Dr. Creepen's Dungeon - S1 Ep36: Episode 36: Ghosts and Monsters Horror Stories

Episode Date: July 1, 2021

Tonight's show is proudly sponsored by Manscaped: get 20% Off and Free Shipping with the code CREEP at https://www.manscaped.com/ Today’s first phenomenal offering is ‘Huntsville Camping Trip��, an anonymous original work; a story shared with me via the Creepypasta Wiki and read here under the conditions of the CC-BY-SA license: https://creepypasta.fandom.com/wiki/Huntsville_Camping_Trip Today’s second tale of terror is ‘The Children of Woodharrow Park’, an original award-winning work by Certain Shadows, kindly shared directly with me via the Creepypasta Wiki and narrated here for you all with the author’s kind permission under the conditions of the CC-BY-SA license. https://creepypasta.fandom.com/wiki/User:CertainShadows https://creepypasta.fandom.com/wiki/The_Children_of_Woodharrow_Park Our penultimate work is ‘The Haunter of the Ring’, a classic work by Robert E. Howard, a story in the public domain but recorded here under the conditions of the CC-BY-SA license: http://gutenberg.net.au/ebooks06/0601761h.html  Today’s final tale of the macabre is ‘Closed eyes’, an original work by Black Eyes and French Fries, kindly shared with me on the Creepypasta wiki under the conditions of the CC-BY-SA license so I could narrate it here for you all. http://creepypasta.wikia.com/wiki/Closed_Eyes

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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. Monsters are real. Ghosts are real too. They live inside us, and sometimes they win. Four deliciously evil tales of terror for you this evening. Later on we have the children of Wood Harrow Park by certain shadows.

Then we have the Haunter of the ring by Robert E. Howard. Our final story is closed eyes by Black Eyes and French Eyes, but we open up proceedings with the Huntsville camping trip, an anonymous story. Now, as ever before we begin, a word of caution. Tonight's stories may contain strong language, as well as descriptions of violence and horrific imagery. If that sounds like your kind of thing, then let's begin. When camping about three weekends ago in the Huntsville National Forest in Texas, Me and three friends that came home for the weekend.

They're all in college and usually we all get together at least once a year. All friends from high school. For the camping trip we plan to go backpacking deep in the forest. Live off of fish that we catch and animals that we can trap. We've been doing this for a while in Texas and in numerous places. Arizona, Colorado, if anyone's familiar with the Spanish peaks there, or New Mexico, so we're pretty much used to anything you'd encounter. out there. It was my turn to pick where we went camping, so I chose Huntsville, and more

accurately it's Huntsville, new Waverly, and so we drive up there and park our car in a camping park spot and start walking off into the forest. We had some laughs along the way, everyone catching up with each other's lives. We walked until it started to get dark, and set up camp where we stopped. Everyone gathered wood to make a fire, and we set our time. We set out to tent up and we do what we always do try and scare each other with weird stories around this time we started to smell something very faint it was noticeable but not overbearing we couldn't put our finger on what it was so we just carried on mike had to go piss and he walked off into the forest a second later he came running back piss saw down his jeans like he'd missed really bad

and immediately we all crack up and throw some jokes at him then we noticed and he was wide as snow and trying to catch his breath he starts screaming for us to follow him and runs off well we all get serious and go follow him not knowing what the problem was we started to hear a faint scream and crying in the distance in the direction we were running it was pitch black away from the camp and mike had the only flashlight We left ours at the camp. He had his from his trip taking a piss, and so at this stage we didn't have much choice but to follow the light, which was frantically pointing here and there in front of him.

The scream gets closer, and Mike starts to slow down. We then noticed a rady old cabin that looked like it was abandoned, except for a faint light that we could see from one of the old mildew-covered windows. The crying was intense Whoever it was couldn't breathe enough to let out a full yell

We all followed Mike up to the front door We could all hear the crying from inside As soon as he knocked on the door It stopped Now we all waited and heard really heavy footsteps walking fast at the door There was a giant slam against the door And the sound of a bolt unlocking And then

nothing we waited for a bit knocked a few more times but still nothing happened we walked around the house there was no fucking way any of us were leaving each other's side and we noticed a window which is a good way up

Alex took a deep breath and asked us to give him a boost so we could see inside and me and might lifted him up to the window we watched him brush away dirt and webs from the window and place his face close to it to try and see something. There was a quick beat, and suddenly he breathed in fast and let out a loud scream. Then he fell back from the window, screaming bloody murder all the way.

We tried to calm him down, but he was hysterical. We went to him, but he started to shake, to punch, kick, cuss, you name it. And he then took off towards the camp. None of us wanted to be separated so we all ran close behind him. We caught up to him and grabbed him and set him down. The fire was dying out, so I grabbed some nearby wood that we collected and added it to the fire. My hands were shaking, but I had to do something. I went back to Alex and we all tried to calm him down.

He wouldn't. He just kept screaming and breathing so hard that he eventually fainted. All of us are terrified now and we're. We all kept the fire high until sunrise. Periodically, Alex kept waking up, screaming just like before. By sunrise he was up and looked catatonic, just mumbling to himself and whimpering. So, Mia might decide to go look at the cabin now it was daylight. We searched where we thought it was, except there was nothing there, nothing at all.

The indistinct smell from last night had now grown in. into a very strong smell of something dead, something stale. We headed back to the camping sites. When we got there, we found Alex had chewed into the size of his face and swallowed so much blood that he was throwing up. John was at his back, and he looked like he was about to die from exhaustion. I guess we all looked that way. I just didn't notice until I saw his face.

Alex said quietly that we needed to leave Now we all started to pack up the tent It started to rain really heavily It was about noon and the sky started to grow really dark Alex started to go into a panic He went and grabbed a large stick and yelled at us to leave it Leave now or he'd knock us out and drag us out of here himself Mike started to yell at him

And they started to fight we broke it up and finished packing and then started to make our way back after a little while we arrived at a creek we crossed the previous day only it was flooded over and the water was moving too fast for us to cross it Alex started to scream again yelling at Mike for taking his time packing up the tent when we could have gotten out of there earlier this went on for a while until we finally convinced Alex to calm down and tell us what had happened he said as as soon as he put his face to the glass, a face on the other side did the same thing and started to smile really big. It had dark eyes and a dark mouth, which was much bigger than Alex's,

and the smile got as large as it could. A giant shadow behind it swung something down and sliced its face off. The face was stuck to the window, and he said it started to laugh quietly as it slid down. Mike still pissed off and though we wouldn't admit it beginning to get freaked out started to argue with him again we eventually started to follow the creek for a way to cross we then started to see toys floating in the creek really old toys old Barbie dolls and

not the baby dolls this wasn't like any old trash floating in the creek though this was a lot of Barbies and a lot of baby dolls. One washed towards the side and Mike picked it up. It had some kind of a voice chip that was dying and started to say some gurgling words we couldn't understand, followed by its sad excuse for laughter. Then it sounded like it was whispering. We thought the batteries must be dying. He threw it down. We kept going and the sun was starting to set. Alex was freaking out more now and was whimpering and breathing heavily We all started to see shadows move behind trees

Something we all called BS on until we were all seeing it It was barely light out and we stopped As we could see the cabin right in front of us None of us knew what to think Mike says This is bullshit I'm going in there Alex tries to stop him

We all do. All of us just wanted to go home. Mike says to all of us to fuck off. Do our own thing. He doesn't care anymore. This is all bull. We start to hear hundreds of the same sort of baby dollars before. Laughing, whispering, trying to sing. We start to move forward past the cabin. All of us kept pushing forward. We smell something dead in the air. Something stale.

the same something as before. We started to hear something crying, something screaming, but we kept on going. We eventually crossed the creek and left the woods. Got back to our vehicle and got in. It's pitch black, and we drive. We're about to get on the 45 to Houston, but the road is under construction and can't be accessed.

Points to a detour. As we head towards the detour, it seems to be a small, bumpy dirt road going into the woods. We then see a young girl come up to us. She looks like she was in trouble, young and pretty. She approaches the passenger side door, and she looks like she's really drugged up, or beaten up. Alex doesn't roll down the windows, nor does he open the door.

She reaches for the handle, and he immediately locks it. She puts her face on the window and starts to smile really big. we floor it. Alex starts to cry and scream and we're all breathing heavy. We finally cut onto a street that takes us onto the 45 and we take it the whole way. When we get back to my apartment, everybody doesn't know what to say and we'll break apart and go our separate ways. Mike messages me later and says he's going to go back. I try to convince him not to and all he does is say it was our own minds that were screwing with us.

I think he just went to prove to himself he wasn't scared. But I can smell that stench everywhere now. I don't go out anymore. I just stay in and don't answer the door. Last week everyone I met was acting really strange. People that I knew for a long time and total strangers. My own dad, when I went to his place to eat supper with him, he just watched me.

strangely when I was sitting down he didn't say a word the whole time I kept asking him what's wrong he just slowly shook his head when I was leaving to go up I turned to wave he had black eyes and an open mouth like he was in pain I started to walk back he shut the door and bolted it I stared there knocking and knocking nothing I called to him I called his phone but it was disconnected he even called the police

halfway through the questions they were asking me the connection started to fade into static I could hear a faint mumbling singing and laughing Mike has completely vanished there's not even a record of him being alive when I call Alex's house they talk to me like I'm some salesman they say they don't know any Alex

and to please stop calling. The person who tells me that is Alex's mother. I can't get a hold of John. Someone knocked on my door, and when I went to look, I saw a face completely covering the peephole, and a giant smile started to form. And called the cops again, and instead of it turning into static,

they got really strange. Sir, are you affected by any drugs at the moment? No. Are you coming home any time soon? Excuse me. Come home and the phone call ended. My mail slot swings every now and then. Someone is sliding pieces of baby dolls through it.

I try to call people now and all I can hear is static and bad baby doll noises and is crying and screaming. My TV is busted but when I go to piss I can hear it turn on. God, I might be going insane. Whoever lives above me started to scream in pain and cry deeply recently. I hear giant footsteps from their apartment. I hear bangs and something falling to the ground. From the neighbours to the right of my apartment I hear what sounds like a baby that never gets tended to. And then it sounds like a baby doll whose battery is a dying.

My phone's been ringing now. and it's Alex telling me things in a language that I've never heard before nor could even manage to repeat I keep getting emails of pictures of black and small colorations that I can't even now even access my email someone knocks on the door and they slam against it I hear the bolts unlocking one by one

and I run to make sure to lock all of them back Then I sit down and begin to cry. My life had recently been plagued by a persistent bout of rotten nut. I've been terminated from my last job. The weeks spent unemployed were slipping into months despite the stacks of applications I'd filled out and every credit card I possessed had been maxed out to its limit. Bitterness and self-loving had poisoned every fibre of my being

and left me with an inescapable melancholy that I was starting to believe was incurable. My latest humiliation had been to dig through my wallet for spare change as a cashier fixed me with a plastered on smile and an impatient lying grew behind me, only to find that I still didn't have enough money to purchase a meagre amount of groceries. I'd headed to Woodhara Park afterwards, a local secluded, sleepy stretch of land to clear my head. The park was empty when I arrived, leaving me free to wander the path alone and, well, aimlessly. Hunger gnawed away at me like a familiar enemy I could never quite shake. In a final indignity, previously sunny sky suddenly began to pour rain. I, of course, was not carrying an umbrella.

I was so absorbed in my own misery that I barely felt the gentle tug on my jacket sleeve. Looking back, I wish I just kept walking along the park path without so much as glancing downwards. I wished that I'd ignored the soft, silent pleading. for my attention. I wish that I hadn't made the horrible mistake of believing that a hand with such a touch so timid and helpless was incapable of holding the power to be terrifying. But instead, I foolishly stopped in my tracks, and ever since that fateful decision, I've not had a single moment of peace. I looked down to see two children standing at my side and immediately felt a jot of unpleasant surprise.

Both stood no higher than my waist, one slightly taller than the other, and both were clad in dark raincoats that looked more suited for a sepia-tone photograph than a modern-day child. They each wore matching wide brim hatch that drooped atop their small heads and obscured most of their faces. Though I could vaguely discern that the taller of the pair was a boy and the shortest to girl, I was unable to see any features above the pallid flesh of their swollen cheeks. Their lips were so colourless that it appeared as if they had a little more than a thin white sliver for a mouth. The children's bodies were round, but without any of the chirubic softness associated with youth. Rather, they looked unnaturally bulbous, bloated to the point of near grotesqueness. Unbrushed tufts of stringy blonde hair jutted from beneath their hats like tangled straw, dry as a brittle bone and seemingly untouched by so much as a single drop of rain.

"'Hello,' I said, forcing myself to sound upbeat. "'I stared up at me in silence. "'My girl continued to cling to my sleeve. "'Are you okay?' I asked. "'By now I was drenched and eager to head back to my car. "'Do you need some help?' "'But the pair remained mute. "'I stood there awkwardly unsure what to do,

"'and the girl suddenly began to grip my arm with a startling strength that made me worry she would pull me to the ground. Alarms rang loudly throughout my brain. I felt an immediate urge to extract myself from her unsettling grasp and leave them both behind in the rain. Well, I warily pulled my arm away, somewhat embarrassed for being afraid of how the pair would react. If you don't need anything, I guess I'll be on my way.

She released her hold on me without protest. Neither said a word as I walked away. When I turned around for a final look of parting, I saw that they were still staring at me. Though I couldn't see their eyes, I felt their gaze following me with an intensity that disturbed me no matter to how much distance I put between us. I didn't look back again.

I picked up my pace and dug my keys out of my pocket. The rain fell as cold as ever. I unlocked my car. I was thinking about the can of chicken noodle soup. I left in my spouse pantry, when I noticed that the girl had left behind a stain on my sleeve, as dark as ink and shaped like her tiny fingers. I wiped at it with my thumb, but the mark didn't budge. I sighed and looked up, only to nearly stumble backwards in shock when I saw the backseat door open and the girl sitting inside. She'd removed her hat and was holding it in her hands,

both of which were clean despite the mark on my jacket, with her head bowed and her knotted hair concealing her face like a curtain. Hey! I tried to keep my tone from betraying how unnerved I was and failed spectacularly. What are you doing in here? She sat as wordless as before, tightly squeezing and twisting the brim of her hat with such violence that I was certain she would rip it apart.

I swallowed my uneasiness. look, I said as calmly as I could manage. If there's something wrong, I can't help you if you don't tell me what it is. I reached into my pocket and pulled out my phone. Maybe it's better if I call the police, and you can tell them. My voice trailed off as I watched my phone screen flicker on and off before collapsing into a scramble of pixels and shutting down entirely. I stared agape at my reflection in the black screen,

as a terrible feeling of dread began to wash over me. When I looked back up, the girl was gone. In her place, rested her hats. The hat appeared soaked, every bit as saturated with rain as my own clothes were. But unlike the jacket and jeans that clung to my skin and chilled me to the bone, the hat didn't feel wet when I picked it up with a trembling hand. It was dry to the touch, even as I watched beads of rain drip from its brink. rim and onto the car's upholstery.

I realised with something between fascination and horror that the raindrops left behind no traces where they landed. And when I cut my hand beneath the hat to catch the drops in my palm, I felt nothing but air. Furthermore, the back seat was completely dry. There were no damp footprints, no water spots, nothing at all to indicate that a girl wearing a coat glistening with rain had been sitting there mere seconds ago.

I turned to fling the foul thing into the parking lot and gasped out loud when I saw the boy standing only a few feet away. She forgot her hat, I said dimly, my heart thundering madly in my chest. My mind screamed at me to jump into the car, to drive off as fast as I could and never come back to Wood Harrow Park ever again. But it was that same fear that left me rooted to the spot. paralyzed and helpless even as the boy stepped ever closer towards me stop it i wanted to scream but my tongue felt too thick to form the words the boy lifted his hands a burst of darkness erupted in my eyes blinding me as a hellish symphony assailed my other senses i could neither see nor move as i felt insects scuttling behind my eyes and scales slithering inside of my skull the vile

Our taste of putrid water filled my mouth as the deathly scent of rot flooded my nostrils. Final breaths rattling in dying throats, drowning bodies threshing in water as they sank, screams of agony so shrill that they sounded inhuman. I heard them all and many hideous more. I stood frozen in the terrifying darkness as the rain furiously slashed at my flesh like cold blades, unable to weep or let out a watery cry for help. Suddenly I felt someone grab hold of my hand and pull me free from the loathes and trance just as abruptly as I had been consumed by it. My vision returned and I saw that I was now alone. Even the girl's hat had disappeared.

I dove into my car and sped away from Wood Harrow Park. The sky grew clearer with every mile. When I got home I peeled off my wet clothes and climbed. into the shower. I sat there beneath the hot spray, immersing myself in the steam and the warmth, and jumped out the instant it turned cold. I dried off and crawled into my bed, burying myself beneath the blankets as my mind raced with the nightmare I had endured. I wondered if the children, whoever they were, had somehow been drawn to the despair I'd felt as I walked through the park. Perhaps my hopelessness and sorrow had served as a miserable beacon, guiding them towards me and leaving me vulnerable to their presence.

There was one thing I knew for certain. It was the girl who'd rescued me. I'd known it the second I felt a small hand touch mine. I realised now that she hadn't climbed into the car to frighten me, she'd only wanted me to stay with her in the park. Tears slid down my cheeks as I thought of her, forced to forever wander, Wood Harrow with no one but a boy who carried hell beneath his hat to keep her company.

Maybe she too had once visited the park, while bearing a sadness as heavy as my own, only to wind up imprisoned by it. I slept fitfully. When I worked the following morning, I discovered that the stain on my coat sleeve had somehow bled onto my arm. I spent hours trying to wash it off,

scouring my flesh until it grew angry and raw, but the mart refused to be cleansed away. I sat on the floor of my floor. my bathroom, gazed down into the imprint of the girl's fingers on my redden skin, I felt the horrid chill of Wood Harrow's rain creed down my spine. Well, that was last week. The mark still remains on my arm, and at night I toss and turn and vividly dream of the park.

I told myself repeatedly that I can't go back there, and I was lucky to have made it out alive and might not be so fortunate again. But I can't stop thinking about the girl. I pity and fear her in equal measure. When it rains, I look out the window and wonder if I'll see her outside waiting for me, clutching her hat and bowing her tangled head. I thought both saddens and terrifies me. So, I've made a decision, and perhaps I'll live long enough to regret this one too.

As soon as I finish posting this, I'm grabbing my card. and driving to Wood Harrow Park. I know that I might be walking towards my own doom. I know that the marks of my arm are likely a bad omen. I know that the girl may be every bit as malevolent as the boy, and that she may be trying to lure me into a trap of her own. I know that there's a strong chance I'll never be able to come back and tell you what happened. But I can't keep reliving the same nightmare over and over again.

In a way I never truly left Wood Harrow. My mind wanders its paths, even as I hide away in my home. Got to go now. Wish me luck. I have a feeling. It's going to rain. The Haunter of the Ring. As I entered John Kirawan study, I was too much engrossed in my own thoughts to notice at first

the haggard appearance of his visitor, a big, handsome young fellow, well known to me. Hello Kirwan, I greeted. Hello Gordon. I haven't seen you for quite a while. How's Evelyn? And before he could answer, still on the crest of the enthusiasm which had brought me there, I exclaimed. Look here, you fellows. I've got something that will make you stare. I got it from that rob, Ahmed Mechtu. I paid high for it, but it's worth it.

Look. From under my coat, I drew the jewel-hilted Afghan dagger, which had fascinated me as a, collector of rare weapons. Kirawan, familiar with my passion, showed only plight interest, but the effect on Gordon was shocking. With a strangled cry, he sprang up and backward, knocking the chair clattering to the floor. Fist clenched and countenance livid, he faced me crying. Get back! Get away from me, or... I was frozen in my tracks.

What in the... I began bewilderedly, when Gordon, with another amazing change of attitude, dropped into a chair and sank his head in his hands. I saw his heavy shoulders quiver. I stared helplessly from him to Kirwan, who seemed equally dumbfounded. Is he drunk? I asked. Kiran shook his head, and, filling a brandy glass, offered it to the man. Gordon looked up with haggard eyes, seized the drink and gulped it down like a man half-famished.

Then he straightened up and looked at us, shamefacedly. I'm sorry I went off my handle, Donnell, he said. It was the unexpected shock of you drawing that knife. Well, I retorted with some disgust. I suppose you thought I was going to stab you with it. Yes, I did. Then at the utterly blank expression on my face, he added, Oh, I didn't actually think that, at least,

I didn't reach that conclusion by any process of reasoning. It was just the blind, primitive instinct of a hunted man against whom anyone's hand may be turned. His strange words and the despairing way he said them sent a queer shiver of nameless apprehension down my spine. What are you talking about? I demanded uneasily. Hunted?

For what? You never committed a crime in your life. Not in this life, perhaps. He muttered. What do you mean? What if retribution for a black crime committed in previous life were hounding me? He muttered. That's nonsense, I snorted.

Oh, is it? He exclaimed, stung. Did you ever hear of my great-grandfather, Sir Richard Gordon of Argyll? Sure, but what's he got to do with... You've seen his portrait. Doesn't it resemble me? Well, yes, I admitted, except that your expression is frank and wholesome, whereas his is crafty and cruel. He murdered his wife, answered Gordon.

Suppose the theory of reincarnation were true. Why shouldn't a man suffer in one life for a crime committed in another? You mean, you think you're the reincarnation of your great-grandfather, of all the fantastic, Well, since he killed his wife, I suppose, you'll be expecting Evelyn to murder you. This last was delivered in searing sarcasm, as I thought of the sweet, gentle girl Gordon had married. His answer stunned me. My wife, he said slowly, has tried to kill me three times in the past week.

Well, there was no reply to that. I glanced helplessly at John Kirwan. He sat in his customary position, chin resting on his strong, slim hands. His white face was immobile, but his dark eyes gleamed with interest. In the silence I had a clock ticking like a death watch. Tell us the full story, Gordon, suggested Kirwan, and his calm, even voice was like a knife that cut a strangling, relieving the unreal tension.

You know I've been married less than a year, Gordon began, plunging into the tail as though he were bursting for art rings. His words stumbled and tripped over one another. All couples have spats, of course. But we've never had any real quarrels. Evelyn is the best nature girl in the world. The first thing out of the ordinary occurred about a week ago. We'd driven up into the mountains, left the car and were wandering around, picking wildflowers.

At last we can to a steep slope, some 30 feet in height. and Evelyn drew my attention to the flowers which grew thickly at the foot. I was looking over the edge and wondering if I climbed down without tearing my clothes to ribbons when I felt a violent shove from behind me that toppled me over. Well, if it had been a sheer cliff, I'd have broken my neck. As it was, I went tumbling down, rolling and sliding and brought up at the bottom, scratched and bruised with my garments in rags. I looked up and saw Evelyn staring down.

apparently frightened half out of her wits. Oh, Jim, she cried. Are you hurt? How came you to fall? Well, it was on the tip of my tongue to tell her that there was such a thing as carrying a joke too far. But these words checked me. I decided she must have stumbled against me unintentionally and naturally didn't know it was she who had precipitated me down the slope.

Yeah, so I laughed it off and went home. Oh, she made a great fuss over me. insisted on swabbing my scratches with iodine and lectured me for my carelessness i hadn't the heart to tell her it was her fault but four days later the next thing happened while i was walking along our driveway when i saw her coming up in the automobile i stepped out on the grass to let her by as there isn't any curb along the driveway she was smiling as she approached me and slowed down the car as if to speak to me then just before she reached me the most horrible horrible change came over her expression. Without warning, the car leaped at me like a living thing

as she drove her foot down on the accelerator. Only a frantic leap backward to save me from being ground under the wheels. The car shot across the lawn and crashed into a tree. I ran to it and found Evelyn dazed and hysterical, but unhurt. While she babbled of losing control of the machine, I carried her into the house and sent for Dr. Donnelly. He found nothing seriously wrong with her, attributed her day's condition to fright and shock. Within half an hour she regained her normal senses, but she's refused to touch the wheel since. Strange to say, she seemed less frightened on her own account than not mine.

She seemed vaguely to know that she'd nearly run me down and grew hysterical again when she spoke of it. Yet she seemed to take it for granted that I knew the machine had got out of her control. But I distinctly saw her wrenched the wheel around and I know she deliberately tried to hit me while I got a lone nose but still I refused to let my mind follow the channel

it was getting into Evelyn had never given any evidence of any psychological weakness or nerves she's always been a level-headed girl wholesome and natural but I began to think she was subject to crazy impulses most of us have the impulse to leap from tall buildings and sometimes a person feels a blind, childish

and utterly reasonless urge to harm someone. We pick up a pistol, and the thought suddenly enters our mind how easy it would be to send our friend, who sits smiling unaware, into eternity with the touch of a trigger. Well, of course we don't do it, but the impulse is there. So I thought perhaps some lack of mental discipline made Evelins susceptible to these unguided impulses and unable to control them.

Nonsense, I broke in. I've known her since she was a baby. if she has any such trait she's developed it since she married you it was an unfortunate remark Gordon caught it up with a despairing gleam in his eyes well that's just it

since she married me it's a curse a black ghastly curse crawling like a serpent out of the past I tell you I was Richard Gordon and she she was Lady Elizabeth his murdered wife His voice sank to a blood-freezing whisper.

I shuddered. It's an awful thing to look upon the ruin of a keen, clean brain, and such I was certain that I surveyed in James Gordon. Why or how, by what grisly chance it had come about, I could not say. I was certain the man was mad. You spoke of three attempts. It was John Kirwan's voice again, calm and stable amid the gathering webs of horror and unreality.

Look here! Gordon lifted his arm, drew back the sleeve and displayed a bandage, the cryptic significance of which was intolerable. I came into the bathroom this morning looking for my razor, he said. I found Evelyn just on the point of using my best shaving implement for some feminine purpose to cut out a pattern or something. Like many women, she can't seem to realize the difference between a razor and a butcher, or a pair of sheds. Well, I was a bit irritated and said,

Evelyn, how many times I told you not to use my razors for such things? Bring it here, I'll give you my pocket knife. Well, I'm sorry, Jim, she said. I didn't know it would hurt the razor. Here it is. She was advancing, holding the open razor toward me. I reached her it, and then something warned me. It was the same look in her eyes.

Just as I'd seen it the day she nearly ran over me. That was all that saved my life, for I instinctively threw my hand up just as she slashed at my throat with all her power. The blade gashed my arm, as you see, before I caught her wrist. For an instant she fought like a wild thing. A slender body was tore to steel beneath my hands. And then she went limp, and the look in her eyes was replaced by a strange dazed expression, and the razor slipped out of her fingers.

I let go over and she stood swaying as if about to faint. I went to the lavatory. My wound was bleeding in a beastly fashion. And the next thing, I heard her cry out, and she was hovering over me. Jim! she cried. How did you cut yourself so terribly? Gordon shook his head and sighed heavily. I guess I was a bit out of my head, or my self-control snapped.

Oh, don't keep up this pretense, Evelyn, I said. God knows what's got into you, but you know as well as either. You've tried to kill me three times in the past week. She recoiled as if I'd struck her, catching at her breast and staring at me as if at a ghost. She didn't say a word. And just what I said, I don't remember, but when I finished I left her standing there white and still as a marble statue. I got my arm bandaged at a drugstore. then came over here, not knowing what else to do.

Kirwan, old Donald, it's damnable. Either my wife is subject to fits of insanity. He choked on that word. No, I can't believe it. Ordinarily her eyes are too clear and level, too utterly sane, but every time she has an opportunity to harm me, she seems to become a temporary maniac. He beat his fist together in his impotence and agony.

But it isn't insanity. I used to work on a psychopathic ward, and I've seen every form of mental imbalance. My wife is not insane. Then what? I began, but he turned his haggard eyes on me. Only one alternative remains, he answered. It's the whole curse. From the days when I ward the earth, it was the hard as black as hell's darkest pits,

and did evil in the sight of man and of God. She knows. In fleeting snatches of memory, people have seen before of glimpse forbidden things in momentary liftings of the veil which bars life from life. She was Elizabeth Douglas, the ill-fated bride of Richard Gordon, whom he murdered in jealous frenzy, and the vengeance is hers. I shall die by her hands, as it was meant to be, and she, he bowed his head in his hands. Just a moment. He was Kiran again. You've mentioned a strange look in your wife's eyes. What sort of a look? Was it of maniacal frenzy? Gordon shook his head.

It was utter blackness. All the life and intelligence simply vanished, leaving her eyes dark wells of emptiness. Kiran nodded and asked a seemingly irrelevant question. Have you any enemy? Not that I know of. Oh, you forget Joseph Roloff, I said. I can't imagine that elegant, sophisticated going to the trouble of doing you any actual harm,

but I have an idea that if he could discomfort you without any physical effort on his part, he'd do it with a right good will. Kirwan turned on me an eye that had suddenly become piercing. And who is this Joseph Rolo? A young exquisite who came into Evelyn's life and nearly rushed her off her feet for a while but in the end she came back to her first love, Gordon here and Rolloak took it pretty hard

For all his suavness there's a streak of violence and passion in the man That might have cropped out but for his infernal indolence and blasé indifference Oh, there's nothing to be said against Rollo interrupted Gordon impatiently He must know that Evelyn never really loved him. He merely fascinated her temporarily with his romantic Latin air. Not exactly Latin, Jim. I protested. Rolloch does look foreign, but it isn't Latin. It's almost Oriental.

Well, what has Rolloch got to do with this matter? Gordon snarred with the irasibility of frayed nerves. He's been as friendly as a man could have been since Evelyn and I were married. In fact, only a week ago he sent her a ring, which he said was a peace offering and a belated wedding gift. Said that, after all, her jailing him was a greater misfortune for her than it was for him. Oh, that conceited jackass. A ring! Kirwan suddenly came to life. It was as if something hard and steely had been sounded in him. What sort of ring? Oh, a fantastic thing. Copper, made like a scaly-snake He coiled three times, with its tail in its mouth and yellow jewels for eyes.

I gather he picked it up somewhere in Hungary. And has he traveled a great deal in Hungary? Gordon looked surprised at this questioning, but answered. Well, apparently the man's travel everywhere. I put him down as the pampered son of a millionaire. Yeah, he never did any work so far as I know. He's a great student, I put in. I've been up to his apartment several times, and I never saw such a child.

collection of books. Gordon leaped to his feet with an oath. Are we all crazy? he cried. I came here hoping to get some help. You fellows fall to talking of Joseph Rolock. I'll go to Dr. Donnelly. Wait, Kirwan stretched out a detaining hand. If you don't mind, we'll go over to your house. I'd like to talk to your wife. Gordon dumbly acquiesced. Harryden haunted by Grizzly forebodings, he knew not which way to turn and welcomed anything that promised aid. We drove over in his car and scarcely a word was spoken on the way. Gordon was sunk in moody ruminations and Kirwan had withdrawn himself into some strange

aloof domain of thought beyond Mycan. He sat like a statue, his dark vital eyes staring into space, not blankly, but as one who looks with understanding into some far realm. Though I counted the man as my best friend, I knew but little of his past. He'd come into my life as abruptly and unannounced as Joseph Rolock could come into the life of evil in ash. I'd met him at the Wanderers Club, which is composed of the drift of the world, travellers, eccentric, or manner of men whose paths lie outside the beaten tracks of life. I'd been attracted to him and intrigued by his strange powers and deep knowledge.

I vaguely knew that he was the black sheep, younger son, of a titled Irish family, and that he had walked many strange ways. Gordon's mention of Hungary struck a chord in my memory. One phase of his life, Kirawan had once let drop fragmentarily. I only knew that he'd once suffered a bitter grief and a savage wrong, and that it had been in Hungary, but the nature of the episode I did not know. At Gordon's house, Evelyn met us calmly, showing inner agitation only by the over-restraint. of her manner.

I saw the beseeching look she stole at her husband. She was a slender, soft-spoken girl, whose dark eyes were always vibrant and alight with emotion. That child tried to murder her adored husband. The idea was monstrous. Again I was convinced that James Corden himself was deranged. Following Kirawan's lead, we made a pretense of small talk, as if we'd casually dropped in,

but I felt that Evelyn was not. not deceived. Our conversation rang false and hollow, and presently Kirwan said, Mrs. Gordon, that is a remarkable ring you're wearing. Do you mind if I look at it? I'll have to give you my hand, she laughed. I've been trying to get it off today, but it won't come off. She held out her slim white hand for Kirwan's inspection, and his face was immobile as he looked at the metal snake that coiled about her slim finger. He did not. He did not. He did not touch it. I myself was aware of an unaccountable repulsion. There was almost something obscene about that dull, copperish reptile that was wound around the girl's white finger. It's evil-looking,

isn't it? She involuntarily shivered. At first I liked it, but now I can hardly bear to look at it. Oh, if I can get it off, I intend to return it to Joseph, Mr. Roelock. Kiroan was about to make some reply, when the doorbell rang. Gordon jumped as if shot, and Evelyn rose quickly. I'll answer it, Jim. I know who it is. She returned an instant later with two more mutual friends, those inseparable cronies, Dr. Donnelly, whose burly, jovial manner and booming voice were combined with as keen a brain as any of that in the profession, and Bill Bain, elderly, lean, wiry and acidly witty. Both were old friends of the Ash family.

Dr. Donnelly had ushered Evelyn into the world, and Bain was always Uncle Bill to her. Howdy, Jim. Howdy, Mr. Kirwan? Rored Donnelly. Hey, O'Donnell. You got any firearms with you? Last time you nearly blew my head off, showing me an old flintock pistol that wasn't supposed to be loaded.

Dr. Donnelly! We all turned. Evelyn was standing beside a wide table, holding it as if for support. Her face was white. Our badinage ceased instantly. A sudden tension was in the air. Dr. Donnelly, she repeated, holding her voice steady by an effort. I sent for you and Uncle Bill, for the same reason for which I know Jim has brought Mr. Kirouin and Michael.

There's a matter Jim and I can no longer deal with alone. There's something between us, something black and ghastly and terrible. What are you talking about, girl? All the levity was gone from Donnelly's great voice. My husband, she choked, then blindly went on. My husband has accused me of trying to murder him. The silence that fell was broken by Bain's sudden and energetic rise. His eyes blazed and his fists quivered.

Oh, you young. young pup, he shouted at Gordon, I'll knock the living daylights. Ah, sit down, Bill. Donnelly's huge hand crushed his smaller companion back into his chair. No use going off half-cocked. Go ahead, honey. We need help. We cannot carry this thing alone. A shadow crossed her comely face. This morning Jim's arm was badly cut. He said I did it. I don't know. I was handing him the razor. Then I must have fainted, at least everything faded away. When I came to myself, he was washing his arm in the lavatory, and he accused me of trying to kill him. Why, a young fool, about the belligerent bane. Hasn't he sense enough to know that if you did cut him,

it was an accident? Oh, shut up, won't you? Snotted Donnelly. Honey, did you say you fainted? Well, that isn't like you. I've been having fainting spells, she answered. First time was when we were in the mountains and Jim fell down a cliff. We were standing on the edge, then everything went black, and when my sight cleared, he was rolling down the snow. She shuddered at the recollection. Then when I lost control of the car and crashed it into the tree, you remember, Jim called

you over. Dr. Donnelly nodded his head ponderously. I don't remember you ever having fainted spell. before. Jim says I pushed him over the cliff, she cried hysterically. He says I tried to run him down in the car, and he says I purposely slashed him with a razor. Dr. Donnelly turned perplexedly toward the wretched Gordon. How about it, son? God help me, Gordon burst out in agony. It's true. Why, you lionhound. It was Bain who gave him. tape, leaping again to his feet.

If you want a divorce, why don't you get it in a decent way instead of resorting to these despicable tactics? Damn you! Well, Gordon, lunging up and losing control of himself completely. If you say that, I'll tear your jugular out. Evelyn screamed. Donnelly grabbed Bain ponderously and banged him back into his chair with no overly gentle touch. Kiran laid a hand lightly on Gordon's shoulder.

The man seemed to crumple into himself. He sank back into his chair and held out his hands gropingly towards his wife. Evelyn, he said, his voice thick with laboring emotion. You know I love you. I feel like a dog, but God help me, it's true. If we go on this way, I'll be a dead man and you... Don't say it, she screamed. I know you wouldn't lie to me, Jim.

If you say I try to kill you, I know I did, but I swear, Jim, I didn't do it consciously. Oh, God, I must be going mad. That's why my dreams have been so wild and terrifying lately. Of what have you dreamed, Mrs. Gordon? Ask Kirwan gently. She pressed her hands to her temples and stared dully at him, as if only half comprehended.

A black thing, she muttered. A horrible, faceless black thing that most mumbled. and pours over me with apish hands. I dream of it every night, and in the daytime I try to kill the only man I ever loved. I'm going mad. Maybe I'm crazy already, and I don't know it. Oh, calm yourself, honey.

To Dr. Donnelly, with all his science, there was only another case of feminine hysteria. His matter-of-fact voice seemed to soothe her, and she sighed and drew a weary hand through her damn locks. We'll talk all this over and everything's going to be okay, he said, drawing a thick cigar from his vest pockets. Now, give me a match, honey. She began mechanically to feel about the table, and just as mechanically Gordon said, There are matches in the drawer, Evelyn.

She opened the drawer and began groping it. When suddenly, as if struck by recollection and intuition, Gordon sprang up, white-faced and shouted. No, no, don't open that drawer. Don't... Even as he voiced that urgent cry, she stiffened, as if at the feel of something in the drawer. Her change of expression held us all frozen,

even Kirawan. The vital intelligence vanished from her eyes like a blown out flame, and into them came the look Gordon had described as blank. The term was descriptive. Her beautiful eyes, This were dark wells of emptiness, as if the soul had been withdrawn from behind them. Her hand came out of the drawer holding a pistol, and she fired point-blank.

Gordon reeled with a groan and went down, blood starting from his head. For a flashing instant she looked down stupidly at the smoking gun in her hand, like one suddenly waking from a nightmare. Then her wild scream of agony smote our ears. Oh God, I've killed him. Jim! Jim! She reached him before any of us, throwing herself on her knees and cradling his body, head in her arms, while she sobbed in an unbearable passion of horror and anguish. The emptiness was gone from her eyes. They were alive and dilated with grief and terror. I was making toward my prostrate friend with Donnelly and Bain, but Kirawan caught my own.

his face was no longer immobile his eyes glittered with a controlled savagery leave him to them he snarled we are hunters not healers lead me to the house of joseph roelon i didn't question him we drove there in gordon's car i had the wheel something about the groom face of my companion caused me to hurl the machine recklessly through the traffic i had the sensation of being part of a tragic drama which was hurtling with headlong speed towards a terrible climax. I wrenched the car to a grinding halt at the curb before the building where Roelok lived in a bizarre apartment high above the city. The very elevator that shot a skyward seemed imbued with something of Kirwan's driving urge for haste. I pointed out Roelog's door, and he cast it open without knocking and shouldered his way in. Ah, it was close at his heels. Rollock, in the dressing-gown of Chinese silk work with dragons, was lounging on a divan, puffing quickly at a cigarette. He sat up, overturning a wine-glass which stood with a half-filled bottle at his elbow.

Before Kiran could speak, I burst out with our news. James Gordon has been shot. He sprang to his feet. Shard? When? When did she kill him? She, I glared in bewilderment. How did you know?

With a steely hand, Kirwan thrust me aside. As the men faced each other, I saw recognition flare up in Roelock's face. They made a strong contrast. Kirwan, tall, pale, with some white-hot passion, Roelock's slim, darkly handsome, with the Saracenic arch of his slim brows above his black eyes. I realized that whatever else occurred, it lay between these two men. They were not strangers. I could sense like a tangible thing the hate that lay between them.

John Kirawan, softly whispered Roelok. You remember me, Yosef Rollo. Only an eye in control kept Kirwan's voice steady. The other merely stared at him without speaking. Years ago, said Kirwan more deliberately, when we delved in the dark mysteries together in Budapest, I saw whither you were drifting. I drew back, I would not descend to the foul depths of forbidden occultism and diabolism to which you sang. Because I would not, you despise me, and you rob me of the only woman I ever loved.

You turned her against me by means of your vile arts, and then you degraded and debauched her. sank her into your own foul slime. Oh, had I killed you with my own hands then, Yosefrolloch. Vampire by nature, as well as by name that you are. But your ass protected you from physical vengeance. But you trapped yourself at last. Kiran's voice rose in fierce exultation. All his cultured restraint had been swept away from him,

leaving a primitive elemental man, raging and gloating over a hated phone. You sought the destruction of James Gordon and his wife, because she unwittingly escaped your snare. You. Roelock shrugged his shoulders and laughed. You are mad. I've not seen the gardens for weeks.

Why blame me for their family troubles? Kirwan snarled. Liar as always. What did you say just now when O'Donnell told you, Gordon had been shot. When did she kill him? You were expecting to hear that the girl had killed her husband. Your psychic powers had told you that a climax was close at hand.

You were nervously awaiting news of the success of your devilish scheme. But I did not need a slip of your tongue to recognize your handywork. I knew as soon as I saw the ring on Evelyn Gordon's finger. The ring she could not remove. the ancient and a cursed ring of Toff Armand, handed down by foul cults of sorceress since the days of forgotten Stikia. I knew that ring was yours, and I knew by what ghastly rites you came to possess it,

and I knew its power. Once she put it on her finger, in her innocence and ignorance, she was in your power. By your black magic you summoned the black elemental spirit, the haunter of the ring, out of the gulfs of night and the end. ages. Here in your accursed chamber you performed unspeakable rituals to drive Evelyn Gordon's soul from her body and to cause that body to be possessed by that godless sprite from outside the

human universe. She was too clean and wholesome. Her love for her husband too strong for the fiend to gain complete and permanent possession of her body. Only for brief instance could it drive her own spirit into the void and animate her form. But that was enough for your purpose. You have brought ruin upon yourself by your vengeance. Kirwan's voice rose to a feline screech. What was the price demanded by the fiend you drew from the pits? You blench, Yosefrogh, is not the only man to have learned forbidden secrets. After I left Hungary, a broken man.

I took up again the study of the black arse to trap you, you cringing serpent. I explored the ruins of Zimbabwe, the lost mountains of Inner Mongolia, and the forgotten jungle islands of the southern seas. I learned what sickened my soul, so that I foreswore occultism forever. But I learned of the black spirit that deals death by the hand of a beloved one, and it is controlled by a master of magic. But, you're a sifronach. You are not an adept. You have not the power to control the fiends you have invoked. And you have sold your soul. The Hungarian tore at his collar as if it were a strangling noose. His face had changed, as if a mask had dropped away.

He looked much older. You lie, he panted. I did not promise him my soul. I do not lie. Kirwan's shriek was shocking in its wild exultation. I know the price a man must pay for calling forth the nameless shape that roams the gulfs of darkness. Look, there in the corner behind you,

a nameless, sightless thing is laughing, is mocking you. It has fulfilled its bargain, and now it's come for you, Yosef Frollo. No, no, shrieked Vrolok, tearing his limp, collar away from his sweating throat. His composure had crumpled, and his demoralization was sickening to see.

I tell you, it was not my soul. I promise it a soul, but not my soul. He must take the soul of the girl, or of James Gordon. A fool, roared Kirwan. Do you think he could take the souls of innocence? And he would not know that they were beyond his reach. The girl and the youth he could kill. Their souls were not his to take or yours to give.

But your black soul is not beyond his reach, and he will have his wage. Look, he's meant. materializing behind you. He's growing out of thin air. Was it the hypnosis inspired by Kirillan's burning words that caused me to shudder and grow cold? To feel an icy chill that was not of

earth pervade the room. Was it a trick of light and shadow that seemed to produce the effect of a black anthropomorphic shadow on the wall behind the Hungarian? No. By heaven it grew, it swelled. Prolok had not turned.

He stared at Kirawan with eyes starting from his head, hair standing stiffly on his scalp, sweat dripping from his livid face. And Kiran's cry started shudders down my spine. Look behind you, fool. I see him. He has come. He is here. His grisly mouth gapes in awful laughter. His misshapen paws reaching for you. And then... At last, Vrolok wheeled, with an awful shriek, throwing his arms above his head in a gesture of wild despair. And for one, brain-shattering instant, he was blotted out by a great black shadow. Kirowan grasped my arm and we fled from that accursed chamber, blind with horror.

The same paper, which bore a brief item telling of James Gordon having suffered a slight scout wound by the accidental discharge of a pistol in his home, headlined the sudden death of Joseph Rowlop, wealthy and eccentric clubman in his sumptuous apartments, apparently from heart failing. I read it a breakfast, while I drank cup after cup of black coffee from a hand that was not too steady

even after the lapse of a night. Crossed the table from me, Kirwan likewise seemed to lack appetite. He brooded as if he roamed again through bygone years. Gordon's fantastic theory of reincarnation was wild, though, I said at last. But the actual facts were still more incredible. Tell me, Kirawan.

Was that last scene the result of hypnosis? Was it the power of your words that made me seem to see some black horror grout of the air and rib Riosip Roelock's soul from his living body? He shook his head. No human hypnotism would strike that black-hearted devil dead on the floor. No. There are beings outside the ken of common humanity, foul shapes of trans-cosmic evil. Such a one it was with which Verrolog dealt.

But how could it claim his soul? I persisted. If indeed such an awful bargain had been struck, it had not fulfilled its part, but James Gordon was not dead, but merely not senseless. Vrolok didn't know it, answered Kirwan. he thought that Gordon was dead and I convinced him that he himself had been trapped and was doomed

in his demoralization he fell easy prey to the thing he called for it of course was always watching for a moment of weakness on his part the powers of darkness never deal fairly with human beings he who traffics with them is always cheated in the end

it's a mad nightmare I muttered but it seems to me me then you as much as anything else brought about Vrolok's death. Hmm, it is gratifying to think so, Kirwan answered. Evelyn Gordon is safe now, and it is a small repayment for what he did to another girl, years ago, in a far country. I just managed to escape that creature and tell this story as I hide in my apartment closet.

Now, I apologize if this is a little sloppy. but that's only because I don't have much time. I'm saying this to warn you and everyone of this monstrosity that is going to be the death of me in a short amount of time. It is a creature referred to as trappo espiritu, which is Spanish for rag spirit. Yes, I know it sounds dumb, but please keep listening. I was warned about this being by my mother, who has recently been warned by her mum, a generation-to-generation sort of thing. Well, anyways, Trappo Espiritu is supposedly known to go from house to house each night, provoking the host of the house, and slowly and brutally killing them.

where Trappo strikes next is never known. But death can be avoided, and that's precisely what I am here to tell you. First off, if Trappo is to be visiting you next, you'll know the day that follows the night of its coming. There are four signs of Trappo's approach. Your day will go smoothly, and not a thing wrong should happen, except you'll have a strong gut feeling that something isn't right.

Throughout your day, you'll be able to see figures in your peripheral vision wherever you go. Surprisingly, this will not scare or startle you, but whenever you turn to see the figure face to face, it will have vanished. as if it were never there. These figures are believed to be the ghosts of Trapo Espiritu's past victims. You will have gone somewhere on this day, maybe to work or the store, but somewhere nonetheless. You will come home, and when you do,

you should see a small piece of white notebook paper taped to the front door. It should say, in clear, The neatly written letters. Ojos Gerados. Upon finding this paper, it is imperative that you burn it in your fireplace. Make sure no one sees the paper, nor the burning of it. Your last sign will be that you will go to bed at 12 o'clock,

unintentionally. Even upon knowing that you will. You'll do so without intention. Now, this is the time to get comfy and adjust whatever needs to be adjusted, like pillows and other things. This is the only chance you will get to move at all until sunrise, so take clever advantage of it. Once you get into a position that you are sure you will not toss and turn in, you will fall to sleep you will have plenty of dreams during your time of sleep

dreams you never knew were possible dreams so real you feel as if it's more than a dream like you're really there do not take this time for granted and enjoy it while you can your pleasure will turn to fear real soon.

By the time your dreams are over, you will become fully aware of the noises around you, as if you just close your eyes and went to bed. Your eyes still closed. Be sure to keep them that way for the next two hours. It should now be four o'clock and two hours until sunrise. Now, Trapo's game begins.

You'll start to hear a scratching sound at your door. Trapo Espiritu has arrived. The scratching will carry on for a minute or two before stopping dead in its tracks. Your nose will begin to itch greatly. Don't scratch it. The itch will go away on its own. Trapo is now spiritually connected to you. Now, let's discuss Trapo's appearance, since you'll never see it for yourself if you want to survive.

Trapo has the body of a normal human being. He stands at about six foot three inches tall and is a bit round at the waist. Trapo is no human though. He is made up of messily sown rags and leaves. He still makes out a perfect humanoid look though. His face no different than yours or mine except with two sewn-up eyes. Trapo cannot see you, find you, or kill you while his eyes are sewn shut. The only way his eyes can open is by none other than you, since Trapo Espiritu is now spiritually connected to you. You pull the trigger of your own demise. If you open your eyes even the slightest bit, it will cause the stitching in its eyes to unravel. Then it will be able to see

and kill you in its slow and gruesome manner. However did I escape? Hmm. When Trappo attacked, I managed to evade its attack and locked it in my room to buy me some time. Don't think that this means you can run away from Trappo once you've opened your eyes. Once Trappo's eyes have been opened, it will follow you until given the chance to kill you,

if not done there and then. I have only mere minutes left of my life until it comes. I cannot stop it. All I can do is warn you. So I continue here. After your nose itches for some time, Trapper will now be in the room with you. It stenches like that of rotting eggs and sun.

scum. Its voice, raspy and deep. Trouper will begin its game by crawling up the walls and ceiling at a slow, eerie pace, making noise while doing so. Ignore this and keep your eyes shut. Trouper will notice your resistance and will begin to call your name in its grotesque, deep voice while still crawling. Keep your eyes shut and don't move. Try imagining something that you would really like to do. That will make it easier to ignore. Trapper won't stop there though.

It will move on to things even more tempting. You may hear a breaking of glass or ripping of stuffing. It may sound and feel like, your favourite toy almost prize possession is being ruined don't worry trapper cannot break or touch any of your things at least not when its eyes are still so enclosed Trapper will then begin to cheat a little bit as you may feel some sort of liquid dripping onto your face mere drips but still keep Keep quiet, calm, and eyes stay shut.

If you made it this far, it should now be 5 o'clock. One hour left until sunrise. One hour left to go through this. Trappo Espiritu will be well aware of this, and will start using more drastic tactics than before. The slight creaks you heard on your walls and ceiling will turn into violent thumping. Your name being called,

this will now have morphed into a very recognizable voice of a loved one of yours who most likely passed. Don't be fooled. This is not your loved one, just another one of Trapos' impersonations. The voice will grow louder and more demanding the longer time. goes on. The liquid dripping on your face will have increased in rate, and you may feel drenched by it.

If you are still not opened your eyes and kept silent, then it should now be five-fifty in the morning. Only ten more minutes. Now Trappo is starting to get desperate. The thumping you heard will now be replaced by what feels like an earthquake in your room. Your bed will start shaking violently, covers thrown off of you. The liquid will have stopped, but this is replaced by the terrifying fact that Trappo is now on the end of your bed. Your eyes are almost able to open on their own, so you must now keep your eyes closed as tightly as possible. calm. Stay still. Keep your eyes closed. It's almost over. Trapo's demanding shout of your name in a loved one's voice will now have changed to a violent screech of your name in the same voice,

but warped and ruined. It is now one minute until sunrise. One minute left stay strong stay calm stay still scream stay still to scream keep your eyes closed your bed is now shaking even more violently than before your head vibrating your body shivering in the freezing cold your ears shrivelling from the hissing scream of the malevolent entity. Trapo Espiritu is now right on top of you. Its face inches from yours. It cannot kill you and it cannot hurt you, but it can scare you.

This is an ultimate test of bravery. An ultimate test of trust. You are now face to face with a powerful and evil being, able to kill you with ease, and the only thing that is protecting you are your two shut tight eyes. The last ten seconds have come. With that, Trapper will scream loudly, horribly. You will feel the residue of spit and heat and stench coming from its unsubber. unnaturally wide mouth as it blasts your eardrums with its shriek. Then, as soon as it started,

as it will seem, it will have stopped. All of it will have stopped. The shaking, the screaming, and even the liquid on your face will be gone. Your covers will be on your bed, and nothing will have changed. Everything will be just as it was yesterday. Not a single thing moved. Sunrise has come, and it is now safe to get up. When you do, you will have forgotten about your encounter with the being, and even about the previous day.

Drapoe Spiritu will have gone and will have taken your mind. memory of it and the day before with it. It does not want you to remember it if you survive and make sure you don't. You will serve yourself breakfast in your kitchen and when you do you will find a small white paper on your kitchen table that says frequentar finales or haunting ends. It will all be over then. You'll end up throwing the paper away and going on with your normal life. Trappu Espiritu will never haunt you again. You have won the game and Trapper will go on to find another unlucky player.

If you have, then thank you for listening this far. And I hope this information helps you. I've finished talking to you just in time. I can now smell the stench of roared. rotting eggs and scum, and you can hear the scratching at the closet door. Trappo Espiritu is upon me. So once again, we reach the end of tonight's podcast. My thanks as always to the authors of those wonderful stories and to you for taking the time to listen.

Now, I'd ask one small favor of you. Wherever you get your podcast from, please write a few nice words. words and leave a five-star review as it really helps the podcast. That's it for this week, but I'll be back again same time, same place, and I do so hope you'll join me once more. Until next time, sweet dreams and bye-bye.