CreepCast - The Living History Project | CreepCast

Episode Date: June 7, 2026

We come to you live from the basement of the Sallie House. This week, we read two short intro stories, a story by Matt Dymerski and the Living History Project. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

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Today we are in a paranormal hot spot in the basement of the Sally House. We're going to be doing a little grab bag of sorts today, starting off with the portraits, which is AKA the Cabin in the Woods, which is apparently a classic that you read. OG got posted around everywhere back in the day. We're also going to cover the bath game. And then we're going to go into our stories of the day, which is an empty prison and then ending on my student submitted the most disturbing living history project. I've ever seen. Pretty excited. Before we get into it,

I just want to say thank you to Spotify and Apple podcast listeners and of course to our beautiful patrons for making it possible for us to be here and be tormented.

I'm almost positive that there is a possum in this hole in the wall over there and it's scary. Yeah, so for those who didn't watch the last episode or however many ago it was, I don't know how these things

get edited. We are inside of the Sally House and what's the town's name? Acheson, Kansas. Atchinson, Kansas. this house is regarded as being one of the most haunted houses in America. As legend has it back in the 1800s, this basement that we are in now was used as a makeshift hospital

for hospitals in the region. One day a little girl named Sally came here with stomach pains and tragically died on the table during an appendectomy. I had an appendectomy. Yeah, but you're alive. Well, but I was going to say, I don't know if you can see it, but can you see my appendix scar in the infrared? Yeah, you can.

It's pretty cool. But you lived. Well, I guess what, Isaiah, what I'm saying is, she's jealous. Yeah, if the ghost is going to get anyone, it's you. Right. Because you live.

I don't have an appendix for her to take. I mean, it's gone. It's jealousy, clearly. We're also talking about like an eight-year-old child. I mean, she's 100. She's over 100 years old now. That's true. She's pretty old by now.

Hopefully by this time she's learned a little bit of compassion. She's learned a bit of perspective, perhaps. Also, this place has been. you know, it's been a little spooky. I will say the spookiest thing that happened so far is the door-dash driver that dropped off our Taco Bell for the last episode, which it was delicious. I wish I had another breeder now, was they wouldn't even drop the food off here.

They knocked on the door and then they ran to the corner of the street. And they made Harry go out and find him because he's like, I'm not standing at the door. Yeah. That's how freaked out people are of this house. Which I will say there's been some pretty creepy stuff. If you, we're putting it on the Patreon, right?

Our vlog of walking through the house and talking about it and all. visiting the town as a whole. Visiting the town and stuff like that. Um, there is a lot of weird stuff in the house. People have dreams of like dead children. Um, there is a room where people come and leave toys for Sally and stuff like that where we recorded the last episode. Very creepy. So now we are in the dark, very dingy basement. It is. The lights are all completely off. Lights are all completely off. I can fill my throat closing up as I'm down here. The asbestos. as best as old is getting to me. The open drywall here is

very high. There is, I kid you not, we were reading about this place that someone was kicked out because they tried to perform a ritual to summon B. Elzebub. And you can see the mark in the floor. Nick sitting on it. Nick is sitting on it. Nick is sitting on the mark on the floor

where they made the sigil to try to summon the devil. It's right there. So it's a very freaky place. There's also a giant hole. in the wall that you can't see all the way back in it like bows to the right and they have it's fenced off it's fenced off yeah they fenced off a hole in the wall as if there's something back there they're keeping in there we keep hearing weird noises coming i'm almost 100% positive it's

either door for it's a possum similar noises coming from yes yes similar noises probably not similar noises coming from the hole i don't know uh but to start off i'm going to read this is a very short story I'm going to read it. Did you say thank you to the spot? I did. The very, hold on. Hold on. Can you also? So before we start recording, I asked, are we cool?

God, I fucking, man. I'll tell you what. Seriously. I might, I might, I might have to take a break for a second. I, that Taco Bell is fucking running. Are you serious right now?

Oh my, I took a piss. I'll hold it, but I tell you, I like, we did all this to set up the recording. That double, I didn't think about it.

That double beef burrito with the potatoes added to it has, has fucking, it's like a, it's an actual spring trap on my stomach. Okay. Let me just, let me just get into the flow of it here. Okay, hold on. Hold on. What? For the episode started, I kept asking, are we cool and you didn't answer me?

What do you mean? What are we cool? About what? Like, is the show cool? Are we cool? No. This? No.

Are you fucking kidding me? No. Have you seen all the YouTube videos people doing this shit? No, it's fucking cringe. We're cringe. But we're reading, but see, it works stuff because we're reading cringy stories at a haunted house. I mean, like, it's cohesive.

God. All right. Well, this first one's called the portraits, aka Cabin in the Woods. Isaiah, you've read this one? Yeah. Okay, well, here we go. Here we go.

I'm going to read it first. Look, I didn't get any of that Diablo sauce. I was asking for it, too, wasn't I? So he was, I'm lucky. I'm lucky I approached that bitch raw because I tell you, that was, if I would have had some Diablo sauce on that, it would be a different ballgame right now.

Holy Hill. Okay. There was a hunter in the woods. Who, after a long day hunting, was in the middle of an immense forest. It was getting dark. And having lost his bearings, he decided to head in one direction until he was clear of the increasingly oppressive foliage. After what seemed like hours, he came across a cabin in a small clearing. Realizing how dark had it had grown, he decided to see if he could stay there for the night.

He approached and found the door ajar. Nobody was inside. The hunter flopped down on the single bed, deciding to explain himself to the owner in the morning. as he looked around he was surprised to see the walls adorned by many portraits all painted in incredible detail without exception they appeared to

I heard that that was something moving over there yeah do you have that flashlight Nick why do you have to say it like that what you mean it's like it's just such a fucking it's an immediate like accepting defeat

God the way Nick said that was very uh yeah yeah we're dead Yeah Okay Yeah Yeah Meanwhile Nick's over here

Like don't worry everyone God is coming Yeah Without exception They appeared to be staring down at him Their features twisted Into looks of hatred Staring back

He grew increasing uncomfortable Making a concerted effort To ignore the many hateful faces He turned to face the wall And exhausted He fell into a restless sleep Face down In an unfamiliar bed

he turned blinking in an unexpected sunlight. Looking up, he discovered that the cabin had no portraits. Only windows. That's fun. People looking at them in the dark. I mean, how cool is that? And see, you know what's fucked up is now with that bang? Nick just immediately accepting fucking defeat that we're going to die.

Now I just expect that in there, I'm like, I'm not even joking. I keep looking over there and I keep feeling like I see some kind of fucking figure in the shadow or something. I'm not going to lie. Shut up. Don't even say fucking anything. Did you see something back there? I'm not gonna, he told me to shut up. I'm not gonna say fucking anything.

I'm saying that I, I don't even know what I stole. So guys, I really can't, we need to put a picture on screen. I can't explain to you how much of a death dungeon this thing looks like. Yeah, we have to put. All right, so I actually have to quit looking at it because I keep looking at this one spot. Stop, shut the flashlight right now. Someone get a flashlight right now and shine it into that hole in the wall. What do you mean you did it?

Okay. All right. I'm getting, I'm getting a little. Okay. You guys are spooking me out, dude. I'm fucking freaking myself out. Okay, so I'm scared. There's about to be a flashlight to dispel this, but I look, I'm looking in that top right corner.

And I swear, I keep seeing. Dude, shut the fuck up. I keep seeing this. Here's the wall I keep seeing. Stop it. You're fucking with me. I swear, the longer I look, it's like, uh-uh, uh-uh. So I just need you a shine a light so I know it's my eyes playing tricks on.

What the fuck are we going to? This is like a Middle Eastern man down here. you know what it is okay do you see how from here you can see that brick a little bit back on this oh my god that mound of dirt this is a start of a horror movie it's like the hole why what the fuck are we doing shut the fuck up so that brick that's in the top right

from right here it is right on the precipice being too dark to see so it keeps showing and going away it looks like it's moving it's horrible so when you move your perspective yes and it's like oh there's something It's an illusion and it's horrible. Oh, it's a fireplace. Okay.

All right. So that's, wait, so you know, I, at first, you know what I thought it was? I thought this was like a, who's the fucking, like, fat little girl that goes to the bear's house? Golly locks. Oh. Little red riding hood. Oh. No, no, no.

That's the wolf. That's the wolf. Yeah. Goldilocks. I thought it was that vibe for a second. Yeah. The whole idea, though, all the faces look. That's fun.

Yeah, well, this used to get passed around all the time. And it'd be like, it'd be a. accompanied with images like scary portraits and stuff like that or like an empty woods. Is it not a Grimm's fairy tale? It has such a vibe. I mean, it has a tone related to it, but I don't think it's literally a Grims fairy tale. I remember this getting passed around the time that like the stairs in the woods were popular and stuff like that. Oh, so you come across weird structures out of the woods. What can they mean? What could it be about? And I like the idea that this cabin is like an open door for anyone to come lay in, but then they're watched for

some reason. And it's also just a great zinger on the end. No portrait. It's great. I mean, my God, Was that even a minute long besides my dyslexia? I mean, that would have been a 30 second read. Well, it's a very powerful little kick. I read that one. Harry put in here the bath game. Do you want to read the bath game and explain what it is? Let's do the bath game.

So the bath game, we did a video at one point when we, it's the one we did the Bring Her Back, Greywater. In the Greywater video, we covered a series of ritual creepypastas where it's like you perform some action and then like a thing, like the midnight game and stuff like that. So the bath game is, one of those.

And given that we are in a house with a spirit that keeps showing up through the wall over there. This one's about somebody in a spirit. Did you hear a cat meow? Right now? Yeah. No. Okay.

Earlier? Yes. You heard one earlier, but not right now. You heard a cat meow earlier? Are you fucking, why didn't you say anything? Why do I hear it right now? It's a cat. Nick, you're setting on a satanic sigil.

I hate you're on top of No shit I hate that you're in the creakest fucking chair And known the man And then you keep shifting back and forth And you keep saying It's just a cow

You sick fuck Also I think my foot swollen From the being so asleep There's gonna be a giant hand Reach down and just Flip me through the floorboard Just ripped me right up I don't like that

Oh Yeah I wouldn't like it either Nick I don't like that I don't like that. Oh, I say it's dead. I don't like that. Oh, that's a bummer. All right.

The bath game. The bath game, formerly known as a room of sand. What the fuck does that mean? Holy shit. That's a little weird. The tone I approached that with it. Formerly known as Daruma sand.

This bitch comes from overseas. Are you fucking kidding me? Deruma. What would Derruma be? Aruba, Jamaica Daruba Islamic Daruma Daruma is Islamic

Now it isn't Dasht San This is an Islamic bath game No Are you fucking I can barely see your face You cock sucker

I'm telling you You're freaking out right He's just All I see in the All I see the dark is just What? I'm just looking You're smiled at me

Bath game Formerly known as Derumasen Is an old game Surromaning a ghost from a bathtub that follows you all day. Playing to room of sin can result in bad things happening to you, even death. That's kind of fun.

It's like you might not even get killed, but it still's like it could. It could. You never know. Yeah. Things that you will need. The bathroom with the bathtub. Oh, I just figured. Starting the game.

Step one. Before you go to bed, take off all your clothes. All right. Step two. Enter the bathroom. Fill up the bathtub and turn out all the lights. Step three. Sit in the middle of the tub while facing the faucet or tap.

close your eyes and wash your hair. Step four, as you wash your hair, you should repeat these words. Derumasone fell down. Deru'son fell down. So it looks like the Deruma doll is a traditional Japanese hollow, round paper machet doll. Nick, why did you say it was Islamic? It's the founder of Zen Buddhism. It's my go-to.

That's my go-to. That's my go-to. Oh, God. All right. I, Baja Nick said it in his room and like the turban and a prayer mat. Yeah, no shit.

It's my go-to. I saw someone comment on a Papa Meat video one time. Anytime Nick speaks, I have to get ready. Step four. Do not stop repeating this until you finish washing your hair. Your eyes must remain shut.

Step five. As you wash your hair, you will picture a Japanese woman standing in the bathtub. She will slip and fall into a rusty tap, gouging her eye out, killing her. Jesus. Step six. You will hear a sound coming from behind you or feel a movement in the bath. Do not turn around or peek.

You will finally summon the ghost. You will feel her presence as she emerges out of the bathtub. Ask out loud. Why did you fall in the bathtub? Step seven. The way you said that was very, accusatory. Idiot.

Step 7. You can finally get out of the bathtub and make sure your eyes remain shut. Make sure not to slip or trip as you get out of the bath. Not train the water until the next morning. Step 8. Shut the door behind you. It's now safe to open your eyes. Keep the water in the bathtub until morning.

Do not turn any lights on. Go to bed. is a ghostly figure that will follow you all day. He wears tattered and stained white clothes with black hair. She has only one eye. Her left eye is wide open and bloodshot. Her right eye is missing, leaving a bloody hollow eye socket. When you wake up in the morning, the game will begin. Your day will begin normal, until you will feel the presence of the one-eyed woman glancing over your right shoulder. When you turn around, she will not be there. She will get closer and closer as your day goes on.

Not let her catch you. If the one-eyed woman's getting too close, you should shout, Tomair! Which means, stop. Then run away fast. This will put distance between you and the woman. You must end this game before midnight,

or else she will keep stalking you and appear in your dreams to kill you. To end the game, you must catch a glimpse of the one-eyed woman and shout, Kita! Which means, I cut you loose. While swinging your arm in a chopping motion.

The game will end, one-eyed woman won't follow you anymore. Rule number one, do not open your eyes when the ghost first appears. Rule number two, do not let the one-eyed woman trip you when you leave the bathtub. Rule number three, do not re-enter the bathroom after you leave. Rule number four, not drain the bath until morning. Rule number five, do not let the one-eyed woman catch you. This game is very dangerous. It can get you killed when you get out of the bathtub.

It's very important to play with caution. What a fucking demented fucking Japanese game that is, huh? Well, who the idea is like if you want to touch the supernatural and like There ain't no fucking touching your You basically make you make a Japanese pirate That follows you around all day

You know who it would have Do you believe in nightmares, Miss Swanson? Because you're in one. Yeah, you bet you're in one, Miss Fonon when you put it like that also this literally does sound like a pervert's fantasy of like also be sure to take your clothes off wash your hair very rapidly but don't open your eyes

and then also don't drain the water till morning what the fuck do you think they're doing with that water I think the implication is you're mimicking the steps of the woman if you're hearing a- He was taking a shower and fell and died and the water stayed until someone found her the next morning If you hear somebody if you hear somebody drinking the bathtub water with a straw don't look

it kind of Yeah, then you're all Tororama It's a Kiratoryama There's one face An image that gets passed around on line Around a lot Online is a scary image

That I think might actually be related to this story Yeah I can't find the image right now I was just pulling up like stuff from the garage Which is what I'm looking for But there's this image that goes around line That I think only has one eye I think might have come for this but the image is often detached from the story.

If I can find it in post, we'll show it. But I think that stories like this are for people that, I can see it working with the narrative like the character we just read about in our last story at Infantum, where it's someone who is at the end of the rope needs something, needs to change something, and it's like, what have I got to lose kind of thing, right? I could see them doing a game like this to touch the other side, to see what's beyond the veil, sort of. When I said look over to your right shoulder, I fucking did it.

And I scared the fuck out of myself. What'd you look at it? I looked at it. Well, there's just a, there's a silver handle there, but I thought it was eyes. It scared me. Try to find this one. But anyway, we can go on. All right.

But what do you, what do you think of that? What do you think of the ritual games? I mean, they're not really narrative. Who the fucker? I mean, I like the idea because it's just like this was, this was, this was like fan fiction before the internet to me. This is like what this is what those kinds of people did before the internet existed Or whatever so people would pass on this

I just mean like it's just people being like isn't this cool Like that kind of thing and it's whatever that mindset is it doesn't make a lot of sense what I'm saying I'm just saying like urban legend not even urban legends I'm just saying like that kind of person that would be like you know like someone who's like obsessed with What's a show what's a popular show? Supernatural Really Really Why don't you say monk while you're at it?

dude. You never fucking mind. It's fun. They're fun. But at the same time, I'm just like, what kind of fucking psychopath would do this, dude? God, supernatural. Shut the fuck. I've never heard you once say that for you what's a popular show?

Supernatural. You want to know some horrible information. Would it surprise you to know I used to be super into supernatural? It's a good, it's a good show. I'm not saying it's, I'm not saying that the show is not good. It's just a funny thing to write. Like you could have said the sopranos or any there like I don't know anything that isn't supernatural all right well

should we get into empty prison yeah let's start actually reading a story let's sit on this is a short bog how long have we been recording so far 24 minutes oh my god half an hour we ever read one story we've read too thank you very much that's not how you've basically heard me have a seizure and then i got yeah tripped up over a japanese pirate also once again i cannot i feel like i hear something in the hole and i cannot just that enough. You're probably hearing my foot. I don't. If I move my foot, it's like. Trevor is trying to calm your nerves.

You are directly in line with the hole. Why would you say that? Why would you say that? That's so cruel. Yeah. That should be the follow up. Supernatural. Your eyes right in front of the hole. Supernatural.

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Let's do it. By M-59 Gar. Yes. So do you remember what story of his we've read before? No, no, dude. Of course not. What are you talking about? Is that, you want to guess?

M59 Gar? Yeah, we liked it. We liked it a lot. Can you give me a hint of what it was? It's in a basement. It wasn't. Is it really? Is it a basement story?

Um, kind of. It's about a recluse. Is it the one where it's the guy who's stuck in his apartment or whatever? Not the one we read recently about the pill to keep some way. No, no, no. I'm talking about the one where it's like a guy's isolated and he was like looking through the little hole. Yeah, yeah. And he thinks that everyone's been turned into aliens.

Yeah, okay. Yep, that's him. Psychosis. is the name. Psychosis, there you go. So M59 Gar wrote that. He's written a bunch of other stuff too. Among, after we read Psychosis for Creepcast, a bunch of people recommended this one as a follow-up.

Among us? Amogous? You said among. Among omogas? Is that still pop up with me? Nothing would make me happier. Could that get you, could that get you pussy now, you think? Like, is it like a retro meme?

Yeah. It's like a retro meme. If something flew out of that fence at 100 miles an hour, directly into. you. I don't think so. Amogus. Cool.

I bet you anything people are going to be like, I bet you there's. If you're good enough looking guy and you're going to like a 28 year old goal, you probably could say amogas and it gets you some pussy. It's probably true. They probably think you're saying. It's ironic. What are you saying? Amogas?

You're horrible. You're actually. Amagas? Supernatural? I probably think you're saying Um, oh, please fuck me. Okay.

Please split me open. Amagas? Is that, have you on, have you on ironically said, Mogdus to a girl before? No. No.

You, that sounded so... I mean, I don't like a lot of detail he had with that. No, me, never. Me? This guy. I'm just a little guy. What are you looking up? I'm trying to find this one image.

God, just, can we read an empty prison? Is this freaking you're out? No, none of those are bringing out. Just gay porn. He's on the ass jeeps. What are you thinking about that? Cool, huh? Yeah, Bing, save sheriff.

All right. An empty prison. But what's the actual name of Matt Damerski? Matt Demerski. Matt Demerski's an empty prison. Matt Demerski Sounds like a hockey player A single day

Added on to my sentence Met the difference between a normal jail An unending nightmare Hold on a second Nick what are you doing You little goblin He's fucking getting her up Why are you going near the gate?

I was checking on the camera Okay Okay sorry Go ahead Nick just stands up randomly Walks up to the fence No he sits up Hold this really

He literally sat there I sit there and I look at it he's just like crawls off. It's the fucking scariest thing. And he's in the creakiest, oldest Polish chair that could find. On,

on, something that's been well established as a demonic summoning sigil. Hello, Georgie. All right, empty prison. Come on,

let's get it. No more messing around. Seriously, a single day added on to my sentence meant the difference between a normal jail and the unending nightmare

been being a prison. I was supposed to get 364 days. That was the deal. The judge didn't like my attitude, whatever the hell that meant, so he made it 365. Boom. One year was the minimum for prison. My lawyer made a stink and a half, but didn't do any good. It's not his fault. In fact, he's the one who's going to release this statement to the press or link it online if the Guardian Corrections group, the GCG, tries to get an injunction on us. People have to know what happened. I'm going to put it right out there and tell you that it was haunted. You think I'm joking, knots or lying, but you have no idea. Haunted prisons aren't anything like you imagine.

Those places that advertise themselves and give people tours or sick jokes compared to the real thing. It got so bad that you can actually look up GCG's official filings for Chapter 11. That shit put them out of business. on their very first prison. And right there, on the briefs, using an early statute of North Dakota law from 1857 to file an insurance claim, it says, site of Pembina prison confirmed by governor's office and two notary publics witnessing in person to be afflicted by the supernatural, such that continued business is impossible.

I don't know. Okay. What? I don't want to say. I'm not even going to say it. Say it. No, I. This is a show.

and you have to I don't give a fuck if it's a show fuck them fuck all you I'm not saying it is a horror podcast give me something scared I'm afraid why why are you doing that why the fuck did you do that

you know it actually made me mad just then Nick Nick got scared but the way he got scared the way he got scared and I'm not kidding I saw him

he went it's like it's like Freddy Merger Georgians. Demon. Get back, demon. Well, I thought was the possum getting in the vent or something.

I'm sorry. Did the ghost of my grandfather just show up in the room with us? Oh, my God. The skeleton. The skeleton. The setting,

it's fucked up because it's just like, I'd say it's a haunting. And I just like, you kind of like settle it in. But then I just keep like, I'm like, we're in a very scary area right now. I keep getting in my head about it. What did you see over there that freaks you out? Okay, so this was too bright.

I looked over and then I, like, you know when the image... The little dots, yeah. So I go over like that and it looked like a white bald head. Yeah. In there. That's what I keep seeing out of that right corner. That's the demon. Shut the fuck up.

Might be the possums getting into the vans. You think so? Is that serious? Nah. Oh, my God. Like, fucking eight by my God. Are you serious?

All right. Let's just fucking keep reading. I'm going to keep reading. Any more comments from the peanut gallery before we continue? Side of Fembeenna prison confirmed by governor's office and two notary publics

witnessing in person to be afflicted by the supernatural such that continued business is impossible. It wasn't the first time the prison was closed for that reason either, but leeches kept buying it and reopening it, hoping to make a buck off the common man. An eye was shoved into that hellhole without knowing the history even a single bit. Don't get me wrong. The building itself wasn't so bad, especially for something straight out of 1853. It was a big stone cube that was squat, heavy, and cramped, but way less sealed off than modern prisons.

We could see a lot of the cells around us. There was only one main hallway per floor, and we were close enough to pass things between the bars and have some real human interaction. It could have been worse. There were five floors and capacity for 500 prisoners. When I first got there, I had a bunch of cellmates, and I heard there were 2,000 guys locked up, and I believed it, but that soon changed. I didn't talk to anyone for the first three weeks. Never been to real prison before, and I was messed up over. it. I didn't want to accept that I would be in that place and stuck with three other guys

and myself for an entire year. The whole prison seemed full of feral men. The bottom floor would start screaming and hollering and panicking in the middle of the night all at once. We were on the top floor, thought we could hear their screams echoing through the open old layout like they were right there with us. I just thought the prisoners on the bottom floor were all nuts until the guards weren't there to wake us up the first day my fourth week. When I woke up in my corner without some asshole guard

banging on the bars of our cell, I finally had to talk. I asked one of my cellmates, Dante, what was going on? And I'll never forget the fear in his voice as he said something that should have made us all incredibly happy. The guards are all gone, man.

Prisoners were talking quietly between the cells and loudly between the floors through various whispers and shouts. But the most we could figure out was that something on the first floor and made them all quit in protest. Sure, must have been the crazy screaming like that during the night, right? Except none of us could get any word from the bottom floor. It was dead silent down there. The guys on the second called out for hours.

Someone was down there, they said, because they could hear shuffling footsteps walking around at random ever so often. But whoever it was, never said a single word. It was the first time Dante mentioned the crazy stories from the first floor. He muttered that he hoped none of that was true, but when I asked about it, he just shook his head. Nothing, man. None of it ever made sense. We were a little worried as the day wore on and nobody came to let us out for breakfast. And then nobody came to let us out for lunch. The time we usually got to spend outside in the yard came and went, and people began getting restless.

In the cell to our left, Dante's friend Will began telling us, telling guys to pass the word that we should all calm down and start sharing any food we had to hold away. I remember asking Dante. Is it really that bad? They've denied meals and yard time for a day or two before. But the other two guys in our cell didn't look convinced. One of them said, But not like this.

They made damn sure we knew what they did. They never just up and left. Someone handed us pieces of crusty old bread through the bars. Much appreciated. New guards didn't show up for work for, another full day. We got plenty of yard time that day from these new guys, but they seemed more confused than us. We all watched from a distance as Will asked a guard about what happened. I don't know. GCG was paying a premium for fast tire, so I signed up. What about the prisoners

on the first floor? We could still hear him shuffling around down there. We looked on the way out of the yard and we couldn't see anyone. Huh. No being there. They all got transferred. transferred the hell that mean it means DOCR took him back return to state custody since the company couldn't handle them that made sense if the floor had been full of nut jobs then North Dakota's first local private prison company hardly had the experience to handle them but these news guys didn't even have the skills to handle us there were half as many guards as before and they didn't know the routines or who the dangerous ones were among us as a result who were distant, scared, forceful.

I'll except one guy. Kellan. Kellan wasn't the first guard to treat us like human beings, but by then he was the only one around. He traded jokes while in the yard, never hit us, and looked us in the eyes when he talked. He went and found some paperwork to confirm the crazies had actually been transferred,

but it took three months to get that info out of GCG. By the time he told us he'd heard back, we sort of forgotten the whole thing. Two nights later, maybe two hours past light, out, guys on the second floor began screaming. Dante leapt up and fell on one of our cellmates by accident before shouting, Shit, shit, must be a fire! Other guys in our row began banging on the bars and shouting for the guards, but the uniforms

charged past and headed downstairs without talking to us. We could hear them shouting orders down below, and then yelling in confusion. Prisoner screams were clear coming from the second. It sounded like they were terrified of something in particular wanted help. Sounds of gates being slammed and people running reached us after about 10 minutes of shouting. Then it was silent. He said in the dark waiting, listening until morning. When the new shift came in, they were surprised and confused.

Kellan came by to ask what had happened. We told him what we knew, but he'd shown up and found open gates in an empty second floor. There's no indication what had happened, but he promised to check with corporate and figure out if the absent prisoners had all been rapidly transferred again. Dante gripped the bars and made sure Kellan was looking at him Please find out who the hell is walking around down there at night Helen blinked him I mean I'm I'm day shift so I don't know what I can do but

But what do you mean The prisoners are gone Dante told him fiercely quietly But the guys on the third floor said they still hear someone Maybe two or three of someone's Shuffling their feet every hour so until morning I guess I could go look right now Until I reached through the bars and grabbed his uniform

Some moods usually got us a beating. Hear me. Do not go in that by yourself. Stay in the stairwell unless someone's with you. Kellen nodded fearfully. It looked like he finally understood how spooked we were. He waved another guard off. Dante let go.

Nothing more came of it for a whole season. Night shift had quit, and more guards got hired at an even higher pay. Kellan in another uniform scoped out the first two floors, but found nothing. Dante thought it was because they were looking during the day. during the day, but he wasn't about to ask our only friend to risk himself. It's maybe three months later. Yeah, I was halfway through my sentence. Now I had taken up drawing, so I had a pen and paper.

When we woke up in the middle of the night, everyone on the third floor, screaming in absolute panic. I do like this recurring thing. It's almost like water rising up through the other floors. And there's no, I mean, it sounds like there's a cover up with them saying everyone was transferred. Yeah, yeah, yeah. But it's like there's this evil approaching getting closer. This time we were less scared during the event itself. Will offered a guard racing past 500 bucks from his commissary account

if the man would come back and tell them what was going on. Dante listened intently, trying to hear individual screams from the third floor over everyone else's shouting and confusion. Down any words he thought he had heard. But I wrote down. Jesus Christ. Killing him.

God. Let us out. Coming this way. We weren't as scared when it was happening because we'd lived through it twice before, but this time, long-term fear was much deeper. Now we knew for sure that it was going to happen again, and any prisoners that had the means began loitering up and doing everything they could to transfer to other prisons,

even if it met worse conditions. Problem was, North Dakota prison system was already overflowing, which was the whole reason GCG got. started in the first place so every guy that got out meant it was that much harder for the rest of us both of our cellmates transferred giving us more space so that was nice but it was small consolation apparently word had started to spread on the outside and gcg solution instead of paying the guards even more to stop having a night shift at all except for just one poor guy Killen was a bit miffed he hadn't gotten a raise out of the whole thing, but we started to believe us that something was going on.

By then, he'd been around a while, and he knew we weren't bullshitters. Too many of the other prisoners had told him they'd heard something walking around the first, second, and third floors at random during the night. It was just a few steps, sometimes, as many as 20, but it only happened every so often, and only once it had been long enough that you thought it had stopped for good. One guy on the fourth floor said he'd heard a full run from one end of the third floor hallway to the other. Clear enough that he expected a guard to come charging up the stairwell, nobody had appeared. Slid his wrist and got transferred out on medical leave the next day, so we took him serious. All that was enough to get Kellan to start doing some research on the outside. Came to us in the seven months of my sentence with a pale face.

Beside us at the bars, Will asked, What's the word? Allen seemed grim A lot of bullshit out there But this place has mentioned a lot It's been closed before But I keep getting stonewalled when I ask for historical documents The thing is

I don't think the prison itself is the problem Get this Hold out a notepad for reference Two Canadian priests Father Norbert Provencher And severe doomlin visited Pembina in 1818 Before it even an official township

That was back then When the Hudson's Bay company was big around these parts that's how long ago it was but being was the biggest town in north dakota then so the trading post was full so the priest chose to sleep outside by by where the pinbina river meets the red river the folktale has it that the vision of a rotting woman came in the night and stole uh provincial's life the two men bartered with her to split the remaining life between them good signing both they live only 35 more years instead of the 70 severe had severe had left Severe got an extra month in 20 days as a gift from his friend for his sacrificed.

He paused as if we might guess the obvious outcome. They both died 35 years later. A new Pembina prison had a horrible problem, but that didn't mean I had to believe everything. Let me guess. A month and 20 days apart? Kellan nodded. Conte snorted. It's true, dude.

Kellyn insisted. The dates of death are right there on Wikipedia. But get this. 35 years later after 1818 made their death year 18, the death year 1853, the year this prison was built. Are the place they camped that night? By the meetings of the rivers? I didn't know what it meant, but I was beginning to feel very uneasy.

It's right here, isn't it? He was dead serious. I think there's some shit here. Ancient shit. As to Guy I know, he's got Chippewa relatives over at Turtle Mountain. They know the history of the Red River better than anyone else. He said his uncle told him never to sleep at the meeting of the Red River and the Pimbena River. He said, something lives here.

under the ground it awakens with the changing of the seasons that's cool that's pretty sick very not i know we bring it up constantly but final prayer yeah some great thing underground but it's like it's physically rising through the levels of the prison people yeah that's pretty cool we were silent for a beat after that it was folk-tale nonsense but it was as good as a theory as any whatever it was it was going to come back it wasn't friendly we'll talk to kellen for another few minutes dante was silent After he was gone, I asked him. What's wrong? He said on one of the now unused bunks and told me.

I got another five years in here. I got no money for a lawyer. Your sentence will be up before it reaches us and I'll be here alone. Will it? There's no way to be sure. It'll be back at two months for the fourth floor. And then three months after that for us, I can get out a week before or a day too late. Doesn't seem to be exact.

Just looked at the floor. What I mean is I do hope you get out here before it comes Oh I wasn't sure what else to say after that So I just said in my corner like I always did It wasn't too much after that That we heard GCG was going under

Mad rush of transfers It pissed off the state and lost the company A vital contract for a second location Investors had pulled out or something The number of guards was cut and slashed Kellyn took a pay hit to stay on As the only guy left on the day shift There's only two prisoners left on the fourth floor

called the 20 of us remaining as the general week we expected it to happen approached. I feel like I should stay late just to see what the hell's going to go on down here. But the former guards

I ask about it all terrified as hell and refused to talk. Some got violent just because I asked. It's cool. You got a kid at home. Don't be here for it. 20 of us left on the fifth floor

set in ourselves once night fell. Brain and listening. Monday night, nothing happened. Two guys down below occasionally shouted up to us that everything was clear. Tuesday night, nothing happened. The strain was growing, though, and we could sometimes hear them breathing rapidly down there. I could only imagine the adrenaline rushing through them every minute until dawn.

Wednesday night, nothing happened. Yet, something had changed in the air. The prison was much quieter now. The 2,000 men had become 22, and I thought I could feel a subtle sort of heartbeat in the air. founding against reality like it was a thin sheet of paper. It's just your imagination. And of us were willing to speak louder than that. Thursday night, that heartbeat became a feeling of footsteps approaching from great distance.

Guys. Will shouted from a cell. You good down there? Still here. One responded from down below. But I can feel it. It's at the door. It's knocking.

What the hell that's supposed to mean? The man below did not respond. did not respond. Friday night that was the night it would happen. All day the two guys on forth pulled and clanged on their bars begging to be let out. Kellan was torn.

After two hours of listening to that pleading, he came up with an idea. Transferred both of them up to our floor. If no one was on four, then we'll be safe, right? Out loud, we agreed, but we were kidding ourselves. When the night guard showed up, he freaked, took the two men back down.

He said out loud what we were thinking. If nobody's on four, then just come right to five. It'll just come right to five and get us all. What the hell was kill him thinking? Like how they're so like assured this thing's going to happen. The guard's like, we got to feed him to it.

He's too. Gotta go down there. We had to listen to hours of sobbing that evening. It was the hardest trial of my life. I wanted to call out to the night guard. I wanted to ask him to get those men out of there. But if I did, I knew whatever was coming. find all of us instead. The moment it had happened was like a cold hand on my shoulder.

What's going on down there? Dante shouted. The man was not sobbing, called back. It's changing. Will demanded. What's happening? Tell us. It's red. Red. Red.

It's red. What's red? Will yelled insistently. God damn it, what's red? Stared down the hallway at the night guard, stood listening with fear. The screaming began a few seconds later. This time, only one floor above, we could clearly hear their every word.

The sobbing prisoner shrieked. It's there! The man who'd been communicating with us began incoherently raging with fear against his bars. Then, strangely, he stopped. The 20 of us clung to our bars, unable to help, and able to flee. Many of us cried, but we were otherwise silent. Where to yell would be to drown out the last words of the men below. But they were eerily quiet.

for nearly two hours. We waited in a strained silence as random footsteps traversed the fourth floor every so often. What was happening? For the first time, the victims of whatever was going on down below had chosen to be quiet instead of yelling for help. How would that make things different? Long last, the sobbing man broke the silence. Shut up. It'll see you. You strapped it. Hit your bars. Sound of clinging echoed up the stairwell. The sobbing man said with terror, it knows, it knows. Jesus Christ, do something. We were no longer silent.

We echoed that sentiment loudly and repeatedly to the guard. Do something. Just stood there, literally quaking in his boots. Will screamed at him. Snap out of it! The other guards and prisoners got away. You can too. Whatever it is, it won't follow you if you let them out and leave.

I shouted. They're going to die down there. Dante threw his shoe and the impact finally snapped the man out of his tear. The guard ran to the stairwell and descended. The first thing we heard him say, Was it taken back? Mary, Father of Christ. Soving man again.

Over here for God's sakes, let us out! The other prisoner wasn't talking for some reason. It hears gasping terror, but that too went quiet. Then we heard a buzzer, and all the gates on four slammed loudly open. Sounds of panting, running, and someone dragging something followed. The prison went silent. Just like that, we were alone again. The formerly crowded prison now felt terrifyingly large and empty, with only 20 of us,

and no guards. That night, the unmistakable sound of footsteps echoed from down below. I counted time as best I could. 40 minutes. Someone took three steps out of a cell and into the hallway. An hour in six minutes. Someone ran 10 steps along the hallway and stopped abruptly. 28 minutes. Footsteps approached the stairwell, but then turned into a cell and went silent. Thing was, whoever it was, sounded barefoot. Starting and stopping locations did not match. Where they ended was often nowhere near where they began again later. That's pretty. All the little like clues we get to this thing's terrifying that we don't see it but we hear people talking about it. But I also love that like whatever happens these people, they're moving somewhere down there,

but it's almost like they're floating in between locations or somewhere they're very quiet and they get loud and stuff. By the time dawn came, we were scared into motionless, terrified silence and it took Kellan's arrival for us to begin stirring again. With GCG and bankruptcy court, we no longer had a night guard at all. If it came for us, there would be nobody to let us out of ourselves like everyone else. We hardly talked, and hardly ate. Each passing day was a grain of sand falling through an hourglass, marking our executions. Our fellows began confessing to crimes they hadn't even committed

just to get transferred to Supermax out of state. The only option left. Well, that suicide attempts. One by one, Kellen escorted or drag guys out of our floor. 20 became 15 than 10. Then it was just me and Dante, with Will still in the cell to our left. Three of us in Kellyn, four men waiting for Doom. We sat playing card games in the weeks leading up to it.

It would be one full year for me in that place, but I could swear I'd spend a lifetime in that cell. I couldn't think, couldn't remember life before. Couldn't imagine surviving after. Every day I prayed for a transfer to come in, but North Dakota had gotten sick of our ship. the judges had stopped hearing cases from him being a prison. They didn't know there were only three of us left.

Nobody knew. We contacted the media. We phoned the governor's office. We made a ruckus. That was worse than nobody knowing. Turned out. Nobody cared. Two, there was nobody higher up at the GCG following the situation,

and Kellyn couldn't get anybody on the phone. Payroll, meaning just his paycheck, was being handled by a third-party disbursement company, that couldn't answer questions about ongoing proceedings. The week approached. On Monday night, nothing happened. We were like statues in ourselves, alone, waiting for a sign of the executioner's approach.

When dawn came, we sighed and began moving again. Dante asked, You get out on Friday? I nodded. Things went like before I'd be released the day of, as long as I left before sundown, it'd be all right. Tuesday night, nothing happened. Two for two. Just one more. One more day.

Sat through the darkness until... No. The feeling of the prison had changed around us. A subtle heartbeat seemed to pulse against our faces and ears and eyes. It had come a day earlier in the week than the last time. That morning, Will patted my arms who both leaned out the bars. Sorry, man. Dante shook his head angrily. I wasn't going to get out in time. On Wednesday night, the heartbeat became the sound of foot. steps approaching from some unfathomable distance. I think I stood at the bars of ourselves that

entire day. Fingers wrapped around metal with force to match the tension in the air and in our minds. This couldn't happen. This wouldn't happen. My lawyer would walk in and tell me he'd gotten the judge's unfair edition of an extra day removed. One day. One damn day. Even if I'd spent the whole year in this prison, one day still meant life or death. Let me out. Let me the hell out for God's sake, but nobody cared. Nobody would listen. I'd like to tell you that Kellyn stayed late that night. I'd like to tell you that when the entire floor began to glow red, hallways, the cells, the stone itself, as whatever ungodly abomination in the earth began to wake upon the changing of the season as distant footsteps became a traveler at the door of our minds, I'd like to tell you that

Kellan was there, hit the button, open the gates, and let us all out. I'd like to tell you that I didn't see anything, that I'm not permanently a broken man. I didn't claw the walls of my cell as it approached slowly, moving a few steps every 20 to 70 minutes. I'd like to tell you that all three of us were able to run away and escape that horror upon reality. It's rotting hands and blind eyes, radiating crimson light as it searched for us at random. But I can't give you satisfying end to this story. The disbursement company fired Kellyn and changed the locks on the property. According to their paperwork, all the prisoners had been moved,

and they thought he'd been getting paid for guarding an empty prison. They left us in there for 11 days before the air was found. It spent 11 nights with that thing. For 11 days, we starved. For 11 nights, we sat absolutely still, not daring to move or breathe or even look left or right. We knew where we were, generally, stood right outside ourselves for hours, sometimes walked right through the bars and grasped at the beds around us,

daring us to make even the slightest motion. When you've spent six hours staring into the blind crimson eyes of a rotting demon, unable to blink your eyes for fear that it will hear the air your lashes move when you've seen what I've seen the worlds that's walked reflected in hellish red you'll understand no one cares

I'd like to tell you that Kellyn actually existed I'd like to tell you we had a friend among the guards that it wasn't all bad I'd like to tell you I wasn't traumatized but the hell I went through being left to rot and left to die is nothing more than a number on some corporation's books

but no one cares End of story That was fun I like that one. That was a good one. That's a really cool idea that there's a, there's like a curse prison that this thing rises up through. Also like the mention of the end that Kelton's not real.

That's kind of just like, oh, this is how we found out our information, but that's not, no one actually cared about us. There was no one there to help us out in the midst of this. Yeah. It was a really,

I mean, like the buildup was really, really nice. Yeah. Really fucking creepy. And it's like, it's like prowling around this thing, slowly moving,

looking for people. Like, it's come to collect its due of anyone who can't, by the river and the prisoners count as people at her camping, but it's slow and it takes its time to move and it can float around and stuff like that. I think that's really cool. Yeah, I think that like a really great payoff, great buildup to the same that I felt with whenever we read a psychosis and stuff, kind of like a weird conspiracy thing. Has there ever been like the GDC in this? You know how like in government documents people say there's like, oh, there's aliens and stuff. Has there ever been anything with like paranormal stuff in official documents? I think so. Has there? No. Oh, I didn't know that.

Well, you mean, what do you mean about paranormal stuff? Like investigation into the paranormal, yes. Confirmed like ghost exists? No. Right, right, right. But there's stuff like, like if you look at a bunch of the old CIA files, there was a ton of stuff back around like the 60s and 70s where they did experiments to try to understand if there was something to like telepathy.

So they got like a bunch of professional telepathics and like had them conduct a bunch of experiments. They did a bunch of experiments with hallucinogenics to see if people were able to astrally project and stuff like that. So there was one called Operation Sunbeam, I believe it was, where they gave people like LSD and stuff like that. And they called it controlling, where they would try to pilot where they were projecting themselves to. Is that what that movie the men who stare at goats was a base about? Not actually projecting like that, but it's a similar thing of like that was during World War II. So that was OSS.

That was like pre-experiments. Oh, okay. But same idea. But there's some crazy stories from Operation Sunbeam where like people reported that they found the Ark of the Covenant in a cave in the Middle East and people who reported. What about the fucking Middle East giants or whatever? What the fuck was that about?

Remember that one? Yeah. The Afghanistan giants. Yep. Giants at Kandar, I think it was. Do people say is that like, is that a meme or is that like a? It comes from, so there's, you know, the stories of biblical giants. stuff like that, which is my, you know, if you watch. I make it, I've made a bunch of videos and

like references to biblical giants and stuff like that. I think they're a really interesting topic. But the rumor is that graves and like sites of them exist in the Middle East that have been covered up by like governments and there's been a bunch of political interests to try to keep information of them secret and that there's passageways in the mountains in like Iraq and Afghanistan leads down to places where they could still exist. So the story is in 2012, I believe there was a group of Rangers who got into combat with something and a bunch of them were killed. And it's supposedly a cover-up that they were searching in caves for insurgents and ran into a giant that killed several of them until eventually the area was like blown to bits. And then the whole thing kept hush-hush.

But the story is that a group of army Rangers ran into a giant in Afghanistan. Interesting. I mean, that's not an official document. That's more of like a fun conspiracy theory thing. But there are official documents with the CIA in like M.K. Ultra, for example. example. Most of MK Ultra was if you could like change someone's mind and like make them into the perfect soldier through psychotropics

and like breaking them down with drugs and stuff like that. There's a bunch of stuff down there to see if like you could basically make people be telepathic. Part of MK Ultra was giving LSD to dolphins to see if they could learn to communicate with humans off of that. That must be fun for the dolphins.

Yeah, yeah. They actually started speaking in a new like cadence that no other dolphins would amongst themselves. So it seems they did create their own, like, communication with each other. Yeah. Yeah. We got to believe that.

All right. So one final story tonight. Yeah. We're reading, My students submitted the most disturbing living history project I've ever seen. And this is posted by Gretelcat. We haven't read anything from Gretelcat before. It looks like they only have two stories ever posted no sleep.

And it was like eight to nine years ago. Okay. But this story has 24,000 upvotes. Wow. Okay. Yeah. A bunch of people were super into this. So it seems they had a couple of bangers and it just dropped off the earth.

And then dipped. I love when people do that. So we'll leave them linked in the description. Gretelcat, if you somehow watch this and you want to make more stories, here's your audience. Keep writing. Keep writing. But for now, into their story.

One of my least favorite parts about being, and obviously everyone will be linked in the description. If you want to support the artist, please do. They deserve it. Right. One of my least favorite parts about being a middle school history teacher is the bullshit living history assignments we give at the end of the end of the every school year. Kids are supposed to sit with their grandparents videotape, voice record,

or transcribe their oldest memories for posterity and for an easy way to bring up their GPA. I've been doing this for 17 years, and when I collected the projects this time around, I assumed they would be as dull, if not duller than usual. This had not been a particularly bright class. So I went home, board myself a glass of wine, and prepared for a long night of, I only owned two pairs of pants when I was your age, and my brother got beat with a newspaper for hitting a baseball into a neighbor's yard. And of course, these projects were peppered with innocent, old person comments that were so horribly sexist and racist, you just had to laugh.

Now, I had a girl in my class whom I will call Olivia. She was pudgy, quiet, and proved herself a consistent bee student. I expected a man just dogging this kid. You're honest. I expected her project to be as unremarkable as her. Would you consider that on us? We're getting a little blow the belt now. A little below the belt.

Is that, how does, why did both you turn and look at the same time? Oh, he looked. Look at what? You looked up there and the Nick spun around in his chair really quick. Oh,

I didn't look up there. I was just looking at the light off the, it's from the deal. I was just looking at the same. Also, how does that look at that? Okay. Also, how does that look at the light? Look, did you turn your screen brightness up all the way?

You can't even tell. You can't really? On those? Not on this one. On some of them, it keeps lowering, so I have to keep tapping it out. I just look over for a second. It looks like the sun was on your face. My bad.

I expected her project to be as unremarkable as her, and perhaps that's why I was so profoundly disturbed, but what I witnessed that night. Olivia had submitted two discs for some reason, so I began with the one marked interview. My screen hiccup twice before a grainy image of a large, living room came into view. The place was a hoarder's hell. Olivia was curled up in an armchair clutching a notebook and looking like a scared animal. Across from her said a man with a somber

countenance, smoking a cigarette and staring at her expectantly. Go ahead. Woman's voice whispered from behind the camera. Olivia's owlish eyes flashed towards the screen. Back to the man. I am here with my great uncle Stephen. She began almost inaudibly. He is going to tell us about his oldest memories from being in the army. Great Uncle Stephen looked like he'd rather be in the damn trench at the moment,

but he waited patiently for the questions to begin. Not surprisingly, Olivia read verbatim from the suggested question sheet I had handed out to the students. He answered her curtly. Once or twice, I heard her mother whisper. Speak up, Olivia. From behind the camera. Typical boring shit.

So I was intrigued when Olivia sat down the notebook and asked, Did you like being in the army? That was totally off script. great-uncle Stephen admitted a chain-smoker's wheeze. Nope. Glad to get out of my town, though. Where did you go? Balkans.

Uh-huh. I doubted she knew what the Balkans were. My suspicion was confirmed when she asked, Was Balkas very different from here? Yes. Mom cleared her throat from behind the camera, perhaps encouraging Great Uncle Stephen to be a little more forthcoming,

but Olivia seemed genuinely interested. Uncle Stephen, what is your very worst memory from the army? I'm starting to see why she's a beast, dude. Just chowing down double stuff Oreas, why she's asking these questions. She's taking off tops and putting them together. Quadruple stuff, Uncle Stephen. Dipping them in water. You're like, God.

Water's favorite cookie. Like it's a hot dog eating contest. Exactly. That's not the saying. The old man crushed his same. cigarette in the ashtray and then slowly lifted himself out of his chair. Camera cut off. Then the screen flashed back on.

Everything was the same except great Uncle Stephen had several pieces of paper and plastic sleeves laid atop to all the crap sitting on his coffee table. One, he held in his hand. I was a kid when I was enlisted. He said, looking at Olivia. Your brother's age. Olivia nodded. I never sell combat.

Both of my deployments were to cities in Eastern Europe that had been disturbing. of wars, everything was a mess. I felt like a janitor's for a fox sit. Great Uncle Stephen sighed and looked at his paper. My unit was assigned to a school that had been obliterated by all the violence. Broken windows, caved in rooms, and for some reason, the part that got me was the most was the school had been like this for years before we got there. No one had lifted a finger to fix it.

I saw kids walk by it on the way to go beg for money for whatever shit they did. Hammer dipped towards the floor. I heard Mom whisper harshly at Great Uncle Stephen. I couldn't make out what she was saying, but it wasn't hard to imagine. You want me hear the goddamn story or not? He heard him bark in response. Did you better let me tell her how I want it? Mom, please stop interrupting.

Are you presenting this in front of the class? No, Mom, we're just handing it to the teacher. I'm sure he's heard worse shit before. Great Uncle Stephen contributed helpfully. It wasn't a he as a matter of fact, but other than that, the statement was accurate. Camera was lifted, and after a couple of blurry focus adjustments, the shot was the same as before. I'm talking too much anyway. I lifted the piece of paper in his hand close to his face.

In the basement, I found this letter. I didn't know what it said, but I had a buddy of mine translated. So I'm going to read it now. And I'll tell you what I saw in the basement. She'll ran down my spine. Mom zooned in to great-uncle Stephen in his letter. His palsied hands trembled as he held up the paper. This is what he read.

Here, sir, I never loved my country. So many of these skirmishes are born from patriotism, a power struggle for the shards of a once great empire, and I do not care what name my home has on a map. It's fighting as senseless, I stay as far away from it as I can. It was not these attacks and disorganized violence that took the lives of my wife and child. It was illness, mercifully, and happened quickly for the baby. Nodges suffered for longer.

I watched in horror knowing I could do nothing for them. My only solace is that I was there for them every step of the way. Stop going to work one day, and no one came after me. I doubt they noticed I was gone. Since the school was simply across a field visible from my window, it would have been easy to go for a few hours each day, come home quickly to care for them. What was the point? All I did was clean floors. I was as useless to the world as I was to my family. I tried to take Nodja to the hospital, but the journey was too long in taxing. I brought her home,

and she died that night. After Nodja and the baby were gone, well, I don't remember much. I didn't leave my hovel, barely ate and slept, thought many times of taking my own life. I felt paralyzed by my own helplessness. The one thing that kept me sane was my radio. Never turned it off once. Even though I didn't listen to the words being said, back the channel I got the clearest was in English, I think, which I don't speak a lick of.

But the voices, the music, the true knowledge that life existed beyond this violent city, sustained me. I have no idea how long passed before I saw the light of day again. I was dizzy from hunger. So finding food was my priority. My radio came with me, of course. Since I first hold myself up, it has gone everywhere with me. It talks to me as I sleep and as I wake.

I don't know what it's saying, but now I would die without it. Once I had some water and food, it occurred to me that the only thing left to do was to go back to work. So I did. The following morning, I simply returned to the school where I was a janitor, got back to work. Nobody made a big deal out of it. Like I said, Naja had been sick a long time, and those who worked at the school knew it. I appreciate that no one had pestered me

to come back to work during the hardest days of my life. The teachers never said much to me, but we smiled at each other in the halls, and that mutual respect was perhaps the reason I decided to come back in all. The place had gone to the dogs without me, so I simply grabbed my broom and rags from my closet and set to cleaning.

Everyone is grateful to have me back, I know, and the best part is that nobody minds my radio. I bring it with me everywhere and keep the volume low enough not to disrupt the students. No one has ever complained. In fact, I suspect they like it. Schoolhouse is not very big, but does require a lot of maintenance. Floors are always sticky and stained,

so I spend most of my time mopping. Kids make messes. I guess that's why I'm still in business. Sometimes I have to move things around to make sure I get every spot on the floor beautiful and clean, but I take pride in that. And the repairs. School always needs tune-ups here and there. I'm happy to help.

Some days I'm reconstructing a desk that broke as I whistle along with the radio. Other times I handle more serious, structural issues. Days when I have work like this, I feel truly instrumental, like a cog and a larger machine. How could this school survive without me? It took me a long time, but I once again feel that I have purpose. There is a larder behind the school that is full of preserved food. Only with payment, I'm allowed to take as much food as I need. That arrangement's fine.

What would I do with money anyway? I used to bring the food back to my home, just one field away from the school. But when I started sleeping in the basement, I once seemed to notice. The school is special to me, and I cannot leave it unguarded. When I'm besieged with memory, of my wife and baby, turn up the volume on the radio to drown out such thoughts. Works for me every time, except this morning. Because this morning, I woke up in dead silence.

I frantically examined the radio to see what had happened. I honestly cannot tell how many days in a row I've been using it. Did simply live out its life and die naturally? I spent the entire day trying to fix it. Most of this time, I've been crying. I'm losing my mind without it. I've given myself until sundown. If I cannot fix it by then, I'm going to take my life.

I'm writing this because the sunlight's starting to die, and I know what my fate shall be. I thought about taking one last walk to the halls of my school, saying goodbye to the students and teachers. I know I will be missed. I cannot bring myself to leave this room. I cannot go anywhere knowing that my radio is dead in here. There are no more tears in me.

feels now like I can't catch my breath I vomited what little food I had in my stomach I'm growing dizzy again like I did after Naja died I'm not long for this world but before I take my life I've closed the door to this room and stuck a chair beneath the handle

it's the only room in the basement and has a small casement that lets in just enough light for me to see what I am doing anyone is kind enough to come looking for me they should not be met with this gruesome sight Perhaps they will see the door is blocked, smell my rotting body, simply forget I ever existed. But I have placed my radio and this note outside the door. Kind, sir, if you are reading this, I have one humble request.

Please fix it. Save my radio. It did not deserve to die in its sleep, and I am ashamed. I cannot revive it. Now I am ready to join Naja, little Lulmilla in heaven. I hope this school can find another janitor who loves and cares for it the way I do. The hour is now. Do not forget my radio.

Stanislav. When mom zoomed back out, Olivia had tears in her eyes. Thank you for sharing Uncle Stephen. Mom said. Her voice choked. I think we have enough. Wait. Olivia chirped.

He said there's more. What did you find? Four great Uncle Stephen could open his mouth. The image disappeared. My jaw dropped. Was that it? What did Great Uncle Stevens see? I promptly remembered that there was a second disc.

One was unmarked, but I hoped to contain the rest of the interview. There was no video, only audio. The voice that started up was Olivia's. Hi, Miss Geri. I'm sorry about my mom, but she refused to record the rest of what my uncle was saying, but I asked them to continue and secretly record the story as a voice memo on my phone. and I remember you said earlier this year that history is written by the people who win wars. He sucked in a breath and commits crying.

But everyone's history is important. Even if they are sad, pathetic people, and even if they never want a single thing in their life. I haven't slipped at the night since I finished this project, but you have to hear what my uncle has to say. There were tears in my eyes, too. The sincerity of her words was beautiful. I was also flattered that she had remembered some trite phrase I threw around because it was what my hill. history teacher said to me. Before I got too sappy over it, the audio began again.

Fine. Came mom's frustrated voice. You don't hear the rest of the story, fine, but this is not appropriate for a school project. Let me finish. If it's too much for you, help you set to a snack in the kitchen. But Livy wants to know what happened. Heard her mother mumbled something and walk away. Livy and her uncle were alone.

Imagined her looking at him expectantly. So did you find the radio, or did you get ruined when the school got blown up? You rasped when I heard a distinct click of a liner. That letter. What date? It was dated two weeks before we started rebuilding the school. Didn't you say the school had been destroyed like two years ago? Yeah.

It had been. Oh, that's pretty cool. That's cool. I'll be honest. Like, the letter was cool and stuff. I'm like, where's this going? Like, what's the get around to? But that, that's a fun reveal.

I like that. There was silence as I felt goosebumps on my arm. The images that came to my mind were almost too overwhelming to express, but great-uncle Stephen put them into words effortlessly. Clearly, he had spent his whole life thinking about it. This man was Stanislav went to a vandalized, falling apart schoolhouse and cleaned up blood and rubble like it was spilled drinks and dust. He smiled at dead bodies in the hallway and believed they were smiling back at him because they liked his radio. He moved around corpses so he could swoop the ground under them The roof half collapsed

So when it rained he must have gotten soaking wet But was so oblivious that he didn't even feel a thing I could hear Olivia crying steadily I found the larder he was talking about It was all pickled Purs of food that probably tastes like shit Most of the stuff was malty Did you see the dead body

Yes hanging from the ceiling but still amazingly lifelike he wasn't running away this hadn't happened years ago did he look peaceful he asked a word of desperation

in her voice couldn't tell you the smell was rank and his face was blue and his eyes were bulging like this imagined him demonstrating in the radio I heard great uncle Stephen take a long drag off a cigarette

It was there all right And it was still on That's fun Wow That's good Wow All right So in the midst of it

About midway through us Kind of like where You know Beautifully written story But what is the What's the catch Yeah yeah It's like

All right Kind of waiting for a reveal You know Wait for the shoe to fall Where it's like All right I see it Well done and stuff

But then with The school is destroyed He was clean up the rebel And that last line The radio was still on It's like Then what was the switch That made him

Not see through the delusion part of the delusion ended and he took it so many different layers of stuff of a war-torn person I mean like now even the the top comment talking lost his family to illness was that even true maybe who knows I mean to take him it could have been the war that took him I don't know devastating yeah but man I will say today two fucking amazing stories wow and I was and I really really want to read another one of the other Gretto cat story immediately because that was a punch that one that the ending of that was sick The radio was still on.

Ah, that's so good. It's like what did his mind construct to where he was in a normal school, but the radio quit working. When in reality, he was cleaning rubble and the radio was fine. Like what was he seen? What did reality look like to him? Because it just lets the viewer just run with it of like what the fuck happened. It's one of those things, too, that the author probably has such a clear picture on their

head, but they just didn't, they just know not to like totally give it all to you. You know? Because that level of mystery, I mean, you're the same. you're in the same boat as the teacher. Also, what a fun premise to as a setup of like, oh, we do these stupid living history assignments. It's just such a great setup. It's like, oh, this is dumb,

but here we go to it again. Well, here's a weird one I came across. Yeah. Also, two stories. And even the stuff like the beginning where it says that his house looked like a hoarder nest and stuff everywhere, there was so much little context you didn't get till the end, you know? And that line she says where it's like you can tell Uncle Sam,

which his name is Uncle Sam. Yeah. But when she says, you can tell Uncle Sam had spent his life thinking about this question. You know, what did it? It's like, I don't know. The radio was still on. Like, that's haunted him decades since. Yeah.

I think two stories that were awesome for this setting. I mean, I will say the first story got me pretty scared and stuff. And I think that just a fucking eerie fun time. I hope that it was as fun to watch as it was to be in here recording this shit because it was pretty crazy. But guys, this is our story. I also want to add real quick. To give Gretel cat another shout out. Remember I said she has one other story.

The title of the one other story is, The Animals on My Farm Always Kill the Newborns. Oh, that's fun. Yeah. So I'm sick. We'll check it out sometime. Yeah. So Gretel cat.

Maybe we can read it while you're in town. That'd be fun. Yeah. N59 Gar and then the other two stories, the Bath one and the portraits one are anonymous, but classic. So hopefully you all enjoyed two OGs, or late a ritual game and an OG. And then two really good stories off notes.

No, I was a really fun episode. And honestly, it's been really fun recording in this house and stuff. Fucking spooky. We'll have to do another one of these again. But until the next time, guys, thank you so much for those who are listening on Apple Podcast and Spotify, all that shit. Be sure to check these ones out in person because the visuals are a lot of fun. And also thank you to our patrons who support us and are bringing us together.

And, you know, just have kept this ship afloat for a long time. So we do appreciate it. If you want some extra content, please check it out. Until the next time, guys, stay creeped. Would you, so now that we read, you'd stories, would you say we're cool? No, it's still cringe.