The Antiquarium of Sinister Happenings - Lot 020 : Pieces (ft. Nils Frykdahl)

Episode Date: November 17, 2023

How far would you go…Pieces - Written by dmackay1981 https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/r9s1ds/pieces/Stars Nils Frykdahl, Trevor Shand and Jade ShandEngineering, Production, Sound Design by Trevor ShandFeaturing Stephen Knowles as the Antique DealerTheme music by The Newton BrothersAdditional sound fx by AV ProductionsAdditional music by:CO.AG ([e-mail])Gathering Darkness by Kevin MacLeodFree download: https://filmmusic.io/song/3798-gathering-darknessLicensed under CC BY 4.0: https://filmmusic.io/standard-licenseIce Demon by Kevin MacLeodFree download: https://filmmusic.io/song/3897-ice-demonLicensed under CC BY 4.0: https://filmmusic.io/standard-licenseEchoes of Time by Kevin MacLeodFree download: https://filmmusic.io/song/3699-echoes-of-timeLicensed under CC BY 4.0: https://filmmusic.io/standard-licenseDeep Space by Audionautixwww.audionautix.com Hosted by Simplecast, an AdsWizz company. See pcm.adswizz.com for information about our collection and use of personal data for advertising.

Ah, we meet again, friend. Thanks for always making the time to stop by for a visit. You know, I put something aside for you because I knew you'd be coming in today. Hmm, let's see. Yes. There you are. It may not look like much.

On the surface, it seems like... A regular old tablespoon. but oh, the unimaginable darkness it has seen. I call this one pieces. Welcome to the antiquarium of sinister happenings and oddgoings on. The first time. I was six years old, and our dog Harley, the Labrador Collie Cross, was dying. He only on her couch, head in my mother's lap, whining in his sleep.

We had taken him to the vet that morning. I remember sitting in the waiting room, holding my rolled-up comic, and trying to hear the muffled voices of my mother and the vet through the door. She told me years later that they offered to put Harley down, but she couldn't go through with it. He had been with us all my life. I had no siblings and never knew my father. The three of us were all the family had ever known.

I prayed for Harley that night. You know, the way a child does. Did you ever do that? Not to anyone or anything specific. Certainly not to God. We were religious at all. I just prayed. Generally, to anyone or anything that would listen.

Whispered words undercovers. I thought it was something people did when they needed help, you know. Didn't really understand. I often wonder if this is how it all began. Offering up such innocent need to whatever was listening. When I fell asleep, I had a dream, unlike any other I had ever experienced. The dream world, white on white, as far as I could see in every direction. An odd shimmer in the air.

Distortions, which seem to be forming shapes, but never quite succeeding. I spun around at the voice. There was a man there, tall and thickly set. Other features are not so easy to recall to focus on. on him felt like watching an image on water. He seemed ill at ease in his clothing. I remember that and uncomfortably warm. There was always sweat on his brow or being wiped from his palms.

I was surprised, more than afraid. At that point, he was not threatening in any way. Indeed, he went out of his way to appear otherwise. I see that now. Your name is Adam, isn't it? Yes. I replied. I heard my own voice and became aware quite clearly that I was dreaming.

There was the clarity you have when you know something is truth. You're right, you know. He said, bending at the waist to bring his eyes level with mine. This is just a dream. But I am very real. And I would like to help you, Adam. He never came too close. Just smiled.

Wiping it. His mouth gaze fixed on me. Your dog is dying, isn't he? Your friend. Very sad, of course. But he met my eyes and grinned. I can help. Really?

Oh, yes. But I need a little something from you, Adam. Just a small thing. Nothing vital. What is it? He smiled. You're... Tooth. How did he know? I thought. I felt a loose one in my mouth. It had been that way for a week now. I'd been pushing it around with my tongue all day.

But it isn't out yet. Oh, I know, I know. You will need to help it along. Just a little. You want me to help Harley, don't you? I did. Of course. Do you want your friend to live? or die, Adam. I can help, but only if you do your part. Now, before you wake, if you want to save him, you must be quick. You have to do it and hand it to me. He never took his eyes off mine.

I thought, I could be brave, couldn't I? I could do it to save my dog, couldn't I? I pushed with my tongue until it hurt. It wouldn't be enough. Tick, Dick, Adam. We are running out of time. I reached into my mouth and I got a hold of the tooth between two fingers. Do it quickly.

I pulled. The taste of blood was in my mouth. My eyes watered and I heard myself cry. Something snapped. And the blood rushed out, spilling suddenly onto the floor. Here, here. The man snapped his fingers at me and held out his hand. Spittle was running down his chin.

He reached out and clumsily, hungrily, snatched the bloody tooth eyes fixed brow glistening with sweat then he popped it in his mouth and ate it like a candy woke to the sound of its slippery

crunch from between his wet lips heart racing I lay there in my bed morning light stinging my eyes I felt for my tooth it was gone just a smooth hole where it is been. I told my mother about the missing tooth and she said not to worry. I must have swallowed it

in my sleep. These things happened. It was quickly forgotten with our happiness over our Harley's recovery. He was there at my bedroom door when I got up, wagging his tail and ready for walks. Everything was good again. I never told anyone about my dream. He still died a month later, gone in his sleep, cold by the morning. I found him as I was the first one downstairs, calling his name. I remember standing there for a long time, silent, frozen in the moment, watching his limp body and feeling that gap in my mouth. Now, all these years later, I'm watching in silence again.

I can't let her see me. I wouldn't want to scare her. Do you understand how you can, how you can live? loves someone enough to leave. Every year that passes, I retreat further into the dark, away from prying eyes. Out in the world, she lives her life.

Perfect and beautiful. Every movement and word and moment. The pain swells and blooms inside, and I think I cannot miss her any more than I do. I could not survive it. Then another day comes, and somehow, I do. I do apologize, but a delivery just

arrived here at the shop and I need to sign for it. Sit tight and I'll be back quicker than a rat up a drain pipe. That wasn't so bad was it? Let's glide back into this nightmare. Shall we? My mother was in a car accident when I was 18. I see roads, a tired truck driver and blood and broken glass. A phone call. She was in a coma when I reached the hospital, covered in bandages, his eyes closed. Didn't have long, they told me. I was consumed by regret more than anything. We had been growing apart for years.

All the things I hadn't said and had taken for granted were haunting me. All the things I had assumed would be there in the future until the time. She gave me unconditional love from the moment I was born, and all I had to do was be there for her. Yet still, still I failed. I would have given anything to speak to her once more, if only for a few hours to tell her everything I could

and to and to listen I cried like a baby by her bed memories cutting me every time I closed my eyes after 36 hours I fell asleep in the waiting room

holding a lukewarm cup Adam you remember me don't you the white-un-white world the man in the ill-fitting suit said you would save my dog.

And I did, did I not? You cannot buy immortality. Don't be a fool. He wiped at his lips. Heat seemed to radiate from him. Only a little at a time, Adam. That's how it works. A tooth doesn't get you much.

A few weeks for a dog. That's fair. Don't you think that's fair? I do do. He smiled and wiped his hands. on his chest. And here you are again. Your poor mother, yes. So close already. So close. Images of her flooded into my mind and I was ashamed of forgetting her, even for a second. She doesn't have long, Adam. He wanted me to say it, I realized. Can you help her?

Oh yes. Oh yes, of course I can help. What do you want? A few hours with her. My voice cracked as I answered. What? Speak up. I want to talk to my mom. His eyes burned into me for a moment before he looked over my shoulder. I followed his gaze. A table had appeared behind me.

There was a knife on it. A finger for an hour. Looking at his lips, dabbing at the corners of his mouth. I couldn't take my eyes off the knife. just as before Adam A choice The knife was heavier than it looked The pain just as expected

I almost stopped more than once When it became too much Or I couldn't cut through But I kept going I didn't have any choice I had slump to the floor Shaking and soaking and sweat When he took my severed finger

Then he ate it in front of me I was woken by the sound of someone calling my name. Cold tea had spilled into my lap and a nurse put her hand on my shoulder. I had to go with her, she said. My mother was awake. I tried to reply to get to my feet, but I was frozen in place, staring at the stump where my finger had been, staring at the skin, smooth and perfect as if it had always been that way. I watch her go through her day, from crossroads through windows. I will phone her tonight, but I can't speak, of course. It'll be Worth it to hear her voice.

It will all be worth it. Do you understand? I didn't have a choice. When my daughter was one year old, she had a seizure. Ambulances and hospitals followed. Tears and sleepless nights for myself and my wife. There is no fear like it. After a week of tests, the doctors invited us in to speak with them.

Their words were quiet and kind and stunk of finality. our daughter would not get better. She had another year at most. They could make her comfortable. There is no emptier place in the world than the future without your child. To change it anything, I held my wife and stared again at my missing finger,

remembering how I had hit it from people, made up lies about an accident, but most of all, I remembered his words. Of course I can help. What do you want? That night, I watched my daughter sleeping in her cot, perfect and beautiful, and I knew eventually waiting for me in the white. He didn't show himself at first. He remained behind me, hot breath on my neck.

I heard splashes on the ground, saliva running from his mouth. He cast a larger shadow now than the man I had seen before. How much time can I buy her? I asked. There was a table in front of us set with shining cutlery. Many bone-handled knives. Oh, many years, many years. His voice was thicker.

It depends. How much you are willing to. How long we can nest. His hand, it was no longer a hand. His claw was on my shoulder. We shall. In time, I would see him as he truly was. By then, of course, he walked past me and picked up a spoon, gave it a tap on the table.

Let's start with an eye. It was 15 years ago. I had to leave my wife, my family, hide myself away. I couldn't conceal what was happening to me. I couldn't explain. I could only go on. But now, my time is running out. So hers is too.

My daughter. I have so little left to give One eye, one arm Both legs, of course I've been in a wheelchair for a decade Teeth, gum, tongue My voice with them All gone

All gone's head away I sometimes wonder How am I still alive If you can call this life Waking up hollower than I was After a night of cutting and blood and horror you don't really need both kidneys. Did you know that?

So many organs and bones are not essential. I'm afraid to sleep now. There won't be many more times. I think of the voice of the thing in my dreams, the bloody mouth and grasping claws, as I lie on that white floor in a pool of red, deadened by the pain, listening to the clink of cutlery and smack of lips.

I will tell myself I cannot face this again I will think of my daughter of buying her Thank you for your patronage Hope you enjoyed your new relic As much as I've enjoyed passing along It's sordid history

It does come with our usual warning However Absolutely no refunds No exchanges And we won't be held liable For anything that may or may not occur while the object is in your possession. If you've got an artifact with mysterious properties,

perhaps it's accompanied by a history of bizarre and disturbing circumstances. Maybe you'd be interested in dropping it and its story by the shop to share with other customers. Please reach out to Antiquarium Shop at gmail.com. A member of our team will be. be in touch. Till next time, we'll be waiting for you

whenever you close your eyes in the space between sleep and dream. During regular business hours, of course, or by appointment, our best customer. The Antiquarium of Sinister Happenings, lot 020,

Pieces, written by D. McCain, 1981, Starring Nils Freightol as the Demon Jade Shand as Young Adam Featuring Stephen Knowles as the antique dealer Additional sound effects by AV productions Engineering production and sound design by Trevor Shand Theme music by the Newton Brothers

Additional music by Coag Kevin McLeod and audiognotics The Antiquarium of Sinister Happenings is created and curated by Trevor and Lauren Shand Follow us on Instagram and Twitter at Antiquarium Pod. Call the Antiquarium at 646-481-7197.