francine and her hysterics from the front lawn, gasping for air, babbling for the whole block to hear. Ed watched them through the window, his brows furrowed, turning for the first time in a long time. He stared at Nancy with a silent for a sec- he stared at Nancy for a silent minute, his jaw working behind his pursed lips. Then without a word, he crossed the room and took his coat from Raymond, took his coat from the hook behind the doors. I'll see you tomorrow for service,

he said to Raymond. I'm sorry for your loss loss. What's the hurry, Eddie? Nancy asked, but before she could finish asking, he was out. Listen, I think I better take Franny home. This has all been a little too much for her to handle. Thank you for inviting us. He gathered up Francine's jacket while he was putting on his own. He stopped to look at Nancy. I'll see you tomorrow then.

Night George, Nancy chirped. Don't be a stranger. I won't, he said softly. You know I won't. Then he was gone, leaving silence in his wake. Once they were alone, Ms. Bonventure scowled and fished out a long pair of metal tweezers from his jacket pocket. Clicking his tongue, he moved the strand over Nancy's and tilted her head back, forcing her mouth open, without resistance like she was a life-sized doll.

"'Little fellas get everywhere,' he said, holding the tool like a pencil. As he searched inside of Nancy's mouth, it looked as dry as the rest of her. Like fleas on an old dog. Hey, be careful, said Raymond as Ms. Bonventured angled her head towards the light. I'd be as careful as I need to be. With a sigh, he retracted the tweezers with care, the beetle trapped between it. After the return of the tweezers, he removed a silver watch from his pocket. Our time is nearly up. Nearly up, Raymond said his eyes wide. It's not even dark yet.

How can it be over? Miss Nancy, her soul be split up between here and there, said Miss Bonventure, while talking with his hands. When the body die, the soul leaks away real slow. We can stop it. Hold it for a little while, but not forever. Not yet, Raymond said, his head shaking just a little longer. One more day, I'll pay double, triple, anything just to keep her here one more day. Can't do that.

Ain't up to me. We hold Ms. Nancy's soul in place too long. Might try finding its own way out. Nobody wants that. One day that's all that I'm asking for. That's Raymond trailed off as Mr. Bonventure shook his head once again. To Deborah's surprise, instead of giving up, her husband started to get angry. You told me it lasts a full day, right? If the sun's still up, it doesn't look like a full day to me. It takes time to clean the soul out of the body.

Don't want nothing left behind, or you might have Miss Nancy waking up in her coffin. up in her coffin. Ray, he knows what he's doing, Deborah said, standing in front of the couch with her husband by her husband's side. Nancy was still lifeless, her head tilted back and her mouth wide open. Looking down she could see the back of her throat was sewn shut with black thread. We all knew it was only for the day, maybe a little less. It's so lucky we were able to spend a little bit more time with her. But she needs to rest. Okay. She took his arm in both hands pulling him closer. Sweat coming down his forehead. His

anger was righteous and he didn't want to let it go. Raymond's gaze softened as Deborah looked and she pleaded with him. She couldn't tell him what she really felt, that this ghoulish puppet of Nancy was better off in the ground, but she could at least urge him into doing the right thing. When the anger was gone, he looked at her like a scared child, his eyes wide and his shoulders limp. With a sigh, he pulled him closer and touched her forehead to his, swaying together from side to side like they were slow dancing. Say goodbye, okay? Deborah whispered as she entwined her fingers around Raymond's. You didn't get to last time. Now you can. Okay, Raymond said.

So quiet even Deborah could barely hear him. Even in the dim lights he was pale. With a sniff, he wiped a hand down his face and turned to Mr. Bonventure. We need a minute, can you wait outside? He gave the two of them a short formal bow, then let Raymond down the steps. Once he was outside, Raymond slammed the door, hesitant for a moment. Then he slid the deadbolt, closed it with a metallic clank. "'What are you doing?' asked Deborah. "'Mr. Bomb Venture must have heard the door locked.' "'Mr. Shriver?' he shouted, voice muffled like Nancy.

"'Raymond, you're making a mistake. Thank you for everything. Raymond yelled over the noise. We'll take care of my mother from here on out. You can go home. Raymond, stop it. Debra moved past him and reached out to unlock the door, but he caught her roughly by the wrist and shoved her away.

Don't, Deb. Please don't open the door, he whispered. Don't let him in. I'm begging you with this, OK? Raymond. Mr. VonVenture shouted, his voice rising. Your mother is already dead. You can't hold on to her.

You need my help. I already paid you. You can go. You're done here. Let him in, Ray. Deborah jerked his wrist free, but she didn't try for the door again. Fine, stupid motherfucker.

Mr. Bonventure's voice lost its refined tone and his patience finally ran dry. I'm not gonna let you make a fool out of me while I try to help your fucking ass. Fine, you got what you paid for. Don't blame me for what happens next. He continued swearing as his voice faded away. Deborah peeked through the frosted windows

and watched the shape of Mr. Bon Venture march down the street as he slowly started to fade away. She felt a chill climb down her back. Without him, they were alone with this thing wearing Nancy Nancy skin. Mr. Bond venture had said that she had blinders on. Can't she see what we see? She was staring.

She was starting to see Raymond. Worse to those same blinders. Here you go, said Raymond, as he delicately lowered his mother's head and closed her mouth. You doing okay? I always doze off at the worst time said Nancy. Deborah was repulsed over and over and over. Nancy was a paradox, both a presence that filled the room and also a great devour and absence at its center. It was like light bent around her, she was reluctant to touch, and even her skin. It looked anything but pale, more ash-gray.

Deb, come sit down, Raymond said, motioning for her. This time Deborah shook her head. No. Instead, she sat at Ed's chair perched on the armrest. Keep her away from me. Cut it out. It's my mom. It's fine. I doze off for 10 minutes and everybody leaves, Nancy said, throwing her hands up. Is there something I wasn't invited to or what? Am I not cool enough for the big kids? It's It just got late. Everything's fine. Raymond Posse chewing on his tongue

Then he took a look at Nancy took a look at Nancy. Hey mom, how are you feeling me? I'm as fine as I can be It's stuffy as hell in here though Why do I look pale? No, no, you look fine, Raymond. Loosen his tie. Listen, what do you think about coming to stay with us? Raymond, said Deborah with a glare. He ignored her going why am i going senile already nancy chuckled i love your rock star but i need my space too you'll have your space we won't get in your way i i want you close okay i don't i'm not ready i'm not ready to lose you ray what is this where is this coming from nancy shuddered as she put her hand on her throat. Debbie, would you mind cracking a window open?

I'm just not ready, Raymond Syde. I don't know how I can do anything without you. I don't know who I'll call when I need advice. I can't remember all your stories for or all the friends that you made. I don't know. That's what you got Debbie for, don't you?" Nancy twitched, grasping at her throat again. Raymond, I think you need to call and I can't... I'm scared I'll forget your voice, Raymond said, whispering. I'm scared I'll forget what you sounded like.

I can't breathe, Nancy gasped, clutching at her chest. I can't, I can't breathe. Why can't I, my? She stood out Raymond's, she stood, she stood out Raymond's grasp and staggered to the center of the room. One hand clutched to her chest while the other one slid across her face, fingers dripping in her mouth open to feel like stitches like the back of her throat. I can't breathe. I can't. I can't find my pulse. My heart. I can't. Mom, Raymond wiped his eyes and stood nearby to catch her.

Mom, it's OK. You're okay. Just sit down and relax. I can't breathe. Why can't I breathe? She screamed, but the sound of her voice was coming from all around, not just her mouth. She gripped her chest with both hands, fingers clawing at her sternum. Get me out of here. Oh, God, Raymond, get me out of here. She staggered out of Raymond's grasp and towards the kitchen. With a dry, brittle crunch, Nancy tore her skin, plunged her hands into her chest cavity. Beneath her dress, a pile of sawdust, feathers, and bone fragments were spilled onto the floor.

Deborah covered her mouth and nose to keep from breathing in. Get me out of here, she wailed, tearing at her throat with her fingernails. Oh god, Raymond, I can't. At last, whatever spell held Nancy together lost its grip. Her body frail in light collapsed onto the floor in a pile of sawdust, crumpling over itself like a bundle of sticks. Her head rolled back on her shoulders, glass eyes gazing up at Deborah, who couldn't tell whether Nancy was still looking through them. Raymond felt his knees, fingers tangled in her hair as he reached to touch her. Mom, instead of having her back,

all he'd accomplished was losing her twice. Fuck. And that's it. Fuck. He like held on so tight and he tried so hard that it just ruined everything even more. Yeah, yeah. Hope you liked it.

Yeah, that was good. Yeah. There was some names that I was like, ah, I'm gonna butcher this, let's just go for it. No, I think you did good. I followed, I understood, so. Yeah, but taxidermy. I know, I like the idea, but taxidermy. I know.

I like the idea, but you know, taxidermy is always creepy to me. I think it's cool, but, and there's also taxidermy like in my story too. That's the one I was thinking as like, hey, we went from taxidermy to taxidermy. More taxidermy, yeah. But yeah, so what do you have for us? All right.

So for my next story, I wanted to stick with authors. I guess real authors of real books in a way. Now, if you don't really recognize Roald Dahl, you'll probably instantly recognize Stephen King. Yes. Yes. Okay, so we have like a three hour session? Yes. No, this is, it's actually semi short. I'm not sure, it probably will end up, this

entire episode will probably end up being like two hours. That's fine Yeah, I still have a long story after this. We're good Alright Listeners be I mean I was gonna be like listeners beware, but they say the time when they click on the episode Yeah, they do you guys can tune out if you need to yeah, let's take a break. All right So my story it's written by Stephen King. It's from a collection called the night shift Some short horror stories that he posted and this one Is called the boogeyman?

You know, I don't know what he looks like Stephen King or the boogeyman No, cuz I feel like there's so much talk and like I think at this point he like everyone knows of the boogeyman. This is true, but I've never like like what does the boogeyman actually look like? Anyway, I will let you carry on. Let me know what the boogeyman looks like. Okay. So it starts out by saying,

I came to you because I want to tell my story, the man on Dr. Harper's couch was saying. The man was Lester Billings, from Waterbury, Connecticut. According to the history taken from Nurse Vickers, he was 28, employed by an industrial firm in New York, divorced, and the father of three children, all deceased. I can't go to a priest because I'm not Catholic. I can't go to a lawyer because I haven't done anything to consult a lawyer about. All I did was kill my kids, one at a time. Killed them all. Dr. Harper turned on the tape recorder. Billings lay straight as a yardstick on the couch, not giving it an inch of himself. His

feet protruded stiffly over the end, picture of a man enduring necessary humiliation. His hands were folded corpse-like on his chest, his face was carefully set. He looked at the plain white composition ceiling as if seeing scenes and pictures playing out there. Do you mean you actually killed them or... no. Impatient flick of the hand, but I was responsible. Denny in 1967, Sherl in 1971, and Andy this year. I want to tell you about it. Dr. Harper said nothing. He thought that Billings looked haggard and old. His hair was thinning, his complexion sallow. His eyes held all the miserable secrets of whiskey. They were murdered, see?

Only no one believes that. If they would, things would be alright. Why is that? Because Billings broke off and darted up on his elbows, staring across the room. What's that? He barked. His eyes had narrowed to black slots. That door.

The closet, Dr. Harper said, where I hang my coat and leave my overshoes. Open it. I want to see. Dr. Harper got up wordlessly, crossed the room, and opened the closet. Inside, a tan raincoat hung on one of four or five hangers. Beneath that was a pair of shiny galoshes. The New York Times had been carefully tucked into one of them. That was all right. All right, Dr. Harper said. All right. Billings removed the props of his elbows and returned to his previous position. You were saying, Dr. Harper said as he went back to his chair, that if the murder of your

three children could be proved, all your troubles would be over. Why is that? I'd go to jail, Billings said immediately, for life. And you can see into all the rooms in a jail, all the rooms. He smiled at nothing. "'How were your children murdered?' "'Don't try to jerk it out of me!' Billing swished around and stared balefully at Harper. "'I'll tell you, don't worry. I'm not one of your freaks strutting around and pretending to be Napoleon or explaining that I got hooked on heroin because my mother didn't love me. I know you won't believe me. I don't care. It doesn't matter.

Just to tell will be enough. All right. Dr. Harper got out his pipe. I married Rita in 1965. I was 21 and she was 18. She was pregnant. That was Denny. His lips twisted in a rubbery, frightening grin

that was gone in a wink. I had to leave college and get a job, but I didn't mind. I loved both of them. We were very happy. Rita got pregnant just a little while after Denny was born, and Cheryl came along in December of 1966. Andy came in the summer of 1969. And Denny was already dead by then.

Andy was an accident. That's what Rita said. She said sometimes that birth control stuff doesn't work. I think that it was more than by then. Andy was an accident. That's what Rita said. She said sometimes that birth control stuff doesn't work. I think that it was more than an accident. Children tie a man down, you know? Women like that, especially when the man is brighter than they. Don't you find that's true? Harper grunted noncomitably.

It doesn't matter, though. I loved him anyway. He said it almost vengefully, as if he had loved the child despite his wife Who killed the children Harper asked the boogeyman? Lester Billings answered immediately the boogeyman killed them all just came out of the closet and killed them He twisted around and grinned you think I'm crazy. All right, it's written all over you, but I don't care All I want to do is tell you and then get lost I'm listening Harper said it started when Denny was almost two and Sheryl was just an infant. He started crying when Rita put him to bed. We had a two-bedroom

place, see? Sheryl slept in a crib in our room. At first I thought he was crying because he didn't have a bottle to take to bed anymore. Rita said, don't make an issue of it. Let it go. Let him have it and he'll drop it on his own but that's the way the kids start off bad. You get permissive with them, spoil them, then they break your heart. Get some girl knocked up, you know, or start shooting dope, or they get to be sissies. Can you imagine waking up some morning and finding your kid, your son, is a sissy. After a while though, when he didn't stop, I started putting him to bed myself, and if he didn't stop crying, I'd give him a whack. Then Rita said he was saying lights over and over again. Oh, I didn't know. Kids that little,

how can you tell what they're saying? Only a mother can tell. Rita wanted to put in a nightlight, one of those wall plug things with a Mickey Mouse or Huckleberry Hound or something on it. I wouldn't let her. If a kid doesn't get over being afraid of the dark when he's little, he never gets over it. Anyway, he died the summer after Sher was born. I put him to bed that night and he started to cry right off.

I heard what he said that time. He pointed right at the closet when he said it. Boogie man, the kid says it Boogie man the kid says boogie man daddy. I Turned off the light and went into our room and asked Rita why she wanted to teach the kid a word like that I was tempted to slap her around a little but I didn't She did she said she never taught him to say that I called her a goddamn liar That was a bad summer for me See the only job I could get was loading Pepsi-Cola

trucks in a warehouse and I was tired all the time. Cheryl would wake up and cry every night and Rita would pick her up and sniffle. I tell you, sometimes it felt like throwing them both out a window. Christ, kids drive you crazy sometimes. You could kill them. Well, the kid woke me at 3 in the morning, right on schedule, I went to the bathroom, only a quarter awake, you know, when Rita asked me if I'd check on Denny. I told her to do it herself, and went back to bed. I was almost asleep when she started to scream.

I got up and went in. The kid was dead on his back, just as white as flour, except for where the blood had sunk. Back of the legs, the head, the buttocks. His eyes were open. That was the worst. Wide open and glassy. Like the eyes you see on a moose head some guy put over his mantle. Like pictures you see of those goot kids over in Nam. But an American kid shouldn't look like that. Dead on his back, wearing diapers and rubber pants because he's been wetting himself again the last couple of weeks. Awful.

I love that kid." Billing shook his head slowly, then offered the rubbery, frightening grin again. Rita was screaming her head off. She tried to pick Denny up and rock him, but I wouldn't let her. The cops don't like you to touch any of the evidence. I know that. Did you know it was the boogeyman then? Harper asked quietly.

Oh no, not then. But I did see one thing. It didn't mean anything to me then, but my mind stordered away. What was that? The closet door was open. Not much, just a crack. But I knew I left it shut. See, there's dry cleaning bags in there.

A kid messes around with one of those and, bangGO. Asphyxiation. You know what? Yes. What happened then?" Billing shrugged. We planted him. He licked marvantly at his hands, which had thrown dirt on three tiny coffins. Was there an end quest? Sure. Billing's eyes flashed with sardonic brilliance. Some backcountry fuckhead with a stethoscope and a black bag full of junior mints and a sheepskin from some cow college.

Crib death, he called it. You ever hear such a pile of yellow manure? The kid was three years old. Crib death is most common during the first year, Harper said carefully. But the diagnosis has gone on death certificates for children up to age five for one of a better BULLSHIT. Billing spat out violently. Harper relit his pipe. this has gone on death certificates for children up to age five for one of a better BULLSHIT!" Billing spat out violently. Harper relit his pipe.

We moved Cheryl into Denny's old room a month after the funeral. Rita fought at tooth and nail, but I had the last word. It hurt me, of course it did. Jesus, I loved having the kid in with us, but you can't get overprotective. You make a kid a cripple that way. When I was a kid, my mom used to take me to the beach and then scream herself hoarse, don't go out so far, don't go there, it's got an undertow, you only ate an hour ago, don't go over your head. You made me watch out for sharks before God. So what happens? I can't even go near the water now. It's the truth. I get the cramps if I go near a beach. Rita got me to take her and the kid to 7 Rock now. It's the truth. I get the cramps if I go near a beach.

Rita got me to take her and the kids to 7 Rock once when Denny was alive. I got sick as a dog. I know, see? You can't overprotect kids, and you can't coddle yourself either. Life goes on. Cheryl went right into Denny's crib. We sent the old mattress to the dump. Though I didn't want my girl to get any germs.

So a year goes by, and one night, when I'm putting Cheryl into her crib, she starts to yell and scream and cry, Boogieman, daddy, Boogieman, Boogieman! That threw a jump into me. It was just like Denny. And I started to remember about that closet door open just a crack when he found him. I wanted to take her into our room for the night. Did you?

No. Billings regarded his hands and his face twitched. How could I go to Rita and admit I was wrong? I had to be strong. She was always such a jellyfish. Look how easy she went to bed with me when we weren't married. Harper said, "'On the other hand, look how easily you went to bed with her.'" Billings froze in the act of rearranging his hand and slowly turned his head to look at Harper. Are you trying to be a wise guy? No, indeed, Harper said. Then let me tell it my way, Billings snapped. I came here to get this off my chest, to tell

my story. I'm not going to talk about my sex life, if that's what you expect. Rita and I had a very normal sex life, with none of that dirty stuff. I know it gives some people a charge to talk about, but I'm not one of them." Okay, Harper said. Okay, Billings echoed with uneasy arrogance. He seemed to have lost the thread of his thought, and his eyes wandered uneasily to the closet door, which was firmly shut. Would you like that open? Harper asked. No, Billings said quickly. He gave an Ursula a laugh. What do I want to look at your overshoes for?

The boogeyman got her too, Billing said. He brushed at his forehead as if sketching memories. A month later, but something happened before that. I heard a noise in there one night, and then she screamed. I opened the door real quick. The hall light was on. And she was sitting up in the crib crying. And something moved. Back in the shadows, by the closet, something slithered. Was the closet door open? A little. Just a crack. Billings licked his lips. Sheryl was screaming about the boogeyman and something else that sounded like claws. Only she said, cross.

You know, little kids have trouble with that L sound. Rita ran upstairs and asked what the matter was. I said she got scared by the shadows of the branches moving on the ceiling. Cross it? Harper said. Huh? Cross it. Closet.

Maybe she was trying to say closet. Maybe, Billing said. Maybe that was it. But I don't think so. I think it was claws. His eyes began seeking the closet door once again. Claws. Long claws. His voice had sunk to a whisper.

Did you look in the closet? Yes. Billing's hands were laced tightly across his chest, laced tightly enough to show a white moon at each knuckle. Was anything in there? Did you see the- I didn't see anything! Billing screamed suddenly, and the words poured out as if a black cork had been pulled from

the bottom of his soul. When she died I found her, see, and she was black, all black. She swallowed her own tongue, and she was just as black as a n-word in a minstrel show and she was staring at me. Her eyes, they looked like those eyes you see on stuffed animals, all shiny and awful, like live marbles, and they were saying, it got me, daddy. You let it get me. You killed me. You helped it kill me. His words trailed off. One single tear, very large and silent, ran down the side of his cheek. It was a brain convulsion, see? Kids get those sometimes. A bad signal from the brain.

They had an autopsy at Hartford Receiving and they told us she choked on her tongue from the convulsion and I had to go home alone because they kept Rita under sedation. She was out of her mind. I had to go back to that house all alone. I know a kid don't just get convulsions because their brain frigged up. You can scare a kid into convulsions. And I had to go back to the house where it was." He whispered.

I slept on my couch, with the light on. Did anything happen? I had a dream, Billings said. I was in a dark room and there was something I couldn't quite see. In the closet. I made a noise. A squishy noise. It reminded me of a comic book I read when I was a kid.

Tales from the Crypt. Do you remember that? Christ! They had a guy named Graham Ingalls. He could draw every god-awful thing in the world and some out of it. Anyway, in this story, this woman drowned her husband. So he put cement blocks on his feet and dropped him into a quarry. Only he came back.

He was all rotted and black green and the fish had eaten away one of his eyes and there was seaweed in his hair. He came back and killed her. And when I woke up in the middle of the night, I thought that would be leaning over me with claws, long claws. Dr. Harper looked at the digital clock and sat into his desk. Lester Billings had been speaking for nearly half an hour. He said, When your wife came back home, what was her attitude toward you?

She still loved me, Billings said with pride. She still wanted to do what I told her. That's the wife's place, right? This woman's lib only makes people sick. The most important thing in life is for a person to know his place. His... his... station in life? That's it." Billing snapped his fingers. That's it exactly. And a wife should follow her husband. Oh, she was sort of colorless the first four or five months after. Dragged around the house.

Didn't sing. Didn't watch the TV. Didn't laugh. I knew she'd get over it. When they're that little, you don't get so attached to them. After a while, you have to go to the bureau drawer and look at a picture to even remember exactly what they looked like. She wanted another baby, he added darkly. I told her it was a bad idea. Not forever, but for a while. I told her it was a time for us to get over things and begin to enjoy

each other. We never had a chance to do that before. If you wanted to go to a movie, you had to hassle around for a babysitter. You couldn't go into town to see the Mets unless her folks would take the kids, because my mom wouldn't have anything to do with us. Denny was born too soon after we married, see? She said Rita was just a tramp, a calm little corner walker. Corner walker is what my mom always called them. Isn't that a sketch? She sat me down once and told me diseases you can get if you went to a prostitute. How's your pr- your penis has just a little tiny sore on it one day and the next day it's rotting right off. She wouldn't even come to the wedding."

Billings drummed his chest with his fingers. Rina's gynecologist sewed her on this thing called an IUD, interuterine device. Full proof, the doctor said. He just sticks it up the woman's… her place. And that's it. If there's anything in there, the egg can't fertilize. You don't even know it's there. He smelled at the ceiling with a dark sweetness. No one knows if it's there or not.

And next year, she's pregnant again. Simple foolproof. No birth control method is perfect, Harper said. The pill is only 98%. The IUD may be ejected by cramps, strong menstrual flow, and in exceptional cases, by evacuation. Yeah, or you can take it out. That's possible. So what's next?

She's knitting little things, singing in the shower, eating pickles like crazy, sitting on my lap and saying things about how it must have been God's will. Piss. The baby came out at the end of the year after Shirl's death? That's right, a boy. She named it Andrew Lester Billings. I didn't want anything to do with it, at least at first. My motto is she screwed up, so let her take care of it.

I know how that sounds, but you have to remember that I had been through a lot. But I warmed up to him, you know what? He was only one of the litter that looked like me, for one thing. Then he looked like his mother, and Cheryl didn't look like anybody, except maybe my Grammy Anne. But Andy was the splitting image of me. I'd get to playing around with him in his playpen when I got home from work. He'd grab only my finger and smile and gurgle.

Nine weeks old and the kid was gritting up at his old dad. You believe that? Then one night, here I am coming out of a drug store with a mobile to hang over the kid's crib. Me! Kids don't appreciate presents till they're old enough to say thank you. That was always my motto. But there I was, buying him silly crap and all at once I realized I love him the most

of all. I had another job by then, a pretty good one, selling drill bits for Clued and Sons. I did real well, and when Andy was one, we moved to Waterbury. The old place had too many bad memories. And too many closets. That next year was the best one for us. I'd get every finger on my right hand to have it back again. Oh, the war in Vietnam was still going on, and the hippies were still running around with no clothes on, and the

N-words were yelling a lot, but none of that touched us. We were on a quiet street with nice neighbors. We were happy." He summed up simply, I asked Rita once if she wasn't worried. Bad luck comes in threes and all that. She said, not for us. She said Andy was special. She said God had drawn a ring around him. Billings looked morbidly at the ceiling. Last year wasn't so good. Something about the house changed. I started keeping my boots in the hall because I didn't like to open the closet door anymore.

I kept thinking, well, what if it's in there? I'll crouch down and ready to spring the second I open the door. And I started thinking I could hear squishy noises. There was something black and green and wet was moving around in there just a little. Rita asked me if I was working too hard and I started to snap at her just like the old days. I got sick to my stomach leaving them alone to go to work but I was glad to get out. God help me I was glad to get out. I started to think, see that it lost us for a while when we moved. It had to hunt around, slinking through the streets at night and maybe creeping in the sewers, smelling for us. It took a year, but it found us.

It's back. It wants Andy, and it wants me. I started to think, maybe if you think of a thing long enough and believe in it, it gets real. Maybe all the monsters were scared of when we were kids, Frankenstein and Wolfman and Mummy. Maybe they were real.

Real enough to kill the kids that were supposed to have fallen into gravel pits or drowned in lakes or were just never found. Maybe. Are you backing away from something, Mr. Billings? Billings was silent for a long time. Two minutes clicked off the digital clock. Benny said abruptly, Andy died in February. Rita wasn't there. She got a call from her father. Her mother had been in a car crash the day after New Year's and wasn't expected to live.

She took a bus back that night. Her mother didn't die, but she was on the critical list for a long time. Two months. I had a very good woman who stayed with Andy Days. We kept house nights and closed closet doors kept coming open. Billings licked his lips. The kid was sleeping in the room with me. It's funny too. Rita asked me once when he was two if I wanted to move him into another room. Spock or one of those other quacks claims it's bad for kids to sleep with

their parents. See? Supposed to give them traumas about sex and all that. But we never did it unless the kid was asleep. I didn't want him to move. I was afraid to, after Denny and Sher- Sheryl. But you did move him, didn't you? Dr. Harper asked. Yeah, Billings said. He smiled a sick yellow smile. I did. Silence again. Billings wrestled with it. I had to, he barked. I had to. It was all right when Rita was there, but when she was gone, it started to get bolder. It started.

He rolled his eyes at Harper and bared his teeth in a savage grin. Oh, you won't believe it. I know what you think. Just another goofy free casebook. I know that. But you weren't there, you lousy smug head-peeper. One night, every door in the house blew wide open. One morning, I got up and found a trail of mud and filth across the hall between the coat closet and the front door.

Was it going out? Coming in? I don't know. Before Jesus, I just don't know. Records all scratched up and covered with slime, mirrors broken, and... And the sounds... the sounds... He ran a hand through his hair. You'd wake up at three in the morning and look into the dark and the first you'd say, it's only the clock, but underneath it you could hear something move in in a stealthy way.

But not too stealthy because it wanted you to hear it. A slimy sliding around like something from the kitchen drain, or a clicking sound like claws being dragged lightly over the staircase banister. And you'd close your eyes, knowing that hearing it was bad. But if you saw it... And always you'd be afraid that the noises might stop for a little while, and there would be a laugh right over your face and a breath of air like a stale cabbage on your face and then hands on your throat.

Billings was pallid and trembling. So I moved him. I knew it would go for him, see, because he was weaker. And it did. That very first night he screamed in the middle of the night and finally when I got up the cojones to go in, he was standing up in bed and screaming, The Boogeyman! Daddy, Boogeyman!

Wanna go with Daddy? Go with Daddy! Billings voice had become a high treble, like a child's. His eyes seemed to fill his entire face. He almost seemed to shrink on the couch. But I couldn't! The childless, breaking treble continued. I couldn't! And an hour later there was a scream, an awful gurgling scream, and I knew how much I loved him because I ran in. I didn't even turn on the light. I ran, ran, ran. Oh Jesus God, Marriott had him. It was shaking him, shaking him just like a terrier shakes a piece of cloth and I could see something with awful

slump shoulders and a scarecrow head and I could smell something like a dead mouse in a pot bottle and I heard he trailed off and his voice clicked back into an adult range. I heard it when Annie's neck broke. Billing's voice was cool and dead. It made a sound like ice cracking when you're skating on a country pond in winter. Then what happened? Oh, I ran, Billing said in the same cool, dead voice. I went to an all-night diner.

How's that for complete cowardice? Ran to an all-night diner and drank six cups of coffee. Then I went home. It was already dawn. I called the police even before I went upstairs. He was lying on the floor and staring at me, accusing me. A tiny bit of blood had run out of one ear. Only a drop, really.

And the closet door was open. But just a crack. The voice stopped. Harper looked at the digital clock. Fifty minutes had passed. Make an appointment with the nurse, he said. In fact, several of them. Tuesdays and Thursdays? I only came to tell my story, Billings said, to get it off my chest.

I lied to the police, see? Told them the kid must have tried to get out of his crib in the night, and they swallowed it. Of course they did. That's just what it looked like. Accidental, like the others. But Rita knew. Rita finally knew.

He covered his eyes with his right arm, and he began to weep. Mr. Billings, there is a great deal to talk about, Dr. Harper said after a pause. I believe we can remove some of the guilt you've been carrying, but first you have to want to get rid of it." "'Don't you believe I do?' Billings cried, removing his arm from his eyes. They were red, raw, wounded." "'Not yet,' Harper said quietly.

"'Tuesdays and Thursdays?' After a long silence, Billings muttered. "'Goddamn shrink. Alright, alright. Make an appointment with the nurse, Mr, Billings muttered, God damn shrink. Alright, alright. Make an appointment with the nurse, Mr. Billings. And have a good day. Billings laughed emptily and walked out of the office quickly, without looking back. The nurse's station was empty.

A small sign on the desk blotter said, Back in a minute. Billings turned and went back into the office. Doctor, your nurses— The room was empty. But the closet door was open. Just a crack. So nice, the voice from the closet said.

So nice. The words sounded as if they might have come through a mouthful of rotted seaweed. Billing stood rooted to the spot as the closet door swung open. He dimly felt warmth at his crotch as he wet himself. So nice, the boogeyman said as it shambled out. It still held its Dr. Harper mask in one rotted spade claw hand. No, what? I love that.

Pretty good. Yeah, that was pretty good. I think the whole time you're like, where is this gonna go? Yeah. Like, how does the boogeyman come into this? Well, I mean, I figured that it was central to the story. And it kind of was... Yeah, that was pretty cool.

Anyway, check your closets, folks. Don't leave them open just to crack. You never know what you're gonna find. Well that was my second and final story. What's yours, Jane? Thank you. For my second and final story, have I got a doozy for you. Is that the word people use? I think so.

Okay. This takes place over the great pond. Okay, we're going to Portugal. There wasn't really like a like a title title. There was like different things with it so equal value or like the hags bargain got it and with that let's get started yeah hope I can cause some nightmares or at least get people to watch I'd love that. Okay. Here we go. The port town in Portugal was alive, pulsing with energy like living, like a living organism. It was the kind of place that seemed to hold its own secrets, tucked away in shadowed alleys and behind weathered corn doors.

The air was thick with the lingering scents of the sea, fresh fish sizzling in the open flames, and the sharp tang of citrus from fruit vendors shed in their wares. Children ran barefoot across cobblestone streets, their laughter mixing with the melodic strumming of the street musicians. Tourists and locals alike packed into the narrow roads, haggling over prices for the painted ceramics, bottles of port wine, and necklaces that strung on vibrant beads. With vibrant beads. It was chaotic, but there was beauty in the chaos. A rhythm that Fernando, Javi, and Teresa fell into easily during their first few days there.

They had come for the adventure. Teresa was a shy sweet and had barely left her home country before this trip, and her nervous excitement was palpable. Fernando, always trying to play the cool-headed leader, made it his mission to guide the group through every experience, whether it was tasting the best pasta of the nata or getting lost on purpose, then to discover hidden crowns in town. Javi, in contrast, soaked it all in with a carefree smile. He was the type that didn't need a plan, life was about moments, he always said, and this trip was one of them. A chance to taste, see, and feel everything that the world had to offer. His olive complexion and easy charm made him the natural navigator of the group, always talking their way into

discounts or learning the best spots to eat from friendly locals. On their third evening, as the sun dipped low on the horizon, casting the harbor in shades of golden amber, they wandered off the main thoroughfare. The streets grew quieter, narrower, and a cheerful buzz of the market replaced by an uneasy stillness. Do you guys feel that? Teresa asked, her voice barely above a whisper. Fernanda shrugged. Feel what? Javi stopped, looked around. She's right. It's weird. Like the air is heavier here. The alley they found themselves in seemed

carved out of another time. The cobblestones were slick with moss, and the walls surrounding the buildings leaned inward slightly, casting long shadows that swallowed the last of the daylight. They were about to turn back when Teresa spotted a shop. Check that out, she said, pointing to a crooked wooden sign above the door. Painted was a symbol that looked like a crescent moon, entwined with vines. It was almost easy to miss, tucked between a shuttered butcher shop and a building that looked abandoned. It looks old, Teresa said, her voice soft, almost reverent.

Let's see what's in sight, Fernando said, leading the way. You sure about this, heavy ass standing back as Teresa approached? Come on, Fernando said, trying to sound braver than he felt. It's just a shop, probably some old antiques or junk. Could be fun. Teresa pushed the door open, a bell jingled somewhere deep within. The interior was dim, lit only by a few dusty lamps scattered among the clutter. The shop was narrow, its shelves

packed with items that seem to come from a dozen different lifetimes. Rusted keys, porcelain dolls with missing eyes, tarnished jewelry, ancient looking scrolls, and oddities they couldn't even name. Theresa's eyes grew wide as she took in the shelves of cluttered oddities, tarnished jewelry, porcelain dolls. Theresa spotted almost immediately something that caught her eye. Among the rusted knives and strange animal bones, there was a glimmer.

There was a bracelet that glimmered as though it was lit from within. It was a delicate bracelet, silver with tiny blue stones that seemed to wink at her. She reached out, barely aware of her own hand moving towards it. That's not for touching, girl. A voice rasped from the shadows.

They all turned sharply. The hack stood behind the counter, her hunch figure blending into the shop's darkness until she moved. Her face was a lacework of wrinkles. Her hair was wild and striked with gray. Rings glinted on her gnarled fingers and her sharp eyes bore in them, unblinking. You like it, don't you? She said, her voice like gravel on glass. Teresa hesitated, her hand dropping back to her side. How much is it? The hag's

lips twisted into something resembling a smile, but it was wrong. Too wide, too many teeth. It's not about money, dear. You must give me something of equal value." Teresa hesitated, unsure of what that meant. Fernando and Habby hung back uneasy, but not stepping in. She fumbled through her purse and handed over a crumpled wad of euros, trying not to meet the woman's gaze. Teresa panicked. I have money. She dug into her purse, pulling out a crumpled wad of euros. The hag eyes narrowed as she snatched the money. Fools and their coins, she muttered, so low, almost inaudible. Very well, if that's what you'll give me. She leaned over the bracelet, her lips moving as she whispered something in Portuguese that none of them understood into the bracelet, as she slid it into a small clock bag and handed it over. Worry it well, girl. I'll bring out the best in you. Or the worst.

So weird. By the next morning, Teresa wasn't quite herself. At breakfast, she was unusually animated, showing off her new bracelet, and her focus entirely on Fernando. She laughed at every joke he made, even when they weren't particularly funny. She leaned in closer than she usually did. Fernando, do you think this color suits me? She asked, twirling a strand of her hair. Yeah, he said uncomfortably in his chair.

Looks nice. Have you raised an eyebrow smiling while Teresa maybe is up a little. You're going to make him blush. Teresa shot him a glare so sharp that it could cut glass. No one asked you, Javi. She snapped her tone ice cold. Javi blinked, taking back. Alright, someone's feeling feisty. Fernanda looked between them, confused. Hey, let's calm down. It's too early for this. But Teresa's mood had already

Hey, let's calm down. It's too early for this. But Teresa's mood had already soured the day. For the rest of the morning, she ignored Havi completely, directing all her attention towards Fernando. As the day went on, Teresa's behavior grew more and more intense. She clung onto Fernando's side as they wandered through the market. Her questions grow and more personal. Fernando. OK, Teresa said suddenly her voice soft and insistent do you think I'm pretty Fernando froze mid-step caught

off guard by the question he glanced at Gabby who helped a heavy who gave him a helpless shrug yeah of course Fernando, of course, Fernando said, his voice awkward. You're very pretty, Teresa. Her face lit up, her smile radiant. I knew you thought so, she said, her tone almost triumphant. Javi trailing slightly behind them, decided to interject. Alright, lovebirds, what's next? Food, shopping, Teresa's smile vanished instantly.

She turned on Javi and her expression sharp and venomous. Why don't you go find something else to do? She snapped. Fernando and I don't need a third wheel. Javi blinked stunned. Excuse me? What's your problem? You!

Theresa spat. Her eyes narrowing. You're always butting in, always making jokes like you're so clever it's pathetic. Terris, Teresa, Fernando said, his voice sharp with shock. That's enough. What? Teresa snapped her voice rising. I'm just being honest.

He's been tagging along this whole trip, getting in the way. He's the reason why we don't have any time alone. Fernando stepped away from her, pulling his arm free. What are you even talking about? When did Javi become a third wheel? As far as I know, Teresa, you and I aren't together. Her face felt the anger in her eyes momentarily replaced by her. Fernando.

No, you need to hear this, Fernando said firmly. I don't know what you think this is, but we're not a couple. Javi's my friend and he's not going anywhere. If you have a problem with him, that's your issue, not ours. Theresa's lip pressed into a thin line, her gaze flicking between Fernando and Javi. You're defending him? She asked, her voice trembling with anger. Yes, I am, Fernando said without hesitation.

Because he hasn't done anything wrong. You're the one acting like this, Teresa, not him. Her eyes glistened with unshed tears, but her voice was sharp as ever. You don't understand, she whispered. He's trying to take you away from me. Javi raised his hands? Oh, for God's sake, Teresa, I'm not trying to take anyone away.

I'm just here. That's it. You're the one who's turning this into some twisted love triangle. Shut up, Teresa shouted, her voice echoing across the market. A few nearby shoppers turn to look their faces curious and concerned. Fernando stepped forward, his voice low but firm. Teresa, we're not doing this here. Let's go. She hesitated for a moment, then nodded reluctantly. She reached for Fernando's arm, but he stepped away. No, he said, his tone final. She froze,

her expression a mix of fury and heartbreak, but she said nothing. Following them silently, they made their way back to the apartment. That night, the tension reached a breaking point. As they sat in the rented apartment, Theresa and Javi got into another argument. You've been acting like a lunatic ever since you got that damn bracelet." Javi said with his voice tight with frustration. Maybe you were just jealous, Teresa shot back. Of what? Your sparkling personality?

As Javi made his statements, the lights started to flicker. Fernando stood his voice firm. That's enough, both of you. A glass on the counter shattered suddenly, silencing them all. What the hell? Javi whispered. Teresa clutched her wrist, her face pale. It's not me.

I didn't do anything. Another glass flew off the table, narrowly missing Javi's head. The picture frame on the wall crashed to the floor. It shattered. its shards scattering like jagged stars. That night they all went to sleep upset, but at least the day was over. By the next day, Teresa's behavior had shifted from subtle to undeniable. Where she was once a soft-spoken gentlewoman and hesitant, she now spoke her mind with a sharp edge and her words were often cutting. It wasn't just with Fernando

and Javi, it was with everyone they encountered. At lunch in a bustling cafe by the port, Theresa flagged down a waiter with an exaggerated arm wave. "'Excuse me, we've been waiting for 15 minutes, she said out loud. Are you planning to take our order or should we just leave? Teresa, Fernando hissed, his face flushed red with embarrassment. What? She saw it back glaring at him. I'm just saying what we're all thinking.

The waiter apologized profusely, though his discomfort was obvious. Teresa didn't seem to care. When the food arrived, she immediately complained about the portion sizes, loudly demanding to speak to the chef. It's like they think we're starving pigeons or something, she murdered. Fernando shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Teresa, maybe tone it down. You're coming on a little strong.

Her face softened instantly when she turned to him. I'm sorry, she said. Her arm brushing against his arm. You're right. I shouldn't get so worked up. You always know how to calm me down, don't you? Fernando blinked, pulling his arm away awkwardly. Yeah, sure. Have you who had been silent until then smirked.

Wow, Theresa, you're really laying it on thick, huh? She turned on him, her eyes narrowing. What's your problem, Javi? Jealous that no one cares what you think? Javi raised his hands defensively. Alright, alright, I'll stay out of it. But Theresa wasn't finished. That's what you're good at, isn't it?'ll stay out of it. But Teresa wasn't finished. That's what you're good at, isn't it?

Staying out of it. Never really contributing, just tagging along like some stray dog. Fernando cleared his throat, trying to defuse the situation. Let's just enjoy lunch, okay? Teresa leaned back on her chair, her arms crossed by her icy expression. On the second night, the group sat in the living room trying to relax after a tense day, but the lights began to flicker.

"'Did you see that?' Javi asked, looking up at the ceiling. "'Probably just the wiring,' Fernando said, though his voice was uncertain. Or maybe it's because someone has got an attitude problem,' Javi muttered, glancing at Teresa. Teresa didn't even look at him. Maybe it's because someone can't stop running their mouth.

The rooms felt silent for a moment, the air heavy with tension. Then without warning, the overhead light bulb exploded with a deafening pop. Have you jumped on his feet? What the hell was that? It's not my fault, Teresa snapped clutching at her wrist as they argued that the temperature in the room seemed to drop. The mirror on the wall trembled slightly before falling, shattering into dozens of jacket shards. Fernando stood, his voice firm. Okay, this isn't normal. We need to figure out what's going on. By the third day, Teresa was almost unrecognizable. Her sweetness had been replaced with a bloodless

that bordered on cruelty. In the market, she brushed past a vendor knocking over a display of fruit. When the vendor shouted at her, she turned her voice dripping with venom. Maybe if you didn't cram your stall in the middle of the road, people wouldn't bump into it. Fernanda tried to intervene. Teresa, that's enough. She whirled on him, her eyes flashing. Oh, so now you're taking their side? Unbelievable. He raised his hands, his voice proclaiming,

I'm not taking anyone's side. I just think you're being a little harsh. Her expression softened instantly, and she stepped closer to him, placing a hand on his chest. I'm sorry, she said softly, her voice suddenly sweet. You're right. You always are. Fernando stepped back, his discomfort clear. It's fine. Javi, who had been watching from a few feet away, snorted, Wow, Teresa, would have switched it on and off. That's impressive. What do you mind your own business, Habby? She's

napped her icy tone again. Oh, wait, you don't have any business. Just following Fernando around like some sad little puppy. All right, that's enough. Fernando said his voice rising for the first time, both of you. All right, that's enough, Fernando said, his voice rising for the first time. Both of you. That night the atmosphere at the apartment was suffocating. Teresa had gone to bed early, her mood oscillating between sweetness and sharp hostility all day. Fernando and Javi waited in silence until her breathing evened out in the next room, a sign that she was finally asleep.

I need air, Havey whispered, grabbing his jacket. You coming? Fernando hesitated, glancing towards Theresa's door. Should we just leave her? She's asleep, Havey said, nudging him. I'm not, and I'm not about to let you sit here and stew in whatever that was. Fernando smirked despite himself. Alright, let's go. They slept out of the apartment quietly,

the cool night air hitting their faces as they wandered through the cobblestone streets. The port was now quieter. The vendors were gone, leaving only a distant sound of the waves lapping against the harbor. Man, have you said, shoving his hands in his pockets. She's intense, huh? She's not usually like this, Fernando said, shaking his head. Teresa has always been sweet, quiet even. This isn't her.

Have you raised an eyebrow? You sure about that? Because she's been acting like you're the center of the damn universe. Fernando sighted rubbing the back of his neck. I've had a feeling she's liked me for a while, but she's never been this direct or rude to you or anyone for that matter. Yeah, her personality is under 180, have you said?

He kicked a loose pebbles, sending it skittering across the street. Yeah. It's like she's turning to some kind. I don't know possessive maniac They walked in silence for a moment the weight of the situation sitting in between them Then have you glance at Fernando with a slight grin, you know, he said nudging Fernando's arm If she's got a thing for you, you must be doing something right. Fernando laughed, his shoulder relaxing slightly. I don't think I'd call this right. Fair, have you said, Chuckling. Still, you got that whole brooding,

reluctant leader vibe going on. It's kind of hot. Fernando looked at him surprised, but haveavi's grin was disarming. You're joking, right? Maybe, Javi said, his eyes glinting mischievously. Maybe not. Fernando shook his head laughing, despite himself. You're impossible. And you're uptight.

Javi shot back. Come on, let's get a drink before you die of stress. They found a small bar tucked between a quiet alley, its warm inviting glow spilling into the street. The interior was cozy, with low lighting and a faint smell of citrus and tobacco. They settled into a corner, or in two glasses of local wine. To not getting hit with flying plates tonight, Javi said, raising his glass.

Fernando clinked the glass against Javi's, a small smile tugged at his lips. I'll cheer to that. The tension for the past few days began to melt away as they talked. Javi recounted his favorite moments from their trip so far, mimicking the eccentric gestures of a street performer they had seen at the market. Fernando laughed, his usually reserved demeanor softening.

You're good at this, Fernando said, swirling the one in his glass. Good at what, Javi asked leaning forward? Making things feel normal, Fernando said quietly, even when everything's falling apart, Javi's green faded slightly, replaced by something softer. It's just who I am, I guess. Someone's gonna keep things light, right? Fernando met his gaze for a moment. The noise of the bar seemed to fade. Javi's easy confidence was magnetic

and Fernando found himself feeling grounded in a way that he hadn't in days. You're good at it, Fernando said again, his voice above a whisper. Thanks, Javi said, his smile returning. They lingered in for a moment, the silence between them comfortable, almost intimate, but then the voices at the bar caught their attention. Two men sat at stools away, their voices low, but clear in the quiet room. That shop ruined everything, one man said bitterly, nursing his drink.

What shop? The other asked. The one run by the old witch. My wife bought a stupid locket from her and now it's like she's not the same person. Barely speaks to me. acts like I don't exist. Javi and Fernando exchanged a look there earlier levity levity levity vanishing it's her Javi said under his breath the hag Fernando nodded his jaw tightening we need to get back to Teresa. When they got back to the apartment, it was eerily silent. The air heavy with a sense of unease.

But the moment they stepped inside, they found Teresa sitting on the couch, her arms crossed with her eyes blazing. Where have you been? She demanded her voice sharp. Out, Fernando said carefully. We just needed to clear our heads. Her gaze locked onto him, her nostrils flaring slightly.

You've been drinking. Fernando hesitated then nodded. Yeah, we had a glass of wine. What's the problem? The problem, she snapped, rising to her feet, is that you've been off with him while I've been sitting here to deal with this all alone. She held up her wrist, now burn marks against her dark pale skin.

Now dark marks burned against her pale skin. Teresa, that's not fair, Havi said, stepping forward. She resounded on him, her expression venomous. This is your fault. You're a bad influence. You've been dragging him into trouble. Teresa, stop Fernandez head firmly. No, I won't stop. She screamed. The room seemed to respond in her anger. The temperature plummeted. The air grew thick and the curtains whipped violently as the lights flickered. A glass on the counter shattered, sending

shards flying across the room. Theresa calm calm down, Javi shouted, ducking as the chair toppled over and slid towards him. I'm not doing this, Teresa sobbed, clutching her wrist. It's not me. That night, Javi and Fernando sat in the kitchen. Their conversation hushed. We have to go back to that shop tomorrow, Fernando said. Whatever it takes, we're ending this. Javi nodded, his gaze laying around Fernando's for a moment, longer than necessary. We'll fix it, he said quietly. Together. The morning sun bathed the cobblestone streets in warm light, but the atmosphere between the trio was anything but bright. As they made their way towards the hack shop,

Theresa clung to Fernando's arm, her head resting against his shoulder. A dreamy smile played on her lips as if they were a couple out for a romantic stroll. Fernando's body, however, was rigid, his discomfort plain, but he didn't pull away. He shot Javier helpless glance, his eyes particularly begging for intervention. Javi cleared his throat, his voice low.

So um, Teresa, feeling better today? Oh, much better, Teresa said as her tone turned sweet. She tied her grip on Fernando's arm causing him to stumble slightly I think everything will be fine now that we're together. Don't you Fernando? Fernando let out an awkward chuckle keeping his eye on the road ahead. Yeah sure Have you clenched his jaw biting back the urge to say something that might make the situation worse? When they reached the shop, the door was locked, the windows were dark, and a crudely painted sign

hung on the door, closed. Well, that's great, Heavy muttered, crossing his arms. What now? Maybe we should wait, Fernando suggested. She has to come back at some point. Wait? Are you serious? Javi scoffed. She's probably in there right now cackling or stirring a cauldron, whatever witches do. We should just break in and find something to get the bracelet off. Fernando frowned, shaking his head. If she's a real witch, we shouldn't piss her off. That could make things worse. Teresa lit a soft laugh and she smirked directed towards

Javi. See Fernando, I told you he's a bad influence. Javi rolled his eyes but didn't respond. The tension was as thick as they had been the previous day. They turned back towards the apartment, Ani settling over them like a dark cloud. The rest of the day, however, was still a disaster. They stopped at a local market to grab lunch, but Therese's behavior drew attention almost immediately. She barked at a vendor for not accepting her haggled price on a scarf, accusing him of trying to scam her. You think just because I'm a Taurus you can take advantage of me? She snapped, her voice loud enough to draw stares up passerbys.

Teresa, calm down, Fernandes said, stepping between her and the vendor. Calm down, she hissed. You're always taking their sides. The vendor, clearly shaken, muttered something in Portuguese under his breath, which only encouraged her further. What did you say, Teresa yelled, stepping forward? Javi grabbed her arm. Okay, that's enough. Let's go.

She jacked her arm free, but followed them out of the market, muttering under her breath. Later, as they worked towards the cafe, a young woman approached hastily, asking for directions in broken English. Excuse me, can you help me find... She's hidden on you, Teresa snarled, stepping between the woman and Fernando. The woman's eyes grew wide in shock. I just get lost, Teresa snapped, taking a third step forward. The woman turned and ran, glancing over her shoulder as in fear that she would follow her.

Teresa, what the hell? Fernando exclaimed. She was flirting with you, Teresa said in a matter of her. Teresa, what the hell? Fernando exclaimed. She was flirting with you. Teresa said in a matter of fact, her tongue cold. I'm not stupid. Have you shook his head murder murdering murdering under his breath. This is getting out of hand. When they got back to the apartment, the atmosphere was tense like before that evening. Retreating to their rooms rooms they all went silence not a single word from anyone however heavy was jolted awake by a scream Fernando's voice filled with panic have you bolted out of his bed and

ran down the hall through and open Fernando's door the sight before him made his blood run cold Teresa was on top of Fernando her hair hair wild Her shirt discarded on the floor and her burn Mac burn mark wrists pin his arms down as she leaned over him Her voice trembling with emotion. Don't you see she cried? I love you Fernando. I've always loved you Teresa get off me Fernando shout at struggling against her grip. What the fuck? Have you yelled frozen in the doorway? Teresa turned her head sharply with blazing eyes of fury. What are you doing here? She screamed Stopping this insanity have you stepped forward into the room get off him

You have no right to be here. Teresa shrieked her voice Get off him. You have no right to be here. Teresa shrieked her voice. Unnaturally loud, the air in the room grew icy cold and the lights start to flicker wildly. The bed frame groan as it was lifted slightly off the ground and then slammed back down, sending Fernando and Teresa jolting. Teresa stopped. Fernando shouted, finally breaking free and scrambling to the other

side of the room. You ruined everything, Teresa screamed at Javi, her tears streaming down her face. You're always in the way. The glass lamp on the nightstand shattered, sending shards of glass flying towards Javi, who ducked just in time, but still not able to avoid them all. Get out! Teresa shrieked, her voice guttural and inhuman. Fernando grabbed Javi's arm, pulling him towards the door. Let's go, now! Fernando and Javi locked themselves in Javi's room.

The sound of a crash of crashing furniture and Teresa screams, echoing through the apartment. What the hell is happening? Javi panted, leaning against the door. Fernando's face was pale, his eyes wide with fear. She's losing it. We have to stop this tomorrow, no matter what. Javi nodded, his expression grim. This has to end before someone gets hurt.

The sound outside of Javi's room was pure chaos. Theresa screamed, echoed through the apartment, her voice raw with fury. You're a parasite, Javi's room was pure chaos. Theresa screamed, echoed through the apartment, her voice raw with fury. You're a parasite, Javi, she screeched, her voice stomping erratically. You're nothing but a leech, clinging to Fernando like some pathetic useless little dog. Javi and Fernando sat huddled against the bed, their breath shallow as something heavy slammed against the door, causing it to rattle in its frame. And you, Teresa's voice turned towards Fernando now, venomous and biting.

You let him, you let him worm his way between us. You're weak, Fernando, weak. The sound of glass shattering filled the air, followed by a chair scraping across the floor and crashing into the wall. A framed picture hanging in the hallway was flung violently. filled the air, followed by a chair scraping across the floor and crashing into the wall. A framed picture hanging in the hallway was flung violently, the shattered glass skittling across the floor and sliding under the door frame. This is insane how he muttered, his voice barely audible over the cacophony.

Fernando's fist clenched, his face pale, but his eyes burning with anger. She's crazy. She snuck into my room. Javi straddled me like it was okay and I'd be fine with it. Javi glanced at him, his expression grim. She's not in her right mind. That bracelet, it's doing something to her Amplifying everything this isn't her

Fernando shook his head his voice trembling. It doesn't matter That was too far. I didn't I didn't give her permission to touch me like that. I feel violated. I Know have he said his voice softening. He placed his hand on Fernando's shoulder. We're gonna fix this. We'll get through this. Teresa's screams outside the door continued. You think you're safe in there? She screamed, her voice crackling. You can't hide from me Javi. You've ruined everything, everything. Another loud crash reverberated through the apartment as a lamp was flung across the living room. Another loud crash reverberated through the apartment as a lamp was flung across the living room. Do you think Fernando needs you?

Teresa continued, her tone dripping with scorn. He doesn't. He never has. He's mine and you've been trying to take him away since the beginning. Something else slammed into the door, this time hard enough to make Havi flinch. Jesus! he whispered, pressing his back against the door. She's lost it, Fernando said. This is full on psychotic.

The air in the room grew heavy. The muffled sounds of objects crashing in the living room started to fade until Teresa's ragged breathing was the only thing that could be heard. And then silence. Javi and Fernando sat frozen listening. A moment later they heard Teresa's footsteps retreat down the hallway followed by a sharp slam of the apartment door. They let out a simultaneous breath of relief slumped

against the bed. Is it over? Javi asked his voice barely above the whisper. Fernando shook his head. Not even close. But at least she's gone for now. Javi rubbed his temples, his face etched with exhaustion. I know it's wrong. But if she doesn't go back to normal soon, I'm seriously considering leaving town. I can't keep doing this. Fernando looked at him, his expression conflicted. I get it, I do, but we can't just abandon her, she's her friend. The Teresa we knew is still there, she has to be, we just need to get that damn bracelet off. Javi sighed at Lina against the back of the wall.

You really think that witch is going to take it back? After everything? She will, Fernando said firmly. I'll make her, we'll have to go to that shop tomorrow, and she'll take it back one way or another. Have you nodded his thoughts? Though his... Have you nodded? Though his doubts lingered. Alright. But if she tries to kill us, I'm holding you responsible. Fernando managed a smile, a weak smile, deal.

The two of them sat silent, the faint of the sound of the city outside filtering through the walls. For the first time all night, the air in the apartment felt still, but it carried the weight of what was to come. Javi and Fernando sat silent in the faint sounds of the city outside, their apartment providing only a reprieve from the tension that had engulfed them. But the silent was short-lived. Fernando?

The voice was soft, almost melodic, but it sent a chill down both their spines. Did you hear that Javi whispered, his face pale. Fernando nodded, his heart racing. The voice called again, this time more insistent. Fernando, come here. Havey turned towards the window, his breath caught in his throat. Theresa's face was pressed against the glass, distorted by the shadows and reflections of the street lights outside.

Her eyes wide, glinting eerily, her lips twisted in a strange smile. Fernando, come here, she said, her voice unnaturally sweet. What the actual fuck have you murdered? Standing up abruptly. She's crazy. I'm done. He stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him. Fernando swallowed hard, stealingming the door behind him. Fernando swallowed hard, sealing himself before approaching the window. Teresa, he said cautiously, opening it just enough to speak. What are you doing out there?

It's late. You need to come inside. Her smile widened, her eyes never leaving his. I was waiting for you. You and I belong together, Fernando. You know that, don't you? Fernando forced a calm tone through his voice, even though his voice wavered slightly. Come back inside, Teresa.

It's called out. It's called out. Let's talk this through. She hesitated for a moment before nodding. Alright, if that's what you want. Theresa walked through the apartment doors moments later, her demeanor shifting from sweet to sullen as she entered. She made her way towards Fernando, ignoring Havi entirely. I'm sorry, she said softly, her tone driven with innocence.

I just wanted to spend time with you. But he keeps ruining everything. Her eyes flicker towards have you briefly, her gaze cold. Teresa, Fernando said, Tonight we need to sleep in separate beds. It's been a long day and I think we all need space. Her expression darkened for a moment, but then she smiled again, her head tilting slightly. You're right. I just wanted us to have a moment alone, but he ruined the mood. Javi opened his mouth to interject, but stopped himself. He could feel Therese's eyes daring him to speak, to give her another reason to lash out. Instead, she presented her lips towards Fernando's forehead.

Good night, Fernando, Theresa said. She casted one last glare at Javi before entering her room, shutting the door behind her. The apartment was eerily quiet as Javi lay in bed that night staring at the ceiling. Sleep didn't come easy. The events of the night were replaying in his mind. Every crack on the floor, every whisper of the wind against his window made his pulse quicken. Then his door creaked open. His heart stopped.

Fear gripped him as he turned towards the door, expecting to see Theresa's silhouette standing there in the frame. But it wasn't her. Fernando, Javi whispered, his voice trembling. Fernando stepped inside, his face pale and his shoulders tense. I… I can't stay in my room. It's a mess.

Javi sat up, a relief of, a wave of relief washing over him. What's wrong? Fernando ran a hand through his hair, glancing over his shoulder towards the hallway. I don't trust her. After everything tonight, the way she looked at me, the way she talked, it's like she's not even Teresa anymore. Javi nodded, scooting over to make room for him. All right, you can stay, but we need to set an alarm for the early morning. If she finds us here, it's going to make things worse. You think I don't know that? She'd probably smash through the door like a horror movie villain.

Javi grabbed his phone to set an alarm, then glance at Fernando. Do you think she's, you know, gone for good? The Teresa we knew? Fernando's sighted, leaning back against the headboard. I don't know. She's in there somewhere, I hope. But this bracelet's bringing out something dark. It's not just amplifying her feelings for me. It's twisting everything about her. She's jealous, possessive, dangerous. She's obsessed with you." Javi said bluntly. Fernando's eyes flicker towards him with an expression pained. I know and I hate it and I don't even feel safe around her anymore.

Javi reached out, his hands brushing against Fernando's arm. You're not alone in this, okay? We'll get that bracelet off her, whatever it takes." Fernando glanced at him, a faint smile breaking through the worry of his face. Thanks, Javi. I don't know what I'd do without you. Probably get smothered in your sleep, Javi said, his tongue light by his meaning serious. Fernando laughed softly, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. You're not wrong. They lay in silence for a while, the weight of the

night pressing down on them, but for the first time in hours, the tension felt bearable. Shared between them, like a burden halved. Javi Fernando said quietly, his voice above a whisper, Yeah, I'm glad you're here. Javi smiled faintly, though he didn't turn to look at him. Me too, man. Me too. Javi smiled faintly, though he didn't turn to look at him. Me too, man. Me too. As the alarm clock ticked on,

they both eventually drifted into a fitful sleep, knowing the morning would bring more challenges and more chaos. However, the piece of the early morning was shattered by a piercing scream. Javi jolted awake, his heart pounding in his chest. He glanced at Fernando who was already sitting up and his face pale and his eyes wide with fear.

Fernando, you bastard! Teresa's voice rang out, shrilled and filled with rage. The door to Javi's room flew open, slamming against the wall. Teresa stood in the doorway, her hair disheveled and her eyes wild. She pointed a trembling finger at Javi, her voice trembling with fury. You, she screamed, you poisoned him against me. You're the reason he doesn't love me. Teresa, Teresa stop, Fernando said, jumping out of bed. What are you talking about? She rounded on him, her expression a mix of betrayal and

heartbreak. Don't offend him, he expression a mix of betrayal and heartbreak. Don't offend him, he's been trying to take you away from me since the beginning. Fernando stepped closer, his hands raised in a particular gesture. Teresa, calm down, let's talk about this. But Teresa didn't calm down, her gaze shifted back to Javi, her lips curling into a snarl. He doesn't belong here. He never did. Before either one of them could react, Teresa turned and stormed out of the room. Where is she going? Havey asked, his voice trembling.

Fernando's face blanched. The kitchen. They heard the drawers open, slam open before they even reached the door. By the time Fernando and Havey got to the hallway, Teresa was standing in the kitchen, clutching a large knife in her hand. Her breaths were heavy and her face was contorted with rage. Teresa, put the knife down, Fernando said, his voice firm but careful.

She shook her head, her grip on the knife tightening. No, he's ruined everything Fernando, he's the reason we can't be happy. I have to fix this. Javi stepped back, his hands raised. Teresa, listen, I didn't do anything, okay? Just put the knife down and we'll figure this out. She let out a laugh, high pitched and hollow. You didn't do anything! You've been trying to turn Fernando against me from the start. You're a liar, Javi, a manipulative, conniving liar. Teresa, stop this, Fernando pleaded, stepping between her and Javi. This isn't you. The bracelet's doing this to you. Teresa's eyes filled with fear, with tears, but her expression didn't soften. Don't defend him, Fernando.

Don't you see he's the problem, not me. And she lounged at him. Run! Fernando yelled, pushing Javi back towards the bedroom. Javi stumbled into the room, slamming the door shut as Fernando walked in, just as Teresa's knife struck the wooden door with a thud. Open the door, she screamed, pounding with her fist. I'll kill you, Javi. I'll kill you. Javi scrambled to push the dresser to the front of the door, his hands shaking. Fernando helped, the two of them shoving the heavy piece of furniture onto place as the door rattled with every blow.

She's lost it, Heavy shouted, his voice crackling. I know Fernando snapped, bracing himself against the dresser. From the other side of the door, Theresa's scream grew louder. You can't hide from me. You can't keep him from me. The sound of the knife slamming against the door echoed in the room, each strike causing Javi and Fernando to flinch. This is insane. Javi muttered, pacing the door. She's gonna break the door down. She won't, Fernando said. She's just out of control. She doesn't mean it. Javi stopped pacing, his eyes locked into Fernando. You can't seriously believe that.

Fernando ran his hand through his hair, his breathing uneven. I don't know, okay? I don't know what to believe anymore. Another loud bang shook the door following Therese's voice, shrill and desperate. Fernando, don't let him win. Don't let him take you away from me. Have he slumped against the wall, burying his face in his hands. We need to end this. We need to get that bracelet off before she actually kills someone. Fernando nodded his expression grim. We will today. I don't care what it takes. Teresa's scream turned to sobs, the sounds muffled by the

door. The two men sat in silence, the weight of the situation pressing down on them like a suffocating fog. Have you broke the silence, his voice quiet but steady? You know this isn't your fault, right? Fernando looked up, his eyes tired. It feels like it is. She's like this because of me, because whatever feelings she has for me, she's like this because of that bracelet, Javi said firmly. Whatever feelings she had before, they weren't like this.

This isn't love, it's obsession. Yeah. Fernando nodded slowly, his gaze distant. I just want her to go back to normal, to be the person she was before this. And we'll get her back, Javi said, Yeah. Javi gave him a smile, just don't make me wrestle her for that knife, okay? Fernando laughed softly at the sound. Strained but genuine, deal. They sat in silence again, the sound of Teresa's sobs fading into quiet, but neither dared to move the dresser, knowing that the calm wouldn't last.

As the sun began to rise, Fernando broke the silence. We're going back to the hack shop. She'll take the bracelet back. She has to. Javi nodded, determination hardening his vitrued features. And if she doesn't, Fernando jaws tightened, then we'll make her. For the first time that morning, Javi felt a flicker of hope. It was fragile, like a candle in a storm, but it was enough to hold on to.

Together they would face whatever came next. Teresa, the hag or worse, they had no choice. The door rattled again as Teresa slammed it, her screams piercing through the wood. Fernando, she shrieked, opened the door. I just want to talk. Javi pressed his back against the wall, his eyes fixed on the dressked, open the door. I just wanna talk. Javi pressed his back against the wall, his eyes fixed on the dresser blocking the door. He shook his head, his voice low and tense. I'm not walking out there.

She still has a knife and she won't listen to me. Fernando sat on the edge of bed and his head on his hands. So what do we do? We can't stay in here forever. Javi took a deep breath? His expression hardening? I'll go out through the window. I'll find the hag and see if there's a solution. Fernando's head shot up. What? No, that's crazy, Havey. That's the only option. She won't listen to me, but she listens to you. At least enough to not stab you.

Tell her I ran away that I'm gone. Then bring her enough to not stab you. Tell her I ran away, that I'm gone. Then bring her back to the hack shop, take her through the back streets, avoid crowds, do whatever it takes to keep her calm." Fernando's eyes filled with panic, his breathing quickening. "'Javi, I can't, I don't think I can do this.' "'Yes you can,' Javi said, crouching in front of him. "'Look at me,' Fernando looked up up his face pale and his hands trembling I'm scared too. Have you said softly taking Fernando's hand and pressing them against his chest

You can feel it right my heart's racing. I'm terrified man, but we don't have a choice if we don't do something She's going to hurt herself or us Fernando squeeze have his hand has firm have a choice. If we don't do something, she's going to hurt herself or us." Fernando squeezed Javi's hand, his firm, his grip, his grip firm despite the tremor in his fingers. Be careful Javi, please. Javi gave him a small reassuring smile. I will just keep her busy or get her to the shop and I'll make sure the hag's ready to deal with this. Fernando nodded, swallowing hard. Okay, I'll do it. Javi stood up, moving towards the window. He slid it open and glanced back at Fernando one last time. You got this. I trust you. Fernando waited until Javi disappeared out the

window before moving the dresser. He opened the door slowly, finding Teresa pacing the living room. slowly, finding Teresa pacing the living room. Her hair was wild, her eyes red from tears, and the knife still hung loosely on her hand. Teresa, Fernando said gently, Have he's gone. He ran off. You don't have to worry about him anymore. Her hair whipped around, her expression softening at the moment. He's gone? Yes. Fernando said stepping closer. It's just us now.

Let's go out. OK, let's get some fresh air. She nodded, dropping the knife onto the couch. OK, just us. Like it should be. Fernando led her out of the apartment, his heart pounding as he took the quiet streets towards the hag

shop. The city was still waking up, the streets mostly empty, save for a few shopkeepers setting up for the day. Meanwhile Javi was navigating the nearest streets and alleyways, his heart racing with every step. The city felt colder, emptier than usual, as if it were holding its breath. When he reached the hag shop he found the doors still locked and the windows dark. He pounded on the door, his voice urgently,

Hey, open up, we need your help. There was no answer, he banged again harder this time, Come on, I know you're in there. After a moment, the door creaked open slightly, revealing the hag's sharp, calculated eyes. Back so soon? She said, her voice dripping with mockery. We need to talk, Havey said, his tone firm. It's about Teresa.

The bracelet is driving her insane. The hag's smile widened, her teeth glinting in the dim light. Oh, is it now? Come in. The shop smelled of dried herbs and smoke. The air thick and heavy. Heavy stepped inside. The door creaking shut behind him.

The hag was already waiting at the counter with her sharp eyes glinting with amusement. Well, well, she said her voice like gravel over glass. The meddler returns. What can I do for you, boy? What did you do to Teresa? Habby demanded, his voice trembling but resolute. The hag tilted her head, uh, the hag, the hag tilted her head, uh, faking innocence. Due to her, I sold her a beautiful bracelet. She seems quite taken with it.

Javi's fence cletched at his sides. Don't play dumb. That bracelet is cursed, and you know it. She's not herself anymore. She's angry, obsessive, violent. She threatened to kill me with a knife. The hag chuckled, the sound low and sinister. Ah yes, the truth always comes out in the end, doesn't it?

What are you talking about? Havi snapped, stepping closer. The hag leaned forward. Her gnarled fingers steepled under her chin. The bracelet didn't put anything in her that wasn't in there already. It merely brought out her true self to the surface. That's weird. Her jealousy, her possessiveness, her anger, it was all there buried deep. I simply helped her let it out.

That's bullshit, Heavy Spat. She's not like this. She was sweet, kind. She was repressed. The hag interrupted her tone sharp, pretending to be something she wasn't. Tell me boy, have you ever seen someone's face when they think no one is looking? Hurt their thoughts when they think no one's listening. Teresa's heart was full of bitterness and fear. She wanted your friend so desperately, but she hated you even more for standing in her way. The bracelet merely gave her permission to stop pretending. Have his jaw tight and his breath shallow. You knew this would happen. You knew it would destroy her. The hag's smile grew wider. Her teeth showed yellow and they were uneven.

Of course I did. That's why I sold it to her. People come to me wanting something beautiful, something precious, but they don't understand. Equal value, remember? She gave me money. Pathetic, meaningless money. So I took the only thing of value she had. Her mask. Have you slammed his hand down on the counter? The force rattling objects around them? Take it back, undo it. The hag's laughter filled the room echoing the walls.

And why would I do that? What will you give me, boy? What do you have that's worth breaking the curse? Havi stared at her, his heart pounding. I'll give you whatever you want. Just fix her. The hag leaned back, her expression calculating, Hmm, your conviction is admirable, but it isn't just about Theresa, is it? You're not doing this just for her, you're doing it for him, for Fernando. Have his breath hitched, his eyes widening, What are you talking about, the hag's wrinkly sly?

You care for him, more than you let on, more than Theresa ever could, That's why you're here, isn't it? Not just to save her, but to protect him. More than you let on. More than Theresa ever could. That's why you're here, isn't it? Not just to save her, but to protect him. Javi's fist trembled at his side. You don't know what you're talking about. Oh, but I do, the hag purred. And so do you. The question is, what are you willing to sacrifice for him? Javi swallowed hard his mind racing. I'll give you whatever it takes, just take the curse off her. The hag leaned forward again, her piercing gaze locking into his.

Oh, I'll take the bracelet back. But you must understand, breaking the curse won't erase what's been revealed. Teresa will remember, and so will Fernando. The truth cannot be undone. Javi, hesitant, his resolve faltering for a moment, and then nodded, I don't care, just fix it. The hag's smile turned wicked. Very well, boy, but remember, everything has a cost, and you just paid yours. Havi's chest tightened as the hag began to laugh the sound of reverberating in the dark corners of the shop. The stakes had never been higher, but he was willing to risk it all

for Fernando and for the hope of peace. Havi stood frozen, his fist clenched at his sides. The hag's words hung in the air, her calculating gaze drilling into him. What do you want from me? He asked, his voice trembling. The hag leaned back in the chair, her bony fingers stapled on her chin. Oh, it's not what I want. It's what you have to offer.

Javi frowned, his heart pounding in his chest. I already told you, I'll give you whatever it takes, just take the curse off Teresa. The hag smiled through wider. Brave words boy, but do you truly understand what whatever it takes means? People always say that until they're faced with the truth of their own desperation. What are you talking about, Havey snapped. The hag gestured to a clutter of shelves around her. Everything here has a story, a cost, a sacrifice.

People come to me wanting their lives changed, but they never think about what they'll lose. Teresa gave me nothing of value, so I took her mask, her pretenses, her control. That was all she had to offer. And me? Habi asked his voice quieter now. The hag eyes gleam you, boy, are different. You have much to give. The question is, how much are you willing to part with? Havi hesitated, his stomach twisting.

What do you want? The hag leaned forward, her voice dropped into a whisper. Your memories. Havi's breath caught on his throat. My memories? Yes, you've heard. The ones that make you who you are. The memories you hold most dear. The ones tied to your heart.

Your first love. Your proudest moment. Your laughter. Your tears. The things that define you. Have his chest tightened and his mind raced. Why would you want that? Because, the hag said, her voice almost gentle, it's the only thing you truly value. You have no wealth to speak of, no family heirlooms or treasures, but your memories, your experiences, they are your treasure, and they're worth more than gold. Havi stared at her, his heart pounding. If I give you my memories, will I forget everything? The hag shrugged her expression unreadable.

You'll still be you, but the things that shape you, the things that gave your life meaning, they'll be gone. You'll wake up tomorrow, a blank slate, a stranger to your own soul. Havey felt a lump rise on his throat. He thought about his grandfather's teaching him to play harmonica, about the countless nights that he spent laughing with Fernando, about the quiet moments where he felt truly at peace. And if I say no, he asked, the hag's smile turned cruel.

The bracelet stays. Theresa's madness only grows. She'll destroy herself and likely you and that friend of yours in the process. Javi's hand trembled as he looked at her. You're giving me a choice that isn't a choice. That's the nature of sacrifice, the hag said simply. Javi took a shaking breath, his mind racing. He thought of Therese's wild eyes, that knife in her hand, and Fernando's panicked face. I'll do it, he said firmly.

His voice steady, despite the fear in his chest. The hag smiled and grew wider. Good. Let us begin. She rose from her chair and moved into a shelf lined with strange jars and trinkets. She selected a small vial filled with a shimmering, silvery liquid and placed it on the counter. Your memories? She sat, gesturing for him to sit. Hold the vial and think of the moments that matter the most to you. They'll pour into it, one by one, until there's nothing left.

Javi hesitated, his hands trembling as he picked up the vial. It felt warm, almost alive in his palm. He closed his eyes, letting the memories fold in his mind. His grandfather's harmonica, the first notes he's ever played, Fernando's laugh at one of his terrible jokes, the sense of pride he felt when he'd help a stranger in need, the way he'd felt just the night before when Fernando held his hand and told him, I trust you. The vial grew heavier, its liquid swirling as the memories drained from his mind. Each one left a hollow ache in its wake, a piece of himself slipping away. Meanwhile, as Fernando and Teresa turned the corner, a child ran out of a bakery, bumping into Fernando. "'Sorry,' the boy said, looking up at him with white eyes. Theresa's face twisted in fury.

Watch where you're going, little brat. She snapped, her voice sharp and venomous. The child's mother hurried over, pulling him away. I'm sorry, she said, quickly ushering her son back inside. Fernando grabbed Theresa's arm. Gently but firmly, Theresa said, it's fine. Let's let it go. She scowled but allowed him to guide

her forward, muttering under her breath. Fernando and Theresa entered the hag's shop, the air heavy with the scent of herbs and something metallic. The dim lights cast long shadows on the cluttered shelves, making the space feel smaller and oppressive than they thought. At the counter, Javi stood stiffly, his back to them. The hag loomed before him, her sharp smile curving unnaturally wide. Javi, Fernando called out, his voice shakingly, what's going on? Did she agree to help?

Javi turned his face pale in his eyes and hollow. He glanced at Teresa, then back at Fernando. She has a solution. The haggs piercing gaze landed on Teresa, her smile whitening. My dear, you've brought such energy into this shop, such passion. It's only fitting that you and I have a little chat.

Teresa's grip on Fernando's arm tightened. I'm not talking to you, she spat. You're the one a little chat. Theresa's grip on Fernando's arm tightened. I'm not talking to you, she spat. You're the one who cursed me. The hag chuckled softly, her laughter low and rasping. Cursed? Oh, my dear, I didn't curse you. I simply gave you what you paid for. Freedom from your inhibitions.

The rest was all you. Take it off, Theresa demanded her voice. Now, the hag's eyes flickered to Havey briefly before turning to Theresa. Patience, girl. Come with me to the back and we'll see what can be done. The hag gestured to the vial in Havey's hand. You should be proud of your friend here. He was willing to make the ultimate sacrifice. His

memories, the very essence of who he is, in exchange for freeing you from that bracelet's influence." Fernando's eyes grew wide. Javi, no, you can't. Javi held up a hand, cutting him off. I didn't do it. What? Fernando asked, his voice laced with confusion. Javi glanced at the hag back at Fernando and Teresa. I was about to. I was ready to give up everything. But then I asked if there was another way. The hag's grin grew wider, her teeth glinted in the dim light. And there is, of course, there's always another way.

But this one comes with its own price. The hag and Teresa walked into the back room. Fernando's voice dropped, a cold recollection creeping in. Wait, what was the alternative? Javi hesitated, looking at the floor. Javi, Fernando's... What was the alternative? Javi swallowed hard his voice barely above a whisper. It was me. What? The hag wanted something of equal value, Javi said. So she said I could give her my memories, everything that makes me who I am, and if I did that she'd lift the curse.

You mean you would have forgotten me? Everything? Us? I wouldn't have... I would have been a shell of my former self, Fernando, a stranger. She would have taken everything, our friendship, the times we laughed, everything. I would have lost you. So what's happening, Fernando asked. She said she'd take Teresa. She said she'd take Teresa. She said she'd take Teresa Fernando. Fernando staggered to the back, the weight of his words letting him... The word... the weight of his words hitting him like a blow. So you chose Teresa instead. You chose to let her go.

Have you looked up, his eyes glistening with unshared tears. I don't want to lose either one of you, but I had to make a choice. Teresa was already gone. That bracelet, it took over her, twisted her into something we didn't recognize. But me, I'm still here, Fernando. I couldn't let her destroy you or take what we have. I'm sorry. Fernando's breath quickened as his chest grew tighter. As Havey's words echoed in his mind. He turned suddenly his eyes with desperation. No! He was, his voice trembling. I can't accept this. She trusted me and I promised her.

Fernando, wait! Javi called, but it was too late. Fernando bolted towards the back room, throwing the door open with force, and it made its slam against the wall. The dim space was quiet, a faint scent of herbs and smoke lingered in the air. Shadows flickered along the walls. The space seemed larger than the shop itself. Teresa, Fernando shadowed his voice breaking.

Javi hesitated for a moment, his heart pounding, before following him into the room. Fernando, stop, Javi called his voice bouncing off the walls. Fernando stopped, he looked at the ground, and he saw the bracelet. Teresa, where are you? Fernando, she's gone. Don't do this to yourself. Fernando yanked his arm away, his eyes blazing with anger and anguish. You don't know that.

She could still be here. She could look around you, Javi snapped. The room, this place, is not natural. She's not here, Fernando. She's gone. Fernando's shoulders sagged, his energy drained as the weight of Javi's words settled over him. He stumbled forward, his gaze falling to the ground. Fernando dropped to his knees, his hands trembling as he picked up the bracelet.

No, he whispered. No, no, no. Havi knelt beside him, his own expression filled with guilt and sorrow. Fernando I'm sorry. I thought this would save us. Fernando turned to him, his eyes red and brimming with tears. You should have told me, he said. You should have let me decide. Have you swallowed his hands trembling as he reached out to stop?

You would have. You wouldn't have decided. You would have tried to save us both and it would have destroyed you I couldn't let that happen Fernando's breath quick and his chest tight and as heavy as words echoed in his mind No, he was hurt. I can't accept that she trusted me. I promised her Fernando wait. I'll be called, but it was too late Fernando bolted Fernando stop. She's gone. You don't know that. Look around you. You wouldn't have decided. You would have tried to save us both. You had time to tell me. To let me decide.

No, I didn't. You would have just made the choice, Fernando. You would have just stood there trying to find another way to fix this, hoping for a miracle. That's not fair, Fernando snapped. You don't know that. Then let me ask you right here, right now,

if you had to pick, who would it have been? Me or Teresa? Fernando froze, his mouth opened and then close because he didn't find an answer I wouldn't there must be another way we could have that's exactly why I had to do it have you interrupted because I knew you wouldn't you would have stood there paralyzed trying to save us both and at the end we would have been lost. They left the shop in silence, the weight of their conversation hanging between them. The streets of the port were bustling with life, but to Fernando and Javi the world felt cold and empty. As they walked Fernando broke the silence, his voice soft but resolute.

I wouldn't have picked, you're right. But I still don't know if what you did was right either. Havi glanced at him, his expression heavy with guilt. I don't know if it was right, I just know it was all I could do. Fernando nodded slowly, his eyes on the ground. Well, we'll have to leave with it now I guess. We'll get through this. The walk back to the apartment was tense and silence, each step feeling heavier than the last. Fernando clutched the cold bracelet in his hand. Thoughts running through his mind, anger, confusion, guilt. When they finally reached the apartment, Fernando stopped at the door turning to Javi.

You didn't tell me. You didn't let me decide. Because you wouldn't have made a choice. Fernanda opened his mouth, but Havey held up a hand, cutting him off. You want her back so badly? Havey asked his voice despite the tension between them. Havey reached into his jacket and pulled out a small vial. The same shimmery one that he had held in the hags shop. The liquid inside swirled faintly glowing with an almost unnatural light. Fernando's breath hitched as Javi held the vial out to him.

This is the alternative Javi. His voice quieter now. She would take me instead of Teresa. Who am I? My memories, everything that makes me. If you want her back, go to the hag, trade her for me. Fernando stared at the vial, his hand trembling as he reached for it. You'd do that? Fernando asked.

I would. But I need you to understand something, Fernando. If you do this, I won't be me anymore. I won't remember anything. Who you are, who you are who we are you'll save Teresa but you'll lose me Fernando took the vial the warmth of its shock the warmth of it shocking against his cold fingers he stared at the swirling liquid inside his mind spinning she's gone because of me Fernando whisper whispered. I could have done something. I could have stopped this.

She's gone because of the bracelet, because of what it did to her. You couldn't stop it, Fernando. Not without losing yourself in the process. Fernando's jaw clenched, his eyes burning with tears. But I can fix it now. I can bring her back and lose me, Habby said softly. Is that what you want is That what she would want

Fernando looked up at him the conflict in his eyes raw and unfiltered You're asking me to choose between you and her have you shook his head. I'm not asking you to do anything I'm giving you the choice But you need to be sure Fernando, because you once you walk into that shop with that vial, there's no going back. Fernando stood there the vial in one hand and the bracelet in the other, the weight of the decision pressing down on him like a physical force. He thought of Teresa, her laughter, her kindness before the bracelet took her over. He thought of Javi, his unwavering support,

his terrible jokes, and the way he'd always been there when things fell apart. You could have let me decide back there. I didn't want to put this on you, Javi said. You've already been through enough. Fernando clenched his fist, staring at the vial as he held all the answers and all the pain. Fernando, Javi said, stepping closer. You don't have to save everyone. You don't have to carry

this on your own. But if you're ready to make that choice, then make it. I'll stand by whatever it is. Fernando's breath hitched his, Fernando's breath hitched his hand tightening around the vial. He looked up at Javi. His visions blurred with tears. I can't, Fernando said, whispering. I can't lose you. Javi's expressions soften and he placed a hand on Fernando's shoulder. Then you've already made your choice.

Fernando let the vial slip from his fingers. The small glass container landing softly on the couch. He couldn't look at it anymore. Javi let out a shaky breath of relief in his eyes. You did the right thing, Fernando. You made the only choice you could. I'll never stop feeling like I failed her.

You didn't fail her, Javi said. You saved yourself and you saved me. Havi, oh that, they sat in silence, the weight of the decision still heavy between them, but for the first time in days the tension began to ease, replaced by the faint hope of moving forward together. Havi stirred in the dark that night. He couldn't sleep. And then he heard it. The sound of a door creaking open. Pulling him from his restless sleep, he sat up, his

heart pounding as he strained to hear. Then it came. The faint, unmistakable sound of the front door clicking shut. His chest tightened, Javi leaped out of his bed, hurried to the living room, the empty couch, the faint scent of the cool night and his worst fear. Fernando was gone and so was the vile.

Mm hmm. Yeah. Javi's breath hitched as the reality set in. His legs felt weak and he sank in the armchair by the window, his mind racing. He took it. Javi whispered, his voice breaking. He took the vial.

His hands trembled as he gripped the armrest. The widow of what was about to happen crushed him. He had given Fernando the choice, but he had never fully truly believed he would take it. And now Fernando is gone. Happy thoughts spiral. What happens now? He murmured, stared into the darkness. What happens when I'm no longer me? He clenched his fist, his nails digging into the palms. As he imagined what was coming, the hag would strip him of everything. His memories, his laughter, his friendship. He wouldn't remember Fernando or the moments they shared. He wouldn't even remember who he was.

The thought was suffocating. Javi pressed his hands to his face. He's breathing ragged. What if I forget everything? What if I don't come back? The chair creaked below him as he shifted, his eyes darting to the clock on the wall. Time crawled, each second stretching into eternity. Hours passed, the apartment silent except for the occasional creak from the floorboards.

Havey sat on the chair, unmoving, staring at the door. He thought of Fernando, how his friend has always been the steady one, the one who had carried the weight of the world on his shoulders, and now he'd taken one burden too many. Javi's mind raced with images of what might be happening, Fernando standing in the hag shop, the vial in his hand, Fernando pleading with the hag, begging her to reverse the deal. Fernando handing over Havi's essence in exchange for Teresa. His heart twisted at the thought, I should have stopped him, Havi thought to himself. I shouldn't have given him a choice, but it was too late.

The decision had been made, and now all he could do was wait. Minutes stretched into hours. The dark sky outside slowly shifted into a pale gray of dawn. Have his eyes burn from staring at the door, but he couldn't look away. His mind tormented with possibilities. Would he feel it when it happened? Would his memories fade, leaving him a hollow shell? Would he even know what he'd lost? But as the hours dragged on, nothing changed.

He was still himself, and Fernando hadn't returned. Javi finally let his head fall back against the chair, his body shaking with exhaustion and fear. The silence of the apartment was deafening, every creak on the wall was cruel, and so was the absence of his friends. His chest heaved as tears spilled down his face, his mind refusing to rest. What if he's gone forever? Havey whispered. The light of the dawn creeped into the room, soft and cold, but it brought no comfort.

Javi sat in the chair, his hands gripping the armrest tightly, waiting for something, anything to happen. The sharp sound of a knock broke through the suffocating silence. Javi froze, his breath catching his throat. He stared at the door, his heart pounding wildly in his chest. For a moment he couldn't move. Then summoning every ounce of courage he had, Havey stood up. His legs felt weak as he crossed the room, his hand trembling as he reached for the doorknob. He opened the door slowly, the hinges creaking as the light from the hall we spilled inside. Fernando stood there, his face striked with tears, his shoulders slumped, and his hand he held the vial, the shimmering liquid growing faintly inside. Fernando Javi whispered with a relief and fear that mingled in his voice. Fernando looked up at him, his

expression raw and broken. I couldn't do it, he said. I couldn't make a choice. Javi quickly stepped forward, placing a steady hand on Fernando's shoulder. Come inside, he said, guiding him to the apartment. Fernando sat on the couch, the vial clutched tightly on his hand. He stared at it for a long moment before holding it out to Javi. You were right, Fernando said, his voice trembling. I couldn't pick. I stood there for hours holding this, thinking about Teresa, about you.

And I couldn't do it. Javi took the vial gently in his own hands. Fernando, I'm sorry. I never should have given you that choice. And that's it. That is not how I thought the story would end whatsoever. No? Well, what did you think? There were so many different like, like plot points, so many ways the story just changed and it turned into something entirely different.

So I don't know. Like I really did not know what to expect. Fair. Yeah, no, it went everywhere. It was a ride. It was a ride over this past hour and a half. So yeah, it was a ride. Yeah, yeah.

Definitely long, but also like, I was like, this is a good story, but also like, as I was reading through it, I was like also feeling like the plot twist. I was like, whoa. Yeah, so many plot twists. Hard left here. And then again, and then again.

Yeah. I thought it'd be over when it's like, we're at the apartment and it's all empty. And then he takes the freaking vial out. There were so many times when I thought it would end. Like there were so many times when I thought the story was going to end and it just kept going. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Like with the whole like vial thing, like at the witch's place, at the hag's place, I was like, okay, cool. Like that's the end. Like, yeah. And I was like, nope, there's another choice. We give Teresa away. Uh-uh. Yeah. And like the whole conversation with the hag in the first place and like all of that,

I don't know. It's cool. It was a really cool, really well-written story. As you saw, I struggled a lot because there was a lot of grammatical errors in there. That's fine. And also it's just a long story. It's tough to read for that long. Yeah. It's not like popcorn reading. No, it's really not. But hope you all enjoyed it.

Campfire Stories Friday the 13th special episode. Let us know what you thought, what your favorite story was, what your reactions are, and anything else. Would you pick if you were in that role? This is true. Or would you end up like... Fuck, I forgot the name already. Fernando.

And just like freeze and not pick. Just freeze. I don't know. You gotta make a choice or something. Who knows? Yeah. But that's all for tonight, folks. Yeah. Hydrate, breathe.

Have a good one. And we'll see you next time. Bye-bye. Bye. Oh, Smurfs! Bye. Bye. Thanks for listening to Chambers of the Occult.

For photos, sources, and anything else mentioned during the episode, check out our website at chambersoftheoccult.com. You'll find everything you need there if you do find yourself wanting more. You can also follow us on all of our socials at Chambers of the Occult and on Twitter at COTO Podcast. If you have any questions, comments, recommendations, personal anecdotes, or concerns, let us know. Fill out our contact form on our website, email us at chambersoftheoccultatgmail.com, or leave us a message on our socials.

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