The Antiquarium of Sinister Happenings - Lot 028 : A Story to Scare My Son (ft. Richard Brake) // I Let Something Into My House

Episode Date: January 21, 2024

A lecture on internet safety followed by the tale of a family with an uninvited house guest.A Story To Scare My SonWritten by OvenFriendNarrated by Richard BrakeStarring Simeon Wynne as The Sonhttps://creepypasta.fandom.com/wiki/A_Story_to_Scare_My_SonCC-BY-SAI Let Something Into My HouseWritten by Blair DanielsNarrated by Allison CossitStarring Conan Freeman as SethJade Shand as Lilyhttps://www.reddit.com/r/blairdaniels/comments/191fezh/i_let_something_into_my_house/Featuring Stephen Knowles as The Antique DealerTheme music by The Newton BrothersAdditional music by:CO.AG ([e-mail])You Are Alone // Interiors // Soul Reaper // The Corridor // Bella Ciao // Tallman // It Came From The Woods // He Sings At Night // Prey The Devil // Inside by Vivek AbhishekSUBSCRIBE on YOUTUBE: https://bit.ly/3qumnPHFollow on Facebook : https://bit.ly/33RWRtPFollow on Instagram : https://bit.ly/2ImU2JVPixelland by Kevin Macleodhttps://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HUCjaaQR6cs&list=PLbb_NncyMIqtFkRVdRZDpsFFWusa5cCw6&index=9 Hosted by Simplecast, an AdsWizz company. See pcm.adswizz.com for information about our collection and use of personal data for advertising.

My, oh my, aren't you a brave one to be out in this weather? It hasn't stopped snowing in weeks, and the forecast says even more on the way, if you can believe it. I almost didn't open the store this morning. You must really be looking for something special. What with you dealing with that mess? I think I might have just the thing. I was going to keep this for myself, as it would definitely come in handy

with regards to our current ever so turbulent quarrel with Mother Nature. But alas, no matter how much I'd bundled up, it still made my blood run. Cold. A tattered green jacket,

reeks of mildew and bile, but I'm sure the dry cleaners a few doors down could get that out with no trouble. Here, put it on. Ah. The perfect fit. Why don't you try this one on for size? It's called a story to scare my son.

Before we begin, what are your thoughts on secret societies and things of that nature? As a devoted visitor, you might be interested in our small collective of the shop's most discerning guests. It goes by the Obsidian Considion. Covenant. You'll not only become part of the store's inner circle, but you'll get my undivided attention each week with no interruptions during my recounts. And every month, I'll share with you the tales of a couple of the items from my private collection. Hell, I may even display your name here at the shop. Go to the obsidian covenant.com for more. Now, where was I? Oh yes.

Welcome to the antiquarium of sinister happenings and odd goings on. Son, we need to have a chat about internet safety. I slowly crumpled down on the floor next to him. The laptop was open and he was playing Minecraft on a public server. His eyes were locked into the action. Comment scrolled down the side of the screen in a chat. box. Son, can you stop your game for a minute? He exited the world, closed the laptop, and looked up at me. This is going to be another cheesy scary story? What? I faked hurt feelings for a second,

and then grinned at him. I thought you liked my cautionary tales. He grew up listening to my stories about children who encountered witches, ghosts, werewolves, and trolls. Like many generations of parents, I use scary stories to reinforce morals and teach lessons about safety. Single dads like me should use old parenting tools at their disposal. He scrunched his face a little. They were fine when I was six, but now that I'm getting older, they don't scare me anymore. They seem kind of silly. If you're going to tell a story about the internet, can you make it really, really scary? I squinted at him incredulously. He folded his arm.

Dad, I'm ten. I can handle it. Oh, okay. I'll try. I began. Once upon a time, there was a boy named Colby. His expression indicated he wasn't impressed with the terror of the introduction. He sighed deeply and settled in for one of Dad's cheesy stories. I continued. Colby went online and joined several. children's websites. After a while, he started talking to other kids in the game and on message

boards. He made friends with another 10-year-old boy named Helper 23. They liked the same video games and shows. They laughed at each other's jokes. They explored new games together. After several months of friendship, Colby gave Helper 23 six diamonds in a game they were playing. This was a very generous gift. Colby's birthday was coming up, and Helper 23 wanted to send him a cool present in real life. Colby figured it wouldn't hurt to give Helper 23 his home address, as long as he promised not to tell it to any strangers or grown-ups. Helper 23 swore he wouldn't tell anyone else, not even his own parents.

and said about mailing the package. I paused the story and asked my son, do you think that was a good idea? No way! He said, shaking his head vigorously. In spite of himself, he was getting into the story. Well, neither did Colby.

Colby felt guilty about giving away his home address, and his guilt began to grow. By the time he put on his pajamas the next night, his guilt and fear were larger than anything else in his life. He resolved to admit the truth to his parents. The punishment would be steep, but it was worth it to have a clear conscience. He squirmed in his bed as he waited for his parents to tuck him in.

My son knew the scary part was coming up. In spite of his tough talk, he leaned forward, wide-eyed. I spoke quietly and deliberately. He heard all the noises of the house. The washing machine bounced around in the laundry room. Branches scraped against the brick outside his room. His baby brother cooed in the nursery. And there were some other noises he couldn't quite.

Finally, his dad's footsteps echoed down the hospital. hole. Hey, Dad, he called out nervously. I have something to tell you. His dad stuck his head in the doorway at a weird angle. In the darkness, his mouth didn't seem to move and his eyes were all wrong. Yes, son? The voice was way off too. Are you okay, Dad? The boy asked. Uh-huh, son, sung the father in his strangely affected voice. Colby pulled his covers up defensively. Um, is mom around?

Here I am. Mom's head popped into the doorway below Dad's. Her voice was an unnatural falsetto. Were you about to tell us you gave our home address to help her 23? You shouldn't have done that. We told you never, ever, ever give out personal information. on the internet. She continued.

He wasn't really a kid. He just pretended to be one. Do you know what he did? He came to our house, broke in, and murdered both of us, just so he could spend some. Wet Jack had emerged in the child's doorway holding the two severed heads.

Colby shrieked and gasp as the man dropped the heads on the ground, unsheathed his knife, and moved into the same. the room to work on the boy. My son screamed too. He twisted his hands defensively over his face, but we were just getting started with the story.

After several hours, the boy was almost dead, and his screams had become, whimpers. The killer noticed the wailing of a baby in another room and removed his knife from Colby. This was a... a special treat. He had never murdered a baby before and was excited about the prospect.

Helper 23 left Colby to die and followed the cries through the house like a homing beacon. In the nursery, he walked to the crib, picked the baby up and held it in his arms. He moved towards the changing table to get a better look. But as he held the baby, the Crying died down. The baby looked up and smiled. Helper 23 had never held a baby, but he gently bounced in his arms like a pro. He wiped his bloody hands on the blanket so he could stroke the baby's cheek.

Hey there, little sweet guy. The age of sadism melted into something warmer and softer. He walked out of the nursery, took the baby home, named him William and Ray. him as his very own. After I finished the story, my son was visibly shaken. Between ragged, to caught her breast, he

stammered. I gave him a classic dad wink and tussled his hair. Of course it is, son. William ran up the stairs to his bedroom in a fury of sobs. But deep down, think he liked the story. Uh, nothing like the sacred

bond of family. You know, if you stay a while, there's another piece I'd like to show you in the back. Unless that is, you'd rather run outside in that blizzard with your new jacket and build a snowman or something. I thought so. Make yourself at home. I'll be right back.

Thank you so much for your patience. I do think it will pay off. All right. Did you ever have one of these? It's a child's sticker book. Gosh, this brings me back to a certain time and place that had a lot more light in it, I'll say that much. It was way before I made that commitment. Well, that's a story for a different time and place.

For now, let me quench your appetite with the tale of a young family who got themselves in a bit of a sticky, situation. In, I let something into my house. In this house, something beyond comprehension. I let something into

my house. In this house for almost a decade. We've never had the slightest hint of paranormal activity. No phantom footsteps, no slamming doors, no shadow people. Nothing. until yesterday.

I'd had a weird day. I'm a psychologist, and I had a somewhat stressful session with a teenage girl. Obviously, I can't get into specifics because of privacy and all that, but it was stressful. I didn't think anything of it at the time. But on my way home, I kept glancing in my rearview mirror,

and it was just instinct that there was no one tailgating. me flashing their high beams or anything like that. In fact, I was all alone on the winding country road that led up to my house. I just kept glancing in the rearview mirror without even thinking about it. When I got home, the house was chaos as usual. Our daughter was running around with stickers, putting them on everything. My poor husband was hopelessly unsticking each one at about half the speed she was putting them on. Need help? No. But could you make some chicken nuggets?

I walked over to the fridge, and that's when I saw it. There was a dirty handprint on the freezer door. But the problem was the hand was small, yet too high up to be lilies. I stared at it for a second, confused. I guess Seth was carrying her, and she touched the fridge. I grabbed the dish towel and rubbed it off. We got Lily into bed around eight. I was nearly falling asleep as I read her a story.

As I said, it had been a hard day. My words drawled on as I read Good Night Moon for the zillionth time. My arm felt like lead on the pillow. But then Lily said something that woke me right up. Mommy, who's the girl in the fireplace? Huh? The girl in the fireplace? Who is she?

My throat went dry. There's no girl in the fireplace? There is. The girl with no face. She was sitting in the fireplace. Okay. Let's go to bed. I said, though my heart was pounding.

Time to sleep. After she fell asleep, I asked Seth about it. Didn't say anything to me about it, but that's creepy as fuck. I know. I wanted to just go to sleep and forget about it. But eventually, my auntie. anxiety got the better of me. And sometimes we leave the door unlocked.

Sometimes Sammy, the girl a few doors down, comes over unannounced to play with Lily. I mean, what if she got stuck in the fireplace or something? What if she's exfixating in there right now? The logical part of my brain knew that that was ridiculous. I would have seen police cars outside their house. Tanya would have called me to see if Sammy was over here. There would have been like five super unlikely things that would all have to have to be. to happen for Sammy to be trapped in our fireplace dying.

Still, I had to go check. I'm just going to check the fireplace. She scared you. Just, I'll be right back. I'm sure it's nothing. Lily says weird shit all the time. I walked downstairs and turned left into the darkened family room. I reached for the switch and flicked on the light.

Just in time to see thin strands of long black hair retract into the chimney. I froze. My skin prickled. I couldn't move as I stared at the fireplace, the place where I'd just seen. Now, could it really be? That would mean someone was inside the chimney hanging upside down. I finally sucked in a breath. Seth!

He shot down the stairs. What's wrong? Someone's in the chimney. chimney. I saw their hair. Seth frowned. I could tell he didn't really believe me. Okay. He approached the fireplace. Hello?

Nothing. He paused for a second. Then he grabbed the fire poker and got on his hands and knees. Gripping the poker in one hand and his phone with the flashlight on and the other, he slowly pushed his head into the fireplace and looked up. There's nothing there. The flu's open, though. So good thing we checked.

He pulled his head back out and closed the flu. It clanged shut. I didn't open the flu. Neither did I. I guess we left it open after the last time we lit a fire, which was shit. Like two weeks ago. Oh, man. That's probably like 50 bucks a heat we've been paying for.

He started for the stairs. Are you sure there was nothing there? Absolutely positive. I swallowed. Had I imagined it? As a psychologist, I knew the brain is a funny thing. A bit of hair or dust in our peripheral vision can seem like a face or a shadow person to our brain. Our brains are programmed to recognize faces, humans, danger, like seeing faces in patterns.

Paradolia. I got onto my hands and knees and looked up into the chimney just to make sure the flu was closed. Then I headed back upstairs. Something woke me in the middle of the night. I rolled over and I looked at the clock, 3.07 a.m. I closed my eyes and tried to fall back to sleep. But then I heard it. A muffled, metallic clang coming from inside the house. I shook Seth awake. As he was getting his bearings, I ran over to Lily's room. Relief flooded me as I saw her fast asleep in bed. Seth stumbled into the hallway.

What is that? I don't know. Should I... Should I call the police? The sound was louder than the others. And then... Coming from our family room. Seth ran down the stairs.

I heard his footsteps recede into the family room and for an agonizing moment. Oh, the police! When the police arrived, I realized why he was so panicked. There was sooty footprints on our family room floor. Bare feet. Small, like those of a child. They wound in a sinusoidal pattern until fading and disappearing when they were. got halfway across the room.

But there were no footprints leading back. And the flu was open again. I... I don't know what to do. The police didn't find any evidence of anything. They insist the footprints must have been caused by Lily, but I know they weren't. She was fast asleep. And she told me she didn't make them.

And I keep thinking back to that stressful session I had with that teenage... Girl? During this session, she was upset and she grabbed my hand. A little weird and boundary crossing, but she was crying and desperate for comfort. When she finally removed her hand, there was this blackish sooty smudge on my hand. I'd figured it was just some eyeliner or mascara or something, even though she looked like she wasn't wearing any. I'm not so sure. This morning, I dialed her mouth.

to schedule our next appointment. You have reached a number that has been disconnected or is no longer in service. If you feel you have reached this recording and error, please check the number and try your call again. Thank you for your patronage. Hope you enjoyed your new relic as much as I've enjoyed passing along its 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 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, only for you, our best customer. The Antiquarium of Sinister Happenings, Lot 028, I Let Something Into My House, written by Blair Daniels, narrated by Alison Cossett, starring Conan Freeman as Seth, Jade Janned, as Lily. A Story to Scare My Son, written by Oven Friend, narrated by Richard Brake, starring Simeon Wynne as The Sun, featuring Stephen Knowles as the antique dealer. Engineering production and sound design by Trevor Shand.

Theme music by the Newton Brothers. Additional music by Vivek Abyshech, Kevin McLeod, and Coag. 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.