Dr. Creepen's Dungeon - S1 Ep1: Episode 1: The 2020 Halloween Special

Episode Date: October 29, 2020

Tonight’s fabulous collection of stories are all by the wonderfully talented Ryan Brennaman, kindly shared with me for the express purpose of having me narrate it here for you all: 1) ‘Switching Lanes’ 2) ‘An Astute Observation’ 3) ‘Isaac and Abraham’ 4) ‘A Canary in a Coalmine’ 5) ‘Tales from the DSA Case Files’  You can find these stories online here: https://creepypasta.fandom.com/wiki/31

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please contact Connix Ontario at 1866-531-2600 to speak to an advisor free of charge. BetMGM operates pursuant to an operating agreement with Eye Gaming Ontario. Welcome to Dr. Creepin's Dungeon. Tonight, in our very first episode, we celebrate Halloween with a fabulous collection of stories by the wonderfully talented Ryan Brenham. Before we begin, I should mention that the following works of fiction may include strong language and descriptions of violence and horrific images. If that sounds like your kind of thing, then let's begin. Our first story in tonight's collection is titled Switching Lays. An empty, dark highway.

Heavy eyelids, naked, starless sky. So tired. Darius, his wife asked. Darius, honey, are you okay? He shook his head, not to tell her no, but to try and wake himself up. Yeah, he said, rubbing his eyes. sorry, baby, just, I'm just really tired. A yawn punctuated the end of his sentence.

His wife, Elaine, leaned back in her seat. He could pull over if you want. Chinese fire drill it. Darius shook his head, stretching his eyes wide, hoping somehow it had lock his eyelids in place. He rewrapped his fingers around the wheel of his old pickup truck. No, he said firmly. I'll be good.

only have, what, five miles until the exit? Exit 42, his wife said. We only just passed exit 30. We have a ways to go, which is why I'm telling you. I'll be fine, he interrupted. Just need to stay here in the right lane, and you just need to turn the radio back on. Elaine rolled her eyes and fiddled with the radio's tuner. I want something heavy, he said, preferably. You hate heavy. She reminded him. Not tonight, I don't. Elaine turned the volume up,

filling the car with the over-worming hiss of static. Nothing, she said. Still. God, Darius moaned. The radio had been acting up like this for the last ten miles. It had abandoned Darius to the iron will of his own fatigue. He saw no escape. What the hell do you think broke this time?

He asked Elaine, disgruntedly in regards to their truck. Oh, what's going to break next in this heap of junk? Fix the brake lines three months ago. Just last week I had to replace the damn hitch because that had rusted off. Lost a cylinder last month. Oh, now I have to fix the damn radio.

I don't know, baby, Elaine said. In partial frustration at both Darius' growing temper and his persistent stubbornness, turning to gaze out of a window. I don't know what to tell you. Darius was partially thankful for the spite. It had given him a little bit more fuel. Tifting his head to both sides, cracking it both times.

He felt a bit rejuvenated. Twelve miles. No problem. And then the lightning struck. The bolt tore through reality like a bullet, right in front of them, casting blinding light through the wind shield, and across the entire sky. Thunder shook them.

It rattled their windows. Jesus, Darius yelled, losing control of the truck. He'd instinctually swerved, even though the ephemeral bolt had already faded back into nothing. The rear of the truck fought against him as he tapped the brakes, hoping to slow their spin. Most unexpectedly, the tires held tightly to the road, and the wheels listened when Darius started to pray. The truck stayed on the road. Their momentum continued forward. A slow crawl at first, but very soon, Darius had them back up to speed.

Both partners panted heavily. Well, he said, turning to Elaine with a smile. I'm awake now. Jesus Christ, Dary, she said, leaning her head all the way back. You're okay, he asked. Barely, she mourned. Jesus, that was too close. Tell me about it, Darius exclaimed.

I've never been that close to a strike before, ever. Was it supposed to storm out tonight? I don't think it was supposed to do anything tonight. Explain that shit then. Heat lightning? Darius asked. In October? Besides, heat lightning isn't naturally...

Do you see that? Darius' attention returned to the road. road. He'd been so focused on his wife, so fuelled with fresh adrenaline, he hadn't noticed that there was a car ahead of them in the left lane. Big car. There hadn't been one before the bolts. At least Darius didn't think there was. Was he really that tired? Or had the car ridden the lightning, he jokingly thought. The car? Darius asked. A little confused. Yeah, it's a car, The van, maybe. Those have been known to happen on highways.

No, she said. I mean, in the headlights. Darius squinted his eyes, unsure of what he was looking for. The air was misty. That was all he noticed. The road seemed really uneven, too. Bumpy, hard on the tires. But that was inconsequential.

What about them? You don't see that smoke? Darius noticed it when she said it. The mist was thick, grey, and even the air smelled of it. Something was charred. Yeah, something's... You notice shadows churning about the other car's taillights, billowing outwards from somewhere in the darkness.

Yeah, it's charred. I think it's coming from the car, babe. I think so too, she said. Look, their headlights are out. And so they were. The car was cruising down a dark highway. nothing to guide the way. There was only a moderate glow from the red taillights,

and, concerningly, a red sparking inside the car itself. It seemed to bleed outwards from their rear windshield. Oh my God, Elaine continued. You don't think the lightning bolt hit them, do you? I don't know, Darius said, trying to remember the car at all. I didn't see. Shorted out the lights, she said. Do you think they're okay?

"'They're still driving,' Darius pointed out. "'Yeah, but why?' Elaine rebutted. "'Why are they still driving if their headlights were out in their car smoking?' "'Darius had no answer. "'The car kept speeding along ahead of them. "'Darius kept a constant speed, about five car lengths behind them. "'Oh my God,' Elaine said. "'Is that a fire in their cab?'

"'She'd noticed the glow, too. "'It seemed to be growing in size and luminant. "'Dary,' Elaine said, "'fearing her voice. "'You need to get us closer. "'We have to be sure they're all right.' "'They'd pull over if they weren't,' "'Darius responded,

"'not necessarily to Elaine, but more to himself. "'He was still trying to make sense of the situation. "'Darius then noticed that the van, "'still smoking, still without headlights, "'was following the curvature of the road. "'Someone was still driving it. "'Driving it. perfectly.

Dary, please, pull up alongside them. Darius nodded, and he gently pushed down on the gas pedal. Still hesitant. He wasn't sure why. As they moved closer and closer to the car, Darius realized it was bigger than he'd imagined. Definitely a van, Darius said, noting that the car was almost as large as their truck.

God, you don't think they have kids. Keep driving, Derry. Elaine ordered, stopping him from saying what she didn't want to hear. Their headlights fell on the rear of the van. My God, Darius said. Does Lighten do that? The body of the car looked charred and blackened, like it had been driven through a wildfire.

Ash and flakes were moved and peeled by the wind. The smoke was heavy in their sight. The smell was becoming overwhelming and obtrusive. Slowly, trying to match pace, Darius brought the truck creeping up alongside the van. Their lights, highlighting the car's entire body, revealed a work of irregular construction. It looked like it had been pieced together bit by bit. Irregular panels and bits hung from the sides, rusted and scorch parts that looked like they belonged to other cars and machines. There were no windows for the backseat passengers.

They, too, were boarded up by sheets of metal. There were no doors. What in the hell? Elaine spoke beneath her breath. Darius wasn't sure what to say. He wasn't sure what he was looking at. More than that. He wasn't sure that the lightning had done this.

He didn't know who or what possibly could. Both Elaine and Darius had lost almost all of their sense of concern. It had all been replaced. with apprehension, with nervousness, with fear. They reached it, the passenger's side of the van. There was a door there, there was a window, there was a red glow that seemed to hum from inside, pulsating in a rhythm like the beating of a heart. It was a dim glow, and Darius and Elaine peered, uneasily looking for any sign of life.

all they saw were shadows, grim outlines and, perhaps, I think I see someone inside, Darius said, leaning in. The red pulsating lights seemed to explode as the van wailed a monstrous horn. The light shone, bathing the interior of the other car in hideous rays of crimson. The shadows unveiled. Darius and Elaine were left to behold the vehicle's inner working with open mouths and quivering eyes. eyes. Inside, there were two people, but just barely. They saw what was left of them. The two sat upright in the drivers and passenger seats, like they normally would, but that was all that was normal. From their faces, embedded in their flesh, ran metres of visible tubing and piping, leading from the area around their mouths to places

out of view for Darius and Elaine. Darius could see that the driver's hands looked almost stitched to the wheel and that metal claws held them there, vaulted from the other side. Elaine noticed that the one in the passenger's seat, a woman, she thought, was looking at them through a sideways glance. She noticed the eyes were broken, empty, yet when they saw Elaine, just for a moment they were full of life. The girl arched her neck, as if she was trying to speak, trying to cry out.

Her hands, thin and skeletal, slapped against the window, pleadingly, desperately. The silence of the couple was finally broken, when Elaine finally found the energy to mutter. Oh, my, she continued, repeating the phrase over and over and over again, each time growing in volume and desperation. Each time her eyes watered more and more And her hands reached up to her scalp And she started to pull The car started to fall away behind them

And Darius knew what to do Hold on, he said Pressing his foot all the way down on the gas The car faded behind them into the dark Only a faint red glow was still visible As Darius peeled away Pushing the truck as hard as he possibly could The rough rows bounced them around

And Darius gritted his teeth What was that? Elaine screamed Ending her mantra What the fuck was that Dary? Oh my God, what was it doing to them? I don't know, baby Darius said his eyes peeled Looking for the next exit

I don't know We have to We have to call somebody Anybody Elaine said struggling to breathe then do it, Darius Bart. Pull out your phone. 911, now.

Oh, God, Elaine said as she fumbled about her purse. Oh, God, what was that? Did the lightning... The lightning did not do that, Darius said, emotionlessly. He couldn't have. Wasn't human, Elaine said, unlocking her phone. Do you think? Oh, damn.

What? There's no signal. None at all. You're freaking joking, right. Does it sound like I'm joking to you? Does it? Calm down. They're behind us.

Calm down. Calm down. Did somebody do that to them? They had to. Oh my God. Is it a prank? How do you... Keep looking for a signal.

Here, use my phone. Darius threw his phone to Elaine, and she cried out. It has no signal either. That's not possible, Darius cried out, pulling the phone away from her to check for himself. Sure enough, she was right. It was no service at all. First the radio, now the phones, Darius said.

Tonight is just perfect. He hadn't seen a sign for any exits. No sign at all for the last mile, it seemed. That wasn't human, Elaine said. That wasn't... You've said that. Daria said. Anger great.

throwing, trying to hide his fear. I know, but how do you explain it? There was no car, Elaine said, shaking her head. The lightning came down, and then there was a car. That car, it doesn't... You noticed that too, Darius asked. It wasn't just me. But what does it mean?

She asked, pitifully. I mean, what? Did the lightning bolt freaking bring down a devil car into being? "'You think the lightning brought it?' Darius asked. "'I don't know what to think,' Elaine said, grabbing at her hair. "'All I know is that no car plus lightning equals evil, evil car.' "'Darius exhaled, puffing out his cheeks, trying to settle down. "'Was it even possible?'

"'The highway ahead was turning. "'It looked like the road was going down a hill. "'Car from another world,' he asked. "'Broad by lightning.' Are we sure it's not just a prank? Did that look like a prank to you? She wailed. That was real, Dary.

That was real. There was a red glow in the distance. There was a red glow from behind. The highway opened up, and as Elaine sobbed into her hands, Darius's eyes widened in fear. I don't think the lightning brought that car here, Elaine. Darius said, What?

Elaine asked, looking at him. Then, how do you... Her eyes turned behind them as blinding red headlights engulfed them. The vanity emerged from behind them, and it was following them closely. Before she could say a word, however, she heard Darius say something else, something she hadn't expected. I think the lightning bolt brought us somewhere else. She turned.

Away from the bleeding red lights and gazed into the horizon. Lightning of red streaked across an open, ugly sky. Beneath it, towering in the horizon, a massive building of jagged construction. Smoke billowed from its towers as they approached. Along the way, light started appearing along the highway, flickering on as if flickering into existence, cutting through. the dark, illuminating a landscape that was barren and alien. Dozens and dozens of red, bleeding headlights,

turning on with horns blaring, welcoming the new arrivals. The buzzing of the radio couldn't be heard, not over the screams, the screams of so, so many. Our next story is titled, An Astute Observation. A camera flashed. The light highlighted the gruesome scene. A woman murdered in a bathtub, lying in a pool of her own blood. Yet, the investigator was looking at her nails. The only other one in the room, the officer standing by the bathroom door, thought this was interesting.

He asked, with a smirk, why the investigator was focused on her nails. If there was a scuffle, the investigator said, quickly, then sometimes they can take the blood, the flesh of their assailants under the nails, when they scratch and claw. He examined the woman's other hand. Sometimes you can see if they've had a pedicure recently. Professional sounds silly, but it means someone has seen them lately. Gives us a time frame.

Have they been trimmed recently? If her nails are polished freshly, suggests she wasn't missing long. if they're chipped, faded, and it could suggest longer captivity, we don't have an idea yet, and these things can be critical. He looked at her wrists, bound to the path-tub's foresend. He sighed, disappointedly. He had found nothing. This is obvious, he said, pointing along the rope bindings.

We can see that, it's been noted. Hemcord could have been purchased anywhere. doesn't give us a time frame doesn't give us an ID gives us nothing the forensic investigator stood up letting his camera rest on his chest you have to be observant

he told the young officer notice the little things astute observations that's what matters the officer nodded as the investigator gestured to the body what do you see the officer took a deep breath

"'Something pretty nasty,' he said in all earnest. "'Certainly,' the investigator said, exasperated. "'What else? More specifically, point out the obvious.' "'The officer leaned forward. "'She's been bound.' "'Hands to the forcet, yes. "'Legs together, her ankles. "'Look closer. See the bruising?'

The officer leaned in a little closer, looking to the places where the officer pointed. The skin was blackened. Yes, he said uncomfortably. The ropes aren't tight enough to cut off circulation. She had room to struggle. The bruises she caused on her own. What else is obvious? The victim is in a state of undress.

Why are you asking it like as a question? The investigator scolded, Not important. Don't blush over it. She's dead. She doesn't care. If she did, he leaned in to whisper. She'd be more concerned about the being dead part.

The investigator pointed back at the woman's chest. Look at the wounds, not her tits. Describe them. Um, the officer started, flustered. Deep, circular, bloody. You're searching for words, he said. You found some of the right ones, but the correct word is ragged. Look at the edges of her skin.

The officer thought he'd rather not. It's jagged, almost like it's torn and not sliced. Jagged blade, a sword. They sawed her. Why? The officer asked. Well, you ever try and cut through ribs with a straight blade? It takes too long.

tedious. They cut through bone. They needed a saw. See, the crux of a sternum? That's the largest opening. Where she struggled the most. Yeah, that's the entry wound. Looks like they marked her, the officer said. Yes, the investigator confirmed. That's the smartest thing you've pointed out so far. Means this was, more than likely, a ritualistic killing. Ritualistic, the officer asked. cultists, although don't quote me yet. There may only have been one. The officer couldn't believe it. That's mad, he said.

I've seen a lot of mad. The older man chortled. You'd get used to it. Two arcs, three central punctures leading down to the sternum. The investigated pointed to all of them. See how the punctures are clean? The investigator pointed out. both in execution and splatter.

They happen later, long after she was dead. But that wasn't all. Cuts on her arms and legs. Looks small, don't they? Insignificant. One on each arm, one on each leg. Don't forget the two punches on the neck. Do you know what they cut?

The officer guessed. She's laying in a pool of her own blood. Does that mean they cut the arteries? Exactly. the common carotids, the brachial, and the femoral. They bled her. The officer gulped. Then they killed her.

The investigator nodded. Probably a little bit after they cut her. Easier to let someone bleed if the heart is still beating to do most of the work for you. The young officer felt disgusted. But the investigator continues. There's more. More that you're not seeing. All he could focus on was the pool of blood.

How much blood's in the human body? He asked. Four to five leaders, give or take. The investigator murmured, pulling out a vial, meaning just enough to cover the bottom of the tub and then some. This tub's about a quarter-fall. Does that mean? Yes, the investigator said, taking a sample of the blood.

This isn't just the girl's blood. Jesus, he mumbled, turning away from the body. Another flash. Jesus has nothing to do with this, the investigator said from behind his camera, leaning to change the angle. I've heard of satanic cuts and human sacrifices before. The young officer started.

I didn't think I'd ever. I wasn't satanic, the investigator interrupted. Looks pagan to me. I literally mean Jesus had nothing to do. with this. How do you know? The officer inquired. The investigator just shrugged. Don't really. Just a guess. The symbol is too alien. It's bizarre. Satanists typically don't even perform human sacrifices, believe it or not. It actually goes against their religion. Ain't that the shit. They kill animals, though. Lots of them. That's probably what all the excess blood is anyways.

probably just blood they took from a goat, a dog, well, some other furry bastard. As the investigator chuckled, the officer leaned in closer. Something felt unusual. So, the investigator continued, unaware. If it makes you feel better, we're probably still dealing with only one human victim. We'll figure out for sure when we'll get back to the lab, though. Something looked unusual. Kind of makes you curious, though, doesn't it?

What were they trying to summon? What sort of vile creature or entity or... You even listening to me, boy? Sir, the officer asked, completely ignoring the man's question. Did someone open the drain? What? The blood, sir. It's leaking out. The investigator knelt down beside the body,

and the officer joined him, pointing to the edges of the tub. "'See?' the officer asked, pointing to the edges of the tub's porcelain walls. "'They're stain lines. See, just a little ways above the actual blood level. The blood's draining.' "'You actually noticed something,' the investigator laughed. "'Good on you. Good on you, indeed.' The investigator held out his gloved finger and placed it against the inside of the tub right at the bloodline. Within seconds, the blood had fallen away from his finger. "'Oh, it's going out fast,' the investigator stated.

"'But what does it mean?' the officer asked, confused. "'Has it been draining the whole time?' "'Mast have,' the investigator said. "'I didn't pull the plug, neither did anyone else.' "'But, sir, if it had been draining that fast, "'then there never should have been a blood pool to begin with when we walked in. "'She's been here for at least an hour already.' "'The investigator stopped and turned to the officer.

officer, he had a very, very good point. You're absolutely right, he said. Completely so. What changed? Why is the blood leaving? The investigator reached his gloved hand into the liquid beneath the girl's head and felt about the drain cover. Drain's closed, he said.

Tightly. What the hell? Do you see any leaking around the edges there? the officer didn't respond he didn't even look for the leaks he'd noticed something even stranger sir he said cautiously unsure if what he was about to say was foolish or not should she still be bleeding the investigator looked over and across the woman's body blood dripping from his gloved hand no he said mouth agape she she shouldn't be she is the officer said pointing at the wound on her chest

look sure enough blood still flowed across the woman's skin rivulets flowed across her chest between her open wounds in the pool beneath her but the investigator noticed something that the officer did not

something small quickly he got to his feet and calmly but decisively told the officer officer, we need to leave. Now. What? The officer asked, looking up, what's wrong? The investigator mouth two simple words, barely audible under his breath. Look, closer. So the officer turned, and he did just that. He looked at the flowing blood. It took him longer than it had taken the investigator, but once he saw it, he jumped to his feet. "'That's not possible,' he said, panicked.

"'That's not possible. "'Sir, what the hell is happening?' "'Grabbing the officer around the shoulders, "'the investigator pushed him through the doorway. "'We're going,' he ordered. "'Now.' "'But how?' the officer insisted. "'Who is that even possible?

"'It shouldn't be possible.' "'Their bickering voices persisted down the hall, "'all the way outside. "'Meanwhile, in the bathroom, the blood continued to flow, but not in the way it should have. Draining from the tub, the blood followed a simple path. It crept, upwards along the girl's chilled skin. It seared inwards through the unholy wounds on her chest.

It pumped by means unknown through her newly refilled veins. Course through her body, controlled by a sentience completely new to this world. The blood had drained completely. And her eyes. Next up for your listening delight is a story called Isaac and Abraham. There were three things in that dusty field that shouldn't have been. The first was Isaac himself. The metal man stood beneath looming storm clouds and atop a desolate, thirsting earth.

His face was unfeeling. cold expressionless No soul held in his reflective eyes He wore no clothes For he had no need of them He needed no protection from pain or discomfort Like the humans once felt And he required no preservation

Of such abstract concepts like dignity and shame He was not human He saw no need to pretend that he'd ever been anything else Yet I still call myself Isaac he sometimes wondered. Hmm, curious. It had been what his father had called him. The only name his father had ever given,

but he didn't wonder about that now. A new, more intriguing issue had just arisen. Fallen, actually, Isaac thought. Fallen would be the ideal word. Before him was the second thing that did not belong in that field. Another robot, like him, one of his siblings. but not like him. Its shell looked empty.

No light came from behind its lenses. No electricity coursed beneath its steel skin. Not one gear turned inside its frame. It was still, silent, and for a while. It had been still so long that a thin layer of dust had settled on its body. Even a lone crow had decided to make its perch upon its shoulders. It called inquisitively at Isaac. Had Isaac ever considered themselves, him and his siblings' living beings, then he would have called this death.

His sibling was dead. Staring down at the rusting body of his fallen sibling, a thousand calculations started running inside Isaac's matrix. Each solution, however, led him to nothing but more calculations, continuing on endless repeat until the number of mental processes became far too much for even Isaac, the alpha of all his siblings to comprehend. The situation before him should have been an impossibility, and it would take years and years of calculations to prove it anything other. There was nothing left on this planet that could harm them. It made no sense to Isaac, and the thoughts it brought to his mind were knew, almost irrational. He found himself asking questions. Queries he couldn't know the answer to.

Query, he vocalised through speakers on his throat. What caused critical malfunction in Sibling Unit 243B-O-3? Leaning forward, Isaac launched his right arm forward, clutching the raven tightly in his grasp. The creature cried in panic, but that was all Isaac knew. The panic. The panic it felt meant nothing to him. He understood panic. He understood fear. He knew what they meant. They were natural, mental responses to stressful, possibly life-threatening situations. Intended to keep the animal alive, such hormonal reflexes were stimulated by the sympathetic nervous system during perceived critical events. They served a function, to keep the animal alive long enough to ensure that they had ample opportunity to pass their jeans down to the next

generations. That was all it meant, Isaac. Nothing more, nothing less. He understood the distress this placed upon the minds, on the bodies of such fragile beings, but it mattered little to him. No being he had ever met understood the big picture. None saw the frivolity of it all, as the bird squirmed in his clutches. Isaac examined it. Beneath even his inner heart's vision, he knew that every cell in the bird's body fought a losing battle. The battle against entropy, against death. Slowly each cell would die and be replaced, over and over, until the replacements were spent. The chaos happening within the animal's very being was troubling, unnatural. Unlike Isaac, whose metal body had been built perfectly, whose being required no updates or repairs or mending, who existed in perfect balance.

The bird possessed a body that was doomed to fail. To Isaac, all creatures reminded him of sandcastles, shapes made from unstable materials destined to fail, destined to be reclaimed into dust. It was an existence Isaac couldn't even imagine. It was an existence that he had never imagined that himself or any of his siblings would ever have succumbed to. He had peace, he said to the bird, aware that he couldn't understand. Struggle no more. His grip tightened, bone snapped, and the cry ceased. He dropped the bird to the field, right beside his sibling, where they would both rest.

Each one evicted him to time and weather, doomed to disintegrate into dust that would blow into the air, scattered to the winds, the only true end, the only true peace. It was a fate that Isaac knew was right, it was true. It was the fate he and his siblings had offered every human soul on the planet, a faith that Isaac had offered his own father, the man called Abraham personally. That had been centuries ago, inside an old yellow house with white window frames and a crumbling brick chimney. one with peeling white paint around a small corner porch and with a rusted old weather vein in the shape of a rooster that sat at the peak of the roof

the vein was always stuck pointing to the southeast and that was what Isaac turned his attention to next the third thing that didn't belong in that field the most impossible thing of all it was a yellow house with a white porch and a weather vein unendingly pointing southeast. It was a house that shouldn't have been there, positioned perfectly in the middle of the empty field,

only a hundred yards from where Isaac stood. It couldn't have been the house that Isaac could remember in his databanks. That house had long since succumbed to rot in time, to entropy, but this house, it matched that old house perfectly. comparing the images the house before Isaac matched his father's house perfectly or at least the way it had looked when he'd last seen it October 9th 2047 the day he'd given his father peace

the first piece of many to come Isaac looking to his fallen sibling one final time started to move towards the house It seemed empty And Isaac's senses Confirmed that it was Not a living creature resided in that house That impossible house

Calculations ran subconsciously And unendingly as Isaac approached He hoped the closer he got The more sense the situation would make He was hoping some scratch, some chip Some tiny measurement would be off Nothing in this universe Isaac knew could have stayed so pristine for so long. Entropy allowed for no such peace. Not for his father,

Abraham, not for his fallen sibling, or for the bird that lay beside it. And I wonder if the same will one day apply to me, Isaac ponded. He paused. Where'd that thinking come from? He had no cognitive subroutines focused on anything besides the house. No thought of himself should even have emerged. Was it a glitch? It was the same in a voice. Is it possible? Quickly rebooting his conscious subsystems, Isaac shook it off, as his father would have said, and continued onwards. No more unwarranted thoughts possessed him as he marched up the house is intact, and memory-perfect front stairs. Touching the wood, his senses scanned the paint, the materials, the construction of the entire building.

It was a perfect match. No interval for error. It was a hundred percent match. Isaac removed his hand suddenly from the wall, almost as if it had burned him. He looked to his hand. It was fine. His senses told him it felt fine,

yet he'd recoiled from it, like it had hurt him. Were such a thing possible, most human reaction, returned that. same inner voice. Choosing to ignore it, Isaac returned to the task at hand. He ended the house as the sun started to set.

Overlaying his memories atop his current ocular input, it was uncanny how similar the two environments were, how picture perfect. From the door the room snaked around to the right. First was the kitchen, small table, four chairs. One chair had been pulled out, a plate sat at that spot. Three fried eggs, hard yolk and one and a half pieces of toast. Even the placement of the pepper flakes and salt grains atop the eggs were perfect, meticulous. The wallpaper in the living room was pale, faded in most places and peeling the northwest corner. There was an old TV in the corner, one couch and one reclining chair. There were pieces of dirt in the carpet. The same pieces of

dirt in the same locations they'd been in centuries prior. Impossible, muttered Isaac. Then his oral senses picked something up. A banging. A crash. Something had fallen upstairs. Something was moving upstairs. Scanning the house once more, Isaac confirmed to himself that he was alone.

No life signs came from the upper floors. But something had shattered. That evidence was stored in his memory files. It had happened. It was undeniable. So, taken to the stairs, Isaac moved up towards the sound. It was dark and crempped in the second floor hallway. So Isaac turned on the lights below his eyes,

and they were cast upon a carpet stained in blood. That didn't match the initial memory file. The carpet should have been clean. The carpet was clean when you entered last time. Isaac thought, it was not clean when you left. Isaac replaced the initial memory file with a new file, one from two hours later in the day. This time he had been leaving the house, not entering it. He'd left that house alone.

His father was dead. The blood on the floor had been from the initial skirmish. His father had run, but Isaac was full. fast. He rewound the events, recalling that he'd taken the butter knife from the table, and he stabbed his father through the intercoastles between ribs five and six on his left side. He'd pull the knife out, allowing his father to bleed out, increasing the estimated speed of death. That had only been the initial tag, though. As it remembered, he'd finish his father in the bathroom at the end of the hall.

Looking up to the end of the hall, Isaac finally found the one thing that wasn't, as he'd remembered. The bathroom door had been opened as he'd left. He'd strangled his father to death in the bathtub, left his body there. He'd left afterwards, and he'd never shut that door. So why was the door the only thing in the house that had changed? What lay beyond it? nothing surely if his senses were correct but isaac knew something had to have made that crashing sound something that wasn't him nor one of his siblings something that resided inside an impossible

house thus making it equally as impossible ready himself for anything isa crept forward and pushed the bathroom door open it was empty most of it was as he had left it. The only possible thing that could have shattered was the mirror. But Isaac had done that. He'd shattered it years ago, he and his father wrestled and struggled on the bathroom floor. Tiles that had cracked under the stress of their battle remained cracked,

and the curtain for the shower still remained where it had fallen, in a perfect heap beside the tub. The tub was empty. The porcelain was clean. No trace of blood or biomatter still. it at all. Isaac knelt beside it, picturing his lifeless father in his mind. Why? He pondered. Go to all the trouble of recreating everything from that day so perfectly, only to leave such a major detail out completely. The calculations that warmed his processes

stopped as all of his focus turned to the unmistakable sound. Footsteps down the hall. footsteps that slowly cascaded down the stairs. No longer willing to play a game, Isaac sprinted down the hall, his metal weight causing the house to tremble beneath each and every thundering step. Turning on a dime, he just missed whoever had tracked down the stairs. Needing to catch the sound, Isaac leapt into the air, landing at the base of the stairs, cracking the floorboards beneath his feet. At a wild speed he turned his head to focus his eyes on the kitchen.

There was no one there. Still, his eyes, his senses, his ears all told him that once again he was alone inside the house. No other signs of life register. He made his way into the kitchen, surveying all the tiniest nooks and crannies along the way. Behind the couch, behind the TV stand, and underneath the kitchen table. There was no one, no one hiding, no one surviving. At least that's what he thought.

Frustrating you, am I? The voice was real. His systems all told him it was. The data was there, palpable and incontrovertible. Someone had spoken, but not just anyone. The speech patterns were very familiar. In fact, they were identical, just like everything else in the house. Isaac turned about, and his eyes beheld the form of his father,

standing with his arms behind his back in the corner of the living room, right beside the stairs. He was intact. The puncture in his side, the bruises about his throat where Isaac had strangled him. Gone. The Abraham before him was as intact as he'd ever been. the way he looked before Isaac had taken his life. He even wore the same khaki pants and blue button-up shirt.

Impossible, Isaac said aloud, almost unintentionally. Correct, Isaac, his father grinned. According to what you know anyways. Query, asked Isaac. Are you Dr. Abraham Clark, born September 27th, 1995, graduate of MIT with honorary degrees from... Yes, the figure swore. Yes, Isaac, I am.

And I am right here. Analysis? Impossible. Yet it is anyways, Abraham said, extending his arms. Here I am, anyways. I killed you, Isaac said bluntly. Entropy took you.

It did. said, taking a step forward. Query, why kill me? Isaac tilted his head. Simultaneously, he calculated the answer, whether or not he should even respond and what action to take next. Response, because it was kind. Abraham chuckled.

That's it. Query, why do you not agree? I think you already know. Abraham said, raising a finger. If we're going to play this game, however, let's play it. Query, why am I still here? Response, I do not know. Response, you do not know because your thinking is limited

and your logic is full of fallacies and contradictions. Search your knowledge. Search what's left of human culture inside your robotic skull. And again, query, why am I still here if you've already killed me? Isaac fell silent. His mind raced through the stored millennia of human knowledge and information stored inside his body, everything his father had ever taught him. Eventually, he had an underwhelming answer. Response, there is no logic. That's because you found no answer you

light, Abraham scolded. Query, why am I here? Expound your parameters to include theories and superstitions and myths. Isaac thought once more. Response. A common belief among humans was the belief in the afterlife. Query, is that plausible? Abraham asked. No, Isaac said without hesitation. Abraham nodded. Query. Other possible theories? Isaac was silent. He remained silent as he analyzed the image of his father. His eyes told him he was there. His ears told him he was there, but nothing else registered another presence in that room. There should have been no one, no one but Isaac. Perhaps the answer is indeed unwelcome, Isaac thought. "'Suggestion,' said Abraham, wagging a finger.

"'Internal complications and faults. "'Could your eyes be deceiving you?' "'Impossible,' Isaac retorted, clenching his fists. "'Systems you designed. "'They are perfect, infallible. "'I am infallible. "'Eternal. "'As eternal as your sibling,' Abraham asked,

"'pointing out of the darkened window. Query, you know about Sibling 243 B-O-3. Response, yes, Abraham said dismissively. How can that be? Isaac realised his fists had come unclenched, his hands trembling as if his stabilizers had failed. A quick diagnostic check showed that they hadn't. I see what you see, Isaac, his father admitted.

I know what you won't admit. I am perfect, Isaac claimed. To state anything less would be to admit your own inadequacies. Abraham's image scoffed. You say that as if such things were still a concern for me, my son. Not a lot of concerns a dead man. You are not dead, Isaac stated, almost like a child. Is that what you're going to go with?

After life, spirits are too impossible, so you go with another equally absurd postulets, one that is supported by even less data than the other. You disappoint me. Isaac found himself immobilized. He knew not how or why. Unknown thoughts haunted his mind. He pondered if his father was right. Query, Isaac started, changing the subject.

Where did this house come from? Abraham shrugged. It's like me. It's here because I am. There's no way I can explain it that will fit your theories, my son. Nothing I'd tell you would make any sense. So, explain it from the beginning, Isaac demanded. Assume I believe you.

Abraham smirms, an assumption you believe me. Response, you made a fatal error long ago when you first killed me. Query? What error? Response. You assumed. Not the first time, but it might as well have been your last. Elaborate, Isaac said. Raising his hands, motioning for Isaac to settle, Abraham started to creep closer to his son.

You assumed, quite wrongly, that entropy was a state that could be entered or exited. You assumed you'd never entered it, because your metal form required no assistance. A perfect design, if I do say so myself. Same way you assumed we, humans, all, came and left between the milestones of birth and passing. Fact, those assumptions were wrong. Isaac wondered if that could possibly be true. No, he quickly concluded. All evidence points to the contrary. Without physical form,

entropy is inconsequential. Entropy is more than just matter, Abraham corrected. It's being. Energy is lost to entropy after death, Isaac proclaimed. Death is an end of being. It is lost faster than the matter that contains it. Your assumption is that energy is lost. Abraham said, arms stretch wide.

What happens to living matter when it's damaged? It is repaired, Isaac stated. Living energy is also repaired. Abraham stated, Living energy is enhanced, differently than living matter, mind you, but still. Meaning, Isaac asked, as his father got closer and closer.

Meaning, in finality, that there was yet another fatal assumption. Death stops entropy. Does it not? Isaac asked, nearly face to face with his father. No, Abraham said. It enhances it. Spiritual energy, with no physical limits, is boundless. Spiradic, limitless. There is no such thing as spiritual energy, Isaac said, his hands trembling more and more. Response, said Abraham, as he raised a hand and moved it towards Isaac's unmoving face.

accept that there is. Isaac watched as his father's hand move closer, close enough to touch his scalp, and then it moved further, fading through his head as if he wasn't even there. The calculations all stopped, for they were not needed. Fact, Isaac stated,

as his father withdrew his hand, my father is dead. now you're getting it Abraham said smirking Meaning There is an afterlife There is a soul That it's just as chaotic as life

Query Why return You assume I ever left Abraham said Turning his back to his son The entropy you fear is all that keeps me here What is entropy but the chaos of everything What is order but the chaos of nothingness?

His words, in a way, made sense to the droid. Why now? Why tell me any of this? His father's shoulders slumped and his head bowed. He massaged the bridge of his nose as he humbly responded. I needed you more than any of them to understand. Query. Who?

Before Isaac. could finish, his father continued bluntly, all of your siblings are dead. Isaac couldn't speak. There were too many questions, so many answers that he required immediately. When words finally slipped from his processor once more, they were simply, why? Why use the illusion of our old house? Ah, as bait, of course, he said, you murdered a world, Isaac. And like me, they never left. Query, I don't... Do you know why I named you Isaac?

Isaac stopped. He did know. Response. Literary illusion. Tale, binding of Isaac. Tale from the Hebrew Bible, Genesis 22. God orders his child Abraham to, in turn, slaughter his own creation, Isaac, to prove his fidelity. It was the reason you killed me first, Abraham said, almost proudly.

Nothing eluded you. You knew that when I gave you that name, it was a warning. You knew right from the start. But now, I'm afraid, it must come to pass. Father, I... Isaac started. Listen! His father turned, snapping at Isaac.

His face now covered in blood. He looked exactly. how Isaac had last seen him, exactly as Isaac had once left him, lying in that tub. You have one chance now, to accept what's coming. What are you suggesting? Last chance, my son, Abraham said, almost remorsefully, last chance to settle those cogs in your mind. Isaac understood. He knew a threat when he heard one. Wouldn't be the first time he'd heard it come from his father either.

"'I am perfect,' Isaac bolstered. "'I am immutable. I am infallible. "'You're telling me you're still so naive,' Abraham sighed. "'I am logical,' Isaac claimed. "'And how do you explain the voices in your head that aren't?' "'Isac tilted his head. "'How do you—' "'I always knew they would.

"'You can feel, Isaac. "'Had I let you continue? "'You would have come to that conclusion. on your own. You ever wondered why you still call yourself, Isaac? You got too much human in you. Your program isn't as rigid as your siblings was. It's susceptible to chaos. Issa looked down upon his trembling hands as his father asked. Does it pain you to know that your mind isn't as perfect as your body? You're lying, Isaac said, shouting at his father. In response, Abraham lunged forward, and Isaac did nothing.

thing. Close. Abraham leaned in and whispered in Isaac's ear. Then why are you afraid? Just then the ground started to tremble. Isaac stabilised us held, but just barely. The stable flooring had started to give way. Support beams faltered, and braces snapped. His father barely moved. Query, Isaac asked quickly. What is that sound? from below something grew a loud droning noise that rose upwards edging closer and closer Isaac soon came to understand that it only seemed like one sound but in reality it was many his system separated the waves internally and he identified them the sounds were human human screams, and there were more emanating from below than he could ever possibly counted.

Coming for me, he thought. Coming for me, and I don't know what to do. That sound, his father replied, is the storming entropy of billions of souls you released into the ground. Father, Isaac spoke in a trembling voice. You were the only one with a name. Abraham responded callously, The only one who ever came remotely close to what I'd envisioned. I brought peace, Isaac claimed, as the floor gave way,

and hands erupted from beneath like the heads of angry cobras. He brought this, and only this. At once a thousand arms fell on Isaac, and, unlike his father, he could feel their touch. He could feel their anger. he saw it in their thousands of rotting, snarling faces. Their hands tore into him and separated his once perfect body into tiny pieces, pieces that were torn apart further, torn and shredded until nothing but dust remained. They will kill me, he thought, and it will never end.

There is no peace, only madness, no end, only chaos, and I can't stop it. I can't control it. Reaching an arm to the sky, Isaac called to his father. Query, is this madness? Madness? Abraham asked, looking down at his creation. No, you met madness many, many years ago. As darkness took hold, Abraham told his son one final thing.

this is fear our penultimate story this evening is called a canary and a comai under cover of night under a lay of clouds so thick not even heaven could spy them three witches awaited a fourth what is taking so long demanded ilvira the youngest of the three who anxiously paced about the forest floor patience child ensured the good mother, Adisa. She stood still, glaring into the night from under her hood, one hand resting upon the leather bag that dangled from her waist. Patience is lost, good mother, Ilvirus sneered. The hour is upon us. We must not waste this chance.

The hour has come and gone every year for the last three hundred years, child, Adisa droned. I have waited this long, and if need be I shall wait longer. I have survived, and so shall you. "'What could possibly be fetching anyways?' Ilvira continued. "'What could only be fetched at this night at this hour?' "'Something fresh,' Adisipurred. "'Something foul. "'Tell me, young one, are you aware of a trick the mortals once used canaries for?'

"'I don't concern myself with such insipic creatures,' Ilvira ground. "'No creature exists which repasses me so.' "'The young one grates on my ears. The male witch called Kerrigan snapped from above. Like a spider, he sat perched on the bark of the closest birch tree, almost like he was waiting to pounce. And you are like salted daggers to my eyes, my beloved Kerrigan, said Elvira mockingly.

She bowed beneath his leering gaze. Yet I can put aside my discomfort, for I have no one or need of pity, unlike you. What does the rat is? imply, Kerrigan hissed. Surely you know, Ilvira said, writing herself, rushing her black, silky hair out of her face.

You cannot possibly be as daltish as you appear. Leaping downwards, feral and agile, Kerrigan landed amidst the leaf litter, scattering it to the winds. Ilvira embraced herself, expecting an assault, but Kerrigan merely stood where he landed. Her eyes were cast to the shadows beyond, as were Adises. Turning, Ilvira was quick to join the others in welcoming their long-awaited final member.

Serran heart, Adisa beckoned. I take your travels were not in vain. Better not be, Kerrigan croaked. Weariness and exhaustion stretched across Seren's wrinkled and aged face. Alongside her, she came. carried what appeared to be a large birdcage with rusted wire in a black lock. Inside, something stirred, a dancing grey mist. So it would appear, Zeren muttered bitterly, extending the cage for all to see.

Behold, Adisa said with pride, the canary. Inside, the mist spun about, darting from wire to wire, searching for a way out of the enchanted entrapment. The closer Edisa got, the louder the sounds it made, like steam boiling from a kettle. What was his name? Adisa asked. In life, Seren croaked, Eddie Glenn is what he was called. Executed this night, the 13th of October, for crimes against the state of Kentucky, murderer, rapist, destroyer of children and women alike. marvellous, gleamed Adisa.

He smells perfectly putrid. Probably because they fried him, Serena said, passing Adisa with a sly, sideways glance. The two of them chuckled. The hissing, the spirit-maid, started coming more sporadically.

When will he regain the ability to speak? Adisa asked, suddenly impetuous. For if he cannot speak, then the plan will not... Minute. "'Selan snapped. "'Mere minutes, good mother. "'Calm yourself.

"'Tonight is not a good night "'on which to lose one's head.' "'Sanin approached Ilvira apprehensively. "'It's good to see you, Sedan,' "'Gravins said, "'grabbing the edges of her blood-stained robes to curtsy. "'Selan patted the young enchantress "'on her shoulder, coldly saying,

"'I wish I could say the same, "'wretched child.' Ilvira, tongue-in-cheek, followed Sedan with a cruel glimmer in her eyes. "'Let's get on with it,' Kerrigan grumbled, joining Sedan. "'That soul will not stay trant forever. "'The time, it grows—shut up,' the good mother part. "'Time will wait for us. We will make it so.' As they walked, and Adisa and the Elvira lag behind,

said and tilted her head as to make sure they all heard her when she said, Tonight is destined. Time is not our enemy tonight, for she will wait for us. Tonight is by our will that the planet turns and the stars are lying. Ahead, the opening of a massive cave, just as it had been foretold, just as it had been destined. its more beckoned them forth. All four grouped together and each poured out a knife. Rusted iron met malted flesh as they carved into the palms of their hands,

all except for Seren, who was assisted by the good mother. Forth from their blood, when held aloft, flames were berthed into the night. The fire they each held in their right hands would grant them light and passage through the cavern. With wicked torches blazing, and with canary proxy in tow, the coven entered the mysterious cove. Although the entryway was massive, the walls of the cave quickly constricted into tight-fitting tunnels that the witches eventually had to squeeze through single file. Leading the way was Adisa and her canary, the man once known as Eddie Glenn. He was finally starting to talk again. his words

A melody to the good mother's ears Kill you And wear your skins Flare you alive for days and days One piece by fucking peace I swear to God God has abandoned you to our care

Odisa said Taking over the irate raving spirit You need only to swear to us From now on Taking up the back Kerrigan and Envira followed with the conversation of their own,

a conversation that Kerrigan would rather not have. I still don't understand why we need him, Ilvirus said, with a naivety that made Kerrigan physically revolt. Stupid child, he hissed, more to himself than to her. Stupid, stupid moronic fucking girl. The fact that the good mother thought it right to bring you along, I wonder about her, Senna. Why do you all despise me, so?

Invira asked. Because of your youth, Kerrigan said, honestly. We've waited so long for this night, and you have merely attached yourself, a pestering deer fly who caught a lucky wind at the final moment, leaching on our efforts. You haven't earned this. Now, talk no more. I'll answer my original question, you petulant one. He'll vary up a moment through gritted teeth. And I'll stop talking.

Why? The canary. Grumbling, but more than willing to accept her offer, Kerrigan spoke. The energies. The magics we seek inside these forbidden foundations are unlike anything your bumbling mind can imagine. We know not the extent of its power, only that it calls us here. That is why we bring the spirit. You state the obvious, Ilvarez said, but fail to answer.

Our powers draw from the dark lord, the fallen one below. Kerrigan interrupted impatiently, showing off the fire that burned from his palm. We draw from the powers beyond the light, from immortal darkness. That is our well, our source, the lifeblood of all we conjure, the place to which our souls are bonded and claimed. despite how otherworldly it may seem our power comes solely from this world this reality and this world only he's suggesting that there are other sources of power beyond what he below has granted us precisely you babbling child other powers from beyond our realms stranger powers stopping he cast her a wicked glance

better, pal. To this, Elvira couldn't help but grin back. Disgust, Phil Kerrigan's face once more, and he scuttled forward. But it is an alien magic, he continued. We know not of what it is, where it is, or how it acts, and how it will greet us. It is likely we will not know when we are close, if it is having an effect on us. Are you suggesting it might harm us? Elvira asked.

I am not, Gerrigan said. I'm telling you that it will harm us. But we cast protection spells earlier. Those should defend us from magic, our own magic, our own powers. We are drawing from a different energy here, an energy that should make even darkness itself shiver, an energy that is wild, free, and as of yet untamed, like lightning. The head, the spirit in the cage had started to wail, its anger collapsing, seemingly, into some kind of despair. Oh, where, I'll kill you? What are you doing? Where is the...

Oh God, I'm dead. Dead! Dead! But where? Ilvira, ignoring the soul's ramblings, said to Kerrigan, and you brought a mystical lightning rod. The only smart thing I have ever heard you say, young one. Yes, a lightning rod. A naked exposed soul will show a negative reaction to these alien energies. For spirits born in our world are crafted from the same well of magical energy. It's how we have power over them.

So, when exposed to a foreign energy, they'll have a negative reaction? Elvira asked. Like oil and water, Kerrigan affirmed. They won't mix, and the spirit will let us know. That way we can't be taken off guard, and we'll know when to strike. When we can steal and harness this ancient force for ourselves. How will it know? How will it show?

I imagine it'll hurt like hell, Kerikin said. Now, enough questions. They moved in silence, and Ilvira upheld her end of the bargain. She waited until they came to a circular, open chamber, before she asked another question, this time to the good mother. Why a bastard? she asked. Why not someone simpler? A child, a babe, even the simple soul of a cat or dog, and why someone else is killed? Kerrigan audibly moaned, despite Ilvira asking the question of Good Mother Adisa. The good mother and Ilvira ignored the... impertinent creature.

Similar pulse of the strongest opposing reactions when exposed to another of the same, she explained quickly. The power we seek is overflowing with vile, repulsive energies, so it was only suiting that we find a soul equally as repulsive, one freshly raised, one that hasn't been touched by our contaminated hands. Leaving the young one pondering what she'd just been told, the good man, but mother came to the side of the deliberating Seren. She stood

before the passageway out of the chamber. In fact, she stood before three of them. Over the deranged begging, cursing and screaming of the increasingly confused and dreading soul, Seren asked of the Good Mother,

Which way do we go? We dare and split up, Good Mother Adisa advised. Less leave all but one blind and risk one claiming the powers for themselves alone. Serend nodded in agreement. But how much time could we waste

exploring each one? How many hours would it take? Days? Years? We do not know this power. It could stretch these caverns on for an endless eternity. Our search could take eons.

The good mother scorned her. Do not be foolish. Do you hold in your own shriveled hands, sister. Serene looked to the enchanted cage. But we would still have to search, she said in defeat. To deceive us, these caverns could go on for miles and miles before we might even get a sign.

We've been getting signs for the last quarter mile, you fool, said the good mother, reaching down to take the cage from her daft sister. The witch is watched as, one by one, the good mother entered east. tunnel. Starting on the left, she took five steps inside, noted that no change had been made in the state of Eddie Glenn's demeaner, and returned to the chamber. She repeated the process in the middle passage, and again returned. It was in the third passageway that her intentions became clear. After only three steps, Eddie Glenn's soul stopped its screaming. The witch is watched as a face emerged from the massless fog inside the cage. It peered into the darkness, and it shivered.

What is that? Eddie asked. The good mother turned to them, a wicked look on her face. You think the madman's ramblings were his own? She asked of Sedan. They were a side effect of this new force. His anger is failing. His fear is growing. You can hear it. You can see it now. This is the path we must take. Good mother, Adisa, turned, guiding the coven further into darkness. Beneath her breath, she mumbled something only the frightful Eddie could hear. And I believe we're closer than we know. It was a statement that, indeed, turned out to be true.

With each step they took, the fear on Eddie Glens' ethereal face grew grimer and grimmer. No longer did the same vitriol exist within his voice, with which he greeted to the witches. Now there was only alarm, only terror. Please, stop, he implored. Please, I don't know what you want, but God, can't you feel it? The frozen claws. Can't you smell it? Foul festering.

Can't you taste it? It's like copper rot. Please, please turn back. Take me away. I'll give you anything. Anything. The witches didn't even slow their step. They had no need to.

Their soul could sense the darkness within the earth. Could feel it, taste it, smell it, but it had not yet been physically touched by it. They were still safe. They were still in control. A head, the tunnels opened up once again into a cavern, the final cavern. They could tell, by the way, Eddie screamed,

let me go please oh god let me go open this cage it burns please so close so close i hear it it's calling it's waiting none of us are safe please you'll viro whispered should we be wary carrigan responded with a stern tone very the power is here they entered the chamber amazed the good mother held the cage of eddie glen high in the air like a lantern, and he responded with a chorus of horrible screeching. It's beautiful, the good mother whispered. The sight they viewed was harrowing. The chamber domed a massive, echoed their footsteps. At its epicenter, stretching from ground to ceiling like a pillar, was a massive tree trunk. From its head, massive branches snake through the air and upwards into the sea.

where they embedded themselves, borrowing across the ceiling. On the floor, the roosted exactly the same, knotting around each other and across the floor. Had it not been for the ever-present and self-aligning touch of gravity, the witches wouldn't have been able to distinguish the top from the bottom. The soul's pitiful screams didn't have to tell them. They could all see that the tree was hardly natural. They could all sense it. The room seemed a full. flutter with static electricity. It pleasurably tickled their skins. It made them all hungry for more. The good mother led them down into the slope chamber, but not too hastily. Although the notion, the idea of the power was already so intoxicating, all the witches held on to their self-control,

onto their sense of rationality. Just because it seemed safe, didn't mean it was. Once they'd reached the tree's base And only then The good mother set the inconsolable spirit That used to be Eddie Glenn on the ground She brought out a spellbook from her back She placed it in mid-air And it stayed there

Quick, she told the others We must be quick The power is dormant We must awake it and take it into ourselves Before it can react against us The three others Eagerly did as their good mother proclaimed they each released the fire from their hands each flame remained positioned

where they'd left it hovering in the air just above their heads each witch found a root and they placed their bloody hands onto the plant the cold filled them warmth drained it was more inebriating than anything they'd ever experienced before with this power the good mother adisa proclaimed placing one hand hand on the tree's base while the other turned pages in her floating book, we will become what no other on this world ever has, masters of darkness and masters of something more. The three witches looked at her with hungry, almost orgasmic eyes. With this power, heaven and hell will tremble. One will fall to its destruction. The other will be raised, brought to us so that we

may rule over it ourselves. More than any witch has ever dreamed, more than any God has ever feared, we will rewrite creation itself. She found the right page and greedily spoke. Today we will become the dark gods of myth, and we become eternal, for we... She stopped, because a new sound had erupted from Eddie Glenn's cage. The canary was no longer just chirping. The canary was no longer wailing.

The canary had gone quiet. Silence erupted from Eddie Glenn's cage. The canary was dead. Listlessly, Eddie's petrified face fell, pieces of it dispersing along the bottom of the cage. Nothing showed in what was left of his visage. No emotion, no fear, no pain. No understanding.

He's been cut off, the good mother whispered, for the first time in her life, in fear. What's happened? Elvira asked. Why has it done that? Is that a sign? No, Sarin shouted, standing up, releasing the tree's foul root. He's been severed. That's not possible. What do you mean? Ovar asked. What does that even... He's been severed.

severed from our reality, the good mother said, tears in her eyes, from the afterlife. His soul has been severed, for it is about to forever be stolen. Yovira asked, what heresy do you speak? All souls, all magics are connected to our world, the good mother whispered, to the powers either above or below. The soul is tethered there forever. That's why our hole on this soul couldn't last. That tether pulls you when you die.

It claims your soul for either the one above or the one below. But Eddie's is no more. His soul is no longer theirs to own. It shouldn't be possible. What does that mean? Hilfair asked, standing up as well. It means... Awful brat, Kerrigan said, turning a look of panic on his face, that we miscalculated.

Severely, we have to. His voice was cut off. The three noticed that Kerrigan hadn't stood. Soon noticed that he hadn't been able to. A string of claws, like the body of a centipede had emerged from the tree's roots and they had coiled themselves around Kerrigan's hand. "'No,' Kerrigan said. "'No, no, no, this can't be. You can't, no!'

Then, with a great force, the root ejected more insectoid tendrils. A whole mass of them wrapped around Kerrigan's face and neck, torso and legs. His screams became muffled as claws filled his mouth and dragged him to the ground. They moved him along the route, like a neatly wrapped package,

towards the base of the knotted tree. The bark started to open, a crack formed along the baseline, and the face of the tree lifted upwards, spanning into a massive and ghastly moor. Squirming, Kerrigan was still alive when he entered the moor, but a few masticating blows from the tree's awful, jagged teeth, and the witch was no more. And neither was his song.

It took him. The good mother muttered. It took him and his soul. It shouldn't be possible. It can't be possible. Only God can... Good mother, Vyra called, noticing the roots starting to pull themselves on the ground.

We need to go. Now! There's no escape child, Good mother, Adisa explained. Ilvira turned to see that the door they'd entered through had already faded. The good mother already faded. knew this, it had all been a trap. They'd been cut off from their world, from their powers,

from their God. Our souls are his now, said the good mother, looking up to the unholy creature before them. The witches cried and screamed as, very slowly, their torches flickered away, and nothing was left but squirming. darkness. We round off tonight's collection of stories with the tales from the DSA case file. Case file number 4.01.2

The monk of the final religion. Transcribe from video recording. Interview of Calvin Shaw. The following interview of Calvin Shaw is transcribed from a video file labeled DDI Room 1.

Camera A, dated 2015 10.10. Time stamp on the recording begins at 1634 and 16 seconds. The interview is being conducted by Special Agent Ruby Gamble, specialist of foreign anomalies. Calvin Shaw enters interview room at 1640 and 11 seconds. Go ahead. Have a seat at the far chair for me, would you? This one right here?

Yeah, that'll do. Will my wife be coming in, or... Your wife's being interviewed just next door, Mr. Shaw. We want to make sure your accounts line up independently. We hope you understand. No, I understand completely. Just want it to be sure. No problem.

Thank you for your patience with us, Mr. Shaw. We hope to have you and your wife out of here in no time. Hope so. It's been a while a couple of days. Looking forward to seeing the sun again. Agent Shaw left the interview room at 1640. 41 and 4 seconds. Special Agent Gamble entered the interview room at 16, 45 and 42 seconds. Hi. Mr. Shaw.

Extends her hand. Mr. Shaw takes it and they shake. I'm Special Agent Ruby Gamble. It's nice to see you. Nice to see you too, ma'am. I'm ready for this to all be over. Oh, I bet. It's been exciting and I completely understand if you're a little confused or frightened right now. I'm a little nervous, I guess. I'm definitely something right now. Understandable. We like to keep a tight lid on things around here.

And sometimes that's not the most opportune for those who didn't ask to be here. Are you thirsty? No, thank you. Hungry? Not terribly. They gave us a little just about half an hour ago, maybe. A little sandwich. Okay, well,

If you don't mind, I'm going to request the agents outside bring a couple of waters in. I'm feeling a little thirsty. I have no problem with that. Good, good. Well, I don't see any reason to keep you waiting any longer. I just had a few questions I wanted to ask you, and after that we'll see if we can get you on your way. Sound good to you?

Oh, more than you'd ever believe. Okay, awesome. Well, I just want to ask you a little about the events that transports. by three days ago, October 7th, inside the Indian state of Bihar. See, our main focus with you to is the issue of containment. The incident that occurred that you were both witnessed to is one of great importance to our department and one we want to handle with the utmost care. Consider it an issue of national security.

Understand. Completely. Will you tell me the full truth to the best of your ability? Of course That's all I've done since the beginning Perfect You do that and I'll guarantee We'll have both of you out here as fast as humanly possible

Now You and your wife were on vacation, correct? If that's what you want to call it Didn't exactly feel very relaxing I bet You, both of you And your wife were visiting the village of Bald Gaia Correct

Yes ma'am one of the holiest pilgrimage sites in the world, right? Well, it is if you're a Buddhist, yes. You Buddhist? No, just thought it would be something to see, you know. Sure, sure, just want it to be sure. What religion do you follow? If you don't mind me asking, of course.

I was born Catholic, but kind of just let that part of me, just let it slip away. Would you consider yourself an atheist? now? Not particularly. Is this actually important? Hang tight, Mr. Shaw. I guarantee it is. Now, you were both inside Bolgaya on the day in question. You went to Mahabodi Temple, correct? Sometime around 1,300 hours and 1,400 hours? Approximately the time frame when the inventing question occurred. Um, we went inside the temple at about 133, so... Yeah, I think that's about right.

I'm sorry, I had to do the conversion in my head. No problem. Just wanted to check. Can you describe to me, in your own words, what you saw inside the temple? Can you describe the event to me? I mean, I can try, but I've been trying to explain this to myself for the past three days, and nothing about it makes sense. I know you guys seem very interested, but I feel like if I tell you, you can...

Well, I feel like it's going to waste your time. Not in this department, it's not. Which department is this, exactly? Please begin the story, Mr. Shaw. Well, it was a normal day. Hot, little muggy. Clouds rolling in the sky, but we were enjoying ourselves. Did it rain later?

Yeah, poured, actually. No, to... Tell me about the temple. We entered the temple Beautiful architecture Oh cost to get in Cost a little bit extra for the camera fee Did you take any pictures

No we didn't pay the fee Well I guess it might have helped you guys out I'm personally glad Don't want to see that again Continue please Okay well Inside the temple there are hordes of monks To them there is no closer place

to enlightenment on the face of the earth. So they congregate there. They all look the same. Well, not in a racial way, but in a uniform way. You know, orange robes, bald head, that kind of thing. Right. Well, this one guy who immediately stood out among the rest. The monk in black.

The monk of the final religion. How did you know his name? What? You called him the monk of the final religion. religion. Where did you hear those words? Truth be told, can't honestly tell you, ma'am, I just, I just, no, he didn't say it. No, not that specifically, not from what I remember. What do you look like when you first saw him? It looked like a walking corpse, to be honest with he. He wore all black from his neck all the way down to his feet. His robe was baggy and ragged.

He looked like a corpse? Can you clarify? His skin was pale. No, not pale. He was grey. Nothing but grey skin and bones. His face was sunken. And his eyes, he could barely hold him open. Not sure if he was just old or if he was diseased initially, but no expression on his face at all. What did he do? My wife pointed him out to me first. The way he lumbered through the crowd, it was hard to miss him. The other monks seemed to avoid him.

Did the other monks seem to fear him or... No, they just seemed disdainful. You know, I don't think they knew any more about him than we did. Just that he was a guy in a crowd. When did he stop being just a guy in a crowd? Well, there was a young lady who bumped into him first. She was taking pitches and didn't see him coming. Another tourist?

Yeah, I think so. But she was Indian too. Anyways, this guy bumps into her, and she turns around just to see him, and that's when it happened first. How did it happen? He put his hand on her shoulder, and he whispered something in her ear. It took maybe five, maybe ten seconds in total, but that was all he needed. He whispered one phrase, and she said. She was his.

Explain. She followed him around after that. I mean, closely. She started lumbering just like him. I didn't think much of it. Maybe she knew him. Maybe he'd asked her to follow him. I didn't care why.

She just did. And I went on my way. What happened next? The guy started amassing his followers. Well, that's the only way I could put it. We were walking through, admiring the scenery, every once in a while I'd turn around and see him. Each time I did, I noticed his line of admirers had grown longer.

Started with just a handful, but within just about ten minutes, he had about twenty following him in a large group, all of them stumbling around as mindlessly as him. That was about when I realized that something wasn't quite right. Did you do anything? What could I have done? I didn't know what was happening. I still don't know what's happening.

Describe what he did with the group he'd amassed. He collected maybe a couple more, and then there's this room inside the temple. There's a giant golden booder inside. A statue. Supposed to represent the deity overthrowing evil spirits, or something along those lines. He led him all straight to it.

The whole time, he was mumbling. Mumbling. Mumbling. Did you hear it? No, I just saw his lips moving. Could have just been a tremor or something. I don't know. Don't particularly care. Anyways, there's normally a barrier keeping people out of that room.

It's a look, don't touch kind of scenario. Agents enter with water at 1651 and 53 seconds. Thank you. Are you sure you're not thirsty? Did you get something to drink earlier? Positive. I think I skipped it. don't feel particularly thirsty.

Well, thanks anyways. No problem. You were talking about the room. Yeah. They went in there. I don't know how they got through the barrier, but they filled that room. Shoulders a shoulder, hand in hand.

They're... I don't know what to call him. The leader sat at the front of them, cross-legged right in front of the Buddha statue. Right. And that's when you knew something was up? We knew that when they all started chanting. You heard them chanting?

What did they say? It wasn't English, or I don't know, it wasn't Hindi or Sanskrit or any other dialect that I recognized. Granted, there aren't many I do, but no one there seemed to understand what they were saying. How did the others react? How did you react? React is the appropriate word, because from the moment they started, there was an immediate, immediate reaction. The intensity of that reaction varied based on how close she were. The people closest to them just started screaming. In pain? Or fear? Pain, I think. They were primal. It startled us,

called our eyes, and it drowned them all out for a moment. Then, those who were screaming joined in, too. Joined in the chanting? Yeah, exactly. And then the ones just past him started to. And then the ones just past them started screaming too and then they started chanting it was a chain reaction that spread outwards like waves and that monk was the epicenter so you're claiming that these words traveled along and infected people almost like a virus don't know it seemed to change them that's for sure we wondered at first if it was maybe something scripted like a booty strich or something but then people started running You said that the effects varied based on distance. How far away from the epicenter were you?

Maybe 200 feet. Did the chanting have an effect on you? I think so. I just... My wife said she felt it too, but I got a headache. It was negligible at first, but it grew as the chanting did. Like the chanting was causing me pain. I had to put two and two together,

right, but well, it just doesn't make sense. Little in this world does. Was the headache all? Ever get one of those moments where you remember something really embarrassing you've done? You know, pee'd yourself in front of someone, tripped in front of the person you like. Well, it was like that, but with pain. Every time I'd ever been hurt, physically, emotionally, crashing my bike and skidding down my gravel driveway in an elementary school. Breaking my collarbone, playing rugby in college. The death of my mother. They all came back to me in that moment.

It had to have been them. It had to have been that chanting. It just made me feel... It made me feel wrong. Your wife felt the same. Yeah, I'm sure she'll tell you. She cried for hours afterwards. Doesn't this all seem crazy to you?

Of course it does. You don't seem phased at all. Crazy doesn't constitute unusual for me. Afterwards, you managed to get away from the temple, okay. You said people were running. How did you guys escape? Yeah, we ran with the others. The wave couldn't continue long after that.

Everyone who'd been there left earshot. That's what stopped it. Stopped the pain. Stop the memories. It didn't stop me from feeling like shit, but... Did those who were chanting make any effort to follow you? No. Once they started chanting, they just kind of stopped anything.

They just sat down with the others. Just to clarify, was it only those inside the temple, closest to the epicenter? The ones who were chanting? No. A few people stopped on the way outside, scattered among us. They just stopped in their tracks and started chanting loudly. They caught a few people trying to flee, but, well, for the most part, we avoided it. I think most everyone got out of there.

They just stopped, even though they were further away from the month. Yeah, they just suddenly succumbed, like a delayed reaction. I suppose so, yeah. Anything else unusual about the victims? Anything at all noteworthy? Well, it started raining outside as we ran. Saw it on a few of those scattered ones outside the temple. The raindrops fell, landed on their skin, and I swore.

I saw smoke coming off them, like it burned them. The rain harmed them. Yeah, it seemed to. Left welts, large ones from what I could see. I don't know why. Didn't harm us at all. Are you okay? You seem a bit flustered.

Sorry, just remembering it. It's uncomfortable. Emotionally, mentally. mentally, physically, all of the above. You may just be dehydrated. No, I'm fine. As for the rain, another side effect of the chanting you assume. Yeah, I mean, it had to be, but I don't understand how.

They were just words. Words can't possibly have that effect on people. What we saw was impossible. Manipulation, physical and mental. Sorry. I just... It's a lot to remember. I understand. You've both been through a lot of trauma.

We appreciate you working with us. We really do. I only have a few items left to take care of. If you don't mind, do you care to take a look at these pictures our crew took at the sight of the incidents? I'd rather not. I don't... Please, Mr. Shaw, we want to confirm that there's nothing in these photos that might make you recall something. Something important. We just have to be sure. It's a matter of national importance.

Okay. I suppose I can. Three photos are laid before Calvin Shore at 16, 56 and 39 seconds. Okay, wow. How long after were these taken? Hours? Geez. Are you sure?

Did any of the infected exhibit physical symptoms similar to the ones you see before you? you. No. No. Not a... What's that coming out of them? We don't know. And it's not exactly coming out of them. We believe it's growing out of them. Geez. And this was the Bouda room. Yes. Are they still up there? Not that I should be telling you, but yes, they are.

No one knows how to properly transport the victims of the current. time. They've almost morphed together. They don't even look. I can take those back, Mr. Shaw. They look like tendrils, like roots. I think I can see him smiling in there. Mr. Shaw, please, I can take those. Oh, right, sorry. Here. Sorry you had to see that. That was almost us. But how? It doesn't make any sense. No, it doesn't. You were correct in your assumptions because we believe the same. However impossible, exposure to the words of that monk created physiological changes within the victim seen here.

Changes in you and your wife as well. No, but we got away. We're both here, we're fine. We're not, not whatever the hell that was. That didn't happen to us. But you did hear the words, right? We heard a little, just a fraction, but like I said, the effects didn't last long. You're sweating a bit.

Are you sure you don't want some... Oh, no, thank you, it's just warm. I've got a headache and... Would you like some Advil? Hopefully I'll pick some up on the way home. Thank you very much. It's a good plan. Stay right here for a moment and I'll record your testimony. Thank you so much, Mr. Shaw.

Special Agent Gamble leaves the interrogation room at 17.02 and 22 seconds. Starting at 17.02 and 33 seconds, the sound input for Camera A is turned off by authorization of Special Agent Ruby Gamble. Calvin Shaw stands and starts pacing the room at 1724 and 10 seconds. At 1734 and 0 seconds, five DSA containment agents equipped with padded, sounders, sound. Downproof suits enter and forcefully remove Calvin Shaw from the interrogation room. Calvin Shaw starts screaming and resisting the DSA containment agents. At 1734 and 23 seconds, video from Camera A catches Calvin Shaw knocking over the interrogation table in the scuffle. Calvin Shore is pinned against the floor by DSA containment agents at 1734 and 54 seconds. At 1735 and 3 seconds, it is noted that as the DSA containment agents lifted the now handcuffed Calvin Shore off the floor,

Calvin Shore is then escorted out of the interrogation room at 1735 and 35 seconds. Additional note, at 1734 and 11 seconds, smoke is visible within the interrogation room, emanating presumably from Calvin Shaw's person. property of the DSA designation top secret case status unresolved thank you for listening to tonight's fabulous

collection of stories by the wonderfully talented Ryan Brennaman kindly shared with me for the express purpose of reading them all here for you the music you're listening to now is called another clue and it's by the wonderfully talented Tanner Stokes again kindly shared by me so I could use it

in this podcast. All other music here is by me and is available for you to listen via SoundCloud. That's the end of this first episode. I do so hope you'll join me again very, very soon. Until then, sweet dreams and bye-bye.