Full Body Chills - CIRCUS: Collector

Episode Date: October 11, 2024

A story of a face-to-face encounter with an ominous collector.Written by David Flowers. Full Body Chills is brought to you by Max. This Halloween, the movies that haunt you are available on Max. Stream all month long. Subscription required. Visit max.com. Looking for more chills? Follow Full Body Chills on Instagram @fullbodychillspod. Full Body Chills is an audiochuck production.Instagram: @audiochuckTwitter: @audiochuckFacebook: /audiochuckllcTikTok: @audiochuck

This episode was produced with immersive audio. For the best experience, we kindly recommend you listen with headphones. Welcome, welcome back for the final time. The cart rolls in. The speakers chime. Watch your step. Please exit the ride. Congratulations. You haven't died. Come. Step closer. I treat you no lie. I promised you answers, didn't I? Here, I'll show you, within my glass case. Five cards lay down, the secrets you chase.

There are no tricks up my sleeve. In this deal I don't deceive. But dare you play if you knew. Your fate fans out. 552. Is free will free or is it blind? In this story you will find Heaven's crux, misfortune's creed The cards are dealt and here we read Adhere the fear of Atropos. Now gather round and listen close. Well? Huh? Aren't you gonna tell me why I'm here? What?

Why are you here? I don't know. You were the one who asked me to come over, remember? You said you needed to tell me something. I did? Yes. Lainey, you were crying. Full-on disaster mode.

I got here as soon as I could, but... Now, you're like a statue. It's creepy. Are you all right? I don't remember. You said I called you? Yes, you... Wait, are you on drugs? What? No. Or I don't think so. What's wrong? God, it hurts. Hurts? What hurts? Where?

My head. It feels like someone stabbed a needle through my eye. Shit, okay, um, I just, um, hold on. Wait, what are you doing? I'm calling an ambulance. What? Why? You're freaking me out, that's why. I mean, first you're acting weird and now this? You could be having a stroke or something. I'm not having a stroke. Hang up the phone. Yeah, when the sirens arrive. 911, what is your emergency? Please, I'm fine.

I think it was just a migraine. 911, what is your emergency? Please. Hello? You sure you're all right? Yes. I'm feeling better. No stabby eye?

It was just a migraine. Jesus, you can't scare me like that. I'll have a freaking heart attack. Sorry. Well, it's a creative way to split the bill, but if paramedics arrive, I'm not paying for their fancy van. You just leave me here to die. Thank you. Lainey? Sorry, it won't happen again. Oh, it was just a bad joke.

I don't care about the ambulance. What's with you? When you called, you sounded like you were in trouble. You said it happened at work. You mean the storage place? At work? I haven't been to work since... Oh, God.

He's dead! What? Okay, now I am calling the police. No, we can't call the police. Well, why the hell not? Because then he would know. He would know that I still know, and he would come back and... What the hell are you talking about?

Who died? I don't... Cliff. Cliff something. It's hard to remember. Like, everything's out of focus. I remember Cliff, and I remember his locker. They were in his locker. They were there when I found him, and I remember his locker. They were in his locker.

They were there when I found him, and... I'm all right. I'm all right. Lainey, I... I don't understand. I think I do. It's what killed him. And it might have killed me, except... Except what?

Are you alone? Did you see anyone else? Did anyone see you? I... You have to tell me. How long has it been? When did you get here? Was there anyone else?

Stop it. I don't know what the hell you're talking about. It could have been someone else. Someone you saw but didn't know. Who? Why? He was here. I remember.

He was here and I was... Lainey! We're alone. And I'm going to leave you alone if you keep acting like this. So please, just sit down. I'm sorry. It's just that... You're certain we're alone?

I got here only a few minutes ago. There was no one else. I'm sorry. Yeah, you keep saying that. Just try and calm down. Okay. Okay. Right.

Now, can you calmly tell me what the hell is going on? It's going to sound crazy. It already does. But I'm still here. So, Lainey, what happened? I only remember bits and pieces. The rest is blurry, I guess. Well, just go back.

Tell me what you do remember and work from there. Oh, okay. I remember being at work. At the storage facility, right? Yeah. Paxton South Storage. I've dealt with a lot of people before. Working for a storage place, you come face to face with a full cast of characters.

Sometimes they don't seem that different. Over the phone and in person, anyone can pass as your average Jane or John. But when you take a look at their stuff, you start to see their individual stories. You don't store half a dining set unless the other half has left you. And you don't store 10 mismatching TVs unless, well, maybe you stole them. I don't know if anything's stolen and it's not like we go around a check, but that's because my supervisor has a strict keep our noses out of it type policy. She told me what's their business is their business. Ours is just giving them a place to lock it up. And you know, we're all human, and we all have our own stuff to deal with,

so I kept some peace of mind thinking I was helping them by turning my back. But even with my head down, and even ignoring most of the faces that came in each day, I still noticed him. Cliff. Cliff Carmichael. Now I remember.

He was, well, he was normal. No one's really normal, but I mean the way he looked and the way he spoke. Maybe 5'10", wavy hair, sort of auburn, dark brown eyes. I remember he must have been a music guy because he wore a lot of concert shirts. Amaranth and Hellion's Wrath. But that's not right. That was Cliff after the change. Before that, he...

Migraine? Yeah. Sweet. Go back. What do you mean, after the change? It's hard to explain. The point is, Cliff never put up any red flags. Not at first. He seemed the type who was in between homes or maybe had one too many vinyls that he couldn't let go.

I never ask why someone needs a unit, since usually the answer is pretty boring. And Cliff, he was just one of nearly a hundred people who rented our space. So for a long time, neither he nor Miss Locker crossed my mind. Then the weirdness began. The weirdness? I don't know what else to call it. I'd hear about it or see it myself. Weird things.

Unexplainable things. Like what? Well, like the lights. For a while, and out of nowhere, some of the lights in and around the building had started to condense. Like it was stuck. Most lights, like the lamp over there, they shine everywhere, evenly. They fill in the space. But for whatever reason, some of these lights were almost thicker, heavier, less air thin, and more orange juice with extra pulp. It's weird, but you couldn't look at it without

your eyes going crossed. However, it was so were funny? What about it? Not just the lights. There were the mirrors, too. Once or twice, I've heard of someone who used the bathroom and complained about the people watching them. One renter told me this as I was working the front desk, and I couldn't tell if she was mad or scared, but she said to me, that two-way mirror in the bathroom really shouldn't be there. We don't have a two-way mirror, and certainly not in the bathroom. I asked her what she meant, and she replied, those people on the other side keep spying.

Now, as far as crazy claims go, this was up there. Still, her story was somewhat lucid, and her description of the other room was packed with detail. But when I asked her to show me, she strongly refused. She said she didn't feel safe and then immediately left. Well, I checked it out and didn't see any two-way mirror, nor did I find any peeping toms. But that same week, I got a call from one of the custodians. Lisa was a part of our late shift and cleaned the place after hours.

She called me at 10 p.m., almost hyperventilating. She said she locked herself in my office because there was someone in the building. Naturally, I called the police. I told Lisa to stay put, then I drove over to the building where I found her, still locked behind my door. The responding officer swept the whole place, but nothing. No one. And logging into our security system, everything seemed fine. None of the alarms had been tripped, and every door was still locked.

I asked Lisa where she saw the stranger, and that's when my ears perked up. She said she saw him in the bathroom mirror. Wait, she saw him? Was it Cliff? No. Or maybe? I never asked. Cliff wasn't even on my radar back then. But if I had to guess, whatever Lisa saw, whatever was in the mirror, it was something totally different. Right. So what does any of this have to do with cliff nothing yet but i'm trying to show you things were weird and getting weirder like there was one week where all of the clocks stopped working and it was like time stopped working too.

No, seriously. Hey, I didn't, I just... Look, what you're saying is just... Crazy. I know. But I spent nine and a half hours each day in that building. We had schedules and meetings. And I know how long my round should take.

30 minutes. That's normal. So when I come back and it's 20, 15, or 10 minutes later, something's not right. I even measured it. I walked a full lap through the building, counting in my head. One minute.

Two. Ignoring my other duties. It took me 12 minutes. I left at 2 p.m. And when I got back, all of the clocks were at 2.03. Oh, okay. You've got me there. But why are you telling me this now? If your workplace is going all timey-wimey, why not spread the word? I bet some ancient alien fans would love to see it. I think... I think I did. Maybe I was going to, but changed my mind? You don't know? Well, like I said, it's hard to remember. But now I can't tell anyone.

Why not? Because he... Are you sure this is just a migraine? More like side effects. I'll get to that. But back then, back when the clocks were wrong and everything else, it wouldn't have mattered who I told. Because it never lasted.

The lights, the mirrors, even the weird time thing. It never went on for more than a few days. And every week it was something new. It was happening enough where I was forced to pay attention. It meant I kept an eye out for when things went weird. It meant I kept an eye out for him. With so many other things going on, he barely stood out. But every week, that's how often Cliff came in.

And at first I thought, so what? For some people, that's their job. If Cliff was storing vinyls, maybe he sold them too? He could be keeping inventory. There was nothing suspicious about his frequent visits, except that every time he came in, the weirdness began. So then I kept an eye on him. Now, when most winners come and go, they go as quickly as they came.

What I mean is they either drop or pick up their stuff, then leave. But Cliff? He'd stay for hours. It wasn't so long as to be concerning, but it was long enough for me to notice. And what I really noticed was that even on days where he came with nothing, he'd leave with nothing too. Which makes you wonder... What was he doing inside his locker? Exactly.

Well, you can imagine with how weird things were. I wasn't exactly itching to find out. I was afraid to ask him, and even more afraid of going inside his unit. So, I watched him. One of the security cameras has a view of his locker. It captured the whole hallway, and even Cliff, as he entered and left. But it was only a side view, so I never got a good angle on what was inside.

I only saw Cliff. He'd arrive not looking the least bit nervous or threatening, open his unit, step inside, and close it. He never came out, never opened the door, not for hours or more. But when he was done, he'd step out looking no different and with nothing on him except the keys he'd use to lock it up. One week, when Cliff came in to check out his unit, I weighed in on the cameras. Just like always, he pulled open his door, went inside, and pulled it closed. I gave it another 15 minutes, and then, once I was sure he wasn't coming out, I did my rounds.

This time, I took a stop outside his locker. I stepped into that hallway rolling from heel to toe, silently approaching his door. No one was around, so then I brought an ear, close, so I could hear. And did you hear anything I mean? I did. Barely, though. It was too soft to make out, and with the hallway fans and fluorescent lights,

it was mostly all muffled. But I thought I heard voices? Maybe instruments? And then I remembered. Cliff was into music. The sound was more flat. Not like anyone was really talking. More like it was coming out of a speaker and sprinkled with noise.

Only more evidence to suggest that Cliff was listening to vinyls. Well, I can tell you now that I felt pretty stupid. I remember fumbling back to my office so embarrassed that I went the wrong way. After spying on one of our renters for no sane reason, I thought maybe I was wrong. Maybe all the weirdness, all of it, was just my imagination. But if I wasn't so nervous, if I was paying attention, I might have seen the weirdness right in front of me.

Or rather, behind me. The next day I realized. It changed. What did? What changed? The hallway. The building. See, I thought I went the wrong way when I left from Cliff's unit, but I didn't. I had gone the right way, except the hallways were different. The turns had been swapped.

How does that make any sense? It doesn't, but I'm telling you, that's what happened. I went left where my office used to be, but ended further away. Now, my office was right. Hold on. You're saying the whole building flipped itself? Really? Yes.

But you didn't notice until a day later? No, that's not... Technically, I didn't notice anything. It was more like a gut feeling, like I knew something was wrong, different from before, but I couldn't tell what it was, not exactly. But you just said what it was. Did you know or did you not know? Oh, I know now that I didn't know, But at the time, I wouldn't have known. But I still knew something was wrong. Jesus, now you're giving me a migraine. Ugh, forget the hallway.

I know that things were different. Because whatever it was that changed everything, it changed more than just the building. That next week, when Cliff came back in, he was different. But at the time, I didn't know how. I couldn't tell if it was his hair, his eyes, or something about his face.

I kept staring at the side of his head, almost looking for something. A birthmark, maybe? But there was nothing there. Even Cliff's name felt wrong. But again, he was Cliff. 5'10", wavy hair, brown-eyed Cliff. He was who I remembered and who had always been the one to rent that unit.

There was nothing wrong with him. But there was everything wrong with Cliff. Lainey, I don't know. You have records, right? I mean, if Cliff changed his name, wouldn't you be able to look it up? All of our data was the same. Payments, contracts, they all listed Cliff Carmichael. Well, there you go.

I mean, how can you say he changed if he never did? You don't understand. It has nothing to do with when he changed. It's that he changed. And it changed everything else. The computers, my memories. But there were traces left behind. It's like what they say about reincarnation.

People remembering past lives. I could still remember a different cliff. Like residual memories? Yes, exactly. Okay, I think I understand. But why or how? I mean, before you said they were in his locker, what was, what was?

What the hell was causing all the weirdness? Oh, no. I can't. I'm trying to tell you. It's not easy. And these migraines are part of the problem. Are you all right? Is this about what you saw? Just wait!

I can't think that far. Sorry, sorry. It's really gonna hurt you. You don't have to say anything. Just forget it. No! No. That's why I have to tell you. Just let me get there.

They were in his locker. Whatever it was, whatever was causing the world to turn upside down, it was in his locker. Another few weeks went by. Another few weeks of Cliff. And another few weeks of nothing making sense. Lisa quit. Renters were leaving. It was haunted, they said. Cursed. They were right. Paxton's self-storage was cursed. Cursed cursed with Cliff and whatever he had inside his unit. One week, I started hearing things.

Cliff came in, he locked himself inside his unit, and I waited. I was watching him on the monitors, watching his door, waiting for something to happen. I might have sat there for an hour, unmoving, barely blinking. I could feel my heart pumping, and I could almost hear it, too. But there was this sound. It was far away, so I couldn't tell what it was. But it was slow and heavy.

I'd hear it every few seconds or every minute. This deep, low drum. It wasn't an earthquake, but it shook. And when it did, I could feel it pulsing through me. I noticed it felt closer to my feet, like somehow it was below me. I got down, and everything was quiet. But I listened, placed my head against the floor, and I heard it. That slow, gigantic rhythm. It was a heartbeat. You could hear it everywhere in the building. It was always below us, deeper than the basement. We never found the source, but the drumming didn't stop for three whole days.

Jesus, why would you stay there? At that point, why not quit? I thought about it. I wanted to. But I was still in need of a job, and more, behind all of the creepy, unnatural shit going on, there was a logical explanation. There had to be. I had to believe that. And so I had to prove it. But no, even that's not right. I stayed because I was going to.

I don't know when I decided that. I don't know if I ever did. Truth is, in those last few weeks, it sort of felt like I was going through the motions. Sure, I was curious. I was afraid to lose my job. But looking back, why would I stay there? Why didn't I quit? Well, I'd find out one way or another. That week, in fact, the past several weeks, were unbelievably quiet.

Even with Cliff coming in, the weirdness had almost died down. The strangest thing to happen was the temperature. It was cold. Freezing, almost. Then there were some power issues, lights wouldn't work, the AC was shot. A couple of the security cameras would go all fuzzy. However, on the list of weird, that all felt normal. But then there was Cliff. I saw his demeanor change. Now, whenever he came in, he had this look.

Not anxious, not sad, but knowing. It grew on him each time he left. And each time he arrived, I'd watch him on the cameras walk up to his unit and just stand there, like he was thinking or stalling. But then he'd open his door, like he always did, and step inside. More than all the weirdness, Cliff and the way he was acting kept me on edge. Overwhelmingly, I got this feeling that something bad was about to happen. So before it happened, before Cliff came in that following week, I broke our golden rule. I stuck my nose where it didn't belong. Everyone had left. The building was locked, and I was all alone. I thought of asking someone to

come with me, but I knew no one wanted to be in that building after dark. The cleaning crew would only work during the day, and I was the only one who would close. Besides, no one watched Cliff as closely as I did. If I told them what I knew, they would think I was paranoid. I was. We all were. But no one liked to talk about it. Talking about the weirdness made it real. I crept up to his unit, keys in hand, waiting outside the door. I've seen these units before, I know what they look like on the inside. But even then, I couldn't picture what I'd find.

I thought of a stairway leading into catacombs. I thought of an alien ship of another dimension made entirely of sound. And then I thought of nothing. Of empty space that went on forever and never. Trying not to scream, I turned the key and lifted the door. The metal sheet recoiled, hissing like a rattlesnake and pulling open to reveal random stuff. Thank God I can't take this anymore. Hey, listen, if you're going to do any more jump scares, I need you to tell me now, okay? No jump scares. I'm just telling you what I remember. Okay, good. Um, sorry, so you were saying by random stuff, do you mean... Junk. More like personal junk, but nothing obvious. There were boxes and boxes, some furniture, an old TV, a worn leather chair, and off to the side I even saw several containers storing vinyls.

Short of a sacrificial altar or dead bodies, I didn't know what to make of it. Of course, I went digging. Some bookshelves were stored in the back, but they were covered in dust and held nothing but a few DVDs and older novels. H.G. Wells. Lovecraft. So then I went through some of the boxes. A couple were full of wires. I'm not much of a tech person, but it seemed like the same random mismatch of cables I keep at home.

There were photo albums, old movies, more electronics, a camera. And none of it stood out? What about the camera? Wasn't charged. I checked the photo album, but nothing screamed suspicious. In fact, I had done some research into Cliff before that, and I was pretty sure some of the photos in there were also on his Instagram. Elsewhere, there were two sets of record players. A newer-ish model, and one of those ancient kinds that you have to crank.

Well, that is suspicious. Yeah, but I tested a few vinyls on it and nothing happened. Even played it backwards. If Satan lived on that thing, he must have been asleep. So I tried the newer model, which was next to a portable battery. I did the same thing, forward and back, but nothing. Well, there had to be something. No three-eyed skull or unholy grail of weirdness?

Very funny, but no. I probably spent an hour combing through most of his things. None of it, except maybe that old record player, held the hint of anything weird. I might have kept searching, except I was afraid of leaving tracks. Cliff saw his unit every week, so if even one thing was out of place, I bet you he would know. So you left? So I left, but I wasn't giving up. I may not have found anything in his locker, but I knew whatever was causing the weirdness, it began in there.

Cliff was causing it. I just didn't know how. My only option then was to catch him in the act. Laney? Uh, hello? Huh? Catch him in the act? Oh.

Yeah. Sorry, this is where things get, um, kind of fuzzy. The more I go on, the less I remember. Did you see anyone as you came in? I don't know. Why? Do I need to be worried? No.

No. Sorry. Where was I again? You were waiting for Cliff. Oh. Oh. Right. It was the day he died.

I waited for Cliff to arrive. There was fewer staff, but also fewer renters. So on that day, it was only me and him. I waited at my front desk. I wasn't going to hide in my office. Not this time. I had to be strong. If I was going to catch him, I would have to meet him face to face. This was my test. I needed to own my confidence. He arrived, looking no different than ever before, but with that same maze-like gaze. Though nothing was off, everything about him made my insides creep. For a moment, before he turned away and left to find his unit. He looked at me. It wasn't long, but in that second,

I felt myself in his blank regard, and I felt guilty. I was struck with some thought I couldn't read, but pulled myself out. And then he was gone, halfway towards his final destination. Quickly, I checked the monitors watching on the security cameras as Cliff approached his unit. He stopped and froze before his door. Of course, it may have been my imagination, but through the snow-green vision of the screen, I thought, just out of the corner of his eye, he was staring at me. But before I could know for

sure, he bent down, dragged the shutters up, and went inside. I waited until the door was closed, and then another twenty minutes. The whole time I was glued to the screen. Between lines of static stained the ghost of Cliff. His final recorded image played back in my mind, and the sense that he was, even now, still watching me. I got up and, head spinning, began to trace familiar steps. My regular rounds crawled to a stop. I stood outside the door. I could hear something inside. It was different from before, but held that same artificial tone.

Beneath the door, through a sliver of space less than a millimeter wide, I thought I saw something flowing, glowing out. It sighed, shining and crawling towards my feet before rolling back. With each breath, the tide drew me in. The handle was ice cold. The door was unlocked. I don't remember lifting the shutters, but I remember their weight. I remember the sound rising faster, louder, near.

I remember the light flooding out, stronger, brighter, here. What was inside? It's hard to say. I knew the shapes. A leather chair with its back to me. A box. Glowing. Showing.

Seeing and knowing. I couldn't see the TV. His head was in the way. His head. There was something wrong with his head. At first, I noticed the light. Shimmering, submerged, and somehow solid.

Almost like it was alive. And it, solid. Almost like it was alive. And it was... singing. I couldn't see Cliff. Only the back of his head. But all throughout the room, I saw his features. Fluttering in a cliff-colored kaleidoscope. It was like the room was cliff.

Every surface, every inch dripped with his face, his skin, his melting, molting eyes. It wasn't real. It was a hallucination or a mirage. But it was so strong I was drowning in it. It filled my heart and for a moment I couldn't stand, couldn't breathe without choking on his thoughts. You were breathing his thoughts? What does that mean?

What does any of that mean? I can't quite explain, but... it's like the taste of a dream. Or seeing time, or hearing colors, or fitting a jigsaw puzzle with building blocks. None of the pieces fit together and yet, in that locker, in that space where the light could sing and dreams came alive, suddenly, everything fit.

I could feel his thoughts. I could see them on display like glass trophies. And as I walked through the corridors of Cliff's mind, I felt it wasn't me stepping closer. It was the light taking over. I wasn't a person anymore. It was the light taking over. I wasn't a person anymore. I wasn't a thing.

I was a moment, a reaction, a consequence. I was the event to a cause. And I was leading up to this. To when the thing, shaped like me, came behind the man in the chair and... I stared over his shoulder. I saw what he saw. And? What was that? Lainey?

You know when something's about to happen, and you know it's happening? It's like when you're sitting at a red light, and it's about to turn green. And then you start going. Like seeing the future? No, it's not the future. The light turns green and then you go. It just happens. It's happening.

It was happening on that TV like it's happening now. What's happening now. What's happening? Everything. Too much. It hurt me. You don't feel it. Not like a thing.

But it still hurts. It takes who you are or who you think you are. And it shows you the truth. We live our lives within a full body cast. Enraptured by our ideas, our memories, our faith, all so that we think this is real, all so that we think we can feel. But then you see the truth. The binding peels And it's like your skin is tearing off When really it's the first time you've ever breathed Really breathed outside the mummy The foul, stinking sarcophagus that is you

And the truth is so strong That you can't imagine going back Not in there The truth is so strong that you can't imagine going back. Not in there. Not where it's dark and suffocating and where the only thing you can feel is the husk of your unfeeling skin. But worse, so much worse, is what you now see in the mirror. Cliff saw it. I saw it.

It was what was on that TV. The truth was liberating. And it was hell. What is the truth? Lane? The silent song no one can sing is heard above the rest. We worship lies while heaven's eyes are dark and full of sad. Angels fly into the sky, never knowing why. Dreamers shine the light inside, ruin what they find.

The heart that we saw some day sees it. Laney! Ugh, shit! Shit! What the hell? He said he'd make it stop. He said he'd go away. Jesus, I mean, Jesus! Do I need to call an exorcist? What kind of shit was that? It's getting worse. No shit. Lainey, you need help. I don't know what Cliff did to you. I don't know what the hell you saw, but you need to see someone. A doctor, a priest, hell if I know. No, they would come for me. They would know that I told someone and they would come back. Who? The police? No, that's not... Cliff didn't know what he was doing. He had no idea what was on those tapes. Tapes? Lainey, what are you talking about? A nail stuck in the wheel. He said I would forget,

but I still remember him. Why do I still remember? The heart that beats will someday seize and bleed eternal seed. Lainey, I swear to Christ, if you have another freakout, or if Bielsebitch comes out of your mouth one more time, I am leaving. Do you hear me? Like, friendship expired, tough luck, done. Can't you. Do you hear me? Like, friendship expired. Tough luck. Done. Can't you see I'm scared too?

This is what killed Cliff. And now it's in my head. What is? None of this makes any sense. First you talk about creepy mirrors, and then heartbeats underground, and now I don't even know what

this is i mean you say someone's after you but you don't even know who the man who isn't there what there is a man who isn't there i don't remember him i don't know what he looks like or what he sounds like. Whenever I think about him, my mind jumps to someone else. Someone I think I know, but maybe I don't. Their clothes, Their face. It's always different. But their eyes. There was something about their eyes.

Reflecting back. Like a mask. His eyes were staring into me. He made me forget. So why do I remember? Okay, back up. This man who isn't there, who was he? I know you don't remember, but obviously you remember something.

Why was he after you? What did he want? He was a collector. Not that kind of collector. But a go-between. A negotiator. He told me he was here to collect what I stole. What you stole? I didn't. Not intentionally. I left the tapes behind. And they were still in Cliff's locker when I called the police.

But what I saw was still in here. Stuck inside my head. Why do you keep saying that? The tapes. What tapes? They were the cause of everything. The source of all the weirdness. Cliff was hoarding them. He found them off the black market and hid them inside his locker. He put on fake covers so no one would know.

And when he came in each week, he watched them on that TV. Any one of those tapes might have skewered his senses, might have swapped his heart for broken glass, or brought the stars down on his head. But he didn't stop with one. Somehow, Cliff survived through Hiroshima, Nagasaki, and Chernobyl, all while beating cancer. The fact that he wasn't dead already was living proof of God. Or proof of something else. Wait, so what you're saying... Paxton's self-storage went total batshit

Because Cliff was watching movies What is this, the ring? They're not movies They're more like pages Pages? Pages from what? Lainey? I'm not supposed to know. I can't describe it.

Even if I could, I shouldn't. I wasn't wrong, you know. Cliff sold vinyls and all kinds of tech. He went around garage sales and flea markets buying up stock. He had dreams of opening his own store. But for that, he needed money. That's how it started. He wanted to sell the tapes.

Turn them around for profit. He thought himself a pawn star, like some genius who was gonna make bank by flipping a haunted house. At first, he was only testing them. Then, he was curious. Then, he was obsessed. Then... Then it didn't matter what Cliff was. Cliff saw the truth.

How do you know all that? I know. Because it was on that tape. Purple Serif. They were all like that. Written with code names. What with something PG like Orange Metronome or green leaf? You wouldn't think you're putting a gun to your eye, but that's what it was. And Cliff was playing Russian roulette.

He survived through every round, but then, then he didn't. How? You keep saying or inferring that Cliff died, but you haven't told me how. What happened inside that locker? Why are you so afraid of what you saw? What I saw? What I saw made me want to scream. It made me want to claw my eyes out and smash my head against the floor until I gouged every thought from my mind. And what I saw was too wonderful for words, like a bittersweet lullaby. Together in that locker, we were stuck staring at it. Trapped inside a submarine that was running out of air and building pressure with every breath. And then, suddenly, it was happening like how we knew it would happen.

I, or the thing that was shaped like me, reached my hands in front of Cliff and covered his eyes. And? And the next thing I remember... The TV was off. I was still in his unit. Still standing behind the leather chair and staring at a blank screen. Though I wouldn't realize until later. My eyes were bloodshot.

My hands stained and wet. And Cliff? And Cliff. When he stopped seeing, he didn't have enough time to come down. And in between here and there, he got stuck. Stuck? What do you mean, stuck? At the time when I covered his eyes, the room still looked like...

There was the illusion of Cliff. Like his head was made of clouds and filling the room. And then there was the real Cliff sitting in front of me. Cliff still had a body, but his head... Oh, my God. There was blood everywhere. Oh, my God. That's not going to happen to you, is it? I...

I don't think so. Well, are you sure? I mean, I feel like that's something you should really, really know while we're in the same room together. No, I'm not. I mean, it's not supposed to be like that. I'm supposed to be okay. He said I'd be fine. He said I would forget and then...

Okay, okay, just calm down. Who said this? The collector? He came for me. After I called the police. The way Cliff died. They had never seen anything like that. And when they asked me questions, I lied. I was still in shock, and I felt.

I felt all the things I would have felt. Except now, I knew. Everything was still happening, and I was still a part of it. They took me in for questioning. They drilled me for hours. I knew the questions they would ask, just like how I knew how I would lie. I told them I didn't know anything. I told them I heard a commotion and went to check on Cliff,

and then I found him like that. I knew they would let me go. I knew they had nothing on me. I went home, and then I waited. I didn't eat. I didn't sleep. Not for two whole days. And then he came for me. Just like how I knew he would. He came here? Like, to your house? I don't remember him. I don't remember him coming inside. But I remember I was afraid.

He said he was here to make it stop and to collect what I stole. I asked if it would hurt, and he said I would be fine. He said I would forget and that it would go away. He brought something with him. It was some sort of device. It looked like a set of binoculars or the toy I once had. Sort of like a portable camera.

You turned the lever and there was a slideshow. A viewmaster. That's it. He said, it'll be just like an eye exam, only a little deeper. He held it up to my eyes and flipped a switch. He said, the mind is like a wheel. Every day it's rolling along. But sometimes it drifts. It hits a nail.

And the air spills out. He was patching the hole. So he was saving you. Saving me? No. No, he was extracting the nail, reclaiming their property and covering their tracks. They don't care about us. All they care about is what's on those tapes. And if you've seen what I've seen, if you know what they know, then you are just another broken wheel he went

through my memories putting a barbed wire and potholes so I never went back so that every time I thought about anything I shouldn't know. And so now I remember only what I remember. The rest is... I can't. It hurts too much. Then what? Then I don't remember.

Are you sure? What about the tapes? The colla... He went back and got them. After police went through. And have you... Spoken to anyone else about... Any of this?

No. No. I've only told you. Okay. Good. Good. And when did the Collector leave? What? I don't know. Just before you got here, I guess. And what time was that? Time? I can't remember. Lainey, when did you call me? Call you? But I didn't. I didn't call you.

What's going on? Lainey, what's my name? Your name. Your... Why can't I remember your name? Answer the question, Lainey. Who are you? Lainey, what happened to Cliff Carmichael?

I Don't know Laney What was inside Of Cliff's locker? I don't know Laney What did you see

On that tape? I don't know Laney Last question What did you see on that tape? I don't know. Lainey, last question. What is OVAC? I... I don't know. Good.

We're done here. I'm sorry. Do I know you? No No, you don't Some secrets have no answers Some answers have no end Tear your eyes from the skies, and what lights of night portend?

Have you found your truth at last? Or in this quest are you steadfast? I warn you now, the deeper you go, the more you find, the less you know. But if you must feel verified, I'll do what I can, and I'll confide. One last story, one final tale, one more ghost to lift the veil. Long, long ago, in a town far away, there lived a man, a castaway. Some called him dreamer, some called him fake. Some called him sorcerer, for toys he'd make. A genius was he who knew so well secrets of light he could not tell. Many a night he slept unsleeping,

thoughts in motion, mind far-leaving. And in the dark, deep down under, he conceived his every wonder. A beast of metal, built to dance, A clock that rang and sang a trance, A curious marvel, silver and bright, Coiled in gold and pure delight. Many and more he did create, though most would meet a fiery fate. But one small trifle came to endure, a box that could speak. No need for answer. Pause, adjourn, I digress, several hundred years to address, another creator, a pivotal role, who came to regret that which he stole.

From silver and gold to silver screen, he framed his vision so it could be seen, by any and all with the will to climb the forty steps past paradigm. An old cult classic, the films revive. Ambition, a mission to archive the apogee of this new millennium. All within the Light Gims Company. We turn the page back once more, and to a time long before the sorry circus came to to be. When they first invented E, doomed into the inventor's voice, the talking marble had no choice. A harmonic twist, the two were paired. A dreamer's dream, they both shared. Out of the ashes the phoenix flew, down their bloodline no one knew. The broken, burnt, old antique was sullenly sleeping, unable, trying to speak A hundred years and many more

Spent below the waking shore But in the dark, deep down under The voiceless voice began to wander The rest, of course, is mystery. Wandering through the dreamer's dream. Shared between our history. Across the stretch where nothing gleams. But seeing as you came so far.

Beyond the void of o'er Christ lies I'll tell you of my hidden scar A sea of sand and nacre skies When at last its Sorrow Hearts were fixed Upon that mesa The mountain's peak With with misery, the sideshow, the two were mixed,

he then found the angel's beak, waiting long to be repaired, and from their gaze, he would describe. I am the talking box. The sorrow was not spared. The fabled egg. The mythic eye. And neither there of false

mirage. The shadow of Christ. The Shadow of... Chris... Welcome, welcome. I am Zorro. Terror of fortunes, misery and sorrow. I hope you enjoyed this fright-filled ride. It was my honor to be your guard. Full Body Chills is an AudioChuck production.

This episode was written by David Flowers and read by Samantha Ware and Ashley Flowers. Intro and outro written and read by David Flowers. So, what do you think, Chuck? Do you approve?