CreepCast - Berries In The Window | Creep Cast

Episode Date: January 19, 2025

What would you do if someone had a cure for your child? To save them, make them new again. Would you venture into the forest? Would you give them up? May you have faith. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

There is the cold habitual, and it is the froy of the mountains blue. The frost at its summit. Coors Light, t'en've been a fraud. Celebrate in a fashion responsible, you have to have the age legal to consume the alcohol.

Woo! Stop! Do you know how fast you were going? I'm going to have to write you a ticket. To my new movie, The Naked Gun. Liam Nissan. Buy your tickets now. I get a free Tilly Dog.

Chili Dog, not included. The Naked God. Tickets on sale now. August 1st. Welcome back to Creepcast Today we're talking about something I hope to be deliciously evil because it's called berries in the window

written by Kevin Jones Before the recording started Hunter asked me if I'd still do the podcast if he murdered a woman in cold blood and I didn't have anyone else to tell about that so okay well that's a lie that's a lie but here's a truth I said Isaiah what'd you have for lunch and what did you say that's spaghetti and then he was like oh it's because I'm part Italian is what he said I said I'm Italian to my blood was the direct quote and I said and I said oh that's what that smell is whenever I meet with when I was in person

with him that's what that smell is so today we're I'm not even that Italian actually so you're making Your mustache, your mustache, you, you could fool any me. You could definitely fool me. You look like an Italian-American. Yeah, I think you're just like really racist and need to put people in groups in your mind. Absolutely. Well, I have to be. You know, I have to be that character on the show.

He said it. He said, yeah, character. Okay. Yeah. He said it on the show right there. Yeah, I have to be this character. I break my fingers because I closed them so hard. My character.

Berries of the window was written on. June 20th, 20th, 2024, this great, the Lord's great year of this year. And apparently, sorry, Kevin, but we saw you follow us, dude.

Lame! Lame! Just kidding. Very excited to read this from somebody who's a fan of the show. A lot of hostility that you're, you're reaching out with all ones. Yeah,

so it seems that Kevin is a fan of the show. He has two stories, it looks like. I looked for publishing, not seeing anything he has published, at least not the moment. He has this one buries in the window, and another one called

The Puppet Theater in My Attic. Berries in the Windows has been recommended by a few people. We've heard good things about it. And on creepyposter.com, it is rated 8.5 stars out of 10. That's pretty good. 4-7.

You know, and I want to say, I think that this is the first time and correct me if I'm wrong. I think this is the first time that we are reading a quote-unquote fan story. Not about us, but I just mean somebody that we know follows us, knows the show.

we know it's our first viewer story, right? Maybe. I feel like there was one time we read a story and then after we got to recording, I checked on Twitter and they followed us. Okay. Well, now going into it, you know, I'm going to, Kevin, I'm going to give you the prestigious viewer read story. I see a lot of people on our subreddit even write stories and stuff. And I would really love to get something to where we can get the community writing and start, you know, reading more stories and stuff like that.

But, you know, you have to watch out because people usually see. suck. People suck at writing. It happens. You know what I mean? Sometimes I suck. Sometimes they're pretty good. We got a pile of stories. People handed us at the live shows. A pile. For an episode sometime. A pile. I have four, I think. I have not read any of it yet. It was a lot. All right. It was a lot. Yeah. Also, still want to say, I'm in Japan mode now. So all my cares are out the window. They're on a plane flying to Tokyo. The past three episodes we've recorded in the span of like four days. so Tokyo that's all I can think of Tokyo. So I can think about you

Manichiewa. As I say, hi-o. Funny enough, that's where he said he was going to murder a woman. So what does I tell you? What would you? I'll say it, you know what? I'll say it again. What would you do if you found out that I killed someone in Japan and I told you later?

I would quit the podcast. That is not. That is not what you said. That's literally what I said. That is not what you said. I said that it would be terrible optics to continue the show. No, no, no. here's okay a little if what if I said gave you this one then what if I gave you this one I said I'd go to you where we're at like a red robin or something having dinner celebrating something never why would we be celebrating and I'm like more campfire sauce and bottomless fries right here and I say I say I got to tell you something then I'm like leaning in because I could I don't want to be loud I'm like I got to tell you something you got to respond back because if you're in the table okay all right what what what is it hunter is your fries bad or

Are they a little overcooked? No, the fries couldn't be better. Seriously, the campfire sauce is amazing. That's good. Hey, I just had a quick question. Why are we celebrating at a Red Robbins? I say, I did something bad. Took me to Red Robbins for a celebration.

I know, but you mean something else? I strangled a woman on a Japanese train. And guess what? I got away with it. No one knows. Only you. All right. But I felt weird.

You know, here we are celebrating. at Red Robin, your favorite restaurant. And I feel like it would only be disrespectful if I didn't tell you this. And I just wanted to know, no one else knows. I don't think anyone's ever going to find out. Will you continue the show with me? And that's the conundrum I give you.

Now what's your answer? No one knows. Was the train Japanese or the woman? Both. then I don't know if I can continue. I don't think I can keep the, I think, I think just culturally, and especially from like a brand safe perspective, I think I have to quit the show,

but I won't tell how you, you on a public transit and you got away with it, you got out of the country. It was late at night. It was so late. It was so late. Kind of like a collateral moment where like Tom Cruise gets shot to death and they just leave him on the train and it's fine.

no i i i i hit her body oh on a train not because of because you not you just put it underneath the trains move like really fast oh extremely fast so how did you how'd you hide your body i put it under a bench it doesn't matter you know what i'll say this with my with my answer i'll say this i'll say you know what you might have said yeah hunter i would have to leave the show i couldn't work with you anymore. But you said, I think. So for a moment, you're like, well, maybe I can get past this. And that's all I needed, buddy.

Friendship secured. Friendship saved. Knowing that. Did, did she have it coming? No. I'd like to think it was a barbaric rage. I was blacked out. I always hate that. In those crime documentaries, I blocked out. Bullshit. Well, that's like, that's a cope.

That's what like OJ said and stuff like that, right? I blocked. I didn't know what happened. Yeah, go fuck yourself. Well, hold on. Did you so did just like Harry and Allison just watch were they there they didn't care like what was the logistics of you I had a long night think actually what if what if you found out that I strangled someone to death but it was in self defense like I saw some guy getting ready to stab somebody right well that's fine he's like give me your fucking wallet whatever like that and then I besides just like knocking him out with a punch I just just go with my bare hands I strangle to death That's fine. I don't care about that because at that point, like, I've thought about this before. If you were in like a self-defense scenario and you were choking someone, you would be afraid that as soon as you quit choking them, they were going to attack and kill you, right?

Okay. Let me repurpose the question then really quick. Okay. What if I said, I think I saw a guy getting ready to stab somebody to death? What do you mean by thing? That's what I mean. What? Yeah.

Yeah. That's what I mean. I really throws a range of the operation, doesn't it? What do you mean? You said, I'm just saying I thought that's what I saw. One word changes a lot. It really does.

It really does. You're like, I have several, I have several follow-up questions to that statement. I think. I honestly don't think just from knowing you from hanging out with you and like, you know, we've been doing this podcast. We've been talking to each other a couple times a week for over a year now.

I don't think there is a scenario that you could tell me something that's serious and I believe you. That is not true. You're very gullible. I've done it time and time again. Well, yeah, I have, but it's taken, like, you've got me a lot of times, but recently I've, I've, like, wizened up a little bit. Yeah. Okay, dude. I don't think if you told me anything serious over, like, a diagnosis, I would believe you. I think I would space that out. I think I'm smart enough to space out enough to where I think I think I'd get you I think I'd get you again also we should read the story I I keep you know I keep some of the times I'm just like you just riffing around my buddy's fun huh nice but we do have a story called Barry's in the window if it's not good guess what dude

and here's and actually me and Isaiah we talked about this before the episode we both followed Kevin uh Kevin Jones back on Twitter if the story's not good we're on fucking following him So Kevin, if this comes out and you're like, well, they're not following me. Guess what happened, bro? So here we go. Barry's in the window. I'm ready. Also, this, I, it has, I'm excited for the themes.

I don't want to go into it yet because I don't want to spoil it, but I'm excited. For what we've heard, it sounds pretty cool. Yeah. Someone gave me like kind of a little rundown of it. I'm excited. Let's get into it. Berries in the window. I want to take a quick moment to tell you about today's sponsor.

Factor. It can be tough trying to eat better on a busy schedule, from work deadlines to workouts, to whatever you call this podcast, especially when you're worried about portion sizes, counting calories, and eating enough protein. Thankfully today's sponsored Factor is here to help. Factor has delicious, ready-to-eat meals that are delivered straight to your door. And in just two minutes, you can heat, eat, and enjoy. Factor has a variety of options, from calorie smart, to keto, to protein plus, or even vegan dishes. And if you like walking on the fancy side of life, Factor now has gourmet plus meals, meaning that you can have ingredients such as salmon or truffle butter.

That also have a surf and turf meal option with shrimp and filet mignon. With over 35 options to choose from each week, you're sure to find something you like. And every one of those meals is chef crafted and dietitian approved. And the best part about Factor is there's no prep work. You just get the meal, there's no standing in grocery lines, and virtually no cleanup, as they're just microwave and ready to eat. So if you want to get in on this fantastic offer, then head to Factor75.com for click the link below and use code 50 creepcast to get 50% off plus free shipping on your first

factor box that is right code 50 creepcast at factor 75.com to get 50% off plus free shipping what's not to love thank you so much to factor for sponsoring the episode it really does mean the most and we are now back to the show i met a lane at the rim of a fountain the water bellowed from the spigot in its ornate pattern the fact it was running at all was a miracle for our underfunded university It was just after my 845 class on early horror films. No better way to start your morning than with a dissection of the infernal cauldron, I suppose. She sat on the edge of the courtyard fountain with her head buried in a textbook. Fresh-brewed coffee from the commissary by her hip.

Her hair draped to her collarbone and swayed in the passing breeze. I assume she was a nursing major by the art on the front of her textbooks and the fact that she was always trapped in their pages. I assume she had a keen mind, top of her class, even by the way, she was constantly scribbling on her notepaper. I assume she had a boyfriend waiting for her back home, but I was tired of assuming. Love that, dude. Love the insol vibe there. I bet she has a boyfriend. I doubt it. You know, I was actually about to say, I would, like, if you didn't speak, I was going to say something about how sweet of a setup that is. I assume she learned my lesson. I assume she had a boyfriend waiting for

back home but I was tired of assuming that's kind of a it's kind of a creepy line also I want to say to the horror class that's actually true I in college I had a class it was a uh can't remember how how they phrased I mean it's like basically gay theory is what it was like literally but it was uh like the depictions of uh gay artist and media through vampire films and how like the aides was all sprung up by the aid scare and that kind of it was very interesting I just want to say that's a real thing because I feel like there's going to be a lot of people being like what a horror class but it's cool it was a good class I don't think I'm trying to think if I had any cool classes in college because I was science major so all of my like electives I had to take

were like biochemistry and like you know um and what was that one class called it was like invertebrate vertebrate anatomy iVap like invertebrate anatomy and physiology it was all like science stuff right so not a lot of fun classes I remember hating molecular cellular biology and what's the one that killed immunology? Oh my gosh immunology sucked. So the only like gen eds

I got to take that were cool were just like the very generic one. So like art like I liked art because it was like art history and stuff. And a couple of my history classes were cool. I enjoyed all my history classes. That was like the big thing I really enjoyed. I took that there was this one teacher.

I just liked her. I took one of her classes and then all she ever the only other classes she taught after that was feminism so i was in all of her feminism classes but one of them was basically uh female history in china and i got to learn about like it was fucking insane do like china like chinese feet binding all that kind of shit fucking crazy so i i enjoyed almost every history class i ever took i thought those were sick i had some cool history ones i remember taking stuff where we'd go over like we had one history class that was like ancient world up to i think like 1500 bc uh so there's a lot of stuff about like the code of hammer rabbi and like egypt and stuff like that

and it was cool did you go to like early mythology all that kind of stuff yeah through all the periods and stuff like that um talking about what was the epic of gilgamesh and stuff like that it was pretty neat i also wanted to make a venus of us dude you remember the venuses it's like uh back in like the neolithicic era there would be like these statues that they would call venuses uh oh they're a big fat thick women you know i mean because it's like because if you were you know big back then it's bountiful you're healthy and whatever else yeah it was a privilege to be fat because yeah i want someone was hard to come by pregnant and all yeah i want someone to make one of me dude make someone make me a venus dude i want that's what i want to be yeah i's yeah i'd have a venous

way to me i think that'd be yeah why not can you imagine you're now big ass lips and a mustache just huge you're all right you too you know what i wasn't going to bring this up but since you just made that joke i will uh do you think maybe your relation of taking like a uh like a Chinese feminism class may have, you know, related to you just randomly telling me, you're going to murder a Japanese lady on a, on a train. Do you think maybe there's some I think it made me open. I think it made me open minded enough to even have the thought. Is that, oh, so it, you have to be open minded to murder a woman in cold blood. I think you have to, I think you have to be open minded enough to be able to want to ingest

and adore someone's culture enough to visit their country. Um, kill them. Well, exactly and go there and then. indulge in whatever you have to in a blind rage because I blacked out. Yeah. An angel told me to do it. Okay. So back to the story. I was going to say it was weird because like I met my wife in college, right?

And I remember for a while like just thinking like, oh, she's so far out of my league. Like there's no way I'm going to have a chance. And then when I was stupid enough to try it, uh, an hour married. so I don't know there's something about this opening paragraph where it was like she was talking for class I figured she had a boyfriend but I was tired of assuming and stuff I don't know I thought I thought of Kayla there it's sweet

cool where I'm an in cell it's awesome you like this don't you just like this humiliation just all right whatever perhaps it was the

the way the sun peaked over the clouds or the water playing the perfect score in the background or it may have just been the pressure of summer's vacations approach whatever it was on that morning of may the 27th frame was absolute perfection so i took the shot i sat next to her and made some comment about the book she was reading that i couldn't possibly remember she laughed at it though out of nervous out of nervousness or pity she would never tell but the laugh offered all the confidence I needed. We left that morning with the date planned, and then that date with another and another and another.

She said yes, six years later to the day. Took a trip to the large... Man, that's like how long... Is this going to make me sad? We took a trip to the largest resort in our state. I made sure the sky was clear. The crowds were minimal, and the flowers had bloomed. I got off my knee to embrace her.

She was elated. her smile her embrace her scent every detail was just as i imagine yeah she should herself how did you propose i took alison to uh fairbanks alaska under the northern lights did you actually i didn't i'll text her right now go ahead and text her i did it that's what happened that's very romantic that's actually incredibly thoughtful and sweet oh yeah it's awesome Did you cry? Yeah, I did for probably like three or four hours. I don't know.

I think she, I can't remember where she was at. But yeah, no, I tear it up. Did you? I did, yeah. Yeah. I had like a whole like little speech prepared and stuff. We were both crying. Can you remember it?

I do remember it, actually. Can you say it to me right now? but I'll pretend I'm Kayla I'd um what would your kale impression be like well once you start saying once you start saying it I'll start I'll start doing it Kayla yeah she sounds like goofy that doesn't sound goofy that was a goofy impression okay that's 100% goofy impression um years ago you asked me I was waiting for you to do the impression again. Oh, what did I ask you?

Okay. Do you remember what you asked me? Pass the catch up. Okay, now you're Patrick Stark. It's the same voice. Anyway, the little, the little, like, speech I gave or whatever is, like, when we had started dating, we had this whole conversation where she was talking about how, like, um, like, um, like, She used to, she used to pray for, when she was a kid, she used to pray for, like, a man to come into her life to make, make things better, not worse, blah, blah, blah, like all this sappy stuff.

And when I, when I propose, right before I got down on one knee, I said something's effective, like, I think I'm that man or I want to be that man or something like that and proposed. It was very sweet. Go ahead. I was just listening. I was just waiting for you to have some snide remark or comment, too. No, I think it's beautiful. Okay. Can I go back to the story now?

Yep. I managed to discover another frame as flawless as today I met her. From there, we made a beautiful film of our life together. She was a nurse at the leading hospital in the area. The hours were grueling, but she felt rewarded. by the live she touched. I, while not making it in Hollywood, got contract videography,

worked for advertisements and weddings that kept me busy enough. Then, two years after our wedding day, I opened her present to me on our anniversary. In the box was a stick with two bold red lines. The film of our life was made entirely of perfect frames. Then the baby was born. The harsh light from the hospital room

nearly melted the creases of my wife's face away. her breath was rapid having just expelled the baby from within her eons passed as we waited for the cry buzz of fluorescent light bulbs overhead rattled the room the indistinguishable sin of sterilization masks the scent of birth like a fishing net that's a brutal word the scent of birth yeah I was to say the the language he's using is very flowery

like everything used to be this kind of thing but yeah it's funny to do the same thing with like pussy juice and blood for the smell of birth it's like caught it like a fishing net what the fuck are you talking about dude you know I saw someone made like a highlight reel of us and they titled it

Christian Appalachian boy and godless Miss Midwestern man the podcast and I feel like that that becomes more true every day I want to find ban that guy from a reviewing this show again

is what I say. The cry was not as expected. It was merely a hick, a gas, choking. I caught a glimpse of the baby before the nurses rushed him out of the room. His spine bent as if a string yanked the back of his head to his heels. His torso, is that funny, Hunter?

It's kind of weird. Weird Chinese finger trap baby. That's not right. That's what I described. If I was the doctor delivering it, well, that's not right. me the first thing I said. Okay, sorry, go ahead.

Guys, just insane. Like a child with a birth defect. Quote, Chinese finger trap, baby. Come on, man. It kind of makes sense, right? When you had to push it together, it's like a contorted and it doesn't matter. I understand what you meant.

Sure. Yeah. I processed it. It was the choice of words. I am not doing right. I am not doing right by the Asian community with this episode so far. No. No, you are.

And I apologize for that. I apologize. I have his address if anyone wants it. I'll sell him for $14. That is so cheap. I know. Yeah. It's to send a message.

His torso was a stump compared to the ski pole limbs attached and the eyes. Bulging from his skull. They clung to their sockets like balloons inflated in a roll of duct tape. It looks like a little Brian Pepper's popping out, doesn't it? Was that his name?

It's not, it's not funny. Do you remember Brian Peppers? Does that not sound like the image of him? I remember Brian Peppers, yeah. But when I read that, just because of how like the language was kind of literal for a while, that it got like very, um, figurative. So I imagine like there's literally two balloons taped to the kids head.

So it was a stump. Like the doctor turned around and was like, to-da, and he, like, made a balloon animal on his head. Yeah, let me tell you, this is, he should not look like this. Yeah. Like, oh, how'd that happen? He's like hurriedly tying up like a poodle balloon animal behind him. Yeah, big clown nose.

Tied it up. What do you think of that? It's a sword. That would be you as a doctor. Yeah, I know. Looks like a Tommy gun. Balloon gun here, huh? Just kidding.

Your kid's dead. the doctors said they had never seen a disorder like this months of ultrasounds and blood work showing a healthy boy only for this to be the result it was as if he mutated during labor lane and i were not the same we talked less and less as every breath now needed to be spent on keeping it alive a little longer the baby continued to breathe and feed although through a tube she loved the baby

She devoted everything she had to it And I was in disbelief I hope to wake up from the nightmare that became of us That the pregnancy doctors we talked to were right And a healthy baby was still on the way Elaine didn't return to the hospital for work Even after the maturity leave expired I stopped taking contracts for video work for a year

The offer's completely dried up in that time That was until I received an email With the To the Point header documentary request documented work has always been an interest of mine since weddings and advertisements are mostly shot at the mercy of the client i was more than interested in being the driver for a project we are an independent church based an hour from pleasant view west virginia our festival i imagine pleasant view that may be a real place but point pleasant west virginia is the place where like mothman's from and stuff like that so it could be a fun reference our festival is

coming in a few days, and as this is a once-in-a-lifetime event, we would love to preserve it. All we ask for is three nights of your time, and we'll make you feel right at home. If you are interested, we can discuss prices and directions. Money is no issue. We believe our faith will be of particular interest to you, Mr. Dowey. May you have faith, Pastor Madison. I was turned away after reading the email. Why would it be of particular interest to me?

Beyond the odd ending to the email, I was never partial to religion. Given recent events, my partiality grew far worse than ever. The longer I sat with the email, the more disgusted I would be with myself if I accepted such an offer. Weeks passed since the initial email from Pastor Madison. I applied for over 50 jobs in that week for consistent income. Of the nearly 50 job postings I applied to, I only heard back from four, all with essentially the same, Rejection. Elaine's time was wholly dedicated to the baby. She was at its beckoned whim.

With each gasper choke, she was there to refill the baby's feeding tube or change its diaper. She was monopolized, well, I could hardly look at it. I was disgusted with myself for feeling this way. It was a constant stab of guilt within me. Funds ran completely dry. We began putting every expense on the credit cards. In doing so, we dug a whole $3,000 deep in only a couple months. We feared losing the home.

We feared losing the baby. We feared everything, and still rejection after rejection came from job listings with my name in the letterhead. I delivered food after a period of time, but every check was like filling a canyon with a bucket of sand. Then another email came. Not to me this time, but to Elaine. She showed me the message that read as follows. I hope I find you will. wanted to follow up regarding a previous email.

We are willing to pay you $8,000 for your services. We are very intrigued by your previous work and hope you will consider working with us for a few days. Our offer is negotiable. If you are interested, I can send you the directions to our church. The festival is quickly approaching. We would love to hear from you soon. May you have faith, Pastor Madison. I felt my integrity deteriorate as I read through the email.

$8,000 for three days sounded too good to be an actual offer. Options were slim at the time, however. Three days away would be a much-needed break from life, even if it was spent hearing this pastor proselytize. Perhaps the once-in-a-lifetime festival could even be fun? I told Elaine that I would take the offer. It's the first time I'd seen her with an authentic smile since the baby was born. I decided her smiles were worth selling out for a church for the next couple of days.

open my laptop and emailed Pastor Mattson back for directions three days until the festival so he emails the wife and says I wanted to follow up regarding a previous email but he sends it to her and he never says anything like oh a previous email to your husband

or that we say him or something he just assumes well I think it's supposed to indicate that he like that I guess he knows both of them or like he's like he isn't revealing his whole hand, but it seems like he is indulging that this pastor knows not only the husband for his documentary work or like his

professional work, but he also knows the wife or whatever. Just make it a bit more creepy, you know, of just like why the fuck are you reaching out to her? You know? Yeah. And I mean like $8,000 is hard to pass up, especially for how short the work is. Yeah. If you're in death there, he has to swallow your pride

to bit and just fucking take the job. I mean, you've got a child that needs around the clock care you're trying to take care of, you know? Pleasant View was only a two-hour drive from my home. As a distracted by Pastor Madison, I pulled on to a back road that devolved from pavement to gravel and then dirt. The dart ended in an encircling tree lying only 10 minutes from the main road. The remaining 50-minute journey needed to be completed on foot.

Not a simple hike with all the film gear I was lugging. Took my phone from my pocket and sent a text to a lane, not to find her of my arrival. The one bar of signal I was sure would be the last for the next three, days. After briefly worrying about leaving my car, I submerged myself into the sprawling woods. An hour later, I emerged from the bramble and leaf-coated forest to an open passing. Building speckled the grass with what seemed to be little forethought. Huts would be a generous term for such structures. Stacked logs, plattered together by dried clay, formed the exterior walls. Each one uniquely

assembled, but collectively shared in their state of decay. the only buildings large enough to fit more than three people in them were a structure in the middle of a one-acre fence and field and a church nestled in the village center top of the spire was a vacant seat for a cross i considered getting a shot of the village to prove this wasn't just a film set i stumbled onto when a figure approached this is interesting i like the uh the mention of like so it looks all kind of ramshackled together but then there is a church but there's no cross on top of the church right yeah it's an interesting note the man wore a crisp white alb ordained with a Jerusalem cross stitched with golden fabric a wine red sash draped around his neck embroidered with the same

golden stitching he appeared to glide across the dirt path each of his steps were careful and deliberate the man kept pure black hair tight to his scalp no evidence of hair remained below his eyebrows graded and dare show regardless of the wrinkles appearing

at the corners of his eyes as iris has cloaked his pupils perfectly that sounds like uh exact uh description of um jim jones yeah like the jet black hair tied against his head and he wears like the flowery garb and stuff like that we don't know a pastor or just kind of like randomly too i just think the pastor attire is so fucking creepy in general just like a guy out there wearing that shit in the middle of the woods like in this weird the white robes white robes with the wine red sash whatever and then like him coming out of this like church without any kind of real i don't know it just feels like a like a setup or something it feels weird the jerusalem cross that was used by the crusaders a lot right

i have no idea maybe i think i think it's a crusader logo if i remember correctly yes i think that's right or at least first popped up with the crusades do you think it's going to be some kind of like hellfire damnation like cleansing thing then you think we're heading on that route yeah i think maybe something like violence like conquest of belief kind of thing right pastor madison i assume i said extended my hand we appreciate your time mr downy his voice was smooth as if the words troubles were just set at ease his hand was soft and light as it shook mine his presence was strangely inoffensive like it was constructed to never be disliked by any stranger please take this he extended an honest envelope. Upon opening it, I found a check for $4,000. The other half I was sure would come after the

festival. It seemed rude in that moment to confirm. He had a nature that was difficult to question, so I thanked him for the early payment and put it into my wallet. The picture me and my wife met my eyes from the billfold. Our smiles are carved onto our faces. I remember the intense labor it took to wear a smile that day. Peaked over the vast white nothing, introduced to the image by a crease of my own making nearly a year prior. Felt a stab in my gut each time I saw the image. The crease did not prevent the stab, but the crease remained. I love me to show you around our town before your first service. I found as though there wasn't much I couldn't see from our current position, but I obliged. As we walked towards the heart of the village, he directed my attention

to each of the structures, giving his story of each of the families who lived there. He spoke glowingly of each family and named each member. He pointed my attention to the creed. where they washed their garments the open field where the children all played and the rickety well that dried into nothing more than a safety hazard to be avoided at all times but i could barely hear his hypnotical mundane voice as my attention was drawn to the fenced-in field a group of women knelt by one of the standing cattle they rubbed and kissed the animal's belly as they sank i thought to ask the past year about the strange display but decided it would be best to hold my tongue his nature still difficult to question and he spoke instead.

The sun is almost down. There's time for our service. So I see there, the women knelt down by the cow touching its belly, probably because the cow is about to have a calf, right? And they're doing something for like the calves to be born.

I see a mirror between that and his wife having the child, right? There's going to be some kind of like blood for blood, animal for human. Yeah, it's very midsummery. Yeah. kind of traumatic thing in the real world is reflected into this almost perfect haven of foreign foreign existence basically so like this cultish kind of thing feels very reflective it also

feels you know and also too of just somebody you know predestined you were supposed to be here you know that kind of stuff smorgas board of color fueled by the full moon painted window frame shapes around the room. Candles shifted the shadows in a mesmerizing sway. The blurred hills of congregation heads peaked just into the picture. Pastor Madison prepared to deliver his sermon to the village residents filling the 30 pew seats. Audio levels were as perfect as could be hoped in the open nave. The rustle and mumbles of the congregation ceased when Pastor Madison stepped forward to begin. Let there be a time for each of us. A time beyond the trials of today that we we may find all things.

Upon rechecking the viewfinder, there was a little too much headroom above the pastor. I made the proper adjustment to satisfaction. We can rip away the flaws and failures manifest in our current form to the faith and truth revealed to us. The lighting in the church was causing the temperature to run a little too warm for my liking. Quickly dove into the camera settings

and adjusted the white balance using Pastor Madison's robe as a reference. and when said the mistake, failure due to like a practice, I assured myself. Give him your faith so that we may yet again purge the world of its wrong doings. A door behind the pastor creaks open and the congregation stands in roaring applause, blocking both the camera and my own view of the pulpit.

I could only find slim sight lines between the shoulders of the congregation and their flurry of clapping hands. Slam the tripod together and moved to the aisle for a clear view of the pulpit once more. What stood there was incomprehensible. It appeared to be the shape of a human. I could see the outline of arms, legs, and a head, but it shifted.

It was as if the thing had to actively work to contain itself to that form. The features of the being melted and folded in on itself. His skin was charcoal black with specks of pale that gave it the appearance of snow falling on a tinted window. The camera cannot see this Where the thing should be in the frame Only showed as a white smudge that dimmed the rest of the light in the image The aisle door creaked open just a foot behind me

Behold The manifestation of death A woman entered with dirt Staining the lower portion of her dress She held something in her arms Small creatures shielded by her shoulder An all too familiar hic And gasp

Choking wafted from the creature It was a calf with a bend in the spine, a stumpy torso, and the eyes. The eyes clung to their sockets with the same desperation as the babies. The woman ushered the calf to the altar and got on a knee before presenting it to the being. Pastor Madison and the congregation muttered in a language unfamiliar to me. Their words were rapid, grew louder as the being took the calf in what could only be perceived as its hands. A woman started to howl and convulsed where she stood. and the chance overwhelmed the air.

And the chance overwhelmed her. The being raised the calf into the air, unhinged what could only be interpreted as its jaw and consumed the deformed calf. The chanting ended in a breath. Silent anticipation washed over every person in the room. My ribs could hardly contain my heart. After months of researching and doctor visits,

I finally found another creature with the same affliction as my son, and it's gone. I wanted to scream. I wanted to attack the thing that just ate my only chance in understanding what my baby has. I withheld this instinct. Pastor Madison bent behind the bean and shouted. It is born new by pure faith.

The crowd erupted into cheers and prayers in the unknown language. Tears filled the eyes of the congregation as Pastor Madison lifted the calf above his head. Now perfectly healthy. Oh, this is great. I already see where this is going. This is so good. Like presenting to him like this option, right? Yeah. I mean, it's basically becoming a pet cemetery scenario where the dad's going to go home, grab the baby and try to come here to heal it for sure.

Yeah. Another thing I like, I didn't know until just then is he hasn't said his kid's name. He won't refer to it as that. He just calls it the baby. Yeah. He has like this bitterness, this attachment from it. The service ended in an instant. The congregation emptied past me and the being slipped into. into the backroom, leaving only Pastor Madison and I in the nave. He recognized my confusion and, with a wave, invited me to the back room. Rationally, I assumed that this was all some sick prank at my expense,

that they had to have known about my son's afflictions and made some kind of puppet to mimic the deformities. It seemed far too real to be a puppet, but it had to be something. Once Pastor Madison went into the backroom, I felt the very real possibility of being in the same. same room as that thing. All I knew was that on the other side of the door, there were answers. The only answers in the world as far as I knew. So I took a breath and went in. The door squealed in a way I hadn't noticed from the back of the church. The tan stucco walls

couldn't have been more than 10 feet in either direction. There was enough room for a polished wooden desk with hand-carved iconography of departed saints. A purple and green, love seat that appeared more suited for a hotel suite in the 80s than the office of a pastor and a pocket Bible resting on an end table. Pastor Madison sat behind the desk with his forehead and his palms. He alerted himself to my presence and extended an invite to the love seat with a heaven-facing palm. I sat with caution. He's never here by the time I come in. Pastor Madison said, he must have been savvy to my weirdness. The eased statement granted me broke the dam of questions as I spewed every thought I had. What was wrong with the calf?

How was it cured? Was any of this real? What was that thing? He said in silence with my barrage of questions. His offensive face remained stoic as they bounced around in his head until he spoke. That was my son's Bible before he passed. I used to have three others like it filled with notes cover to cover. I found this an odd statement given the myriad of questions I gave him. took the pocket Bible in my hand without turning the cover. You're holding the last Bible in this village. Open it. After a brief wave of confusion, I flipped to open the cover.

Thumbed through the pages, each one with an X, etched into it with pencil. Each page I progress, the duller the lead, and more rips in the page from the pressure, till there were only rips in each page. The answers I needed weren't in there. nothing about a boy's soul in need of a new body like your son

the word stunned me so he did know about my son but how we have never posted online about him since his birth I knew no one from this part of the state and had no reason to pass through a town an hour from civilization but ultimately he wasn't wrong

this place offered the only chance my son had a long fulfilling life without any other possible explanation for such a spectacle. I believed it. I had faith. Long pause followed, broken by his voice. Let me show you where you'll be staying. Okay, so I just got to say, I was a little like, I was like, I like this story or whatever, but then that the combination of the church steeple having the cross removed, and then this quote unquote pastor being like, that's the last Bible in this village.

and all the pages are scratched out, scattered through and stuff like that. As if like he was at once a pastor and this was his congregation, but he found that he hated God. So he took them out here and he's found a new religion. He's found a new God to worship.

Yeah. It's like, ah, this, I like this. This is a cool setup. I'm viving. This goes pretty hard. It's like, I made the Jim Jones joke, but it is very Jim Jones, like presentation for everything.

Like, we have to find our own answer somewhere else. you know yeah um yeah this is this is really cool i like this it almost reminds me of like do you remember in the first part of deep woods um when they go to that church that there's a demon in the basement of and there's like oh the desk in the room with the demon is the same as the one in the pastor's office kind of implying there's a community out here that worships some for god and god this is almost what i imagine the deep woods town to be like before it disappeared Oh, I see. Yeah. I see what you're saying.

Yeah. Like this is kind of like the prelude to a situation like that of a forgotten city that has a demon locked in it. Yeah. The sun descended behind the skyline hours ago at this point. I knew my stay would likely not be a comfortable one. In such an impoverished rural community, each roof is only suited for the families within. Honestly, they were probably a few rooms short of suited. I followed the pastor to my living quarters without a word being spoken. I followed him past the rickety fenced, the dilapidated well that erupted a musty odor and into the second largest building in the village, the barn.

Wintered the hayloft, spacious room in all dimensions, but height as the ceiling nearly grazed my scalp. Hay bells lining the baseboards and stacking to the low ceiling in areas. Other than hay, an iron-framed bed sat below a broken, window paired with a bucket to its side. The window seal was splattered in red. Pastor Madison apologized for the state of the room and mentioned the likelihood of hearing some noises in the night.

It'll likely be mice. It's best to ignore them. He said in a stern voice. I assured him it was no issue at all. I wasn't going to be staying long anyways. Then he left in a hurry. The moonlight gave the hayloft a tent of sickly pale white. Hours passed

since entering the hayloft before I found an ounce of comfort and still the springs of the mattress would not relent. I rolled to my opposite side. Jab. I stretched out onto my back. Jab. I yawned. Thud. I set up in an instant. The moon's light poorly painted the room, leaving vast corners in pure darkness.

Called out to the void with quivering breath. No response. Peaking just beyond the corner of the shadows was a trail of once stacked haybells. My mind went to the being at church service. If this place held such mysteries as that being, what else could be lurking here? Anger grew from desperation,

and I hurled the bucket into the darkness. The clang of the bucket, meeting the floorboards, forced a high-pitch shriek out of the darkness. A figure darted from the door and shot down the stairs, stomping on each step as it descended. Without thought, I followed.

The field and the village beyond was motionless. I desperately scanned the area for who or what that thing was, watching me sleep. I walked around the barn, ignoring the few cattle that chose to sleep under the stars for the night. They were undisturbed, which gave me relief. That is until I saw it. Figure no more than 50 yards hunched down in the grass. I can make out the back of a head and shoulders, even at its imagined full height, it seemed small. I approached it cautiously.

Each step I took was mindful of my feet. Careful not to catch a twig or dry leaf under my weight. I still was not quite enough. It jolted up and turned to face me. It was a girl, no older than ten years. Her body was frail and her brown hair matted to her head. Her eyes swelled with panic at the side of me. She was unusual even beyond her obvious neglect.

Her upper lip weaved into an M shape up to the, the outer corner of each of her nostrils. Her hand slapped over her mouth, covering this blemish and embarrassment. She drops the basket woven of hay. She drops the basket woven of hay into the grass. I could hear her breath pulsed through her chest as I stepped closer. She retreated, keeping a constant distance between us. Tears formed in her eye and reflected in the moonlight. Not knowing sign language, I crossed my forearms over my heart as I asked her to trust me. Approached her slowly, her breath faster with each step. I bent over to her hay basket. Three wine berries scattered from within it. I gathered them back in and handed it to her.

She uncovered her grin and recovered slightly with a sniff and wipe of her eyes. She looked at me and smiled when I asked if she wanted help picking her berries. I smiled when she nodded yes. We spent the next hour gathering berries into her basket. When we split up, I would gather a palm full, go to her, and dump them into her basket. She came alive a little more with each berry we collected. The light of the sun became noticeable in the face of the hills. Fear hit her once again. I thought of my son.

Should he live long enough to be aware of himself? Would he fear the sun too? I paused her side after dumping a palm of berries. After a moment of thought, I looked into her eyes and told her. her what I saw the night before, about the sick calf who was cured in the church, about that being that cured it, and that she could have a body that matched the beauty of her soul. I hope she would be elated to hear the news, that she would be so excited to go to the church with me that evening and be cured. She concealed her mouth with her palm once again and ran for

the barn. Her eyes once more filled with tears. Two days until the festival. Interesting. How are you feeling so far? Yeah, I think I'm just kind of getting into it a bit. I like the, uh, I like the note of like this little girl who has a deformity. It's like, oh, you can be healed, but it causes her to cry. There's something. Yeah, I mean, there's obviously something that we're not being told yet. I'm kind of just waiting for this more and more of the story to unravel. I think the first day starting with a huge mutation and like a fucking baby being eaten and like reborn as a healthy. thing is crazy

like insane for the guy not for I and I understand he has his own baby and stuff but I'm like wondering what else is keeping him there besides that because I feel like that would fucking horrify me I would probably run I don't know and then just be like you're sleeping in this barn

now we'll see you tomorrow it's like what the fuck else is the going you know what I mean it's just a lot I'm kind of just letting the story unfold and seeing and processing I guess my opinion that then the sun filled the hayloft with fury. The previous night felt so far away, but after confirming on my phone, it was only two hours ago. The bed protested as I staggered to my feet. My mind immediately

went to the girl. I hated referring to her as the girl, but it hadn't occurred to me to ask for her name. The floorboards cracked and popped as I approached the stairs. My mouth opened to call to her, but ultimately the air was best if left silent. I'd send the stairs with my camera equipment alone. The morning light intensified to midday after shooting B-roll of the church, barn, and a couple other residential buildings. As the day aged, I got some shots of the village residents. A wife rinsed the family laundry in the creek and pinned them to a clothesline.

Her right leg, just a few inches shy of her left, gave her a distinct limp, assisted by a twisted wooden cane. husband with a hunch that curled his shoulders inward posted against his doorframe as he popped smoke into the air from his pipe a group of five kids in a backyard playing sword fight with sticks scavenged from the tree line each with their own blemish a burn a scar a lazy eye a missing hand and the last with down syndrome each person i approached seemed to have some abnormality

and each one recoiled from the camera once they were aware of its presence I returned to the bar in the evening, just before the sky shed its blue. As I climbed the stairs, I heard a scurry of feet from the hayloft. When I entered the room, it seemed unchanged. The bucket still resting at the end of its violent journey across the room. The hay bells remained spilled from the top of the stack, and the girl concealed in her usual hiding place. The only difference from that morning were the berries.

A group of berries baked at the ledge of the shattered window. I took a step or two towards the berries and was met with a hiss behind me. I turned and caught a glimpse of the girl before she ducked back behind the haybells. I assumed it was meant to be a shush that her lips would not allow. I snuck behind the hay with her. She was tucked in a ball with her mouth concealed by her knees. I tried to console her with a touch, but she dodged my hand with a jolt. I whispered my apologies to her, which was met with another kiss.

The first time her eyes met my eyes met my eyes. since the night prior. The pause opened a chasm between us. A faint gust of wind blew into the room from the broken window. The sound whistled past the shards of glass that still held onto the frame and brushed the loose straw against the floor. The sound was enough to pique the girl's interest. She darted her head around the bales of hay for a glance at her berries.

They remained unchanged. She paused at this realization before retreating behind her knees once more. I offered an apology for offending her and that my intention was not to hurt her feelings at all. She offered nothing in response. After a moment of consideration, I fished in my pocket and revealed my wallet. Flipping open the fold, I removed my family portrait from its plastic sheath. The crease held firm by the pressure of time.

With pins in my lungs, I flipped the white corner to reveal my son. His form was just as haunting as the first day I saw him. I turned it so that she could see. I told her of my son's ailment that he has looked that way since his birth, that I now see that he can be cured here. She tapped my son with her pointer figure. I couldn't gather the meaning by the look in her eye, but I assured her she wasn't wrong to see that he looked like the calf born here on the first day. She didn't care for that interpretation of her pointing. This time she circled him and gently placed her fingertip on his chest.

Oh His name? His name is Alan Hmm The word entered my ear Like a love lost to time A flame kindled inside of me My son's name is Alan

The girl's mouth Was still covered by her knees But I could see the corners Of a satisfied grin peeking out Asked her what her name was She froze and thought for a moment Before raising her fist Before shaking it up and down

At the wrist I chuckled out the display. Thankfully, she joined in the amusement. Shake, punch maybe, knock. She shrugged accepting that answer, realizing it was no longer worth the effort. Another breeze wandered into the room, this time with much more life. She stopped and quickly peeked around the hay. Sitting on the windowsill was a beak full of a berry chunk, was a vibrant cardinal. Knock revealed her smile at the side of it. It was her perfect shot. I looked back down at the family photo before reintroducing the fold tucking it into the sleeve of my wallet. Our cardinal would come soon,

our perfect shot. I bet she's a the dad or the mom, the dad, like the protagonist or his wife, I feel like it's going to be related to the pastor somehow. Oh, you think so? I feel I feel that comment a little bit. I could be wrong. Interesting. I think, but perhaps it could be a literal relation. It could also, I kind of suspect that the pastor emailing the wife could be a sign of like the wife being involved somehow, not telling the husband. I also feel like the cardinal's kind of symbolic of like, oh, this is a good opportunity of something laid out for us.

But it, you know, the berries are poison or whatever. Yeah. The sun dropped from the sky and with it, my time with knock briefly expired. Offered her my goodbye. gathered my film and equipment and left for the church. The building felt different at night. The shadows exaggerated the cracks and curves of the weathered construction. Candlelight flickered through the glass panes

and wove over the grass contained in their squares. Pastor Madison's voice vibrated through the slits in the wood. This building offered me a taste of hope for the first time in over a year, but now a bitter note steeped into my palate. I couldn't place the reason. Just before entering, I felt a tug at my sleep. I turned, a bit more startled than I cared to admit to see Knock, a cleft lip, unapologetically visible, a pleasant sight.

I asked her what she was doing outside of the church. I told her she didn't have to follow me inside, and it was okay to remain how she is. Inside, the roar of the congregation extinguished the insects playing their song for the moon. Knock raised her forearms and crossed them over her chest, then pointed to mine. I trust you. she said through a soft but rusty voice

together we crack open the doors of the church the bitter flavor was all the more present it stood at the altar its features shifted in the midnight snow of its skin knock wrapped her petite fingers around my forearm at the side of it the congregation was brought to silence at our step what is this

pastor Madison called out beyond the walls of the church Each step we took down the aisle brought more detail to the pastor's expression Concern, fear Then panic were plastered in his eyes Doubt crept into me I consider grabbing knock by the wrist And pulling her from this place

But she was already out of my reach Her neck craned to look up at the face of the being Now directly above her It's noticeably taller than the night before The being extended an arm That unnaturally and methodically Stretched across the altar to a chalice where's the calf

Pastor Madison screamed through a trembling throat The being extended the chalice to knock One of his fingers dipped inside Pastor Madison peered at her His face pleaded with her to catch his eye But she didn't She caught mine

The bitter taste coated my mouth The sweet hope was lost Tears formed at my lashes and still With her eyes locked on to mine Her forearms crossed over her heart and her head turned to the deity. Her eyes were overcome by a milky white haze and a smile grew on her face.

I shall. She answered a question that was never spoken. Pastor Madison rushed out of the church, colliding shoulders with me on his way. I was choked on the pleads that all wanted to escape my mouth at once. She took a sip and the crowd cheered. I could see in her smile that her bliss intensified.

She hummed a melody that I was sure came to her at that moment, a melody just the same as the woman singing the cow. Then the bone snapped, the spin compressed, and the eyes bulged from their sockets. All while her hum continued, the congregation began their alien chant. Alan, the calf, and now knock, shared in living death. The being grabbed her new form. Its fingers became spears of speckled shadow, piercing her abdomen and lifting her into the air effortlessly. The chanting now more rabid in ear-splitting. I couldn't move.

I couldn't think. I couldn't even breathe as the being's jaws unhinged with the crackling of falling trees. Knox unrecognizable form slid into the bean until the hum was no more. The crowd's chant again turned silent as they waited for the rebirth. A girl with two perfectly normalized and lips

standing upright on the altar. A girl born anew by pure faith. A girl that never came. To being glided off of the altar and into the back room. The nave was void of all sound, broken in a moment by the faint cry of a little girl. Candle flames chewed at the remainder of their wicks, leaving the wax slain in a puddle at their feet.

The floorboards of the nave rested after their deafening squeals under the weight of the congregation. The altar left vacant. Hours passed as I last saw a knock for I found the strength to leave the church building. Cloud suffocated the moon of its light. Only lanterns dangling from the porches of family domiciles lit the way back to the hayloft, the lonely hayloft.

Tears welded the corners of my eyes. Wipe them away with my thumb and whipped the tears poking at the back of my eyes with a stern phrase. One more day. so did knock die there that's what i'm not sure of i think that i mean to an extent you would have to say that she did die and she was reborn healthy but i'm wondering if it's still the same person like if she still is the same i i would say that but it sounds like she's dead because it says it picks her up the chanting more rabbit and ear splitting it swallows her and then it says the crowd's

chant turned as they waited for the rebirth, a girl with two normal eyes and lips, a girl born by faith, a girl that never came. And then it says the being glided off of the altar and into the back room, the nave was void of all sound in a moment, broken in a moment by the faint cry of a little girl. It says, candle flames chew to the remainder of their wicks, leaving the wax slain, floorboards, the altar left vacant. Hours passed since I saw a knock and I found the strength to leave the church building. So I think what happened is it swallowed her and then nothing new happened.

It just killed her. She disappeared into the void. And they heard the cry. The crowd heard a little cry, but that was it. So congratulations, dude. You fed a child to this demon ghost thing. Yeah.

You could also, I guess that makes sense to why the pastor was so freaked out and like ran away as well. Yeah. Unicare reminds me of a little bit too, not to keep comparing it to things, but in a way, like almost picturing the monster now like the midnight mass vampire where people are going up and

they're curing their ailments and stuff but it's like he's just a fucking monster like a guy is a guy is a pastor basically is saying like this thing can heal you it's it's you know he looks evil but it's fine uh but really it's just you know wanting to harvest people's blood and it's like transforming people i there's just similarities there where i'm like oh that's where my mind keeps going to. Yeah. Yeah, I think that sounds right. Like, uh, like the pastor knew what was about to happen, but it seems the congregation

was dumb to it until it happened, right? Yeah. They're waiting for the girl to be born anew, but that is not what happened. Yeah. It almost makes you seem like everyone's there as well, like all the congregation is there because they maybe have faith that they will be healed one day. Yeah. So maybe, so maybe that's what it says.

Everyone he comes across in the town has some. Yeah. It's a goddamn freak show. all around town and it's like the pastor is selling people on the idea with animals like cows come forward and are healed so all the people in town are like oh maybe that can be me next right maybe i can be killed like that uh but when a child is actually fed to it he's the pastor's like where's the calf what's going to happen it just kills them right so you have a whole community of people who are waiting on their uh what was that uh the story in the bible oh the pool of bethesta

a pool that an angel would come and dip it swing into the pool and anyone who stepped into it would be healed but whoever made it to the water first. So people would just live by the pool of Bethesda hoping to be the first person to come into the pool. And here you have a sort of pool of Bethesda but instead

of it being a healing water or like whoever gets there first, it is just the promise of the pool that has brought all these people in without any, at least as far as we know, without any actual delivery on that promise. Right.

After scaling the mountain of stairs to the hayloft, I creak opened the door to see the all-too-familiar scene. A dreadful mattress nested an iron, haybell scattered on the floor, the broken window with a pile of fresh berries in the window-sill. A figure rested on a hay-bell. Excitement flushed over me in an instant. The room was straped in a flickering light, casted from the lantern at the hip of Pastor Madison.

No side of knock. His hands clasped. together beneath his chin his lips moved as if to speak but no words came from them the once pristine white robe draping from his shoulders is not is not soured and tattered from sorry i imagine it is now it's now soured and tattered from dirt leaves and thorns although this was my room for another night i couldn't help the feeling that i was intruding i turned to sneak back down the stairs when his voice stopped me her name was bell His words quivered from his lips, but still had an accusatory stab.

I turned to face him. He pushed against his knees to stand. I could see his swollen eyes. With the sniff into the sleeve of his robe, he continued. I'm not sure you didn't know. She never spoke to anyone, but she listened. She always listened, and I believed with full faith that she would listen again. Paced around me like a shark.

his eyes carefully monitoring his next step as he spoke. What happened to her? Where is she? My word stopped his encircling. A snarl curled his lip inward, pressing a moment of rage. The rage simmered in me as well. He continued as if he didn't hear me. I told her to stay away from the church and she listened. I told her she was beautiful just the way she was and she had all the faith in the world that she was.

He turned and He turned and stepped a foot for me His eyes met mine The inoffensive facade he wore The moment I met him shattered in the lantern light Then you come The words bellow from his gut He pauses for a moment before continuing

I told her to stay away from the newcomer And she did Until you Now she wants to go into the church She wants to be changed I told her she he looked up to the heavens as if gravity would keep his tear ducks at bay defeated he sits back on the haybell for a moment i told her she would see her brother again the words were faint like the

wings of a gnat pause followed filled only by her breath what happened to her i insisted with a stern tone he used to his feet with a lantern in hand she lost her faith. He admitted. Attract him as he walked to the top of the stairs. Keep the faith, Mr. Dowie. That it's all I ask.

He whispered with a growl in his throat. Then he and his lantern faded down the stairs, leaving darkness in their wake. The day of the festival. So would you say that I'm sure it doesn't work? I've kind of more so

believe what I did, that no one gets healed by this thing. but is the pastor saying there that he told her not to come to the church because she was supposed to have faith that she was okay whereas others can be healed by it or is what maybe he cared about Bell and he like didn't want her to fall for the facade he was telling everyone else maybe yeah I don't know I think it's still once again

there's just not enough info to me it almost reads at the end of this paragraph of keep the faith means like trust what I'm saying because he's like she didn't keep the faith she didn't listen to him and say not to go the church she's like you're perfectly fine the way you are that this that I think that they're it's worth living this life versus what you're given with this monster or whatever it could be that faith is an analogy of like trust me you know like he kind of martyr kind of thing or whatever keep the faith in me yeah the morning beat my eye open with a blinding ray. I begrudently stood from the clutch of the rickety mattress.

I looked at the camera gear I stacked in the corner, batteries glowing their solid green eyes as they hang on the sockets of their chargers. I knew there was still a job to be done, but how could I find a minuscule amount of care? I started to grow concerned that I wasn't there to film the documentary anyway. I left the Haloff empty-handed, descended the stairs, and walked. Circled around the family huts. Every face I saw wore a smile. And if the children danced or ran through the open grass. A couple of residents even waved hello. Still, their voices remained a mystery until I heard a woman call out to me. Would you like some tea? I turned to see the wife with the short and right leg and twisted cane gesturing into her home. I debated continuing in my sulk, but I was beginning to

feel a bit parched by that time. So I entered. the interior was just as dilapidated as the outside cobwebs dressed the corners of the single room splinters of sunlight glowed between the decayed wood paneling i set at the table while a kettle dangled by a chain over an open fireplace i try to make small talk about the upcoming festival oh yes we are so delighted to be going home soon No. We've all only been here for about a month. I guess all of us have, except for you. I remember when the pastor finally messaged you. He ruined one of his last good robes in those woods.

My stomach churned. I tried to warn her that we all have to leave this place, that we are not going to make it out of here alive. We all do not leave immediately. Our fate would be the same as bells. The sickening snap of her bones echoed in my mind. Her lips turned. not in fear or concern

like I hoped but in pity as she tapped her finger against the handle of her cane I was real sorry to hear what happened to your girl but we were all promised to cure and we have the good faith to get it I see

so the idea is like they each have their role and they see what happened to the little girl is her stepping out of line basically I see evening rolled in with the heavy dread people gathered outside of the barn for the festivities. Lanterns hunned from broken broomsticks

and pitchforks stuck into the dirt in the open field by the barn. The light circled the cluster of people as they danced, laughed, clapped at the tune of a fiddler with a missing foot. I stood outside the cluster. Camera equipment was still resting in the hayloft. There's no perfect shots here.

I watched the tree line. I contemplated making the trek to my car a thousand times that day to avoid what was sure to be a grisly, display, but every time I look, it feels more like a wall. Like, there was truly no space between the trees. We were all ensnared. A figure approached from the dirt path connecting to the center of the village. I dreaded the deity's approach, but this figure was far too pale. It was pastor Madison. Sithe that made my brow sweat even more. He balanced two trays of identical chalices on top of each other

in his hands. His robe still tattered from the night before. Now is the time for each of us. The time to share our flawed reality and be born anew. Please grab your cup, everyone. Okay, so this is it. I made the Jim Jones

jerk. This is the Jim Jones joke. This is literally Jim Jones. This is Jim Jones. This is Jim Jones. This is drink the Kool-Aid. Yep. Pastor Madison called over the crowd. The facade glued together again behind a pleasant smile. The group did what they were told, each one grabbing their cup and stepping away from the cluster that formed around Pastor Madison. The cluster dwindled until there was one cup remaining on the tray.

Pastor Madison caught me in his gaze in an instant. My spine squirmed within me as he approached. The last cup extended. Be of good faith for your son. He whispers through his teeth with the cup extended to my chest. I take the cup and consider his words for a moment. Despite what happened to Bell, could this still be the only chance my boy has? I look, no, I look, absolutely not.

From everything you know, do not drink this. Jim Jones. I look down, Jim Jones, yeah. I look down into the cup. Black liquid reflected my image back at me. I watched as my face distorted to the ripples. Drink, and you shall be made in the true image. I will say the black liquid is accurate because Jim Jones used great flavor aid.

Not Kool-Aid, flavor aid, everyone. Not Kool-Aid, flavor aid. Remember that. Not to besmirch the good name of Kool-Aid. It was flavor aid. Pastor Madison called over his followers. One by one, each of them sucked down the black Iker with a heartfuls of faith. A portrait of myself on a dust canvas stared back at me again from within the chalice.

I turned and walked to the well dumping the cup into its chasm. Thank God. Uh-oh. However, sound that arose was not that of liquid, meaning its likeness, or eikers splashing against concrete. It was a peculiar sound. I peaked over the cobble wall to investigate. A pit of despair waited me. At the bottom was a pile of the faithless and faithful alike.

A mantle of distorted hooves and fur amassing dozens of corpses. at the peak of the atrocious pile lie at the body of a contorted spine bulging eyes and cleft lip skin sucked to the bone leaving only the shell all right so is that the cleft lip

that's knock yeah so knocks bodies at the top of the well yeah and also it's like all the people all the miracles that they've quote unquote been doing I believe have just been like thrown into this well the bodies are thrown thrown into the way. Yeah, couted hooves and stuff and those are the caps and all that kind of shit too. False miracles basically is what it's false miracles. Yeah, he's a false faith healer. Yeah. I ran for the tree line rushing past the collection of doomed followers sucking the last of their

poison. A warm melody trickled from the lips of the most eager. An opener for the thunder of crushing bone. I gave myself no time to pity them. The tree line was just meters away and coming fast. I suppressed the sinking feeling of being trapped there. Escape was my sole thought, even if I had to smash through an invisible wall. The space between the trees caved as easily as the rest of the evening breeze I sprinted through, realizing that the wall was not constructed by the deity, but my own fear gave me a slight ease. But the true peace was much farther from this place. I refused to break stride.

The brangible and thorns tore crimson twine into my flesh. Their sting went unrecognized as I fixated on the distance. my lungs burned as they filled with gulps of air my legs ached as they shoved the earth behind me after what felt like miles my skin decided to alert me to the damage a thornbush can do I collapsed

it had to have been 50 minutes there had to be a break in the trees just a few more steps away my car and therefore safety had to be just ahead chicked over my shoulder half expecting the stati

the stati Is that the word staticy? I think it's just be staticky, but... Half expecting the staticky, amorphous apparition to step out from behind a tree and devour me whole. Instead, it was empty behind the trees. Only lullabies from the legs of crickets

filled the forest. Resting in front of me was a puddle left undisturbed by my frantic presence. In my exhausted state, the side of water was a blessing. I take handfuls of water and splash it into my face, Re-invigorating coolness eased my body and steadied my mind. The drink was tempting, but the murky dirt swaying in the current of my creation muted this temptation.

When the dirt settled and the water stilled, the remaining light of a gruesome day sculpted my reflection. The reflection I'd seen all my life seemed special on that day. I fished in my pocket and pulled my wallet from its steps. I pulled our family portrait from its plastic sheath. My wife and I, feigning joy over a pale white void. carefully I unfolded the picture banishing the void to the unseen and introducing Alan to the picture the one a few times he could be seen in the photo since it had been taken my journey home continued with a rejuvenated vigor no longer was I just running away from the

horrors of the village but to my family the thought of returning to them brought me a joy I hadn't felt at some time the air felt lighter the insects more pleasant and the trees more beautiful. After only a few minutes of walking, the forest released me. My car remained unchanged from the moment I left it. Home felt like a short drive away. I fished for my keys in my

pocket when I noticed something on the other side of my car. I crept around my vehicle and was left appalled by what lay before me. Elaine's car... Oh, no. You stupid bitch. Oh, no.

Oh, I was... Oh, no. Oh, gosh. I thought we were ending right there. I thought that was like going to be the final note. It was going to be like a happy, wholesome. If it ended right there, I'd be like, that's so fucking stupid, dude. I'm glad.

Let's keep the ball rolling here. Well, I thought it'd be like, I didn't think it'd end on that line. I thought it'd be like his desperation to avoid what his child is. to him sacrificing another child almost to test if it worked, right? Right. And he'd have to live with that guilt and that selfishness that overcame him, but he learned it was wrong, right?

But now it looks like that. Should have done that before you left to go to the cult because now you've imprinted that on your wife and now she's here with the child. You know, Rip Knock, by the way. Yeah, Rip Knock, Rip Young Knock. Especially Knox saying, I trust you. Fuck.

Yep. And then getting just eviscerated by the entity and then her body thrown like sucked dry and thrown on top of a pile into the shadow realm animals yeah poor thing and like she had that that kindness where she was like I believe or whatever she said to the entity

before it ripped her to pieces poor thing the wall I thought was only in my mind was finally in front of me and I had to turn back the limbs of the forest tried to instare me their claws and spears toward the crimson threads of my skin into leaking ropes. The puddle captured a shoe from my foot, causing me to stumble, but not fall. I pushed forward

with no thought of retrieving it. The twigs and pebbles that made the forest carpet prodded at my bare soul with each stride. Night blanketed the woods, making, avoiding their painful afflictions futile. The burn in my lungs returned, sweat arose on my brow. I had to be almost there. What if in my haste I got turned around? What if that thing is keeping me in these woods? Just as quickly as the doubts arose, they were silenced. An eye appeared in the woods speckled with age-worn structures, the occupants of which were nowhere to be seen. Evidence of their festival was scattered in the field by the well.

A handful of cups laid forgotten in the moonlight grass. Their contents sipped dry. A pair of pants no longer suited for the contorted figure that came to inhabit them. A twisted wooden cane from the woman whose ailments now surpassed its use. The church emitted the flicker of candlelight. It had to be where everyone was. I rushed you as quickly as my exhausted muscles could take me. The candle flames clung to the last flicker of life as they nod at the remaining nubs of Wick.

The puddle of wax escaped the clutches of the candle bras, candela bras, ordaining the windows. The moon hid from this night, leaving the stained glass windows dull and lifeless. Pastor Madison stood at the podium, silent. His eyes not leaving the vacant wood, canvas between his clenched hands. Before him was a line of followers filled with the hopes of his teaching. Their bones shifted and snapped out of their sockets. Their spines craned out of alignment.

Their eyes were so filled with promise that they now bulge from their skulls. Their legs were twigs containing barely reaching the threshold of strength needed to stand. Their protruding knees wobbled under their weight. At the end of the line was Elaine holding Allen on her hip. her presence in such a place made me ill I wasted no time in my warnings I told her what happened about the cattle with her son's afflictions

about the deity that claims to cure it about bell and the well that houses her corpse I spoke in such frantic desperation that I must have seemed mad I studied her face during an insufferably long pause her eyes were wild with astonishment everyone here looks like Alan

she whispered was confused amazing meant yes and we have to leave i said as i turned her to the exit her eyes were stuck to the crowd of disfigured people panic burned to my gut while attempting in vain to pry her away from the spectacle attempting to pry her eyes from the spectacle i could feel her stare beginning to break when i could hear a creek come from the altar the back door was open its presentation of the darkness swallowing the room beyond was a call for pastor madison to begin his speech his eyes and spirit remained low. Tonight is a night of promise, a night of rebirth.

As you approach, please do not allow fear to overcome you. As the pastor spoke, the deity unfolded from the darkness of the back room. Its impersonation of the human form twisted its arms into their sockets, shoulders rolled into their presentable positions, spine stiffening into posture with care for each joint sitting its head to the ceiling. the being slid into position in front of the line like fog the newly deformed congregation marveled at the figure as if it were god returning to ail their troubles i pleaded with elaine to take our son and leave with me she was in awe of the sight before her may you have faith pastor madison muttered with that statement the being lifted the first victim in line with the ease of a father lifting his infant the woman and the being lifted the first victim in line with the ease of a father lifting his infant the woman and the being clutched hummed a melody through grinning teeth, smile of comfort in anticipation. Despite her newly acquired form, her original affliction was still apparent. Her right leg was

noticeably shorter than the other. The deity's jaw unhinged to accommodate the unsightly collection of skin and bone. I turned to practically shove a lane out of the church door when I felt it. A flame kindled from within me. The warmth cleansed the fear and horror from my bones. Every ounce of displeasure nodded within my soul vanished in an instant. I could feel the world correcting deep within myself. When I heard from behind me the shrill glee of a promise kept. I turned to face the altar. The candle flames were rejuvenated. Their swaying light filled the once-operowing darkness. The kind woman that was just moments ago a broken collection of limbs stood at the side of the deity and danced.

Her feet playing a song on the drums of the floorboards. Her joy was uncontainable. Such a palpable and infectious joy that I had only seen in children before. Tears slid down her face, lining the edges of her grin. She was reborn with two legs of equal length. The sight was unbelievable. Moments ago, I was ready to leave this place,

convinced that it spewed only lies and deceit. But in that moment, the truth bestowed itself unto me. One by one, each person was taken into the embrace of the deity and consumed. And each one walked out from behind its static form anew. Warped limbs were straightened, amputations were undone, disorders were made orderly. The church was buzzing with laughter and song. My eyes never wondered from the festivities. My cheeks grew sore from smiling.

The powers beyond this realm offered themselves to us as correctors, a divine eraser taking away the unjust and unfair afflictions of our world. And I was honored to be one of the first to witness such a great cleanse. The last member to be reborn walked out from behind the deity and to the celebration. He was a boy, no older than bell. Scar that once carved through his hair and down to his neck was no longer. The only evidence of his existence said in our memory. They were all cured. Each one believed in the promise they were told,

and each one rewarded with a new life. The manifestation of death was conquered in minutes by this. Angel. An angel stood at the altar. An angel promised a better life for all of us. An angel now stared right at me. The unification of our gaze brought a deep feeling of honor to me. I knew what it wanted

and I wanted the same I turned to Elaine who cradled Alan in her arms he was sleeping unaware of the miracles being performed around him his eyelids failed to conceal the entire pelt cornea of his eyes his neck bent backwards with its usual violence

I could see the veins running through his needle-thin arms raising the crimson waters over the bone hills of his elbows. Miss filled my eyes as I looked over him. I was proud of him. I was proud of who he was. What he had lived with. I looked up at Elaine.

Her expression said what we both knew. She extended Alan to me with grace. The broken cocoon that housed our son was ready to be shed. The candlelight felt even brighter when I took Alan into my arms. It took precaution to not jar him as I transitioned between steps.

The aisle stretched for miles. The festivity ceased. The newborn congregation watched my son with warm smiles, ready to accept him in his new form. They began their chant in a soft, caring whisper. The foreign language had a gentle touch to the ear. Listening to their chants, I knew it must have been the language of heaven. The fact hit me like the warmth of a summer sun.

The deity stood just feet away from us. Its eye divvets remained steady under the waves of its features. They stayed focused on us as we approached. The closer we came, the more its human form muddled at the border, like the container was cracking to the pressure. It may have been a trick of the eye from the candlelight, but the constant folding of its features appeared to mold a smile. I stood before it, feeling unwelcome.

worthy of its presence. The smell of sweet fruit enveloped my nostrils. My neck strained to meet its crater eyes. The jostling void on its head molded the bare minimum to be considered a human-looking face. Yet, the bare minimum was the most beautiful face I had ever seen. My chicks went from a sore pain to a numb acceptance of the smile I'd been wearing. It was as if love and joy manifested in. front of me in the form of pure beauty. A song came to me and my bliss. Humming to the tune was

as natural as breathing. I knew I had never heard such a melancholic melody before, except maybe once, from Bell. It felt comforting that her song would come to me at that moment, that in some way she would be redeemed by my faith, by my son's faith. The deity looking down at me with the loving eyes of a father, reached toward Pastor Madison. Its arms was as long as the task required. I watched it elongate to bridge the divide between it and the chalice in the pastor's hands. With the ease of wind, it brought the chalice to my chest. One of its spear fingers pierced the surface of the water within.

The black of the finger dissipated into the water, transforming it in the image of the angel. a serving to the impure, an offering to the unworthy. In its dim reflection, I watched the face of the being unaltered, as for the first time it craves me with its words. You take a drink of me and I feel. It was the sound of choirs harmonizing across language. It was the birds serenading the worms from the earth. It was all of creation offering their gratitude

and the creator giving their blessing. It was all things. It was nothing ever heard before. The fire of happiness licked just beneath my skin, blackening my insides. The world beyond that chalice vanished. Nothing had any matter or consequence once I heard its words. All I wanted to do was obey its every command. I wanted to devote everything I was to it.

I took the chalice. It was ice to the touch, as if it was pulled from the depths of the art, for being placed in my hand. The candle flames were wide in color. The gold cup glistened against their glow. The chance from the congregation boiled into a synchronous shout. Their passion warmed me further. It fueled my desire to worship and obey.

I shall. My acceptance invited my God's hand. Palm to the heavens and pointed fingertips rested delicately in a row. My son was still resting on my hip. It was a poor body crumpled at my side, resting the beautiful soul buried within. The hand of God beckoned for him. Offered to mold the body and the image of the soul. I handed my son to him.

The hand grew to accommodate his petite frame. My son now in its possession, my destiny lied within a cup. God's fingers wrapped around Alan. A cup filled with the eager of his being. A cup filled with the Igor of his blessing, filled with a life void of imperfections. The hand raised my son to the ceiling, to eye level. My lips pursed around the rim of the cup, warming the frozen rim. Opened my eyes to watch the Iker roll to my lips.

The divine chance boomed from the crowd. God's jaws opened to the size of my son. I met myself at the rim of the chalice. The Iker was still in that moment, plastered on its surface was a shot as imperfect as a shot could be. The hair under my nose grew like the thorns of a bramble bush. Tears had been leaking from my eyes without my knowledge. Eyes that saw the truth once and allowed it to muddy before them. Muddied in a milky haze, the eyes of bell.

In an instant the burning white candles became their dying selves once more. The sweet smell of fruit turned to a suffocating. damp rot, and the god I had just offered my son to, turned to the monster I knew it to be. Without hesitation, I splashed the beam with the icer of my cup. The liquid kick steam into the air at contact with the bean's flesh. A screech that pierced my eardrums cut from the depths of the creature before its black form receded to a shadow on the floor and darted into the back room. My son plummeted from the ceiling. I dashed him in a panic, stretching my arms out to save him from the harsh wood below, bud. The sound silenced the room. Even flames of the candle cease their flickering.

Only my breath could be heard. I could feel a heavy weight in my arms. His weight. Alan was safe. I held him close to my chest, thankful for his safety. Elaine ran to us and wrapped us both in an embrace, truly together for the first time. A scream only born of pure anguish broke through the air. Pastor Madison rushed to a figure sprawled under the floor where the being once stood. Pastor fell to his knees and scooped the figure into his grasp. It was a boy. At one point, it was a boy. A boy no older than two, judging by the tiny, severely decayed body. Patches a bone poked through the rotted flesh at his chin, brow and forehead. An arm was snapped from its body on collision. The clothes tattered over the boy were stained the color of liquefied

death, yet the pastor mourned him as though his death was fresh. Stroking the remaining. hair that clung to its scalp, watching them fall into his palm, a father in need of a son, holding the body in need of a soul. I took a lane by the hand and Allen on my hip and walked down the middle aisle to the exit. You took my daughter. Now you bring my son to me. That's my boy that disgusting body. His soul belongs to my boy. The pastor shouted through the sorrow in his throat his final plea to an empty church his congregation undoubtedly shriveled at the bottom of the well his faith finally lost two weeks after the festival interesting oh final paragraph okay the moon ushered in another day i gave elaine a kiss offered to take allan to bed so she could rest after her first shift

back at the hospital i took allan up the stairs listening to their joyous creaks he was this beautiful beautiful as he had always been. I was grateful every night that I could see it. He was a little fussy still, so I decided to calm him with the story. However, before I could rifle through the books on his shelf, I no longer heard him. The fussy required more energy that he had in his little body, and he rested. His chest delicately pulsed. I could hear the slight hiss of air, passing through his nose. I placed my hand on the crown of his head, rubbed his forehead with my thumbs. So I eased him into a comfortable sleeve.

I heard a tune. A familiar tune sung in the chirps of a bird. Standing in the window sill was the vocalist singing his haunting song. A vibrant cardinal picking at the berries that were never there.

That is the end of berries in the window. I like that story. I like that. I'd found with it. What'd you think of it? Um, You know, I think I like the emotional tie-in of a father.

I like the concept of a dad who is, in a way, not inadvertently saying this, but ashamed of his son. I think he is unable to process the fact that his son is disabled and basically not how he sees fit. So he goes on a selfish crusade. Well, he gets a job and it leads to a selfish crusade of him being like, well, my son can be normal versus a accepting him for who he is and the nice tie-in at the end that he has that I think in some places it felt a bit rushed like I just kind of I just wish there was more to things like even just some of the stuff of like how did the pastor even know about the kid or like I would assume so my idea was that he was like my son needs a body and that whole thing like all the ultrasounds looked

fine for Allen until he was born the pastor did some kind of ritual or some kind of promise that that child would one day be delivered to him. it was effectively a vessel for his son's soul to take over i see well more of the story is i felt like um i don't know it felt like time passed by kind of quickly i kind of wanted to sink more just more teeth into stuff like we kind of we only get to talk to one of the other people there and she's just like yep we're going home so like it just i i wish we could have built up this the scenario a bit more like i guess like the world around this area and the and the pastor a bit more But all and all, like I said, I mean, I enjoy it.

It has that kind of midnight, midnight mass vibe of a creature offering salvation in a fun way. And I do think that it's interesting the idea. I always love faith as a concept for a story. And having faith in yourself and having faith in your child at the end, I think is a really fun conclusion. Like I like the character arc there that the dad had. But all and all, like I said, with a lot of these things, too, it happens. And also, just to keep in mind, Kevin Jones, I think he has two stories. Yeah.

This being one of the first two stories. This is the first stories ever published. It's pretty fucking awesome. And I think as time goes, there'll be more of those instinctive. You know, and I think the, the, the, like very flowery, like very, very, very, like, everything almost felt poetic, you know, with how he was describing things. And I think just a bit more, like, I would have loved to hear. more and have that realization that it's like because I do like that I like the bit of yeah like we have only been here a month yeah he messaged you a month ago and it's like they're not

villagers they're people that just kind of showed up and are looking for a cure themselves um I think kind of trying to stretch that out would have been nice but once again these are all just subjective thoughts and stuff I think all and all I really enjoyed the I enjoyed the I enjoyed the piece I also am just a huge sucker for like cult weird religious shit that's that's just like a flavor I always enjoy I like the characters like yes who's very Jim Jones at least look inspired in the Kool-Aid and stuff like that but I do think it's interesting how to a degree because it never mentioned all the people in the congregation dying it sounds like it worked for everyone else right like I thought that it was like a well I don't know that's the kind of thing too is I have some of the moments in the reading it which it could be me just being a bit of an airhead but I found that it was kind of hard to keep up with what was kind of happening because also at the end, it's like, yeah, they're getting healed and it's like, oh, this is working. And then you have this moment of him being one over. And then he kind of just was like, well, then I see it for its true form.

To me, it almost felt like it was, it was giving, it was like putting on a show. But really all the people were dead in the well. Like the reality is still there that the girl is still down there and the congregation. But I don't know if that's true. Yeah. But that could very well be true. Because that's the whole thing, too, is it seems like the pastor is selling everybody on this false promise. And also there's the fun mirroring of like the pastor and his family of the pastor had the same thing.

If he is now basically trying to find a way to like have the souls for his son, you know? Like it's a very selfish response of like what the pastor wants for his kid versus what our protagonist wants for Alan and like his. boy. Um, so you kind of, you kind of get the, the, the healthier relationship that Alan's, you know, Alan had his ending of just being accepted and his dad's going to love him now. He kind of has like, he actually looks at him like a son versus the, uh, pastor looks at him like a dead child and now it's like a demon that needs to have souls and shit. The, the parallel there is really fun. But all in all too. It's pretty good. I also like the detail of like, so the pastor had this congregation and he had two kids. He had Bell and, um, uh, uh, his son. And, and, uh, uh, his son. And, and,

And then it's like one of the sons dies, so he does whatever this is to get another one. And at that scene where our rider brings Bell into the congregation, the pastor knows what's going to happen, but he can't let the guys up because he can't tip off our rider, because then our rider won't end up bringing his son or he'll leave beforehand or something. And he also can't let the congregation know. So he just has to leave the room and be angry about it because our rider is still the only hope he has getting his son new body, right? So it puts him in an interesting position. That's an interesting characterization. I like, like for as short as it was, for what I did, yes, I agreed it could

be longer in some parts. But for what it did, I like how it pulled it off. I really like that whole segment where it's his description of what the quote unquote angel looks like and how beautiful it is, only to then see through the guys and see it for the demon that it is. Yeah. That was a cool note. And I think when I say longer, I guess it just mean more. clarification on things, more of like a setup of enveloping. I wanted to be more enveloped in this small town and stuff. Like there's so many great starts off by like just this church that's just kind of like faceless church and this like kind of almost like resident evil. The mention of a church without a cross is a fun. That's a fun. Yeah. Just kind of like just the size of like a,

I mean just essentially a barn, a decorated barn is what it is. And you know, I was kind of picturing the place as this Resident Evil 4 kind of village of just like weird freaks walking around and stuff. And I think just getting to know them because I think the highlight of the story is knock. I love that character. Knock was very cool. And I think getting to experience more with her and just understanding more of the intention. And I think it's just more so as well because I just feel a little lost on like it was it was pieced together in such a way where I understand the gist of it, but I wanted, I think I just want to make sure, I wish I would have like left this story feeling like I had my head wrapped around all of it.

And I wasn't just so like, well, is that what, is that what was happening here or whatever else? But once again, just subjective, just, you know, me, just for the food of thought of criticism or whatever. I just, that's, I think a seven and a half, uh, out of 10 is a good ranking, seven and a half or eight out of 10. Yeah, I think that's about right. The, uh, all and all, though, once again, for. second story. I mean, I love that this is wrote that this was wrote this year that this is something that

like, I love that these horror stories are continuously being written. I love that. I love that someone just put their, you know, creativity and who knows, you know, I mean, I don't, we don't know Kevin Jones, but there could be some semblance of like maybe some kind of personal

story in there, you know, like personal aspect of this and exaggerated to fit a horror story. Maybe he went to Jim Jones cult, middle of woods. You know, it was kind of weird. My buddy was really religious when I was growing up, and his brother had a mental disability. And I remember the dad always taking into church and, like, having people pray for him. It was just kind of very, it was just creepy in a way where it was like, heal this boy.

And I'm like, he's going to be like that. That's just who he is. You know what I mean? So just so that we're like, you just never know how people or, you know, what kind of experiences people had. But all in all, I love the flavor of this story and just the visuals. So I remember there was, uh, near where, uh, I grew up, there was this story of this family who like their daughter who was like nine or 10. This is like back in the 80s. She had appendicitis and her appendix ruptured. And they wouldn't take her to a hospital. They just had like a bunch of pastors can pray over her and stuff. And she died. Yeah. That's scary. I had appendicitis. I mean, I, I, I can't even imagine. It's serious. Yeah. You got to get that taken care of quick. It's, it's so painful. And then you just kind of black out whenever it's, I mean, it's, it's fucked. So. So. That's just horrifying. Just the weird thing.

They did for everyone. The parents did go to jail. It was a huge case. They did go to jail. So it's not like totally lost. But that ends in a somewhat happy ending a little bit or just at least a little bit of justice. But yeah, no, I always love religion as a theme, especially I think that's why I know I get maimed on a lot, but like love crafty and stuff and things of religions and ideas and

followers from unknown places and, you. you know, it's always just so fun. That's also why I love that movie The Wicker Man, where you have these pagan things of religions that are older than humans, you know, they're mandated back to born from the earth, coming from the earth kind of stuff. And stories like this,

just kind of tickle that bone a bit. And I think it's fun, especially whenever they almost disguise themselves as, you know, worldly religions like Christianity or something. They use that guise to get people, lure people in like a Venus fly trap almost to, to catch them.

So really, really fun. But yeah, no, Kevin Jones, fuck yeah, bro. We appreciate you. We'll put his Twitter as well, just because he has. Yeah, we'll throw a Twitter down there. Yeah, we'll throw this Twitter down there. And we'll just give him a follow and check out his other work. Hopefully, maybe in the future we'll read it as well.

But Kevin, good job, buddy. And once again, this is just proof to that this, you know, creepy posters are still alive, baby. You know, right? Still okay. And still going strong. We're going to be doing this for years to stay. You're stuck here. Yeah, well, we'll see.

we'll definitely see but you know for a fact you're not you know for a fact you're not turning down this paycheck well maybe not guys this is berries in the window thank you so much also we didn't say at the beginning of this episode but please consider listening to this podcast

on Spotify or Apple podcast it really does help us out give us a nice positive rating there we have to beat Ben Shapiro into the dirt we have to we have to do it and just thank you guys so much again for the support this has been insane and I hope you enjoy your holidays, stay safe out there, safe travels to everyone, and we will catch you in the next one.

See you all in the next one and don't give your children to weird angel demon things unless you really want to I guess. Bye. 2. 5. I don't know. So, I'm going to I don't know. I'm

I don't know. I don't know. I don't know. I don't know. ...withal... ...and... ...because... ...you know...

...and... ...see. ...you... ...to... ...the... ...what