Dr. Creepen's Dungeon - S2 Ep78: Episode 78: Extremely Weird Horror Stories

Episode Date: April 21, 2022

''The Yellow Walls'' is our first tale of terror; an original story by Aritra Majumdar. http://www.creepypasta.com/the-yellow-walls/ Our next two tales of the macabre are ''The Cable Box'' and ''The Suit'' by Malcolm Teller.  https://www.reddit.com/r/libraryofshadows/comments/6aps29/the_cable_box https://www.reddit.com/r/libraryofshadows/comments/6b2c31/the_suit  Facebook Page: https://www.facebook.com/Malcolmtellerfiction  Twitter: https://www.twitter.com/malcolmteller  Tumblr (Story Archive): http://malcolmteller.tumblr.com We round off tonight’s proceedings with ''Death vs Dr. Singh''by Sin Crow 7:  https://www.reddit.com/r/libraryofshadows/comments/6i7uhu/death_versus_doctor_singh_death_contest

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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. Well, it has been said that human salvation lies in the hands of the creatively maladjusted, the weird ones out there. Well, let's see if that's true based on tonight's four stories of the utterly bizarre. Now, as always, before we begin, a word of caution. Tonight's stories may contain strong language, as well as descriptions of violence and horrific imagery.

That sounds like your kind of thing? Then let's begin. Dr. Amani Singh awoke without the usual terror that accompanied him with the arrival of morning. Nightmares had beleaguered him for several weeks, but he awoke this morning without the usual sense of impending doom. He turned to see the words, Etimono, leshe, doma da rei, or the face of God falls upon you, written in blood along the wall.

These words written in blood provided no motivation. He took a deep breath and relaxed a little deeper into his comfortable bed. The sound of a tea kettle signalled imminent danger. He went to the dining room where plates and silverware were set along the table. He heard shuffling in the other room. The whistling of the kettle continued as he peered through the doorway leading to his kitchen. He saw the dead girl wearing a summer dress that still held the dirt scars from when he found her. Her flesh looked more like eroded plastic, after decomposing for several weeks between being dead and post-reanimation.

She removed the kettle, and it calmed in no time. She filled two cups with warm water and settled them onto separate plates. She brought them up with such care as she turned towards the doorway. When she realized Dr. Singh was there, she fell back in surprise and almost let the plates fall to the ground. Oh, doctor, you startled me. Her face held together well, despite the several weeks she'd been dead. The rot at the point where her forehead met her full, lustrous hair, was the only point. point where he saw any cracks. A layer of skull poked out from the busted sinew. He'd stitched

her together several times, but that point never stayed. Persephone, why are you here? Dr. Singh asked, we've been over this and over this again and again. But, Doctor, I have a good reason this time, I promise. Persephone always had a reason to see the doctor. Her cheerful smile was hard to deny. The doctor was always in the business of letting her off with a kind warning. What might that be? he asked. I saw the face of God today. You know not to joke about that, the doctor warned. If you're not being serious, I'll find a way to ensure you never find me again. Oh, doctor, Don't say that. I would never lie about something so important.

Would you be willing to prove it? Of course. Dr. Romani Singh lived in a small home. He lived a life of austerity well within his means. He had no hopes of advancing any further, upgrading his house to anything more than a place to rest until he died. Everything looked the same, except for the metal door that stood along the wall. wall between the dining room and parlor. The door held three locks, one of which required a key. He told the dead girl to close her eyes and removed the key from a compartment in his shoe. The lock turned. Before he could open it, Persephone touched his hand. What is it? The doctor asked. Why would he be down there? What do you mean? Where else would he be?

No, I mean, he's the most powerful being in the universe, correct? Yes, of course. So? So why hasn't he killed you? Why would he let you live after you made him your prisoner? Why doesn't he go somewhere else? Do you think you can keep him forever? I don't have answers for any of those questions, Dr. Singh said.

I've thought about them, but I'm starting to believe. there might not be an answer sometimes things happen and you just have to consider yourself lucky for how they happened why would he let me do this he enjoys feeding me bits of wisdom knowing i want more he knows i couldn't stop searching even if everything failed and i was left with nothing it's a struggle a quest for which i've come too far i can't turn back he knows he knows he knows he knows that, and he loves to serve as my tormentor. Do you think it's a trap? She asked.

I do. Dr. Singh opened the door. It pulled into the wall. He found the light along the wall, which illuminated a wooden stairway. Dr. Singh walked halfway down the stairs, when he turned and said, Are you coming? Persephoney thought about it for a moment. but took that first step into the basement.

She turned and pulled the door closed. Dr. Singh continued down the stairs, walking out of sight. More lights went on in the basement. As she made her way around the corner, she saw several worklights hanging from yellow hooks nailed along the ceiling. Dr. Singh had three separate tables covered in papers. One of the tables held a computer he never used. He preferred writing everything down.

Her eyes couldn't move from the massive obstruction. A metal sphere projected from the wall. Several wires of various colours hung around the sphere and made a mess, as they piled around on it. On the other side was a small glass panel for viewing inside the machine. Persephone He thought about it for a moment And couldn't resist

She moved closer to the glass Taking special care not to let the creature see her She looked in and saw nothing Except an impenetrable black It's so dark in there Why would you do that to him His eyes concerned me The doctor replied

I could feel them on me at all times I still do at least now I can act like he's asleep he never sleeps the girl replied he never sleeps and he never dies amani said i've done this a million times he doesn't seem bothered by it every time he dies

at least not as much as me every time that I kill him I feel a bit of myself die in the process he's taking you then the girl warned How many more times until he reaches that delicate center? How long until he consumes you? I don't know, Dr. Singh replied.

It's as inevitable as death itself. Death for him is not inevitable, doctor. Hmm, we'll see. The doctor turned on the machine. The engine needed a moment to wake up, as it hummed about. to life. Another lever stood on the right side of the machine. He pulled it and a light flashed from the inside. The revolving arms and legs within the sphere were awake. They weren't moving, but the machine was on. The engine hum grew louder until an incessant clicking noise alerted them to a red

bulb that flashed throughout the room. Everything went red as they neared that final stage. He took a deep breath and pushed a blue button. The lights turned on inside the machine. The creature stared as if its eyes had never left him. It maintained the same emotionless smirk as it always had. You should have left him where you found him, Persephone said. His awakening was foretold, you know. You think you've found the scientific dissonal.

of the ages, but that's what he wants you to believe. What does that mean, Besefony? he asked. I know he's leading me to a trap. I know that this won't have a good ending, but what other choice do I have? If this can benefit the human race, what choice do I have? Dr. Singh made a point to look into the eyes of the monster, as he waited to let his machine perform one last task. Several restraints lined the walls inside the machine. Two separate metal poles held the creature's ankles,

while two more held his knees. Two poles held his hips, torso and neck, while a cranial vice held his skull. Metal poles and wiring restrained every inch of the creature. machine itself was akin to some kind of human meat slicer it cut through each of these restrained parts as it made its way to his throat the machine moved to cut its body to ribbon every time it cut the body of the creature fused and the wounds disappeared one final incision severed the neck from the head The split remained for a second

Before the creature's flesh pulled back together Dr. Singh took a moment to consider the look in the creature's eyes Before he pulled the final lever The supports pulled away from the wall For only a few inches It rotated for a moment Moving the creature around Another metal support moved within the sphere

The difference was the thin metal wire that dangled from the top. It revolved a few times until the wires cut through the creature's throat. The creature's eyes went wide as blood pooled around the wound and healed right away. The creature kept his eyes on the doctor. The wires cut through its ankles and knees, hips, torso, wrists, shoulders and elbows until it cut through his throat. A flicker of light went off with every cut. The light flashed over and over from several bulbs lining the inside of the machine. Anger became all that the doctor could see in the creature's eyes.

The bursts of light illuminated the unremitting rage, clenching down on the monster. It bubbled against its cold, dead skin until the light flashed once more and went out. The lights in the basement went out. The doctor called to Persephone, but she didn't respond. Dr. Singh crept over to the closest desk, trying not to make a sound, until he had the flashlight he kept in the lowest compartment. He turned it on, waved it around, until he found her. Persephone's eyes were empty.

The sockets clung to worms squirming to escape. They poured out of her open mouth and through her nose. Beatles broke through her flesh, tearing the seams that the doctor had worked hard to secure. As she fell apart. She collapsed to the ground and the parasites feasted on her remains. Red lights flashed as the machine turned back on. Tied within the machine, he saw Pesophony. She cried and fought to break free.

Dr. Singh tried to open the machine, but the mechanisms couldn't disengage until it stopped. He moved to the emergency override panel. It took some time, but he put the code into the system and everything shut down. The room went dark until the light inside the machine flickered. It flickered over and over. Persephone spun around with her mouth hanging wide as she screamed in a noiseless terror

The first cut of the machine went through her ankles The next went through her hips The next followed up her torso It cut her to pieces as her body parts dangled from the restraints A vomit of worms and insects poured down her chest and splattered against the glass It tore her to pieces until the lights went out.

Dr. Singh pushed closer to the glass. It flashed back on, and Persephone was gone. The chair sat empty. The red light flickered over and over in the basement. He felt the eyes watching him, and brought the flashlight over to see. There were hundreds of bodies. They didn't move.

They stood there with empty eye sockets, dripping with pus and worms. They made the same horrible sound, as the worms slid out of their bodies and littered the basement floor. Bersephani, I know you're there. Tell me where you are. Dr. Singh searched,

as he heard the distant cries of the dead girl. They echoed within the walls, but whenever he got too close, they dissipated into silence. Bersephani, please, don't be mad. You do this every time, Persephone said. You use me as bait. I can't do it anymore. I'd rather be dead. Don't say that, the doctor asked.

But please, say something. Is he with you? He's somewhere in here, Persephone said. But I can't see him. The clouds are much thicker this time. We'll have to remember that. I wonder if clouds come in on that side like it happens over here with the tide. You didn't notice many when we did this last night. It's not the same this time. Dr. Singh walked into his parlour.

The words Vincienno, Vincenio. Or vengeance. Vengeance. Dripped in blood down the wall. Doctor, he's here! Pesefony yelled. What do I do? Remain calm. Remember to follow my voice.

Doctor, he's levitating again. He's coming. Dr. Singh closed all the doors around his dining room. He lowered the curtains and an impenetrable black filled the room. He hit the second switch and the light on the ceiling illuminated the room in a purple beam. Markings in white lined the walls, ceiling and floor. Persephone called out. Her voice. becoming fainter. Dr. Singh moved around the room,

getting things into place, when he realized two people were sitting at the table. He turned to see a man wearing a tux and a woman wearing a wedding dress. They turned to him without concern, and he saw the red lines marking each of their throats. Blood decorated the bride's dress. Doctor, where are you?

Persephone cried. He's right here. I can't run anymore. Where are you? I don't know. Come on, Persephone. You need to focus. Find the sign and I'll find you.

He's so close. Just do it. Persephone went quiet. The man in the tuck stood up at the table. Both people kept their eyes unblinking as they watched Dr. Singh's every move. The woman started to cry. cry. The dining room shifted. Three bodies lay with their heads folded between the floor and wall. Their chins stuck into their collars. Two young girls lay with massive wounds in their chests.

Bones poked out of their ribcages, along with busted organs and blood. The other woman was the bride, except instead of the wedding dress, she wore a black nightgown, blood. The blood covered most of the gal, leaking from a wound in her neck. The images flashed between Dr. Singh's dining room and this other world. The bride twisted in her chair, wrapping her hair into complicated knots around her fingers. She tugged once and raised her eyes to the ceiling. The light folded in her eyes, collapsing into an impossible black as she screamed. What was that?

Persephone asked. Find the sign. Dr. Singh kept his back against the wall as the groom walked away from the table. The two girls appeared in white dresses. They blocked both doors and sang a nursery rife. Something about little lambs all alone. The symbols projected a few inches from the walls

and danced in place. It's the lightning bolt, Hercephany began. Two lightning bolts with a circle around them. Dr. Singh looked around for the symbol, as the bride picked up the butter knife. She stood up and tossed the chair aside. The table and chairs levitated a few feet off the floor.

The lightning bolt stood on the other side of the room. The girls sat with their legs folded, rocking in place, as their eyes shifted to a horror. white with hundreds of red cracks. One of the girls leapt and bit into his leg. He fell over and the other girl grabbed his arms. They held him down as the mother came closer. The groom leapt with joy, clapping his hands as he looked to all the signs.

The sign spun in place. The groom put his hand through a sign of a tree on fire. The symbol blazed in a fiery crimson before collapsing to dust. A vortex appeared and spit grey clouds into the room until Persephone's head pushed through and clogged the rift. Doctor! she cried out. He's somewhere behind me. The sign, I can't reach it, Dr. Singh yelled. The bride hissed at Persephone before leaping over Dr. Singh's body.

she came down with the butter knife and stabbed him in the chest the knife didn't cut far but made a slight incision a few inches beneath his collarbone Dr Singh shot up from the pain and pushed everyone away the groom fell back against the wall his hands reached out swirling to touch every symbol as he laughed and danced he leapt up grabbing Persephone's cheeks

before planting a kid kiss on her lips. Dr. Singh moved as fast as he could to the symbol of the lightning box wrapped in a circle. He put his fist through the wall. The symbol radiated a putrid green, spinning faster and faster as it floated toward the center of the room. The bride and groom sat back. The bride pouted as the symbol sucked her in, dragging her along the ground by her backside as she waved goodbye. The groom was much less agreeable. He held onto Dr. Singh's china cabinet and pulled it over.

The suction became too much and the groom lifted by his feet as he held onto the cabinet. Please! The groom pleaded. Dr. Singh had a moment of pity before the groom opened his mouth with a wide smile. His teeth were pristine white with worm. He was dancing around his gums. He let go, and the symbol took him away. The table and chairs fell to the floor.

Persephone remained locked in the rift. Dr. Singh climbed on top of his table and pulled on her shoulders. She budged enough that he could wrap his arms around her. He dug deeper into the rift and took her hands. He had her almost the way out when he felt a pair of cold hands. wrap around his knuckles. Doctor, he's right behind me, Persephone cried.

In a panic, he gave a swift pull and sent Persephone flying across the room. Her body held together well for a dead girl. The rift closed behind them. Dr. Singh expected to see a sinister watchman on the other side. Are you all right? he asked. I guess so. I'm sorry, but I have to ask.

Did you see it? Yes, but the thing is... What? What is it? The face of God. It's the creature. His is the face of God. They returned to the basement. Persephone took a seat at the bottom step,

while Dr. Singh made his way to the machine. He looked inside. The light was out. When he flicked the switch, it didn't turn on. He's in there, doctor, but there's something I can't tell you. No secrets, Dr. Singh warned. Please just tell me. Well, I've always had a crush on you, and Persephone he considered.

Well, have you ever wanted something so bad? He would do anything to get it. What are you saying? Dr. Singh asked. Well, you see, Doctor, I wanted to be with you, so I had to... I had to make a deal. What kind of deal? The machine turned on by itself. The light inside flashed and revealed an empty seat.

The lights inside flashed one after the other. Dr. Singh's computer turned on out of nowhere. It turned on right away, and several files popped up and made a mess over the screen. It came to a file-labeled pictures and showed several images. Hundreds of pictures of shadowy forms surrounding the doctor during his studies. Every image showed fewer and fewer of the forms. He noticed the date. The further back in time the images went, the fewer the bodies.

More and more bodies appeared over time. More and more ghosts broke through the gateway and entered his home. Persephone, where is he? Doctor, I love you so much. The lights went out. Darkness filled the room. Dr. Singh yelled for Persephone, as the red light flickered and illuminated countless feet.

forms. More of the forms appeared with every flicker, reaching closer and closer. Dr. Singh backed away as far as he could, until he leaned against one of his tables. The shadows attacked. He fought, and they took him down. The machine opened, and the forms pushed him inside. They restrained him. Dr. Singh screamed for Persephone one last time. Dr. Singh screamed for Persephone, one last time before the door closed. Red lights continued to flash from the outside, while the inside of the machine lit up. He heard knocking against the glass and saw the creature. It never blinked as the machine came to life. The restraints shook, pulling him upright by a few inches, before leaving his face in front of the glass.

Persephone kissed the glass, leaving a faint outline of her lips as she watched the machine pull him back. His restraints pulled him upright. The rig set behind him whirred into motion, dragging the metal wiring up to his neck. Several pieces from the restraints broke from the rig and moved beyond the control of the machine.

They moved to sever his hands from his body, as well as the restraints that held him in place. Dr. Singh screamed, as it cut pieces of flesh from his legs, ripping through his clothing to trim bits of flesh from his thigh. It cut through his right leg, leaving it dangling from its harness. The metal wire spun through the air and wrapped around his forehead below his left ear and above his right. The wire tightened around him Until he thought the pressure would make his brain explode It cut right through

Blood poured down his face and covered his mouth He couldn't process thoughts anymore But his eyes remained rigid with terror The wire cut through his cheek As it made its way to his other arm It cut through his arm Both arms severed leaving him dangling by his throat within the machine.

The wire came up one last time. It floated in front of his face. Dr. Singh whimpered as it tied around his throat. It tightened, cutting into the soft flesh around his neck. He lost his breath and his eyes bulged from his skull. He couldn't collapse as the wire tightened more and more, cutting into him deeper until it cut right through. His head fell from his shoulders and bounced against the side of the machine, rattling by his feet.

It took a moment, but the machine shut down and opened. Persephone picked up the pieces of Dr. Singh, taking care as she wrapped them up. She brought them to his room and laid them across the bed. When she had every last piece, she lay alongside them. She kissed Dr. Singh's shattered face and wrapped her arms around him. The parts of him folded under her, but she held them together. She heard a knock. She went into the hall.

The noise became a thunderous boom that echoed throughout the hallway. Persephone ran to the kitchen. She set the kettle on high. and waited to hear it whistle. Before it could, she turned and noticed the doctor sitting in the doorway. The sight of him startled her.

He walked with caution as the individual parts that now represented his body buoyed in place. He took a seat in a chair by the table. By some miracle, the pieces held together.

Persevany, he choked on blood and worms. Why are you here? Oh, Doctor, Persephone watched in horror. You startled me. Persephone, why are you here? Dr. Singh asked. We've been over this and over this again and again.

The pieces of him held together, but he worked to push his hips and stomach into alignment. It helped him remain upright and he sat with a straight spine, angling upward around his neck. But, doctor, I have good reason this time, I promise. Persephone he recited from memory their conversation. It was one they'd repeated several times. What might that be? he asked. The top of his skull slid a little too much,

but Dr. Singh didn't seem to notice. I saw the face of God today, Persephone said. as she walked to the table. She let her hand rest on the imperfect line that cut his skull in half. She pushed it into place. He did the same for the broken seam between her forehead and hairline. Dr. Singh let his finger touch the bit of skull that was always showing on her perfect face.

He couldn't help but smile. Funny, I think I just saw it, right before my eyes. Pesephanie pushed away as her smile revealed fangs She couldn't blush as she'd been dead for far too long Oh doctor I'd be glad to prove it to you if you'd let me I think I just about have all the proof I need Persephoney said a glass for him along with a plate They drank their tea and enjoyed the morning

Dr Singh didn't bother with the machine he never bothered with it again they remained in the house for the remainder of their afterlives until the property was condemned people came to the house all the time but nobody stayed for long several issues deterred potential buyers like the star crossed lovers with stitches

dangling flesh and broken frames who without fail always stayed for longer than breakfast. Think about your health for a second. Are your eyes the first thing that come to mind? Probably not. But our eyes go through a lot.

From squinting at screens to driving at night. That's why regular eye exams matter. And at Specsavers, they come with an OCT 3D eye health scan, which helps optometrists detect conditions at early stages. We believe OCT scans are so important they're included with every standard eye exam. Book an eye exam at Spexavers.cavers.capses are provided by dependent optometrists, visit specksavers.ca to learn more. Andrew turned on the cable box.

It was brand new, straight from the company. He'd read up on this model from the internet. Being the tech junkie he was, he was absolutely taken in by the rave reviews. He'd read of it from fellow geeks on the internet. He didn't know quite what to expect, but he knew he'd enjoy it. It cost a pretty penny, though.

It made him grateful he was. worked at the major company that he did work at, which in turn made him grateful that he'd focused entirely on what had mattered, excelling in high school, and then in the Ivy League college he'd attended. It took its sweet time to load up, though. He tapped his knee with his index finger impatiently. Come on, come on, he thought. What could he say? He was eager to watch his shows. only after an hour it was still loading by this point it was midnight and he was tired as hell from his day at work mumbling angrily to himself he went into his room changed into his pajamas and got into bed it was just his luck that after not just a hard day at work but the whole week he'd been waiting for the new cable box to arrive it would go and pull this shit oh well nothing to be really done about it. He was asleep soon enough.

The next day arrived. Fucking finally. Getting up, strolling eagerly out into the living room and sitting down on the couch. He grabbed the remote and switched on the TV. Sure enough, it was the news. Now, he'd never been a news guy, so his initial reaction was that this was boring as hell. when something caught his eye.

The picture on the TV was amazing, simply amazing. It was like high-deaf, but better. The image quality was so sharp, and the color so bright and vivid. A wide smile slowly appeared on his face as he kept watching the news, just soaking in the fact that, yes, he'd made an excellent choice buying this. So, there he was watching the news,

just enjoying his new cable box that he'd plugged into his TV. But he noticed something odd happening. One of the main anchors, his eye kept twitching. First, just a tiny bit, barely perceptible, but then more frequently and more noticeably. about 20 minutes after it started happening he was at the point where he was twitching his neck and jerking his head Andrew's brow furrowed with confusion as he watched this thing happening this didn't make any damn sense why would a news anchor be acting like that on live television

that wasn't the weirdest thing though what was far far weirder was that his partner didn't seem to notice what was happening. She kept reading the news, smiling, and when she passed the reading off to him, he sputtered and barked out the news while jerking his head and neck violently. At this, she simply smiled warmly at him, and then back into the camper. At this point, Andrew was getting pretty damn freaked out, so he turned the TV off and decided to go and do something else. What the hell was wrong with this? Must be some issue with the station. He did feel bothered, though,

especially given that he spent all his money on the damn thing. Still, he went about his day. He made himself breakfast, did some work on a major report for the AGM of his union local, and then headed out, having remembered that he had to drop off some government forms at various offices downtown. So, he left.

In his living room, the still warm cable box sat snugly beneath the TV. As he went about his day though, he felt chilled. This nagging tension eating at the back of his neck that made his hairs rise on end. He got home seven hours later. The sun was low and red, shining a soft yet dull orange glow

across the landscape outside his home. He got inside, took his shoes off, and casually moved over to the couch. and plopped down, switching the TV on with the remote as he did so. What happened to be on was one of his favourite cop shows, the ones where they were rough, tough and gritty, and always got their guy in the end, even if they had to cross all the lines to do so. For the next half hour or so, he watched the hour-long show, enjoying the hell out of it as

he did so. And then, something weird happened. In a tense, serious interrogation scene, the lead detective couldn't stop giggling and glancing at the camera. An idiotic grin plastered on his face. The interrogation continued as normal. The criminal started yelling that he'd never snitch. The detective's partner screamed that he'd go away for 20 to life. But by that point, the lead detective was laughing his ass off, staring.

directly into the camera. No one else in the scene noticed. At this point, Andrew was getting bothered by all this, way, way bothered. His heart started to race, and subtle yet raw fear crept into his heart and began to nest there. His hand trembling, he turned the TV off. After it was off, he quickly stood up and walked into his bedroom. trying to put all of this behind him. Climbing into bed without changing into his bedclothes, he reflected on how this was an incredibly freaky situation that he had to get away from for the moment and try to figure out.

He didn't think of what was happening though. He actively tried not to think about it. In that, he succeeded, drifting off to sleep quickly, before he fell asleep though something happened his mind drifting to what he'd seen on the tv through the cable box he found himself grogly so much so that he wouldn't remember when the next morning arrived giggling uncontrollably at what he remembered from the news and the cop drama as an odd sort of fog descended over his mind that was in no way related to him falling asleep he found himself utterly in trance by what he had seen. Getting up the next morning, he went through the usual morning routine.

Shower, breakfast, getting dressed, the whole deal. He specifically avoided turning the TV on. He wasn't going anywhere near that damn thing. He'd seen enough horror movies to know that you don't fuck with shit like that. Maybe it was an issue with the station. Maybe the damn thing was haunted. Even still, he specifically avoided turn the TV on for the next few hours. Just something about it and the cablewalks kept him away.

That didn't last. He went about his day, he thought about it, and finally told himself he was being ridiculous. After all, it was probably an issue with the station after all. So, that evening, relaxing on the couch with some popcorn, he turned the TV on and, controlling the cable box with the TV remote, switch the channel to one of those golden oldie stations. The ones that played TV shows from decades back. He landed on one of those family dramas from the 50s, the kind with the picturesque and perfect upper middle class nuclear family. This was the one where the Clyde family, headed by Mr Arnold Clyde and his wife, Mrs. Jean Clyde,

raised their two sons Bobby and Bill, teenager and preteen respectively, and weaved through the trials of middle-class America in the 1950s. Andrew had watched it a number of times. It was wholesome in a way that he liked. Anyways, in this episode, Jean Clyde was alone in the King. kitchen cleaning the floor. She was wearing one of those 50s dresses with an apron and had her hair done up in an extremely well-kept style, the kind that only people in fictional TV shows ever had in day-to-day life. She had a sharp but kind face, beautiful in that movie star kind of way.

As she cleaned the floor, she was muttering somewhat angrily, but not too angrily. This was was the 50s, about being left to do all the work by herself. Then she stopped and stood up, slowly turning to face the camera. Andrew blinked. This was it. He'd had it. He reached for the remote, grasped it, and lifting it, moved his finger to press down on the power button. He was stopped, as the lady on the screen started to speak. Hold it right there, hon, she said, grinning somewhat wickedly as she rested her hand on her hip. Andrew froze, his eyes widening.

He blinked a few times, trying to see if he was just dreaming or seeing things. Sure enough, when he opened them again, She was still there. She laughed a tiny bit as she apparently witnessed this, running her free hand through her hair. She then continued speaking. Now, if you're done acting like a scared little goose, we can have a nice chat.

She then smiled sweetly, the way an archetypical mother would smile to her five-year-old. as Andrew witnessed this his heart wasn't beating hard in fear chills weren't running down his spine oddly enough he found himself drawn in by all this he felt a blissful joy rising up inside of him

he wanted to see this and wanted to hear her out sure enough that's what he did letting out a relaxed side as he laid back on the couch. Jean Clyde clapped her hands together excitedly as she saw him relax himself. Well, ain't that a nice cold glass of lemonade?

Now, where to start? She paused for a brief moment, her eyes running across the ceiling and then quickly refocused them on Andrew again. Smiling even more brightly, she said, sweetly, but with a dash of fire in her voice. All right. See, hon, I'm about to start moving on, but before I do, I'd like to get to know you a little more.

See, and I'm just going to be honest here, I like you a lot. I also think I can really help you out, show you things you've never seen before. As she said that last sentence, her voice got lower and huskier. It was at this moment that Andrew, his eyes connected with Clydes, noticed that she was staring intensely at him and breathing very heavily. He then noticed that, and he didn't know how this was possible. She was staring into him, if that makes sense. He didn't know how to feel, honestly.

A part of him deep down, a core part, was screaming at him to turn the cable box off and get rid of it. Drive it out to the ocean, smash it with a hammer into a million bits on the pier, then dump them into the water, get into the car and never look back. He didn't, though. He didn't because he wanted to hear what she had to say. As she looked into him, he felt giddy inside. He didn't know how or why, but he felt that this was good, that she was good,

and that this was something he had to see through. Jean Clyde continued, Okay, now we can get started. She spoke firmly as if she had a mission. She then casually moved over to the knife drawer, as if she was getting ready to cut a pie into various pieces, and opened it. She deftly plucked a knife out of the drawer and turned to face the camera, smiling at Andrew. She smiled brightly as she held the knife in front of her. She smiled brightly as she lifted it, and she smiled brightly as she began to cut hard and her.

deep into her neck tracing the blade into a wide cut across the entire front of it as the blade sliced the skin open just as if it were butter blood splashed and rushed out of her neck all over the front of her in a violent cascade as Andrew watched the one thing he couldn't forget later on that never left him was that she was smiling the entire time this was too much there was the part of Andrew that wanted to keep him watching that made him feel like he needed to keep watching more than that he felt a strong urge a near overwhelming drive in fact to touch the cable box that's all it'll Take, that voice inside of him said. Just reach out and touch the cable box.

You'll see then. You will absolutely see. He stared hard into Clyde's eyes as the pressure built inside of him. Soon he was thinking it would be fine. What harm could there be? Wasn't it worth it to take the risk to see what this person wanted to show him? before he knew what was happening he found himself pushing himself off the couch and taking small

slow steps towards the TV and cape box then out of nowhere shoving forcefully from deep within him the part of himself from deep down finally wrestled itself into his main consciousness as Andrew stood there before the couch, his mind screamed, get it off, through his entire body. With that, he desperately grabbed at the remote and stabbed his thumb down on the power button as hard as he could. The picture on the

TV disappeared into a sea of darkness as the cable box's front lights dimmed as it shut down. A few moments later, his blood racing and tension tightening his nerve. He got up and paced back and forth. This wasn't good. This was not good. What the fuck was that? His mind was racing a million miles a second. Why was he about to touch the cable box?

As he paced, he felt terrified shudders race through his body. Whatever it was in that thing had nearly got him. It nearly fucking got him. Tears of pure fear welling in his eyes. He stopped and glanced at the cable box. There it sat. Small, black and compact with the company logo on the front side of it. He knew he had to get rid of it.

He knew this. By the end of the evening, the cable box was dropped beside the dumpster outside his apartment. Good fucking riddance, Andrew thought, as he walked away from the box back into the building. He went to bed early that night. That night he dreamed of Jean Clyde, smiling as the laughing detective from the cop show put his gun to her head. as he pulled the trigger and the bang of the pistol firing exploded into his ears. He awoke, his eyes shooting open.

The next day was a workday. It was easy, very boring and routine, to be honest. Andrew spent most of the day going through his sales reports, compiling them into a report for his supervisor. In the breakroom during his lunch break, he sat by himself and ate his lunch alone. As Brenda and Ryan from accounting gossiped about Jenny's out-of-wedlock pregnancy with her boyfriend, and how they had no idea she'd break the news to her husband.

It was that kind of day. Something ate at Andrew, though. Ever so gradually, as he was working on his reports for most of his day, his mind kept drifting to the cable box. His initial feelings of horror and terror, aimed at the cable box were now subsiding and being replaced by curiosity he shouldn't have felt curious given what he experienced not in the slightest yet he did at first it was just idle curiosity and he rightly shoved it down and ignored it then it came back again harder stronger and more fiercely

after an hour all he could think about was the cable box thoughts of what was on it and what jean Clyde had to show him besieged his mind his mind kept going back to jean Clyde and of how wondrous what she had to show him was this was all quite illogical but something had seized in his mind something that even he could somehow vaguely perceive was alien to said mind. By the time another hour had passed, his mind and body flushed with the feelings of giddiness and fogginess that had migrated into his brain the night he watched television on the cable box for the first time. He had left work early to race home, desperately hoping that the cable box was where he had left it. It was.

Jumping out of his car, he raced over to the cable box and, picking it up, checked it for damage. None. Soon after, his car was parked and he was in his living room, reconnecting the TV to the cable box as quickly as he could. His hands trembling with sheer excitement had anticipation as he did so. Minutes later, he turned the TV and the cable box on, and appearing on the screen on the screen was Jean Clyde smiling lovingly down at him. I knew you'd come back, sweetheart. Of course you would have. Now, I need to show you something. As Andrew stared up at her, he could vaguely feel the tears running down his face as her soft, loving, gentle voice cascaded over him.

He knew what he had to do. He knew. knew. He reached forward and laid his hand on the cable box. At that moment, Clyde saw it, and her eyes lit up as a wide, excited smile appeared on her face. As he noticed her smile brightening even more, with even more sheer excitement, he felt something. Not just the ecstatic joy and bliss that had come to him from Jean Clyde and his connection to her now. No, Not just that. What he felt most of all was an icy chill, slowly migrating from his hand up his arm,

and then through his body. At first it was just cold, like an icy breeze in the Arctic. Then it started to turn to pure bliss, as if it were morphine. The beautiful, lovely wave of good feeling radiated throughout his entire body. As he sunk deeper and deeper into bliss, he looked into the eyes of Jean Clyde.

Seeing her return that same bliss to him in her eyes. Andrew never showed up to work the next day, nor the next, nor the next. No one else heard from him either. Eventually, a missing person's report was issued. When the police entered his apartment the week after he disappeared, they didn't find him there. They didn't find anybody.

They did, however, find a living room carpet soaked with dried, rotting blood. The room stunk to high heaven from it. Also missing, though the police didn't know to notice this, was the cable box Andrew had purchased some weeks back. The police did launch an investigation into Andrew's disappearance and investigated the possibility of foul play but they could find no evidence of anything nor any leads so it went nowhere

Andrew was never seen again a week later in Moscow Russia Alexander Korolev a 19-year-old hacker taking a break from fishing credit card numbers from gullible Americans, was leaning back in his chair, his feet on his desk. In his lap was a bowl of chocolate ice cream, as one of his favorite episodes of his favorite program finished downloading. As it started, he smiled in a satisfied fashion. Gene Clyde was angrily cleaning the floor. Then something weird happened, stopping abruptly.

and then standing up and facing the camera jean smiled speaking in perfect russian with a sweet kind-natured voice she said hello alexander we need to talk jarrid had just finished tying the tie when he reflected on how he came into this amazing fortune he didn't believe his luck even then and he definitely didn't believe his luck even then he definitely didn't believe leave it when he found the suit in the consignment store down on fifth. He'd been going there for the past while, trying to drown the feelings of inadequacy and despair that had been plaguing him. A year out of university still couldn't find anything past retail, and add to that, the woman who he wanted to marry leaving him. It wasn't good. He reflects on how around that time he'd started thinking about leaving everything behind one day, one way or another, either by up and leaving this country or leaving this world through the morgue, either appeal to him equally.

The suit, though, the suit. Sleak, black, slim and practically shining, just hanging there in the back row of the back of that old thrift store, the one that constantly smelled like the 1970s, and that looked about as much. He'd been browsing idly, no intention of buying anything, just trying to see all the neat things that were there while he imagined himself buying something. It might sound odd, but it was comforting in a weird way. And then, then he saw it. brushing his fingertips along the arm of it, tasting the fabric with his touch. He was struck by how soft and light it all felt.

As he looked at it, he imagined himself wearing it, how professional and how great he'd look. Try walking into an interview with that on. That was when he knew he had to have it. He felt it deep in his bones. He glanced at the price tag and cringed. It cost a bunch, way more than you'd expect from a place like this. Still though, it took him about an hour to get home on transit with the suit. He headed straight home without making any detorts.

He was that eager to try the suit on for the first time. Getting home at around 5.30 in the evening, he quickly got into his apartment shut and logged the door and then practically raced into his bedroom there was something about this suit he just had to have it on him had to see what it was like within minutes he'd stripped down to his underwear and was then putting the suit on first the exceptionally thin black dress socks then the pants that fit him just right not too tight or too too tight or too saggy, the belt with the plain, pure silver buckle, the dress shirt with its barely visible patterns worn into the fabric, the tie with its criss-cross patterns of grey silver bars,

and finally the jacket, dark, foreboding, intimidating and impeccably professional. With the suit on, he stood back and looked himself over in the mirror. as he looked on he felt himself fill up inside with joy and pride he looked amazing the suit fit him to a tea and not just that but vastly enhanced not just his appearance but he could just feel there was a vibe he gave off he also felt how he looked he was he was wasn't some schmuck who couldn't get a job with his BA or who got abandoned by the woman he loved more than anything no he was a real man a real piece of work who had grabbed the world by the horns and make it submit to him instead of the other way around anyways he'd

finished trying it on more or less so now was the time to take it off hang it all up and save it for a special occasion. Unless he couldn't, he found. He just couldn't. This was just too good a suit to have it just hanging in the closet for the next few months, or however long it took for him to get a job interview. He had to show it off, really impress the world. Before he knew it, his mind was made up. Yeah, he'd take it out. for a night on the town an hour and a half later he was strolling down Main Street in the downtown core the moon was hanging high in the air with the glitzy and glamorous lights of the streets and of the stores aligned along the sidewalks

punctuating the darkness the sidewalks were a buzz with people of all sorts from all walks of life hippies business people students of all age ranges and more. The city was alive and Jared loved it. More than that, Jared was alive too, in a way he never had been before. Moving amidst the crowd of people in a brisk stroll through this urban nightcape, Jared felt like a king. The suit made him feel empowered. It made him feel like he could do anything, be anything, accomplish anything. His heart thundering with power and his body pulsing with barely contained energy. The suit made him feel like he was the man he dreamed of being his entire life, someone in charge, someone people respected and admired. If only Marcy

had respected him that way. His thoughts drifted over to Marcy and everything he had given for her. Her shy, almost nervous look that concealed a powerful self-confidence and the sheer energy with which she tackled life and everything in it. Their bodies tangled together, naked and sweaty, in the middle of the night as the sound of their breaths filled the bedroom they both occupied. But then, it ended. No fanfare, no.

drama she said she just wasn't satisfied and left word on the street a week later was that she'd already found someone new a stockbroker named Andrew Jared then looked him up on the popular social media network that he'd like to use he was good looking had it together looking at his photo he hoped he'd make Marcy happy to say he was shattered if the breakup was putting it mildly, but he dealt with it. He didn't beg her to come back because he knew she never would. No, he just accepted it.

Now though, now he was angry, which was odd, because he'd never felt angry toward her before, even with the pain she'd brought him. After all, he wasn't entitled to her love. He knew that much right off. Even still, with the suit on and him feeling like the champion that he now knew he finally was, he found indignation rising in him. Who the hell did that bitch think she was anyways? Stealing those years of his life.

And for fucking what? Just to run off with some asshole. As he finished crossing the street on 18th, Jared's eyes widened and he became vividly aware of the beating of his heart what was going on he'd never thought of Marcy that way

before he realized though that he was angry not even just angry but furious forcing himself to keep walking it all flooded into him this world

this miserable fucking world with all of its bullshit people and its bullshit systems. Maybe it would be good if this whole damned shit pile was drowned in nucleifier, he thought to himself. So there he was, walking the town and feeling his fury rise more and more inside of him. As he walked, he tried to keep himself under control, keep his emotions level. He couldn't, though. He felt as if he wanted to kill someone, as if he needed to vent his anger somehow.

Something was changing him, that much he was sure of, but he didn't know what. Trembling with rage, he walked and walked, and as he did, something dawned on him. He was realizing that he was hot, just too damned hot. Wiping his brow with the back of his hand and loosening his tie, his eyes darted around where he was.

He needed to get something to drink, needed to cool off. Finally he spotted it, a bar. Here, he could get some water from there, and then start to head home. Half a minute later, he was in the bar and talking to the bartender. Hey, could I get some water from there? water, I'm fucking parched. Jared rasped, his throat scratchy. The bartender cocked an eyebrow, but after a moment nodded. As Jared waited, he wiped his brow again. This time it was actively damp. He began drumming the wood of the bar with his fingers as he waited for the bartender

to get back with his water. As he did so, he realized that he could barely control his anger. Sooner or later, he'd go off on someone. He needed to, he was realizing. As he was starting to worry about this, the bartender got back with a damp glass of water with some ice cubes in it. Jared smiled eagerly, nodded in thanks,

and grabbed the glass and began to drink from it. As the cold water hit his tongue, and then raced down his throat in huge, desperate gulps. It was as if Jared's entire body breathed a sigh of relief. That was it, yes, that was it. Just what he needed. His body started to cool down as his throat got more and more lubricated, and, oddly enough, his emotions began to level out too.

After another minute or so, the water was gone. on and Jared felt himself to be more cooled down and more level with that he turned to leave and began to walk toward the exit as he moved a person coming into the bar short skinny curly head and with a mouty face with a young woman by his side blonde hair early 20s looking probably the guy's girlfriend bumped into him and as he did so shoved him to the side with his arm while he did this he snidly snapped at Jared to watch where he was going before turning to his girlfriend and laughing about it Jared had felt level well that changed he began to think you miserable mother but didn't finish his thought

before he had deftly reached over to a nearby table, grabbed hold of a wine bottle by its neck, and, as hard and fast as he could, smashed it over the man's head. The glass exploded as it impacted with his head, and the man immediately tumbled forward and then collapsed to the ground in a heap. As Jared stared down at the man's body,

he noticed it lay motionless. The woman quickly dropped to her knees and began yelling. Johnny, Johnny, Johnny, can you hear me? Her voice was fraught with fear and despair. She was really scared she might lose him, Jared thought. He didn't stick around to find out for sure, though. By the time half a minute had passed, he was a block and a half down the street. His feet smacking the pavement as he pushed himself to run as hard,

as he possibly could. Finally, when he was a good distance away, he slowed down, leaning against a wall. Panting hard, he glanced back at the way he'd come, an idiot grin on his face. When he'd started his night on the town, he'd felt alive and he felt like a king. Now he felt like a god. That miserable piece of fucking god. which Jarrett thought to himself. Try to fuck me, did he? He replayed the events over in his mind, and as he did so,

started to giggle wildly. He was so damned happy. He'd never felt like this before, in charge, powerful, dominating. As he soaked up the power and assurance of those feelings, he oddly,

felt his bitterness rise in concert his eyes casting a wide glance over the people passing him by back and forth he found himself wanting to strangle each and every one of them and as he did so he felt something akin to hunger he needed to do something to vent his anger to be the man this suit had made him into. He had no idea what was causing him to change like this, nor would he ever, even when the change had finished its imprinting onto him once and for all. It was hard to describe what he was feeling. It was sheer, raw fury, along with the desire to hurt. Very quickly, Jared had decided he would commit some form of harm tonight. Part of him? a very small part, was begging him not to as he leaned on the wall panting.

He didn't listen to this, though. He couldn't. He felt the thirst like you never had before. Not just that, but that which was changing him was feeling an even stronger thirst, needing to be fed from Jared, and feed it he would. Jared realized what his course of action would be when he saw a certain someone pass him white button-up shirt tucked into his grey suit pants cell phone to his ear grin on his face

it was Andrew the same Andrew that took Marcy from him Jared felt rage rise within him yes but that wasn't what filled his mind filled his being. What did fill his mind and being was a singularity of purpose, a conviction even, and before he knew it, he was following Andrew, waiting for the right moment. He followed him for seven blocks before Andrew, checking his phone and furrowing his brow, ducked into an alleyway. Now, Jared knew this particular alleyway.

It was a helpful shortcut to the nearest subway station. Smiling eagerly, Jared followed Andrew into the alleyway. What happened in that alleyway was neither nice or wholesome in its description. What is worth noting is that Andrew never noticed Jared until it was too late, and that he never even had a chance to scream. Jared was on him so fast. The punches eventually landed with thick, wet smacks to Andrew's face. And finally, for the coup de grass.

Andrew's skull split open like a ripe melon with a satisfying crack as Jared smashed it into the cement ground, over and over as hard as he could. Andrew's brains collapsed out onto the ground beneath him, resting now in a pool of thick dark blood as for Jarrett well he was panting hard his heart pounding massively with sheer excitement and joy it wasn't just that it was satisfying killing Andrew is that it felt like it's what he was made for as well he now had a taste for it he had a taste of he knew not what but a kind of high that he knew he would need again and again this would be repeated he was sure

what he didn't know is that it would happen again because what had changed him what had been changing him this entire night had now been fed and would feed again as he stood up the front of his suit was stained all over with blood Nonetheless, this didn't bother him. He began to move toward the exit of the alleyway. As he stepped out into the street, there wasn't a speck of blood on him, not one. He got home after about an hour. He stripped off his clothes, got into bed and slept the best sleep he'd had in years.

As he drifted off into dreams, he knew, deep down. that he'd wear the suit again. He had to. He didn't have a choice in the matter. He was even a tiny bit aware of that. Then the day would come when it would need to feed again. And he would feed it. Oh, how he would feed it.

In exchange, he would feel like the God he knew he was always meant to be. The suit hung there in his closet And as it did Inside of its own consciousness It laughed Viciously June 30th

The void that my parents have left behind Ever since their death Has slowly begun to consume the whole of me I'd seen it happen with my own eyes My parents inside a car Being crushed under an oil tanker Followed by a colossal explosion. Nothing much had remained in that crash. That was exactly five months and twelve days ago,

and soon the damp walls of my house haunted me. Every unkempt corner, every discarded object, every bit of the house reminded me of happy times. I imagined I could hear my mom humming in the kitchen or my dad laughing in the living room. My recent bereavement was getting on my nerves. I have no relations to maintain no promises to keep. I just had my 12-hour job with all the extra hours for which I got paid. It wasn't the money that mattered anymore. I just have to keep myself engaged somehow.

I think I knew it all along, but I would have to move out one day. If not to escape the cesspool of memories, then to start to start. new. July 2nd sold my house to a businessman, who was more than just willing to pay me a handsome amount, just enough to buy myself this house on the eastern fringes of the city. The nearest house is a mile away. I thought buying a house in the countryside would make me drive an extra hour into the city, so I chose this house with a bright yellow plaster. The colour seemed cheery. I hoped it would help me do away with my former house and all the memories at Harvard. The house itself seems pleasant enough and the surroundings are peaceful. Oh, I wanted to find peace. Yeah, I think I will find peace

here. July 4th. I love this house. It's warm and comfortable. The rooms are large and it gets plenty of sun and air from the windows. I met my nearest neighbour today. He seemed a burly, middle-aged, good-humoured chap, and his small, kindly wife makes really great cookies. However, they seem to be looking at me a bit queerly when they thought I wasn't looking. But they probably don't have a lot of city people out here, so maybe they're just curious about me. July 7th. Something about this house has started to make me feel uncomfortable. I feel like I'm being watched. I woke up from sleep last night, expecting to find an intruder in my house.

I don't know why I felt that way. The sensation of being watched was very strong. The air had grown particularly dense and chilly. It took an effort to draw my breath. I think I'm just being paranoid though. It's new for me after all. I'm bound to feel uneasy, having lived in the city for so long. The nights get quiet.

Too quiet for my liking. Oh well, July 8th. I woke up again tonight. It felt uncomfortable. The air was heavy. It was different almost. I switched on my light. Everything looked normal in the light, so the feeling dissipated. July 9th. I found a discoloration in the yellow ceiling today, directly above my head. The plaster had somewhat faded away in one place. It looked wet. Maybe there was something wrong with the plumbing. I have to ask a plumber to come down and

take a look. July 11th I got a plumber to take a look a few days back but nothing's wrong with it even the discoloration wasn't there but that night I found that the discoloration was back the shape looked somewhat familiar like a man perhaps and the next morning it was just gone again. This has been happening for a few days now. Maybe the pipe contracts during the night, or something like that, water leaks out. It gets cold in the night anyway. Harts to breathe with the air all heavy.

I need to check this out. July 13th, I have a growing feeling. But the sensation of being watched increases when the discoloration is there. It's creeping me out. I called the plumber who came again and he said there was nothing wrong. I wish it would go away. It looks like a man more than ever and it appears at different places every day. I've noticed.

Is it alive? Maybe it's a snake that's burrowed in the pipes or something. I swear I'm going to be up all night. I'll catch it if it move. July 14th. I couldn't stay up all night. Fell asleep. The man shape is now on the left wall. I'll try my luck again tonight. July 15th. I couldn't stay up last night either. This is frustrating. The damn shape is back and now on the ceiling. I can't stay up at night like this every day. God, I'll mess up at work. July 17th. The shape is scaring me. I can't catch it moving.

Yet, there it is, in a different place every day. I've tried staying up all night watching the shape intently. God, it just looks like a normal plumbing problem. But it isn't. It isn't. I'm not. I'm sure it's alive and I will catch it. Last night I felt so damn scared. I drew the bed sheet like a thin blanket and hid myself under it. I covered every inch of myself from the tips of my tightly curled toes to the bend of my head and I held the end of the bedsheet tightly clenched in my fist. Who was I hiding from? Death perhaps. Death. in the shape of the man. But death is peaceful. Death isn't repulsively yellow. Death is momentary. God, I'm rambling now. Maybe what I experienced was a sleep terror or something. I'll look it up.

I have to sleep. God, I feel so sleepy. July 20th. Every day. Every day. Every night, every damn night, I am startled out of sleep to find the discoloration of different places and different positions in my room. I hate it. I can't sleep anymore. It seemed, the discoloration, the man would choose from the vast yellow a spot, any spot to persecute me, torture me with uneasy sensations and terror. and I felt disturbingly obsessed with the colour What exactly was the man in the war telling me? What did I owe him and what did he owe me?

Confided in anyone my experiences regarding the nightly errants of the man in the plaster My colleagues just think I'm suffering from chronic insomnia. One guy actually suggested me a week's leave from the office. God, what a joke. That was the last thing I would have to be. ever want. The more I stayed away, the less I thought of it. As horrible as it is to come home to this entity, which I'm sure is malevolent. God damn it, I'm going to call a priest. July 23rd.

Today, when I ran away from the house frantically and reached my office, palpitating, my boss called me to his room. He suggested that I was in need of some rest. I grew desperate at the word. I pleaded with him, but his tone grew sharper and he told me that some more deserving and fruitful man should get the money I draw from the office every month without significantly contributing to the company. In my panic and frustration, I'm afraid I screamed at him. He looked at me like I'm crazy. Two security guards forced me out of the office and another one kicked out my suitcase along with me. I thought of never returning to the house, but where could I go? Am I crazy? No, I'm not. I know I'm not. July 24th. I saw them. I swear.

I saw my parents. It was them with mutilated bodies, dislocated shoulders, detached legs and broken necks on cracked skulls and blood-smeared faces. I haven't seen anything more horrifying. But I blinked and they were gone. But I can feel them. They're in the walls. They are everywhere. This can't be a drink-in-hused hallucination.

I know what I saw. I'm not crazy. They want me to join them. them in the walls. They were my parents. And they were here. I'm not crazy. I raised my gaze up to the ceiling,

only to find the man gone. A discoloration had dissolved away like it was never there. I swear, this time I'll catch it if it appears again. I know it's watching me. I have to prove that I'm not crazy. July 25th.

It moved, it moved, it moved, it moved, it moved, I saw it move. July 26th, can't write. Fingernail broke, I scratched wall. I scratched wall, drink and wall scratch, scratch, going home. There weren't any more entries in the diary that the police had found. The inspector stopped reading. the last page was covered with splotches of blood this was a singular piece of literature for sure he looked around at the pale yellow walls an entire section of a wall was scratched and the plaster was missing blood was smeared all over it

he assumed it was from the broken fingernails the poor man must have gone crazy thought the inspector The man's body had been found, laying half in and half out of the wall. His face was blue, and he looked strangled. There weren't subcutaneous abrasions or anything like that. If it was possible, it looked as if the man had died from holding his breath for too long. He crazy stuff, he thought. As he stood up to go, he noticed a wet discoloration in the ceiling. But that was only the plumbing.

So, he left. And 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 and leave a five-star review as it really helps the podcast.

That's it for this week, but I'll be back. 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.